Category: Crime & punishment

I’m home,

but I’m not where my bed is.  I pulled out the guit and the mando tonight and HOLY CRAP is my bedroom LIVE when it doesn’t have any furniture in it.  It’s a little tiled cell in which the sound of my breathing echoes like there’s a Balrog stuck in the corner.  All I practiced was Spinal Clinic and one of the new ones (These Things Happen).  This after watching Robert Downey Jr (can he do a bad acting job? the man is incredible) in this movie.
I am a woman of noisy enthusiasms.  Jeff keeps scowling at me; if I laugh at something with my usual vigour  (read volume) whichever of the cats is cuddling with him messes off the couch with a disgusted air.   And hey, two new-to-me Robot Chicken episodes and the season finale of Atlantis (it being the first Stargate Atlantis I’ve ever seen).  I’ve heard his fame well sung, that Rodney guy from Stargate Atlantis…. Now’s the time to queue up some Lady Miss B.
Patricia let me cry on her today. Thank you Patricia.  I’m not very aesthetic at the best of times; snivelling over onion rings is an incorrect form.  It was a summer storm, I’m not upset anymore.  She wants to meet the Luddite.  Like Ambrose Bierce, I have my doubts that all my friends should be introduced to each other even if they all rock.

Lady Miss B’s instrument was plucked from its case whilst being inspected by TSA goons, who played it laughing and broke a string.  May they receive the blessings of heaven and it not enough to spare them the lashings of hell.

Stupid criminals

This happened in Toronto, more than 20 years ago.

A friend of mine had a daughter who worked at an answering service (remember those?) in the same building as a parole office. She left the office door open for cross ventilation because the building was rather stuffy and they could actually open windows. There were two women on shift at time. Their desks both faced the door.

As it happened, the open door was situated directly in front of a fire hose cabinet. The women watched in astonishment as a man on his way to the parole office stopped in front of their open door, looked up and down the hallway, and then carefully stashed his bag of pot in the firehose cabinet. Miraculously, the phone in the office didn’t ring while he was standing in front of the door. He then went to his appointment.

One of the women, who was vehemently opposed to pot use, got up from her desk, got the bag, flushed the contents down the john, threw out the bag, and sat back down at her desk. A few minutes later Mr. Stupid Criminal came down the hall, opened the firehose cabinet, and went wtf? He looked up the hall, he looked down the hall. He never once looked through the open door at his back, while the two women, purple from suppressed laughter, got a thirty second demonstration of the cognitive skills that had him visiting a parole office in the first place.

Yet more awesome linkypoos

Finn Family Moominaddams
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Toenails and Forensics
Bigfoot video is 40…. I still think it’s a guy in a two part suit.  Why no feet?  Doesn’t the ‘rippling’ look like a costume folding?  Why the line right along the midsection?
If animals could blog….
These mushrooms are probably fake, but great for Halloween.
A GREAT language blog, hours of fun here.
Honest to God, I thought the kid would make an exit there and then.

Why would somebody ask for ‘more ranting’?

Tonight I would like to rant about the lack of menstruation rituals in our culture. Tonight I’m going to take the man’s view, as the woman’s view about it isn’t nearly transgressive enough for me ce soir la. Jeez, where’s an accent grave when I need one…
If I was a man, I would want rituals and predictive patterns in young women’s lives that preserved their fertility for their true purpose, namely, making babies with me and not with other men. Having some kind of ceremony where it was drilled into the girl’s head that she had one shot at the childbearing game and if she slept with the wrong guy it was game the fuck over would be useful if my strategy for access to childbearing women meant I was employed and civil. Mind you, if my strategy is to just rape the shit out of her and hope for a lucky plug, it’s still better than if she was really trying to save it for the right guy. Her body may betray her and pop an egg for me. I’d be the ‘wrong guy’ – but I’d still be first. Now, the sperm competition theory of fucking, which holds that guys enjoy sharing girls because if you’re second (or later) you come way harder (your sperm will ‘wash away’ that of your, uh, competitor/buddy), so if you let your buddy go first, because you don’t really care if you get her pregnant, and you’d prefer to come harder because of your wiring, you’ve more or less dropped out of the discussion about breeding. You’ve actually given some consideration to the notion, which is why you’re wearing a condom while all of these shenanigans are going on. I mean, it’s still rape, but there’s a different angle. You get it now? All different styles of thinking about ‘the breeding thing’ lead to different results in terms of how it affects the woman’s life. Oh, sorry, I’ve gone back into the women’s way of thinking about this, ‘scuse me all to hell.

So mOm, did I make you laugh really hard on the phone tonight, or what?

Back to the subject at hand. Women should have menstruation rites so that they actually have two whole chunks of time to think about fertility without having to do any work. That is, in part, what rituals are all about. It’s about the whole “stop working and start thinking” thing that has made humanity what it is. Having enough excess capacity in your life to be able to stop and think is what makes for civil life. Having the spare time to develop morality makes morality. Leisure, in short, makes ethical life possible. But don’t worry, in the end it’s all about sex. Yeehaw. Hurry hurry love.
Did I ever say why it was I refer to my mother as mOm? It’s because when I spell her title that way, it is the “Kilroy was here” or “Clem” sign. See his hands, on either side of his head? Te he. But I also do it because of where I got the idea of it, pOp – which is a clown face with a big nose in the middle. Squint and you’ll see.