Our Year at The Fahm

Vanity Fair's 2012 Hollywood Issue Could Also Use Some Help

2012-01-31T16:06:00.002-05:00

15 years ago I cancelled my long-held subscription to Vanity Fair magazine because of their annual Hollywood issue. I was enraged at seeing a whole lotta white people on that cover (again), with the same token not-a-white person (or two) hidden behind the fold (again). So I wrote a letter to the magazine cancelling my subscription and telling them precisely why I was doing so.

After all this time, it is utterly pathetic to see that still and again Vanity Fair editors are fucking clueless when it comes to their "peculiar" perspective. The Annual Hollywood issue really needs to be renamed the Annual White Folks at Oscar Time issue, in keeping with the "integrity" of their reporting.

But really, forget all that bigotry talk! Shade your eyes against the glare and just LOOK at all those white people!!

From VanityFair.com

Makes me wanna bite people (again), and not in a fun way.

A comment here sums it up quite nicely: Hollywood has no imagination, no guts and no conscience.

Transnational Gimme Shelter - Playing for Change

2012-01-26T15:48:00.002-05:00

p.s. The Italian dobro player rocks.

Why 'The Help' Needs Some Help

2012-01-26T08:27:00.006-05:00

RACISM? WHY I’M NOT SURPRISED BY THE HELP’S NOMINATION FOR BEST PICTURE

I read the book first. I didn't really like the book. The Help is just another story in the "white hero/ine saves some poor black folk from other, meaner white people" genre, and since that's a story Hollywood has been telling for years, it was a natural candidate for an industry that likes to stick with what it thinks it knows.

I ignored the buzz and never considered seeing the film. From time to time, white people who know my proclivities would ask me what I thought of The Help and I was always honest, saying that, actually, I didn't like it. Imagine if a story with similar subject matter was written by a black writer, I would say, it would be a very different telling of the tale, don't you think? Now wouldn't that be a richer recounting of black people's experiences in our American South back in the day? It kinda makes you go "Hmmm...", doesn't it? A great moment is when they nod their head in agreement.

My brother-in-law, who, as a documentary film maker, is in the Writer's Guild, had a review copy of The Help with him when he came for a visit over the recent Holidaze, and we ended up putting it on. (He also had that Freud movie thing with Kiera Knightley but none of us felt like watching a movie with other people having sex - it seems that movie is full of such things - so we reluctantly defaulted to watching The Help.) It was awful - in fact, it was every bit as awful as the book, reveling in stereotypes both black and white. My jaw hurt from gritting my teeth by the time we got to the scene at the very end, where the black maid is teaching the dumb white blond mistress to fry chicken; I swear I was waiting for the genial white husband to come into the kitchen with a goddamn watermelon. And that he didn't is not a sign of progress.

Having said this, I too will be thrilled if either or both Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer wins in her respective category for her work in The Help, even if the thrill leaves me wanting to bite people, and not in a fun way.

"Nevertheless, we will all be cheering on both Viola Davis, who is not a stranger to Hollywood, and Octavia Spencer, who seems to be on a fairytale ride, for bringing depth and grace to their roles. But I would be lying if I didn’t say that their success with this film is a bit bittersweet. As Kola Boof, feminist and Egyptian-Sudanese-American novelist, noted in a tweet, “I Really *HATE**that Viola Davis will have to sit in the OSCAR audience with the term “The Help” written across her chest all night.” Word." Charing Ball, via MadameNoire.com

Word, indeed.

Censorship in Progress

2012-01-18T07:35:00.000-05:00

Our Year at The Fahm has gone dark from January 18, 2012 at 00:01 until January 18, 2012 at 23:59 to protest SOPA/PIPA and Internet Censorship.

Learn more here.

A Polite Request

2012-01-16T09:14:00.000-05:00

From Mental Floss

The Photographs of Your Junk Will Be Publicized

2012-01-09T17:33:00.000-05:00

"The photographs of your junk will be publicized
The photographs of your junk will be publicized
The photographs of your junk will be publicized
Your personal indiscretions
Your hypervirtual obsessions
Your erogenous transgressions
Because the revolution has been compromised
It's been digitized and rasterized
So the photos of your junk will be publicized
You will no longer hear the buzz of African belly flies
There will not be a weekend wrap up of the continuing Sudanese genocide
There are far too many characters for every fallen hero to be eulogized
But the photo of your junk?
It will be publicized."

Our Year at The Fahm, the Book - Kindle Edition published!

2011-12-28T18:03:00.001-05:00

Click here to buy it at Amazon.com!

Ghosts from Christmas Past - Reprise

2011-12-25T19:27:00.000-05:00

1336 Orchard St., Burbank, CA, circa 1964

Patron Saint of Hopeless Cases

2011-12-24T17:26:00.001-05:00

We Danced and Sang and Laughed About the Happy Times to come: Toward the Winter Solstice - Reprise

2011-12-23T17:45:00.000-05:00

From Toward the Winter Solstice, by Timothy Steele:

Some wonder if the star of Bethlehem
Occurred when Jupiter and Saturn crossed;
It’s comforting to look up from this roof
And feel that, while all changes, nothing’s lost,
To recollect that in antiquity
The winter solstice fell in Capricorn
And that, in the Orion Nebula,
From swirling gas, new stars are being born.

* * *
From Solstice, by Judy Ann:

dawn creeps in
crystal clear
intrepid
yet
wary

endings
become
beginnings

savor this juncture
for the road ahead
is long
and arduous

but in this moment
all things
are possible

* * *
From Wintersong, a Solstice Poem, by William Aster:

...Somewhere though within their midst
I see the brightness of a far-off fire,
one filled with power but contained, restrained
inside the circle etched out on the grass,
inside the darkness of that woodland.

I can make out shadows round that fire
of dancers, silhouetted revelers,
and I can hear the sound of pipes and drums
and laughter, and giddy conversation
covering those winter sprites like snow.

It's that time of year you know, the solstice,
when the constant cold, the ever-present fact
of sacrifice prompts the finer blossoms
of the human spirit to bloom and show
their beauty.

Long ago, long, long ago,
before the ignominy of the cross,
long before the hostile takeover
of this bone-chilling time of human need,
we celebrated

the year's smallest day
like the babe it was,
and as birth should be greeted
we danced and sang and laughed about
the happy times to come.

The forest was where we met
and mated and made our stand,
and maybe where we'll make our stand
again, to get through this time
of sorrow,
this time of too much
of what we do not need,
and not enough of what's essential:
water that is good to drink,
and air that's clean to breathe,

and forestland to walk inside,
safe places for spirits
of long-ago ancestors to rest,
bark for them to wear
in winter

until they choose to shed it,
choose to rejoin us
in our moonlit revels
round the fire
that is older than humanity --

There's a bonfire up there
in those woods, a winter fire
that might warm us in these times
of dark, and keep our faces pink
and smiling,

until the far-off southern sun returns
to shine again upon our constant sea...

Sol Invictus (for Joe) - Reprise

2011-12-23T17:42:00.000-05:00

Sol Invictus [The Undefeated Sun]

From Winter Solstice celebrations: a.k.a. Christmas, Saturnalia, Yule, the Long Night, etc.

"In pre-historic times, winter was a very difficult time for Aboriginal people in the northern latitudes. The growing season had ended and the tribe had to live off of stored food and whatever animals they could catch. The people would be troubled as the life-giving sun sank lower in the sky each noon. They feared that it would eventually disappear and leave them in permanent darkness and extreme cold. After the winter solstice, they would have reason to celebrate as they saw the sun rising and strengthening once more. Although many months of cold weather remained before spring, they took heart that the return of the warm season was inevitable...The winter solstice... is a time for introspection, and planning for the future."

From Yule Lore (December 21st)

"Yule, (pronounced EWE-elle) is when the dark half of the year relinquishes to the light half. Starting the next morning at sunrise, the sun climbs just a little higher and stays a little longer in the sky each day. Known as Solstice Night, or the longest night of the year, much celebration was to be had as the ancestors awaited the rebirth of the Oak King, the Sun King, the Giver of Life that warmed the frozen Earth and made her to bear forth from seeds protected through the fall and winter in her womb. Bonfires were lit in the fields, and crops and trees were "wassailed" with toasts of spiced cider.

Children were escorted from house to house with gifts of clove spiked apples and oranges which were laid in baskets of evergreen boughs and wheat stalks dusted with flour. The apples and oranges represented the sun, the boughs were symbolic of immortality, the wheat stalks portrayed the harvest, and the flour was accomplishment of triumph, light, and life. Holly, mistletoe, and ivy not only decorated the outside, but also the inside of homes. It was to extend invitation to Nature Sprites to come and join the celebration. A sprig of Holly was kept near the door all year long as a constant invitation for good fortune to pay visit to the residents."

Here at The Fahm, we have oranges, apples, evergreens, cloves, flour, fire, and holly near the Side Front Door so we're all set. Tonight after dinner Raj and I are going to step out into the very, very coldy cold & windy night with lit torches in our hands to rail against the darkness.

I happen to LURVE this time of year, and expect to even more so here, where the seasonal shift is so IN YER FACE; since 2003 when I rented my first art studio, I have noted that the span of time between Christmas and approximately April is richly productive for me in terms of creative output. It is as if I have the Itch all year, and it is only during this period that I get to the bottom of SCRATCHing that itch, and it feels SOOO good, and I can't/don't wanna stop.

I have only ever thought of this quirk in my creative flow as a personal phenomena, something entirely internal & mysterious, an idiosyncrasy. To note the possibility that there is something Larger at work here is both strange and awesome.

A Cold Afternoon, Accompanied by Gunfire - Reprise

2011-12-01T10:26:00.001-05:00

Late Saturday afternoon I was determined to get some pictures of the work we've been doing on the front of The Fahm and being the Brave & Hearty Lass that I am, I went out in the coldest coldy cold we've experienced thus far. The temperature itself wasn't that cold. It was the Artic Canadian Snow Mass NoGlobalWarmingHere Wind that whipped leaves and small branches into a tizzy, snatched a storm window off the second floor and dashed it to the ground, flipped a 5 foot aluminum ladder upside down and alarmed The Kittehs, that made all the difference.

I bundled up in many layers, put on my fingerless gloves and stepped out of the Coal Room, immediately tripping over the aluminum ladder. Cursing only mildly, I picked myself back up and started to do my thing with the camera. That's when I heard the first volley: BAM BAM ... BAM BAM ... BAM...BAM. As far as I could tell (being the expert on gunfire that I am not) the shots were coming from direction of the Reservoir. Poor duckies, I thought, poor Dam Beavers.

ANYLET'SNOTGETMAUDLINWAY

Another volley: BAM BAM BAM... BAM BAM ... BAM

Even using Kanye West-style caps do not begin to convey what the sound of shotgun fire was like to my Urbanized ears: quite frankly, I find it STRESSFUL. It feels entirely unnatural just to have that much NOISE in such a quiet place, and so perhaps that is part of my big ol' startle response. When I lived in Oakland (no violence there), the sounds of gunfire were swallowed up by all the other city sounds: freeways, backfiring cars, trucks grinding gears, people shouting and/or laughing, dogs barking, planes, trains, & BARTmobiles, the Port of Oakland, the East Bay Bridge falling apart, Gavin Newsome blaming the media, etc.

Here there is no such noise pollution so BAM BAM BAM... BAM BAM ... BAM came through as the dominant note in an otherwise windful new word symphony. I briefly considered turning on the video function and recording some of the blasts but I found that shotgun fire is very unpredictable, and by the time I heard the first note and got the camera ready the last note was just firing. Am I mixing metaphors? BAM BAM BAM... BAM BAM ... BAM.

Sue Parker 1911 - 2011

2011-11-30T15:10:00.000-05:00

My Grandmother, Mary Susan Parker, nee Osie Mae Brown, died Monday at the age of 100 years old...

She traveled far and wide, lived long, and loved hard, in the century she was in our world. Her legacy is in some ways, a model for me to follow. You can say a LOT of things about my Grandma Parker, but two things stands first and foremost in my mind: her personal strength in the face of adversity, and her devotion to my Grandfather, Bob Parker, after his early death in 1957. Grandma's beliefs kept alive her spirit when forced out on her own as an adolescent, and kept alive the certainty that she would be reunited with the "love of her life", Bob Parker, after death.

Rest in peace, Grandma...

Got Smart Phone? The Secret Software on Your Phone Logging EVERYTHING

2011-11-30T10:01:00.003-05:00

No privacy on the Internets, people...and no security either, if you use your smart phone to send confidential information - say, trade secrets or intellectual property that in person would be protected by a Non-Disclosure Agreement (NDA) - how secure is it really? Your secrets are stored on some random server in California in some random part of the cloud...

"The video shows the software logging Eckhart’s online search of “hello world” ... despite ... using the HTTPS version of Google which is supposed to hide searches from those who would want to spy by intercepting the traffic between a user and Google.

Cringe as the video shows the software logging each number as Eckhart fingers the dialer.

“Every button you press in the dialer before you call,” he says on the video, “it already gets sent off to the IQ application.”
From there, the data — including the content of text messages — is sent to Carrier IQ’s servers, in secret.
By the way, it cannot be turned off without rooting the phone and replacing the operating system. And even if you stop paying for wireless service from your carrier and decide to just use Wi-Fi, your device still reports to Carrier IQ.

It’s not even clear what privacy policy covers this. Is it Carrier IQ’s, your carrier’s or your phone manufacturer’s? And, perhaps, most important, is sending your communications to Carrier IQ a violation of the federal government’s ban on wiretapping?"
- From Wired.com

Rooting a phone, the only way to turn the logging off, is not trivial:

"Rooting is a process that allows users of mobile phones and other devices running the Android operating system to attain privileged control (known as "root access") within Android's Linux subsystem with the goal of overcoming limitations that carriers and manufacturers put on some devices. It is analogous to jailbreaking on devices running the Apple iOS operating system." - From Wikipedia

Not that you'd need to be a hardware or software engineer to root your phone but it sure would come in handy, don't you think? I think I'll keep my not-so-smart - and therefore slightly more private - phone for the time being...
The video is long and quite detailed; you may find it tedious but personally I was fascinated (and appalled).

For Eckhart's entire security test, rationales, and rebuttals, click here.

Coming Soon: The Book

2011-11-25T19:01:00.000-05:00

Cover design by Jean Hayes

We All Celebrate in Different Ways, Black Friday 2011 Edition

2011-11-25T08:28:00.002-05:00

O! The Holiday Spirit is alive and well!

Gunfire erupts at NC mall as early shoppers arrive

Black Friday Violence In Fayetteville, Kinston and Myrtle Beach

Woman pepper sprays other Black Friday shoppers - 10 injured

MEANWHILE...

Charities struggle to meet demand

Food drives take aim at increased need

Joy Fund helps Salvation Army, other agencies meet holiday needs

Food needs up, donations down

DenverCoder9 - xkcd

2011-11-19T08:51:00.004-05:00

Image text reads: All long help threads should have a sticky globally-editable post at the top saying 'DEAR PEOPLE FROM THE FUTURE: Here's what we've figured out so far ...'

From xkcd

*whispers* hello, xkcd readers...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY / #OCCUPY MOVEMENT

2011-11-18T09:25:00.003-05:00

From boingboing:

"Earlier this evening, tens of thousands of Occupy Wall Street protesters marched throughout New York City, many making their way on to the Brooklyn Bridge, carrying LED candles and chanting. As Occupiers took the bridge in a seemingly endless sea of people, words in light appeared projected on the iconic Verizon Building nearby:

"99% / MIC CHECK! / LOOK AROUND / YOU ARE A PART / OF A GLOBAL UPRISING / WE ARE A CRY / FROM THE HEART / OF THE WORLD / WE ARE UNSTOPPABLE / ANOTHER WORLD IS POSSIBLE / HAPPY BIRTHDAY / #OCCUPY MOVEMENT / OCCUPY WALL STREET / list of cities, states and countries / OCCUPY EARTH / WE ARE WINNING / IT IS THE BEGINNING OF THE BEGINNING / DO NOT BE AFRAID / LOVE."

Mark Read, 45, the person behind the project, said,

"We are the 99%," everyone knows that one. "We are unstoppable, another world is possible," a bunch of chants that have circulated around. "We are winning." There's one you'd see internationally, when Zapatistas are marching on the zocalo, and it circulated thorugh radical circles. "Failure isn't possible," is another I wanted to use, which I don't think made it in there.

And "It's the beginning of the beginning." I loved that one. So frequently, things happen in the world that make it feel like we're at the beginning of the end. But -- "the beginning of the beginning," what a radically optimistic statement that is.

The scale of the environmental and economic crisis we are facing, it's extraordinary. This movement is a response to that crisis. Our leaders aren't responding to any of that in a way that is commensurate to the crises we face. And that one sign has always spoken to me. We have to throw off our despair about the future world we might be facing, because if we come together as people and humanity, we can change it. And what Occupy Wall Street makes me feel is that for the first time in a long time that might be possible.

That means a lot to me. This is choosing hope over despair. This is actively and resolutely making that choice. It's not going to be easy. It's not going to be over in two months. It's not going to be just the result of conversation..."

I'm with you, Mark! That means a lot to me too, choosing hope over despair, when I am *so* angry about so much that I want to bite people, and not in a fun way. Thank you to you and your crew for making a beautiful thing. Thank you #OCCUPY MOVEMENT.

If an Error Message Had a Sense of Humor...

2011-11-17T10:02:00.000-05:00

Thought for Veterans Day

2011-11-11T14:38:00.000-05:00

In war, there are no unwounded soldiers. - Jose Narosky

Veterans Day - Reprise

2011-11-11T14:34:00.000-05:00

Originally published 11.11.09

Speaking at Arlington Cemetery this morning, President Obama said

"...91 years ago today, the battlefields of Europe fell quiet as World War I came to a close. But we don’t mark this day each year as a celebration of victory, as proud of that victory as we are. We mark this day as a celebration of those who made victory possible. Today, we keep in our minds the brave men and women of this young nation...who, above all else, believed in and fought for a set of ideals. Because they did, our country still stands, our founding principles still shine...That is why we fight, in hopes of a day when we no longer need to. And that is why we gather at these solemn remembrances and reminders of war: to recommit ourselves to the hard work of peace."

Today as I was out and about I stopped at Grove Cemetery in Holden with the express purpose of seeing if there are any graves therein from the Revolutionary War era, some of the "the brave men and women of this young nation...who, above all else, believed in and fought for a set of ideals." There were, and several of them were marked with medallions indicating their status as veterans of that conflict. I also want to be reminded that I - and we as a nation - really do need "to recommit ourselves to the hard work of peace" whether on an Army Base in Texas, or in Oakland or Palestine or Pakistan.

The soldiers buried in this cemetery were veterans of Our First War, the War of Independence. I'm sure someone back in the day thought that war was going to be the last war, and then someone else thought that after the next war, and then the next war, same thing, and then the NEXT and the NEXT AND THE NEXT, Until here we are today, just out of one war in Iraq, just about to escalate another one in Afghanistan.

[LA LA LA HA HA HA not gonna talk about THAT in my monoblog...]

ANYI'LLSTOPGNASHINGMYTEETHINFRUSTRATIONWAY

According to local historians, the Revolutionary Spirit of our immediate area was quite robust!

***

Hatchets, broomsticks, crow bars...those hardly seem the robust tools of war we're accustomed to these days Predator Drone but apparently when you are defending your homeland, your livelihood, your family and your future, you'll use anything that comes to hand Stones vs. Tanks, Gaza, 1949 - . There was a time in the evolution of this country when those we now know as "Revolutionary War soldiers" were absolutely considered "terrorists" by British colonizers. Not only did they come to fight armed with farm implements but they were indignant and unreasonable too, and in the end that combination midwifed the birth of Our Nation, swaddling the Squalling Brat in Betsy Ross's flag, and giving it George Washington's wooden teeth to play with, click-clacking like castanets.

where did that come from?!

So, uh...yeah. Let's think about ways to "recommit ourselves to the hard work of peace" before a whole bunch more of us end up wandering and pondering in cemeteries on Veterans Day...

It May Take Me a Little Time - Reprise

2011-11-09T13:53:00.003-05:00

Originally posted SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 2009

It May Take Me a Little Time to get accustomed to the sight of a man in full camouflage including fatigues, hat and face paint

riding down the road in front of The Fahm on an ATV

with a shotgun

strapped behind him.

I grew up in the Los Angeles area then moved to the San Francisco Bay Area, both very, very urban areas; sights such as above combination, in my experience, always always ALWAYS mean something very bad, as in hit-the-ground-cover-your-head-say-your-prayers-and-kiss-your-arse-goodbye bad.

My initial response is typically a millisecond of wild-eyed fear followed by the cold sweat of relief when my rational mind (re)engages and remembers where I am: rural America, and when: OPEN SEASON. That first millisecond fear response is only compounded by the fact that it is not second nature under the best of circumstances for me to assume that everything is going to be okay; adding weaponry and disguise to the mix is therefore very alarming.

This American Life - Unlike Any I Have Ever Known, Reprise

2011-11-01T15:27:00.001-04:00

Originally posted November 2, 2010.

This American Life - Unlike Any I Have Ever Known

Below is an excerpt from an e-mail I sent to my brother Greg recently; upon reflection, I think it's a pretty good thumbnail of what we've got going on here at The Fahm and in our new life, and as such thought it appropriate to share with any "City Folk" who might be reading:

"[I] receive on a daily basis practical and theoretical lessons in physics, meteorology, mechanics, thermodynamics, colloquial language, zoology, agriculture, home economics, land use, and resource management.

Living here is so physical that your brain and your body are completely occupied with that physicality - the problems solved, the solutions executed, revolve around actual physical things - things that make sense inherently: if it doesn't work, you're missing something. The physical relationship to this reality is very grounding - an experience so humbling and yet one that has nothing to do with "who you are;" instead, it has everything to do with irrevocable (T)ruths: fire burns when you touch it and you'll freeze without it, your nearest neighbor is also your best friend in hard times, 20 mph wind @ 20 degrees farenheit is really f**king cold, bears really do shit in the woods, and that one does survive 11 days without electrical power in the 21st century..."

In a nutshell, my friends, in a NUTshell.

Until Then...

2011-11-01T13:31:00.001-04:00

From Edward Monkton.

Halloween in the Style of New England

2011-10-31T14:08:00.002-04:00

As I think I've mentioned, the morning after is all about the visual thrill...

Due to Unexpected Outcomes in Life of Late

2011-10-31T08:41:00.001-04:00

...I haven't been doing much original writing here. It occurred to me yesterday that I can simply recycle old posts of general interest and/or collective hysteria for the entertainment of new readers and as a review for the quiz, for readers who have been around The Fahm for longer.

Below is from October 19, 2010, which was just after we celebrated a year of living here at The Fahm.

I Made a Tactical Error and We Paid for It (Caution: Contains Graphic Descriptions of Unpleasant Things)

Late in the summer Raj decided that it was time for him to tackle The Barn. If one were looking at a spreadsheet showing a list of "Projects" here at The Fahm, "The Barn" represents, at the very least, Project #s 2, 14, 22, 25, 26, 40, 41, 42, 43, 45 - 332, 337, 432 - 602...x/0... Understanding the magnitude of his task is key to understanding my tactical blunder. (see Hercules, The Fifth Labor of).

Each weekend and many afternoons after work Raj goes out to The Barn, turns on the shop-lights and the stereo, picks up the shop vac and deals with dung. Unlike Hercules, this is not COW dung, and unlike Hercules, Raj does not have a river (or two) to divert herein. Each and every item in The Bahn is covered, stained, and/or merely tainted by Bat guano (see Conservation Biology at The Fahm) and the Dirt of the Ages. It is also filled with all of the things that might accumulate in a barn over the course of sixty-some years: tools large and small, some known, some unknown; trash and recycling (from before Princeton implemented Town programs); planks, boards, lumber & timber; claw-footed bathtubs (2); chairs, doors, windows, and a desk; a dozen horse shoes; several license plates; chains; rope; silverware and candlesticks; innumerable small clay flower pots; lampshades; humane mouse traps; and jars & cans filled with unidentified - and we assume poisonous - liquids.

Raj lifted the tarps that cover each bay (there are three) before sorting through each and every item, compiling a mountain of trash, and then shop-vac-ing each and every item left so that we can handle it with a minimum of the "ugh" factor before making final decisions as to tossing, selling, giving away, or keeping. The work is so unutterably filthy that Raj takes an allergy pill, wears coveralls and a mask, and still ends up covered in The Grime of The Ages.

ANYWHEREWASIWAY

The Barn work has been utterly exhausting but even when burned out on dung and dirt, Raj has pressed ever onward toward completion of the Task with the result that by the time he retires to bed for the night, he is tired, beat, and bushed. I worry that he is pushing himself too hard and have become very protective of his sleep. And it is into that chasm that I fell.

In the very wee hours of Sunday morning I woke up per my usual habit, happily noted Raj slumbering deeply beside me, nudged a fat, sleepy Tricksy off my feet so I could feel them again, and picked up my book to read myself back to sleep. I noted Lola's absence but assumed she was sleeping in The French Room, of which she is very fond. My illusions were shortly shattered. I heard a sharp, quick Kitteh charge outside our bedroom door, at the (closed) Portal of The Pink Room, and then the frantic squealing of a rodent under attack.

I got up to verify my interpretation of the sounds coming from the hall; yes indeed, Lola had a mouse clamped in her jaws. I looked down at Raj, Chief Mouse Wrangler, blissfully asleep after hours of nasty labor, and I made a split-second executive decision to leave him undisturbed rather than awaken him. I closed the door, deciding to let Nature take her course, which She has so many times before, in a neat and bloodless manner. The rodents are usually presented to us either neatly dead or, still alive though thoroughly traumatized. Raj disposes of the former, and wrests the latter from The Jaws of Death before releasing them outside.

Not this time.

I warned Raj to be on the look out for a Mouse Corpse as he got up Sunday morning and headed downstairs to make his morning tea and my morning coffee. When he returned with my morning elixir, I inquired as to the disposition of the mouse; he responded that there was no mouse but there was a pile of cat barf near the top of the Front Stairs. "Hmm..." I mused, "Maybe I should examine it for evidence..."

...

"Hm hm hm, Oh look! A Buffahfly!"
...

And the cat barf slipped my mind, just like that.

I was puttering around upstairs a couple of hours later when it dawned on me that there was probably still a pile of cat barf at the top of the Front Stairs needing attention; we don't use the Front Stairs much, but still. I took one look at the pile and knew instantly that it wasn't cat barf - or if it was...well, I couldn't face it. What I found was a dead rodent out of a horror film. I called down to Raj, "Uh...I found the mouse..." Raj said, "Do you want me to pick it up?" I said, "Uh...yes please" (my internal response was more along the lines of "FUCK YEAH I WANT YOU TO PICK IT UP I HATE CATS, CATS ARE DISGUSTING AAAAAGGGHHHHHH" although I think I disguised it remarkably well). You see, this was not a regular dead rodent. This was a dead rodent that Raj swears must have been consumed whole by one of The Kittehs before being regurgitated, still whole although now slimed with juices beyond the telling, and thereafter, probably gnawed upon by one or both animals.

It was truly the worst case of Mouseicide we've seen to date, and we fervantly hope never, EVER to see the likes of it again. I suggested Raj bring a spatula with him to pick it up; he brought the shovel implement from the French Room fireplace set and a plastic bag. Raj was as appalled and horrified as I was when he saw the corpse; it is, after all, the pile he had carefully stepped around earlier in the dim dawn light filtering into the hallway, mistaking it for a pile of cat puke.

After taking a moment for his gorge to settle back down, he removed The Horror. As soon as he did, I furiously scrubbed the spot near the top of the Front Stairs, all the while contemplating the endless mystery of how and why I ended up with two cats, both apparently killers and torturers, living on The Fahm, cleaning up after their Crimes and Mousedemeanors. HOW did this HAPPEN?

Later I asked Raj for a family conference re: tactics and strategies in our battle against rodential infestation. I told him how I had chosen to let him sleep rather than wake him up to the chaos and violence of Mouseicide playing out in our upstairs hallway, and then I asked him, moving forward, what he preferred: should I wake him up in such cases? Or should I, as I had this time, let him sleep through it and deal with consequences in the morning? He shuddered, remembering The Horror of the maybe partially digested mouse resting wetly in the hall, and said firmly, "Wake me UP." And so in light of a failed tactic, we will make adjustments to the plan to avoid such tragedies in the future.

The good news is, The Barn is amazing! It has broad plank floors that thump in a very satisfying manner when one stomps; Raj and I broke into an impromptu dance across the wide barn floor. "Let's have a HOOTENANNY!" Raj suggested; "A BARN dance!" I agreed breathlessly, twirling past, "Yes! Let's!"

Nobody Smart Wants to Live in New England?

2011-10-26T10:02:00.003-04:00

I saw the headline today Nobody Smart Wants to Live in New England during my morning trawling for information of general interest on the googles and the internets, and had to read it. As I think I've mentioned, we moved here in Fall 2009 from Berkeley, California, and I found New Englanders to be partly fascinated and partly horrified when I told them so. A very typical response from folks was "WHY??" Our thrifty New Englander friends understood "why" immediately once we told them about The Fahm, and that we live here rent-free; but it was always just a teensy bit shocking to me, the vehemence accompanying the question.

"Why??" was often followed with a raised eyebrow, a patronizing tone, and another question. "Have you ever experienced a New England winter? And I would falteringly reply that I hoped to be able to actually enjoy the cold and the storms and the snow and the ice and...and...Winter: Still a Novelty to Me.

We are now facing our third Winter here at The Fahm and I do know two things unequivocally about the part of New England where The Fahm is. First, the neighbors here are really truly neighborly in the very best of ways, and second, to quote from the article discussion thread, "[New Englanders are] tough as fuck. You have to be to tough to survive that weather. It feels like mother nature is trying to kill you eight months out of the year."

I won't speak to the smart/not smart allegation that first got my attention in the headline; it would be *very* unwise to do so in a town as small as ours and, it would also be un-neighborly.

The 1% Gave Us Notice

2011-10-11T14:41:00.001-04:00

In My Experience...

2011-09-08T19:20:00.001-04:00

Graffiti Wars at The Fahm

2011-09-01T12:56:00.002-04:00

At least three times since we have lived here, someone with pronounced political opinions and zero regard for private property has tagged a large rock next to the road which happens to be on Fahm property. Twice I've been out with textured stone spray paint to cover the graffiti, and now there has been a third incident. This time, in addition to reporting the latest incident to the Princeton Police Department, I flipped it on the culprit. See below for details.

Before

The tag offends me on at least two levels. First, tagging our rock is illegal and invasive, and displays a lack of respect for private property; second, I think the current tea party is woefully misguided. My solution to the problem is below.

After

Our next step is to install a camera trap so we can get pictures next time our local ~~patriot~~ scofflaw tries something with spray paint!

Irene Dunne...

2011-08-28T19:25:00.001-04:00

...in Much Ado About Nothing.
...
(get it?!)

Live Blogging Irenemageddon

2011-08-27T13:40:00.000-04:00

The Sunbeam Treaty

2011-08-18T11:09:00.000-04:00

From i can has cheezburger.com

My MInd

2011-07-24T22:27:00.002-04:00

From Erin Smith Art

Case in Point *

2011-06-07T16:16:00.001-04:00

He's not just a Weiner; it turns out he's also a Dick!

* See The Rise of Second-string Psychopaths for more

The Rise of the Second-String Psychopath

2011-06-06T17:36:00.002-04:00

"The great writer Kurt Vonnegut titled his final book A Man without a Country. He was the man; the country was the United States of America. Vonnegut felt that his country had disappeared right under his - and the Constitution's - feet, through what he called "the sleaziest, low-comedy Keystone Cops-style coup d'état imaginable." He was talking about the Bush administration. Were Vonnegut still alive in the post-Bush era, he would not have felt that his country had returned.

How had our country disappeared? Vonnegut proposed that among the contributing factors was that it had been invaded - as if by the Martians - by people with a particularly frightening mental illness. People with this illness were termed psychopaths. (The term nowadays is anti-social personality disorder.) These are terms for people who are smart, personable, and engaging, but who have no consciences. They are not guided by a sense of right or wrong. They seem to be unaffected by the feelings of others, including feelings of distress caused by their actions. Straying from a decent way of treating people, or violating ethical codes causes no anxiety, the anxiety which is what causes the rest of us to moderate our more greedy impulses. If most children feel anxiety when they are pilfering the forbidden cookie jar, psychopaths feel just fine. They can devour the cookies, shatter the jar as evidence and stuff it in the trash can. When accused, they can argue with apparent sincerity that the cookie jar has been missing for at least a week. They suffer no remorse, no guilt, no shame. They are free to do anything, no matter how harmful." - From Signs of The Times

Let Me Translate for You: An (O)ther Writer Responds to VS Naipaul

2011-06-02T10:05:00.003-04:00

Responding to recent drivel published on the intertubes, I couldn't help but dere-compose the following:

“Assholish writers like Naipaul are different, they are quite different. I read a piece of writing and within a paragraph or two I know whether it is by an asshole like Naipaul or not. I know [such assholes are] unequal to me...And inevitably for an asshole, Naipaul is not a complete master of a house, so that comes over in his writing too...Naipaul, who is only marginally relevant these days anyway neo-colonial apologist, when he became an asshole, lo and behold, it was all this assholish tosh. I mean this in the very unkindest of ways."

Or,

"I am VS Naipaul. I am very, very afraid of women. Women are scary! I must denigrate them so I can feel less inadequate. I am inadequate in every way. I think that people reading my words are too stupid to figure this out about me. I am a sad, tiny little man, and I am acting out."

Or,

"Edward Said, known for his seminal work Orientalism, has described Naipaul's books on Islam - Among the Believers and Beyond Belief - as "intellectual catastrophe". Said, who [was] Professor of English at Columbia University, observed: "In the post-colonial world he's marked as a purveyor of stereotypes and disgust for the world that produced him - although that doesn't exclude people thinking he's a gifted writer." In the West, he said, Naipaul was "considered a master novelist and an important witness to the disintegration and hypocrisy of the Third World"."

Bite. people. and. not. in. a. fun. way.

Presented Without Comment: VS Naipaul on Other Writers

2011-06-02T09:36:00.004-04:00

“Women writers are different, they are quite different. I read a piece of writing and within a paragraph or two I know whether it is by a woman or not. I think [it is] unequal to me...And inevitably for a woman, she is not a complete master of a house, so that comes over in her writing too...My publisher, who was so good as a taster and editor, when she became a writer, lo and behold, it was all this feminine tosh. I don’t mean this in any unkind way."

Speaking at the Royal Geographical Society on Tuesday, Naipaul, best known for his novels about the legacy of British colonialism, was asked if he considered any woman writer his equal. He replied: “I don’t think so.”

@SecretService: Can't.Deal.

2011-05-18T20:10:00.000-04:00

My Clothes Are in Full Mutiny

2011-05-04T18:14:00.004-04:00

From Untitled Until I Think of Something Clever:

"I’ve gained a couple pounds over the last two weeks. And though the scale promises it’s only two pounds my pants are threatening to abandon my ass. My belt, the one that is always so happy in hole Numero Quattro, said, “Fuck that” this morning and refused.

Basically my clothes are in full mutiny. They see my ass coming and think, “I can’t keep doing this! Everytime she eats another potato chip or a cookie, I get another ulcer. I have a family that needs me, but I’m just so exhausted holding in her tummy and, and… those thighs! Dear God, please, please make it stop”

I hear my bras crying sometimes. My jeans make noises like a russian weightlifter doing squats whenever I sit down. I swear my tank tops have a support group meeting in the closet when I’m not looking (Styrofoam coffee cups and cigarette butts everywhere)."

Happy Monday!

2011-05-02T17:17:00.000-04:00

Apparently It Could Have Been Worse

2011-04-26T16:22:00.000-04:00

Alexis Dunbar, Florida Woman, Finds 7-Foot Alligator In Her Bathroom

All we've had are a couple of SNAKES, which are child's play compared to What Lurks in Florida!

A Little Less Egg-cited

2011-04-24T10:23:00.003-04:00

Years ago when we were young my nephew Benjamin had his first Easter. Judging by the pictures he was underwhelmed. Maybe because he had no confetti eggs? Anyway, I remember very well the weight of Benjamin's warm and solid little self that day, as he sat in my lap and we tried to coax a smile from him...

Not smiling, eh?

Maybe if Auntie Sara tickles him he'll smile?

Happy Easter Bunny!

2011-04-24T07:46:00.001-04:00

Burne Off My Rusts

2011-04-22T22:34:00.002-04:00

"A journey westward from one friend's house to another over Easter 1613 brings home to Donne the general aberration of nature that prompts us to put pleasure before our due devotion to Christ. We ought to be heading east at Easter so as to contemplate and share Christ's suffering; and in summoning up that event to his mind's eye, he recognizes the shocking paradox of the ignominious death of God upon a Cross...An image of Christ's degradation is directly imposed upon an image of God's omnipotence. We see that the event itself has a double force, being at once the catastrophic consequence of our sin and the ultimate assurance of God's saving love. The poet's very journey west may be providential if it brings him to a penitent recognition of his present unworthiness to gaze directly upon Christ..." - From PoetryFoundation.org

Good Friday, 1613. Riding Westward

Let mans Soule be a Spheare, and then, in this,

The intelligence that moves, devotion is,

And as the other Spheares, by being growne

Subject to forraigne motion, lose their owne,

And being by others hurried every day,

Scarce in a yeare their naturall forme obey:

Pleasure or businesse, so, our Soules admit

For their first mover, and are whirld by it.

Hence is't, that I am carryed towards the West

This day, when my Soules forme bends toward the East.

There I should see a Sunne, by rising set,

And by that setting endlesse day beget;

But that Christ on this Crosse, did rise and fall,

Sinne had eternally benighted all.

Yet dare I'almost be glad, I do not see

That spectacle of too much weight for mee.

Who sees Gods face, that is selfe life, must dye;

What a death were it then to see God dye?

It made his owne Lieutenant Nature shrinke,

It made his footstoole crack, and the Sunne winke.

Could I behold those hands which span the Poles,

And tune all spheares at once peirc'd with those holes?

Could I behold that endlesse height which is

Zenith to us, and our Antipodes,

Humbled below us? or that blood which is

The seat of all our Soules, if not of his,

Made durt of dust, or that flesh which was worne

By God, for his apparell, rag'd, and torne?

If on these things I durst not looke, durst I

Upon his miserable mother cast mine eye,

Who was Gods partner here, and furnish'd thus

Halfe of that Sacrifice, which ransom'd us?

Though these things, as I ride, be from mine eye,

They'are present yet unto my memory,

For that looks towards them; and thou look'st towards mee,

O Saviour, as thou hang'st upon the tree;

I turne my backe to thee, but to receive

Corrections, till thy mercies bid thee leave.

O thinke mee worth thine anger, punish mee,

Burne off my rusts, and my deformity,

Restore thine Image, so much, by thy grace,

That thou may'st know mee, and I'll turne my face. - John Donne

From PostSecret

2011-04-19T17:46:00.001-04:00

I sure do love that anonymity, don't you? The window on our world is extraordinary...

Another Ssssssurprising Vissssitor!

2011-04-17T19:29:00.002-04:00

I came downstairs headed for the laundry room and stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the SNAKE in the dining room.

Lola was sitting next to it, cautiously observing. Trying to quell the rising note of hysteria in my voice, I shouted: "THERE'S A SNAKE DOWN HERE!!"

I grabbed a cardboard box, as Raj arrived with two walking canes from Frank's cane collection. This snake was much bigger than last year's visitor. This one was about 3' long and as fat as a cigar, striped yellow and black with hints of red.

I opened the back kitchen door and Raj, using a cane in each hand, herded the monstrous thing outside.

*SHUDDER*

It was huge!!

I DO NOT LIKE SNAKES IN MY HOUSE.

2011-04-17T15:52:00.000-04:00

The Box Office

2011-04-16T15:37:00.001-04:00

While the C-5 was turning over its engines, a female crewman gave the G.I.s on board the usual information regarding seat belts, emergency exits, etc. Finally, she said, 'Now sit back and enjoy your trip while your captain, Judith Campbell, and crew take you safely to Afghanistan '

An old Master Sergeant sitting in the eighth row thought to himself, 'Did I hear her right? Is the captain a woman? '

When the attendant came by he said 'Did I understand you right? Is the captain a woman?' 'Yes,'! said the attendant, 'In fact, this entire crew is female.'

'My God,' he said, 'I wish I had two double scotch and sodas. I don't know what to think with only women up there in the cockpit.'

'That's another thing, Sergeant,' said the crew member, 'We no longer call it The Cockpit - it's The Box Office!'

* Thanks, mom! Good one!

More Business as Usual

2011-04-15T12:24:00.000-04:00

Financial Snake Pit Rife with Greed, Conflicts of Interest, and Wrongdoing

2011-04-14T16:30:00.000-04:00

Our economic collapse was...

"hardly a fluke occurrence, the meltdown was the product of a deeply corrupt financial system, one fueled by profit-hungry banks that deceived their clients, and overseen by lax regulators who were complicit in the firms' chronic abuse of the most fundamental rules of the game" - Carl Levin, chair of the Senate Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations

Read the report here.

Alright...

2011-04-13T19:24:00.000-04:00

Diablo Canyon Nuclear Plant - at High Risk for Natural Disasters - Wants a 20-Year Extension

2011-04-09T20:40:00.002-04:00

"Japan's unfolding reactor crisis is fueling a battle over nuclear power across the Pacific, in earthquake-prone California.
Pacific Gas & Electric Co., the big California utility, is seeking a 20-year license extension for its two reactors at Diablo Canyon, a nuclear power plant near San Luis Obispo, on the state's central coast.
That application, controversial even before an earthquake and tsunami crippled Japan's Fukushima Daiichi plant last month, is now shaping up as a major test of Americans' tolerance of nuclear power, especially in areas at high risk for natural disasters." - Wall Street Journal

Lawmakers Spend Much Of Their Time Just Taunting One Another

2011-04-08T10:00:00.000-04:00

HA HA HA HA!!!! At last! Quantitative evidence! According to a recent study directed by Professor Gary King, Director of the Institute for Quantitative Social Science at Harvard University:

"[M]odern members of Congress spend about 27 percent of the time just taunting each other.

“It’s jarring and surprising,” said Prof. Gary King, an expert in using computers to find patterns in large amounts of data. And, King said, probably counterproductive if we want Congress’s members to trust one another enough to make deals.

“The entire government may go bankrupt, I guess. This week, right?” King said in a telephone interview. “We probably want our representatives to be listening to each other rather than calling each other names.”

To come up with this insight, King and two graduate students analyzed 64,033 press releases sent out by all U.S. senators from 2005 to 2007."

And the biggest taunters are the ones in the safest districts - they don't HAVE to play nice, so they don't. Kinda like a ... hmm... what's the word? Oh right - kinda like a bully!

It's all fun and games until the government grinds to a halt, further threatening the not-really-recovering global economy...

Nuclear Regulators Privately Had Doubts - And Lied About Their Doubts to the Public

2011-04-07T19:19:00.001-04:00

While none of the specifics published in this report are specific to Diablo Canyon - the particular situation that I am personally interested in - I nevertheless have the temerity to suggest that if U.S. regulators and industry officials are willing to gloss over the truth about these particular locations, they are likely to have no qualms about doing the same vis a vis other locations:

U.S. regulators privately have expressed doubts that some of the nation's nuclear power plants are prepared for a Fukushima-scale disaster, undercutting their public confidence since Japan's nuclear crisis began...

Those concerns seem to contrast with the confidence U.S. regulators and industry officials have publicly expressed after the world's worst nuclear accident since Chernobyl began to unfold on March 11, UCS officials said on Wednesday.

"While the NRC and the nuclear industry have been reassuring Americans that there is nothing to worry about -- that we can do a better job dealing with a nuclear disaster like the one that just happened in Japan -- it turns out that privately NRC senior analysts are not so sure," said Edwin Lyman, a UCS nuclear expert.

The e-mails in question are part of an NRC review of how the operators of nuclear plants in Delta, Pennsylvania, and Surry County, Virginia, would cope with a prolonged power outage that knocked cooling systems offline, as occurred at the Tokyo Electric Power Co-operated Fukushima plant.

In a July 28, 2010, e-mail, one NRC staffer said that contingency plans for Exelon Corp's Peach Bottom nuclear plant in Delta "have really not been reviewed to ensure that they will work to mitigate severe accidents."

Another document, undated, said backup plans included just having equipment on the plant grounds that could be useful "when used by knowledgeable operators if post-event conditions allow." - Reuters

Why lie? Why not tell the public the truth?

...

Oh right. I forgot. FOLLOW THE MONEY.

I Stood There Asking

2011-04-05T22:33:00.004-04:00

As I went walking, I saw a sign there,
And on the sign there, It said "no trespassing."
But on the other side, it didn't say nothing!
That side was made for you and me.
In the squares of the city,
In the shadow of a steeple;
By the relief office, I'd seen my people.
As they stood there hungry,
stood there asking,
Is this land made for you and me?
- Woody Guthrie

We Bought It (And It Makes Me SICK)

2011-04-05T18:35:00.000-04:00

From Foreign Policy:

"Having scratched and clawed to get themselves on the inside, the people who run our foreign policy are not likely to counsel restraint, or to suggest that the United States and the rest of the world might be better off if Washington did a bit less. After all, what's the point of being a big shot in Washington if you can't use all that power to try to mold the world to your liking?

Compared with most Americans, this is a wealthy, privileged, highly educated group of people and most of them are personally insulated from the consequences of the policies they advocate (i.e., with a few exceptions, their kids don't serve in the military...). Advocates of intervention are unlikely to suffer severe financial reverses or face long-term career penalties if some foreign war goes badly; they'll just go back to the same think-tank sinecures when their term of service is over.

By the way, lurking underneath the Establishment consensus on foreign-policy activism is the most successful Jedi mind trick that the American right ever pulled. Since the mid-1960s, American conservatism has waged a relentless and successful campaign to convince U.S. voters that it is wasteful, foolish, and stupid to pay taxes to support domestic programs here at home, but it is our patriotic duty to pay taxes to support a military establishment that costs more than all other militaries put together and that is used not to defend American soil but to fight wars mostly on behalf of other people. In other words, Americans became convinced that it was wrong to spend tax revenues on things that would help their fellow citizens (like good schools, health care, roads, and bridges, high-speed rail, etc.), but it was perfectly OK to tax Americans (though of course not the richest Americans) and spend the money on foreign wars. And we bought it. Moreover, there doesn't seem to be an effective mechanism to force the president to actually face and confront the trade-offs between the money he spends on optional wars and the domestic programs that eventually have to be cut back home. "

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Show You the Money

2011-04-05T18:17:00.000-04:00

Here's a calculator you can use to see how many of your $$ went to pay for the three wars we are now conducting: I.O.U.

Are you not enraged?

$75 Million as of This Morning

2011-04-05T17:51:00.001-04:00

...is what our government has spent to have 50 fighter jets and nearly 40 support aircraft operating in Libya.

According to HuffPo, The total U.S. costs for the Libya air campaign as of March 28 were $550 million, not counting normal deployment spending.

ARE YOU F**KING KIDDING? In light of the current budget stalemate in Washington, D.C.?? Really?? Wow! That's not just greed - that is f**king psychopathology!

How else is one to explain the utter disregard for those of us who supply those funds? GAWD.

Here's the latest budget proposal:

Over the next decade, [They] want to cut $389 billion from Medicare, the public health insurance program for seniors. Over the same period, [Their] budget puts $735 billion less toward Medicaid, which benefits Americans too poor to afford private insurance. Discretionary spending on domestic programs is also reduced by $923 billion. - HuffPo

To quote a commenter on HuffPo,

"...As teachers are fired, collective bargaining rights stripped, and countless American towns and cities [see: Detroit] transformed into third-world ghost towns, we lend Gaddafi and company billions at near-zero interest rates. "Sorry if you can't feed, clothe, or shelter your kids, but we just ain't got no money." Uh, right.

The most important thing we must all keep in mind is the following premise; this is intentional. You don't "accidentally" turn your back on the nation's homeowners and then lend billions/trillions to foreign dictators, corporations, and hedge funds ...You do this intentionally. As a matter of policy. You intentionally shower the already-rich with more riches, and suck the life out of the lifeless.

Before I turn this into an unreadable ramble, I'll say just on more thing. If you want to see the future of America, look to the nations who have already received the Washington-imposed IMF/World Bank treatment. They received the treatment at gunpoint, we are receiving it slightly more gradually due to that darn Constitution and that silly necessity to abide by (at least, appear to abide by) the rule of law. A handful of mega-billionaires, crumbling infrastructure, degraded public institutions, a militarized and increasingly brutal police force, and an oppressed people."

Really, I want to bite people - and not in a fun way.

Business As Usual

2011-04-04T07:38:00.000-04:00

And it is so very DISAPPOINTING. From Matt Taibbi at Rollingstone.com:

"The fact that Boehner supported TARP and No Child Left Behind and mega-handouts to the pharmaceutical industry and a range of other federal subsidies is hardly surprising, for this is what mainstream Washington politicians of both parties do — they take great buttloads of money from giant transnational companies, play golf with the CEOs of those same companies ("If someone I've gotten to know on the golf course comes into my office with a good argument," Boehner once said, "I tend to want to listen"), and deliver taxpayer money back to their buddies when the need arises, or sometimes even when the need doesn't arise.

...Boehner, in short, has for most of his career been ... a corporate schmoozer and a remorseless spender of taxpayer money for whom the notion of small government is just something to say when the cameras are on, or when the public money in question might go to poor people or immigrants or other such unlikely golfers. This was a fine way to be during the 2000s, back when America was still unfucked enough to enjoy a phony real estate boom and launch recreational wars of conquest in the Middle East — but in this new decade, post-Bush and post-crash, there is serious doubt on the Hill that a reflexive favor-churner like Boehner will be able to keep delivering Republican votes to lavish taxpayer money on his industry pals. Money is simply too tight now, and people are too pissed off."

Thought for the Day

2011-03-27T18:27:00.001-04:00

He who learns must suffer
And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget
Falls drop by drop upon the heart,
And in our own despite, against our will,
Comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God. - Æschylus

Ain't I American?

2011-03-23T16:57:00.002-04:00

I read earlier today that there have been calls for President Obama to return his Nobel Peace Prize in light of the fact that he has given orders for our military to engage in war-ish activities in Libya without seeking the approval of Congress or worse, without getting approval from the American People. Apparently without checking with the rest of us, President Obama has determined that "we" are with him on this.

President Obama defended his Nobel Peace Prize on Tuesday, saying that Americans “don’t see any contradiction” in him ordering an attack on Libya to make sure “people aren’t butchered because of a dictator who wants to cling to power.” - from Politico

HA HA HA!

Really?

Uh...no. Actually, it's the O.I.L. and to be perfectly honest, I DO see contradictions! In the future, if you would be so kind, DO NOT SPEAK FOR ME ON THE INTERNATIONAL STAGE, 'K?

If it were true that we are involved in Libya to make sure "people aren’t butchered because of a dictator who wants to cling to power” President Obama would have authorized the use of American "blood and treasure" in Ivory Coast, Bahrain, Morocco, Oman, Saudi Arabia, Syria, and Yemen - and that's just since the beginning of 2011.

Let's stop pretending, shall we, that this is about anything other than OIL? Really, people.

Here in New England We Celebrate Spring...

2011-03-21T11:19:00.000-04:00

...with SNOW. Worcester county is slated to receive between 1"and 5" today, and the natives are very grumbly about it. I, on the other hand, am secretly happy to have just a little more winter. It's so pretty! Powdered sugar EVERYWHERE!

Pogo Stick Recall Issued Due To Injury Risk - for Sharon Marcacci & Zac Robinson

2011-03-19T17:05:00.000-04:00

(You know why!)

"...Injuries ranged from a chipped tooth, to facial lacerations, to an inner thigh injury...While it is not surprising that falling off a pogo stick can cause injury..."

I'll Admit to Being a Teensy Bit Discouraged

2011-03-18T16:33:00.000-04:00

Spring 2011 has found me a teensy bit discouraged...I find myself stymied on pretty much every creative front particularly this blog which after nearly two years of writing, hasn't amounted to much other than a way to keep my family updated...I admit that i had hopes this blog would become larger than itself ala http://beekman1802.com/ but without the financial resources and connections to Martha Stewart that Beekman1802 had, I simply have not prevailed in the endeavor.

I have a core group of readers but that core group has not grown in the last six months or more - and growth is key to financial success on the intertubenets...

*sigh*

To further intensify the Extra Stencils, Raj and I are nearing a decision point about where to go next...back to Berkeley? Over to Northampton? Rent a place here in Princeton?

*sigh*

Operation Earnest Voice: Software Designed to Create and Control False Online Personas

2011-03-17T16:04:00.002-04:00

"The US military is developing software that will let it secretly manipulate social media using fake online personas designed to influence internet conversations and spread pro-American propaganda." - The Guardian

Not that different from lowlifes who co-opt dead soldier's identities and use them to scam people, in my opinion.

Major WTF moment.

For Those With Vaginas & Those Who Love Them

2011-03-17T15:41:00.002-04:00

"I'm not saying that people who oppose basic funding for women's health care can go f**k themselves..."

No Earthquake Response Plan Required: Diablo Canyon, California (Not a Joke)

2011-03-17T12:29:00.006-04:00

A nuclear power plant that sits approximately half way between Los Angeles and San Francisco at San Luis Obispo was not required to provide Earthquake Response Plan when it was built twenty-five years ago. I kid you not.

"...the Diablo Canyon nuclear plant, which sits less than a mile from an offshore fault line, was not required to include earthquakes in its emergency response plan as a condition of being granted its license more than a quarter of a century ago. Though experts warned from the beginning that the plant would be vulnerable to an earthquake, asserting 25 years ago that it required an emergency plan as a condition of its license, the Nuclear Regulatory Commission fought against making such a provision mandatory as it allowed the facility to be built.
...The underlying theory was that the plant's design, which came after years of planning and geological studies, could withstand any foreseeable earthquake in the area -- the same assumption that guided thinking in Japan.

"What they're saying is that there could be an earthquake, but in no way could it ever cause a radioactive release at the same time," said Rochelle Becker, who led the San Luis Obispo, Calif., group that first sued the Nuclear Regulatory Commission over earthquake preparedness in the 1980s. "I'm pretty sure we now have evidence that it does." - from Chris Kirkham on HuffPo

How is it logical - or even possible - that the federal agency charged with ensuring that our nuclear reactors are safe did not require an earthquake preparedness plan? How could that even happen? FOLLOW THE MONEY

Just this month The Union of Concerned Scientists gave that same federal agency, the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, "...mixed reviews in a March 2011 UCS report, The NRC and Nuclear Power Plant Safety in 2010: A Brighter Spotlight Needed."

To make matters infinitely worse, the plant is owned by Pacific Gas and Electric, aka PG&E, the same clowns FOLLOW THE MONEY responsible for the horrific pipeline explosion and fire that killed eight people and leveled a neighborhood in the community of San Bruno, CA last fall.

From CurrentReports.info

California State regulators issued a statement just yesterday calling PG&E "willfully non-compliant" with direct orders to produce records covering all of its pipelines in populated areas.

Adding insult to very real injuries, PG&E has a pretty crappy record FOLLOW THE MONEY when it comes to public safety:

Between 1986 and [August 2010], PG&E had 132 "significant incidents" with its natural gas transmission and distribution pipelines, according to records from the Pipeline and Hazardous Materials Safety Administration...Those incidents resulted in 18 fatalities, 64 injuries and $41 million in property damage." - from The San Jose Mercury News

Diablo Canyon's danger isn't just from earthquake - it's from the tsunami that might follow:

"California’s coastal plants, San Onofre, in San Diego County, and Diablo Canyon, in San Luis Obispo County, are built to withstand ground accelerations worse than those that ravaged Japan. But questions remain about how they would stand up to a tsunami...“The Japanese Fukushima site had a double hit — an earthquake larger than had been anticipated and a tsunami larger than had been anticipated,” said Burton Richter, a Nobel Laureate in physics and a professor at Stanford University...“The earthquake was not the problem,” he added. “The tsunami was. In Japan, the earthquake engineering was superb, but the tsunami protection was not adequate. Their sea wall was not high enough to protect the site from flooding, and it was the flooding that knocked out the emergency core cooling system.” - from Peninsula Press

Let's review, shall we? A nuclear power plant on the beach in California one mile from an earthquake fault line and within three miles of three more fault lines built on plans that accounted only for the fault furthest away run by a for-profit company with a shitty safety record and poor regulation compliance in an industry regulated by a federal agency which itself gets mixed reviews on safety enforcement...WHAT COULD GO WRONG?

After My Last Post, That Would Be ME!

2011-03-17T10:21:00.004-04:00

Not Just On St. Patrick's Day!

2011-03-17T10:17:00.000-04:00

"Same thing every year, getting up at the crack of dawn, drinking, fighting, throwing up, pissing on walls and then you leave the house and things get bad. " -Greg Fitzsimmons*

* Thunderpuff, this one's for you.

My 2nd favorite Journalist of All Time* Missing in Beirut

2011-03-16T16:55:00.002-04:00

Anthony Shadid and three others reported missing in Beirut.

*First place on this list is always already Cousin Richard.

My Friend Tori

2011-03-10T15:05:00.000-05:00

...whom I met in Los Angeles in the early 1980s also lives in Austin, TX and I was lucky enough to reconnect with her during my visit there.

This is how Tori and I were around the time we first met, working at the Kitchen Kupboard in Studio City, CA where all the former cocaine-addicted musicians used to come to order triple espressos to go, on the way to their NA meetings...

The Kitchen Kupboard was way ahead of it's time as a coffee and tea emporium long before Starbucks reared it's ugly head. The assortment of Hollywood riff raff that made their way through the doors was awesome indeed, including musicians, actors, wannabes and has beens; it was enormous fun working there.

Tori's laugh, believe it or not, is even more spectacular than mine, and I must say, is one of the reasons I fell in love with her after working our first shift together, steaming milk while making cafe au lait. Tori and I would laugh together so much during shared shifts that our manager instituted "Time Out" periods for us, during which we were separated and required to regain our composure. As I've said, it was enormous fun working there, and Tori, as far as I'm concerned, was a major reason why.

To reconnect with her in Austin after nearly 30 years was awesome indeed! Tori came to my hotel, bringing with her an entire support system, in a couple of bags from Whole Foods. Knowing that I had a rather bumpy experience so far in Austin, her C.A.R.E package included the following:

banana bread
a large bar of milk chocolate
a large bar of dark chocolate
B Complex vitamins
B 12 supplements
assorted fresh berries
a turkey wrap
a bean and cheese burrito
almonds
dried mango
two Synergy drinks
ice
a bottle of wine
compassion
empathy
humor

...some of which we consumed together, and some of which I am still working my way through. Tori, your generosity and kindness and support were mind-boggling, and I am very, very grateful. Thank you!!

It's Like Saying Pole Vaulting Has Failed to Solve the Healthcare Crisis

2011-03-10T13:43:00.002-05:00

Feminism* and Happiness? Actually, the pursuit of happiness was never really a particular goal of second wave feminists. Self actualization, yes. Happiness? Not so much.

Maybe a fairer metric would be "aliveness" over happiness, to recall Friedan, or a feeling of self-determination. You might not be happy but at least your life will be your own, which is a kind of peace. The better life isn't necessarily the happier one; the most happy life isn't necessarily the most fulfilling one...

Other possible metrics: Did you have power? Did you contentedly exhaust yourself using up all of your talents and potential? Were you occasionally brave when you would have preferred the convenience of capitulation, silence or appeasement? Did you expand your imagination about how men and women could live? Did you enlarge your sympathies, become empathetic? Did you model a spirit of possibility for your children, however that could be achieved?

I pull out Gloria Steinem's 1973 essay, Sisterhood, from my private archive. She wrote, "I have met brave women who are exploring the outer edge of human possibility, with no history to guide them and with a courage to make themselves vulnerable that I find moving beyond words."

Some might say The Fahm represents the outer edge of human possibility though that may be something of an overstatement...

* Don't be scared by the F word...it won't hurt you!

It's a VERB. HAUSFRAUING.

2011-03-09T11:55:00.007-05:00

Function: verb
Inflected Form(s): hausfrau
Etymology: German, from Haus [house] + Frau [woman, wife].
First Known Use: 1798.

1 : a housewife.

HA HA HA!!!

In the case of my visit to Cousin Laurie's life in Austin, TX, "Hausfrauing" means something a little different. Gathered on Laurie's deck overlooking the sunset was an eclectic group of savvy, creative, professionally successful women, all nearby neighbors in their little piece of Austin heaven. Among them was a public relations executive, a commercial real estate developer, an activist, and a residential real estate agent, all with children (some of whom were there), some with husbands. I don't know what sort of advance work Laurie did to warn them - they were surprisingly welcoming and genuinely curious about life here at The Fahm. How did you end up living on a "Family Fahm" in rural Massachusetts? And so on until one thing led to another and before the evening was over, I was also quizzed about my goals and plans moving forward. What's next for you, Sara?

And here I thought we were just going to have a little small talk with our chips and salsa!

In fact, I was stunned, humbled, and gratified by their interest AND by their advice about which direction(s) I might consider vis a vis turning "Our Year at The Fahm" and being "Cracked" into something material, maybe even something resembling (gasp!) an income stream. Their enthusiasm, curiosity, support, excitement, wisdom, and wit were SUCH novelties to me, and so very refreshing. "Write a BOOK!" was their near unanimous declaration, and then a little later,

Note to self after Hausfrauing

The question I have for my Hausfraus is, which one??

It's a Good Thing Ya'll Keep Austin Weird

2011-03-09T10:58:00.001-05:00

...because when my plans went suddenly awry deep in the heart of downtown I was able to stomp my way back to Sanity (and a phone and a map) without a single discouraging word despite my very sweaty public dishevelment, indignant aura, and occasional muttered expletives. A couple of posts ago I mentioned felix culpa, a series of Miserable Events that eventually lead to a Happier Outcome; the Miserable Events in this case involved riding shotgun in a car driving around direction-less on heavily trafficked urban freeways. After 48 hours of it I was sick, dizzy, cranky, disoriented, and ready to do something else. Before long, I found myself doing something else, all right, I found myself walking up 5th St. with purpose and certainty. My purpose was present but unclear not unusual; my certainty was that I would keep walking until I knew where I was going amid all ya'lls apparent obsession with strangely-horned cattle.*

The Miserable Events (however miserable and eventful) did lead to a Happier Outcome. Had I not exited the wild ride when I did, I certainly would have missed Haus Frauing at Cousin Laurie's which would have been a horrible shame. Haus Frauing that evening was a blast even if Cousin Richard did deliver me there, again sweaty, disheveled, and this time also a little sunburned. Right then my sweaty dishevelment was far more enjoyable than earlier in the day, likely due to the fact that Richard was dropping me off at Laurie's after a very long, lovely drive in his sporty black convertible through the early spring of Texas Hill Country...

* On our way to the Clay Pit to have lunch with Olivia, my friend Tori gave us a quick tour of the downtown area near campus. As we drew near Darrell K Royal – Texas Memorial Stadium,

she practically drawled, "You know there's another religion here in TEXAS, right? It's called FOOTBALL."

One in Four Americans Living with Mental Illness This Year Will Suffer Alone and in Silence

2011-03-08T14:33:00.004-05:00

From HuffPo:

"In the dark and uncertain days after the Tucson, Arizona, shootings, seasoned journalist Andrea Ball of the Austin-American Statesman gathered the courage to confront the inaccurate and sometimes sensationalized coverage of the tragic shootings. Demonstrating a great confidence in her readers she wrote, "Well, I have bipolar disorder, and I'm not coming to kill you. I promise."

These words, hanging unspoken for so long, were out on the page for the first time to her readers and colleagues. Andrea chose to push through any fear or questions that she may have had to share her private struggle with mental illness with her readers like me.

The response to Andrea's column was overwhelmingly positive. She received hundreds of emails and phone calls from readers offering support, encouragement and in many cases, acknowledgement of their own battles with mental illness. Then, there were the inspiring messages from those who were strengthened by Andrea's courage and found the ability to seek help for their own mental illness for the first time."

[This is the post in which I "out" myself as a chronic sufferer of - and battler with - clinical depression.]

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wing

Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

Of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring ther

I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of a

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue

I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace

Where never lark, or ever eagle flew —

And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space

Put out my hand, and touched the face of God

John Gillespie Magee, Jr -

The reality is that the face of mental illness is that of an award-winning journalist who has bipolar disorder, or a businessman going to work every day despite his depression, or a student studying for an exam and trying to manage her panic attacks. They are your friends, family members, neighbors, and colleagues, who write, work, study, and also struggle with a serious health problem.

To keep the momentum against stigma moving forward, we need women in the U.S. and around the world to rise up [and] say, "No more will we discriminate against our mothers and daughters living with mental illness!" Each one of us has the opportunity to change inaccuracies and shatter stereotypes around mental illnesses. Our daughters and granddaughters can live in a world where they do not fear seeking help for any health condition and are able to get the support and resources they need to fulfill their greatest potential.

International Women's Day Centenary 1911 - 2011

2011-03-08T14:15:00.001-05:00

Liberally adapted from http://www.internationalwomensday.com, a global hub for sharing International Women's Day news, events and resources.

"International Women's Day has been observed since in the early 1900's, a time of great expansion and turbulence in the industrialized world that saw booming population growth and the rise of radical ideologies....In 1911, more than one million women and men attended International Women's Day rallies campaigning for women's rights to work, vote, be trained, to hold public office and end discrimination..."

Oh yeah, that's some radical ideology, all right!

My grandmother Mary Susan Parker nee Osie Mae Brown, also celebrates her 100th birthday this year, born May 1911. Grandma Parker - as she is familiarly known - is a complex, nuanced, multi-faceted character who embodies many of the aspects of the last 100 years of American history, not to mention many things we celebrate on International Women's Day.

Born in Hungry Hollow, Missouri, hers is a rags-to-riches story complete with forced exodus at the age of thirteen from her family home to earn her own living; meeting the (much older) love of her life at seventeen; marriage and decampment to a New Deal farm just before WW II; enduring multiple miscarriages due to Rh factor; raising sheep and goats; cooking on a wood stove; baking in a wood-fired oven; losing her husband early to lung cancer; going to college and earning a bachelor's degree and teaching certificate after the age of 40; raising the youngest of her four children, during the turbulence of the 1960s.

Grandma was nine years old before women were given the right to vote, and at the age of twelve witnessed the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA) proposed as an amendment to the United States Constitution, and introduced to Congress for the first time. At the age of 100, she - and the rest of us - still await passage.

"Among full-time wage and salary workers, women's weekly earnings as a percent of men's [have] increased from 62 percent in 1979 to 80 percent in 2009..."

No matter how you dress it up as progress, 80 cents on the dollar is not equality. Let's have as many more International Women's Days as we need to, until we have *real* equality. Our daughters, sisters, cousins, granddaughters, nieces, and etc. deserve it, don't you think?

Felix Culpa

2011-03-07T15:08:00.000-05:00

My visit to Austin, TX:

"In a literary context, the term "felix culpa" can describe how a series of miserable events will eventually lead to a happier outcome..."

I've Been Planning

2011-02-21T18:21:00.003-05:00

...the wardrobe for my upcoming trip to Austin, TX...

I may recycle older outfits that have left especially strong impressions:

All in all, I think I have exactly what I need to strike just exactly the right note!

Legal Issues and the War on Terror

2011-02-17T10:55:00.001-05:00

This winter my brother Joe is moderating a series of panel discussions and film screenings focused on legal issues and the War on Terror, taking place at Pitzer College. If you are in the Los Angeles area and are interested in attending one of the discussions or film screenings, by all means, do contact Joe, drop my name, and I'm pretty sure you'll be invited to attend. Or, contact me and I will see if I can coerce something from him. Click here for more information.

Eavesdropping on Love, in Stages: 2011 Edition

2011-02-16T18:25:00.001-05:00

The Hunt

"I have 10 months to either get in a band or get married. If either one of those happens in the next 10 months, I'm good." (Young man at Giants game, overheard by Erik Wilson)
"This is why I can never find my Prince Charming. I keep eating him." (Woman receiving an order of frog legs, overheard at Epic Roasthouse by Jonathan Hood)
"Pardon me. Would this be a good place to meet eligible men, or should I try Andronico's?" (Woman to clerk at Berkeley's Monterey Market, overheard by Margery Eriksson)
"I'm partial to the odd ginger." (Woman discussing preferences in men, overheard in Belfast, Northern Ireland, by Ariel Clarke)
"The basis for our friendship is that I'm too short for you to date." (Woman to man, overheard at the Ramp by Kate Rix)
"She is a gourmet chef." "Yes, but she is a Republican." (Conversation between man and woman, overheard at Piperade by Donna and Robert Watke)

The Date

"Oh, you're cute. Not Abercrombie cute. But cute." (Young woman to man, overheard at Diablo Valley College by Laury Fischer)
"He was bigger, balder, but not better." (Woman of 30 to pal, overheard at Balthazar in New York by Nancy Pietrafesa)
"I have a date tonight. He is not classically good looking, but he has a job." (Woman power walking, overheard in Saugus, Mass., by the brother of Steven Santilli)
"No, Dad, you can't date her. She's much older than you and you're married to Mom." (Woman on cell phone, overheard at LAX by Stephen Hochheiser)
"She's not very good at business, but she can channel. That's how she found me." (Man to woman, overheard in Malibu by Carol David)
"This is the first time I ever told a girl straight off, 'I'm unreliable.' " (Man to man, overheard on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley by Steve Finacom)

The Excitement

"You don't get drunk. You get awesome." (Young man to young woman, overheard outside Gale's Central Club Saloon in Petaluma by Roger Weeks)
"We got on the phone with each other and went through an entire relationship in two hours." (Man to woman, overheard at outdoor cafe in the Castro by Karen Topakian)
"You know, a man smitten by a beautiful woman will put up with a lot of crap." (Woman on cell phone, overheard on Indian Rock Path in Berkeley by Amalia Klinger)
"And I said, 'I don't want to marry you. Unless you start wearing shoes.' " (Young woman to girlfriends, overheard in Alameda by Kate McKowen)
"Of course he's committed to you. You just can't use that word when you talk to him about it." (Woman talking on cell phone, overheard in a car on Post Street by Bill McCart)
"When she explained that ref's call to me, marrying her came to mind." (Two guys having beers, overheard in Berkeley after the Big Game by Dick Ahern)

The Ongoing

"Look at all these men seeking redemption!" (Woman waiting in line among many men at See's Candy in El Cerrito Plaza, overheard just before Valentine's Day by Andy Liu)
"I'm the boss of my house. My wife lets me smoke cigars." (Man to man, overheard at Tadich by Bob Epstein)
"I know he really loves me and I take that into account." (Woman on cell phone, overheard at El Cerrito Plaza by Mary Ann Whaley)
"My husband gave me another necklace. It would be cheaper for him just to say, 'I love you,' but he never does, so I keep getting more jewelry." (Woman to friend, overheard at Westfield San Francisco Centre food court by Alistair McElwee)
"You'll learn. If she says 'fix it,' you'll fix it." (Man to man, overheard in Italy by Audrey West)
"It's a lot easier to make up with her when she is crying than when she is mad. Crying takes maybe three seconds, but mad can take hours." (Man to man, overheard at screening of Woody Allen movie by Pamela Gerard)

The Aftermath

"He broke up with me through an e-mail ... 10 minutes after we talked on the phone." (Woman to pal, overheard in Montpelier, Vt., by Laura Mahanes and Steven Weissman)
"If you know anyone who wants a boyfriend, I have one I am getting rid of." (Customer to clerk at OSH in San Rafael, overheard by Tom Harrison)
"I've been in several pseudo relationships that have taken me years to get over." (Young man on cell phone, overheard on 38L-Geary by Dave Stewart)
"It was so cold this winter, I missed my ex-husband." (Woman in Berkeley art gallery, overheard by Steve Finacom)
"His ex went to his Amazon wish list and added books on narcissism." (Woman hiker overheard on a trail in Guerneville by Lyndi Brown)
"Absence makes the heart go yonder." (Man on cell phone, overheard at 24th and Church by Wendy Miller)
"Now I remember why I divorced you!" (Elderly woman to elderly male companion, in line for lunch at the de Young, overheard by Babs Weiss)

The Bliss of It All

"I married a guy I met in grad school in the '50s, and so far it seems to be working." (One woman to another, overheard walking in Berkeley by Paul Templeton)
"My wife and I have replaced our traditional post-coital cigarette with Sudoku." (Man to man, overheard at the Ramp by Leo Maselli)
"You should see my wife. She is 95 and on a bad day, she looks 50." (Gent of 90, overheard at Solano Avenue post office by Bill Kimberlin)
"When I first met my husband, we were maladjusted bitches. Now, 30 years later, we're still maladjusted bitches. We're very happy." (Male student at CCSF Ocean Campus, overheard by B. Jackson)

Public Eavesdropping

"If I had a dog, I wouldn't need a boyfriend." (Person stopping to pet a dog, overheard outside Peet's on Market Street by Steve Abney)

Jean Argus: Iowa grandmother speaks

2011-02-16T17:18:00.000-05:00

...and you do NOT want to give her any SH*T about her SON.

An Act of Civil Disobedience

2011-02-14T21:05:00.001-05:00

Sun Roof OPEN

2011-02-14T17:18:00.000-05:00

Today it warmed up to a balmy 43 degrees. I ran errands in the car with the sun roof open, the window down, and my sleeves rolled up. WOO HOO! To start the celebrations, I took the first Roof Snow & Ice Removal shift this morning. I was out there before 9:00, up on the ladder with cudgel in hand beating back ice and snow, wondering how long it takes to freeze the BEJAYSUS out of one's fingers.

Worcester news predicts dire emergencies should the higher temperatures continue. Let us not forget the possibilities abounding if we have a rapid thaw: floods, flooding, floodfest!

FAQ after 'friending' someone on Facebook: What Are You Up To These Days?

2011-02-14T07:43:00.002-05:00

Rather than bore anyone (but you, that is) with mundane details, I am going to reply pictographically; anyone seeing it will know that I have been riding shotgun down the avalanche...

Click image for larger size - definitely worth it.

Yes, Indeed There Are

2011-02-13T11:05:00.001-05:00

True story

Shiny!

2011-02-10T16:46:00.000-05:00

Needs a little grout...

In progress

Magic: Not in the Air but Pretty Much Everywhere Else

2011-02-10T12:55:00.003-05:00

Our apple tree

What is This, Boot Camp? Hell Week?

2011-02-10T12:37:00.000-05:00

It's easy to get confused, what with the twice a day workouts and all, getting snow and ice off the roof(s) before the next cold snap and/or snow surge. We've had a couple of days 'warm' enough for the ice icicles to start some serious melting, although we still ended up on a ladder just outside the kitchen window armed with a mini sledge hammer and prote21ctive eye-ware, literally beating back the ice. I ordered a 20' long roof rake from the internets which should arrive before the next storm; in the meantime, Our Dear Neighbor David loaned us theirs for the afternoon so Raj tackled the tall roof while I banged away at the kitchen.

We've had two leaks so far, both in the kitchen just over the back door, once briefly joined by a leak over the sink. We put out our buckets, put on our snow shoes, hats, gloves, and the rest of the thirty-nine layers required, then waddle around back for more de-icing. As the removal proceeds, the leaks get smaller and then stop entirely which is how we know we're hitting the appropriate spots.

After a couple of days of relatively warm temperatures, the weather turned exceptionally cold again so everything froze again, adding ice on walking surfaces to the list of Things to Love About New England Winter I've been compiling. I have also begun an apprenticeship in Salt Sprinkling on Snow, a key skill for survival around here. Sprinkling salt on ice sounds just like Pop Rocks candy which is a cheerful sound and I quite enjoyed my useful little chore.

Since then, loud roars and thumps announce the downfall of even the largest of the Malevolent Beasties. Raj wants to drag them all into a circle and stand them up on end, thereby creating Icehenge here at The Fahm. Whether we do that or not, we have piles and stumps of pale blue-colored ice all over the place, looking like refugees from The Island of Misfit Glass Bricks.

I love that ice-y ice blue color...

I Did Twelve Years in That Penal System

2011-02-09T17:47:00.000-05:00

"...The Bible is to the Catholic church what the Godfather is to the Mafia; the Catholic church is the most corrupt organization on the face of the planet. I did 12 years in that penal system, and all these gangsters that walk around thinking they run the world at any given moment in time, Gotti, Gambino, Casteallano, WHOEVER, they gotta all learn the same lesson which is that at any moment in time, the biggest gangster on this planet is always The Pope." - from Rescue Me

Doggie School

2011-02-09T17:35:00.002-05:00

September 2010, Santa Cruz, CA

I recently received the unutterably sad news that my mom's dog Sam has cancer, and is not long for this world. Sam is a very special dog who came in to my life at a time when I really needed some unconditional adoration, which he provided in spades. He has been my mother's companion since 1999, faithfully following her from room to room throughout the day, bringing his toys to her when he senses she is low, and barking his fool head off at pretty much everything.

I know all too very well that Death is a part of Life. But no matter how old I get, I will never understand the whole notion, I will never be OK with Absence after such loving Presence. In tribute to a Very Good Dog, here is an essay I wrote shortly after we acquired Sam, an adult adoptee from the SPCA:

Doggie School

I hate dogs that jump on people; I hate it when dogs drag their owners behind them on walks. I guess you could say that I really don’t like dogs that don’t exhibit people-like behavior. After all, if I had a best friend that jumped on me and licked my face all the time, I’m not sure how long that friendship would last. Some years ago while I was living in Santa Cruz, CA with my mom, we got a dog (ostensibly for my mom), and all of our dog-owner issues had to come out in the open and be dealt with. To do so, we signed up for a series of classes in positive reinforcement dog training. I went to the training with our new dog, an SPCA adult adoptee named Sam, as the handler, and my mom came along as a witness. We learned, Sam and me and my mom, some very important lessons about life. These are lessons that we manage to remember about 75% of the time.

Sam came to us with issues. Sam is a blond dog, with yellow eyes lined with what appears to be dark kohl. Sammie always has his make-up on, just like some of the guys who work at Café Pergolese near downtown. The vet told us that Sam is a mixed breed, part Golden Retriever and part Border Collie, and therein lie the roots of his doggie issues. A Border Collie is especially bred to have obsessive-compulsive and controlling tendencies; a Golden Retriever is bred to look good while retrieving things. Imagine the above characteristics coupled with a loving, exuberantly affectionate personality, and you are imagining Sam. I am not a particularly doggie person, having, in my adult years, switched to cats for my pet needs; Sam, however, has charmed me, wooed me and wholeheartedly wedged himself into my heart. As I’ve said before, Sam has issues though – as do I -- so for guidance in resolving them, we turned to a trained professional.

At the time, Pat Miller owned and operated Peaceable Paws, a training program in Santa Cruz County that used positive reinforcement to train dogs rather than trying to break the dog’s spirit with force or violence. We learned about Pat through the Santa Cruz SPCA when we adopted Sam. He was picked up in Bonny Doon, and had been at the SPCA for just hours when we saw him first; he came home with us two weeks later, and started Doggie School shortly thereafter.

In very short order, we learned that our experience with an adult adoptee from the SPCA is not unique; many people adopting adult pets experience moderate to severe cases of adjustment trauma. I liken adopting an adult dog from the SPCA to adopting a troubled and excitable adolescent-- you know they need something, and a lot of it, you just don’t know what it is. Just as when adopting a child, when you adopt an adult animal – or any animal, for that matter -- you must have a firm commitment to sticking it out through the adjustment period.

At our first class -- the one we were asked to attend without our dogs -- we learned about Peaceable Paws training philosophy. Pat explained that her method isn’t about having the best-trained dog in the class; rather, it is to be happy with our own dog’s progress – radically different outcomes, and understanding the difference is one of the keys to Pat’s method. Her philosophy toward training became my creed to live by for the next six weeks, both in relationship to Sam and in relationship to the rest of my life. I liked the idea of not measuring our evolution by that of others – as they say in twelve step programs, we shouldn’t judge our insides by somebody else’s outsides -- I liked the idea of just being pleased with my – and Sam’s -- progress. Gee…maybe there is something to this positive reinforcement, after all!

At our first class together, Sam and I were positioned inside the training ring near one of several gates. The dogs that bark the most are always given these positions; this made it easy for me to remove Sam from the scene when the excitement proved too much for him. Let me just say that Sammie and I spent more time outside the gate than inside it during that first class. My mom’s job was to stay inside the gate and take notes on what Pat was saying, since I couldn’t hear her voice over all the barking.

As class progressed, I could feel myself growing envious of the other dog owners – their dogs all seemed to do so much better than Sam did. There was Duke, a gigantic German Shepherd puppy, who lolled on his back and napped through most classes; little Daisy, a sweetly demure female Boxer puppy whose snaky little tail stayed curled under her for the first couple of weeks; the little polka dot Dalmatian mix who bellied up and peed on herself every time another dog approached. I kept reminding myself of Pat’s class creed – and tried to be happy with Sam’s progress. He hadn’t, after all, killed another dog in his frenzy on the end of his rope; he’d just bucked like a bronco, and gnashed his teeth.

During that first class, we learned some of the reasons we were struggling with Sam. Sam, because he is a special dog, has not one main problem, but two. First, he is what is called ‘leash aggressive’ and second, he is a ‘dominant dog.’ A leash aggressive dog is one that is only truly aggressive (snarling, lunging, barking, and yanking) toward other dogs if s/he has a leash on. Being a dominant dog is being – or trying to be -- the Alpha male in any gathering. This means that Sam is prone to snarling and growling at other dogs in order to assert his dominance. These features, combined with his aforementioned obsessive-compulsive tendencies, make for a Very Challenging Beast.

At the end of class, one of our fellow students, attending with his wife and another gigantic puppy (this one a Bull Mastiff, still recovering from the surgical removal of rocks he’d eaten), approached. He told me he thought I’d done a great job of hanging in there from outside the gate – he said that he would have left if his dog had acted like Sam. It was a little embarrassing – I was, after all, being complimented for dealing so well with such a bad dog. Backhanded or not, it was a compliment I grabbed with both hands – I’m not proud. Besides, if my fellow student was happy with our progress, why shouldn’t I be?

We all left the training ring with homework for our pets, and Pat telling us that she would know how much we’d worked with them immediately upon seeing us the next week. I dutifully went through the required homework assignments with Sam, although spending far less than the amount of time recommended in the training manual given to us. I did, however, make a real effort to work with him for at least 20 minutes every day. Even after working only that much, Sam showed real improvement in just one week. In fact, Sam was so improved by the next class that several people remarked on it; they commended me for the huge amount of work I must have done with him in order to achieve these near-miraculous results. I finally had to admit it: it wasn’t me. Like the rest of us here in California, it’s the cheese.

You see, besides learning to be happy with my own progress and not trying to be the best-trained dog in the class, the other key to understanding Peaceable Paws is finding out which treat Sam liked best. You need to know which treat your dog prefers because you will be giving a little tiny piece of it to him every time he does the thing you’ve asked him to do. If you want him to do the right thing, you must discover which thing he will do it for.

Pat suggested Rollover (a compressed tube of dog food wrapped up to look like salami), or bologna or hot dogs as possibilities; what we chose wasn’t important, what mattered was that we figure out how to give Sam whatever he needs to stay attentive. Sam really, really likes cheese. Cheddar cheese. In fact, you might even say that Sam is a Cheeseophile*. He will do pretty much anything you ask him to do for a piece of cheese. Is that bribery? You bet! Isn't bribery cheating? You bet! If your dog does what you want your dog to do, who cares?

We finished the entire six weeks of class and Sam even managed to graduate with honors in two categories, the first being the ‘Off’ category, (where the dog is asked to ignore something really tempting) and secondly, the ‘Touch’ category, where the dog touches what you ask him to touch when you ask him to touch it. In spite of his wonderful showing during graduation exams, Sam is not yet perfect. He obeys verbal commands much of the time now, which is a vast improvement from before he went to school. Before he went to school, he would run away from me in public, and glance over his shoulder and shrug as he sped off, with a look on his face that begged the question, ‘who is that crazy lady and why is she yelling at me?’ He has learned hand signals for simple commands, like down or stay; he has learned the difference between ‘ball’ and ‘squeaky bone,’ learning to touch ball with his nose when you say ‘ball’ and to touch his squeaky bone when you say ‘bone.’

He still chases the cat and barks a little too much; he goes ballistic if a skateboarder whips past us on our walk – skate boarders who have been known to accuse me of training him to do that on purpose. But Sam sits when we say sit, he stays when we say stay; he lays downs when we say down. He only jumps on some people now, not all, and he doesn’t drag my mom behind him on their walks – Mom has learned to walk a little faster, Sam has learned to walk a little more slowly. None of us is the best-trained dog in the class, but we are happy with our progress. All three of us learned some important lessons about life, and we remember them. About 75% of the time.

* If you break down "cheeseophile," you have "cheese" and "phile," and as we all know "phile" is merely a fancy-boy way of saying "lover of," or "enthusiast."

Infidelity is Not the Problem, It's That the Chick is Just Totally Crackers

2011-02-09T08:56:00.001-05:00

Nothing like a little misogyny to get your pulse racing in the morning!

"The act of watching women fall apart onscreen reinforces gendered power structure. The reason [the author’s source], and a lot of other men, perceive crazy women to be attractive is because it allows them to assert power over the woman’s unpredictability, their presumed sanity a locus of control." From "Crazy Chicks Are Hot?" 8 Messed-Up Portrayals of Women Going Insane in Film

Atoms & Algebra. The Beginning of the End. For Me. Academically.

2011-02-09T07:19:00.003-05:00

The story of my arithmatical new word life:

"I was a wonderful little angel “A” student until I turned 12. I was finishing up 6th grade and then suddenly, someone mentioned pre-algebra.

They talked about it as if it were a perfect storm about to break over our comfy little adolescence. I don’t remember exactly what happened next, but I do know that I cried a lot and then I was 30..." Read more here.

AOL & Huffington Post: My Fondest Fantasy

2011-02-08T20:19:00.001-05:00

...is that Arianna Huffington will fire Michael Arrington of Tech Crunch.

Being Only One, Having One Pair of Eyes, Having Only One Time, Having Only One Life......

2011-02-08T16:46:00.001-05:00

This is a rejection letter to Gertrude Stein from her editor, mind you, not some random publisher or reviewer. This was a person, apparently, who did not know the meaning of "constructive criticism." Click here for larger image.

Editors can *really* mess with a writer's head...I hope she told him to shove it, and self-published.

My Thought Every Time Sarah Palin Opens Her Mouth

2011-02-05T16:44:00.006-05:00

There Have Been Some Shortages II

2011-02-05T07:16:00.001-05:00

As I say, there have been some critical shortages during this most recent snow storm surge, and I dare say that people's nerves are getting a little frayed. From Chicago Tribune:

"A man was shot and robbed of a snowblower in the Englewood neighborhood on the South Side early this morning...The 47-year-old man was walking down the middle of the street...at about 1:40 a.m. with the snowblower when a white four-door sedan pulled up, police said.

One of four people inside the car asked, "How much you want for the snowblower?"

The man told them it was not for sale...Two men got out and took the snowblower and $27 from the man's pockets...One of the men asked the man if he wanted to "get popped" just before the man heard a gunshot and was wounded in the thigh...The victim was reported in good condition at Stroger Hospital, where his mother said he was undergoing surgery this afternoon."

I am a little curious as to why the guy was walking down the street carrying a snow blower at 1:30 in the morning but I'm afraid to ask.

I am not a collector – I am an assembler

2011-02-04T19:01:00.003-05:00

Shelf

From left to right: Helen Brennan's baby shoes, circa 1907; photo of Stella Feigle, Philadelphia, PA, August 1893; quotation by Gayatri Spivak via my bro Joe; Nancy van Zelm's French-English dictionary - 1932; BAEDEKER'S PARIS AND ITS ENVIRONS - 1900; BAEDEKER PARIS ET SES ENVIRONS - 1911; Bob Parker's watch; Bob Parker's pocket edition of The Finest Story in the World; photo of Jim and Tom Parker; ivory thimble; sterling silver thimble; photo from left to right of Cousin Pauline, Cousin Jean, & Helen Brennan.

Shelf, detail

"Acceptance of radical vulnerability" - Gayatri Spivak

Ugly Doll Had A Very Bad Day

2011-02-04T15:46:00.010-05:00

If you own cats or have ever owned a cat, you are painfully familiar with their propensity to throw up often and frequently. It's like they can read.

It might be a hair ball, it might be cat grass, it might be an Unspeakable Horror, whatever it is, Kittehs are not shy about sharing the contents of their stomach. Cat Grass - aka wheat grass or oat grass

is a big favorite on The Kitteh Menu around here. It has been ever since I discovered that feeding Kittehs cat grass will keep them from eating house plants or floral arrangements. My Dear Readers should consider this Medical Cat Grass though - not recreational. Kittehs aren't playing when they snarf that stuff up. I wouldn't say that Cat Grass stops the inappropriate snacking entirely but it does cut down on it a great deal, and The Grrlz LURVE it, curling and crowding my ankles when I serve it.

Tricksy is particularly fond of Cat Grass, eating it in copious amounts.

Once long ago in a city far, far away from here (Berkeley, CA circa Before We Moved Here) somecat I blame Tricksy saw the

sign oddly enough and in of all places, under our bed. Being the obedient Kitteh she is not she regurgitated her most recent dose of Cat Grass immediately, on the spot. Moments later she must have realized that the sign under the bed was a mirage, a hologram, a projected desire, not the actual Vomit Here sign, which doesn't typically appear under the bed. In her deep embarrassment over her hallucinatory error, she grabbed the closest Thing at paw to clean her mess up.

That's the moment when Ugly Doll's day went from Bad to Worse. Ugly Doll's day started badly when Ugly Doll was rudely booted out of the bed and onto the floor for no reason at all. Leaving a critique of my cleaning skills vis a vis 'under the bed' for later, suffice it to say that Ugly Doll was very discouraged by Ugly Doll's surroundings. And then the real insult occurred. The 'Thing' closest at paw when Tricksy reached for a Handi Wipe TM was Ugly Doll. And Tricksy used Ugly Doll to wipe up her vomitus. That's when Ugly Doll knew without a doubt that Ugly Doll was having A Very Bad Day.

This is a True Story

That Sure is a Lot of Snow

2011-02-04T14:12:00.001-05:00

Snow in Big Y Plaza parking lot, Holden, MA

More snow in Big Y Plaza parking lot, Holden, MA

Snow on the road home

Snow at the reservoir

Snow in a paddock with horse and mules

More snow in a paddock with horse and mules