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The Hidden Power I’m Not Doubting

February 6, 2026

Robyn Parnell family life, freethought/humanism, friends, health & wellness, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), making fun of Norwegians and/or the Irish, Me so happy, Oregon, politics, radio & podcasts, school, science, travel, TV, Wow, Yikes! , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 2 Comments

Department Of First Things First

One of my favorite dates is today.  Happy Birthday, She-Who-Was-Not-Intimidated-By-The-Rope-Swing-On-The-Treehouse-Deck.   [1]

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Why I Will Be A Couch Potato (Luger?) For The Next Three Weeks

The Winter Olympics begin today.

 

Bring on the Norwegians!

 

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Department Of Human Interaction Is Sometimes Disguised As
– or Enhanced By – a Non Sequitur

Dateline:  Tuesday morning; circa 10 am; The Dollar Tree Store‘s Birthday greeting cards section.  [2]   Moiself  is picking out birthday cards, a lot of ’em. To an uninformed observer it might seem that I am choosing them at random, dumping them in my handbasket…but this is not so.  There is method to my madness.  As I grab one card two envelopes come with it, and the extra envelope flutters to the floor.  Only when I reach down to retrieve it do I realize that a woman is standing next to me, in front of the Valentine’s Day card section.

“Excuse me,” I say, as I lean over to pick up the miscreant envelope, which has landed just to the right of her right foot.  “I didn’t mean to fling an empty envelope in your direction.”

She smiles, looks at my handbasket, and I expect her to remark on the number of cards in it (which will eventually total 30).  Instead, she replies, “My daughter was unable to have children, so she adopted four dogs.  I get them all cards for every holiday and special occasion.”

 

 

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Department Of Few People Say It Better Than Greta Christina   [3]

“Dear Republicans,

Apparently some of you are having second thoughts. Recent events have led you to question your commitment to Trumpism, and even move away from it. A line has been crossed for you, and you can no longer accept the direction the country is going in.

Am I glad about this? Yes. Do I want you to step away from Trump and the Republican Party, to rethink the path you’ve been on and walk it back? Yes….

But as you walk back this path, you need to realize that it’s not going to be covered with rose petals. A lot of people are extremely angry with you, and we have every right to be. You have done a great deal of harm. The Republican Party has done a great deal of harm — not just in the last month, it’s been doing great harm for a long time — and you’ve been part of that. When you’ve hurt people badly, you need to do more than just say “Oops” and expect to be forgiven. You need to work to fix the harm you’ve done. And the greater the harm, the more work you have to do….

 

 

We warned you this was coming. Even the Republican Party warned you this was coming: the Project 2025 document spelled out their plans in detail. You chose not to listen. Moving forward, you need to be willing to listen. You need to do the kind of listening that involves not talking. You need to not get defensive, not try to justify your actions. You need to stop saying, ‘I didn’t vote for this!’  You absolutely voted for this.”

( excerpts from author, activist, blogger Greta Christina’s
Dear Republicans 1-28-26, my emphases )

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Department Of The Hidden Power Of Doubt

“What do you do when you’re not sure?”
( from opening monologue, Doubt:  A Parable, a play by John Patrick Shanley )

 

Last week the podcast Hidden Brain concluded their You 2.0 series   [4]  with, as per the podcast website’s intro,  “…a look at the hidden power of doubt — not as weakness or indecision, but as a tool that helps us make better choices and navigate an uncertain world.”

The episode opens with the story of the little known letter General Eisenhower wrote on the eve of the allied invasion of Normandy, Operation Overlord, aka, D-Day. There were so many factors at play – including the weather – and an allied victory was far from certain.  Eisenhower drafted what he dreaded, should he have to announce that the mission had failed.  When it became apparent that Operation Overlord was succeeding, Eisenhower crumpled the letter and tossed it in his office trash can.  His military secretary retrieved the letter and kept it, allowing history to see what (IMO) was the true leadership of the man.

“Our landings in the Cherbourg-Havre area have failed to gain a satisfactory foothold and I have withdrawn the troops. My decision to attack at this time and place was based on the best information available. The troops, the air and the Navy did all that bravery and devotion to duty could do. If any blame or fault attaches to the attempt it is mine alone.”   [5]

 

 

Time machine to the present:  can you imagine the so-called leader we have today ( The Tantrum-Throwing-Toddler-in-Chief ) writing something like that – taking responsibility so succinctly and directly?  #47 will go to his corpulent casket carping and whining and kicking, blaming others for the political, moral, financial and cultural devastation he leaves in his wake.

Yet again, I digress.

HB podcast host Shankar Vedantam and his guest go on to talk about the power of doubt, which is something we tend not to associate with the stereotype of leadership (confident; decisive; never wavering; unwilling to back down).

“We don’t think of strong leaders as hesitant, doubtful, or unsure of the right answers.   Confidence and determination are admirable traits.  But they also have drawbacks.  Confidence can lead to overconfidence; decisiveness can make leaders less likely to be tolerant of dissent; determination can blind us to risks.
At the University of Virginia’s Darden College of Business, [Bobby] Parmar studies the value of doubt.  He says that by avoiding uncertainty, we miss out on opportunities for growth.”
(excerpts, You 2.0: Trusting Your Doubt,  Hidden Brain Staff / January 26, 2026  )

It’s a thought-provoking presentation of a compelling subject.  Two thumbs up for podcast listeners.

 

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Department Of Learning To Lie In Another Language

 Ég  skil  íslensku.

Funny how one of the first phrases I learned in my Plimsleur language app, which I’ve been struggling through like a stuttering pig using daily since last Wednesday, is a total lie:   I understand Icelandic.

 

Yeah, fluency is just around the corner.

 

Adding to the hoax is that five minutes after learning how to say,  I do not understand Icelandic, I have forgotten how to say, I do not understand Icelandic.

Just about every Icelander speaks English ( Ninety-eight plus %! English is a compulsory subject in Icelandic schools ), but still, I want to be a gracious visitor when we go there this summer.  I think this trying-to-learn-some-conversational-Icelandic is going to be one of those things where I have to repeat lesson one seven times before moving on. 

About speaking Icelandic. Knowing that fact (that Icelanders speak English), then bothering to learn to say in Icelandic, Excuse me, do you speak English?  while perhaps respectful in intent, could easily come off as, to an Icelander, Why is this doofus butchering my language when it is totally unnessary to do so?  Obviously, if I’ve bothered to learn anything about the country (including from when MH and I were there three summers ago), I should know that any Icelander whom I address will speak far better English than I speak Icelandic. 

I wish the language course would start off by teaching Icelandic cusswords.  That would be more inspiring.  Of course, there is the internet, where I discovered, farðu í rassgat, which you would hurl as an insult when you are in the kind of situation where you want to advise someone to crawl up your own asshole.  Perhaps I’ll save that one for the United States customs agents.

 

“May your urine burn, you cowardly goat,” will be my backup curse.

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Department Of Cool Story, Bro…    [6]

When I recently saw this spot-on summation of Christian theology I was reminded of an acquaintance who, when I came out decades ago as religion-free, resorted to the believers’ last tactic:  when you can’t counter facts and logic and rationality, use fear ( of something only the religious believe in – hellfire/damnation  [7]  ).  He was not amused when moiself, using the following synopsis to do so, laughingly confirmed that I was indeed rejecting his god’s plan for “salvation.”

 

 

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Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [8]

“Is man one of God’s blunders? Or is God one of man’s blunders?   [9]
Faith: not wanting to know what is true.
The Christian resolution to find the world ugly and bad
has made the world ugly and bad.
God is a thought who makes crooked all that is straight.”

(  Friedrich Nietzsche , as quoted in  The Very Best of Friedrich Nietzsche: Quotes from a Great Thinker, by David Graham,)

 

 

*   *   *

May you remember to fix the harm you’ve done when you realize you’ve done harm;
May you, as much as possible, not find yourself in farðu í rassgat situations;
May you resolve not to find the world ugly and bad;
…and may the hijinks ensue.    [10]

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

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[1] Belle can still give you the badass, stinkeye look, should the occasion call for it.

[2] Two for $1!

[3] GC is an author, blogger, speaker, LGBTQ and atheist activist.

[4] The podcast does an annual series, at the end of the old/beginning of the new year, exploring the latest in evidence-based understandings offered by behavioral scientists – understandings which may help people improve their lives via establishing good habits/getting rid of bad habits, overcoming emotional, romantic, career-related, and cognitive challenges, etc.

[5] Note that the draft was dated July 5th. In 1966, when the question about this date was put to him, Einsenhower indicated that it was a minor mistake on his part and that he had actually written it on June 5, 1944.  (from D-Day Overlord, Encyclopaedia of the D-Day landings and the Battle of Normandy )

[6] Not.

[7] It’s a knee slapper, when you think about it:  they try to make *you* afraid of something  that is in fact *their* greatest fear, something which you don’t thing about at all, like pissing off Santa claus.

[8] “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

[9] This is serious stuff; no need for a footnote.

[10] See previous footnote.

The Movie I’m Not Casting

January 23, 2026

Robyn Parnell annoyances, are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), books & magazines, current events, freethought/humanism, friends, general ruminations, health & wellness, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), movies, music, nature, Oregon, politics, radio & podcasts, school, science, The Write Stuff (literary life), TV, Wow, Yikes! , , , , , , , , , Comments Off on The Movie I’m Not Casting

Department Of Movie Directors Looking For Their Next Project

“I worked for somebody that is probably borderline clinical psychopath.  Definitely a narcissist,” said Tony Nissen, a former engineering director at OceanGate.  “How do you manage a person like that who owns the company?”

( excerpt, , The New OceanGate Documentary Dives into the Depths of the Titan Submersible Tragedy.  And it points a finger at CEO Stockton Rush.
Esquire, 6-11-25, by  Eric Francisco )

 

 

Dateline:  I’ve been getting reacquainted with last year’s riveting Netflix documentary, Titan: The OceanGate Submersible Disaster, ten to fifteen minutes at a time, while working out on the elliptical the past few mornings.  [1]  Monday circa 11-11:30 am, I get an AHA flash:  This has to be done.

This being, making a theatrical movie based on the documentary.

Maybe it’s already on some producer’s proverbial drawing board; moiself  thought it ( the first time I saw it, and even more so, as I’m rewatching it.  The story – of the foreseeable and even inevitable implosion of a submersible designed and operated by the American  company OceanGate during a 2023 expedition to view the wreck of the Titanic –  is a Shakespearean fairy tale in scope, with its themes of ambition, ego, hubris, obstinance, punitive pettiness.  OceanGate founder and CEO Stockton Rush was the emperor who wouldn’t listen to his dressers despite desperately needing new clothes for his submersible ride.

Perhaps Kathleen Kennedy, Steven Spielberg’s longtime production partner ( Amblin Entertainment ), and Lucasfilm director would consider coming out of her newly-announced-retirement to oversee this project?

Kathleen, call me.  Let’s do lunch and discuss the details.

 

 

First things first, Kathleen ( do you prefer Kath, or Kathy? ):  nail down the director.  Who can handle the technical aspects of filming given the difficult set” (the deep ocean) without sacrificing the primacy of storyline and character; who has a proven record of maintaining that level of tension and interest while telling a “true” story, despite the audience already knowing the ending?  Why, it’s your sister in K, Kathryn Bigelow.

I also have a few casting suggestions:

* Sign Josh Brolin for the lead role.  With his hair dyed white, I can totally envision Brolin channeling Rush’s primal arrogance and aspirations to be a BSD ( “Big Swingin’ Dick” ) like the billionaires Rush admired ( read: Elon Musk; Jeff Bezos );

* Zoe Kazan would be heart-tuggingly excellent as Emily Hammermeister, OceanGate’s assistant to the lead engineer, whose growing concerns about the viability of the submersible were ignored and suppressed, leading to her resignation; 

* Palestinian-American actor and standup comedian Mo Amer would nail it as Joseph Assi, a videographer hired by Rush to film OceanGate’s expeditions; 

* either Simon Pegg or Chris Pine would bring different but equally compelling portrayals of Tony OceanGate engineer Tony Nissen, who was fired by Rush after questioning him about the submersible’s defects;   [2]

* English actor Stephen Graham to play the Scottish engineer David Lochridge , OceanGate’s Director of Marine Operations submersible pilot, who was fired by Rush after warning questioning him about design and safety features.

 

Given the proven track record of both Ks, I’ll let them handle the rest.

 

“…and I owe these awards to Robyn Parnell, who insisted I take on this project and who refused to take screen writing credit despite her many helpful edits to the script….”

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Department Of About All Those Uncured Cancers – My Bad

 

 

Moiself  recently reposted this on FB.  I thought of prefacing it with,“Had I written this I would have added the modifier intercessory before prayer,” but you know how that goes (I went on to watch some dancing kitten reel).

 

 

Some FB friends thought I was being rather harsh, including one who wrote, “Prayer may not be for everyone but if a person thinks it help (sic) them, who am I to say ‘no.’ ”  Moiself  is not advocating that we all break into little old lady’s homes and take away their prayer shawls.  As I assured my friend, moiself  simply reminds folks that seemingly benign beliefs practices, such as intercessory prayer, have unintentional but harmful consequences.

“…had I written that, I would’ve modified prayers by adding  intercessory. Prayers for one’s own personal… Enjoyment? Enhancement? Meditative purposes? Fine; whatever floats your boat. But for intercessory purposes, and public announcements of concern ( “I’m praying for the victims of the school, shooting” ), offering prayers is ineffective (and therefore insulting, IMO) and dangerous in that “praying for…” whatever fools people into believing constructive action has been taken when nothing of substance has been done.”

Confession:  back in the day, I was asked to be on my church’s prayer chain.  The workings of such vary from church to church, but in general, a prayer chain or group or committee is a group of people in a church who take prayers requests (via telephone or text, e.g. ) and share them with others in the group, starting with the primary contact who  then shares the request with, creating an unbroken link (“chain”) chain” where each person in the supposedly prays for the request and then passes on the information in a prearranged ( Leader of the group passes on the info to person A, who contacts person B, who contacts….)

 

 

Moiself  accepted the invitation, even as I told the person who invited me (the pastor of my very liberal UCC church, who knew I was a troublemaker freethinker/skeptic)  that I viewed prayer chains as being, essentially, a neighborhood news site for religious folk, who can’t seem to justify action unless there’s some god connection (I left out that second part).

The prayer chain served as a bulletin board/clearing house for news & needs of members and friends of the congregation, from “Alex and Jenny have become first time grandparents!”  to “Bill has just received a cancer diagnosis,” to “Mary’s had knee replacement surgery,” and all the  “joys and sorrows.” in between.

I never – nope, not once  – stopped to pray for the particular need shared when it was passed along to me.    [3]  [4]   Before passing on the information to the next person on the chain I used the tidbit of information I‘d received to brainstorm whether or not there was something I, or someone I knew, could do to help:

* I’ll send a card to Alex & Jenny, or bring them a batch of their favorite cookies to celebrate their good news…

* MH and I can check and see if Bill is going to need a ride to and from his radiation therapy treatments, or if he’d like a friend to play cards with him in the waiting room, or have some meals brought in…

* Mary might need someone to take the cans out to the curb for her on recycling day, or do her grocery shopping while she recovers, or mow her lawn…

It is the knowledge of a situation, of a need, that spurs the reaction which is needed, which is action – not sitting on one’s arse (or groveling on one’s knees), beseeching a nonexistent at best ( or if existent, indifferent, as per all available evidence ), supernatural/sky wizard.

 

 

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Department Of Random Thoughts On Yet Another Reason Why
Not Only Prayer But Religious Belief Itself Is Not Benign

Some critics of religion (or even mildly religious folk themselves) say, What’s the harm in religion, as long as people keep it to themselves and don’t try to have their religious beliefs influence science education, or public policy or whatever?

 

“Hey, good point!”

 

The thing is, any belief in an omniscient/all-powerful deity carries an inherent, ineffective counter to despotism.  After all, if you believe your god is all-powerful and ultimately in charge, the rising fascist in your government…well , he can reasonably claim to be part of your god’s plan…or at least, he is able to be “used” by your god for reasons that might not seem clear at the time.  Throughout history, kings and tyrants have appealed to that reasoning:  “I am here because your god wants (or at least allows) it.  Therefore, to oppose me is to oppose your god.”

 

 

No; seriously.  I’ve heard and read Christians using that “reasoning” to justify the Orange Turdfurher.  They bolster their claim with biblical stories of supremely flawed kings; e.g.,

* King David, who arranged for the husband of a married woman he desired to be killed in battle after he summoned, bedded, and impregnated her  [5]

* King Solomon, who along with his three hundred (300) concubines married seven hundred ( yep, 700 ) wives from the nations his god warned the Israelites never to enter into marriages with, lest they turn away their hearts after their gods (guess what?  they did) , and who used forced labor to build the temple and his own palace, ad nauseum….    [6]

The justification goes,  …”if god was able to use them, he is able to use #47.”

 

 

I so wish I was making this up.

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Department Of My Reactions Which Reveal To Moiself  My Low Opinion Of Many Of My Fellow Earthlings

Dateline:  last week watching an episode of Love On The Spectrum.  LOTS, as per its Netflix description is about, “Young adults on the autism spectrum look for true love in this documentary series that ‘revels in the plain, beautiful truths of courtship.’  ” I’d seen LOTS a year or so ago, but didn’t remember all the details. Considering what was in the news I wanted a pick-me-up and I’ve found a series to be…sweet, and good hearted, in many ways.

There was a moment when a couple, both on the autism spectrum, were having a dinner date which was going well, and they decided to extend their time together by going for a walk along the waterfront.  They were both being exuberant and happy and quirky, and overly loud, at least according to most neurodivergent folks’ standards…  I began to get a fearful (but sadly realistic) feeling in the pit of my stomach, centered around the nasty reality of The World We Live In ®:

If those two cheerfully boisterous young people were out on their own, on this date, in public, without a camera crew to protect them, they could be a target for some cretinous person or persons who, for their own cretinous reasons, would the couples’ differences upsetting or offensive.
In plain speak:  the autistic lovebirds would be at risk for assault.

And by persons, I mean, a man, or most likely, two or more men.

 

 

Think about the reports when something like this happens. It’s not a woman, or a group of women friends, who, while out for a stroll along the waterfront or downtown, see another single person or a couple and decide that they are somehow different or offensive or whatever and hassles and/or even beats them up.

And yeah, sorry guys:   it’s not all men ®…but it’s always a man.

 

Some of the LOTS participants.

 

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Department Of How Do You Say The Orange Turdführer Venezuelan Spanish?

Haven’t written about this because there are no words.

Oh, wait, of course there are words.  And Congress needs to enforce them unless they lose whatever remaining power they have.

 

 

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Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [7]

 

 

*   *   *

May you get out ASAP when you realize your boss is a psychopath;
May you examine whether or not your beliefs are benign;
May you encourage your congressfolk to use their words;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

 

*   *   *

[1] Trying to get my foot back in shape post-foot surgery.

[2] “I told him I’m not getting in it,” former OceanGate engineering director Tony Nissen said to a panel of Coast Guard investigators, referring to a 2018 conversation in which CEO Stockton Rush allegedly asked Nissen to act as a pilot in an upcoming expedition to the Titanic.  ( ‘I Told Him I’m Not Getting in It’: Former Titan Submersible Engineer Testifies, Sep 16, 2024, Wired, Science section )

[3] I think I was third or fourth in the chain.

[4] So when bill succumbed to his tumor…yep, that was my fault.

[5] Found in 2 Samuel 11-12

[6] Stories found in 1 Kings 9:15-23, 11:1-10)

[7] “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

The Name I’m Not Hyphenating

January 16, 2026

Robyn Parnell annoyances, are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), books & magazines, extended family, family life, freethought/humanism, friends, health & wellness, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), politics, reproductive rights, school, science, The Write Stuff (literary life), TV, Wow, Yikes! , , , , , , Comments Off on The Name I’m Not Hyphenating

Department Of The Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name…
If It’s Hyphenated

Dateline: Monday morning.  Starting my morning reading the she’s-brilliant-because-moiself-almost-always-approves-of-her-advice  Carolyn Hax’s WAPO column.  The first advice seeker of the morning, “Expecting,” wrote about an issue near and dear to the cockles of my heart: deciding the surname of one’s children when both married partners have “kept” their names:

 My husband and I are expecting our first baby. I didn’t change my name when we got married, so we need to decide what last name to give our child. I’m pretty adamant that we hyphenate, though I don’t really care about order. I’m also open to giving the child some new last name that combines both our names….It’s important to me that we both be identified as equal parents to our child and that there’s no subtle preference given to one parent/family or the other.

My husband thinks we’d be setting our kid up for a lifetime of confusion and challenges by hyphenating. He says when our child gets married, having a hyphen name will cause all kinds of problems. My perspective is that we don’t know that our child will get married at all, and if they do, they can figure it out then! Husband wants to give the kid his last name and have my last name as a middle name, which from my perspective perpetuates sexist ideas about male ownership and lineage…

Is there some other option we’re not thinking of? Are there really problems with hyphenating that I’m not taking seriously?

Hax, as is her wont, has some fun with her opening remarks, while laying the groundwork for addressing the issue-behind-the-issue:

 Expecting:

Hyphens do add some challenges, but it’s not exactly Everest without mittens.

I’ve known dozens of hyphenated people personally, professionally and by association, and none of them were, to my knowledge, wandering around lost in corridors due to failures of identification.

Non-facetiously, none of them to my knowledge have chosen to streamline to one name out of bureaucratic frustration. Hyphenating has been yawned at as within the range of normal naming conventions for decades. Some people and forms will get it wrong, yes. People also get my name wrong every. day. and it’s not hyphenated.   [1]    Or even long. So if your husband hits upon the Great Unscrewuppable Name, then please share. I might switch….

( excerpts, my emphases, Carolyn Hax 1-12-26,
“Husband sees hyphenating name for fairness as too much of a hassle” )

 

 

One of moiself’s many mottos is,  Who knows (or cares) what people say behind your back.   Behind-my-back- criticism of moiself  and/or my life decisions is fine.  If it’s behind my back, well then, I’m not meant to hear it, am I?  Not my chickens, not my circus.  

 

You can have monkeys in *your* circus, if you like.  Thanks to friend CC, my circus has chickens.

 

To my knowledge/memory I didn’t get any blowback from my side of the family when I kept my surname after marrying MH.  [2]   As to what was said in-front-of-my-back, it came from MH’s family.  After we married there were a couple from testy remarks from MH’s mother and maternal grandmother regarding me keeping my surname.  And both women, when they sent written correspondence to us, addressed the envelope to “Mr. and Mrs. MH” and/or “Robyn and MH.”  They used some version of what I came to think of as my  manhandle; they did this despite us telling them that my name was my name, and despite our having arranged for the officiant of our wedding to end the ceremony by introducing us, “…as wife and husband, Robyn Parnell and MH.”  There was also MH’s uncle, who introduced me to one of his children using  not-my-last-name, despite my having seem him the previous year at a family holiday gathering, where he, and my future MIL and G-MIL, introduced me to their friends and family as, “Robyn Parnell, MH’s friend….”

After a couple of months of this, MH wrote to his mother and grandmother, requesting that they grant me (and him) – the simple courtesy of referring to me by my actual name.

At the beginning of this surname silliness I told a friend how odd it was, to find out that certain people…

“…had no problem remembering my name – two words, four syllables total – when I was single. Then, I get married, and boom – their brain’s long-term memory storage capacity immediately decreased by a couple thousand neurons.  Apparently, it’s my heretofore unrealized superpower.”

My lasso of forgetfulness commands your obedience.

After MH’s request for some R-E-S-P-E-C-T for his wife, I received a three-page letter, from his mother, addressed solely to moiself.  The letter began as such letters begin, with compliments paving the way for the critique.  MIL praised my many fine and unique qualities!!!…and assured me that none of those qualities would be diminished by me showing my love for my husband by assuming a common surname.    [3]

While MH was mortified by the letter ( hellyeah, I showed it to him ), I was…thrilled …is the proper word.  His mother was bothered by this issue – so, don’t let it fester, let’s address it and be done with it.  I like This Kinda Stuff® to be out in the open and on paper.  Unlike phone or even one-on-one conversations, where one party can later deny (or honestly forget) what they said, or accuse you of putting words in their mouth, if it’s in print, there it is.   [4]  My MIL’s letter gave me the opportunity to articulately eviscerate her archaic, patriarchal, women-marginalizing judgements lovingly and firmly refute her “reasoning,” and educate her as to current and historical practices and cultural and personal assumptions behind the giving and taking of surnames.   [5]  Sure, a simple, This is so none of your beeswax  might have sufficed, but the former was so much more fun.

 

(one of the thirty-plus bumper stickers on our old Honda Odyssey)

 

I cannot find that letter to my MIL in my computer files (I save all such correspondence; however, it seems it didn’t survive a systems update from many years ago).  But the sentiments I expressed to her were similarly (if less personally) addressed in a letter I sent, many years later, to one of my favorite magazines, Brain,Child: the magazine for thinking mothers.  This was in regards to an article that appeared in Brain,Child‘s   Debate feature.  My letter    [6]   was published in their Letters to the Editor section.

Liz Breslin (Debate, Does a Family Need to Share a Surname? Winter 2009) claims she is a feminist, but that her intention to take her future husband’s surname “…is not a feminist issue for me.  It’s a family one.”

Say what?  Since when are feminism and family issues separate?

Breslin feels that a family should share a surname.  As for those who feel the same and do so by blending names she declares, “Think of the strife involved in that…it sounds fine, but it causes issues in school…at the doctor’s office…whether it’s right or not, our wider administrative world operates largely on an assumption that a family shares the same name.”

Ms. Breslin ( Mrs. Soon-to-be-His-Last-Name? ) needs to get out more.  The “administrative world” deals quite effectively, every day, with blended, step- and foster families, whose inhabitants often have three or more differing surnames.

My husband made the bold step of keeping his name when we married (Oh yeah, so did I).  Our children share a blended name, and we refer to ourselves collectively using that name, as the ___ family.  Who knows (or cares) what people say behind our backs, but we’ve had nothing but positive comments to our fronts:

“Oh, I get it!”

“How clever!”

“We’ll remember your family!”
(And guess what?  They do.).

It has caused us no trouble, nor even inconvenience.   Even if it did, how long does it take to say, “I’m Robyn Parnell, Belle _____’s mother”   [7]  when you call the doctor or meet your kid’s teacher?

Any cultural anthropologist (or weekend genealogist) can tell you that naming customs have varied, all over the world for all of recorded history, and somehow, people have always been able to keep track of who belongs with whom.

Like Breslin, I am also a writer of short stories.  I would point out to her that, more important than any alleged administrative inconvenience is the story that your choice of a surname tells, regarding to what or whom your family is and belongs.  Few things are more personal than your name; it is part of your life story.   Sure, your surname is (most likely) your father’s.  But it’s your father’s, not someone else’s father’s name.

If you take your husband’s name, some people will judge you…just as they should, because you call yourself a feminist but cling to the most personal aspect of traditionalism.   Feminism has always involved thinking outside the box re the ways people structure relationships.  “Giving away” your name makes a statement, whether you intend that or not, which is why women in many cultures and countries are not allowed to keep their surnames.

Don’t take your rights for granted; don’t say you’re a feminist when you go for the traditional, patriarchal choice.  Proclaiming feminism only to “give away” your name tells your children and the world something very basic, even Orwellian:  all animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.

If you really want to share the same name with your husband, both of you can change your names.  After all, it is a new family unit you’re creating, isn’t it?  You can look into your joint family histories, or favorite books or mythologies, until you find a name you both like and both change your surname (we have several friends who’ve done this; again, the “wider administrative world” has not imploded).  Many options are consistent with a feminist world view. Taking his name isn’t one of them.    [8]

BTW and FYI, re that pesky administrative world:   do you realize that if you take hubby’s name you’ll have to change or append your driver’s license, passport, bank account information, medical records, credit cards, your country’s version of a social security card, and…?

Robyn Parnell, Hillsboro, OR
( excerpt, 12-19-08 Letter to the Editor, Brain,Child magazine )

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of One More Observation

Re the letter to Carolyn Hax: the person who objects to a hyphenated or “kept” surname usually wraps their disapproval and/or digging-in-for-the-sake-of-digging-in with the excuse of concern for the future confusion of all of those anonymous, administrative hasslin’, judgmental, *other* people.  Cue the pearl-clutching, “But, what about the children??!?!?!?” …

 

 

…which thinly masquerades as a criticism of your choice to keep…your own fucking name.

If you are married or single, no matter what you did or did not or will or will not choose if you marry, let us all take a meditative millisecond to consider the breathtaking absurdity of why this should even be an issue: keeping Your. Own. Name.

 

 

When this pearl-clutching comes from the wimmenfolk in the family, it is often, IMO, because they take your decision to keep your birth name as an implied criticism of *their* decision to take their husband’s family name…as if they even had a true/no pressure option to choose, back in my MIL’s day.  Or even today, when the patriarchal norms of ownership and possession, of who “counts” in a relationship and whose relationship/family this really is, still linger like the festering odor from that July 4 BBQ when your Uncle Anuss used rancid bacon grease to fry the catfish.

 

 

One of Carolyn Hax’s readers pointed out

Re: Hyphen: I am feeling like this is just a matter of U.S. society getting used to the idea. The Brits have had names like Harumpher Stinkly-Blowhardington for centuries, and they seem to have it figured out.

I read that comment and thought, DANG, I missed the boat!  After all these years….I could’ve told MH’s family I was British and intended to honor my roots by reverting to my original family surname, Petardhoister-Snotsbury-Flapjackington. 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Welcome Mindfulness, Lovingkindness, And Compassion,
But Leave Them At The Door, Along With Your Shoes

At my recent  post-op appointment   [9]   I obtained my doctor’ ok to do some gentle yoga.  But, until my next appointment/assessment of my foot’s healing, any exercise I do – including just walking around in my own home – cannot be barefooted.

Barefoot is the norm for most yoga studios, although I’ve seen yogis wearing socks (and even what looked like ballet slippers) in the classroom during class.  Last week moiself  emailed the owner of the yoga studio where I (up until eight weeks ago) attended classes, re my intent to return to class.  I explained my limitation and asked whether my wearing light-but-supportive shoes (not street shoes) in the classroom was kosher.

I didn’t hear back from him for several days.  I’ve been a studio member since 2017; his replies to emails have always been prompt; thus, I assumed things were copacetic and signed up for the Wednesday evening class.  He got back to me Monday.  His response, after congratulating me on my healing:

“This question has come up before and we have to be consistent. There aren’t any types of shoes allowed in the classroom. Shoes and cell phones in the classroom is what we hear the most about. One time a student didn’t take their shoes off to put their mat down in the classroom. It bothered someone so much, the student followed the other student down the hallway after class to express their feelings.”

 

 

I replied that I understand, and hope to be back in class after my next month’s post-op appointment.  But… Holy Obsessively Mindful Stalker.

What I understand is that the studio has a no-shoes-in-class policy.  What I do not understand is a no-exceptions policy which cannot be modified when a student has exceptional circumstances.  What I cannot understand – what I cannot wrap my blissful brain around – is that a yoga student followed another student down the hallway after class to “express their feelings” about such a trivial matter…a matter which, if it truly was a problem (to anyone other than that one anal-retentive complaining student), should have been handled by the class’s teacher.  [10]

 


There are several reasons why yoga is traditionally practiced in bare feet, including

* to help yogis feel stability, develop balance, and feel connection with the ground/the mat under your feet;

* to keep the practice room clean (shoes track in dirt/although you can change from your street shoes to indoor only/studio shoes, like what dancers do)

* historical and cultural considerations:  in some cultures and traitions it’s considered disrespectful to walk indoors with your shoes on.  Leaving one’s street shoes at the door is a sign of respect, and in yoga it also becomes part of a pre-class ritual, as you step onto your mat and prepare for a shift in attitude and perspective.

 

But I’ve seen/heard of other accommodations for yogis with permanent or temporary physical limitations and disabilities.  [11]   Also, yoga teachers and studios and magazines have been fighting an uphill battle to counter the idea that yoga is for young, super-fit and flexible people who wear size 2 leotards and look like Yoga Journal®  cover models.  The yoga world emphasizes that “Yoga is for Every Body“ (space intentional, get it?), but apparently,  everybody does not include a body requiring a physical support that, the mere sight of it makes a busybody yogi lose her mindful shit and stalk you down a hallway….  [12]

 

Guess it’s back to Irish Yoga for me.

 

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [13]

“We don’t want a piece of the pie – it’s still a patriarchal pie.
We want to change the recipe.”
( bell hooks 1952 – 2021, American author, educator, feminist, activist )

 

 

*   *   *

May you hyphenate as many names as possible;
May you reap the benefits of yoga without acquiring a stalker;
May you find a clever (and tasty) way to change the pie’s recipe;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] Ditto to the nth for my name.

[2] Knowing moiself, they expected no less. The only feedback I got was positive, specifically from my father, who confessed to me that he wished my younger sister had also kept her surname (my older sister…there was no question she’d take her husband’s name..to do otherswise would not have been an option in that relationship).

[3] Hey, I would have been happy for MH to take my surname (how’s that for commonality?), but I never asked and he never offered.  We both liked our respective names. 

[4] You can always weasel out with, “that’s not what I meant,” but it’s evident, that’s what you wrote.

[5] Yep, she had no idea what she was getting into.

[6] Which, as per the magazine’s circulation, probably got more readership than any of my published stories.

[7] As is my custom in this blog, my offspring’s first and last names are redacted, as I cling to the outdated notion that there can still be a modicum of privacy remaining in this world.

[8] Now, those last two statements…I’m not the Feminist Police (there was an election, and I lost the position by five votes). Some of my favorite, righteous right-on feminist friends have taken their husbands’ surnames.  The reasons and reasonings can be complicated, and not everyone is attached to their name of birth.

[9] I had foot surgery eight weeks ago, addressed here.

[10] Whatever happened to the yoga mantra of keeping your eyes on your own mat?

[11] Including chairs in class for elderly yogis who have balance and stamina issues.  Also, I have a couple of friends who could not do yoga, or any exercise, barefooted, due to neuropathy and other painful foot conditions.  They bring their own supportive/orthopedic house shoes when they go to other people’s homes where removing shoes is the custom and expectation.

[12]  Following someone down the hallway after a YOGA class to “express their feelings.” It both cracks me up and frosts my butt.  Once again, I may be a fiction writer, but I can’t make up this shit.

[13] “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

The Resume I’m Not Updating

January 9, 2026

Robyn Parnell annoyances, are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), community, current events, extended family, family life, freethought/humanism, friends, general ruminations, health & wellness, Isms (religion), politics, school, Wow, Yikes! , , , , , , Comments Off on The Resume I’m Not Updating

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’s pear tree.   [1]  One last week for this, and then the holiday is officially over (in our front yard, at least).

Can you identify this week’s guest Partridge?

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Buh-Bye, Betty

 

Happy BLD (Boot Liberation Day) to moiself!

 

 

*   *   *

 

Department Of No Chairs Were Flung Harmed By The Making Of This Rant

 

 

When moiself  has heard the “But, not all men…” line – spoken when someone attempts to derail the subject when I have been pointing out misogynist behavior and culture – I have somehow managed not give into my gut reaction, which is to fling a chair at the face of the  “But, not all men…” (corollary, “But I’m a good Guy® … )”, spewer.  [2]

Now I have another option.  I can refer the misguided defenders of Good Men® to this explains-it-all essay by the astute Dawn Villines.  Read it all after you enjoy this excerpt.

 

 

“Good men care about oppression. They care about the lived experiences of women. They understand that, without listening to women, they cannot learn what women experience. They believe women. When women share their experiences and your responses is, ‘But not all men!’ you undermine those experiences. You show no concern for oppression. You are not behaving as a good guy.

Imagine a friend was sharing with you that they had cancer. You wouldn’t jump in and proclaim that not all people have cancer, now, would you?

There’s also the now-infamous thought exercise of not all snakes. Imagine being put into a box with snakes. Only a few are venomous. ‘It’s not all snakes! What are you so worried about?!’

This is what life is like as a woman. It is irrelevant that there are some nice guys out there. It’s irrelevant even in a world where most guys are decent, because so many guys are not decent. So we have to act as if all men are a danger, because we know also that when men victimize us, society won’t believe us—and that random people will pop into the discussion to tell us that our suffering doesn’t matter because it’s not all men.”

( excerpt, Hello You’ve Reached Not All Men hotline, by Dawn Villines, )

 

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of An Appropriate Container

Christian theology in a nutshell:

A Short History of God   [3]

  1. Creates Adam and Eve
  2. Creates Evil
  3. Populates the world through incest
  4. Surprised that the evil exists
  5. Clueless about how to deal with evil
  6. Drowns the entire planet, saving one small family of very skilled ship builders
  7. Populates the world through incest…again
  8. Surprised the evil exists…again
  9. Sends diseases, starvation, plagues, tsunamis, etc.
  10. Still bewildered by the existence of evil
  11. Blames the devil…that he created
  12. Rapes a girl so she’ll give birth to himself as his own son so that we can torture and kill him/his son so that he can forgive us for being so evil
  13. Says “just joking” three days later and brings his son back to life
  14. Claims omniscience and omnipotence
  15. Expects to be worshipped for his wisdom

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of A Blast From The Past

Dateline: January, last year. New Year; new project: taking an excerpt from a past blog, from the same time frame (the second Friday of whatever month).  It turned out that moiself  liked this enough that it was a regular blog feature for 2025.  Will it continue throughout 2026?  Time, and my capacity for reruns, will tell.

This journey down memory lane is related to the most convincing reason a YOU-of-all-people-should-write-a-blog-why-aren’t-you-writing-a-blog?!?!?!  [4]   friend gave me, all those years ago,   [5]   as to why I should be writing a blog: a blog would serve as a journal of sorts for my life.  Journal/diary-resistant moiself  would have some sort of a record, or at least a random sampling, of what was on my mind – and possibly what was on the nation’s mind – during a certain period of time.

Now I can, for example, look back to the second Friday of a years-ago January, to see what I was thinking. (or as MH put it, WHAT was I thinking!?!? )

 

 

Here’s an excerpt from my January 8, 2016 blog (The Dr. Seuss Book I’m Not Reading).  I spun the wheel, picked a January ten years ago…and now I’m reminded of why I write this blog.  I’d forgotten this poignant memory, which wiped me out for the rest of the day, after I reread it:

My Mother’s Resumé

Last week my older sister forwarded a text she’d received from CG, one of our mother’s caregivers. The subject was, “Mom wants to pitch in.”

(It was a ) Good day here. Your mom was making her resumé for a while in her office. She feels that she should be working. I didn’t want to dampen her hopes but we talked about being a volunteer which of course would be too much….

I got a kick out of it…for a moment. The image of my mother making her resumé – is cute, funny, sweet – make that, bittersweet. And now a part of me wants to know: did mom follow through, and what would be on it if she did? What would this 87-year-old woman (who is not always cognizant of her own age   [6]  ) list on her resumé?

 

 

My mother was the youngest of four daughters – her parents’ midlife, “oops” baby.    [7]

Like most women of her generation, my mother had little hope for independence as an adult and was, essentially, sentenced to life with her parents until/unless she married.

She moved with her mother and father to Santa Ana (CA) after her father retired from his job in Cass Lake (MN), an event which coincided with Mom’s high school graduation.

Mom enrolled in the local community college, got an A.A. degree, and managed to land a job with the Post Office.

I gathered from the stories she told me over the years that she loved her job. Although she still lived with her parents,   [8]  she was thrilled by the promise of even a modicum of independence that arose from earning her own money – she was saving up to buy her very own car; she really liked the styling on the Chevy Bel Aire! – even as she was less than thrilled (read: downright resentful) to be privy to the status and higher salaries of her fellow Post Office employees, all older than her and male, whom she described as slack-off, ineffectual, Civil-Service-for-life “geezers” whose jobs she felt she could do so much better (and sometimes did, but without credit) but would never be hired for or promoted to.

And then she got married.

She transferred her savings into the account of he-who-would-be-my-father, and their joint monies went for the deposit for their apartment, and a couple of years later, after my older sister was born, the down payment for their first house.

Oh, and she had to quit her one and only “real” job after she got married.

 

Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds…but married women give ’em the willies.

 

What do you mean, you had to quit your job when you got married? Why?

No matter how many times I asked that question   [9]  I never received a satisfactory answer. This was because

(a) there can be no satisfactory answer to a rational question about an absurd situation;
(b) my mother, hardly the bastion of feminist consciousness and one of the least
introspective and politically conscious persons I’ve ever known,
didn’t understand the why herself.

When I’d press her, she’d say that she didn’t know if it was codified Post Office policy, but it was common knowledge that only single women were hired for such clerical work.  Her supervisor informed her, when she told him she was engaged, that she could remain at her position “until that time,” but that she’d have to quit her job when she got married.

 

It’s been 60 –  sixty!? – years since my mother had worked for pay. She worked nonetheless and of course for all those years, in a job of total dependency – a job which wasn’t even called a job, and for which there was little-to-no recognition outside that from the family which “employed” her.  She played by the rules; she heeded the porous platitudes from the male-worshipping culture which spawned, formed, defined and limited her: 

We won’t let you be a scientist   [10]   but you will have
the-most-important-job-in-the-world-as-wife-and-mother!

That same ManSociety neglected to mention that, lofty rhetoric aside, it placed little value in that “most important” of jobs, which by the way and don’t you worry your pretty little head about this  will leave you completely financially dependent upon your husband and without translatable, marketable experience and skills.

 


And now, ’tis 2016.  Seemingly apropos of nothing, a sweet, memory-addled, elderly widow-woman wants to update her resumé.  If she were physically and mentally able to seek employment, what would she be qualified to do?   [11]  

I won’t ask, in my next phone call with her, how her resumé is shaping up.  It would only confuse and upset her; she’ll have no memory that she mentioned her project to CG.  She will have forgotten; I can’t.  It’s gnawing at me, in a wistful way that makes me think about the last book Dr. Seuss never wrote: Oh, the Places You Could Have Gone.

I’d like to think that, if only for a moment, when my mother was thinking about writing her resumé she was reaching for the proverbial stars, and genuinely if only fleetingly thought she had a chance at applying for something important and exciting.  Astronaut camp counselor?  Postmaster general?  Chevrolet design engineer?  Hell’s bells, what good is a stalling memory if you can’t jump start it and take a joy ride every now and then?

 

1954 Chevrolet BelAire

 

*   *   *

 

*   *   *

 

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [12]

 

*   *   *

May you never need a referral to the  Not All Men hotline;
May you reach for the proverbial stars when updating your life’s resumé;
May we all go bowling instead
( and ride to the bowling alley in 1954 Chevrolet BelAire! );
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] Specifically, in the pear tree daughter Belle purchased and (with the help of MH) planted many years ago

[2] Lest you think me superior in my self-control, fact is there are rarely fling-worthy chairs in my vicinity.

[3] Would love to give attribution…but can’t find it.

[4] I was adamant about not writing a blog…thus, the title of the blog I eventually decided to write.

[5] Was it really over twelve years ago?

[6] My mother suffers from a variety of age-related ailments, including memory impairments.

[7] And the fact that she knows the history of her “embarrassing” birth – that she was told by her parents that her “arrival” was an embarrassment to them – explains a lot, IMHO, about many aspects of her personality.

[8] Apartment complexes/landlords would not rent units to unmarried women.

[9] I stopped asking around the time when I was in high school, when, thanks to the Second Wave of Feminism, I “got it.”

[10] My mother’s high school physics teacher announced on the first day of class that he would not teach science to female students and fhe wanted them to leave the classroom. My mother’s mother intervened with the principal, and the teacher begrudgingly let the girls stay in his classroom but continued to slight them (including my mother, who would go on to be her class valedictorian). He never looked at them during his lectures and ignored their raised hands when he asked for questions…with one exception. He agreed to teach my mother’s best friend, Dorothy, because “It is obvious Dorothy will never marry,” and thus she’d need to be educated to support herself (Dorothy had been facially disfigured at birth by the inept, forceps-wielding doctor who delivered her).  This story was first told to me when I was taking physics in high school. I’d commented on something we’d learned in class, and my mother told me she’d never found physics very interesting. Imagine that.

[11] Please don’t say, Walmart greeter. Gawdammit, I heard ya.

[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

The Resolutions I’m Still Not Making

January 2, 2026

Robyn Parnell annoyances, are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), books & magazines, community, current events, extended family, freethought/humanism, friends, general ruminations, Holidays, Isms (religion), making fun of lawyers and/or doctors, nature, Oregon, politics, radio & podcasts, school, science, TV, Wow, Yikes! , , , , , , , , , , , , , Comments Off on The Resolutions I’m Still Not Making

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’s pear tree.   [1]

Can you identify this week’s guest Partridge?

 

 

*   *   *

New Year’s Reflections   [2]

I’ve come full circle, and perhaps another 45 degrees, on the whole New Year’s Resolutions Thing ®.  As an adolescent I was intrigued by the idea of making New Year’s Resolutions – or at least I was the first time I heard an adult talking about it. Then in young adulthood   [3]   I thought, oh puhleeeease, what a crock. Whenever I was asked about my NYR‘s I’d reply that I had already, several years ago, made the only resolution I’d ever kept: to never make another NYR ( moiself’s  past failed resolutions included, “Be taller,” and “Do not engage in audible eye-rolling when someone mentions their detox cleanse.” ).

 

 

Now, I think NYR are a fine idea. Yeah, resolve to “do better,” however and whenever you can and whatever that entails for you.  Of course, you don’t have to wait for the start of a new year to do so, but after all, the world is full of arbitrary limits, guidelines and restrictions,    [4]    so what the heck.

Some of my resolutions for this year are more profound than others; all shall remain private, save for this seemingly hackneyed one which, if kept, has a good chance of turning out to be the most nourishing to body and psyche:   Have more fun.

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of It is Too Early To Tell, But I Still Don’t Think It’s Working.

That  it’s would be my father’s family tradition to ring in the new year.

☼  Hoppin’ John Spicy Collards and Black-eyed Peas Scramble   [5]
☼  Green Chilie Corn bread

Yesterday moiself’s  New Year’s Day menu (listed above) once again included a dish featuring black-eyed peas. I have done this for…decades, I guess. I do this in honor of my father and his heritage: specifically, his family’s tradition of eating black-eyed peas, collards and cornbread on New Year’s Day – an act of culinary optimism which was supposed to bring good luck for the coming year.

 

 

Despite consuming black-eyed peas every New Year’s day, my father’s family remained dirt-poor sharecroppers.    [6]   Every year, as I bring whatever black-eyed pea dish I’m making to my family table, I can’t help but wonder: just once, did a brave soul in my father’s family– possibly his adored, spunky younger sister, Lucile – when presented with yet another bowl of black-eyed peas and the directive to, Eat up, y’all, it’ll bring us good luck in the coming year!, look around at the ramshackle farmhouse and her barefooted siblings  [7]  and mutter, “It still ain’t workin.’ “

*   *   *

Department Of A Thing I Have Just Now Learned
Sub-Department Of WTF Is Wrong With Me,   [8]  Adjacent
To The Department Of Starting The Year With A Clean Slate

Dateline: last weekend; listening to one of Fresh Air’s year -end shows, when they replay some of their favorites of the year’s interviews/shows. This one was on the making of the now-iconic Bruce Springsteen song, “Born to Run.”

At the point in the show when FA host Terry Gross quoted some of the song’s evocative lyrics, I snickered to moiself, “That’s so funny – has Terry misheard that line, all these years, or is she being censored?”

I decided to look up the lyrics, for gloating purposes…and…

* apparently, someone was mishearing the line, all these years;
*  apparently, that someone wasn’t Terry Gross;
* apparently, the line is indeed, as TG quoted,
“…baby this town rips the bones from your back,”
and not, as moiself  has been hearing,
“…baby this town rips the balls from your back…”

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of May The New Year Educate These Abominable Twits

On 12-28 Suzanne Mathis McQueen, my right-on-sister friend who is also an author, entrepreneur, and feminist inspirational leader,  [9]    posted a most concisely articulate takedown of the right’s miseducation and hysteria re immigration.  She was moved to do so in response to recent remarks made by Vice President J.D. “Jeering Doofus” Vance and top White House aide and racist policy formatter Stephen Miller – and oh please, ye deities who do not exist, ease the pain from having  Vice President accompany the name of such a festering turd of political, spiritual, and educational fraudulence….

Once again, I digress.

 


Veep J. D. “Judgmental Dickhead” Vance, speaking at Turning Point USA’s AmericaFest 2025 in Phoenix, Arizona on 12/21, hyped up the slavering crowd of religious and racial bigots attending the event by claiming that, thanks to the current administration’s war on DEI, “You don’t have to apologize for being White anymore.”  A few days later, top White House aide Stephen Miller, after chugging too much bootleg eggnog,    [10]   posted a batshit crazy anti-immigrant rant after watching a 1967 TV ( The Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra Family Christmas ), featuring two of the USA’s favorite entertainers at the time and – heads up Miller – both sons of first generation immigrant parents.

 

 

Really.  I can’t make up this shit.

Here is SMM’s post ( my emphases ).   The fact that those whom SMM addresses evidently lack the introspection and cognitive flexibility to consider (much less understand, or agree with) her lucid presentation in no way negates the observable truths she so forthrightly states. 

Dear JD Vance:
No one’s asking you to apologize for being white.
I’m asking you to apologize for being so appallingly stupid about being white. 

Dear Stephen Miller:
My guess is that you have zero percent indigenous (to this landmass) in you
– ya know, the folks who were on this continent for 23-30 THOUSAND years –
which includes the Mexicans.

Whenever your white family came to this land, from wherever they came, they did so to find a better life, which was no more than 400-ish years ago, or less.

Which means, like me, you are a descendant of immigrants.

And…if you came from these first immigrants, your family, as part of a societal group of immigrants, did not assimilate into the local culture. They took resources, were a burden on the local society, nearly wiped them all out, and cruelly forced them out of their lush homelands onto desolate land.

And if your family doesn’t come from these first immigrants, your immigrant family benefitted from what had been set up for them by the first ones.

Stephen, again, you come from immigrants.

Perhaps this is why you’re afraid of not-white people or other immigrants. Perhaps you’re afraid they’ll take back the land of their people, or not assimilate and instead conquer – physically or intellectually. Your fear lives steeped within your cellular memory of history – of not wanting the same to happen to you.

While we can’t change that history, humans are designed to grow and learn if they want to. We can create win-win immigration standards that serve, protect, and respect all.

Repeating history that caused harm is dangerously ignorant.

Repeating history that caused harm and claiming to love Jesus
all in the same philosophy, is blasphemous.

Jesus wasn’t a bigot.  End of story.  Let’s move on.

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Maybe Next Year We’ll Tweak This Holiday Tradition

Background: Over the years several of moiself’s  Jewish friends, acquaintances and/or coworkers/co-travelers, who told me that they were convinced that I was Jewish but “didn’t know it,” recommended that I go out for Chinese food on Christmas day.  I decided that this was the year…so…where to go?  When MH and I moved to Hillsboro  [11]   we were profoundly disappointed in the quality of the Chinese eateries available.   [12]  Eventually we stopped asking for recommendations from friends and neighbors, so as to not have to disappoint them later when they asked for our reviews.  We’d moved up from the San Francisco Bay Area, and had taken for granted the plethora of outstanding Chinese restaurants (not, ahem, Chinese American restaurants ) available…and in our experiences/opinions, none of what Hillsboro (or even Portland) had to offer measured up to Jing Jing.   [13]

 

 

Dateline: Christmas Day, 12:20 pm; getting ready for our 12:30p lunch reservations; donning my Yule season sock and shoe (singular this year – only my right foot can accommodate festive hosiery as the other is in a surgical boot).

 

 

My phone beeps; friend JWW texts me her season’s greetings, which I return.

Moiself:
“And Merry Christmas to you!
MH and K and I are about to celebrate our inner Jew and
go have Chinese food for lunch.”

JWW:
“Great idea.  Where are you going to eat?”

Moiself:
” ( restaurant name redacted ).  Haven’t been there in years.”

JWW:
“American Chinese.  Let me know how it is.  I miss American Chinese.”

One hour later, at the restaurant waiting for the check, I let her know.

Moiself (texting) to JWW:

“You *miss* American Chinese?  Seriously?
I could make food just as bland and never leave home….
Actually, it’s pretty funny.
I ate all of my dish ( aptly described on the menu as tofu and vegetables with brown sauce, and although there was no discernible flavor, the sauce was indeed brown) because I was very hungry…
but this is some of the most boring food I have ever had.
I guess it’s a good sign when you’re at the type of restaurant where the server never bothers to ask you how things are, because then you don’t have to lie about the food, or say something like, “Well, it’s in my stomach….”

 

 

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week    [14] 

 

 

One of the many things moiself  dares to hope that, in the new year, scientists like the late greats Rosalind Franklin and Jane Goodall will experience less of the “damage of gender harassment”  and The Matilda Effect   [15]     (note that I am not wishing for a complete elimination of the gender bias – I’m not that naïve).

*   *   *

May you decide what kind of difference you want to make;
May that difference be the “luck” you make for the New Year;
May you have good luck no matter what you ate on January 1;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] Specifically, in the pear tree daughter Belle purchased and (with the help of MH) planted many years ago

[2] As in, from the beginning of my blog of seven years ago.

[3] I think that should encompass ages 20 – 56.

[4] e.g. you are no more capable of making discerning political choices the day before your 18th birthday than you are the day of your 18th birthday; still, you can’t register to vote when you are age 17 years 364 days….

[5] What made John hoppin’ was the addition of black-eyed peas.

[6] Make that, “tenant farmers,” as sharecroppers was considered a pejorative label.

[7] My father’s parents couldn’t afford shoes for all six of their children, so as the elder kids got shoes they handed them down to the younger siblings. You got to wear shoes if there were a pair that happened to fit you. My father went to his proverbial grave not knowing that my mother had shared the story, with my sisters and I, of how our dad was embarrassed as a child when he showed up barefoot at school and was teased by the townie kids, who called him a dumb barefoot farm boy.  And the shack house he was raised in literally had dirt floors in some of the rooms.

[8] Don’t answer that.

[9] As per her Wikipedia page, so there!

[10] Can you think of any other reason he made the connection?

[11] Thirty five years ago as of next month.  Yikes.

[12] And not just in Hillsboro, even in Portland.

[13] Which closed after 38 years of business – they got priced out of downtown Palo Alto.  DAMN.

[14] “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

[15] “Gender harassment…defined as disrespecting, demeaning, and deprecating women and their work, abilities, and accomplishments, simply because they are women…is by far the most prevalent form of sexual harassment in academic science…. (Rosalind) Franklin…is among history’s most prominent subjects of…the Matilda Effect: the practice of ascribing women’s accomplishments to men. An expert in x-ray crystallography, Franklin led the team that created what has been called ‘arguably the most important photo ever taken,’ the celebrated Photo 51, which revealed the helical structure of DNA.  When the structure was published in 1953, however, Franklin…was not among the authors. Her crucial contribution was mentioned cursorily at the end of the article as having ‘stimulated’ the authors, James Watson and Francis Crick…who, with their paper, gained priority as discoverers…. Comments from Watson and Crick reveal the gender harassment that Franklin endured in the lab. Throughout The Double Helix, Watson’s famous 1968 book recounting the race to the famous structure, Watson condescendingly refers to Franklin as ‘Rosy,’ a nickname never used to her face. ‘There was never lipstick to contrast with her straight black hair, while at the age of thirty-one her dresses showed all the imagination of English blue-stocking adolescents,’ he writes, though neglecting to critique his male colleagues’ cosmetic or sartorial choices…. He adds that her ‘belligerent moods’ interfered with Wilkins’ ability to ‘maintain a dominant position that would allow him to think unhindered about DNA.’ For that reason, ‘[c]learly Rosy had to go or be put in her place. … The thought could not be avoided that the best home for a feminist was in another person’s lab.’ In the 1993 book Nobel Prize Women in Science, Crick was quoted as saying, ‘I’m afraid we always used to adopt—let’s say, a patronizing attitude towards her.’ ”  ( Excerpts from ITAL Rosalind Franklin and the damage of gender harassment, by Beryl Lieff Benderly,  science.org 8-1-18 )

The British Church I’m Not Attending

December 26, 2025

Robyn Parnell annoyances, are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), books & magazines, exercise & fitness, extended family, freethought/humanism, friends, health & wellness, Holidays, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), movies, music, nature, Oregon, politics, radio & podcasts, school, science, The Write Stuff (literary life), TV, Wow, Yikes! , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Comments Off on The British Church I’m Not Attending

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’s pear tree.   [1]

Can you identify this week’s guest Partridge?

 

 

 

*   *   *

Happy Boxing Day, y’all.

 

 

Chill, dude. Not that kind of boxing.

Commonly celebrated in England, and countries with substantial ties to/former territories of the Brits (referred to as commonwealth nations   [2] ), Boxing Day has many competing attributed origin stories.  Some say it is a day set aside for giving alms to the poor…

 

 

…but more likely it has to do with the British economic class system – giving the servants one measly day off during the holiday season (they had to work on Christmas Day, preparing their masters’ employers feasts, etc., and could take home the leftovers and receive Christmas Boxes with giftts from their employers on the 26th).

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Speaking Of The Brits
Sub-Department Of Visual Double Takes

Dateline: Saturday; 3 pm-ish, headed home after grocery shopping with MH.  We took a scenic detour, and on a street a half mile or so from our ‘hood we passed a blue road sign on the right.  In this state, blue street signs typically indicate a business or service or other facility, from a hospital or gas station to a winery or store or church or B & B….

The sign read ARISE CHURCH, with an arrow pointing to the right.  But the words were in skinny capital letters, and at the speed we drove by moiself  missed the I, and for a brief moment my mind registered the sign as indicating

ARSE
CHURCH
→

 

Moiself  likes the idea of my city hosting a local chapter of The British Church of the Bum.

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of One More Thing To Be Happy About

That would be, the week between Christmas and New Year’s day.

Happy Twixmas, y’all.

 

 

The guidelines for Twixmas sound a lot like recovery from foot surgery.

 

*   *   *

Department Of Real Estate Obfuscate-Speak

They’re not calling them trailer parks anymore, or even manufactured home parks. It’s land lease communities.

The reason I have become familiar with this slight-of-tongue terminology is that I’m keeping up with the real estate market in the vicinity of where daughter Belle lives.    [3]    And while a well-built manufactured home can be attractive in that it’s another option in the overpriced real estate market, it comes with a financial gotcha in that, in the vast majority of the situations, you are buying the manufactured home only, yet paying the lease price for the site it sits on – a price that can be as high or even higher than the mortgage itself (double or triple, in many cases I’ve seen).  You can be fooled into thinking that you are a solely a homeowner, when you are still, in a crucial way, a renter, accruing no equity in the property upon which your home sits.  If the landlord raises that rent, you gotta pay it.

Here is how they try to sell you a scam a pro-land lease community site describes it ( my emphases ):

Land lease communities allow residents to own their homes while leasing the land, offering the best of both worlds: affordability and a community atmosphere. You can find land lease communities across the U.S., and they are especially appealing in areas where high land costs might make property ownership particularly expensive.|
By choosing a land lease community, residents can enjoy the benefits of homeownership without the hefty price tag.
( excerpt, Inspire Community, “What is a Land Lease” )

 

 

 

…the benefits of homeownership without the hefty price tag.  That’s a new way to shovel it.  If you believe that, I’ve got a bridge to sell you.  Lovely view of Brooklyn, for only $1300/month, for just the dirt under your feet.

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of News From The Recovery Front

Moiself’s  exercise routine needs (temporary) modifications post-foot surgery.  I found a variety of chair exercise videos online:  [4]  cardio, strength, even yoga.   After trying them out I mostly don’t use them, and just modify my regular routines.  But I tune into one chair cardio/weights online video to use as a warmup, because I have developed a certain fondness for the Shiny Happy, over enthusiastic exercise leader.  It’s been six weeks, and so far, hearing her perky malapropisms never gets old: they include her pronouncing muscles as musk skulls, and enthusing about how chair workouts can still be vigorous, especially for those who have some “fiscal limitations.”   [5]

What was (is?) that Reader’s Digest  trope?

 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Working Your Brain During The Holiday Season

One of my favorite podcasts, People I Mostly Admire (aka  PIMA) is being retired by its host.  PIMA is/was hosted by economist and author  [6]   Steve Levitt.  His PIMA interview with astrophysicist, author and science communicator Neil deGrasse Tyson was one of my favorites, despite    [7]   the fact that, to moiself, Levitt seemed somewhat intimidated by interviewing a “real” scientist.

 

 

 

The most intriguing part of the interview for moiself  was when Levitt and Tyson discussed hypothesis theory, something that both fascinates and frustrates me. The frustration comes from the fact that, IMO, the ignorance re and/or misinterpretations of the definitions of hypotheses and theories account for a great deal of the misunderstandings laypersons have about science.  Non-scientists tend to think of theories and hypotheses in terms of how the words are used socially and culturally – they see those terms as more akin to opinions and hunches.  Thus, to  Biff The Non-Scientist Who Nevertheless Loves Ranting About Science, the theory of evolution carries about as much weight as does Biff’s Uncle Anus’s pontifications about why his neighbors decorate their lawn with statues of Nordic trolls and Japanese anime characters:   “I have a theory about that….”

 

 

During the interview Levitt was self-critical re the fact that, as he sees it, his discipline –  economics – is not “truly scientific” (despite there being a Nobel prize category for it 😉 ).  By that he meant, economists use different data gathering methods than those working in the so-called hard sciences, and that there is a certain “stickiness” about working with/trying to explain that try to explain things that are often unquantifiable, such as human behavior.

Steve Levitt:
“…it’s not the scientific method, it’s a sensible method, in a data-driven world, you try to figure out what’s going on.  To me what is so disturbing in economics is that everybody knows it’s completely fake, what we do.  And no one talks about it, and everybody pretends to follow the scientific method, when in fact we’re doing nothing like it.”

Neil deGrasse Tyson:
“I think you’re being too hard on yourself.  Let me first tighten up some of your vocabulary.   If you have an idea about how something works, it’s not a theory, it’s a hypothesis.    [8]

A theory, in science, is an understanding of how things work that not only explains all that it has confronted but that makes *predictions* that have been shown to be accurate going forward. That’s a theory.  Until you have experimental verification you have a hypothesis.

So, you put forth a hypothesis, some of the data don’t quite fit it, and you go back and readjust the hypothesis, that’s just fine.  You readjust the hypothesis, and now it fits the data.  I don’t have a problem with that.  But don’t elevate it to a theory of human behavior until *that* hypothesis makes a prediction you then test.

 I don’t care what you do with your hypothesis; I don’t care how much stitchery and remending you have to do to it – once you present it, and it accounts for the data you have available, that is the *beginning,* that’s not the end. Now, let’s test it.  Can you make a prediction?  Now we’re onto something.  If, after you’ve retooled it, it makes more predictions than you’‘ve ever imagined, bada-bing, let’s call it a new economic theory.”

 

 

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [9]

 

 

*   *   *

May you exercise your brain musk skulls during the holidays;
May that same brain entertain you with visual double-takes;
|May you be able to form hypotheses about your theories;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] Specifically, in the pear tree daughter Belle purchased and (with the help of MH) planted many years ago.

[2] e.g. Canada, Australia.

[3] She hopes to become a homeowner, within the next couple of years.  A pipe dream, is how so many of her peers view the housing market.

[4] As in…wait for it…exercises that can be done while sitting on a chair and thus keeping weight of the affected foot.

[5] Which might impact you even more than your, ahem, physical limitations, as you cold only afford to watch her free tape, rather than join a gym?

[6] Levitt, with his fellow Steve (Steven Dubner) , is the author of the ground breaking ITAL Freakonomics books, and Dubner hosts the Freakonomics podcast.

[7] or maybe, partially due to?

[8] NdGT deserves a footnote, don’t you think?

[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

The Literary Classic I’m Not Sanitizing

December 12, 2025

Robyn Parnell annoyances, are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), books & magazines, current events, extended family, freethought/humanism, Holidays, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), Me so happy, movies, music, nature, Oregon, politics, radio & podcasts, school, science, The Write Stuff (literary life), TV, Wow, Yikes! , , , , , , , Comments Off on The Literary Classic I’m Not Sanitizing

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’s pear tree.   [1]

Can you identify this week’s guest Partridge?

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Gender War, Schmender War

Dateline 1:  Late last week. Scrolling through news headlines from the online newspapers moiself  subscribes to   [2], t rying to find something distracting…but instead (of course?) came upon something that frosted my butt.  A headline mentioned the term, *gender wars.*  That set my teeth on edge, until…

Dateline 2:  Monday, circa 8 am.  Scrolling through my one social media outlet, looking for, finding, as one occasionally does, an I-couldn’t-have-put-it-better encapsulation of a manufactured distraction to a real problem:

A “gender war,” like all wars, is a patriarchal construct of male domination.

 

*   *   *

Department Of A Blast From The Past

Dateline: January 2025. New Year; new project: taking an excerpt from a past blog, from the same time frame (the second Friday of whatever month).  It turned out that moiself  liked this enough that it was a regular blog feature for 2025.  Will it continue throughout 2026?  Time, and my capacity for reruns, will tell.

This journey down memory lane is related to the most convincing reason a YOU-of-all-people-should-write-a-blog-why-aren’t-you-writing-a-blog?!?!?!   [3]   friend gave me, all those years ago,   [4]   as to why I should be writing a blog: a blog would serve as a journal of sorts for my life.  Journal/diary-resistant moiself  would have some sort of a record, or at least a random sampling, of what was on my mind – and possibly what was on the nation’s mind – during a certain period of time.

Now I can, for example, look back to the second Friday of a years-ago January, to see what I was thinking. (or as MH put it, WHAT was I thinking!?!? )

 

 

Here is an excerpt from my blog of 12-8-17 ( The Elbow I’m Not Ignoring ).  This one caught my attention as it is now, technically,   [5]  a memory of a memory:

Department Of Yet Another Blast From The Past
AKA, An Incident I Haven’t Thought About In A Long Time

Specifically, Crazy Bicycle-Riding Man ® .

Dateline: one afternoon, a long time ago in a galaxy at a university far, far away ( UC Davis. )  I was on campus; my first morning class had let out and I had three or so hours before my next class’s midterm exam. Instead of returning to my (off-campus) apartment for lunch I decided to splurge   [6]   and get a sandwich from the campus Coffee House and do my last-minute studying for the exam on the campus Quad.  ‘Twas a glorious spring day; I could have easily spent several hours happily parked by a mini grove of fir trees on the acres of green grass, along with other students studying, eating, napping, or tossing a Frisbee back and forth…

 

 

…but after about 45 minutes I had to move as I just couldn’t take it anymore.

What had begun as a curiosity – what I thought at first was perhaps a stunt or prank – morphed from snarky entertainment into torture by seemingly infinite repetition.

A young man with curly, shoulder-length brown hair was riding a balloon-tire beach bicycle back and forth across the quad length, from north to south and then east to west, all the while singing the Gordon Lightfoot song, If You Could Read My Mind.  He didn’t sing the entire song, only a portion of it:    [7]  

I never knew I could feel this way
And I’ve got to say that I just don’t get it
I don’t know where we went wrong
But the feeling’s gone and I just can’t get it back

That’s it. Thirty-seven words, which he kept repeating singing.  Over and over.  And over.

It was… fascinating, at first. But ultimately tedious.  After about fifteen minutes, Crazy Bicycle-Riding Man’s path took him within a few feet of me and I caught a glimpse of his glassy blue eyes and realized, He is going to keep doing this until he either passes out or someone makes him stop.

I felt a brief twinge of sorrow for the guy’s obvious…disturbance. But whether or not the man’s break from reality was drug-induced or the result of a mental health crisis, I (like the other students I saw leaving the Quad in droves) was young and impatient, and my sympathy eventually dissolved into annoyance. I lasted another half hour before I gave up and took my books to the library to finish studying.

After all these years, I remember what Crazy Bicycle Riding Man was singing but haven’t a clue as to how I did on the midterm for which I was studying.  Which is perhaps the healthiest way to pass through this world,  n’est ce pas?   [8]

 

This is what the bicycle looked like. Unfortunately, this is not what Crazy Bicycle Riding Man ® looked like.

*   *   *

 

*   *   *

Department Of A Good Read Spoiled
Sub Department Of Censorious Scrooge Podcast

Dateline: Monday; throughout the day, listening to a podcast while doing various chores.  Moiself  was delighted to find out that the podcast The Allusionist was doing a special episode: a reading of A Christmas Carol.  [9] 

Charles Dickens’ beloved novella was published in 1843.  Up until about a decade ago, for a period of over 20 years I would reread A Christmas Carol every year, one stave  [10]  a night, starting on December 20.  The Allusionist podcast host Helen Zaltzman read the story with occasional/select verbal annotations – using quick,  sotto voce asides to explain Olde English terms, items, concepts or words ( e.g. bedlam; lugubrious; brazier; workhouse/poorhouse ) – which might be unfamiliar to contemporary listeners.

 

 

I’m very familiar with the story, and without thinking about it started reciting some of the dialog from memory, until moiself  was astonished to hear Zaltzman censoring a crucial piece of the story’s dialog.

It happened when Zaltzman was reading Stave Three; specifically, the scene when Ebenezer Scrooge and The Ghost of Christmas Present are watching the Christmas Eve gathering at the humble abode of Scrooge’s clerk, Bob Cratchit.  Cratchit’s wife and children are awaiting the return of Bob and the youngest child, Tiny Tim, who’ve gone to a church service.  Frail Tiny Tim has an unnamed debility; he needs leg braces and a crutch to walk.  When Bob and Tiny Tim arrive home they are joyously greeted by the other children, who whisk him off to another room to see the Christmas pudding cooking, while Mrs. Cratchit asks her husband how their beloved Tim behaved during the outing.

“As good as gold,” said Bob, “and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk, and blind men see.”

 

 

That is how Dickens wrote the  dialog.  Here is how the podcast host read it (my emphases re her censorship and insertion):

“…he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was  ‘disabled – sanitizing a word’ – and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day, who made disabled beggars walk, and blind men see.”

 

 

Really.

It floored me.  I was already on the floor (exercising), which was a good thing because I might otherwise have fallen over, first from the surprise, and then the indignation.

 

 

She didn’t just do what I just heard her do…right?  I’ve listened to The Allusionist podcast long enough to know that its host (Zaltzman) has sanctimonious speech constable tendencies…even so, it smacked my gob.

 

 

What kind of a  self-crippling, blue-nosed, censorious, patronizing mindset led Zaltzman to decide that we in the 21st century cannot interpret or handle the 18th century vocabulary employed by the 18th century author of a classic, beloved story, and that she must protect us from such vocabulary?

And, justifying her censorship, she notes that she is sanitizing a word.

Sanitizing.

 

 

Who told Zaltzman that cripple/crippled/lame are dirty words, in need of disinfection?  Also, as to her substitution, the term disabled was not used until the late nineteenth/early twentieth century.  And, as MH said, that evening when I told him why my happy-all-day mood ( “I’m getting to listen to A Christmas Carol!” ) had been sullied, “Who decided crippled was unacceptable?”

Evidently Zaltzman decided that word is a pejorative.  But crippled can be – used to be – simply descriptive.  The terms handicapped or disabled cover an incredible spectrum – describing Tiny Tim as disabled tells you little about his condition.  Tim could have been disabled by poor eyesight, or hearing loss, or cognitive or emotional difficulties or a speech impediment or a seizure disorder or….  Crippled is more specific: the reader knows that Tim’s mobility has been compromised.  Dickens used the words that were in use, for those who had difficulty walking/couldn’t walk at all, at the time he wrote the book (and Zaltzman managed to annotate many other of Dickens’ words, without *censoring* them).

Many years ago I listened to several interviews with/retrospetives about the fiction writer Andre Dubus, who had recently died.  Years before his death, Dubus had been hit by a car and crippled – *his* description.  When Dubus was asked by interviewers (and he often was) why he chooses to refer to himself as a cripple or someone who had been crippled, Dubus explained that, as a writer, he appreciated the simple and utilitarian descriptiveness of the term.  He was, in fact, crippled – he could no longer walk.  The term provided factual, useful information, and was in no way critical or insulting to him.

Oy vey.  As Tiny Tim might say, God Bless us, every one (and flaming atheist moiself  would not attempt to censor that character, or put other words in his mouth).  But I could not finish listening to the podcast.  Helen Zaltzman, bah humbug.

And by bah humbug, I mean, “What the fuck?!?!?!?”

 

 

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [12]

 

 

*   *   *

May you not be plagued by the humbug of censorship;
May you realize that grown-ass adults to not need you to sanitize
words that *you* find objectionable;
May you have, or one day obtain, fond memories of a bicycle-riding troubadour;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] Specifically, in the pear tree daughter Belle purchased and (with the help of MH) planted many years ago

[2] The Oregonian; The LA Times, The NY Times; The Washington Post…at least one of which may be cancelled by the timme you read this.

[3] I was adamant about not writing a blog…thus, the title of the blog I eventually decided to write.

[4] Was it really over twelve years ago?

[5] Due to the fact that I’m re-running it.

[6] Working at the school library to put myself through school, any non-home procured food – even a simple sandwich – was (or felt like) a splurge.

[7] The chorus? Verse? Bridge? Root canal? Help me out, musically literate people.

[8] Not to show off in front of Gallic illiterates, but n’est ce pas? is French for, “The birdhouse smells like stinky feet, does it not?”

[9] specifically, the novelization of the script for The Muppet Christmas Carol, which followed the book almost word for word.

[10] The word Dickens used for chapter.

[11] Via (NPR; other online literary and newscasts)

[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

The Sandwich I’m Not Eating

November 7, 2025

Robyn Parnell are we having fun yet? (Women & Men & Feminism), books & magazines, community, current events, family life, foodie, freethought/humanism, friends, Holidays, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), music, radio & podcasts, school , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Comments Off on The Sandwich I’m Not Eating

Department Of Sober Memories

Dateline:  Monday, November 3; 5 a.m.-ish; playing my morning wakeup/online games, one of which informs me    [1] that it is National Sandwich Day.

Which assumes the question, What’s your favorite sandwich?

Sandwiches formed the bulk of my daily lunch items during my (pre-college) school years; however, moiself  isn’t much of a sandwich eater these days.  Thus, no name of a favorite sandwich pops into my mind.  But I do have a favorite sandwich story.

 

 

Dateline:  High school; my senior year, if memory serves.   [2]   Moiself  is driving my friend MB and I back from the Long Beach Arena, where we ‘ve seen Led Zeppelin in concert.  We arrive at her house, realize that we are both famished, and head for her kitchen.  MB rustles up a loaf of bread, two plates, and various utensils while I empty the contents of her refrigerator onto her kitchen table.  We proceed to construct sandwiches of…yeah…of things I would never consume in combination today. I cannot recall every ingredient we used, but the point was that we used almost every available ingredient.  What sticks in my mind is three kinds of mustard, mayo, pickle relish, cottage cheese, raisins, peanut butter, olives, marmalade, some kind of roasted or peppers…..  We called our creations – which we consumed with I-can’t-believe-we’re-eating-this?!?!?  gusto – Led Zeppelin sandwiches.

 

And if any of these items had been available that evening
we would have put them between two slices of bread.

 

Moiself  has never been a toker, not even in my younger days (nor, to my knowledge, was MB).  So, although I was not a conscious (as in intentional) imbiber, unlike Bill Clinton I  did  inhale.  It was either that or suffocate at most of the rock concerts of that era.  And the “air” at Zeppelin concerts set the EPA record    [3]  for particulate matter (read: wafting weed fumes).

I can’t believe   [4]  that it took moiself  *years* [5]  to realize that the only logical explanation for post-Zeppelin concert sandwiches MB and I made and scarfed down with the last-meal desperation of death row prisoners was that we must have gotten a contact case of the munchies.

 

This was pretty much the scene at the Long beach Arena balcony seats.  [6]

 

I can’t remember having been that hungry since the time I gave our cat Nova an enthusiastic, several minutes long head rub, forgetting that MH had previously applied a transdermal appetite stimulant gel to her ear.   [7]   Apparently, the medication works on all mammals – or at least cats *and* humans – as I discovered during the ensuing 24 hours when I emptied our kitchen cupboards and tried to eat everything in the house.

 

Yeah, blame the old sick kitty.

*   *   *

Department Of Name Your 15 Minutes – Shame, Or Fame?

Last week, due to several current events prompts, moiself  relistened to Monica Lewinski’s TED talk.     The Price of Shame  is one of the best TED talks, or public service presentations of any kind, I’ve ever heard.  If you haven’t listened to it and/or you think you know what you think about Lewinsky, listen to her recount her unique situation (read: ordeal) of being one of the first cases of the internet being used as a forum for public shaming and cyber-bullying.

 

 

I relistened to her talk after reading about a recent public incident which brought to mind Andy Warhol’s   [8]   famous proclamation, that in the future “…everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes.”

Moiself  thinks that not only are we’re heading for (if not already occupying) Warhol’s prediction, our present is morphing into a future where “…everyone will be shamed for 15 minutes.”  The particular example I’m thinking of is the already infamous Milwaukee Brewers Karen  incident at a baseball playoff game last month:

“A Milwaukee Brewers ‘Karen’ who went viral after threatening to call ICE on a rival Los Angeles Dodgers fan has reportedly been fired from her job.

The spectator, named online as Shannon Kobylarczyk, was seen in a racist rant towards Ricardo Fosado – a US citizen and war veteran – in footage that has been viewed more than a million times on X.

During Dodgers’ 5-1 win in the MLB playoffs…Fosado can initially be heard saying to the home fans around him in the stands: ‘Why’s everybody so quiet? What is this?’

His remark appeared to clearly irk the ‘Brewers Karen’, who fired back with a jibe about Donald Trump‘s immigration agents, saying: ‘Let’s call ICE.’

Fosado replied: ‘Call ICE! Call ICE! I’m a US citizen, war veteran baby girl. Two wars. ICE cannot do anything to me.’ At one stage of the video she seemingly tried to slap Fosado’s phone out of his hand while also calling him a ‘p***y’….

it took less than 24 hours for the woman in question to be fired by her employers….”

 ( excerpt, “Milwaukee Brewers ‘Karen’ fired from job after disgraceful racist rant towards war veteran at Dodgers game,”  Daily Mail, 10-16-25 )

 

 

As repulsed as I was when I read about MB Karen’s  bigoted bluster, I didn’t think she should necessarily lose her job due to her public display of drunken    [9]  asshattery.  And apparently, neither did the target of her racist rave.

“An American citizen of Mexican descent who was on a business trip to Chicago when he decided to attend the game, Fosado said he thinks Kobylarczyk ‘made a mistake….
I feel bad for her…..We cannot be judged on one mistake and a lot of emotions were involved. It was just hurt feelings, nobody physically hurt anybody.’ ”
( excerpt, “MLB Fan Reportedly Loses Job For Terrible Remark During Playoff Game,”
 yahoo sports, 10-16-25 )

Certainly, MB Karen  earned her moment in the Shame Spotlight®.  And she’s going to live with the consequences of her revelatory rant for at least the internet equivalent of 15 minutes (and it will be Google-able for much longer), until the internet shame/lynch mob moves the spotlight to yet another guano-for-brains  loudmouth.

 

*   *   *

Department Of Giving The Annoying Thing Another Chance…

That annoying thing would be a certain part of the podcast Ologies, 95% of which I genuinely enjoy and find informative…but it’s that 5% that frosts my butt.   I’ve whined written about this before: the 5% annoyance involves one of The Reasons The Good Guys Lost The Election ®  issues ( namely,  the Left’s obsession with pronouns and labels, and with critiquing how someone says or asks something vs. focusing on the content of what someone is actually trying to say or ask).

Ologies podcast host Alie Ward, in her intro to each episode, talks about her guest using they/them pronouns.  Okay; fine; whatever floats her (their?) boat…except that she records this intro *after* she’s already done the interview.  And she begins each interview with the annoying-to-moiself  part, where she asks her guests to introduce themselves by stating their names and pronouns.  The majority of the time, when Ward’s guest is female, that guest says she uses she/her pronouns, and if the guest is male, he says he uses he/him pronouns.  Thus, Ward already knows what pronouns her guest prefers.  Yet, when Ward is in post-production for the episode, doing the intro, she refers to her guest using  they/them  pronouns.

 

 

Yep.  She asks her guests to state their preferences, then later ignores their stated preferences, which I find incredibly patronizing and  WTF-ing-point-is-there-in-asking?,  face-palm-worthy.

A recent example of that was in the episode Critical Ponerology (WHAT IS “EVIL”?) with Dr. Kenneth MacKendrick. 

Once I got over the irritation (Ward referred to the he/him -self-identified  Dr. Ken as they), I was intrigued by the episode’s subject.  What a topic for study – what is ‘evil’!?  It is a word – a concept – that is exceedingly difficult to define, and perhapss even trickier to understand the history of the word, and who has been allowed to define it.  And that sent me on a flashback…

 

 

…this once-upon-a-time  was some 30 years ago.  Pre-social media; pre-Twitter, X, Reddit, et al, for a period of about four or five weeks I used to check a certain message board.   [10]   Moiself  had found this message board via a reference from MH about a colleague of his who’d made commentson the board, on a subject MH thought I might find interesting.  After several weeks of checking the board twice a week (I suppose that qualified me as a lurker?), I was moved to make my first (which turned out to be my last) comments on it.

I posted said comments one day when the message board topic focused on what one of the posters termed the “evil” of natural disasters.  This One Particular Poster®  was getting all hot under his metaphorical collar, referring to a recent hurricane which had brought extensive wind and flooding damage to the southeastern seaboard of the USA.  He did this – called the storm, *evil,* – several times, which brought out the Let’s all be clear about our terminology cop in moiself.  I felt moved to offer that I found the use of the word evil, when applied to an explainable phenomenon of the natural world (e.g.,  earthquakes, tornadoes, hurricanes), problematic, as in, factually incorrect.

 

 

I gave my brief definition of evil as that which involves the motivations and intents of sentient beings.  As devastating as the effects of, say, a tornado can be for humans, tornadoes have neither the agency nor the intent to deliberately and maliciously cause harm.  The hurricane has no ill will toward the coastline residents who live in its path; it simply forms due to the particular physics of wind, ocean temperatures, currents, et al.

Before making the above fairly innocuous (IMO) comments, I had looked up records of other recent storms.  I found several other major hurricanes and typhoons which had formed and then dissipated in open waters, either never making landfall or doing so on the shorelines of deserted islands, thus causing no damage to humans or human structures.  I referenced those storms in my comments, and wondered if OPP would consider those storms *not* evil?

OPP’s response was a hurricane of vitriol, as he blew his hot air into me: “LADY, you don’t think that the hurricane was evil?!?!?!?  Just ask the people whose homes got smashed, whose lives have been destroyed – LADY, *you* think the storm was not evil?  Just ask the people who experienced….”

Yada yada yada.  OPP  kept on with his emphasis of how wrong LADY was.  He had clearly misread or did not understand my point… Which other message board commentators quickly noted on my behalf.

Those others also noted  OPP’s repeated use of the term LADY to address me, as if he were flinging a pejorative.  And BTW, there was nothing my comments nor in my online posting name which would indicate my gender identification…which caused the other message board commentors to speculate if there was more than a wee bit o’ misogyny in OPP’s LADY assumption?

 

 

PP’s switched his LADY  tempest tantrum to my defenders.  Meanwhile, moiself  lost interest in the silliness of it all.  So much for my one foray into the online chatroom world.

One more thing, re the podcast’s subject matter of what is evil.  Whatever you might hold the definition of evil to be, moiself  thinks there are plenty of sufficient synonyms for that which is intentionally malicious and/or harmful.  Evil is a word I’ll use hyperbolically or sarcastically but never seriously, as, IMO, evil, like sin, is one of the conceptual stones around humanities’ neck with which religious thought has burdened us.

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [11]

“Faith is the process of granting assent without proof, especially to supernatural claims.   Faith is what you use to oppress, to justify, to judge in the name of (your) god – faith is the means to rationalize more evil in this world than anything in history.  If there were a devil, faith would be his greatest invention.”
( attribution…unsure? )

 

*   *   *

May you remember that nothing in the natural world is inherently evil
May you have a favorite sandwich (or sandwich story);
May you never cross paths with anyone (including Jerry Lewis)
who would call you LADY;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] I don’t know why…but, why not?

[2] And it does, although sometimes the serve is an ace, and other times it’s a foot fault.

[3] In moiself’s  not-so-scientific estimation.

[4] But I have to, since it’s true.

[5] Really.  Like, two decades.

[6] Actually, it’s a still from the 1938 movie, Reefer Madness.

[7] Nova was experiencing loss of appetite and weight due to kidney disease, and was prescribed an appetite stimulant by her vet. 

[8] Warhol, according to his Wikipedia bio, is “generally considered among the most important American artists of the second half of the 20th century.”  Well, certainly he was one of the most self-important, self-proclaimed artists, surpassed by none when it came to promoting himself. 

[9] I’m assuming.

[10] Message board?  Chat room?  I can’t remember what it was called…I think MH alerted me to it, thinking I might find the discussions therein “interesting.”

[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

The Home I’m Not Going Back To

October 10, 2025

Robyn Parnell community, extended family, freethought/humanism, friends, Holy Shit!, Isms (religion), Me so happy, Oregon, Recreation, school, travel, Wow, YEE HAW!, Yikes!, Zoo , , , , , , , , , , , 2 Comments

Department Of You Can’t Go Home Again

Perhaps not.  But – with all apologies to novelist Thomas Wolfe, who perhaps didn’t realize this – you *can* go to your high school reunion, in your hometown.

Some of us may remember Wolfe’s admonition/advice, from discussing the themes of his novel Look Homeward, Angel in our high school or college literature classes:

The house, the town, the schools, even the people you remember from your youth and then left in your adulthood – they’ll never be the same, or make you feel the same, as you did when you were young.   [1]   They have all changed…as (of course), have you.  Life moves forward; the only constant is change; the home you left behind can never be reclaimed…but it can constantly be remade in the present.

So yeah, well then.  Dateline:  Saturday October 4.  My high school reunion.

 

Second semester Senior Class Officers:  President AG, Secretary GR, and VEEP (yours truly) in the middle…apparently goosing AG (where is my other hand?).

 

Moiself’s  pre-reunion fears:  That I might be unable to stifle my kneejerk exclamation/observation upon entering the reunion venue ( “Holy déjà vu-ew – who are all these old/gray/fat/balding people – oh, that’s right, they are *us*!” )

Moiself’s  Reality:  “Who are all these happy, well-adjusted, warmhearted, engaging, kind, generous, witty people – oh, how lovely, they’re *us*!”

*   *   *

Department Of The Morning After The Reunion Reflections

This person is so warm, kind,  funny, observant – why didn’t I know him/her better,
and/or hang around her/him more in high school?

Well, simply and most likely because it was a large high school (some 550+ in our senior class) and we were in different classes/activities/friend groups.  Also, people change. Perhaps our respective personalities wouldn’t have been a good fit at the time, like the proverbial clashing combinations of oil and water, cats and dogs, pickled herring and crème fraîche…

 

 

Reunion activities included a tour of the high school campus Friday afternoon followed by dinner at a BBQ joint; the “official” reunion  Saturday evening; an anyone-who’s still-in-town-and-would-like-to-do-so lunch meet-up at a downtown foodcourt mall on Sunday.

My flight arrived Friday eve, too late for the tour…which I’d no interest in, anyway.   [2]   I’d last checked out the campus seven years ago, when I went down to So Cal after my mother died.  While it was nice to see that the school had some kind a sign up referencing one of its name-drop-worthy alums ( Diane Keaton…street?  Sidewalk? Lamppost? Library book return drop? ), I only recognized one or two of the buildings, and felt no positive – or negative – connection.  Which seemed logical, to moiself.  After all, the school (to me) was the people, not the buildings.  It just…wasn’t my school anymore.  Such is The Nature of Things®.  

 

 

I’d left much free time in my trip planning, by both design and circumstances ( I was going to meet up with family who, due to ongoing health issues, could not say when they were available until last minute).  Thus it turned out that I had plenty o’ free time on Saturday before the reunion, and decided to check out some old hangouts:  the Santa Ana Zoo, Norm’s restaurant, and Bowers Museum.

The Santa Ana Zoo – initially known as Prentice Park, was vastly different than I’d remembered, which was a good thing, as the zoo’s animal enclosures from decades ago were PETA-protest worthy.   Although much-improved (and, like most if not all zoological parks today, very conservation-focused), the SAZ is still not an AZA member.  [3]  Even so, I had a good time observing the wildlife.  And the animals were interesting, as well.

 

I had a nice interaction with this ocelot, who seemed to like looking at my hat.

Three of my visit’s highlights included what surrounded me after I’d ordered lunch at the zoo’s café and ate it on a table by the children’s play area/sandpit:

* A tiny boy, picking up pinecones under the trees by an outdoor eating area, toddled over to my table and solemnly presented me with one of his treasures.  His mother was both proud of and astonished by her son’s generosity: “Oh, this is a first!” she gushed.  “He’s so shy, he *never* approaches or even makes eye contact with strangers!”  I reassured her, “Yes, well, I have that effect on men.”

* I overheard (then watched) two different parents – each trying to remain The Reasonable One ® despite their respective, escalating irritation – discussing what had happened and what then should happen re an altercation between their children. Dad A wanted Mom B’s son to apologize to Dad A’s toddler daughter, whom Mom B’s toddler son had pushed over in the sand pit by the swings.  Mom B’s boy wandered off after the encounter (with Dad B chasing after him);  Dad A was not pleased with Mom & Dad Bs’ reluctance to get their toddler to apologize.  “Oh, he’s very young,” was their excuse, which Dad A countered with, “This is how they learn…“, adding,  “Good luck with that,” when Mom B indicated that no apology would be forthcoming ( “They’re just kids; you don’t have to be snippy about it…”  [4]   )

* A family of four – two young men and two older women – sitting two tables away from me, played a game of Uno while they waited for their café food order.  They conversed loud enough so that I didn’t have to eavesdrop to hear the some of the details.  Moiself  surmised that the two young men were, patiently and with good humor, “defending” their sister (yay!), who was somehow a concern for the two older women (who didn’t like the young woman’s…boyfriend?  Job? General life direction?).  Also of interest  to moiself  was how smoothly all four family members switched from Spanish to English and back again, sometimes two or three times within the same sentence.  Not being bilingual moiself   [5],   I couldn’t help but wonder, what is the cause/trigger for them to switch?

 

 

And what a surprise the Bowers Museum turned out to be.  One of the city’s few “cultural” attractions, I remembered Bowers as the bane of Santa Ana schoolchildren, who had to do the obligatory (read: eyeball-evisceratingly boring) field trip to Bowers at least once in their elementary school career.   [6]    While Bower’s original (and beautiful) Spanish mission-style main building was still there, the museum had expanded.  I remembered a few of the old/permanent exhibits, but there were many more, including the featured World of the Terracotta Warriors: New Archaeological Discoveries in Shaanxi in the 21st Century, an impressive traveling exhibit I’d actually read about  [7]  before making the trip to SoCal.

 

 

Alas, I never made it to Norm’s  (I got hungry and lunched at the zoo before heading to Bowers)  I’d intended to send photographic proof of my being there to my older sister and her high school bestie, for whom  Norm’s was a personal/in-joke, involving the less-than-stellar meals (with regard to the food’s taste and quality ) we’d had at that SoCal institution.  The restaurant’s motto was, “Norm’s – We Never Close” ( which I appended with, “No Matter What The Health Department says!” ).

 

“Okay, so the food is meh, but you can get it 24/7!”

 

All of these (and more) trips involved moiself  taking Uber or Lyft , as I’d decided to forgo the hassle of car rental (and navigation of SoCal freeways).  And that was entertainment in its own right.  Really and truly, as I told several friends and family members, for my next trip I might be satisfied just booking different Uber or Lyft rides all day, to…wherever.  Moiself  so enjoyed the conversations I had with the drivers, all of whom were from a variety of different backgrounds and life experiences and who were friendly and eager to share their stories with me and hear mine in return, and who included:

* Jose and Raymundo, both of whom are getting married next week!      [8]

* John, who’s off to Colorado to visit his daughter, who is expecting baby#1 next month!

* Zheng, who lives at the beach even though he can’t afford to, but it’s the beach!

* Michael, who is retired ( “big mistake”) and misses having something to do!

* Abdul, who’s only getting $4 for this fare (so he says) and wants me to know!  [9]

 

Not one of my Uber drivers (but just as friendly).

*   *   *

Department Of Priorities

Dateline: Sunday, 8:15 am, the 61 Hundred Bread bakery in Santa Ana. I arrive early as advised and snagged a couple of loaves of their blue masa sourdough ( “Best sourdough in the universe” ), one to take to my older sister and her husband when I visit them later this afternoon, and one to take back with on the plane, for MH, when I return to Oregon.

 

 

Later in the morning, as I’m doing some prepacking for tomorrow’s flight, I realize I don’t have enough room in my carryon luggage to add the bread, unless I make some sacrifices.  And so, the sparkly black *bling* sneakers I wore to the reunion will stay behind in the hotel room.   [10]

 

*   *   *

The reunion committee, as wonderful as they were for all the details they had to plan and juggle, got my name wrong on the preprinted name tag they provided for attendees.  They had me as “Robyn Parnell Wagnell,” which was one surname too many.  The latter surname belongs to MH’s and my offspring (and is part of my email address; thus, the nametag mixup, I’m assuming).  Not to worry; due to the facts that…

(a) this has happened before with nametags; and
(b) I don’t like premade nametags,

…I’d brought along my own, custom name badge.

There is a story behind why I decided to have my own name tag made.

 

 

Story Dateline: many, many years ago; attending an event wherein people were provided with sharpie pens and those HELLO  MY  NAME  IS stickers.  I am gob smacked by the number of people (and by people I mean, men) who have written their professional credentials after their name, and who are introducing themselves to me ala:

Introduction:
“Hello, I’m Dr. Austin Tayshus.”
 ( Name tag reads:  Austin Tayshus, Ph.D. or M.D. )

This event is neither a medical nor scientific conference, nor a professional gathering of any sort; it’s purely social.  After the fifth or sixth time I encounter what moiself  considers to be this boorish, status-signalling behavior,   [11]   I return to the party check-in table, grab a sharpie, and append my nametag to read,  Robyn Parnell, N.a.D.

Which I have to explain to the next please-be-impressed-by-me Doc who introduces himself, then pretends, for a moment, that he recognizes my credential.

Pretensious Party Person:
“Hello, I’m Dr. Igor Maniac.
And I see you are……uh…’Na.D.”  Yes, oh…Naturo…Allopathic….?

Moiself:
“Robyn Parnell; Not A Doctor.”

Just want to make sure there’s no confusion about that.

 

 

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [12]

 

Harold: “You sure have a way with people.”
Maude: “Well, they’re my species.”

 

*   *   *

May you have entertaining encounters with ride service drivers;
May you make any sacrifice necessary to include the sourdough;
May you not need to have the Harold and Maude reference explained to you ; [13]

…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

 

[1] And sometimes, that’s a really good thing.

[2] And as for the bbq joint meetup, by the time I’d Ubered to my hotel and checked in, I could have shown up later, but I checked out its menu on line.  Yikes.  Nothing a plant-eater such as moiself  would be interested in eating.  Or even smelling.

[3] I wonder if that’s due to it’s size, or quality of animal exhibits/care, or….?

[4] Oh, the joy of watching that interaction and thinking about how I don’t have to navigate that world anymore.

[5] Being able to curse, insult, and critique the bathroom supplies in several languages doesn’t count as language fluency…I think.

[6] Or whenever we had the city and/or county history/social studies blocks.

[7] But didn’t know it would be at the Bowers Museum.

[8] Not to each other.

[9] His sympathy trolling for a bigger tip – which he didn’t get – was obvious.

[10] Not to worry; they were quite inexpensive.

[11] It’s okay to be proud of your profession, and/or the education you received to get it, but other people also work hard and take pride in their professions sans trumpet-blaring – I couldn’t think of a reason why a person would do that at a social gathering, other than they wanted to accrue some kind of special treatment/elevated status points for being “a doctor” of…whatever.

[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

[13] And if you do, may the first thing you do after reading this is find some way to see that movie.

The Everything I’m Not Knowing

October 3, 2025

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Department Of The Argument I Didn’t Win.

This memory flashback is courtesy of the latest episode of the Clear + Vivid podcast, featuring guest Canadian psychologist and author Steven Pinker:

“Steven Pinker: When You Know That I Know That You Know…
It then becomes ‘common knowledge,’ and can be both beneficial – like cementing friendships or empowering peaceful protests – or destructive, causing a run on toilet paper or splitting society into silos, each with their own common knowledge.”

 

 

Dateline: one afternoon in the late 1970s; UC Davis, during moiself’s…junior or senior year?; in most likely an upper-level sociology class (my pre-law major, criminal justice, was offered through the department of sociology).  It was a smaller ( ~ 20-30 students ) class; we were discussing a certain chapter of one of the class’s assigned textbooks.

The discussion began with the professor expressing his distaste regarding the phrases common knowledge and common sense, which the textbook author had used several times in the chapters.  Professor professed that he found those phrases assumptive and reductive: he asserted that there were no such things, and that if common sense and common knowledge truly existed then everyone would have them, and we would not have the scornful descriptors describing their lack; e.g.:

* “You think what? Oh, c’mon; it’s common knowledge that…”

* “What an idiot – he has no common sense…”

Everyone else in the class nodded and uh-huh-ed their assents with the professor’s observation.  But his argument struck me as…insufficient.  I had to disagree, and offered the following, with the intention of encouraging further discussion:

The definition of the adjective common does not mean mandatory, or ever-present.   Something can be common, as in widespread, but that doesn’t mean that *everyone* *everywhere* possesses this “common” thing, or trait.  [1]

 

 

Now it was moiself’s  turn to be the recipient of my classmates’ nods and good point uh-hus…which quickly dissipated as it became obvious that the professor had become somewhat irritated.  He had meant to drop what he’d considered to be a brillante déduction, and then move on.

And so, the discussion…moved on, if you know what I mean.

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Good Advice To Remember

The way you walk the path is just as important as where it leads.
( Anonymous  [2]  )

True, that.  Especially if you work for The Ministry of Silly Walks.

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Previews

RROTB (Regular Readers Of This Blog ®)  may surmise that Clear + Vivid is one of my favorite podcasts.  But two mentions in one post is, moiself  thinks, a new record.

 

 

A couple of weeks ago  C+V host Alan Alda and the show’s producer had the show’s season premier, wherein they discussed/played excerpts from the upcoming season’s episodes.  Here was one of my favorite previews, [3], from Alda’s conversation with science and writer and climate researcher Kate Marvel, whose new book is titled, Human Nature: Nine Ways to Feel About Our Changing Planet ( my emphases ):

C+V host Alan Alda:
“…You take a really unusual approach to communication in this book, Kate. When scientists write about science, they almost always avoid emotion every way they can. But you built your book on nine emotions, and under each emotion you tell the powerful stories that led you to have those emotions. It’s so unusual. How did you come to think of doing it that way?

Kate Marvel:
“Yeah, I resisted having emotions for a very long time because I’m a scientist, right? And we’re supposed to be neutral, we’re supposed to be objective…. Just the facts. And that’s how we maintain our credibility by pretending we feel nothing, but that doesn’t make us more believable. That makes us liars. And I realized that I don’t wanna lie.
And I don’t actually…there’s no gulf between getting the facts right and telling good stories about the facts. There’s no conflict between knowing things and feeling things.
And when that clicked for me, that’s when the idea for the book came in.”

Alda:
“Kate Marvel’s opening chapter is on Wonder. Wonder at the power of science to explain why the world is warming. After that she turns to anger.”

Marvel:
“…anger was the easiest chapter for me to write. And you know, I’m angry for the same reason that most people are angry when you think about climate change –  the lack of action and the telling of lies….

One of the things that makes me the most angry is the weaponization of uncertainty. Hmm. The fact that they say, ‘Oh, we don’t know everything” as an excuse to not do anything. And of course we don’t know everything. That’s why I still have a job. That’s why I go to work every day.

If science knew everything, science would be over. And so the fact that there are still things to find out about this planet does not mean that we know nothing. We are sure that greenhouse gases are causing climate change. We’re more sure about that than we are that smoking causes cancer. And the fact that there are still things that we don’t know about the planet, there’s still things we don’t know about how climate change will progress, what it will mean – that absolutely doesn’t mean that we’re not sure that climate change is real. It’s us, it’s happening, it’s dangerous. “

 

This sounds like a job for Science Captain Marvel.

 

Later in the conversation with the same scientist I heard one of the best metaphors (IMO) for our ultimately deadliest   [4]   planetary problem.  This could be helpful to y’all – which includes moiself –  the next time we’re discussing the topic with a person whose comments indicate that they don’t understand the difference between weather and climate.

Alda:
“I wanted to ask Kate about the difference between climate and weather. Years ago I noticed it wasn’t accurate to say that a weather event was an example of climate change because they seemed to be two different realms. But now I see weather events referred to as examples of climate change. So I asked Kate if she could explain that to me.”

Marvel:
“The way that I like to think about weather and climate is you can think of weather as a play that happens every day, but climate is the stage. And so weather is happening against this backdrop that’s set by the climate. And when you change the stage, you change the things that can happen on that stage. You change the stories that can be told, and that’s what’s happening now.
There is no weather that is happening, that’s not happening, against the backdrop of a changed climate. And we know from kind of basic physics what happens when the earth gets warmer…”

 

*   *   *

Department Of Oh And By The Way….

It irritates moiself  when I hear people say “climate change” when they should be saying, “global warming.” And that’s because I remember that there was a concerted effort, over twenty years ago, by conservative Republicans to change the vocabulary in an effort to change hearts and minds.

What conservative spinmeisters/climate change deniers want you to think:

“Climate change, that’s just the way of things – change is normal…
we’ve had lots of changes over the earth’s history….”

 

 

The fact that a more neutral term ( climate change) has become the go-to phrase, replacing the true, more descriptive phrase of *what is actually happening* (global warming – our climate is warming, not cooling ) – is a deliberate, obfuscatory, head-in-the-sand or-up-the-butt tactic.

“In 2002, a memo was written by Frank Luntz for the Republican Party on how to address environmental issues (Luntz, 2002). Luntz suggested that Republicans should update their terminology when discussing the environment, by describing themselves as conservationists, rather than preservationists or environmentalists….
Secondly, he suggested Republicans use the term climate change instead of global warming, as the latter was deemed less controllable, more catastrophic, and more emotionally challenging. It was suggested that these simple changes in terminology would assist the Republicans in winning the environmental debate. “  [5]

( excerpt, ” ‘Global warming’ versus ‘climate change’ “: A replication on the association between political self-identification, question wording, and environmental beliefs,” from ITAL Science Direct: Journal of Environmental Psychology, V. 69, June 2020 )

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of The Question Moiself   [6]
Thinks I Know The Answer To

Which is humanity’s biggest roadblock to progress in fixing our current problems:
opposition (to the solutions), or indifference?

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [7]

 

 

*   *   *

May you personally avoid (and enlighten others who, knowingly or naïvely use)
the weaponization of uncertainty;
May you remember that the fact that we don’t know everything
doesn’t mean that we know nothing;
May you feel free to insert a silly walk as you walk your path;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] Obviously not moiself’s  verbatim recollection of what I said.

[2] From a recent guided meditation, so I’m thinking some Buddhist-type anonymous.

[3] which I share here in hopes of enticing some of y’all to tune in to Clear + Vivid.

[4] For humans.  Cockroaches will carry on just fine.

[5] Why aren’t there more footnotes in this post?

[6] unfortunately

[7] “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

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