Total Perspective Vortex
What really happened to Trillian? Theories abound, but you can see what she's really been up to on this blog. If you're looking for white mice, depressed robots, or the occasional Pan Galactic Gargleblaster you might be better served here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers/guide/.
Don't just sit there angry and ranting, do something constructive.
In the words of Patti Smith (all hail Sister Patti): People have the power.
Contact your elected officials.
Don't be passive = get involved = make a difference.
Words are cool.
The English language is complex, stupid, illogical, confounding, brilliant, beautiful, and fascinating.
Every now and then a word presents itself that typifies all the maddeningly gorgeousness of language. They're the words that give you pause for thought. "Who came up with that word? That's an interesting string of letters." Their beauty doesn't lie in their definition (although that can play a role). It's also not in their onomatopoeia, though that, too, can play a role. Their beauty is in the way their letters combine - the visual poetry of words - and/or the way they sound when spoken. We talk a lot about music we like to hear and art we like to see, so let's all hail the unsung heroes of communication, poetry and life: Words.
Here are some I like. (Not because of their definition.)
Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Smart Girls
(A Trillian de-composition, to the tune of Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys)
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Smart girls ain’t easy to love and they’re above playing games
And they’d rather read a book than subvert themselves
Kafka, Beethoven and foreign movies
And each night alone with her cat
And they won’t understand her and she won’t die young
She’ll probably just wither away
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
A smart girl loves creaky old libraries and lively debates
Exploring the world and art and witty reparteé
Men who don’t know her won’t like her and those who do
Sometimes won’t know how to take her
She’s rarely wrong but in desperation will play dumb
Because men hate that she’s always right
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Life(?) of Trillian
Single/Zero
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Not judging, merely observing and reporting...
I mean, it's not every day you read a statement from the Pope about male prostitution. Child molestation, criminal sexual abuse, homosexual priests and lesbian nuns, yeah, sure, you hear a lot about those things. But male prostitution? That's a new one to my ears.
But hey, this is good news for male prostitutes! The Pope publicly acknowledged male prostitution! This gives Catholic women hope for the future! Maybe one day a pope will acknowledge that a man who took a vow of celibacy has no business dictating what goes on in a woman's uterus!
[Catholic] Church teaching has long opposed condoms since they're a form of artificial contraception. The Vatican has been harshly criticized for its position given the AIDS crisis.
Benedict said that for male prostitutes — for whom contraception isn't a central issue — condoms are not a moral solution. But he said they could be justified "in the intention of reducing the risk of infection."
I need some clarification, though, Pope, you specify male prostitutes. What about men who are not themselves prostitutes, but rather the consumer in a sexual transaction? Are condoms a moral solution for them? Given that you specify male prostitutes, combined with the Catholic church's legacy of repressing and oppressing women, can we assume that you don't deem it acceptable for female prostitutes to insist their clients use condoms?
Just trying to understand the intricacies of the Catholic church's guidance on prostitution, male and otherwise. Accept, forgive, heal, peace, love and all that.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
I haven't posted a Michigan shout-out post for a while. Sorry, Michigan. I'm, you know, going through something.
I'm not big on the whole cupcake trend. The cupcake lovefest is waning, which is too bad for enterprising bakers who were able to breathe new life into their shops, but it was all just a bit too much. For the sake of small business owners and the people they employ I'm hoping the bottom doesn't fall out of the cupcake market. But I do hope the fever pitch cupcake hype calms a bit.
Mrs. Field probably launched the baked-good marketing machine. Then remember when croissants were all the rage? Croissant shops popped up everywhere. Then it was bagels. Then biscotti. Blondies had a little moment in the baked good marketing sun. Then those cookies that look like flowers delivered in a "bouquet." So, you know, there is solid empirical baked-good marketing data for the cupcake people to use. People like novelty baked goods but baked-good trends fade fast. Get in early, make a giant cake pan full of money and get out before TLC has a show featuring the baked good as a topic for a reality show. (TLC is my trend barometer: Once they air a show featuring something that thing's popularity (and trend value) is waning. If TLC is airing a show on a product or service, don't invest, the value is dropping, you missed the quick investment money opportunity.)
Right. Now that I've said all that, I have the nerve to turn around and say, "Rock on Just Baked! Check out these cupcakes!!!"
That little girl in the photo is displaying the exact look I had when I bit into a Faygo cupcake.
Faygo pop is sometimes the butt of jokes. Jokes about being poor and living in Detroit. But. I like the stuff. Redpop especially. It's kind of like a Twizzler, but with fizz and a little something more, something redder. Yes, redder than a Twizzler! I know! If you've never had the pleasure of a Faygo Redpop you haven't fully lived life. Plus it's fun to say. Redpop. Redpop. Redpop. No, it's not a Vernor's, my go-to pop of choice, but Redpop is special. It's for birthday parties and Christmas and sack lunches packed for school field trips to the zoo and sleepovers and the last day of Summer vacation before school starts and a secret ingredient in punch and...you get the point. It's special.
If, by chance you end up not enjoying the sweet red elixir don't despair over the money spent on pop! My parents used to use Faygo Redpop to attract hummingbirds to the garden.
And now, oh glorious bake-a-licious goodness, now the sweet nectar that is Faygo Redpop is available in cupcake form. Like Redpop, it's reminiscent of a Twizzler. But different. Redder.
The grape and orange pop flavored cupcakes are good, too. The grape tastes exactly like grape pop and the orange has a nice citrus-y zest. I like citrus-y zest.
As relieved as I am that the cupcake trend is subsiding I wish metropolitan Detroit's Just Baked bakery continued success. I also hope they go national with their Faygo flavored baked-goods. I would love for Just Baked to put Detroit on the national baked good map. Plus they have a Fat Elvis cupcake. ("Our moist banana cake topped with peanut butter-buttercream pillows then hand dipped in our homemade ganache. Takin' Care of Business!") I mean c'mon, that's not just jumping on a trend, that's inspired.
If you can't find a Faygo cupcake in your area here's a recipe that is really good, straight from the Faygo website: Faygo Black Cherry Chocolate Cake
And for the crafty/adventurous, also from the Faygo website, how to make your own play dough using pop! This was a holiday staple craft in my Sunday school. We molded entire diaramas of Bethlehem out of play dough we made ourselves. I was usually in charge of sculpting the animals because I had a way with rendering animals play dough, but one year I couldn't get a good texture on a lamb so I re-worked it into what became baby Jesus.
My parents were very proud. They beamed as the parishioners looked on at our painstakingly crafted nativity model. "Our daughter made baby Jesus this year!" I remember parishioners being impressed. Or at least pretending to be impressed. Having your home-made play dough baby Jesus chosen for the display was quite an honor. And pretty much the highlight of my Sunday school career.
After Advent ended we took the hardened home-made play dough baby Jesus home. He was put on display on the mantel next to my brother's shop class wood and copper owl-perched-in-a-tree sculpture. He was there for a couple years and my parents explained to visitors that it was baby Jesus and that I not only sculpted Him, I also made the play dough from which He was formed. I think they were trying to boost my self esteem. I mean, sure, a play dough baby Jesus used in the church Sunday school nativity is no small feat, but, it's not on par with a mixed media owl-perched-in-a-tree shop class project. But I digress. Faygo rocks. (and rye! Rock and rye!!! Rock on! (That's a Michigan thing, rock and rye is another Faygo flavor))
