False advertising?

I drove by a Charter Communications truck the other day with the logo:

"Charter brings your home to life."

Seriously? So our homes were dead before Charter started piping in Vh1 and the Home Shopping Network? I would posit that Charter is in fact hazardous to biological life. I'm only a slave to their internet service, but I know it tempts me to ignore life-giving basics like sleep and exercise, and instead sit inert before a screen. Charter is about as life-affirming as Krispy Kreme. A more truthful motto might be:

"Your attention will inadvertently be drawn to anything bright, loud, and moving."


But I doubt that would sell many subscriptions.

Reasons to hate me

Statement of Purpose

Lately I've traded in politics for driving tips, but with the impending Collapse of Civilization, I feel the need to leave a record of "I told you so." I also like posting inflammatory ideas that I probably actually believe on my blog.

Opening Dialog

Me: I feel sorry for Obama - I read the transcript of what his pastor said, and I actually agreed with most of it. It's dumb that the prisons are filled with people there on drug offenses.
Co-worker 1: I don't approve of drugs.
Me: Well, alcohol is a legal drug (I think: OMG get yourself a D.A.R.E. shirt and visit the state pen).
Co-worker 2: I'm a Hillary man myself, but it doesn't surprise me that you're an Obama supporter.
Me: Well, I don't actually support Obama because he doesn't talk in specifics.
Co-worker 2: That surprises me, since you're so young (I think: so my age makes me stupid?)
Co-worker 1: I'm a yellow dog, which means I'll vote for the democratic candidate no matter what (I think: so dogs are stupid?)
Me: I've never voted for either major party in a presidential election.
Co-worker 2: So it's your fault George Bush is president?
Me: I couldn't really vote for Kerry - I hate labor unions (stunned silence).

Discussion of Dialog

Yes, folks, I am a maverick, given to independent thought. You can read what Billy Kristol has to say about the sermons of Obama's pastor here. You know, I don't think most people really disagree or would be outraged about his pastor's beliefs on prison reform, racism, and American imperialism. Obama's pastor believes our government's actions are inhumane and anti-biblical. Obama is campaigning on a platform of change. What's so inconsistent about that?

What gets under people's skin is the statement "God damn America." When people say "God bless America" or put it on their bumper sticker, they are not praying. They mean God should bless America because they believe it is a godly nation. It's a political statement. Wright did not believe he was calling down lightening on his own head. He was saying that, given our national actions, God would be just in damning the nation. Conservatives sometimes accuse one of being "ungrateful" to the "fatherland" if you vehemently disagree with the course of the nation. Well, thank you very much, Mussolini, but that sounds rather Roman to me.

Pastors are often skilled rhetoricians. Anyone who has studied rhetoric recognizes that Wright is using antithesis to make a point. It would have been less effective to contrast "God bless America" with "God is not pleased with the actions of our politicians." To bless is the opposite of to damn. Wright intended the statement to be shocking.

He might not have seen that several years down the road, a member of his congregation would be judged by his words. How many of us have attended churches where the pastor says things like God hates sinners, or Women should submit to men, or God bless the public schools and the teachers there doing your work? We may not fully agree with these statements, but we may still attend the church.

At any rate, the widespread knowledge that Obama attends United Trinity Church should put to rest the facile notion that he is Muslim. Unless Americans are too ignorant to know that Muslims consider the Trinity to be a heresy. That's right I said AMERICANS are IGNORANT. Take a look at our rankings compared to other developed nations.

Major Digression: Why I Am Not a Democrat

I just spent four paragraphs defending Obama. Now I'm going to say why I'm not a Democrat: because I think people should have to deal with the shit they get themselves into and stop whining about it. Like jobs. People love to say now that "my job doesn't really define me." Well, to some extent it does. I'm a librarian because I'm a know-it-all. Leeann's in politics because she's an optimist. Brianna's a barista because she's kind of stylish and social. My mom takes care of old people because she's compassionate and my dad takes care of buildings because he's handy. Some of us may want to do other things some day, but we've chosen temporary jobs that we don't hate.

If people go through their entire lives putting together widgets in a factory and hating it, then that is their stupidity and lack of initiative, and they shouldn't get paid $40 an hour because their lives suck. Maybe they shouldn't have gotten their girlfriend pregnant; maybe they should have gone to community college; maybe they shouldn't have gotten into credit card debt. In America today, it's polite to talk about anything except your job. You can bring up procreation and bodily functions and be "edgy" or "relaxed," but if you want to talk about work, you're a snob.

Labor unions generally consist of unskilled workers. Medieval guilds consisted of skilled workers who understood each other and cared about each other because they understood the value of the work they did. Some of my best conversations are with other librarians and academics because, having the same job, we have at least some of the same values.

Many of the societal problems liberals blame on conservatives are caused by the intervention of big government. The production of corn and soybeans (including GMOs) is subsidized by the government, hurting the small farmer and consumers, and helping large, unethical factory farm corporations like Monsanto. Our healthcare mess is exacerbated by the large amount of money paid out -- thanks to a Robin Hood mentality, -- to a certain privileged section of society in Medicaid and Medicare, and cronyism between pharmaceutical companies and politicians. The government allows pharmaceutical companies to patent things they have not even created - like the gene that causes breast cancer.

Conclusion

I was thinking about the Unabomber today. Not sure why. Maybe I was wondering about his prediction that civilization would collapse in 40 - 100 years. Of all serial killers, I probably understand him the best (hey, we're both Michigan alumni!). I mean, I wouldn't kill anyone (except George Bush and Donald Rumsfeld), but I can TOTALLY see myself putting on some pressure to get a manifesto published in the New York Times.

Julio Update

Julio went back to Ohio with Mother. He seems to be enjoying his sun porch and larger living spaces.

Back here in Misery, we are experiencing record levels of precipitation, and dude, if it keeps raining, the levy's gonna break.

Stuff White People (aka hipsters) Like

Micah posted a link to this blog in Facebook. What is really being described here is not white person behavior, but hipster behavior, and the author has it pegged. Hipsters take the environment, nutrition, and diversity seriously; everything else must be ironic.

There was much "advanced white person behavior" going on in Ann Arbor, among people of all skin colors: buying expensive sandwiches, shopping at Whole Foods, raising multilingual children, owning MACs, and pretty much everything else (I'm not going to link because I'm lazy). When I was a nanny, I was told I must use re-usable grocery bags.

I must admit to exhibiting quite a bit of white person behavior myself, such as threatening to move to Canada. I share the hipster love of national broadcasting organizations - such as NPR and BBC. I am a devout fan of Car Talk and All Songs Considered. I even went to an NPR winetasting fundraiser. NPR boosts my ego. Since it is broadcast by the University, which it pretty much the only kulturträger in this corner of the state, it frequently mentions donors I know or events with which I am involved. Yes, in New York City I might be nobody, but here I am part of the NPR inner-circle. My love of NPR troubles me. I hate the State, yet I listen to the U.S. equivalent of Pravda.

Indeed, satire can cause one to become self-aware, but not necessarily to change. Loving NPR may exhibit may not be thoroughly consistent behavior, but what's the alternative? Listening to Rush Limbaugh or the Top 40 stations? I'd rather be a socialist snob than stupid. The same applies to shopping at Target instead of Walmart. It may be a deception in some ways, but it is a deception I enjoy. The merchandise is more pleasingly arranged, it's not as crowded, and it doesn't smell like cow shit.

I spent part of the day walking around Petco with an ironic cherry sucker in my mouth. I bought Julio a harness and a feather on a stick. He is so obese that his fat cells have begun to take over his liver and pancreatic cells, and he ended up at the clinic with a kitty IV in his arm. I think I will have to start dragging his fat ass up and down the alley, because he does not like playing. I also thought about buying him a mouse (2.29 for a spotted one!) and putting it in one of those plastic balls, and letting him chase it around the house, but that seems like the pet equivalent of a Final Solution. Any suggestions for getting him off his sizable stomach?

Wikiphilia

I love Wikipedia.

I usually get to students after professors have warned that they will flunk if they cite Wikipedia. I take a less drastic perspective and often use Wikipedia as an example: Wikipedia can serve as a starting place to gather terms, just like Britannica or WorldBook, I note. You know that anyone can write a Wikipedia article, but do you have any better of an idea of who is publishing this website? I ask. Remember that some Wikipedia articles are footnoted, and it's perfectly acceptable to use the links, I remind. When professors give students bad assignments (as new reference supervisor person, I've created a folder called "Bad Ass."), I go to Wikipedia to check for pseudonyms, wrong dates, and suggested sources.

Wikipedia serves to give me prurient background information on celebrities, and gives a quick summary of recent events or television series that I've not bothered to keep up with. It even helps me remember my Latin heritage. I found a (grammatically flawed) article about the infamous Puerto Rican criminal Tony Bicicleta, about whom mother used to warn us. Wikipedia also confirms that the chupacabra was originally a PUERTO RICAN creature, and that other Latin countries stole him (this is confirmed by the Encyclopedia of Cryptozoology - a fascinating read if you ever get the chance). There's even a somewhat-inaccurate article about my tiny hometown, Naguabo. I think I even know Elsa "La Loca."

Wikipedia is my friend, professionally and personally. It's ill-repute allows me to use it as an example for questioning the trust we should place in any source, and its ability to record everything authenticates and satisfies my most trivial interests.

Multitasking Makes Me Happy

Seriously. That is why I like computers. They are very fast. I can listen to music, play scrabble, check my email, and read the news all at the same time. When I am engaged my feet wiggle.

Bad Luck, cont.

Emma doesn't think I'm cursed. I disagree. Monday, an ice storm hit. The Powers That Be decided to shut the university down as the sleet began coming down and coating the roads. Reason would have dictated that we not come in at all, as the satellite images had clearly shown the storm moving our way for days. As it was, several thousand employees hit the iced road at the exact same time that morning.

I tried to order pizza for dinner, but all locations refused to deliver. I realized the situation was serious. Sleet continued to fall and freeze throughout the night. A wind struck up, and I lay in bed listening to branches fall around and on top of me. At midnight, there was a dramatic flash and boom as we lost power.

When I awoke, the house was in the fifties. Although I had no power, I had hot water, and I was able to make myself a lukewarm cup of coffee with my french press. A neighbor knocked on my door to inform me that there were utility lines down over my car, tangled in branches.

As the morning wore on, those who had four wheel drive left for warming stations or friends' houses. The neighborhood was eerily quiet, like the aftermath of a nuclear holocaust. I discovered it was colder in the house than in my freezer. This amused me. I put my soy meat in a duty free bag I had gotten in Puerto Rico, and stuck it out my back door.

I slipped across the alley (literally) to visit my neighbors, who are in their 80s. They had several dozen candles burning on their coffee table, and it did indeed keep their house warmer than mine. Mrs. D said that her grandson had tried to take them home, but that she "didn't see why we should go to their house, since they don't have power, either." As I was leaving, their smoke alarm went off. Mr. D spoke up from under his blanket: "Well, I guess smoke rises." I took their alarm down for them.

Back in my own house, it began to get very cold. I huddled under the comforter with the cats and listened to my iPod. My friend A. called to tell me that the U was closed. She also said she would send our friend S. to pick me up if it got too cold. I called the fire department (the utility company wasn't answering) and they said electricity would not be restored that night. My desire for comfort won out over my desire to be self-sufficient, and I called S. to come rescue me. She sent her husband in his jeep, and I spent a lovely warm evening at their house.

Wednesday morning, we picked up A., who couldn't get her car out of the driveway. She gave us the very bad news that the Powers That Be had decided the library needed to be open, although the rest of the U was closed. To add insult to injury, we didn't need to be open for library services, but so that the computer lab that we house could be available. So we went to work in very bad spirits.

By Wednesday night, my power was half on. My car was still under cables, which A. suggested lifting with a rubber spatula. S. and I decided that this was a plan that might work better in theory than in practice.

Most of my outlets appear to be not working, some are giving a low charge, and 2 are working well. Luckily, whatever controls my heat is working. I believe this is because one of the three wires in the bundle is split. Every man I have mentioned the matter to has his own theory, and is quite certain it is accurate, whether or not he has seen the situation with his own eyes. It's rather like when Av.'s father told me from a thousand miles away that Av. didn't have strep throat, although I had examined his throat myself. We know what happens when a woman opens the hood of her car. I guess male over-confidence may have served a purpose several million years ago.

Thursday morning I decided it was nonsense that I couldn't use my car, and I discussed the cable lying atop it with a firefighter, a cable television agent, and my landlord. The consensus was that the wire was a cable wire and not an electric wire. So I moved it. And I'm still here. After the grueling task of scrapping 2 inches of solid ice off my car, I sprinkled kitty litter on the driveway. Navigating that successfully, I put the car in neutral and slid slowly down the ice in the alley.

Today my main challenge is having only two working outlets. I've relocated my microwave and my computer. Really, I can get along fine without everything else.

So I've beaten the Lent Curse thus far. Stay tuned for whatever fortuna next decides to throw my way.

Me and Lent

I'm going through an anti-superstition stage, ignoring Ash Wednesday, Lent, and the Religious Calendar in general (I did vote, which is probably the most empty ritual of all). I don't really feel like giving anything up for Lent. I like chocolate, and I've already given up meat for my own good reasons.

Yesterday it seemed that universe was punishing me for my negligence. I went to a doctor's appointment at 8:15, only to be told that it was for next Tuesday. The stoplights weren't working, and it was sleeting. I left a classroom to make a phone call when no one showed up, and five minutes later when I came back someone else was teaching my entire class. The power went off in the afternoon, and my evening class was interrupted by a tornado warning.

All of these events were entirely out of my control. Everybody has unlucky days, but because of the timing, it felt as though I were being punished. Perversely, this has only made me the more determined NOT to give anything up for Lent. I also intend to walk under ladders this week. Bad luck has to max out at some point.

Company

Brianna is gone :-( We reconnected on many levels and formed new connections: coffee presses, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and kittens. Our differences were also highlighted. Shopping in antique malls was amusing, because inevitably if I went "ooohhhh" she went "ewwwww," and vis versa. The first night, we stayed at a faux-British inn called "The Cheshire." Little doormen in red coats opened the doors for us. I found this disconcerting. Brianna said this was "as it should be."

Driving home from St. Louis after dropping her off, I noticed an SUV driving next to me. I looked over to see what the problem was, and the (ugly) man in the vehicle waved at me with THAT LEERING LOOK. All young women know of what I am speaking. I conjured up the most hateful face I could and mouthed the most awful obscenity I could think of. Yes, it was THAT word. I use it quite alot when I am driving, along with "moron." I then sped up to 80 and switched 3 lanes. To my surprise, the man looked quite CHAGRINED. Did he expect me to blow him a kiss or something?

A Fine Romance?

On the drive home today, the Papa John's Pizza Trivia Question was "72% of people prefer a romantic partner to one who does all of these." The answer was "chores." So I was RIGHT. At least 72% of people are COMPLETELY INCOMPREHENSIBLE. Or at least will sacrifice tangible benefits for things that I find puke-worthy. We're talking flowers and diamonds and "honey" and "darling" and little kissy noises, right? Forgive my inner 7-year-old, but EWWWW.


I really don't like romantic anything: romantic gestures, romantic music, nationalism, the French Revolution, Napoleon, or romantic heroes. Give me rationalism and J.S. Bach any day. And people who do chores. People who do chores are awesome.




Don't worry, Mazzini, I still love you. Despite the coffee grounds all over our sink, you DID make me laugh, which is so much more important than roses.

While we're on the topic of romance, I'm surprised at how many women still wear diamonds. Not only are they boring, colorless, and common, but they also come from fairly dubious origins, no matter what your political persuasion. DeBeers and the African governments aren't terrribly upstanding from the perspective of socialism OR capitalism.

Statements

I'm clutzy

Yes, you knew that already. I am a typical INTJ in my low body awareness. Today alone I have:

1) Injured my hand on the weight machine.
2) Dropped a pan of lasagna in the bottom of my stove (I then scraped the lasagna up and ate it).
3) Dropped the lid to my deodorant in the toilet.

Tiberius is . . . AMAZING

Tibers is a well-behaved kitten -- I don't think I will even have to declaw him. Now that all the nastiness from being at the cattery is clearing up, he's also quite handsome and playful. I realized that I've inadvertently named both of my cats after Roman emperors. Tiberius Caesar, naturally, and Julio's name is derived from Julius. Now I just need Augustus, Nero, and Caligula ("Little Boots" -- isn't that a perfect name for a cat?!!). A dynasty of cats. I think most of the American presidential candidates are dog-like. I can see McCain peeing on a fire hydrant. And Giuliani...well, never mind. Hillary is maybe a really evil Siamese.

People are confusing

Who buys Vera Bradley bags? Evidently the sorority girls here do. Why would anyone join a sorority? Why would you pay money for what looks like something your blind grandmother cobbled together from bedroom curtain material she bought in 1991?

I am currently obsessed with the Myers-Briggs Personality Test

You should all take it on Facebook (My Personality). I think it's accurate. I've always been an INTJ -- or the scientist/mastermind/arrogant bastard personality type. My brother is too. Mother is also an NT, or a rational. Finding traditional pursuits dull, we used to sit in a circle and bend spoons with the force of our wills. I think I don't get along with Guardians, so if you're a Guardian, sorry, our friendship will have to end.

Odds and Ends

Driving

You must think driving's a big part of my life and, well, it is. I spend approximately 1/24 of my day in the car. This could be reduced to 1/48 and made much more pleasant for me if there were more zippy drivers on the road. I don't consider myself an aggressive driver. Well, verbally maybe. But that doesn't count. Boston and Chicago frighten me. Everyone here, though, drives like they're in their 80s, even if they're not. When they come up to a turn lane, they begin slowing down half a mile before they need to stop. When they get to the turn lane, they proceed to stop 20 feet behind the car in front of them and gradually inch forward to 10 feet, where they stop. Does everyone in Cape have a depth perception problem??

And you know what this is?? It's not being laid back. It's being SELFISH. It is EGOCENTRIC to take up 30 feet of a turn lane when there are 20 cars behind you trying to crowd in and stopping traffic in the straight lanes. I am morally ambivalent about a lot of things, but there is a RIGHT and a WRONG way to drive, and driving BELOW THE SPEED LIMIT, TAKING A LONG TIME TO TURN, and most especially TAKING UP A LOT OF ROOM IN A TURN LANE are IMMORAL. I am starting my own organization: Michaela Against Dumb Driving.

Christmas

And something else. CHRISTMAS. I used to like Christmas when I was a child. It was a greatly-anticipated season in Puerto Rico because it heralded the arrival of cooler weather. But what sort of internal dialog prompts us celebrate the winter solstice up here?

"Hooray! Our autumn crops are rotting!"

"Look! We humans are too asinine to hibernate! Ha ha ha ha ha."

"Let's make our winter energy bills HIGHER with millions of unnecessary lights. We might inadvertently melt the ice under Santa's workshop while we're at it."

"Everyone's upset because there are only 8 hours of sunlight. Let's all go shopping AT ONCE to increase our debts and spread disease."

"I'm not getting much exercise this month. Maybe I should triple my empty calorie intake and wear shiny clothes."

Don't worry. I'm still giving presents. Just no blow-up plastic biker Santas, no matter where they are on your list.

Tiberius

I've got a new kitty named Tiberius. I think he's going to be long and lean and slinky. Julio's still the family beauty, and he knows it. But the boys are getting along better today; Julio's ceased his histrionics. Tiberius has decided he likes Julio's food, and Julio likes Tiber's. This will have the unfortunate effect of making Julio fatter and Tibers skinnier. So I've made a box with a hole in it that only Tibers can fit through and put his food bowl in it. He refuses to go inside when the lid is closed. Julio keeps getting his head stuck in the opening. Oh well, if they weren't contrary, I might suspect they were dogs.

It's Me Again, or, a Lament for the City

Hello again, blogosphere. I know; you nearly gave me up for dead. You think I've been lured away by Facebook, and that's partly true. But life is just different for a working woman.

Suddenly, I can't say whatever leaps to mind about work, which is where I spend eight or more hours of my day. I have to be *gasp* discrete. If you know me, you will find that impossibly funny.

I'm enjoying certain things about Missouri. Like renting my own house where no one can bother me unless I want them to. I can close the shades and belt out Gilbert and Sullivan stark naked...as a purely hypothetical example. I'm in a serious relationship with a meltingly handsome, if slightly overweight, gentleman with a soft gray coat and long white whiskers. He doesn't like traveling much, but we share the same principles of domestic happiness.

Other things are more difficult. You would think that one part of the Midwest is much like another, and that I should adapt from Michigan to Missouri with relative ease. I thought I was immune to culture shock. I grew up in Puerto Rico. I summered in the northern wilderness. And then there was my college experience. Still, I've never lived two hours away from the Gap. In Puerto Rico, I may have mothered a flock of geese, worn a loin cloth, and subsisted on bananas, but San Juan was only an hour away. This summer, I was in a community with a bunch of other city people. And that's the shocker -- not the lack of the Gap, but the lack of an urban mindset.

I am repulsed by the mindless, mediocre traditionalism that dominates rural areas. I have affinity to both progressive liberals and ultra-conservatives. With anyone who is strange, basically, I can find some common ground. You want to legalize drugs? Great! You think daycare is not that far from Dachau? Me too! But people who have not rethought their political positions since the Kennedy administration? People who view the Christian Church in much the same way they view the Elks Lodge? We're going to have a hard time being buddies.

But I will stop griping now and go play Mozart. Because I have a piano now. And I play it at whatever hour I want. And I can burn incense and eat lentils and generally feel cosmopolitan and multicultural in my own house. And tomorrow I will get up and go to work and smile politely when someone says they need to find evidence to disprove global warming. Because that, at least, I've heard before.

Coincidence? You Decide.

The Slate article I posted on Facebook earlier today, about Barack Obama's patriotism, got me thinking about the pledge of allegiance. Which got me thinking about AWANA. Because I never had to say the pledge of allegiance anywhere else (except for about two days when I was seven and my mom got this deranged notion that we should salute a little flag before we started studying. We immediately sensed how silly this, like any traditional school ritual, looked in underwear. If you ever suspect something might be empty posturing, try doing it in your underwear. C.S. Lewis held up fine).

It has long struck me that AWANA shares certain uncanny similarities with communist youth movements. Compare this picture of the Young Pioneers with this picture of the uniform for elementary-age boys in AWANA. Red neckerchief? Check. Bland button-up shirt? Check. Actually, the Y.P.'s almost look elegant in comparison. For a really high-achieving AWANA-er with lots of medals and patches, we're almost talking Mussolinian levels of ridiculousness. The kicker? The 5 - 6 grade AWANA boys club is CALLED PIONEERS, TOO!!! It's like looking at the dollar bill and realizing -- OH MY GOSH! OUR COUNTRY WAS FOUNDED BY FREE MASONS WHO WERE DESCENDANTS OF THE NEPHALIM.

Now, I must say there were some fun things about AWANA. Like performing the pants off all the kids who went to school, and hence did not have several hours a day to memorize Bible verses. In addition to awards, we'd get "AWANA bucks" to spend on cheap Chinese toys. A lot of good all those Bible verses did me, you're thinking. Well, actually, you've got a point. I'm not sure competitive, rote memorization is the best way to inculcate religion. In addition to Bible verses -- and really, who can be against Bible verses? -- we had to memorize various AWANA-specific pledges and creeds. The only one I still remember is "I pledge allegiance to the AWANA flag, which stands for the AWANA clubs..." and this also disturbs me

One aspect I did NOT find particularly fun was "game time," meant to be the "bait" into the program, and also meant to inspire "good sportsmanship." I oppose all organized games. I think children develop important diplomatic, managerial, and creative skills by making up their own games, without adult intrusion. Little League baseball is cruel and my mother loved me too much to do that to me. Also we were hiding from the school system.

Join us against next time for...deconstructing your evangelical heritage.