I just read someone online who claimed that medical schools are making learning how to perform a D & C an elective.
I am looking for support for this claim, and knowing that some medical *professionals* use the "Conscience Clause" to refuse basic medical treatment based on their personal religious beliefs, I find it not that hard to believe.
However, this puts victims of term miscarriages and endometrial cancer at risk for their very lives.
As I said, I want to find hard proof of this claim. When I find something more concrete, I will update.
In the meantime, this procedure is not just used for abortions; it is used to save women's lives. Discontinuing it as a required aspect of medical education (and consequently perhaps licensing) is appalling and barbaric. It opens the door for medical professionals to refuse care to sick people based on any number of "personally" selected reasons.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
I just read someone online who claimed that medical schools are making learning how to perform a D & C an elective.
This just broke on the Huff Post.
George Tiller, 67, was shot and killed at his church in Wichita, Kansas. According to the article, Tiller's clinic was bombed in 1985 and he was shot in both arms in an attack in 1993.
I was curious to know about Kansas' laws on late-term terminations; found that they are legal under Kansas law according to a recent New York Times article.
When the law doesn't agree with you, shoot first and who cares about questions?
So much for the right to life, huh?
And what was that about extremism (on both sides of the spectrum) being a concern in the US?
The right definitely owns this one.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Hard to find a crack in this one, huh?
Thanks to True Blue Texan, Grandpa Eddie, Riot Kitty and Sidhe for also posting this.
We must promote love, in all its forms.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
I've been thinking about this post for a few days now.
Even as I type I am not sure if I will hit the "publish post" button at the lower left.
I've written many times before about how tough it is to see the world as it is and *know* that it is meant for something better. Greater than the shyte we seem to always find ourselves in.
I have a confession: I have never read 1984.
Yes, I just got my doctorate in English (but with my primary area in Rhetoric and Composition) and I have never read this book or seen the movie.
I'll wait while you gasp......
Here's what I've been thinking about (and I promise I didn't just throw that confession in for drama) and I know I am not the first person to think about this or write about it.
It seems we are given only so much sunlight in our days (figuratively speaking). Everywhere I look I see people hurting each other. Reports of neighbors killing neighbors. Mothers killing children. Etcetera. Etcetera. Etcetera.
I even recently read an article (I'll have to look for it in the mound of papers on my desk) arguing that studies are beginning to show the people distrust *kind* people. They want something... they're trying to fool me... they think this or this about me.
Seriously? Kind people?
Even the "entertainment" we see is so fraught with violent images that the lack of light is inescapable even there. Case in point; we saw the new X-Men movie a few weeks ago and I tried to count the number of times someone died, how many times the camera shows a close up of a firing weapon or just a weapon-- you get the gist. I lost count at 65; and that was within just the first 10 minutes of the movie.
Did you know that six (6) companies control 90% of the world's media? This small clan of companies (who also have their tentacles deeply entwined with food production, pharmaceuticals, and advertising) controls 90% of what movies get made. What music gets produced and promoted. What we see on TV, listen to on the radio, read in newspapers and magazines.
Those same companies pretty much dictate what kinds of *good* things get promoted, too. Usually to a disproportionately lesser degree. Want to feel better? See this movie. Read this here book. Take this pill. Want to get laid? Drink this beer. Use this hair product.
It seems like every part of our emotions are somehow plugged into this machine (okay, I am not talking Matrix here either).
I started to think about the basic messages these types of "input" tell us about ourselves and each other, and again, I realize this is nothing new or earth-shattering:
A) You are not good enough as you are. You smell wrong. You're too fat. You need the right car. The right clothes. The right [insert pretty much everything here].
B) You are not to trust anyone who is unlike you. Our media constantly focuses on the evil of others, on the barbarity of cultures different from ours.
C) You are not smart enough to make your own decisions about things because I know this, this and this about it and you're *wrong*.
I am not naive. I understand that bad news and dark stuff sells.
I am not going to go into the psychology of it either. But humans have sublimated the notion that we *need* these distinctions in order to be *better than*...
It's an old argument.
When I was talking to Tom about this on Monday, he said: "Oh, that's right. You've never read 1984."
Apparently I don't need to.
So back to the whole sunlight thing.
To a large extent, wherever we live, no matter how hard we may try, there are a small group of people who decide how much light we get to see.
Is it any wonder that people are scared?
Yeah, frightened people are easy to control, right?
This isn't about buying stuff. This isn't about not supporting certain political agendas.
It's about you. And me. And every other human and living thing on this planet.
We were born into a world where a filter was placed over everything we see, think, and hear from the moment we could see, think, and hear.
That filter prevents a lot of the light from getting through.
This here internety thingamabobber is stripping away some of the power of that filter.
We are talking to and seeing and hearing each other.
Right from the source.
Pure as the driven snow.
This is me. I want peace. I want a world where trust is the norm. I want you to have the kind of life *you* want to live. And I don't want us to destroy ourselves [insert chosen doomsday scenario here] because we aren't allowed to know the truth about the world.
Take away every person on the planet.
Where is evil?
Remember, no people.
If you answered nowhere, you get a gold star.
It's manufactured by us like everything else, whether it's people committing atrocities or people who are not moral.
The thing that's really been frustrating me though is that the same can be said about good.
Maybe, just maybe, neither one of these things are "real."
The world is what it is. A world. Among millions of billions of others flying around other stars, in other galaxies, in parts of the vastness of space that we can't even see. Not even when we squint or use the latest, greatest, newest, improved telescope from whatever company makes them.
The world is so filled with information and noise that the truth is kept silent.
Anyone who seeks to expose it is fruity, conspiratorial, coo-coo.
If you never return to this blog, I understand. But I am convinced that we (you and me) can scrape off that grime that clutters our senses and thoughts. Because our problems aren't about *things* they are about how we treat each other.
It all starts with one person. We even have derogatory terms for positive people: tree-hugger, bleeding heart, Pollyanna. And I am not going to believe I can change the world.
Just how I see it. And see you. And see the bigger picture. And the amount of time I keep my eyes trained on the sunshine and not the clouds.
That's it. I'm done.
Not sure how to end this other than to say, "Light up the darkness."
Monday, May 25, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Many thanks for this recognition from Cosa Nostradamus over at Blog me no Blogs.
From what I can gather, Cosa lives in Hawaii, has a wicked sense of humor, and a great way of making any serious shituation seem not so shitty or serious. Cosa also is a great person to have around if zombies infest your home or village. Hopefully, you don't live near water, but if you do, Cosa has prepared for the antics of the Royal Zombie Synchronized Swimming Team and can give you some excellent survival advice. Such a great mental image...
I am glad to know Cosa in the blogosphere and am honored that, of every blog in all of creation, Cosa considers my blog one of the:
"BEST BLOGS IN THE KNOWN UNIVERSE, 5/2009
THIS MONTH HIGHLIGHTING SMALL PERSONAL BLOGS THAT SHOW GENUINE HOSPITALITY
Well Designed, Well Written, Interesting, Funny, Informative And Cosy Hangouts Online"
Who knew this little online blab spot could be all of these great things in Cosa's eyes?
Means the world to me.
Lots to live up to.
No pressure. Nope.
Sincerest thanks to you, Cosa, and all who help make this online purge session so much fun :)
Yesterday AM I was looking for a pair of flip-flops to wear to my brother-in-law's house for a cookout. Every open-toed shoe I own has been in hibernation since last September, therefore I had a hard time finding the *ones* I wanted. I'm like that. I lose things often and usually my fruitless searches end just that-- fruitless.
Yesterday AM was different.
I found a bag full of old notebooks and scraps of paper on which I had written snippets of thought and pieces of prose. Just things. Stuff. Words that have come to mind every now and then as I have lived my life.
Meaningless to most, really.
I uncovered a plain, small, black, spiral, three-subject notebook.
As I sat in the closet and skimmed through it for a few moments, I was surprised to meet my past skyewriter, so hopeful, so optimistic, so positive, so strong.
Not that I don't feel that way now. The volume is just turned down a bit. And sometimes, if I am to be completely honest, I hit the mute button on those thoughts.
Optimism hurts sometimes.
I found a short paragraph without a date attached to it so I have no idea when I wrote this. But I guess I find myself thinking about the last 37 years of my life a lot these days. It's always part of my process as I pass through a liminal phase-- which really every day, every moment is a liminal phase, but I don't want to go there today. (See why I hit the mute button?)
So here it is. It *means* to me. Just some scraps of thought scribbled quickly someday, somewhere, someplace years ago.
Those special summer dusks
Riding bikes after dinner and
Catching lightning bugs
When something told me to
Hold onto that moment,
For soon it would be gone.
An unconscious kind of knowing
A child's understanding
That summertime would end.
That those days of climbing trees and
Building forts would go
And stay forever only in my memories.
The time when innocence
Was all I knew.
Happy Sunday all.
Thanks, Cosa for the COSIE. I promise to post on it ASAP :).
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Apparently, Mike Steele is saying that Democrats are planning for a "less independent" America...
Question One: So, having the government tell you who you can or cannot marry is independent? (And before anyone starts trying to say same sex marriage is going to lead to inter-species matrimony, jump off right here).
Question Two: Having a government decide *for all women* when they can and cannot get and/or stay pregnant is independent?
Question Three: Having a government that privileges the Christian ethos over any other form of theology or letting it trump even non-theological paradigms is independent?
I thought these blue-bloods were Ivy Leaguers?
The OED defines independent as: "Not depending upon the authority of another, not in a position of subordination or subjection; not subject to external control or rule; self-governing, autonomous, free."
What planet is the GOP living on? Oh that's right, the one where only certain people are allowed "independence."
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
That is all. A tad drinkity, drunk, drunkity...
I love having drinks on the house and bought in rounds of celebration. Almost as much as I love coming home to your kindnesses in your comments.
Thank you all!! (I know, one exclamation point is enough but, dudes. I am done!)
Happiness... can't buy it or box it. Please forgive my upbeatityness.
I promise to return to my usual grumpiness soon... :)
What I am learning about myself this morning: I am not a good person to have in stressful situation. Especially if there are children around because I swear-- a lot. Luckily, no children are or will be witness to my complete and utter spazzery.
That is all.
PS: Thanks LLL; you are very sweet.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
As I key this in, I am sitting on our bed surrounded by hundreds of articles in binders and stapled loosely and notes on every size paper imaginable with no particular organization thinking: "I am never going to remember all of this... do we any any wine?"
The answer to that is: "Yes."
I'm going to go pour a glass and I'll be back momentarily... I believe I promised a drunk blog post, so I'm doing this for you and you alone dear reader.
Be right back....
Apparently, I have forgotten how to drink-- literally.
I just spent the last ten minutes rooting around in one of our kitchen gadget drawers (we have two) for the wine key. I finally found the damn thing shoved way in the back covered in coffee grounds.
After I found it I was pleasantly surprised that I still knew how to cut the foil and put the corkscrew in and pull the cork out.
In fact, I was so impressed with myself that I immediately stopped the bottle back up with one of our stoppers and put it back in the fridge-- without pouring myself a glass.
I even came back into our room where I now sit, and saw this blog post... oh, yeah, that's what I was doing.
So as I share this glass with you, I'll tell you a bit of a story.
My dissertation chair is taking us out for dinner on Tuesday after my defense. In addition to some friends I have invited, some faculty members will be there, too. One of whom is the chair of my department, who has seen me buzzed on more occasions than I care to recall.
The 2nd worst time was at the start of my second year here. At the end of orientation week every August, the department throws a party for the new *first year graduate students* (this is key). It involves cases of free booze and good food. The party is held in an historic house two blocks from where I live.
My first year I got pretty toasted and ended up being out until 4 AM after bar-hopping with a group of other new students.
At the end of orientation week my second year I went out with some friends and called a faculty member who I knew was at the party (*for the new students*) and with my nice little buzz on, I proceeded to crash that party.
My faculty-friend was in a conversation with the department chair when I saw her, so I naturally went to the bar and got a glass of wine and headed straight for them.
My faculty-friend then fled the scene immediately and I was left standing there with the department chair, mostly drunk from an afternoon of drinking and amidst a crowd of *first year students*.
He was very gracious and apparently I wasn't too much of an ass because he is on my diss committee and has written me many letters of recommendation.
All I am going to write about the number one worst time he saw me buzzed is that it involved a picnic table, a Nerf football, a Hail Mary throw (and I use that term "throw" loosely), and his head.
I hope you all have great Sundays today.
See you on the other side of Tuesday...
Thursday, May 14, 2009
I'm grumpy today. Tired. Bitchy. Did Oscar the Grouch have a sister? Because that's about me, right about now.
I am seriously rethinking my decision to become an academic-- five days prior to defending my dissertation-- possibly the worst piece of tripe ever composed, anywhere, by any being, in the entire history of the whole universe.
There's about 50 gazillion articles and books of which I should have a working knowledge by next Tuesday. Yep, and the likelihood that one of my five committee members is going to ask about the 40, 161,234th is about 1:1. (It's never a good sign when I start trying to use numbers; that and quoting Dante or Melville who might be the second worst writer in the history of everything right behind me.)
Told you I was grouchy.
Another thing that is pissing me right the hell off: our dryer is broken. Yes, I am griping because I have clothes and boxers and socks hanging all over our apartment. And four voicemails since Monday to our landlady (who is usually Jane-on-the-spot) have gone unanswered.
I feel like a turn-of-the-20th-century Irish/German/Polish immigrant in the Bronx. All that's missing are the gaggle of children tugging on my imaginary apron strings (oops, just popped out another one). Not even Monty Python can make me smile today.
Every sperm is not sacred.
In fact, if a sperm gets wasted, it is because the dude it came from had too many Jack and Cokes at the pub down the block.
And I am the one who's irate.
I am so white from being inside, strapped to a computer, that you can almost see every vein, muscle, and tendon beneath my skin. I'm like the Invisible Man without the cool invisible part (and the penis; boy wouldn't that be a shocker for Tom after being together for almost four years?).
I am in such a foul mood that I considered switching political parties just to see if that made me feel better. Actually, that's a lie. I would never even consider it.
See? And now I'm lying because I am grumpy.
I never lie.
Except for that one time when my doctor asked me if I had ever experimented with drugs and I said "no".
Altho' technically, that's not a lie. I didn't experiment with cannabis. I smoked it... regularly.
Maybe I'm having a mid-life crisis. I am turning 38 in less than two months and I am without a working dryer, I feel like a Staten Island cast off, and I don't want to be an invisible man, well, woman.
Regardless, doors keep opening and closing and I feel like kicking the crap out of all of them.
Especially the one marked: "Winning Powerball numbers for the next drawing."
Unfair. So f*cking unfair...
Update: I just found this post on Media Matters that made my day. In a nutshell, rightwing blogs are irrelevant according to a Brigham Young University study. Can you get more right wing than BYU?
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
I have developed an aversion to my laptop.
We have a PC in our home office that basically is Tom's computer. He uses it for his work and to play his online video games.
He is getting a laptop this summer, but I am going to warn him about the hazards with which all laptops should be labeled. [A side note, it should be like those tags on mattresses that are illegal to remove.]
WARNING: Persistent exposure to this device for academic purposes may cause the following:
- Spontaneous swearing
- Excessive daydreaming
- Loss of time
- Repeatedly counting cursor blinks before striking a single key
- Inability to think coherently
- Grammatical incompetence
- Bumps on forehead from repeated beating with keyboard
- Memory loss of location of the most important files in your c drive
- Naming files weird things so that they are memorable (yet causes above)
- General imbalance of the humor
- Obsessive blogging disorder
- Pale skin
- Alien hand
- Boogie Fever
It will not be allowed within 50 yards of my fingers nor will it be allowed to taunt me with its non-empty threats of writer's block.
It has become a toxic relationship and I just hope I don't have to shoot it to put myself out of my misery.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
That's what I am now dubbing the Tea Parties: Pity Parties.
Two governors worried about the so-called trampling of states' rights are throwing a tele-town hall according to Politico.
Oh, one of those governors just so happens to be one that received lots of dollars from the *evil* central government to help with the overblown *outbreak* of H1N1.
And I am not criticizing Texas' taking of federal funds for a potential pandemic; I want my fellow citizens to be healthy.
Because when it all comes down to the real issue~ keeping my neighbors healthy keeps me and my family healthy.
These are the two family members I love most in this world. Emma (aka Monkey), our cat, has been successfully kicking the shit out of CRF for almost two years now. The t-shirt Tom is wearing I got him for our second (dating) anniversary. It says: "It's all fun and games until the flying monkeys attack."
I know I write about Tom every now and then, but I must devote a post to my incredible husband, who is *the* smartest person I have ever met but is humble and loving as well.
Things in the skyewriter household have not been particularly easy lately.
I am a complete nutjob about my dissertation defense (one. week. from. today) and so the usual household things like laundry and cooking and cleaning aren't getting done as often as they should. Tom and I decided that I would take this year off to get my dissertation finished; which means he works outside the home and we live on his graduate student stipend. I work inside the home and try to stretch our budget as far as I can without it snapping.
Tom works very hard. He's a year away from his Ph.D. in Physics (from one of the top five programs in the country). Right now, he is collaborating with a group at Berkeley on ice core samples from the WAIS ice sheet. What does physics have to do with Climatology? Atomic Mass Spectrometry (AMS).
This current project (among three others) is about Climatology. You know, climate change, science-y stuff that really is just a hoax (note sarcasm).
He works 12-14 hours a day and thankfully he is getting an undergraduate this summer to help him with some of the more tedious aspects of sample prep.
But after those long days, he still comes home with a smile, a hug, and concern for me.
Last night I was having some really bad foot cramps and he rubbed my feet. He does that often. When my back hurts from sitting in front of a computer all day, he rubs that, too.
Last night as he rubbed my feet I looked at him and asked: "How did you get to be so wonderful? What in the heck did I do to ever deserve you?"
His answer: "It takes so little, honey, to make someone's day. Just a smile or a friendly word. You have no idea how many times I have been grateful for the random kindness of a stranger."
I said: "Yeah, but you're rubbing my feet."
He smiled a huge smile with dimples that ended my single life the minute I saw them. "I love making you feel better. Almost as much as I love you."
I unofficially name today: Gratitude for Kind People Day.
If you know someone who is a kind and generous spirit, let them know how much they mean to your life and the lives of others.
Monday, May 11, 2009
I hope you all had fine weekends.
Mother's Day with my mom is always fun.
Yesterday as we sat and chatted, she started getting calls from my four siblings. In between phone calls, she would talk about the birth of each.
"And of course," she began, as she always does. "You know how you got here."
Yes (rolls eyes). It's a weird story (but sadly does not involve storks or alien space ships-- really bummed about that one).
My mom was told she could not have children. I am the youngest of five (yes, five).
My brother was born four years before me. My parents did not want more kids. As good Catholics, they went with the only Papally-approved type of birth control; an IUD (the copper coil variety). If you don't know what that is, here's a pic:
Totally self-explanatory, right? How do you like the perky orange flower? How did they know most women always associate their uteri with sweet, innocent orange sunflowers?
Or, it could be one of these alien torture devices that, if I am not mistaken, are used for nasal probing:
IUDs are reported to have a 99% success rate. They would be 100% effective if it were my only option, because I would never let one of those things even in the same town as my who-ha.
Needless to say, mom became pregnant with me after she had it surgically implanted by the same doctor who told her nineteen years prior to four kids, she was unable to have kids-- oh the irony. You think there might have been a hint there... She said he always just kind of scratched his head when she'd show up pregnant for a visit every few years. I was born in a teensy rural hamlet where I am pretty sure the ob/gyn doubled as the town's large animal vet.
My mom delivered me at a Catholic hospital (the only hospital in town), and after she woke up from the cesarean a little nun came by to let her know that I was fine, had all my fingers and toes, and that I was a wee jaundiced. (I was born a tad yellow, which really to this day I have no idea what that means and don't really care; I now match the racist Crayola crayon labeled "flesh" thank you very much.)
My mom said she was very relieved because of the dangers involving a pregnancy and delivery with an implanted IUD.
Mom's favorite part of my birth story: "I asked that little nun about the IUD. And she just smiled and said, 'Yes, she came out holding a rattle' (cue mom beaming)."
My favorite part of my birth story: after my dad found out my mom was pregnant with me, he had a vasectomy.
So in a very real sense I was an accident. But apparently a determined little accident in the right place, with the right crappy doctor, and the right goofy little nun...
Tomorrow's post might be about luck, or chance, or opportunity. Or broken mirrors, cracks in sidewalks, and black cats.
Happy Monday all.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Saturday, May 9, 2009
You know you're staying at a five-star establishment when the management leaves a note to remind that:
A: You should properly dispose of your feathers and intestines.
B: You are allowed to dump steaming animal guts into a trash can, but may also use a liner. If you use a liner, please ask for a new one. (Don't quite get that.)
C: That you will be charged extra for leaving pheasant entrails in your room.
Call me girly, but I can't imagine cleaning a dead animal in the same room where I will sleep. Actually, make that: I can't imagine cleaning a dead animal... period. (Unless it's a fish, no prob there.)
Dick Cheney says: "What the heck (*wrhaaah*); this one's on the taxpayers anyway." [As he shoves the pile of innards to the other side of the bed and tucks in for the night.]
Happy Saturday all.
[A note: my brother-in-law is a guide at an Elk/Deer hunting outfit; so for anyone who thinks I am poking fun at hunters, take it somewhere else.]
*Note courtesy of Found.com
Thursday, May 7, 2009
I had this thought a moment ago while posting a comment over at Leftist Grandpa:
The GOP *at long last* has a new idea: Don't be a Republican.
The party of the big tent and band-wagons is starting a new trend. It's hot! Hot! Hot!
Find a news crew.
Hold a press conference.
Publicly denounce the GOP.
Look like an idiot. Still.
Hole-y smokes! Who's going to clean up their shit for them? I see a future for you, Mr. Cantor.
Just up on the Huff Post: Joe the Plumber is leaving the GOP according to an upcoming interview being published in Time.
I hope he doesn't try to join us lefties (*gag*).
I also have to share this gem from The Fireside Post.
A quote from it:
"The GOP base has no concept of education. Joe the Plumber has no concept of literature, of the humanities, of history, of geography, of international relations, of natural science, of the Universe, or of science in general - Everything that is wrong with America. And the Republican Party owns this label. The leaders of the Republican Party of the past thirty years sold the soul of the Grand Old Party for fanatically ignorant support at the polls."
"Like it or not, Governor Palin, Mike Huckabee, Karl Rove, and George Bush — the Bible does not take precedence over our Constitution. Actually, the Constitution protects the right to worship however one chooses - and it grants that right to all people of our country, not just the religious fanatics. The Constitution even grants the right to avoid worship all together if one so desires. The United States is not a theocracy - is not governed by religion. The United States is a country of law."
Smiling and grinning and even laughing a bit over here.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
First of all, I have to thank True Blue Texan for this award. I have been mulling it over for a while now about who to pass it along to. Truthfully, I don't feel worthy of this award in a lot of ways (especially given the fact that this blog has no consistent theme, I am snarky like a teenager sometimes, and I definitely am not friendly to all comers).
The recipient of this award is recognized for the following:
1) The Blogger manifests exemplary attitude, respecting the nuances that pervades amongst different cultures and beliefs.
2) The Blog contents inspire; strives to encourage, and offers solutions.
3) There is a clear purpose at the Blog; one that fosters a better understanding on Social, Political, Economic, the Arts, Culture, Sciences, and Beliefs.
4) The Blog is refreshing and creative.
5) The Blogger promotes friendship and positive thinking.
The Blogger who receives this award will need to perform the following steps:
1) Create a Post with a mention and link to the person who presented the Noblesse Oblige Award.
2) The Award Conditions must be displayed at the Post.
3) Write a short article about what the Blog has thus far achieved – preferably citing one or more older posts to support.
4) The Blogger must present the Noblesse Oblige Award in concurrence with the Award conditions.
5) Blogger must display the Award at any location at the Blog.
True Blue was one of the first people ever to comment on my blog. I think we connected through Margaret and Helen (a lot of folks I read I have found through them). But True Blue has always been a thoughtful, funny and encouraging blogging friend. I wanted to thank her, too, for the email support she sent during some very challenging blog days. I am still up and running because of people like her.
In terms of what this blog has achieved? Well, that's a really interesting challenge. Assuming, that is, I have accomplished anything with this blog. I have definitely pissed some people off, I have tried to help people keep some perspective, I have tried to be creative (since my fiction writing has taken the way-back seat for a while now), I have shared some personal memories in order to feel more connected to the world and with my readers, I have raged about insurance companies, and tried to help people sift through oceans of paperwork from our legislators.
There are three people I would like to pass this award along to (that True Blue has not already hit :):
The first is Sidhe over at Musings of a Wandering Elf. I have known Sidhe for 20 years. She is one of the smartest, funniest and kindest people I know. I miss her terribly and wish we could see each other more often. Her blog touches on a lot of important current events and social issues.
The second is Seeing Eye Chick over at Apocalyptics Anonymous. I crossed paths with Seeing eye over at Margaret and Helen's way back. She has a powerful grasp of political, social, women's, and theological issues. Her blog posts are always very well composed and solidly supported (usually with a good dash of humor, too). She has also been a great friend to me in times of crisis here at November Fifth.
The third is Don Smith over at Creative Endeavors. I first met Don on Margaret and Helen, too. He has a love of language like I do (I still remember "bozone" :). Don is consistently positive, upbeat, and keeps his head and heart in the right direction. He has been a truly inspirational role-model for me since I began blogging. (And I cannot believe that I didn't think of him immediately; sorry Don; but I do love ya!)
Thanks again, True Blue. Your screen name suits you very well. You are true blue.
In the true spirit of the blogosphere I have created a new award.
It's called the "Funny Bone Award" and it is intended for those bloggers who make us laugh. It may be one post, it may be many.
But this award, as I conceive it, should be given to those bloggers who make us smile; who lift our spirits; or who just make us laugh. One thing very important; this award may not be used in a snarky manner. It is established for the purposes of recognizing those bloggers who truly demonstrate a sense of humor.
There are only a few parameters for the blogger receiving this award:
1. The blogger must do the Funky Chicken.
2. Must post the award in a post (or add it to their collection of awards).
3. Should post a link back to the person who awarded it to them.
4. Pass it on to five more bloggers with a link to one of that blogger's funny posts.
5. Let the bloggers know that they got an award in their comments section
Here's my nominees for the online premiere of the Funny Bone Award (I am trying to pass this along to some blogs I found not too long ago):
Zirgar's Fresh New Brain Squeezin's: Funny Post
Riot Kitty: Funny Post
Leftist Grandpa: Funny Post
Yoga for Cynics: Funny Post
New World Odor: Funny Post
Happy Tuesday all!
PS: I had to share this from a dear friend. I cried I laughed so hard. This is footage of an original Gwen Fosse piece of choreography... with a more contemporary twist from the soundtrack.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Let me open by writing that this is not addressed to you, faithful and supportive reader. Nor is this to those who click on my link in a blogroll from my faves, either. But please, feel free to share your thoughts on what I am about to write.
This is addressed to those who are clicking on links blown way out of proportion by other anonymous bloggers (who are unable to read through comments and display less-than-average reading comprehension skills)...
Looking back on the over 180 posts on this blog, I don't think I have ever made one negative mention about another blogger and their blog that I have come across online.
(Okay, so one time I got pissed at a shithead [if you are reading this, you-know-who, yeah, I just called you a shithead] who posted a link to my blog on a nasty website with some nasty ass holes that read it and therefore, I posted about said shithead, sans screen name.)
Nor have I ever linked to another individual blogger in order to slam them to make myself look better.
Nor have I ever once written about another blogger for an entire post. As in, that's the post. Writing about another blogger.
Truth is: I don't have to.
Want to know why?
Because I think people who gossip are just plain useless.
One of the smartest women of the 20th century said:
Intelligent people talk about ideas, mediocre people talk about things, and small minded people talk about other people.
I am more convinced than ever that small minded people online are small minded for a few reasons:
- They are too lazy to read comments for any concessions that may be made based on information provided by commenters. I am not always 100% clear and I do my best to clarify my perspective to readers.
- They cannot think outside the literal or immediate.
- Nor are they able to compose blog posts that actually have some substance. Ergo, they must criticize someone else in order to have anything to write about.
Yet, to those who feel it is necessary to tear down others, online, so that they can gain some kind of social currency with a group of equally pea-brained nincompoops---my response is the same.
Ask yourself this: Aren't you sick to death of all of the negativity spawned and perpetuated by those people whose blogs you are reading? You know, the same ones that led you here?
Can those bloggers make any kind of argument without attacking people and not the issues?
To those visiting for the first time, courtesy of those linkers I mentioned earlier, please, take a message back to that group of *little* boys who I am convinced are inadequate in more ways than just intellect:
I feel sorry for you. I hope you treat the women in your life with more respect than you treat total strangers online. And if you had one iota of the balls you have writing some of the tripe on your blogs about me-- you. would. bring. it. here.
Oh, and to those who are knee-jerk commenters: I. do. not. use. the. word. conservative. once. in. this. post. If you feel like an ass after reading this, it's because you. are. an. ass. It has nothing to do with political affiliations.
And if you can't see the irony in this picture (or woven throughout this post), you really need to lighten up...
Update 5/6/09: Just for you dear reader, please see the comment left after 11 PM sometime last night by someone who thinks he's "calling" me out. This is a prime example of those commenters to which I refer in this post. Apparently, this person doesn't understand the word irony and makes his motives very clear-- to be a complete and utter "la-la-la I can't hear you because you're a hypocrite" commenter.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Oatmeal. That's what I have in my cranium right now.
And not the yummy Quaker Oatmeal Cinnamon Bun variety, either.
Goopy, bland, grayish, blops of guck that I am convinced have been trying to either all cram into my frontal lobe to avoid any concrete thinking or to escape through the orbits of my eyes.
My current list of gripes (not this old one):
Uhhhhhhhh..... yeah, that one
Cerebral Left-Hemisphere protests
Wandering bladder (like those water balloons in the commercial)
Reticulated hair follicles
Distended medulla oblongata
Muppet libido (don't ask; just pity Tom)
At some point in the next few days I have penned in on my schedule to get completely, 100%, loud, embarrassingly hammered.
I am hoping a "hard boot" will restart the system.
I'll try to do a post then. It's been a while, but back in the days when once a week I did have a drink (or ten) I was in the habit of drunk emailing---- my professors.
I have accepted the fact that I am, and always will be, a geek.
Case in point: I've had this Friday's release of the new Star Trek movie on my online calendar ever since they revealed it.
Tom *dragged* me out to see the beefy, oh-so-perfectly-clingy Levis wearing Wolverine last Friday (yummmmmy; in an alternate universe, I don't think I'd kick him out of bed for eating oatmeal).
It's times like these when I am a true Cartesian at heart (or would that be mind?). Both sides of the binary are in full rebellion mode and the only way to stop the revolt and retake control is a full-on G & T blitz.
I'll let you know how it goes.
In the meantime, in all seriousness, I have missed you all and your fun online company.
I promise to get back into blogging shape soon...
Happy Monday all.