New Youtube video, Revelation, etc.

No link – it’s not like I’m ashamed of it, I just think it is not exactly… well…. I’m having WAY too much fun singing it, and that is kinda sorta a bad thing. It really should be sung with as close to a straight face as possible, and I just can’t manage that.

Keith and I read my version of Revelation last night and we ended up giggling like idiots. Then it occurred to me… this just plain isn’t respectful to people of faith. In my defence, I’d like to point a couple of things out.

Martin Luther, one of the greatest theologians who ever lived, didn’t like Revelation and wanted it yoinked from the Bible. John Calvin, one of the biggest dickheads who ever lived, and also a good theologian, did a commentary on every book of the New Testament except Revelation and very very rarely referenced it. There was argument among the church fathers right up until the 6th C whether it should even BE in the Bible (so much for Biblical inerrancy…) and the Eastern Orthodox church dislikes it so much that it grudgingly accepted its inclusion in the scripture but refuses to use any of it in its liturgy, an excellent compromise, and exactly the kind of thing a syncretic church should do. After all, that’s exactly what contemporary American Christianity is doing when it ignores the thousand or so references to assisting the poor that occur in both Testaments to focus its mascaraed eyes on the handful of references to queerness. In other words, ignoring what is actively repellent to it, or politically murderous to it, without reference to What God Wants.

So I will continue to Play with Revelation, but I’m only going to be sharing it with those individuals who demonstrate interest.

I note that a Democrat is suing to have Barack Obama’s name stricken from the rolls of Presidential candidates because it turns out he was born in Kenya. Nice. Personally, I wouldn’t mind if they did the same for the lovely and talented John McCain, who was born in the Canal Zone (note to self, aren’t we all, except for the folks delivered by caesarian).

We haz the cool

  • I will never be cool in THAT sense, but I can certainly praise the thrice blessed Jeff, who got an air conditioner yesterday.  It made living at Geekhaven Beta a damned sight more pleasant – it was fracking hot.  Eddie was all over it.
  • I will resist the blandishments of my naturist friends today and NOT go to Wreck Beach.  Jarmo & Co and Mike will be off there today but I simply have too much life maintenance to do, and then Jeff and I will go pic-a-nic someplace, maybe. Depends how appealing it is to stay where there’s a steady stream of cold air.
  • Lawrence H, one of my coworkers, saw a Dall’s porpoise out in the Strait on Saturday.  It was just part of how awesome it all was, the trip from Vancouver to Victoria.
  • Victoria, approached from the ocean on a hot day, has a mesmerizingly beautiful scent of hot, sweet pine.  NO not like Pine Sol.  A magical, resiny gorgeousness that lifts on the breeze and drowns one in anticipation.  As drfilk noted, “Well, that’s better than I thought it would smell.”
  • I sang much of the way there, as much nautical stuff as I could remember, which isn’t much, but thanks to my mother and father I know all of the lyrics to at least one version of “The Eddystone Light”.
  • I learned last night that somebody I never talk to at work (I don’t sit with him at lunch anymore) thinks I’m a great performer.  Now I am thinking “When the hell did I ever play in front of him? And PS, thanks.”
  • Oh, is the rent due?
  • My rear end still hurts from the trip there. A little.  Not like Sunday morning, when my parents were giggling at me every time I sat down and squawked.  My back isn’t great but I know walking will fix it.
  • I have to water my plants; they got a good soaking Saturday morning but they are droopy as hell, as container plants are in this kinda heat.
  • Robof9 took pics of his wife’s work.  She is a professional plant person.  Sheesh, I guess that makes her a horticulturist… anyway, 100000 plants that she grew all needed watering on Sunday and he took pics and I await them happily.
  • Next post, various pics.  Be prepared..
  • I have booked a Can Car to deal with the box situation.
  • I think I need a summer weight housecoat.
  • For those who might be nervous on his account, Paul survived the last round of layoffs at his work.
  • The folks downstairs, in an effort to avoid us, have taken to smoking cigarettes indoors. For me this is annoying, due to my disturbed relationship with tobacco; for Jeff it is nauseating and hopelessly rude.
  • I participated in a Pagan ceremony on Sunday.  I am still processing it. When asked to pray I directed my energy towards a good outcome for somebody I despise, in an effort to cultivate both mindfulness and compassion.  The notion of praying for myself when I’m so comfortably settled with life the universe and everything (occasional bitchiness and annoyance with incompetence aside) was not on.  Runnerwolf was very specific about saying, “If you’re praying for somebody else, always pray for the best outcome – something concrete might not be what’s required for the person you’re praying for.” The psychology of this seems wise; you have formed an intention without becoming attached to the result, which is better than petitioning the lord with a laundry list of ‘want-its’ and then getting miffed when they don’t come to pass.  Funny story: she used popcorn instead of dry corn for ceremony once, with entirely predictable results come time to put the bundle in the ceremonial fire.
  • I know what copal and frankincense and myrrh look like now.
  • Why would an atheist bother with all that?  Because of Tennyson (oops, nearly said Donne)
    I am a part of all that I have met;
    Yet all experience is an arch wherethro’
    Gleams that untravell’d world,

Yummies, Mummies, Dummies

So we cooked oysters and pork chomps and garlic bread and taters and squash and garlic and set out brie and crackers, and ate rice and ginger beef (leftovers from lunch, my gosh they were good) and I made a salad and Peggy brought plum squares (heavenly, just heavenly) and I set out melon, and then in a pleasant state of repletion we sat around and talked. I found myself becoming very tired so I kicked them out, but they took Keith with them, Tom and Peggy did, so it all worked out very well (and it’s not like I really kicked them out, it’s just we’re old and tired and it was starting to really piss me off that Keith just sat down and started playing Condemned II Bloodshot while we were trying to talk – you could see Tom starting to get into it). That was the first time we’ve had a formal sit down meal with cloth napkins since we moved in, so really it was about time. Jeff put me at the head of the table. Hmph.

This morning I’m going to go protest Scientology, which is a complete waste of time, but once you have a V mask it just seems like the right thing to do, and then I’m going to the partay…. Tomorrow Father’s Day like family stuff with Paul and the kids, which hopefully will be lighthearted and civil (those hopes are for my behaviour, not other people’s). And somewhere in there, laundry, feeding plants, mucking out my room which once again looks like a bear pit, getting another copy of Songwriter or finding the old one because there’s something screwed up with the registration, and the usual behind the scenes, keeping the whole shivaree running, kinda activities.

One could say “Why not go protest Catholicism?” and that’s a very very good question. Or Mormonism. I’ll tell you why I care enough to protest. L Ron Hubbard used what he learned being a science fiction author to start a religion, make a lot of money, and put himself beyond the law. As an SF fan, I feel a moral obligation to denounce his works. Also, on a personal note, a buddy of mine in Toronto started protesting Scientology 15 years ago, and I feel like a jackass not supporting that effort until Anonymous started up.

And it’s not a religion. The big difference between a legitimate religion and a cult is that you can show up broke and they’ll still love you. You can show up unable to stooge for them and they’ll still love you. In a cult, if you show up broke and unable to help out, out you go. The keeping your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you applies all around, including Unitarianism although less so, but you get the idea. There’s always a price for being part of a group, and in this case, I consider the price to be too high for society, let alone the folks keeping it propped up.

Man, the things people do to belong….

I have been invited to a baby shower! So has Katie! it doesn’t conflict with anything on my schedule! Me happy!

added 16 June – I forgot to mention that the demo went well and about 30 people turned up, but it was a real sausage fest.  The bus drivers were honking in support!  It was fun!

Satidday roundup

Two hundred thirty seven reasons to have sex.  Guess I am going to have to read the original research to get the list. This was forwarded to me – but I won’t say by whom….

How will you know when the housing market has bottomed out?  A handy formula. 

A canonical list of “They do it” one liners.  Definitely some giggles in there.

Brian Kiely goes to Kenya in February for the UU movement, and reports back.  I’ve seen him deliver a couple of sermons and the guy is fracking awesome, and he’s also the only minister I’ve ever seen who incorporated Chet Baker music into a service.  By way of sidestream comment, has anybody else besides me had a conversation about genocide in Canada recently?  The existence, the possibility?

I asked my brother for advice about a haircut and after a blank stare, he said, “Uh, not a brush cut,” which now concludes my attempts to ever ask him appearance related questions again.

Since some of my readers will be progenizing shortly, and some have progenized and like getting reminders of how traumatizing it was (sample conversation with my mother.  “Remember when I here insert description of frankly horrid and unsafe and at best unsanitary teenage behaviour?”  “No.” “Well one of us is luckier than the other.”)  So I am providing a link to an interesting list of things new moms should know.  When I read it I nodded a lot, and I also went hunh?? a couple of times too.

The science behind monster waves.

Rational atheism.

Interesting green blog. Obviously it exists to sell things, but there’s cool stuff in there too. 

I LOVE THESE PICTURES.  The expression on the young man’s face, the poses, the clothing that he’s wearing.  And he was hanged. I just think of Deadwood, and melt.

Maybe it’s not a safe place to put money, but it’s an interesting place.

Young and coordinated.

And now… a dancing walrus.

Life on line…. death on line.

Your opinion?  I poop on it!

Finally, a joke.  What’s Australian foreplay?  “Brace yerself, Sheila!”

Who pulled the plug…

… that was blocking my brain?


I wrote FOUR SONGS yesterday.  One is a love song to Al Swearengen from Deadwood – one is a blues tune about the Blue Hell, a bar from the Fred Pohl Heechee Chronicles – one is a narsty emo bytchefest between Gelis and Niccolo from Dunnett’s series which references their ongoing telepathic mindgames – and the last is a breakneck, kickass song about the current culture war between faith and reason.

The “If I were Al Swearengen” song nearly fell out of my head right after I wrote it.  When I wrote it, I thought it was all in the same time signature – silly me! Then I go to sing it back and the choruses don’t work.  What happened?  (Or as Paul remarked, “You weren’t recording it?”)  It’s in two time signatures (waltz and mildly syncopated 4/4) which is just bloody bizarre but completely fits the mood of the song.

Anyway, I suspect that somebody went to a shrine somewhere and prayed for me, because that was the most amazing thing that’s happened to me in years.  That sound you hear is a giant mental drain unclogging.

I light a candle for Patricia, who has an owie.  (Further details as authorized).

I light a candle for Katie, who will love Daxus until death or something like it.  I was that stupid at 19, but at least I loved worthier men.

Mark Twain’s war prayer

“O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle — be Thou near them! With them — in spirit — we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it — for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.”