I can't think of any explanation for this other than that they wanted me to start off my day with a heartier guffaw than is usually provided by the news:
Kevin Sites Reports
Gay filmmakers explore Israel's role as victim and victimizer.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
God's gift to the unbiased press
Well, they haven't been good, but they get a little treat anyhow:
Hunter Shot by Cheney Has Heart Attack
It's nice to think of them clapping their little hands in childish glee.
If you read the article, you'll find these fabulous quotes:
Banko said there was an irregularity in the heartbeat caused by a pellet...
David Blanchard, chief of emergency care, called it "a silent heart attack, an asymptomatic heart attack. He's not had a heart attack in the traditional sense."
And if you read between the lines, you will see that although the patient was originally in intensive care, he asked to leave the hospital, which means that he is not actually dead.
Hunter Shot by Cheney Has Heart Attack
It's nice to think of them clapping their little hands in childish glee.
If you read the article, you'll find these fabulous quotes:
Banko said there was an irregularity in the heartbeat caused by a pellet...
David Blanchard, chief of emergency care, called it "a silent heart attack, an asymptomatic heart attack. He's not had a heart attack in the traditional sense."
And if you read between the lines, you will see that although the patient was originally in intensive care, he asked to leave the hospital, which means that he is not actually dead.
Monday, February 13, 2006
The Lord giveth...
Close friends, Russian-soul and English-cavalier, have been trying to adopt for several months. The second attempt fell through last week, and they decided to focus on international adoptions. Russian-soul e-mailed their social worker, who responded at 9:30 this morning: they had a four-day-old baby girl whose mother had already signed all the papers for a closed adoption and left the baby at the hospital. Would our friends like her?
We got to meet Little Flower this evening. None of us had heard that it was in the works. What a beautiful thing it was to see Russian-soul with a baby in her arms!
Glory be to God.
We got to meet Little Flower this evening. None of us had heard that it was in the works. What a beautiful thing it was to see Russian-soul with a baby in her arms!
Glory be to God.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Ninja hedge
I didn't explain the second example of the ninja archetype, but some people have thought that the young man quoted only said that ninjas (as well as giant squid and whales) were inherently funny. Attempted denials like this are just a ninja hedge. The example given is what we care about: a funeral mass over-run by regular people rather than priests should also be over-run with ninjas, giant squid and whales. Therefore the ninjas are clearly at mass, so it is another instance of the ninja archetype.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Temptation in the fruit aisle
I went to the grocery store today and was accosted by a gnome-like woman who really wanted me to drink some juice. I did so (ever obliging), and found myself in the checkout line, clasping a bottle to my bosom and trembling in fear that my mother would take the goodness away. It was only after I got home that I looked at the receipt, found that it was a $3.99/450mL bottle, and that I am now going to have to spend half the year in Hades. I'm not sure whether I'm upset about it, though--it was good pomegranate juice.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
The Tactless Olympics
As a person who has gone through life with one foot thoroughly lodged among my tonsils, I'd like to salute the leading lady of Don Gately's recent post. I thought that I had reached the greatest height possible in that lofty sport (talking-with-foot-in-mouth), and was suffering from ennui. Now I see that there are whole vistas left for me to aspire to.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Ninja Archetypes
Mrs. Bear recently posted on that age-old feminine archetpye, Longing for a Sewing Machine.
This reminded me of something I've been meaning to comment on for some time. Sapientiae Amator posted about distractions in mass. A young man in his twenties confessed to wandering in spirit away from the holy sacrifice of the mass and toward the fortification prospects the particular church would offer, in the event that it was attacked by ninjas. On another occasion, when discussing the inadequacy of pre-Cana classes in most parishes, the same friend lamented that grooms were not properly prepared for the possibility of ninjas attacking their bride and guests mid-way through the ceremony. Indeed, it is a grievous lack, and is probably a significant factor of the high annulment rate in the U.S. church. But it was not a scenario which leaped immediately to my (feminine, sewing-machine-preoccupied) mind.
However, another young man in his twenties, developing entirely separately from the first, also revealed a deep-seated connection between ninjas and the mass. Coincidence? I think not. This is clearly an archetype for young men. In fact, I think that youth ministers should begin organizing ninja masses to reach out to them.
This reminded me of something I've been meaning to comment on for some time. Sapientiae Amator posted about distractions in mass. A young man in his twenties confessed to wandering in spirit away from the holy sacrifice of the mass and toward the fortification prospects the particular church would offer, in the event that it was attacked by ninjas. On another occasion, when discussing the inadequacy of pre-Cana classes in most parishes, the same friend lamented that grooms were not properly prepared for the possibility of ninjas attacking their bride and guests mid-way through the ceremony. Indeed, it is a grievous lack, and is probably a significant factor of the high annulment rate in the U.S. church. But it was not a scenario which leaped immediately to my (feminine, sewing-machine-preoccupied) mind.
However, another young man in his twenties, developing entirely separately from the first, also revealed a deep-seated connection between ninjas and the mass. Coincidence? I think not. This is clearly an archetype for young men. In fact, I think that youth ministers should begin organizing ninja masses to reach out to them.
Friday, February 03, 2006
Sufferance
I know I'm asking a lot of my dear readers, posting two large entries (one huge) on the same day. I usually won't read an entry more than four paragraphs long, so it serves me right if you don't read them. But I would like to know what you think of the huge one.
(And yes, I did finish the rosaries on time. Thank you for asking, Mrs. Bear.)
(And yes, I did finish the rosaries on time. Thank you for asking, Mrs. Bear.)
The World from the Ground Up
Today it happened.
I’ve been hungry lately. People have been saying, “He’s a fat little bugger, ain’t he?” and my human got upset and started starving me. I tried to tell her that they were just jealous, and it is best to ignore them and be aloof. Or I could chivvy them up a tree. In fact, I’d like that. But starvation! She said that it was not starvation but a diet, but when I asked what a diet was, she said, “Well, it’s when you don’t eat as much food as you like.” I think that is starvation.
Another reason I’ve been hungry is that my person has been taking me for walks. She’s been really busy lately, at “work,” and she spends a lot of time sitting in an uncomfortable chair at the table, poking at the innards of a flat thing that opens up. I’m afraid she loves it more than she loves me, so I’ve been pensive with perhaps a bit of dignified sorrow (my mother said that we were Teutons, so we feel life deeply). I was grieving silently in the center of the living room, staring at my person and sighing a bit, when she suddenly leaped up and said, “Okay, let’s go for a walk and get the sulks out of you!” I was excited to learn that I had sulks in me, and I wondered what they smelled like. She put me on my nice long leash, and then walked me quickly all over. We even got to play in some bushes and low-hanging tree branches. It’s my favorite game when I’m on my long leash. I run back and forth and around and under as much as I can, and then when I can’t move any more, she comes and tries to do exactly what I just did, but she never pays as much attention to the fun smells as to my leash. We’ve been doing this every day. Then we come home and I feel hungry. Then my person gives me a little bit more kibble, but I don’t think it is enough.
My mother told me that when I was worried about being hungry I should consider the birds of the air and some lilies. They were once sent to a group of hungry dachshunds who were walked through the desert for forty days, without ever finding their beds and foodbowls. But they didn’t starve, because food was dropped from heaven—sometimes kibble, and sometimes the birds. Mother said that the same thing could happen for me, if I prayed with a pure heart and perfect trust. And today it did. I was standing next to a friend’s feet while he ate something out of a box (he likes to eat standing up, so I keep him company). Suddenly, the air was full of kibble (heavenly kibble, lighter and sweeter than normal kibble), raining all around me! I ate until I was full, and there was more left over.
I’ve been hungry lately. People have been saying, “He’s a fat little bugger, ain’t he?” and my human got upset and started starving me. I tried to tell her that they were just jealous, and it is best to ignore them and be aloof. Or I could chivvy them up a tree. In fact, I’d like that. But starvation! She said that it was not starvation but a diet, but when I asked what a diet was, she said, “Well, it’s when you don’t eat as much food as you like.” I think that is starvation.
Another reason I’ve been hungry is that my person has been taking me for walks. She’s been really busy lately, at “work,” and she spends a lot of time sitting in an uncomfortable chair at the table, poking at the innards of a flat thing that opens up. I’m afraid she loves it more than she loves me, so I’ve been pensive with perhaps a bit of dignified sorrow (my mother said that we were Teutons, so we feel life deeply). I was grieving silently in the center of the living room, staring at my person and sighing a bit, when she suddenly leaped up and said, “Okay, let’s go for a walk and get the sulks out of you!” I was excited to learn that I had sulks in me, and I wondered what they smelled like. She put me on my nice long leash, and then walked me quickly all over. We even got to play in some bushes and low-hanging tree branches. It’s my favorite game when I’m on my long leash. I run back and forth and around and under as much as I can, and then when I can’t move any more, she comes and tries to do exactly what I just did, but she never pays as much attention to the fun smells as to my leash. We’ve been doing this every day. Then we come home and I feel hungry. Then my person gives me a little bit more kibble, but I don’t think it is enough.
My mother told me that when I was worried about being hungry I should consider the birds of the air and some lilies. They were once sent to a group of hungry dachshunds who were walked through the desert for forty days, without ever finding their beds and foodbowls. But they didn’t starve, because food was dropped from heaven—sometimes kibble, and sometimes the birds. Mother said that the same thing could happen for me, if I prayed with a pure heart and perfect trust. And today it did. I was standing next to a friend’s feet while he ate something out of a box (he likes to eat standing up, so I keep him company). Suddenly, the air was full of kibble (heavenly kibble, lighter and sweeter than normal kibble), raining all around me! I ate until I was full, and there was more left over.
Tortillas and Lovers
Two days ago I participated in a marketing study. I’d done it once two years ago—three hours in a conference room in the nicest hotel around, rating all kinds of things on a scale of one to ten, and in the end they give you $75. They don’t tell you what the thing is for beforehand. Last time it was credit card reward programs. This time it was three new kinds of tortillas. We watched commercials and participated in taste tests. Overall, both were pretty fun, mostly because it’s interesting seeing how the other half lives. (That is, people who make lots of money by shoving their souls under a rug in the corner). It’s also fun to apply Dorothy Sayers’ disclaimer in Murder Must Advertise to the particular people running it.
We started off rating our feelings about different brands of tortillas in ridiculous detail. How can tortillas be sophisticated or innovative? (Innovative jockeyed against versatile as the word of the night.) And even worse, how can one brand be more so? Most of the brands were complete blanks for me—I remember thinking of one “Gosh, they were really scraping the barrel here—if this brand even exists, it’s got to be in the Spanish-speakers-only stores.” Yesterday I went to the store and noticed the corn tortillas I used to buy in the good old gluten-free days—and it was that exact brand! Ah well, they never asked how observant I was.
Letting a tortilla company show you ads is like letting your date sneak his arm around you—before you know it, you’re a lot more familiar than you might have liked. Because of this, I knew that if I went to the store and couldn’t find my favorite cheap tortilla store-brand ($0.99 for 20), I would probably look around forlornly until I saw the next most familiar brand (the advertised one), and if I couldn’t see the price tag ($1.59 for 12), I would probably buy them. (Yes, I do have grocery prices memorized.) So every time they asked me how I felt about their brand after seeing the commercial, I gave them one point above perfectly neutral. Unfortunately, they interpreted this as getting to first-base.
They alternated questions about tortillas with questions about how we viewed ourselves. We were asked whether we liked change (100% no), were exciting (100% no), were spenders or savers (at the moment, neither), and so on. It was nice to have a break from trying to figure out to what degree the products advertised in the commercial fit with my image of the brand (Damn it, all I think is that their tortillas are a little softer than the cheap ones while being extremely expensive!) and instead answer questions about myself. But then there was the group of questions asking “Do adults ask you about [fill in the blank] more than other adults you know?” Options included vacation spots (Trans-Siberian Railroad!), makeup and toiletries (Don’t use anti-bacterial soap!), childcare and babies (I thought about this a lot as a child…), business (Er, well, business is for sucks), etc. But the question didn’t ask me whether I had good advice, just whether people asked me for it. And I realized that I’d been giving a lot of advice without waiting to be asked for it. I had to push “Never” for every question other than “Food preparation and recipes.” It was one of those moments when the veil between the self and the image of self is stripped away, and you have to stare at the drooping flesh under fluorescent lights.
At the end we were given the opportunity to give our opinions. This portion of the credit card market study had released untold animosity from the participants (there were 100 of us, evenly split between men and women). This time there were only 60 of us, and we were all women. The experiences were vastly different. In many ways this was a far nicer group to be in. Everyone was trying to be polite and considerate. There was a huge desire to affirm and be affirmed. However, the atmosphere became redolent of hurt feelings when “Why did you like this commercial?” was followed with “Why didn’t you?” And then there were the emotions.
We had been asked to circle five words that best described what we had felt while watching the commercial. Horrors! Really, all I’d felt was 1. interested to see what kind of shenanigans they were up to and 2. neither repulsed nor excited by a commercial that struck me as 100% predictable but inoffensive. The commercials didn’t give me any of the information needed to know if these tortillas really were good for you (96% fat free? What’s replacing the fat? That’s 4% fat—what percent fat are regular tortillas? That’s far more fat than regular bread.) “Interested” wasn’t even on the list. Instead there were things like “sympathetic,” “accepted,” “loved,” “understood,” “eager,” and my favorite, “in awe.” There were also the corresponding negative emotions. 95% of the emotions on the list were ones that only the high and low points of my life have excited. They certainly weren’t accessible to TV commercials. But, I thought, these poor folks have a whole page to fill with words—who can blame them for reaching?
But the tortillas were being marketed as healthy (with a hint of better-for-you-than-bread, though of course they couldn’t say that, since it isn’t true) and good for your family. The ladies seemed to have run the gamut of positive emotions, and were overflowing in their approval of a company that cares for the health of their families, and listens to its customers (them). Of course, there was even less reason to think that the company cared about the health of their families than there was for thinking the tortillas were healthy. Not that the CEO would go out of his way to run your child down with his limo. They were just a normal company which saw that the low-carb fad could be turned to their advantage since tortillas are generally thought to have less carbs than bread. They actually have quite a bit more—a burrito sized tortilla is about the same as three slices of bread.
The fact that these ladies felt so strongly about the welfare of their families was really good. Good for children, good for husbands, good for women, good for society. But the way that these good emotions were played upon with no resistance from the rational faculty was appalling—the commercial seemed to have come within a toucher of home-base with many of the participants. I sat in my chair, shocked. All I could think was, “Good lord, these people should not have the vote.”
Most people require a solid education to develop their rational faculty (I did and do!) And most women do not receive it. Degrees in mathematics and the sciences tend to develop this faculty, and most women do not go into these fields (a degree in traditional liberal arts is, of course, best.) And so the problem could just be one of education. Unfortunately I won’t have the opportunity to see what an all-male market study would be like. But I feel far more shaken than I even have been before regarding women's suffrage, and if I’d been asked to vote on it at that moment, I would have voted the right away.
We started off rating our feelings about different brands of tortillas in ridiculous detail. How can tortillas be sophisticated or innovative? (Innovative jockeyed against versatile as the word of the night.) And even worse, how can one brand be more so? Most of the brands were complete blanks for me—I remember thinking of one “Gosh, they were really scraping the barrel here—if this brand even exists, it’s got to be in the Spanish-speakers-only stores.” Yesterday I went to the store and noticed the corn tortillas I used to buy in the good old gluten-free days—and it was that exact brand! Ah well, they never asked how observant I was.
Letting a tortilla company show you ads is like letting your date sneak his arm around you—before you know it, you’re a lot more familiar than you might have liked. Because of this, I knew that if I went to the store and couldn’t find my favorite cheap tortilla store-brand ($0.99 for 20), I would probably look around forlornly until I saw the next most familiar brand (the advertised one), and if I couldn’t see the price tag ($1.59 for 12), I would probably buy them. (Yes, I do have grocery prices memorized.) So every time they asked me how I felt about their brand after seeing the commercial, I gave them one point above perfectly neutral. Unfortunately, they interpreted this as getting to first-base.
They alternated questions about tortillas with questions about how we viewed ourselves. We were asked whether we liked change (100% no), were exciting (100% no), were spenders or savers (at the moment, neither), and so on. It was nice to have a break from trying to figure out to what degree the products advertised in the commercial fit with my image of the brand (Damn it, all I think is that their tortillas are a little softer than the cheap ones while being extremely expensive!) and instead answer questions about myself. But then there was the group of questions asking “Do adults ask you about [fill in the blank] more than other adults you know?” Options included vacation spots (Trans-Siberian Railroad!), makeup and toiletries (Don’t use anti-bacterial soap!), childcare and babies (I thought about this a lot as a child…), business (Er, well, business is for sucks), etc. But the question didn’t ask me whether I had good advice, just whether people asked me for it. And I realized that I’d been giving a lot of advice without waiting to be asked for it. I had to push “Never” for every question other than “Food preparation and recipes.” It was one of those moments when the veil between the self and the image of self is stripped away, and you have to stare at the drooping flesh under fluorescent lights.
At the end we were given the opportunity to give our opinions. This portion of the credit card market study had released untold animosity from the participants (there were 100 of us, evenly split between men and women). This time there were only 60 of us, and we were all women. The experiences were vastly different. In many ways this was a far nicer group to be in. Everyone was trying to be polite and considerate. There was a huge desire to affirm and be affirmed. However, the atmosphere became redolent of hurt feelings when “Why did you like this commercial?” was followed with “Why didn’t you?” And then there were the emotions.
We had been asked to circle five words that best described what we had felt while watching the commercial. Horrors! Really, all I’d felt was 1. interested to see what kind of shenanigans they were up to and 2. neither repulsed nor excited by a commercial that struck me as 100% predictable but inoffensive. The commercials didn’t give me any of the information needed to know if these tortillas really were good for you (96% fat free? What’s replacing the fat? That’s 4% fat—what percent fat are regular tortillas? That’s far more fat than regular bread.) “Interested” wasn’t even on the list. Instead there were things like “sympathetic,” “accepted,” “loved,” “understood,” “eager,” and my favorite, “in awe.” There were also the corresponding negative emotions. 95% of the emotions on the list were ones that only the high and low points of my life have excited. They certainly weren’t accessible to TV commercials. But, I thought, these poor folks have a whole page to fill with words—who can blame them for reaching?
But the tortillas were being marketed as healthy (with a hint of better-for-you-than-bread, though of course they couldn’t say that, since it isn’t true) and good for your family. The ladies seemed to have run the gamut of positive emotions, and were overflowing in their approval of a company that cares for the health of their families, and listens to its customers (them). Of course, there was even less reason to think that the company cared about the health of their families than there was for thinking the tortillas were healthy. Not that the CEO would go out of his way to run your child down with his limo. They were just a normal company which saw that the low-carb fad could be turned to their advantage since tortillas are generally thought to have less carbs than bread. They actually have quite a bit more—a burrito sized tortilla is about the same as three slices of bread.
The fact that these ladies felt so strongly about the welfare of their families was really good. Good for children, good for husbands, good for women, good for society. But the way that these good emotions were played upon with no resistance from the rational faculty was appalling—the commercial seemed to have come within a toucher of home-base with many of the participants. I sat in my chair, shocked. All I could think was, “Good lord, these people should not have the vote.”
Most people require a solid education to develop their rational faculty (I did and do!) And most women do not receive it. Degrees in mathematics and the sciences tend to develop this faculty, and most women do not go into these fields (a degree in traditional liberal arts is, of course, best.) And so the problem could just be one of education. Unfortunately I won’t have the opportunity to see what an all-male market study would be like. But I feel far more shaken than I even have been before regarding women's suffrage, and if I’d been asked to vote on it at that moment, I would have voted the right away.
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