- Easter came and went with nary a resurrection to be had, but I did realize something bizarre. For reasons beyond my ken, my maternal unit insists on buying me chocolate and other confections, but which I never end up touching. (A mother who repeatedly buys you something you neither need nor want? Imagine that.) Then it occurred to me: without a girlfriend, or a semi-steady involvement, this stuff will never, ever get eaten. For as long as I can remember, the only people who ever ate any of it were-- you guessed it-- entanglements of one form or another. Strange thing to realize as a new stockpile begins to build. And ladies, before any of you try to Imus me: Any of the women that actually dated me would adore being described as "entanglements." Without that peculiar sort of humour, they'd never have cast their eyes in my direction in the first place. ;-)
- I started to write a discussion of the Imus brouhaha, but it became apparent the bloody thing would turn into a tome before I knew it. Maybe I'll put it all down eventually, but as you can probably imagine, I've watched the spectacle with worried eyes. For reasons far too complex to explain now, I regard the situation as a dangerous crisis point with no good result in the offing. Imus' firing will be seen-- is being seen-- as the legitimation of swarming upon improper speech with pious imperative, and, of course, selective ignorance of hypocrisies and mob-mindedness. It worries me-- no, alarms; nay, terrifies-- that the idea of "free speech," however offensive, has become nothing more than a phrase to be inevitably followed by a giant, contradictory "but." The hypocrisies of those that led the charge against Imus are myriad and manifold, and the bases for their attack equivocal (and oft-qualified) at best. And now they've effectively been encouraged to pursue further agendae of silencing and correction. This does not portend well, because those that taste the victory of (faux) moral outrage can never have just one bite. My reasons for thinking this are only slightly less-involved than a Henry James novel-- it has to do with, among other things, race-baiting, metonymic thinking, PoMo silliness, arch-Puritanism, and the historical evolution of (small p intended) protestant piety. It also has nothing to do with Imus himself, who's largely beyond defending. The righteous, and conspicuously unforgiving, bullies won a significant skin this week. God help us all if they win another.
- Okay, yes, that rambled BIG-TIME, and became much more anticipatory than I'll probably ever be able to satisfy. Shall I curtail? Every single commentator, protester, scholar and activist who supported this move should be willing to stand by this resolution: Should I ever, for any reason, slip from the standard I've just established, may I be treated as I have treated. (Professors, that
maywill mean renouncing your tenure so you can be fired, too.) Then watch how many stand back from their stalwarcy in stone-throwing. (And, by which standard, both Jesse "Hymie-town" Jackson and Reverend Al would already have been exiled to pariah-land.)
- There's a bizarre irony that all of this is playing out against the much-too-late indemnification of the Duke lacrosse players. Shouldn't we ALL beware the rush to so-called justice? Shouldn't we all beware the cheap satiety that comes from advancing before one sobers with thought? You'd think Americans would be especially wary after the rush to action that led them into Iraq. Evidently not, alas. And gee, what did Reverend Al say about the Duke accused before the evidence was in? How conveniently we forget.
- Which, by the way, is why Reverend Al is a poseur. The Right Reverend Al is an entirely different person altogether. Sharpton's a mullah. Green's an Ayatollah, and a mercifully honourable one at that. What was his most famous song again? "Let's Stay Together...."
13 April 2007
Who Gives A Friggatriskaidekaphobia....
Yes, it's Friday the 13th technically, but as far as I'm concerned it's still Thursday the 12th. Hit once again with a brutal bout insomnia (an affliction since kid-hood), this morning's just a daze until I can finally attempt sleep again, and this entry just an exercise in killing Time. But to send you off onto your weekends with stuff about which to think:
- Skin Deep
- The Power of Myth
- Colour Me Amberdextrous
- And Finally The Miscellany
- Once More Unto The Well, Once More
- Mystery Meat
- Scatman Druthers, or Out Of The Cradle Endlessly P...
- O Commodore, My Commodore!
- Not For Your Eyes Only
- O My Darling Clement Times
- And-- And-- And--- You Put The Load Right On Me-e-...
- A Metaphysical Dilemma (updated)
- Slipping you some tongue
- Words Fail
- Admit It, You'd Hit It
- If it weren't for those meddling kids
- Quarrel In A Straw
- Who Gives A Friggatriskaidekaphobia....
- And The Voice Of This Calling
- Unstuck In Time
- You See, Words Are Like Bullets...
- Jaunting Belinda
- Misty Water-Colour Mammaries... or, The Sham...
- our normal impulses
- Smokin' Asses
- Going Commando
- Two In The...
- Coming Through Slaughter
- I'm Your Fan
- Please, Please, Please...
- Captioned Accordingly
- The Horror, The Horror...
- Ohhhh, Fudge....
- The Gift Of The Bad Guy
- Creaky Fryeday
- The Prank On File
- The Blog's Official Nominee For The Nobel Prize
- Warning: the following images may cause nausea and...
- All The World May Wonder
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