F16’s Don’t Kill People, 500 Lb. Bombs Kill People

THIS has to be one of the stupidest things I’ve heard of late. Students who wore t-shirts on the first day of school that read, "RIP" in memory of a classmate that was killed last spring, are being suspended-something like twenty three of them. The school’s argument is that it is distracting and they have grief counselors available. The ACLU’s argument is that we still have protected speech in this country and that the administrators are out of line.

I knew it would happen eventually-Danny has an imaginary friend.

Danny: We’re going to make lunch now mama.

Mama: Who are "we?"

Danny: My friend, Alice Cooper and me.

Mama:  Oh.

Which is actually kind of cool, I mean why shouldn’t your imaginary friend be Alice Cooper, you know?  

Watching the Democratic convention this evening it occurred to me that I don’t really want to hear "speak truth to power" become the campaign slogan-primarily, because the Democrats are not speaking truth to power. I’ve heard it twice so far this evening. It was absurd coming out of John Kerry’s mouth and even more ridiculous from Joe Biden’s. Talk about diluting meaning.

It’s that amnesia thing again. "Speak truth to power" has been so removed from context and turned into a marketed catchphrase that it is meaningless. So there you have it-that’s how capitalist America deals with radicalism-by turning it into a marketable commodity. Fashionable radicalism, but not enough to get you on a watch list or infiltrated by the Feds. It reminds me of a friend’s daughter who as a nine year old declared herself an anarchist as an excuse to dress only in black.

It is almost as absurd as the crowd at PBS comparing Biden to Hubert Humphrey. I never thought I’d feel sorry for Hubert Humphrey. 

In the span of seven months, 90,000 infants and children were deported to Mexico-without anyone to claim them. You can read a translation of the report HERE.

My first reaction is to think, "if people only knew about this, it would stop", but really, I know it wouldn’t. These horrors happen because the victims are not viewed as fully human. Once the media accepted and began using the term "illegal", it was a done deal. You’d get a more outraged response if cats were being abandoned at the border.

It’s the same tactic the Nazis used to justify smashing the heads of toddlers and heaping them up in the ovens. I know you’re not supposed to make comparisons with Nazis, and believe me, I don’t do it casually. This is very, very Nazi.

Sure is easy to bring out the worst in people, eh? Just make them feel threatened and pretty soon they’ll accept-hell, they’ll willingly participate in the vilest treatment of other human beings.

Remember that sinus infection and sore throat that was making me miserable? It decided to move to my lungs. I don’t know why people enjoy drugs-I’ve been taking this codeine cough syrup (that doesn’t actually do anything except let me sleep) and it really unpleasant. As I already mentioned over at the cooking blog, I’ve been dealing with pneumonia and a shortened attention span by sitting in bed sewing and watching my DVD set of old Soupy Sales episodes. Man, why didn’t Obama take Soupy Sales for a running mate? He’s from West Virginia-that would have totally taken care of the blue-collar vote that Biden was supposed to bring to the ticket. And as a bonus, he totally knows how to take a pie to the face. That’s what’s wrong with Washington-no one knows how to take a pie in the face anymore.  

I did watch a bit of the convention last night to see poor old Teddy give what will probably be his last speech. You know what’s funny? I was watching the tribute video and thinking to myself;

"Damn, this is like every goddamned documentary you see on PBS. It screams PBS documentary."

Then, I find out it was made by Ken Burns which made me laugh so hard I had to take more cough syrup. Did anyone else see it and think the same thing? And what’s up with the whole "sea" metaphor? You’d think, being a tribute to Ted Kennedy and all, you’d want to stay away from water references. Maybe people have just forgotten already.

Speaking of the collective American amnesia, they had Jimmy Carter make an appearance and he gave a lengthy interview on The News Hour. I’m not sure which was worse, listening to Carter, or the round table of pop-historians praising him as a wonderful president. I know these things are relative, and compared to the other two democratic presidents in the last forty years, maybe Carter looks good in hindsight-but come on. Carter was a terrible president. MX Missiles in Europe. Funding and training death squads in El Salvador. We all know how well his support for the Shah of Iran turned out. No, I’m not suffering from amnesia and really all I can think of when I see Jimmy Carter is what a waste his presidency was. Why don’t you go play with your nuclear submarine, Jimmy?

Bah!

I’m enjoying my little Internet breather as well. I’ve gone something like four days without reading much news and I like it so much I might just stay in bed. I wish I had some comic books. Or an Atari. You know what’s really good? Those frozen sugar-water pops in the plastic tubes. Those things are great. I’m going to go get one right now.

Soupy For President in 2012!

Just when I was weighing the psychological damage it would inflict to show Danny pictures of grossly disfigured children with the reminder;

"Their mamas told them not to touch", along comes THIS post.

My parenting style isn’t wrong, exactly…it’s antiquated. By late 60’s early 70’s standards I would be an excellent mother.

OK, I’m off to Google images of one-armed kids now.

Danny: What do naughty kids get for Christmas?

Mama: Coal. They get a lump of coal.

Danny: I don’t believe you. That isn’t true.

Mama: Of course it’s true-everyone knows naughty kids get coal for Christmas.

Danny. You’re making it up. I don’t believe you. Prove it-ask Google. 

Prevention magazine is offering advice for manipulating your friends, family and co-workers. Funny, I always thought good relationships were built by not engaging in this sort of nonsense. Being devious about it makes it that much worse.

How utterly depressing to think that every interaction you have with someone is being guided by a self-help article, buzz marketing, or daytime television talk shows. It certainly makes it difficult to take people at their word.

We always have a few boxes of powdered milk on hand because Danny likes it (lucky, I know) but I never considered painting a room with it.

Some of the other uses sound excellent as well.

Little known fact-I used to eat the stuff dry when I was a kid. I used to consider myself some sort of weirdo until I read Ake, The Years Of Childhood where Wole Soyinka talks about doing the same thing. Anyone else want to own up to dipping a finger into the powdered milk as a kid?  I mean, if it is good enough for a Nobel Laureate…

I’m glad Obama picked Biden for a running mate-he’s pretty articulate for a white guy which is good because when those wealthy white guys from the East coast get together and start yammering about tee-off times, and annuities it’s pretty hard to understand what they’re talking about with all that non-standard English. Why can’t the rest of the white people speak like Biden? They’re only hurting themselves, blathering on that way.

He must write his own speeches or something.

I was pleased to hear Katharine Whitehorn’s Cooking In A Bedsitter has been republished in a new edition by Virago. I lived in a bedsit once (briefly, until the evening the bugs appeared and I begged out of the lease) but I can’t say I cooked on a hot plate. I did have a small microwave and tiny fridge though the fridge held mostly beer. By the time I knew about Cooking In a Bedsitter I lived in a spacious town home. No matter, it makes wonderful reading and if you feel the need for a one-pot meal of tripe, this is your best guide to preparing it. Even if you don’t, the prose is amusing. The book would make a wonderful gift for any soon-to-vacate the nest children.

Some really appalling recipes are offered at the end of the article.

I’m getting the mental image of a couple making love in an igloo by the light of a soapstone lamp…and then a pizza delivery man shows up.

Bedspread with large mapleleaf on it, optional. 

Actually, I’m really thinking Pierre Bear-where Mrs. Pierre Bear squeals and giggles and claps her hands and then they get baby bear on the next page-and then a pizza delivery man shows up.

Edited to add: They also can set you up with THIS kind of ecstasy as well-you know, in case you need to tranquilise a moose or something.

A while back my husband was working for a pretty conservative company. One of the more important figures in the company was standing and taking a leak next to him and said something. The problem is, my husband has terrible hearing.

"What?!" he responded, sounding horribly shocked.

The boss repeated it, and my husband realised he’d heard wrong, and apologised.

"Well what did you think I said?" the boss wanted to know.

"Oh, never mind, I really…" But he insisted my husband tell him.

"I thought you said, "That water’s really cold."

The idea is a very large, very stretchy elastic penis that you can slap quickly under the next stall and snap back while you say,

"Whoa, sorry there guy!"

We’re gonna be rich! 

This evening my husband locked his keys in the car (in our driveway) so AAA sent a locksmith. He was kind of (OK very) creepy in a "looks like a cannibal serial killer" way. His name was Caleb.

Later, we have the following conversation:

Me: You should get spare keys made.

L: Why? We can just call Bilal to open the car.

Me: I thought his name was Caleb.

L: Same thing.

Me: Same thing if you’re one of the bad angels in Milton?

L: Or a cannibal serial killer from Missouri. Same thing.  

Danny: What’s a cannibal? 

Danny: Don’t worry about when you die mama, we’ll be OK.

Mama: Oh?

Danny: Yes. Papa and Danny will move to a hotel where they will feed us and take care of us.

Clearly he’s given this some thought, I just wish he didn’t sound so enthusiastic about it. 

"Flush Your Colon."

"Cleanse Your Colon."

"Lose Ten Pounds Tonight."

"Wanna Become A Psychologist?"

Is it just me or does anyone else think that’s hilarious? 

My spelling is dreadful. Positively dreadful. This really shouldn’t be the case, as I’m rather well read. Still, here I am unable to spell even the simplest words that I use over and over. To deal with this problem (and I do consider it one) I keep handy a dictionary or three or twenty. I think it is about twenty not counting the unabridged OED. We lost some reference books to water damage in the tornado, so I’m not positive on the count-but there are at any given time, numerous sources where I can check my spelling-which I do.

Time Magazine (yes, I’m linking to Time magazine God help me) has a piece making the argument for permitting more variant spelling in English. Swell, now in addition to deciding if we "scraped a tyre on the kerb" or, "Scraped a tire on the curb" we can wonder if perhaps we’ve simply "skrapeed a tir on the kurb." Pardon me while my fucking head explodes. Perhaps we should just accept texting spelling. Gr8. R U RED-E? why don’t we go back to the 15^th century when everyone spelled as they pleased?

I can’t believe anyone seriously believes they can get by will spell check alone. Suppose you misspell a word as another valid word-spell check won’t catch that and anyone that reads it will know you ran spell check without a careful examination first. I know this because I’ve done it enough times only to slap myself in the head wondering why I continue to do such a foolish thing.

I recognise that spelling and punctuation are important and that I’ve failed miserably with both. It would be simple enough to fall back on "Oh, my background is in science" and have it excused, but really, that’s pretty weak. There simply isn’t much of an excuse beyond carelessness on my part. If people such as myself are permitted to spell any damn way they wish it will be a worse world for it. I could understand wanting to simplify or standardise more popular spellings, but to just label misspellings as alternate seems impossible. Will editors be permitted to spell as they wish or will it only apply to primary school children whose precious self-esteem may be crushed beyond all hope by being graded on their spelling proficiency? For what it’s worth, I had to look up proficiency just now.

Next, we’ll have alternate multiplication tables because it doesn’t really matter is 2x2 is four or nine or twelve.

See, THIS is what happens when I try to make stuff (and no, I wasn’t drinking). I totally suck at crafts.

If there’s one thing that can ruin a fashionable Canadian’s day, it’s bunions. Have you ever tried stuffing a bunion-bruised pair of tootsies into not-quite-dry mukluks? Unpleasant. Big day of snowshoeing ahead? Not with bunions on your feet you don’t. You won’t get farther than the government beer store before deciding to turn and retreat (after stopping for beer, of course) when the curse of bunions is cast upon your footsies.

Well, fret no longer Canadians, the good people at Canadian Living have a two page article filled with helpful advice like switching to lower heeled mukluks, and commuting to work in comfortable boots and snowshoes. Really, you have to take this seriously because suppose you’re out in the street playing a game of shimmy and someone accidentally whacks you on the foot with a hockey stick and by fate hits you right square on the bunion…well all I’m saying is that fucker is going to hurt. A lot.

One in three Canadians are suffering from bunions? That’s pretty mind boggling, in all seriousness. The article discusses a genetic basis for some of it but as my husband just noted, how many of those numbers reflect people who want bunions? Could this desire to be like everyone else be driving a "bunion boom?"  Suspect at the very least. I wrote a song about it:

I Got A Bunion In Newfoundland And My Wellingtons Won’t Fit

One day I went off fishing from lovely Conception Bay

I caught some cod and prayed to God I’d make some take-home pay

But when we brought the boat ashore I screamed out,

"Bloody Labrador!"

I left here with ten perfect toes

Now bunions plague my feet!

Toronto boys are handsome

And Vancouver boys effete

But no one laughs and points and stares

When they go barefoot in the street

I’ll keep it shod

I swear to God

My bunions you won’t spy

I used to have ten perfect toes but now I’m

"Bunion Guy."

*From The Table And The Chair by, Edward Lear

My first inclination was to mock THIS, but then, thinking better of it I recognised the brilliance. Spaghetti and bread-in a single loaf. Only a guy could come up with this (like my husband who battered and fried a piece of cold, leftover pizza) and at some point he needs to incorporate beer into it (a glaze for the bread, perhaps?) but this is the sort of thing that should be recognised.

Years ago, I stopped for a slice of pizza at a now defunct North End pizzeria/lunch counter and their "special" was a pizza topped with leftover macaroni and cheese casserole. Go ahead and laugh but it was the best pizza I’ve ever eaten.

This does get me thinking that instead of doing white/wheat swirl breads I ought to try and do a whole wheat baguette stuffed inside a white baguette-with maybe a dinner roll in the centre-like a turducken, only with bread…a bagtardin. I wonder…