White Privilege and Pink Unicorns

Yesterday, I got a particularly ugly and stupid anonymous comment on my blog.  Anonymous because--well, because that's how small, stupid people do it.  They take their courage from being unknown.  No need to be polite or thoughtful or reasonable when no one can pin the "duh" on you.  Anyway, one of the gems this dullwit actually sprayed?   

"You hate GOD so much you don't believe in him."

Okay, take a moment to chew on that.  Really roll it around, poke at it.  And then ask yourself, "Do I hate Santa Claus?"  Seriously, ask yourself if you hate the things you don't believe exist.  Do you hate unicorns?  Blue Fairies?  Crumple-horned Snorkacks?  Odin?  Kind hearted, intelligent, humanitarian, critically-thinking Tea Party members?

No?

Just so.  I don't "hate" any deity because I don't see any evidence for the existence of any deity.  I "hate God" like I hate gnomes, dragons, and pink unicorns.  

Hope that clears things up.

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Came across this video yesterday.  Yes, I've been aware of the wildly different standards for years, but this really does bring it home in a whole new way.  I know that, when a cop sees me, he sees a fat, middle-aged housewife who might cry if he gives her a ticket.  Were I black?

He'd almost certainly "see" something entirely different, even though, most likely, I'd be the very same thing--a fat, middle-aged housewife who might cry if she gets a ticket.  

Ask yourself this:  is it okay for us to "have" a country where blacks (and likely Hispanics, too) have to teach their children how to avoid being shot by police for no reason other than their race?  I'm already a "perpetual low level of panic" parent.  Can you imagine what a mess I'd be if I knew my son's very skin color could be enough to tip a cop over into deadly force territory?  I'd never let him leave the house.

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Had a disappointing (but not surprising) moment yesterday.  A "friend" posted a link from a wowserly "woo" site (Natural News).  Being me, I mentioned the site's unreliability, but said I'd check out the link.  

She deleted my comment, and posted a "P.S." stating that she wouldn't have posted the link if she didn't consider the site "valid."

Okay, we won't even get into the whole "just because an idea captures your fancy doesn't make the BLOG cited as 'evidence' reliable or the information therein accurate" thing.  We won't even lament the educational climate that churns out an advanced degree with no real critical thinking skills to go with it.  No, what I'm looking at here is the lack of respect from this woman.  When I delete a "friend's" comment (something I almost never do), I send a private note letting them know why because that's what you do.  It's called "politeness."  It's about having a care for your friends' feelings.

I met this woman through my husband.  She's part of the "arts" crowd.  When she first met me, she was fascinated, asked all sorts of questions about my ex-husbands, my childhood, etc.  It got to where I couldn't sign onto the computer without her immediately leaping at me with IMs.  I finally had to go stealth during part of the day just so I could get some work done. And then, one day, she asked if I would come to her place so she could interview me for a radio show.  So I could talk about my family, my marriages, etc.

And I refused.  Kindly, but firmly.  I'm not about to go on NPR tearing my ex-husbands apart.  The second because he doesn't deserve it (yeah, he screwed up, he got wonky, but he's not a bad man), and the first because I don't ever want to be on his radar again.  I don't want to broadcast ugly family stories when my family is still alive to be hurt by them.  It's one thing to blog an anecdote, it's another to lay a family bare to a wide audience.  And that?

Was the end of her interest in me.  Her tone went cold, the IMs stopped, and the distance yawned between us.  And that was okay, because, as time passed, I felt more and more that she was, at her core, an incredibly self-absorbed creature who demands a lot of the people around her, requires them to live up to her IDEA of them.  That perception has been confirmed by a few others who know her far better than I.

I did try to improve things.  When she contacted me (three different times!) to repair or alter photographs for her, I did so without complaint, even rushing to meet her deadlines.  I went so far as to buy frames for two of the pictures and gift them to her.  Understand, these pictures were incredibly difficult to work with--we're talking painstaking restoration in two and, in one, colorization. This work took, for all three, hundreds of hours.  That is not an exaggeration.  Cloning, color sampling, tweaking opacity, merging, establishing layers, etc.  The carpal tunnel issues were breathtaking.  I did this, I admit, because I hoped to improve the friendship.  Because I thought that, by doing something kind, something nice, she might forgive me for not making her famous on NPR.

Sadly, it didn't work.  I've never felt she really likes me, have always felt that I'm the PIA wife of the guy she thinks is a whole lot more entertaining and worth her time.  

When I mentioned this to my husband yesterday, he said, "Dude, I've never felt she likes anyone."  We reminisced about dinner-party rudenesses toward people who didn't please her, a general air of dissatisfaction with anyone and anything that wasn't precisely as she desired.

I didn't respond to her deletion of my post or her follow-up post script because we share friends--people I DO like, people who . . . sorry, PERSON who really likes her a LOT.  So I've been sitting on it, trying to decide what to do.  And what I've decided?

I've relegated her to "acquaintances" on my friends list, which means her stupid woo BS doesn't come across my feed and my stuff only shows on hers if I select "friends including acquaintances." I did adjust things so her new photos come across--they're usually harmless, and I can say, "Oooh, pretty."  

Not sure what I'm going to do the next time she asks me to dedicate hours to fix up a photo.  

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Our boy got his "wings" today at the RC airfield.  Only three training sessions and he's now approved for solo use of the field.  I guess the flight simulator programs paid off, huh?  He's supremely happy, and I'm happy for him.  Also, his end-of-year test results came back today:  Math and Reading, 99th percentile, Language Mechanics 95th percentile. 

It'll certainly do.

Now here, have something awful:

Oh, and in case you hadn't noticed, once again Blogger has hijacked my formatting, and resists all attempts to fix it.  Getting pretty tired of this.

Smart Women, Stupid Women, Marriage Equality and Your Right to Remain Silent

First off, right off the bat, WENDY!

That's right, Wendy Davis--holy cow, what an amazing person, huh?  Wendy for Governor, Wendy for Senate, Wendy for President!  Thank you, Wendy, for putting yourself out there for women.  I hope you can turn Texas BLUE!

Here's a video from her last campaign, and I'm posting it because it segues into something else I wanted to discuss:



You see, just a couple of days ago, I saw a piece about what may possibly be the most ill-informed woman alive.

Jodie Laubenberg

Yes, that's a live link.

Now, Ms. Laubenberg, who has been stumping for an amazingly restrictive abortion law in, of course, where else, TEXAS, stated that (and I'm paraphrasing here) there's no reason to keep abortion safe, legal, and available, because women can just go to the emergency room and have a RAPE KIT performed.  Which, according to this silly person, "cleans women out."

I may scream myself to DEATH.  

I spent years working with rape and domestic abuse victims, mostly in the Emergency Room.  I'm wondering, Ma'am, precisely what part of a RAPE KIT "cleans a woman out?"  Is it the swabs for gathering DNA/semen samples from the victim's rectum, vagina, and/or mouth?  The baggies and vials into which those swabs are deposited?  Perhaps it's the DROP CLOTH the victim is required to stand on as she removes her clothing (meant to catch any evidence that may drop off as she disrobes).  Maybe it's the PUBIC COMB used to comb through the victims pubic hairs in search of any left behind by her attacker?  The fine-toothed comb used on her head for the purpose of finding her attacker's hairs?  Is it maybe the combing and sampling done to her loved ones and friends to eliminate their evidence from consideration?  Oh, wait, I know!  Duh!  It's the little "orange sticks" used to dig evidence out from under the victim's fingernails, isn't it?

You misinformed (and misinforming) woman.  You slow, dangerous creature.  It's bad enough when mean, cruel old men turn on women, but when one of our own does it, and does it in such a spectacularly Sarah Palin-ish way, it's particularly painful.

And enraging.

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So, this meme came across my wall yesterday.  Not the first time.  Heck, might not be the first time I've blogged about it.  But, as always, it got me going.

Okay, one, I almost never share anything that admonishes me to share.  It's just a thing.  Two?

I don't necessarily agree.  There are . . . issues.

First, when I shop ANYWHERE with employees who have kids, I'm helping with dance lessons, team jerseys, moms and dads putting food on the tables, paying mortgages, etc.  That goes without saying, and I find it disingenuous to suggest that those things are only true if I shop small and local. That said, I do NOT shop Walmart.  Why?   Well, because their business model offends me and their treatment of employees horrifies me. I shop Wegmans and Costco, both of which are known for their fair treatment of workers.

In addition, shopping small and local is, almost by definition, more expensive.  Some of us are able to make that financial leap.  For others?  Not so much.  Plus, shopping small and local often leaves us either unable to find products we need OR having to drive from place to place to shop rather than doing it all at one central location.

Which  brings us to the environmental impact of shopping small and local.  It can be a CO2 disaster.  It can be a pesticide and herbicide disaster.  It can be an irrigation disaster.  You see, when large operations produce large amounts of food, they tend to do it far more efficiently than small farms.  In addition, when foods are shipped en mass, it tends to produce a lot less CO2 per pound of food.  And finally, when we drive from market to market, store to store to find our locally grown foods and whatever-friendly products, we're pumping an astonishing amount of exhaust into the air and chewing through a breathtaking amount of fuel.  

I'm not arguing against locally grown or local businesses, but understand that there are trade-offs.  For the benefits (and there are benefits, to both individuals and communities as well as to any livestock involved), there are definite drawbacks.  Some smaller farms are pooling resources and combining harvests for more efficient shipping and distribution, which is wonderful.  Some are making weekly shipments to large, central distribution areas rather than having individual consumers drive dozens (or more) miles to make pick-ups.  Again, this is wonderful, and it helps address the above concerns.  Some small farmers are engaging in friendlier, more responsible, more conserving methods of irrigating, fertilizing, etc.  And, again, that's wonderful.  We should encourage that.  But the next time you gear up to go nuts on someone who shops at a larger grocery store, remember that YOUR way has it's own drawbacks and downsides.  

Here, a couple of links:

http://www.salon.com/2012/06/16/eating_local_hurts_the_planet/singleton/

http://www.freakonomics.com/2011/11/14/the-inefficiency-of-local-food/

CO2, wasted water, and chemicals aside, there's also the "opposing" side's issues of "factory farming" livestock, widespread mistreatment of animals, and the use of various substances to treat infections, encourage wowser growth, etc.  Oh, and we have the whole GMO thing going on with larger agribusiness.  So this is NOT an easy issue, and what's the TOP concern for me might not be for you.  You may have your own "thing."  It's been my experience that farmers who sell animal products at the Farmer's Market don't tend to box their animals up in small cages and treat them like hell.  That's not a guarantee, just an observation.  And that might be something that sways you.

All of that said, we shop at the Farmer's Market for specific products one day a week.  Our Farmer's Market is close (less than three miles) and the farmers who come there are, in fact, LOCAL.  They aren't driving 100 miles to sell a tiny bit of produce.  They are open about their growing practices, and those we patronize use water-saving, low-chemical methods of growing.  Still not as efficient or as clean (CO2 per pound of produce-wise) as huge agribusiness, but improving, and, for us, worth the trade-off because we're not driving from place to place and our food isn't being driven long distances in small amounts.  For us, it's worth the trade-off one day a week.  And that's what I'm talking about--I'm not condemning small growers (gosh, no!) or local businesses.  Instead, I'm saying we should all be aware of where our stuff comes from and how it gets to us rather than embracing dippy memes aimed at influencing without real information.

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An extremely mixed bag from the Supreme Court this past week or two.  On the bright side?  Well, the repeal of DOMA and the striking of Prop h8, of course, plus the decision that human genes cannot be patented.  On the not-at-all bright side?

Chewing away at the underpinnings of the Voting Rights Act.  It only took HOURS for various legislators from various "red" Southern states to start hatching plans to interfere with voters of certain "groups."  When Governor McDonnell said he was handing it over to Ken Cuccinelli, something cold grasped my heart.  Virginia is a state vulnerable to the effects of "redistricting."  Virginia is a state that has already seen interference at the poll, limited poll access, and interminable polling lines.  This can't get anything but worse.

Another not-good SCOTUS decision?  The attack on our "right to remain silent."  

If this doesn't scare the daylights out of you, it should.  Refraining from answering police questions now considered admissible evidence of guilt?  

Here, from the piece:  " . . . 

prosecutors argued that Salinas’ silence during a police interview prior to his arrest was a “very important piece of evidence” and that only a guilty person would have remained silent when questioned about his connection to a crime."

That is terrifying.  "Only a guilty person would have remained silent."  How breathtakingly McCarthyish.  How happy Edwin Meese must be right about now.

What a mess.

So, while I'm thrilled about DOMA and Prop 8 (and the gene patents), fact is, we lost a lot of ground to what has shaped up to be a conservative activist court.  The damage they do could last . . . forever.

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Boy, that was pure-D politics.  That's all I've got today.   Oh, except the Boy is 1/3 of the way through his annual exams, and seems to be doing quite well.  Love him like nobody's business, you know.

Dunkin Donuts and ALOT of Absolute Panic

So, you ever hit that fevered level of stress, that pitch so intense and you're afraid your heart's just going to explode in your chest?

Yeah, me, too.  The past couple of days.

You see, our lease is up in three months.  No, we cannot afford to move.  We have neither the cash nor the credit rating to find a new place.  So I emailed the Landlord, letting him know that we're hoping to stay on, that we're very happy here, that we've been happy with him as a landlord and hope we've been good tenants.

And he still hasn't answered.

You can imagine how absolutely panicked I am at this point.  It's been two days with no response.  We have put a lot into this place--when we moved in, the last tenants left it stinking of dog piss, with the grass gone, the lawns nothing but weeds, cigarette butts, and garbage.  Food still stuck to the walls and floor in the kitchen.  We have worked SO hard to get the lawns nice, put in flowers, and just generally keep things looking/smelling pleasant.  I don't know what we're going to do if the Landlord doesn't renew.

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A quick grammar aside?  Above, where I wrote "We have put a lot into this place . . . ?"  The Google auto-correct is telling me that's supposed to be "ALOT."

Holy cow.  That's not a WORD!

Here--an oldie but goodie on the subject:

NOT my artwork, but rather a live link to the brilliant "Hyperbole and a Half" blog!

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I found a video today while perusing various news sites.  A video of a painfully stupid woman.  Normally, I'm not happy about videos that hold people up to public ridicule, but this one's different.  You see, this stupid woman shot the video herself.  She shot the video herself, then posted it online to show us all how stupid she is.  

And that's something different.

Have a look and listen HERE.

And HERE:

I remember this sort of dull-witted, desperate-to-impress type back in junior high and high school.  They were the ones who started fights over how people "looked" at them.  They were the kind who would storm over in the cafeteria and demand to know what a previously laughing kid thought was so funny.  Stupid, mean bullies who've somehow gone through life surrounded by people too stupid or too scared to tell them what morons they really are.

A friend suggested that perhaps this was a marketing ruse, maybe to drum up business for her advertising, or maybe to bring folks into Dunkin Donuts.  I don't think so--if that's the case, the folks who dreamed it up are looking at the bloody end of their careers.  The moment she crossed into racist language and 9/11 references, any marketing potential was lost.  No, I'm a big fan of parsimony--the simplest answer is probably the correct one.  In this case?

She's stupid.

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Now, for the last few months, I've been increasingly panicked about the end-of-year tests for our boy.  As you probably know, we homeschool, and Utah had no end-of-year testing.  I used to print out the sample tests from New York, Tennessee, and other states just to get a handle on where he was, but nothing formal.  Here?

Here we have to test him, and then we have to submit the results to the local school district.  So you can imagine just how nervous I get.

As always, I've been particularly concerned about the math/algebra.  That's because our boy's parents are mathematical idjits.  I mean, we can add, subtract, multiply, divide, and even do that thar fancy stuff like multiplying decimals and dividing fractions.  But algebra.

Urk.

See, I was a problem child.  I had a problem life with problem parents and, by 8th grade, was myself a problem.  As a result, I was held back a grade. When my class went up to high school, I was still stuck in junior high, and I was very sad about that.  I approached my Vice Principal, Mr. Hawkes, and asked what I could do about being with my grade.  He told me to get all "A" grades and he'd make it happen.  

I did, and so did he.

The trouble?  That threw me from first semester math to second semester algebra.  And you know what happens when you miss all that important BASIC stuff they teach in the first semester?

You fail.  

It wasn't until last year I knew about ORDER OF OPERATIONS.  Yeah, that's an important one.  

So, while I KNOW that kids are capable of learning beyond their teachers, I've always been afraid. And when I printed out the New York and Tennessee end-of-year tests this year?

I was terrified.

Oh, there was SO much on there we haven't covered yet!  Nonlinear equations?  Graphing quadratic equations?  What have I been doing?  Where has my mind been?  My poor boy!  Hurry, hurry, cram that in!  Faster, find videos, find books, find worksheets!

Breathe.  

The end of year test came in the mail a few days ago.  The toughest "algebra" question on it?  Goes something like this:  if 3m + 5 = 20, solve for m.  

Oh, gosh.  Okay, I guess I can relax, because our boy is WICKEDLY over-prepared for this test.  No, that doesn't mean I'm going to give him a break or let him backslide until his skill level matches the test.  That would be incredibly stupid.

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So, I found myself looking through the old town's mugshots the other day--something I do to keep tabs on in-laws and old classmates.  As I cruised through, I kept an eye out for stupid names.  Yeah, stupid, sorry, no reason to sugar-coat it.  I was reading a study not too long about about disciplinary problems and incarceration rates for kids with stupid names vs kids with normal names.  It was interesting, the results found a pretty clear relationship between idiotic names and behavioral issues, and that crossed racial and social boundaries.  In a nutshell, give your kid a stupid, hard-to-pronounce, idiotically spelled name?  Increase the chance that there will be run-ins with teachers, administrators, and the police.  Remember that before you go to saddle that baby with a name like RYKLAN, ANTJUAN, PEYTIN, CELICA (!), MEYSCHELLE, TYETIN, KOHLSIN, or (a personal anti-favorite) ACQYUILLIEZ.

Anyway, something I noticed as I was perusing--there don't appear to be any cutesy, stupid, misspelled, or otherwise altered-for-parental-amusement foreign names.  A lot of Hispanic names, but no "Hoe-zay," no "Furnandoh," no "Hoo-lee-oh" or "Rikkarrdo."  Same with the names of Arab or African arrestees--nothing intentionally misspelled to be "cute" or "unique."  Just the names.  

Is it just an American/English-speaking thing?  Because I've noticed that once you get down a generation (to the second born here), naming conventions fly out the window and the YOOONEEK rears its ugly head.  Is it like the American diet?  Insidious, creeping inexorably into the immigrant culture to wreak havoc?

I dunno.  But it's interesting to ponder.

****UPDATE*****

A new contender for personal anti-favorite stupid name?  EINSTEIN GAMMA!  I won't list the last name because, with those two up front, who NEEDS a last name?

Really does argue for "gave me a stupid name" as a defense in matricide/patricide cases.

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One last thing before I post something ugly?  Sometimes, I like to look at the search terms people have used to find my blog.  The other day?  Someone found my blog by searching for the term "Dick Van Patten Porno."

If that was you, smack yourself.  Hard.

And now, something ugly: