ClothMother_old


You don't feel you could love me, but I feel you could...


Thursday, June 27, 2002

Pledge this...some thoughts on entitlement and free thought

So much for not leaping into the fray.

In addition to the blinding reactionary rhetoric in response to recent circuit and supreme court decisions (the pledge and school vouchers) I have found some very measured and intelligent discussion as well. If I can't contribute, I can at least link. Regarding the author of the original pledge suit, a father who suggests he wants to "protect" his daughter from the ravages of religous intolerance, Ye Olde Blogge offers this insight.

Seems the guy who started it all is going to "press on" with other suits. His intention, apparently, is to expunge all mention of "god" from all facets of public life, so that his daughter, apparently a sensitive tyke, won't be "hurt" by having to encounter such naughty notions as "god." His next task, once he is done with this one, will be to get the moon down from the sky so he can have it put in a ring for his precious little girl.

To think my parents taught me that not everything in the world is there for my pleasure, that there are other ideas than mine -- and that if I wanted to "fight the power" I had better pick my battles carefully. Is Mr. Indulgent Dad aware that we are at war with a fanatical enemy whose desire to impose their idea of "god" on the world doesn't stop with money and school chants (that most of my classmates quit even pretending to pay attention to by the time I was in high school)? I guess he comes from that happy contingent that thinks War is Bad, at least when America does it, and that we should spend all our energies on trivial minutiae like this.

He should be better off telling his kid to buck up, ignore the pledge (all the other kids do), and keep in mind that the resentment and suspicion she feels now towards having to proclaim her patriotism -- or whatever that pledge thing was originally instituted for -- will make her grow up to be a healthy skeptic towards all government blandishments. Children whose every irritation is indulged and cossetted grow up to be sheep whose chief concern is comfort and safety, not freedom and innovation.


Well said. While I doubt that he is pursuing this issue to merely assuage a child's "irritation" the point is an important one.







First Enron goes bust, and now this...

Sorry, I couldn't help myself.

Playboy's "Women of Enron" goes on sale in Houston. Check this out, from Reuter's no less:
Enron's secretive accounting prompted calls for greater corporate disclosure -- and it comes in 10 full-color pages in Playboy's August issue.

Sheesh. This doesn't bear too much comment; some jokes just write themselves. However, consider the following opinion via the Yahoo! message boards from an (allegedly) 101-year-old woman:

Do you mean I busted my (unexposed) butt for 30 years in a male-dominated field, with an MBA plus, fighting for women not to be place mats, and this is what happens?
I'm comin', Elizabeth Cady Stanton, I'm comin'!






Searching for sponsorship

SatireWire got it right:
San Francisco (SatireWire.com) — A U.S. federal appeals court ruled on Wednesday that reciting the Pledge of Allegiance in public school is unconstitutional because it contains the phrase "under God," a decision that has infuriated politicians from both parties, and sent the United States on a desperate search for a new sponsor.


While the U.S. Justice Department said it plans to appeal the ruling, officials are quietly speaking with several potential sponsors interested in having their brands associated with America, and are already test-marketing the phrases "One nation, under Wal-Mart," "One nation, under Windows XP," and "One nation, but 24,000 Starbucks."





"I pledge allegiance to Queen Frag and her mighty state of hysteria"
Calvin and Hobbes


I’m reluctant to enter the fray here, because there’s already been so much predictably mindless knee-jerk outrage over this, but I’m feeling manipulated. The last time I felt quite like this was when Dubya’s dad began flying the banner of the flag-burning amendment, a similarly pointlessly incendiary non-issue. There the manipulation was clear and obvious, and his attempts were very successful in redirecting public attention away from important issues while he pumped up his standing as the true patriotic candidate. I imagine Dubya will use the pledge ruling in a similar way, and would you look at that! A week before independence day, the halo of patriotism and God bless America starting to wear off as people stop marching along long enough to notice that our civil rights are being eroded by the Bush administration under the guise of homeland security...it’s wag the dog all over again.

I'm mostly indifferent to the language change. It seems like a step in the right direction, in this era where creationism is being positioned as science and being pushed as an equivalent to evolutionary biology in high schools and even some colleges; where southern politicians advocate putting the ten commandments up on the courthouse walls; where John Ashcroft stands like Cotton Mather, draping nude statues of justice because they tittilate him and running prayer meetings over lunch. The religious right’s hold over our government has never seemed more blatant or offensive. This might help shake things up.

ACM provided a couple of useful references about the history of the pledge, which I'll offer here as well. Interesting that The Knights of Columbus were instrumental in adding the language in the first place. Especially since Eisenhower wasn't Catholic. Here is the ACLU's summary of the history, and this final look.





Wednesday, June 26, 2002

Coffee...is there anything it can't do?

So it looks like now we can brew a big pot of coffee, have a cup or two, and pour the rest out into the garden:

Farmers and gardeners determined to protect their plants from slugs and snails may not have to look any further than their morning cup of coffee for an environmentally friendly pesticide.


The menacing molluscs hate caffeine.

Even very small concentrations can be deadly for the garden pests, scientists from the US Pacific Basin Agriculture Research Center in Hilo, Hawaii said on Wednesday.

The stimulant that helps million of people wake up and face the day becomes a deadly neurotoxin when it is sprayed on the slimy creatures.

Of course, what they forget to mention is that Maxwell House should be reserved for the slugs. Keep your Starbucks for yourself, otherwise you're just wasting good java.




Tuesday, June 25, 2002

Privileged glimpses of the obvious, part II...except...


Blech! I am surfacing briefly from my dizzying interview schedule. Still have one to go before I'm done today. I may never go on vacation again. It just means endless catching up. Blech, verily I say.

However, just found this article showing that commercials embedded in violent and/or sexually explicit programs are less well remembered than those shown during 'neutral' programs. No big surprises there:

"One possible reason why sex and violence impair memory for commercials," according to Dr. Bushman, "is because people pay attention to sex and violence, thus reducing the amount of attention they can pay to the commercials. Another possibility is that sexual and violent content prompt sexual and violent thoughts. Thinking about sex and violence, instead of the commercials, could reduce commercial memory." More research in this area is needed before a definitive answer can be given on what is driving this effect, said Bushman.


Nothing novel about a) a limited resource model of memory or b) the attractiveness of sexual and violent images. Their conclusions however, give ammunition to the so-called pro-family groups who aim to eliminate this kind of programming. Don't sponsor these shows, advertisers, because nobody will remember your messages:
...The authors believe their research may deter advertisers from advertising on certain types of programming. "It is unlikely that moral appeals from parents and other concerned citizens will influence the TV industry to reduce the amount of violence and sex on television. The bottom line - profits - actually determines what programs are shown on television. If advertisers refused to sponsor them, violent and sexually explicit TV programs would be extinct."



Sunday, June 23, 2002

Some got jiggy with it, others got jiggy near it

And some, like your humble narrator, merely watched the jiggy from a distance. And took note.

I tried to find a link for DanceAdelphia, but they are apparently old-fashioned. It's a dance school, reportedly the oldest in Philadelphia, run by three generations (grandma, mom and now son). It's a south Philly outfit, which for those of you out of towners is the Little Italy of Philly. V had a dance recital last night, along with approximately eight million other students, ranging in age from preschool to early adult.

Now, this isn't intended to be a proud gushy fatherly rant about young daughter dancing and tumbling happily before the cheering hordes, although it's hard to overestimate the entertainment value of a score of little kids projecting such glee while wearing electric green neon spandex (no kidding, they glowed in the dark). But what struck me was the contrast between those who seemed to "get it" and those who didn't, and by IT I mean that kind of unselfconscious energy and exuberance and excitement that sparkled intermittently for the hour or so that I was there. The differences are really remarkable: it's a facial tone, it's a sharpness of angle defined by the body, it's the extra inch of orbit attained with each leap. It is how often they didn't cast furtive sidelong glances at the others in the line, or to the teachers in the wings reminding them how to move their arms and legs. Jason Douglas, their instructor revved up the audience by shouting encouragement while the kids were onstage. He had the right idea.

These things are sometimes a parental obligation, because if you don't have a vested interest, it's a bunch of bad dancing. And I'm not saying the kids who got it were necessarily dancing with more skill or professionalism. They were just dancing. The rest looked like they were going through the motions at mass. What was noteworthy in this case was how many were throwing themselves into the show. Illustrated very well the value of motivation and fun in these settings. I contrasted it to the Rock School (of the PA Ballet) shows that V used to attend, how serious and stoic and joyless it all seemed. Granted, the goals are different, but dance should be thrilling. And last night it was.




Thursday, June 20, 2002

Who watches the watchmen?

Thought I was done tonight, but then I found this: an elderly man is jailed -- yes, jailed for publishing a 'harrassing' website that was found to have no 'journalistic' value. If those are the criteria, we are all doomed. Especially me...




Cleaning jags

It seems like everywhere I turned I found references to cleaning as a source of comfort today. Both Rebecca and Rabbit (who has returned after an extended but unexplained absence -- welcome back) mentioned it. I found myself finally so disgusted with my office that I cleared off the desk to include only currently open projects. Lest anyone who knows me well think that this is some disturbing new trend, be hereby reassured. If I maintained this for more than a few days, it might herald the arrival of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, but for now, it's just me becoming fed up and wanting people to come visit me more than they do. I think the piles are scary (and they may be shifting slightly...you see that sometimes, just in the periphery...could be the AC, but how to know?)

And we won't talk about the dishes.

Took a long tedious trip to north NJ today for a two hour client meeting that ran four hours. Yippee. Going to scrub the floors now.





Tuesday, June 18, 2002

Jared Found Purging in Subway Restroom

A clever headline from The Daily Probe, but it reminds me about those annoying new Subway commercials. If we get past the idea that they're promoting hoagies as healthy eating, how do we understand why the rest of the actors are brimming with such apparent glee, seemingly elevated by the knowledge that Jared is off his diet? Are we that fascinated or threatened by success that magnificent public failures become so attractive? Is it obesity per se, do you think, or just a garden variety (but secret) voyeuristic joy in watching people fail?

"Kids, you tried as hard as you could, but you failed miserably. The lesson is: Never Try." Homer Simpson






An unhappy Bambi moment

Boy I'm all over the place today. I have decided that waking up with a migraine is a lot like dialing random numbers on the phone and expecting to reach someone you know. The brain just fires randomly, and the pain kind of diminishes the quality of the contact when you actualy break through. Andrew Weil, the natural health guru has referred to them as "an electrical storm in your brain," which seems appropriate enough...of course, then he goes on to suggest that we sufferers should learn to accept them, and allow ourselves the opportunity of self reflective thought engendered by that immediate need to lock ourselves into a dark room and sob quietly. File that under Pain as Personal Growth advice, clearly given (in this instance) by someone who's never bloody had a migraine.

All that by way of explaining my nontrivial flitting about this morning. I had a depressing little moment earlier that aggravated the headache more than the bright sunlight. Driving past the golf course on my way into work, I saw what looked at first glance like a mama duck resting by the side of the road, with her ducklings (about half a dozen) sort of milling about her feverishly. Well, closer inspection showed that I was half right. Mama was squashed, and the babies had adopted this anxious pattern of rallying round her until a car came by, when they would retreat to the curbside grass until the coast was clear, and then compulsively run back to her. I cursed out loud. If only mom had had the smarts to retreat at the sound of the oncoming cars. Those damned poor little ducks.

I'm such a puss. My head hurts.





Privileged glimpses of the bleeding obvious...

THIS is why some people think psychologists are just slightly more informed and inquisitive than your average telephone psychic. News Flash! Your computer desktop reveals hidden truths about your psyche! Organizational skills uncovered! Here are some of the more enlightened chestnuts from esteemed corporate psychologist Ben Williams:

The appearance of the desktop may also provide powerful insights into how comfortable someone is with technology.

"It could be that the person with not much on their desktop is naive about technology," said Mr Williams.

"The person with a lot of whizz bang stuff is very technology aware. They know how to download these things, install them and store them."

Brilliant, Dr. Ben! (I mean, Mr. Ben...at least, they refer to him this way in the article...) And:
"If you have cute pictures or toys on your computer, that says you spend a lot of time on the computer," explained Mr Williams.

"It says this is my territory, look how exciting or dramatic it is."

The hell you say! Let me write you a check!

Later, Mr. Williams asserted that "Many people also like to look at pictures of pretty things, and often do this while eating food that tastes good." He also noted sagely that "Pain hurts." Sheesh...









A most excellent answer to yesterday's UN article...The web gives voice to Iranian women.

Found this article via the BBC about the web, and especially blogs, enabling middle eastern women to speak candidly about all manner of "taboo" topics:

For one female blogger, who wished to remain anonymous, her online diary has provided a forum to share her fears and aspirations.

"Women in Iran cannot speak out frankly because of our Eastern culture and there are some taboos just for women, such as talking about sex or the right to choose your partner," she said.

"I have the opportunity to talk about these things and share my experiences with others."







Monday, June 17, 2002

If this doesn't chill you to the bone, you are already dead
Back from Va-cay, it having been a week of much energy expenditure and, yes, work. Didn't wanna do it, but there you go. Next time I tell my assistant that I will be in Yap, covering the local sports team and will be unavailable for comment.

I have missed my tie to the e-world! Strange, even while in Japan I felt as though I was still connected; but being away from the desk and away from the PC meant a large void opened up. Filled rather comfortably, I should say by a house full of children at various times, new rollerblades (only fell twice so far) and generally much frolic, but still...I missed the community of voices that I have found out there in my daily twitching through the ether.

My original intent, after digging out from under the 40+ emails and other assorted work related things this morning, was a calm retrospective look at some of the more pithy things that took place, but my need to comment on the following precludes such a gentle walk into that good morning. To wit:

Islamic Bloc, Christian Right Team Up to Lobby U.N.

brrrr....

UNITED NATIONS -- Conservative U.S. Christian organizations have joined forces with Islamic governments to halt the expansion of sexual and political protections and rights for gays, women and children at United Nations conferences.

The new alliance, which coalesced during the past year, has received a major boost from the Bush administration, which appointed antiabortion activists to key positions on U.S. delegations to U.N. conferences on global economic and social policy.

But it has been largely galvanized by conservative Christians who have set aside their doctrinal differences, cemented ties with the Vatican and cultivated fresh links with a powerful bloc of more than 50 moderate and hard-line Islamic governments, including Sudan, Libya, Iraq and Iran.

I almost thought this was an Onion parody, because it's almost too ridiculous to contemplate. This they can come to agreement over...other prejudices get maintained and fueled and continue to polarize, but not these. Fantastic. And Dubya sits in the background wearing the confused look of a dog whose food dish has been moved: "Wait, don't we hate these guys?"

Sigh...I need another vacation.



Monday, June 10, 2002

Get out the vote!

I can't believe I'm even commenting, because this "sexiest blogger" contest over on The Blog of The Century of The Week has been cross-referenced to death, and since my readership is decidedly smaller I doubt highly that I will have any influence. Oh, and the fact that the contest ended this afternoon might be limiting as well. But no matter, it's the principle of the thing.

Two of my favorite bloggers were ranking rather nicely, it seems: Rabbit and Rebecca over at coffeesweats. Rabbit is, well, a rabbit, a bit cranky at times, and I understand she has parasite problems, but she strikes me as rather cute all the same. Rebecca is less mammalian and more reptilian, although lately she has been seen sporting an impossible red bob which hints at some underlying warmbloodedness. However, in someone's recent entry (can't recall who) the question was raised as to whether one can assess "sexy" via just the printed word, so the whole thing is pathetic and pointless from the get go.

Bosh! Flimshaw! Intellect not sexy? Linguistic capacity not a turn-on? How many romances, trysts, dalliances and other assorted...uh, pairings have been kindled over a Yahoo or Onion personal? Let's not kid ourselves, kids.

But anyway, the whole thing is done. But I encourage you to visit all of those implicated above. Not your father's blog(s)...




It's about the 'shine, man...

Yes, 'shine. I'm 36 and I just had my first authentic 'shine. With lots of cherries and blueberries floating in it. To add fiber, apparently. No, to soak up the alcohol. As if something that occurs in nature, like...fruit, would ever stand a chance against such pure, unexpurgated devil-fluid. As Phoebe once said, "this is what evil must taste like." I suspect some years have been shaved off my life. But I didn't go blind, so there you are. Although I did find myself supremely aware of the pores in my skin, for some reason, many minutes after consumption. Like little quills were working their way in. Or out....

That little mason jar of death was actually not a high water mark, but just one of the many notable events of the weekend. Lots of very talented musicians, a Woodstock-liciousness coupled with more purpose. Less "tuning in" and more "laying about." Dozens if not hundreds of campers, dogs aplenty (a plethora of Jack Russell terriers for no reason I could understand) and a kind of biker-kibbutz mentality. Everyone sharing everything. And an absolutely pristine woodland setting for the whole thing. Very glad I went.



Friday, June 07, 2002

It's about the music, man

Heading out for a week-long vacation. WooHoo! Motoring up to Windgap, PA with V and my sisters to attend a genuine "shindig," sponsored by the Appalachian Fiddle and Bluegrass Association. A day of fiddles, food, many many hogs, and beer a-flowin'. Should be a rollicking good time. I hope the weather holds out for us.




Wednesday, June 05, 2002

Mmmmm....cartoon tie-ins.

Okay, this is it and then I'm going home. First up, a most excellently excellent site, courtesy of La di da, who always has the best toys: how would you look as a South Park character? Here's mine.



Next, thanks to ACM for the link to Pop Cult mag, from the Institute of Breakfast Cereal Technology, we have Homer's Cinnamon Donut Cereal.


Far more successful in its flavor replication than fellow Simpsons cereal Bart Simpson Cereal, Homer's Cinnamon Donut Cereal follows through on its mission plan by delivering not only the flavor but also the texture of day-old cinnamon donuts.


Why have I not seen these before?? Mmmmm, sugar.




Oh please...

Here's a good scam: kill one of your classmates, and then claim that you were inspired by a trilogy of mediocre thrillers. Apparently, this transparent ploy is working so well in France that this kid has successfully redirected the responsibility away from himself and onto the filmmakers. Admittedly, only one politician has bitten, but still...well done there, fella. One is forced to wonder if the politico would have been so quick to buy the story at face value and advocate a boycott if the films in question had been French (or at least, not American).




You couldn't get a clue at the height of clue mating season if you smeared yourself with clue musk and stood in a field of horny clues doing the clue mating dance.


So Steve Burns, the guy who, as he puts it, spent five years on Blue's Clues talking to a "salt shaker made of felt," has left the show. He has his own web page where he describes his transition to "rock godlet." Note the shaved head. Quite an amusing site, actually. Haven't sampled the tunes yet.

Lots of experience watching that show, since lots of kids I'm related to are rather fond of it. My nephew knows nothing about this transition, but I'm sure by the time he is old enough to appreciate it he will have long since moved on to more violent television programming. Personally, I have to congratulate Steve on the move. If nothing else, he left on his own, at more or less the height of the show's popularity. At least we didn't discover him in a porno theater like Pee Wee Herman, clutching a wad of kleenex and wearing nothing but a raincoat and a startled look. Those things tend to be decidedly more career-limiting...




Monday, June 03, 2002

"Actor of the low IQ, let's hear your view. Peek at the lines upon your sleeve, since your memory won't do"
Jethro Tull, "The Chateau D'Isaster tapes"


Had a rather eclectic weekend, different for me. Lana threw Judith an impromptu birthday party Saturday night and a grand time was had by all. Lana concocted this amazing beef dish (sorry I forgot the name already, and no, it's not because of the splendid CA zinfandel but just my advancing age). And Sunday of all things went with V to a Phillies game. Like, baseball and junk. Got discounted tickets at her school, saw some of her classmates (starting to recognize them!) and we sat and watched zillions of balls pelt the folks sitting closer to the mound. Look at me all talking the talk. Actually, it was a mind-numbing experience; I think baseball rivals only golf in its tedium as a spectator sport. But the fan-watching was a blast. And like at the movies, food always tastes better when supported by an 800% markup...


In my search for a suitable gift for Judith at Borders, I happened upon Nightcap by Jethro Tull. For you hardcore fans, this is a must-have. Some splendid unreleased stuff (a few bits, like the Chateau D'Isaster tapes that heralded the Passion Play record were previously featured on the 20 Years of Tull boxed set [no link for that one, because you can't find it anywhere now...luckily I still have it in fairly pristine condition on vinyl]). Ian's flute work is in rare form on some of this, and the arrangements are breathtaking and complex.

However, if you are a passing Tull fan, or are just interested in some intricate, lighthearted and intelligent new music, I urge you to sample The Secret Language of Birds. It is well worth it, especially if, like me, you have been waiting for an album where Ian hasn't composed everything in the lower registers for ease of singing during concerts. He employs his full range in this one, and his voice hasn't sounded this strong since the late '70s. The instrumentals are truly inspired; I defy you to get past "Postcard day" with only one pass. I have found it thrilling to see that a favorite artist still has his creative chops after almost 40 years in the business.


I missed his April concert in Philadelphia, but I understand that he's due to arrive in Trenton round about the end of the summer. Check out the official website for the schedule, and some very rewarding pseudo-weblogging travel journals from the man himself as he scoots about. Brilliant guy. And he loves cats; has written some very moving essays about the plight of big cats and the abuse they suffer as ex-sideshow and -circus performers.