Nov

21

Mud flats.

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When D and I moved this past summer, the new digs had, shall we say, a rather low-key garden. A nice flowering tree in the front, a few azaleas and rhododendrons and small conifers to frame the front door, and a lot of grass. So we decided to build some raised beds and fill them with dirt. As it turns out, it is much cheaper, on a per-unit-volume basis, to buy dirt in bulk. So when the man came with five cubic yards, it made rather the dirt pile.

The dirt pile was placed upon the gravel in the front of the house, right alongside the street. The idea being that, when we were done moving what we wanted to move around back or to elsewhere in the front, we’d knock down the pile and plant grass. Or some other ground cover. Great idea, if we’d been speedier.

Unfortunately, we weren’t quick enough. The pile stayed in the front in one form or another for months. Until, two weeks ago, we finally gave up moving anything else and knocked the fucker down. And planted grass seed. In November. The rainy season in Olympia. Needless to say, we now have a mud puddle with a bunch of unsprouted and likely decaying grass seed buried therein in our front yard. Pretty, no?

The thought now is to purchase sod. Or else see if we can get moss to intervene. Any other suggestions?

Nov

21

Cunt vs. nigger.

Filed Under Language | Leave a Comment

I have met the occasional easily offended individual that recoils every time I utter one of Carlin’s seven. Well, maybe not “piss.”

But most people seem increasingly comfortable with the taboo vulgarity of the past becoming the mainstream slang of today. “Bitch” has become a term of endearment; “motherfucker” an expression of disbelief (think Marcellus Wallace carrying the box of doughnuts and seeing Butch behind the wheel of Fabienne’s Honda); “shit” an expression of regret; and “fuck”…well, “fuck” has come to mean pretty much anything and everything.

The one exception to the mainstreamization of dirty words is “cunt.” And I say that because I’ve still met an awful lot of otherwise enlightened twenty-first century foxes that hesitate slightly before using “cunt.”

What’s replaced these taboos are the racial and ethnic slurs: “spic,” “kike,” “gook,” and “nigger.” The majority of which, I would admit, I have a problem with. Does that make me “unenlightened”? Or is there a fundamental difference between the objective offensiveness of, say, “cunt” as opposed to “nigger”?

I would submit that there is. The insults I find acceptable, like “dumb cunt,” “sack of shit,” “meathead,” “dumbass,” or “bat-shit-insane motherfucker” all have, at their core, something other than a human. Take “bitch,” for example. Female dog, right? Legitimate word. And essentially what you’re doing when you refer to someone as a “bitch” is characterizing them as similar, in some specified or unspecified way, to a female dog. Perhaps “yappy” is the core characteristic? Or perhaps “vindictive”? Or simply “not very bright”? But the important thing is that the insult is customized to the individual, and highlights negative qualities by reference to something not human.

But, you’re wondering, what about “motherfucker”? Isn’t that a human: a person who has sexual relations with his mother? Well, I think the core of “motherfucker” is the act of motherfucking, not so much the individual involved. I know, I know: it’s a stretch.

So how does that distinguish from racial and ethnic slurs? The core point then becomes, when the word “nigger” is thrown about as an insult, is that the target shares characteristics with “niggers” as a group. And that, on its face, is objectionable. You’re no longer comparing an individual unfavorably to a bucket of feces, a well-worn vagina, or a particularly brainless fanny. Instead, you’re comparing an individual unfavorably to a racial or ethnic group. Big no no. No?

Nov

20

American-flag cake.

Filed Under Humor | Leave a Comment

Apparently, The Onion has a new book out. One of headlines. So a couple of editors were interviewed on Morning Edition. Poorly interviewed, I might add. Note to reporters everywhere: repeating jokes without the benefit of a practiced delivery, then laughing, does not make for good news coverage. Repeating the same mistake over and over? Easy fail.

Nevertheless, I found myself tearing up when the 9/11 coverage was mentioned. Specifically, the Not Knowing What Else To Do, Woman Bakes American-Flag Cake story. I don’t know why, but most 9/11-themed media coverage leaves me cold. No significant reaction during “The Daily Show” coverage, or United 93. But The Onion’s “Holy Fucking Shit” pieces, and Howard Stern’s original 9/11 broadcast, fuck me up every time. Whether off-hand and unexpected, or the core focus, I’m Sobby McSobstein when it comes to The Onion and men driving planes into skyscrapers.

Nov

15

Torpedo.

Filed Under Food & Drink, Language | Leave a Comment

Being in the mood for an especially hoppy India Pale Ale, and being at the market with Sierra Nevada products bearing a sale price, I thought I’d purchase a six of Torpedo. Mistake? Perhaps. It isn’t that it’s a bad beer; it has certain charms. But it isn’t an IPA. It’s an extra special bitter. Somewhat disappointing. But more jarring is that the label identifies “Torpedo” as “Extra IPA Ale.” Which, like “ATM machine” and “PIN number” before it, bothers the piss out of the grammarian in me.

Nov

12

Wafer Stick.

Filed Under Food & Drink | 2 Comments

When Y took D and I to Paldo World a few weeks back, we picked up a tub of Flying Elephant-brand “strawberry flavor” “wafer stick.” Essentially cheap Pirouettes, these snack foods are absurdly addictive. One thing about them puzzles me, though: inside the package, there were two wafers that were individually wrapped. What’s up with that?

Nov

11

And then the jury opened up a can of “no.”

Filed Under Law, Olympia | 1 Comment

After yesterday’s disappointing verdict, I get the distinct impression that the sorts of people who respond to jury summons also, by and large, believe law enforcement are scrupulously honest. The testimony contained blatant exaggerations, bat shit insane decrees–one Olympia Police Department officer essentially said, “if I’m aiming for a tertiary target (e.g. a neck) with a baton with a swinging motion, I’m aiming to kill,” turning the whole idea of “deadly force” on its head–contradicted-by-on-the-spot-video oral ejaculates, and a general theme of “if they’re aren’t permanent injuries, the force couldn’t have been excessive.” Nevertheless, the jury of eight concluded in just over three hours that the amount of force each officer used was, well, objectively reasonable. Ouch.

For the future, I do need to polish my “proximity matters” argument regarding First Amendment issues, especially if I’m going to successfully challenge the idea of free speech zones. And I’ll have to be more particular about getting the best quality video possible to the jury. Finally, I’ll have to watch to see whether OPD changes General Order 1.3 to avoid the potential problem that, so long as an officer is able to articulate how a particular instance of “force was reasonable and how it conformed to the law,” that use of force is in accordance with policy.

Oct

31

Halloween.

Filed Under Personal | Leave a Comment

So, are children so far removed from their responsibilities to society at this point that the first two words of “trick or treat” have been rendered meaningless? If I refuse to hand out candy to today’s youth, am I safe? If so, I’m disappointed, and fear for the future.

On a related note, unlike in years past, on this go-around, D and I received a sizeable number of minors at our house, begging for sweets. Double digits, actually. Which, based upon our experiences at past residences in Olympia, we were unprepared for. As in, we hadn’t purchased sufficient quantity of chocolate. Oops. In a moment of panic, as we disgorged our last two pieces into the pillowcase of a lonely, straw-haired child, we scrambled to find alternate forms of sugar that might be acceptable.

Should we bake brownies? Should we hand out this Fall’s crop of Mallomars? Of course not: they’re not individually wrapped. We might have put poison on them. Or whatever it is that the insane parents of today worry about. What is prepackaged? Hmm…we’ve got a few bars of Trader Joe’s 72% cacao darks, originally procured for personal use. But what if more than three costumed solicitors come a-knocking? What about inedibles, where poison is less of a concern? Perhaps coins? No…remember what we did to the house that gave out the pennies when we were children. Shudder. Maybe…applesauce? Individually foiled applesauce containers? Can we really stoop to handing out applesauce?

We left four tubs of applesauce by the door until ten, at which point we breathed a sigh of relief that we didn’t need to test whether a “treat” of applesauce would be more insulting than no treat at all. Dodged a bullet with that one, no?

Oct

28

Dylan’s Christmas vs. Ken Tucker.

Filed Under Music | 1 Comment

I’m not sure I agree with NPR music critic Ken Tucker that Bob Dylan’s voice sounding awful on his new Christmas album is bullshit criticism. Frankly, I too find the sorts of songs where Dylan can make his, well, limited vocal range work are many. But that collection does not include most traditional Christmas songs, which require a much stronger set of pipes. Judging from the clips interspersed between Mr. Tucker’s review, unless the entire album is actually intended as a joke, I’m not going to be buying.

But I do appreciate Mr. Tucker’s describing Dylan’s “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” as sounding “more like a threat than a promise.” So maybe, for charity, I ought to give Christmas in the Heart a try.

Oct

27

Ingmar Bergman’s Field of Dreams.

Filed Under Film | Leave a Comment

I’ve never been much of an Ingmar Bergman fan. Wild Strawberries was good, I suppose. But Seventh Seal and Fanny & Alexander bored me to tears. I’ve also was never that enthusiastic for Field of Dreams–it isn’t even my favorite baseball-related Kevin Costner film. I would imagine I’d feel different if I were somewhat older. Or had a falling out with my father. Or something.

But I do appreciate recut trailers. And this one’s pretty quality. So enjoy: Ingmar Bergman’s lost classic, Field of Dreams.

[From Pajiba.]

Oct

24

Baldo vs. talking animals.

Filed Under Print Media | 1 Comment

I am a devoted newspaper comics reader. Indeed, the only strip that does not appear in the daily Olympian that I cannot abide is the wretched Family Circus, which, like most of the movies used on Mystery Science Theater 3000, is only palatable when modified by humorists.

But I do regularly read Baldo. Which is why I’m sort of bothered by the recent Yenny Lopez crossover storyline that started last Sunday. It isn’t so much the overtly sexual overtones that really don’t fit with what had heretofore been a relatively family-friendly comic. It isn’t even the creepiness of Papi hitting on the same chica as Baldo. Or the Internet stalking theme.

No, it’s that fucking talking iguana that appeared in today’s strip. Some comics–Get Fuzzy, Garfield, Peanuts, Dilbert–have talking animals. Others–For Better or For Worse, Blondie, Pickles–don’t. Baldo has been a no-talking-animals comic for as long as I’ve read it…until now. Because some hootchy imported character apparently ascribes to different rules. Boo-urns. I’m this close to boycotting.


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