April 1 is one of my favorite days. This year it seems like it snuck past moiself, and I missed it.
I used to be so much fun…didn’t I? I looked into my archives for evidence, and came up with moiself’s April 1 post from seven years ago:
Department Of Fun With Student Drivers
Dateline: Tuesday, early a.m., out for my morning walk, waiting to cross a street. As I watched the cross traffic’s stoplight and saw the green-changing-to-yellow light – the pedestrian’s rewarding indicator that it will soon be your turn to cross the street – I noticed a white sedan slowing down much more deliberately than is usual yet still not managing to come to a complete stop until the car’s front bumper was just a tad into the crosswalk.
My light changed to green, I began to cross the street, and saw the telltale red and yellow logo for a local driving academy on the car’s driver’s door. A student driver?
Excellent.
I looked inside the car: the student in the driver’s seat sat ramrod straight, an expression of nervous anticipation drenching her face. Her white-knuckled hands gripped the steering wheel, and her gaze was fixed ahead. Her instructor was looking down at a clipboard he held; neither of them seemed aware of my approaching presence.
My instinctive reaction was to throw myself onto the hood of the car and scare the living pee-pee out of both of them.
How I managed to restrain myself, I’ll never know.
But, I did. Okay?
* * *
Pity the afore-mentioned scenario happened Tuesday, and not today. Had I gone through with my whimsical notion, ‘twould have made a good – dare I say, even legendary? – April Fool’s Day prank.
You gotta love a day that is devoted to honoring and encouraging practical jokes, hoaxes, and pranks both well- and feebly played.
The origins of April Fools Day’s are not completely agreed upon by historians, and have been variously attributed. What is agreed upon is that many cultures, going back to the ancient Romans and Egyptians, have set aside days for celebrating jokes and pranksters. Perhaps, as some people have speculated, there’s just something about the day’s timing – the fading of winter and the blooming of spring – which lends itself to the observance of light-hearted frivolity.
I can recall only a few of the pranks I’ve played on friends, family and co-workers over the years. The memories are silly but fond, and include:
* Sneaking a package of Hydrox cookies [1] from the family snack drawer and replacing all the cream fillings in the second row of cookies with toothpaste.
* Showing two positive pregnancy test dipsticks to a newbie Planned Parenthood co-worker and telling her I was pregnant with twins.
* Adding just a couple of drops of blue food coloring to the carton of nonfat milk in my parent’s refrigerator.
* Calling my father at his office and convincing him (if only temporarily) that someone had bought a raffle ticket in his name for the local animal shelter’s fundraising event, he’d won the raffle, and could he please let the shelter know when he was coming to claim his prize: an English Mastiff and a week’s supply – a 100 lb. bag of kibble – of the dog’s food. [2]
“I don’t get it – why would that be funny?”
* Swapping my and my siblings’ framed high school graduation pictures, which hung in my parent’s hallway, with pictures of the members of Led Zeppelin.
* Replacing the hard-boiled egg in my sister’s school lunch bag with a raw egg.
* Cutting my finger, smearing my blood on the scissors in co-worker Roger’s cubicle, leaving a note on my computer saying I had been threatened by Roger and feared for my life, then faking my own death and leaving town.
Oops, that’s right – I never got around to implementing the last one.
As pleasurable as it is to pull off an epic prank, it can be equally fun, IMHO, to have a great prank played on your own self. I hope y’all have a Happy April Fools’ Day…and I hope that I do not regret having made that previous declaration.
* * *
Speaking of foolery…
Department Of Uh, Since You’ve Asked, That Would Be, “No”
Last Sunday a FB friend began her post thusly:
Happy Easter, everyone! Can I share what it means to me?
FBF went on to – surprise! – offer her testimony for Jesus, without waiting for an answer to her question.
* * *
Department Of Back To The Future Department Of After 35 Years The Spark Is Still There
Dateline: a recent Sunday night, friend over for dinner. I’d asked MH to choose some background music. When the Fiona Apple song Under the Tablecame on, MH turned to moiself and said, “This song always makes me think of you.”
I didn’t recall the song, but after listening to the lyrics, I appreciated his comment.
♫ I would beg to disagree, but begging disagrees with me… So when they say something that makes me start to simmer That fancy wine won’t put this fire out, oh
Kick me under the table all you want I won’t shut up; I won’t shut up Kick me under the table all you want I won’t shut up; I won’t shut up… ♫
* * *
Department Of Analogy Of The Week
Dateline: late last week, listening to the most recent episode of Unexplainable, the science podcast which “explores scientific mysteries, unanswered questions, and all the things we learn by diving into the unknown.”
In this “Your questions, unexplained” episode, the podcast hosts consulted various scientific researchers to help them answer questions the podcast listeners had on three topics: sleepwalking, déjà vu, and the Earth’s magnetic field. For the segment on the memory phenomenon known as déjà vu, the hosts interviewed Scottish cognitive science and neuroscience researcher Akira O’Connor. O’Connor got my attention with a memorable analogy. Among scientists who study the phenomenon, O’Connor said, theories about déjà vu are like toothbrushes:
“Everybody’s got one, but nobody wants to use anybody else’s.”
May you start planning right nowfor next year’s April Fools Day; May you appreciate a song that someone says reminds them of you; May you be forewarned: if you kick me under the table, I won’t shut up; …and may the hijinks ensue.
Thanks for stopping by. Au Vendredi!
* * *
[1] Anyone else remember the precursor (and competitor) to Oreos?
[2] My sisters making muffled barking sounds to approximate background animal shelter noise was a great help in pulling off this prank.
[3] “free-think-er n. A person who forms opinions about religion on the basis of reason, independently of tradition, authority, or established belief. Freethinkers include atheists, agnostics and rationalists. No one can be a freethinker who demands conformity to a bible, creed, or messiah. To the freethinker, revelation and faith are invalid, and orthodoxy is no guarantee of truth.” Definition courtesy of the Freedom From Religion Foundation, ffrf.org
Confession: this post isn’t really about praising religion. As we approach the weekend of the most holy Christian festival (in which, as with most Christian holidays, the ancient rites and myths of paganism and other spiritualities were incorporated into the Christian myths) moiself thought it would be appropriate to write a wee bit about how I am, in some ways, grateful for the religious upbringing I had.
* I am grateful to have been raised in a moderate Christian family, whose parents were members of a moderate Christian church. And by my moderate I mean they were a members of a mainstream denomination (Lutheran), and not fanatical, tongue-speaking Holy Rollers. My church experiences allowed me an education into the dominant religious thinking of our country, of that time. Translation: I saw how the sausage was made, so to speak, which is why I became a vegan religion-free.
As soon as I was able to formulate such ideas to moi’syounger self, I was able to understand religious traditions (all of ‘em, not just my family’s own) for what they were: failed hypotheses originating from primitive/pre-scientific peoples who were trying to understand/explain their world. Although I had that understanding as far back as I can remember, like most atheists-skeptics-freethinkers in this culture, I did not “come out” until much, much later, when it was safe (well, safer) to do so: as in, when there was a critical mass of Freethinkers and their allies to provide a buffering from the, “You can only be good with (a) god/nonbelievers are going to hell, etc.” attitudes which religions are highly effective at promoting.
* Not only did my religious upbringing provide me with a good cultural education, I appreciate that it allowed me to experience and observe how nice, well-intentioned, and otherwise seemingly reasonable people can accept the unreasonable-ness of religion for a variety of reasons. I learned that people can note the logical flaws, improprieties and downright batshit crazy inanities of beliefs and practices of *other* religions, while *not* applying the same analytical skills to what they have been taught (i.e., they critique Judaism and Islam, Hinduism and Buddhism, et al on the respective scriptures, principles, teachings and merits of those religions, but accept the claims of Christianity on “faith.”).
* My religious upbringing allowed me to see firsthand the danger of the complacency of accustomization, which the adult moiself eventually formulated into this truism:
The ridiculous is no longer ridiculous when it is the familiar.
Favorite example: Decades ago I heard two (white, Christian) women talking about a new (to them) religious festival, which they’d read about in a newspaper article about local Hindus [1] celebrating the Hindu Festival of Holi. Among other activities, Holi celebrations involve adherents dancing in the streets and throwing colored dye and/or powdered paints on each other. One of the women offered a weak defense of the color-flinging (“Well…maybe…it’s kinda like dying Easter eggs?”), but both agreed that Holi seemed…ahem…rather silly, not to mention primitive and nonsensical for a religious rite.
Their comments indicated that they were totally oblivious of how downright bizarre and even grotesque their own Christian ritual of symbolic (or in the case of the Catholic flavor of Christianity, literal [2] ) cannibalism, celebrated in the Christian rite of communion, can seem to people of other religious faiths.
* My religious upbringing was an educational experience I tried, in part, to impart to my own children…which is why MH and I joined a Christian church (the most liberal denomination we could find – the United Church of Christ, aka The UCC). We remained active members for years, until MH and I were honest with ourselves about not being able “…to do this anymore.” [3] This coincided with our children (son K and daughter Belle) being old enough and comfortable enough – despite liking both their church friends and many of the church’s social activities – to send the same honesty *our* way:
“Why do we go to church when I don’t – and it’s obvious that *you* don’t – believe any of that stuff (i.e., Christian theology)?”
Footnote which deserves more than a footnote: [4] Looking back, K and Belle were both open about their views long before MH and I were. It seemed to me that their school peers talked about religion – read: regurgitated what they were taught in their parents’ churches – much more frequently than I could remember my peers doing when I was in grade school. [5] And while my offspring never initiated such conversations (they weren’t “afraid” of the subject; they simply had little-to-no interest in it) they would answer honestly any questions posed to them. Perhaps because he was older, [6] K was subjected to this more than his sister, and was subjected to denigrating comments from certain classmates who were obviously being raised by very conservative religious, creationist-leaning parents.
If only the Jesus kids listened….
Although I was both happy with (and relieved by) my children’s inclination toward freethought, I wanted to be sure they understood that they must not be like their peers who criticized them – I wanted K and Belle to own their own viewpoints, and not just hold the same opinions as MH and I did, without considering the issues for themselves. When, for example, K shared a story about an outrageous and/or inane or just plain ignorant religious statement a kid had made, I would defend the kid (“He probably heard that at home/in church”), then question K further, trying to get him (and Belle) to practice the art of understanding a different POV:
“Why do you think someone would ____ (say/believe/think that)?
Can you think of any reasons why someone might ____ (say/believe/think that)?”
I did this consistently, until one day, K replied, with an insight (and sigh of resignation) beyond his years:
“The thing is, Mom, you know that *their* families are not doing the same.”[7]
When classmates made anti-science/pro-religion comments, K would respond with his own opinions….which led to him receiving the “godless atheist” label. I was proud of the way he handled himself, even as my heart cringed to see him mistreated by ignorant and mean-spirited Jesus bullies. What was worse, IMO, were the friends who didn’t join in the abuse but who also didn’t stand up for him (some of whom, I eventually surmised, felt the same way as K but didn’t want to become targets themselves, and thus stayed silent).
Belle had less school drama re her (lack of) religious beliefs. And there were two major incidents which made me realize that she was fully capable of standing up for herself in that regard. The first involved the last year Belle went to summer camp.
Both of our kids attended several seasons of the UCC’s summer church camp. Camp Adams is located in the temperate rainforest of Molalla (Oregon), with lots of fields and trails and creeks and a swimming hole – an ideal camp locale. For the younger ages, Camp Adams was more camp than church. For the older kids, starting around grade 5, the counselors and camp staff introduced more “churchy” things, including basic Christian theology (as seen through a liberal UCC lens). This gradual morphing from all-camp-fun to camp-fun-plus-Jesus-is-the-reason-we’re-here is a typical progression, as I remember from my own years of church summer camps. [8]
So: For several years in a row Belle had enjoyed going to summer camp – she even claimed to LOVE the camp’s food. But Camp Adam’s mashed potatoes weren’t enough, the last year she went to camp.
A preview of coming attractions for that last-year-of-camp: when MH filled out Belle’s camp registration form, after the requests for standard information about family, emergency contacts, medical concerns, food allergies, etc. there was an open-ended question asking parents to list anything they thought “ …the camp counselors and staff should know about your child.” MH wrote, “Belle will probably have little interest in the churchy or theological (religious) aspects of camp. And that is fine.”
Both MH and I drove Belle to camp; I picked her up at the end of the camp week. When I asked her how this year’s camp was she described a couple of amusing pranks the campers and counselors played on one another, then said that the rest of it was not the same fun as it used to be, and she wasn’t going back next year. When I asked her to elaborate, she told me the following story:
Unlike in previous years, the camp had fireside “churchy” services every evening, which Belle found irritatingly pointless. One day near the end of the camp week, the camp’s chaplain asked to meet with Belle privately. He told her she wasn’t in trouble; rather, he was concernedfor her: the camp’s counselors had noticed Belle sitting through those services making little attempt to disguise her disinterest. [9] The chaplain flipped through the pages of a bible on his desk, reading aloud several scripture passages he’d marked, passages which told of the Christian god’s love for his people and the importance of loving that god in return. He then asked Belle what she thought about them.
I was surprised to hear this – throwing bible verses at a nine-year-old was not something I expected from a UCC chaplain (but I said nothing, and let Belle continue her story). And Belle simply but firmly disagreed with him. She told him (in her 9-year-old vocabulary) that she did not find those verses – or anything in his bible – profound or relevant to her in anyway. Despite being interested in all kinds of mythologies, she did not believe the stories about the Christian god were any different or factual than those of the Roman, Greek, Hebrew, Egyptian, Norse, Celtic, and other deities she was reading about.
“Good for you!” I crowed, as I concentrated on *not* driving off the road (I was dancing in the driver’s seat with delight). What an intimidating position to be in – for anyone, let alone a child – and she was able to stand up for herself.
So where do kids get such ideas?
The second incident occurred around the same season, when MH’s parents came to Oregon for their annual summer visit. MH and his father were out running errands; I was also out, driving MH’s mother and Belle…somewhere. Belle was in the front passenger’s seat; for reasons I cannot recall her grandma had insisted on sitting in the back seat, and then for reasons I really cannot fathom but remember as being totally out of context, Belle’s grandmother began talking to Belle about “god things.” I gritted my teeth but said nothing – my MIL was talking to Belle, not me. And Belle handled it with steely grace.
“I don’t believe in a god,” Belle calmy stated.
“You don’t believe in God?!?” Belle’s grandmother spoke with shock and dismay, and if Belle had just said that she liked stomping on baby hamsters. “I feel sorry for you.”
“Well, I feel sorry for *you,*” Belle replied.
Once again, I thought my seatbelt would burst with pride. That’s a difficult thing for a child, to stand their ground with a beloved relative who is criticizing and/or disapproving of you.
It was a long time ago and I’m unsure of the exact timeline, but at some point I thought, my work here is almost done, and I stopped attending our church. [10]
I had wanted K and Belle to have a religious literacy, because at that time, religious thought seemed to rule the world (or at least the US of A).
I wanted them to be familiar with the dominant religion of our culture, which had figured strongly in both of their parents’ backgrounds, so that they would know what it was that they were “rejecting” (to use their grandmother’s language), and also so that they might be inoculated against religious proselytizing. [11] But, I wanted them to be exposed to all of this via a denomination/church where they would *not* be subjected to abhorrent doctrines which taught that, no matter what kind of life they’d led, post-death they would be sorted into either a rewarding afterlife or one where they are subjected to anguish and torment, depending on whether or not they had subscribed to certain theological abstractions.
“…(religious moderates) claim that fanatics represent nothing more than a lunatic fringe. However, we nonbelievers repeatedly encounter…egregious behavior among the faithful. Often, those claiming to be among the Christian ‘saved’ are gratuitously rude and loutish. Sometimes it’s only their casual arrogance that offends. Or perhaps it’s the cosmic death threat. D’Souza writes (p. xi)
‘Death forces upon you a choice that you cannot escape.
You must choose god or reject him, because when you die all abstentions are counted as ‘no’ votes.’…
Implicit in this statement is the threat of eternal damnation, not based on whether or not you have lived a good life, but rather whether or not you have adhered to what my wife refers to as the ‘loyalty oath.’ According to the ethics and ideology of the ‘loyalty oath’ we’re all such wretches (as in the hymn Amazing Grace) that no amount of decency in how we live can make up for our unbelief. Conversely, any degree of depravity seems acceptable, so long as you’ve confessed your sinful nature and continue to affirm your belief in the (specifically) Christian god. It is surprising that we take offense at this?”
And so on this weekend Christians call Easter (even though most Christians have no idea why, and the word is not in their scriptures), I am celebrating the spring equinox, and reflecting on the ideas of renewal, and on the good fortune I had as a child and the even better fortune I chose to make for myself (and, I hope, model for my offspring) as an adult.
May you reflect on an aspect of your childhood which was enlightening in ways you did not fully understand as a child; May you detect the fine lines between the ridiculous and the familiar; May you find an excuse to celebrate…something…which involves throwing colored paint on your fellow celebrants; …and may the hijinks ensue.
Thanks for stopping by. Au Vendredi!
* * *
[1] Several local high-tech companies employ a substantial amount of East Asian engineers, who brought their cultural and religious traditions with them and were beginning to be more “open” about their festivals and beliefs.
[2] “Transubstantiation – the idea that during Mass, the bread and wine used for Communion become the body and blood of Jesus Christ – is central to the Catholic faith.” (Pew Research Center)
[3] As in, the intellectual dishonesty finally got to us, despite our wish to support a progressive, open & affirming congregation.
[5] Which was a large part of my inspiration for writing my juvenile novel, The Mighty Quinn.
[6] Belle is three years younger than K, and from what I heard her classmates didn’t talk religion as much as the older kids did.
[7] As in, those kids were not being encouraged at home to understand K’s POV – they were just being told that peop0le like K were wrong and/or going to hell.
[8] and is why K opted out of camp several years before Belle
[9] And apparently ratted her out to the chaplain.
[10] It took MH a bit longer to feel comfortable with being open about his beliefs; he kept attending services for a few weeks after the kids and I stopped going (I told the kids it was totally up to them if they wanted to go to church or not – even if MH and I were no longer attending, we would take them to church – any church – if they wanted to go).
[11] In my experience, some of the easiest converts, whether to mainstream denominations or cults (and what are cults, really, except for religions with less money and PR than the mainstream denominations?), are people who’ve had no religious background at all and are naïve prey for slick proselytizing.
[12] “free-think-er n. A person who forms opinions about religion on the basis of reason, independently of tradition, authority, or established belief. Freethinkers include atheists, agnostics and rationalists. No one can be a freethinker who demands conformity to a bible, creed, or messiah. To the freethinker, revelation and faith are invalid, and orthodoxy is no guarantee of truth.” Definition courtesy of the Freedom From Religion Foundation, ffrf.org
(and yes, the photo is edited as I refused to have that pathetic criminal’s face take up space in my blog).
Here’s to the first of many oindictments to come, and all seriously overdue.
* * *
Department Of The Return Of The Blue Sailors
These perplexing (to many Oregon coast visitors) creatures are commonly referred to as vellas, but their full species title is Velella vella. When you have such a cool name, why not have it twice?
A small (~ 7 cm in length), deep blue-bodied, plankton-eating hydrozoa, vellasare surface floaters. They’ve a small, stiff “sail” which moves them over the surface of the ocean, leaving them at the mercy of wind and currents. Depending on those two sea forces, vellas can get stranded on the beach, where they die off en masse (and their blue fades/gets bleached to white, leading some folk to think there are two different species, or colors, of vellas) and clog the beach for a day or so until subsequent tides wash them back out to sea.
This mass stranding happens yearly on the Oregon coast, where vellashave acquired a variety of nicknames, [1] including what-the-hell-are-those-things? Moiself just calls them the blue sailors. Some years they seem to blanket the beach.
* * *
Department Of The Wonders Of American And World Music
Dateline: Wednesday evening, near the end of one of the best house concerts MH and I have ever attended. The duo we saw are singer/songwriters: Evie Ladin is a guitarist and banjoist steeped in the American/traditional music genres; Keith Terry plays standup base, and both are also accomplished cloggers, “percussive dancers,” and “body musicians.”
Body music involves incorporate body slaps as both percussive and musical accompaniments (e.g. “hamboning” [2] ):
“Body music, also known as body percussion or body drumming, is a fascinating amalgam of composition and choreography. The music creates the shapes and patterns of the dance; the dance makes the sounds and rhythms of the music resulting in visible music/audible dance….” (from “Music you can see; dance you can hear,” kekeca.net )
It’s difficult to describe what a unique and immersive listening and watching experience Ladin and Terry provided; I urge y’all to see them if you can (check their schedule -they tour as Evie Ladin Band, here) .
Near the end of their performance, after they’d performed a particularly dynamic body music number, they asked if anyone in the audience had any questions. Moiself of course did: I couldn’t help but wonder if this – I proceeded to mime the armpit fart maneuver – counted as body music? Terry said that as a matter of fact it does, and that there is a rich tradition of it in Ethiopia, although the Ethiopians don’t call it “fart music” (I replied that 12-year-old Ethiopians probably did) but rather, armpit music.” And after the show we spoke privately, and he earnestly urged me to google “Ethiopian armpit music.”
Which I did:
And look – it’s not just for Ethiopians anymore!
* * *
Department Of It’s Inevitable
Recently I received yet another email in which, underneath the sender’s sign off, there was the person’s stated pronoun preference, ala:
Beula Gertrude Bransfrøgsdattir
she/her
A part of me both dreads and anticipates the occasion wherein moiself will be requested (or required) to state the same. And if I’m requested to provide my “preferred” pronouns, in order to answer honestly, I will have to list
Robyn Parnell
She/Her Royal Awesomeness The Fabulous Miss Scarlett Johansson [3]
Zhee whiz this is complicated.
* * *
Department Of Calling This Hunter
Dumpster-Fire-For-A-Soul Doesn’t Even Begin To Cover It
“A subject shooting into a herd of elk near Nehalem killed one and mortally wounded at least three others in January, while illegally shooting from a road, and in the direction Hwy 101. The 66-year-old subject blamed “elk fever” when he self-reported the incident….” (“Subject Mortally Wounds At Least Four Elk After Shooting Into Herd” )
Elk fever. So, the sight of these magnificent creatures sent Dumpster-Fire-For-A-Soul into a killing frenzy?
Elk on the beach at near Seaside, Oregon
Intrepid sportsman that he is, DFFAS shot from his car “…in the direction of the highway.” Oh…myyyyyyyyy….
Along the Oregon coast where MH and I spend a good deal of time there are at least two resident herds of elk near us – one in Manzanita/Nehalem area. The elk roam daily, trying to find the best remaining grazing territories, and you can often see them hanging out near the highway (101), along with the cars which have slowed down and/or pulled over to the side of the road, to admire the sight and take pictures.
That bloodthirsty, festering turd of an excuse for a human being irresponsible DFFAS could just as easily hit one of those cars, or one of the people inside them, or anyone driving or walking along the highway. The rifle he used, a .308 “sniper rifle,” has a “zeroed range of from 300-600 yards” and can target up to 1000 yards.
Meanwhile, DFFAS left three elk to die in agony (two were tracked, “assessed,” and put down by sheriff’s deputies; the third mortally wounded elk was last seen trying to escape in the Nehalem River, where she presumably drowned).
Sometimes I really don’t like my species.
* * *
Department Of Ick Of The Week Sub Department Of The Podcast I Just Deleted From My Feed
As if your average US citizen needs another encouragement to mask their moods and alter their brains with more chemicals….
Dateline: Tuesday 7 am-ish, getting ready for a morning walk, scrolling through my podcast feed. Oh, lookey: there’s a new (to me) Disgraceland, an episode on Lou Reed. That might be entertaining.
I never found out. The podcast host did something which had me reaching for delete. He read a commercial from one of his podcast’s sponsors (emphases mine):
“Hey everybody, so you’ve probably heard about micro dosing and you’ve probably wondered, ‘What could it do for me?’ [4]
Just know that all sorts of people are micro-dosing daily to relax, to perform better, to feel better, and for so many other reasons. Our show today is sponsored by Microdose Gummies. Microdose Gummies deliver *perfect*, entry-level doses of THC that help you feel *just* the right amount of good.
Sometimes, as a creative person, you need some other sort of inspiration….”
“I’m so much more creative than a lion, but people don’t seem to notice, so maybe if I micro-dose I can focus better on self-promotion….”
Yet again, moiself digresses. The ad continued:
“When I’m recording an episode of Disgraceland sometimes it’s hard to focus and be creative; I might be feeling distracted, uninspired…half a Microdose Gummie to relax and get centered is just enough for me, just enough to spark some creativity, not so much that I feel hazy or spacey. Microdose is available nationwide; to learn more about micro dosing THC go to microdose.com and use code Disgraceland…”
Sometimes, as a creative person, I need a barf bucket to contain my disgust with sleazebag tactics which use the “as a creative person” appeal to push (legal or otherwise) untested and unregulated mind-altering substances.
Feeling “hard to focus” or “distracted/uninspired”? Go for a walk; get outside; get some fresh air. Take a break; put on your favorite music and make yourself a cup of tea. Get out of the house/office, talk to a friend. If you are seriously concerned about your mood/attitude then make an appointment with a licensed medical/mental health care professional (someone with credentials other than “podcaster”) for behavioral modification recommendations. [5]
Holy effin’ bong water brains: people will fall for (and sell) any kind of crap.
May you check into a mental health facility should you come down with elk fever; May you aspire to greatness with your preferred pronouns; May you understand that truly creative people manage to be so despite pharmaceutical enhancement, not because of it (think, armpit music !); …and may the hijinks ensue.
[2] a style of dance involving stomping and slapping various parts of your body – a style found in cultures all over the world but most familiar to Americans via the descendants of enslaved Africans who performed the art during the vaudevillian age.
[4] Yes to the first “probably”; HA HA HA HA HA HA nope to the second.
[5] and/or pharmaceutical, which should never be the first choice.
[6] “free-think-er n. A person who forms opinions about religion on the basis of reason, independently of tradition, authority, or established belief. Freethinkers include atheists, agnostics and rationalists. No one can be a freethinker who demands conformity to a bible, creed, or messiah. To the freethinker, revelation and faith are invalid, and orthodoxy is no guarantee of truth.” Definition courtesy of the Freedom From Religion Foundation, ffrf.org
Department Of Listen To This, For Something Insightful To Consider Chapter 347 In A Never-Ending Series
What could be more appropriate for Spring, the season of growth, renewal and new beginnings, than to consider what we think about, and how we pursue, happiness and contentment?
“The conventional way most of us go about accomplishing anything, is to work hard at it. When it comes to happiness, many of us say, ‘If this is something I really want, I need to go out and get it.’
This might be especially true in the United States, where the Declaration of Independence celebrates the ‘pursuit of happiness.’ The problem is, pursuing happiness can have the paradoxical effect of chasing happiness away. Trying to elude unhappiness can be similarly counterproductive.
(in this episode we) kick off a month-long series we’re calling Happiness 2.0. We talk with psychologist Iris Mauss, who explains why happiness can seem more elusive the harder we chase it, and what we can do instead to build a lasting sense of contentment.
Can’t remember where I heard this (a podcast, most likely), so moiself apologizes for the lack of attribution….
Research into human nature (aka the full employment strategy for psychologiss) has led to the tactic of *reframing* negative or tricky situations, which can be an effective solution to understanding and solving them. For example, take the words self-control and self-command.
Talking about “self-control” seems to have fallen out of behavioral science vogue. What is become more popular is attributing bad habits and harmful behavior patterns to a combination of genetics, environment, etc. Certainly, these are all factors for any situation, positive or negative. But if you have a problem with the concept of self-control (or even with the term itself), try reframing it to this: self-command.
But first, we at self-command central [2] need to define a term that is used in subsequent paragraphs: Dead Food.
Oh, do you really?
“ ‘Dead food’is the newest title given to food that has had the life packaged, preserved, or cooked out of it, to the point where it has become sadly void of virtually all nutritional value. Dead food refers to processed food or food without nutrients. It is called dead because it has been refined to a point that it is bereft of minerals, vitamins, and fibers.
These types of ‘foods’ are not foods!!! Rather they are a series of synthetically derived ingredients that are mixed together into something that tastes OK, has a long shelf life and actually does more harm than good to our health. In recent times these health depriving ‘foods’ have become quite popular and often a staple in the Standard Western Diet. As such, we have seen an incredible rise in modern diseases like diabetes, obesity, autoimmune diseases, infertility, cancer and more….
Live foods are foods that are consumed fresh, raw and/or in a condition as close as possible to their original, vibrant, living state. The basic idea behind all live foods is retaining the very best that natural foods have to offer, including live enzymes, antioxidants and other nutrients. (dead food v. alive food, deepH.com )
Yep, I’m out to ruin Girl Scout cookies for you.
“There are numerous ways to classify food—low fat, high sodium, low fiber, high sugar, clean, gluten free, vegetarian, lactose free, to name a few. But what if you were told the path to good health was to eat only ‘alive’ food and avoid ‘dead’ food?
So, what exactly is a ‘dead’ food?If it can sit on your counter for days or weeks and not go bad, then it’s a dead food. These foods are refined, highly processed, often synthetic and have little-to-no nutritional value. Think about foods like cheese-flavored crackers, meal replacement bars, fruit snacks and flavored beverages. Chemicals? Check. Artificial colors and flavors? Check. Ingredients on the label that you can’t pronounce? Check.
Unfortunately, these processed, chemical-rich foods are pervasive in the American diet. We want fast, convenient and tasty food and there’s plenty on the supermarket shelves that fit the bill.” ( Alive food v. Dead food, ACE certification )
*Most of us know about (or are at least familiar with the concept of ) the nutritional ideal of the “perfect plate,” which consists of 50 % veggies and fruit, 25 % whole grains, and 25 % a lean/high fiber protein source. [3]
* Most of us know, or at least have heard, that we should not drink our calories, and that sugar-laden soft drinks, milk shakes and sports drinks – even allegedly healthy smoothies – are awash in calories but don’t make you feel full, and that diet sodas and artificially sweetened beverages are no better than their full sugar counterparts and in fact are also linked to increased food cravings for high calorie foods and Type II diabetes [4]….
* Most of us know, or at least have heard, that (as per the AARP’s phrasing) “ Your sainted mother [5] was wrong — it’s bad to clean your plate. The iron rule: Exercise more; eat less….”
Damn right I’m gonna eat more than one slice at the office potluck because I * deserve* it, and besides, my co-workers are all jerks….
* * *
We don’t necessarily let our meals be dominated by simple carbs (bread, white rice, white pasta, sugar, chips) and soft drinks, and all the synthetic snack foods, cereals, and other dead foods, because we’re lazy or incompetent or greedy. [6]
But it’s likely we’ve stopped commanding you own lives. Who is in charge?
Advertisers for the industrial/fast/dead food industries are trying to get us to eat when we’re not hungry, and to think that we’re hungry 24/7. The entertainment industry wants us to park your badonkadonkson the sofa from dinner time to bedtime, stream our brains out and then brag about it later. Remember when the word “binge” did not have positive connotations (“We ordered in and binged all episodes of ‘Housewives of Chernobyl’ last night…”)?
Self-command. Who is calling the shots in your life, and what are the areas in your life where the commander is anyone, anything, but yourself?
* * *
Department Of Back to Happiness and Contentment: In Praise Of Simple Pleasures
There is simple yet insightful essay (recently referred to by The Washington Post Columnist Carolyn Hax) that, although written some 18 years ago, addresses some of what we now might call gratitude awarenessand mindfulness before those concepts got into the mainstream.
When I read the essay I was reminded of a phone call in January with daughter Belle. After catching up with her goings-on, Belle asked MH and I about what we were doing, and I couldn’t really think of much to say, other than something like it was just another “uneventful normal day.”
Many “normal days” in a row, are, as the essay’s author points out, the bulk of days for most people. Thus, since “most of life *is* normal days, to be in love with them is to be in love with life.”
To be in love with normal days is to be in love with life.
However much we await the arrival of fantastic things, or dread the tragedies and anticipate their passing…it all does pass, or at least change. Meanwhile…
“How many of us pass our lives in anticipation? Of the larger homes, smaller bodies and fattened bank accounts of our dreams; of the losses and disasters of our nightmares? We’re so focused on what we pray will happen or on what we hope never will happen that we’re blind to what is.
What is, for most people, is normal days.
Days when you’re aware of being neither particularly sick nor well. When your relatives, friends and partners waver between buoying you up and sitting on your nerves; when you’re too busy to notice much of anything — except that you’re too busy. Days when people ask, “So what happened today?” and you pause, think and come up with squat.
I found the essay both sweet and profound, and hope y’all check it out.
And in praise and recognition of simple pleasures, moiself will confess to the first one that sprang to my normal (well, for me) mind:
I love it that my family knows I will appreciate (and use) a jar of “farty putty.” [7]
* * *
Department Of The Secret To Eternal Youth
Dateline: Monday, North Coast Pinball. I am playing one of the arcade’s newest – as in, most recently acquired – games. [8] A ~12 year old boy, whom I’d seen earlier playing some of the games, was playing chess with his sister (? they look like fraternal twins), at the arcade’s games table, which is a few feet from the pinball machine I’m playing. He and his sister get up to leave, and he approaches me. He looks at me shyly, glances down at his shoes, then looks up and smiles the sweetest bright-eyed smile I’ve seen in years. He holds out two tokens in his right hand, and nods at me.
“For me?” I ask. He nods again, and blushes. I take the tokens and thank him. The two kids leave the arcade, and I inform WI, the arcade owner, of this encounter.
“Awww,” WI says, raising his voice two octaves. “ ‘Will you be my valentine?’ “
“It was so sweet,” moiself gushes. “Like being asked to go steady.”
* * *
Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week
“Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.” (Author E.B. White )
* * *
May you expeience the emotional equivalent of being asked to go steady; May you strive to be in love with the life of normal days; May you find a way to work the word badonkadonks into your next conversation; …and may the hijinks ensue.
Thanks for stopping by. Au Vendredi!
* * *
[1] Plenty, actually. Just like I did, and continue to do, before this genre of news and entertainment existed.
[2] Okay; there’s no such thing, but I’m working on it.
[4] Artificial sweeteners lead to a reduction in the hormone that inhibits appetite, increase the risk of Type II diabetes and obesity (Multiple sources, including NPR 10-7-21
[5] Or grandparents, who lived through The Great Depression and had it hammered into them that you never know when (or if) your next meal is coming so you must eat all of whatever is offered to you.
[6] Or, perhaps a brutally frank self-assessment and/or some sessions with a trained counselor might indicate that, maybe, we *are* and now that we have identified these tendencies we can work on overcoming and/or managing them.
[7] Which is why I found one in last year’s Christmas stocking.
Dateline: Friday morning; watching a movie on TV while warming-up on my elliptical machine before my streaming yoga class. When Harry Potter And The Sorcerer’s Stone takes a commercial break, I discover a new (well, to moiself ) tactic in the using-the-fear-of-living-to-sell-stuff campaigns. Along with “anti-aging” potions, there now is at least one skin product company that is promoting their products as “ageless.“ Hmmm So, if you use their serums and creams and lotions you can be ageless. Which, if I understand the meaning of the suffix -less, means you will no longer have age – you know, like people who don’t yet exist, or are dead.
Sign me up!
And what a convenient segue to…
Department Of Topical Topics
Dateline: Sunday 1:30 pm-ish; MH and I driving home after dining out. During lunch we’d discussed our previous evening’s watching of the first three episodes of season 3 of Star Trek’s Picard. We talked about what we liked and didn’t like plot-wise, and what we both found distracting and disturbing: the “new face’ in the cast, [1] which was actually a familiar face, or should have been. Translation: we were both saddened and disappointed by the draconian visage of actor Gates McFadden (Star Trek/TNG’sDr. Beverly Crusher), yet another actor who oh-so-obviously had drastic self-mutilation “work done.”
How moiself cringed to behold her…and I’d been looking forward to seeing her character again. I’d just listened to McFadden’s most recent podcast: I’ve listened to many episodes of it, where I’ve learned that in addition to being an actor and choreographer, McFadden is also passionate about her work as a theater director and acting teacher. I don’t know if she’s still teaching acting, but if she is, I’m wondering how she would counsel novice actors – in particular, female actors – re the thespian principle of how your body is your instrument…and your face is attached to your body and is the most expressive part of your instrument, but so many actors now seem to view their face as an ornament – passive and decorative, not active and expressive – which needs periodic refurbishing.
McFadden and most of the TNG cast are making guest and/or recurring appearances on Picard. Assuming McFadden’s fellow TNG actors hadn’t seen her in a while, [2] here’s another thing I wondered: one by one, as her former castmates are filming their scenes in which Dr. Crusher and their respective characters have roles, they see her grotesque altered appearance for the first time, backstage, and…how do they react?
They *are* actors, so it’s likely that, after a truly sincere, “It’s so good to work with you again!” they convincingly spew the obligatory, “You look great!”…or just change the subject. [3]
I feel so bad for – nope, wait, I do not. Not gonna apologize for my honest reaction. I’m just so sad to know that if I were to have met her, I’d be stifling my What happened to you – you look terrible?!? Whatever you did, let it wear off and DON’T DO IT AGAIN reaction, which would be a cruel thing to say to anyone. And after it’s done – when it’s “too late” – no one is likely giving her honest feedback.
What kind of a shallow and shitty world makes her think that she had to do that to herself? And who LIES to her (who lies to *anyone* who does these procedures?) after her face has been sliced the pulled and stitched and bloated and tells her she looks great, or at least somehow better?
It’s unfair/not nice, I know. Female actors encounter a loss of work if they age naturally, then get criticized when they attempt to mask their age surgically. But…oh, Ms. McFadden…Gates, Gates, Gates, girl…things aren’t going to change unless we decide to change them, by not capitulating to the sexism and agism which drive such decisions. And if you’re not moved to rebel by realizing the dirty cultural and political standards that drive the plastic surgery industry, what about trying a dose of this reality:
* You don’tlook “better” after cosmetic surgery – no one who undergoes these procedures does. * It calls attention to your aging, and your fear of it; you look distorted, not younger.
Before
After
Après lunch I opened the LA Times app on my phone, and saw the latest Steve Lopez column. Longtime journalist Lopez started a new project several months back, which the Times announced thusly:
“…we are thrilled to announce that Lopez is launching a new column, Golden State, which will explore the challenges, and occasional thrills, of aging.
Nearly 6 million people 65 and older live in California, and that number will nearly double by 2030. That growing demographic grapples daily with care-giving shortages, age discrimination, isolation and health issues. … They are negotiating relationships with adult children and with grandchildren. In some instances, they’re raising their grandchildren. At the same time, many people 65 and older continue to be at the top of their game….”
And the focus of Lopez’s most recent column?
“We live in a society obsessed with youth, fearful of death and allergic to wrinkles. But actress Mimi Rogers, who is 67, is having none of it…. It’s refreshing to see a big-name Hollywood actor age naturally and gracefully rather than grotesquely.”
Mimi Rogers had contacted Lopez about another article he’d written. They corresponded, she agreed to be interviewed about her recent acting roles, and then…
… she was happy to speak her mind…about ageism, longstanding societal pressures on women to look young, the double standard for men, and ‘the plastic surgery nightmares we see all around us.’ ‘This is me, this is my face,” Rogers says, ‘and I’m not going to show up with fish lips.’ Rogers said she feels fortunate to have been able to consistently find work as she has aged, and she revels in her current role on Bosch: Legacy… a full-on, artful and talented lawyer who plays her age while fighting for her clients and her causes. In many ways, Rogers said, this is a good time for older actors because streaming of high-quality shows has opened some doors. But biases and double standards are still firmly in place. ‘It goes back to when Cary Grant was cavorting with 22-year-olds’ on screen,’ Rogers said. ‘I think it’s better in Europe, but a lot of women talk about this idea that past a certain age, you become invisible. It’s like your sexual currency is gone, and that currency goes away much more rapidly for women.’ We’re at something of a ‘turnstile moment,’ says University of Michigan cultural critic Susan J. Douglas, author of “Where the Girls Are: Growing Up Female With the Mass Media.” Stereotypes about female aging persist, she said, but there’s been a pushback and ‘a visibility revolt’ in which actresses, including Judi Dench and Helen Mirren, ‘are still opening movies and TV shows, and political figures, including Nancy Pelosi and Maxine Waters, are ‘staking a claim to be visible in public life.’
Moiself’s insertion: Yeah, stake that claim….even as people like CNN Newscaster Don Lemon (age 57) keep saying (and thinking) shit things like this: [4]
CNN host Don Lemon shocked his co-host after saying that Nikki Haley, who recently announced her plan to run for president in 2024, and other women over the age of 50 aren’t in their “prime.”
On Thursday morning’s episode of CNN This Morning, Lemon and co-host Poppy Harlow discussed Haley’s recent comments about requiring competency tests for politicians over the age of 75. “This whole talk about age makes me uncomfortable. I think it’s the wrong road to go down. She says people, you know, politicians are suddenly not in their prime. Nikki Haley isn’t in her prime. Sorry. When a woman is considered in her prime is in her twenties and thirties,” Lemon said. (Newsweek 2-16-23)
More Lopez column excerpts (from “ ‘This is me, this is my face’: Actress Mimi Rogers on aging naturally, without cosmetic surgery,” my emphases, LA Times 3-4-23 )
‘Mimi’s position is so important to the rest of us, because celebrity culture often sets the standard for everyday women — the standards of slimness and beauty and looking young,’ Douglas said. Many women, Douglas continued, face a “punishing” dilemma — especially those in entertainment and public life. Wrinkles can threaten their livelihood, but ‘if you go under the knife and don’t look like yourself, you’re attacked for being narcissistic or wanting to hold on to the past. So it’s really hard to win.’ And then there’s the multibillion-dollar ‘anti-aging industrial complex’…diligently grooming the next cult of warriors in the fight against the inevitable. “…it’s really quite a brilliant campaign,” said Douglas. ‘They are now marketing Botox to people in their 20s, and if you get people to be phobic about aging when they’re young, you have an ever-replenishing market for your products.’ “
* * *
Department Of Silly Moiself…
…for doubting that Yet Another Bonehead remark® could come prancing out of the mouth of Senator Ted Cruz.
Last Saturday morning, I saw this social media post from a friend who is a longtime activist [5] in the National Gay Pilots Association:
NGPA Stands with Transgender Aviation Community On March 1, 2023, Senator Ted Cruz (R-TX) said, “It gives no comfort to the flying public that their pilot might be a transgender witch but doesn’t actually know how to prevent a plane from crashing…” The NGPA strongly condemns Sen. Cruz’s transphobic statement and welcomes the opportunity to educate Sen. Cruz and members of the Senate Commerce Committee on effective Crew Resource Management, how an inclusive flight deck is a safe flight deck, and how to be a supportive ally to Transgender aviators across the industry. Read the full press release here.
I had to look up the video (here it is) of Cruz’s comments; I thought the report of it might be an exaggeration, because I couldn’t quite believe that anyone would utter the words “transgender witches” with regard to anything FAA-related.
Someone needs to cast a spell on that man.
Also, as a member of the Flying Public ® (and therefore qualified to speak for ALL OF US), I know that witches have a millennia of skillful flying under their belts hats. Thus, I’ve no problem with witches of any gender orientation being involved with aviation. In case my opinion on the matter isn’t clear, behold my favorite of my car’s many bumper stickers:
* * *
Department Of Speaking Of Boneheads
I don’t read many comic strips anymore, in part due to my (mostly but not exclusively) subscribing to online newspapers. Even when MH and I subscribed to three “dead tree” newspapers and moiself would scan the comics pages, I hadn’t paid attention to Dilbert in years if not decades. I thought Dilbert was a clever idea when it started – the cubicle culture was a fresh and ripe venue for satire. Eventually it seemed to me that Dilbert kept repeating itself. [6] I stopped checking it out because I found it boring; also, there was a certain undertone of…smugness(?)…I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
Moiself didn’t know the strip was still running until its creator, Scott Adams, got into a brouhaha after he got ahold of some wicked Maui Wowie decided that the world needed to hear his WTF?!? opinions on race relations he broadcasted on his YouTube channel. [7]
Adams reportedly has a history of airing “problematic” views (including statements that can be taken as anti-COVID vaccination, claiming he lost job opportunities because he is white, and questioning the Holocaust death estimates). On February 22 he posted a rant (YouTube livestream ) wherein, after referencing a poll by the conservative-leaningRasmussen Group that found only a slim majority of Black Americans agreed with the weirdly phrased statement, “It’s okay to be white,” Adams said that Black Americans are “a hate group” and advised white people to “get the hell away” from them.
Historical context:
“The phrase ‘it’s okay to be White’ was popularized in 2017 as a trolling campaign meant to provoke liberals into condemning the statement and thus, the theory went, proving their own unreasonableness. White supremacists picked up on the trend, adding neo-Nazi language, websites or images to fliers with the phrase….
‘Anyone who did know the history of it or who had a suspicion about the history of it might react to that Rasmussen question with some skepticism,’ said Nicholas Valentino, a political scientist at the University of Michigan who studies racial attitudes and public emotions. ‘And that wouldn’t be a sign that they didn’t like White people.’ (“A poll asked if it’s ‘OK to be white.’ Here’s why the phrase is loaded.” The Washington Post, 2-28-23 )
Did Adams not know (or care) about that tricky phrase’s history? Did he wonder, even for a moment, about that poll’s question’s phrasing?
I have no idea. However, IMO what some other cartoonists have said is equally or more troubling than Adams’ rant.
( Excerpts from “Cartoonists say a rebuke of ‘Dilbert’ creator Scott Adams is long overdue,” my emphases, NPR news 2-28-23 ):
“…(other) cartoonists say Adams has a long history of spewing problematic views… ‘It begs the question, now that everyone is piling on him, what took so long?’ said Keith Knight, an illustrator known for his comic strips The Knight Life, (th)ink and The K Chronicles…. After receiving widespread pushback for his offensive rant, Adams described himself as getting canceled. But (some) cartoonists argue that he is simply being held accountable for his remarks. ‘By Adams saying he’s been canceled, its him not owning up to his own responsibility for the things he said and the effect they have on other people,’ said Ward Sutton, who has contributed illustrations to The New York Times, The New Yorker and Rolling Stone. ‘He’s trying to turn himself into a victim when he himself has been a perpetrator of hate.’ …Similarly, Hector Cantú, best known for his Latino-American comic Baldo, said he believes in freedom of speech, but not freedom from repercussions. ‘Don’t gloss this over by saying it’s politics or it’s cancel culture,’ he said.‘If you’re going to offend people, you risk paying the price.’
Seriously?
Do some deep yoga breaths, Cantú, and consider this: How do you define what the “price” is?
A blanket statement like If you’re going to offend people, you risk paying the price could be used to justify anything, as long as someone feels “offended.”
* What about “the price” Salman Rushdie has paid ? After all, he “had an effect on” – he “offended” – many, many people. * What about the attack on the French newspaper, Charlie Hebro (12 murdered ; 11 injured) by an Islamic terrorist group, after the satirical publication ran cartoons that many people found offensive? * And what about Theo van Gogh, the Dutch filmmaker who, in collaboration with Somali-born activist Ayaan Hirsi Ali made a TV film which criticized conservative Muslim clergy for perpetuating views that are anti-women and anti-gay? van Gogh was shot and stabbed to death on the streets of Amsterdam for his “offensive” views and films, [8] and Hirsi Ali received numerous death threats and had to go into hiding.
Look: It’s no surprise to moiself that Adams’ rant makes him sound like a Major Dickhead.
That’s *General* Dickhead to you, ma’am!
There are reasons I chose to stop reading Dilbert. And newspapers are, of course free, to choose which strips they will carry and which they won’t, for whatever reasons. But, hello, I am greatlytroubled by Cantú’s comment. I believe Cantú’s attitude is a danger to intellectual liberty and freedom of expression – I suppose I should say I’m greatly *offended* by him, and then, what? I could be justified in making Cantú risk paying the price…whatever price I decide is appropriate re the depth of my umbrage?
* * *
Department Of Must See TV
So much to complain about, this past week!
Thus, I was happy find something worthy of anti-complaint. Moiself did something I’ve never done before: I wrote a letter to the producer(s) of a TV show. Here it is, in its entirety:
The 3-2-23 episode of Grey’s Anatomy (“All Star”) was a stunner, for me. First, the obligatory listing of my commentary credentials:
* I worked for nine years in women’s reproductive health care; five of those in a private OB-GYN practice and four in various Planned Planned Parenthood clinics.
* I am a human being.
The episode’s storyline which inspired me to write featured a young mother who suffered intractable non-treatment-responsive, devastating, postpartum depression after the births of each of her two children. She and her husband suffered a contraceptive failure and she was faced with a third, unplanned pregnancy. She chose to terminate her pregnancy to save her own mental health and to be able to be a fully present mother to her two young children.
What was stunning for me was when I realized how rare it was – what I was seeing. How refreshing to see a storyline involving a woman’s decision to have an abortion presented so forthrightly – as in, not involving hysteria or judgment, but wherein a patient needing medical services was able to make the best choice for herself and her family, and was able to do so legally, and with competent and compassionate medical care. Having worked in an abortion clinic, I also appreciated the depiction, once again competent and compassionate, of the abortion procedure itself.
May you be part of the aging naturally visibility revolt; May you be wary of how you react when you are “offended;” May you cherish the comical absurdity of terms like transgender witches; …and may the hijinks ensue.
Thanks for stopping by. Au Vendredi!
* * *
[1] I almost didn’t recognize her…except that she was identified as Dr. Crusher.
[2] They’ve all been pursuing other gigs since the series went off the air and the last TNG movie was made, which was over 20 years ago.
[3] And how many of the male cast has had cosmetic procedures? Hard to tell, although, typically, males are “allowed” their wrinkles (and can use facial hair to a certain extent to hide sagging chins and lip and mouth lines). Patrick Stewart, who plays Jean Luc Picard, certainly looks *near* his age, but his forehead is suspiciously taut.
[6] Without announcing, “this strip is a rerun.” Hey, everybody needs a vacation…
[7] Yep, I didn’t know Dilbert was still running and also didn’t know Adams had a YouTube channel.
[8] van Gogh was already dead when his murderer used a knife to pin a death threat to Ali on van Gogh’s chest. Ali subsequently went into hiding under government protection.
[9] “free-think-er n. A person who forms opinions about religion on the basis of reason, independently of tradition, authority, or established belief. Freethinkers include atheists, agnostics and rationalists. No one can be a freethinker who demands conformity to a bible, creed, or messiah. To the freethinker, revelation and faith are invalid, and orthodoxy is no guarantee of truth.” Definition courtesy of the Freedom From Religion Foundation, ffrf.org
It’s that time of the year again. As has become a tradition much maligned anticipated in our neighborhood, moiself is hosting a different Partridge, every week, in my front yard. [1]
Can you identify this week’s guest Partridge?
* * *
Department Of If You’re Already Sick Of The Holiday Cheer…
Then this might be for you: The entire L.A. City Council racist audio leak, transcribed and annotated by The Los Angeles Times.
Y’all may remember the scandal, which broke in October and which moiself wrote about in my November 4 post. Bare bones summary of a very complicated story: someone(s) [2] secretly recorded a behind-closed doors meeting of three Los Angeles City Council members and a local labor leader, wherein Council President Nury Martinez and other attendees slammed some of her fellow council members, gleefully made racist remarks, and spoke openly about how the city’s political districts should be carved up to advantage certain constituencies.
The council was thrown into turmoil, Martinez resigned, and some long-overdue rumination re revising and reckoning our “tribalism” in politics has been aired, including in a thoughtful op-ed by LAT columnist Sandy Banks.
Banks opens her essay with the story of a hurtful incident which happened to her many years ago. Riding a crowded bus and exhausted from a long day at a new job, Banks was touched when a young Latina woman gesture to Banks to take the seat next to her. The Latina woman had just herself been beckoned by an elderly Asian woman to take the seat beside her, but that same elderly woman reacted with visible disgust when the Latina in turn invited the Black woman to join them…and the Asian woman stood up and moved to another part of the bus.
…It has been several years since that episode, but the hurt, anger and shame it roused in me resurfaced last month when I listened to three of our city’s elected Latino leaders gleefully mocking and insulting Black people. Their tirade made international news, because of the crude and racist language they used to describe Black, gay, Armenian, Jewish and Oaxacan people in a private meeting, secretly recorded, about increasing the political power of Latinos at the expense of other struggling groups.
Then, adding insult to injury in the days that followed, the politicians larded their pseudo apologies with references to serving “communities of color” — when the only color they really seem to care about is light brown. Their own.
And that got me thinking about whether the label has outlived its utility….
Maybe now is the time to scrap the “people of color” label and its “communities of color” twin — along with the pretense that all nonwhite groups can be seamlessly yoked together in the fight for equality by the color of our skin.
It’s becoming increasingly clear that the bonds between racial and ethnic groups in multicultural Los Angeles are weak. We may share economic stressors and even neighborhoods, but we have different priorities, challenges and needs — and apparently little regard for solidarity, given that the leaders of our city’s largest ethnic group were trying to hoard power by chopping other groups off at the knees. The “people of color” frame began to take shape decades ago…. But research by UCLA political science professor Efrén Pérez has found that “the unity behind ‘people of color’ crumbles” when individual racial groups feel their unique challenges are being ignored. “There is nothing natural about camaraderie among people of color,” Pérez wrote in a 2020 opinion piece for the Washington Post. “For every commonality, a point of difference intrudes on unity.” Dropping the label wouldn’t mean giving up on the idea that there’s power in our collective energy. But it would allow us to scrap the fantasy that Black, Latino, Asian American and Indigenous people are the sum of our similarities, and should be willing to sublimate our own priorities to advance others’ needs. And while “people of color” is part of the zeitgeist today, debate over the concept has long been robust in academic and political arenas…. “We have talked about this a lot over the years,” said USC law professor Jody Armour, who specializes in the intersection of race and justice. “I’ve always been skeptical of the ‘people of color’ category.’…. The POC category has replicated this country’s reductive colorism, which strands dark-skinned people at the bottom of its ‘people of color’ hierarchy. It’s become a way ‘of camouflaging anti-Blackness,” Armour says. ( excerpts from “Lessons of the audio leak: Solidarity is dead. Let’s ditch the label ‘people of color,’ “
By Sandy Banks, Los Angeles Times, 11-21-22 )
* * *
* * *
Department Of Bored Of The Rings
Moiself recently read an advice column wherein a man sought counsel on what, to him, seemed a vexing dilemma, and what to me was a “problem” worthy of wanting to give him and like-minded others face-palming so cosmic as to launch them into orbit.
“Incoming!”
The man wanted to propose marriage to his sweetie. His dilemma, as he saw it, was that his partner makes so much more money than he does that any ring he would buy or pick out would not be as fancy or somehow as “deserving” as that which she could get for herself. He did acknowledge in his letter that “she’s just not a fancy jewelry type person,” and that they had already been discussing marriage, and she’d indicated she wouldn’t necessarily want an engagement ring at all.
Oh my… That took me back. But first, this public service announcement.
Men, women – we’ve all have been lied to. Diamonds are not a rare treasure, despite the fact that the jewelry industry in general and diamond pushers in specific want you to think so, and have worked damn hard to equate the color, carat, cut, clarity the of rock to the quality of your loooooooooove. And no one works that scam angle quite like the Debeers company.
“The perfect diamond is a promise of the perfect relationship, because love is supposedly rare and so is this stone. We want the story that tells us our relationship is special. And we don’t want to accept that rarity isn’t all that meaningful.” (“Diamonds Aren’t Special and Neither is Your Love,” The Atlantic, 1-29-21)
Ahhh, the rings. Wedding rings; sure, whatever. But the whole engagement ring thing, where one person in the couple wears one but the other does not, reeks of sexism and the history of marriage as property transfer of a woman, from her birth family (read: father) to her husband. I suppose a ring is a more genteel way than pissing a circle around the woman to declare territorial rights, but it is still a pronouncement of ownership, and not any less creepy to me just because our culture has been injured to it.
Answer me this, moiself asks rhetorically (because no one has been able to give a cogent reason when I’ve asked seriously): Why is it the woman who wears an outward signal of “I’m ‘taken’ ”[3] and the man does not, when the couple are both engaged to be married?
Why are engagement rings still even a thing? It’s just…stupid.
Menfolk, the marketing that is aimed toward you with regard to this “tradition” is truly mind-numbing. It is meant to get men to internalize the idea that the engagement rings they pick out are signifiers of their commitment and worth. Also, let’s face it, the not-so-subliminal attachment message is that the bigger/more expensive the ring he can afford, the bigger the man’s…uh, manliness.
Are you man enough to give her this?
Interesting anecdote: despite the stereotype of women being interested in such things, my “congratulations” to couples who announce their engagement is never followed with “Ooooh, lemme see the ring.” Because I don’t give a flying fuck about such foolishness and wish we’d all move beyond that. I do give a flying fuck about this very-interesting-fact-of-my-experience: the only time an engagement ring has been proudly and insistently displayed to me in those announcement circumstances has been via the engaged dudes. For example: on at least three different occasions – a work or holiday party, or other social gathering – when a couple’s engagement was announced, as I started to say something congratulatory to the couple, the man grabbed his fiancé’s left hand, shoved it in front of my face, and all but demanded that I praise the ring he’d given her.
I suppose that’s a more socially acceptable way to brag than for him to drop trou at the party and display his 14 karat manliness, but….
MH and I have been married for 30 something years now. [4] It should come as no surprise that I did not wear an engagement ring, nor was I given one by MH, because he knew my opinions on the matter. When we were Getting Serious ® and discussing our future together, MH said, just to check, that he assumed I would not want an engagement ring? I told him that I’d never worn rings of any kind, with the exception of my The Man From U.N.C.L.E. ® spy ring and my high school class ring, only one of which I treasured and both of which I lost after just a few weeks of wearing. [5]
Also, I’d never worn much jewelry of any kind– rings, bracelets, necklaces – except for earrings. I had my ears pierced when I was a junior in college, at the behest of one of my roommates who declared one holiday season that I was a difficult person to shop for and “Could you just please get your gawddamn ears pierced so I can always know what to get you for Christmas?”[6]
MH and I laughed when I told him this story, and I joked, “Yeah, so, engagement earrings….”
Not long after that (what I assumed was a) throwaway remark, MH presented me with a pair of diamond “engagement earrings.” [7] I almost convinced him to get one of his ears pierced so we both could each wear one. But he was still young enough and concerned enough with what his parents would think, [8] and respectfully declined my request. Somehow, we both managed to survive our engagement without me wearing the traditional visible marker of such. We chose matching wedding rings: simple gold bands engraved with a weave pattern.
Fast forward thirty years. One evening at dinner MH said something along the lines of, “BTW, in case you’re wondering why I’m not wearing my wedding ring….” which caused me to look at his left hand and see that yep, his fourth finger was ringless. No, I hadn’t noticed. He told me that in the past few weeks at work his fingers had started to ache and swell. He’d visited his workplace’s occupational nurse, who couldn’t tell if the puffiness was the beginnings of arthritis or simply the results of too much clickety-clack time on keyboard, but advised that MH remove the ring now in case the swelling got so bad he had to have it cut off. [9]
Yeah, don’t let it get to this point.
“Oh, that makes sense,” I replied. Then I immediately took off my wedding band and put it in a safe place. I assured MH that I did not do so out of spite or anything negative; rather, for parallel conformity. We are either both wearing wedding rings, or we aren’t.
In the weeks to come MH investigated ring alternatives, while I actually/kinda/sorta felt like I didn’t need it. Sure, I’d worn one for almost 30 years at that point, but a part of me had never gotten used to wearing a ring, and I was always twisting it and found it cumbersome for handwashing. I recalled to him, from my previous life of working in the medical profession, how over the years I’d met and talked with several patients and couples who did not wear wedding rings, typically for one of two reasons:
(2) a dermatologic allergy to the metals used in the ring bands.
Some of the couples fashioned their own bands out of various other materials; one couple chose not to wear rings; at least two couples I met had their wedding rings tattooed around their ring fingers. [10]
MH did some online searching and found silicone bands he liked. They are flexible, come in a variety of sizes, widths, colors and patterns– even camo, for the romantic military fanatic outdoorsman. Bonus: they usually cost less than $30, so you don’t feel bad (and by you of course I mean moiself ) if you lose them. It’s fun, to occasionally change the color and pattern. After all, the only thing that separates us from our fellow primates is our ability to accessorize. Anyway, that is what we have both worn ever since.
“Instead of wondering why I don’t need god to be good, ask yourself why others do. Consider that true morality lies in doing what’s right without expectation of divine retribution or recompense for our actions.” ( Freethought Today, 11-22 excerpt from “Letter to a Mormon mother,” by Oliver Brown, 5th place winner of FFRF’s 2022 high school essay contest, [12] )
* * *
May you reconsider your usage of POCand other group-signifying terms; May you discover the cheap thrills of wearing colorful silicon rings; May you get your gawddamm ears pierced as an easy gift receiving solution; …and may the hijinks ensue.
[2] who, as of this writing, have not been identified.
[3] Which is how one man mansplained engagements rings to me, when I wondered aloud about their meaning.
[4] Don’t ask me to do the math, which I have to do in order to remember. Okay; it’s 34.
[5] My parents insisted I get my high school class ring, because I might regret *not* having one later…why they thought I would regret such a thing, I have no idea. I lost the ring in a bodysurfing wipeout at Newport Beach.
[7] When the horrible news about diamond mining and the “blood” diamonds began emerging years later, I stopped wearing them, first “warning” MH of my intent. I did not fault him, and neither did he: he’d bought them in good faith and had no idea about how dirty the diamond industry was.
[8] After all, he was already dating and now engaged to this crazy older woman….
[10] In discussing the various ring alternatives with our offspring, our generously tattooed daughter was – surprise! – highly in favor of the ink option.
[11] “free-think-er n. A person who forms opinions about religion on the basis of reason, independently of tradition, authority, or established belief. Freethinkers include atheists, agnostics and rationalists.
No one can be a freethinker who demands conformity to a bible, creed, or messiah. To the freethinker, revelation and faith are invalid, and orthodoxy is no guarantee of truth.” Definition courtesy of the Freedom From Religion Foundation, ffrf.org
[12] The William Schulx High School Essay Contest for college-bound seniors had this prompt for 2022 contest entrants: “Please write a letter to a religious friend, relative, classmate, teacher, etc., who buys the myth that one can’t be moral without believing in a god.”
Department Of Things Are Never Going To Get Better Until We Start Asking The Correct Questions
Whether posed from a pro-choice supporter who encourages openness as being essential to debates over reproductive freedom and (ironically) privacy, or from a rape hotline volunteer who is working to bring the statistics of sexual assault into the public consciousness, IMO people – well-meaning and otherwise – keep asking the wrong questions.
Question, posed to a woman: Have you ever had an abortion?
Question which *should* be posed to a man – either preceding or following the previous question – but never rarely is: Have you ever, even potentially, [1] been the cause of an abortion? (Translation: have you ever had sexual relations with a woman, consensual or otherwise, in which your intent was not to father a wanted pregnancy? )
Question, posed to a woman: Have you ever been sexually assaulted?
Question which *should* be posed to a man – either preceding or following the previous question – but never rarely is: Have you – or any male friend/relative/acquaintance you know of – ever sexually assaulted anyone?
* * *
Department Of Doing the Thing I Wasn’t Going To Do
Moiself has started a book club.
Always the vanguard of creativity and novelty, I am calling it, Book Club.
The reason why I wasn’t going to do it: my experiences in the previous BCs I’ve been a part of.
The BCs dealing with nonfiction were fine, and more than that – highly enjoyable and educational. But when it came to BCs that included – or were totally centered around – works of fiction…not so much. What would happen: at least one of the other BC members would find out that I was a published author of fiction (something I tried to keep under wraps) and “out” me to the group. This revelation tainted the BC experience for moiself, and also, it seemed, for many if not all of the other members. I noted a deference, toward moiself, from the other members, which frustrated, saddened, and frankly nauseated me.
The other BC members would noticeably defer (sometimes downright obsequiously) to my opinions, or change theirs if they’d spoken first and then it was my turn to speak [2] and I offered a different perspective, or ask me to express my thoughts before they’d offer theirs. They’d even come right out and say something along the lines of:
“Well, as an author, you know more than I do about….”
Ick, ick, ick.
And no amount of encouragement on my part – that their opinions and feelings as readers were equally valid (or even more so) than mine as a writer [3] – seemed to relieve that deferential dynamic.
The straw which broke my BC camel’s back…
“Ooh, thank you for that.”
…you’re welcome.
As I was saying typing, the straw which broke my BC camel’s back was when we members of BC #4 were discussing A Thousand Acres, author Jane Smiley’s contemporary retelling of Shakespeare’s King Lear.
ATA was a book I did not care for. As it turned out, not one person in the group did, although the other members were initially hesitant to express their distaste for ATA, seeing as how the literary critics were coming in their pants over their eagerness to heap praise upon it (in my opinion…which I managed not to express to the BC in the words moiself has used here).
So; none of us liked it. But, why? Moiself kept her mouth shut until everyone else had spoken, when I found out that everyone else in the group didn’t enjoy reading ATA because “There were no likeable characters in the book.”
Um, okay. Moiself didn’t partucularly “like” any of the book’s main characters. But, what about the story itself – the plot, the pacing, the way the story of those unlikeable characters unfolded? I tried to present the idea that a story can be compelling without containing characters which you, the reader, find likeable or “identifiable-with-able.” I mean, seriously, dudes: who is “likeable” in Macbeth?
Moiself didn’t like the book because I didn’t like the story being told, in the way it was told. I didn’t care for the plot content and trajectory, which never engaged my attention, and…oh, never mind.
I tried, very carefully and respectfully, to offer an alternative perspective to not-liking-something, which some of the other BC members took as me trying to talk them out of *not* liking the book – which, as I ‘d already stated, moiself Also. Did. Not. Like.
Fast forward to at least two decades later. The first meeting of “my” BC was last Thursday, and seemed to be a rousing success. A nice mix of life backgrounds and opinions among the members; [4]moiselfreceived good feedback; everyone seems looking forward to next month’s meeting. The format, which is open to modification as per members’ suggestions and preferences, [5] is fairly simple: Once a month; my place; all who are able to do so bring a plate of appetizer/canape/”finger food” type goodies to share (and/or conversation-stimulating beverages); we nosh and sip and talk about the book.
At the end of the evening we offer suggestions for next month’s book, based on the month’s theme, which has been announced in advance.
I wanted this BC, instead of specializing in genres, to offer a wide variety of reading options. I didn’t want to host (or participate in) an all fiction or all nonfiction group. In order to offer the widest variety of possibilities – and perhaps force moiselfto read at least one book a year in a category I don’t normally opt for (e.g., history), moiself came up with a list of themes (and a clarification of them), which I shall ever-so-humbly share with y’all now, in case this idea is also appealing to you. [6]
Book Club Monthly Themes
* January: Literary Classics You Should Have Read I never made it through War and Peace (and have no desire to do so now), how about you? But there are plenty of other classics I’d like to give a go (or would be willing to re-read, since I’ve probably forgotten most of, say, Moby Dick). What constitutes a “classic”? Think of your high school/college literature class reading lists.
* February: Short story collections “If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter.”
This quote (variously attributed to everyone from Twain to Voltaire) is related to a category that never quite gets its due recognition, but in which (so-called) New World authors have excelled, from past practitioners like Mark Twain and Ray Bradbury (The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County and other stories; The Illustrated Man) to relative newcomers Edwidge Dandicat and Tim O’Brien (Ghosts; The Things They Carried).
* March: Feminism “I Am Woman; Hear Me Roar (and see me read).” Sisterhood is powerful, as we’ll see when we delve into/revisit the classics of first and second wave feminist thought (Mary Wollstonecraft’s The Vindication of the Rights of Women; Betty Freidan’s The Feminist Mystique; Germaine Greer’s The Female Eunuch; Gloria Steinem’s The Truth Will Set you Free But First It Will Piss You Off ) as well as the “Third Wave” feminists’ updates (Roxane Gay’s Bad Feminist; Rebecca Solnit’s Men Explain Things to Me).
* April: Regional – “She flies with her own wings” (and reads with her own eyes). Did you recognize Oregon’s state motto? Yeah, it’s somewhat…lame, but it’s a great state and region we are privileged to live in. In April we’ll affirm that by reading and discussing a book either written by an Oregon/Pacific NW author, or one that deals with Oregon/Pacific settings and/or subjects. From Ursula LeGuin’s sci-fi novels to Stephen Ambrose’ history of the Lewis & Clark expedition, this theme could include almost any literary category.
* May: Freethought “Having faith is believing in something you just know ain’t true.” This quote from Twain leads us to themes of humanism, skepticism, and freethought. We’ll be choosing from the writings of those who are-religion free, such as the provocative manifestos of Sam Harris (The End of Faith: Religion, Terror, and the Future of Reason) and Christopher Hitchens (God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything), the memoir of activist Dan Barker (Godless: How an Evangelical Preacher Became One of America’s Leading Atheists), and the historical works of Susan Jacoby (Freethinkers: A History of American Secularism).
* June: “Pride Month” writers From the semi-autobiographical fiction of Rita Mae Brown (Bingo; Six of One) to the essay collections of David Sedaris (Me Talk Pretty One Day) to the novels of James Baldwin (Giovanni’s Room) to the poetry of Justin Chin (Harmless Medicine)– this is yet another category which can encompass all genres. From poetry to political manifestos, the only requirement for a June book is that the book’s author identifies as LGBTQ.
* July: History and other Non-fiction The broadest category of all, this could cover anything from self-help to ancient civilizations to true crime to WWII narratives….
* August: Memoir/Biography/Autobiography From the thought-provoking, introspective life story of an esteemed philosopher to the behind-the-scenes memoir of a pivotal political figure to the how-it-all-happened tale of a groundbreaking scientist to the riotous recollections of a ribald rock musician, books in this non-fiction category must tell a story about someone’s life (note: I reserve the right to have veto power when it comes to books about Kardashians and their ilk).
* September: International Literature. “The world is my country….” (Thomas Paine). The timeless works of England’s Jane Austin; the complex novels of the Russian “masters” (but please, no War and Peace); the contemporary stories of India’s Arundhati Roy; the poetry of Chile’s Pablo Neruda; the essays of Nigeria’s Chinua Achebe – a September BC book can be fiction or nonfiction, as long as its author is/was a citizen of a country other than the USA. [7]
* October: Controversial Authors This theme could (and hopefully will) spur conversations about how we separate artists’ work from their personal lives (and whether or not this should even be a goal).
Charles Dickens critiqued the poverty and social stratification of Victorian England via his characters’ memorable stories. Yet historians who’ve read Dicken’s personal letters tell us that the man known as a compassionate champion of family values – the man who wrote so sympathetically about the plight of Tiny Tim – was a SOB to his own family. [8]
Are the stories of Sherman Alexie still worthwhile, after the critically-acclaimed author was accused of (and admitted to) sexual harassment? Will you read J.D. Vance’s best-selling memoir about poverty-stricken Appalachia (Hillbilly Elegy) now that Vance has embraced ultra conservative politics? If a writer is unrepentant when confronted with a racist remark from his past but wrote a damn fine [9] novel, do you give yourself permission to read his work?
* November: Books Made Into Movies. “You’re gonna need a bigger boat.” [10]
When it comes to film adaptations of novels, avid readers often declare, The book is always better. Here’s your chance to affirm that, or discover that, in some cases, the opposite may hold true. From Jaws to Sense and Sensibility, from The Color Purple to The Maltese Falcon, from The Wizard of Oz to The World According to Garp, this category is for cinephiles as well as literature lovers. Perhaps we’ll be introduced to books we didn’t even know were adapted into movies (I bet more of us have watched the movie Forrest Gump than have read the novel).
* December: Embarrassing Or Guilty Pleasures. “Is That A Nora Roberts Novella In Your Pocket Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?” We’ll end the year with books we may not so eager to admit we like, because they aren’t literary enough. We know we’re supposed to read books which challenge us intellectually (that effin’ War and Peace again) – titles that would look impressive on our Goodreads resumes. Still, there are times when we want to rest our brains with a “light” read, be it a murder mystery, romance, fantasy/sci-fi, action/adventure, western – whatever your favorite genre. And sorry, although it provided a plot point for a cute movie (Book Club), as BC host and instigator I reserve my power to veto all shades of 50 Shades of….
* * *
Punz For The Day Books Clubs Edition
Our Book club is reading a novel about anti-gravity. It’s impossible to put down. I finally got my book Club to read Jane Austen. They just needed a little Persuasion.
Our new Book Club member says she doesn’t like Lord of the Rings, but she doesn’t know what she’s Tolkien about.
Our book Club bartender recommended we read his favorite book: Tequila Mockingbird.
* * *
May you like a book with unlikeable characters; May you remember to ask the right questions; May you enjoy the last week of summer; …and may the hijinks ensue.
Thanks for stopping by. Au Vendredi!
* * *
[1] Potentially, as in, you had unprotected intercourse with a woman, wherein the intention was not to get her pregnant, and she did not get pregnant (but could have).
[2] In one of the BCs the format was to go around the circle, each person speaking once so that everyone got a turn, and then it was open to everyone to take it from there.
[3] Although I wasn’t there, at those groups, as a writer, but as a fellow reader.
[4] Except where politics are concerned…which came into the conversation and it seems we’re all on the left side of the page, if you know what I mean and I think you do.
[5] Although for simplicity’s sake I offered to be permanent host (hoping that *not* having to host will make it easier on someone who is interested but hesitant if a rotating host schedule is required, which I’d seen in other groups), I made it clear that it is our, not *my* group, and we can change the meeting time/place/format as we see fit to do so.
[6]Steal borrow these if you like. I’d be flattered…with a bit of attribution.
[7] This month we read The Story of My Teeth, by Valeria Luiselli. A book I really enjoyed, but probably never would have discovered, had I not created this themed list.
[8] Dickens hated his mother, was cruel to his wife and schemed (unsuccessfully) to have her institutionalized when he was having an adulterous affair. With his children he followed a pattern of initial enthusiasm followed by utter disillusionment and disparaged them to his friends (even hoping for the death of one son who’d disappointed him).
[9] Keeping in mind that “damn fine,” like any artistic judgment, us ultimately subjective, even though the “crimes” and deficiencies the author is being accused of may be more objectively defined.
[10] A quote from the movie “Jaws,” the memorable line was not in the novel but was adlibbed by actor Roy Scheider.
I had my second Covid booster vaccination yesterday, at the same clinic where I had my first booster. My first two Covid vax (over a year ago, at the height of the campaign to get everyone vaxed) were given at a local school gym, in a group setting run by that same clinic. After you’d had your shot, you sat along with others (all masked and seated at least 6 feet apart) who’d been vaccinated, with a post-it sticker on your shirt noting your time of vax. You waited until the Person Watching You ® let you know that your 15m was up and you could leave. As y’all probably know, it is standard vax practice to wait at a vaccination site for 15m after receiving a vax to make sure you do not have a severe allergic reaction to the shot (which is very rare). [1]
My first COVID booster shot was administered to me at the clinic itself, in an exam room, by a nurse practitioner. After the NP gave me my shot he said I should stay in the exam room and he’d be back in 15 minutes to release me. I got in some e-book reading time…but after I left the clinic I thought, even though I’d never had an immediate/allergic reaction to any kind of vaccination, there could always be a first time, and what if moiself passed out (or worse, began to have an anaphylactic reaction) and I were alone in the exam room? I decided that this time, if the clinic did the same logistics, I would speak up about that. They did, and so did I.
A quite genial nurse nurse gave me booster #2. She told me that although she “didn’t carry a pair of handcuffs” to enforce the protocol she highly recommended I stay put for 15 minutes, in case of a reaction. I told her that during my previous booster, the NP told me I had to stay in the exam room. And the hijinks this exchange ensued:
Moiself: How’s about if I return to the waiting area, where there are other people and the receptionists? The point of waiting 15 minutes after having the vaccination is to make sure that I don’t have an immediate or allergic reaction to it, right?
Nurse: Yes. Like I said about the handcuffs, I can’t force you to stay, but we highly recommend it. You can stay in the room if you like.
Moiself: Yes, I could…but then, how would you know if I’ve had a reaction, if I’m left alone in the exam room? Are the rooms wired – will the sound of my body hitting the floor let the staff know I’ve had a bad reaction?
Nurse: It’s a small clinic. We’d *probably* hear the thump.
Moiself opted for the waiting area.
Just don’t thump too loudly; it’s my turn to calibrate the rectal thermometers and I need to concentrate.
* * *
Department Of Yet Another Lie My Teachers Told Me
This particular lie, like most lies I was taught, was not conveyed on purpose. My teachers were lied to as well…perhaps, misinformed would be the more accurate term. Think back to your elementary, junior high, high school, and even a few college classes. Very few of our teachers were doing original or first source document research; they taught what they themselves had been taught.
Yeah, well, that’s what they told me me, so suck it up.
The specific lie to which moiself refers is the idea that a so-called agricultural revolution brought about a better society – that the transition from hunter-gatherers to farmers and ranchers brought nothing but positives, and was responsible for what we now call Civilization ® .
“The agricultural revolution is the name given to a number of cultural transformations that initially allowed humans to change from a hunting and gathering subsistence to one of agriculture and animal domestications.” ( The Agricultural Revolutions, sciencedirect.com )
In a recent People I (Mostly) Admire podcast, “Yuval Noah Harari Thinks Life Is Meaningless and Amazing,” guest Harari [2] and podcast host Steve Levitt discuss some of the ideas and observations Harari addresses in his latest book, Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind. [3] One of the ideas that struck me the most was that the agricultural revolution was ultimately better for germs than it was for people. Moiself has read other versions of this hypothesis, but Harari presented the most entertainingly succinct one I’ve come across (my emphases). The entire interview is thoughtful and thought-provoking; moiself hopes this excerpt piques your interest.
LEVITT (quoting from Harari’s book, Sapiens): “ ‘The agricultural revolution was history’s biggest fraud.’ My hunch is that listeners, when they hear that sentence, they’d probably find it jarring because we’re taught to celebrate the agricultural revolution, not to think of it as being a fraud.”
HARARI: “But if you look at it from the viewpoint of middle-class people in the West today, then agriculture is wonderful. We have all these apples and bread and pasta and steaks and eggs and whatever. And if you look at it from the viewpoint of an ancient Egyptian pharaoh or a Chinese emperor, wonderful. I have this huge palace and all these servants and whatever. But if you look at it from the viewpoint of the ordinary peasant in ancient Egypt or ancient China, their life was actually much worse than the life of the average hunter-gatherer before the agricultural revolution.
First of all, they had to work much harder. Our body and our mind evolved for millions of years to do things like climbing trees to pick fruits and going in the forest to sniff around for mushrooms and hunting rabbits and whatever. And suddenly you find yourself working in the field all day, just digging irrigation ditch, hour after hour, day after day, or taking out weeds or whatever, it’s much more difficult to the body. We see it in the skeletons, all the problems and ailments that these ancient farmers suffered from. It’s also far more boring.
And then the farmers didn’t get a better diet in return. Pharaoh or the Chinese emperor, they got the reward. The ordinary peasant, they actually ate a far worse diet than hunter-gatherers. It was a much more limited diet. Hunter-gatherers, they ate dozens, hundreds of different species of fruits and vegetables and nuts and animals and fish and whatever. Most ancient farmers, if you live in Egypt, you eat wheat and wheat. If you live in China, you eat rice and rice.”
LEVITT: “If you’re lucky. If the crop doesn’t fail, yeah.”
HARARI: “If you’re lucky. If you have enough. And then, because this is monoculture, most fields are just rice. If suddenly there is a drought, there is a flood, there is a new plant disease, you have famine.
Farmers were actually more in danger of famine than hunter-gatherers because they relied on a much more narrow economic base. If you’re a hunter-gatherer, and there is a disease that kills all the rabbits, it’s not such a big deal. You can fish more. You can gather more nuts. But if you’re a herder, and your goat herd has been decimated by some plague, that’s the end of you and your family.
… in addition to that, you have many more diseases. In the days of Covid, it’s good to remember the fact that most infectious diseases started with the agricultural revolution because they came from domesticated animals, and they spread in large, permanent settlements. As a hunter-gatherer, you wander around the land with 50 people or so. You don’t have cows and chickens that live with you. So your chances of getting a virus from some wild chicken is much smaller. And even if you get it, you can infect only a few other people, and you move around all the time. So hygienic conditions are ideal.
Now, if you live in an ancient village or town, you’re in very close proximity to a lot of animals, so you get more diseases. And if you get a virus, you infect the whole town and the neighboring towns and villages through the trade networks, and you all live together in this permanent settlement with your sewage, with your garbage. People in the agricultural revolution, they tried to create paradise for humans. They actually created paradise for germs.”
Swine flu stew tonight! Invite the neighbors!
* * *
Department Of Celebrity Mythos
Moiself recently watched the first two episodes of The Last Movie Stars, an HBO six part documentary which, as per its website description, aims to chronicle
“…Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward’s iconic careers and decades-long partnership. Director Ethan Hawke brings life and color to this definitive history of their dedication to their art, philanthropy, and each other.”
Newman’s and Woodward’s 50-year marriage is generally regarded as one of the most successful and truly happy show biz unions, and Newman was known for his devotion to his wife and family. Over the years many reporters asked Newman about the temptations of show business for a handsome actor such as himself (read: Why do you remain faithful/stay with your wife when you’re surrounded by all the babes, in Hollywood and in fandom, who’d love to throw themselves at you?). On one such occasion, when Newman was queried about his reputation for fidelity to Woodward, Newman famously quipped, “Why go out for a hamburger when you have steak at home?”
I’d heard this quote many times before the HBO documentary brought it up, but this time, watching The Last Movie Stars, I couldn’t help but think about how Newman‘s “devotion to his wife and family” – meaning Woodward and their three children – happened after he dumped his first wife Jackie Witte (and their three children), to marry Woodward, with whom Newman had been having an adulterous affair.
Apparently Newman also couldn’t help but think of that irony. He reportedly agonized for years re the guilt he felt over ‘his shortcomings as a parent’ to the children from his failed first marriage, and he blamed that guilt in part for the drug overdose death of his son, Scott. [4]
I’ve only watched the first two of six episodes of the HBO series, and thus don’t know how much the series deals with Newman’s first marriage. Hey, I’m glad Newman and Woodward had a happy alliance, despite their relationship’s less-than-honorable origins. But whenever I hear that legendary quote from Newman – the quote so admired and applauded by many people as an exemplar of witty romanticism – I wonder what Jackie Witte felt when she first heard it?
“Why go out for a hamburger when you have steak at home?”
I can imagine it felt like a sledgehammer in the gut. So, Witte was the (original) hamburger Newman left in order to be with the steak?
BTW, re the hamburger-steak comparison: as a plant-based eater, I find no hierarchy in that metaphor. They’re both just dead meat to me.
* * *
* * *
Department Of Thar She Blows
Two weekends ago MH and I, along with son K, visited daughter Belle in Tacoma. Belle had arranged for the four of us to go on a whale-watching trip in the Puget Sound. It was delightful afternoon, and not just because we spent the afternoon on a boat in the Sound during a heat wave. Even the veteran crew of the boat got excited when we spotted and the transient orca pod T37, which approached our boat and (unintentionally) put on quite the show for us. [5] We got to observe hunting and feeding behavior of the majestic orcas, as the pod chased and caught a very unfortunate harbor seal who’d ventured too far from shore. I heard another boat passenger make some comment about how fortunate we were to get to see “killer whales making a kill,” and I wanted to smack him upside his head with the pectoral fins I don’t have.
Moiself objects to the use of the term killer whale when it is applied to orcas. First of all, orcas are not actually whales; rather, they are the largest member of the dolphin family. They, like Flipper and other dolphins, are carnivores. Other animal’s names are not tied to such a pejorative suffix – lions and tigers and bears and weasels and eagles are not referred to as “Killer” lions/tigers/bears/weasels/eagles, despite the fact that, as carnivores, they must kill and eat other animals to survive.
“Paul Spong, a researcher who runs OrcaLab from Hanson Island in B.C., says he finds the name killer whale ‘rather unfair to a creature that deserves and lives a peaceful lifestyle. Killer whales has that flavour that they’re somehow vicious animals that are a danger to humans,” he said. ‘I just happen to think that using a more neutral term is better.’. Despite what the 1977 sea-monster film Orca: The Killer Whale might show, there have been no documented cases of orcas killing humans in the wild…. and they are highly social creatures that show almost human-like emotions, such as when southern resident J35 carried its dead calf for 17 days before finally letting go.
( “Why are orcas called killer whales? They’re the apex predators of the sea, but many feel their long-used common name demonizes them.” cba.ca )
Yeah, yeah, it’s word cop time. Of course and ultimately, work for the orcas’ preservation and protection before arguing what nomenclature to use…. Still, words carry and impart meaning, and perhaps more people might be convinced to care about orcas and their vital role in their habitat – and their right to continue to exist – if the fear/revulsion-inducing *killer whale* moniker fell out of favor.
Once again, I digress.
We saw other wildlife as well on our whale– orca-watching trip, including harbor and elephant seals, herons and tufted puffins and bald eagles, on the shores of Protection Island Wildlife Refuge. As our boat passed that island, I saw for the first time something I could only vaguely recall having heard about: a leucistic bald eagle. [6] “Lucy,” as I thought of her, had a very light, mottled pigmentation which made her blend in with the driftwood log upon which she’d perched, next to the standard issue bald eagle I was watching through binoculars. Moiself didn’t even notice Lucy until a part of the log suddenly took wing. The boat photographer and staff and several avid birders aboard realized what they were seeing, and lost their proverbial shit. [7]
One of the boat staff, the official photographer, was armed with a bazooka like camera-lens set up. He took fantastic pictures of the whales, which he presented to the passengers in a slide show while our boat returned to port. His shots had included dozens of rapid-fire close-ups of the orcas hunting the doomed seal – oh, the eyes of the hapless pinniped, when it realized it was toast! That was painful to see, even as I acknowledged, hey, the seal is out in the water, hunting because it’s hungry, and so are the orcas.
The photographer offered to transfer his photos of the trip to a thumb drive, for $50 for anyone who was interested. Seeing as how the professional’s pix were so much better than our family’s cell phone snaps, MH asked me if he should go for it. I gave him the okay, although, when MH was chatting with the photographer as the thumb drive was downloading the trip’s pictures, I approached the photographer, thanked him for his skill and commentary during the trip [8] and said that while I was in awe of his photographs, when reviewing them later I would probably skip watching the “seal snuff film” sequence.
I cannot display the photographer’s copyrighted photos here. [9] Belle had several shots which good – they are like teasers as to the beauty of seeing the orcas in their natural environment. Here is one of my favorites of hers– featuring the T37 pod’s leader, the matriarch researchers have named “Volker.”
The day after our boat cruise, I went for an early morning walk. Moiself could hardly believe the timing of the Radiolab podcast I listened to as I trod the path which winds along the periphery of that salty-air scented Puget Sound estuary/harbor area in Tacoma known as Commencement Bay.
Despite its annoyingly sensationalist title, Radiolab’s “The humpback and the killer” was an excellent listen. It reports on the fascinating observations made by marine mammal biologists around the world – scientists who, in recent years, have documented astounding, classic-explanation-defying interactions between humpback whales and orcas. If after listening to descriptions of these interactions you (still) harbor doubts that species other than homo sapiens can feel and demonstrate emotions and motivations such as altruism, or even revenge…then I don’t know what to do with you.
* * *
Punz For The Day Cetacean Edition
What do a pod of dolphins use to wash themselves?| A multi-porpoise cleaner.
What is the favorite constellation of star-gazing whales? The Big Flipper.
What is the best way to listen to the sounds a group of orcas makes? Tune in to their podcast.
Why do male humpbacks have little-to-no hair? They suffer from whale-pattern balding.
“It’s okay, honey, she told me she’d stop after four.”
* * *
May you warily weigh the costs and benefits of history’s so-called revolutions; May you banish the term “killer whale” from your vocabulary; May you respect your longtime partner enough to never compare them to cuts of beef; …and may the hijinks ensue.
Thanks for stopping by. Au Vendredi!
* * *
[1] And for 30m, if you’ve ever had a reaction to a vaccination.
[2]Yuval Noah Harari is an Israeli historian, philosopher, author, lecturer, and professor in the Department of History at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem.
[4] “ ‘I’m guilty as hell – and I’ll carry it with me for ever.’ Paul Newman’s marriage secrets”: Shawn Levy, dailymail.com ; Newman felt personally responsible for (his troubled son’s) tragic drink and drugs death… The son Paul Newman lost to drugs – and the guilt he could never escape,” Shawn Levy, part 2 )
[5] Unintentional, as in, the orcas were just doing what they were doing, and we happened by.
[6] Leucism, a condition that partially prevents pigments from being deposited in a bird’s feathers, hair or skin, is rare, and is the result of a recessive gene which reduces the color-producing pigment melanin. It is related to but different from albinism
[7] I can see why these “blonde” bald eagle can confuse even veteran bird watchers, as they (usually) still have the bald eagle’s defined white head and tail, but the rest of the feathers are a much lighter hue than normal and are mottled, creating a “What the heck am I seeing? reaction – is it a bald eagle or some other strange species?
[8] He gave a running commentary of the history of the T37 pod we saw. One look through his lens and he could identify the different members of the pod by, among other features, the distinctive markings of their dorsal fins.
[9] He offered them for our own personal/home viewing, not to post on any social media platforms.
“Following the Supreme Court’s ruling that has overturned Roe v. Wade, Pittsburgh-based Dick’s Sporting Goods’ CEO has announced that the company will provide travel expense reimbursement for employees seeking abortion access.
Company President and CEO Lauren Hobart posted the announcement… ‘We recognize people feel passionately about this topic – and that there are teammates and athletes who will not agree with this decision. However, we also recognize that decisions involving health and families are deeply personal and made with thoughtful consideration. We are making this decision so our teammates can access the same health care options, regardless of where they live, and choose what is best for them,’ Hobart said.” (“Dick’s Sporting Goods CEO announces travel expense reimbursement to employees seeking abortions in another state,” cbsnews.com )
And they love equal access to health care as well.
* * *
Department Of Good Intentions That Still Make Me Slightly Queasy
Regarding Dick’s Sporting Goods, Apple, and other companies are offering to reimburse employees for travel expenses related to abortion care access. Moiself has mixed feelings about this. [1] I am 90% YEE HAW!!! I mean, it’s the right-on thing to do. But, that means the woman is going to have to request/arrange this with her company’s HR/benefits department, which means even more people in her personal business, which should be just between her and her doctors and (if she so chooses) her partner. [2]
On the other hand, when it comes to healthcare at work, if you need time off for treatment for, say, cancer or the onset of what will turn out to be a chronic disease, there isn’t much privacy in that regard, either.…
BTW, these doing-the-right-thing companies (as of this date) are:
Starbucks, Tesla, Yelp, Airbnb, Microsoft, Netflix, Patagonia, DoorDash, JPMorgan Chase, Levi Strauss, PayPal, Amazon, the Walt Disney Company, Meta, Dick’s Sporting Goods, Condé Nast. ( “These Companies Will Cover Travel Expenses for Employee Abortions,” NYtimes.com )
There are others; my apologies to any companies moiself has omitted. Give these businesses a shout-out and/or support their products and services, [3] and let them know why you are doing so.
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* * *
Department Of Incredibly Dumb, Face Palm-Worthy Things I Have Done
I have rather unruly eyebrows, and their ruly-ness seems to be getting more “un” as moiself ages. I’m not talking Andy Rooney level unruly, but, yeah.
Before leaving the house I sometimes wipe moiself’s damp toothbrush bristles across each eyebrow. Here is something that has happened more than once – a thing which should onlyhave happened once: I have set my toothbrush out with a dab of toothpaste on it, intending to brush my teeth, got distracted, come back to the sink minutes (or hours) later, and used said toothbrush to comb my eyebrows, thus ending up with a tiny white streak of Sensodyne ProEnamel ® on my eyebrows.
On the plus side, I’ve never had an eyebrow cavity. So, there’s that. [4]
OK, your turn? Help me out here. Certainly…please…there must be someone out there who has done something even dumber than toothpasting their brows.
* * *
Department Of Embarrassing My Offspring Chapter 581 In The Never-Ending Series.
This memory came to me on a recent morning walk, apropos of…something, which moiselfis currently unaware of.
Dateline: A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. Daughter Belle is attending the University of Puget Sound, and has recently joined her school’s women’s rugby team.
( One of my favorite things about rugby culture – yep, that’s a thing – is
the annual Prom Dress game, for both men’s and women’s teams. )
MH and I are attending one of her rugby team’s away games; home team is a college about an hour’s drive south of where we live.
During halftime Belle grabs one of the team’s rugby balls, takes her parents aside, and teaches us some of the throwing warm-ups that the team does. Several of her teammates are clustered together by the side of the field, swigging from their water bottles and chatting. One of them looks over at Belle and MH and I throwing the ball to each other, and I can see the proverbial light bulb switch on in her eyes.
Belle’s Rugby Teammate, calling out to MH and moiself: “You are Belle’s parents?”
Moiself: “Yep.”
BRT, standing up and flinging her arms wide: “Oh, I *love* Belle! Thank you for making her!”
Moiself, as I pass the ball to Belle: “You’re welcome. It was our pleasure…literally.”
Belle, dropping the ball and covering her eyes with her hands: “Moooooooooooom!”
* * *
Punz For The Day Annoying and/or Embarrassing Parents Edition [5]
When I was a kid, my parents said, “Excuse my French” after they cussed. I’ll never forget that first day at junior high school, when we were discussing foreign language electives and the teacher asked if any student knew any French words…
My parents raised me as an only child. This really annoyed my younger sister.
Do unfit parents have to exercise a lot to get their children back?
I told my parents I’m gray. Dad said he didn’t like my tone.
How do parents lose their kids in the mall? Seriously, any tips are welcome.
* * *
May you support companies who support abortion rights; May you have done something even dumber than toothpasting your brows; May you continue to find novel and loving ways to embarrass your progeny; …and may the hijinks ensue.
Thanks for stopping by. Au Vendredi!
* * *
[1] And not just due to the hideous fact that five SCOTUS justices can drag us back to the back alleys so that such announcements are necessary.
[2] Except in cases of unintended pregnancies resulting rape, incest, abuse etc. I know hearing the word “partner” is a bitter pill to swallow, for women in those circumstances.
Department Of The Fail-Safe Therapy Tool For Kids Of All Ages
Before I commence to deal with some Serious Subjects ® , I’m going to play for a few seconds with the farty putty (aka, “noise putty”) device MH got me as a Christmas stocking stuffer. ‘Tis such a primal amusement, and also an effective stress reliever. I think the American Psychological Association should recommend it to their counselors, to have on hand for sessions that get really intense: “It’s time for a farty putty break.” 😉
Lest you think moiself jests about its therapeutic applications, feast your eyes on this, from the National Autism Resources website (my emphases):
“Kids of all ages love to play with noise putty! It has an unusual squishy texture that you can squeeze between your fingers. Push it back into its jar and listen to it make funny, gastronomical sounds. Use it to work on fine motor skills….”
And not to worry, for y’all who consider yourselves to be technically-challenged. It even has handy-dandy instructions:
* * *
Department Of Not Up To Their Previous Standards
Moiself is referring to the latest installment of Serial, the Peabody award-winning investigative journalism podcast (developed by This American Life) which made a name for itself in the past ten or so years with its episodic, documentary-style presentation of compelling non-fiction stories. Past seasons included an investigation of the 1999 murder an 18-year-old student at Woodlawn High School in Baltimore, and an in-depth look at what happened to Sergeant Bowe Bergdahl, an American Army soldier who was held for five years by the Taliban, then charged with desertion.
The Trojan Horse Affair,Serial’s latest installment, claims to take a closer look at the 2013 scandal in England which involved claims of a conspiracy to introduce Islamist tenets into several schools in Birmingham – claims which were set out in an anonymous letter [1] sent to Birmingham City Council. TTHF is hosted and reported by American veteran producer Brian Reed and a novice journalist, Hamza Syed, a British doctor-turned-reporter from Birmingham, England.
“This is my first story as a journalist. I don’t plan for it to be my last story as well, but given what’s happened in the years I’ve been working on this, it probably will be.” ( Hamza Syed, from his interview on NPR’s Fresh Air 2-15-22)
Syed’s provocative quote, and my enjoyment of Serial’s previous installments, got me interested in listening to the series. After having done so, I’ve concluded that if, indeed, TTHA turns out to be Syed’s last story as a journalist it won’t be because of his concerns, both overt and implied, of anti-Muslim prejudice against him. It will be because he proved to be a lousy reporter.
Besides displaying a rather volatile temper, Syed made a major faux pas which cast doubt on the integrity of his methods and motives, and on his ability to distinguish between his personal identity and an investigation’s subject matter.
“Long story short” territory: In a latter episode of the TTHA series (# five or six, I think, of eight total episodes) it was revealed that, at one point in Syed’s and Redd’s investigation, Syed, frustrated with being unable to get sources to confide in him, played the Muslim card: [2] Syed wrote a letter to a potential interviewee (a Muslim man), saying he has never believed the accepted narrative around the case, nor many of the people involved in the investigations around it, and that his (Syed’s) identity as a Muslim takes precedence for him in his investigation.
MH and I each (separately) listened to the podcast, and each of us had similar, jaw-dropping reactions to what Syed had done. Given the opportunity to provide feedback to Syed, I’d have phrased my reaction thusly:
Why should I take *anything* from you seriously, when you’ve just admitted that you do *not* have journalistic integrity at heart, in a story that especially demands it?
Like the evangelical creationist who admits he views science through the lens of how he interprets Christian scriptures, you have told a person – from whom you are trying to get information – that, like him, you are ultimately and firstly a Muslim.
Now, were you lying to get him to trust you? Or were you telling the truth? Either way, I can take nothing you say or do as if it were coming from a serious journalist striving for truth, integrity, and objectivity.
Despite our respective shock and disgust at what the reporter had done, both MH and I found the TTHAstory intriguing, and continued to listen to the rest of the series. But we weren’t the only ones to have an issue with it, and with more matters than its rookie journalist’s whopping boner of a tactic. There was also the assumption the series seemed to take, from the beginning of the podcast: that anti-Islamic sentiment was behind and/or ultimately responsible for *everything* in the scandal. Accusations (including incidents of verifiable and disturbing behaviors [3] ) about sexism, anti-LGBTQ teachings, and child abuse on the part of some Muslim men – alarms raised by Muslim women – were mentioned in several TTHA episodes, in marginal ways, then dropped.
We weren’t the only ones who were disturbed by this. To quote only one critique:
“The Trojan Horse Affair presents a one-sided account that minimizes child protection concerns, misogyny and homophobia in order to exonerate the podcast’s hero… In doing so, it breaches the standards the public have the right to expect of journalists, with cruel consequences for those it uses and abuses along the way.”
( “The Trojan Horse Affair: How Serial Podcast Got It So Wrong,” Sonia Sohad, The Guardian 2-20-22
Shaka Ssali is a (recently retired) Uganda-born journalist.
* * *
Department Of How Other Journalists Are Getting It So Right
What comes to mind when you read the words of a critic and writer at The Washington Post, who called an Academy Award-nominated film “…the most inspiring journalism movie — maybe ever”?
Nope. The WAPO writer refers to a documentary (among five nominees for this year’s Academy Award for best documentary feature) which takes place in India.
Indian politicians would have you believe that their country is a major power in the modern, 21st century world, yet they do the bare minimum to change aspects of their culture which hark back to 1500 BCE, when the caste system was established.
The good news: in India, one of the most dangerous countries in which to practice journalism, [4] there is an astoundingly brave and persistent group of reporters committed to the ultimate tenet of good journalism: holding the powerful to account. What’s amazing about this group is that is it composed of people with inarguably the least amount of power in their country: Dalit (the lowest caste, aka “untouchables”) women.
“Writing With Fire“ is the documentary which tells the story of these reporters and their newspaper/news outlet, Khabar Lahariya (translation: “News wave”). Moiself urges you to see it (streaming on Amazon, and available via other venues).
” In India’s millennia-old caste system, Dalits fall entirely outside the structure. Once pejoratively referred to as ‘untouchables’…over centuries Dalits have remained oppressed by tradition and the rest of Indian society.
‘I tell my daughters, their caste identity will always follow them. This is how our society is structured, but it’s important to keep challenging the system,’ says Meera Devi, the outlet’s chief reporter who is the main protagonist of the film.
But day after day, the women defiantly expose sexual violence against women and the corruption of illegal mining operations in rural India.
‘We don’t trust anyone except you. Khabar Lahariya is our only hope,’ the husband of a woman who has been repeatedly raped by a group of men in their village tells Devi in one of the rare moments in the film in which a man acknowledges the organization’s value and impact.”
Writing With Fire has a bajillion [5] story levels to it (other than that of the newspaper itself and the stories it covers), including the reporters’ uphill battle against centuries of patriarchy, and gender and caste prejudice. It’s also an excellent briefing on what makes a good journalist, in any culture.
Some standout moments of the film, for moiself, include:
* Two of the reporters, while preparing a meal, are discussing questions they will be asking of participants in an upcoming election. One reporter asks the other,“Tell me something honestly, why do we call our country ‘mother India?’ Why celebrate the country as a mother?…. I get very irritated watching the celebrations on TV glorifying our democracy. But where is the democracy? Neither are we a democracy, nor are the women free.”
* Later in the documentary one of the more the most promising young journalists of Khabar Lahariya is interviewed about her having to leave the newspaper. She’d spoken earlier about not wanting to succumb to the pressure to get married, and about what happens to women in her society. And then…
“What can I say? At one point I thought of not getting married at all. Many things were on my mind. So I thought, why get married? But I’m under a lot of pressure. I need to protect my parents, because being a single woman is not an option here.
People are questioning my integrity as well as my family’s. They were saying that they (her family) want to live off my earnings, ‘…and at night your daughter…’ It tortures the family and creates a lot of tension. So I realize marriage is inevitable. I don’t want to be the cause of my family suffering. Let’s think that whatever will happen will be for the best. Things have a way of working out, and that’s what I’m hoping for….” (She pauses, shakes her head, holds back tears) “I’m finding it difficult to speak anymore.”[6]
The film depicted scenarios both horrendous, and uplifting, depressing and emboldening, What affected me the most? It wasn’t…
* the husbands and families of these brave journalists showing lackluster (if any) support for their work;
* the frustrations of the reporters trying to learn and use digital technologies when most of them have never been able to afford a cell phone, and then, when they are issued smart phones and/or touchscreen tablets by the newspaper, they can’t charge the equipment because their homes lack electricity;
* the rising influence of the Anti-Muslim bigot Hindu nationalist, Prime Minister Modi, and the prevalence of his inflammatory rhetoric using that most unholy of alliances – politics and religion;
* the danger and threats (physical, emotional, and sexual) the women face; nor the way way sexual slurs are used to try to cow and humiliate them and their families…
One small, domestic scene really got to me, probably because I took it to be illustrative of what these reporters, as women in a seemingly women-denigrating culture, have to deal with: with the shouldand should not limitations all women face, in a world still dominated by patriarchal attitudes.
The scene took place early in the morning. Meera Devi, who like her Khabar Lahariya peers has worked all the previous day (and well into the night), is braiding her daughter’s long hair before school. Like all of her married reporter peers, the vast majority (if not all) of household tasks fall upon Devi, even as she works full-time out of the home. Her daughter is insisting on two braids (“plaits”), as Devi wearily (if good-humoredly) grumbles about not having time for that…one plait should be enough. But the daughter pleads, telling her mother that she will be (and has been) scolded at school if her mother doesn’t do her hair in two plaits, “…because teacher says all girls should have two plaits.”
All girls should…. All girls are …. All girls must… All girls should never….
* * *
Department Of International Relations
MH and moiself are doing some much anticipated traveling overseas this summer. For some of the travel we’ll be in a Scandinavian tour group. The tour begins in Stockholm; following savvy traveler advice, I booked us rooms in a Stockholm hotel two days ahead of when the tour begins, so that we can adjust to the time difference and all that pickled herring and Swedish chefs, etc.
Moiself got an English translation while booking online, but the confirmation the hotel emailed to us was in Swedish. It began with a cheery greeting which I was mostly able to figure out, except that I transposed two letters in the fourth word, which made for an interesting impression/translation: “Tak För Din Bokning!”
Me, to Moiself: ” ‘Thanks for the bonking ?!?!? ‘ Wow – this really is an all-service hotel!”
Swedish inventors have created cyborgs which are hard to distinguish from real humans. Critics are concerned about the use of artificial Swedeners.
Why does the Swedish military put barcodes on their ships? So when the ships return to port they can scan da navy in.
My neighbor drones on and on about his notoriously unreliable Swedish sports car… It seems like a great big Saab story to me.
Did you hear about a new Broadway show that combines magic with Swedish pop songs? It’s called ABBA-Cadabra.
Mamma Mia, there she goes again.
* * *
May you enjoy the therapeutic applications of “funny, gastronomic sounds;” May you watch Writing With Fire (then maybe Spotlightand other journalism-themed movies) and appreciate the absolute necessity of a free press to a vital democracy; May you put on ABBA’s “Waterloo” and dance around your living room (you know you want to); …and may the hijinks ensue.
[4] Over forty journalists in India have been killed since 2014.
[5] Fortunately, the reporters of Khabar Lahariya, constrained as they are by sound journalistic principles, would never stoop to using such sensationalistic exaggerations as those employed by moiself.
[6] Later still there is footage of her at her wedding, in her wedding finery. Moiselfwanted to cry; I’ve never seen a more downhearted looking bride…or woman in almost any situation, for that matter. But, in the documentary postscript, it was reported that she had rejoined the newspaper several months after her marriage.
[7] Uh, that would be, booking, as in, booking a room with them. Nudge Nudge wink wink.
Active, reliable, sarcastic, affectionate, bipedal, cynical optimist, writer, freethinker, parent, spouse and friend, I am generous with my handy supply of ADA-approved spearmint gum and sometimes refrain from humming in public.
