This is the worst videoblog we’ve done to date. No merit to it whatsoever. As usual, horrendous video quality and sound–but good enough to make out what we’re saying and get the point.
Anyway, way back on July 12th (forever and a day in blogland), the blogger, A White Bear, posted Dear Rich People, STFU, in which she talks about how down at the co-op where she cuts cheese, a member of the “white global elite” who works beside her won’t lower herself to cutting plebian cheeses, such as cheddar. What’s more, she believes those who eat chedder couldn’t possibly have an evolved social conscience or any knowledge of politics.
Elite woman’s take?
Well, if they don’t start caring about art and good food, how can they expect to understand politics?
Another belief of the woman who refuses to cut, much less eat, cheddar?
Believe you me! Those private school children you’re mocking have far more of a chance to do great things in this world than all the middle class people put together. Do you think the middle class knows anything at all or cares at all about the right things?
Below is our videoblog response (me and son H.o.p.) to the woman who refuses to cut and eat cheddar, a testimony to how highly evolved we cheddar cutters are.
Are we not compassionate? Are we not aware? Are we not…intellectual?
Pointing over to Arvin Hill’s Carnival of Horror…
Nancy Pelosi is the linchpin. It is SHE who is greenlighting every ongoing and future crime of the Bush-Cheney Administration. It is SHE who refuses to hold the outlaws in The White House accountable.
And it is the people of San Francisco who are failing to compel the woman THEY sent to Washington, D.C., to represent THEM.
John Conyers reportedly told Cindy Sheehan he didn’t want to move forward with impeachment because he doesn’t want Fox going after him for being partisan. Oh, and they need to change their style from pursuing justice to doing politics. Something like that.
Oh, and there was the attempt to send the kids off to play at being grown-ups with town hall meetings.
Read more about it here at the Progressive Democrats of America blog.
We're not verbally challenged, we're just…y'know…right…
July 24th, 2007 | by adminMy sister and I were talking about how several members of our family (including we two) are somewhat challenged when it comes to speaking. It’s always been this way. She’ll say something and stop mid sentence, and her husband will say, “Where are the words? Where are the words? I need words!” And Marty will do the same with me as I speak in half sentences and somehow expect the rest to be intuited. I know there are others who communicate this way, but I think we’re on the extreme end as we both have a habit of just coming to a full stop in mid sentence, when it gets to be too much, and trying to mentally telepath to people (you think I’m joking, but it’s what we’re trying to do, if unconsciously) and finally with people who haven’t the knack of communicating via physical signals and mental telepathy, we must reengage the speech center and try to find the words, which just isn’t nearly as efficient a way of doing things. It’s just not, y’know, nearly as efficient.
Sister: You know what I’m talking about, the uhm, you know…
Me: The uhm…
Sister: Yes…
Me: Right, right!
Sister: You know…
Me: Oh, I know…
Sister: Yes! Yes! Oh, I almost forgot. Do you remember, last time we were talking about, uhm…
Me: About, uhm…oh, yeah, right, right…
Sister: Right, right…well, I went ahead and…
Me: Oh, Ok…
Sister: And they…
Me: Oh, Ok…
Sister: So, I don’t know.
Me: We’ll see.
Sister: And, uhm, uh, you know…
Me: Yes! Right! The uhm…
Sister: Right…
Me: Oh, yeah!
Sister: Exactly! And the…
Me: The uhm, right, right, I know! I know!
Sister: Right! Exactly. The uhm…
Me: Yes, and you remember the uhm…
Sister: Yes! Yes! That was…
Me: I know! I know!
Sister: And…
Me: I know! I know! And…
Sister: Exactly!
Me: So, you’ll be gone how long?
Sister: Two weeks.
Me: Where?
Sister: This place, uhm…
Me: Oh, no, I don’t know that place. I know…
Sister: Yeah, that’s not the one. It’s…
Me: I remember. You went there…
Sister: Yeah, that’s right. I didn’t know…
Me: Yeah…
Sister: I guess so…
Me: Did you…
Sister: Yes…
Me: Oh, and uhm…
Sister: I know! I know!
Me: Too funny.
Sister: Where’s the, uhm..
Me: The…
Sister: Right…
Me: I saw…
Sister: Oh, right. There…
Me: OK.
Sister: And the, uhm…
Me: The uhm…I don’t know…the uhm…
Sister: You know…the…uhm…
Me: Yeah, yeah. I know. I don’t know where it is.
Sister: Oh, wait. It was…
Me: Maybe…
Sister: No.
Me: How about…
Sister: Right! Here it is! You know I do this, I say to (husband) where is uhm, what…
Me: Yes!
Sister: Yes! And he says, ‘Where are the words?’
Me: I know. Exactly! And uhm…
Sister: Right! And…
Me: Yes, I know!
Sister: And the kids, they look at me like…
Me: Yes…
Sister: So I tell them, see, see, I’m not the only one who’s like this! It runs…
Me: Yes, I know, I know. And…
Sister: And…
Me: Yes! And…
Sister: I know…and it’s like…
Me: Yes! And…
Sister: And…
Me: Yes! And…
Sister: Right! Right! You know!
Me: I know! I know!
Sister: Exactly! No one else understands!
Me: Why not? It’s plain as day! Right?
Sister: I know! I know!
(By now we’re collapsing with laughter and continue to double over and slap the table and fall out on the floor for a good five minutes, all the while monosyllabic. Finally we regain our composure.)
Me: And…
Sister: And…
Me: And…
Sister: And…
Me: Yes, yes.
Sister: They don’t understand.
Me: Yeah, well, but then…
Sister: I know…
Me: Oh, uhm, before we go I need to…
Sister: Oh, yeah, and I need to…
Me: Yeah, have you heard from…
Sister: Yes, and they’re…
Me: Ok…
Sister: Do you have…
Me: No, I don’t…
Sister: We’ll have to…
Me: Ok, and don’t forget…
Sister: I know. You remember when…
Me: Yes, yes! That was so funny…
Sister: And…
Me: I know…
Sister: Well, I need to…
Me: OK, and we’ll…
Sister: Right…
Me: OK.

Bowling at the Brunswick 4
Originally uploaded by idyllopus
Went to a kiddie’s birthday bowling party this weekend. Out in the suburbs. H.o.p. had a great time. I took photos. Of people bowling. Yes, you who were there who will never find your way here, I was the older lady squatting on her haunches with a camera or right down on the floor of bowling’s beach, between bowling’s counterpart to ocean waves and the sunbathers soaking up the UV rays on their towels. Thankfully, people ignore me.
Not as ignorable was H.o.p. I don’t know if he took his queue from me pretty much lying down on the bowling beach (how else was I to get this shot) or if it was just the natural rebellious performer in him (“I’ll show you and your paltry rules”), or whether he was overcome by the blue Cosmic Bowling lights, but at one point he went parading down the beach, blithely interrupting bowlers and their goals, taking in the sights, not very worried that one of them might irritably make a pin of him. Marty went running after because I was too incapacitated with laughter to do anything parental and useful at the moment.
I noticed the American flag (as seen in the above photo in larger versions, click thru for those). There were no people, of course, bowing to the flag or saluting or even acknowledging its presence. People were just bowling, intent on the ball and the pins and their form, except for those part of the numerous birthday parties and they were going to be focused on keeping the kids under control and not tearing up the place on Coca-cola and birthday cake sugar highs.
Though I take for granted that many probably don’t even register consciously the presence of the flag marking territory, it certainly is part of the scene and carries a message.
Americans still need their flags everywhere, only I wonder how many now need their American flag lording it over even hobbies and purchases for less gung-ho crowing than wistful reassurance. Though I may be wrong on that. I have some of the bowling photos up at Flickr and another one shows an enticement for bowlers was winning a World Wide Entertainment (wrestling) style summer bowling party. The near human-sized ad featured a WWE “Superstar” by the name of Mr. Kennedy, a “heel” who has risen to evil greatness. I’ve a photo here.
I was going to write about how I don’t think WWE and bowling worshipers would like to think of themselves as using the American flag as a wistful, sad comfort blanket reassuring them of greatness, but my mind went POP when I saw the avidly worshiped WWE superstar was a Mr. Kennedy, and an evil heel. Not knowing what to make of the minds that dream up worlds such as these, but certain they have reasons for what they piece together toward the creation of manic fandom, I thought I’d just give a nod to this cultural mash-up rather than attempt a dissection.
All I know about anything is that money rules all.
Stutter out a few words. That’s probably all I’ll do for a long while is stutter a few words here and there.
Writing (off-blog, y’know) is, for the time being, like there’s this field filled with little shards of broken glass, some surface, some muffled by the earth, and my chore is cataloging each tiny piece and figuring out where it might go. None of it is sharp glass and it’s all well worn so figuring out where it goes is problematic.
I’m so stuck in the field though (which I can see very clearly in my head, its short brown/green variegated grass, its earth, the few trees on surrounding hills) that coming over here and writing is difficult. But I did want to say something about “A Scanner Darkly”, which Marty rented yesterday from Blockbuster.
We both, lovers of P. K. Dick novels, had hated what Hollywood did with “Bladerunner” and weren’t eager to see what would be done with A Scanner Darkly. I expected the rotoscope animation to be no more than a gimmick.
And Keanu Reeves? I’ve had no use for him. I hated the Matrix films. C’mon. Fashion kills all. What else is there to say?
The opening moments of “A Scanner Darkly” I had my doubts. So did Marty. But the film was telling me already to be patient, to let it build. And I sensed this could be it. This could be on its way to being a great film.
A couple of minutes in and I was more than receptive. Whether it stayed true to Philip K. Dick, I wouldn’t know until the end.
Wow. Build it did.
People will think I’m insane but that build (gotta have the build, can’t go into it cold) culminating in the long scene where Arctor makes his way home from work, Keanu narrating as Arctor approaches the derelict remains of his suburban tract house, observing lost possibles, the distance between What Is and the dream, entering, continuing to narrate as he goes to lie down on his sofa…well, as I said, I know people will think I’m crazy but I think that scene makes up some of the most honest moments that Hollywood has ever managed to put on film. Partly because it’s P. K. Dick at his finest, and the script stays pretty true to him (I’ll have to pull out the book), partly because Linklater’s use of rotoscoping works in that lucid dreaming way he apparently intended it to work (there is just enough room between the film stock and the vectoring for our imaginations to flow in, take hold and make the experiences more ours than those of just the actors), and partly because Keanu Reeves’ acting and narration is just so damn good. He pegs Arctor’s meditation and its shifts with a remarkable, heart-rending sensitivity.
I hadn’t even bothered to look at reviews but have since read that some give it at as not emotionally involving and going nowhere and I wondered just how desensitized these critics are. Or guarded.
The cast is great. Rory Cochrane as Freck (I’ve known that character), Robert Downey Jr. as Barris (“Galapagos!” I’ve known that character too), Woody Harrelson as Luckman (known that character as well) and Winona Ryder as Donna (I’m not sure I’ve known that character but can imagine her, to a point).
An important scene has Donna spurning Bob Arctor’s advances, again one of the better not-going-to-make-it-to-being-a-love-scene moments on film, not overwrought, the need to hold, to give affection and receive it beautifully depicted, having less to do with sexual desire than the despair of isolation. Because Arctor is a man who is fragmenting, being torn apart, crucified, but is emotionally present and aware of that reduction. Bewildered and in awe of it, he suffers it as he must, every exit shutting down, only one path remaining.
The reviewer James Berardinelli writes, “What’s new about a culture benumbed by drugs…” But that’s not the point of the film. It’s not what Arctor’s crucifixion is about. The drug addiction is a vehicle for examining identity, what is “I” and what is “other”. As an old Rolling Stone interview points out,
Philip K. Dick has described his novels as books that ‘try to pierce the veil of what is only apparently real to find out what is really real.’
P. K. Dick managed to be both a humane and seeringly honest author. Linklater’s effort to honor that goes beyond what I imagined possible out of Hollywood.
Saying Yes just pointed me to Christian Domestic Discipline Blogs, which she learned about via this post at Shakesville.
Jesus General and Boingboing have also pointed to them. I won’t link. As many enter via the blogs they will probably first wonder if this is real or parody, and there are many who may not look throughout the site and walk away thinking this is real.
I’m not buying the Christian Domestic Discipline site and only think it is “real” in that I believe it’s a real business. It’s soft core BDSM in a Christian setting and I think the blogs are fake. They’re meant to entice and get one interested in the BDSM fiction in the bookstore. The book cover images are of men rolling up shirt sleeves and paddles and belts. They’re marketed elsewhere in genres such as “Christian spanking romance”.
“Becca learns what happens when she disobeys her husband on a camping trip. ”
That kind of thing.
And it’s fabulous publicity for them. Because Boingboing and Jesus General have both pointed to them. Y’know how many hits they raked in with Boingboing? Thousands upon thousands upon thousands.
It’s a ByProxy registered site so it is anonymous. The authors are all going to be going by fake names. There are several authors featured but who knows if they’re not all the same person.
They have fiction on pantaloons and have a store where they are selling pantaloons. And crotchless pantaloons. And baby doll dresses.
The website author (a submissive) writes:
Speaking of baby doll dresses, don’t you think they are just the cutest things in the world? I have liked them since I first noticed them in the store. They are just so feminine and delicate. When I finally found one that actually had sleeves and covered my behind (just barely), I bought it and brought it home…I have been taking pictures of my new dresses and plan to make them available for purchase in my store within the next couple of days. I probably would have had this done last night, but I modeled my newest pink one for my husband and… well… let’s just say it will have to be freshened up before I can take pictures of it now
They not only have Xtian romance books featuring spanking of women but teenagers.
Kelley’s “The Wisdom Worker” has a description of “Contains spanking of teenage girl”. No reason to feature this if it’s not a selling point.
They know what they’re selling and who they’re selling it to. It is business.
At Amazon the selling point for Kelley’s “Christian Domestic Discipline, Spanking Romance Short Story Collection” is “Over 50,000 words of punishment spanking fiction”.
How about this invitation-to-read description of Rutherford’s book?
Brad has no trouble disciplining his niece and sister-in-law. With his wayward wife, though, it seems to be a different matter – until Brad learns something that enables him to exert his authority.
They also sell racial punishment fiction.
Homeless, scared, and pregnant with Kerel’s baby, Angel is relieved when the huge black man agrees to care for her. But from his proud, unaccepting family to his elephant-hide sjambok whip, life with Kerel may take more courage than Angel is able to muster.
And they sell Viking and Camelot spanking fiction. Which is why “Leah” mentions on her blog how much she likes that medieval diner.
Have you any doubts now? It’s a business.
Sell books. Make money. Business.
They are laughing all the way to the bank. Selling baby doll dresses and “wisdom worker” fiction in which the high point for the reader is the spanking of a teenage girl. Isn’t that a lovely combo?
Feel like I need a huge breath of fresh air. Have been writing and briefly entertained thoughts of having a nominal character who was involved in something akin to Scientology, and though the character would only appear for the briefest part of a chapter I started reading up on Hubbard and Scientology again.
I knew some but it was sketchy. The Dianetics volcano book cover is one that I think is stamped pretty well indelibly in most people’s minds. I seem to recollect a Dianetics sans volcano cover from an earlier period, and that I was aware of Dianetics pre-volcano cover, but I could be wrong on that. An apartment complex we lived in during the early 80s was across the road from the city’s Dianetics center. I read somewhere that it was in 1989 that Scientology opened its Atlanta church, but this Dianetics center was there in the early 80s. It was just a regular brick and wood ranch house and the parking lot was always empty except for one or two cars. I remembered enough about them from the 70s to not be curious about them except for wondering about them daily as you passed the house and those one or two cars in the parking lot.
Anyway, I started doing up a lot of reading the past week, filling in the holes, and I ended up deciding to not incorporate such a character. I’m glad I read what I did, but boy can you come away feeling like you’ve been flogged repeatedly.

Originally uploaded by eman59
Eman59 posted a beautiful photo at Flickr (here shown) that I mentioned in the comments reminded me of the Dionysian/Christian story of the release from the prison. He’s unfamiliar with the story and asked me to blog it.
In Euripides’ “The Bacchae” (about 410 BCE) we have:
Servant: We are come, Pentheus, having hunted down this prey (note: meaning Dionysus), for which thou didst send us forth; not in vain hath been our quest. We found our quarry tame; he did not fly from us, but yielded himself without a struggle; his cheek ne’er blanched, nor did his ruddy colour change, but with a smile he bade me bind and lead him away, and he waited, making my task an easy one. For very shame I said to him, “Against my will, sir stranger, do I lead thee hence, but Pentheus ordered it, who sent me hither.” As for his votaries whom thou thyself didst check, seizing and binding them hand and foot in the public gaol, all these have loosed their bonds and fled into the meadows where they now are sporting, calling aloud on the Bromian god. Their chains fell off their feet of their own accord, and doors flew open without man’s hand to help. Many a marvel hath this stranger brought with him to our city of Thebes; what yet remains must be thy care.
The Christian presentation is found in the story of Paul in the Acts of the Apostles.
Acts 16 23-33
And when they had laid many stripes upon them, they cast them into prison, charging the jailor to keep them safely:
Who, having received such a charge, thrust them into the inner prison, and made their feet fast in the stocks.
And at midnight Paul and Silas prayed, and sang praises unto ELOHIYM: and the prisoners heard them.
And suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison were shaken: and immediately all the doors were opened, and every one’s bands were loosed.
And the keeper of the prison awaking out of his sleep, and seeing the prison doors open, he drew out his sword, and would have killed himself, supposing that the prisoners had been fled.
But Paul cried with a loud voice, saying, Do thyself no harm: for we are all here.
Then he called for a light, and sprang in, and came trembling, and fell down before Paul and Silas,
And brought them out, and said, Sirs, what must I do to be saved?
And they said, Believe on the ADONAY YAHSHUA MASHIYACH, and thou shalt be saved, and thy house.
And they spake unto him the word of YHVH, and to all that were in his house.
And he took them the same hour of the night, and washed their stripes; and was baptized, he and all his, straightway.
As it turns out I’d remembered this incorrectly, I’d believed there was an accompanying radiance with the bursting of the bonds.
The reason I associate these passages with a supernatural illumination is because of the associated story, in Acts 9, of Paul’s conversion on the road to Damascus, where he is blinded by a great light, and which also has a parallel in Euripides.
Acts 9
And as he journeyed, he came near Damascus: and suddenly there shined round about him a light from heaven:
And he fell to the earth, and heard a voice saying unto him, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?
And he said, Who art thou, ADOWN? And the ADONAY said, I am YAHSHUA whom thou persecutest: it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks.
In Euripides’ “The Bacchae” we have:
DIONYSUS: Still obdurate, O Pentheus, after hearing my words! In spite of all the evil treatment I am enduring from thee, still I warn thee of the sin of bearing arms against a god, and bid thee cease; for Bromius will not endure thy driving his votaries from the mountains where they revel.
PENTHEUS: A truce to thy preaching to me! thou hast escaped thy bonds, preserve thy liberty; else will I renew thy punishment.
DIONYSUS: I would rather do him sacrifice than in a fury kick against the pricks; thou a mortal, he a god.
Streamlined down, the slipping of the prison had to do with gnostic revelation bringing freedom, or the preparation of the soul through purifications for release from the bodily prison. The Orphic and Dionysian mysteries were concerned with this and may be observed, as shown, in Paul’s illumination on the road to Damascus and the breaking of the bonds.
A number of Eman59′s photos have people in scenes in which they are passing through or accompanied by a radiance that transcends the mundane. When I saw this photo, the rays of light moving into the negative/positive space of the bars, and the individual to the front bathed in that light while innocently reading, it did remind me of the story of that breaking of the bonds and the slipping of the prison. As if this individual is caught in the moment just prior illumination, or as yet unaware of what is transpiring perhaps to the rear of him and that the inmates have escaped their prison already.










