Happy Halloween

Here's picture of Liam in his Starfish costume (belly-up view). I hope everyone has a fun, unegged day.

Lest you get the impression I am working hard

Not much going on - you know, I'm still chewing on last night's Wire episode - but I thought I'd share a couple of things.

First, I think you will come back to this repeatedly.

Second, did you know that Snuffleupagus's first name was Aloysius? Read the wikipedia entry on why adults can now see Snuffy. It's quelle disturbing when you find out Sesame Street is keeping it real.

Please Forgive Me, Mr. Simmons

It turns out that if you Google "I'd love to read a book that traces the history and trends of various names," the first two hits are for Bill Simmons' original column and then my blog. I know this because someone did, in fact, google that sentence. God knows why.

Anyway, aside from being sort of star-struck by my place in that particular line, I am now worried that SportsGuy is going to find out I reprinted part of his column and then sue me. So, Mr. Simmons, if you find your way to this blog (more likely now that I have written your name several times), let me explain: Yours was really a funny column, made funnier by the fact that I have a kid named Liam. HA! "Liam D." if you will.

Other things you should know about me: I love The Wire, and I read your whole book, start to finish, in about 3 consecutive nights. I interrupted a sleep-inducing Sudoku mania to read the whole thing. The hardcover version, which I had bought for my husband. How about that? HOW CAN YOU SUE ME AFTER ALL THAT?

The Mail Bag

A Dear Reader writes:

Dear Drea,

I visited your blog today and read the discussion about postings on BPN. Naturally, my first thought was: "WTF is BPN?" So I did a search on Google and came up with:

1. Berkeley Premium Nutraceuticals. The manufacturer of Enzyte, "the original once-daily tablet for natural male enhancement." The posts you were discussing seemed to fit, but then I thought: "Why would Drea be visiting the Enzyte site?" I mean, I've seen the photo of Brook with the 70's mustache and no one with a mustache that awesome could be having trouble "down there."

2. The Butane-Propane News. Butane? Propane? In your teens you may
have huffed chemicals from paper sacks in New Jersey basements. But Butane? Propane? Too flammable! And, I bet, you don't do that anymore.

3. Banco Português Negócios. Could Drea be laundering money for Bay-area organic milk cooperatives? Maybe? But why would an opinionated hooker be hanging around a Portuguese bank website? Oh wait. Where else would someone go after turning tricks in Macau? Still, that just didn't seem like the answer. Why would Banco Português Negócios have a chat room on their website for milk-money launderers and hookers? Doesn't make sense.

4. Berkeley Parents Network. Oh. That must be it.

Maybe you should publish a glossary of terms and abbreviations so folks like me don't have to devote a half hour to figuring out WTF you're talking about.

Thanks, Reader. You found BPN but for the rest of you, here's a supplemental glossary for understanding this blog:

WTF = What the Fuck?

MIL = Mother-in-law, i.e. someone who does not like that I occasionally use the word "F" on my blog. I would like to just reassure my MIL that I did not then, and do not now, huff chemicals. Ick.

'stache= mustache, an inexplicably frequent topic here at Scobie's.

A Fresh Breath of Sanity and/or Realpolitik

You don't even need the initial post, or the title, to figure out what this BPN post concerns:

I'm a married man at least ten years your junior, and I cantell you are getting more than your average share of intimacyfrom your wife. Also, you're not doing enough around the house. You sound like a complainer. Grow up, start acting like a man (make sacrifices), be happy and love your wife.

Heh, heh. I wonder if Junior even lives in Alameda County. On the topic, here's another voice of reason:

You had my sympathy, more or less, up until that last line: ''I’vesuffered from low self-esteem but getting rejected 6 out of 7days in literally killing me.'' Sex once a week may be frequent,or infrequent, depending on the couple; getting pestered EVERYDAY about it is going to be a huge turn off.

And then there is the "put the fear of God in my heart" post:

This is as much a heads-up to the many moms who post about their reduced sex drive as well as a specific reply to the gentlemanwho posted the query. I'm answering as a single mom in my 40's who is also unashamedly a part-time ''provider''--I advertise on Craigslist--I'm paid for sex and companionship by men from 25 to 65, mostly married, whose wives can't or won't engage in intimate relations (some ever, some infrequently like your wife).

I'm not a ravishingly gorgeous siren; you couldn't pick me out in line at the berkeley bowl. I don't do anything particularly skillful or kinky; what I do is something far simpler, for which there is vast demand: I authentically enjoy sex (albeit on a commercial basis) with husbands like you. More--many more--men get entangled in affairs than see a pro; the repercussions of affairs, when they become emotionally involved, have been well documented on this list.

Whatever those of you reading this may think of me, I'm positive I've seen more than a few husbands of happily married BPNers on a professional basis. I try to send them home feeling satisfied, desirable, and appreciative of their wives' strengths as well as their limitations. If that seems threatening to the women on this list, consider the fact that there are many, many willing women with less firm boundaries--paid and unpaid--for your husbands to avail themselves of in their search of what's ''missing'' long-term in your marriage.

In my opinion, if a woman is not willing to address either the underlying problems in a marriage nor the possible psycho- or physiological reasons why she doesn't enjoy frequent sex with a husband who desires her and is committed to the marriage, then (if divorce is out of the question) you as the husband are justified in discreetly "supplementing'' your sexual needs with other women while your wife keeps her head in the sand. An Opinionated Hooker

Oh, snap.

By the way, various milk obsessions seem to be in remission this week. I will get back atcha when a lactovert surfaces....

The Post that Lets You View the Other Posts

This program has glitch where sometimes you can't see text when there are posted photos. This corrects that, for some reason. Sorry to peel back the curtain on this magical operation.

Who's the ERISA Hottie Now?!

What a fun crew! What a happy couple! See, there are no zombies or peeling flesh! Brook only looks like he is sporting a 70s 'stache!

"But, Dre", you ask, "Why are you hiding behind that lovely bride, peeking over her head like Kilroy over his wall?"

The honest truth is, because I was trying to hide my burgeoning, umm, motherness. I'm too embarassed to post an evidentiary photo, so here's a picture of the beneficiary of my, umm, beneficence:

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.

Christmas Is Coming! Order Now!

My literary agent thinks the time is right for me to announce my forthcoming hardcover memoir, St. Scobie's Mock Whiskey Vol. I. Sign up now for holiday orders!

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.