God, are these assholes that stupid that they don't get that this is wrong? Please keep saying shit like this, Republicans, please. It just shows those family values at the core.
Note: the picture at that link shows a guy in a tee shirt that says, "If all else fails vote from the roof" with the picture of a sniper.
Georgia rape case dismissed because of victims' history. The accused rapist is the scion of the family that started the Days Inn Hotel chain. Factor that in when you go anywhere, okay? I think a boycott is in order.
VA staffers ordered not to diagnose PTSD. Shocking! I'm shocked, I say!
A woman who was tossed out of a womens' restroom won her lawsuit. So there's good news.
Note: the picture at that link shows a guy in a tee shirt that says, "If all else fails vote from the roof" with the picture of a sniper.
Georgia rape case dismissed because of victims' history. The accused rapist is the scion of the family that started the Days Inn Hotel chain. Factor that in when you go anywhere, okay? I think a boycott is in order.
VA staffers ordered not to diagnose PTSD. Shocking! I'm shocked, I say!
A woman who was tossed out of a womens' restroom won her lawsuit. So there's good news.
Everybody needs a little something on Friday...( Read more... )
Excuse me while I get very, very sarcastic. Men sure have it SO hard these days, don't they? Why, a one-day sentence and time served? Gah, that poor guy!
Thank you, I'm back to hating people again.
Thank you, I'm back to hating people again.
Shamelessly yanked from ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif)
moonlight_wts CBS is taking our calls
CBS is definitely taking calls from Moonlight fans. I just called and there is a recording that says they are taking demographic calls for Moonlight and to leave your name, city, state, and age. I also gave them my husband's age and my Mom's age and city, state. I hope they take those into account.
Here's the number so you can call. 818-655-1779 leave your name, age, city and state
They are only taking calls till 6PM Pacific so please call right away.
I'm not sure why they are gathering this information, but they are and so we should give it them.
:)
moonlight_wts CBS is taking our callsCBS is definitely taking calls from Moonlight fans. I just called and there is a recording that says they are taking demographic calls for Moonlight and to leave your name, city, state, and age. I also gave them my husband's age and my Mom's age and city, state. I hope they take those into account.
Here's the number so you can call. 818-655-1779 leave your name, age, city and state
They are only taking calls till 6PM Pacific so please call right away.
I'm not sure why they are gathering this information, but they are and so we should give it them.
:)
Oh, God, I think I worked with this fucker. Ah, security work, where you are the human equivalent of a door lock, and where your fellow co workers run the gamut from those who are barely conscious to those who can barely speak English and who passed the background check because they had no history in English at all. There's college students, people who like to read, and then...Well.... Then there's those guys. Oh, God, those guys. I mean, dude. Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude. Those guys. Oh, God, the Mikey Stus, the male equivalents of Fanfic's Mary Sues. They're like the chickenhawks who support the war without ever setting foot in Iraq; they have to puff up their own accomplishments while attacking those of others. This parody is just a little bit too much over the top, but it sure captures the tone just right. I mean, I recently had a troll pop up at Shakesville recently who boasted that he had 'twenty three years experience handling weapons professionally'. Ah, the Mall Ninja strikes again.
I do not understand the “joke” or the “Rambo.” I am in a high-risk job. It is not the Mall of America, but Ill tell you what its no podunk mall either.I am a responsible citizen who has made the choice to carry at all times. I defend others. If something happens at the Mall then I would be the hero, not those of you who are making fun of me for no reason. Yes Im not a Green Beret but guess what neither are you and unlike you I have to face unruly shoppers every day. My REAL problem is that, like any LEO, I have enemies because of my job. They may have access to high-powered rifles. My job starts and ends at the same time every day. Although I use four rotating routes to drive to and from work, I am still vulnerable during the walk to and from my car. This is the time that I load up on the trauma plates because I DO NOT WANT TO BE SHOT DEAD!Also, someone said that my Tac Team doesn’t get training. Not true. We meet at the range every night and shoot 400 rounds each through weapons that closely resemble our duty setup. We also practice unarmed combat. I am a Master of three martial arts including ninjitsu, which means I can wear the special boots to climb walls. I don’t think any of you are working as hard as I am to be prepared. I asked a serious question about tactical armor and I wanted a serious response. If you want to laugh at somebody, try laughing at the sheep out there who go to the mall unarmed trusting in me to stand guiard over their lives like a God.
Oh, God, this is so close to not being a parody it's not even funny. It's like a Bush fantasy come to life: guns and terrorists, and all within range of the barca lounger! You don't even have to leave home!
The Mall Ninja has a cousin, the Airport Ninja. I ran into this exotic bird at the airport in Baltimore when my company was on its way home from Iraq. The airport was closed so as to allow it to be infiltrated by Al Qaeda agents that much more easily, evidently. After wandering the airport for about a half an hour, some of us still with empty holsters on our thighs, we filed back to the gate and there found ourselves confronted with the Airport Ninja: polyester-clad TSA agents, determined to protect our airplane from....us. It seems that after a year of fighting terror in the, you know, war on terror, we were the prime candidates for posing a danger to American security. The TSA agents had us remove our belts, our boots, and our blouses, then pulled aside the only black guy in the company to 'interrogate' him. We had hand carried our weapons with us for about ten thousand miles at that point, but the TSA was afraid we'd smuggle on a nail clipper or something, though we could have butt stroked the plane's crew into oblivion with our unloaded weapons if we wanted. Ninja nail clippers ahoy!
Classic.
Ah, I remember my ex boss...fondly. He boasted of special training, a CIA career, a life of integrity and independence and....royalty. Yep, royalty. He was the grandson of an English duke, he claimed but his grandmother was keeping him from the title. He was in his fifties at the time I knew him, so his grandmother would have had to have been at least eighty. That's being kind. Evidently both his parents and the grandparents were...precocious.
He was believed by exactly one type of guy: the massively insecure guy, kind of stupid, kind of macho, who wanted to be the guy with the mysterious past, the glamorous life, but found himself working security and chafing at it because he'd just failed yet another cop exam, and either the Army was too much work or they'd rejected him, too. Security work was where they ended up, not where they started or landed or whatever; they wanted to the top dog but didn't have the ability to actually earn their way to that position. That didn't stop them from trying to claim that position, though.
These guys wanted all the glory and none of the work. They wanted mysterious pasts but nobody is thinking about creating a mysterious past when you're doing it; it's called living. If you're adventurous or a good raconteur, you can have that past. My dad used to make going to the corner store sound like Columbus discovering the New World. Of course, if you're the sort that's interested in the mysterious past, not in the living of it, then you're not going to have what it takes to get off your ass anyway.
My boss was such a Mary Sue it wasn't even funny; he even had the tragic illness, but after a while, I started to think that was crap, too. He kept forgetting which leg to limp on, for example. He kept forgetting he was supposed to be a frail and special snowflake, too, when he got pissed, and then he'd bellow, somethign he claimed his illness made it impossible for him to do. If the guy had had the male equivalent of pearls, he'd have clutched them.
He was just the icing on the whole Mary Sue cake, though. There is nothing sadder than a bunch of guys who try and make security look like the CIA, unless it's about....nine of them. This did not lead them to do a good job, which is an honorable way of making a boring job tolerable; this led them to be unhappy and bitter and sloppy about the job, even while they tried to make it seem dangerous and exciting. They wanted to sit around and bullshit. Then, while getting up off their asses, they'd dawdle over stupid shit so as to dump work on other guards while they had to work as little as possible. Being lazy is not the way you get to be in Special Forces, guys.
Stay safe Gecko45! I got your back brother!You see, some people here understand the risks we security officers undergo to protect you people, would we exist if our jobs were useless??? I tell you that we are undervalued for our beneficial effect on society at large, for the urban and suburban shopping centers see %80 of the armed violence in this nation, and why don’t the cops take care of it, because they are a bunch of wusses, and they are not man enough to put up with the danger and stress. You all who are makeing fun of me have never been threatened by jailed drug dealers, serial killers, and shoplifters, or fired at by high powered rifles so excuse me if I decide to have good weapons to protect and defend myself without all of you makeing fun of my choice, and they way I do my job!
Shopping centers are where most of the violence is? Not hardly. Also, this guy gets the usurpation just right; the denigration of the cops is exactly the way wingnuts always try and insult liberals or whoever has what htey want. See Kerry, John. How does a jailed drug dealer threaten somebody in a mall, especially one so well, er, guarded?
Serial killers? Exactly how would one know that someone is a serial killer? That's a touch that's just inspired, because this type of personality imagines that if someone were so badass as to be a serial killer, they'd obviously go around telling people this. "Hi, I'm a serial killer, and you're in trouble!" Also...shoplifters? No, not so much. Their parents are a different matter. Rich white suburban parents of shoplifters are to be feared, if only for the potential ear drum damage: "But my Jason would NEVER do that!"
If 6'5" and 250lbs is overweight, than so be it.
Don’t worry Lucy, you’ll never have to confront me as long as you stay on the right side of the law. And that’s the govts law and MY law, when your on territory I’m “working.”
Until the day you cross that line, I’ll keep watching over and protecting you. that’s my job. The day you go bad, is when you better watch out. That is also my job.
"Dear Penthouse: I never thought it would happen to me, but...."
I agree wholeheartedly, why must every remonstration to remain a law-abiding citizen, so that we do not find it necessary to take you out, be seen as a threat. If a kid picks up a candy bar and runs, you give him a warning before you cuff him. Same with those mindless teenyboppers who go to the Hickory Farms store, and then take double samples of fruitcake and cheeselog, you warn them that they will be charged with a felony(grand theft), and that if they attempt to fight and run, they will be, unfortunately, first tazered, and if they continue to resist violently with intent to maim, then wounded. Fortunately, wounding fire to suppress teenage kleptomaniacs is relatively easy, they all run in straight lines, and a hit in the knee will be relatively simple from the second floor . But they all get a warning first, we do not simply shoot shoplifters unless they resist violently. Buttstroking those who attempt to injure me is another story. Consider this your warning, HKsissy, because we’ll aim for center if you get dangerous or violent on our patrols. You do not understand how difficult our job is, or you would be grateful for this warning you have been given-whether you are on SPECOPS’s turf, or on mine, you will not repeat not act up with iniquity.
Unfortunately, this is where the parody goes a bit too over-the-top and falters, but it's still hysterical, because, again, there's this type of personality all over. This guy frankly sounds like he's talking about Iraq in some of his more inspired flights of fancy, and that's deliciously accurate, too. These guys want to be in Iraq, without having to leave the safety of their split level or their condo. They want to be able to fight, then go home every day. The real reason they don't join the military or volunteer for Iraq is that they just don't like the idea of the ickyness of barracks for a year. Unfortunately, people aren't too impressed when you tell them you play paintball. I think my boss began to hate me the day that he caught me talking to some friends about a trip I'd taken recently to Europe, and he tried to butt in the conversation with, "I was watching Cops last night and...." The contrast was glaring.
There's been a huge increase in people claiming to be some kind of heroes. It's interesting that the article pegs this kind of thing as being caused by low self esteem. Every hero I've known has always downplayed their actions and attributes, which is kind of like the way soldiers shrug off, "Thank you for your service," with the common reply, "Just doing my job." The fakers are the guys this parody captures, with only a little excess. They're insecure because they fear that if they're put to the test, they'll fail, or else they feel that they have been tested, and they have failed.
Everybody knows some old duffer from the local bar who boasts about his military record, but those guys aren't like either the pathological fakers who actually buy the uniforms and wear them, or the chickenhawks who try and puff up their keyboardery as the equivalent of combat. I actually saw what may have been one of the former during my last job. Some guy walked in front of me, wearing BDUs and black boots---which would have been discontinued by then---and wearing his dogtags out on his chest. His pants were unbloused and dragging, and his blouse was hanging open. He wore his cap backwards. There was no name or rank anywhere. I was just amazed. He was strolling, looking around, looking extremely pleased with himself. I think he thought he was doing a good job. He had no military bearing and his hair was too long, but considering how much was wrong with the uniform, it's small potatoes. The guy was a mess.
These fakers always think that heroism or what have you, whatever it is they're searching for---the identity they want?----is unambiguous and clear. It's not the heroism they ultimately want; it's what you get for it, and they have no understanding that something like heroism is what happens on the side when you're trying to do the right thing. A lot of heroes become heroes because they wanted to serve, to travel, to live an idealistic life, to help---all those things. The reason people who do extraordinary things are so often modest is that they know that what they achieved happened when they were terrified, or as the result of luck or an accident, or something like that. It's not a hundred percent true, but real heroes always seem to be modest types. That's because they were doing something else when heroism happened. Or else they signed up to serve. Heroism is not the end; it's the means.
I do not understand the “joke” or the “Rambo.” I am in a high-risk job. It is not the Mall of America, but Ill tell you what its no podunk mall either.I am a responsible citizen who has made the choice to carry at all times. I defend others. If something happens at the Mall then I would be the hero, not those of you who are making fun of me for no reason. Yes Im not a Green Beret but guess what neither are you and unlike you I have to face unruly shoppers every day. My REAL problem is that, like any LEO, I have enemies because of my job. They may have access to high-powered rifles. My job starts and ends at the same time every day. Although I use four rotating routes to drive to and from work, I am still vulnerable during the walk to and from my car. This is the time that I load up on the trauma plates because I DO NOT WANT TO BE SHOT DEAD!Also, someone said that my Tac Team doesn’t get training. Not true. We meet at the range every night and shoot 400 rounds each through weapons that closely resemble our duty setup. We also practice unarmed combat. I am a Master of three martial arts including ninjitsu, which means I can wear the special boots to climb walls. I don’t think any of you are working as hard as I am to be prepared. I asked a serious question about tactical armor and I wanted a serious response. If you want to laugh at somebody, try laughing at the sheep out there who go to the mall unarmed trusting in me to stand guiard over their lives like a God.
Oh, God, this is so close to not being a parody it's not even funny. It's like a Bush fantasy come to life: guns and terrorists, and all within range of the barca lounger! You don't even have to leave home!
The Mall Ninja has a cousin, the Airport Ninja. I ran into this exotic bird at the airport in Baltimore when my company was on its way home from Iraq. The airport was closed so as to allow it to be infiltrated by Al Qaeda agents that much more easily, evidently. After wandering the airport for about a half an hour, some of us still with empty holsters on our thighs, we filed back to the gate and there found ourselves confronted with the Airport Ninja: polyester-clad TSA agents, determined to protect our airplane from....us. It seems that after a year of fighting terror in the, you know, war on terror, we were the prime candidates for posing a danger to American security. The TSA agents had us remove our belts, our boots, and our blouses, then pulled aside the only black guy in the company to 'interrogate' him. We had hand carried our weapons with us for about ten thousand miles at that point, but the TSA was afraid we'd smuggle on a nail clipper or something, though we could have butt stroked the plane's crew into oblivion with our unloaded weapons if we wanted. Ninja nail clippers ahoy!
Classic.
Ah, I remember my ex boss...fondly. He boasted of special training, a CIA career, a life of integrity and independence and....royalty. Yep, royalty. He was the grandson of an English duke, he claimed but his grandmother was keeping him from the title. He was in his fifties at the time I knew him, so his grandmother would have had to have been at least eighty. That's being kind. Evidently both his parents and the grandparents were...precocious.
He was believed by exactly one type of guy: the massively insecure guy, kind of stupid, kind of macho, who wanted to be the guy with the mysterious past, the glamorous life, but found himself working security and chafing at it because he'd just failed yet another cop exam, and either the Army was too much work or they'd rejected him, too. Security work was where they ended up, not where they started or landed or whatever; they wanted to the top dog but didn't have the ability to actually earn their way to that position. That didn't stop them from trying to claim that position, though.
These guys wanted all the glory and none of the work. They wanted mysterious pasts but nobody is thinking about creating a mysterious past when you're doing it; it's called living. If you're adventurous or a good raconteur, you can have that past. My dad used to make going to the corner store sound like Columbus discovering the New World. Of course, if you're the sort that's interested in the mysterious past, not in the living of it, then you're not going to have what it takes to get off your ass anyway.
My boss was such a Mary Sue it wasn't even funny; he even had the tragic illness, but after a while, I started to think that was crap, too. He kept forgetting which leg to limp on, for example. He kept forgetting he was supposed to be a frail and special snowflake, too, when he got pissed, and then he'd bellow, somethign he claimed his illness made it impossible for him to do. If the guy had had the male equivalent of pearls, he'd have clutched them.
He was just the icing on the whole Mary Sue cake, though. There is nothing sadder than a bunch of guys who try and make security look like the CIA, unless it's about....nine of them. This did not lead them to do a good job, which is an honorable way of making a boring job tolerable; this led them to be unhappy and bitter and sloppy about the job, even while they tried to make it seem dangerous and exciting. They wanted to sit around and bullshit. Then, while getting up off their asses, they'd dawdle over stupid shit so as to dump work on other guards while they had to work as little as possible. Being lazy is not the way you get to be in Special Forces, guys.
Stay safe Gecko45! I got your back brother!You see, some people here understand the risks we security officers undergo to protect you people, would we exist if our jobs were useless??? I tell you that we are undervalued for our beneficial effect on society at large, for the urban and suburban shopping centers see %80 of the armed violence in this nation, and why don’t the cops take care of it, because they are a bunch of wusses, and they are not man enough to put up with the danger and stress. You all who are makeing fun of me have never been threatened by jailed drug dealers, serial killers, and shoplifters, or fired at by high powered rifles so excuse me if I decide to have good weapons to protect and defend myself without all of you makeing fun of my choice, and they way I do my job!
Shopping centers are where most of the violence is? Not hardly. Also, this guy gets the usurpation just right; the denigration of the cops is exactly the way wingnuts always try and insult liberals or whoever has what htey want. See Kerry, John. How does a jailed drug dealer threaten somebody in a mall, especially one so well, er, guarded?
Serial killers? Exactly how would one know that someone is a serial killer? That's a touch that's just inspired, because this type of personality imagines that if someone were so badass as to be a serial killer, they'd obviously go around telling people this. "Hi, I'm a serial killer, and you're in trouble!" Also...shoplifters? No, not so much. Their parents are a different matter. Rich white suburban parents of shoplifters are to be feared, if only for the potential ear drum damage: "But my Jason would NEVER do that!"
If 6'5" and 250lbs is overweight, than so be it.
Don’t worry Lucy, you’ll never have to confront me as long as you stay on the right side of the law. And that’s the govts law and MY law, when your on territory I’m “working.”
Until the day you cross that line, I’ll keep watching over and protecting you. that’s my job. The day you go bad, is when you better watch out. That is also my job.
"Dear Penthouse: I never thought it would happen to me, but...."
I agree wholeheartedly, why must every remonstration to remain a law-abiding citizen, so that we do not find it necessary to take you out, be seen as a threat. If a kid picks up a candy bar and runs, you give him a warning before you cuff him. Same with those mindless teenyboppers who go to the Hickory Farms store, and then take double samples of fruitcake and cheeselog, you warn them that they will be charged with a felony(grand theft), and that if they attempt to fight and run, they will be, unfortunately, first tazered, and if they continue to resist violently with intent to maim, then wounded. Fortunately, wounding fire to suppress teenage kleptomaniacs is relatively easy, they all run in straight lines, and a hit in the knee will be relatively simple from the second floor . But they all get a warning first, we do not simply shoot shoplifters unless they resist violently. Buttstroking those who attempt to injure me is another story. Consider this your warning, HKsissy, because we’ll aim for center if you get dangerous or violent on our patrols. You do not understand how difficult our job is, or you would be grateful for this warning you have been given-whether you are on SPECOPS’s turf, or on mine, you will not repeat not act up with iniquity.
Unfortunately, this is where the parody goes a bit too over-the-top and falters, but it's still hysterical, because, again, there's this type of personality all over. This guy frankly sounds like he's talking about Iraq in some of his more inspired flights of fancy, and that's deliciously accurate, too. These guys want to be in Iraq, without having to leave the safety of their split level or their condo. They want to be able to fight, then go home every day. The real reason they don't join the military or volunteer for Iraq is that they just don't like the idea of the ickyness of barracks for a year. Unfortunately, people aren't too impressed when you tell them you play paintball. I think my boss began to hate me the day that he caught me talking to some friends about a trip I'd taken recently to Europe, and he tried to butt in the conversation with, "I was watching Cops last night and...." The contrast was glaring.
There's been a huge increase in people claiming to be some kind of heroes. It's interesting that the article pegs this kind of thing as being caused by low self esteem. Every hero I've known has always downplayed their actions and attributes, which is kind of like the way soldiers shrug off, "Thank you for your service," with the common reply, "Just doing my job." The fakers are the guys this parody captures, with only a little excess. They're insecure because they fear that if they're put to the test, they'll fail, or else they feel that they have been tested, and they have failed.
Everybody knows some old duffer from the local bar who boasts about his military record, but those guys aren't like either the pathological fakers who actually buy the uniforms and wear them, or the chickenhawks who try and puff up their keyboardery as the equivalent of combat. I actually saw what may have been one of the former during my last job. Some guy walked in front of me, wearing BDUs and black boots---which would have been discontinued by then---and wearing his dogtags out on his chest. His pants were unbloused and dragging, and his blouse was hanging open. He wore his cap backwards. There was no name or rank anywhere. I was just amazed. He was strolling, looking around, looking extremely pleased with himself. I think he thought he was doing a good job. He had no military bearing and his hair was too long, but considering how much was wrong with the uniform, it's small potatoes. The guy was a mess.
These fakers always think that heroism or what have you, whatever it is they're searching for---the identity they want?----is unambiguous and clear. It's not the heroism they ultimately want; it's what you get for it, and they have no understanding that something like heroism is what happens on the side when you're trying to do the right thing. A lot of heroes become heroes because they wanted to serve, to travel, to live an idealistic life, to help---all those things. The reason people who do extraordinary things are so often modest is that they know that what they achieved happened when they were terrified, or as the result of luck or an accident, or something like that. It's not a hundred percent true, but real heroes always seem to be modest types. That's because they were doing something else when heroism happened. Or else they signed up to serve. Heroism is not the end; it's the means.
I'm standing down. I've spent the last decade reading books because I had to, and now I want to read books because I want to.*
I'm really pleased to be able to tell you all that![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
peake is to be my replacement immediately after this year's award is announced. See here for his comments.
*Only four years on the Campbell committee, but what with the books I've been working on etc...
I'm really pleased to be able to tell you all that
peake is to be my replacement immediately after this year's award is announced. See here for his comments.*Only four years on the Campbell committee, but what with the books I've been working on etc...
"This one" being a birthday spanking with the Sparkly Paddle of Birthday Wonderfulness.
Today's on-time paddling is forakirlu--step forward, honey, and take what's comin' to ya!
Hope your day is terrific and the coming year even more so!
And don't forget to live forever!
Today's on-time paddling is for
akirlu--step forward, honey, and take what's comin' to ya!Hope your day is terrific and the coming year even more so!
And don't forget to live forever!
- Location:Planet Birthday
- Mood:
celebratory - Music:hmm hmm hmm hmm to you...
Things to do before breakfast: trying to understand what quantum mechanics is all about.
Result: a kensho-like experience that space is only a model, not a reality. Specifically, observing the bookshelf in front of my sofa while attempting to grasp quantum jumps of electrons within the atom. And I'm afraid that I can't really explain it better than this, except that it appears to be a good working approximation of sunyata.
(Having recently come across the concept of metric expansion of space probably helped. As did the fact that I solidly consider "eternity" to be defined as the opposite of time. Space as a fiction is analogous to this view of time/eternity).
However, I suspect that kensho achieved before breakfast is disqualified, for much the same reason as things that sound like really good ideas at 3 am.
Result: a kensho-like experience that space is only a model, not a reality. Specifically, observing the bookshelf in front of my sofa while attempting to grasp quantum jumps of electrons within the atom. And I'm afraid that I can't really explain it better than this, except that it appears to be a good working approximation of sunyata.
(Having recently come across the concept of metric expansion of space probably helped. As did the fact that I solidly consider "eternity" to be defined as the opposite of time. Space as a fiction is analogous to this view of time/eternity).
However, I suspect that kensho achieved before breakfast is disqualified, for much the same reason as things that sound like really good ideas at 3 am.
- Mood:
thoughtful
I dislike people who complain about drama. Often, they are the ones who created the drama, and have no wish to acknowledge their responsibility or shoulder the burden of empathising with the pain, offense or outrage they caused.
Ditto for people who accuse you of "whining", "whingeing" or who urge you to "get a grip", "grow up", or "get a life".
I am also pretty low today, for unclear reasons. Maybe hearing so much about Wiscon has something to do with it. It's not that I regret not going - the memory of last year is enough not to make me look forward to it... it's more that it forces me to think back on things I thought I had managed to leave behind.
This weekend I have to write my second essay for the counselling course. I have absolutely no idea what to write. The titles all revolve around how the course has changed you in very important ways - for example, how has the course helped you increase your self-awareness?
Well it hasn't. I have been working on my self-awarness, hard, for almost forty years. A few months of superficial examination of outdated and sometimes ridicolously unfounded psychological theories isn't going to add much.
Ditto for the second title - difference, diversity, and how the course has helped your awareness of it. Well, LJ contributes to my understanding of diversity more in a day than the course has ever done. Sigh.
Maybe I should explain in detail my reservations against Jung and the "personality type" idea instead.
Ditto for people who accuse you of "whining", "whingeing" or who urge you to "get a grip", "grow up", or "get a life".
I am also pretty low today, for unclear reasons. Maybe hearing so much about Wiscon has something to do with it. It's not that I regret not going - the memory of last year is enough not to make me look forward to it... it's more that it forces me to think back on things I thought I had managed to leave behind.
This weekend I have to write my second essay for the counselling course. I have absolutely no idea what to write. The titles all revolve around how the course has changed you in very important ways - for example, how has the course helped you increase your self-awareness?
Well it hasn't. I have been working on my self-awarness, hard, for almost forty years. A few months of superficial examination of outdated and sometimes ridicolously unfounded psychological theories isn't going to add much.
Ditto for the second title - difference, diversity, and how the course has helped your awareness of it. Well, LJ contributes to my understanding of diversity more in a day than the course has ever done. Sigh.
Maybe I should explain in detail my reservations against Jung and the "personality type" idea instead.
Mike Norman, the asshole who did up racist tee shirts which featured Barack Obama as Curious George? He's come to the attention of the publishers of Curious George, who do not like what he's using their character to promote.
Is it something in the water today? Gay marriage, the awful woman in the Megan Meier case, and now this?
Is it something in the water today? Gay marriage, the awful woman in the Megan Meier case, and now this?
Here are the things you can reference when discussing WWII 'appeasers':
1. Neville Chamberlin
2. "Peace in our Time"
3. Appeasement
4. The Munich Treaty
You have just Godwinned your entire party. By the way, the Senator you referenced 'wanting to speak to Hitler' was Republican.
1. Neville Chamberlin
2. "Peace in our Time"
3. Appeasement
4. The Munich Treaty
You have just Godwinned your entire party. By the way, the Senator you referenced 'wanting to speak to Hitler' was Republican.
{Note: this is only a poem by the mortal poet Tom Disch, not by God.]
Whether or not you leave your name
they'll know who called. They'll know
whether you're sloshed or stone-cold sober.
There's a meter at their headquarters
that registers that information
with 86% accuracy. There is nothing
you have bought with a credit card
they are not aware of. And so
you must lick their asses, every one,
and hope your tongue can pleasure them.
Whether or not you leave your name
they'll know who called. They'll know
whether you're sloshed or stone-cold sober.
There's a meter at their headquarters
that registers that information
with 86% accuracy. There is nothing
you have bought with a credit card
they are not aware of. And so
you must lick their asses, every one,
and hope your tongue can pleasure them.
I feel like a vulture.
Perhaps a month or six weeks ago, someone I know passed away quite suddenly.
And today I wrote to one of the publishers he worked with, to offer myself as a translator in case they needed someone.
Now, I had originally passed this work on to him when I left New York. (Back then I wasn't translating very much, so it wasn't worth my time; these days, I translate possibly more than I write, or I'd almost be happy to since it's quicker cash for me, and doesn't exhaust me creatively, so even though the pay hasn't changed in the ten years (!!!) I'd be happy for the work.)
But I still feel like something of a vulture.
The editor in question hadn't yet heard that he'd passed away, but would be interested in working with me again when they have another project.
Am I a bad person for doing this?
I don't really think so.
And it's not like the first thing I did on hearing that he'd passed away was try and take over his workload; that would indeed have been ghoulish.
But the fact is, they're going to need a new translator again... so it works out for everyone, I think.
Perhaps a month or six weeks ago, someone I know passed away quite suddenly.
And today I wrote to one of the publishers he worked with, to offer myself as a translator in case they needed someone.
Now, I had originally passed this work on to him when I left New York. (Back then I wasn't translating very much, so it wasn't worth my time; these days, I translate possibly more than I write, or I'd almost be happy to since it's quicker cash for me, and doesn't exhaust me creatively, so even though the pay hasn't changed in the ten years (!!!) I'd be happy for the work.)
But I still feel like something of a vulture.
The editor in question hadn't yet heard that he'd passed away, but would be interested in working with me again when they have another project.
Am I a bad person for doing this?
I don't really think so.
And it's not like the first thing I did on hearing that he'd passed away was try and take over his workload; that would indeed have been ghoulish.
But the fact is, they're going to need a new translator again... so it works out for everyone, I think.
I came to this from one of my favorite sites, Paranormal Phenomena http://paranormal.about.com/ Have you seen this video from Singapore? It's got a lot of people there upset. It's Granny Ghost. Watch carefully. http://snurl.com/28ymp[paranormal_about_
On the eve of D-Day, General Dwight D. Eisenhower wrote later, he wept, because so many men would die. He had no choice, and neither did they. It had to be done. WWII is the war the idiots like to point to because it was so indisputably necessary and just; it was literally good versus evil. Of course it was a bit more complicated than black and white: we didn't enter the war when Hitler swept across Europe, and so Poland, France, and Czechoslovakia fell to the Nazis. Neville Chamberlain sold out for peace. One of the most vivid memories I have of my father's stories of WWII is actually connected to WWI; peace treaty of WWI was signed in a railway car. It was so punitive toward Germany that the German minister who signed it cried out, "May the hand wither that signs this treaty!" Germans were humilated and enraged and amongst them was a private named Adolf Hitler. When his army invaded Paris, he had the original railway car seized and sent to Germany and the stone that commemorated the deed blown up. The French returned the car and replaced the stone.
George H.W.Bush served in WWII. One has to wonder what he taught his son. The senior Bush claimed he wept before the first Gulf War, and that war served as partial justification for this war. It tripped something in his ne'er-do-well son, something that he would seize on ten years later when he himself was surrounded by charletons and oligarchs.
George H.W.Bush knew something about war, but then he'd fought in one, which brings us to the paradox that is war service for the sons of WWII veterans. Knowing war, they struggled to keep their sons out of it. Some, of course, saw wartime service as an obligation and a duty. GHWB was evidently not one of them. He found a way to keep his feckless son out of Viet Nam, and then a way to keep him from getting dishonorably discharged when even escaping the bloodbath of Viet Nam wasn't good enough. The sons of the lower class had no such option. George W. Bush was, after all, the son and grandson of Senators, and his grandfather and father let nothing come in the way of making money, not even companies with Nazi ties. Poor men died by the thousands in Viet Nam, and rich men made the policies that sent them there. The architects of this war---George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Bush's advisors, all of his present cabinet---all of them scrambled to avoid service, getting five, six, seven deferments in order to avoid service. The pundits who proclaimed this war as necessary, who touted administration talking points----Rush Limbaugh, Bill O'Reilly, and many many others---they all found excuses, one after the other, to avoid service. Taken one by one, the excuses seem almost understandable. Taken as a group, and cast against the somber numbers of the dead and the wounded of this war, they are damning.
Only Colin Powell, one of the faces of the war, had served in Viet Nam. He did the administration's bidding and lied right along with the rest of them.
The soldiers of Viet Nam--those who lived---paid a bitter price for their service in the war that no one wanted to remember. Their rebellion and mutiny in the ranks was disappeared by history, and their allegiances with the anti-war movement were erased by the myth of the spitting ant-war hippie, an image that George H.W. Bush popularized in the run up to the first Gulf War. Conservatives have since tried to evoke it for this war but they are hampered by the fact that this administration has abandoned veterans while the left has been very careful about supporting the troops and not the war. The veterans were dismissed as losers, crybabies, weaklings, all the macho stereotypes that conservatives promoted of men, all the images that were rejected by the hippies at least in part. Real men did not suffer from PTSD, evidently.
John McCain is one of the few people in current politics who actually fought in the Viet Nam war. He was shot down, injured, imprisoned, tortured, and for a while at least, seemed to take the experience to heart. He had enough character left not to vote for George W. Bush in 2000, but Karl Rove broke him, and now McCain wants to continue Bush's war, continue the use of torture even though he himself was tortured, and continue breaking faith with those who serve.
Now George W. Bush, not having paid attention to his father, having been unsuccessful at every opportunity in life, has led the country into a war with lies and greed. Over the years the excuses have changed but the end result has been the same: soldiers die. War profiteers grow richer and richer. The Constitution every soldier swears to uphold is in rags. Iraqi civilians die by the hundreds of thousands. The son's war has lasted longer than the father's war. Four thousand US soldiers are dead, the Armed Forces are exhausted, and frighteningly, we have seen the rise of what may replace the professional and honor-bound Army: the lawless forces of Blackwater.
George Bush has not attended a single soldier's funeral. He has banned photographs of the coffins returning from Iraq, has joked about 9/11, has urged people to spend to show their solidarity. He has tried to silence his critics with 'free speech' zones and insulated himself from the angry population whose bidding he is supposed to do.
Now he wants the world to know that he, too, has made sacrifices during this somber time. Has he given up travel, vacations, parties? Has he matured during this horrible war, urged the population to make sacrifices, cut back, plant victory gardens and, say, ration gas, luxuries, and other goods?
He's given up golf. Golf. He claimed he gave it up because he did not wish for the parents of some dead soldier to see him on the links and wonder at how he could enjoy himself. He says that when UN Envoy Sergio de Viero de Bello was killed on August 19th, 2003, he could no longer play golf. The Associated Press, however, published a report that showed that Bush was playing golf two months later---on October 13th, 2003. Did he have second thoughts about even this paltry sacrifice? Did he actually decide, "Oh, screw it, nobody can touch me?" Or did he just decide to make something up without realizing how stupid it would look in retrospect, how easily he would be proven a liar, how effortless it was to find out that he had knee surgery in December of 2003 and also gave up jogging at the same time?
George Bush led us into a war that enriched his greedy cronies, broke the Armed Services, and blackened the name of the United States of America as a rogue nation for generations to come, and all he can offer in return is the sacrifice of something he gave up for another reason. Not only did he not give up what he said he did, he did not do it for the reason he claimed, and thus made no gesture toward the parents of lost and wounded soldiers. His handlers, seeing his deeds coming home to roost, cast about in his feckless past for some gesture to seize on, and clumsily put this one forward. He might as well have pissed on the graves of the dead, American and Iraqi both.
This is what represents America abroad. This is our figurehead; a mendacious rich boy, perpetually preserved in foolish adolescence, and given immense power to abuse for profit.
Golf. Golf. If only he had given up on war.
George H.W.Bush served in WWII. One has to wonder what he taught his son. The senior Bush claimed he wept before the first Gulf War, and that war served as partial justification for this war. It tripped something in his ne'er-do-well son, something that he would seize on ten years later when he himself was surrounded by charletons and oligarchs.
George H.W.Bush knew something about war, but then he'd fought in one, which brings us to the paradox that is war service for the sons of WWII veterans. Knowing war, they struggled to keep their sons out of it. Some, of course, saw wartime service as an obligation and a duty. GHWB was evidently not one of them. He found a way to keep his feckless son out of Viet Nam, and then a way to keep him from getting dishonorably discharged when even escaping the bloodbath of Viet Nam wasn't good enough. The sons of the lower class had no such option. George W. Bush was, after all, the son and grandson of Senators, and his grandfather and father let nothing come in the way of making money, not even companies with Nazi ties. Poor men died by the thousands in Viet Nam, and rich men made the policies that sent them there. The architects of this war---George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Bush's advisors, all of his present cabinet---all of them scrambled to avoid service, getting five, six, seven deferments in order to avoid service. The pundits who proclaimed this war as necessary, who touted administration talking points----Rush Limbaugh, Bill O'Reilly, and many many others---they all found excuses, one after the other, to avoid service. Taken one by one, the excuses seem almost understandable. Taken as a group, and cast against the somber numbers of the dead and the wounded of this war, they are damning.
Only Colin Powell, one of the faces of the war, had served in Viet Nam. He did the administration's bidding and lied right along with the rest of them.
The soldiers of Viet Nam--those who lived---paid a bitter price for their service in the war that no one wanted to remember. Their rebellion and mutiny in the ranks was disappeared by history, and their allegiances with the anti-war movement were erased by the myth of the spitting ant-war hippie, an image that George H.W. Bush popularized in the run up to the first Gulf War. Conservatives have since tried to evoke it for this war but they are hampered by the fact that this administration has abandoned veterans while the left has been very careful about supporting the troops and not the war. The veterans were dismissed as losers, crybabies, weaklings, all the macho stereotypes that conservatives promoted of men, all the images that were rejected by the hippies at least in part. Real men did not suffer from PTSD, evidently.
John McCain is one of the few people in current politics who actually fought in the Viet Nam war. He was shot down, injured, imprisoned, tortured, and for a while at least, seemed to take the experience to heart. He had enough character left not to vote for George W. Bush in 2000, but Karl Rove broke him, and now McCain wants to continue Bush's war, continue the use of torture even though he himself was tortured, and continue breaking faith with those who serve.
Now George W. Bush, not having paid attention to his father, having been unsuccessful at every opportunity in life, has led the country into a war with lies and greed. Over the years the excuses have changed but the end result has been the same: soldiers die. War profiteers grow richer and richer. The Constitution every soldier swears to uphold is in rags. Iraqi civilians die by the hundreds of thousands. The son's war has lasted longer than the father's war. Four thousand US soldiers are dead, the Armed Forces are exhausted, and frighteningly, we have seen the rise of what may replace the professional and honor-bound Army: the lawless forces of Blackwater.
George Bush has not attended a single soldier's funeral. He has banned photographs of the coffins returning from Iraq, has joked about 9/11, has urged people to spend to show their solidarity. He has tried to silence his critics with 'free speech' zones and insulated himself from the angry population whose bidding he is supposed to do.
Now he wants the world to know that he, too, has made sacrifices during this somber time. Has he given up travel, vacations, parties? Has he matured during this horrible war, urged the population to make sacrifices, cut back, plant victory gardens and, say, ration gas, luxuries, and other goods?
He's given up golf. Golf. He claimed he gave it up because he did not wish for the parents of some dead soldier to see him on the links and wonder at how he could enjoy himself. He says that when UN Envoy Sergio de Viero de Bello was killed on August 19th, 2003, he could no longer play golf. The Associated Press, however, published a report that showed that Bush was playing golf two months later---on October 13th, 2003. Did he have second thoughts about even this paltry sacrifice? Did he actually decide, "Oh, screw it, nobody can touch me?" Or did he just decide to make something up without realizing how stupid it would look in retrospect, how easily he would be proven a liar, how effortless it was to find out that he had knee surgery in December of 2003 and also gave up jogging at the same time?
George Bush led us into a war that enriched his greedy cronies, broke the Armed Services, and blackened the name of the United States of America as a rogue nation for generations to come, and all he can offer in return is the sacrifice of something he gave up for another reason. Not only did he not give up what he said he did, he did not do it for the reason he claimed, and thus made no gesture toward the parents of lost and wounded soldiers. His handlers, seeing his deeds coming home to roost, cast about in his feckless past for some gesture to seize on, and clumsily put this one forward. He might as well have pissed on the graves of the dead, American and Iraqi both.
This is what represents America abroad. This is our figurehead; a mendacious rich boy, perpetually preserved in foolish adolescence, and given immense power to abuse for profit.
Golf. Golf. If only he had given up on war.
Before this string decides to compress itself into a superstring, we should switch to a new place to post the questions of those who seek wisdom, consolation, and perhaps amusement. So please make further Comments/Questions here. Pax et Lux!
http://www.farahsf.com/
I'll be using it to stash oddments: things commissioned for places not within the usual SF -fan radar, and also chunks from the book that didn't make it but struck me as still useful.
If you were ever a fan of the Out of this World anthologies, there is a short [essay is too strong a word] riff there.
I'll be using it to stash oddments: things commissioned for places not within the usual SF -fan radar, and also chunks from the book that didn't make it but struck me as still useful.
If you were ever a fan of the Out of this World anthologies, there is a short [essay is too strong a word] riff there.