The American Folklife Center in the Library of Congress and the Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage in the Smithsonian Institution are collaborating on a landmark project to preserve our audio heritage-- irreplaceable recordings of America's music and the voices of her people.
The Save America's Treasures program of the White House Millenium Council has awarded a grant of $750,000 toward this effort, recognizing these recordings as irreplacable American treasures. We have eighteen months to raise $750,000 in matching funds. We hope that everyone, citizens, musicians, and cultural advocates everywhere, will support this crucial effort.
Check out some of the sounds here.
Get your spoons out and play along with The Stanley Brothers.
Other samples here.
December 07, 2004
Lay down body
Mmmm hmmm. performed by Bertha Smith and Moving Star Hall, of Johns Island, South Carolina.
"I know moon-rise, I know star-rise,Lay dis body down. I walk in de moonlight, I walk in de starlight, To lay dis body down. I 'll walk in de graveyard, I 'll walk through de graveyard, To lay dis body down. 'll lie in de grave and stretch out my arms ; Lay dis body down.I go to de judgment in de evenin' of de day, When I lay dis body down ; And my soul and your soul will meet in de day When I lay dis body down."
"I know moon-rise, I know star-rise,Lay dis body down. I walk in de moonlight, I walk in de starlight, To lay dis body down. I 'll walk in de graveyard, I 'll walk through de graveyard, To lay dis body down. 'll lie in de grave and stretch out my arms ; Lay dis body down.I go to de judgment in de evenin' of de day, When I lay dis body down ; And my soul and your soul will meet in de day When I lay dis body down."
For the weary...
Shine On Me
a Negro Spiritual
Shine on Me
Intro (last line of chorus)
Chorus Shine on me. Shine on me.
Let the Light from the lighthouse shine on me.
Shine on me. Shine on me.
Let the Light from the lighthouse shine on me.
Verse 1 I heard the voice of Jesus say,
“Come unto to Me and rest.
Lay down thou weary one lay down
Thy head upon My breast.”
Chorus (ritard at END)
Verse 2 With pitying eyes the Prince of Peace
(optional) Beheld our helpless grief
He saw, and O amazing love!
He came to our relief.
Chorus
(optional)
a Negro Spiritual
Shine on Me
Intro (last line of chorus)
Chorus Shine on me. Shine on me.
Let the Light from the lighthouse shine on me.
Shine on me. Shine on me.
Let the Light from the lighthouse shine on me.
Verse 1 I heard the voice of Jesus say,
“Come unto to Me and rest.
Lay down thou weary one lay down
Thy head upon My breast.”
Chorus (ritard at END)
Verse 2 With pitying eyes the Prince of Peace
(optional) Beheld our helpless grief
He saw, and O amazing love!
He came to our relief.
Chorus
(optional)
Oh, You Want to Know
I found out more about tired.com.
To date, he's received more than 32,000 messages. Each one is personal, but most of the people who write in—like the underslept student who started it all—fall into one of a few familiar categories.
There's the overworked parent:
Because I work two jobs and have two kids. My husband is a 13 year old trapped in a thirty year old body. My sister lives with us and doesn't work or take care of herself. My kids are great, but between my other two jobs and this house I'm exhausted. I went to school as a single mom, finished high school with my son, finished college with him. I didn't get married until I graduated college, and I can't find a good paying job without relocating. You can't relocate without a good paying job. It's a vicious circle and it's eating me alive!
The world-weary teen, the site's fastest-growing demographic:when you're a 16 year old girl who from the looks of things, doesnt have a single pproblem, people think you're strange and maybe even high. I am tired of counselors. tired of hearing about political and economical problems the world has. tired of being expected to put family before friends. SO tired of other females no matter what the age feeling as though every other woman is competition. Tired of my best friends mother jealous of her 16 year old daughter. This, my friend, is only the very tip of the iceberg.
And, of course, the guy who's had a few too many:
I'm sick and tired of all this homophobia shit.
When are we all just going to be people? WHEN?
Also I could get more sleep at night.
I'm drunk.
Bye.
December 06, 2004
I love it when I'm right
"It's NOT a manifesto and it's not revolutionary and it's not particularly moving." --jeneane sessum, Aug. 04, on Seth Godin & Kid's "Change This" 'manifestos'.
I hated this idea from the outset because I saw it as much ado about absolutely nothing--and at the same time I knew that the link hounds of blogland would swoop upon the chance to see their names in PDF.
My gripe with this project from day one has had more to do with the HYPERBOLE describing what's being done than with the format the writing is delivered in. I took issue with SethCo dubbing these downloads as "manifestos" (oh. god.) Just look at the sidebar on the site and revel in the marketing-speak. My responses, one by one, are in blue:
Seth, we have the opportunity to move things f-o-r-w-a-r-d here. You might do well to listen to some folks who've been around. Maybe offer more than one o-p-t-i-o-n for your partakers.... Hmmmm. What a concept. Landmark even.
For my part, I believe PDF's have a place on the web. They are handy for forms, for long documents, for samples, even for books. And of course, using them is your choice.
But please don't confuse breaking the web with a groundbreaking idea.
My other thought: Seth, shut up and listen.
I hated this idea from the outset because I saw it as much ado about absolutely nothing--and at the same time I knew that the link hounds of blogland would swoop upon the chance to see their names in PDF.
My gripe with this project from day one has had more to do with the HYPERBOLE describing what's being done than with the format the writing is delivered in. I took issue with SethCo dubbing these downloads as "manifestos" (oh. god.) Just look at the sidebar on the site and revel in the marketing-speak. My responses, one by one, are in blue:
So now, a PDF by Halley inspired a useful rant about the uselessness of PDFs by Doc, to which Seth--Mr. Listen to Your Customers--says, tough titties.ChangeThis is creating a new kind of media.
No you're not. You're putting PDFs on the Web.
A form of media that uses existing tools (like PDFs, blogs and the web)...
No you're not--this is a non-searchable PDF file that we can download from your website. We've had those for a really long time. And the Web is more than "an existing tool."
...to challenge the way ideas are created and spread.
Simply: WTF?
DOC: I'm in a bad mood today about people breaking the Web. One way they do it is by taking writing off the Web and offering it only as a .pdf "download".The neat thing about the Web is that pundits without substance can't sustain themselves over the long haul. They out themselves with poor thinking and their staunchness in defending it.
Seth: I know they're not in HTML. There are 6 trillion other web pages to choose from if you want that.
Seth, we have the opportunity to move things f-o-r-w-a-r-d here. You might do well to listen to some folks who've been around. Maybe offer more than one o-p-t-i-o-n for your partakers.... Hmmmm. What a concept. Landmark even.
For my part, I believe PDF's have a place on the web. They are handy for forms, for long documents, for samples, even for books. And of course, using them is your choice.
But please don't confuse breaking the web with a groundbreaking idea.
My other thought: Seth, shut up and listen.
December 04, 2004
On Writing Well
Sometimes a reminder comes when you think you're answering a call from a creditor. Like tonight, for me.
I began my mental countdown-to-hangup: onethousandone, onethousandtwo, onethousandandCLICK, but I never got that far. A familiar voice answered a, "Hello, Jeneane," to my "Hello?"
"Ceil!!"
I had been thinking about Ceil just last week. We hadn't spoken in what, a year? Two? I'd received the yellow postcard announcing her move from Rochester to Florida, but, no surprise to Ceil, I'd lost it a week after it came. It went the way of all my important correspondence--I put it somewhere safe.
The timeliness of Ceil's call was uncanny. I'd been thinking about her because of my new business venture. You see, Ceil taught me everything I know about writing well. She would tell you, no, not true, because she's modest that way.
A professional editor, Ceil began editing me when I was 22 and just starting out in a publishing business geared to the education market. It was Ceil's job to tweak, refine, help define, and bless every piece of writing that left our amateur paws.
In those days, editing was on hard copy, and Ceil used a color scheme along with proofreader marks to indicate the difference between a must-do edit (a typo or grammatical faux-pas) and a suggested edit (poor construction, lame writing). A third color would indicate inconsistencies throughout a document--as in, pick a way and stick with it--I recommend you do it THIS way.
And she was always right.
Over the next several years, a less mechanical form of communication developed between us--as it often does between writers and editors working closely together--a vibe that allows the two to anticipate meaning and intention (on her part) and self-correct according to the editor's keen standards (on my part).
As a writer, a young writer at that time, having the eagle eye of a professional editor--not just for errors, but also for awkwardness and sensibility--was career altering. Really. For years after we stopped working together regularly, I would hear Ceil's voice, see her perfectly-shaped proofer's marks, intuitively mark my own awkward sentences in green, reconfigure them, rethink them, and usually remove them, according to her now-ingrained standards.
In my 30s, what I learned from Ceil became so much a part of my own professional writer's soul, that I stopped hearing her voice, seeing her marks, coloring my phrases. What she taught me became inherent. I carry it with me. It informs what I say even now, even here.
But Ceil is more than a top-notch editor. She is a wise woman, well-traveled through business and life, with an eye as finely tuned to people and intentions as to misdirected prose. I am so glad I know her.
I told Ceil about weblogging today. I've urged her to jump on the party bus with us. Because she has a lot to say. It's her turn to come out from behind the color-coded key and astute corrections and have her say. Exercise her own voice. Maybe even scream some.
And in the mean time, if you're looking for editing help from the best editor you've never met, email me and I'll put you in touch with Ceil.
Thank you, Ceil. For everything.
(p.s., mark this up and send it back to me, kay?) ;-)
I began my mental countdown-to-hangup: onethousandone, onethousandtwo, onethousandandCLICK, but I never got that far. A familiar voice answered a, "Hello, Jeneane," to my "Hello?"
"Ceil!!"
I had been thinking about Ceil just last week. We hadn't spoken in what, a year? Two? I'd received the yellow postcard announcing her move from Rochester to Florida, but, no surprise to Ceil, I'd lost it a week after it came. It went the way of all my important correspondence--I put it somewhere safe.
The timeliness of Ceil's call was uncanny. I'd been thinking about her because of my new business venture. You see, Ceil taught me everything I know about writing well. She would tell you, no, not true, because she's modest that way.
A professional editor, Ceil began editing me when I was 22 and just starting out in a publishing business geared to the education market. It was Ceil's job to tweak, refine, help define, and bless every piece of writing that left our amateur paws.
In those days, editing was on hard copy, and Ceil used a color scheme along with proofreader marks to indicate the difference between a must-do edit (a typo or grammatical faux-pas) and a suggested edit (poor construction, lame writing). A third color would indicate inconsistencies throughout a document--as in, pick a way and stick with it--I recommend you do it THIS way.
And she was always right.
Over the next several years, a less mechanical form of communication developed between us--as it often does between writers and editors working closely together--a vibe that allows the two to anticipate meaning and intention (on her part) and self-correct according to the editor's keen standards (on my part).
As a writer, a young writer at that time, having the eagle eye of a professional editor--not just for errors, but also for awkwardness and sensibility--was career altering. Really. For years after we stopped working together regularly, I would hear Ceil's voice, see her perfectly-shaped proofer's marks, intuitively mark my own awkward sentences in green, reconfigure them, rethink them, and usually remove them, according to her now-ingrained standards.
In my 30s, what I learned from Ceil became so much a part of my own professional writer's soul, that I stopped hearing her voice, seeing her marks, coloring my phrases. What she taught me became inherent. I carry it with me. It informs what I say even now, even here.
But Ceil is more than a top-notch editor. She is a wise woman, well-traveled through business and life, with an eye as finely tuned to people and intentions as to misdirected prose. I am so glad I know her.
I told Ceil about weblogging today. I've urged her to jump on the party bus with us. Because she has a lot to say. It's her turn to come out from behind the color-coded key and astute corrections and have her say. Exercise her own voice. Maybe even scream some.
And in the mean time, if you're looking for editing help from the best editor you've never met, email me and I'll put you in touch with Ceil.
Thank you, Ceil. For everything.
(p.s., mark this up and send it back to me, kay?) ;-)
December 03, 2004
Eye Candy
Am I the only one who thinks the C-BLO site rocks? Not just in the usual, "It's Locke's writing--so it's bound to be funny and smart as shit" kind of way, but also in the "it's wrapped up so pretty with a bow because the boy knows how to use graphix JUST RIGHT" kind of way.
CBO. Taking us to new places. Because he can.
Bonus Points: Fun games you can play with the word CBO:
Did you CBO? (as in did you "see Bo?") No, I didn't see him. Does he have any crack?
We Bo for CBO!
Get out from behind that CBO befo it falls on you.
CBO. Taking us to new places. Because he can.
Bonus Points: Fun games you can play with the word CBO:
Did you CBO? (as in did you "see Bo?") No, I didn't see him. Does he have any crack?
We Bo for CBO!
Get out from behind that CBO befo it falls on you.
December 02, 2004
Blogger and Yaccs
It occurred to me today--well, 40 seconds ago actually--that I've been using the same weblogging suite (fancy sounding, eh?) since 2001. Blogger for blogging. YACCS for comments.
As much as I beat on Blogger lately for being so slow, it's amazing really that I'm still here. And even though mcd says in a comment below that he hates my comment facility, I have some loyalty to YACCS because Hossein "Made Commenting Simple" (and free) for those new to Push Button Publishing before anyone else did.
I don't know Hossein, but I could always tell by the weird way YACCS was a subdomain within the Rate Your Music site, that he must like music. A lot.
Another plus, from my perspective. Plus, the guy has kept a low profile and has done nice things for people without jumping up and down about it.
Anyway, since I could actually USE blogger this evening, I thought I'd remind myself that, besides Microsoft Office and Adobe, there aren't too many software products I've liked enough to stick with 365 days a year for 3 or 4 years.
bonus points: What company did Adobe buy to get PageMaker?
Aldus.
As much as I beat on Blogger lately for being so slow, it's amazing really that I'm still here. And even though mcd says in a comment below that he hates my comment facility, I have some loyalty to YACCS because Hossein "Made Commenting Simple" (and free) for those new to Push Button Publishing before anyone else did.
I don't know Hossein, but I could always tell by the weird way YACCS was a subdomain within the Rate Your Music site, that he must like music. A lot.
Another plus, from my perspective. Plus, the guy has kept a low profile and has done nice things for people without jumping up and down about it.
Anyway, since I could actually USE blogger this evening, I thought I'd remind myself that, besides Microsoft Office and Adobe, there aren't too many software products I've liked enough to stick with 365 days a year for 3 or 4 years.
bonus points: What company did Adobe buy to get PageMaker?
Aldus.
December 01, 2004
What have They done for us lately?
Last night I had so many great posts in my satchel. Blogger beat the crap out of me by losing some and working slow as molasses. Pissed me off and took away my energy. Not good.
I was going to give you an earful about Marqui and why I am glad to see bloggers getting paid and us getting used to it and what the hell has Amazon done for us, we bloggers who've been hawking their wares and loving on them all of these years?
$20. That’s how much I’ve made as an affiliate. Affiliate nothing--they should call us losers. And what about Google's Adsense? A month later, I look at my report and find out I’ve made a buck. A frigging buck? Every pixel we type into the Blogger window adds value to Google. Thanks for understanding how much I care. MOTHERFUCK YOU.
As a reader, you’re going to read the bloggers you always read. If a blogger starts sounding like a snake oil salesman, no one’s going to be left reading except the snakes’ relatives. The beauty of the net is that it’s self-correcting. When the model’s fucked, it’s quickly either righted or outed. In the mean time, nothing wrong with getting some dough.
When I complain about the professionalization of weblogging, I don't figure money into the equation. Online, our currency is different. And the currency that ruins voice here isn't necessarily dollars. It's aligning yourself with the mass media/big business model. It's sucking up. Getting $800 to perform well isn't always whoring. Sometimes, well, whoring is whoring. I think in this space, you can remain biased and hell, untethered to affiliations you may have that pay cash, AND be happy to get paid. That's what I think.
At least Marc's counsel has resulted in Marqui's attempt to pay some real money—-rent or health insurance premium money—and according to what I’ve read, you write what you want as long as you write about their stuff regularly.
Let them up the ante for these other filthy rich friends of ours who could have thrown us a bone years ago.
To the folks at Marqui, I say: please read Gonzo Marketing so you don’t screw this up.
To the bloggers getting paid, I say: good for you.
I said it a lot better last night, but the folks at Blogger must have been off figuring out new ways for me to make a dollar, and I couldn’t get into my blog.
Read also: Shelley
I was going to give you an earful about Marqui and why I am glad to see bloggers getting paid and us getting used to it and what the hell has Amazon done for us, we bloggers who've been hawking their wares and loving on them all of these years?
$20. That’s how much I’ve made as an affiliate. Affiliate nothing--they should call us losers. And what about Google's Adsense? A month later, I look at my report and find out I’ve made a buck. A frigging buck? Every pixel we type into the Blogger window adds value to Google. Thanks for understanding how much I care. MOTHERFUCK YOU.
As a reader, you’re going to read the bloggers you always read. If a blogger starts sounding like a snake oil salesman, no one’s going to be left reading except the snakes’ relatives. The beauty of the net is that it’s self-correcting. When the model’s fucked, it’s quickly either righted or outed. In the mean time, nothing wrong with getting some dough.
When I complain about the professionalization of weblogging, I don't figure money into the equation. Online, our currency is different. And the currency that ruins voice here isn't necessarily dollars. It's aligning yourself with the mass media/big business model. It's sucking up. Getting $800 to perform well isn't always whoring. Sometimes, well, whoring is whoring. I think in this space, you can remain biased and hell, untethered to affiliations you may have that pay cash, AND be happy to get paid. That's what I think.
At least Marc's counsel has resulted in Marqui's attempt to pay some real money—-rent or health insurance premium money—and according to what I’ve read, you write what you want as long as you write about their stuff regularly.
Let them up the ante for these other filthy rich friends of ours who could have thrown us a bone years ago.
To the folks at Marqui, I say: please read Gonzo Marketing so you don’t screw this up.
To the bloggers getting paid, I say: good for you.
I said it a lot better last night, but the folks at Blogger must have been off figuring out new ways for me to make a dollar, and I couldn’t get into my blog.
Read also: Shelley
Marek bedtime story
from kombinat!
Dear Marek,
They will tell you it is about freedom. That they are there defending freedom. Don't believe them. Freedom was coopted in 2001. It no longer has meaning. They stomped on it. It means something else now. It's New Hampshire on steroids. Live free or die, motherfucker. Free. Born Free, as free as the wind blows, as free as the medical care will be that covers your two bloody stumps with bandages. Born free to follow your heart as it's blown out of your chest. Yah. They'll use that word. A lot.
Don't listen to them. They stole your freedom word.
You keep talking. Use all the other words you can.
Iraq and Poland
I grew up in a tradition of pacifism. I grew up in Poland, a country where two world wars stole many bedtime stories away from children who never heard the voices of their fathers. Millions died because reason turned to madness, people turned to ashes and disappeared and were heard from no more. I decided I was never going to be in a business of stealing stories from children to whom they were to be told by their fathers. Perhaps pacifism chose me because as a 10 year old boy I overheard a story an old woman whom I used to visit with my mother told how she survived Nazi concentration camp running away from Treblinka in the dead of winter, a teenage girl sleeping high up in the branches of a tree so the wolves would not attack her.
I grew up in a "NO MORE WAR" tradition that rejected violence as a solution. It is that tradition that adopted me. I chose it to sustain me. It is something that gives me hope. It's always there to breathe life into my daily existence. It is I believe my Polish Nation's shared commitment to living in peace, our social remembrance of a once charted course and our willingness to continue the work. It's a tradition I can not run away from. It is a tradition we can not run away from.
It is in the spirit of this tradition that I ask you my Polish Nation: What the fuck are you doing in IRAQ?
Dear Marek,
They will tell you it is about freedom. That they are there defending freedom. Don't believe them. Freedom was coopted in 2001. It no longer has meaning. They stomped on it. It means something else now. It's New Hampshire on steroids. Live free or die, motherfucker. Free. Born Free, as free as the wind blows, as free as the medical care will be that covers your two bloody stumps with bandages. Born free to follow your heart as it's blown out of your chest. Yah. They'll use that word. A lot.
Don't listen to them. They stole your freedom word.
You keep talking. Use all the other words you can.
Frank Wrote the Book on Why We Blog
Good stuff from the Larry King Live of blogland.
-----------
------------
Read it. This compendium needs to join wikipedia if it hasn't.
Tom: To continue to hold out hope that something of a different spirit could animate what is, at the moment, a less than inspiring prospect? There’s a very long pan used by Fellini in Satyricon, I think, which moved across a giant apartment complex in ancient Rome, from one home to the next, each living room filled with screaming Romans, a vast columbarial hive of vociferousness whose apex of roaring expressivity was a self-canceling volume of amplitude resolving itself into an indecipherable hum.
Maybe it can be more
-----------
Frank,
I am sorry I can’t talk to you right now. I have two hot babes on my lap and they are making me very busy. I am showing them your blog and they just love it.
Marek J
------------
Read it. This compendium needs to join wikipedia if it hasn't.
November 30, 2004
Blogger's Latest Feature: Blog Lots at Once
Today Blogger released its newest feature, BLO - Blog Lots at Once. The new feature requires that you post all of your blogging for the month at one time. Not only does this save time, but it floods news aggregators making you the HOT blogger you've always dreamed of being.
When asked what she thinks of the BLO feature, blogger Jeneane Sessum said the new functionality was sorely needed. "The way I see it, you might as well post all of your writing for the whole year once you get into Blogger, BECAUSE IT'S SO FUCKING SLOW LATELY THAT YOU HAVE TO WRITE EVERYTHING YOU CAN THINK OF OR JUST PLAIN FORGET IT. FORGET YOU EVER KNEW HOW TO WRITE. FORGET BLOGGING. FORGET YOUR FLEEETING THOUGHTS. EITHER USE THE BLO FEATURE OR GIVE THE FUCK UP!"
Then she slammed her laptop closed.
Yikes.
When asked what she thinks of the BLO feature, blogger Jeneane Sessum said the new functionality was sorely needed. "The way I see it, you might as well post all of your writing for the whole year once you get into Blogger, BECAUSE IT'S SO FUCKING SLOW LATELY THAT YOU HAVE TO WRITE EVERYTHING YOU CAN THINK OF OR JUST PLAIN FORGET IT. FORGET YOU EVER KNEW HOW TO WRITE. FORGET BLOGGING. FORGET YOUR FLEEETING THOUGHTS. EITHER USE THE BLO FEATURE OR GIVE THE FUCK UP!"
Then she slammed her laptop closed.
Yikes.
November 29, 2004
You just call out my name, you shithead...
Ken Camp has a great post about what makes a real friend... For your reading pleasure, I present it to you:
;-)
1. When you are sad - I will help you get drunk and plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you sad.
2. When you are blue - I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.
3. When you smile - I will know you finally got laid.
4. When you are scared - I will rag on you about it every chance I get.
5. When you are worried - I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be and to quit whining.
6. When you are confused - I will use little words.
7. When you are sick - Stay the hell away from me until you are well again. I don't want whatever you have.
8. When you fall - I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass.
This is my oath...I pledge it till the end. Why? You may ask. Because you are my friend.
Send this to 10 of your closest friends, then get depressed because you can only think of two and one of them isn't speaking to you right now anyway.
Remember: A good friend will help you move. A really good friend will help you move a body. Let me know if I ever need to bring a shovel.
;-)
Onward Chris and Soldiers...
So HE's been blogging over here, as Chief Blogging Officer, which means I believe that he is CBO for Highbeam. Well COOL! If it weren't for technorati and spammers, I wouldn't know anything at all.
But I do know about highbeam thanks to C-BO, and I can say that it has saved my ass looking up some arcane items this past week that I'd like to write about as soon as I figure out how to use the blog this item button.
I have an email into the CBO about it. I hear you don't even have to go through his receptionist if you call his office. He answers the phone himself--right from his home office couch.
Technology. It's so cool.
But I do know about highbeam thanks to C-BO, and I can say that it has saved my ass looking up some arcane items this past week that I'd like to write about as soon as I figure out how to use the blog this item button.
I have an email into the CBO about it. I hear you don't even have to go through his receptionist if you call his office. He answers the phone himself--right from his home office couch.
Technology. It's so cool.
November 28, 2004
Take Christianity Back from the Right
To reclaim language, to take back its meaning from those who would distort it, is to reclaim power. Reclaim Christianity now.
More...
Thanks to Craig for the pointer.
I am a Christian, too
It's time to take religion back from the haters, killers and temple money-changers
BY JOHN F. SUGG
There's a bit of schoolin' that God-fearing folks in Cobb County and the rest of the nation should pay heed to as they cheer the creationist team in a federal lawsuit heard last week.
The legal spat, over a warning plastered in Cobb schools' biology texts that evolution is merely a "theory" and not a "fact," has the world press in a tizzy now that evangelicals are perceived as political 900-pound gorillas (probably not a great metaphor when talking about evolution).
Thank God (so to speak) for Cobb County, always good for when scribes need a bit of bizarre to substitute for news.
Still, there is a "gol darn, I didn't know that!" lesson hidden in the Cobb evolution brouhaha, one that should be important to every Christian. It's a gem from the earlier "monkey" trial, the 1925 drama that starred teacher John Scopes, who challenged Tennessee's anti-evolution statute. The advocate for the religious side was William Jennings Bryan, one of the great men of principle in American history.
But, oh, heavens, Bryan was a died-in-the-wool liberal. He generally was described as a "populist," but in the parlance of the late 19th century, that meant liberal. Bryan volunteered in the Spanish-American War; that experience turned him into a fervent pacifist bitterly opposed to the nascent American imperialism. As Woodrow Wilson's secretary of state, he jawboned the 30 leading world powers to agree to a one-year cooling-off period before going to war -- no pre-emptive slaughter for Bryan.
Dubbed "the Great Commoner," he castigated the capitalists as enemies of common folk. Among his most ardent allies in a 1896 presidential bid was American socialist leader Eugene V. Debs.
In short, Bryan was a man who would have earned the scorn of Karl Rove, Rush Limbaugh and Trent Lott. If he was reincarnated and ran today for a U.S. Senate seat in Georgia, Saxby Chambliss would air commercials putting Bryan's mug alongside Saddam's and Osama's -- just as he did to Max Cleland.
But hold on a minute. Bryan also was a fundamentalist Christian. At the Scopes trial, he thundered, "I believe everything in the Bible should be accepted as it is given there." He was born again, he was an evangelical.
The nation, especially the South, bestowed great reverence on Bryan, who died a few months after the Scopes trial. Country and western balladeer Andrew Jenkins, a Georgia boy, sang these words in tribute: "Oh, who will go and end this fight, oh, who will be the man?/To face the learned and mighty foe, and for the Bible stand?"
Let's wind forward 79 years. Bob Jones III is president of the racist Bob Jones University in Greenville, a favorite haunt of George Bush. Jones, a storm trooper of the religious reich-wing vanguard that claims ownership of Bush, sternly admonished the president after the election, "You owe the liberals nothing. They despise you because they despise your Christ." Ah, I get it. Bush & Co. own Christ.
The letter also underscores the message hammered home so successfully by the GOP during the recent campaign: Liberals despise Christ.That's a lie.
The example of William Jennings Bryan -- and millions of others -- makes clear that ultra-conservatives don't have an exclusive claim on Christ. It's time for Christians to start giving witness to that fact.
I've warmed you up with a little literary napalm. But what I'm going to write next isn't easy. It's the sort of thing journalists aren't comfortable acknowledging. Here it goes ...
I testify that I am a Christian. I have been ever since I came forward at a Billy Graham revival when I was 8 years old. I later fell from grace and had a lot of dark years I'll have to account for on Judgment Day. My life did not turn around until, 14 years ago, I got down on my knees and prayed. That's something I do every day now. I prefer small churches to the show palaces; Christ said to pray in private. I've felt called to be a minister, but figure I'd get to do less preaching than with this gig.
I don't pay heed to the false prophets such as Pat Robertson and Tim LaHaye of the Left Behind books because Christ said to beware of charlatans claiming to know when He is coming again.
The "rapture" isn't in the Bible, so it's not in my theology. I find it hard to conceive of Jesus returning to save a few smug Pharisees such as Jerry Falwell while brutally slaying billions of my brothers and sisters. The heaven I believe in has ample room for all men and women of all faiths who seek God and try to live good lives.
In the Book of Matthew, Jesus said, "Not everyone who saith 'Lord, Lord,' shall enter the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father ... ." He told us his Father's will was to be meek; to be peacemakers; to take care of the weak, the poor, the afflicted; to sheathe the sword.
I believe there is truth in every word of the Bible, but as Bryan said during the Scopes trial, "Some of the Bible is given illustratively." I also believe there is truth in other faiths' scriptures, and I study them, too.
All Americans are invested in the debate over "values." It's time for Christians to take back our religion from people who have commandeered it simply to squeeze political advantage.
I believe the Ten Commandments have more impact if they are carved on our hearts than if they are hung in government buildings. I believe our leaders have broken one of those commandments by bearing false witness in concocting lies out of whole cloth that led us into war. I believe that "elective" war is another word for murder, and war to grab other peoples' oil is coveting and theft -- more broken commandments.
More...
Thanks to Craig for the pointer.
November 27, 2004
Watching...
Happened upon Elton while clicking through newly-installed cable TV. Living the high life over here.
Burn Down the Mission -- currently playing. Tune in. You already missed Take Me to the Pilot. Hurry!
Some people say they are Elton John fans. I'll show you my original liner notes from Captain Fantastic.
Burn Down the Mission -- currently playing. Tune in. You already missed Take Me to the Pilot. Hurry!
Some people say they are Elton John fans. I'll show you my original liner notes from Captain Fantastic.
November 24, 2004
Remembering Diva Today
I remember writing this last year when Diva was almost 13. She was so darn cute.
I keep hearing her today. "Diva, quit that bark.... oh."
Thanks for all of your kind words. We're really okay today. I cleaned up the dining room, washed out her dishes, vacuumed the downstairs, watched the vacuum take away her stray hairs a clump at a time, swollowed the lump in my throat, smiled, knowing her hair will never all be gone. She was just too fuzzy.
This is the first animal we've had who died at home of old age. Something nice about it. She curled up on her favorite spot and took a long nap. I said to Tom, she got it right.
Bando is lost though. He's nearly 4 now and has never spent a day without his surrogate mother. We got him at the pound when he was 8 weeks old. We figured Diva could teach him some things. She was patient with him. He's not the smartest biscuit in the box, but he loved his Diva.
Bando howled last night. He stands at the gate and yips like a puppy. After the holiday, I told Jenna, we'll get him cleaned up. Let him spend some more time inside. I got him a chew toy today to keep him busy. He was happy to see that we hadn't disappeared too.
Bando was the one who showed George where she was. He stayed by her side while George checked her out. He watched over her until we took her away.
Bando grew up yesterday.
I feel worse for him.
November 23, 2004
Oh, Diva.
George always tells people I stole her. He says, "She saw that puppy in someone's yard that day and she just took her. She stole that dog. Some little boy is still crying, 'mommy, my puppy's gone!'"
It wasn't like that. Two blocks from the Rochester public market, where quite a few dogs roam free looking for scraps from the open air market, I saw the most adorable fuzzy tiny puppy out in the rain, drenched, the cold Rochester spring rain pounding the sidewalk, this poor little dog in obvious intestinal distress.
I got out of my car, picked her up, oh dear, oh my, she was so sweet, so I naturally walked the neighborhood, up and down both sides of the street, "Hello? Is this anyone's puppy?" I came upon one man who lived on the street, but he said he'd never seen the puppy.
Crap.
I tried to leave her on the sidewalk and go on my way. I got back in my car. We didn't need a puppy.
But she stayed so close to my car that I couldn't see her and didn't dare pull away from the curb for fear of running her over.
Oh hell.
Now what?
I got out and took her.
I took that sweet puppy right away from that lonely street and directly to our vet, who said she was just 7 or 8 weeks old, and from her paws and state of health, she'd most likely been living outside on the streets. He said that I'd done a good deed. Of course, he knew me. What else was he going to say?
For all his blustering about my criminal intent, George fell in love with her when he came back from Boston and saw her face, this little black-and-brown-fuzzball-shepherd-mix-good-old-fashioned-big-hearted mutt.
We named her Diva. She was a sweet and dainty doll.
Diva has seen us through so many changes; she watched me go through my late 20s, 30s, and early 40s. That's a long road to travel together.
Two weeks ago we took Diva to the vet to get her skin, hearing and general health checked. The vet assured us that given her age, she was hanging in there pretty well. We got some medicine for her skin problems--Diva, the queen of hot spots. He advised us to let her keep on going, since she was happy and not in any serious pain. We were prepared to say goodbye that day. But we took his advice and brought her home. She did well on the medicine and her skin cleared up.
Last night Diva didn't come in for dinner. This wasn't so unusual for her the last few months. More than once I had to hunt her down outside. I'd walk up to her, see her curled up on an old dog bed we have out back. I'd suck in my breath, thinking, "Oh no, she's dead." And I'd say, "Diva? DIVA?" Her head would pop up and she'd look at me over her shoulder as if to say, "Oh you! Is it time to eat already?"
She'd gone mostly deaf, and it usually took me slapping the house or going down the back steps to get her attention to come on up the deck for supper.
This morning George went out to get her. Her dinner from last night was still waiting. I heard him put on his boots and go out the door to find her.
He found her under our bedroom window.
She was curled up under the big overhang--her favorite cool and dry place in the yard.
This time when he called her name, she didn't look up over her shoulder. She didn't raise her ears or wag her tail.
Her soft nose was tucked into her paws, her eyes closed, just as she napped nearly every day for just shy of 14 years.
From what we can tell, she took her last breath sometime early this morning.
Sweet Diva.
Our good good girl.
I'm sorry I wasn't with you last night, or there to pat your head this morning.
But I am glad that I stole you when you were a pup. And I'm honored to have had you by my side for all of these years.
goodbye, girl.
It wasn't like that. Two blocks from the Rochester public market, where quite a few dogs roam free looking for scraps from the open air market, I saw the most adorable fuzzy tiny puppy out in the rain, drenched, the cold Rochester spring rain pounding the sidewalk, this poor little dog in obvious intestinal distress.
I got out of my car, picked her up, oh dear, oh my, she was so sweet, so I naturally walked the neighborhood, up and down both sides of the street, "Hello? Is this anyone's puppy?" I came upon one man who lived on the street, but he said he'd never seen the puppy.
Crap.
I tried to leave her on the sidewalk and go on my way. I got back in my car. We didn't need a puppy.
But she stayed so close to my car that I couldn't see her and didn't dare pull away from the curb for fear of running her over.
Oh hell.
Now what?
I got out and took her.
I took that sweet puppy right away from that lonely street and directly to our vet, who said she was just 7 or 8 weeks old, and from her paws and state of health, she'd most likely been living outside on the streets. He said that I'd done a good deed. Of course, he knew me. What else was he going to say?
For all his blustering about my criminal intent, George fell in love with her when he came back from Boston and saw her face, this little black-and-brown-fuzzball-shepherd-mix-good-old-fashioned-big-hearted mutt.
We named her Diva. She was a sweet and dainty doll.
Diva has seen us through so many changes; she watched me go through my late 20s, 30s, and early 40s. That's a long road to travel together.
Two weeks ago we took Diva to the vet to get her skin, hearing and general health checked. The vet assured us that given her age, she was hanging in there pretty well. We got some medicine for her skin problems--Diva, the queen of hot spots. He advised us to let her keep on going, since she was happy and not in any serious pain. We were prepared to say goodbye that day. But we took his advice and brought her home. She did well on the medicine and her skin cleared up.
Last night Diva didn't come in for dinner. This wasn't so unusual for her the last few months. More than once I had to hunt her down outside. I'd walk up to her, see her curled up on an old dog bed we have out back. I'd suck in my breath, thinking, "Oh no, she's dead." And I'd say, "Diva? DIVA?" Her head would pop up and she'd look at me over her shoulder as if to say, "Oh you! Is it time to eat already?"
She'd gone mostly deaf, and it usually took me slapping the house or going down the back steps to get her attention to come on up the deck for supper.
This morning George went out to get her. Her dinner from last night was still waiting. I heard him put on his boots and go out the door to find her.
He found her under our bedroom window.
She was curled up under the big overhang--her favorite cool and dry place in the yard.
This time when he called her name, she didn't look up over her shoulder. She didn't raise her ears or wag her tail.
Her soft nose was tucked into her paws, her eyes closed, just as she napped nearly every day for just shy of 14 years.
From what we can tell, she took her last breath sometime early this morning.
Sweet Diva.
Our good good girl.
I'm sorry I wasn't with you last night, or there to pat your head this morning.
But I am glad that I stole you when you were a pup. And I'm honored to have had you by my side for all of these years.
goodbye, girl.
November 19, 2004
Keeping Time
5 person company looking for a tool to enter time into daily that will add time up by project/person, etc. in order to ease invoice creation.
Any ideas? Leave links and I'll share findings.
more to come...working like crazy here...
Also, atlanta area writers--and I mean good folks with tight skills in PR/Marketing writing especially in tech--send me links to your samples if you want to be considered for some upcoming writing project opportunities.
No time to 'splain. more news anon. Ask Stu what anon means.
Any ideas? Leave links and I'll share findings.
more to come...working like crazy here...
Also, atlanta area writers--and I mean good folks with tight skills in PR/Marketing writing especially in tech--send me links to your samples if you want to be considered for some upcoming writing project opportunities.
No time to 'splain. more news anon. Ask Stu what anon means.
November 18, 2004
Write Your Own Caption
(They need to stop giving us so much material.)
"Mmmmm, I love it when you talk redneck to me, Bubba."
"Mmmmm, I love it when you talk redneck to me, Bubba."
November 17, 2004
Disclaim This
I am very near to dubbing the following, from IT Kitchen, the best blogline of 2004:
We are here and not in traditional media because we are biased. Most of us were drawn here by the unique opportunity to explore voice/writing/opinion/conversation.
(Read Gonzo Marketing, kay?)
David Weinberger has a nearly 600-word disclaimer/disclosure, the short take of which is, if you trust him as one of his readers, then you don't need to worry unless he tells you to.
For my part, I'll take any money I damn well please from anyone I damn well please. I'll decline any money I damn well please, but that's not likely to happen any time soon. Those who decide to give me money have no control over me, which, they would know if they had been reading me for any length of time, making the entire exercise of disclosure irrelevant.
Read Gonzo Marketing, kay? Because if someone trys to exert that control in a micromarket that is informed by whipsers, yelps, rants, and conversations, it doesn't work. Black eye to them. Bully for us.
To Chris, it's time to put the whole book online.
To Shelley, it fucking figures.
Possible monetary disclaimer:
I made 23,000US dollars last year, of which 2000.00 was from weblogging; the other 21,000 came from selling myself on the street corner at 5.00 a blowjob. I regret this, though; I feel so cheap for taking money for weblogging.
We are here and not in traditional media because we are biased. Most of us were drawn here by the unique opportunity to explore voice/writing/opinion/conversation.
As a reader of this weblog, please understand the following: Right here is the place where I say what I want, about whom I want and what I want, and on the occasion that someone decides to sponsor one of my writings, projects or brilliant ideas with cold hard cash, I have not only the right but the inherent responsibility to jump up and down in my own living room telling Jenna that it's present time.
(Read Gonzo Marketing, kay?)
David Weinberger has a nearly 600-word disclaimer/disclosure, the short take of which is, if you trust him as one of his readers, then you don't need to worry unless he tells you to.
For my part, I'll take any money I damn well please from anyone I damn well please. I'll decline any money I damn well please, but that's not likely to happen any time soon. Those who decide to give me money have no control over me, which, they would know if they had been reading me for any length of time, making the entire exercise of disclosure irrelevant.
Read Gonzo Marketing, kay? Because if someone trys to exert that control in a micromarket that is informed by whipsers, yelps, rants, and conversations, it doesn't work. Black eye to them. Bully for us.
To Chris, it's time to put the whole book online.
To Shelley, it fucking figures.
November 15, 2004
Write Your Own Caption
Oh so many come to mind...
"You mean I gotta talk into the motherfucking microphone that goes into the box on that cracker's back?"
"You mean I gotta talk into the motherfucking microphone that goes into the box on that cracker's back?"
Settling the Score
Boing Boing found just the right Chistmas Present for that special someone who's hard to buy for.
It's the University of Iowa's Jumbotron, starting bid just $10K.
I hope the lucky bidder puts it to good use.
It's the University of Iowa's Jumbotron, starting bid just $10K.
I hope the lucky bidder puts it to good use.
November 14, 2004
November 13, 2004
why so inconsistent, jeneane?
Been working on a new business venture. Going into business with a long-time marketing/PR associate to provide writing services in line with what I've been talking about on this blog since time was old, but starting more physical than virtual.
It will grow into something very, very cool. I know it will. Time. Energy. Focus. Gotta get better at all three. More soon, anon.
Ask tom what anon means.
Neither of us is certain.
He thinks it may be related to hey nonny nonny.
I think he may be right.
Glad Tidings,
jeneane
It will grow into something very, very cool. I know it will. Time. Energy. Focus. Gotta get better at all three. More soon, anon.
Ask tom what anon means.
Neither of us is certain.
He thinks it may be related to hey nonny nonny.
I think he may be right.
Glad Tidings,
jeneane
November 11, 2004
November 10, 2004
And a little something for the Missus.
Okay, since I didn't get my Tiffany's gift from all you slackards for my 3 year blogiversary, I bought myself a little something special.
Is this my Blogger?
Smokin' with speed tonight, blogger boys.
You promised it would get faster, and it looks like you've delivered.
If Blogger keeps up its hippity-hop speed like this, I might actually start writing again.
[[that is not an invitation to tweak it backwards.]]
You promised it would get faster, and it looks like you've delivered.
If Blogger keeps up its hippity-hop speed like this, I might actually start writing again.
[[that is not an invitation to tweak it backwards.]]
Oh No, Did I Miss It?
Listen, something tells me bloggercon already happened, and I completely missed my opportunity to make fun of it this year! OH SHIT! I've let my readers down. I've let myself down. I've let all of our friends across the pond who wonder what the fuck we're doing over here down.
It seems my classmate Frank was there, as evidenced by his photos on flickr.
I'm sorry, Frank, I had to tag this one as potentially offensive.
I never new you were into this kind of thing.
shudder.
It seems my classmate Frank was there, as evidenced by his photos on flickr.
I'm sorry, Frank, I had to tag this one as potentially offensive.
I never new you were into this kind of thing.
shudder.
November 08, 2004
Talk Radio & Clear Channel vs Reality
Thank goodness for the blogosphere--the antidote to mindless talk radio--especially to the self-righteous conservatives who call in from my neck of the woods.
This morning, I was driving home from carpool while listening to the morning radio host on 640AM. He was polling listeners about today's court date for Cobb County's evolution disclaimer (and the constitutionality thereof) for school textbooks. The disclaimer inspiring debate reads as follows:
I live in Cobb County. I think the courts and the schools could be doing more meaningful things. But that's not really the point. What stunned me was the nutjobs who showed up in force on on the radio to defend the disclaimer. That they wish to defend the disclaimer doesn't bother me. Heck, the disclaimer itself doesn't even bother me. It's the symantics of righteousness and hatred I heard that made me sick.
One caller from a neighboring county said this: "On election day, the citizens of this country DECLARED that the United States is a Christian country. I'm so sick of these liberals and their attitudes, I think it's time we start putting liberals in prison."
HELLO, CHRIST CALLING?
The radio host feigned dismay--"Well, that's a bit Draconian I think," and yet, the screener knew excactly what this caller was going to say. Bet on it. It's not just another isolated incident.
Which brings me to zealots.
Which brings me to wondering, what does a zealot stop at in his quest to advance his noble cause?
Which brings me to mounting evidence that they did it again, referenced by Tom.
This morning, I was driving home from carpool while listening to the morning radio host on 640AM. He was polling listeners about today's court date for Cobb County's evolution disclaimer (and the constitutionality thereof) for school textbooks. The disclaimer inspiring debate reads as follows:
I live in Cobb County. I think the courts and the schools could be doing more meaningful things. But that's not really the point. What stunned me was the nutjobs who showed up in force on on the radio to defend the disclaimer. That they wish to defend the disclaimer doesn't bother me. Heck, the disclaimer itself doesn't even bother me. It's the symantics of righteousness and hatred I heard that made me sick.
One caller from a neighboring county said this: "On election day, the citizens of this country DECLARED that the United States is a Christian country. I'm so sick of these liberals and their attitudes, I think it's time we start putting liberals in prison."
HELLO, CHRIST CALLING?
The radio host feigned dismay--"Well, that's a bit Draconian I think," and yet, the screener knew excactly what this caller was going to say. Bet on it. It's not just another isolated incident.
Which brings me to zealots.
Which brings me to wondering, what does a zealot stop at in his quest to advance his noble cause?
Which brings me to mounting evidence that they did it again, referenced by Tom.
Dick Morris, the infamous political consultant to the first Clinton campaign who became a Republican consultant and Fox News regular, wrote an article for The Hill, the publication read by every political junkie in Washington, DC, in which he made a couple of brilliant points.
"Exit Polls are almost never wrong," Morris wrote. "They eliminate the two major potential fallacies in survey research by correctly separating actual voters from those who pretend they will cast ballots but never do and by substituting actual observation for guesswork in judging the relative turnout of different parts of the state."
He added: "So, according to ABC-TVs exit polls, for example, Kerry was slated to carry Florida, Ohio, New Mexico, Colorado, Nevada, and Iowa, all of which Bush carried. The only swing state the network had going to Bush was West Virginia, which the president won by 10 points."
Yet a few hours after the exit polls were showing a clear Kerry sweep, as the computerized vote numbers began to come in from the various states the election was called for Bush.
How could this happen?
On the CNBC TV show "Topic A With Tina Brown," several months ago, Howard Dean had filled in for Tina Brown as guest host. His guest was Bev Harris, the Seattle grandmother who started www.blackboxvoting.org from her living room. Bev pointed out that regardless of how votes were tabulated (other than hand counts, only done in odd places like small towns in Vermont), the real "counting" is done by computers. Be they Diebold Opti-Scan machines, which read paper ballots filled in by pencil or ink in the voter's hand, or the scanners that read punch cards, or the machines that simply record a touch of the screen, in all cases the final tally is sent to a "central tabulator" machine.
That central tabulator computer is a Windows-based PC.
"In a voting system," Harris explained to Dean on national television, "you have all the different voting machines at all the different polling places, sometimes, as in a county like mine, there's a thousand polling places in a single county. All those machines feed into the one machine so it can add up all the votes. So, of course, if you were going to do something you shouldn't to a voting machine, would it be more convenient to do it to each of the 4000 machines, or just come in here and deal with all of them at once?"
Dean nodded in rhetorical agreement, and Harris continued. "What surprises people is that the central tabulator is just a PC, like what you and I use. It's just a regular computer."
"So," Dean said, "anybody who can hack into a PC can hack into a central tabulator?"
Harris nodded affirmation, and pointed out how Diebold uses a program called GEMS, which fills the screen of the PC and effectively turns it into the central tabulator system. "This is the official program that the County Supervisor sees," she said, pointing to a PC that was sitting between them loaded with Diebold's software.
November 05, 2004
allied is 3 years old today.
That's 59 in blogyears. Happy to me.
Time for an emotional fractal party.
Hey class of 2001, children of RageBoy--Happy anniversary to all of yous too.
Time for an emotional fractal party.
Hey class of 2001, children of RageBoy--Happy anniversary to all of yous too.
Caffine chips and puffs
I've been so tired the last couple of days that suddenly, around 11 a.m., in the middle of working, I basically pass out. Today I didn't even get under the covers. I just put my head down, slapped on the alarm, and snoozed off to dreamland.
It's time to move my office again. I've been working on the king-size bed over the last month. I relocated from the living room couch in early October. I do this every so often for a change of scene. It's a lot easier than getting a new job, especially since this job is the best one I've ever had because I have no boss. Except me. And I'm a pushover.
George tells me that when you reheat day old coffee, especially in the microwave, it has less caffine in it. I get expensive coffee, so I rarely waste it. Which means that every other day I'm reheating day-old coffee, and I'm wondering if what he says is true. That would explain my dumb-headed sleepiness every couple of days.
During my siesta, I dreamed that I smoked. November 4 was my 4 month anniversary. How weird. This dream wasn't your typical "oops, i smoked" dream. It was luxurious and enjoyable, and if I didn't know better, I'd think somehow I really did smoke. It felt, tasted and looked so real, so familiar. I even remembered that I wasn't supposed to be doing it, but not with a jolt--with more like an oh yeah. I remember quitting. This sure tastes nice.
At dinner tonight I chipped my bottom tooth. Not the old chipped tooth, but a new one. I did it by being over excited about the eggplant parmesian from Whole Foods. Half way through I bit down on the fork with such gusto that I jammed the prong right down into my lower tooth. What's up with that? Suddenly I've got Arnold jaw? BAM! One chew, and chaos ensued.
Jenna followed me up to the bathroom convinced that she saw me lose my entire bottom tooth right before her eyes. "OH YAH, OH YAH MOM, YOUR TOOTH IS G-O-N-E!" She mistook a piece of chicken breast for my tooth, thankfully, although she still steals glances at my mouth every hour or so to make sure my teeth are all there. "I really thought I saw your tooth gone, mom. That was so freaky!"
Anyway, it's not a big chip, and it wasn't a big nap, and I don't have dental insurance, and it wasn't a real cigarette, but all of these events added up in their smallness to lend some excitement to what has been a state of numbness these post-election days.
I'm grateful for that.
It's time to move my office again. I've been working on the king-size bed over the last month. I relocated from the living room couch in early October. I do this every so often for a change of scene. It's a lot easier than getting a new job, especially since this job is the best one I've ever had because I have no boss. Except me. And I'm a pushover.
George tells me that when you reheat day old coffee, especially in the microwave, it has less caffine in it. I get expensive coffee, so I rarely waste it. Which means that every other day I'm reheating day-old coffee, and I'm wondering if what he says is true. That would explain my dumb-headed sleepiness every couple of days.
During my siesta, I dreamed that I smoked. November 4 was my 4 month anniversary. How weird. This dream wasn't your typical "oops, i smoked" dream. It was luxurious and enjoyable, and if I didn't know better, I'd think somehow I really did smoke. It felt, tasted and looked so real, so familiar. I even remembered that I wasn't supposed to be doing it, but not with a jolt--with more like an oh yeah. I remember quitting. This sure tastes nice.
At dinner tonight I chipped my bottom tooth. Not the old chipped tooth, but a new one. I did it by being over excited about the eggplant parmesian from Whole Foods. Half way through I bit down on the fork with such gusto that I jammed the prong right down into my lower tooth. What's up with that? Suddenly I've got Arnold jaw? BAM! One chew, and chaos ensued.
Jenna followed me up to the bathroom convinced that she saw me lose my entire bottom tooth right before her eyes. "OH YAH, OH YAH MOM, YOUR TOOTH IS G-O-N-E!" She mistook a piece of chicken breast for my tooth, thankfully, although she still steals glances at my mouth every hour or so to make sure my teeth are all there. "I really thought I saw your tooth gone, mom. That was so freaky!"
Anyway, it's not a big chip, and it wasn't a big nap, and I don't have dental insurance, and it wasn't a real cigarette, but all of these events added up in their smallness to lend some excitement to what has been a state of numbness these post-election days.
I'm grateful for that.
Diebold, Rangers and Pioneers, and "The Fox Guarding the Henhouse"
This Diebold/Ohio scandal is not new. We should have been all over O'Dell last year.
Published on Thursday, August 28, 2003 by the Cleveland Plain Dealer
Voting Machine Controversy
by Julie Carr Smyth
COLUMBUS - The head of a company vying to sell voting machines in Ohio told Republicans in a recent fund-raising letter that he is "committed to helping Ohio deliver its electoral votes to the president next year."
The Aug. 14 letter from Walden O'Dell, chief executive of Diebold Inc. - who has become active in the re-election effort of President Bush - prompted Democrats this week to question the propriety of allowing O'Dell's company to calculate votes in the 2004 presidential election.
O'Dell attended a strategy pow-wow with wealthy Bush benefactors - known as Rangers and Pioneers - at the president's Crawford, Texas, ranch earlier this month. The next week, he penned invitations to a $1,000-a-plate fund-raiser to benefit the Ohio Republican Party's federal campaign fund - partially benefiting Bush - at his mansion in the Columbus suburb of Upper Arlington.
The letter went out the day before Ohio Secretary of State Ken Blackwell, also a Republican, was set to qualify Diebold as one of three firms eligible to sell upgraded electronic voting machines to Ohio counties in time for the 2004 election.
Blackwell's announcement is still in limbo because of a court challenge over the fairness of the selection process by a disqualified bidder, Sequoia Voting Systems.
In his invitation letter, O'Dell asked guests to consider donating or raising up to $10,000 each for the federal account that the state GOP will use to help Bush and other federal candidates - money that legislative Democratic leaders charged could come back to benefit Blackwell.
They urged Blackwell to remove Diebold from the field of voting-machine companies eligible to sell to Ohio counties.
This is the second such request in as many months. State Sen. Jeff Jacobson, a Dayton-area Republican, asked Blackwell in July to disqualify Diebold after security concerns arose over its equipment.
"Ordinary Ohioans may infer that Blackwell's office is looking past Diebold's security issues because its CEO is seeking $10,000 donations for Blackwell's party - donations that could be made with statewide elected officials right there in the same room," said Senate Democratic Leader Greg DiDonato.
Diebold spokeswoman Michelle Griggy said O'Dell - who was unavailable to comment personally - has held fund-raisers in his home for many causes, including the Columbus Zoo, Op era Columbus, Catholic Social Services and Ohio State University.
Ohio GOP spokesman Jason Mauk said the party approached O'Dell about hosting the event at his home, the historic Cotswold Manor, and not the other way around. Mauk said that under federal campaign finance rules, the party cannot use any money from its federal account for state- level candidates.
"To think that Diebold is somehow tainted because they have a couple folks on their board who support the president is just unfair," Mauk said.
Griggy said in an e-mail statement that Diebold could not comment on the political contributions of individual company employees.
Blackwell said Diebold is not the only company with political connections - noting that lobbyists for voting-machine makers read like a who's who of Columbus' powerful and politically connected.
"Let me put it to you this way: If there was one person uniquely involved in the political process, that might be troubling," he said. "But there's no one that hasn't used every legitimate avenue and bit of leverage that they could legally use to get their product looked at. Believe me, if there is a political lever to be pulled, all of them have pulled it."
Blackwell said he stands by the process used for selecting voting machine vendors as fair, thorough and impartial.
As of yesterday, however, that determination lay with Ohio Court of Claims Judge Fred Shoemaker.
He heard closing arguments yesterday over whether Sequoia was unfairly eliminated by Blackwell midway through the final phase of negotiations.
Shoemaker extended a temporary restraining order in the case for 14 days, but said he hopes to issue his opinion sooner than that.
© 2003 The Plain Dealer
[[More on Rangers and Pioneers]]
Published on Thursday, August 28, 2003 by the Cleveland Plain Dealer
Voting Machine Controversy
by Julie Carr Smyth
COLUMBUS - The head of a company vying to sell voting machines in Ohio told Republicans in a recent fund-raising letter that he is "committed to helping Ohio deliver its electoral votes to the president next year."
The Aug. 14 letter from Walden O'Dell, chief executive of Diebold Inc. - who has become active in the re-election effort of President Bush - prompted Democrats this week to question the propriety of allowing O'Dell's company to calculate votes in the 2004 presidential election.
O'Dell attended a strategy pow-wow with wealthy Bush benefactors - known as Rangers and Pioneers - at the president's Crawford, Texas, ranch earlier this month. The next week, he penned invitations to a $1,000-a-plate fund-raiser to benefit the Ohio Republican Party's federal campaign fund - partially benefiting Bush - at his mansion in the Columbus suburb of Upper Arlington.
The letter went out the day before Ohio Secretary of State Ken Blackwell, also a Republican, was set to qualify Diebold as one of three firms eligible to sell upgraded electronic voting machines to Ohio counties in time for the 2004 election.
Blackwell's announcement is still in limbo because of a court challenge over the fairness of the selection process by a disqualified bidder, Sequoia Voting Systems.
In his invitation letter, O'Dell asked guests to consider donating or raising up to $10,000 each for the federal account that the state GOP will use to help Bush and other federal candidates - money that legislative Democratic leaders charged could come back to benefit Blackwell.
They urged Blackwell to remove Diebold from the field of voting-machine companies eligible to sell to Ohio counties.
This is the second such request in as many months. State Sen. Jeff Jacobson, a Dayton-area Republican, asked Blackwell in July to disqualify Diebold after security concerns arose over its equipment.
"Ordinary Ohioans may infer that Blackwell's office is looking past Diebold's security issues because its CEO is seeking $10,000 donations for Blackwell's party - donations that could be made with statewide elected officials right there in the same room," said Senate Democratic Leader Greg DiDonato.
Diebold spokeswoman Michelle Griggy said O'Dell - who was unavailable to comment personally - has held fund-raisers in his home for many causes, including the Columbus Zoo, Op era Columbus, Catholic Social Services and Ohio State University.
Ohio GOP spokesman Jason Mauk said the party approached O'Dell about hosting the event at his home, the historic Cotswold Manor, and not the other way around. Mauk said that under federal campaign finance rules, the party cannot use any money from its federal account for state- level candidates.
"To think that Diebold is somehow tainted because they have a couple folks on their board who support the president is just unfair," Mauk said.
Griggy said in an e-mail statement that Diebold could not comment on the political contributions of individual company employees.
Blackwell said Diebold is not the only company with political connections - noting that lobbyists for voting-machine makers read like a who's who of Columbus' powerful and politically connected.
"Let me put it to you this way: If there was one person uniquely involved in the political process, that might be troubling," he said. "But there's no one that hasn't used every legitimate avenue and bit of leverage that they could legally use to get their product looked at. Believe me, if there is a political lever to be pulled, all of them have pulled it."
Blackwell said he stands by the process used for selecting voting machine vendors as fair, thorough and impartial.
As of yesterday, however, that determination lay with Ohio Court of Claims Judge Fred Shoemaker.
He heard closing arguments yesterday over whether Sequoia was unfairly eliminated by Blackwell midway through the final phase of negotiations.
Shoemaker extended a temporary restraining order in the case for 14 days, but said he hopes to issue his opinion sooner than that.
© 2003 The Plain Dealer
[[More on Rangers and Pioneers]]
November 04, 2004
A Wave of New Voices--GOOD!
As I surf through blogspot blogs tonight, I come upon several new blogs started in the last few days around this critical election. Not all are US blogs, but all I've seen have started writing based on the fear and disbelief around an America run by far right zealots. This is one, for example. Welcome to blogging. And good writing.
The best thing that could happen is that more and more intelligent voices emerge and grow strong between now and 2008. That they inform, move, resonate. And the new wave of the rule of Bush may inspire just that.
The best thing that could happen is that more and more intelligent voices emerge and grow strong between now and 2008. That they inform, move, resonate. And the new wave of the rule of Bush may inspire just that.
And for you dumbfounded folks overseas...
You think you're confounded? Not sure what to make of your American blog friends? Wondering if it's really true that we're lamebrained numskulls? Deciding whether you can tolerate hanging out with people who've been good friends because they are obviously "not your kind of people"?
Yah, well, imagine being you and living here. That's what it's like for the rest of us.
good day.
Yah, well, imagine being you and living here. That's what it's like for the rest of us.
good day.
Walkin' in a Wiki Wonderland.
Oh my gosh. I just made my first contribution to a WIKI. I added Phil's blog to the list of CEO blogs on the New PR WIKI. I was ever so tempted to delete Alan Meckler's blog. That blog is such a bad example of a CEO weblog. But I didn't delete him. That wouldn't have been right.
Hold on girl.
WIKI. I've been reluctant, worried that I'd slip into collaboration nirvana never to reappear. I thought'd be hard. But it wasn't.
mmmmm. it was sweet.
I feel compassionate all over.
Hold on girl.
WIKI. I've been reluctant, worried that I'd slip into collaboration nirvana never to reappear. I thought'd be hard. But it wasn't.
mmmmm. it was sweet.
I feel compassionate all over.
Naming Is Power
David had a great post about reclaiming and/or reframing language that has been adopted and frequently skewed by The Oposition. I added mine:
I'd also like to add GET OVER IT to my list. Get Over It is the most frequently employed post-election mantra on the part of the publicans. "Get Over It" was also their rhetorical weapon of choice after W. stole the 2000 election. I am reframing it to mean Get Over Yourselves, and directing it at the hypocritical members of the right like Rush It's-Vicodin-Time Limbaugh, and Bill I-Like-Your-Tits O'Reilly, and Alan Cheney-Raised-an-Abomination-But-Vote-For-Him-Anyway Keyes. All of you and all of yours, get over your pseudo-moralistic selves before I do it for you.
COMPASSION: The symantics of Compassionate Conservatism must be demystified and destroyed. I had a soccer-mom explain to me on the phone last week that she was voting for Bush because she considers herself a Compassionate Conservative--a term she thought she had just invented until I let her know that Bush and Pubes before him have been using the term -- along with many other phrases that make the simple minded feel important -- for years..
Publicans, please understand that I don't want your compassion; I don't need your compassion. To show me such, in your eyes, gives you power over me. So save it. Keep your pitty, your tolerance, and your motherfucking compassion. I'll do just fine without it.
HE CAN RUN BUT HE CAN'T HIDE: It was very easy for "W." toss this phrase about in the final four weeks of the election. He got a hard on simply from being able to remember it. He used it and saw that it jazzed up his base of elitests and idiots quite nicely on the final leg of the campaign trail. Well, I am claiming it now. Mr. Bush, you can run but you can't hide. Unlike your friend Bin Laden, who, it seems, can both run AND hide, thanks to you.
PRAYER: I talked with a woman checking me out at Walgreens this morning. I see her there frequently--she works lots of hours. When she asked how I was doing, I said tired and pissed about the election. She said, "You're tellin me." And we began talking. What do we do now. Can you believe it. There were no color lines between us. We talked about the war and her boys. And when I took my bag she reminded me--what we do now is pray. THAT'S RIGHT, WE PRAY TOO. Publicans, you do not have a monopoly on prayer or God. You do not have a monopoly on Christ. You do not have a monopoly on salvation or forgiveness.
Those are the three I'd like to add right now.
Thank you
I'd also like to add GET OVER IT to my list. Get Over It is the most frequently employed post-election mantra on the part of the publicans. "Get Over It" was also their rhetorical weapon of choice after W. stole the 2000 election. I am reframing it to mean Get Over Yourselves, and directing it at the hypocritical members of the right like Rush It's-Vicodin-Time Limbaugh, and Bill I-Like-Your-Tits O'Reilly, and Alan Cheney-Raised-an-Abomination-But-Vote-For-Him-Anyway Keyes. All of you and all of yours, get over your pseudo-moralistic selves before I do it for you.
Sudan Government Prayed for a Bush Victory
The conflict, which has left at least 70,000 people dead, has created what UN officials say is the worst humanitarian crisis in the world.
How does he sleep at night?
Guess they haven't seen him with his flight suit on.
How does he sleep at night?
...The ruling elite in Khartoum prefers a Republicans in the White House because it is seen as not as harsh as the Democrats.
Guess they haven't seen him with his flight suit on.
November 03, 2004
sick.
I don't know this country's mind any more, let alone its heart.
"They elected a polite David Duke in Louisiana, and someone who doesn't believe gay people should teach school in South Carolina, and a creep in Oklahoma, and somebody who's fairly obviously drifting into the fog in Kentucky. The pretty clearly indictable DeLay tactics in Texas worked like a charm. These are all victories won on grounds on which we cannot compete. When gay marriage trumps dead soldiers in Iraq, how do you run a race without dissolving into fantasy?"
"They elected a polite David Duke in Louisiana, and someone who doesn't believe gay people should teach school in South Carolina, and a creep in Oklahoma, and somebody who's fairly obviously drifting into the fog in Kentucky. The pretty clearly indictable DeLay tactics in Texas worked like a charm. These are all victories won on grounds on which we cannot compete. When gay marriage trumps dead soldiers in Iraq, how do you run a race without dissolving into fantasy?"
mad.
Fuck You, Bush. You Fucktard.
For the rest of us... some things to read.
Eliminate TV.
Live online where you will find communities of smart people.
David does language. Weinberger/AKMA in 2008.
democrat.com on the fascist motherfuckers in power.
The Rich, Dumb, and Faithful Re-elect Bush: "As Senator John F. Kerry prepared his concession speech Wednesday morning, it became clear that the rich got in bed with the dumb and the faithful to deliver power over every branch of the United States government to a corrupt Republican Party that will do anything, including steal votes and lie, to gain and hold political power."
InterimTom: "Part of the mystery of strongly divided elections is understanding how anyone can vote for the other guy. Part of the reality check USians will face is, how realistic is the rhetoric of healing and union that new-waveian solutions spout with such facility?"
Not. And thank God.
Resist the Borg.
And for every blog pundit online calling for cooperation and civil discourse, an end to disagreements, and a need for pledges among bloggers and citizens to unite us, I say:
BLOW ME!!!!!!
You want a mandate of unbiased blather, go get your journalism degree and write for print, kay?
And while you're at it, take your bastions of morality with you--Bill Adulterer O'Reilly and Rush Drug-Addict Limbaugh. Save a seat at media training camp for George DUI Bush. They could all use a refresher course.
Unite this, you sack of hypocrites.
For the rest of us... some things to read.
Eliminate TV.
Live online where you will find communities of smart people.
David does language. Weinberger/AKMA in 2008.
democrat.com on the fascist motherfuckers in power.
The Rich, Dumb, and Faithful Re-elect Bush: "As Senator John F. Kerry prepared his concession speech Wednesday morning, it became clear that the rich got in bed with the dumb and the faithful to deliver power over every branch of the United States government to a corrupt Republican Party that will do anything, including steal votes and lie, to gain and hold political power."
InterimTom: "Part of the mystery of strongly divided elections is understanding how anyone can vote for the other guy. Part of the reality check USians will face is, how realistic is the rhetoric of healing and union that new-waveian solutions spout with such facility?"
Not. And thank God.
Resist the Borg.
And for every blog pundit online calling for cooperation and civil discourse, an end to disagreements, and a need for pledges among bloggers and citizens to unite us, I say:
BLOW ME!!!!!!
You want a mandate of unbiased blather, go get your journalism degree and write for print, kay?
And while you're at it, take your bastions of morality with you--Bill Adulterer O'Reilly and Rush Drug-Addict Limbaugh. Save a seat at media training camp for George DUI Bush. They could all use a refresher course.
Unite this, you sack of hypocrites.
October 30, 2004
allied turns 3 years old on Friday.
Back Then I said:
"Okay, so blogs can get tiresome--I'll give you that. But that's because this blogging thing is part of an evolution. It's not the answer. The destination. It's not anything really except another platform for voice--a really no-cost-entry easy-to-use platform for anyone who knows how to open a browser. Does that mean the rifraf can get in? Oh yeh. There goes the neighborhood. Good."
Still believe it.
In all of this time, I have learned so so much about a few good friends whom I might not have come upon any other way. I've learned so so much about myself, whom I might not have come upon any other way.
For these things alone, I'm glad I took the joy ride.
Of course, I'm no richer for it.
Somebody owes me some doggone green.
"Okay, so blogs can get tiresome--I'll give you that. But that's because this blogging thing is part of an evolution. It's not the answer. The destination. It's not anything really except another platform for voice--a really no-cost-entry easy-to-use platform for anyone who knows how to open a browser. Does that mean the rifraf can get in? Oh yeh. There goes the neighborhood. Good."
Still believe it.
In all of this time, I have learned so so much about a few good friends whom I might not have come upon any other way. I've learned so so much about myself, whom I might not have come upon any other way.
For these things alone, I'm glad I took the joy ride.
Of course, I'm no richer for it.
Somebody owes me some doggone green.
I am grateful for the voices
Paul, simply beautiful:
"I said in comments to someone else's blog a few days ago, that some months ago, I'd taken in a young dog, and had become aware that if his life expectancy is normal for his species, there is a fair chance he will outlive me; in other words, I'm no longer the middle aged guy I've described myself as being for some time, I'm a guy on his last dog."
.....
"But in the pocket microscope, I caught a glimpse of that old scar, and found it had a complexity and strangeness I've long ignored. In a strong light, I examined it freshly through the little lens, and looked anew at its spidery, faint contours, memories carved in my flesh of my own various stupidities, but a record I didn't control in its making, that is its own map of that day. I became momentarily fascinated by the rest of my hand, marked all over with the bad outcomes of accidents, investigations, and procedures or equipment not well enough understood. My hands are ugly enough at the normal scale, but examined a millimeter at a time, they are each a living horror, tolerable only for being abstract in their grotesquery, under a twenty power lens. After more than fifty years of living, I realized that there is no part of my left hand that hasn't been, at some time or another, at least superficially injured. That hand is literally one big collection of small, forgotten scars, but continues to stubbornly embody a stoic power for its functions. And I thought that was a pretty good description of my larger self, as well. I am become, all over, scARboi, stubbornly plodding along."
.....
"For better or worse, I am the subject of all my pictures, even those in which I'm nowhere visible."
-------------------
And Jessamyn, simply beautiful:
"I drive past a beaver dam on my way to work. It's in a little lake area and looks quite lovely, set against the foliage backdrop, very rural, picturesque. Today when I drove by I could see that it had new sticks on it. Someone actually lived there. This wasn't stunt nature, this was the beavers living nearby, and doing their beaver things. It's one thing to have a little tree sticking out of a sidewalk that provides some shade and stands in for the forests that used to be where the newspaper boxes now are...."
......
"I read a book recently about how to co-exist with wild animals. The author starts from the position that at some level, we have moved into the homes of the wild animals, so we should not be surprised that they see our territory as theirs. All of this is just a roundabout way of saying that I like living here, where the beaver builds its home within viewing distance of the road, and where the bear eats the fish that we think we can just "grow" for ourselves."
"I said in comments to someone else's blog a few days ago, that some months ago, I'd taken in a young dog, and had become aware that if his life expectancy is normal for his species, there is a fair chance he will outlive me; in other words, I'm no longer the middle aged guy I've described myself as being for some time, I'm a guy on his last dog."
.....
"But in the pocket microscope, I caught a glimpse of that old scar, and found it had a complexity and strangeness I've long ignored. In a strong light, I examined it freshly through the little lens, and looked anew at its spidery, faint contours, memories carved in my flesh of my own various stupidities, but a record I didn't control in its making, that is its own map of that day. I became momentarily fascinated by the rest of my hand, marked all over with the bad outcomes of accidents, investigations, and procedures or equipment not well enough understood. My hands are ugly enough at the normal scale, but examined a millimeter at a time, they are each a living horror, tolerable only for being abstract in their grotesquery, under a twenty power lens. After more than fifty years of living, I realized that there is no part of my left hand that hasn't been, at some time or another, at least superficially injured. That hand is literally one big collection of small, forgotten scars, but continues to stubbornly embody a stoic power for its functions. And I thought that was a pretty good description of my larger self, as well. I am become, all over, scARboi, stubbornly plodding along."
.....
"For better or worse, I am the subject of all my pictures, even those in which I'm nowhere visible."
-------------------
And Jessamyn, simply beautiful:
"I drive past a beaver dam on my way to work. It's in a little lake area and looks quite lovely, set against the foliage backdrop, very rural, picturesque. Today when I drove by I could see that it had new sticks on it. Someone actually lived there. This wasn't stunt nature, this was the beavers living nearby, and doing their beaver things. It's one thing to have a little tree sticking out of a sidewalk that provides some shade and stands in for the forests that used to be where the newspaper boxes now are...."
......
"I read a book recently about how to co-exist with wild animals. The author starts from the position that at some level, we have moved into the homes of the wild animals, so we should not be surprised that they see our territory as theirs. All of this is just a roundabout way of saying that I like living here, where the beaver builds its home within viewing distance of the road, and where the bear eats the fish that we think we can just "grow" for ourselves."
I'm Not That Adam Levine
Hysterical things like this make me love the net anew.
How else would we ever be able to listen to the answering machine of some random x dude in Los Angeles who happens to have the same name as the lead singer of super popular band Maroon 5, which again would remain unapparent to you and I, if we weren't here, but turns out since we are here, this is so freaking funny because of all the idiots who call random Adam Levine thinking he's "that" Adam Levine.
Well he's not.
Thanks to Brad Sucks for the hoot.
How else would we ever be able to listen to the answering machine of some random x dude in Los Angeles who happens to have the same name as the lead singer of super popular band Maroon 5, which again would remain unapparent to you and I, if we weren't here, but turns out since we are here, this is so freaking funny because of all the idiots who call random Adam Levine thinking he's "that" Adam Levine.
Well he's not.
Thanks to Brad Sucks for the hoot.
October 29, 2004
Endorse This
VOTE YES FOR WEBLOG AMENDMENT #344
__ It shall be illegal to use the term "I endorse" on any weblog, political or other, unless the phrase is used in complete jest or to point out the stupdity of bloggers who think they are all that and therefore have the import to endorse anyone or anything.
This is also known as the "Get Over Yourself Already" amendment.
Vote Yes on November 2nd.
To make the blogosphere stronger at home and respected again in the world.
__ It shall be illegal to use the term "I endorse" on any weblog, political or other, unless the phrase is used in complete jest or to point out the stupdity of bloggers who think they are all that and therefore have the import to endorse anyone or anything.
This is also known as the "Get Over Yourself Already" amendment.
Vote Yes on November 2nd.
To make the blogosphere stronger at home and respected again in the world.
Chuck-e-Cheese Shoe Analysis: A Historic and Demographic Study
I'm always amazed by the way my baby thinks. She's seven now, and her mind is exploding in her new school, which is good. She's challenged. Some stuff is finally "too hard," she says. I say good. It's about time.
We were talking today about how we went to Chuck-E-Cheese last Halloween to avoid the neighborhood hubub and have relative fun at a relatively safe place. She admitted to having a good time, but remarked that there weren't enoug kids for her to play with that night.
I objected. "Jenna, you made a few friends that night if I remember right."
"Well there were a couple. I knew there would be because of the shoes."
A stumped mom stared at her. "The shoes?"
She then explained to me the very logical -- if previously secret -- process she uses to determine the likeliness of friend finding on any given evening at Chuck-E-Cheese.
"I just look at the shoes. You know, the shoes we take off before we climb up into the tunnel. I always sit there and look through the shoes while I'm taking mine off. I can tell how many boys are up in the tunnel and how many girls, and I can tell about how old they are--if they're big kids or little kids. That's how I tell if I want to climb up in the tunnel and if I'll probably make a friend or not."
I remain dumbfounded. Even as of 10:45 this evening.
She's data mining from the shoe bin.
We were talking today about how we went to Chuck-E-Cheese last Halloween to avoid the neighborhood hubub and have relative fun at a relatively safe place. She admitted to having a good time, but remarked that there weren't enoug kids for her to play with that night.
I objected. "Jenna, you made a few friends that night if I remember right."
"Well there were a couple. I knew there would be because of the shoes."
A stumped mom stared at her. "The shoes?"
She then explained to me the very logical -- if previously secret -- process she uses to determine the likeliness of friend finding on any given evening at Chuck-E-Cheese.
"I just look at the shoes. You know, the shoes we take off before we climb up into the tunnel. I always sit there and look through the shoes while I'm taking mine off. I can tell how many boys are up in the tunnel and how many girls, and I can tell about how old they are--if they're big kids or little kids. That's how I tell if I want to climb up in the tunnel and if I'll probably make a friend or not."
I remain dumbfounded. Even as of 10:45 this evening.
She's data mining from the shoe bin.
I'm not a pro, but I can cook.
I made dinner at Shelley's IT Kitchen tonight.
You should see all the gadgets she's got in her junk drawer. I mean the whi... Ooops. I promised I wouldn't tell. Shit. Sorry, Shelley.
Read/write more on the IT Kitchen WIKI.
Thank you to Shelley for ramping up these seemingly impossible projects that make me want to stick around and blog for a while longer.
Props, babe.
You should see all the gadgets she's got in her junk drawer. I mean the whi... Ooops. I promised I wouldn't tell. Shit. Sorry, Shelley.
Read/write more on the IT Kitchen WIKI.
Thank you to Shelley for ramping up these seemingly impossible projects that make me want to stick around and blog for a while longer.
Props, babe.
The Crone Says Vote
Elaine's getting her vote on with a lot of informative links over on Kalilily Time. I'm clicking through the funny ones. And some of the serious ones too.
I hate this time of year every four years. So please read Elaine if you want to know what to do in the voting booth.
I hate this time of year every four years. So please read Elaine if you want to know what to do in the voting booth.
October 24, 2004
Gonzo Engaged, the oldest team blog on blogspot
I missed Gonzo Engaged's birthday on October 14th! SHIT! I'll have to send it a card.
Okay maybe a video.
Going strong since 2001. Or, well, at least going.
This one's for Marek.
Okay maybe a video.
Going strong since 2001. Or, well, at least going.
This one's for Marek.
I can't wait til December...
Because then I get to write -- for like the fifteenhundredth time -- Jo Ho Ho, Merry Christmas!
Which is made even funnier because David's Jewish. Just in case you didn't know. You know, like if you're from Alabama or something.
I don't know what it is about JOHO's name, but I find myself giggling in public places (escalators mostly) from the funny JOHOisms that pass between my ears...
Like, she not yo ho, she's Jo ho.
And, Jo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
And, Jo, Ho, fetch my coat!
Stuff like that.
Which is made even funnier because David's Jewish. Just in case you didn't know. You know, like if you're from Alabama or something.
I don't know what it is about JOHO's name, but I find myself giggling in public places (escalators mostly) from the funny JOHOisms that pass between my ears...
Like, she not yo ho, she's Jo ho.
And, Jo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
And, Jo, Ho, fetch my coat!
Stuff like that.
Locke and the Spammers Sittin' in a Tree
K-i-s-s-i-n-g.
Only The Man could make a case for spam. He looks at it like a nicely wrapped box of virtual canvases from friends and fans around the world.
As we say here in Atlanta, He Crazy.
Only The Man could make a case for spam. He looks at it like a nicely wrapped box of virtual canvases from friends and fans around the world.
As we say here in Atlanta, He Crazy.
Don't Try This at Home
Never never never ever, and I mean never, accidentally unplug an uncharged laptop in the middle of a Microsoft Service Pack Update. Okay, never. Got it?
This I did on Friday.
It was not a good day.
With perfect timing, the install was riddling through .dll files at the time of power interuptus. Sweet Mother Mary, that's all she wrote.
When I rebooted to attempt to pick up where I left off, I found that I was left off a cliff. My desktop wouldn't load. No icons. No status bar or start menu. Just a really nice picture of a landscape like one of those relaxation waterfall deals.
I'll save you the trouble -- save me the remembering -- of the last day, which included having to restore XP. Although I came up with a quirky workaround for copying my most important files (only one at a time--no ctrl key) over to my D: drive (I'm partitioned) using a combintion of techniques (task manager/new task/browse/click/ctrl+c/dropdown/D:/ctrl+v), I lost my email file and all my applications.
So I've been rebuilding. A little at a time. And it's safe to say that if I've ever emailed you in the past--like over the last few years--I don't know how to write to you anymore.
So, Hey. Hope all is well. Things are peachy over here.
night.
This I did on Friday.
It was not a good day.
With perfect timing, the install was riddling through .dll files at the time of power interuptus. Sweet Mother Mary, that's all she wrote.
When I rebooted to attempt to pick up where I left off, I found that I was left off a cliff. My desktop wouldn't load. No icons. No status bar or start menu. Just a really nice picture of a landscape like one of those relaxation waterfall deals.
I'll save you the trouble -- save me the remembering -- of the last day, which included having to restore XP. Although I came up with a quirky workaround for copying my most important files (only one at a time--no ctrl key) over to my D: drive (I'm partitioned) using a combintion of techniques (task manager/new task/browse/click/ctrl+c/dropdown/D:/ctrl+v), I lost my email file and all my applications.
So I've been rebuilding. A little at a time. And it's safe to say that if I've ever emailed you in the past--like over the last few years--I don't know how to write to you anymore.
So, Hey. Hope all is well. Things are peachy over here.
night.
October 22, 2004
Anyone Can Blog -- Even Spammers.
I've noticed an interesting if disturbing trend lately while surfing through my referrer log. In the last week, three times I've clicked on links I was unfamiliar with and ended up on what essentially is a spam blog. Post after Post entertains the readers with names of drugs, new marketing schemes, and keywords strung together in ways that only a good spammer can manage.
I'm trying to figure out how much this bothers me. First, it's smart. Gosh they're smart. With Google's crush on blogs, what better a way to get eyeballs than to work your way up over time by hammering the same spamola over and over, day after day, post after post.
Do they have some kind of automated tool that lets them start a blog and publish posts? If so, does Blogger need to authenticate that we are indeed "people" that push-button publishing was meant for? And, who's to say they can't play too. It's not really spam if we don't "receive" it. It's not spam if we click ourselves to the page. Yet the messages are the same ones we receive in email spam. It's the same game with a pull instead of push.
One reason they'll have a hard time getting value out of their weblog post spam is that they won't participate in the link factor that blog success depends on. Surely no one will link to them. Except maybe their partners in crime. And wouldn't that be oddly interesting.
Anyway, if you've noticed an increase in post-spam, let me know. Surprised me.
I'm trying to figure out how much this bothers me. First, it's smart. Gosh they're smart. With Google's crush on blogs, what better a way to get eyeballs than to work your way up over time by hammering the same spamola over and over, day after day, post after post.
Do they have some kind of automated tool that lets them start a blog and publish posts? If so, does Blogger need to authenticate that we are indeed "people" that push-button publishing was meant for? And, who's to say they can't play too. It's not really spam if we don't "receive" it. It's not spam if we click ourselves to the page. Yet the messages are the same ones we receive in email spam. It's the same game with a pull instead of push.
One reason they'll have a hard time getting value out of their weblog post spam is that they won't participate in the link factor that blog success depends on. Surely no one will link to them. Except maybe their partners in crime. And wouldn't that be oddly interesting.
Anyway, if you've noticed an increase in post-spam, let me know. Surprised me.
Getting back to me
We transitioned Jenna to her new school this week. As luck would have it, they are on early dismissal all week and out at 12:20. As luck would also have it, they start at dark-thirty in the morning, and I'm only sort of getting used to leaving the house before birds are awake.
Oh. My. Head. You could say I'm complaining. You'd be right. Because what is this? What is this with school's starting at 7-something in the morning? Have they not figured out that we're not raising good little line workers anymore? Hello school systems: Stop the torture. Embrace the digital age.
Anyway, as I said, we're getting used to it. Slowly. Jenna's as much of a night owl as George and I. Yes, we are strict about bed time. She'll bed. But she won't wind down easy. Won't sleep. Too much to consider. She's comfortable with the night. Like us.
I wish that I had the schedule, patience, and drive to home school her. Once again I salute all parents who make this choice and have the stamina to make it work. I am really beginning to believe that these are the children who will be best prepared -- with the flexibility required -- to succeed in the businesses of the future.
Since I started to "home work," one of the most lucrative and rewarding decisions I've made in my long and sordid career, I've gained a new perspective on how much sense it makes to integrate learning, working, moming, teaching and other activities with the help of the net. Yes, it's different. Even a bit scary. But it's also fluid. It's flexible. It's dynamic. It's networked. And it becomes inherent. Less work. More just living. It just IS how it IS.
And I know that's not what Jenna will get with public school education--or even private if we go that route. That's because communities are still not effectively educating children for the technology age. Sure, they have the tools now. Computers in classrooms. An extended intranet for parents. But that's not getting them prepared culturally.
We are not teaching adaptation, flexibility, movement, choice. We aren't teaching them to integrate like activities, to sort and schedule, to enjoy off time. The rigidity of the 7:20-2:20-don't-be-tardy-line-up system crushes any incentive for children to think and choose and understand what it takes to navigate the day responsibly.
The two years Jenna spent at Montessori were so much closer to achieving this type of education. But those type of programs are few and far between here--AND expensive.
On the positive side, I like Jenna's new teacher a lot. That will make a huge difference. She's positive, upbeat, and hard. Jenna's already complaining about the amount of work. Good. It's about time.
Her health -- I'm reluctant to say it outloud -- has greatly improved since being out of the mold building. More to say about that eventually. One thing at a time.
And at this time the thing is four motrin and a big glass of water because my head is killin me.
Oh. My. Head. You could say I'm complaining. You'd be right. Because what is this? What is this with school's starting at 7-something in the morning? Have they not figured out that we're not raising good little line workers anymore? Hello school systems: Stop the torture. Embrace the digital age.
Anyway, as I said, we're getting used to it. Slowly. Jenna's as much of a night owl as George and I. Yes, we are strict about bed time. She'll bed. But she won't wind down easy. Won't sleep. Too much to consider. She's comfortable with the night. Like us.
I wish that I had the schedule, patience, and drive to home school her. Once again I salute all parents who make this choice and have the stamina to make it work. I am really beginning to believe that these are the children who will be best prepared -- with the flexibility required -- to succeed in the businesses of the future.
Since I started to "home work," one of the most lucrative and rewarding decisions I've made in my long and sordid career, I've gained a new perspective on how much sense it makes to integrate learning, working, moming, teaching and other activities with the help of the net. Yes, it's different. Even a bit scary. But it's also fluid. It's flexible. It's dynamic. It's networked. And it becomes inherent. Less work. More just living. It just IS how it IS.
And I know that's not what Jenna will get with public school education--or even private if we go that route. That's because communities are still not effectively educating children for the technology age. Sure, they have the tools now. Computers in classrooms. An extended intranet for parents. But that's not getting them prepared culturally.
We are not teaching adaptation, flexibility, movement, choice. We aren't teaching them to integrate like activities, to sort and schedule, to enjoy off time. The rigidity of the 7:20-2:20-don't-be-tardy-line-up system crushes any incentive for children to think and choose and understand what it takes to navigate the day responsibly.
The two years Jenna spent at Montessori were so much closer to achieving this type of education. But those type of programs are few and far between here--AND expensive.
On the positive side, I like Jenna's new teacher a lot. That will make a huge difference. She's positive, upbeat, and hard. Jenna's already complaining about the amount of work. Good. It's about time.
Her health -- I'm reluctant to say it outloud -- has greatly improved since being out of the mold building. More to say about that eventually. One thing at a time.
And at this time the thing is four motrin and a big glass of water because my head is killin me.
October 21, 2004
October 20, 2004
Seriously Americans...
He does not see the relevance of the deficit, the future of social security, ethical issues involved in rebuilding Iraq, nor any topic that requires thinking outward to the next 10-20 years.
There is one reason and one reason alone for this:
The President of the United States of America believes that this world, this system, will be destroyed before these minor matters of state come to pass.
If you knew that your credit card company was going to be wiped out within a year, would you hesitate to charge what you needed? Especially if you had the "Almighty's" word that you were doing His work as you were spending?
Well that's how it is how it is. Right now. Today. In your White House.
You ask George Bush if we are living in the End Times.
You tell me what he says.
Then you wonder why he spends like there's no tomorrow.
There is one reason and one reason alone for this:
The President of the United States of America believes that this world, this system, will be destroyed before these minor matters of state come to pass.
If you knew that your credit card company was going to be wiped out within a year, would you hesitate to charge what you needed? Especially if you had the "Almighty's" word that you were doing His work as you were spending?
Well that's how it is how it is. Right now. Today. In your White House.
You ask George Bush if we are living in the End Times.
You tell me what he says.
Then you wonder why he spends like there's no tomorrow.
Oh David. Don't You Get It?
I have decided to educate David on how fundamentalist-powered political thinking works. Poor David. He seems so clueless. He makes the mistake so many people make when they are analyzing what makes the neoconservatives tick: He assumes they think. No no, David. The end-game is pre-determined. There is no critical thinking. There is only following the correct path from here to there.
Here I offer some Sunday School Classes for others among my readers who might not be so savvy about the interdependencies of holy wars, deficit spending, and eternal life:
Here I offer some Sunday School Classes for others among my readers who might not be so savvy about the interdependencies of holy wars, deficit spending, and eternal life:
From CNN today:
The founder of the U.S. Christian Coalition [Pat Robertson] said Tuesday he told President George W. Bush before the invasion of Iraq that he should prepare Americans for the likelihood of casualties, but the president told him, "We're not going to have any casualties."
I hope Kerry goes big with this, along with Bush's statement that he's not too concerned about Bin Laden. Daddy Bush may not have known how much a quart of milk costs, but sonny-boy's fiction-based presidency is getting us killed.
Posted by D. Weinberger at October 20, 2004 12:05 PM | TrackBack
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Comments
What he may mean, given the messenger and his recipient, is that we will suffer no casualties because those who fall doing the will of the Almighty (i.e. spreading freedom to brown people who deserve a shot at ruling themselves after they pay big kickbacks to large American corporations and surrender their natural resources) in this holy war be granted eternal life.
See David? They don't die.
Axis of Evil ---> Hell
Nucleus of Good ---> Heaven
You must have missed evangelical christian sunday school last week.
Posted by: jeneane on October 20, 2004 02:14 PM
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Aha! Thanks, Jeneane.
Now can you explain the religious math behind his deficit spending? TIA!
Posted by: David Weinberger on October 20, 2004 04:29 PM
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I would be happy to:
Deficits don't matter when you're expecting the return of your Lord any day.
You can't take it with you, so you might as well spend it.
The post-Rapture deficit doesn't count. God sets it all back to zero.
This is neoconomics. I am trademarking it. Any other mysteries you'd like me to solve?
Come On Google!
For the first time since 2001 I am seriously thinking of leaving Blogger and Blogspot--tools and folks I've supported and come to respect over the years.
I have a good bit of blogequity over here, but my initial fears and complaints about the recent changes to the user interface have come to fruition. Blogger is now officially the slowest tool I use. And I use a lot of software tools. Five times in the last 48 hours I went to create a new post, and got so frustrated waiting for the stinking 'create' box to open I gave up. My ideas were gone. I was readily pissed.
What, are they sending every potential post through IR and Crisis Management before the hit the Web or something? Is this what it means to go public?
I don't like losing my ideas.
I'm old. They don't come so quick anymore.
You're on warning, guys.
I have a good bit of blogequity over here, but my initial fears and complaints about the recent changes to the user interface have come to fruition. Blogger is now officially the slowest tool I use. And I use a lot of software tools. Five times in the last 48 hours I went to create a new post, and got so frustrated waiting for the stinking 'create' box to open I gave up. My ideas were gone. I was readily pissed.
What, are they sending every potential post through IR and Crisis Management before the hit the Web or something? Is this what it means to go public?
I don't like losing my ideas.
I'm old. They don't come so quick anymore.
You're on warning, guys.
October 19, 2004
Outsource the Musak Too
My last three calls to Earthlink convinced me that they've followed the lead of so many corpo-losers and have outsourced their support operations overseas. Where overseas I'm not quite sure. The accent of my last three friendly-if-not-able-to-help-me representatives rings East Indian.
I think that corporations could do all of us a favor. If they're going to outsource the jobs to India, they should outsource the on-hold music too.
I don't want to hear weather channel smooth jazz while Reg talks to his "senior representative." I want to hear sitar, damnit.
The best business models are the ones that turn perceived defects into great assets. They deliver value where you don't expect any.
So instead of trying to hide the fact that Reg is really Raj, and that he's working in Bangalore not Atlanta, why not slap some Indian fusion on the other end of my receiver, tell me about great tourist spots and travelocity packages to Kolkata, and broaden my perspective as you get my website reactivated?
Or start a referral program. Have Raj tell me that his company is the best at what he does and offer me a referral fee if I refer one of my big clients to them and a deal takes place? Next thing you know, out of work IT guys become brokers -- a kind of sophisticated outsource pimp if you will (or e-marketplace as we once called it) -- hooking up good Indian support firms with low-to-no conscience American companies for an affordable transaction fee.
Want ideas? I got a million.
I think that corporations could do all of us a favor. If they're going to outsource the jobs to India, they should outsource the on-hold music too.
I don't want to hear weather channel smooth jazz while Reg talks to his "senior representative." I want to hear sitar, damnit.
The best business models are the ones that turn perceived defects into great assets. They deliver value where you don't expect any.
So instead of trying to hide the fact that Reg is really Raj, and that he's working in Bangalore not Atlanta, why not slap some Indian fusion on the other end of my receiver, tell me about great tourist spots and travelocity packages to Kolkata, and broaden my perspective as you get my website reactivated?
Or start a referral program. Have Raj tell me that his company is the best at what he does and offer me a referral fee if I refer one of my big clients to them and a deal takes place? Next thing you know, out of work IT guys become brokers -- a kind of sophisticated outsource pimp if you will (or e-marketplace as we once called it) -- hooking up good Indian support firms with low-to-no conscience American companies for an affordable transaction fee.
Want ideas? I got a million.
October 16, 2004
I Smell a Bush. I Smell a Cheney.
While George Bush rants about the Almighty's hopes for freedom around the world, you all can play the home game by following the oil money.
It's not a front-page story. They hardly ever are.
I stopped by Jenna's former school yesterday to pick up yet another copy of the microbiologist's report on the findings of the mold testing. I've added it to my copy of the summary report, and the interim report. All reports confirm dangerous levels of (name your type of) mold in the school. Although remediation work has been completed to the board's satisfaction, upon my visit yesterday I was stunned to see how little had been done considering the rampant mold infestation and damage throughout the school.
A ceiling tile here, a piece of carpet there, a portion of wall here, all topped with some fresh paint. Mostly, everything looked and smelled the same--two days before the kids were scheduled to arrive back at the school.
I explained to the Principal and to some mothers why were pulling Jenna out--that her doctors have advised us not to let her back into that building. That one of the more potent molds found, Stachybotrys , is difficult to effectively remediate. And yet these same mothers are oblivious as to why they should be concerned. Or why I'm concerned.
It's not the oblivion that bothers me--it's the blind obedience. It's the Bush era mentality. Be a good little American soldier, do your duty, and ask no questions.
Two days ago, a note was sent home asking parents to come by this weekend and help clean up the debris scattered around the school from the remediation work. The note said the school could save $2,000 by having the parents do this work. Understand, the testing results post-mediation have not come back yet. Essentially, parents have been asked to come into the building before it's certified by the microbiologist and 1) sand walls, 2) help tear up the remaining water/mold soaked carpet and 3) haul away shingles and molding and other assorted contaminated items so that the school can save a couple of thou.
The building is not even OSHA-certified for the staff who works there.
The building still smells acrid--I had to use my inhaler when I got home.
But there they were. I saw four mothers with sanding blocks and an electric sander one of them brought from home sanding walls in the hallway. No gloves, no masks, nothing. And they were complaining about the parents who weren't there helping.
Now that we know the seriousness of the issues with this decades-old leaky building, I wonder--why haven't the sanding mothers asked the questions of their children's doctors that I have? Why haven't they dared to question the administration? Why aren't they furious with the landlord? Why do they look at anyone who decides not to jump in stride with the "You're either for us or again' us" attitude as the "problem"?
This is a privatized public school. This school is ultimately run by a corporation. This school started the year $250,000 in debt before the building problems surfaced. Promises were made that have been broken.
And yet, to question why these things have happened -- in this day of bushian black-and-white thinking -- makes me an anomaly, a trouble maker, a non-contributor. Ultimately, I'm a terrorist.
Yet WE were the ones dealing with the stress and accusations about Jenna's health the last two years--why she was missing so many days from sinus infection and strep. The teacher and administration could tease and belittle. But when it turned out to be a situation affected at least in part--possibly in its entirety--by their laziness and inaptitude, WELL I'm just supposed to suck it up -- offer it up for the team. After all, there's nothing that can undo the situation now. Might as well look at the positive and move on.
And what about the incidence of cancer and other health problems among the staff? What about those? What side are you going to err on--chalking it up to bad genes, or wondering if mycotoxin exposure over time in large amounts might have/could have? Don't you want to KNOW? Aren't any of you fucking OUTRAGED?
No they don't. They want it simple. The draft doesn't need to be reinstated. We've already been drafted. All of us. And if you don't step in line, your dodging.
Put your suspicions away. Stuff your brain in your pocket. Really, you don't want to have to think at all.
Well, when it comes to my kid, I am not erring on the side of mind-numbing, blind obedience to any institution--especially a corporation in public education's clothing.
Once we lose our critical thinking ability -- our drive to question, to wonder, to know -- we lose everything.
You want black and white thinking? I'm choosing black.
You want for us or against us? I'm choosing against.
March on lambs of Bush.
But march without me.
It's not a front-page story. They hardly ever are.
I stopped by Jenna's former school yesterday to pick up yet another copy of the microbiologist's report on the findings of the mold testing. I've added it to my copy of the summary report, and the interim report. All reports confirm dangerous levels of (name your type of) mold in the school. Although remediation work has been completed to the board's satisfaction, upon my visit yesterday I was stunned to see how little had been done considering the rampant mold infestation and damage throughout the school.
A ceiling tile here, a piece of carpet there, a portion of wall here, all topped with some fresh paint. Mostly, everything looked and smelled the same--two days before the kids were scheduled to arrive back at the school.
I explained to the Principal and to some mothers why were pulling Jenna out--that her doctors have advised us not to let her back into that building. That one of the more potent molds found, Stachybotrys , is difficult to effectively remediate. And yet these same mothers are oblivious as to why they should be concerned. Or why I'm concerned.
It's not the oblivion that bothers me--it's the blind obedience. It's the Bush era mentality. Be a good little American soldier, do your duty, and ask no questions.
Two days ago, a note was sent home asking parents to come by this weekend and help clean up the debris scattered around the school from the remediation work. The note said the school could save $2,000 by having the parents do this work. Understand, the testing results post-mediation have not come back yet. Essentially, parents have been asked to come into the building before it's certified by the microbiologist and 1) sand walls, 2) help tear up the remaining water/mold soaked carpet and 3) haul away shingles and molding and other assorted contaminated items so that the school can save a couple of thou.
The building is not even OSHA-certified for the staff who works there.
The building still smells acrid--I had to use my inhaler when I got home.
But there they were. I saw four mothers with sanding blocks and an electric sander one of them brought from home sanding walls in the hallway. No gloves, no masks, nothing. And they were complaining about the parents who weren't there helping.
Now that we know the seriousness of the issues with this decades-old leaky building, I wonder--why haven't the sanding mothers asked the questions of their children's doctors that I have? Why haven't they dared to question the administration? Why aren't they furious with the landlord? Why do they look at anyone who decides not to jump in stride with the "You're either for us or again' us" attitude as the "problem"?
This is a privatized public school. This school is ultimately run by a corporation. This school started the year $250,000 in debt before the building problems surfaced. Promises were made that have been broken.
And yet, to question why these things have happened -- in this day of bushian black-and-white thinking -- makes me an anomaly, a trouble maker, a non-contributor. Ultimately, I'm a terrorist.
Yet WE were the ones dealing with the stress and accusations about Jenna's health the last two years--why she was missing so many days from sinus infection and strep. The teacher and administration could tease and belittle. But when it turned out to be a situation affected at least in part--possibly in its entirety--by their laziness and inaptitude, WELL I'm just supposed to suck it up -- offer it up for the team. After all, there's nothing that can undo the situation now. Might as well look at the positive and move on.
And what about the incidence of cancer and other health problems among the staff? What about those? What side are you going to err on--chalking it up to bad genes, or wondering if mycotoxin exposure over time in large amounts might have/could have? Don't you want to KNOW? Aren't any of you fucking OUTRAGED?
No they don't. They want it simple. The draft doesn't need to be reinstated. We've already been drafted. All of us. And if you don't step in line, your dodging.
Put your suspicions away. Stuff your brain in your pocket. Really, you don't want to have to think at all.
Well, when it comes to my kid, I am not erring on the side of mind-numbing, blind obedience to any institution--especially a corporation in public education's clothing.
Once we lose our critical thinking ability -- our drive to question, to wonder, to know -- we lose everything.
You want black and white thinking? I'm choosing black.
You want for us or against us? I'm choosing against.
March on lambs of Bush.
But march without me.
October 15, 2004
Shelleypedia and Hell's Kitchen, Or Something
While I was away last week, Shelley came up with one of her very cool ideas for a project called IT Kitchen, the genesis of which was good thinking like this:
Shelley has germinated and grown the idea into a really really really good idea -- one in which the nucleus of defining blogging in a living way -- of keeping good blogging alive by putting historic threads or posts somewhere where we can REFERENCE them as we all write into the future, age and die off (sorry, no time for tact) -- and to keep this ongoing discussion in a Wikipedia setting -- well that's just really smart.
I'm so excited that I'm afraid to think straight.
But I have a confession to make:
I have never written on a WIKI. I don't know how.
I know. That's hard to believe.
I have stayed away from them on purpose because I knew that the minute I jumped into the wonderful world of WIKI, I would never come out.
Gonzo Engaged, way back in 2001, would have been born on a WIKI if WIKI had been WIKI back then. We barely had team blogging, so we did our best.
But the idea of a hierarchically flat, fluid, idea-evolving tablet for our good thinking and writing blew my mind when I first heard about WIKIs.
I ran far away fearing I'd disappear inside of them for a year.
But it appears I will be learning because I want to help with IT Kitchen, and because it's time to step through the door to WIKI.
If you don't see me for a week, send a search party.
The purpose behind the IT Kitchen was to provide an overview of weblogging, the nuances and the ins and outs and that sort of thing. Sort of like many of the handbooks about weblogging that have been published online by various people (see Rebecca Blood’s). However, instead of just providing static content, there’s an interactive element to it, a community participation, which allows people to ask questions as the material is published, or even provide their own material in support of a topic.
Shelley has germinated and grown the idea into a really really really good idea -- one in which the nucleus of defining blogging in a living way -- of keeping good blogging alive by putting historic threads or posts somewhere where we can REFERENCE them as we all write into the future, age and die off (sorry, no time for tact) -- and to keep this ongoing discussion in a Wikipedia setting -- well that's just really smart.
I'm so excited that I'm afraid to think straight.
But I have a confession to make:
I have never written on a WIKI. I don't know how.
I know. That's hard to believe.
I have stayed away from them on purpose because I knew that the minute I jumped into the wonderful world of WIKI, I would never come out.
Gonzo Engaged, way back in 2001, would have been born on a WIKI if WIKI had been WIKI back then. We barely had team blogging, so we did our best.
But the idea of a hierarchically flat, fluid, idea-evolving tablet for our good thinking and writing blew my mind when I first heard about WIKIs.
I ran far away fearing I'd disappear inside of them for a year.
But it appears I will be learning because I want to help with IT Kitchen, and because it's time to step through the door to WIKI.
If you don't see me for a week, send a search party.
Da Momma Blog...
Da Momma Blog - Already worth the price of admission for Blog Explosion.
The sun is setting the wind is chilling. The grey is spreading. It's getting harder to see the road. Zaman hits a small bump that puts air between my butt and the seat. I ride sidesaddle in true Pakistani fashion for women, so it's a bit of a jolt. I ride watching the traffic till my mind starts blogging again.
The sun is setting the wind is chilling. The grey is spreading. It's getting harder to see the road. Zaman hits a small bump that puts air between my butt and the seat. I ride sidesaddle in true Pakistani fashion for women, so it's a bit of a jolt. I ride watching the traffic till my mind starts blogging again.
Dysentery Blogsmosis
So, you've heard about this "Blog Explosion" thing? What I don't like: Blathering on abotu "traffic" and the categorization of blogs which by their very nature are often many things at once. Thank goodness.
What I do like: Since categorization is inevitible, I do like being able to pick my own classification. Add more please.
If anyone knows what category I should be in, please let me know. I picked "Internet".
What the heck. Reminds me of something RB was talking about like four years ago.
What I do like: Since categorization is inevitible, I do like being able to pick my own classification. Add more please.
If anyone knows what category I should be in, please let me know. I picked "Internet".
What the heck. Reminds me of something RB was talking about like four years ago.
Why I Had to Wait to Post Until the Debates Were Over
Because if I started to write about them in detail, I was quite certain my head would explode.
I came close to seizing when I could find no one, not even Kerry, questioning Bush's take on his faith when he roped the Almighty into his plot to take over the world (ooops--I mean "spread freedom").
The leader of the free world admited in a public forum that he truly believes the Almighty wants him to bring democracy to all the world (through war when that's the most expedient way) and no one is outraged?
AKMA? Anyone?
Well, I shouldn't say no one. The Christian Science Monitor did. They touched on it saying:
Might make "some" Americans uncomfortable?
and
I thought another good moment?
Might make every human outside of the U.S. uncomfortable, how about.
Look, I consider myself a Christian and I nearly fell off the bed.
Okay, that's the end of my debate blogging.
My favorite candidate is Elizabeth Edwards.
I lose.
I came close to seizing when I could find no one, not even Kerry, questioning Bush's take on his faith when he roped the Almighty into his plot to take over the world (ooops--I mean "spread freedom").
The leader of the free world admited in a public forum that he truly believes the Almighty wants him to bring democracy to all the world (through war when that's the most expedient way) and no one is outraged?
AKMA? Anyone?
Well, I shouldn't say no one. The Christian Science Monitor did. They touched on it saying:
"One very interesting moment was the question about religion. Bush is often quite eloquent on this subject - and he was again Wednesday night, talking in simple language about how he prays. But he also edged into territory that might make some Americans uncomfortable - linking his religion explicitly to his foreign policy, saying he believes God wants everyone to be free. I thought another good moment was the question at the end..."
Might make "some" Americans uncomfortable?
and
I thought another good moment?
Might make every human outside of the U.S. uncomfortable, how about.
Look, I consider myself a Christian and I nearly fell off the bed.
Okay, that's the end of my debate blogging.
My favorite candidate is Elizabeth Edwards.
I lose.
The Three Javelinas
Ironic, isn't it, that my next post comes a half hour before we go watch Jenna's performance as the narrator in her class play, the Three Little Javelinas? In case you didn't know, like me, javelina is the name of some fairly unattractive desert pig. In this case, he his one of three little heros in the javelina adaptation of The Three Little Pigs.
Pigs. Can't live with 'em, Can't shoo... Oh wait. You can live with em if you're my backyard neighbor!
He's fashioned a leanto for pig, I guess for the coming winter months. I know I have to call code enforcement. But it's been so darn busy around here.
Allow me to update you.
First, the toxic mold school Jenna has attended will be returning to their half-assedly remediated building next week, but Jenna won't. We're switching schools on the advice of her doctors. Here health has been much much better these last three weeks.
Except, of course, for her broken arm. Yes. There's that. She broke her radius jumping on a trampoline at her little friend's house. I got the call about 6 last thursday. "They had a great time. One thing though--she seems okay but she hurt her wrist on the trampoline..."
When I picked her up, she didn't seem that bad off. I still hear my words: "Jenna, you're fine. Really. We don't break bones in this family."
Neither George nor I ever broke a bone so I figured she was immune to such nonsense. How many horses had I fallen off? How many bikes up trees?
So didn't I feel like Bad Mom when I took her to the doctor 24 hours later because it was still bothering her.
Good news, not bad at all. A buckle fracture. She has a beautiful pink cast that all her friends are signing. Now she'll have two schools worth of signatures.
Our poor little sweetie. Turning 7's been rough.
There's more to update you on--but we're off to watch that age-old classic, the Three Little Javelinas now.
Be well.
Pigs. Can't live with 'em, Can't shoo... Oh wait. You can live with em if you're my backyard neighbor!
He's fashioned a leanto for pig, I guess for the coming winter months. I know I have to call code enforcement. But it's been so darn busy around here.
Allow me to update you.
First, the toxic mold school Jenna has attended will be returning to their half-assedly remediated building next week, but Jenna won't. We're switching schools on the advice of her doctors. Here health has been much much better these last three weeks.
Except, of course, for her broken arm. Yes. There's that. She broke her radius jumping on a trampoline at her little friend's house. I got the call about 6 last thursday. "They had a great time. One thing though--she seems okay but she hurt her wrist on the trampoline..."
When I picked her up, she didn't seem that bad off. I still hear my words: "Jenna, you're fine. Really. We don't break bones in this family."
Neither George nor I ever broke a bone so I figured she was immune to such nonsense. How many horses had I fallen off? How many bikes up trees?
So didn't I feel like Bad Mom when I took her to the doctor 24 hours later because it was still bothering her.
Good news, not bad at all. A buckle fracture. She has a beautiful pink cast that all her friends are signing. Now she'll have two schools worth of signatures.
Our poor little sweetie. Turning 7's been rough.
There's more to update you on--but we're off to watch that age-old classic, the Three Little Javelinas now.
Be well.
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