Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Do Schools Kill Creativity?

Short answer yes. Long answer contained in the video below.





The death of modern education will be the rebirth of creativity in every endeavor.




We live in momentous times.  Blogging is the way of documenting it all.

An Old Post with a Heap O' Spam

I am getting a ton of spam, lately, all coming from Atlanta, Georgia, and trying to attach itself to this post:


This is Hell. Like so many well-intended big ideas of mankind, psychology is the biggest of them.  The 20th century is a warehouse of great ideas that paved so many roads to Hell. This particular road goes to Osawatomie Kansas. To the State Mental Hospital.

Oh sure, it looks serene and lovely. Bucolic, even, but don't let the picture fool you. In the 1960s Osawatomie was a place of utter despair and hopelessness. I visited my mother here through out her stays, which were frequent.

They say that the sense of smell is the most powerful trigger of the memory, and for me, that smell is Lysol cleaner....the brown bottle. It is a hideous memory. It is the smell of a coverup. The smell that the men and women in white used to coverup the other smells...the smell of people in straight jackets, tied to their wheel chairs, with only their feet to guide them here and there...the smell of shit and Lysol. The smell of sweat and Lysol. The smell of  vomit and Lysol. Lysol was the coverup of the really ugly truth about Osawatomie. That Osawatomie is where you go to be punished and tormented til you wish you were dead.

I could never understand my mother. I could never understand mental illness. In the sixties, a maleable person believed everything the doctors said. If they told you to take Valium, you did it without question. Hell, psychiatry was all the rage. EVERYONE had it. If they tell you that you needed to have electroshock therapy, then you did it, without question. My mother never questioned anything. She was a good girl. When everyone said, "Malinda, you are crazy," and they said it over and over and over...she believed them. They, being her older brothers and sisters who stood to collect on her inheritance if she were ever found mentally incompetent.

Her daddy died a rich Texas oil man. Her siblings were all much much older than her and had already received their shares. Momma, not yet 21, didn't come into her inheritance until well after they had squandered theirs.  But if she were, you know, not all there, well...what a nice windfall is this!

To be fair, Momma had her demons. She was unsure about her decisions, so she would go her mother, who would promptly tell her to go to the psychiatrist and talk to him, and he would put her on a diet of pills. She lost so much weight, and became so nervous, that she became paranoid. This was AFTER she began taking all those helpful drugs. Then her memory went. She lost track of the days, often sending me out to wait for the school bus on Sunday or Saturday. I would try to reason with her, but to no avail. Hours of standing outside, waiting for the bus, and she finally rememered the day.  Driving home, she'd forget where she was going. She would turn down one way streets the wrong way. The police were always bringing her back home. She would bundle us up and take us out to the car and start driving, til the police would bring her back home. By this time, she really was insane.

Her problems began when she eloped with my father. He was not liked by the Family. It was the Family which made all the important decisions, and the Family was not pleased that Little Sister had run off with a jazz musician..who played in stripclubs....GASP! Who played the Devil's music...No! ...who consorted with BLACK PEOPLE! No, say it ain't true Missus Bunn, Say it ain't so! T'is.

Something had to be done....they were expecting the first child. Persuade her that her husband is unfit, and bring the child to live with the Family. Get an anullment. Get a divorce. You're still young and pretty!  And so the Dutiful Daughter did just that....until one month after the boy was born, she was pregnant again! Divorce is off. And so it went. Three more of us followed in quick succession.

Each child was an opportunity for the Family to take away from the youngest, most pliable sister and divvie it all up for themselves.

First, get rid of the boys....they look like their father. The girls can go live with Mary Anne or Sharon and Roy, but the boys...let their sisters forget about them.

All this while, Momma was in Osawatomie, "getting better". We visited every now and then, and always with the caveat not to be loud, or laugh, or make Momma cry.
So we took a bottle of Bubbles and a bubble pan, and a bubble paddle that made huge bubbles and lots of them all at once....and as always, Momma would get quite winded from the visits and we would go. She was barely there, in her eyes or in her body. She had wasted away to a mere 90 lbs. At the age of 26 years, she was shriveled and old. She barely recognized any of us.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So here's a sample of the weird spam I am getting from "Anonymous":

"A likeable noachian maturity is the prize of a well-spent youth. Instead of its bringing glum and woebegone prospects of degenerate, it would give in to defeat us hopes of timeless lad in a bettor world."



Now I ask you....what the hell are these guys up to?


Ah, a new comment from Anonymous:


Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "Hell on Earth":

"To be a good lenient being is to be enduring a make of openness to the world, an skill to guardianship unsure things beyond your own control, that can govern you to be shattered in hugely exceptionally circumstances on which you were not to blame. That says something uncommonly weighty with the prerequisite of the honest autobiography: that it is based on a conviction in the unpredictable and on a willingness to be exposed; it's based on being more like a spy than like a prize, something somewhat tenuous, but whose acutely special beauty is inseparable from that fragility. "



This one's almost cogent. Cogently deleted, that is.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Serendipity, Thy Name is Daphne

She will tell you that Serendipity is God, and she is probably right about that. She just finds the most amazing things to write about.

She posted only this photo and video, with a minimum of commentary and a deep empathy with suffering and pain, and all the beauty of the resilient soul, sweetly fragrant in the overwhelming stench of squalor.

We in the rich west cannot begin to fathom such horrors and thus we cannot appreciate the glory of men and women who lift themselves out of the destruction and evil to shine forth beauteously.


Thank you, Daphne.

Mnemonics made unforgettable

Rachel is sitting on the floor, studying her periodic table of elements and trying to find ways of memorizing them individually. Mercury has been memorized in this fashion: Mercury = Hg. Mercury is in the thermometer in the fish tank, but she will substitute the first letters of fish tank with h and g, making it a hish gank. Since Silver is Ag, she has memorized that element as follows A giant SILVER hish.... Most of the elements can be memorized easily enough because they sometimes use the first two letters of their name, but that's not always reliable. And then, of course, there's the Rachel way.


Perhaps, she will find a way of using this giant gold hish to memorize something in her periodic tables.

New Hobby. Need Halp with my Burfday Present




I got a Fuji Finepix s9000 for my birthday and I haven't even touched it yet. Fact is...I'm scared of the thing. Scared of breaking it, scared of taking crappy pictures, but wanting to take pictures. I just don't know where to begin. I love photography, and I want to include my own photos in the body of my essays, and this stupid fear of overwhelming lousiness is just keeping me frozen out of the enjoyment of my birthday present. I am hoping some of the people who read this little blog might be able to give me some good advice on taking pictures and just using the camera. I don't even know what the terms are, and from reading the reviews at Amazon, this is a pretty technical camera, and although I have the manual, I've downloaded it so that I can embiggen the print - my eyes don't see as well as they used to.
Anyway, I appreciate the feedback and encouragement in my new midlife crisis.
(Apparently,  I am not the only one blogging with a fear of making videos or taking pictures.)

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Why This Commercial Works in the Middle East

Advertisers know their customers and their cultures, which is why you can have an ad like this in Denmark and not in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania:



With this in mind, you can understand why the following montage of Arabic language commercials for Panda Cheese works in Arab cultures to Arab audiences. Bottom line: If you are destructive of other people's property when you don't get your way, you will ultimately get your way, anyway.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

She's Tired of Lovin' Her Man

In response to Jean Kaufman @ Right Network. Yes, She's tired. We're all tired. We have a concussion, from the daily assaults on our minds and souls by this administration. And when you have a concussion, you have to be ever more alert, otherwise you will sink into a stupor and just drift off into a happy but terminal little coma. Must. Stay. Awake....Aaaaaaaah, but The feeling is gone. We're tired. Tired of being in love.

video

Here are the lyrics, in case you want to internalize her memo:



Here I stand, the goddess of Desire
Set men on fire
I have this power
Morning noon and night it's drink and dancing
Some quick romancing
And then a shower
Stage door johnnies constantly surround me
They always hound me
With one request
Who can satisfy their lustful habits
I'm not a rabbit
I need some rest

I'm tired
Sick and tired of love
I've had my fill of love
From below and above
Tired, tired of being admired
Tired of love uninspired
Let's face it
I'm tired

I've been with thousands of men
Again and again
They promise the moon
They always coming and going
And going and coming
And always too soon
Right girls?

I'm tired,
Tired of playing the game
Ain't it a crying shame
I'm so tired
God dammit I'm exhausted

Tired, tired of playing the game
Ain't it a crying shame
I'm so tired

[Soldiers:]
She's tired (She's tired)
Sick and tired of love (Give her a break)
She's had her fill of love (She's not a snake)
From below and above (Can't you see she's sick)
Tired (She's bushed)
Tired of being admired (Let her alone)
Tired of love uninspired (Get off the phone)
She's tired (Don't you know she's pooped)

I've been with thousands of men
Again and again
They sing the same tune
They start with Byron and Shelly
And jump on your belly
And bust your balloon
Oy!

Tired, tired of playing the game
Ain't it a freakin' shame
I'm so...
Let's face it everything below the waist is kapput!

[Soldiers:]
Tired! 

Yes....we're just, so very, very tired, too, Lily.

Monday, September 20, 2010

The Next Time Someone calls you a Teabagger

When they throw their insults at you, take them, market them, and use them on T-shirts and hats. THAT's the Capitalist Way, my fellow Teabaggers of the Vast Right-Wing Conspiracy!

Dream Debate: O'Donnell vs. Stephanopoulos and Coons

Via Ace of Spades HQ, who's in the thick and thin of it. Most delicious fantasy debate. How I wish I could steal this for The Blasphemous Book and apply it to Our Fav'rite Proph.

From Andrew's Problem:


Highlights From A Future Debate

Update: Score. Thanks Ace.

Wherein I try to do something topical. Background can be found here, in case you don't follow this sort of thing.

And...go.
 
 Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the first official debate of this election cycle. I'm George Stephanopoulos, and with me tonight are two candidates for the United States Senate, Delaware Democrat Chris Coons, and Republican Christine O'Donnell.

 Hello George, it's a pleasure to be here.

YOUR VOICE IS THE PITIFUL WHINE OF GNATS, AND YOU REEK WITH THE STINK OF FEAR.


Outstanding. The format tonight will be as follows: I'll ask each of you a question, and you will have two  minutes to respond. Your opponent will then have one minute in which to offer a rebuttal. Christine O'Donnell, the first question goes to you: The economic stimulus bill passed last year has been the topic of much discussion. Some argue that it gave the American economy a much-needed shot in the arm, while others claim that it's effects have been marginal or even harmful. What is your opinion on this, and what, if anything, should we have done differently?

JUST AS THE GODDESS CIRCE DID DECEIVE THE COMPANIONS OF ODYSSEUS INTO DRINKING OF THE ENCHANTED WINE, SO DID PRESIDENT OBAMA THROUGH HIS CUNNING DECEIVE THE AMERICAN PEOPLE. HE HAS BOUND OUR ECONOMY TO THE YOKE OF PUBLIC SPENDING, MUCH AS THE TRICKSTER GOD LOKI WAS BOUND BY ODIN TO THE ENTRAILS OF HIS SON, NARI, WHOSE SCREAMS WERE AS THE CRIES OF A THOUSAND DYING EAGLES.

 And Chris Coons, what do you have to say to that?

George, this is the same empty argument we've been hearing from the Republicans for years. I think it's time we put the machinations of Loki in the past, and looked ahead to the future. This sort of Scandinavian Neo-paganism is bad for Delaware, and it's bad for America.

Okay, next question, again for Christine O'Donnell. You've spoken critically in the past about modern sexual mores in America, and been an outspoken advocate for anti-abortion, pro-abstinence policies. Why is it that you feel such policies are preferable to the ones proposed by your opponents?

THERE IS ONLY THE GODSELF, AND THE PATH THERETO IS THROUGH THE BLACK HEART OF INNOCENCE. AMIDST THE LAMENTATIONS OF THE PRIESTS, I DID PARTAKE OF THE RITE OF KNOWING. I UTTERED THE FIFTY NAMES OF MARDUK, THE WRATHFUL ONE, AND UPON THE ALTAR HE DIDST APPEAR TO FILL MY WOMB WITH THE PROGENY OF VIPERS, AND ETERNITY WAS ASSIGNED TO ME WITHOUT END.

There is so much more to savor, but you'll have to traipse over there and read it yourselves.

Teeth Grinder

Doing my duty and passing it on. From SondraK


Piping Mad: Fair People at the Mercy of a Government Gone Fowl from Kevin Hicks on Vimeo.

It is enough to make you weep. What a perfect subterfuge. How to steal a man's property in the name of saving it for the birds. I hope, that on the way out, the people of Hatteras burn the whole thing down. Including the judge's house.
The tyrants in this country aren't just our kleptocratic congress, it's the environmentally ill lunatics and lawyers. They are the enemy, too.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

"I thought once how Theocritus had sung..."


 I thought once how Theocritus had sung
Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,
Who each one in a gracious hand appears
To bear a gift for mortals, old or young:
And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,
I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,
Those of my own life, who by turns had flung
A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware,
So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move
Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair;
And a voice said in mastery, while I strove, ---
'Guess now who holds thee?' --- 'Death,' I said. But, there,
The silver answer rang, --- 'Not Death, but Love.'

A soft kiss, lips barely touching the nape of the neck, is as erotic as the imagery of this poem.