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The Ancestors I’m Not Worshipping

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Department Of Sourdough Analogy
Hint: An Acorn Is Not An Oak Tree

My sourdough starter, “fed” and bubbling, plus the right proportions of flours, water, salt, an autolyse period, an initial rise, a final shape and rise followed by baking in a properly preheated oven, usually/hopefully (but not guaranteed every time – ask any baker) will yield a loaf of sourdough bread. But the sourdough starter and flour and water and salt, separately or combined, are not a loaf of sourdough bread.

Picture this: At one of MH’s and my dinner gatherings, a friend/guest/family member expresses anti-reproductive choice sentiments just as I am about to pass the basket of homemade sourdough bread.

Yeah – someone getting all anti-abortion-y at a dinner party hosted my moiself? The scenario is a stretch to imagine,  [1] but bear with me:

 

 

 

bearjpg

Well, okay.

 

 

 

Depending on the vehemence of their sentiments (on a scale running from “I’d never have one or be the cause of one myself, but I’d never try to butt in on other people’s medical decisions,” to “A fertilized ovum is the equivalent of a person,” to  “Citizenship for sperm!”) they will be served some combination of the following: the raw sourdough starter, flour, water, salt, the pre-risen bread dough, the risen and shaped but unbaked bread dough – while the rest of us enjoy the actual bread.

 

bread

bread2jpg

*   *   *

Department Of It’s Almost Worth The Potential Global Destruction
And/Or At Least Worldwide Humiliation Regarding The Functioning Of Our So-Called Democratic Electoral System…

…to have someone like Cheetos Hitler be #45, so that someone could come up with One Of The Best Acronyms Ever ® .

It is a given that most sentient beings with moral compasses larger than a fleck of bellybutton lint refuse to refer to #45 as POTUS. Now – thanks to/may the Flying Spaghetti Monster bless The Internet – we have a most fitting option:  SCROTUS.  [2]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*   *   *

As regular readers of this blog know (and new or sporadic readers will likely surmise), I am not a religious person. I was raised by church-going, Christian parents; [3] flirted with/researched a variety of denominations during/post college; was a member (even served as a deacon, holy shit!) of a UCC church [4] for many years; happily (read: finally) came out over a decade ago as a lifelong skeptic-atheist-Freethinker-Bright.

While I hold a modicum of respect for some of the ideals and practices of, say, contemporary non-theistic Buddhism and Unitarianism and Jainism, I find all religions to be more-or less silly/offensive/just plain fallacious. There is one “spiritual” practice, however, which I can somewhat understand, if only in that it makes a teesny-tiny, infinitesimally wee bit o’ sense:

Ancestor worship.

 

 

really

 

 

Yes, really.

Make that, ancestor veneration, not worship. For the love of the FSM, get off your knees, open your eyes, and stop bowing your head – nobody should “worship” anything.

Worship: VERB
1.  [with object] Show reverence and adoration for (a deity)
1.1  [no object] Take part in a religious ceremony.
(English Oxford Living Dictionary)

Unlike the claims of religions which have one or more deities, you don’t have to take your ancestors’ existence on “faith” [5] – you know they have lived (you yourself are evidence of that); you’ve likely met them one, or two or sometimes even three, generations back. From the photo albums and other heirlooms to the birth certificates, school and county records, family businesses, homes, farmsteads, and kinfolk near and far, you’ve an idea of what they have “given” you, materially, intellectually and emotionally – you’ve some idea what you might be grateful for.

Best of all, you’ve little incentive to argue or go to war with other people over whose interpretation of what their imaginary friend wants is correct. Your neighbor’s ancestors are their business, and yours are yours.

Of course, the option of ancestor veneration leaves out a small subset of people: those who have little or no knowledge of their forebears, such as certain kinds of adoptees ,[6]  as well as those who have just enough information (e.g., children in the foster care system) to…well, I’ll put it this way: if you come from two generations of meth addicts,  ancestor veneration might not be the spiritual practice to float your boat.

Now then. By ancestor veneration I’m not talking any kind of belief system wherein the dead are beseeched to intercede on behalf of the living – that’s just as silly as all the others. I do not believe that my deceased grandparents and parents have a continued existence in a spirit world, or that their spirits look after moiself and my family in particular or the world in general, or that they somehow can influence the fate of the living. I’m talking about a practice of honor and appreciation, in which a person might use the roads paved and trails blazed by previous generations as a focal point for remembrance and gratitude.

 

 

candles

Thanks for the dimples, Dad.

*   *   *

 

I’m not sure what brought the previous topic to mind. A likely suspect is the recent death of my mother. Anyway, y’all have my permission to honor your ancestors…as well as my fervent wish that that is as far as your theology goes. However, as I look at the state of the world, it appears that the old superstitions have some staying power. As long as people will continue to proclaim and dispute over whose invisible leader is the bestest, I’d like someone to come up with another dog in the fight.

As the Bay Area’s own Huey Lewis, the Bard Of The Bammies, once sang, I Want A New Drug.

Putting it yet another way, y’all have my encouragement (if you are religiously inclined) to come up with a new religion, within the following parameters: in this belief system, it is the men who are required, in one form or another, to cover themselves

That’s it. Yep. That’s the entire theology in a nutshell.  [7]

From a light veil or hijab – make, that, hejab –  to a full-body, Bro burqua, your theology must include all the usual nonsense reasons (modesty; an easily offended diety;  protection from your fellow believers who will beat the holy crap out of you if you show any evidence of human form) as to why certain people –  in this case, those with boy parts –  must be covered in public.

Duuuuude – put a scarf on it.

 

 

 

hejab

We swear on Her Holy name, it doesn’t make your butt look big, no, not at all.

*   *   *

Department Of Factory Fail

For some reason I’d prefer to think that it was an assembly line glitch, rather than a human judgment call, which was responsible for putting this spice shaker style cap on a bottle of bay leaves:

 

 

bayleaves

*   *   *

May you choose the appropriate cap for your container;
May you acknowledge if not esteem those who blazed your family trails;
May you continue the resistance and gram ’em by the SCROTUS;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

 

 

[1] I do not know each and every political belief of each and every  member of my family and circle of friends. I’ve some anti-choice family members, who have yet to bring up the topic at a dinner table gathering.  With my friends I either know or surmise we are on similar pages re The Big issues .®  

[2] So Called Ruler of the United States.

[3] Lutheran, specifically: what was once called the ALC and now ELCA, for those obsessives interested in denominational nitpicking, It wasn’t one of the “synod” denominations (Missouri & Wisconsin), which are closer to Catholicism in their conservative doctrines (e.g. women cannot be ordained as ministers; liking to snipe about other denominations as being the “not true” faiths) .

[4] Which I have, since leaving, recommended to people who for whatever reasons are looking for a liberal Christian church experience and/or community.

[5] Although, especially at Thanksgiving when someone brings up politics, you may have to take them with a helluva big grain of salt.

[6] If you’re counting “blood” kin as the only kind of ancestors which matter. Which I hope you are not.

[7] Which is the proper receptacle for all theologies.

The List I’m Not Making

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Haiku for Walking
While Listening to Nothing
Yet Hearing So Much

Early evening,
heading downtown, I greet the
others who walk past.

They nod, adjust their
earbuds, and return their gaze
downward, at their phones.
They have their iTunes,
podcasts, or conversations,
but miss the street songs:

Backyard wind chimes;
breeze rustling the birch leaves;
a child’s distant laugh.

Cars unseen but heard;
cheers from the nearby sports field;
crows rebuking jays.

Walking to downtown
to meet MH for dinner
cellphone in stasis.

downtownb

*   *   *

Department Of Pissing In The Wind
Aka, Will It Do Any Good?

Briefly: I experienced buyer’s remorse after purchasing something online and, when the product arrived, was horrified by the excessive, totally unnecessary, wasteful, non-recyclable packaging. I sent an email to the company [1], with this picture, and advised/implored them to do better. [2]

 

olay

*   *   *

Department of Even More Essential Than a Bucket List

 

Last Friday MH surprised us [3] by procuring dinner reservations at an mahhhvelous vegetarian restaurant, Natural Selection. The dining atmosphere was at once intimate and welcoming, and not at all twee or intimidating, despite the restaurant having the all-too-Portland description rustic chic applied to it by critic.

We spent over two hours enjoying a prix fixe, four course (with wine pairings for each course) dinner. We enjoyed the kind of meal that makes you feel ebullient and comrade-ic with your fellow diners, and you turn to those seated to your left and right and find an excuse to make conversation – the kind of meal that turns strangers into friends (“What did you choose for the second course?”).

It was the kind of meal that should have had me posting a picture of each course to a certain friend, but I was so into the repast I neglected to do so. By the way, if you have the good fortune to know Scott Duke Harris, intrepid Santa Ana, CA – Hanoi journalist, do send him pictures of your favorite meals. He’ll love it.

 

NS

 

 

Once again, I digress.

As per the afore-mentioned, strangers-begin-talking-when-inspired-by-good-food impulse, I struck up a conversation with the gentleman seated at the table to my right. He and his Lovely and Talented Wife © were, like MH and I, first-timers at the restaurant. They were celebrating her retirement from 25 years with one job and moving on to the third act. He preceded her in retirement, and we began chatting about how he was filling his time, including trying new things – like a gourmet vegetarian restaurant – and yet not falling into the I-only-have-so-much-time-left-and-must-do-all-the-things-I-missed-doing-when-I-was-younger trap. We commiserated about the ever-increasing swiftness of the passage of time, and about avoiding the well-meaning advice of those people who have compiled their own bucket list and pressure you to do the same.

I told him how, while continuing to seek meaningful ways to contribute to society, I also seek to minimize time spent in activities I loathe. [4] For example, I know I will never be able to reclaim those hours, attending a “morale raising/teamwork-building” business workshop, or sitting in a committee, listening to someone ask a question that needn’t have be asked (or that had already been answered) but was put out there so that the asker could be seen as insightful or perceptive by his colleagues….

The gentleman concurred, and offered this sentiment: the older he gets, the more he realizes the importance of not doing certain things. That is, he recognizes what, for him, is the primacy of not the bucket list, but the fuck-it list.

Exactly! I resisted the urge to pound my fist on the (artisanal, hand- crafted) table in enthusiastic recognition of a kindred spirit.  And I told him I was going to steal his description.

No matter our age, we are all bound by the limits of lifespan. You may be compiling an inspiring bucket list, and if so, good for you!  I hope you are also keeping track of what you do not need to do anymore – including things you’ve never done, things that may be #1 on someone else’s bucket list but which you just don’t see as effort- or time- or money- or risk-worthy  [5]  .  As in, fuck it, I’m not going to squander my time on that.

 

 

buycket

*   *   *

Skepticism is hard.  How do you convince someone they’re not thinking clearly when they’re not thinking clearly?
Our brains are not “wired” for skeptical thinking; studies have shown that people who lose their “faith” tend to replace it with something else, with a different type of belief – with some other non-evidence-based reasoning.

(Phil Platt, astronomer, writer and science blogger, from his “Don’t be a Dick” talk at the TAM Conference , 2010)

Acartoon

 

 

Last week I came across a link to an article titled, Transgenderism: A Pathogenic Meme. The article was written by Paul McHugh, MD, a Professor of Psychiatry at Johns Hopkins Medical School, and published via the conservative thinktank, The Witherspoon Institute. The link to the article was posted by a FB friend who is a conservative Christian and who recently obtained an (on-line) degree in counseling from Liberty University.

Yep. That Liberty University – the one founded by Jerry Falwell. [6] Liberty is the kind of conservative religious institution that purports to offer an “education” and “the pursuit of knowledge in every discipline” – as long as said knowledge can be cherry-picked to conform to their frighteningly, medieval superstition relic doctrinal statement…in which Iron Age mythological beings are treated as serious 21st century driving forces.

So. FBF posted this intro to the link: “Very good article. If a person wants help, evidence-based intervention is always the best way to go.”

One of the article’s assertions about transgenderism –  that facts are more determinative than feelings –  is one I happen to agree with…about any subject. And so I couldn’t help but chuckle Oy vey, if only after reading FBF’s intro.

“For those who want to be helped, evidence based-reasoning….” Indeed. That would be a nice change and a pleasant surprise.

If only y’all religious believers would apply evidence-based reasoning across the entire spectrum of your lives, and not only when you (think you) can find or fashion evidence to suit a particular doctrinal tenet.

Facts are (or should be) more determinative than feelings, including the fact that religious/supernatural claims about the world are ultimately based on feelings – believers [7] live and walk by faith, as their own holy books tell them . The only fact-based thing about religion is the fact that all religions tells different stories as to how the world works and/or how and why their god(s) operate, and competing faiths use similar arguments to stake why theirs is the only true faith.

 

faith

 

 

Meanwhile, Humanists, Brights, Freethinkers, atheists, agnostics, and others who hold a reason-based worldview shake our heads and smile our holy shit?! smiles and say, Cool story, bro.

And for those religious believers who want to be helped, evidence-based reasoning can be found at the Freedom From Religion Foundation, the Recovering From Religion organization and hotline, and many, many other organizations which provide support for those who recognize they need to overcome religious indoctrination.

 

*   *   *

May you carefully and joyously compile your bucket and fuck-it lists;
May you remember to pull the plugs and listen to the nothing;
May you enjoy many a meal that Scott Harris would envy;
.. .and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

 

 

[1] whose product line name rhymes with Soil of NoWay.

[2] The same advice I gave to myself, re checking out a product’s packaging before looking for a good price.

[3] Yes, both us; as in, I think he surprised himself by the awesomeness of his choice.

[4] Read: committees and meetings.

[5] Sky diving, anyone?

[6] Yep, that Jerry Falwell, the one who said, among numerous batshit crazy claims for Jesus, “Good Christians, like slaves and soldiers, ask no questions.”

[7] Notice they are called, and call themselves, believers.

The Spanish Class I’m Not Taking

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There is no I in quitter.

Turns out, there is.

¿Come se dice Homework sucks en español?

Guess I’ll never know, unless I look it up myself. On Monday I dis-enrolled moiself from the Spanish class I’d so been looking forward to.

 

REALLY

 

Yes, really.

I’d been a little put off by the cancellation-without-notice of the class’s first meeting, (mentioned in a previous post), an incident which, on the second meeting of the class, [1]  la professora seemed not at all concerned about, even after several of us told her we had showed up to an empty, dark classroom. [2] But hey, okay, no big deal in the whole scope of things, right?

I was also a bit put off when la professor told her estudiantes that she was not fond of the textbook for the course, a book we had all purchased as instructed (a book that was, what, assigned for her class against her will?). What was the point of mentioning that?

I liked the other students in the class just fine and dandy. [3]  And then it came time to do the homework assignments.

Something in me balked. I did not find the assignments difficult; in fact, I was encouraged – given that I’d enrolled in an “accelerated” beginner’s class – by how much of the material was familiar to me. But…I… just….

 

 

homework

 

 

I found myself reacting as if it were one of those committee meetings I so loath.

Homework.

Been there; done that, for sixteen years, a long time ago in a galaxy far far away…

Why again, I asked moiself, am I taking this class?  And why am I still typing moiself instead of mi mismo if I am supposedly interested in improving my español?

*   *   *

Department Of That Is So Not The Correct Response

Whilst using the self-checkout line at the local grocery store, the sopping wet bunch of scallions I’d picked up from the store’s why-do-they-spray-the-vegetables-every-five-seconds produce section leaked through my reusable bag. Water dripped all over the scale, and this apparently/somehow obscured the scanning device. I turned to face the clerk’s station which was right behind me, the station manned by the exceedingly tall, dull-eyed, slack-jawed lucky employee whose job it is to oversee the store’s self-checkout lines.

“Hello/Excuse me.” I smiled my best, Affable Customer Needs Assistance ® smile.  “One of my produce bags leaked water all over the scale. I’m unable to scan my last item, and….”

The clerk said, “Okay.”

Okay?

That was it. He said it somewhat expectantly, as if he were waiting for me to finish a not-very-funny joke.

I paused, awaiting the offer of assistance that was not forthcoming. I restated my dilemma, more succinctly the second time, and received a blank stare in response. I tried a third recitation of the situation, this time pointing toward the roll of paper towels at the clerk’s station, paper towels which are there to – wait for it – wipe the scales. [4]  He grabbed the roll, shuffled over to my checkout station and slooooooooooooowly wiped off the scale,[5] all the while shooting me several  Why are you telling me this? glances.

Silly moiself. Why did I tell the guy whose job it is to help the self-checkout stations that I needed  help with a self-checkout station? WTF, dude, I just decided to share this with you because I’m having a lonely night.

 

grocery

*   *   *

Department Of Sushi Politics

MH and I had a lovely sushi lunch last Friday, with two administrators (the President/CEO and Chief Development Officer) from the local Planned Parenthood chapter, who wanted to thank MH and I personally for our year end donation, and pick our minds about our history of supporting the organization, etc.

We’ve supported PP [6] at both the local and national level for years, although I removed the national organization from my donation list many years back, [7] a story I got to share with the PP Ladies. And although I am so grateful for the services PP provides to the community, I also shared my disappointment [8] with the decision by the political wing of the National PP organization to break a long-standing tradition of neutrality to endorse a presidential candidate during the primary races.

The PP Prez made an articulate, well-reasoned and passionate case for the national PP board’s endorsement – a decision I found not surprising and certainly understandable in these trying times for supporters of reproductive freedom. Still, I agreed to disagree with the endorsement, in part due to the story I’m about to share with y’all.

Another long time ago in a galaxy far far away, I worked for Planned Parenthood of San Mateo County (CA). One morning at the beginning of my shift, as I walked down the hallway which led from the PP building parking lot through the administrative offices, I was greeted by PPSMC’s vice-president. The Veep was on her way to the employee break room for her morning coffee, and her attention was caught by the button I’d affixed to the strap of my purse:

 

lobotomy

 

Veep flashed me a wicked, I-am-so-going-to-love-this smile and asked,

Do you think I should have a lobotomy?

Gulp.  Uh, no, ma’am.

Turns out PP Veep was a longtime Republican, and as she accompanied me to the clinic wing of the building she treated me to a PP history lesson. She pointed to the pictures of the clinic’s founders and major financial sponsors, pictures which hung in the hallway I’d traversed every day I came to work – pictures I heretofore had given nary a second glance as they all seemed at first glance (to moiself) to be a bunch of “old folks” who looked like they could have been the disgruntled bridge partners of my Aunt Erva.

 

Of course I support your reproductive choices. But if you choose to bid one heart again I'm going to kick your ass.

I support your reproductive choices. But if you choose to bid one heart again I’m gonna choose to kick your ass.

 

The majority of the clinic’s founding donors were political conservatives and/or Republicans who, the Veep explained to me, had the highest respect for PP’s mission statement – that the family is the bedrock unit of society; thus, the ability to plan one’s family is a fundamental and most personal decision that should be free of governmental interference – and that that was the true conservative’s position, and anything I’d heard to the contrary was the result of political and religious fanatics hijacking the authentic….

You get the picture.

And I got the button off my purse strap. [9]

My dear and recently departed FIL was a staunch Republican, who made it a point over the years to tell MH and I how he’d consistently (and successfully) fought to procure and maintain the donations to PP from the many charitable foundations on whose boards he’d served. He and my MIL – pro-choice Republicans [10] – might seem to be an endangered species, but I know there are more of them are out there.

Again, I get PP’s decision. The current crop of Republican presidential candidates is particularly dismal, and it’s been a tough political row to hoe for the pro-choice movement.

But, it’s been that way for a loooooong time. Fiscally conservative/socially progressive Republicans who are teetering about their loyalties…I fear the endorsement of Clinton by PP might just be the “nudge” to get those R’s thinking that they have to choose sides once and for all on this issue, and that the fanatics are correct – only those liberals support reproductive freedom.

  *   *   *

Department Of Object Lessons

I follow the blog Epiphenom: The Science of Religion and Non-Belief. The blog came about as per its author’s curiosity regarding…I’ll let him tell you in his own words:

Hi, my name’s Tom Rees I want to know why some people believe in gods, and what the psychological and social consequences of those beliefs are. I read the research, and when I find something juicy I write it up and post it here!
I’ve been blogging on the psychology of religions belief (and non-belief) since 2008 – this blog has its origins in a paper I wrote published in 2009 on the link between personal insecurity and religious belief. I’m a medical writer by profession, and have a PhD in biotechnology.

A recent post on the Epiphenom blog is worth a look for all you Freethinkers, or anyone, no matter how you label yourself, who is concerned re the influence of religion on education.

The world’s first scientific renaissance took place not in Italy, but in the Arab world…
Which makes it all the stranger that modern Islamic nations have such a lamentable record in science. Where did it all go wrong?
(from How Religious Schools Led to the Decline of Arabic Science, Epiphenom, 1-14-16)

As per the following excerpts (from the same post), replace Sunni revival with Evangelical or Conservative Christian…and feel free to shudder away.

And once religious traditionalists took control of the education system, they shut down most lines of scientific inquiry. Not only were there fewer scientific works after the Sunni Revival took hold, but those that were produced in were cited less often – indicating that they had less impact on other scholars….. So, this is a simple case of power and control. Once the Sunnis became dominant, they clamped down on any potential challenges to their authority. And that included rational inquiry – dealing a fatal blow to the region and causing lasting damage that persists to this day.

Christianity vs. Science

*   *   *

 

Okay. Enough with the Serious Stuff © .

Department of Morning Surprises

Oh, crap, no!

I espied a suspicious dark blob on the floor by the kitchen table and dropped to my knees for further inspection.

What is it? MH asked cautiously.

We both feared another thinking-outside-the-box incident, for which one of our cats is notorious. Instead it was only (and oddly) the top of a jalapeño – a trimming from the previous night’s dinner – which had somehow escaped from its (intended) journey from the kitchen counter to the compost bin.

MH recoiled reflexively as I dangled the so-relieved-it-is-not-a-cat-turd object in front of his face.

“It’s a jala-poo-ño,” he declared.

 

jalapoo

*   *   *

May your mornings bring only pleasant surprises;
May your requests for assistance bring only appropriate responses;
May you enjoy a realization of freedom that is one of the few unmitigated pleasures of aging (hey, I don’t have to do this thing if I don’t want to!);
and may the hijinks ensue.

 

 

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

 

 

[1] Uh, which was then actually the first day of the class.

[2] A simple, vaguely apologetic, Oh, how inconvenient for you, would have sufficed.

[3] And in age-reporting fairness, as per my being the youngest in the other class I’m taking (which I mentioned in last week’s post), I’d estimate I was one of the two oldest in the Spanish class.

[4] I have seen other clerks do this. I have seen, and I have believed that it is possible.

[5] It took three paper towels. That store believes in soaking their scallions, lemme tellya.

[6] Translate: yearly $$ donations.

[7] Due to my dissatisfaction with their non-response to my repeated, reasonable and well-stated concerns re their constant dunning for membership dues. Someone’s yearly membership is not “in desperate need” of renewal eleven months before the expiration date.

[8] I’m pissed off, I believe, is the genteel expression I employed.

[9] I still wore it. Just not to work.

[10] At least, ones willing to be vocal about it.

The Advice Column I’m Not Writing

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 The potters are here!  The potters are here!

The Oregon Potters Association is holding its annual Ceramic Showcase this weekend.  Today and Saturday and Sunday, the nation’s largest show of handmade ceramic art is on display (and for sale), as over 170 Oregon and Washington artists take over the main exhibition hall of the Oregon Convention Center. Free admission!

Horsley teapot

Teapot by Patrick Horsley

If your head is spinning like a potter’s wheel after a few hours of viewing the coolest teapots on the planet, take a break and check out the neighboring exhibition halls, where more than 200 Oregon artists will display their one-of-a-kind artwork, handmade from metal, beads, glass, wood & hand-woven fabrics.  The Creative Metal Arts Guild, Oregon Glass Guild, Guild of Oregon Woodworkers, Portland Bead Society and the Portland Handweavers Guild have joined forces to present this show, which they refer to as…wait for it… A Gathering of the Guilds.

 but a sampling from my Wall of Faces, many purchased at OPA conventions

but a sampling from my Wall of Faces, many of which were purchased at OPA conventions

This is year 32 for the OPA showcase. I’ve attended this event for at least twenty years, usually accompanied by friends who are also pottery and art admirers and collectors (and even artists themselves). [1]  After years of attending, I’ve no excuse (read: room in the house) for further pottery purchases, be they utilitarian or ornamental.  Or so I thought, until a fortuitous tragic event in December, when a longtime member of the Wall of Faces (only partially pictured above) committed suicide, as it were. [2] And now, there is room for one more.

Chickenface

And there was much rejoicing. 

 *   *   *

Complesults and Insulments.

You’ve probably been on the receiving (or spewing) end at least once, even if you aren’t familiar with these terms, which I (think) am just-right-now making up.  A complesult or an insulment is a sly statement that allows an ostensibly positive remark to cover a dis. Think of disparagement masquerading as praise. Or, an insult disguised as a compliment – sound familiar now?

HISS

 “I can see why you like Carol Burnet’s TV show; she proves that a funny girl can be successful even if she’s not pretty.”

I received that lovely bouquet from a grade school rival.  The other 6th graders standing in the tetherball line didn’t seem to get it, but I sure did.  Hsssssssssss.

And now, I’d like to hear yours.  Uh—not about moiself, thank you.  But, if you’re up to sharing, what are some of the most memorable complesults and zingiest insulments you’ve received?  Or delivered – ‘fess up and don’t worry; I’ll assume the targets were worthy. Judgment shall be withheld.

*   *   *

More From The Department of Withholding Judgment

Earlier this week I received an email from Scarletta Press, the publisher of The Mighty Quinn, notifying their authors that Scarletta’s director of publicity has resigned.  Further communication will reveal who will fill the vacancy.  I’m hoping for someone interested in doing…well…consistent and vigorous promotion.

*   *   *

 A Day Late and a Dollar Short [3]

Ever had a great idea, only to find out someone else – in fact, several someone elses – beat you to it?

Me neither.  Until I toyed with the idea of starting an advice column.

 Please give me some good advice in your next letter. I promise not to follow it.
 (Edna St. Vincent Millay, American poet)

I had the column’s title, format (via another blog, at first) and rationalization raison d’être for the project.  My niche was to be advice in various areas – from personal and professional quandaries to matters of protocol – from and for Brights, Humanists, Atheists, Agnostics, Freethinkers. The religion-free consistently encounter a plethora of WTF? situations, as we navigate a society that bestows privileges and even positive attributes upon religious believers.

I even had some topics in mind, for how I would organize the issues, including:

* Fun with Fundamentalists

* Are those your holy scriptures in your pocket or are you just happy to see me? (dealing with proselytizers)

*  Say What? (how to respectfully but firmly deal with family/friends/neighbors/co-workers who pressure you to participate in their overtly religious rites and ceremonies)….

Oh, what fun.  Oh, what the (mythical realm of eternal torment) was I thinking?  It’s already being done.

facepalm

The Humanist magazine, to which I’ve recently subscribed, is doing it (in their colun, “The Ethical Dilemma”) , as is the Freedom From Religion Foundation,via a relatively recent addition [4] to Freethought Today, their monthly newsletter…which I would have known had I more carefully read the journals’ recent issues instead of passing them on to my son and other interested parties, oy vey.

Advice is what we ask for when we already know the answer but wish we didn’t.
(Erica Jong, American author)

And so it goes.  Stay tuned for more info on this project.  Or, less. Until then, my advice to you is to let the hijinks ensue.

 Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

 

 

 

[1] Why aren’t there any footnotes, you may be asking?

[2] Apropos of nothing, it dove (or so it seemed) from its perch on the wall and plummeted to the tile floor.

[3] Yeah, that also has already been done.  Or, said.

[4] Something along the lines of “Ask a Freethinker.”