Category: Exceeding strange

Pass on by, this one’s about porn

Somebody is finally biting the bullet and talking about the effect it has, especially on younger people.

You know, one of the things about The Correction is that porn will go back to being like the good old days.  It will be drawings, cartoons, carvings on the outhouse wall, sexxay netsuke, possibly pictures, books for sure, and live shows.  Wow.  Never thought about that before, and all of a sudden I have an inspiration for an SF story. That aside, I will now make a couple of other observations.

When I was a wee tad, my parents tried to protect me from pornography.  They said that it wasn’t bad in and of itself, but it could lead inexperienced young persons to get the wrong idea about sex with a real partner.  Nothing that has happened to me since has changed this received wisdom, which is now my opinion.  If kids want facts they can have them.  But porn?  ehn.  As much as I like porn, or the branches of porn I like (being either big budget 70s porn or home movies of contemporary ‘ordinary people’ having consensual sex, if only to avoid the godawful music of current DVD porn), I still think young people should be protected from it, for the same reasons my parents gave me. Don’t ask me HOW you protect your kids from porn; I was very fortunate in that my kids believed what I told them on the subject, and even more fortunate that they at least appeared to be convinced, and that I didn’t have to have the “Please don’t steal mommy’s credit card to order “Splort – an illustrated history of Bukkake”, thanks!” conversation.

And isn’t it extraordinary that I was born in 1958 and I HAD that conversation with my parents?  Sometimes I think I was born in the future and it was only an accident that I ended up living in the 20th century at all.  Anyway, thanks to Tyee’s twitter feed for bringing this article to my attention.  I well know how that woman feels about talking in public about porn.  It’s not a comfy feeling, but somebody has to acknowledge these things before the lies and hypocrisy overwhelm us.  Besides, my parents probably have no recollection of that conversation.  I know my memory isn’t as good as it was.  Okay, move along, there’s no pictures.

That’s a weird coinkidink, holidays, Margot fur

Daughter Katie (Kathryn) is living with Kat (Kathleen) and Kashka (Polish diminutive of Katherine).  Weird, hunh?

We are going to have a LOT of coming and going this holiday season.  Keith goes to Victoria from the 19th to the 23rd.  He comes back the same day as when me, Paul and Katie go to Victoria for Granny’s b’day party.  We stay overnight and then come back Christmas Eve so I can start cooking for the big Xmas dinner.  Then Jeff goes later that week.  And Alex and Darwin will be going at the same time… tis nuts, but that’s Xmas for ya.

Margot is coming with us.  I suspect that despite my pOp’s inability to understand why I took this completely useless animal on as a pet, that he will like her anyway. Many thanks to Paul for allowing me to use his car to transport her.  She’s not a big fan of car trips,

I punted her with a piece of furniture yesterday.  (Accidentally, I didn’t see her).  She just slid across the floor and neither mewed nor changed position.  She has no conception of the possibility that someone would harm her. She can spend 10 minutes being brushed, grousing the whole time, scratching at my hands and kicking like a baby with her back feet.  Any other cat would vanish afterwards, and she merely flops down on the floor in front of the bathroom door and glares at me.  She can try to bite me but she doesn’t have enough strength in her jaw to even break my skin.  This makes her behaviour with Eddie and Gizmo even more hilarious; she’s defenceless, except for the cute; why Eddie hasn’t given her a good thumping I have no conception.

I have picked her up three times in a row to keep brushing her, and she doesn’t run away.  I can’t say she knows she can’t keep up with her own fur, but she sure acts like it.

Should I start keeping her fur as an art project?  She makes a loonie sized tuft of fur twice a day.

And now we learn a new use for an old word.

The word is ‘rhino’.

Not that anybody cares, but Dr. Peter Watts, a noted Canadian SF writer, was beaten, pepper sprayed, stripped, and made to walk across the Bluewater Bridge and driven to the Canadian side in his shirt sleeves during a snowstorm.  I have already contacted my MP. More deets here. Obviously the US Border Thugs who did this believe they were justified, and have charged him with assault.  Update here http://www.rifters.com/crawl/?p=935… unfortunately I can’t seem to paste links at the moment.

What are the odds this is BS, and the guards overstepped their authority?

Here is my hat with a rainbow on it

Part of my remarkable afternoon at Mike’s last week was coming back into his place from a couple of hours on that nice toasty balcony and finding my hat with a rainbow splashed across it.

rainbow hat

It reminded me…

… of the rainbow on the living room floor in the house on Oakridge Drive when I was growing up.  We had a fishtank in the front entrance way, and at the right time of day, at the right time of year, the light would hit one end of it as if it was passing through a prism, and throw a spray of brilliant colour on the hardwood floor. I think we got at least one picture of that squirrelled away someplace.

…. of the rainbow on the slate floor in the cafeteria at my old job.  Same thing… light would come into the atrium, bounce through the an edge of a glass plate on the railing, and throw colours on the floor.  As far as I know, Jarmo and I were the only people who ever noticed, or at least commented about it.

Deb, that tiny feather is from your bird room. After all this time it hasn’t fallen out or blown away.

Photo credit Mike.  The rest of the pics from that afternoon are, thanks to the mental image of my brother clawing his eyes out, NOT being posted.

Holy cow and other comments.

I didn’t realize it until I went to the translink.ca site this morning, but I am now One Bus Ride from church.  I walk out to the Kingsway, get on the 112, and it takes me straight to church.

This makes me very, very happy, and probably means I’ll be doing a lot more church stuff.  I mean, it’s right there!  No more not going to church because I want a lift!

Later on today I am going to go off to a Tim Horton’s and – yet again – see if a guy I’ve talked to on the phone a couple of times is going to actually show.  I don’t think Timmy Ho’s has wireless, though.  I may bring a small mending project just to keep myself out of trouble.

Lady Miss Banjola was robbed at gunpoint the other day – at work I hasten to add.  She’s fine; she is one of these people who does not get upset about the normal things people get upset about.  Exciting times we live in.

My unca Dave is not eating very much, but he talked to mOm on the phone for a while the other day, and it’s little things like that that keep us going.

Keith and Paul are off to see Lois at some point.  I imagine somebody will tell me eventually exactly when I am supposed to feed the Kira critter.

Margot has abrumptly (sorry, this was a word emitted by one of the Xantrex overlords some years ago, and I liked it so much I kept it) decided to quit washing her rear end.  I will give her a day or so to smarten up and then it’s off to the groomer to get all her butt hair shaved off.  I tried shaving it but my clippers are anaemic to the point of mollescence and I’m terrified to cut her fur with scissors.