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Monday, February 28, 2005
Laurie Says Goodbye
Laurie Garrett is leaving Newsday, and uses the opportunity to say a few things about the state of the U.S. media. For example:
Read the whole thing. If I didn't have a relapse of the flu I'd write a lot more about the connections between profit maximizing and the quality of journalism. It's an interesting topic. ---- Link from pixie on Eschaton threads. |
Ten Years After the Beijing Conference on Women
The United Nations is having two weeks of meetings to assess the progress of women in the last ten years:
The United States has used these meetings to focus on the question of abortion. This is a reflection of the current administration and its fundamentalist base:
This is pretty much what has happened in every international meeting about women since Bush got elected: the U.S. delegation focuses on the question of abortion or on something like trying to stop sex education at schools, and if there is any voting the U.S. votes en bloc with Iran, Saudi Arabia and Pakistan. Funny, if you start thinking about it. |
Carnage in Iraq
It happens every day there, of course. But some days are even worse than others, and this is one of those days. And yes, the carnage is based on a political game plan. If you don't know it already you can find the details in the linked article. May those who died find peace. May those who loved them find peace. |
Jonah Goldberg on Torture
Jonah Goldberg of the National Review Online thinks it would be good if nobody knew that the U.S. adminstration uses torture. In fact, that people know about the torture is worse than the torture itself:
Especially those like Jonah who are fighting safely from behind a desk and who don't have to worry about what would happen to them if they were caught by the enemy. But still, how odd for Goldberg to own up to all this, to say that he is comfortable allowing for the ugly and the terrible about war. Has he ever experienced any of it, except vicariously? Or is that what he means, that he's comfortable with someone else's experiences of ugliness and terror? I find this very creepy. |
Sunday, February 27, 2005
Not Blogging On Oscars
I don't watch them and I know nothing about them. I also know nothing about music so rarely blog on musical topics. My ear is one large tin drum or like Vincent's ear, and despite all sorts of desperate attempts to understand music I don't. I can divide it into noises of varying pleasantness, and some are even useful for meditation purposes or because the words are funny, but I'm totally amusical. The missing fairy at my birth was the musical appreciation one, which means that the evil fairy was present. Which you knew already. But I do like movies, I just don't like the commercial hullabaloo around them or the really long televized speeches about thanking the niece-of-the-lookalike for something or other. And now that I know the answer is double-sided tape, the only interesting question about the Oscars has been answered (the one about how the dresses stay up those years when straps are not allowed). There are many other topics I haven't blogged on yet, but they are not safely beyond my reach. I have plans to write about painting and sculpture and the best ways of taming wild horses, for example. |
Hocus Pocus Filiocus!
How the adminstration does science these days: a sort of a magical recipe with the eye of the Newt and the wallet of the corporation all thrown into a pot with lots of religious broth. Here, you can taste the result:
Hard to find wingnuts who wouldn't be taking naps in the lint-lined back pockets of pharmaceutical companies, of course. We all understand. And then there is this new "science" about how mercury is really quite innocent:
Odd. Wasn't it just a few months ago that the FDA told pregnant women to avoid eating tuna and various other fish? Never mind, it's all too much to absorb, except perhaps the mercury. |
Saturday, February 26, 2005
On Racing Calves
This old lady I knew (well, ok, my grandmother) said that debating a fool is as profitable as trying to have a speed race with a calf. (If you find this mysterious you have never tried to catch a calf who doesn't want to be caught. The calf zigzags and kicks you with its hindlegs.) This has hidden relevance for the next post about turds and trolls, because trolls are defined by their very inability to debate logically. To enter such a debate is foolish, yet to stay out of it is very hard if you are a competitive know-it-all type goddess. But out of it you must stay if you want to stay sane, because a troll will not follow any of the usual debating rules such as presenting actual evidence to back arguments or accepting your evidence in return. Trolls also turn the issue upside down in the middle of the debate or move on to some totally unrelated topic. If all else fails trolls attack you for saying something you never said or for being responsible for everything a certain ill-defined and possibly nonexistent group of individuals has ever done. Or they accuse you for not having explained everything that ever happened. It's very tiresome and utterly pointless. It's also pretty similar to the O'Reilly show or Limbaugh's tirades or Ann Coulter's writings. None of these have much to do with real debates. Real debates can be interesting and even enlightening but trollabates are neither. Sadly, though, real debates are getting increasingly rare. Many so-called debates are pre-orchestrated to come across as prize fights: pick an issue and then find two people with extreme and opposite opinions on the issue. They must express strong emotions and bombard each other with their absolutist messages. The audience is then supposed to conclude who is right and which side won. This is rubbish, of course. It's quite possible that a middle-of-the-road position would be the most correct one or that the person who seems to win is just a better debater or that the whole issue is framed badly. It's even possible that such an adversary setup will not enlighten us at all, whereas a cooperative "fill-in-the-missing-pieces-of-the-puzzle" approach might get us somewhere. In any case, I'm very sceptical about the ability of an uninformed public to learn anything from most debates the way they are currently run. Not that education is the objective of most staged debates. Rather, the idea is that the audience will relish the fighting and not get bored. Debating as entertainment. |
How Wingnut Trolls Argue
Usually this topic would be beneath my interest, but this particular comment on Eschaton is really hilarious:
It's intended to be read in a satirical voice, I presume. "Real Americans" is wingnut for, well, wingnuts. But the really odd part is the "seditious turds" bit. How can turds be seditious? They don't do much anything, except float down passively in the stream of water. And if they were seditious, what would they rebel against? The hole from which they emerged? |
Friday, February 25, 2005
Friday Embroidery Blogging
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A Funny Thought for the Day
Jeff Gannon has a new blog (no, I'm not going to link to it). Guess what it is called? A Voice of the New Media Heh. |
On Sex and Power
Robin Givhan in the Washington Post muses on the way Condoleezza Rice is dressed:
Givhan then goes on to interpret this outfit as the way a woman can look powerful:
A dominatrix indeed... Givhan's article is annoying in that it drapes the issue of female power into an issue of clothing, as if we could all be powerful by just finding the right things to wear. On the other hand, she (or he?) has a point: there is no generally accepted way for a woman in power to dress. But to borrow from the sexual arena seems a big mistake to me, because so many of the sexual signs of female power make women into passive objects of adulation, not into active leaders. Take the high heels that Givhan mentions:
The politically incorrect parts probably have to do with the fact that a woman in high heels is showing her availability for sex in two ways: first, her pelvis is tilted to receive rear-entry and second, she is clearly unable to run away. Or so I imagine. Though high heels are also excellent weapons of self-defense, especially if used against the eyes of the attacker. Just kidding, just kidding! Don't quote me on any of this and don't try any of this at home. I have never been able to learn how to walk in high heels, so whenever I wear them I end up barefoot, carrying the damn things strapped together around my neck. Which gives me an idea for power-dressing women: how about a pair of stiletto heels hanging from a belt? Or better still, a sword? |
Bush and Putin Holding Hands
Not really. It's more like each trying to be the top, but on the whole they come across as almost equally stupid. Almost, because it's impossible to beat Bush. Just listen to these comments by our dear leader:
But Putin did almost as well in the stupidity competition:
And these guys are the leaders of the so-called free world? Give me a break. Well, you can't give me a break. It just goes on and on. This bit is especially interesting:
And how do we get that truth, hmh? By paying money to journalists to be the government mouthpieces? By giving press passes to nonjournalists? I guess so. It is interesting that Bush seemed irritated. He fares poorly under any kind of criticism and that is perhaps why he has walled himself into a little circle of yes-men and yes-women. Frightening, isn't it? Nothing is so important as good and open criticism on the highest levels of government but we might not be getting any of that. |
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Why Blog?
Atrios has an interesting post on the topic of blogging, on what we want to get from it and on how to do it well. At the end of the post he gives advice to new bloggers:
My first emotional reaction to this advice was that I'd never have started blogging if I had really thought it out carefully. This has something to do with my upbringing which consisted of a lot of discouragement against the dreadful possibility of gaining a big head (So you ranked number one in the country? Big deal. They're all crazy.) But more generally, how do we ever know if we have something interesting to say without trying to say it? My second reaction was a great depression over my inability to market my blog. I'm really bad at it, never mind my MBA. Once every six months or so I send out two feeble e-mails to Famous People and that's about it, so it's a relief to hear that most e-mails go unread anyway. Artful Asp will take on the marketing of the blog in the summer when she has more time (the snake school has a vacation then), and she's planning t-shirts and keyrings and stuff. I'm looking forward to the great influx of money and new readers that I will gain then. What Atrios doesn't mention in his description of what might be interest to the readers is that some topics may not be discussed very much. If you feel strongly about one of those topics you can have a valid blogging voice even if you are not the greatest writer or the funniest person or otherwise really fascinating. Or that's what I hope, anyway, given that this was my original impetus for blogging. The really interesting question is why people blog at all, and the answer to this question determines how suitable Atrios's advice is. If you want to write a general political blog with a high readership, go on and follow his advice. If, however, you are more interested in talking to a particular group of people than the general blogistan, you need to modify the advice accordingly. For example, the feminist blogs have their own internal relationships and if you write on feminism it may make more sense to e-mail blogs in that group than one of the big political blogs. Skippy said somewhere that the only valid reason for blogging is when one must. This is like the old argument for writing: that you should write only if you can't do the alternatives. Though this is not the whole truth there is something to the idea that you should absolutely love to blog. If you don't, the days when you get lots of trolls and when your writing stinks will be too hard to take, especially if you have bothersome details such as work-for-money to take care of. And if you love blogging the numbers and the fame are not so important. They are both fickle gods, anyway. They also quickly turn into hollow gods if you don't love blogging, whereas the love of the work itself will keep you going even if nobody reads you at all. |
It's Kansas, Dorothy!
Via Atrios I learn about the incredible things going on in Kansas:
The records include the patients' names, medical histories, birth control practises and psychological profiles. This smells to high heavens. Late-term abortions are almost always abortions where something has gone horribly wrong with the fetus. Going through one of those is not something taken lightly, and the families involved have severe traumas. Then someone comes digging for details about their sex lives! It's yet another step in our road to Gillead, another step in harassing and stigmatizing anyone who has had an abortion. But to do it to those parents who have gone through one of the most painful experiences parents can have is plain wrong and plain disgusting. There are much more productive ways for going after child rape than such random searches in medical files. |
Today's Action Alert
Today's Action Comes from the NRDC. Visit their webpage at www.nrdc.org and click on: "Stop Global Mercury Pollution The U.S. should lead the way," to send an email to the State Department asking them to adopt meaningful goals for reducing mercury pollution. Or, copy and send the sample letter below. ************************************************************* February 24, 2005 Claudia A. McMurray Deputy Assistant Secretary of the Environment U.S. Department of State 2201 C Street NW Washington, DC 20520 The Bush administration has frequently pointed to the fact that much of our mercury pollution in the United States comes from abroad. The upcoming United Nations Environment Program meeting in Nairobi provides the first chance to take meaningful action to address this pollution in a coordinated fashion with the rest of the world. But the current U.S. position falls clearly short of the bare minimum required to make any substantial progress on reducing this harmful pollutant. The U.S. plan should be greatly strengthened for this meeting. We should adopt goals for reducing mercury use by 50 percent by 2010 and 75 percent by 2015. We should promote a policy to phase out mercury uses across the globe and to put excess mercury into long-term storage rather than selling it into global commerce. Finally, our government should provide technical and financial assistance to countries in the developing world to phase out their current mercury uses, starting with the largest, most dispersive uses for which there are alternatives, particularly in chemical manufacturing and for switches and measuring devices. The global problem of mercury pollution needs a global solution. The United States should lead the way, and the upcoming UNEP meeting would be a good place to start. Sincerely, ******************************************************************* Thanks for taking Today's Action |
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Sex Toys
These are toys for sex, either with yourself or with another person. Things like vibrators or handcuffs or whatever catches your fancy. Probably inflatable dolls are a sex toy, too. Sex toys are dangerous! In many states their use is illegal due to old laws still on books about immoral behavior, though mostly these laws are not enforced. But the state of Alabama has a law explicitly banning the sale of sex toys and the U.S. Supreme Court has just refused to review the constitutionality of the law. This means that states can go on making laws that ban certain private forms of behavior in the name of public morality. It is odd, especially given that the sale of condoms is quite legal in Alabama, but the sale of vibrators is not. This shows a bias towards fornication, don't you think? Though it's legal to own a vibrator, provided that the user has purchased it out of state. Cumbersome. This reminds me of the illegal nature of growing opium poppies, yet the seeds are available on top of every poppyseed bagel we eat. Baking doesn't stop the seeds from sprouting, so it would be theoretically possible to have the poppies growing in the yard quite by accident. But the police wouldn't believe this story so you better not try. |
Of, By and for Big Business
This is the title of an article by Robert Scheer, one that is well worth reading. A snippet:
And getting rid of those pesky consumer lawsuits against medical practitioners and those pesky cancer lawsuits by workers who had to deal with asbestos. Note how the administration has time for all this but not for the Defense of Marriage stuff. This tells who the real masters of Bush and co. are, and they are not extremist clerics, at least not in off-election years. Nope. It's the money, as always. |
Eberle and Gannon
An interesting Salon article tells us more about the day-passes that Gannon (aka Guckert) was able to procure for months on end:
The article notes that during the Clinton administration a reporter would get a day-pass only if she or he could justify the need for the reporting to happen from inside the White House rather than from elsewhere on that specific day. Clearly, the Bush administration doesn't use the same criteria. So what criteria do they use? Whatever they might be, it turns out that Bobby Eberle, a conservative activist and the founder of Talon News, was also able to get a White House pass:
Is there anything wrong with any of this? I believe that there is a clear ethical problem in letting political activists infiltrate the press corps for the purpose of asking planted questions or steering the questioning into a safer direction. This makes the White House press conferences into total farces. It is also an attempt to manipulate public opinion in ways that are at least sneaky if not outright nasty. Other problems with careless screening of journalists should be obvious to even the White House. For example, a terrorist could get in on a day-pass. But my major concern with the whole Gannongate is how it reveals the tentacles of the administration in all sorts of improper places, just as the earlier revelations about paid journalists did. How much else is there that we don't know about yet? How many superficially independent journalists are getting their talking points and their bank accounts filled by the White House? |
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
More on Women in Iraq
Is freedom coming to the Iraqi women? It is most doubtful:
Keep in mind that the majority of Iraqis are women. Yet they are in great danger of being totally ignored in the reconstruction effort and in the creation of a new constitution. The latter may be based on the shariah law which would mean lesser rights for women in the areas of family law (including the right to divorce and inheritance rights) as well as in women's rights to participate in the legal process as equal individuals. But maybe the Iraqi women don't want such equal rights? Maybe this is all Western propaganda? Maybe. But a recent survey in Iraq suggests something different:
It's hard to interpret these two phenomena (large numbers of women voting for the religious list of candidates and so many of them also wanting what the religious candidates won't provide) in any other way except as an indication that most Iraqi women (and perhaps most Iraqis) don't know what the religious candidates stand for. This wouldn't be surprising. How could anyone know what democracy entails when it hasn't been tried in the recent past or even in the lifetimes of many of the voters? I hope that the future is bright for all the Iraqis, both women and men, but this hope is not based on anything realistic. The most likely outcome in Iraq is a civil war followed by a theocracy which will not be good for women and girls. But at least we brought freedom there... |
Today's Really Dum Comment
Not from my blog. I rarely get dum comments. This is from Washington Monthly and has to do with the recent round of lamenting the lack of female political bloggers:
Now you know. |
Today's Action Alert
Today's Action comes from Seraphiel via Eschaton: Find a postcard of Guernica and write on it (or print a copy of the picuture out from the web and write on it) "From the Citizens of Honduras." Then send it to Mr. Negroponte, c/o The White House, 1600 Pennylvania Ave., N.W., Washington, D.C. You might also want to send a copy to your Senators along with the message: Don't confirm Negroponte. And if you need more motivation, consider this picture via Patrick's blog: ![]() |
Alice in Wonderland
Or Bush in Europe. It amounts to pretty much the same story in many ways. We learn that Bush wants to mend the frayed relationship to the countries of Old Europe:
Fun, isn't it? "Our alliance stands for a free press, a vital opposition, the sharing of power and the rule of law". Has Bush looked at his own country recently? The United States is rapidly turning into a one-party state more like the old Soviet Union than anything else, the press is scared of the government and the wingnuts' screams about the liberal media so that an open government control is not necessary to get the news the government wants, and there is no sharing of power with anybody who is not an extremist member of the Republican party. The rule of law is being rapidly changed to mean something Orwell would have understood. Now granted, the U.S. is not as bad as Russia in human rights but we are getting there, my dear readers, we are getting there. So if I was Bush (a dreadful thought) I'd clean my own backyard first. Ok, so Bush pissed off Putin. Putin deserves to be pissed off, and in itself this is not a bad thing, especially if Bush also said a few nice things about the Old Europeans. Did he? I'm not sure. Here is a different view of the same speech:
The audience was carefully selected to be friendly towards Bush, of course. Outside the Europeans who felt differently held their vigil. I'm sure that they would have a lot more to say about Bush and his speech than I do. I'm used to seeing all sorts of emotional balloons appear from Bush's lips; Europeans tend to want to hear facts. It is indeed unlikely that talking about freedom and God and alliances will make much of a dent in the great European unhappiness about our current administration. Because this unhappiness is based on facts, only changing the facts would work. And Bush will not go there. |
Monday, February 21, 2005
Bad Poetry for the Presidents' Day
This is an old and a bad one, written to commemorate this day: The Presidents' Day All these holidays for Them - We eat and eat and shop. Not thinking of the days when we work and never stop to buy ourselves the needed rest to eat and eat and shop. |
Where Have All the Women Gone?
It's that time again, the time to lament the dearth of female political bloggers in the upper ranks of the blogging hierarchy. I learned about the newest wave of this lamenting from Roxanne on the American Street, but it was all begun by Kevin Drum. These lamentations have happened three times since I started blogging fifteen months ago, so this is a recurring theme in the blogosphere. (While I write this Freddy the spider is sitting on my shoulder, watching. When I was reading Kevin's discussion on the dearth of woman bloggers Freddy quickly slithered down into the relative safety between my breasts. Now this is the kind of writing that might get me a big audience, don't you think? I'd probably have to make Freddy hairier and somewhat bigger, first.) The story usually goes like this: Some blogger, a male one, notices that there are very few women bloggers among the top one hundred most popular political blogs (or in some other similar measure). He then points out that the internet doesn't discriminate so the reason for this cannot be in discrimination. In what then? The answer usually consists of some kind of a combination of the following: a) women are not interested in politics, b) women don't like the rough nature of political writing and commenting and c) women are too busy cooking and taking care of children to spend time on the blogs. Sometimes a note is added to the effect that women might be above all such bickering and self-aggrandizing behavior or that women are genetically doomed not to reach for positions which indicate dominance in the human society. And so on. The next stage of the lamentations is the chorus of responses. These take several different forms from purely misogynistic shit to arguments that there are plenty of famous women bloggers, only nobody knows about them. I'm kidding here, but truly the chorus does cover the whole octave of possibilities. Somewhere in the refrain the following points are emphasized: that the early adopters have a great advantage on the internet and most of the early adopters were men, that men tend to link to blogs by other men and that the measures we use for gauging popularity are in themselves biased towards older blogs and those that belong to various blogger groups. All of this is true in some ways, as are many of the other theories I have summarized here. But none of them are completely true and many of them are totally untested against actual data. (Now Freddy is whispering sweet nothings into my ear. Tickling me in ways that none of my readers has been able to, so far...) But the lament has so many discords that I get frustrated in trying to follow the music. For example, the idea that women don't savor bickering goes against the archetype of bitching as something that women do, and Ann Coulter goes totally against the idea that women don't like to say outrageous things for attention. The idea that women don't like politics may be true, but then there are many men who don't like politics, and it might all depend on how we define politics. I find it fascinating that one of the lament cycles argued that women like to talk about people and men about concepts but my experience is that most political blogs talk about people nonstop and about concepts very rarely, and those that do focus on the latter are often written by women (I have in mind Rivka of the Otters (who hasn't blogged recently) and Trish Wilson's blog here). It seems that the theories themselves are rubbery and can be turned whichever way the debater wishes. Take the genetic bunch: Here they should be pointing out how all the tests show that women are better writers than men, on average. But instead they tend to argue for other sorts of genetic reasons why women wouldn't be famous bloggers. A girl can't win. (Except with Freddy. Freddy knows what a woman wants. His velvety forelegs are caressing my neck, slowly, so excrutiatingly slowly. I feel my breathing speed up, my heart melting my juices flowing, flowing.) There is one theory about all this that has some merit, I believe, and that is that some men don't want to read what women write (unless it is on sex), so if a blogger can be identified as a woman she will lose those readers whose print looks too feminine. I have a book by Molly Peacock, entitled How to Read a Poem...and Start a Poetry Circle, and in its appendix Peacock includes a long list of poetry books that famous poets recommend for poetry clubs. I analyzed this list of recommendations to see whether male and female poets recommended books written by their own gender more often than those written by the other gender. The results are interesting: For the group of twenty-seven male poets, the percentage of male recommendations is 87%, for the group of thirty female poets the percentage of male recommendations is 58%. (Most poets gave more than one recommended text. I was unable to tell the sex of a few poets from their names and omitted them from my calculations.) This is a sizable difference. The women appear to give female names almost as often as male ones whereas the men are much less likely to list female poets as recommended ones. (Freddy! Where are you going, Freddy? Ahhh. MMMMM...) What does this mean, if anything? I don't know but I suspect that there are at least some men who will not read female writing. Unless it is on hot sex. (Oh Freddy, Freddy!!!! YES! YES!) |
Sunday, February 20, 2005
My Absolutely Last Post on Lawrence Summers' Opinions
At least I pray to the Great Spirit that this is the last post, because I'm fed up with President Summers and his utterances. But even Maureen Dowd is mentioning him in her atypical rant against sexism (atypical because Maureen usually finds feminism the cause of everything that has gone wrong with women in this country.) Surely I can't keep my mouth shut if everybody else is having a go at our Lawrence. So here it goes. Summers' statement on women in hard sciences and the reasons why there are not more of them have finally been made available as an actual transcript. I read it a few days ago and it says pretty much what the rumors indicated. Summers mentions three different theories for the scarcity of women in physics, mathematics and the like, and they are a) the long working hours expected in these professions and the expectation that women take care of the family, b) the possibility that more men are innately able to do sciences well and c) discrimination. Nothing wrong in mentioning these theories, I think. Where Summers goes wrong is in the way he ranks them without any good evidence:
It is that last sentence and the words "in my own view" that I have difficulty with. True, we all are entitled to have our own views, but if we give a speech as the President of Harvard University then our views will take a significance much greater than those of a private person musing over these questions while having a beer or two. And it seems to me that Lawrence was doing the latter, throwing out various half-baked examples and anecdotes, carefully picking and choosing among existing research and so on, even mentioning that his twin daughters called their trucks mommy and daddy (which, according to many commenters, is really common among both boys and girls). All this in front of an audience that consisted of experts in the field. This is insulting, isn't it? And just to make it quite clear that Dr. Summers doesn't think much of the discrimination explanation he reiterates:
The differing variances refers to the idea that more men are capable of doing sciences on a high level. Why would Summers view this "truth" as unfortunate? After all, it would let him off the hook. If Harvard doesn't discriminate against women in science and if nobody else does, either, then there is no need for special efforts to avoid discrimination. Which makes Lawrence's job as a gatekeeper much easier. The discrimination part of the speech is especially interesting, largely because of what is missing from it: any mention of the many studies which show that discrimination exists. Instead, Summers muses on two theoretical questions:
I wrote in an earlier post the reasons why the latter of these arguments is a lame one. Becker's prediction applies only in a world where nobody but the employers discriminate and where everybody knows everything relevant, including the real productivities of all workers. When these assumptions are relaxed the conclusion stops applying. In fact, alternative models produce predictions which show that even nondiscriminating firms might be driven to discriminatory forms of behavior if the markets demand this. You pick a model you like, you get the results you like. As Lawrence well knows, and this is why he can't be absolved from using this particular example. The first point is even worse: He argues that trying to attract women or minorities won't work because there aren't that many qualified members of these groups to begin with. Note that he provides no evidence for this view; only Summers-musings. Then he returns to his views on this issue, just in case you have already forgotten them:
He would love to be proved wrong which shows what a nice guy he is. But he doubts that he will be proved wrong as his views are pretty much set already: women don't enter the hard sciences in large numbers because there are few women who are capable of doing so and because few women want to work as hard as the job requires. This latter cause may be made worse by the societal expectations that women take care of the children and also by some discrimination, but on the whole the problem is insoluble. Or that's how I read Summers' opinions. Now, remember that this speech was given by the president of Harvard University at a conference about how to get more women into sciences. The message seems pretty obvious: there is not much Harvard can do to encourage more women in these fields. Sure, they can provide childcare, perhaps, but that's about it. This from a man whose reign has seen a considerable drop in the number of women who get tenured at Harvard. So even if we ignore the details of Summers' speech we are left with an emotional message which can be quite chilling. What about the question whether men are inherently more likely to have the ability to do science in the upper tail of the distribution? Note that these distribution tails that are being talked about here apply to various standardized tests. They are not the actual distributions of scientific ability as we can't really quantify such a beast. All we can do is create various tests that measure some small aspect of abilities and learning and test people on these, and these tests are created by human beings. I would be very careful about equating the findings of such tests with innate ability differences, given that they are administered by humans on other humans who already have had years of environmental effects working on them. Note also that girls and women score as much higher in tests of essay writing, yet we rarely hear the argument that men are innately unable to become great writers in the same numbers as women. Note that many men who are scientists now did not score in the upper tails of these test distributions and finally note that boys might have larger variances in such tests if they do more guessing than girls. Of course men could simply have larger variances in the underlying abilities, whatever these might be for each specific test, but these other pieces of evidence also exist. Though they appear not to have much impact on Summers' opinions. I suspect that Summers said what he said because of the recent fashion of viewing most everything as genetic. This has something to do with the Human Genome study and the publicity it has attracted, never mind that the study has so far been pretty silent about human psychology. Who knows what is genetic? Some gender differences surely are, but to argue for the rank ordering of causes the way Summers has done is arrogant; we don't have the science to justify such a rank-ordering. The science of genetics is taking baby steps, right now, yet many of us appear to be eager to saddle it with findings it has not yet produced and might never produce. At the same time, real women who score in the upper tails of various standardized test distributions may now not choose science because of comments like this one. |
Saturday, February 19, 2005
The London Bridge Is Falling Down
No, it isn't, but the Snakepit Inc. is. I bought the house ten years ago as a fixer-upper, the only way I could afford it. And then I worked on it most evenings and weekends for ten years. Which was hard the way only other fixer-uppers can appreciate: like joint compound in sandwiches for weeks on end and no hot meals when the kitchen is a big hole to the basement. But working on your own house is fun, too, and every thing you fix is fixed by you, designed by you and now brand new. The problem is that the house doesn't stay fixed even after all that effort, no, it wants to go on dying. More specifically, I'm going to need a new roof and new front steps this year and a new side door, too, and I don't know how to pay for them. I'm not going to go on the roof on my own anymore, it's not exciting enough to justify the higher insurance premia so that means that I have to hire someone and these people usually want money for their work. Sniff. The next step in the fretting over this is to see myself out on the street with all the snakes in cardboard boxes and the dogs all skinny and with matted fur. I'm not sure why this is the next step in my mind, but it is. The more realistic next step is to put some pails under the leaking spots for another year and spend the money later. But I'm a morbid goddess as you probably already know. One of my plans was to exchange sex for work on the house. Sex would be a lot faster and less messy and most construction workers would probably be willing to work quite hard for an hour with a goddess. But then this whole Gannongate came out and I realized that I can't do that if I want to be the most famous divine blogger one day. Sniff. That leaves my own paws as the affordable tool. The side door I can manage, I think. It needs to be reframed rather than replaced and most of the bits can be bought. The snakes are good for measuring things and the dogs can prop the door up when I work. See how much cooperation does? Maybe Bush should try that in international politics, for example. |
Go and Read Riverbend
Here is the link. She is right to be worried. And so should we all be worried if we care about the equality of women and men. (And if you want more of my posts, I'm on American Street today, too.) |
Worrying...
This is when you know that you have been too immersed in politics. You see an ad showing lots of new-born babies and you wonder which of them might be the next Adolph Hitler. |
Friday, February 18, 2005
Friday Embroidery Blogging
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Charlotte Allen: The Public Intellectual
Christine on ms. musings linked to an article by Ms. Allen in the Los Angeles Times. The article begins thus:
The gist of the article is that there once used to be great women thinkers but now there aren't, except for Camilla Paglia, and the reason is feminism. Feminism shrinks women's minds so that they are only interested in topics that have to do with women and especially with women's bodies, and feminism is so rigid that it doesn't allow interesting alternative thinking to flourish. And everybody knows that women as a topic is narrow and special-interest and not something that deserves a great mind to ponder over it. Even if the majority of the world's people happen to be female. Ms. Allen is an active member of the Independent Women's Forum, a rightwing organization largely funded by Richard Mellon Schaife. I bet you a zillion dollars that the IWF would not fund me, because my thinking doesn't follow their rigid rules. Neither would they publish any of my rants even if I gave them over for nothing. Ms. Allen's use of evidence is interesting. She labels Susan Sontag as a great thinker because she refused "to embrace ideological feminism". It seems that Ms. Allen has not read very many of the great writings of Sontag to argue this, or perhaps she has a very odd definition of ideological feminism. But not to worry, the men that Ms. Allen label as great public intellectuals leave me less than impressed:
A few names on that list explain why Charlotte thinks that Camilla Paglia is a great thinker. Francis Fukuyama! And Steven Pinker has his odd quirks, I'd think. The list of women who have failed to become great thinkers in Charlotte's book includes most famous American feminists of the last thirty years, but excludes many columnists who indeed write on various topics. Molly Ivins is not mentioned, Katha Pollitt is not mentioned and so on. Barbara Ehrenreich is mentioned but her work on other than feminist topics is belittled, and other feminist writers who also write on other topics (Robin Morgan, for example) are omitted altogether. What to say about all this? I think the idea of the public intellectual is a teeny weeny bit silly, considering the quality of thinking most public intellectuals offer us. But if we need such creatures there are plenty of good women writing for the general audience, and women's issues should be of general interest if men's issues are. Ms. Allen is trying a magician's trick here: Look! No great woman thinkers. Look here! Feminism is to blame! Which may be funny but isn't a real argument. In any case, if Francis Fukuyama had been born a girl he would write somewhat differently if at all. Charlotte wants women to rise above their lives whereas she doesn't hold the men to the same standards. Fukuyama writes about the things which interest him: how to keep the world conservative and people like Francis Fukuyama the winners, but Charlotte doesn't see this as limited and of only special interest. I also suspect that Charlotte applies a conservative male lens to the whole question. What sort of a thinking woman would a wingnut guy find impressive? Certainly not a feminist thinker, but that doesn't mean that feminist thinking isn't important. I happen to think that it has been one of the most interesting aspects of the twentieth century intellectual history. |
Gannon and Daschle
It seems that Jeff Gannon had a part to play in getting rid of Daschle:
This isn't necessarily unjournalistic behavior, especially these days. I'd like to know where Daschle's paycheck came from, ultimately. |
Women in Iraq and Afghanistan
Things don't look good for many Iraqi women, especially the educated and the secular ones. Most signs point towards at least some modified form of theocracy, and women tend to be losers under such systems. Just look at Iran next door. Here is a comment by an Iraqi woman in exile:
Indeed. Rather, the opposite is true: that the role of women as the repository of family and tribal honor will be most important for the men who have just seen their own honor tarnished by foreign invaders, and such repositories must be carefully guarded and restricted. It is ironic, isn't it, that George Bush tells the world how he is bringing freedom to Iraq, all the time ignoring that the majority of Iraqis will not be any freer than in the past (women are the majority of Iraqi citizens)? Or perhaps I am wrong about my dire predictions concerning the future of Iraqi women. I sincerely hope so, especially as I marched against the war largely for the very reason that I didn't want to see another misogynistic country created. In Afghanistan, women's lives are perhaps somewhat better, though formal measures of equality may not be very precise in this context. Keeping this in mind, it is interesting to read that:
In fact, the Afghanistan parliament has more women than the U.S. Congress, though this is due to the quotas that were set for women's participation in the former country. The latter country cannot possibly have quotas: that would smack of communism. Unless we mean the common informal quota of regarding one or two women as an adequate number for female representation on all kinds of boards. ---- The first link via dailyKos diaries. |
Thursday, February 17, 2005
On the Psychology of the Chatrooms
I'm not a great user of the chatrooms because I'm a shy goddess. But they are interesting to visit once in a while and visiting them teaches all sorts of things about human psychology. For example, we seem to have an immense need to build gangs or groups of same-thinking individuals and then these gangs tend to oppose other gangs. This happens even in the chatrooms for the elderly! Another interesting thing is the way a chatroom responds to someone who is just plainly nasty: some oppose the person vigorously but many flatter him or her, perhaps in the hope to stay hidden from the nasty's little mean eyes. Then there are good psychological things, too. Like the real community support that can crop up in chat rooms and the real friendships. But I tend to be more interested in the deviant and unpleasant behavior (must go and meditate on this), and one of those is the periodic explosion that happens in many chatrooms. Something is said, often something quite minor and unimportant, and suddenly open warfare erupts, things are thrown helter-skelter and at the end of the episode metaphorical dead bodies are heaped everywhere and half of the participants have stormed off in a huff. What is this all about? I'm not sure, but I think it has something to do with our inability to avoid those we detest on the internet. In real life we tend not to invite these people to our fireside and if we meet them in the office or the street we tend to ignore them. But in a chatroom we may not be able to do this (though some systems allow you to ignore others' comments). Hence the people who grate on us keep on grating until one day it's all too much and boom! The nice thing about blogs is that all this is less likely to happen. It's easy to avoid a blogger you hate, and it's easy to ban a commenter a blogger doesn't like. Many other things about internet communication are psychologically fascinating, too. The absence of voices and faces, for example. Would we actually listen to the people we now do if we could hear and see them? Do we put imaginary faces on the writing styles? And if we do, how off are we in our guesses? And does it matter? |
The Ostrich Ambassador
Negroponte used to be called that. Why? Here's why:
So we are in good hands. |
Today's Action Alert
Today's Actions comes from NRDC -- and it's easy. NRDC is starting a blog that will focus on efforts to prevent the Bush administration from destroying the environment. Check out their new blog today and bookmark it so you can visit frequently. ***** Dear NRDC Action Fund Supporter, Right now, the Bush Administration and its allies in Congress are working to pass sweeping, pro-industry legislation that would sacrifice our heritage and health for decades to come. For all of us at the NRDC Action Fund, that can mean only one thing: it's time to fight back. Now more than ever, we need to protect our precious wildlands from drilling, defend our clean air and water from pollution and take urgently needed action to stop and reverse global warming. But we can't do it without building a bigger and stronger community of people like you. Last week, we launched a Blog -- an interactive, online diary -- to serve as a gathering place for everyone who wants to stop the Bush Administration's outrageous assaults on our environment: http://blog.nrdcactionfund.org/ Hosted by the NRDC Action Fund's own Frances Beinecke, the Blog will give you the chance to exchange comments, participate in online chats and -- most importantly -- get organized to take action. With personal reflections and a fresh look at the issues, Frances will call attention to the dangers posed by the Bush Administration's policies and tell you about what you can do to help stop them. Beginning tomorrow, Laurie David -- NRDC Action Fund trustee, co-founder of the Detroit Project and wife of comedy writer Larry David -- will be our first featured guest blogger. And stay tuned, because some of the most eloquent and active voices in the environmental movement will soon follow in her footsteps as guest bloggers. Please visit the NRDC Action Fund Blog daily at http://blog.nrdcactionfund.org/ and get involved. Thanks to people like you, I am optimistic that we will succeed in defending America's natural heritage for ourselves and all future generations. Sincerely, John H. Adams President NRDC Action Fund |
New York Times Catching Up...
You could do worse than read Maureen Dowd's and Frank Rich's columns on the Jeff Gannon affair in the New York Times, assuming that you haven't followed the story for a few weeks on the lefty blogs. Even I blogged on Jeff Gannon on American Street sometime in January. It's a funny thing about the internets: they make one feel dejavu all over again when one listens to the radio or watches the television. Though it's true that much of the material on the net turns out to be wrong. Still, in this particular case the so-called liberal media has taken its precious time before getting on the topic. Is it because the Gannongate hits too close to the heart of this administration? Is it because the problem belongs to the wingnuts and the wingnuts are in power so the media has to tiptoe carefully? I can't think of any other reasons: the story has everything that is supposed to make for juicy reading, after all, though most importantly it has some bad ethics in high places. Who was it who let Gannon in so easily? And when will I get my White House pass? Never mind. I would pick all the wrong stories. For example, I still think that we should be outraged over all the warnings that the administration ignored before 9/11. Which appears to be the wrong answer. The correct answer is to feel outraged about the food-for-oil program. |
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Be Afraid! Be Very Afraid!
This is to be recommended. Our administration has found it profitable, in any case. Here's Porter Goss:
Hence, it was very smart to attack Iraq. Now we have something more to be afraid about, something even more real. And Russians miss enough nuclear material for a nice bomb that can be dropped on a major U.S. city, or carried into it in a suitcase. And what, exactly, are we going to do about it? Hmh? Or are we just supposed to crawl under our beds (with all the dustdogs) and let Daddy Bush take care of us? |
On Making Things
I'm working on a post about fertility and the current pro-natalistic wingnut ideas, but I hate the topic so much that I'm procrastinating. Instead of talking about making babies I want to talk about how to make things in general. We tend not to make what we wear in the West, anymore, largely because it is cheaper to buy what we need than to make it from scratch. Take shoes, for example. If I wanted to make my own shoes it would take months of study just to get started. So I don't make them, though I once made flipflops:
One of the consequences of us not knowing how to make things anymore is that it is harder to value and respect the skill that goes into the work. That is one of the reasons why I try to learn a new skill every year. The other reason is my eternal curiosity which will one day kill me. But not yet. Among my recent experiments in making things are building a kitchen cabinet and making a suit from scratch. They both turned out ok and they both taught me to respect people who can sew or do woodwork. And they both left a few scars on me. A reminder: take your fingers away before you press the pedal on your sewing machine or before you hammer down on the nail. Learning how things are made is very salutary. It makes me feel connected to whoever has made the object I buy, and it makes me very angry when the work is not properly rewarded. This is especially the case with many of the handmade pieces of clothing and home linens that are sold these days at a few dollars. Anyone who has embroidered or quilted knows that somewhere the creator of these products must be starving to death. Many of these creators are women and the wages they are paid may be customary in the producing country but the fact still remains that we are exploiting this work. The same is probably true of much of the work men in the developing countries do for us. I tend to view the recent feminist interest in knitting and crocheting from this angle: that we are learning the skills which are no longer valued, and that many of these skills are regarded as female ones. Another side of me bickers about the fact that these skills are kind of parodied in the most recent fashions, because none of us needs to knit or crochet nowadays, and my grandmothers' skills were considerably higher than anything I see in the new knitting books and magazines. But that is the side that needs a good kick on its backside, of course. In any case, that is what I am doing with my forays into sewing and woodworking: just scratching the surface of something that requires years of study and experience. |
David Horowitz
He is a wingnut who is fighting to fumigate the lefty lairs in academia. The idea is to get rid of all the brainwashing that we progressives/liberals/lefties do to poor wingnut children who attend college. Horowitz is behind the proposed Ohio law that would infringe the academic freedom of professors. Now Atrios is linking to Horowitz's database on the complaints directly. If the connection works (it didn't for me) you can find for yourself all the horrible things that happen to poor baby wingnuts in colleges. For a sample of the complaints, Thinkprogress gives us these:
Maybe there are many really valid complaints in Horowitz's database. I don't know. But I'm pretty sure that they will not contain the kinds of complaints I could have made as a student. For example, one professor told me to stop studying economics and go home and have babies instead. Another one argued that giving the good jobs to men makes perfect sense in economic theory. A third one suggested a little hanky-panky on his office floor. But then many more than these three said good and encouraging things to me and it never occurred to me to take anything anybody took as a message from the gods. It was all grist for my thinking and good in that sense, though sexual harassment didn't really contribute to anything good. I have always thought that one of the most valuable things I got from university education was the ability to see, in great detail, how someone else's mind works. Horowitz doesn't like that, it seems. Neither does he like higher education in general, because the whole point of higher education is to stretch the students' thinking, to challenge it and then to change it if it deserves to be changed by facts. |
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Today's Silly Thought
And Even More on the Gannongate
Some of us still believe it matters:
You said it, Louise. |
International Diplomacy by the Bush Administration
It is called posturing, I believe, though I have no idea whether it is justified in this case or not:
And Secretary of State Rice has called Syria one of the "outposts of tyranny" in the world. Tyranny is the new enemy of the war against terrorism in case you didn't know. But I'm truly annoyed that I cannot judge the validity of this move; the U.S. media is so uninformative that I am unenlightened on issues that I don't actively follow in the foreign press. |
A Sham?
According to Salon, this is what Bush's faith-based initiative is. Or rather according to David Kuo who used to be the deputy director of the White House Office of Faith-Based and Community Initiatives. He has now written an essay for belief.net in which
Then there is the tiny problem that prayer might not work in a lot of the fields where the faith-based initiatives were promoted. But Kuo is probably right in arguing that Bush doesn't really care about the poor. Though he does care about the radical Christian right, so it's not really true that money has been unavailable. It has just been used where it gives a bigger bang for the buck: in abstinence education, for example. That abstinence education doesn't work is not something that would bother Bush a lot. After all, the point of the whole initiative is to serve as a kickback program for his voter base. |
Today's Action Alert
Today's Action comes from Amnesty International: No one has been brought to justice for the crimes against humanity being committed in Sudan. We need to focus the attention of world leaders on this problem. Here's a sample letter you can send: ***************** Dear Minister, I'm writing to you to express my concern about the continuing failure to bring to justice those responsible for war crimes and crimes against humanity in Sudan. Impunity has fuelled insecurity in Sudan for more than 21 years. I therefore urge your government, as a member of the UN Security Council, to: - Ensure the Sudanese government implements all human rights it has committed to respect under the Comprehensive Peace Agreement; - Ensure a comprehensive reform of Sudanese criminal law and the justice system in conformity with international human rights and humanitarian law. Legal provisions that give immunity to the security forces must be abolished; - In view of Sudan's lack of compliance with previous Security Council's resolutions and the failure of the Sudanese legal system to bring to justice those responsible for serious crimes under international law, the Security Council should refer the situation in Sudan, including Darfur, to the Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court, according to Article 13 (b) of the Rome Statute; - Give full consideration to the findings and recommendations of the UN Commission of Inquiry on Darfur, created under Security Council Resolution 1564 and mandated to investigate reports of crimes committed by all parties and to identify the perpetrators of such crimes, with a view to ensuring that those responsible are held individually criminally responsible. Yours sincerely, *********** Send your letter to: Secretary of State US Department of State 2201 C Street, NW Washington, DC 20520 Fax: 202.647.1811 You can also contact the Department of State using this web form Or send your letter to: Rt Hon Jack Straw MP Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs Foreign and Commonwealth Office King Charles Street London SW1A 2AH United Kingdom Fax: +44 20 7008 2144 Thanks for taking today's action! |
From Riverbend
She is an Iraqi blogger with a very good blog. This is what she talks about in her latest post:
Freedom, anybody? |
Down in the Dumps
That's what happens when one sits staring at the keyboard all night long. Everything seems so pointless. I read the opinions on the websites and I despair of ever seeing a better world. If human beings are hard-wired for anything at all it seems to be for the belief of their own superiority and for the contempt towards others who are at all different. We eagerly snatch up anything that will reinforce these views and reject everything else. Or some of us do. This may seem naive but I used to believe in the idea that we learn from our history, that we can correct past mistakes, that the world will slowly and inexorably though not necessarily linearly turn towards a fairer and juster state. Such an underlying belief let me endure any suffering in my own life. Somehow my personal disasters didn't matter because as a species we humans were improving, becoming wiser and kinder. Why I thought that this was the case I don't know. Everything I learned about the twentieth century history should have proven how wrong I was. Perhaps it was the innate optimism of a teenager or a young adult that kept me wearing the pink spectacles. Or perhaps it was the fact that I rarely followed the news. Now I know better, and though I try to battle back on most days I have begun to fear that the battle is pointless, that we are predestined to sink into something not very different from fascism or else something like a Christian Talibanism. The two pillars of faith: religion and science, are both used to uphold this trend and though dissenting voices exist they are mainly alone in the wilderness or certainly not in the mainstream media. Consider the Social Security debate or the debate about Lawrence Summer's comments. Or the debate about revamping Medicare. Or the budget debate. What all these share is a sense of selfishness, a sense of withdrawing into each individual shell, a shell containing only those of your blood and flesh. What all these share is a lack of caring about others, a lack of willingness to change society, an intellectual laziness that refuses to look at new alternatives. Even the personal responsibility stress of the radical right is part and parcel of this same trend: if you are made to be responsible for those of your blood and flesh I can concentrate on amassing wealth without worrying about the homeless and the jobless who probably were just lazy and shiftless to begin with. Writing this blog is my extremely minor attempt to argue back against this trend but it's like a mosquito challenging a herd of elephants to a duel: laughable, ridiculous, totally mad. Granted, there are many mosquitoes in the blogosphere but the elephants walk past very noisily and our whining will not be heard. So this is how I am when the night spirits come and keep me company. |
Monday, February 14, 2005
Interviewing Us
Morgaine from this site asked me to answer a few questions about blogging. I thought that you might find them interesting. No, I don't think that, actually, I just feel like a convalescent from the flu and totally without imagination, so I'm going to post my interview answers instead of any other writing. Here they are: 1. How did you start blogging? Why do you keep at it? Goddess Answer: I started blogging out of boredom with being adulated by snakes alone. I needed a bigger audience. I keep at it because it works. Human Answer: I started blogging to keep writing something every day. Having an imaginary reader made that more likely. I keep at it because the readers are real. 2. What are your most important issues? Goddess Answer: Changing the world into a better place. We divines assume it is possible. Also showing that I can do better than Athena. Human Answer: Feminism and fighting the radical right. 3. What's the nicest recognition you've ever received from the media and/or the blogosphere? Goddess Answer: All those humans who come and worship at my altar by writing sweet comments on my blog. I grow a little bigger and more real every time something nice is said about me. Soon I will be a real force to be reckoned with! Human Answer: My readers' comments, actually. But also to be read by Katha Pollitt (my great idol) and to be nominated as a semifinalist in many Koufax award categories. And being named the most polite political blogger! 4. Who is your audience? What is unique about your blog? Goddess Answer: I write to everybody: divines, humans and snakes. Everybody. My blog is unique because it is written by me. How many snake goddesses blog on politics? Human Answer: I'm not sure what my audience is, except for the fact that it probably consists of people who are feminist or profeminist in their views. My blog might be unique in its dualistic character: having a resident goddess can be hard at times, especially when I get possessed over longer periods of time. She's truly quite arrogant, whereas I'm very modest and shy. 5. Most frustrating aspect of blogging? Goddess Answer: Not enough adulators! I need more, more, more! Human Answer: The ephemeral nature of what happens. Though in some ways this is the best aspect of blogging, too, in its freshness and immediacy; the fact is that whatever I did yesterday is totally irrelevant today and that can be hard to accept. 6. What's the one point you'd like a reader to take away from your blog- the one thing for them to really "get". Goddess Answer: Never say no to ice-cream or human kindness. Human Answer: A difficult question to answer, because what I want to achieve is something not purely informational. It is a certain tone of writing more than just what the writing says and has to do with the respect of humanity while also acknowledging its negative side. Quote: (Wrap up with a quotation – one of yours, a famous one you like, a personal Motto – be creative.) See my Goddess Answer to question number 6. |
Today's Deep Thought
Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, wine in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO what a ride!" Have a wonderful day! ----- From H. |
Roses Are Red,...
Just sweet nothings today. For example, George Bush is not loved by most Americans, at least according to a recent poll:
Talk about ambivalent lovers! First the Americans elected him over a perfectly sane human being, then they still find fault with him. Co-dependency, anyone? Then there is apparently Jeff Gannon, the male hooker. Which is nowhere as upsetting as the political hookery he engaged in. Even here the rightwing frames are going to win and we will end up talking about how the bloggers destroyed him by talking about his private life. Unless you raise your clear voice at every opportunity and pipe out that Echidne said to focus on his unethical behavior as a "journalist" and the administration hitman, and to forget about the pruriently fascinating sexual stuff. Then there is me. I once got a cactus as a Valentine's Day present from an admirer who didn't find me very approachable (his socks smelled). I watered the poor cactus until it broke into two pieces, all rotten. Which is to explain why I don't write lots of very nice stuff about love today; I'm not very skilled in the field. Goddesses aren't. |
On Love
A suitable topic for today, though the origins of Valentine's Day are more in sex than in love itself. But I will keep this post on love proper, and instead of blabbing on as usual I'm going to let other goddesses do the talking. First, Lady Murasaki, the first female novelist and probably the first novelist overall. She wrote the Tale of Genji (c. 1008), and this quote is from that book:
Next, Lorraine Hansberry, the playwright of A Raisin in the Sun (1959):
Then, Emily Dickinson:
These are all so beautiful and deep that I feel my usual itch to add something silly. So here it goes:
By Lady Kasa, an eighth century poet. ---- The source for all these, and many other wonderful thoughts on love and other things, is the New Beacon Book of Quotations by Women. |
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Predict Your Future!
I stole this one from NY Mary on the Eschaton threads. It's a test which will tell you where in Dante's hell you might belong. I'm on the fifth level should you want to visit:
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Everybody loves baby manatees
Yeah, right. The Republicans don't, not as much as money and free enterprise:
Crapo. For once, someone has the name they deserve. I'm sure that the Endangered Species Act could be more effective in getting rid of those pesky endangered species and leaving more land available for real estate development and stuff. The endangered species don't vote, either, so why bother about them much? |
Sunday Chat
I am trying to blog less on Sundays or not at all, because writing something every day drains me out and leaves me too little time to replenish the reserves with new stuff. Instead, I have been reading books and thinking about thoughts. This should make for better writing later on. But today is a beautiful day and I feel like writing a little anyway. My human incarnation has had a touch of the flu and yesterday it made her feel like a flat tire. No emotions at all, just a slow clinkety-clink movement of the logical mind, and even that was mainly asking which food or drink would somehow change the situation. But life seems better now. I have been reading George Lakoff and his ideas about framing. When I finish wrestling with him inside my head I will tell you what I think and then you can put me to rights on the issues. It's such a good and cheap way of learning for me! But the administration doesn't want to learn very many things, if any. Neither do most of the media. We have the scandal of the century on our hands (no, it is not Jeff Gannon though that is bad enough), and it is not much discussed. The administration had plenty of warnings about bin Laden and chose to ignore them. My dead friend is still dead, and I am still blue-steel angry. Am I the only one? Where is Justice, that fickle goddess? It seems that justice will be up to us, so get cracking, my dear readers. Write to your newspapers, call your radio and television shows and your representatives in Congress. You could also get cracking about Social Security. Bush is indeed engaged in class warfare, and we shouldn't let him get away with it. The wingnuts don't want Social Security; they want cheap and obedient workers scared of not having enough to eat. And that is what is behind all the other apparently reasonable arguments about Social Security problems and crises. Note how Bush is attacking "frivolous" law suits, only if they are mostly brought up by consumers and workers against firms? That is part of the same long-term plan by the corporations, and we should keep this in mind. If all this sounds extremist to you, it is. But it's not my extremism that's bothersome here, it's the extremism of those in power. Not only do we get their messages rammed down our throats but we get them rammed down by people who have been paid to do so, yet appear as impartial media commentators. This is where Jeff Gannon and the other hired help apply to the picture. And then we have Iraq where fundamentalism seems to be nicely on the rise. They get a theocratic state if they can avoid a civil war and we get oil. Nice, isn't it? Unless you are a secular person in Iraq, a Christian or a woman, of course. But these people don't control oil. At least they get freedom the way Bush defines it. Boy, do I sound bitter! I'm not, actually. I'm quite chipper this afternoon. The righteous (my side) are finally awake and are even turning over in their beds. The next step will be getting up and fixing all this crap. I'm looking forward to witnessing that! The dogs say hello. Henrietta is on a new arthritis treatment which Hank desires for reasons to do with equal treatment of dogs or something. She tries to steal the pill from Henrietta's lips and when that doesn't work she tries to barter dog biscuits for it. She also thinks we are being very unfair in thinking that a dog biscuit to her would be of the same worth as that mysterious pill disappearing into Henrietta's shell-pink gullet. I'm almost ready to bake some placebo pills for Hank so that we don't get all the whining and posturing every day. The snakes don't say hello. Mostly they are asleep. Though Artful Asp is planning to go into business. She has designed some t-shirts with snakes twining the body and their heads peeking out from the armpits. She wants me to sell them on the blog. I have promised to look into it, but only after she hires someone to actually make the damn things. Which won't happen as she is a teenager: all grandious plans and no grit. |
Saturday, February 12, 2005
Donate to Celebrate Howard Dean's Election
Money talks, you know. Especially to the wingnuts. They are trying to paint Dean as an extremist who has no real support among Democrats. If you can afford it, prove them and the quasi-wingnuts in the Democratic party wrong. |
Silly David Brooks
This time he truly has surpassed himself in silliness. He has written a column about his outrage over not having been treated like the Very Important Person he really is. Even women and minorities are protected from discrimination nowadays, but not David Brooks! Meaning that David Brooks didn't get the special privileges he so clearly deserves. In the mind of David Brooks, that is. |
Anna Maria van Schurman
She was a very interesting woman, a prodigy who spoke several languages, wrote philosophical and religious theses, painted portraits and made engravings. She gave this all up for religion and joined the sect started by Jean de Labadie, a Jesuit who had converted to Protestantism. All this during the seventeenth century. Her current reputation lies mainly on her paintings and engravings. I find her writings equally interesting. When Schurman was twenty-four, she engaged in correspondence with a sixty-year old theologian at the University of Leiden, Andre Rivet. Some of this correspondence was about the proper role of women and whether sciences and learning were acceptable for a Christian woman. So little seems to have changed in some ways. Here is what Schurman says about the education of women:
Makes a feminist proud, doesn't she? Alas, she later backs off from this statement:
She also agreed that only "maidens" could spend time on studies, whereas wives and mothers had far too much on their plates already. Even this sounds a little familiar. It is interesting to read about someone who lived so long ago and find that she isn't really that different from us living today. Though I would never join a sect that wasn't started to honor me, of course. ---- You can see a portrait of Anna Maria van Schurman here. |
Friday, February 11, 2005
More on the Gannongate
This is from Rep. Louise Slaughter:
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Today's Action Alert
Today's Action comes from the Campaign for America's Future: Beneath the incomprehensive federal budget numbers -- a $2.57 trillion budget, a $427 billion deficit, $419 billion in military spending -- the federal budget is a moment of truth. It reveals what we value, what kind of nation we are and what we seek to build. In this regard, the Bush budget is a stunning disservice to our education system, and it must be rejected. The president's budget slashes education programs for children while adding more tax breaks for the wealthiest Americans. Bush literally takes books from the hands of the poorest children to provide the wealthiest Americans with the money for a new Ferrari. The silver lining is that what the president proposes, Congress disposes. None of Bush's cuts will happen if Congress rejects his budget. This is where we come in. Congress needs to hear loud and clear from the American people: the Bush budget should be dead on arrival. Below are ten misguided Bush budget decisions that particularly offend American values and squander our country's future. Please help to get 100,000 signatures to Congress demanding that they reject Bush's spending priorities -- priorities that are fundamentally out of step with the needs of America's children and students. Tell Congress to reject Bush's indecent budget proposal! Tell them that you don't want your government to... 1. Undercut schools in need by reneging on $12 billion in funding promised to schools by President Bush himself. [1] 2. Cut 25,000 children from Head Start. [2] 3. Eliminate childcare assistance for 300,000 children by 2009. [3] 4. Cut funding for school construction. [4] 5. Leave 1.7 million children without after-school programs. [5] 6. Eliminate the Even Start family literacy program that helps impoverished children and their parents learn to read. [6] 7. Cut funds from Medicaid that would pay health care for 1.8 million low-income children. [7] 8. Kill funding for Safe and Drug Free School programs. [8] 9. Keep college out of reach for qualified students by failing to raise the maximum Pell Grant as promised [9] -- and by freezing work-study funding. [10] 10. Force deeper cuts in education programs by adding new tax cuts that will cost $1.6 trillion over ten years. More than half of these cuts would go to households that earn more than $1 million yearly, while virtually none target households earning less than $100,000 per year. [11] Congress has the power to overrule Bush's grossly misguided spending priorities. Please contact your representatives today and demand that they reject the Bush budget and realign America's spending priorities to serve us all, not just a privileged few. Write a letter to your Congressperson today! Thanks for taking today's action! |
Prince Charles Marries...
This is a topic in which I have zero interest, so it's good for me to try to write on it. I feel sorry for Charles. It must be hard to be an eternal prince-in-waiting for the king's job that means nothing nowadays. But in my hierarchy of people to feel sorry for he's at the very bottom, right above Rupert Murdoch. That he has decided to get married to his long-term flame is good, though. I wish them luck. And their marriage has nothing to do with Princess Diana or the myths that have sprung up around her. These myths are interesting in themselves and tell us much about the role of women and love in current thinking, but they are totally unrelated to what Charles and Camilla should do now. Of course, the marriage of Charles and Diana was a farce, a cruel reminder of what marriages used to mean for the upper classes: find a suitable virgin with money and good connections to continue the name of the family, never mind if the groom and bride hate each other. And that is why all that followed was a tragedy for the participants. But they were still well dressed and fed and had lots of opportunities for relief. This is not true for most of those women who are still being married off under the same scenario, many at ages of eleven or twelve. That's where my real compassion goes. Ok. This wasn't that good a writing exercize. I have the beginnings of the flu, and the color of my brain appears to be bright green. Don't think too much about how I know this. |
The Howard Dean Era Begins?
I like Howard Dean, actually, even when I don't agree with his views. It's because he seems to be a real human being, not some sort of a public relations creation or a wind-up political toy. I even like his screaming. So reading this makes me feel or fuzzy and warm inside:
The Democratic party will never succeed as a less anemic version of wingnuts, never, and it's really stupid and suicidal to go that way. Those politicians who feel that way should join the real wingnuts. Whatever Dean might be he's not a wingnut on a diet. |
Don't Ask, Don't Tell
This is about something different than being gay or lesbian; it is about scientific beliefs:
Just another little nail to the coffin of free debate and the freedom of expression in this country, another little push towards an Orwellian world. You know, I hate to say this, but Noam Chomsky may be right, after all. |
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Self-Advertizing
I'm guest blogging on Alas, A Blog this week. If you are interested in more theoretical musings by me, check this one out. But I'm not deserting the Snakepit Inc., either; just letting my writing go into different directions at the same time. |
Something New from the 9/11 Commission
It seems that much more was known about the threat that bin Laden posed than has so far been admitted by the administration:
We have not learned this earlier because the administration decided that we should be kept in the dark. Presumably at least until after last year's elections. Or that's what I conclude from this:
I don't know what to write. The people who died on 9/11 2001 are still dead. |
On Obscene Phone Calls
I recently received one of those. The caller wanted to know if I would suck his cock like a whore. Which immediately made me wonder how whores would perform this task as opposed to whoever else he had in mind and also why he didn't call one of those paid services which let lone masturbators engage in vicarious sex for money. Or why he didn't just surf all the porn on the internet. The obscene phone calls used to be more common before the current availability of porn everywhere. I even once had a woman call me and offer to suck my toes. I can't really place myself in the position of someone who gets their thrills from telephoning absolute strangers this way. But my guess is that the thrill has something to do with the fact that the whole act is a small violation, that it has violence in it. The person who is phoned is used without her (or his?) permission. Maybe this is why it wouldn't be equally good with a paid listener. Goddesses don't get upset over obscene phone callers, though they may send a few seasons of pestilence and some unpleasantly positioned warts to the caller, but in general being the target of obscene calls can be quite upsetting, even psychologically destructive. That this might actually increase the caller's enjoyment is one of those nasty sides of humanity. |
Some Vintage Echidne
I wrote this peace when I was at most thirteen. You might get a kick out of it. At night the stars strip off their foggy wraps, the trees stand cold and naked, the green eyes of the sea are glassed over. At night I can see far. Across the snow-bedecked valleys into the gloomy dark center of forests. I can see into something where the souls are visible, simple and clear. Into something where time ends and eternity begins, where death lives. Then my thoughts return to the cowering soul like birds with a broken wing. The deepest most secret hopes and dreams of people have been pickled and sorted, have been piled up into neat piles in the unknown where they have turned into miserable small dusty heaps of worthless trash. But far away there are thoughts which are clear and bright. If you start thinking them through and if you start believing in them they no longer exist. At night one can see anything, even a green squirrel, and nobody will laugh at you for there is nobody here who knows if green squirrels can exist. Nobody even knows if they themselves exist or if all this is just a play staged by death or a big lie. And if you ask whether someone minds or whether it's just a question of time nobody will answer. Though someone might say:"Time is the laughter of eternity, the life philosophy of the age rings of trees," I have no knowledge about this and neither do you. Better to believe that there is nothing and nobody in existence; only a large brain beneath the earth which dreams the trees and the water, fruit, deer and snow. The stars and the moon are an illusion. Why fear death if one doesn't exist? If, on the other hand, one does exist, the debt is owed to death at the end anyway. All we hear or feel is illusion. Only the colors at night are real, the colors that nobody has seen and which do not exist. Pain is nothing but the heartbeats of life and even then a dream. We humans fear so much: ants and bankruptcy and elephants. They don't even exist, for if you stop believing in them they disappear. Hatred is a relative concept. A very strong love is hatred, too, and so is owning things and destroying things. Still, it is all pointless as all that remains between my cupped hands is space and empty screams and nonexistent colors. It is the colors that are the truth. |
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
The Thoughtful Steven Pinker
He has deigned to give a few carefully formed comments on the hullabaloo that ensued from the careless statements of Lawrence Summers, the president of Harvard University, at a conference about how to get more women into the hard sciences. I blogged about this earlier if you are interested in the details. For now I want to talk to Professor Pinker, because he is an interesting man to talk to. He's a warrior on President Summer's team, a warrior who wields his keyboard deftly and smartly. Listen to this: Summers did not, of course, say that women are "natively inferior," that "they just can't cut it," that they suffer "an inherent cognitive deficit in the sciences," or that men have "a monopoly on basic math ability," as many academics and journalists assumed. Only a madman could believe such things. I remember hearing a radio interview with Pinker when his book The Blank Slate came out, and he used the same madman-argument to clear the deck of any accusation that he might be an essentialist. As few researchers would call themselves madmen, this clever trick means that we can now dispense with any exploration of Professor Pinker's own possible biases, and can go on to study the biases of his opponents. Like this:
Conservative columnists always have a field day. If there is no reason for one, they invent it. But Pinker's summary of the issues is partial: he fails to address all the reasoned responses from feminists and progressives, and he fails to mention the truly outrageous statements on many of the anti-feminist and conservative websites and blogs. This makes the unreasonableness appear solely something that takes place among the liberals and feminists, not something that might even infect careful researchers such as Professor Pinker. In any case, our careful researcher then goes on to summarize various studies which demonstrate gender differences on the average. He doesn't summarize the studies which don't support these findings or the studies which address the whole question of what we are actually trying to measure with the various tests. All this reads "biased" in my book. Pinker's supporting examples of evidence are interesting. Take this one, for instance:
Here we are to replace scientific evidence with anecdotes about what people talk about in parties or with one person's confessions. I know of a six-year old girl who took the family iron apart to find out how it works, and then couldn't put it back together. Who knows how many other things she had examined before she was caught in the act? But this is anecdotal evidence, and not to be admitted if it comes from my side of the aisle, the unreasonable one, the one which believes (despite all evidence to the contrary) that women and men are exactly identical at birth. This is all rubbish, of course. There are no feminists who believe that women and men are biologically exactly the same, though there seem to be a very large number of anti-feminists who never see the most obvious difference between the two sexes which is the fact that women give birth. Anti-feminists want to have more science to find out what really distinguishes the sexes, all the while letting their eyes glide over the pregnant bellies of their coworkers or the countless young women pushing prams outside. The reason for this bias is of course the political importance of gender differences. Anyone who believes that men and women should not be treated equally must base this belief on some form of innate differences. Feminists know this, and that is why the history of biased Victorian gender science is important to keep in mind. Pinker gives a nod to this argument, but then goes on glibly to place total trust in the newer generation of findings. Nobody, but nobody can be impartial in this field, and Pinker is not the sole exception here. He has an axe to grind, and that is to protect the views on which he has based his own research and writing. I also have an axe, of course, but you can see what it is and how sharply honed it always stays. The differences that gender science may find are going to be put to political uses pretty fast. Even if the results are based on faulty methods and data, the harm the political applications will do is real. This is the reason why it is so important to insist on transparency and high methodical competency from all practitioners of gender science, and why it is very important not to have a value bias among this group towards one sex or the other. Currently there is such a general bias, as even a cursory reading of the studies reveals, and that is one of slight misogyny. In other words, not all science is somehow above politics or even above cheating, and all science should be approached with a very critical mind. But Pinker is not too concerned about this. He does hint that he would love the world to be fairer and more equal if only facts would let that be the case, and he repeatedly reminds us how wrong discrimination is, before he goes on to tell us about the dangers of reverse discrimination if we ignore gender science. Actually, I agree with Pinker on one of his arguments: that we should encourage good science on innate gender differences. The real question is how to do this. How would Pinker create a study which would tell us, for once and for all, what the real cognitive differences between men and women are? We actually don't have the tools to do this today, and this is the main reason why I find Pinker's elegant impartiality so insulting. He's willing to settle for JustSo stories from evolutionary psychology in lieue of proper genetic biology:
I'm not an evolutionary psychologist, only a goddess, but I have trouble with this myth of our prehistory. It's a very popular myth these days, this idea of the happy male who casts around buckets of high-quality sperm while the careful and coy females tend their one or two babies with great care. For one thing, a fertilized egg is not the same as a child brought to a point where that child can himself or herself breed further. Prehistory must not have been an easy life for pregnant women, and I find it very hard to believe that the buckets of sperm all took so easily as this myth explains. It's at least worth considering whether the men who stuck around one or two women got a greater yield by providing food, protection, sex, childcare and friendship. They also would have kept some of the bucket brigade away. For another thing, this myth doesn't explain what Pinker seems to think it should. If indeed only the most technically minded men somehow managed to procreate, the men who do so poorly in mathematical tests that they are at the other end of the distribution should not exist. How come did their genes sneak in, too? No, for Pinker's explanation to be correct we should not observe greater male variability at both tails of the distribution. I could go on, but I hope that the gist of my complaints is visible by now. What angers me about Pinker's approach is his "holier-than-thou" pretense combined with some very sneaky biases. At least I actually am holier than any of you thous out there and my biases are all goddess-sized. |
Rep. Slaughter on the Gannongate
I received this in an e-mail from Slaughter's staff today. A delectable snippet:
Read the next post if this is all gobbledegook for you. Or ignore it if you wish to remain cheerful and innocent for one day longer. |
Goodbye, Jeff Gannon
I'm just listening to a story about him on the Al Franken show. Gannon has just given us his farewell speech:
The story about the hounding of Jeff Gannon (in which I have played a tiny part by writing a few posts about his journalistic credentials that consist of a weekend course) is an interesting one. He appeared to be the White House hitman among the flock of otherwise hard-working journalists, and he first came into prominence by the type of questions he asked in the White House press conferences: asskissing ones. His White House credentials were written for his penname, Jeff Gannon, whereas female journalists using their maiden names professionally had to use their married names for their credentials. It was this that first brought Mr. Gannon to the attention of progressive/liberal hounds when it was posted by Atrios. Then Media Matters for America started doing research on Mr. Gannon's journalism and found out that he plagiarized large chunks of his writings directly from Republican party sources. And then things got worse and worse for Mr. Gannon: It seems that he's the owner of several odd websites:
This was yesterday, and today Jeff is bidding us goodbye. What is very bad about all this is that it could be the revelation that Mr. Gannon might be gay (whether he is or is not I don't know and I also don't care) that made him decide to pack it in. Although some of those sites could also be about prostitution in the military... In any case, the real reason why "journalists" like Gannon should be hounded is in all the other earlier revelations: the biased reporting, the lack of any journalistic training by pretty much anyone working for his newspaper, the plagiarizations and so on. And, as Atrios points out today, the fact that Mr. Gannon somehow got hold of CIA memos when other journalists were not so privileged. And just to make the point very clear: Jeff Gannon is not an innocent victim of horrible slavering lefty hounds on the internets. He's a player in the wingnut game and he's not following the rules that the party of the high moral ground holds so dear. |
Today's Action Alert
(This is one that I feel a little ambivalent about, for reasons that have to do with the history of handing pacifists white feathers when they refused to participate in wars. It was something women did, and by doing so they reinforced the patriarchal and sexist values which saw men as the protector-killers and women as the providers of approval (and sex) for this role. But this may be just my own bias working here.) Today's Action Go to this link and send Jonah Goldberg a white feather to remind him that those who advocate going to war ought to be willing to, you know, actually go to war. Thanks for taking today's action. |
Approachable to Wingnuts...
This is Brian Williams, NBC's new news anchor:
"Lack of detectable ideological bias"! If Luntz says this he means that Williams is at least a baby wingnut who can be made to blossom for the movement with careful manuring. And he's most likely correct in his assessment. After all, Williams recently said how often he listens to Rush Limbaugh and how he feels that Limbaugh hasn't gotten his proper dues yet. I have met Williams once, and he smelled like a social conservative to my divine nostrils. ---- Link via Josh Marshall. |
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Addicted Mothers
Oregon is getting tough on these women:
The two cases where the drug was passed through the umbilical cord give another example of the problems that appear when people are viewed as containing other people in the manner of those Russian babushka dolls, and when the insert-people are regarded as independent for legal purposes. I find this all very sad. Addiction is dreadful and addicted women are not taking drugs with the intent of giving them to the fetuses. Yet the prosecutor's view of them is very different:
So. Consider what would happen if medical science one day established that beer drinking causes all sorts of anomalies in sperm which then can be passed on to a baby that is conceived. Would all the beer-drinking fathers-to-be face prosecution? Or more realistically, consider the case of any pregnant woman caught drinking a glass of wine or beer. Will she be immediately taken to court for child abuse? Even though the Italians and the French pregnant mothers have drunk wine in moderate amounts for centuries without any apparent ill-effects? I feel very sorry for the children of these mothers, but I also feel very sorry for the mothers themselves. And for this punitive and radical culture of ours. ---- Link by Thersites on Eschaton threads. |
Mud Wrestling in Iraq
According to this article, a U.S. Army specialist was demoted to private first class and received a cut in pay because she had participated in mud wrestling in her bra and panties at a party in Iraq:
I would dearly love to know who the "some individuals in their exuberance" were and how much the exuberance started with the demoted woman. Was she the brave initiator of the whole shebang? Or was she pressured into it? And what exactly is the counseling that some of the spectators received? It could be that they were so upset by this unsightly spectacle that they needed psychological help, but then it might be something quite different. Does this kind of counseling result in demotion and cuts in pay, I wonder? It would also be interesting to know if any of the mud wrestlers were men. ---- Original link by hybrid0. |
Ellen MacArthur
She just broke the world record in single-handed sailing around the world. She completed the trip in 71 days and less than 13 hours. She faced icebergs, gale force winds and technical problems. And she nearly collided with a whale.
Crazy, I think. But admirable. |
George's Budget Proposal
In an ethical world it would be a disgrace. In the corporate world it might be criminal. But in the current administration:
Right. So what we are going to get is more money for abstinence education for teenagers (39 million more), when every good study shows that abstinence education does not work. Faith-based programs will also get more money, and there will be more tax cuts for the wealthy. Where are the cuts then? Well, they are going to be the inefficient programs, the programs that don't work, according to George. Like Medicaid, the system that pays for some of the medical care of the poor families. And the Foodstamps program which funds food for some poor people. This is what George says on the topic:
Using the same efficiency criterion, George is going to spend less money on police departments as they're first defenders and all that. But more will be spent on the war against terrorism abroad, except that the full costs of the Iraq occupation are not included in the budget. Neither are the transition costs of destroying Social Security if George gets around to this project. The administration is also going to cut other inefficient programs such as fighting drug and alcohol use among school children. The effect of all this is to barely make one tiny George-tooth sized dent in the federal deficit. Much more cutting will have to be done in the future. Remember that George started with a surplus four years ago. At this rate we'll be a third world nation before he is done. |
Monday, February 07, 2005
Easing My Way Back In...
Hello, everyone! Have you had a nice week while I've been visiting the Reality? Time to edge sideways back into the blogosphere, to dip my tail into the ink pot and paint a few hesitant squiggles. I have not written anything more complicated than my name on credit card bills for seven days, and this writing business will have to be restarted slowly. I had a very good rest, lots of chocolates and exercize and sleep, and I even read a few books on which I plan to blog later on. It has been refreshing not to know for a few days what new strange seeds are sprouting in the fevered brains of this administration. Remarkably, the world has not collapsed just because I turned my eyes away for a while. Which is sad in its way, too. But probably better than the alternative. If I had the sort of divine powers I sometimes pretend I'd order the Rapture to take place this evening and then we could all choose new houses and cars and world peace! And then there would be nothing to blog about. Instead, I have to spend a few hours studying what atrocities are right now being planned and then I can start ranting and raving about them. Lots of material for tomorrow, probably. |
Today's Action Alert
Today's Action comes from Media Matters. Conservatives have been telling lies about the Social Security trust fund. Write a letter to the editor and correct the record:
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Sunday, February 06, 2005
Bad Lusty Poetry ; A Reposting
This is a piece of eternal art still in the making. It just popped out of my head as it is, just like Athena supposedly popped out of Zeus' head. That teaches us all a lesson, so if you can think of any improvements please let me know! I saw his back and my world went bust and flaming hot and pure and cold with unrepentant lust: those hips, those hips, those fingertips... (Please help me Goddess to keep my cool. Don't let him think that I'm a fool.) He turned around and my lust went dead "I vote for Bush" his t-shirt said "with abstinence in bed". (Oh, thank you Goddess for saving me from something worse than virginity!) |
On Writing Styles in Blogs; A Reposting
To write or not to write, that is the question, especially in deciding on the appropriate style for blogging. I still haven't gotten it down to a science, and I notice such a variety of styles on the blogs that it's hard to know if there is any such thing as the universal blogging style. Probably not, at least not yet. So I could write a post in many different styles (some a lot better than others, of course). Here are some variations: ========= Hiya, guys and gals! Jeez but things are slow today. What's the effing matter with all youse? I'm busting my ass off writing for you, and when I eyeball my visitor stats for Sunday, what do I see: a f****ing 120 oglers so far today. Come on, give me some respect here! ========= According to Slack and Slick, 2004, Journal of Blogometry, vol. I, no 1, pp.1-109, the average visitor frequency in a randomly drawn sample of blogs (n=1) was 120. The relatively low number may be attributed to the day of the week, viz. the general slowdown of internet usage during weekends when a large number of internet users are otherwise engaged. In a rejoinder, Glick and Glack, ibid. hypothesize that this may cause great distress to those bloggers whose output is especially large on Sundays. All researchers conclude by noting that internet users could be encouraged to increase their visits by suitable incentives, such as lotteries for a two-week expenses-paid vacations to a location near the Equator with some minor mythical goddess. ========= Solitude. Silence. The night spreads its cloak over me and nobody calls. I bend over my keyboard; a stray tear rolls down my cheek but I persist. Can you hear me, silence? Can you hold my grief, emptiness? Hollow footsteps, just audible from somewhere. Where did it all go? What was it all for? You never visit me anymore. Only silence stands and looks over my shoulder as I write. ========== Today was a day like all other days that are also called Sundays. The same slowness, the same newly starched faces in all the same church pews, the same drunks at the street corners worshipping in their own way. I wake up with a hangover next to the face of a stranger. The whiskey bottles on the floor are empty, and I have a headache down to my kidneys. Remind me not to go out with gorillas in the future, especially when the keyboard sits there idle, filling me with guilt. I slug down the eau de toilet from the bathroom cabinet and light up a stogie end I find under the sleeping gorilla. Time for some heavy lifting. The audience is out there, somewhere, and one day they will hear about me and even pay me. Until then I'll be ok with the booze and my karate skills. The roads are hard for a gal all alone but you knew that already. =========== And so on. I could keep on writing this for many more hours, but it probably wouldn't be that profitable. You get the idea, anyway. So what is the appropriate blog language? |
Saturday, February 05, 2005
The New Cappuccino Bar. A Reposting.
- This is my pro-environment lament. Cafe latte. Hold the caffeine. Wait in line. Sit at a postmodern table, take out your high-tech substitute of a newspaper and bury your nose in it. Time flies. Time is money. Money flies. The cups clink, the machines hiss, money changes hands. Nothing here has a simple name. Tall means small, grande a little bigger. The fire in the fireplace is a simulation. The clientele is also a simulation, all young, all affluent, all postmodern, with sharp edges and fuzzy middles. The bathrooms are clean and contain no reminders about the need to wash afterwards. This place used to be an abandoned lot. Not a beautiful meadow, but a rough patch of ground where weeds battled for survival. In late summer it looked like a dead field. Every day an old man would come with an even older dog and slowly, majestically, the pair would part the reedy stems of the brown grasses to enter the field. Then she, the dowager queen of all dogs, would lower herself, arthritically, majestically, to rain over the parched soil; a goddess of grass being worshipped in an ancient ritual in her honor. Every day. Now the rituals are different. The lot is sealed with asphalt, the space decorated with yellow lines, arrows and mystical signs worshipping a different god, a god of computers, sunglasses, cash registers and ears pierced seven times. The awkward weeds are gone. In their place stand rows of boxwoods, all perfect spheres. It is possible to come here without seeing a single weed, a single poor face, a single wrinkled face. The whole world is available here if the world is sanitized, straightened out, converted into electronic impulses. It is possible, here, to pretend that death never comes, that food is born pristine, that life is clear and good. The whole lot is paved with asphalt, anything and everything can be removed from the cappuccino grande and it still remains cappuccino grande. The god of this place is the god of logic and cool goodness, god of clean bathrooms and everlasting life. The old man is probably dead by now. The old dog certainly is. She has gone away to where old dogs go. The weeds are dead under the asphalt. The new rituals are winning: The lot is full of shining cars, their metal wings momentarily at rest. The tables under the plastic umbrellas are crowded with people who have good skin, expensive watches, silver-colored toenails. No-one uses the door marked "Exit" to enter. The new god is strong. But at night doubts arise. The moon casts a different light. The parking lot is empty, the outside tables deserted. In the shadows the yellow lines seem to waver, the paving seems to crack, as if pushed from below. And, sometimes, fleetingly, one can see a furry paw, a phosphorescent eye, a glimpse of a slow, majestic movement of something sinking, lowering. Does the new god turn his head when he hears the night rain fall? |
The Bee's Knees
Most readers don't get this one. See if you do. "Oh man, you should've been there to understand" I said while I reached for the third ice-cold beer of the night. "It was pure hell and I swear to God I never thought I'd see daylight again." "Tell us again, pal" pleaded Goggles as usual at this time of evening. I didn't mind repeating the story, not at all. It's only once in a lifetime a flyer gets thrown into a supernatural world and comes back to tell about it. "Well, guys, it was like this" I started. "Some years ago I had this shipping job up in the North. You know, transporting plant oils and fragrances. The hours were long and hard and often I flew far into the night dead tired. But the pay was good, so I stuck to it for a while." "Anyway, one night I had been harvesting and shipping for sixteen hours nonstop and suddenly darkness fell. I was still in the air and the engines didn't sound to good. The freight load was heavy and I was flying low. Maybe I had had a few too many the previous night, too, I don't know, but what happened suddenly was that I was lost. I couldn't find any land marks to use to find my way home, and when I looked up from my indicators I saw that I was flying straight into the side of a tall mountain." The silence in the bar was absolute. You could've heard a flea fart. I took another mouthful of beer and went on with my story. "I tried my damnest but I couldn't rise or turn. So I closed my eyes and prepared to kiss my ass goodbye. I braced myself for the crash, and went through all the evil deeds of my life asking for forgiveness from the powers that may be. And then I waited for death." "But the crash didn't come. After a while I opened my eyes and you'll not believe this but I had flown inside the mountain! I was not dead but I was inside this hell of a mountain, and it was daylight! I looked up and I saw several suns and moons, all shining at the same time. I thought that maybe this was heaven after all, but my backside ached something awful and I was covered with fruit essences." "Well, I was pretty disoriented, so I kept almost flying into things that looked like something out of a science fiction tale: large valleys covered with the hair of dead animals, frozen lakes in impossible shapes, gigantic spiderwebs covering the horizon. And all the time I could hear this noise, this eerie keening, like a million tortured souls pleading together. All my indicators were off. I felt air move suddenly, then stop, and the temperature went way up from what it had been just a little earlier. I felt weak and dizzy and I just had to try a landing." Goggles was staring at me all bug-eyed with excitement. I fiddled with my beer to make it last longer for him. "I managed to make an emergency landing on this large plateau under one of the suns. It was so hot and empty and I was parched. I started walking across the emptiness, fearing my own shadow, listening to that horrible howling sound." "It seems like years of wandering now, but it was probably not that long when I finally reached the other side of the plateau. And what do you think I found there? A precipice straight down. It went on for miles. I was trying to decide whether to turn back or to try a liftoff from the edge when everything went dark. Dark and sort of heavy, and the ululating sound was now all around me. My ears hurt and my eyes stung and my body was shaking uncontrollably. Something really heavy was pressing on me, surrounding me, suffocating me. The stench was unbearable." The bar had all its focus on me. Nobody even took a sip. They knew that the end was near and they appreciated every second of its horror. "I struggled valiantly, pulled out my gun and prepared to shoot. I was that desperate. I felt being crunched to little pieces of some overwhelming power, the keening sound was breaking through my brain and sending all of me into outer space, and the stench was after my very heart, looking to stain it and burn it with its acid. I screamed and screamed and desperately tried to pull on the trigger. Then everything went black and I remember nothing more." "Well, I woke up the following day, all splayed out on the grass near my working fields. I was alive! How and why I still don't know, but I was alive, and boy was I glad to be so! I spent a few hours doing maintenance to the engines and finally managed to make my way slowly back home." "And to a cold beer!" I added while emptying my glass. Goggles got up to get me another one, and everybody in the bar gathered around me to shake my hand or to pat my back. They sure were impressed by the story. ---------- Editors note: This fragment of a manuscript was found in the recent archeological digs of some 21 century beehives in North America. It is an example of the early macho-style of the honey-gathering period of the bees' evolution. It has also been published in the annals of the Bees' Adventures, vol. XXI. We recommend its use in the early education of all young bees. |
Friday, February 04, 2005
Today's Action Alert
(The "I" in this is Hecate, another goddess) Harry Reid wasn't my first choice to lead the Dems, but, so far, he's not doing such a bad job. Write or call Harry and give him some love, but also remind him that the Dems need to act like an opposition party. Let him know we'll support him when he gets the Dems to stand up to Bush. Reid, Harry - (D - NV) Class III 528 HART SENATE OFFICE BUILDING WASHINGTON DC 20510 (202) 224-3542 Web Form: reid.senate.gov/email_form.cfm Thanks for taking Today's Action. |
Friday Dog Blogging; A Reposting
I went out with Hank today, actually walking her on a leash. It goes something like this: she zooms forward like mad, me being dragged behind like one of those people hanging from a moving car in an old tv crime series, then she stops to sniff at some interesting pee and I come to a halt, rise up, shake the dust off and inspect the new wounds. Then she spots a squirrel or a cat and the thing repeats itself. So I don't do walking-on-a-leash very much, except with Henrietta, of course, who has taught me to heel very well indeed. (And don't give me advice on how to train Hank; she's untrainable, and I have many dog-trainers' written affidavits on that.) But today was a little different, as I took Hank for a run, several swims and mudpool baths first. She was somewhat calmed by all this activity and actually stayed within the usual bounds of a leash-walked dog. We passed by an outdoor cafe with several people, and they all got up to coo and goo over Hank. (This is something I have not mentioned before. Hank is very cute. For some reason her shape never changed from that of a Labrador puppy, and she also has a puppy face. So people want to eat her and stuff.) Can you imagine how hard it is to stave people off the idea of getting a Labrador puppy when Hank looks angelic? I had to work so damn hard, telling them about the koprophagia and vomiting and the need for three hours' running a day and the fact that Labrador puppies eat the house and how you can't sleep through a full night for months. When that wasn't enough I had to tell them about her being a Bush-lover (this is a solid libural area), but they were just not convinced. Then Hank did a round of groin poking with her freshly mudded snout and that cooled some of them. But I fear I have spread doom and despondency by my careless act of taking Hank out. This is very different from walking Henrietta, of course. She's so perfect that you'd never know I'm the one who is heeling, obeying and taking commands. We stop at all traffic lights, look first left and then right and then left again, wait until the road is clear and then cross quickly. We hold long conversations about the deteriorating urban architecture and the poor taste in human fashions and the total pointlessness of having cats exist. When we meet humans, Henrietta leaps backwards, raises her hackles, bares her teeth and wags. So we are left alone, pretty much. When we meet dogs Henrietta waits until they pass by and then bites them in the butt. Friendly-like, of course. Walking the two together is something I've only ever done once. I had to take to my bed for a week afterwards. Now I just load them into the car using the shortest exit route from the house, and pray that nobody is made deaf by the barking. |
What Ails the Health Care Markets? A Reposting.
Still reposting... Many on the political right believe that the U.S. health care system should be operated as an unregulated market system, without government intervention. (If this sounds alien to you, replace the word 'unregulated' with the word 'free'. The term 'free markets' has gained such religious overtones among some pro-market groups that it no longer has a clear economic meaning. I prefer to call such markets unregulated.) Totally unregulated markets in health care will not work for reasons that have to do with the basic characteristics of medical care. For simplicity, compare some medical care commodity, say, the provision of an appendectomy to that of some more ordinary consumption good, say, bread. Then consider the differences between the two commodities: 1. Feeling hungry is an adequate reason for a person to decide to buy bread. In contrast, all a patient who will end up having appendectomy knows is that something hurts a lot. Thus, we know our own needs when buying bread, but we are unsure about whether we even need an appendectomy. The level of information is very different in the two cases; in the latter case we as consumers lack most of the necessary information. There are no such people as specialists who tell us when we should buy bread. But we do have exactly such specialists in health care, usually physicians, who diagnose and inform us about our condition and the best products and services to buy for it. This creates an unusual situation, as the person advising us about these needs is also in most cases the person who is going to sell us the products and services, and is therefore directly going to benefit from our purchases. Just think what would happen if bakers were allowed to decide how much bread we 'need'. This dependency on professional advice leaves patients quite vulnerable. An unregulated health care market would not stop ruthless providers from exploiting the most desperate and/or wealthiest consumers. One reason why physicians traditionally did not advertize lies in this very fact: such advertizing can never be guaranteed to be objective, given the self-interests of providers and the lack of information most consumers possess. 2. Hunger is quite predictable, and if a person likes bread she or he can plan its purchases long in advance. Much of health care use is very unpredictable. With the exception of routine checkups and preventive care, health care consumption can't be planned in advance. Illness and accidents are uncertain events, and this fact makes health care use also an event which we can't predict with certainty. This is the basis for health care insurance. Insurance solves the problem of unpredictability and the need to keep large sums of money at hand for any major expenses. Instead, insured consumers can pay a fixed smaller sum every month (or have their employers pay it on their behalf). While having insurance is a good thing, on the whole, insured patients behave differently from those who have no insurance. Just think what you would do if you had insurance for bread eating with no cash down needed. You would probably buy more expensive types of bread and more bread in general. This is what happens in health care markets, too. As a consequence, prices don't have their usual ability to affect consumer purchases. What most people take into account in their calculations is the actual amount of money needed (for example any deductibles and copayments), not the total bill of the treatment. Yet it is this total which is counted in the overall costs of medical care. 3. Quality assessment by patients is extremely difficult. In contrast, most of us can tell when bread is stale, and it usually takes just a small sample to find if we like the taste. Taking small samples of health care services may not be practical. It can even be extremely dangerous. That's one of the reasons why patients employ providers as advisers on the type and quantity of care needed. It's also the reason why pharmaceuticals and hospitals are so rigorously regulated, and why the system of malpractice suits exists. Quality or effectiveness of health care is not completely known even to its providers. Many treatments are routinely carried out that might have only minor impact on the disease they aim to treat. New technologies are sometimes developed on the basis of nothing much more than a hunch, and they often spread widely before any research can be carried out about their appropriateness. 4. Whether I consume bread or not should have no direct impact on others' welfare (though it may affect others indirectly if I'm very poor and others would like me to have more bread). Whether I get treated for an infectious disease or not is of obvious direct interest to others: If I don't get treated, I am going to be a risk in the community. This means that the society as a whole, usually seen as reflected in the government, has an interest in assuring that infectious diseases and other general health problems are tackled. Markets tend to underprovide such services. Why? Because firms don't have the ability to charge other people for the benefits they receive when someone else's infectious disease is treated. These benefits are not then taken into account in market decisions; only the private demand of those infected will be satisfied by the market forces. All these differences between bread and various types of medical care explain why markets perform poorly in health care and well in the bakery industry. Competitive behavior in most markets drives prices down, keeps quality up and offers variety to the consumers. But in health care prices may not go down with competition because consumers can't always judge what they are getting in quality, which makes per unit prices meaningless, and because insured patients are not taking the whole price into account in making decisions. Quality may not increase through competition if consumers are truly unable to judge quality, or if they use wrong signals to measure the inherently unknown quality. As an example, think about hospitals offering intricate technological services. Competition between hospitals might make them all acquire the latest gadgets, and consumers might think that a well equipped hospital is a high-quality one. But in reality, such competition may mean that none of the hospitals gets enough patients that actually need these services. The personnel operating the technology may not then get enough practice to remain skilled. And, as noted above, markets will underprovide those medical care services which have strong effects on the well-being of others than the patient under treatment. For these reasons health care costs keep on rising year after year, despite our best attempts to control them, competition seems to have no real impact on keeping prices low, malpractice suits remain common and government regulation an important aspect of health care. The markets for bread, on the other hand, are doing pretty well with minimal intervention. Those who advocate unregulated health care markets seem to assume that medical care is no different from bread, and that just getting rid of the government role in health care markets would make an appendectomy as affordable, bland and safe as sliced bread. I hope that this post shows why they are wrong. |
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Still on Vacation
I have a hard time staying away from the blog, but I'm only allowed to repost. Part of my get-sanity-back regime. My first regular day back will be this coming Tuesday. Until then, I'm going to repost things that I like, especially if they don't have too many links (links tend to deteriorate). Here's a long short story that I wrote some time ago. It's not that good but it doesn't have a single link. If you'd like something shorter, the next post is quite funny, I think. Miss you! Looking For God Jonathan is looking for God. He has looked everywhere: in Christianity, in Judaism, in Islam, in Hinduism. He has studied native religions from all parts of the world, studied meditation and shamanism. He has read all the holy texts, but he has not found God. He has talked to believers of all the faiths he has been able to find, and he has found them convinced of their own truths, shiny-eyed in certainty and happiness, and, yet, somehow, very frightening. Of course, God might not exist, Jonathan thinks as he makes coffee in his kitchen, grinding the shiny, brown beans in the electric grinder. He probably doesn't exist. Jonathan pours the ground coffee in the filter and filtered, clean water in the coffee-maker. He clicks the on-button and waits. Who made the water? Did anybody or anything intend coffee to grow and humans to drink it? Or is the world just a chapter from books on physics, chemistry, geography and biology? And people, what are they? Lumbering apes with small lusty eyes, who can rape and kill, who can break everything with their clumsy paws, who can decode the DNA and go to space, still lumbering apes with small lusty eyes? Who, then is the god? The man with the most Nobel prizes? The man with the most money? The man who killed the most men and impregnated the most women? Jonathan takes his coffee to the balcony. It is a beautiful morning, birds sing and the sun dapples the grass under the trees below. Here he sits, watching children play, drinking good coffee and drinking in the sun and the birds, the fresh breeze of a spring morning. He doesn't see how this goes with the lumbering ape theory, and, besides, he doesn't believe in lumbering apes. Apes are a mystery at which people gaze through human eyes, a mirror which humans warp to see what they believe is there, what their theory needs to be there. The wind ruffles Jonathan's hair. It is not a chilly wind. Still, it sends shivers down his body. This is why he needs God: because everything affects him, tells him something, and he can't close his doors against that. A God would let him see patterns, understand what refuses to be understood. Not just why there are wars, holocausts, murders, cancer or airplane crashes. All religions tell stories about this, and although Jonathan doesn't believe in these stories, he is more obsessed with other patterns; patterns so subtle that he can't even see their presence, only sense them in some apparent absence. He finishes his coffee and sets the empty cup down on the balcony table. The wind tosses a green willow leaf into it. The leaf hesitates a moment on the edge before falling to the bottom of the cup. Was this a conscious act? Anne would have smiled at this thought. Jonathan picks up the leaf and looks at its intricate veining. Anne found Jonathan's search for God funny and exasperating. She knew that there was no God. They had read the holy texts together, criticized them to each other. She was the first to point out their inconsistencies, their espousal of some values which ancient tribal societies once shared but which now seemed reprehensible. She was the one noting that the god in these texts favored men over women. But they both saw the texts as reflections of what people once had thought god to be, what they had wanted god to say, not as a proof of the existence of God. Jonathan had been disappointed, Anne had been deeply hurt at his disappointment. She wanted to know why Jonathan could still seek for such a god as the texts described. She feared that he needed a heavenly father even if this father had disowned her as an equally loved daughter. Jonathan wished that she could be with him on the balcony this morning. He would tell her that the God he is seeking is not a man, is not a father. Probably God would resemble no human being. But if Jonathan had to choose he would have God be a heavenly mother, a Goddess. Anne would raise her eyebrows in disbelief. Still, Jonathan rather liked the idea of a Goddess: a beginning and an end in her dark lap. Is that where Anne was now, he wondered, in Her dark lap? Do suicides sleep there peacefully? Or is Anne simply gone like her ashes he had to sprinkle into the winds? Would she miss him if she could? He misses her, the dark twin to his light, as she laughingly once said. They were together from the beginning, sharing the womb together, hardly ever apart even later. Without her Jonathan is unfinished, neither coming nor going, a man with one foot in some other invisible world. He needs God to put him firmly in one or the other. Anne had taken the leap alone, trusting in the existence of no-one, not herself, not God, not Jonathan. She had been outfought. Her war against the world was an impossible one, and when she knew that she could never be more than half-alive, she had opted for total death. Leaving Jonathan behind, half-alive. Jonathan picks up his cup and goes indoors. He is not working today and plans to spend the whole day looking for God. It doesn't matter if God doesn't want to be found. It doesn't matter if God doesn't exist. If ancient people could create gods in their own image, Jonathan can surely look for God in his own life. Today he is going to do so by meditating in the park. The park is full of people. Joggers pass Jonathan as he walks in. Children and dogs run around and the benches are all taken. A kite climbs toward the sun. Jonathan finds a small empty corner and sits down under an oak tree. It must be an old tree; its roots are everywhere. Meditation is something Jonathan learned when he studied Buddhism. He never got enlightened, but he can relax his body, quiet his mind and, for some time, enter a state of emptiness. Should God come calling he'll be at home. He closes his eyes and the sun paints psychedelic bursts on the insides of his eyelids. His body slowly slips its tension and his breathing gently expands. Thoughts drift in and out of his mind, then stop. Somewhere deep inside him a neutral eye opens and observes. Time passes and the sun moves. He comes back to ordinary awareness when something earth-smelling and moist touches his face. He opens his eyes, staring straight into the brown curious eyes of a dog. There is barely an inch between their noses. Jonathan doesn't know dogs very well, but this seems friendly. It waves its large plume of a tail from side to side. He gives it a clumsy pat on the head. The dog looks at him with raised eyebrows. Evidently pats on the head are not correct. The dog steps back a little and then bows to Jonathan. Or whatever it does, that's how it looks. It? He? She? She. She turns around and walks away, stopping and turning her head toward him as if asking him to go along. Who does she belong to? She has no tags or collar. She doesn't act like a dog who belongs to somebody. Jonathan looks around for a possible owner, but the park is now empty. The dog keeps insisting that he follow. Perhaps he should, perhaps the dog will show him what she needs or lead him to an accident victim or to God. This amuses him as he gets up and starts trailing the dog. Dogs are used to hunt, after all, and he is a holy hunter. And wasn't Artemis, the goddess with the bow and arrows, always accompanied by hounds? Then there are the hounds of hell, of course. Better be careful. Off they go, the man and the dog, stopping every now and then for her to sniff at an interesting smell, zigzagging across the park in apparently meaningless patterns. Jonathan begins to feel like an idiot, but whenever he tries to turn around and leave, the dog looks at him again with that challenging expression in her eyes. They finally leave the park through one of the side gates. The street outside is busy and Jonathan suddenly realizes that loose dogs are dangerous in traffic. He lunges at the dog, trying to get hold of her but ends on his knees and elbows, staring at the ground. She must have evaded him at the last moment. He must have imagined that his body had gone straight through hers in its path to the ground. The dog has already crossed the street, and Jonathan rushes after her. She disappears into the crowd and is lost from sight. Suddenly following her is imperative. Jonathan starts running, bumping into people and objects. He can't spot her and is becoming desperate. He looks everywhere, almost ready to give up. Then he sees her, patiently waiting for him at a corner. She turns to a sidestreet and Jonathan follows. They walk on for what seems like hours to him. The streets begin to look alien. There are fewer and fewer people about. Jonathan is getting tired. Their tempo speeds up. She seems to know where she is going, now, and he can barely keep up. Storefronts whizz by and the occasional pedestrian on the street looks frozen in place. They go faster and faster, turning corners recklessly, crossing streets without checking for cars. Jonathan needs to catch his breath but they go on. He develops a stitch in his side. They keep going. He is sweating freely now, and his legs tremble and ache. They must have run for miles; the dog always at the same easy trot, Jonathan more and more haltingly. Finally he simply must stop and rest. He stands leaning against a lamppost, drawing in ragged breaths. He doesn't know where he is, the shop windows are full of writing in some foreign script. He doesn't see any people. The dog sits at the next street corner, a vague blurry shape. She hasn't released him yet. Jonathan closes his eyes and notices that they are full of tears. Is he that tired? The tears fall down his cheeks. He hasn't cried since Anne's death. She didn't care for tears; she managed her emotions by acting them out, by violently throwing books into the wall or by lifting weights until she was exhausted. Jonathan didn't want to cry for her but now he does. He wants her back alive and he wants God to arrange it. The dog is coming towards Jonathan, stopping once to pee on something on the sidewalk. She is not a handsome dog, her ears don't match and her coat is tangled and matted. But she has something Jonathan needs. Perhaps she knows God. She sits down nearby and waits until his tears are done. Then she gets up, tells him to follow and trots off. Jonathan is hollow and light, empty to his bones, but he follows. They pass through streets he never knew existed, cross rivers marked on no map. They walk by odd, distorted buildings, by traffic signs with constantly changing wavering messages. He doesn't understand any of them. The sun is setting and the mounting shadows take the shapes of plume-tailed dogs. Jonathan thinks that he may have walked like this not for a day but for a year, an eternity. He no longer feels tired, he can now walk tirelessly, softly like a dog. Anne walks by his side, sometimes smiling, sometimes turning her head away. She tells him stories which he doesn't understand. She storms ahead in frustration, then waits for him in mock resignation.. She takes his hand, her eyes fill with love and then she becomes ashes, scattered by the winds. Jonathan looks at his empty hand. The dog has led him into a deep forest. He has to bend down to avoid the tree branches as he makes his way in. The needles of evergreens sting his cheekbones, the roots try to snare his ankles. The dog is a dim light ahead, still moving deeper into the darkness. Jonathan follows. Finally they emerge into an open area, a hollow, a bog surrounded by trees. The air is scented with something pungent, earthly. The ground beneath him gives on each step, squishes liquid and musky half-remembered smells as he forces his weight on it. A full moon is centered in the sky. The dog leaps into the bog, splashing water everywhere, her four legs dancing in the air as she rolls onto her back. She rolls back on her stomach and lies there, panting. Jonathan can hear her panting; it is the only sound. He sits down against a tree trunk and waits. This is where God will speak to him. The dog gets up and shakes herself. Suddenly she starts running. Not the way she moved before. Now she runs in the air, rising up in impossible arabesques, twisting around in slow motion. She chases her own tail high above Jonathan's head, chases imaginary cats around the moon, bounces and leaps through Jonathan's heart. She is all motion; a gentle, piercing song of air, a wild howl of pirouettes. She runs and turns into a golden shower of ashes which rains down on Jonathan. She becomes a dog again, lies down next to him, panting, and starts licking her paws in order. She turns her head and looks at him again with that unfathomable message. Anne turns her head and looks at him, her eyebrows raised. He almost gets it. ----------- He opens his eyes. He is sitting under the oak tree in the park. It is night and he is alone. His body is stiff and numb; it takes a long time before he can get up. His clothes are wet and cold and there are pine needles in his hair. He walks home trying not to think. He takes a scaldingly hot shower still not thinking, changes into dry clothing and makes coffee. He sits down at his desk with the coffee cup and pulls open a drawer. Somewhere in there is a picture of Anne and him, looking at the photographer through sun-squinted eyes. They are smiling in that picture, wearing matching T-shirts with 'twin' emblazoned on the front. Jonathan had hidden the picture in his grief. Now he needs it. He pulls open another drawer and finds it. He props it against the cup and looks at their faces, first hers, then his, then both of them together. He thinks of the dog. He almost gets it. After a while he gives up and goes to bed, taking the picture with him. He places it on the pillow next to him and closes his eyes. Tomorrow will be a new day. Just before he falls asleep he hears, from somewhere far away, a solitary dog howl. |
On Buttocks ; A Reposting
The links no longer worked so I took them out. Sorry. I've had a deeply philosophical day, and I'm going to share with you my conclusions and the process I used in coming to them. It started with the lovely springlike sunshine in the morning, which drew me out to sunbathe on a mountain cliff. Now, mountain cliffs are made of hard materials called rock. Yet I was perfectly comfortable there, hundreds of miles away from Green Mamba and his revolutionary movement GROEN (Get Rid Of Echidne Now!). And the reason was the two divine cushions on which I sat; all my own. Buttocks. What a wonderful invention they are, the buttocks. Where would we be without them? What would we talk about in their stead? And how would we sit? Clearly, we couldn't. Sheep don't sit around very much, but even among the sheep buttocks can take on exceptional beauty. This is called callipygia. Geneticists have found that a specific gene mutation causes some sheep to develop pronounced buttocks full of muscle rather than fat. I predict a future species of sheep that sit around blogging on the internet. Human buttocks are every bit as wonderful. They are even scientifically defined: the two rounded prominences on the human torso that are posterior to the hips and formed by the gluteal muscles and underlying structures. or more simply: n : the fleshy part of the human body that you sit on But human buttocks are not just for something to sit on. They are a myriad of other things: a source of sexual attraction (though some like them big, others small), a way of telling someone to work harder ("get off your butt"), a way of showing contempt (you reveal them) and a handy shorthand for describing lots of other people (a pain in the butt). They even have meaning in dreams: Dreaming of your buttocks, represents your instincts and urges. It may also indicate feelings of insecurity and reveals your struggles with some situation. Dreaming that your buttocks are misshaped, suggests undeveloped or wounded aspects of your psyche No wonder that humans worry about the shapeliness of those twin mounds: if they are not shapely, neither is their psyche. Your buttocks can even foretell your future, believe me or not: Ulf Buck, 39, is a German clairvoyant who claims a person's backside has lines that allow him to predict anything from financial fortune and family life to health and happiness. Hmm. Maybe something to consider if you want to make a career change? I can almost see it: A revolutionary method for predicting worker performance before hiring. If you do run with this idea, remember to give Ulf and me some credit. Human buttocks are clearly quite wonderful. But how exactly did they evolve? I have spent the rest of the day in solving this crucial question, and I didn't get anywhere until I put two separate concepts together: what I have learned about the callipygous sheep and the excellent scientific method of evolutionary psychologists. The sheep taught me this: Geneticists, on the other hand, study the sheep in the hope of understanding the strange way in which large bottoms are passed down through the generations. Maybe humans inherit big buttocks from their fathers, too? But why did this gene (if it exists in humans) survive? Here's where the scientific evolutionary psychology comes to my aid. The rules are something like this: Figure out how something that appears today might have once been useful, then explain its prevalence by the fact that it was once useful. It's a neat method, as lots of time is being saved by not having to go out to gather evidence or set up laboratory experiments, and it has the additional advantage (to me, at least) that nobody can prove my theory wrong. So here's my theory entitled "How Buttocks Came to Be". A long time ago and far away lived a tribe of humans. Some of them were slender as a reed, and where we have buttocks they only had a small tight knot. Others had very large buttocks dragging behind them on the ground as they walked. Yet others were just right, not too slim and not too fat. Like we are. Once a year the tribe would gather together for a mating ceremony in which all the men would fight each other for the right to inseminate all the females. (The females, as is common in evolutionary psychology in general, are going to be ignored from now on.) The mating ceremony took three days: On the first day all men would sit in a circle until they couldn't take it anymore. All those no longer sitting at sunset were discontinued. On the second day all remaining men would run around in a circle, nonstop, until the sun set. The fastest runner at this time would be declared the winner of the insemination ceremonies. The third day was spent on insemination. Well, dear reader, you can guess what happened. None of the stick-figurelike knot guys could sit on the ground all day. They developed terrible sitting sores and despite firm determination and great stamina eventually had to admit defeat and get up just to get the blood moving again. The really big-butted guys had a wonderful time with the first day's tournament. They could have easily sat for another week. But the next day they had to run and run, and as they ran their buttocks dragged behind, hit rocks and sticks and just hurt. Then they started bleeding. Besides, it's hard to run fast with something like that. However, valiant they were, these men, too, were disqualified. Only the fastest of the just-right guys got to pass his genes on. And that's how buttocks came to be. What do you think? It needs a bit of work before publication, of course, a few footnotes here and there, but the gist of the story is there. I also have in mind a second article about the possibility that, as the sheep taught me, snake-hips might be the next stage in human development. Remember: And two big-bottomed sheep will have snake-hipped offspring. How the two mutants cancel each other out is still a mystery. This seems perfectly logical to me as a goddess of snakes. The problem is how to keep Green Mamba from reading it and getting even worse ideas about his own importance in the evolutionary tree. |
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Bye, bye Athena!
This is an old post reposted. Still enjoying my vacation! I just waved goodbye to her! She threw some kisses back and disappeared in a puff of dark cloud. Then I collapsed. But it was a good visit: the only thing that suffered was my blogging career. I just didn't have enough time, and I get all crooked-eyed from sipping on the nectar nonstop. So I apologize for not being my usual scintillating self. I bet you want to know what happened. Well, Athena was kind of stiff at the beginning. She didn't take to the snakes very much, and when Artful Asp drew a picture of her with an enormous bottom, Athena sulked for a few minutes. But things got better after a while. I plied her with made-up stories about how loved she still is and how famous she's becoming among the feminists, and she lapped it all up. Then she told me several risque stories that I hadn't heard before. Some of them would make your hair (if you have any) stand up, and would be on the front pages of most newspapers in this world. But I have sworn to remain silent about them. At least for a time. Let me just say that Athena is a lot hawter than all that steel and marble would make you suspect. We also spent some time laughing at the U.S. politics. She finds the neocons extremely funny, and she's planning to work some sort of a joke on the freepers. (She knew nothing about blogging, by the way, and I had to enlighten her there. She really took to Atrios, though of course she prefers me.) We'll see if the freepers think the joke is hilarious, too. Athena sometimes has a rough sense of humor. And then we imbibed some more nectar, and she got all weepy and teary about the past glories and all that crap. I have no time for self-pity, especially as I don't need any, so I started tickling her and then we practised some new assassination techniques on each other and also worked a Wild West act of lariat throwing with the snakes as the rope. It was a little childish perhaps, especially as she kept changing my lariat snakes into strings of chewing-gum and the snakes found this disrespectful. Anyway, we then went shopping at a mall! I bought a Marilyn Monroe outfit (I can do the head on my own but the clothes are a bit trickier), and Athena bought a new helmet and a set of Wusthoff kitchen knives. It was a real girly bonding time! Just the two goddesses together. Well, then I fell asleep. I'm not that used to the way gods and goddesses get drunk anymore, but falling asleep was a big mistake, because Athena had gone out boy-scouting in the meantime. I did save everybody, pretty much, and I do apologize for any damage she caused to the bar furniture and the cars parked outside. I'll pay for all of it. But this morning she was really nice and repentant about everything. She taught me a goddess trick I didn't know before, and even invited me for a visit! And as she was taking off Artful Asp burst into tears. It looked so sweet, and Athena was quite touched. It's good she didn't know that Asp had poisoned all the nectar she drank and had waited with great excitement for the coming death contortions. I did tell the snakes that venom doesn't work against goddesses, but Asp is an optimistic little one, and she was bitterly disappointed when she realized that if Athena would die it wouldn't be in front of us. But on the whole it was a very successful visit, don't you think so? |
Some Thoughts About Misogyny
This is an old post reposted. Misogyny, like in the hatred of women. This term always seemed inadequate to me, as there's considerably more contempt of women in the air than actual hatred, though the latter can be found, too, especially on the net, and there is also something close to fear of women. We need a word that encompasses all of these, or words to reflect the different types and intensities of feeling. I believe that misogyny has always existed. I also believe that the majority of men, or the majority of people in general, are not misogynistic, but there is a sizable chorus of hateful voices, and these voices are always humming in the background. The effect this has is to make us almost oblivious to mild hatred of women: it's just how things are. This happens to me a lot. I read an article or see a cartoon or overhear a conversation, and I'm left with an odd displaced feeling which is not quite fear or disappointment but something similar, a feeling of something being wrong or missing, like looking at a group photograph where one person has been whitened out, yet nobody notices. Then later my overworked brain puts the pieces together and I realize that the point of the story was something negative about women or that the cartoon was only funny if you think that women are stupid/greedy/indolent/overemotional, or the overheard conversation expressed an anger at some woman by smearing her for being a woman. David Gilmore, an anthropologist at New York University at Stony Brook, wrote a book titled Misogyny some years ago. In it he gives us hundreds of pages of evidence on the existence of fear and hatred of women in primitive societies, in so-called advanced societies and in all types of intermediate societies. He also almost delights in showing us the extent of misogyny in many religious writings, in literature and in the visual arts. Any reader brave enough to read him should prepare by downing a stiff drink of nectar or two. Just about the only people not committing misogyny in Gilmore's book are women. My suspicion is that this omission is a direct result of Gilmore's mild misogyny: that women don't exist except as objects of men's hatred and/or veneration. But this omission is a serious one. Misogyny is not uncommon among women. Misogynist women give us advice in radio call-in shows and political advice as television commentators. They are hired by some religious extremists and politicians to justify largely anti-woman practices. They write articles and books telling women how to live and then blaming them for the negative consequences of these 'choices'. Some of them probably even live in your neighborhood. True, there are many more misogynistic men than women, but the ignorance of the fact that women, too, can be infected by misogyny casts doubt on Gilmore's theories about the causes of woman-hating. These rely largely on psychological and genetic explanations stressing men's experiences and emotions about women, in particular about women as mothers or as sex objects. Since Gilmore specifically argues that women's experiences and emotions are different from those of men's, his explanations can't cover generalized misogyny. Which is sort of disappointing, as he provides the reader with a multitude of possible theories. In fact, almost anything seems a likely cause, which doesn't bode well for women, or the reader who might reach for another strengthening sip of nectar. Still, there are a few dim rays of hope for us equalists: Studies suggest that misogyny decreases when men take a more active role in child-rearing and when the sexes work together. Maybe it's just a case of increasing the general understanding between the sexes? I don't know. Disappointingly, Gilmore ends his book by appealing to men to fight their incipient misogyny by noticing how gentle and kind creatures women really are. He obviously never met me. Whatever the other reasons for misogyny might be, I believe that one reason for its endurance is that people bash women because they can. Women have traditionally not been able to fight back very effectively, and have thereby become a safe target for the general venting of spleen, diffuse rage and other sinister emotions. Obnoxious children torture flies, not bears or lions or tigers. It doesn't matter to these children that the flies might be wholly innocent of any wrong-doing. So one solution to misogyny and similar maladies might be to fight back: Be a bear or lion! Roar! Or if you prefer to be a fly, at least crap on the misogynists' dinner plates. |
Athena Is Coming For A Visit
On vacation. This is an old post reposted, so Athena is not actually visiting me right now. Tomorrow I'm going to repost the story of what happened during her stay. Yes she is. In a few days' time she will land at the Snakepit Inc., and I haven't finished the cleaning and the polishing of the snakes, I haven't decided which way my hair would look most divine, and I still don't remember all her great deeds in a chronological order. I have butterflies in my stomach. Does this surprise you, me being a goddess and all? Well, you shouldn't be surprised. Athena is a Much Bigger Goddess than I ever was, and the only reason she deigns to hobnob with me at all is that lots of her good pals have expired over the centuries. That's what happens to gods and goddesses when their believer base drops below a certain level. I'm lucky as the snakes were never really Christianized. This makes me one of the stronger goddesses now, but Athena will think of me as just the bothersome half-breed who never had tea with Hera. (As if I had ever wanted to have anything to do with that origin of the Phyllis Schlafly myth!) And I'm not sure if I really like her that much, Athena, I mean. Sure, she's great to have around when logical thinking is needed or when an intricate long-term war needs planning. But all those shields and helmets, all that clanging of the pot lids! And she's such a daddy's girl. She even got a myth started about her birth containing no female assistance whatsoever. Which is a lie as all gods and goddesses know. Her real mother was probably a goat, but whoever she was, Athena never burst out of Zeus' head. Nothing burst out of his head except for lust and stupid ideas. I can say this now safely as he has long since expired. But Athena likes to think of herself the Exceptional Goddess: the one with no touch of femininity, all pure reason and military strategy. Poor thing, Zeus never cared for her anyway, and femininity is a very useful aspect in the goddesses' tool kits. On the other hand, goddesses get lonely, and only another goddess really knows what it was like once. If only I could keep her off the topic of Ann Coulter. Athena thinks that Coulter is one of her acolytes or something, and I get so fed up with having to stare into corners with glazed eyes while she goes on and on about Ann. As I'm the hostess with the mostest I can't just bite Athena's butt. So annoying. I must write a list of suitable neutral discussion topics soon. So what do you think about the hair? How would a goddess have her hair arranged? Would a few small baby snakes look cute peeking out on the temples? Give me some help here! |
Why, Despite Everything, Humans Should be Given a Second Chance
I'm still on vacation! This is a reposting of a post from last Spring This is meant to be a happy post, to keep my dear readers reading rather than running away in disgust at the gloom and doom I usually radiate. So here is my list of wonderful things that humans have created: 1. Chocolate. True, the ingredients are from nature, but people invented the formula for chocolate. It is food for goddesses and anyone else sane. It is said to contain chemical ingredients similar to those that are unleashed when one falls in love. It should be called 'the little orgasm', and it should be declared the national food of all countries. Eating chocolate is good for you, researchers have established (too lazy to find the link now but this is true). The only bad thing about chocolate is something called 'white chocolate'. It is an imposter and should be shunned. The best, absolutely the best chocolate is a home-made truffle. I make a mean chocolate truffle. 2. Buttons, zippers and safety pins; all things to hold us together. Nothing else has come close to these nifty inventions, not therapies or antidepressants, not even velcro (which sticks too much). Where would we be without these helpers? Imagine Bush trying to march looking militant while his toga disintegrates all around him. Sorry, maybe you don't want to imagine that. 3. Vermeer's paintings, especially his blue tones. They are a good substitute for illegal drugs. 4. Dickinson's poetry; so innocent that it covers the most obscene with equal surety. 5. Taj Mahal. Though I've never been there, so this is provisional. But based on the pictures I've seen it is an eternal ode to love. 6. The ancient South American feather murals. I want one! 7. A little medieval wooden head of Christ in a tiny rural church somewhere in Scandinavia. 8. Physicians Without Borders. 9. Blogs. 10. Emergency Rooms, for reasons that to me are obvious. 11. Pesto, another food for goddesses, and freezable! 12. French kissing, though only by people who know what they're doing. 13. Siberian throat-singing, because it is so inexplicable, and sounds to me like an attempt to French-kiss oneself. |
Define "A Successful Woman"
This is a reposting of a post from last Spring. Please. I think that this phraze is an oxymoron: there is no such thing as a successful woman, or at least no generally agreed-upon definition of one. If a woman has had a life of fame, if she has been a famous writer or painter or scientist, there's bound to be books written about how unhappy she was in her private life: either she didn't have a partner or she didn't have children or if she had both of these, well, the partner and the children must have been very deprived and unhappy. If a woman led a private life, doing things for her family and local community, she was just doing what was expected of women in general: to be the basis on which other things can thrive without getting any fame or reputation from it. She didn't DO anything, you know, she didn't lead armies or invent the theory of relativity. Yet the fact is that men who we universally regard as successful have equal 'gaps' in their lives, but we don't decide that this would stop them from being successful. Einstein was a terrible father and husband if the existing accounts are to be believed. Can you imagine how this would be portrayed if he had been female? Her theory of relativity would get quite a new meaning. Of course any person, man or woman, is successful in a sense if he or she satisfies all important private goals for life. Perhaps being content is a sign of success. But the world at large doesn't define success this way, and we do get rewarded on the basis of the world's definitions, and these definitions make it essentially impossible to be a conventionally successful woman. Then some 'genius' writes another book wondering why women still have trouble getting to the top... You may have guessed that I have been reading stuff that gives me indigestion. It started with two excellent post about the oh-so-wearing mummy wars at ms. musings (Alas, no longer permalinkable). I'm so very tired with this attempt to pull and yank every woman until they fit into the same standard pattern, and what's more, a pattern that is not humanly/humanely possible to fit. Then I read in a comments thread of another blog about what's wrong with Republican women: the ones who are well known are 'cold ice-maidens' that no man would want or 'too busy and career-ambitious to have had children' if some man did choose them. Come on, give us a break. If the 'cold ice-maiden' had three small children at home, she'd be blamed for neglecting them or she would never have been promoted to her current position of power. You can't win if you're a woman, it seems. |



