Blatant Republication

From The SportsGuy at Espn.com:

Here's my question: is there anyone under 40 who goes by the name "Dick?" When did that name go out of style? What was happening in the '50s, when people routinely went by the name "Dick," and there was a famous TV show named "Leave It To Beaver?" And why did names like Ethel, Franklin, Agnes and Marge go out of style, to the point that nobody would ever name their baby daughter Marge? Will the same thing happen in 50 years to names like Jennifer and Liam? I'd love to read a book that traces the history and trends of various names. I'm convinced that half of the girls 20 years from now will be named Sophie or Lily. We're going to have a "Real World/Road Rules Challenge" in 2026 where Sophie A. is feuding with Sophie D. and Sophie G. while Liam N. and Liam W. are forced to pick sides.

hee hee.*

I don't have much to say for myself today. I started back to work Monday and it has had the soul-draining effect that one expects it to have. I started a post the other night which I will put up later, once I find a zinging way to end it. So check back then.

* SportsGuy's query is actually answered in the last chapter of Freakonomics, which I will not summarize for you here.

What Is Stylish?

At my alma mater, you can "concentrate" (aka "major") in some wierd things, like Big Problems* or Fundamentals: Issues & Texts. In Fundamentals, you ask a question, read classical texts concerning that question and then, I don't know what happens. You graduate with the same inchoate degree everyone else has, I guess. Anyway, I always wanted to concentrate in Fundamentals, but never found the right question.

Because my intellectual capacity has dropped off considerably since graduating from that fine institution, I have lowered my standards for what constitutes an adequate question and, in doing so, have found my question. "What is stylish?" and its correlary: how do people choose their style?**

In particular, I am curious about two diametrically different phenomena. First, the people who choose a style that has no currency in popular culture, present or past, and second, people who actually wear stuff featured in fashion magazines. To illustrate the first: the 14-year old daughter of our kids' nanny wears rubber bands around the ankles of her jeans to cinch them. Why? Otherwise she looks put together in the young soft-tough Latina style. When I was her age, I also pegged my jeans, only I folded them tightly. Why did I do that? Nowhere in popular culture are tightly pegged or rubber-banded jeans identified as cool.

To illustrate the second: some of the mothers at Liam's preschool actually wear asymmetrical felt coats. Why? do? they? do? that? I am sure that its all over the Italian Vogue or something but it escapes me why anyone would apply that fashion to their lives. So ugly and uncomfortable, but not even u/u in the skewed "fashion" sense of Berkeley. And by asymmetrical, I mean this, not this.

* "Big Problems" is a set of courses offered to fourth-year students but my experience was that most people had their "big problems" in their sophomore year.
** My classical texts would be Ways of Seeing and Color Me Beautiful, I think.

Alrighty, folks, I will be out of town this weekend at a wedding. Hopefully, I will live to tell about it, rather than becoming one of the special dead.

What Brings You to These Parts?

As I told you yesterday, I have the technology at my fingertips to determine where my readers are, and how they found me. I don't actually check all that often but I was prompted to do so by a more careful reader (okay, it was Mr. St. Scobie). Here's a list of google searchs that have brought you to me, my sweets.

1. works that opposed thomas payne's "common sense"
2. joe maguire and ann coulter
3. "pregnant milking FAN" on Polish google. Don't do this search, it delves into realms you don't want to explore. I am NOT kidding about this.
4. "blog's theme" on the Vietnamese google. Huh? Boring City.
5. pix of fireman Here again, I think the searcher was probably hoping for something a little naughtier than I dish up.
6. breakfast in a can and Htoo brothers
7. Nelson Marans is googling himself again. Although this search suggest Marans has a nemesis.
8. union auto plants
9. Amanda Cotten You remember her, don't you?
10. And, saving the best for last, mustache phobias

I am pretty proud of my failure of cohesiveness.

impraesentiarum

I've been meaning to give shouts out to my reader in Bangladesh and now I can do it all proper style with a link to his blog. Check out impraesentiarum. Thank you.

FYI, fellow bloggers: if you scroll to the bottom of this page, you'll see a little site meter icon. Click on it and you can find out how many readers I get, where they are and what searches bring you to my blog. I can't profile you any more closely for advertising purposes because I don't pony up for the paid service, but its pretty cool nonetheless. That's how I know when someone in Bangladesh or Sweden is reading The Scobie Plain Dealer.

Misguided Social Action

The New York Times reported on Monday that Joe Maguire of Reuters may or may not have been fired for writing "The Lies and Lunacy of Ann Coulter". "A Reuters employee who insisted on anonymity out of concern at angering management said that the 20 or so employees at the markets desk where Mr. Maguire had been one of two editors in charge 'took a group coffee break' in solidarity (last) Thursday."

This is what passes for collective action these days. How sad is that? Not only is the only economic weapon used here "a group coffee break" but rest breaks are, in some states, required. In California, employers that fail to provide a 10-minute rest break in every 4-hour work period must pay the employee who did not get a break one hour of extra pay.

I walked over to the computer to blog about this wussy b*!!sh^@ on The Union Lawyer, but then I received this email from a co-worker:

I am getting involved with a non-profit organization that will help provide under privilege children, who are in foster care, guitar lessons. It is a great way to boost their self esteem, and build their confidence. I'll be volunteering my time to offer these kids free lessons one hour a week each Thursday evening. (They are always looking for volunteers).

This is the best we can do? Give guitar lessons to underprivileged children? I have tried to play the guitar and it did nothing for my self-esteem, except, arguably, lower it.

All this reminded me of Karen Karbo's op-ed ("Will Work for School Supplies") in the NYT yesterday. Karbo made the point that the considerable energy spent selling wrapping paper and popcorn to buy school amenities is energy wasted from a political/social campaign for better school financing. It's an excellent point. But what disturbs me equally is that well-intentioned people waste energy reserved for social change on pointless exercises like "group coffee breaks" and Guitars, Not Guns.

Belly Button Survives Thorough Exam

Does anyone have a local resource for buying into a milk cow share? People do this all the time for meat - I'm hoping to do it for milk. There's some really good information on www.westonaprice.org about how people are getting together to do this, as well as the issues surrounding raw milk, etc., and it seems that it's perfectly legal in California to do this. I know I can get raw milk at a store, but for me freshness is more the issue than anything so I'd really like to pursue this route

I was going to post a comment about this recent BPN posting that went something like this: "Enough with the freaking milk!! There's a war! mid-term elections! nuclear testing in North Korea! and all you people care about is the milk. Stop with the milk!"

And then I realized, any sane friend of mine would be within his or her rights to say: "Dre, Enough with the milk people!! There's a war! mid-term elections! nuclear testing in North Korea! and you care about is lambasting people who obsess about milk! Stop! Obsessing! About! People! Who! Obsess! About! Milk!"

Okay, I'll try.
----

Does anyone have any further information on "Jillian"?

----

Here's a recent photo of Q: N'joy.

Showing Restraint

Believe me, it is with great restraint that I am not, willy-nilly, reprinting the entire BPN Advice Given newsletter today. It's really ripe. So I will just give you one. This is a second or third generation* response:

++ When to Stop Showering w/Son-

What I find interesting is that you refer to your son as a 39-month old. I'm not a prude, but if you started referring toyour son's age as it really is - 3 1/2 years old now, sinceyour posting - then maybe it would sink in that he's perhaps alittle too old to do this.Unless, of course, when he's of driving age you will be celebrating his 192nd monthday-It's high time you used years.

How awesome is that, for a position to stake out? We're at war in Iraq, a congressman tried to fondle underage tidy strivers while his colleagues fiddled, Amish people are being gunned down, and this person is irate that a parent counts their child's age in months. They even took the time to fake-calculate an 18-year-old's "monthday"**. So awesome. And here I thought that only I stake out irrational positions on the minutia of others.***

* The original request for advice having been published several weeks ago.
** 12 times 18 is 216, so an 18 year old really celebrates his 216th monthday. Or birthmonth, really.
*** This person is basically irate over nothing! Think about it: 39 months is 3 and 1/4 years old, not 3 and 1/2. It's practically the same as 3, if you round numbers. And three-year olds are just glorified 2-year olds. So what is the big deal?

Sorry

I just wanted to apologize for sounding like Andy Rooney in that post earlier today.

Or maybe I sound like Mickey Rooney. Egad. I'm even sorrier for that.

Redundant Again

Little Rock, Arkansas, announced that they have chosen a new nickname for their city. The Rock. Catchy, huh? But how about The Little Rock? Or -- since Alcatraz Island is also known as The Rock, but is smaller than the city of Little Rock -- The Big Rock? Or -- since there's a famous action-movie star named The Rock -- The City of Rock? Or is Motor City hoseying that name? Or is Cleveland? Or how about The Geographical Rock? Or the Arkansas Rock?

How about, why does a city need a nickname?

Get Your Freak On.

Per my post below, there is a campaign underway here at 5500 to convince me that there is some redeeming value to football. As part of that campaign, I was encouraged to read Michael Lewis' article on the discovery/creation of Ole Miss left tackle Michael Oher. This will supposedly make me love football because my baseball fannishness, such as it is, can be blamed on Lewis' Moneyball (read it).

But I ain't coming around on this sport. Sorry. The Ballad of Big Mike is (inadvertantly) juxtaposed with What If It's (Sort Of) a Boy and (Sort Of) a Girl?, an article about whether parents should be allowed to authorize surgery on their intersexed kids. Both articles concern "freaks" of nature - one about children born with sex organs which do not reliably correspond with a specific gender, the other about an impoverished boy-giant who has all the social graces of Nell. The only conclusion I could draw from these articles is that if you have one kind of social incapatibility, you will get a cliterodectomy; with the other, you get adopted by born-again Christians who conveniently get you into their alma mater and set you on the path to an $8 million NFL contract.

The intersex article is particularly troubling: the author goes to great pains to put herself at some distance from the subject of the story, a woman who learned of her gender surgery (at ages 2 and 8) only once she was a grown-up. The woman's mother said she had her daughter's clitoris removed because she never used her own. Brrr. Anyway, the reader is supposed to feel sympathy for these parents who don't like their own children's sex organs. What? The? Fuck?* Dislike them so much, in fact, that they have them removed. And I am supposed to side with these people?

Michael Oher, on the other hand, whatever. A poor black child so freakishly large that white people figure out how to make a lot of money off him. I am so unendeared to this story that I have in fact taken a step backwards, toleration-wise, from the sport of football.

(Another inadvertant juxtaposition in the Sunday Magazine is the inclusion of an insider-y article on Ken Mehlman of the GOP. He is a freak of nature because he thinks that the GOP can be transformed into a party of Blacks and Hispanics and does not understand why no one else in his party is on board with his plan. Ahh, poor Ken. boo hoo.)

*Again, sorry, Mother-in-Law.

Lame Thoughts

Today I was driving home from Broccoli Montessori and I saw a bumper sticker that said, "My two favorite teams are Michigan and whoever's playing against Ohio State" andit occurred to me that, to be an anti-fan, i.e. someone who hates "your" team's rival, you actually have to want the team you hate to do moderately well. Which makes you a fan of the team you hate, if you think about it. A rivalry would die if your rival were never any good. Okay, maybe in the first year of their suckdom, you'd be all schadenfreude, and then the next year you'd be like, "Ron Zuck is such an idiot." But in year three, would you give a shit* anymore? You wouldn't paint your face to watch the other team get trounced, reliably, by 11 hits or 5 touchdowns, would you?

I've been thinking a lot about sports lately because my almost-three-year-old is now infected by the football bug, or as he says in his wierd St. Louis accent, "fitbull". He loves it. The only only good thing about it is that in a few years, I can have every Sunday afternoon to myself for a few months at a time.

Finally, and this is totally unrelated, you NEED to watch The Wire, if you are not already doing so. The first two seasons are on DVD, and the third is coming soon. The fourth season is three eps in, and you can watch the first three episodes back to back on Friday night at 8 on HBO. I might watch them again just because I am addicted to this show. I may remind you to watch it every day this week, or even until all my readers cry UNCLE and say, yes, they've watched it.

And another finally: I have been occasionally updating Bay Area Hiking Mamas, for all of you who are interested, but then stopped bothering checking.

*Apologies to my mother-in-law, who thinks I swear too much on my blog, and probably in my life.

A Little Bit of Clean-up

Apparently some folks were baffled by my swipe at Nick Ashford. Okay, so I am no Fug girl; fine, I can live with that. But people, you have to admit he looks like a total drag queen. Either Simpson is his beard or he's one of those straight men who like to wear women's panties - whatever - I just think that explains their causy-ness over The Sexual Other.

Second, David added "incentivized" to the list, and in that spirit, I realize that probably there are other fake words that have "-ize" on the end, created by b-schoolers. Synergize, for example. . .

Finally, did any of you know that Lincoln Chafee was a blacksmith before he was a senator? I can't think of anything funny to say about that, really. He learned it at horseshoeing school; mainly, he shoed horses, I guess. In reality, he looks less like a smithy and more like an actor who plays a smithy in a local theater production of Oklahoma!*

* Full disclosure: I played a male member of the chorus in Oklahoma! in the Academy of St. Elizabeth's 1991 spring production.**

** My other high school spring musical roles include "member of chorus" or "Friend of Nanette" in No No Nanette, "nun" in The Sound of Music and "Lady Brockhurst" in The Boyfriend.

New Link

I have added a link to Rangelife over there on the left because it's a funny blog, and it beat me to the punch on writing about the parents who kidnapped their daughter in order to force her to have an abortion (here). Oh, snap. Probably the easiest story to blog about today but still. Anyway, enjoy your new reading material. Sadly, Rangelife replaces Poo Poo Platter. I think the Grand Poobah is too dejected about the fact that Cheney was not indicted by Fitzgerald to go on blogging.

The second easiest story (that I saw) to blog about involves smuggling rare animals into the country in people's underwear, or something. I wish this article had more specifics. *sigh* I do like the fact that, although the movie was a flop, "snakes on a plane" is now a regularly trafficked cultural touchstone. "Federal agents were tipped off to some unusual happenings when large birds of paradise came flying out of his luggage." That's interesting, but not as interesting as "Most notably, as Monday’s indictment recalled, Mr. Cusack had concealed two lesser slow lorises, also known as pygmy monkeys, in his underwear." What kind of underwear was he wearing?

Actually, this article would be pretty easy to blog about too, but this is a family blog so you'll have to come up with your own jokes. No pun intended.

Finally, T&A Lady reports that she was burglarized, which, as I noted in comment 2 to her post, totally sucks. But it got me thinking, how many words have "ize" on the end? Burglarize, plagiarize, Martinize, modernize. I can't think of any others. Oh wait, pulverize. Any others?

Alanis Morrisette Day

Does anyone else think its a bit ironic that the company allegedly responsible for the E.Coli spinach outbreak is called Natural Selection LLC?

But there is nothing ironic about the fact that Ashford and Simpson have added several paeans to the difficulties of homosexual love to their new show. Per the NYT:

If the show concentrates on favorites from the Ashford & Simpson songbook, including “I’m Every Woman,” “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” and “Solid,” it also includes three promising new songs from a musical-theater work-in-progress based on E. Lynn Harris’s breakthrough novel, “Invisible Life.” “Born This Way” and “I Don’t Ride That Train” bluntly address the conflicts facing characters struggling to define their sexuality. “God Has Love for Everyone” puts a positive slant on all the conflict.

Come ON, Ashford.

I Wouldn't Leave You Hanging

I know you've been dying to hear about the ghost advice, so here it is:

(1) I didn't see your original post, so I don't know how scary your ghost is. I just wanted to comment that my experience was that some ghosts arenot harmful and will leave if you ask them. I feel odd that I even havethis story since most of us never really believe this stuff unless we experience it. The couple that owned our house before us lived there along time and died around age 90. The wife first, then the husband. They did not die in the house. I kept finding the husband's business card in different places in my house (how polite!). I would find them in places I was sure they had not been earlier. I collected them to make sure they were not the same one. I got about 10 of them. Some doors opened on their own and sometimes I felt his presence. Eventually I found a whole box of his businees cards in a basement cupboard. On the advice of a friend, I spoke out loud to him and told him that we had bought the house and were going to take good care of it, that we would make changes to it and make it our own. I told him he needed to move on and go see his wife and rest in peace. I burned some sage sticks in the house and did a make-shift cleansing ceremony. This did the trick! I haven't felt, heard or seen him since. I would say you should start with something like this, maybe even include your son. If it doesn't work after a few conversations then you can move to bigger measures. ghost-less

(2) Your house is probably not haunted, as mine was probably not, but as long as you think it is, you might as well act accordingly. When we first moved into our 1914 house, some weird things happened, so I decided to make friends with the ghost just in case. I talked to the ghost and asked his/her permission to live there and thanked him/her for helping us out. I once left a note for him/her. Then the mysterious things started being helpful things, like the kitchen faucet (which I'd left on) turning itself off before the sink was about to spill over onto the floor. Then stuff stopped happening. Who knows? Reaching out made me feel better; it was probably all in my head but that's what matters to me. Ghost-friendly

So there you go.

Personal Mortification

It seems my good friend T&A Lady has nominated me for a beauty pageant just 5 weeks after I gave birth. With friends like these. . . .Anyway, check out my nomination in the ERISA female hotties contest, and vote for me so I don't lose to Sarah Downey (the current leader) or Ms. Jazz, errr, Fosse hands. I seriously wish I were competing in the ERISA male hotties contest, where the competition isn't quite as stiff. Or rather, the competition is more stiff, and therefore I would have a chance of winning.

I Want Some Pants!!

That's what L is yelling from his room right now, whilst "napping". I don't even want to know why this is being yelled. Anyway, here's another picture from yesterday that I couldn't get loaded before. Sorry that L looks sort of goofy. As does Q. Oh well. At least I look like a brick sh*t house.

Update on school: When asked what he did at his new school, L said, "I sat in a circle. I played with beads."

Which, as I understand it, sums up Montessori education. I think he's just missing, "I wiped the table."

First Day of School

Li started preschool today. He walked into his Montessori classroom, looked around and said, "Where are the toys? Where are the dinosaurs?" I hope education is not too rude an awakening.

He calls his school Broccoli Montessori.

"Sweet sweetness."

In other news, Little Miss Sunshine is funny. Sorry to be all Jackie Harvey, but we don't get out much.

Update

"What is rude is to tell someone else they are being rude. And no, knitting at a meeting isn't rude."

It was not overwhelming, but the majority of responses were that it is not rude to knit at a PTA meeting. Does that make the majority of people in the Bay Area rude? Or do we need to rely on other evidence for that?

The Lazy Blogger

I am considering changing the name of this blog to "The Lazy Blogger" in acknowledgment of my over-reliance on BPN postings as fodder for the blog. But this shit writes itself, people:

Haunted house
-------------------------------------------
I know this sounds completely crazy but I am wondering if my house may have a ghost. My house was built in 1934 and there was one couple who lived in it until the death of the woman in the 80s. The woman died in the house and it was sold. Since my son could talk he would say things about seeing a lady, a shadow, a ghost, etc at different times while in our house. Sometimes he would be afraid and other times not. These days, he will be perfectly happy in a room, playing alone, when all of a sudden he will run out of the room terrified and say something about seeing a ghost. Sometimes we hear strange noises inthe house or will find things in a different way than we thought we had left them. Does anyone believe in ghosts or have experiences with them? I would like to say I don't believe, but I am a very open-minded person and since we really don't know what happens after death, I am starting to believe my son
- haunted house owner

Knitting at meetings
-------------------------------------------
I'm wondering if others think that it is acceptable to quietly knit during PTA or similar meetings if you are clearly a member of the audience and not leading the
meeting. I have always done this and someone just told me that they think it is
disrespectful and plain rude.
Multitasker

Amigos Amigos Amigos

Do you remember in The Three Amigos (one of my favorite movies) when the villagers all dress like amigos ("Sew like the wind, incredibly old woman") in order to confuse and defeat El Guapo? Yeah, I thought it was brilliant too.

According to this article, Hezbollah are also fans of that Martin/Chase/Short vehicle, and are now employing the Amigos Amigos Amigos tactic to their own advantage. There are, in fact, a plethora of Hassan Nasrallahs.

The Cute People Have Invaded

Oh the joys of motherhood, here they are: not crying, whining, nursing or throwing stuff at me.

Fresh Outrage

For those of you who are not networked in with other Berkeley parents, I know you look to me to generate appropriate anger over the lost sheep of the East Bay. I've tackled milk several times. Today's newletter brings answers to the following two queries (summarized):

1. Should I bring my kids to Burning Man?

2. Should I let my brother-in-law, who is the caregiver - nay, manny - of my young daughter, deal pot out of my house?

Now here's my question:

3. How off-kilter is your moral compass that you need to appeal to your neighbors to answer those questions? And why would you? Aren't these the kinds of things we used to hide from one another?

So how do the Berkeley Parents fare in answering? To their credit, it's pretty unanimously agreed that the manny should not be allowed to deal. But that doesn't take a PhD in philosophy or social welfare to get right. The BM question gets a split vote: one "leave the kids at home", one "take them to the Family Camp", and one "wait til their older". Annoying there is not "Burning Man is stupid and people who attend should not be allowed to breed" response. Hmm, we'll have to work on that.

I Feel a Little Dirty Admitting This

As much as I think the US News and World Report college rankings are bogus bullshit, I did feel a slight glow of satisfaction in learning that the University of Chicago moved from #15 to #9 this year (even if it's because they reported a higher endowment than they previously have reported). I feel bad about feeling good, and want to be excoriated, so that my guilt will be purged.

What the aych-eye-double-hockeysticks?

On Friday, the Brookster, Q and I got a little stir crazy and decided to head into SF to see some art. We ran into our old neighbor Julianne. She's good peeps. For those of you who might have visited us at the green house, she was the one with the stanky cats. Anyway, we asked her how were things, etc, and in particular, how are the new tenants who took our apartment?

She went to great lengths to let us know that Amos and Annie (yeah, that's what they go by) are REALLY REALLY nice people. But, "they, ummm, do howl therapy." They bark and cluck and howl like animals as part of their particular brand of yoga/worship/therapy. But they are really nice folks. He is a "part-time teacher" and she is a "life coach/storyteller". *sigh*

Googling "howl therapy" just yields blogs devoted to poetry and the poets' progress in analysis, so don't bother.

Quinn Finally Arrives

I am pleased and exhausted to report that Quinn joined us on July 31, 2006 at 2:04 p.m. He weighed a whopping 9 pounds 12 ounces, 20.5 inches. He is an expert nurser and sleeper, and is slowly warming to his role as a little brother.

Where I Have Been

Short answer: Nowhere.

Long answer: Gestating like crazy and crawling the walls as a result. So no, there's no news. I am now 9 days late. I thought I would provide a list -- and this will bore you to death -- of the things I have been doing while waiting for this baby to be born:

Due Date: July 17 - took a walk around the block, then retrieved child #1 from his daycare in order to take him to the emergency room because he smashed his head open on some piece of trash his day-care lady had left in her backyard. Spent hours in ER, complaining to anyone that would listen that I was due that day. Turned down offer of gurney, held injured child, burrito-style, while an Annie-Lennox-but-less-hot-looking nurse glued the kiddo's head back together. He is no worse for the wear; I am still pregnant.

I have gotten one pedicure.

I have completed one 500 piece jigsaw puzzle, featuring Mt. Rainier.

I have taken in one Red Sox-A's game.

I have finished book 7 in the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series, Blue Shoes and Happiness. McCall Smith is really coasting on bullshit pseudo-Africo-wisdom now. I am seriously considering finally finishing Moby Dick, which I have pretended to try to do twice already before.

I made a mix tape for Liam. It includes the following songs: This Land is Your Land, Lindbergh, The Car Song, Do-Re-Mi (Woody Guthrie); O Susannah (James Taylor); Washington DC and Fido, Your Leash is Too Long (Magnetic Fields); Hey Ya! (Outkast); Family Business (Kanye West); Can't Take My Eyes Off of You (Lauryn Hill); Chasing After James (Hazel); two samba songs; Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots (Flaming Lips) and Isabel (Unrest). Not in that order. I worked on it for like 3 days. Only one of those songs (Fido) uses the F word, as far as I can tell.

It turns out I am the kind of parent who likes songs that include inappropriate topics/words, but am not comfortable letting my child hear them. I feel like such a hypocrite already and he's only 2. This occurred to me recently when I was listening the Beastie Boys. The lyric "Your mom just threw away your best porno mag" made me realize that I have, or will, change sides in the historic battle between adults and children.

I have taken many walks around the block.

I am up to date on all Entourage episodes except the one that was added to On Demand yesterday. I suspect (from the description) that it may involve a threesome, so I don't want to watch it while my mom is still here.

I saw the Gee's Bend exhibit at the DeYoung Museum.

I have eaten Indian food twice.

I have paid some August bills, and dealt with two health insurance matters which I had been avoiding. Apparently someone else is also visiting the emergency room using my insurance card. Great. So that means I can add "I got my identity stolen" to the list of stuff I have done while waiting for child #2.

That's it, I'm tapped out. I think if other women followed my prescription here, they would have had their babies already. So I am looking for other low-key, time-consuming activities that might induce labor. I welcome your thoughts.

Htoo Twins Take Over Poland

When I saw this picture in the paper this morning (to the left there), I immediately recalled the Htoo twins*, and wondered, Why aren't there more super-villainous twins??

Those Htoo brothers sure grew up fast, didn't they? I wonder if there is a Karen rebel/Polish super-alliance now. And Johnny (or is it Luther) did a great job growing his hair back down to its natural hairline.

A Slightly Better Attempt

While I do not have my chops today, Dan Savage does. In particular, I like this letter:

I love my husband so, so much. He's so, so good to me, we have a great life together, and the sex is good. But there's another man I'm so, so attracted to. I don't want to jeopardize my marriage, or hurt my husband, but I'm afraid I might give in to the attraction in a moment of weakness. At the same time, I don't want to give up the activity where I see this other man, because the activity (martial-arts study) is a really important part of my life.
So, So Married

Lordy, what a predicament! The more time you spend with this other man, the likelier it becomes that you'll cheat. But you can't stop seeing this other man because you study martial arts with him and that's such an important part of your life—unlike, say, your marriage—and you couldn't possibly give it up! And as everyone on earth knows, there's only one martial-arts school on the whole freakin' planet, so you're pretty much condemned to spend time with this other man—what other choice do you have?—until the inevitable inevitability inevitably happens.
Puh-leeze, SSM. If your husband doesn't rate the supreme sacrifice of switching to some other martial-arts school, then nothing I can say is going to stop you from getting what you so, so desperately want. But after you fuck this other guy, SSM, don't run around pretending that you were just a victim of cruel circumstance—martial arts made me do it!—and not the so, so guilty instigator.

Sorry It's Been A Whole Week

This doesn't even really live up to Scobie standards, but I thought you might like the distraction. In related news, there's this.

*sigh* I promise that I will try harder to find something interesting for you to read. No pun intended.

Scobie Grab Bag

For the four readers who check in here to get their fix of Alabama political gossip, y'all should know that former governor Don Seigelman was convicted on 7 (of 34) counts of corruption earlier today. Co-defendant Richard Scrushy, former HealthSouth CEO, found that pretending he was a black preacherman didn't work as well in Judge Mark Fuller's court as it did up in Birmin'ham.

I'm sorry, but I agree that John Devis' Journal is the best blog that I have seen in maybe my whole life. I really wish that, when I was casting about for a theme, I had thought of the "big cats/dead game/Khazakhstan" combo.

The time killer over at My Heritage.com ("Find the Celebrity in You! TM) reveals my likeness to, in order to likeness: Neil Sedaka, Andie McDowell, Maurice Chevalier, Sharon Stone, Hugh Grant, Peter O'Toole, Gary Lineker, and Chloe Sevigny. No Isabella Rosellini or Linda Evangelista. Wierd, huh?

F your I, the photos I chose to link to are not the ones that were compared to the one I submitted. Except for Sharon Stone's. I basically look just like her in the picture I submitted.

Milk OBSESSION Hits Bay Area!

I thought the relatively reasonable referral to Straus Creamery last week would have mooted this sort of nonsense, but looks who's back. Or its her sister. But whatever:

Raw Milk

During my first pregnancy, a dear, and very well-informed, friend introduced me to the wonders of raw milk. I drank it throughout the pregnancy and had a very successful pregnancy and birth and are blessed with a very healthy child. I'm now pregnant again and want to continue drinking it. After researching it extensively, I'm absolutely convinced it is one of the most important things I can be doing for my and my family's health. The trouble is, it is very,very expensive from retail outlets. Two questions: 1) does anybody else have experience (positive or negative) with drinking raw milk? and 2)does anyone know of a local (we're in oakland) buying collective we could join/would anyone be interested in starting one with us? They require a minimum $200 purchase every two weeks - roughly 35 gallons I think. The aforementioned friend is part of such a collective in Wisconsin and could give us guidance about the logistics. If you would like more information about raw milk and its benefits, you can check out realmilk.com or organic pastures.

By Comparison, the Responses Seem Sane

I am sure you were all dying to know what the BPN posters below got in response to their queries. Appropriately, Ms. Eco-friendly Shelf Liner got no responses at all. I breathe a sigh of relief that we, as a community, have not gone that far out of the bounds of reality yet. The Mad Milker got this single response - tame in comparison to her request, despite the reference to bovine homeopathy:

I saw this message in an earlier newsletter and hopefully by now someone has steered you (no pun intended) to Strauss creamery milk (in the glass jug). The cows are raised up in W. Marin and given only homeopathy, etc... Remember that cows NEED to be milked twice a day and machine milking is the way to go in the 21st C. You need to shake up the Vit. D. milk to homogenize it--no child enjoys a slimy cream layer on their glass of milk. Good luck and congrats on trying to get your kid the very best in milk products Milk Lover

The jury is still out on The Sunscreen Scrooge.

The Marin cows thing reminds me of a story: My aunt is a big fan of her Shelties but she and her husband travel a lot for work. She once reported, without a hint of doubt or irony, that she had found a dog kennel to board her beloved Bailey where, for an extra $15/day, the dog would be taken for "a walk in the meadow." My aunt thought it was the deal of the century until someone (everyone) pointed out that there was no possible way to confirm that the walk had occurred. In the 10-15 years since, my aunt is asked whether her dogs have gotten their walks in the meadow, their steaks tartare, their trips to the symphony, etc. Haar har.*

*Family stories aren't really that funny outside of the family, are they?

Be Thankful You Live Elsewhere, If You Do

This time of year, when it is blazingly hot everywhere else in the country, non-Bay-Arears (??) turn westward to vacation and salivate over our perfect 72 degrees, clear as chrystal days. But if you need any reason to appreciate your own humid, nay, fetid, hometown, then look no further.

First of all, check out Rangelife's riff on SF business owner Amanda Cotten. (Thanks Missoula).

Next, follow me over to the Recommendations Wanted posting from the Berkeley Parents Network for these gems:

Eco-friendly Shelf Liner: We just remodeled our kitchen and need shelf liners to protect our newly painted shelves from heavy pots. I've just read that the heavy plastic liners off-gas a lot, so I'm looking for an alternative. Any suggestions? I'd rather have something removable (not contact paper). Thanks!

You live in a toxic stew of Bay Area car emissions and Berkeley patchouli body odor and you are worried about your f***ing shelf liner?? Also, is "off-gas" a f***ing word??

Fresh milk in Berkeley or surrounding area??: We are a vegan family (mostly—we do sometimes eat eggs from a friend’s chickens) with a 20 month old who is soon to be weaned off breast milk. We’re thinking that we may start adding milk to her diet (probably goat or sheep, but we’re open to cow) when we stop feeding her breast milk if we can find a well treated local animal to milk, or to have milked. Does anyone have any suggestions? We live in South Berkeley.

You are going to milk this goat, SHEEP, or cow by HAND????

Sunscreen for seriously rashy baby: My 10 month old is very rashy and every sunscreen I've tried so far is a no-go. I've read what's on the website, and I've tried Banana Boat and also California Baby. I'm sure there's one out there that will work, but they're so expensive, I don't want to spend hundreds of dollars on tubes of things I'll never use. What works for a very rashy baby, other than a hat and an umbrella?

Do you, or do you not, want to your child to get sunburned?? Cheap bastard.

Okay, I will stop with the foul-mouthed Andy Rooney routine and go back to meditating in preparation for my silent water birth.

Oh Brit. Part Deux.

I have a pretty strong suspicion that Britney Spears does not know where Namibia is.

To which Angelina replied: "And I will have my next baby in a crack shack on the bayou. Can someone please fetch me a restraining order?"

Oh Darryl.

I am posting this for my temporarily-Swedish readers:

Speaking of publicists, was it Darryl Hannah's publicist who thought she could revive her career by being arrested at The Farm in LA? Because it isn't going to work. I suspect Julia Butterfly Hill is a little annoyed that DH has been squatting on a bush or something for the past 17 days. I suspect this because I am a lot annoyed by it. And I am 110% the biggest community gardening fan on the planet. I am just not a Darryl-Hannah-revived-career fan.

Oh Brit.

Apparently, Britney Spears has hired Tom Cruise's publicist.

I can say that because I watch Entourage now, and know what a publicist does, or is supposed to do.

For All You Haters

I am pretty tired of hearing about how huge I look, and why I am still at work, and how I am "all baby" and "bout to bust" and so forth. You can direct all future comments to this brave woman, who has found a terrible way around China's one-baby policy.

Good Foreign Policy Move for 2008 Candidate

Check it:


It's a crazy thing to do, but you gotta admit, Hillary looks great in a bikini. Maybe not so much in the thighs, but her boobs are shockingly nice. For a senator, is what I mean.

How Bad Do You Want it?

When I first read that Ann Coulter has called 9/11 widows "witches", I was so shocked that I laughed. Another apt reaction: "She makes me want to stab myself in the eyes and ears with pencils." Thanks poo poo platter.

But then I thought, I have to think about this from Coulter's perspective, which is hard, since I am not Satan. But I think I understand where she's coming from. She's jealous. She is green with envy. Because honestly, she's the only woman alive who would wish her husband had died in a fiery terrorist attack so that she could have the kind of political capital those widows have. Of course she's never married, so she's never had the opportunity to profit from the nationally-tragic death of a spouse. But, oh, she would if she could. And not just in a "cash in the life insurance" kind of way.

The other thing is, this is just going to sell books. So once you know about it, just file it away in your brain and do not waste one mental milliwatt of energy on her vomit. It only encourages her.

Totally Unrelated Good News

Wow, Roy Moore goes down AND Albertson's announces its closing its store on College Ave. Deos mio. It's a good day.

Political News of the Wierd

It should be a good night for blogging. Those of us who swore off electoral politics (temporarily) after the 2004 election get a little taste of November with today's primaries. First, the normal news. Lucy Baxley looks close to trouncing Don Seigelman in the AL Democratic primary, and Bob Riley has already been declared the winner of the Republican primary. Their margins of victory are, in the first case, a sign that folks are turned off from politicians of either party who have the stench of scandal about them, and in the second case, a sign that Alabama Republicans want to be free of the stench of Roy Moore. Bob Riley was roundly despised (by Republicans) during his Amendment 1 campaign but they still don't want to be marked as backwater nutjobs. In other good news, Drayton Nabors is beating Tom Parker for Supreme Court Chief Justice. (For updates on AL polls tonight, see here.)

In my county, Phil Angelides is leading Steve Westly for the Dem gov nomination. It's early, but Alameda County has 1 out of every 20 Democratic voters in the state. And Francine Busby is leading Brian Bilbray in the 50th Congressional District. Which rules.

Here's the wierd, or maybe sad, news from today's Alabama primary: Larry Darby is close on the heels of John Tyson for the Democratic nomination for Attorney General. (Troy King has already got the Republican nomination - natch). That's fucked up.

Even more fucked up than Katherine Harris' inexplicable contention that she will use a guide dog in Washington once elected to the Senate, notwithstanding her sightedness. She sounds totally unhinged these days.

Okay, more as the evening unfolds.

The Internets Is Abuzz Today

Anna Nicole Smith has announced that she is pregnant. Let me be the first (or whatever) to congratulate her. My sincerest hope is that she was inseminated with the sperm of her late husband J. Howard Marshall II, Texas oil tycoon*. If so, she is a complete genius. Or her lawyer is. If she were to create a new heir to the Marshall fortune, it would guarantee litigation with her obnoxious "stepson" well into the next century. Notwithstanding evidence to the contrary, I actually have work to do, so I will have to "research" the cases about posthumous insemination a little later in the day.

*I need more reasons to use the word "tycoon" in my life.

This Blog Is Not Sponsored By Spencer's Gifts

It only seems like it is.



For those of you curious about the Puzzle Alarm Clock, which spews puzzle pieces when it goes off and can't be silenced til the puzzle is done, I also recommend the Blowfly Alarm, which buzzes around the room and can only be silenced when it is returned to its cage.

Caution: John Travolta Alert

In case you were hoping that the gross-out stories of the day would be limited to the front page of the paper today, hope no more. The New York Times Style section has an article on how gyms are no longer the dating scene they once were. Great, you think. Except that it includes descriptions such as this:

When men and women first began working out together in the late 70's and early 80's, the atmosphere at many gyms was as sexually charged as a John Travolta-era disco: beefy men and lithe women pumped iron, Jazzercised and gave each other the eye.

And gym bunnies, both male and female, dressed to accentuate their appeal (or so they thought). "Jane Fonda made it O.K. for us to exercise almost naked in public," Ms. Fox said. "There was a whole sexual revealment — a thong leotard with a flesh-colored tight. It was like, butt cheek, hello! When I look back on it now, it looks like an exotic dancer outfit."

Men liked to flaunt their assets, too. In "Perfect," Mr. Travolta wears crotch-hugging short shorts, and he's not afraid of the hip thrust.

Is that necessary?? Also, is revealment a word?

WTF?

Having gotten no satisfaction from my earlier license plate musings, I was pretty annoyed today to see a bumper sticker that said, "I (heart) dogs & I (heart) art & I vote!!" I am not even going to bother researching this stupid bullshit. I will go straight to Dan's conclusion re Thomas Payne: "Actually it makes no effing sense at all, and solves nothing." I may cross-stitch that on my ass if I see another stupid fucking license plate/bumper sticker.

I take that back, since Berkeley is the ninth circle of bumper sticker hell.

My Vigilance is Rewarded

Nelson Marans is dropping some knowledge on y'all over on the Science Times letters page. Don't think I am not watching, Nelson Marans. I am.

What else is going on with me? Not much. I updated Bay Area Hiking Mamas yesterday. I let someone give my child a buzz cut yesterday. No, wait, I actively encouraged it. It's really freaking cute. Our digital camera is broken, so you'll have to take my word for it.

Re-printing Without Editorial Comment

From The Onion
Pregnant Woman Glows With Rage
May 24, 2006 Issue 42•21
BROOKLYN, NY—Developments common to the seventh month of pregnancy have caused mother-to-be Anita Cernicke to glow with the inner light of pure fury, those close to the Cernickes report. "Jesus Christ, my fucking back," Cernicke, incandescent with the wrath of impending motherhood, said repeatedly to her husband during a recent trip to the grocery store. "Ask the manager if I can use the restroom. I'm peeing every 15 minutes, I swear. How long until I can have a god-damned drink?" Family sources said they see no reason why Cernicke's positively livid radiance can't sustain itself to the baby's due date and beyond.

Boo Boo the Chicken

Things to Do in Arkadelphia When You're Dead.

Can you tell that I am having a really hard time focusing on work this afternoon?

Where Are They Now?

Hey former Hache-Pee-Kayers, wonder whatever happened to Benjahmin Evans and his adorable sweetheart Jen Stewart? Look no further. Not sure what this means for Drag King, but the radon sure contributes to the, umm, mystique.

And sorry to my other readers who could not give a shit. Or who wonder why I read Money magazine. (Let me put it this way: I read it for the articles.)

Nothing Makes Sense About This

Anonymous asked for clarification on a license plate cover that said, "My Other Car is a Thomas Payne Novel". My interest was piqued. After searching Amazon and the Oakland Public Library, my curiosity is beyond piqued. What's a word that even means "beyond piqued"? Enzealed?

Here are some books authored by people named Thomas Payne or Tom Payne:

1. Gatitos! by Larry Dane Brimner & Tom Payne - Cats - Juvenile fiction
2. Odd Moments in Baseball - Joel Cohen & Tom Payne - Baseball humor - juvenile
3. The Epiphany: An operetta for children: Matthew 2:1-12 by Edward Thomas Payne
4. Spiritual death and resurrection;: A treatise: on The crucifixion and death of the old man, and The resurrection and spiritual life of the new by Thomas Payne
5. A catalogue of books, to be sold at the prices affixed to each article by Thomas Payne
6. Things I Wish I Had Known Before I Started Sailing by John Vigor and Thomas Payne
7. From the inside out: How to create and survive a culture of change by Thomas Payne
8. File This, Please! by Marjorie Thomas Payne
9. Exploring Language Structure: A Student's Guide by Thomas Payne
10. This Whole Tooth Fairy Things Nothing But A Big Rip Off! by Lois Grambling and Thomas Payne

Need I go on?

Did they owner of this car really mean Thomas Paine (author of the nonfiction Common Sense)? Or is Thomas Payne a code word for vanity-publishing authors? And why do 7 of these 10 examples have an exclamation point in their titles? Is it the law of averages or do exclamation points really draw the reader's eye to the title?

I am reminded of Pee Wee Herman's speech in his basement to his friends when he is describing his search for the bike thief:

The mind plays tricks on you. You play tricks back! It's like you're unraveling a big cable-knit sweater that someone keeps knitting and knitting and knitting and knitting and knitting and knitting...

Thought I'd Share

Got my law school alumni magazine today. This, from an article about alums who have gone into government jobs:

Marty Boland '96
Assistant General Counsel
Central Intelligence Agency, Office of General Counsel

A professional achievement of which you are particularly proud:

Unfortunately, given the nature of my work, this is difficult to describe with any specificity. In general though, I can say that I am proud, on a daily basis, to be able to contribute to the mission of the CIA by ensuring that its activities are conducted in a lawful manner.

I think he speaks for all of us, really.

Back in the Saddle, At Least for Today

Other than my musings on the Alabama Democratic Party, I have been largely absent from my blogging activities recently. Unlike Article III Groupie (um, pull yourself together please) and T&A Lady, I have no apology to offer. No offense, but I don't pretend like any of you miss me. And plus, I have an excuse. Several, in fact. First of all, there is this:

Second, there is this:

So yeah, there is a lot of non-Internets activity that I am trying to keep a handle on. That doesn't mean I haven't been thinking about y'all. Here are a few things you should know about:

1. A few friends of mine have started blogging, Smashed Bananas and Goodbye to Old Missoula. Check them out.

2. I saw a license plate protector today that said, "I DON'T NEED ANOTHER CAR, I'M A WELLES FILM ENTHUSIAST." What the hell does that mean? Related thought: why do Prius owners go all crazy for vanity plates? Corollary: Mini drivers (as opposed to Minnie Driver), why do you discredit yourselves thus?

3. My heart is gladdened to read this Chicago Tribune story about my homey, my stromey, the Doo Doo Man on WRMS. Peace. Actually, it's about JP Chill on WHPK but I thought someone might like that reference....(and if you're gonna buy it, get it at Dusty Groove).

Party Fluidity in Alabama Politics

If I were going to write a dissertation for a PhD from Troy State University*, it would be about the effect of party fluidity on the decline of the Democratic Party in Alabama. What is that, you say? Basically, people can declare that they are Democrats in any election where the incumbent is a Republican, just so that they can run on a party ticket, regardless of whether they share the politics of the party. This has helped the Democratic Party stay viable in AL, probably, but it is also corrodes their ability to have a cohesive message. That's a theory of mine, at least.

The candidacy of Larry Darby starkly illustrates this problem. He is an atheist-white-power-Holocaust-denier running for attorney general in the Democratic Party primary.

In an interview Friday with The Associated Press, Darby said he believes no more than 140,000 Jewish people died in Europe during World War II, and most of them succumbed to typhus. Historians say about 6 million Jews were slaughtered by the Nazis, but Darby said the figure is a false claim of the "Holocaust industry." Darby said he will speak Saturday near Newark, N.J., at a meeting of National Vanguard, which bills itself as an advocate for the white race. Some of his campaign materials are posted on the group's Internet site.

He sounds like he was invented by the Republicans to discredit Democrats, doesn't he? (And how the hell does he expect to make it alive out of Newark?). The AL Dems are going to launch an investigation into how Darby hitched his wagon to their star.

*Please note that Troy State does not appear to offer any doctorate degrees. Well, a girl can dream.

Freestyle Chin Beards?

You probably didn't even know that there was something other than a chin beard, but this guy won that category at the International German Beard Championships. I wonder whether the Germans have an awards category for "Beards", in THIS sense. That would be awesome.

In unrelated news, the woman in France who had the face transplant can now feel her face (and not just the cigarette she keeps dangling from her lips). Do you remember that there was a flap over whether she was the best person to be the first face recipient, owing to her suicidal tendencies and nasty smoking habit? It occurs to me now: if you are depressed enough to be suicidal, don't you think that you, more than most others, truly need a face??? Like, what's more depressing than not having a FACE? I saw Murderball last night, so I can say with zero authority but reasonable certainty, that its more depressing to be faceless than legless. That's my opinion.

Something I Always Suspected About Finland

Even the subliminal message backlash against Judas Priest (now so many years ago) engendered the kind of navel-gazing that the Finns are doing over the choice of Lordi to represent their country at the Eurovision pop contest. Hello? Hakkapeliittas?

Why am I writing about this? I felt that I must. Please read here.

Luckily, No Gunfire Broke Out

Today's edition of Pregnancy Insanity is proud to feature Sarah and Kris Everson, whose recent announcement of the birth of sextuplets has been revealed to be a scam. Who among us, really, has not thought, Diapers are so f***ing expensive. How can I get the readers of People magazine to give a girl a hand up?

At least there's no body count in this case. I just wonder if ANY babies were born at all.

Two Ways to Make You Feel a Little More Stressed Today

Two items that made me feel more, rather than less, agitated today:

The Bush Countdown Clock: I think this is suppsed to be reassuring but it more seems like the clock of a time bomb. Maybe they should call it Countdown to the Frist Administration or something. It's more Nuclear (err, Nucular) Clock than the coping mechanism its creators intended.

The Sinus Balloon: From the Cure is Worse than the Illness File, I bring you the sinus balloon. Looking at this makes my face hurt, which suggests that I would rather have a sinus infection than this contraption installed in my face:

Unclear on the Concept

Onan the Vegetarian.

I am not even sure what I could add to this. Talk amongst yourselves.

When You're Smiling....

As they say, the whole world smiles with you.

Well, when you're pregnant, the whole world is full of nut jobs. I don't even know which of these stories is better.

The story about the gunfight that broke out at the baby shower?

A baby shower erupted into a fight among guests in which one man was shot and several other people, including the seven-months-pregnant guest of honor, were beaten with a stick, police say.

Three people were arrested after the brawl, described by police as a "baby shower gone bad." Police said the shooting victim, Aristotle Garcia, got into a fight with a man who is dating his ex-girlfriend. The argument, over whether the woman let their 5-year-old daughter drink beer, escalated and drew in two other people — Jazz Rivas and Juan Velazquez, said Police Lt. Cheryl C. Claprood.

When the baby shower's hostess tried to intervene, Rivas began hitting some of the guests, including the 22-year-old mother-to-be, with a large stick, she said.

Or is it the craigslist post about the insaniac new mom on the treadmill?

You - New mom on the elliptical machine at the gym. Me - They guy on the elliptical machine next to you. The other day you were running on the elliptical machine with your baby strapped to your chest. I admire your commitment to get back into the gym and work out even with the challenges of being a parent and having a baby. I also admire your ability to continue running for 20 minutes after your baby had shit their diaper. It didn't matter that the entire gym fucking stunk, it didn't matter that your baby was sitting in a loaf of crap and developing diaper rash, and it didn't matter that I kept giving you the "holy shit lady, that is fucking gross" glance. All that mattered is that you stubbornly finished your workout, ruined the experience for everyone else there, and probably gave your kid a nasty rash. You have the kind of audacity and selfishness that I am seeking in a soul mate.

Is It Funny?

In her comment to the post below, kmlc suggested google image searching oneself as an enjoyable pastime. Is this fun?

Here is the fruit of my search:




Here is what comes up when you put in my maiden name:

That's me with the comb-over.

So the answer is, No, not funny.

Ummm....

Due to the wonders of modern technology, I am able to view a list of searches that bring folks to my website. As a result of this, I believe that Nelson Marans googles himself pretty frequently.

But anyway, today a visitor to my blog came via a search for "child birth, whiskey". I just wanted to tell that reader, if he or she should visit again, that while it sounds like a good idea to combine the two, it probably isn't medically advised. Please seek professional help for either your alcoholism or your pregnancy or both. Thanks.

It's Okay, I Am Screaming For Her

Various news organizations are reporting that Scientologists have been sighted bringing signs into the Cruise-Holmes mansion that remind Katie to keep quiet during labor.

On Monday, huge placards saying, "Be silent and make all physical movements slow and understandable," were carried into the couple's home, to be displayed around the house to remind Holmes to deal with the extreme pain of childbirth quietly.

Usually I leave the TomKat news to T&A Lady, but I really could not let this pass unmentioned. The preposterous basis for these signs is Hubbard's belief that keeping the mother quiet would prevent trauma to the child as it was being born. He must not have ever witnessed a live birth, since what actually happens in the birth canal has got to be a lot more traumatizing than hearing Katie Holmes tell Tom Cruise that he should go fuck himself. In fact, I think the little tyke, like the rest of us, would actually be gratified to hear her say that.

And while we are on the topic of celebrity births, I hope you haven't missed this.

Culture Math

I have a formula for you:

Hustle & Flow - The Commitments = Big Love

And, yes, doubters, I have seen all three of these. I am actually quite certain that the minds behind Big Love ("Polygamy Loves Company") came up with the concept after seeing Hustle and Flow. Essentially, there's a man, with father issues, struggling against the mores of society to keep his hos fed, if not happy. Djay has three hookers to pimp; Bill has three wives. When Shelby shows up at Djay's, Djay actually says something like, "You Mormons have balls." Bill's a Mormon. And at one point when Djay is rhapsodizing in his car about some bullshit*, he says, "You gotta have big love." I could go on but you get my point.

And it may turn out that Bill has A Dream that involves Wilson Pickett coming to town to hear him and his band of ne'er-do-wells sing with their heart and soul, in which case the equation will be Hustle & Flow - black people = Big Love. I probably will not be tuning back in to find out, however. I am just happy to assume that Bill, like Djay, ends up in the Big House for his troubles.

*the theme of which was probably, "It's hard out here for a pimp."

Innovations in Architecture

Sometimes you drive past a strip mall or office park so ugly, you can only hope that the designing architect has been turned out of his bed at night and beaten senseless by his/her cohorts, given a purple nurple and had his/her pencils sharpened to a nub. Or something.

And then something like this comes along, and you have hope for humanity. It's so brilliant. Hermit crab housing, modeled on a Fascist architect's designs, in recognition of the intrusion-into-nature through control that this idea intends. I think that few of us can say that our profession has ever made a contribution like this one to, well, hermit crabs.

For the Three or Four of You Who Care

Only about 3 or 4 of you will care about this, and you already know, but I do feel like some public grief needs to be spilled about the sale of Puffers in Chicago to an alleged "politically connected contractor (and "teetotaler", in the words of one longtime customer) who plans on turning the bar into a country and western-themed establishment with no live music, no cookouts in the beer garden, and no "foreign" beers."

Let's pause for a second and consider the idea of a (1) contractor who is (2) politically connected in (3) Bridgeport* who is also (4) a teetotaller. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT ABOUT?

Geez, the White Sox have a good year and now actual Christians** move into the neighborhood and open country-western-themed restaurants?? Is this implausible or what? Or just sadder than any other gentrification effort you have EVER heard of?

Many of my good memories of Bridgeport go back to Puffers. Some bad ones too. Like watching 15 black kids with "Support Lenard Clark"*** signs march up and down Halsted while sitting in Puffers at the front window. But I am glad to say the patrons of Puffers were supportive of those kids, offended that they had neighbors who would bring such infamy to the neighborhood.

Anyway, just my two cents.

*Note for non-Chicagoans: Bridgeport is where Mayor Daley is from. His moms still lives like 3 blocks from Puffers, although since she's 400 years old, I doubt she's ever darkened their door. Plus, the bartender wears chaps, so that probably keeps her away too.

** As opposed to all the non-teetotalling Catholics.

*** Non-Chicagoans: Lenard Clark was a 13-year-old black kid from across the freeway (Robert Taylor Homes) who dared ride his bike over to Bridgeport/Armour Square, where he was jumped and beaten by some white teenagers. Read a little here.

Side Effects of Botox

This story was just brought to my attention:

Woman injected with fake Botox dies

One of at least two women given fake Botox injections died "several weeks ago" and the woman who performed the injections could face possible manslaughter charges, Monterey County Sheriff's Sgt. Terry Kaiser said today.
The victim's name is not being released, Kaiser said.

Martha Vasquez, 39, does not have a license to practice medicine, which is necessary to administer Botox injections. Investigators believe Vasquez administered the injections at the homes of her clients, who lived in the Salinas area.

Tests to determine what the fake Botox actually was are still under way, according to Kaiser.

Vasquez is currently in custody in Monterey County Jail. The sheriff's office is not releasing any further details about the case at this time because the investigation is ongoing. A spokeswoman for the Monterey District Attorney's office said no decision about possible charges against Vasquez had been made as of this morning.

I was also sent this picture, and I am going to pretend that this photo goes with the previous story, because it should, shouldn't it?

The State of Healthcare

As if nurses and patients don't already have enough problems, with overflowing hospital wards and crazy medical bills... This is in today's paper:

Neurosurgery chief arrested in Oakland operating room - Thursday, March 9, 2006
(03-09) 09:40 PST Oakland, Calif. (AP) --
The chief of neurosurgery at Highland Hospital was wrestled to an operating room floor by deputies and arrested after allegedly throwing a drunken fit when a nurse refused to let him operate, authorities said.

Federico Castro-Moure, 45, was arrested Monday night on suspicion of being under the influence of alcohol and interfering with the duty of officers, said Alameda County sheriff's Lt. Jim Knudson.

Castro-Moure became belligerent after insisting on operating on a man who broke his ankles and fractured his spine in a two-story fall, according to the sheriff's department. Two other surgeons had determined the injuries were not life-threatening, but Castro-Moure insisted the man would die if he did not receive immediate attention, the report said.

He "threw a fit" and began yelling and cursing at staff when they told him equipment for the procedure needed to be transferred from another hospital, according to the report. When the surgical instruments arrived, a nurse refused to allow Castro-Moure to operate until they could be sterilized.

Castro-Moure threatened the nurse by punching his fist in his hand. He took a swing at deputies after they were called to intervene. "Do you know that I am a (expletive) doctor, and I'm going to do what I want," he said, according to a witness.

He was booked into Glenn Dyer Detention Facility in Oakland and was released several hours later in lieu of $4,000 bail, a jail official said Thursday morning.

Castro-Moure was placed on leave while the hospital investigates the matter, hospital spokesman David Cone said.

A woman who answered the phone at Castro-Moure's home Thursday morning said the doctor had no comment.

How is This Funny?

Two little shitheads were arrested for the Alabama church fires. Their defense?

A witness quoted Cloyd as saying Moseley did it "as a joke and it got out of hand," according to the affidavit. Moseley also told agents the four church fires in west Alabama were set "as a diversion to throw investigators off," an attempt that "obviously did not work," the affidavit said.

Fucking idiots. Sorry to sound like some sort gold standard advocate or something, but what the hell is wrong with people these days? Whoever thought it would be funny or something to set churches on fire? No one. Not even white supremacists do it for shits and giggles. They do it to propogate terror and evil, not because it's fucking funny.

Message to the AMA

Dear AMA:

Save your freakin' money. At first I thought this news was a misplaced Onion article, but no, it's true, the AMA has found that (drum roll, please) spring break is bad and unhealthy for young women. Read about it here.

Kathleen Fitzgerald, a 21-year-old junior at Illinois State University, said the AMA's effort to raise awareness is a good idea, but probably won't do much to curb drinking during spring break.

"I think a lot of students wouldn't really pay that much attention to it," Fitzgerald said. "They would just be like, `Duh, that's why we do it.'"

Genius.

The only reason that The Onion never wrote this article is because here's how it would have gone in the pitch meeting:

Writer 1: How about an article about a medical study finding that Spring Break is bad for women? You know, all the alcohol and sun and unprotected sex?
Other Writers: (Silence)
Editor: See me in my office after this.

Writer 1 was even lame enough to create dumb graphic to accompany his stupid story.

My Apologies, Gentle Readers

A reader says, "I realize that you're probably busy but could you please post something new on your blog! I'm getting sick of seeing those butts." She later remarks that there is something particularly distressing about the butt/backpack combo. Probably gives her flashbacks to her honeymoon, but I won't explore that any further.

Anyway.

Another reader shares this from Range Life. NoCal folks will appreciate it most, but I think all NPR listeners will find something in this letter that resonates:

Dear KQED:

It's time now to kill "Perspectives."

Every weekday morning at 7:37, whilst Morning Edition fans in other markets are learning important things about the sorry condition of the world, Bay Area listeners are subjected to three minutes of personal stories about the pain of being bi-racial in Berkeley, or about the pain of being a nerdy teenager who doesn't wear Abercrombie, or about the pain of transcending consumerism during Christmastime.

In other words, it's a pointless segment of "I me my me me I my me me me me me," sort of like a LiveJournal site, but one that you're forced to read all the way through while it rubs your nipples with a cheese grater.

Today's edition, however, was such an atrocity against all that is holy and virtuous about public radio that I feel compelled to speak out. Adrienne DeAngelo's "Perspective" this morning consisted entirely of a long advertisement for Bugaboo strollers, a wildly expensive product line that Ms. DeAngelo wants to acquire for her baby. She went so far as to list the models, plus the features and benefits of each.

It would be annoying enough to hear Ms. DeAngelo whine about how much she misses her grandma or how much she hates traffic, like your other insightful "Perspectives" contributors, but to hear her engage in such flagrant shillery left me feeling like I'd been ear-raped by a car dealership.

What was it like in the studio when Ms. DeAngelo recorded this disaster? Did the
engineer and producer shoot each other an awestruck "This is gold!" look and high five? Is Ms. DeAngelo going to be invited back to brag about her new Bose iPod dock, or whine about her husband not buying her a Lexus RX350?

It's time for "Perspectives" to go. In the Internet age, we don't need NPR to encourage ordinary citizens from Rock Ridge and the Castro to add to an uninformed cacophony about how schoolkids need more art classes, or how happy they are they gave up coffee, or how badly new moms should want an $800 stroller. Let them go get blogs like the rest of us fools, so we can ignore them.

Yours truly,
Seamus

It's True

There's a lid for every pot.

I Didn't Want to Be the One to Say It

I thought it didn't need to said outright, but John Roberts sure is flaunting his persuasion these days, if you know what I mean.

May the Circle Be Unbroken

I don't want you to think I was actively cruising the Lebowski Fest website, but I do need you to know that the site features two circle closures for this blog.

First of all, it IS Liam, and someone thought it was funny enough to make one of these dumb fake church signs out of it.

Second, lebowskiites have already participated in at least one documented bed race. A bed race, dude.

I can't promise that I am done with any of these topics, but I will try very very hard.

Mmmm Good.

Once upon a time, there was a tiny little burg called Haggis-In-The-Can-By-The-Sea. It was a lovely place, and quiet, where all the movies were rated PG and folks left perfectly good wood outside for their neighbors to use as firewood. That kind of place. The kind of place you might like to hunker down and watch from a distance as Atlantic City blazes to the ground in The Rapture, knowing full well that you will survive and be assumed whole cloth into Heaven.

Anyway, one day, the good people of Haggis-In-The-Can-By-The-Sea decided that they wanted to share their local delicacy with the greater world. And in their goodness, they knew that they needed to expand their product line to ensure that it was all-inclusive. Thus, Vegetarian-Haggis-In-The-Can was born. I thought I could help them out, spread their message, spread their joy.

In a hopefully related note, Dismas House is soliciting recipes for its Dismas cookbook. Please join Mike Dukakis "Dukakis Clam Chowder", Sister Helen Prejean "New Orleans fried catfish", author of Dead Man Walking, Kay and John Bassett from Clark University, "Meatloaf," and submit a recipe for the Dismas House cookbook. This cookbook will feature Dismas cooks' recipes, inmate creative recipes made on hot pots, "Honey bun and snickers sandwiches," and photos/profiles of people who live in the community and support Dismas!

This is Getting to be Very Awesome

Pork Roll Shunners! Take Heed! Brown Bread Haters! Run! I bring you Cross & Blackwell Hunger Breaks All Day Breakfast. Have you ever been gladder that we won the Revolutionary War?

Here's the breakdown:

Description: All Day Breakfast baked beans in tomato sauce with sausages, button mushrooms, chopped pork and egg nuggets with cereal, and bacon.

Thanks to KMLC for the tip. Your case of All Day Breakfast is in the mail.

Question

Does anyone know whether, in The Big Lebowski, Jesus Quintana's bowling partner is named Liam or Seamus? I could have sworn, rewatching it on Friday night, that it's Liam, but then Dools found the script on-line:


QUINTANA: I see you rolled your way into the semis. Deos mio, man. Seamus and me, we're gonna fuck you up.
DUDE: Yeah well, that's just, ya know, like, your opinion, man.

UPDATE:

Okay, I am vindicated. The correct version of the script reveals that I was, in fact, stone cold sober throughout the entire movie (this time):

Jesus Quintana: You ready to be fucked, man? I see you rolled your way into the semis. Dios mio, man. Liam and me, we're gonna fuck you up. The Dude: Yeah, well, you know, that's just, like, your opinion, man. Jesus Quintana: Let me tell you something, pendejo. You pull any of your crazy shit with us, you flash a piece out on the lanes, I'll take it away from you, stick it up your ass and pull the fucking trigger 'til it goes "click." The Dude: Jesus. Jesus Quintana: You said it, man. Nobody fucks with the Jesus. Walter Sobchak: Eight-year-olds, Dude.

I feel so much better now.

But less better because it turns out there is a major Lebowski subculture filling the Trekkie void. It bums me out a little. It's enough to make a woman dwell on the goofs so that the good parts are somehow . . . less good.

If You Thought Pork Roll Sounded Gross

For those of you who think the regional/state specialty of Taylor Ham is wierd and stomach-turning, then maybe you would enjoy the Massachusetts' classic Bread in a Can. My hubbis recalls this from his youth, and to rival my cravings, has threatened to order it from the internets.

Stay tuned for information about our upcoming pork roll and brown bread party....