Tags
atheists, environment, fundamentalism, George W. Bush, going green, Johnny Depp, life in the meadow, Michel Foucault, Politics, Presidents, writing
A statement like that can cause a woman my age to go into immediate cardiac arrest. I gasped, turned to my beloved Contrarian with all the love I could muster in my eyes, and gushed, “Darling, this is the Best late Christmas present ever!”
I tripped across one dog and stepped on at least one cat tail as I launched myself across the room, eyes shining brightly at the bedroom door.
I burst in, my eyes like eagles, searching the environs. “Come out, come out, where ever you are, ” I teased.
“What are you talking about?” the Contrarian grunted. “I taped David Letterman. Depp is a guest. Since Stewart’ still off on vacation, I thought we could watch it for our bedtime fare.”
Welcome to my life. My fantasy universe collapsed before my tear-laden eyes, and I mumbled, “well of course, I was just making a joke.” I pushed my tired feet under the covers, pulled the blankets up tight against my chin, and closed my eyes, to let the fantasy play out for a few more seconds.
Sigh.
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What’s in a name? No, I’m not getting all Shakespearean on ya. Are you named after someone? Cappy over at Writer’s Block is, and she tells you all about it. Also her penchant for naming as yet unborn children.
I do that for pets. I name them in advance. My next two dogs will be Frieda and Diego. After the Mexican painters. I saw the movie. What a love affair. Passionate people hurt each other, but their love is dramatic. I like to name in love affairs. Or something else. We have Kate and Spencer (Hepburn and Tracy) and Calvin and Hobbes (okay that isn’t a love affair, except sorta it is). Our cats. They don’t exactly act like their counterparts. That is the downside.
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This next one requires some real thought. First impressions may be wrong. Does the computer enhance, or make for better writing than the old-fashioned ink and quill? pencil? ink pen? typewriter? The eraser was vilified as making for sloppy writing, easy to “correct.” How about white-out? Trickier question than you might have thought. American Scientist has a titillating review on the subject. The book in question is called: A Better Pencil: Readers, Writers and the Digital Revolution.
It sounds like a quirky but quite interesting little book.
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If Murr Brewster hasn’t come across your radar yet, you may want to take a look at her blog. She has a slice of environmental reporting to do today, done in her rather inimitable style. How do you fare in the “go green” revolution? Like Murr, up and down, depends.
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What frustrates me with “some” atheists is that their arguments are based on fundamentalist interpretations of the bible, which we (most of us) agree are utterly wrong. Yet these atheists seem either unwilling or unable to see that there is a better/clearer/more intellectually sound way of reading scripture.
Tim Bulkeley writes a great little piece over at The Bible and Interpretation that lays the plague of the neo-Atheists at the feet of the fundamentally unbiblical fundamentalist. I agree. See if you do. Thanks for the H/T from James McGrath at Exploring our Matrix.
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My thought is that Dubya might not want to take his book tour to London. Not after the scathing and terribly accurate review Eliot Weinberger gives it. An excerpt will suffice to whet your whistle:
In the late 1960s, George Bush Jr was at Yale, branding the asses of pledges to the Delta Kappa Epsilon fraternity with a hot coathanger. Michel Foucault was at the Societé française de philosophie, considering the question, ‘What is an author?’ The two, needless to say, never met.
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We’re having fried chicken, mashed taters and gravy and peas. I like peas. I even like the ones in cans. Like when I was a kid. They are like two different vegetables. Peas from the freezer and peas from the can. It’s one of those foods I need to revisit now and again, like that bright orange french dressing by Wishbone. Nostalgia they call it.
I’m a good wife. I cook up good grub. Even if Johnny Depp wasn’t in my bedroom.
Existential Ennui 