A Sonnet in Honor of Lynnster

Of course I miss Magniloquence.  She can’t

comment, which makes me sad and makes the talk

around here more dull, almost like a trance

overtakes us, so we mull Peter Faulk

Instead of fighting about important

things.  But that’s not all.  Let’s look to the right.

‘Really old stuff at Blogger.’  Oh why can’t

all my blogging be in one place?  I’d fight

to have just one complete Tiny Cat Pant

Instead of a pair of tiny blog legs.

A blog should be whole like the sun or your

underwear, all in one place, found by Megs*

and screamed over in outrage and terror.

Oh, Lynnster, if you do find a way to

Make my blog whole, I’ll holler “woo hoo-oo!”





*Ivy, sorry to bring your daughter into this, but I had to have something to rhyme with legs.

State of the Union

You know, the thing that annoys me, no, that really pisses me off is that listening to Bush is that half of what he says makes perfect sense. I’m willing to buy that there are two religious factions in Iraq, one supported by Al Qaida types, the other by Iran. Both of whom hate each other but also hate us. Okay, wow, nuanced discussion of difficult problems.

And then he immediately starts talking about our enemy, the terrorists. To use a baseball analogy, he seems to be suggesting that everyone who plays the Rangers is the Chicago White Sox.

Also, I’m eager to hear what folks think of this idea of civilian reserves. Is this a mercenary corps? And he’s talking about enlarging the military. Where will these extra military folks come from? I was unaware that we were lowering the standards for people to enlist because those folks were just beating down the doors. So, I’ll be curious to see what folks think of this.

And did anyone else have a good snicker when Bush was talking about how healthcare decisions are best left up to doctors and patients?

I know I did.

Random Things–The All-Male Nude Revue Edition!

Ha, not really.  No nudity.  That would be fun, though.

1.  Kleinheider tries to tell me that there are Jewish White Nationalists.  I remain unconvinced. 

2.  Exador is feeling the effects of his hard partying ways.  I refrain from saying anything naughty as I’m trying to save all that stuff for my paying customers now. 

3.  It’s only after I encourage Bobster to let his girl stick her finger in his bum that I remember Sarcastro’s mom reads his blog.  Oops. 

Could I Be a Conservative Dominatrix?

Is dominatrixing technically considered sex work?  Wouldn’t that be ironic, if I went into a line of work that required me to have to advertise in the Scene?  Shoot, I might have to send Tracy Moore some McDonald’s coupons as a make-up gift.

Anyway, I was thinking that being a dominatrix that catered specifically to conservatives might actually be a hoot.  "Ned Williams" could call me up and be all "Oh, Aunt B., you’re so randy.  But have you taken a look at my giant picture of a 16 week old fetus?!" and I could tie him to a chair, climb up on it, set my ample butt right on his head, put one stiletto heel in each thigh and rest my hands on the chair back.

I would mull over my answer as I felt him squirming beneath me and then after a while, I would open my eyes, and say "’Ned,’ if that is indeed your real name, I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to think carefully about it.  Do you think women are stupid or evil or both?"

Or imagine me with Bill Hobbs.  I’d throw him in my bathtub and stand up on the side of the tub, wearing a fabulously elaborate Mardi Gras costume, and while singing songs that remind me of New Orleans, I’d slowly start the tub to filling, while I dropped colored beads and toy school busses on him.  You know I’d be taunting him with threats of federalization.

And Kleinheider?  Why I’d insist that he take me to lunch, perhaps on down to O’Charley’s, and while I sat across from him seductively, somewhat absentmindedly stroking my boob freckle, I’d require him to eat.  Then, I would put him across my lap and spank him until he admitted that wasn’t his phone in his pocket.

Granted, there’d be some conservatives I’d have to deny my services to.  Blake and Krumm?  You two are right off the list.  Blake would just do his cute little eye roll thing and I’d start to smile and laugh and I’d be unable to maintain the bad-ass decorum necessary to do my job well.  Same with Krumm and his infectious smile.

But shoot, if I could only get my hands on Stacey Campfield or Bill Frist or Karl Rove

Blogging for Choice

Today is blogging for choice day.  You all know where I stand and so I won’t rehash it.  I would instead like to talk about Bear Creek Ledger’s post today about how “outrageous” it is that Tennesseans pay for undocumented folks’ births.  Rachel is all over this from a medical perspective, but I would like to discuss this from a “pro-life” perspective.

How can you hold a position that a fetus is a person under the law, separate from its mother, and deserving of rights even when those rights come in conflict with the rights of the mother and then complain that it costs you money to bring some of these “pre-born” humans  into the world?  What did you think would happen?  The “pre-born” don’t have jobs.   Where else is that money supposed to come from, if it isn’t forthcoming from the parents?

The “pro-life” argument has always been that a mother’s problems are her own and that it’s wrong for her to take her troubles out on an innocent life–that’s why it’s wrong for her to have an abortion.  And yet, if you deny medical care to pregnant women, women who are pregnant, I remind you, with “pre-born” people, how are you not punishing that “pre-born” person for the faults of its mother?

Or do those “pre-born” people not count for as much because they’re going to be born brown and Spanish speaking? 

As Amanda over at Pandagon reminds us, it’s not enough to talk about reproductive rights in terms of just being able to get an abortion if you need one.  It’s also about being able to safely have a baby in a hospital, if you need to.  It’s about having unbridled access to birth control and the knowledge to use it.  It’s about being able to say “no” and having that “no” respected.  It’s about the enthusiastic ‘yes.’ It’s about access to healthcare and truthful information about our own bodies.   It’s about making sure that all women, regardless of income, have access to the same medical procedures.

In other words, it’s about having our bodily autonomy recognized, respected, and supported, regardless of what choices we make.  The closer we come to those goals, the better off things are for women.  And for everyone else.

I guess that’s the thing that still stuns me.  Women who have control of their own bodies are better off, and when we are better off, so is everyone else.  We don’t die in childbirth nearly as frequently as we did a century ago.   Almost all of the children we have live through their first five years, unlike a century ago when it was common for a woman to have given birth six, eight, ten times and only have two or three children make it to adulthood.  Our ability to regulate, with great certainty, when we get pregnant has resulted in us spending much of the twentieth-century playing “Let’s have recreational sex!” which has surely improved the lives of our partners as well. 

We’re all better off when women have the recognized right to decide what happens to our own bodies. 

And yet, it remains so damn controversial. 


‘Here’s to My Sweet Satan’

The Butcher and I were watching the religious channel this weekend and caught a segment from 1981 about backmasking in Led Zeppelin songs, especially ‘Stairway to Heaven.’

It’s funny because I would have been seven and the Butcher one, but we both have vivid memories of being told how dangerous Led Zeppelin was, for that very reason.

Surely, that couldn’t have happened until we were older.  I want to say that it’s when I was in high school, about the same time as the whole “D&D will turn you Satanic” scare, so almost ten years after that dude on the religious channel went on Merv Griffith and warned America about Led Zeppelin’s love of Satan.

Can you think of any band or artist  from ten years ago that we’re still blaming for leading young people astray?  Maybe Biggie and no one is accusing Biggie of being in league with the Devil.

Those were weird times.

You know what it reminded me of?  Watching this dude with his tape recorder saying, “Now, first you’re going to hear something that sounds like ‘Here’s to My Sweet Satan’ and then you’re going to hear ‘six, six’ and possibly another ‘six.'”

Sadly, it reminded me of my beloved ‘Ghost Hunters’ on the Sci Fi network sitting there with their eager clients and their computers and their EVPs saying, “Now first you’re going to hear a pipe banging and then you’ll hear a voice.”

I don’t know.  Maybe it’s not sad.

But it is funny how we don’t move very far away from some things, isn’t it?

Here I am, still intrigued by men straining to hear the faint words of occult conspiracy and otherworldly powers.

An Ongoing Haunting

Both ‘home’ and ‘haunted’ share the same Indo-European root, ‘tkei-, ‘ meaning ‘to settle, to dwell, to be home.’  I think it’s easy enough to see the connection. Your home is, of course, the place you’ve settled, where you dwell, where your presence is felt and that presence is recognizable to you.  A house is a house, but a home is a place where you recognize your own ongoing presence.

A haunting is then, obviously, the recognition of an ongoing presence that is not you.

Though, clearly, it’s not just a presence.  Haunting has to do with something being simultaneously present and lost, because, obviously, if it were just present, it wouldn’t be so freaky.  If actual one hundred and sixty year old men were coming into my kitchen and borrowing my can opener without returning it, it would be bothersome, annoying, and–if they were still armed–possibly very scary.  But it wouldn’t be freaky (or, yes, unheimlich).  The suggestion though, that the ghosts of the Civil War stole my can opener, while funny in broad daylight, is something that pulls my feet off the floor and under the blanket in a hurry in the middle of the night.

So, maybe we call a haunting the unsettling recognition of an ongoing presence that should be absent that is not you.

I’m struggling with this because, as much as I pick on my beloved conservatives, I’m confused by them.  On the one hand, they call themselves conservative, which, presumably, means they want to conserve something, to keep something the same as it is or, often, as it was in the past.  I don’t think, for the sake of this discussion, it’s important to define what that something is.  My point is that, it seems, they look to the past and see elements of it that seem better than how things are now and where things are going and want us to be like that.

Now, I don’t think any of my conservative readers mean that things should be exactly like that.  You know, they may say that society was better off back when it was harder for people to get divorced.  But it was harder for people to get divorced in the 1950s, and I don’t think that my conservative readers are eagerly awaiting a time when we can go back to institutionalized and government-sanctioned discrimination against black people.

I think they mean we should pay homage to the past, in some sense.  That we should act in a way that shows that we recognize the good ideas our forebearers had, while disregarding the bad ideas.

Is that a fair assessment?

If so, then we’ve established that conservatives are aware of the past and believe that the past should have some influence on the present.

So, what I’ve been trying to understand is why, if conservatives are aware of the past and believe it should have some influence on the present, why so many of them are resistant to the idea that slavery still matters or that we owe a debt to the people who were on this land who we removed.

Because, I have to say, that I look around this land, this land I live on, right now, the place I make my home, and I see hauntings everywhere.  Right out back, those are the train tracks the Union soldiers camped out along, in front of me, the concrete and steel six-lane vision of some engineer for the State.  I drive on roads that were old Indian trails that were old buffalo trails before that.  I have to dodge two stone pillars marking the entry way to a grand old subdivision that no longer exists to get onto West End.  I watch brown people put up buildings on land decimated by white people fighting over the black people who cleared the land after it was taken from other brown people and so on.

Everywhere I look, I see the past haunting the present.

And so I’m really genuinely confused when conservatives say that they, for instance, aren’t directly benefiting from slavery.  Do you not live in this country?  We have things, as they are right now, because of those years of unpaid labor.  And that debt is as obvious as the landscape around us.

So, I guess I don’t understand how one can be oriented to the past and yet deny how the past lingers.

I’ve been thinking, though, that maybe I’m wrong in understanding that.  Maybe it’s not about a desire to deny the past, but a desire to keep from stirring things up, especially when those things are unappeasable.

This is, anyway, what I’m beginning to suspect that conservatives know and are afraid of–that many ghosts cannot be appeased, once called forth and recognized, there they are, a constant reminder of a debt that can’t ever be paid.

My folks understood this threat.  It used to be that, if you killed a person, you could settle it with the family, you could pay a monetary price for his life; unless you killed a member of your own family.  How could that debt ever be made right?  A life has been lost and shuffling money from one branch of the family to another can’t ever fill that hole.  In fact, this situation, a family member killing another, was so dangerous–precisely because there’s no way to make it right–that when it happens/ed among the gods, it brought/brings about the end of the world.

We might understand this as meaning that you can’t actually incur a debt within your own group.  If there is no “not-us” to pay or be paid, there can be no balancing of the scales.  There can be no way for two parties to incur an equal loss, because there aren’t two parties.  Any further loss is just that, a further loss.  If it can’t actually be repaid, it isn’t a debt.

Hmm.  Since this is already the world’s longest post, let’s switch from talking about race to talking about gender, where the problems are more obvious.

What if women started asking for the money society owes us based on the free labor we’ve contributed over the years.  How many positions–diplomat, President, CEO, minister, etc.–have historically been conceived of a man paid to do business and a woman who acts as unpaid social director?  Or what if we started some kind of class action against all the companies that let us go after World War II in order to hire men?  Or what if we demanded to be paid for our housework?

That’s a good one.  Let us say housewives suddenly demanded to be paid for their housework.  A man earns $50,000 a year, let’s say, that all goes to supporting his household.  His wife stays at home with the children and contributes to the household her unpaid labor.  So, she doesn’t bring in a salary, but she also spares the household the cost of daycare, maid service, and a cook.  Let’s say that she demands to be paid for her work–the going rate of a live-in nanny, maid, and cook and let’s say that that comes to $50,000 a year.

If the husband pays her and she then turns around and uses that money to support the household (in other words, all the money ends up going to exactly the same places), how has the household benefited?  Since the folks in our story conceive of themselves as a unit–a family–the husband’s “paying” of the wife has no monetary benefit to the unit.  He earns $50,000 a year and she earns $50,000 a year, but the family is not bringing in $100,000.  (If they conceived of themselves as individuals first, we can see how the husband would be making out poorly and the wife would be making out well, but they don’t.)

Because they operate as a family, the husband cannot become indebted to the wife.  For one, as we’ve shown, it makes no sense.  The husband has no money that isn’t also the family’s and the wife could get no money from him that isn’t also the family’s.  The family cannot owe the family money if the family has that money. 

And for another, once the wife conceives of herself as someone to whom the husband owes money (or to whom the family owes money), the wife has taken herself out of the family, which, obviously, is an enormous threat to the family.

Hmm.  I’m not sure where I was going with this, but I’ve ended up here instead.  I’m coming to believe that maybe part of the conservative mindset is to make things right where you can, pay your debts, treat others as you’d want to be treated, and, most importantly, cling to some notion of rugged individualism.

Therefore, when we start talking about past injustices, it bugs conservatives–even though they love the past–not only because it threatens their idea of rugged individualism, because it suggests that we have collective responsibilities to try to make right what our forebearers made wrong (paying debts that aren’t yours), but also because the best way to refute that suggestion without looking like a clueless nincompoop who thinks we all spring from the earth with equal opportunities and a fair shot unmolded by the past is to argue that a group (in this case Americans) cannot be indebted to itself without destroying itself, which would, again, threaten this idea of rugged individualism.

Super Genius, The Dress Arrived

I’ve always been fortunate that the weddings I’ve been in have not required me to wear butt-ugly dresses. Happily, the Super Genius’s is not exception.

Super Genius, here’s the dress.


As you can see, it’s a little long, but it does work well with regular underwear, as promised.

I’m tickled by it.

If I could, I would wear flouncy long dresses every day.

You know, maybe I should. After all, you just use them once and they sit in your closet. Why shouldn’t I wear them to work?

That would be so awesome.

At the least, I’m going to start wearing them to blogger meet-ups.

Well, Here We Go

Hillary is running for president.  Color me unexcited.  I won’t vote for her in the primary, though I’ll vote for her for president, if that’s what it comes down to.

Just as a side note, I saw a commercial for a UFC show taking place on some Marine base, over in Iraq, I think.  Here’s proof that I’m neither a soldier or a man because let me tell you, if a bunch of 18-40 year old men willing to beat the shit out of each other and risk death showed up on my base for any reason other than to join me in the fighting, I would not  be whooping it up watching them go at it, I’d be fucking pissed off.

If anybody 18-40 years old came over there to “support” me by performing and then running back here to the U.S., they’d be lucking if I didn’t punch them in the nose.  “Support.”  Whatever.  You want to support the war?  Join up.  You want to support the troops?  Get them out of harm’s way.  Fuck, let’s not even go that far.  Give them an accomplishable mission.

Because, let me tell you, this troop “surge”?  Would be hilarious if lives weren’t at stake.  What on god’s green earth is a “surge” supposed to accomplish?

Here are some questions I have.

1.  Is there really a government that can rule Iraq in place?

2.  Is Iraq in a civil war?  If not, how will we recognize a civil war?  And, if there is a civil war, will it be one based on religious-sectarianism?  If so, will we take the side of the government or try to remain neutral?

3.  What will victory look like?  How will we know when we’ve won? 

4.  How can you win against an enemy that is willing to kill themselves for their cause?  If they fear death less than they hate you, how can you win a fight against them?

5.  Hillary supports this war.  What is her plan for how to wage it?

6.  What will Hillary do to restore the rule of law and reinstate our Constitutional rights and protections? Or does she believe that indefinite ignoring of the Constitution is necessary in order to wage the larger “war” on terror?

7.  Does Hillary actually think the country is best served by over twenty years of Clinton/Bush rule?  Does she really think the people are best served by two families trading power back and forth for decades?

Well, apparently she does.  

But it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Oh, Mrs. Wigglebottom, I Can’t Stay Mad at You

I was watching one of the animal cop shows on Animal Planet and the cop was talking about how the thing that especially disturbed him was how human the faces of pitbulls can look. It’s as if the way people treat pitbulls is saying something about what they think of humanity, especially those segments of humanity most people feel compelled to protect.

This picture of Mrs. Wigglebottom made me think of that. There’s something in her eyes–some kind of look of recognition and shared… I don’t know… something… obviously not humanity, but shared life that takes me aback. I’m looking at her, she’s looking back at me, it’s a moment of us-dom.


It’s hard to get good pictures of her because the camera makes a noise between when you hit the button and the picture is actually taken, so there’s plenty of time for her to move. Here she is caught in mid-lick. If you look closely, you can also see the white tip of her tail wagging.


Karl Rove Cannot Be Trampled by Angry Hippopotami Soon Enough for Me

Andrew Sullivan quotes ‘Heck of a Job’ Brownie as saying:

Unbeknownst to me, certain people in the White House were thinking, ‘We had to federalize Louisiana because she’s a white, female Democratic governor, and we have a chance to rub her nose in it. We can’t do it to Haley (Barbour) because Haley’s a white male Republican governor. And we can’t do a thing to him.’

Well, thank god sexism is dead!

The Dog and I are Having a Fight

This is what I’ve been reduced to: sitting on the couch half-watching the Butcher play video games while I nap and fighting with the dog.

Yes, I feel bad for her that she hasn’t had a meaningful walk in two days, but Christ. I’m still kind of disoriented (though the real dizziness has passed). I’m running a fever. The dog has been cooped up for two days.

She shits and then sees a cat and fuck me if it’s not Mrs. Wigglebottom “off”/mighty hunter of the Serengeti “on” except that you rarely see lionesses with me flailing along behind her while she chases her prey.

The dog, though, takes off after the cat with me shouting “no, no, no. Stop.” first one way and then back past me at full speed the other way. She is so singlemindedly focused on that cat that nothing, not the impending end of the leash, not me screaming, can stop her and then, BAM, she hits the end of the leash. I’m stupidly holding on for dear life. The dog’s rear end keeps going after the cat long after the front end has stopped due to the leash and then, all of a sudden, I’ve got sixty pounds of dog swinging through the air about two feet off the ground, by nothing but her collar. She lands with an audible thud.

“No!” I yell again, just for the sake of having something to yell. Due to her nonsense, I’ve been spun around to head home, and so that’s the way I’m headed. But not her, no. She’s digging all four feet and her ass firmly into the ground so that the collar is pulling all the loose skin from her neck up around her head and I’m effectively dragging her down the street.

I stop. She starts pulling the other way.

“Come on!”

I pull my way.

She digs in again.

I pull.

She digs in.

Finally, I lower my sunglasses and I shoot her the meanest look I can. Now, she’s cowering and cringing and whimpering like I’m taking her home to beat her*, but at least we’re moving back towards the house, small puppy steps of terror, but back towards the house. And I’m crying. Why?

Who the fuck knows? Why am I crying? I didn’t deliberately swing her around by her neck. I’m not actually going to beat her. I’m just a girl running a fever who thought it might feel nice to get out in the cool air and walk my dog, slowly, around the neighborhood.

We finally get home after much tugging and dragging and she flinches when I go to take her collar off. Which set off the waterworks again.

Anyway, we’re going to go back out here in a little bit. I’d really, really like for us to just successfully make it around the neighborhood, for both of our sakes.

Until then, though, I’m not speaking to her and I gather from the snores on the couch, she’s done with me for a little bit, too.

*Total actual number of times Mrs. Wigglebottom’s ever been struck in anger by me? Once. Six years ago. One smack on the bottom, actually after an instance much like this, but where I let go of the leash.


Critical Thinking

At the risk of being all Kleinheider all the time around here, I couldn’t let this post slip by without saying something.

Kleinheider says:

Funnelling a bunch of folks who cannot extract any real value from the experience does not result in them becoming smarter or more successful, it just gives them a piece of paper.

We need to direct our people towards the amount of formal education that will be most useful to them. That may not mean college or it may not mean college at the “appropriate time”, we should not fret over this. Life is not a competition.

The four college degree has become in essence, the 13th — 16th grades. In the end, that does not benefit the people attending college or society as a whole.

Isn’t it something how as more folks get the opportunity to go to college, we start to hear this idea that there are some folks who don’t need college, for whom college is of no benefit, folks who cannot extract any real value from the experience?

Just who are these folks?

I’m just going to be honest with you because I feel like shit and I’m dizzy.  I hate this shit because no one has the balls to just come out and say “Yeah, B., those folks are people like you.  The people you love and care about?  They don’t deserve the same shit I’ve got because you all are a waste of resources.”

A college education is no guarantee of a better life, but come the fuck on!  Just come on.  How in the fuck are folks supposed to make a better way for themselves without it?

How many high school graduate children of high school graduates do you suppose are members of the Belle Meade country club?  How many high school graduate children of high school graduates do you suppose are living in tony suburbs parking their SUVs in the garages of their McMansions at night?

College is not about literally preparing you for the job market.  College is, and always has been to some extent, about training you for a middle-class (or higher) existence.  Here’s where you learn how to read and write like an educated person (i.e. middle-class), here’s where you learn what to read and what’s worthwhile to write about.  You make friends, some of them will be successful and they become your network, the people you can call on when you need a job or a favor or a campaign contribution or whatever.

It is nearly impossible to move yourself up a class without this knowledge.  You must look and sound like you belong before you actually do.  Where is one supposed to get this knowledge along with the irrefutable credential that one has earned it except for at college?

To start some nonsense notion that “not everybody needs a college education to get by in life”?  When you are a fucking bloody capitalist pig?  Talk about self-serving.

Let’s just continue to be honest.  Capitalism depends on there being poor, desperate people.  It’s built into the system.  The system doesn’t work if there are fifty bosses and one worker.  It’s got to be a triangle with there being a few really wealthy powerful people on top, and then a few more less wealthy, less powerful people beneath them, and so on down the pyramid until at the bottom you have a whole lot of poor, powerless people doing shit tons of work the people above them have enough money and power to opt out of.

That’s how it works.

There’s only so much room at each level and the game is rigged to make moving between levels seem simple and do-able while, in real life, it’s very difficult.  Again, a college education is no way to guarantee that you can move up, but it is one of the few ways that’s plausible for most people.

We like to believe that capitalism=meritocracy, that the market will insure that the best people rise to the top and are rewarded.  But the truth is that bosses depend a lot on smart people who aren’t ever going to be bosses.  A lot of work in this country gets done by people who are too smart for the jobs they have, but don’t have a way out of those jobs.

I could start naming names right now of all the folks I know who are too smart for the circumstances they find themselves in.  Many of you are reading this right now.  Life is not fair; it’s not set up to be fair.

And for these fuckers to come along and whip up this idea among 18 year olds that college isn’t for everyone?  That’s just a further injustice, another way of guaranteeing that bosses will have employees too smart for their circumstances to exploit.

It’s dishonest to pretend it’s anything else.

For real people, the surest way of improving their lives is to go to college.

To suggest that some folks have a better idea than those individuals who it is that can benefit from college?

Well, let’s just say I don’t want to hear from Kleinheider any more about liberal elitism.

Why, Yes, Representative Campfield, I HAVE Been a Naughty Girl!

So, I was doing what I’m sure all hippy liberal girls do on their sick days, sitting around reading Representative Campfield’s blog and enjoying some girl-time.

I can’t help it, really.  He’s an attractive man in that uptight Republican way and my favorite thing to do is to just tilt back in my chair, prop my feet up on the computer table, keep on hand on the mouse and let the other hand slide south, while I read his blog.

God, when he starts talking about "immediate impact" and "harsh yelling and cussing back and forth" and I start to feel flush.

"Republicans don’t have to hold their tongue and just take it now because what the Democrats have done to Republicans in the past can now be returned in the senate."  Oh, yes, Stacey, show me what those bad Democrats did to you in the past.  Go ahead, return it right in the senate.  And no, by god, don’t hold your tongue.

"I don’t think Democrats quite know what to do. They don’t want to share. They don’t really have control as they have in the past so the threat of repercussion is diminished and the old trick of attack, yell and intimidate doesn’t work as well as it used to. "

Teach me some new tricks, Stacey.  Please, teach me some new tricks!  Crack my code!  Put me in my place.  Make me sorry I ever voted Democrat.

Oh, god, yes!  Oh, god, yes!  Yes, right like that.  There you go.  Come on, Rep, harder!  Harder!




Well, I don’t have to spell it out for you guys.  I’m sure you know how it goes.  Nothing, and I mean nothing gets me off like Stacey Campfield’s blog.

It’s better than any porno, which is a good thing, because I can read and "enjoy" Stacey’s blog for free, and he’s going to start charging me taxes out the wazoo on all other fun stuff. 

Hmm.  Maybe he just doesn’t like the competition.

The Butcher Has a Bad Idea

So, I came home.  I’m going to do some reading, take a nap, see if I don’t feel better.

Meanwhile, I’m sitting here eating my lunch and I look up and what do I see?

The Butcher is holding the orange cat and manipulating the cat’s front paws to…

and I wish I were a.) kidding or b.) had photo graphed it…

..box the dog!

No wonder the dog wants to play pounce the cat all the time!  When I’m not here, the cat is boxing the dog.

All three of them seemed to be enjoying themselves, though, so you know, who am I to judge?

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years of blogging it’s that men do weird shit that seems like a bad idea and yet, for the most part, they seem to have fun and no one dies.  So, who am I to try to stop the boy from using the cat to tease the dog?

I am an Idiot

Y’all, I have but two things to do tonight:

1. The dishes (as always)

2.  Clean up the widows and orphans in this play and send it off to the contest director.  [HOLY SHIT!!!!] But I’m nervous and really want to run around the house going ‘aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii’ instead.

Okay, I’m going to post this and I will not get back on the internet until I can cross both of those things off.

Kleinheider, Were You Raised by Tracy Moore?

Dear Kleinheider,

You’ve finally managed to render me speechless.  I literally do not know what to say to you.  In fact, I have to take a break from this letter right here to write another one.

Hold on.

Dear Sean Braisted,

I sometimes get the feeling that you don’t like me.  I don’t think you hate me.  I just sometimes get the feeling you see me coming and are all like, “Oh, great.  It’s her.”  That’s fine.  I sometimes look in the mirror and say the same thing.

I only mention that because I’m concerned that your indifference to me will make you indifferent to what I’m about to say, and that would be too bad.

I’m going to say it anyway.

Thank you for your “original sin” comment at the end of Kleinheider’s latest rant.


Aunt B.

Okay, Kleinheider, back to you.

“Very few modern whites can be held responsible for Jim Crow to say nothing of slavery.”

Very few modern whites can be held responsible for Jim Crow?!  Good fucking god, when do you think that was?  Emmitt Till, the kid the white folks killed in Money, Mississippi?  He was born in 1941.  He was only four years older than my dad.

Martin Luther King, Jr. was born in 1929.  He’s younger than my grandma, who is still alive.

Shoot, ask John H. about when the lunch counters here in Nashville were desegregated.  He was here.  He remembers.  Or take your ass to a show of Ordinary Heroes, and look around the audience and see how many of those folks in the audience were there during those days.

You think the folks who upheld Jim Crow are all dead?  Their victims and their witnesses are still alive.  Which means that they are too.  Yes, they’re getting older, but please, “very few?” Only if your math is funky.

You know what?  Forget it.

You’re right.  History doesn’t matter.  What’s in the past is in the past.  Today is a new day.  We’ll just set aside what happened back then, because it has no effect on us, right Carter?


Humans are not the sum of their experiences but they do help mold us. The same is true of history. We can try and whitewash out personal histories but the memories are still there and they are important.

God, you know, that bit–We can try and whitewash out personal histories but the memories are still there and they are important–is pretty persuasive.  I wonder why it didn’t have an effect on you.


Aunt B.

Tracy Moore, Were You Raised by Jackals?

Dear Nashville Scene,

Yes, it does hurt my feelings a little bit when you make fun of bloggers.  I’ll admit, my experience with alt.weeklies has been limited to the Reader and the Village Voice, so I was kind of under the impression that free weeklies were a cool, off-beat stick-it-to-the-man, truth-telling alternative to whatever corporate nonsense was going on in town, especially at the local daily paper.

And I kind of do want to be a cool, off-beat, stick-it-to-the-man, truth-telling alternative to whatever and so I do want you to like me.  It’s true.

But god damn, today you have a blog post about sticking it to a chick who works at McDonalds!

Have you never, ever heard “Comfort the afflicted, afflict the comfortable?”  Just how “Truth, Justice, and the American Way” do you think it is to make it your mission to make a chick who works at McDonalds miserable?  Let me reiterate, SHE WORKS AT MCDONALDS.  What the fuck is wrong with you?

Do you have any idea how much it sucks to work at fast food?  How hard it is and thankless and how little the pay usually is?  And do you have any idea how unlike your dreams your life has had to go for you to be a grown-ass person who works at McDonalds?

And yet, you not only called her manager; you called corporate, too?

What the fuck is wrong with you? 


Are you so unaware of how good you have it, to have a job most folks would kill to have at a paper that gets read by everyone, and how shitty her life must be?  And yet, you’re going to pile it on her?

Are you evil?

Is that it?

What’s next?  Are you going to go into the NICU and laugh at how ugly the babies with the wires and tubes coming out of them are?

Shame on you.

Christ, I’d rather you go back to making fun of bloggers.

Aunt B.

Time Out

Okay, folks, we have to take a timeout here for a minute so that I can say how much I love you guys.  And I’m not even drunk.  I really do love you.

Where else on the internet can you go and find folks who are smart and funny and make you mad and make you think and make you laugh?

Okay, yeah, a bunch of other places, but I like this one a hell of a lot.

I feel really grateful to have you all stopping by.

Okay, I’m done being mushy.  We can now return to our regular discussions.



Cats Are Stupid

The first most important thing to realize when you own a cat is that there is no one in the whole world who gives a shit about your cat except you. If you can accept this, you’ll make everyone around you much happier.

That being said, we own two cats, who behave in ways completely indecipherable to me.

The tiny cat, for instance, lives on my bed. Occasionally she makes her way over to the window, but, if the whole world were my bed and the window, she would live happily, pulling out her butt hair in the winter, growing it back in the summer. Who knows why, but there you go.

But both she and the orange cat will sleep facing the wall or, in the orange cat’s case right now, the back of the couch.

We have a large dog whose favorite game is “Pounce on the Cats.” Wouldn’t it make more sense to sleep like some Mafia don–in a corner, with your back to the wall, so you can see who’s gunning for you?

Also, why is it that the cats regularly only make half-assed attempts to jump up onto the table to get their food? And then why do they stare at me like I’m the problem?

Science, I know I belittled your commitment to your stupid just-so stories about evolutionary psychology just the other day, and so maybe you’re a little put out with me and not open to suggestions, but really, where is the research into what cats are thinking?

That’s important, clearly, because that affects me.