Showing posts with label Misc. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Misc. Show all posts
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Monday, October 31, 2011
The Empty Truck: A True Story of Paranormal Activity
I did not write this. This story was posted on Jezebel's "Send Us Your Scariest Ghost Stories" on Friday, October 28 by SorciaMacnasty. The title is mine. Please note that they specifically asked for true stories. What terrifies me about this one, other than that it's apparently true, is the same thing that unnerved me about Silvia Garcia-Moreno's story "Flash Frame": those loose ends left dangling and sense of malignant forces at work. The unexplained is always far, far more disturbing than having a nice, neat answer that allows things to make sense. Oh and did I mention this story is supposed to be true?
Update January 2012: Here is Sorcia's blog.
We have never figured this out. And now, the three living witnesses have to be good and fucking druuuunk to discuss the whole thing.
I was 7, my brother 10, my mom in her early 40s, my grandmother (her mom) in her 60's. So we were all cogent. No one was too young or too senile to not recall this nonsense. Yet, still no bloody answer.
Grandma lived on an isolated country road in NC that was named after her family since they were the only crazy fuckers who lived on the land for about 1000 acres. And I *do* mean crazy. We have stories about relatives that start with, "You remember that time Uncle Bob was in the ditch with a shotgun?" "WHICH TIME?!"
Her house had been empty for several weeks while she'd been visiting us in Florida, but we were all back, spending the weekend with her before trekking back to the Sunshine state. The house is in the foreal country, literally over train-tracks, past a salvage yard and her nearest neighbor (a cousin -- everyone is related to everyone who owns a house on the road) ain't within screamin' distance. Yes, that seems to be a real system of measurement -- "screaming distance."
It's early in the AM, like just before daybreak. We're awake because these are farm freaks who wake at the crack of dawn from sheer ingrained habit. We're eating cereal when we hear someone pull up outside. Curious, we all run to the big picture window that looks onto the front yard. There is a strange truck there. No one seems to be behind the wheel, though the engine is idling. The truck is... well, old, for one thing. It's old-timey like from maybe the 1930's? You could picture the Joad Family heading to California in this thing. It's rusted but it was probably once painted blue.
We stare at the thing, bewildered. Mom asks grandma if she knows who that is. Nope, not a clue, says grandma. She runs to get the phone to call her cousin and ask him to come up -- she thinks maybe it's a hired hand and he's just at the wrong farm. Just as she asks him to come on down, the phone goes dead. Well, that's unsettling.
All at once, there is a loud, insistent banging on the front door. We all scream. My grandma, who is terrifyingly resourceful, huddles us all into the living room, away from a window where anyone can see us. Then, while mom, me and my brother tremble there on the couch, she grabs a serrated bread knife from the kitchen and cautiously approaches the front door. She peeks out a side window, very stealthily. She turns back to us and looks confused. She shakes her head, like, "No one is there." We all kind of breathe easier.
Then EVERY goddamn door in the house is banging -- relentlessly. I can still hear it. Rhythmic and terrifying, like all the doors are about to splinter and crack. There were two doors in the basement beneath us, so the sound is also a reverberation at our feet. The three ground-floor doors are shaking -- we can see them trembling and jerking on their hinges from our vantage point on the couch. Finally, mom runs to the window -- either from a psychotic break with reality or terror, I have no clue. She cries, "Oh thank Christ -- Cousin is here!" We run to her and peek out the picture window -- there is no one that we can see in the yard, but we can't see all the doors from our viewpoint.
Cousin walks by truck with a shotgun in his hand. Cousin, it should be noted, has pretty much every gun ever made. He looks puzzled, looking at the rear of the truck, then he glances in the cab window and he stops. He goes pale, runs a hand down his face. Then he RUNS towards to house, towards us.
My grandmother flings open the kitchen door as she sees him coming. He shouts, "Everyone get behind the couch! Get DOWN!" He runs past us as we bolt for the couch. The banging starts AGAIN, all the doors and now we can hear the windows rattle. It's like a tornado or the end of the world. We are too scared to even scream. Cousin flings open the front door and fires the huge shotgun, once, BANG, deafening. As he does, the truck roars into life and it sounds like a train. We scramble up; the banging stops, mercifully. Cousin is advancing onto the lawn, gun leveled at the truck. We run behind him, wanting to be out of that shaking, quivering house and near the dude with the gun. The truck peals out, backwards, cutting across the yard and racing into a breakneck speed. Tires sqeal, rubber is burned. Cousin fires again and we all cower behind him. He blows out the back window with the sound of a thousand plates smashing into linoleum but the truck never even hiccups, just roars down the road. No tags, not even a vanity plate on the back.
There was NO ONE behind the wheel of that thing.
We all had a clear view. Everyone agreed. Not a driver in the cab.
Well.
Not anything we could SEE, anyhow.
The police were called. The phone line had been cut. There was not a single boot print in the entire yard except Cousin's, from where he'd run into and out of the house. Cousin reported that there had been no plate but when he looked into the cab, it looked like "something from a horror movie." He said there were all kinds of weird restraints -- handcuffs, c-clamps, nylon straps -- and he said the floorboards looked covered in what "smelled like" blood to him (Cousin was famous for his keen sense of smell and the window was down, so it's possible).
Cousin said he thought he saw a blur of something out the picture window and ran to fire the first shot, but "missed" because, once he stood there, nothing or no one was on the lawn or in the truck. Then it shot backwards out of the yard and out of our lives, leaving no answers, just a deep sense of unease every time we'd visit.
Grandma and Cousin have passed. Deeply religious people, they stuck by their unchanging versions of the story until they died. My brother, mother and I have never been able to figure it out -- neither did the cops, I think it should be noted. We don't know how all the windows and doors were banging, and we don't know why we never saw a SOUL anywhere or how they could get around the sides of the house without leaving a trace in the damp earth.
In a subsequent comment, SorciaMacnasty stated the following:
What's really insane is that I live about 20 miles from that house now in an old (early 1900's) farm house myself. Because I am clearly a glutton for punishment.
ALSO: Just a couple of years ago, we found out something that *may* help explain the mystery, but it would be a purely supernatural explanation and we're not really sure. Apparently, there was a farm hand during the Depression who was fired by my great-grandfather because the guy weirded-out the livestock. That dude was fucking pissed and stole some tools before he left. Well, we kinda knew that part of the story. BUT, we recently found out that after he was lynched by a small town mob a few years later because they suspected him of raping and torturing a family -- a family that consisted of a mother, her two kids, and an elderly grandmother.
EXACTLY the same fucking family that was in our house that day.
Riddle me that, motherfuckers.
Update January 2012: Here is Sorcia's blog.
We have never figured this out. And now, the three living witnesses have to be good and fucking druuuunk to discuss the whole thing.
I was 7, my brother 10, my mom in her early 40s, my grandmother (her mom) in her 60's. So we were all cogent. No one was too young or too senile to not recall this nonsense. Yet, still no bloody answer.
Grandma lived on an isolated country road in NC that was named after her family since they were the only crazy fuckers who lived on the land for about 1000 acres. And I *do* mean crazy. We have stories about relatives that start with, "You remember that time Uncle Bob was in the ditch with a shotgun?" "WHICH TIME?!"
Her house had been empty for several weeks while she'd been visiting us in Florida, but we were all back, spending the weekend with her before trekking back to the Sunshine state. The house is in the foreal country, literally over train-tracks, past a salvage yard and her nearest neighbor (a cousin -- everyone is related to everyone who owns a house on the road) ain't within screamin' distance. Yes, that seems to be a real system of measurement -- "screaming distance."
It's early in the AM, like just before daybreak. We're awake because these are farm freaks who wake at the crack of dawn from sheer ingrained habit. We're eating cereal when we hear someone pull up outside. Curious, we all run to the big picture window that looks onto the front yard. There is a strange truck there. No one seems to be behind the wheel, though the engine is idling. The truck is... well, old, for one thing. It's old-timey like from maybe the 1930's? You could picture the Joad Family heading to California in this thing. It's rusted but it was probably once painted blue.
We stare at the thing, bewildered. Mom asks grandma if she knows who that is. Nope, not a clue, says grandma. She runs to get the phone to call her cousin and ask him to come up -- she thinks maybe it's a hired hand and he's just at the wrong farm. Just as she asks him to come on down, the phone goes dead. Well, that's unsettling.
All at once, there is a loud, insistent banging on the front door. We all scream. My grandma, who is terrifyingly resourceful, huddles us all into the living room, away from a window where anyone can see us. Then, while mom, me and my brother tremble there on the couch, she grabs a serrated bread knife from the kitchen and cautiously approaches the front door. She peeks out a side window, very stealthily. She turns back to us and looks confused. She shakes her head, like, "No one is there." We all kind of breathe easier.
Then EVERY goddamn door in the house is banging -- relentlessly. I can still hear it. Rhythmic and terrifying, like all the doors are about to splinter and crack. There were two doors in the basement beneath us, so the sound is also a reverberation at our feet. The three ground-floor doors are shaking -- we can see them trembling and jerking on their hinges from our vantage point on the couch. Finally, mom runs to the window -- either from a psychotic break with reality or terror, I have no clue. She cries, "Oh thank Christ -- Cousin is here!" We run to her and peek out the picture window -- there is no one that we can see in the yard, but we can't see all the doors from our viewpoint.
Cousin walks by truck with a shotgun in his hand. Cousin, it should be noted, has pretty much every gun ever made. He looks puzzled, looking at the rear of the truck, then he glances in the cab window and he stops. He goes pale, runs a hand down his face. Then he RUNS towards to house, towards us.
My grandmother flings open the kitchen door as she sees him coming. He shouts, "Everyone get behind the couch! Get DOWN!" He runs past us as we bolt for the couch. The banging starts AGAIN, all the doors and now we can hear the windows rattle. It's like a tornado or the end of the world. We are too scared to even scream. Cousin flings open the front door and fires the huge shotgun, once, BANG, deafening. As he does, the truck roars into life and it sounds like a train. We scramble up; the banging stops, mercifully. Cousin is advancing onto the lawn, gun leveled at the truck. We run behind him, wanting to be out of that shaking, quivering house and near the dude with the gun. The truck peals out, backwards, cutting across the yard and racing into a breakneck speed. Tires sqeal, rubber is burned. Cousin fires again and we all cower behind him. He blows out the back window with the sound of a thousand plates smashing into linoleum but the truck never even hiccups, just roars down the road. No tags, not even a vanity plate on the back.
There was NO ONE behind the wheel of that thing.
We all had a clear view. Everyone agreed. Not a driver in the cab.
Well.
Not anything we could SEE, anyhow.
The police were called. The phone line had been cut. There was not a single boot print in the entire yard except Cousin's, from where he'd run into and out of the house. Cousin reported that there had been no plate but when he looked into the cab, it looked like "something from a horror movie." He said there were all kinds of weird restraints -- handcuffs, c-clamps, nylon straps -- and he said the floorboards looked covered in what "smelled like" blood to him (Cousin was famous for his keen sense of smell and the window was down, so it's possible).
Cousin said he thought he saw a blur of something out the picture window and ran to fire the first shot, but "missed" because, once he stood there, nothing or no one was on the lawn or in the truck. Then it shot backwards out of the yard and out of our lives, leaving no answers, just a deep sense of unease every time we'd visit.
Grandma and Cousin have passed. Deeply religious people, they stuck by their unchanging versions of the story until they died. My brother, mother and I have never been able to figure it out -- neither did the cops, I think it should be noted. We don't know how all the windows and doors were banging, and we don't know why we never saw a SOUL anywhere or how they could get around the sides of the house without leaving a trace in the damp earth.
In a subsequent comment, SorciaMacnasty stated the following:
What's really insane is that I live about 20 miles from that house now in an old (early 1900's) farm house myself. Because I am clearly a glutton for punishment.
ALSO: Just a couple of years ago, we found out something that *may* help explain the mystery, but it would be a purely supernatural explanation and we're not really sure. Apparently, there was a farm hand during the Depression who was fired by my great-grandfather because the guy weirded-out the livestock. That dude was fucking pissed and stole some tools before he left. Well, we kinda knew that part of the story. BUT, we recently found out that after he was lynched by a small town mob a few years later because they suspected him of raping and torturing a family -- a family that consisted of a mother, her two kids, and an elderly grandmother.
EXACTLY the same fucking family that was in our house that day.
Riddle me that, motherfuckers.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Sweet Sleeping Cthulhu
I log onto Facebook and find that this redneck I knew in high school had posted the following message a total of forty-four times over a half-hour period:
oh noes! teh negros haz viktory! mah hed asplodes!
Seriously, how desperate can you be?
To give you more context - several months ago he posted a comment full of n-bombs about how if it's okay for black people to be racist against white people, then we can be racist against them too! Apparently he was angry over an interview with some NFL player and decided a dumbass jock represented every black person in the country.
oh noes! teh negros haz viktory! mah hed asplodes!
Seriously, how desperate can you be?
To give you more context - several months ago he posted a comment full of n-bombs about how if it's okay for black people to be racist against white people, then we can be racist against them too! Apparently he was angry over an interview with some NFL player and decided a dumbass jock represented every black person in the country.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
More Anne
Unclutterer has a new post answering the question of how a tchotchke-free home can be inviting. Here's what Anne had to say:
. . . And now when I travel I purposely avoid buying decorative objects just for the sake of it. Alternatively (as I used to do) you could buy the very cheap, but modern and stylish, made-in-China ornaments that are readily available these days and just throw them away when necessary (such as when moving home). I find that objects only feel like clutter when they are difficult/expensive/too valuable to throw away (and to hell with the green you-must-recycle-everything preachers!).To which I replied:
Oh dear. Are you the same Anne who a few days ago was just proclaiming that anyone who enjoys owning physical books is a hoarder unworthy of this hallowed website? Soooo . . . it sounds like those empty shelves of yours, after you destroyed your books, are being used to house cheap, disposable crap made in Third World countries with questionable labor practices. To hell with social justice and the environment!Really, you say the darndest things.
If you have a perfectly good item you no longer want, sell it or give it away. In the meantime, you'll have to find a place in which to store it. Which then makes it . . . clutter.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Update
My checked bag went to Tulsa!
Finally two days later I get it back. Meanwhile, my laptop died and took my MP3 player with it. The computer power cord was located in said bag that went to Tulsa. And I can't recharge my Sandisk without it because it has to plug into a USB port. So I had no Internet and no music until 7:00 this evening, when I found a ride and hauled myself down to the local airport, where I knew said bag was now located. United Airlines was just incapable of delivering it.
Conversations in the Cathedral was also in said bag. I could've spent the last two days reading it! But on the upside, I got a $50 gift certificate towards my next airline tickets. Hopefully I can also get the $25 baggage check fee refunded too.
Oh well, other than that, I loved my trip and promise to get back to regular blogging right away. I've finished two books. One was well-written but way too long. The other was awesome until about three-quarters of the way through, when the plot exploded into an epic hot mess. Will be writing all about it!
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Greetings from Albuquerque
As you may have noticed, my blogging has been nonexistent as of late. That's because I'm on vacation! I've been in Albuquerque since Saturday visiting family.
My opinion of the place has really changed - the first two times I went, I hated it. It was a brown, run-down wasteland. But then I got to visit all the boutiques and historical sites and see all the art and architecture and I love it! Central Avenue and Nob Hill are full of great places such as Peacecraft, AstroZombie, Stilo, Buffalo Exchange, and Masks Y Mas, where you can find the most unique and funky things imaginable. Even just walking the streets is a visual treat. The people here just live and breathe art. Even the highways and overpasses make use of color, landscaping, and sculpture.
Then you head to Old Town and find authentic Navajo and Pueblo pottery, weaving, jewelry, and crafts. I didn't realize how different the culture here is. New Mexico is very Hispanic and Native American and at times seems indistinguishable from old Mexico. When you've lived out East all your life you never think about American regional differences but I really felt like I was in another country. A modern suburb that's all adobe? Awesome. I wish New York had this much Native American influence.
So anyway, as you've probably guessed, I spent way too much money. Here's what I bought in Albuquerque:
Brazil Nut Tree pod candle (Peacecraft)
Painted bottlecap magnet (Stilo)
Small ceramic bowl (Hanselman Pottery)
Carved wood and painted coyote from Oaxaca (Old Town)
Ironwood carved coyote (Old Town)
Coyote magnet: "Sometimes you just have to howl." (Old Town)
Secondhand leather boots (Buffalo Exchange)
Secondhand Teva sneakers (Buffalo Exchange)
Secondhand homemade blue dress (Buffalo Exchange)
And then today I had to go to Sante Fe, which is like Old Town only bigger! I also bought:
Coyote sand-painted magnet
Coyote figure made of Navajo clay
Small woven square from Mexico
I love coyotes.
Tomorrow is my last full day and I think I'd like to spend it hiking. In the meantime, I have a full reading schedule with several books lined up. (Notice to Emily: Our Horses in Egypt actually did come but it went to my parents' house and they were saving it until I got there, right before I left for NM. I will start it as soon as I finish Silence in October.) Will return to regular blogging next week.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Snow FAIL
I am told that a big monster Snowmageddon has engulfed the Northeast and turned the whole region into the Ninth Circle of Hell. Schools were closed, roadways shut down, 13,000 flights canceled, buildings collapsed, and ten people are reportedly dead.
This did not occur where I live.
Downtown at 5:30 this morning.According to the local paper, we got 2-4 inches last night and another 2-4 inches late in the afternoon. Now this is a city located in upstate New York that sees an average of 92.3 inches of snow per winter with daily temperatures in the twenties, sometimes well below. So this recent turn of events is more than a little ironic.
(This continues to amuse me greatly.)
*sigh* Well, I was hoping for my workplace's first snow day since 1991. But on the upside, the washing machine in my building has been broken since at least Saturday (if not before), which necessitated a ten-minute walk this evening to the laundromat. I am very grateful that the trek was feasible and the place was open because I had no socks or underwear left. Except they charge two dollars to use the washing machine and another two for the dryer! I didn't have enough quarters and had to put a five-dollar bill into the coin machine. Now I have an ungodly amount of change.
So, that was me for today. Any other anticlimactic snow stories out there?
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Merry Christmas!
So what books did Santa bring me? A $25 Barnes & Noble giftcard, which I shall spend tomorrow. I also received a pair of Bose speakers for my laptop and MP3 player, a 76-piece toolkit (?!) from my dad, and new pajamas. My sister received D.M. Cornish's Foundling from me.
I hope everyone enjoyed their presents and has a happy holiday season.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Job Update
I went down to sign some paperwork today for my new job. I then spent the afternoon apartment-hunting and found the cutest studio in the best part of town. This is the area with all the bistros, boutiques, cafes, galleries, museums, and vintage architecture. The landlord offered to reduce the rent a bit but I still need a little more off. *fingers crossed*
If I can get this place that would be awesome beyond belief.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
*** NEW JOB ***
You may recall from a Sunday Salon post a couple weeks ago that I had a job interview for a library assistant position. Well, guess what. . .
I GOT IT!!!!
I am SO HAPPY RIGHT NOW! I am going to be working in a LIBRARY and I FINALLY get to MOVE OUT OF MY PARENTS' HOUSE WHICH I HAVE BEEN WANTING TO DO EVER SINCE I GRADUATED TWO YEARS AGO!! Wheee!
The job begins Monday, August 30. I have family I can stay with until I find an apartment (moving to a new city, yay!) but I'm not sure how this is going to impact my reading and blogging. I'll be posting on the rest of Purgatorio within the next couple of days for Richard's Dante read-along. Paradiso is scheduled for September 3-5; plus there's In the American Grain coming up on August 27 for the Non-Structured Book Club. And I still have three more books for the Horrible Dare Challenge, which ends September 21. And I still need to read and review all 640 of Karen Tei Yamashita's I Hotel for The Front Table, although that review is due "at your leisure" so I think I can hold it off a bit longer. I may have to skip In the American Grain (*sniffle*) and I'll definitely be late for Paradiso. But we'll see how things work out.
(This library has over three million books so I don't think I have to worry about finding a copy of anything ever again!)
Now I know a lot of other book bloggers work in libraries too, either as librarians or in some other capacity. I can think of Frances and debnance off the top of my head but I know there's a ton more. Soooo - shout out! Who else is part of the club?
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Post-Modern Disney
This is my new luggage tag that I bought in the bookstore at JFK on our way to Disney World. It is from Paperchase's Happy Noodle collection and it is fracking cute. If you do not think it is Super Kawaii, I will fight you. :D
So anyway, as I discussed last week, I went to Disney World in Orlando for three days, including two days for traveling from upstate New York to Florida. While I was there, we went first to the Magical Kingdom, and then to Hollywood Studios and Epcot Center. As I mentioned previously, I was less than enthused about spending my spring vacation at Disney World. Having since returned from there, I still feel that I would have enjoyed it more if I was a kid.
But it was still an interesting experience. Jean Baudrillard, famous for his theories on simulacra, once described the Disney amusement parks as the most real places on earth. While they present mock-ups of Main Street USA, the Golden Age of Hollywood, and various foreign countries (Epcot), they never pretend to be anything other than what they are: amusement parks. I kept thinking back to this idea as I passed through all the attractions. On the one hand, certain areas of Disney World, such as Main Street and the Epcot international exhibits, really do feel real. Until you realize that the illusion is too perfect - everything is painted, pruned, and maintained to an impossible degree, and the "character" of the place being simulated (i.e. the Old World charm of Paris and Italy, the quaint nostalgic feel of Main Street) feels too self-aware.
One of my favorite rides was the Twilight Zone Terror Tower in Hollywood Studios. Not for the ride itself, but for the set-up! An abandoned California hotel built in the 1918! (Cue that Eagles song.) The attention to landscaping, architecture, and interior decorating was so meticulous it felt like a movie set. It was everything an American horror/gothic setting could want - which is precisely the point. It's a space built on images and tropes from the collective cultural imagination, and it knows that. It never claims to be anything other than pure fantasy.
(Click here for some great photos of Hollywood Studios.)
The Muppet 3-D film was adorable and hilarious. I've always loved how the Muppets manage to appeal to both kids and adults alike.
The International Pavilions at Epcot were another high point. Although they aimed for authenticity (they were even staffed from people from each specific country), I couldn't help but to feel that they were operating, in part, on the same principle. Only in this case, it was seemed like the pavilions were partially constructed by American perceptions of other nations. The French gift shop, for example, was full of Eiffel Tower kitsch and Norway was mostly selling ski gear. But Morocco (the only pavilion actually sponsored by the country it represents) had this excellent lamb wrap that came with real couscous. I'm not a big meat eater but would definitely like to have more lamb in the future.
(I don't quite understand why Epcot has an American pavilion. Aren't we already in America?)
China had a film presented in CircleVision 360 that did a great job showcasing the natural beauty and ancient culture. But why oh why did they feel the need to mention Tienanmen Square? I understand that there's more to Tienanmen Square than GUY QUASHED BY TANK and EXECUTIONS GALORE - and that there's also a whole lot more to China than that - but seriously, WTF were they thinking? China's gift shop was totally awesome, though, and full of the neatest stuff imaginable. Japan was my other favorite gift shop. It was a great blend of traditional Japan and the contemporary anime stuff everyone loves.
But it was in Mexico that I purchased my hand-carved, hand-painted howling coyote from the Indians of Oaxaca. I love coyotes. It goes with my hand-carved wooden jaguar head covered with hundreds of tiny beads that I bought in Mexico City years ago. (I also got a little statue carved out of obsidian representing my birth month of October.)
Now would I go back to Disney World? Not anytime soon. There's only so much kiddie stuff I can take and I would really prefer to actually visit another country instead of a staged imitation. But overall, I got more out of the trip than I expected. Seeing Baudrillard's theories played out in real life was pretty cool. Added another layer to everything.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Cell Phone Blues
So I just read this story about Hugh Jackman's performance of "A Steady Rain" at the Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre in New York. During a tense moment in the play in which Jackman's character, a Chicago policeman, describes his haunting memories, someone's cell phone went off in the audience.
Jackman broke character and asked, "You want to get that?" The audience cheered. The ringing persisted. "Come on, just turn it off," Jackman pleaded. He then paced the stage for about a minute until the ringing stopped.
I got one better!
Umberto Eco and Salman Rushdie came to my school in spring of 2008 for an event hosted by Open Letter Press. They talked with the OLP director onstage. Then Rushdie read a selection of his upcoming novel The Enchantress of Florence, to be released in April 2008. Eco read from The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana.
Someone's cell phone went off!
Eco ignored it and just kept reading. Oh well, the ringtone was classical music. So at least it was, you know, a cultured interruption.
Jackman broke character and asked, "You want to get that?" The audience cheered. The ringing persisted. "Come on, just turn it off," Jackman pleaded. He then paced the stage for about a minute until the ringing stopped.
I got one better!
Umberto Eco and Salman Rushdie came to my school in spring of 2008 for an event hosted by Open Letter Press. They talked with the OLP director onstage. Then Rushdie read a selection of his upcoming novel The Enchantress of Florence, to be released in April 2008. Eco read from The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana.
Someone's cell phone went off!
Eco ignored it and just kept reading. Oh well, the ringtone was classical music. So at least it was, you know, a cultured interruption.
Friday, September 4, 2009
What Do You Think?
So I added this neat little fish widget to my sidebar. I first saw it on this blog, which looks really neat - major points for the *Cute'n'Cool* background! (I love Itkupilli's work.) So anyway, I thought the fish was so cute so I went here to make my own. Great way to add some liveliness without music. Sorry, but I hate when I log onto a blog and this music comes out of nowhere.
Problem is, the only way to customize your background image is to hot link. (I found mine on this site - it's a vintage wallpaper business.) But I've read in several places that hot linking is generally not a cool thing to do.
But the fish are just so awesome.
So what are your thoughts on the matter?
Problem is, the only way to customize your background image is to hot link. (I found mine on this site - it's a vintage wallpaper business.) But I've read in several places that hot linking is generally not a cool thing to do.
But the fish are just so awesome.
So what are your thoughts on the matter?
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Friday, December 12, 2008
HARRIET KLAUSNER
So I was just in DC for a few job interviews. I arrived at Reagan National Airport a bit early for my return flight and was left in the waiting area with nothing to do. I did have a copy of Thomas L. Friedman's The World is Flat, which my grandmother had sent to me with high praise, but I just didn't feel like reading it at the moment. I popped open my laptop and connected to the airport's free Wi-Fi and suddenly, for no reason at all, remembered that there is a series of books based on the paintings of Thomas Kinkade. So off to Amazon.com I went.
Oh yes indeed, they exist. Basically, they're Jan Karon rip-offs, but that doesn't stop people from giving them glowing five-star reviews, including this particular gem:
But I also discovered a phenomenon even more fascinating than the prospect of the Painter of Phosphorescent Kitsch turning out cozy small-town soap operas: that of the singular Harriet Klausner, Amazon über-reviewer, profiled two years ago in Time magazine for their ill-conceived "YOU are the Person of the Year!" (Because the new Internet is now user-driven – although to be fair, Friedman also talks about the new power of individual innovation in The World is Flat.) At the time of the article, she had written 12,896 reviews. Today, the number is approximately 17,895. I found her while gazing slack-jawed at the five-star acclaim for the fourth book in the Kinkade series, entitled A New Leaf. #1 reviewer, I thought, and yet she enjoyed this? I mean, presumably she's read many books and can write well about them; otherwise, she would not be so highly ranked. Right?
Wrong. I was suspicious right from the start – her review for A New Leaf sounded like it came from the publisher. She concisely summarized the plot, provided a single phrase of mild criticism, and then settled into a few sentences of warm but useless praise that could just as easily have been jacket copy. Here it is:
Clearly, you can polish off something of that ilk in about two minutes without even having read the book. In the Time piece she claims to be a speed reader who shoots through four to six books a day, and yet I'm not the only doubting that claim. Just perusing her reviews, one can find the occasional comment pointing out facts that she had gotten blatantly wrong. Most damning: John Birmingham, an author military fiction, slyly slipped a character named "Harriet Klausner" in his book Designated Targets. And so, quite predictably, Harriet came out with yet another vacuous five-star review that never once mentioned this. Shot down! Still others have pointed to the fact that she often posts multiple reviews in a single day. Now to be fair, I have done the same thing. But that's because all of my reviews were originally blog posts here (in other words, they were pre-written) and I suddenly, belatedly realized that more people would read them if I put them on Amazon. *smacks self in head* Now why did it take me three months to realize that. . . ?
But then again, I still think it's pretty obvious that I READ the damn books.
Here is a possible, partial explanation: the vast majority of books Klausner claims to have read are not exactly literary, and therefore not exactly novels you need to sit, ponder, and savor. As this article about Klausner on Bloggasm puts it:
Now before you accuse me of being an elitist, let it be known that not everything I read is high-brow. I happen to be very fond of Star Trek novels and the detective stories of Faye Kellerman. Arguably my taste in music falls several rungs below my taste in books. One of my best friends is studying to be an opera singer and hopes to get into the Eastman School of Music. She has a collection of hundreds of classical music CDs and can talk at length about everyone from Brahms to Stravinsky. When I told her about symphonic metal, which mixes in elements of opera (such as "beauty and the beast" vocals, in which a classically-trained soprano soars over male death growls), she was horrified at the thought of such a Frankenstein-esque fusion. But I love After Forever, Theatre of Tragedy, Flowing Tears, Nightwish, many other European gothic/symphonic metal bands no one in the US has ever heard of. But you can also make the case that, since this stuff is definitely not mainstream, it at least indicates a presence of original thought. According to the Blogthings quiz "Has American Culture Ruined You?", my ability to enjoy something other than the current Top 40 is a very good sign.
And I'm a Republican! Who knew we could be so cosmopolitan! (Note: the best part of that After Forever song I linked to begins around 2:20.) But I digress.
So I've established that not everything you enjoy has to be cultured and intellectual. But thirty pages of reviews and Harriet Klausner has read absolutely nothing else. And if you refer back to my list of her review titles, another pattern immediately jumps out: a multitude of complimentary adjectives. Thirty pages of reviews and Harriet Klausner has evidently not read anything she didn't like and couldn't write anything less than a four-star appraisal about. Get it? Just about every last one of the literally thousands and thousands of books she's read has been, according to her, "excellent," "engaging," "great," "wonderful," "charming," "fabulous," "entertaining," "fun," "superb," "gripping," "intriguing," "terrific," ad infinitum. Holy crap, now WHAT is the point of having the God-given gift of speed reading if you possess 1) seemingly no power of discernment and 2) apparently no desire to read actual literature? In the words of Time magazine:
. . . But luckily my plane came in and I had to put the laptop away. I then flew home and wrote this post the very next day while the discovery was still fresh on my mind.
There is hope, however! Amazon has recently revamped its review ranking system. We are now ordered by number of helpful votes, NOT sheer volume of writing. And thus, Harriet Klausner plummeted. Triumph.
Oh yes indeed, they exist. Basically, they're Jan Karon rip-offs, but that doesn't stop people from giving them glowing five-star reviews, including this particular gem:
I first heard about this book, recommended on QVC. Of course, Thomas Kincaid's name is what attracted me. Sure, we all know he is one of the best painters of modern times, so I was very curious to see if his writing could prove as pretty as his idyllic paintings. Well! I was not only *not* disappointed, but thoroughly sated by this book. It slaked in me a deep thirst to know more about the fascinating mind of Thomas Kincaid. Who better than the Master of Light, with his outstanding success--proving his intuition for the Real America, a better America--to reveal this "simpler life" and its pleasures? "The most collected living artist" is destined to be a success in more than one medium. Life is short, and it's far better and pleasant to spend some precious hours reading Thomas Kincade's moving visions than wasting time on tedious and outdated 'classics' like Tolstoy, Dickens, and Hemingway, who, unlike Kincade, pollute their 'art' with vulgarity. Thomas Kincade is surely not just the Painter of Light, but a true Master of Light. Thanks to Katherine Spencer and Thomas Kincaid for teaming up and, like the Cape Light lighthouse, casting forth this beacon of light. So simple, so pretty! Read it, and you, too, will feel simpler.Yes, I am the one who commented on it. So yes, I am also on Amazon. More on that later. (To see that poor soul get pwned, click here. LOL, "cultural Prozac.")
But I also discovered a phenomenon even more fascinating than the prospect of the Painter of Phosphorescent Kitsch turning out cozy small-town soap operas: that of the singular Harriet Klausner, Amazon über-reviewer, profiled two years ago in Time magazine for their ill-conceived "YOU are the Person of the Year!" (Because the new Internet is now user-driven – although to be fair, Friedman also talks about the new power of individual innovation in The World is Flat.) At the time of the article, she had written 12,896 reviews. Today, the number is approximately 17,895. I found her while gazing slack-jawed at the five-star acclaim for the fourth book in the Kinkade series, entitled A New Leaf. #1 reviewer, I thought, and yet she enjoyed this? I mean, presumably she's read many books and can write well about them; otherwise, she would not be so highly ranked. Right?
Wrong. I was suspicious right from the start – her review for A New Leaf sounded like it came from the publisher. She concisely summarized the plot, provided a single phrase of mild criticism, and then settled into a few sentences of warm but useless praise that could just as easily have been jacket copy. Here it is:
Cape Light, New England resident Molly Willoughby works very hard bringing in income while raising her daughters (fourteen years old Lauren and eleven years old Molly) with no help from her Peter Pan like ex-husband Phil. Instead her family provides as much assistance to her as they can. For instance her sister in law currently watches her children while she cleans the rental for a Dr. Matthew Harding of Worcester, who is arriving in town tomorrow. However, before she leaves to pick up her children and treat them to pizza, Dr. Harding shows up. They talk about the area and being single parents. He invites her and her two daughters to meet his daughter fourteen years old Amanda.I soon discovered, however, that this is extremely typical of Ms. Klausner. ALL of her reviews (at least, all the way to page 34, which is how far I got and still only dating back to November 1, 2008) are like that.As Matthew and Molly become better acquainted they begin to fall in love with one another. However, she distrusts matters of heart as Phil shattered her hopes and dreams and he feels hesitant to dive into a relationship ever since his wife died. Additionally, they must consider the children.
Though the climax seems to simplistic, fans of the series or anyone who enjoys a warm contemporary tale with a strong cast will enjoy the latest Cape Light tale. The story line centers on second chances at love if the individuals are willing to risk their heart and perhaps their soul to take a risk. The children are a delightful trio and the townsfolk open their doors to the audience, but the novel belongs to the M&M lead couple struggling whether they gamble on love.
Clearly, you can polish off something of that ilk in about two minutes without even having read the book. In the Time piece she claims to be a speed reader who shoots through four to six books a day, and yet I'm not the only doubting that claim. Just perusing her reviews, one can find the occasional comment pointing out facts that she had gotten blatantly wrong. Most damning: John Birmingham, an author military fiction, slyly slipped a character named "Harriet Klausner" in his book Designated Targets. And so, quite predictably, Harriet came out with yet another vacuous five-star review that never once mentioned this. Shot down! Still others have pointed to the fact that she often posts multiple reviews in a single day. Now to be fair, I have done the same thing. But that's because all of my reviews were originally blog posts here (in other words, they were pre-written) and I suddenly, belatedly realized that more people would read them if I put them on Amazon. *smacks self in head* Now why did it take me three months to realize that. . . ?
But then again, I still think it's pretty obvious that I READ the damn books.
Here is a possible, partial explanation: the vast majority of books Klausner claims to have read are not exactly literary, and therefore not exactly novels you need to sit, ponder, and savor. As this article about Klausner on Bloggasm puts it:
“I’m a bit of an obsessive reader myself–I read fast, and I read a lot–and I would say that when I read the kind of paranormal romance, say, that Harriet Klausner is fond of, it would probably take me less than an hour and a half. . . I try not to do this too often, it’s the novel-reading equivalent of binge-drinking, but I have certainly had quite a few days in my life where I read five novels straight through, all in a row; usually crime fiction. So my take is that she’s sincere but misguided, not deliberately fraudulent.”Harriet's reading material consists primarily of Harlequin romances, "urban fantasy" tales with sexy half-naked pseudo-Goths on the covers, "NASCAR romances" (no, really!), chick lit, "paranormal romances," cheap thrillers, Tolkien-wannabes, bored-housewives "erotica," and every contemporary vampire novel published in English. (Although I've made my Anne Rice fanship known in the past, there's still a difference between Queen of the Damned and Vampire Apocalypse: Descent into Chaos or All I Want for Christmas is a Vampire, Love at Stake Book 5.) Klausner also makes sure we get the genre just right, giving her reviews titles like "powerful romantic suspense," "amateur sleuth romantic suspense," "excellent futuristic science fiction," "excellent extremely complex medieval saga," "wonderful urban fantasy," "exciting werewolf romantic suspense," "charming contemporary romance," "deep slowly simmering psychological suspense thriller," "excellent military science fiction," "urban fantasy whodunit," "great suspense thriller," "engaging Christian thriller," "superb historical mystery," "excellent police procedural," "deep character study," "excellent regional thriller," "superb quest fantasy," "fabulous historical romantic action adventure thriller," "engaging treatise," "terrific sidebar Corean investigative fantasy thriller" (huh?), "engaging manga graphic comic book" (!), and I could go on.
Now before you accuse me of being an elitist, let it be known that not everything I read is high-brow. I happen to be very fond of Star Trek novels and the detective stories of Faye Kellerman. Arguably my taste in music falls several rungs below my taste in books. One of my best friends is studying to be an opera singer and hopes to get into the Eastman School of Music. She has a collection of hundreds of classical music CDs and can talk at length about everyone from Brahms to Stravinsky. When I told her about symphonic metal, which mixes in elements of opera (such as "beauty and the beast" vocals, in which a classically-trained soprano soars over male death growls), she was horrified at the thought of such a Frankenstein-esque fusion. But I love After Forever, Theatre of Tragedy, Flowing Tears, Nightwish, many other European gothic/symphonic metal bands no one in the US has ever heard of. But you can also make the case that, since this stuff is definitely not mainstream, it at least indicates a presence of original thought. According to the Blogthings quiz "Has American Culture Ruined You?", my ability to enjoy something other than the current Top 40 is a very good sign.
You Have Not Been Ruined by American Culture |
 You're nothing like the typical American. In fact, you may not be American at all. You have a broad view of the world, and you're very well informed. And while you certainly have been influenced by American culture (who hasn't?), it's not your primary influence. You take a more global philosophy with your politics, taste, and life. And you're always expanding and revising what you believe. |
And I'm a Republican! Who knew we could be so cosmopolitan! (Note: the best part of that After Forever song I linked to begins around 2:20.) But I digress.
So I've established that not everything you enjoy has to be cultured and intellectual. But thirty pages of reviews and Harriet Klausner has read absolutely nothing else. And if you refer back to my list of her review titles, another pattern immediately jumps out: a multitude of complimentary adjectives. Thirty pages of reviews and Harriet Klausner has evidently not read anything she didn't like and couldn't write anything less than a four-star appraisal about. Get it? Just about every last one of the literally thousands and thousands of books she's read has been, according to her, "excellent," "engaging," "great," "wonderful," "charming," "fabulous," "entertaining," "fun," "superb," "gripping," "intriguing," "terrific," ad infinitum. Holy crap, now WHAT is the point of having the God-given gift of speed reading if you possess 1) seemingly no power of discernment and 2) apparently no desire to read actual literature? In the words of Time magazine:
Klausner is a bookworm, but she's no snob. She likes genre fiction: romance, mystery, science fiction, fantasy, horror. One of Klausner's lifetime goals—as yet unfulfilled—is to read every vampire book ever published. "I love vampires and werewolves and demons," she says. "Maybe I like being spooked."Personally, I resent the article's implication that speculative fiction is inherently low-brow. Someone please give that writer a copy of Hyperion. But really, if by now you're wondering why I've adopted such a vehement tone about a matter that is entirely trivial in the greater scheme of things, THIS is why!
. . . But luckily my plane came in and I had to put the laptop away. I then flew home and wrote this post the very next day while the discovery was still fresh on my mind.
There is hope, however! Amazon has recently revamped its review ranking system. We are now ordered by number of helpful votes, NOT sheer volume of writing. And thus, Harriet Klausner plummeted. Triumph.
Friday, November 28, 2008
"Buy Nothing Day" and the Irony of White Privilege
Today is Black Friday, for those of you who live under a rock. A day of shopping awesomeness. I didn't spend much (because I have no money and need to buy Christmas presents), but did purchase some adorable blue and brown wrapping paper at the Hallmark Store, plus this cute top at Express, for which I used my 25% off coupon.
Those bah humbugs over at Adbusters, however, insist that we celebrate Buy Nothing Day instead. A nice concept for all you hippies out there. But having worked at a grocery store, I have witnessed first-hand the irony of some of these activist/enivornmentalist "lifestyle" choices. I wonder if it has ever ocurred to any of these tofu-eaters that low income people, who are often minorities, simply can't AFFORD organic food? Which brings me to my next point. I came across a post on a blog called God's Politics that offered a different take on Buy Nothing Day.
The author quotes an African-American friend:
Those bah humbugs over at Adbusters, however, insist that we celebrate Buy Nothing Day instead. A nice concept for all you hippies out there. But having worked at a grocery store, I have witnessed first-hand the irony of some of these activist/enivornmentalist "lifestyle" choices. I wonder if it has ever ocurred to any of these tofu-eaters that low income people, who are often minorities, simply can't AFFORD organic food? Which brings me to my next point. I came across a post on a blog called God's Politics that offered a different take on Buy Nothing Day.
The author quotes an African-American friend:
Buy Nothing Day is basically a thing of and for white folks and comfy middle class and rich folks who have had the privilege of consumption their whole life. And now, they can afford to start things like Buy Nothing Day. True, it speaks to the issue of overconsumption, but how much of it is to appease their guilty consciences? I’m also very skeptical and cynical of Christians who’ve jumped on this bandwagon — the “enlightened evangelicals” who also come from a place of privilege. Stuff like this sickens me because it has completely no idea about the plight of the poor, low-income folks, and some minorities that are just trying to survive.In other words, there are people out there who really need these deals. And it's not just the poor - Black Friday is technically supposed to mark the start of the Christmas shopping season, but I think most people use today to buy mostly for themselves those things they normally could not afford. While consumption certainly creates division between socioeconomic classes, it can also be something of an equalizer (the trend of "affordable luxury," for example). So come on, Adbuster people. It's just harmless fun. Lighten up.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Ladies Against Feminism
Anyone who's been following my blog may have guessed by now that I am somewhat on the conservative side. Namely: I have voted for McCain, made fun of Obama, and expressed admiration for Sarah Palin. (Look under "Current Events" for all this.) Some circles would doubtlessly declare me a "right-winger," as imagining your opponents to be a monolithic juggernaut is pretty much a universal human trait. O'Reilly, for example, often loudly condemns what he perceives to be a relentless phalanx of "secular progressives" (which he has distinguished from mere "liberals") who wish to more or less tear down America as we know it. But, needless to say, human beings are not bees in a hive and lumping all people who disagree with you under a single blanket term is always a bad idea. And speaking of bad ideas:
Seriously: GET A LOAD OF THIS!
Now again, as a conservative myself (though not like that) I can sympathize with some of their grievances, such as the damaging effects of "hook-up" culture, the peril of "demographic winter," and the hazards of the welfare state. And yes, feminism does have its roots in socialism, although that certainly doesn't delegitimize the movement as a whole, as the women behind LAF like to claim. But what truly bothers me about this whole project of theirs – not just the LAF website itself, but the whole network surrounding it – is that they do to the female gender what all diehard sociopolitical warriors do to their enemies: they corral all women under one set of parameters and imagine we all want the same thing, that we are all exactly alike. Specifically, they assert, time and again and again, that the only way for any woman anywhere to find fulfillment is to marry young, submit to their husbands, bear as many children as possible (no birth control allowed!), and go to church every Sunday. A notion which, to anyone with a functioning brain, is so patently ridiculous I shouldn't even have to risk carpal tunnel syndrome reeling off every last million thing wrong with it. As one feminist puts it on her blog: "No, the peeve of peeves is the idea that all women are alike. The question, 'so what do women want?' pisses me off more than almost anything in the world. . . Why? Because asking 'what do women want?' presupposes that I want the same thing as, say, Sarah Palin, who will want the same thing as Hillary Clinton who will want the same thing as my friend Kira who will want the same thing as He Kexin, Olympic gymnast from China." (There's a mean little part of me that would like to send her a link to LAF, sit back, and watch the sparks fly.)
Let's look at this, for example. It's on a blog called The Walled Garden, which is written by a team of regular LAF contributors. This "excellent series" was recommended on the LAF homepage as "helping to dispel the silly (but very entrenched) notion that a 'real' education is only available at a very high price and inside the walls of an institution." Okay, so you don't want to go to college. Fine. Nothing wrong with that. If you've got an alternative plan, go for it. Now perusing their list of subjects suitable for a lady . . . they've got good literature (yes!), music, writing, drawing, painting, journalism, cooking. Hmmm, glad to see stuff that I like is considered acceptable. Okay, they've also got housekeeping (duh), needlework, knitting, crafts, sewing, time management, budgeting, Bible studies . . . again, not bad stuff. Everyone can probably pick a thing or two or three they enjoy from that list.
But look again.
Where are math and science? Economics? Medicine? Veterinary science? Politics and political science? Computer science and programming? Engineering? Biomedical engineering? Physics? Astrophysics? Geophysics? Biophysics? Nuclear, particle, and atmospheric physics? Quantum mechanics? Biology? Zoology? (Oh wait, scratch those last two; you won't get very far there denying evolution. . .) Optics? Psychology and psychiatry? Sociology? Criminology? Linguistics? Aeronautics? Are you noticing a pattern here? What they're saying, in other words, is that a "lady's education" is ultimately limited to what you can learn and use at home. LAF has said elsewhere that they do not want women to be "ignoramuses" (their word) and recommend correspondence courses or classes at a nearby community college while living at home. (Many of them are also big Jane Austen fans.) And there is absolutely nothing wrong with crafts and the arts – they're what I enjoy! I simply don't do math and science, but I recognize that many other women do and I admire the intense study and dedication, not to mention sheer brainpower, required to excel in some of these fields. But of course, such years of schooling would also interfere with woman's "divine role" as wife, mother, and homemaker; a frequent lament on LAF is that so many women devote precious time to education that could be spent helping one's parents at home, courting, and getting married. And why bother spending the money to send a girl to learn subjects that have absolutely no bearing on her God-given domestic duty?
A deeply old-fashioned and utterly archaic viewpoint of course – one that was old by the 1920s. Obviously that's only one aspect of a shockingly reactionary website, but as an intellectually-oriented woman, it's the part that infuriated me the most. I graduated from college in May and haven't been able to find a real job yet due to the lousy economy. As a result, I am currently living at home with my parents and I @#%&ing can't stand it! I want to live in the city, preferably NYC, with my own apartment, earning my own money, taking pride in my own work, enjoying my life as a single . . . but noooo, according to LAF I should be waiting patiently in my parlor for Prince Charming to come along.
The use of the word "parlor" there is quite deliberate, by the way. One thing you notice right away about Ladies Against Feminism is all the Victorian imagery. To be fair, one of LAF's founders, Jennie Chancey, addresses that issue and argues that they are merely trying to demonstrate how women used to enjoy their femininity. But just examine the blog Homeliving Helper , belonging to LAF's other co-founder, one Lydia Sherman (WHO HAS THE SAME NAME AS A NOTORIOUS SERIAL KILLER!). She's got more Victoriana going on than every period costume film made in the last ten years. Much as LAF emphatically claims that they are not trying to emulate some bygone glorious past, I can't help but to wonder whose Word they're going by: God's or vintage Western culture's? Because their dream of the ideal Christian life is ultimately as much American as it is (supposedly) biblical. It's the nineteenth-century vision of the "Republican Mother" I discussed in my last post, which was, oh irony of ironies, very much a novel, "feminist" concept in its own day! As Elizabeth Kerber discusses in her book, the soaring rhetoric of the Revolutionary War demanded a new generation of strong, educated patriots, and it was now believed that the home was foundation of American liberty, and women, as keepers of the home, would play a vital role in the shaping of American destiny. "The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world." But evolution is inevitable (in both society and nature, although here I'm talking about the former), and this innovative model that came out of the Revolution eventually settled into the bourgeoisie "angel of the house," the well-dressed genteel lady who kept a beautifully-decorated abode for her world-weary husband. But the influence of both is glaringly evident on LAF.
An immediate counterpoint would probably be to bring up Domestic Felicity, the blog of Anna T., a Russian-born Israeli Orthodox Jew and active member of the LAF Internet family. (She is also a contributor at the The Walled Garden. Her English is absolutely flawless – heck, she knows it better than some native speakers!) Clearly, one might say, she is neither a Christian nor an American, and yet clearly LAF has resonated strongly with her. No denying that. And I like Anna, I really do, and I feel bad about including her in this disparaging post, especially since I lurk so often at Domestic Felicity. She seems like such a sweet girl and she herself made the conscious choice to go the LAF route and she seems quite happy with it. She's what Judaism calls a baal teshuva, a secular Jew who has become observant and reading her life story, I can't help but to be happy that she's finally found peace. Anna is highly articulate and knows full well what she's doing and what she's talking about, and I truly respect her. Which leads to another question – if the LAF lifestyle (religion, submission, motherhood, domesticity) is really as flawed as myself and many other ordinary women would find it, then how to explain women like Anna who make the informed decision to go that route?
Back in February 2000, the New York Times Magazine ran a cover story by Margaret Talbot entitled "Inward Christian Soldiers", about a family of fundamentalist Baptists who seem to fit the LAF profile. I remember she used Tim Leary's iconic phrase "Turn on, tune in, drop out" to characterize the manner in which members of the Christian Far Right such as the Scheibners and the LAF folks are turning away from the American mainstream and setting up their own conservative counterculture. That may sound like an oxymoron, but that's exactly what a counterculture is: the "culture and lifestyle of people . . . who reject or oppose the dominant values and behavior of society." Despite the connotations of sixties craziness, I think the word can also be applied to the opposite end of the sociopolitical spectrum. If we are willing to admire hippies, radicals, beatniks, bohemians, and other self-imposed "outsiders" for their refusal to be "normal," and if some of us are even willing to romanticize people of lower classes and other social outcasts as somehow closer to nature or more "authentic," then shouldn't we also, by corollary, at least respect what Ladies Against Feminism is doing? Are they not turning away from a mainstream they believe to be toxic and refusing to conform as well? The documentary film The Return of the Daughters, produced by Anna Sofia and Elizabeth Botkin, is described on the Botkins' website as a "highly-controversial documentary [that] will take viewers into the homes of several young women who have dared to defy today’s anti-family culture in pursuit of a biblical approach to daughterhood, using their in-between years to pioneer a new culture of strength and dignity, and to rebuild Western Civilization, starting with the culture of the home." Now obviously I've been strenuously objecting to LAF and its mission, but then again, when someone is genuinely freaked out by some counterculture's activities, isn't that a sign that they're doing something right? Or are shock value and nonconformity the property of the Left only?
In conclusion, I guess it all goes back to my argument that you cannot lump all women under a single rubric. If there are women out there who envy and emulate the Sex and the City lifestyle, then it’s only logical to assume that there are women who desire the opposite. An ex-Mormon atheist named Richard Packham runs an intriguing site where he tries to debunk both the LDS Church and religion in general. Included is a report by Kent Ponder, Ph.D called "Mormon Women, Prozac® and Therapy." Although much of it is specific to Mormonism (he discusses aspects of LDS theology that some women find troublesome), I think it demonstrates very effectively why it is so misguided, and even dangerous, to assume, as LAF does, that all women would be happy as Stepford Wives. Ponder writes that:
It's also interesting to note that, for all their complaining about what liberalism (I use that term in the popular sense) has done to Western culture, Ladies Against Feminism sure seems to have benefited from it, particularly when it comes to society's new emphasis on tolerance and multiculturalism. Once upon a time, American Protestant fundamentalists would never have dreamed of associating with Jews or Catholics, yet the LAF folks seem to have embraced them as allies. Food for thought.
Also, some alternative Christian viewpoints:
Overcoming Botkin Syndrome
Quivering Daughters
Taliban Rising
True Womanhood in the New Millennium
Under Much Grace
White Washed Feminists
Seriously: GET A LOAD OF THIS!Now again, as a conservative myself (though not like that) I can sympathize with some of their grievances, such as the damaging effects of "hook-up" culture, the peril of "demographic winter," and the hazards of the welfare state. And yes, feminism does have its roots in socialism, although that certainly doesn't delegitimize the movement as a whole, as the women behind LAF like to claim. But what truly bothers me about this whole project of theirs – not just the LAF website itself, but the whole network surrounding it – is that they do to the female gender what all diehard sociopolitical warriors do to their enemies: they corral all women under one set of parameters and imagine we all want the same thing, that we are all exactly alike. Specifically, they assert, time and again and again, that the only way for any woman anywhere to find fulfillment is to marry young, submit to their husbands, bear as many children as possible (no birth control allowed!), and go to church every Sunday. A notion which, to anyone with a functioning brain, is so patently ridiculous I shouldn't even have to risk carpal tunnel syndrome reeling off every last million thing wrong with it. As one feminist puts it on her blog: "No, the peeve of peeves is the idea that all women are alike. The question, 'so what do women want?' pisses me off more than almost anything in the world. . . Why? Because asking 'what do women want?' presupposes that I want the same thing as, say, Sarah Palin, who will want the same thing as Hillary Clinton who will want the same thing as my friend Kira who will want the same thing as He Kexin, Olympic gymnast from China." (There's a mean little part of me that would like to send her a link to LAF, sit back, and watch the sparks fly.)
Let's look at this, for example. It's on a blog called The Walled Garden, which is written by a team of regular LAF contributors. This "excellent series" was recommended on the LAF homepage as "helping to dispel the silly (but very entrenched) notion that a 'real' education is only available at a very high price and inside the walls of an institution." Okay, so you don't want to go to college. Fine. Nothing wrong with that. If you've got an alternative plan, go for it. Now perusing their list of subjects suitable for a lady . . . they've got good literature (yes!), music, writing, drawing, painting, journalism, cooking. Hmmm, glad to see stuff that I like is considered acceptable. Okay, they've also got housekeeping (duh), needlework, knitting, crafts, sewing, time management, budgeting, Bible studies . . . again, not bad stuff. Everyone can probably pick a thing or two or three they enjoy from that list.
But look again.
Where are math and science? Economics? Medicine? Veterinary science? Politics and political science? Computer science and programming? Engineering? Biomedical engineering? Physics? Astrophysics? Geophysics? Biophysics? Nuclear, particle, and atmospheric physics? Quantum mechanics? Biology? Zoology? (Oh wait, scratch those last two; you won't get very far there denying evolution. . .) Optics? Psychology and psychiatry? Sociology? Criminology? Linguistics? Aeronautics? Are you noticing a pattern here? What they're saying, in other words, is that a "lady's education" is ultimately limited to what you can learn and use at home. LAF has said elsewhere that they do not want women to be "ignoramuses" (their word) and recommend correspondence courses or classes at a nearby community college while living at home. (Many of them are also big Jane Austen fans.) And there is absolutely nothing wrong with crafts and the arts – they're what I enjoy! I simply don't do math and science, but I recognize that many other women do and I admire the intense study and dedication, not to mention sheer brainpower, required to excel in some of these fields. But of course, such years of schooling would also interfere with woman's "divine role" as wife, mother, and homemaker; a frequent lament on LAF is that so many women devote precious time to education that could be spent helping one's parents at home, courting, and getting married. And why bother spending the money to send a girl to learn subjects that have absolutely no bearing on her God-given domestic duty?
A deeply old-fashioned and utterly archaic viewpoint of course – one that was old by the 1920s. Obviously that's only one aspect of a shockingly reactionary website, but as an intellectually-oriented woman, it's the part that infuriated me the most. I graduated from college in May and haven't been able to find a real job yet due to the lousy economy. As a result, I am currently living at home with my parents and I @#%&ing can't stand it! I want to live in the city, preferably NYC, with my own apartment, earning my own money, taking pride in my own work, enjoying my life as a single . . . but noooo, according to LAF I should be waiting patiently in my parlor for Prince Charming to come along.
The use of the word "parlor" there is quite deliberate, by the way. One thing you notice right away about Ladies Against Feminism is all the Victorian imagery. To be fair, one of LAF's founders, Jennie Chancey, addresses that issue and argues that they are merely trying to demonstrate how women used to enjoy their femininity. But just examine the blog Homeliving Helper , belonging to LAF's other co-founder, one Lydia Sherman (WHO HAS THE SAME NAME AS A NOTORIOUS SERIAL KILLER!). She's got more Victoriana going on than every period costume film made in the last ten years. Much as LAF emphatically claims that they are not trying to emulate some bygone glorious past, I can't help but to wonder whose Word they're going by: God's or vintage Western culture's? Because their dream of the ideal Christian life is ultimately as much American as it is (supposedly) biblical. It's the nineteenth-century vision of the "Republican Mother" I discussed in my last post, which was, oh irony of ironies, very much a novel, "feminist" concept in its own day! As Elizabeth Kerber discusses in her book, the soaring rhetoric of the Revolutionary War demanded a new generation of strong, educated patriots, and it was now believed that the home was foundation of American liberty, and women, as keepers of the home, would play a vital role in the shaping of American destiny. "The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world." But evolution is inevitable (in both society and nature, although here I'm talking about the former), and this innovative model that came out of the Revolution eventually settled into the bourgeoisie "angel of the house," the well-dressed genteel lady who kept a beautifully-decorated abode for her world-weary husband. But the influence of both is glaringly evident on LAF.
An immediate counterpoint would probably be to bring up Domestic Felicity, the blog of Anna T., a Russian-born Israeli Orthodox Jew and active member of the LAF Internet family. (She is also a contributor at the The Walled Garden. Her English is absolutely flawless – heck, she knows it better than some native speakers!) Clearly, one might say, she is neither a Christian nor an American, and yet clearly LAF has resonated strongly with her. No denying that. And I like Anna, I really do, and I feel bad about including her in this disparaging post, especially since I lurk so often at Domestic Felicity. She seems like such a sweet girl and she herself made the conscious choice to go the LAF route and she seems quite happy with it. She's what Judaism calls a baal teshuva, a secular Jew who has become observant and reading her life story, I can't help but to be happy that she's finally found peace. Anna is highly articulate and knows full well what she's doing and what she's talking about, and I truly respect her. Which leads to another question – if the LAF lifestyle (religion, submission, motherhood, domesticity) is really as flawed as myself and many other ordinary women would find it, then how to explain women like Anna who make the informed decision to go that route?
Back in February 2000, the New York Times Magazine ran a cover story by Margaret Talbot entitled "Inward Christian Soldiers", about a family of fundamentalist Baptists who seem to fit the LAF profile. I remember she used Tim Leary's iconic phrase "Turn on, tune in, drop out" to characterize the manner in which members of the Christian Far Right such as the Scheibners and the LAF folks are turning away from the American mainstream and setting up their own conservative counterculture. That may sound like an oxymoron, but that's exactly what a counterculture is: the "culture and lifestyle of people . . . who reject or oppose the dominant values and behavior of society." Despite the connotations of sixties craziness, I think the word can also be applied to the opposite end of the sociopolitical spectrum. If we are willing to admire hippies, radicals, beatniks, bohemians, and other self-imposed "outsiders" for their refusal to be "normal," and if some of us are even willing to romanticize people of lower classes and other social outcasts as somehow closer to nature or more "authentic," then shouldn't we also, by corollary, at least respect what Ladies Against Feminism is doing? Are they not turning away from a mainstream they believe to be toxic and refusing to conform as well? The documentary film The Return of the Daughters, produced by Anna Sofia and Elizabeth Botkin, is described on the Botkins' website as a "highly-controversial documentary [that] will take viewers into the homes of several young women who have dared to defy today’s anti-family culture in pursuit of a biblical approach to daughterhood, using their in-between years to pioneer a new culture of strength and dignity, and to rebuild Western Civilization, starting with the culture of the home." Now obviously I've been strenuously objecting to LAF and its mission, but then again, when someone is genuinely freaked out by some counterculture's activities, isn't that a sign that they're doing something right? Or are shock value and nonconformity the property of the Left only?In conclusion, I guess it all goes back to my argument that you cannot lump all women under a single rubric. If there are women out there who envy and emulate the Sex and the City lifestyle, then it’s only logical to assume that there are women who desire the opposite. An ex-Mormon atheist named Richard Packham runs an intriguing site where he tries to debunk both the LDS Church and religion in general. Included is a report by Kent Ponder, Ph.D called "Mormon Women, Prozac® and Therapy." Although much of it is specific to Mormonism (he discusses aspects of LDS theology that some women find troublesome), I think it demonstrates very effectively why it is so misguided, and even dangerous, to assume, as LAF does, that all women would be happy as Stepford Wives. Ponder writes that:
If a church's "belief shoes" (by analogy) are all narrow, even though they vary in length, which women will think this works? Those with narrow feet, of course; they will benefit. Those with wide feet will be in pain and wondering why. When bishoprics and therapists have strong religious conviction that narrow shoes are God's only true shoes, they offer corn and bunion pads to pained women with wide feet. Women who've been taught to believe that narrow feet are the true feet will accept this belief and the officially dispensed corn pads, whether their own feet are narrow or wide. Their thinking doesn't let them even conceive of solving their problem by changing their shoes.In summation, I think it really depends on the individual and what makes her happiest. The women of LAF have the right to live as they wish; some, like Anna T. and the Botkin sisters, are even admirable in their convictions. But every day I thank God – though not the God LAF believes in – for my feminist forbearers and the fight they gave in order to grant myself and my contemporaries the freedom to think this way: to recognize that women have a choice.
It's also interesting to note that, for all their complaining about what liberalism (I use that term in the popular sense) has done to Western culture, Ladies Against Feminism sure seems to have benefited from it, particularly when it comes to society's new emphasis on tolerance and multiculturalism. Once upon a time, American Protestant fundamentalists would never have dreamed of associating with Jews or Catholics, yet the LAF folks seem to have embraced them as allies. Food for thought.
Also, some alternative Christian viewpoints:
Overcoming Botkin Syndrome
Quivering Daughters
Taliban Rising
True Womanhood in the New Millennium
Under Much Grace
White Washed Feminists
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Dialectizin'
LMAO. . . I've been having way too much fun entering my blog address into this website. The butchering of the Dante quote at the beginning of the last post is absolutely hysterical.
The Dialectizer!
Here's part of BorgSpace Madness! in "Jive":
The Dialectizer!
Here's part of BorgSpace Madness! in "Jive":
Definitely mah' favo'ite aliens is de Bo'g. What it is, Mama! De Bo'g is spooky . . . likes de six-million dollar man, but on de outside. . . Half-robot, half-human, de mad eye comin' out starin' at ya', an arm likes some gattlin' gun, but mo'e complicated. . .
Dey gots some fantastic ship . . . some massive cube . . . likes Fascist architecture . . . ah' can imagine da damn Bo'g playin' Wagna' as dey loom down upside de side uh a planet. Man!
Dey're likes termites . . . dey 'esist as some whole mass but dey feed off oda' life-fo'ms, assimilate oda' life-fo'ms. Oda' life-fo'ms is irrelevent. Man! All dey're interested in be 'spandin' and furderin' de Bo'g. What it is, Mama! . . Nuthin ya' drow at dem dey kin dig it and overwhelm. WORD!
Dey're likes de Nouveau-Nazis uh de universe. You's've gots'ta admire da damn Bo'g. What it is, Mama!
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