...the book I've been working on for 13+ years is done, basically. I've just gotten a bunch of criticism on it that I'm going over in redrafting. I have my Professional Author (though I'm not yet, I guess) website up, and I'm blogging my progress (not here, at the website). I've got some quite professional query letters. I've written a second story to start illustrating as soon as I'm done.
After 35 years, I seem to be starting to live my dream.
w00t!
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Monday, January 29, 2007
Dreams
Sorry for posting another webcomic link. I do like to write my own thoughts, but this guy put it far more succinctly than I ever would have.
http://www.xkcd.com/c137.html
http://www.xkcd.com/c137.html
Friday, January 26, 2007
The perfect hot chocolate.
I've been working on my recipe for many years, and I think I finally have it. It's so simple, I don;t know how I could have taken so long. (You could probably get better results from raw organic milk and imported chocolate, but this works for me.)
First, forget the cocoa. Or use it as seasoning if you still want a nudge more cocoaish.
Whisk a scant two cups milk over medium heat until just before it bubbles. It should be nice and foamy by then. Add a pinch of salt Add one square of unsweetened baker's chocolate, chopped into bits, and 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon; still over heat, whisk until dissolved and heated back to steaming. Add sugar to taste. At the last minute, add 1/2 to 1 teaspoon vanilla, whisk again until frothy.
Then, if you're older than 10, live dangerously.and throw in 1/2 teaspoon of powdered cayenne (more next time, after it turns out you like it).
First, forget the cocoa. Or use it as seasoning if you still want a nudge more cocoaish.
Whisk a scant two cups milk over medium heat until just before it bubbles. It should be nice and foamy by then. Add a pinch of salt Add one square of unsweetened baker's chocolate, chopped into bits, and 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon; still over heat, whisk until dissolved and heated back to steaming. Add sugar to taste. At the last minute, add 1/2 to 1 teaspoon vanilla, whisk again until frothy.
Then, if you're older than 10, live dangerously.and throw in 1/2 teaspoon of powdered cayenne (more next time, after it turns out you like it).
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Frickin-a, just wrote a story.
Inspired (by a webcomic, no less), I sat down tonight and wrote a story (circa 1500 words) for a children's picture book. First draft, anyway, but I think -- in all my 4 a.m. wisdom -- a pretty clean one. I call it The Little Troll Who Lived Under The Slide (guess what it's about).
Now I have rewrite it, decide whether I should illustrate it or let someone else, if yes then illustrate it, find an agent/publisher, blah blah blah, but this is the first time in many, many years I've just decided to sit down and write something like this from start to finish.
Go, me.
Now I have rewrite it, decide whether I should illustrate it or let someone else, if yes then illustrate it, find an agent/publisher, blah blah blah, but this is the first time in many, many years I've just decided to sit down and write something like this from start to finish.
Go, me.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Thoughts on Emily Dickinson
She wrote thousands of poems,
it frightens me to ken,
we'd be denied these rhymes today
if we'd had Paxil then.
it frightens me to ken,
we'd be denied these rhymes today
if we'd had Paxil then.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Coyotes
As I mentioned in my Cinderella blog, I like coyotes. I like the biological animal and the mythological figure. I like that they're one of the only critters expanding their range in North America (well, not that they are one of the only ones, but I like that they're doing it). Granted, I've never raised sheep, but I've never had an infestation of field mice in my grain fields, either.
Anyway, this is not strictly about my interest in coyotes, but about something I learned because of it. Like I said, they're expanding their range. From the American southwest, they've spread north well into Canada, and, as some of you may have heard a couple of years back, they sometimes come knocking here in New York City.
What I did not realize is that eastern coyotes are not quite like their western forebears. The western coyote, so I understand, is a 20-30 lb. animal that subsists mainly on insects, small reptiles, rabbits and rodents. Plus whatever cats and chihuahuas they can get a hold of.
Well, the eastern coyote, it turns out, has been regularly turning up specimens upwards of 60 lbs., and a few of 70+. In some places, whitetail deer have become a significant part of the diet.
There was speculation for awhile of these being "coydogs" -- coyotes interbred with domestic dogs, potentially dangerous if they inherited from dogs a lack of fear of humans. But while recent genetic testing showed interbreeding had occurred in eastern coyote populations, it found almost no trace of dog.
What if found was wolf.
Apparently, coyotes have been interbreeding with Canadian gray wolves, and passing that DNA on down the line. The resulting animals look like coyotes, but are much larger. They still have much of the same social structure of coyotes, living in non-hierarchical groups rather than packs, but they are nevertheless starting to hunt larger game, and in places are essentially taking over the ecological niche left vacant by the near nation-wide extermination of wolves.
Neat, huh? Well, not to everyone. It has some ecologists worried. They don't like the idea that the animals are not "real wolves," and worry that they'll have to be removed before wolves can be reintroduced to the areas.
Here's my beef: nature is not a museum. These animals represent the reintroduction of wolves. An amazingly swift, holistic, low-impact, ecological reestablishment of a lost species. This is life doing what it does best; adapting and exploiting. That they do not match the previous wolves gene for gene is irrelevant; if they continue livin' la vida lobo*, the wolf phenotype will gradually become the dominant. Leave it the hell alone, nature is repairing itself better than Zoological Society programs can.
If there were ever evidence of the Gaia hypothesis (of which I'm skeptical, it was a very 70s/early-90s idea), this is it; the use of a highly adaptable, genetically compatible carrier species to, in a matter of a century or two, recreate a species that was lost, over a distance of hundreds (if not thousands) of miles. Hell, someone should write a book on this.
*Yes, I know this is probably grammatically wrong. If you require this disclaimer, get a life.
Anyway, this is not strictly about my interest in coyotes, but about something I learned because of it. Like I said, they're expanding their range. From the American southwest, they've spread north well into Canada, and, as some of you may have heard a couple of years back, they sometimes come knocking here in New York City.
What I did not realize is that eastern coyotes are not quite like their western forebears. The western coyote, so I understand, is a 20-30 lb. animal that subsists mainly on insects, small reptiles, rabbits and rodents. Plus whatever cats and chihuahuas they can get a hold of.
Well, the eastern coyote, it turns out, has been regularly turning up specimens upwards of 60 lbs., and a few of 70+. In some places, whitetail deer have become a significant part of the diet.
There was speculation for awhile of these being "coydogs" -- coyotes interbred with domestic dogs, potentially dangerous if they inherited from dogs a lack of fear of humans. But while recent genetic testing showed interbreeding had occurred in eastern coyote populations, it found almost no trace of dog.
What if found was wolf.
Apparently, coyotes have been interbreeding with Canadian gray wolves, and passing that DNA on down the line. The resulting animals look like coyotes, but are much larger. They still have much of the same social structure of coyotes, living in non-hierarchical groups rather than packs, but they are nevertheless starting to hunt larger game, and in places are essentially taking over the ecological niche left vacant by the near nation-wide extermination of wolves.
Neat, huh? Well, not to everyone. It has some ecologists worried. They don't like the idea that the animals are not "real wolves," and worry that they'll have to be removed before wolves can be reintroduced to the areas.
Here's my beef: nature is not a museum. These animals represent the reintroduction of wolves. An amazingly swift, holistic, low-impact, ecological reestablishment of a lost species. This is life doing what it does best; adapting and exploiting. That they do not match the previous wolves gene for gene is irrelevant; if they continue livin' la vida lobo*, the wolf phenotype will gradually become the dominant. Leave it the hell alone, nature is repairing itself better than Zoological Society programs can.
If there were ever evidence of the Gaia hypothesis (of which I'm skeptical, it was a very 70s/early-90s idea), this is it; the use of a highly adaptable, genetically compatible carrier species to, in a matter of a century or two, recreate a species that was lost, over a distance of hundreds (if not thousands) of miles. Hell, someone should write a book on this.
*Yes, I know this is probably grammatically wrong. If you require this disclaimer, get a life.
My Theoretical Haunting
A number of people have blogged lately about hauntings, some talking about TV shows, some about RL experiences. So why not tell mine?
It was about two years ago. We'd moved into this apartment from three floors up just a few months before. Let me preface this by saying that the oldest daughter had been a bit freaky as a kid; we'd find her randomly sitting up in the dark of night, having a conversation with herself; she'd recognize religious objects for no apparent reason. Nothing like "THEY'RE HERE," just enough to occasionally shake the head and say, "Freaky."
So this day about a year back, then-wife, her best friend and the kid are at the table, I'm in the kitchen taking care of some dishes or something. We'd just had hot wings and beer (except the kid), had a great time, were just thinking, "this is a really great night." Then the kids comes in and doesn't say anything; I look up at her and she's looking next to me with this weird, puzzled half-smile. She says. "That's strange. I never had a dream while I was awake before!"
Que? "What do you mean?" I asked.
"I never had a dream while I was awake," she repeated.
"What dream?"
"I dreamed there was a person right there..." pointing a few feet behind me.
Blink. "What person?"
"I don't know. He was standing right there eating something."
At about this point I decided to walk the kid out to the table where the others were sitting, and have her tell them. "What did the person look like," I asked as nonchallantly as possible. We got a detailed description of a short, dark-skinned person with short brown hair and a blue shirt with buttons, eating from a plate.
Now, the kid has been a storyteller since shortly after she could talk. She could go on for an hour-long narration off the top of her head in any subject, with a significant cast. But she'd never done this kind of detail regarding physical appearance, especially without giving it any thought. It creeped us sufficiently to take a walk outside to discuss it.
Just so you know, I'm a skeptic. But I'm an equal-opportunity skeptic. So I don't believe in ghosts, but I don't believe people who say there are none, either. I am Mr. Open-Minded. I've seen some weird stuff over the years. And I've yelled "You idiot!" at enough horror movie characters making clichéed mistakes to decide then and there that I was going to do exactly the opposite of what was done in horror movies.
Step 1: Listen to the kid.
9 times out of 10, it starts the same. The little kid warns everyone there's something up, and everyone says, "Oh, what an active imagination! yuk yuk!" or "::sigh:: Timmy's not handling the move well, he'll say anything to get us to just go back home!" A week later they're crawling in undead flies. Not me.
So as we're walking around, we're casually pumping the kid for details on what she'd "dreamed." We're casual, but she's a bright kid, and starts to realize something's up, and soon doesn't want to talk about it anymore.
Wife's best friend by now is saying all the "logical explanation" things the best friend usually does at this point in the movies. For some balance, I call my best friend.
"Mike. I need your advice on a supernatural problem."
"I'm afraid of the supernatural."
"Exactly! So..." I explained. His advice is, find out about the history of the place, confirming my thoughts.
So we co home and all go in together, turning on lots of lights. Seems less spooky now. On the way in we passed Hamilton, our sort-of-super (He does the work since the actual super moved out). I figure, he'll know. I ask him if anyone ever died in our apartment. He doesn't know, he only moved in a two years before we did. So he asks why.
Step 2: Be open about what's going on.
When they finally realize in the second half that the kid was on to something, everyone tries to cover their interest as a "history project," "research for property value reasons", or "story for the newspaper," or some such.
I considered this, and hesitated only a moment before telling Hamilton in brief what the kid said she saw. he frowns, nods and says "Yeah. Same thing happened when we moved in."
I paused, somehow not entirely surprised. See what happens if you're honest? 15 minutes and we're further along than most movies are after an hour and a half. I ask, "Like what?"
::shrug:: "Oh, you know. You're watching TV and someone walks past..."
He might have been saying "Oh, you know. You forget to wash out the microwave and the stuff gets caked on..."
He continued, "This place was built in, what the 20s? That kinda stuff's that's bound to happen in all that time."
So what did he do? "My wife said a prayer. We told 'em, ::shrug:: this is our place now. You have to go."
I thanked Hamilton, went inside and related this story to the other adults. Wife's best friend couldn't seem to grasp what he'd said, kept saying, "WHAT???" Well, for theological reasons, I did not say a prayer (prayers aren't magical spells in my book, and to use them as such is disrespectful at the very least), but I did make a general announcement to whatever entities might be present that we meant no disrespect, but we were living there now and they were welcome to stay as long as they meant no harm.
Seemed like a fair arrangement to me.
No incidents since.
Well, a minor one. A few weeks later, we were rearranging the closets and the kid looks into the hall behind mom and me with a similar quizzical smile. I ask "What are you looking at?" as casually as possible.
This time, she looked warily at me, seemed to calculate for a second, and said "Oh. I just thought I saw a mouse over there."
Fine.
Except that she'd been looking about three feet off the ground.
I let it go.
It was about two years ago. We'd moved into this apartment from three floors up just a few months before. Let me preface this by saying that the oldest daughter had been a bit freaky as a kid; we'd find her randomly sitting up in the dark of night, having a conversation with herself; she'd recognize religious objects for no apparent reason. Nothing like "THEY'RE HERE," just enough to occasionally shake the head and say, "Freaky."
So this day about a year back, then-wife, her best friend and the kid are at the table, I'm in the kitchen taking care of some dishes or something. We'd just had hot wings and beer (except the kid), had a great time, were just thinking, "this is a really great night." Then the kids comes in and doesn't say anything; I look up at her and she's looking next to me with this weird, puzzled half-smile. She says. "That's strange. I never had a dream while I was awake before!"
Que? "What do you mean?" I asked.
"I never had a dream while I was awake," she repeated.
"What dream?"
"I dreamed there was a person right there..." pointing a few feet behind me.
Blink. "What person?"
"I don't know. He was standing right there eating something."
At about this point I decided to walk the kid out to the table where the others were sitting, and have her tell them. "What did the person look like," I asked as nonchallantly as possible. We got a detailed description of a short, dark-skinned person with short brown hair and a blue shirt with buttons, eating from a plate.
Now, the kid has been a storyteller since shortly after she could talk. She could go on for an hour-long narration off the top of her head in any subject, with a significant cast. But she'd never done this kind of detail regarding physical appearance, especially without giving it any thought. It creeped us sufficiently to take a walk outside to discuss it.
Just so you know, I'm a skeptic. But I'm an equal-opportunity skeptic. So I don't believe in ghosts, but I don't believe people who say there are none, either. I am Mr. Open-Minded. I've seen some weird stuff over the years. And I've yelled "You idiot!" at enough horror movie characters making clichéed mistakes to decide then and there that I was going to do exactly the opposite of what was done in horror movies.
Step 1: Listen to the kid.
9 times out of 10, it starts the same. The little kid warns everyone there's something up, and everyone says, "Oh, what an active imagination! yuk yuk!" or "::sigh:: Timmy's not handling the move well, he'll say anything to get us to just go back home!" A week later they're crawling in undead flies. Not me.
So as we're walking around, we're casually pumping the kid for details on what she'd "dreamed." We're casual, but she's a bright kid, and starts to realize something's up, and soon doesn't want to talk about it anymore.
Wife's best friend by now is saying all the "logical explanation" things the best friend usually does at this point in the movies. For some balance, I call my best friend.
"Mike. I need your advice on a supernatural problem."
"I'm afraid of the supernatural."
"Exactly! So..." I explained. His advice is, find out about the history of the place, confirming my thoughts.
So we co home and all go in together, turning on lots of lights. Seems less spooky now. On the way in we passed Hamilton, our sort-of-super (He does the work since the actual super moved out). I figure, he'll know. I ask him if anyone ever died in our apartment. He doesn't know, he only moved in a two years before we did. So he asks why.
Step 2: Be open about what's going on.
When they finally realize in the second half that the kid was on to something, everyone tries to cover their interest as a "history project," "research for property value reasons", or "story for the newspaper," or some such.
I considered this, and hesitated only a moment before telling Hamilton in brief what the kid said she saw. he frowns, nods and says "Yeah. Same thing happened when we moved in."
I paused, somehow not entirely surprised. See what happens if you're honest? 15 minutes and we're further along than most movies are after an hour and a half. I ask, "Like what?"
::shrug:: "Oh, you know. You're watching TV and someone walks past..."
He might have been saying "Oh, you know. You forget to wash out the microwave and the stuff gets caked on..."
He continued, "This place was built in, what the 20s? That kinda stuff's that's bound to happen in all that time."
So what did he do? "My wife said a prayer. We told 'em, ::shrug:: this is our place now. You have to go."
I thanked Hamilton, went inside and related this story to the other adults. Wife's best friend couldn't seem to grasp what he'd said, kept saying, "WHAT???" Well, for theological reasons, I did not say a prayer (prayers aren't magical spells in my book, and to use them as such is disrespectful at the very least), but I did make a general announcement to whatever entities might be present that we meant no disrespect, but we were living there now and they were welcome to stay as long as they meant no harm.
Seemed like a fair arrangement to me.
No incidents since.
Well, a minor one. A few weeks later, we were rearranging the closets and the kid looks into the hall behind mom and me with a similar quizzical smile. I ask "What are you looking at?" as casually as possible.
This time, she looked warily at me, seemed to calculate for a second, and said "Oh. I just thought I saw a mouse over there."
Fine.
Except that she'd been looking about three feet off the ground.
I let it go.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Why people don't get it.
This is another comment I wrote to someone else's blog, wherein he asked why people assume that because he's a liberal he hates God, is pro-abortion and supports terrorism. Someone wrote me with the suggestion that I post it on its own blog so, sheep that I am, I've complied:
I shouldn't say anything. It's only going to trigger a fight. So I shouldn't say anything.
::sigh::
It's a convention. Once a convention is imprinted on peoples' minds, people accept it as truth, and start to make their decisions to fit it. Entire political parties are constructed from semirandom components due to this phenomenon. One day when I'm suitably drunk and inspired (if I ever get drunk again, maybe when the kids are 15 and have their own apartments), I'm going to work out a formula for attraction and cohesion.
Once the convention attains critical mass, it becomes self-perpetuating. The conservative Christians arm themselves against their polar opposite, the godless secularists.
To make matters more interesting, history has already created a Godless Secularist faction -- Communists (stay with me on this).
Now, this does not mean, in and of itself, that Godless Secularists are Communists (example; Ayn Rand). But this has already become a convention, due to the fact that Communist governments have generally encouraged atheism/materialism (also, communists are better at organized political movements than are objectivists). Since Communism is generally considered to be Ultraviolet of the left end of the political spectrum (yeah, it should be "infrared", but this aesthetic works for me), all "left" oriented politics is considered to be a degree of Communism.
(Note: NONE of this need be consciously considered by the parties involved! It is all part of the mass consciousness of Western society. Possibly Eastern society, too, but that doesn't return my emails, so I wouldn't know. Also, it did not literally start with the conservative Christians; this is just an illustration. It's a whoooooooole lot more complicated and dynamic than that, as is just aout everything. It never starts at the beginning.)
Throw in Monsterboy's Principle of Autoinimidefinition, which states that when level of spite exceeds sense of identity, an entity or group will tend to adopt an exaggerated or otherwise modified version of the defining qualities attributed to it by its opposition*. You now have both sides altering themselves further along the extreme, just to (a) be as little like the other as they can possibly be and (b) show them! [emphasis theirs]
At this point, were these two groups of a dozen nuts yelling at one another across a city street, you could with either watch with amusement hoping a fight breaks out or call the cops to break it up. But we're talking about tens of thousands of nuts on each side, yelling at one another from halfway across the country (more or less from the middle to each coast). When that many people talk, other people, unfortunately, listen. So you end up with the extremist nuts defining themselves as the edges of the spectrum that includes everyone, and the rest of us are left trying to determine where along the spectrum we lie.
(A few decide to opt out of the spectrum altogether. I, personally, think it would be nice to be a sound instead. Or maybe a rosebush.)
So, you come along and call yourself a liberal. The world (which is now, cognizant or not, fully in league with the nuts) attempts to hand you your Liberal Kit: AIDS ribbon, Roe v Wade bumper sticker, "No Blood For Oil" sign, directory of organic foods markets, and condom to throw at St. Patrick's Cathedral), whether you asked for these things or not.
You have been Value Mealed. Over 300 million served.
*This leads to Gun-Toting Bible-Thumpers, Thug Life and much of the drag seen at Mardi Gras, among many, many other things. It is, arguably**, the single greatest force for sociopolitical change.
**I can say it, and others can argue about it
P.S.: I wrote a blog related to this. I don't normally like to refer to my own blogs, but hell, here it is.
I shouldn't say anything. It's only going to trigger a fight. So I shouldn't say anything.
::sigh::
It's a convention. Once a convention is imprinted on peoples' minds, people accept it as truth, and start to make their decisions to fit it. Entire political parties are constructed from semirandom components due to this phenomenon. One day when I'm suitably drunk and inspired (if I ever get drunk again, maybe when the kids are 15 and have their own apartments), I'm going to work out a formula for attraction and cohesion.
Once the convention attains critical mass, it becomes self-perpetuating. The conservative Christians arm themselves against their polar opposite, the godless secularists.
To make matters more interesting, history has already created a Godless Secularist faction -- Communists (stay with me on this).
Now, this does not mean, in and of itself, that Godless Secularists are Communists (example; Ayn Rand). But this has already become a convention, due to the fact that Communist governments have generally encouraged atheism/materialism (also, communists are better at organized political movements than are objectivists). Since Communism is generally considered to be Ultraviolet of the left end of the political spectrum (yeah, it should be "infrared", but this aesthetic works for me), all "left" oriented politics is considered to be a degree of Communism.
(Note: NONE of this need be consciously considered by the parties involved! It is all part of the mass consciousness of Western society. Possibly Eastern society, too, but that doesn't return my emails, so I wouldn't know. Also, it did not literally start with the conservative Christians; this is just an illustration. It's a whoooooooole lot more complicated and dynamic than that, as is just aout everything. It never starts at the beginning.)
Throw in Monsterboy's Principle of Autoinimidefinition, which states that when level of spite exceeds sense of identity, an entity or group will tend to adopt an exaggerated or otherwise modified version of the defining qualities attributed to it by its opposition*. You now have both sides altering themselves further along the extreme, just to (a) be as little like the other as they can possibly be and (b) show them! [emphasis theirs]
At this point, were these two groups of a dozen nuts yelling at one another across a city street, you could with either watch with amusement hoping a fight breaks out or call the cops to break it up. But we're talking about tens of thousands of nuts on each side, yelling at one another from halfway across the country (more or less from the middle to each coast). When that many people talk, other people, unfortunately, listen. So you end up with the extremist nuts defining themselves as the edges of the spectrum that includes everyone, and the rest of us are left trying to determine where along the spectrum we lie.
(A few decide to opt out of the spectrum altogether. I, personally, think it would be nice to be a sound instead. Or maybe a rosebush.)
So, you come along and call yourself a liberal. The world (which is now, cognizant or not, fully in league with the nuts) attempts to hand you your Liberal Kit: AIDS ribbon, Roe v Wade bumper sticker, "No Blood For Oil" sign, directory of organic foods markets, and condom to throw at St. Patrick's Cathedral), whether you asked for these things or not.
You have been Value Mealed. Over 300 million served.
*This leads to Gun-Toting Bible-Thumpers, Thug Life and much of the drag seen at Mardi Gras, among many, many other things. It is, arguably**, the single greatest force for sociopolitical change.
**I can say it, and others can argue about it
P.S.: I wrote a blog related to this. I don't normally like to refer to my own blogs, but hell, here it is.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Cinderella
[WARNING: The following may contain spoilers. If you're that concerned about reading spoilers to a Disney Princess (tm) movie, you need a life even worse than someone who blogs reviews of Disney Princess (tm) movies.]
My loathing for the Disney Princess (tm) franchise, which I've mentioned on here a time or eight, has been largely based on the merchandising (it really is a merchandising gimmick, it wasn't around as an institution when the actual Princess movies came out). But now that the oldest is 5, I've been getting to see the original movies. Today (and I'm sure tomorrow and the next day and the next) it was Cinderella.
I've long considered Cinderella one of the lamest of the heroines, right up there with Sleeping Beauty. I mean, the fairy godmother does all the work. And I was not much enlightened; the thing struck me, in fact, as Sleeping Beauty Lite.
First off, consider the villain. Instead of an Evil Witch, we have an Evil Stepmother. I'm sorry, but as fairy-tale villains go, the stepmother is pretty much bottom of the barrel. At least Snow White's stepmother was also a witch. Cruella de Ville was both stylish and crazy -- with pet alligators! Here, the villain is basically a bitchy old lady. Instead of goblin hordes and a malicious (but competent) raven, her henchmen consist of two whiny daughters. Oh, eek.
[EDIT: It has been pointed out to me that I conflated two villains here! Cruella de Ville and the crazy evil lady form The Rescuers! I don't know how I managed that, but the reality makes my point even more strongly: two wonderful, crazy, evil women that were positivly scary!]
This is fortunate for our Cindy, because her Prince was pretty useless. I mean, Sleeping Beauty's Prince Philip, while a pretty-boy, kicked ass; he not only actually left the palace unlike Prince Whatever (you know you're a figurehead when you don't even have a name), but he actually took on the witch and slew a dragon. Had some help from the fairies at the end, but the point is the boy took come initiative! Prince Whatever didn't even leave the palace to look for his "beloved"; he sent the friggin' Arch-Duke! Nothing says "I love you" like a courier.
Which brings me to my next point: Hero support. (This is harder in this case, since we have a limited number of heroes... the Prince doesn't count for anything, which leaves us with only Cindy herself). Instead of three fairies, we have one fairy godmother, who shows up, sings a song and is not seen again. This leaves little room for character development, so the cute-bumbling-help factor of the three fairies is taken over by an assortment of mice.
Oh, the mice. Am I alone in thinking the mice are basically a minstrel show without the blackface? "I's a-comin', Cindarelly!" Cringe. And while they were more intellectually competent than the SB fairies, this was made up for by their physical limitations (i.e., they were mice). Well, with the exception of Gus, who is a bumbler, but that's endearing, in Disney movies.
And what the hell old lady (or daughter of same) names her cat Lucifer? Why not just stick a "Not Welcome, We're Villains" mat outside your door? That said, Lucifer was refreshingly his own feline. He wasn't cruel and vindictive because he was anyone's sycophant, he was cruel and vindictive because he was a cat! (Cat-lovers, simmer down. I have an affinity for coyotes and you don't see me jumping all over Barnyard.)
And the ending. You might think that the ending couldn't help but be anticlimactic, but they managed climax with other Disney Princesses (insert joke here); The Little Mermaid, Sleeping Beauty and Beauty and the Beast all managed some level of resolution. But this one was like "It fits!"/cut to bride and groom running down palace steps/The End.
Which brings us to the plot holes. First, of course, if she's got to run away (and those gongs sure seemed to go on for a long time), mightn't she at least let the charming guy she danced and talked with know her name? Where to find her for a second date? Second: The step-sisters have "a second chance" at snagging the Prince because he doesn't know who the girl he danced with was. Ignoring the fact that he knows what she looked like, they are perhaps the only two he can positively rule out, because they were standing right in front of him when he first saw Cinderella! They were the last to be introduced to him, remember?
Aright, I'm out. As you can probably tell, this one is pretty near the bottom of the princess-o-meter. I'll let ya know when I see the next one.
My loathing for the Disney Princess (tm) franchise, which I've mentioned on here a time or eight, has been largely based on the merchandising (it really is a merchandising gimmick, it wasn't around as an institution when the actual Princess movies came out). But now that the oldest is 5, I've been getting to see the original movies. Today (and I'm sure tomorrow and the next day and the next) it was Cinderella.
I've long considered Cinderella one of the lamest of the heroines, right up there with Sleeping Beauty. I mean, the fairy godmother does all the work. And I was not much enlightened; the thing struck me, in fact, as Sleeping Beauty Lite.
First off, consider the villain. Instead of an Evil Witch, we have an Evil Stepmother. I'm sorry, but as fairy-tale villains go, the stepmother is pretty much bottom of the barrel. At least Snow White's stepmother was also a witch. Cruella de Ville was both stylish and crazy -- with pet alligators! Here, the villain is basically a bitchy old lady. Instead of goblin hordes and a malicious (but competent) raven, her henchmen consist of two whiny daughters. Oh, eek.
[EDIT: It has been pointed out to me that I conflated two villains here! Cruella de Ville and the crazy evil lady form The Rescuers! I don't know how I managed that, but the reality makes my point even more strongly: two wonderful, crazy, evil women that were positivly scary!]
This is fortunate for our Cindy, because her Prince was pretty useless. I mean, Sleeping Beauty's Prince Philip, while a pretty-boy, kicked ass; he not only actually left the palace unlike Prince Whatever (you know you're a figurehead when you don't even have a name), but he actually took on the witch and slew a dragon. Had some help from the fairies at the end, but the point is the boy took come initiative! Prince Whatever didn't even leave the palace to look for his "beloved"; he sent the friggin' Arch-Duke! Nothing says "I love you" like a courier.
Which brings me to my next point: Hero support. (This is harder in this case, since we have a limited number of heroes... the Prince doesn't count for anything, which leaves us with only Cindy herself). Instead of three fairies, we have one fairy godmother, who shows up, sings a song and is not seen again. This leaves little room for character development, so the cute-bumbling-help factor of the three fairies is taken over by an assortment of mice.
Oh, the mice. Am I alone in thinking the mice are basically a minstrel show without the blackface? "I's a-comin', Cindarelly!" Cringe. And while they were more intellectually competent than the SB fairies, this was made up for by their physical limitations (i.e., they were mice). Well, with the exception of Gus, who is a bumbler, but that's endearing, in Disney movies.
And what the hell old lady (or daughter of same) names her cat Lucifer? Why not just stick a "Not Welcome, We're Villains" mat outside your door? That said, Lucifer was refreshingly his own feline. He wasn't cruel and vindictive because he was anyone's sycophant, he was cruel and vindictive because he was a cat! (Cat-lovers, simmer down. I have an affinity for coyotes and you don't see me jumping all over Barnyard.)
And the ending. You might think that the ending couldn't help but be anticlimactic, but they managed climax with other Disney Princesses (insert joke here); The Little Mermaid, Sleeping Beauty and Beauty and the Beast all managed some level of resolution. But this one was like "It fits!"/cut to bride and groom running down palace steps/The End.
Which brings us to the plot holes. First, of course, if she's got to run away (and those gongs sure seemed to go on for a long time), mightn't she at least let the charming guy she danced and talked with know her name? Where to find her for a second date? Second: The step-sisters have "a second chance" at snagging the Prince because he doesn't know who the girl he danced with was. Ignoring the fact that he knows what she looked like, they are perhaps the only two he can positively rule out, because they were standing right in front of him when he first saw Cinderella! They were the last to be introduced to him, remember?
Aright, I'm out. As you can probably tell, this one is pretty near the bottom of the princess-o-meter. I'll let ya know when I see the next one.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Carl Shurz
I don't usually post quotes. Well, not from anyone but me. But I've had occasion to read a little more into the semicolon in history that was Carl Shurz, and I wonder why more people haven't heard of him. Maybe because he wasn't a native son, having come to America from Germany. He was a statesman, general in the Union army, biographer and editor. He was instrumental in influencing U.S. policy in may issues. And he had a really cool beard. Surely he deserves more remembrance. than an elementary school in Texas and a park best known to New Yorkers as "that overhang you drive under along the East River".
Anyway, the following came from him:
What is the rule of honor to be observed by a power so strongly and so advantageously situated as this Republic is? Of course I do not expect it meekly to pocket real insults if they should be offered to it. But, surely, it should not, as our boyish jingoes wish it to do, swagger about among the nations of the world, with a chip on its shoulder, shaking its fist in everybody's face. Of course, it should not tamely submit to real encroachments upon its rights. But, surely, it should not, whenever its own notions of right or interest collide with the notions of others, fall into hysterics and act as if it really feared for its own security and its very independence.
As a true gentleman, conscious of his strength and his dignity, it should be slow to take offense. In its dealings with other nations it should have scrupulous regard, not only for their rights, but also for their self-respect. With all its latent resources for war, it should be the great peace power of the world. It should never forget what a proud privilege and what an inestimable blessing it is not to need and not to have big armies or navies to support. It should seek to influence mankind, not by heavy artillery, but by good example and wise counsel. It should see its highest glory, not in battles won, but in wars prevented. It should be so invariably just and fair, so trustworthy, so good tempered, so conciliatory, that other nations would instinctively turn to it as their mutual friend and the natural adjuster of their differences, thus making it the greatest preserver of the world's peace.
This is not a mere idealistic fancy. It is the natural position of this great republic among the nations of the earth. It is its noblest vocation, and it will be a glorious day for the United States when the good sense and the self-respect of the American people see in this their "manifest destiny." It all rests upon peace. Is not this peace with honor? There has, of late, been much loose speech about "Americanism." Is not this good Americanism? It is surely today the Americanism of those who love their country most. And I fervently hope that it will be and ever remain the Americanism of our children and our children's children.
- The True Americanism, April 18, 1859
And, on patriotism:
The man who in times of popular excitement boldly and unflinchingly resists hot-tempered clamor for an unnecessary war, and thus exposes himself to the opprobrious imputation of a lack of patriotism or of courage, to the end of saving his country from a great calamity, is, as to "loving and faithfully serving his country," at least as good a patriot as the hero of the most daring feat of arms, and a far better one than those who, with an ostentatious pretense of superior patriotism, cry for war before it is needed, especially if then they let others do the fighting.
Idunno, they just sound like good thoughts to me.
Monday, January 15, 2007
One starts with "f" and one starts with "n".
Tonight I read a blog wherein someone asked why "fag" is an acceptable word, but "the n-word" as she put it, was not. She went on to say (correctly) that gays have suffered, and that she's had two friends seriously hurt in gay-bashing, and that she herself had been assaulted for being bisexual. She also mentioned Matthew Shepard. I commented on her blog, and I'm going to reproduce the comment, for the most part (edited to take advantage of the comparative freedom of Blogger), below.
This is a both a little complicated and rather nuanced. I truly don't know if I'm up to the task.
I suppose I should point out first that "fag" is not really that acceptable a word. It is quite politically incorrect, to say the least. It will get prominent public personalities in at least a lot of trouble, if not cost them their jobs.
That said, while gays have suffered (and not to in any way belittle that suffering, which is and has been significant) there is a difference. Where to begin is a very difficult thing to decide, but I'll try.
First off, being black starts at birth. (One may be gay from birth, but the world does not know it and immediately start in on one.) As such, a black person immediately inherits all of the institutional baggage that comes with being black -- and there is such baggage, even today, on several levels.
Actually, being black starts before birth, because your family was almost certainly black as well. In some cases, almost everyone you know growing up is black. This creates, from birth, a shared cultural identity. No, not universally shared, and not an homogeneous culture, but being black in America is definitely more culturally significant than being born in Queens or being Episcopalian.
So, "black" is not simply an identifier, it is effectively a social class. It has been, way back to the very dawn of America; the entire structure of the nation, its economy, its infrastructure, was built upon slave labor, and remained so, at least in in part, for over two centuries. The end of slavery, in 1865, was simply the end of that phase of socioeconomic oppression. Throughout almost the entirety of American history, blacks have been segregated into a separate social class by both law and custom; the effects of this still echo strongly.
This is not to say that there is no socioeconomic impact on some or even many gays. But that occurs, generally, on an individual basis; one is almost never born gay into a socially underprivileged gay family. Due to a number of factors -- mostly the fact that it cannot reliably be traced through families, partly the fact that it is not inherently recognizable -- homosexuality has ever been something of a social anomaly, whereas blacks are ingrained into the social structure. There is a reason why, when people in this country think race, they think "Black and White" much more often than "Asian and Hispanic." This is where the onus of the n-word really comes into its own.
First, let's look at what "fag" actually means. It is a way of saying "homosexual", but with a connotation that the person regards this negatively -- as perversion, effeminacy, or whatever. In essence, however, while it is saying, "you are this, and I think that's bad," it is not adding anything else to the person it describes. That is, while many may be offended at the mere intent to insult, or by the attitude that what they are is negative, it really comes down to a difference of whether homosexuality is bad, or not.
Compare with "nigger". Like "fag", its use is often found acceptable within the group to which it is applied; it is from people outside the group that it is usually considered insulting. Unlike "fag", however, it is not simply saying "You're black and I think that's bad." I daresay that -- other than in "acceptable" use within the group, or ironic/teasing/casual use between close friends -- the word has never been uttered except with the intent of putting someone in their place.
[Later Edit: I now realize that it is often used within the group to the same effect.]
This refers back to the previous point, that there is and always has been a definite place for black people in American society to be put. It has changed over the years, and some have, through various means, largely escaped it, but it has always loomed in the background. This is why racism is maintained despite the truly heartfelt desire of many people to not be racist; we cannot, in a few decades, rebuild a society with no trace of the flaws of its foundation. And the proof of its significance is that many white people today will not admit it.
This social divide can now be crossed, but not completely erased. This is why I could use the n-word comfortably, if I so chose, with my best friend, but not with his friend, with whom I'm more of a friendly acquaintance; even though the latter sees our mutual friend laugh, and clearly accept that it was intended ironically, it would still leave him at the very least uncomfortable with and uncertain of me.
"Nigger" = "You are less than I." Which casts echoes to "less than human" and, inevitably, somewhere in the darkness of the mind, "slave."
There is a resonance effect to this social divide that helps keep it in place. It discourages the groups from getting close enough to become more comfortable, which would bring them closer; at the same time, it magnifies slights that keep them apart.
On the other hand, once a gay (or other queer) person comes out to his or her (or hys or hir) straight family and friends, there are likely those who accept and, perhaps, those who do not. Of those who accept, the person is still as close as he or she was before. The social barrier between straight and gay is thus much, much more permeable than that between black and white.
(This whole scenario loops back upon itself, which is why it was hard for me to decide where to begin. I apologize for finding my thoughts hard to organize.)
(Note: I did not add (but now feel I should have) that the fact of difference between the two terms is obvious in that even she did not spell out "nigger"; she did also, in fact, write "the f-a-g word" (which is of course just "fag" spelled out, but with hyphens), but later started spelling "fag" and still using the term "the 'n'-word.")
This is a both a little complicated and rather nuanced. I truly don't know if I'm up to the task.
I suppose I should point out first that "fag" is not really that acceptable a word. It is quite politically incorrect, to say the least. It will get prominent public personalities in at least a lot of trouble, if not cost them their jobs.
That said, while gays have suffered (and not to in any way belittle that suffering, which is and has been significant) there is a difference. Where to begin is a very difficult thing to decide, but I'll try.
First off, being black starts at birth. (One may be gay from birth, but the world does not know it and immediately start in on one.) As such, a black person immediately inherits all of the institutional baggage that comes with being black -- and there is such baggage, even today, on several levels.
Actually, being black starts before birth, because your family was almost certainly black as well. In some cases, almost everyone you know growing up is black. This creates, from birth, a shared cultural identity. No, not universally shared, and not an homogeneous culture, but being black in America is definitely more culturally significant than being born in Queens or being Episcopalian.
So, "black" is not simply an identifier, it is effectively a social class. It has been, way back to the very dawn of America; the entire structure of the nation, its economy, its infrastructure, was built upon slave labor, and remained so, at least in in part, for over two centuries. The end of slavery, in 1865, was simply the end of that phase of socioeconomic oppression. Throughout almost the entirety of American history, blacks have been segregated into a separate social class by both law and custom; the effects of this still echo strongly.
This is not to say that there is no socioeconomic impact on some or even many gays. But that occurs, generally, on an individual basis; one is almost never born gay into a socially underprivileged gay family. Due to a number of factors -- mostly the fact that it cannot reliably be traced through families, partly the fact that it is not inherently recognizable -- homosexuality has ever been something of a social anomaly, whereas blacks are ingrained into the social structure. There is a reason why, when people in this country think race, they think "Black and White" much more often than "Asian and Hispanic." This is where the onus of the n-word really comes into its own.
First, let's look at what "fag" actually means. It is a way of saying "homosexual", but with a connotation that the person regards this negatively -- as perversion, effeminacy, or whatever. In essence, however, while it is saying, "you are this, and I think that's bad," it is not adding anything else to the person it describes. That is, while many may be offended at the mere intent to insult, or by the attitude that what they are is negative, it really comes down to a difference of whether homosexuality is bad, or not.
Compare with "nigger". Like "fag", its use is often found acceptable within the group to which it is applied; it is from people outside the group that it is usually considered insulting. Unlike "fag", however, it is not simply saying "You're black and I think that's bad." I daresay that -- other than in "acceptable" use within the group, or ironic/teasing/casual use between close friends -- the word has never been uttered except with the intent of putting someone in their place.
[Later Edit: I now realize that it is often used within the group to the same effect.]
This refers back to the previous point, that there is and always has been a definite place for black people in American society to be put. It has changed over the years, and some have, through various means, largely escaped it, but it has always loomed in the background. This is why racism is maintained despite the truly heartfelt desire of many people to not be racist; we cannot, in a few decades, rebuild a society with no trace of the flaws of its foundation. And the proof of its significance is that many white people today will not admit it.
This social divide can now be crossed, but not completely erased. This is why I could use the n-word comfortably, if I so chose, with my best friend, but not with his friend, with whom I'm more of a friendly acquaintance; even though the latter sees our mutual friend laugh, and clearly accept that it was intended ironically, it would still leave him at the very least uncomfortable with and uncertain of me.
"Nigger" = "You are less than I." Which casts echoes to "less than human" and, inevitably, somewhere in the darkness of the mind, "slave."
There is a resonance effect to this social divide that helps keep it in place. It discourages the groups from getting close enough to become more comfortable, which would bring them closer; at the same time, it magnifies slights that keep them apart.
On the other hand, once a gay (or other queer) person comes out to his or her (or hys or hir) straight family and friends, there are likely those who accept and, perhaps, those who do not. Of those who accept, the person is still as close as he or she was before. The social barrier between straight and gay is thus much, much more permeable than that between black and white.
(This whole scenario loops back upon itself, which is why it was hard for me to decide where to begin. I apologize for finding my thoughts hard to organize.)
(Note: I did not add (but now feel I should have) that the fact of difference between the two terms is obvious in that even she did not spell out "nigger"; she did also, in fact, write "the f-a-g word" (which is of course just "fag" spelled out, but with hyphens), but later started spelling "fag" and still using the term "the 'n'-word.")
Sunday, January 14, 2007
The Rape of the Tickle
Ever tickle a toddler? Almost always, the response is the same: sheer, unadulterated, squealing joy. The difference among given toddlers is only a matter of degree and laughter technique.
Try it with an adult, however, and you are at least as likely to have them freak out and become very angry with you, especially if you carry it on for more than 1.5 seconds. (meanwhile the Best Toddler Ever could, I swear, go on for hours.) Why this discrepancy? Is it like baths in cold water, your tastes just change as you get older?
I don't think so.
I think that the problem with most adults is, at some time in their childhood, someone -- usually an asshole older brother, or an uncle (which is only an asshole older brother of the previous generation) -- tickled them until they could not breathe, maybe even holding them down to do it. "For a joke." After all, "It's only tickling." So the natural feelings of happiness and joy at this insanely wonderful form of human social expression were replaced by fear and pain. Feelings of social bonding were replaced by feelings of overpowered helplessness.
I came to this realization when I tickled my first daughter (the Best Toddler Ever of her day), and was astounded at the profound reaction. When I realized what was going on, I immediately resolved to never tickle her (or anyone) beyond their enjoyment, EVER, nor to allow anyone else to do so.
To destroy the incredible gift of tickling in selfish exercise in power (and there is exactly what it is, regardless of what lies anyone may say to the contrary) is directly analogous to rape, which perverts and, for many, forever damages or destroys the beautiful gift that is sex. You may think this is an absurd analogy; if so, you need to witness the intensity of the joy tickling produces in a child who has not been so abused.
So do everyone a favor, keep tickling, and keep it friendly, keep it happy, and leave them while they're wanting more. Everyone will be glad.
Try it with an adult, however, and you are at least as likely to have them freak out and become very angry with you, especially if you carry it on for more than 1.5 seconds. (meanwhile the Best Toddler Ever could, I swear, go on for hours.) Why this discrepancy? Is it like baths in cold water, your tastes just change as you get older?
I don't think so.
I think that the problem with most adults is, at some time in their childhood, someone -- usually an asshole older brother, or an uncle (which is only an asshole older brother of the previous generation) -- tickled them until they could not breathe, maybe even holding them down to do it. "For a joke." After all, "It's only tickling." So the natural feelings of happiness and joy at this insanely wonderful form of human social expression were replaced by fear and pain. Feelings of social bonding were replaced by feelings of overpowered helplessness.
I came to this realization when I tickled my first daughter (the Best Toddler Ever of her day), and was astounded at the profound reaction. When I realized what was going on, I immediately resolved to never tickle her (or anyone) beyond their enjoyment, EVER, nor to allow anyone else to do so.
To destroy the incredible gift of tickling in selfish exercise in power (and there is exactly what it is, regardless of what lies anyone may say to the contrary) is directly analogous to rape, which perverts and, for many, forever damages or destroys the beautiful gift that is sex. You may think this is an absurd analogy; if so, you need to witness the intensity of the joy tickling produces in a child who has not been so abused.
So do everyone a favor, keep tickling, and keep it friendly, keep it happy, and leave them while they're wanting more. Everyone will be glad.
Since I brought it up...
(First thing: I believe I shall use the phrase "Since I brought it up," in conversation a lot now that I've thought of it.)
Since I started the whole copyright issue, I should probably say out in public here that Matchdoctor has quickly revised the whole thing to my satisfaction, for which I thank them. I also wish to say that I have fully believed there was no foul intent, as these agreements are usually legal boilerplate they get from their lawyers. My main concern was over what might happen in the future, if the company were acquired, etc.
AND... I have to extrapolate from the above that I really should have just emailed the staff with my concerns rather than making it a big issue for a bunch of people. But it was like 5 am and I wasn't thinking much beyond "Hmm. Thing. Put in blog."
Again, MD, thanks. And to all a good night.
Since I started the whole copyright issue, I should probably say out in public here that Matchdoctor has quickly revised the whole thing to my satisfaction, for which I thank them. I also wish to say that I have fully believed there was no foul intent, as these agreements are usually legal boilerplate they get from their lawyers. My main concern was over what might happen in the future, if the company were acquired, etc.
AND... I have to extrapolate from the above that I really should have just emailed the staff with my concerns rather than making it a big issue for a bunch of people. But it was like 5 am and I wasn't thinking much beyond "Hmm. Thing. Put in blog."
Again, MD, thanks. And to all a good night.
Friday, January 12, 2007
I'm Number 1! I'm Number 1 (Tallest adult in kindergarten)
Woot! My MD blog listing page is the first Google entry under "Monsterboy's blog"!
Okay, so that's a pretty specific search. There aren't a lot of other people calling themselves "Monsterboy" who have blogs. Still, it's not bad. I mean, it's gotten to be Hell trying to even get "Monsterboy" as a username anywhere -- it's taken half the time, so I'm not completely alone. I still come in at #6 for just "Monsterboy"; in the world of the blogging millions, it is a tiny mark of distinction.
Okay, so that's a pretty specific search. There aren't a lot of other people calling themselves "Monsterboy" who have blogs. Still, it's not bad. I mean, it's gotten to be Hell trying to even get "Monsterboy" as a username anywhere -- it's taken half the time, so I'm not completely alone. I still come in at #6 for just "Monsterboy"; in the world of the blogging millions, it is a tiny mark of distinction.
Let's try this puppy out.
Hi! I'm trying out the move of my blog here from matchdoctor.com, an online dating site.
Match Doctor is a great place. I've met a lot of really cool people there, and I'd really hate to lose touch with them. As a dating site, I highly recommend it. Match Doctor is providing people a lot of great service, and free to many, as well. I've tried blogging before, but it always withered, due in large part to an apparent lack of readership -- something that at Match Doctor, I actually got. I certainly won't take anything away from them on this. IT's cool enough that I stayed there, even after I was no longer really looking for a date.
However... I, personally, have grown uncomfortable with their policy vis-a-vis copyright: namely, that all content basically, by default, becomes property of "Online Singles, LLC or its partners". I do some creative work, and wish to feel free to post it in my blog without worry that, at some random future date, some corporation that bought the company that acquired the company that resulted from a merger with Online Singles, LLC will one day come around claiming that I'm infringing their rights to my work.
So I'm moving my blog here. I hope people will still read it; like I said, I'm trying it out.
Match Doctor is a great place. I've met a lot of really cool people there, and I'd really hate to lose touch with them. As a dating site, I highly recommend it. Match Doctor is providing people a lot of great service, and free to many, as well. I've tried blogging before, but it always withered, due in large part to an apparent lack of readership -- something that at Match Doctor, I actually got. I certainly won't take anything away from them on this. IT's cool enough that I stayed there, even after I was no longer really looking for a date.
However... I, personally, have grown uncomfortable with their policy vis-a-vis copyright: namely, that all content basically, by default, becomes property of "Online Singles, LLC or its partners". I do some creative work, and wish to feel free to post it in my blog without worry that, at some random future date, some corporation that bought the company that acquired the company that resulted from a merger with Online Singles, LLC will one day come around claiming that I'm infringing their rights to my work.
So I'm moving my blog here. I hope people will still read it; like I said, I'm trying it out.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
If clothes were like political parties
"Can I help you, sir?"
"Just browsing, thanks. Um... where are the other clothes?"
"I'm sorry, sir?"
"There are only two suits here. Where are the other clothes?"
"Oh, that's all we carry now, sir."
"What, two different suits? That's it?"
"Yes sir. We call them models D and R. But we've incorporated all the major styles."
"Is that why this silk jacket has leather elbow-patches?"
"Well, sir, I understand the company that makes that one acquired the biggest leather-patch manufacturer in the world and, well, they had to get used somehow."
"But they'd look a lot better on that tweed jacket."
"Well, I'm afraid that's just not how the acquisition went."
"But this is ridiculous. And I don't want red denim jeans."
"Of course not, sir; as soon as you walked in I had you pegged as a model D man."
"That's the one with tweed jacket and the yellow 'I like pigs don't you?' sweatshirt?"
"Exactly."
"I don't really like pigs."
"It's just a slogan, sir."
"Or yellow. I mean sweatshirts are okay I guess, and I like the tan khakis, but yellow's just not me."
"Hmm. Maybe you'd be more comfortable in the model R after all..."
"I'm not wearing red denim pants!"
"But they go so well with the maroon necktie."
"I guess I can see that but... Look, what happened to the clothes you used to have?"
"Oh, that was terribly inefficient, sir. Hundreds of articles in dozens of colors from all those different designers. Then there was stocking and display, arranging them in proximity to one another... Much cheaper and easier to just buy two outfits, in bulk. Then we can concentrate on those two, and really get some sales accomplished!"
"There's no way people are gonna buy this!"
"With all due respect, sir, we've been doing quite well with the new model. With the savings we've passed on to our customers, and being able to concentrate out advertising on our two option, we've been able to corner 50% of the market already."
"What? That's crazy! These things look ridiculous! The parts just don't go together!"
"We've found that once everyone's wearing them, they become accepted as the new match."
"Well, I'm not accepting it! I'm going to another store."
"Good luck sir. But I'm afraid you'll have some difficulty finding one. With our recent sales, we've been able to acquire most of them. We need more outlets for our new D-2K and R-squared lines."
"Oh, so you do have more outfits!"
"Certainly, sir! Fashion is variety, no?"
"What are they like?"
"Well, they're an attempt to "bridge the gap" between the styles, if you will. See the orange beret on the D, and the gray scarf on the R?"
"Ye-e-e-s?"
"On the new models, they're both blue."
"This is just... Argh! Look, how about if I just buy both and mix and match?"
"Oh, you can't buy both, sir. No, if you split them up, that would ruin the whole system. Why, you might sell the parts you don't like to others!"
"Aha! I'll go on Ebay! People must be selling them already..."
"No sir. We have an agreement with eBay. besides, no one wants to split them up anymore... like I told you, it's become the new match. Everyone's used to them as a set. We have a club for each, if you'd like to associate with your own. Once you decide which that is."
"What, clubs where everyone's dressed alike?"
"Of course not sir! Some leave off the accessories -- the neckerchief, the beret, the scarf. And of course, you can choose your own shoes!"
"Hmm, maybe a pair of suede loafers would work with the red denim pants..."
"Ohhhhh, I'm sorry sir. Suede is more of a model D option..."
"Just browsing, thanks. Um... where are the other clothes?"
"I'm sorry, sir?"
"There are only two suits here. Where are the other clothes?"
"Oh, that's all we carry now, sir."
"What, two different suits? That's it?"
"Yes sir. We call them models D and R. But we've incorporated all the major styles."
"Is that why this silk jacket has leather elbow-patches?"
"Well, sir, I understand the company that makes that one acquired the biggest leather-patch manufacturer in the world and, well, they had to get used somehow."
"But they'd look a lot better on that tweed jacket."
"Well, I'm afraid that's just not how the acquisition went."
"But this is ridiculous. And I don't want red denim jeans."
"Of course not, sir; as soon as you walked in I had you pegged as a model D man."
"That's the one with tweed jacket and the yellow 'I like pigs don't you?' sweatshirt?"
"Exactly."
"I don't really like pigs."
"It's just a slogan, sir."
"Or yellow. I mean sweatshirts are okay I guess, and I like the tan khakis, but yellow's just not me."
"Hmm. Maybe you'd be more comfortable in the model R after all..."
"I'm not wearing red denim pants!"
"But they go so well with the maroon necktie."
"I guess I can see that but... Look, what happened to the clothes you used to have?"
"Oh, that was terribly inefficient, sir. Hundreds of articles in dozens of colors from all those different designers. Then there was stocking and display, arranging them in proximity to one another... Much cheaper and easier to just buy two outfits, in bulk. Then we can concentrate on those two, and really get some sales accomplished!"
"There's no way people are gonna buy this!"
"With all due respect, sir, we've been doing quite well with the new model. With the savings we've passed on to our customers, and being able to concentrate out advertising on our two option, we've been able to corner 50% of the market already."
"What? That's crazy! These things look ridiculous! The parts just don't go together!"
"We've found that once everyone's wearing them, they become accepted as the new match."
"Well, I'm not accepting it! I'm going to another store."
"Good luck sir. But I'm afraid you'll have some difficulty finding one. With our recent sales, we've been able to acquire most of them. We need more outlets for our new D-2K and R-squared lines."
"Oh, so you do have more outfits!"
"Certainly, sir! Fashion is variety, no?"
"What are they like?"
"Well, they're an attempt to "bridge the gap" between the styles, if you will. See the orange beret on the D, and the gray scarf on the R?"
"Ye-e-e-s?"
"On the new models, they're both blue."
"This is just... Argh! Look, how about if I just buy both and mix and match?"
"Oh, you can't buy both, sir. No, if you split them up, that would ruin the whole system. Why, you might sell the parts you don't like to others!"
"Aha! I'll go on Ebay! People must be selling them already..."
"No sir. We have an agreement with eBay. besides, no one wants to split them up anymore... like I told you, it's become the new match. Everyone's used to them as a set. We have a club for each, if you'd like to associate with your own. Once you decide which that is."
"What, clubs where everyone's dressed alike?"
"Of course not sir! Some leave off the accessories -- the neckerchief, the beret, the scarf. And of course, you can choose your own shoes!"
"Hmm, maybe a pair of suede loafers would work with the red denim pants..."
"Ohhhhh, I'm sorry sir. Suede is more of a model D option..."
I'm not that bright.
There are things I just don't understand.
Normally, when people say "I'm not that bright. I can't understand x," it's a rhetorical device, meaning that they think they're actually quite smart and that x is stupid.
Now, while I suspect that the following things may well be stupid, I don't mean the above, as I imagine that if I were smart I'd at least understand them.
1. Why do people think that the people they vote for are good people slash out for their person wellbeing? This one continually astounds me. At least half (a very, you should pardon the term, conservative estimate) of all political rhetoric I read/hear devolves into personal attacks on the morals and motivations of the opposition -- which is fine, as far as it goes. But then people almost invariably follow it up by contrasting with their own political candidate/party, which they describe in glowing terms.
Not the positions, mind you, but the actual political representatives, and not in the sense of "Senator Twopockets has an excellent record in passing the legislation of which I approve," but in the sense of "Senator Twopockets cares about Christian morality/children/soldiers/the underprivileged."
People do not on a general basis impute such motives to their employer, their employees or, in many cases, their own family members. Why do they impute them to a bunch of strangers in a political HQ somewhere? My cashier at the supermarket is looking out for my interests when she double-bags my groceries, but I don't assume she's dedicated to the safe transport of eggs everywhere. Why do people assume that Congressman Stacy's support for prayer in schools arises from his religious devotion, or that Senator Jeff's support for abortion arises from his deep concerns for women's rights? Rather than, as I deem it more likely, their need to please their chosen party line.
Now, it's not so bad to do this on a per-politician basis. You might have met Assemblyman Ramon, or followed his career enough to see him suffer political hardship rather than payoff over a controversial issue. Fine. Even if you just think s/he's got an honest face, fine. But people then extrapolate to whole parties and other organizations. It seems that 2/3 of American voters actually believe that there is one party is composted of virtuous, upstanding knights in shining armor, locked in constant battle with a tribe of hideous, debauched beasts.
This, of course, is exactly what both parties need; an evil enemy to fight. Far better for them than apathy or general skepticism.
Like I said, I can't understand it. There are things with which I disagree that I can understand. I believe in God, but can understand how people might not. I don't believe it's immoral to eat meat, but I can understand how others might. I have theories about this phenomenon, but I can only understand them in a theoretical, intellectual sort of way, I can't really understand the mindset.
Theory 1: Everyone wants a Champion. It's like in sports. You root for the Yankees, or whoever, because they're your team. It doesn't matter what the players are like, or even, really, what the lineup is: they're your team, so you root for them, and when they win, you win.
Which is fine, for sports. But if Ryan Diem wins against the Ravens, he does not get to set national policy. He does get control of your rights, your prosperity (bets notwithstanding) or your medical care.
Theory 2: The Royalty Gene: Maybe we're all genetically predisposed against democratic/republican government (ironic phrasing, considering). Maybe what we all want, deep in our monkey core, is to have a big hulking, well-groomed alpha-male who gets to eat first and have his pick of the females. (Or, if you prefer: deep in our created human souls, a stolid patriarch who guides his people, and gathers the fruits of the harvest and gets his pick of wives and concubines.)
Hmm. It occurs to me these two theories may be only an aesthetic distinction.
And this is going on too long. I think I'll get into other things I don't understand another time. Oh, well, back to work.
Normally, when people say "I'm not that bright. I can't understand x," it's a rhetorical device, meaning that they think they're actually quite smart and that x is stupid.
Now, while I suspect that the following things may well be stupid, I don't mean the above, as I imagine that if I were smart I'd at least understand them.
1. Why do people think that the people they vote for are good people slash out for their person wellbeing? This one continually astounds me. At least half (a very, you should pardon the term, conservative estimate) of all political rhetoric I read/hear devolves into personal attacks on the morals and motivations of the opposition -- which is fine, as far as it goes. But then people almost invariably follow it up by contrasting with their own political candidate/party, which they describe in glowing terms.
Not the positions, mind you, but the actual political representatives, and not in the sense of "Senator Twopockets has an excellent record in passing the legislation of which I approve," but in the sense of "Senator Twopockets cares about Christian morality/children/soldiers/the underprivileged."
People do not on a general basis impute such motives to their employer, their employees or, in many cases, their own family members. Why do they impute them to a bunch of strangers in a political HQ somewhere? My cashier at the supermarket is looking out for my interests when she double-bags my groceries, but I don't assume she's dedicated to the safe transport of eggs everywhere. Why do people assume that Congressman Stacy's support for prayer in schools arises from his religious devotion, or that Senator Jeff's support for abortion arises from his deep concerns for women's rights? Rather than, as I deem it more likely, their need to please their chosen party line.
Now, it's not so bad to do this on a per-politician basis. You might have met Assemblyman Ramon, or followed his career enough to see him suffer political hardship rather than payoff over a controversial issue. Fine. Even if you just think s/he's got an honest face, fine. But people then extrapolate to whole parties and other organizations. It seems that 2/3 of American voters actually believe that there is one party is composted of virtuous, upstanding knights in shining armor, locked in constant battle with a tribe of hideous, debauched beasts.
This, of course, is exactly what both parties need; an evil enemy to fight. Far better for them than apathy or general skepticism.
Like I said, I can't understand it. There are things with which I disagree that I can understand. I believe in God, but can understand how people might not. I don't believe it's immoral to eat meat, but I can understand how others might. I have theories about this phenomenon, but I can only understand them in a theoretical, intellectual sort of way, I can't really understand the mindset.
Theory 1: Everyone wants a Champion. It's like in sports. You root for the Yankees, or whoever, because they're your team. It doesn't matter what the players are like, or even, really, what the lineup is: they're your team, so you root for them, and when they win, you win.
Which is fine, for sports. But if Ryan Diem wins against the Ravens, he does not get to set national policy. He does get control of your rights, your prosperity (bets notwithstanding) or your medical care.
Theory 2: The Royalty Gene: Maybe we're all genetically predisposed against democratic/republican government (ironic phrasing, considering). Maybe what we all want, deep in our monkey core, is to have a big hulking, well-groomed alpha-male who gets to eat first and have his pick of the females. (Or, if you prefer: deep in our created human souls, a stolid patriarch who guides his people, and gathers the fruits of the harvest and gets his pick of wives and concubines.)
Hmm. It occurs to me these two theories may be only an aesthetic distinction.
And this is going on too long. I think I'll get into other things I don't understand another time. Oh, well, back to work.
Sunday, January 7, 2007
Some Lyrics are Stupid.
"One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do." Well, duh. It's one. That's what "lonely" means.
"No one heard at all, not even the chair." Do chairs usually hear you, Niel?
"Somebody's knockin' at the door. Somebody's ringin' the bell.
Somebody's knockin' at the door. Somebody's ringin' the bell.
Do me a favor, open the door and let him in."
Paul, this is not a lyric, this is rambling.
"Lord I was born a ramblin' man..." This is not stupid. This is, in fact, one of the best songs ever. It's here only because I wanted to end on a positive note.
"No one heard at all, not even the chair." Do chairs usually hear you, Niel?
"Somebody's knockin' at the door. Somebody's ringin' the bell.
Somebody's knockin' at the door. Somebody's ringin' the bell.
Do me a favor, open the door and let him in."
Paul, this is not a lyric, this is rambling.
"Lord I was born a ramblin' man..." This is not stupid. This is, in fact, one of the best songs ever. It's here only because I wanted to end on a positive note.
Good News, Bad News.
The good news is, I have caught up on sleep for the first time in ages.
The bad news is, I no longer have a circadian rhythm.
Staying up until 5 a.m. messing around with writing, 3d modeling and reading/writing blogs is not unprecedented for me. So last night, I did it. Woke at 9:30 a.m.. Not bad, a good 4.5 hours, a few more on the old sleep-debt card, bill me whenever.
Well, this evening at 5, the bill came due, and I suddenly knew I had to stand up, walk to the futon, and crashed. Woke circa 10:30 p.m. and now I'm rested.
This is not gonna be good for anybody.
The bad news is, I no longer have a circadian rhythm.
Staying up until 5 a.m. messing around with writing, 3d modeling and reading/writing blogs is not unprecedented for me. So last night, I did it. Woke at 9:30 a.m.. Not bad, a good 4.5 hours, a few more on the old sleep-debt card, bill me whenever.
Well, this evening at 5, the bill came due, and I suddenly knew I had to stand up, walk to the futon, and crashed. Woke circa 10:30 p.m. and now I'm rested.
This is not gonna be good for anybody.
Saturday, January 6, 2007
Monsterboy's "One Ring" Fallacy of Political Expedience
[Note: There may be typos below. I will fix another time. Leave me alone about it; it is really, really late and I need to sleep.]
You have probably heard of Frodo and friends. Even if you haven’t read the book or seen the movie. Or both. (Yes I have. Yes I’m a geek. What’s it to you?) But just for the theoretical troglodyte who does not:
The bad guy has been steadily taking over the world for hundreds of years. He has armies and magic and superhuman lieutenants and whatnot. Frodo and friends go through a whole lot of crap to get this magic ring (the “One Ring”) into the heart of the bad-guy’s lair, to destroy it. When they do, they effectively destroy him. And what happens?
They win! No, he does not have a second-in-command who takes his place. No, his armies do not continue to fight effectively under their generals. No, the newly freed lands do not balkanize and start trying to become the new empire. It’s all pretty much over and hunky-dory. All they had to do was destroy the ring.
Wouldn’t it be great if the real world were like that? Well, to an impressive number of people, it is. Why? Largely, I think, because it would be great if the real world were like that.
If we can only…
…catch Saddam Hussein, the fight for Iraq will be over!
…find Osama bin Laden, the War on Terror will be won!
…overturn Roe v. Wade, there will be no more abortions!
Okay. You may be reading the last three lines and thinking “Yep, another damn pinko crapmeister.” Well, crapmeister I may be, but that’s as far as it goes. My profile lists me, accurately, as “nonconformist”. Which is a polite way of saying I think pretty much everyone is a crapmeister awaiting his/her moment on the throne.
However, this particular fallacy does seem to be more prevalent on the right. This is due to the nature of conservatism, which, as traditionally defined, is basically the idea that everything is fundamentally okay, if only it weren’t for certain specific elements fouling things up. The left, on the other hand, seems to thrive on the idea that it’s the fringe element, sticking it to the mainstream machine, which is why it does better at protests and so forth. Don’t worry, dittoheads, they’ll get their turn.
Back to what I was saying.
Saddam: To quote our fearless leader, “We got ‘im.” He’s dead. Practical change for us? Anyone?
Osama bin Laden: No it won’t. While explosives and toxins exist, it will not. C’mon.
Roe v. Wade: Overturn it and you will do the worst thing possible for the pro-life movement. (I say this as a pro-lifer.) How can this be? Without Roe v. Wade, the right falls back to the individual states. Every blue state from the last election map will have legal abortions. Someone in a red state may have to drive an hour or so to get one, that’s about it. AND the pro-choice movement will be roused as never before. It will become a crusade. Within 4 years of overturning R v. W, in the current environment, you will see an amendment to the U.S. Constitution guaranteeing a legal abortion for anyone. There will be free buses for residents of red states. You won’t need parental approval. You won’t need citizenship. You may not even need to be female. And if an amendment is passed, it is OVER. The Supreme Court will no longer have ANY SAY in the matter, no matter how it is stacked.
Notice I said, “in the current environment.” You want to end abortions, you have to convince people not to have them. Which can be done. But it’s a lot harder, and cannot be done by legislation, by picketing, or by shooting doctors. I will not even bother to comment on whether ANY of those tings are morally right or wrong, because it does not matter. They are something that should be considered worse: they are ineffective. They have been ineffective for 30 years, and they will continue to be so.
Again, I am pro-life. I am extremely frustrated at all of those who have wasted time, money and energy on ineffective totalitarian methods.
Oh. That’s the other reason for the popularity of this fallacy: it’s easier. Remember the old vaudeville joke?
Q: What are you looking for?
A: I dropped my [insert object here].
Q: I’ll help you! Where were you when you lost it?
A: In my basement.
Q: Well then what are you doing looking out here?
A: It’s lighter out here!
It’s easier to work at just one thing, even if it is completely ineffective, than to attend to the many pickayune details necessary to enact solution. Easier to protest an abortion clinic than to work to ensure mothers do not feel forced (by circumstances, family or boyfriends/husbands) to get an abortion they often don’t want. Easier to legislate than to convince people of what you believe.
This is where the left sometimes catches this bug, by the way. If we only… pass Nationalized Healthcare! …tax the rich! …ban guns! (Again, no comment on what, if any, of these things I agree with.)
Like I said, this is political, but not partisan. People who want to achieve traditionally conservative goals (and I recommend anyone who wants to achieve a goal traditionally associated with any particular political group seriously reassess his or her goals and motives), look to how you can reasonably do it, not for the magic bullet. People on the left: same thing.
You'll still all be yammering outside my window, but maybe you can at least make sense.
You have probably heard of Frodo and friends. Even if you haven’t read the book or seen the movie. Or both. (Yes I have. Yes I’m a geek. What’s it to you?) But just for the theoretical troglodyte who does not:
The bad guy has been steadily taking over the world for hundreds of years. He has armies and magic and superhuman lieutenants and whatnot. Frodo and friends go through a whole lot of crap to get this magic ring (the “One Ring”) into the heart of the bad-guy’s lair, to destroy it. When they do, they effectively destroy him. And what happens?
They win! No, he does not have a second-in-command who takes his place. No, his armies do not continue to fight effectively under their generals. No, the newly freed lands do not balkanize and start trying to become the new empire. It’s all pretty much over and hunky-dory. All they had to do was destroy the ring.
Wouldn’t it be great if the real world were like that? Well, to an impressive number of people, it is. Why? Largely, I think, because it would be great if the real world were like that.
If we can only…
…catch Saddam Hussein, the fight for Iraq will be over!
…find Osama bin Laden, the War on Terror will be won!
…overturn Roe v. Wade, there will be no more abortions!
Okay. You may be reading the last three lines and thinking “Yep, another damn pinko crapmeister.” Well, crapmeister I may be, but that’s as far as it goes. My profile lists me, accurately, as “nonconformist”. Which is a polite way of saying I think pretty much everyone is a crapmeister awaiting his/her moment on the throne.
However, this particular fallacy does seem to be more prevalent on the right. This is due to the nature of conservatism, which, as traditionally defined, is basically the idea that everything is fundamentally okay, if only it weren’t for certain specific elements fouling things up. The left, on the other hand, seems to thrive on the idea that it’s the fringe element, sticking it to the mainstream machine, which is why it does better at protests and so forth. Don’t worry, dittoheads, they’ll get their turn.
Back to what I was saying.
Saddam: To quote our fearless leader, “We got ‘im.” He’s dead. Practical change for us? Anyone?
Osama bin Laden: No it won’t. While explosives and toxins exist, it will not. C’mon.
Roe v. Wade: Overturn it and you will do the worst thing possible for the pro-life movement. (I say this as a pro-lifer.) How can this be? Without Roe v. Wade, the right falls back to the individual states. Every blue state from the last election map will have legal abortions. Someone in a red state may have to drive an hour or so to get one, that’s about it. AND the pro-choice movement will be roused as never before. It will become a crusade. Within 4 years of overturning R v. W, in the current environment, you will see an amendment to the U.S. Constitution guaranteeing a legal abortion for anyone. There will be free buses for residents of red states. You won’t need parental approval. You won’t need citizenship. You may not even need to be female. And if an amendment is passed, it is OVER. The Supreme Court will no longer have ANY SAY in the matter, no matter how it is stacked.
Notice I said, “in the current environment.” You want to end abortions, you have to convince people not to have them. Which can be done. But it’s a lot harder, and cannot be done by legislation, by picketing, or by shooting doctors. I will not even bother to comment on whether ANY of those tings are morally right or wrong, because it does not matter. They are something that should be considered worse: they are ineffective. They have been ineffective for 30 years, and they will continue to be so.
Again, I am pro-life. I am extremely frustrated at all of those who have wasted time, money and energy on ineffective totalitarian methods.
Oh. That’s the other reason for the popularity of this fallacy: it’s easier. Remember the old vaudeville joke?
Q: What are you looking for?
A: I dropped my [insert object here].
Q: I’ll help you! Where were you when you lost it?
A: In my basement.
Q: Well then what are you doing looking out here?
A: It’s lighter out here!
It’s easier to work at just one thing, even if it is completely ineffective, than to attend to the many pickayune details necessary to enact solution. Easier to protest an abortion clinic than to work to ensure mothers do not feel forced (by circumstances, family or boyfriends/husbands) to get an abortion they often don’t want. Easier to legislate than to convince people of what you believe.
This is where the left sometimes catches this bug, by the way. If we only… pass Nationalized Healthcare! …tax the rich! …ban guns! (Again, no comment on what, if any, of these things I agree with.)
Like I said, this is political, but not partisan. People who want to achieve traditionally conservative goals (and I recommend anyone who wants to achieve a goal traditionally associated with any particular political group seriously reassess his or her goals and motives), look to how you can reasonably do it, not for the magic bullet. People on the left: same thing.
You'll still all be yammering outside my window, but maybe you can at least make sense.
Wednesday, January 3, 2007
Wretchedness...
[warning: non-graphic but repeated mention of regurgitation follows]
The Best Toddler Ever is sick.
She had a happy day today, toddling at the speed of light, as usual. Chatting in her grammatically reckless yet strangely intelligible English. Fell asleep right at 9.
And woke up repeatedly circa 11, then finally wouldn't (or couldn't) get back to sleep. Then started vomiting. Unpleasant for anyone, but worse for her, as she's still at the age where she's convinced the world is her friend, and any betrayal like this is met with outrage and profound sadness.
For my part, my thoughts immediately went to botulism, because I'm a third-person hypochondriac as well as first (took A.P. Hypochondria in high school) and that's what I always think whenever anyone gets a stomach bug. Sort of like I always start freaking about my heart whenever I get any kind of chest pain, until I belch, or remember that I'd pulled a muscle lifting something the previous day.
This has happened four times in the last two hours, each time with less result and more sleepiness. I know it's just a stomach bug, she seems more prone to them than is her sister (both have Kryptonian immune systems; last time they did get something like this -- which had nearly incapacitated their mom and myself for days -- they got a little queasy, went to sleep, and were fine six hours later).
Still, I am sad. I worry she'll choke on her own vomit in her sleep, even though she's cuddling right next to me and I sleep like a cat on espresso. I worry she'll turn out to have eaten something she secreted between the cushions a week ago and which has since evolved sapience (no worry there, of course, give it another day and it'll be too busy blogging and watching YouTube to fight her white blood cells).
Sucks to be Daddy when your toddler is sick.
The Best Toddler Ever is sick.
She had a happy day today, toddling at the speed of light, as usual. Chatting in her grammatically reckless yet strangely intelligible English. Fell asleep right at 9.
And woke up repeatedly circa 11, then finally wouldn't (or couldn't) get back to sleep. Then started vomiting. Unpleasant for anyone, but worse for her, as she's still at the age where she's convinced the world is her friend, and any betrayal like this is met with outrage and profound sadness.
For my part, my thoughts immediately went to botulism, because I'm a third-person hypochondriac as well as first (took A.P. Hypochondria in high school) and that's what I always think whenever anyone gets a stomach bug. Sort of like I always start freaking about my heart whenever I get any kind of chest pain, until I belch, or remember that I'd pulled a muscle lifting something the previous day.
This has happened four times in the last two hours, each time with less result and more sleepiness. I know it's just a stomach bug, she seems more prone to them than is her sister (both have Kryptonian immune systems; last time they did get something like this -- which had nearly incapacitated their mom and myself for days -- they got a little queasy, went to sleep, and were fine six hours later).
Still, I am sad. I worry she'll choke on her own vomit in her sleep, even though she's cuddling right next to me and I sleep like a cat on espresso. I worry she'll turn out to have eaten something she secreted between the cushions a week ago and which has since evolved sapience (no worry there, of course, give it another day and it'll be too busy blogging and watching YouTube to fight her white blood cells).
Sucks to be Daddy when your toddler is sick.
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