Archive for September, 2006

Public Service Announcement

Breed faster, people.

Also: Fuckling deadline has been extended to 9/29. Now you have NO excuse. (I made mine yesterday – so cute!)

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Swimmingly?

How are the fucklings coming along? I’ve had one vote to extend the deadline to the 29th – do y’all concur? You are all making fucklings, aren’t you? Aren’t you?

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You wouldn’t recognize Nancy now that she’s knocked out and drooling.

My grandmother was a difficult woman. She didn’t handle stress well.

Serpasil

My grandfather, a doctor, knew just how to handle that.

Phenobarbitol

He gave her drug after drug. She was unconscious through most of my mother’s childhood.

Pacatal

After twenty thirty years or so, other doctors in the community found out what was going on, and threatened to have his license pulled unless he put her in The Institute of Living.

Mornidine

Unfortunately, when she got out of the hospital, the world was large and overwhelming (especially since she hadn’t really been in it for the last twenty thirty years). She found ways to get what she needed in order to cope.

Placidyl

After my grandfather died, she found a doctor – a friend of his, I believe – to keep up her prescriptions. When she went into the hospital at the age of 80 with an asthma attack, she was too embarrassed to tell them everything she was taking. So she went into acute Valium withdrawal. And that, combined with her age and general weakness, killed her.

Valium

My grandfather was a monster, yes, but a socially sanctioned monster.

_________________
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All sales are final.

The Washington Monthly has posted a series of columns by conservatives who believe that the Republicans should lose the November elections. My first reaction to this was one of smug satisfaction. After reading the columns, however, my exultation has subsided, and I am left with suspicion. Is this buyer’s remorse simply a way for conservatives to evade responsibility for fixing the problem they created?

As far as one can tell from these columns, the only alternative to a Republican Congress is a Democratic Congress. Most of the authors extol the virtues of divided government, citing Reagan and Eisenhower as models. Yet there are no calls for restructuring the two-party system, unless you count Richard Viguerie’s vage assertion that “A Republican loss this year could lead to a rebirth of the conservative movement, as a Third Force independent of any political party.” In lieu of changing the party they helped put into power, these columnists would rather leave it to the Democrats to rein in the monster.

Only one of the columns concerns itself with perhaps the most disturbing aspect of this administration: its blatant Christian ideology. Our political language has been re-cast in terms of Good™ versus Evil™. Such rhetoric enables the administration to shame its critics – if you’re anti-war or pro-choice, you’re on the side of Evil™. Yet five of seven columnists choose to overlook this issue in favor of bemoaning profligacy and expanded regulation. The sixth, who decries Bush’s abuse of Presidential power, seems completely blind to the link between this phenomenon and the God Is On Our Side! mindset which infuses All Things Bush.

So while I agree with the premise (Down with the Bush Administration! GOP must lose in November!), I disagree with the explanation (This “Bush” – it came out of nowhere! We are shocked!) and the proposed solution (Let the Democrats either fix it or die trying – we’ll take either one!). If the conservatives really want to make things better for themselves and the world, they need to rethink their strategy.

________________

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Simple math: Knitwear + Flailing = Delightful.

BE WARNED: I watched this at work, with the sound off. I have no idea whether she sounds more like a soaring nightingale or a drowning crow.

Camille – Ta Douleur.

(I’d be douleureuse too if I were attacked by a voracious skein of Wool-Ease®.)

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Still a little broken.

  • I have glanced around the blogosphere this morning, and I am struck by the number of people who aren’t writing about 9/11 today. I mean, it makes sense, really. We’re five years on, and people have talked it out over and over until, I’m sure, they’re exhausted. But for some of us who were there, or very close, the wound is still raw. I honestly thought it might just be me, until I talked to a woman at a party this weekend. She worked for FOX News in Manhattan when the attacks took place, and we shared stories of panicking at mysterious smells in our office buildings and feeling earthquakes that aren’t there.
  • Since 9/11, I’ve developed asthma and an intermittent burning sensation in my chest that worsens with stress. Yes, the latter has been checked by a doctor, and no, they couldn’t find anything wrong with me. Of course, I also moved to Los Angeles in the intervening period, so who knows which of the two events had more to do with it.
  • I am officially sick and tired of the “terrorists hate freedom” rhetoric. That’s ridiculous. Regardless of how one feels about their actions, Islamist terrorists hate U.S. foreign policy. It is insulting our intelligence to pretend otherwise.
  • I find it strange that my clearest memory of 9/11 and the following days is this: I walked out of my Brooklyn building into the clear morning, looked up into the brilliant blue sky, and thought, “What a beautiful day.” Then, on the other side of my parking lot, I saw a woman from the telephone company standing by her truck and crying hysterically. Her radio was turned up loud. I was so concerned for her that I didn’t process what the radio was saying. When I ran over and asked what was wrong, she just pointed behind me. I turned around and saw the sky filling with smoke. I have many (awful) memories of the following minutes, hours, and days, but nothing is so vivid as that first moment.
  • Damn, I’m weepy today.

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Blog contest, brought to you by my snarky side.

There is a blog out there, which I will neither name nor link here, because what I am about to say is maybe not so nice. The guy who writes it is somewhat notorious in local knitting circles for having a wide streak of The Crazy. He showed up not long ago and immediately started his own knitting group (fine), which he advertised heavily (fine) in poor English (okay) with four million seven thousand nine hundred and eighty-nine exclamation points after every sentence (arghh! See? One is plenty).

His blog is similarly bedecked with a surfeit of punctuation:

Iam going to wear with my new “Option-G” T-shirt i brought it online!!!!! It will be great match!! Dont you think? OLIVE with GRAY!!!

And so on.

I check this scourge of syntax occasionally, partly because he actually seems to be a good knitter and dyer-of-yarn, but also because I derive a sort of There-But-For-The-Grace thrill from watching the language tortured so cruelly. Occasionally, my perusal yields unexpected fruit.

Also i was really hard time with this stitch..I was sooo fucking confuse this stitch..What is this fuckling this mean?

And that, with a little inspiration from the ever-parsing Laurie Ann, brings us to our contest.

What is this fuckling? Is it an ugly fuckling? An Easter fuckling? Does it swim? Does it fly? What does it look like?

Make me a fuckling. Draw it, knit it, carve it out of squash, whatever you will. But make me a fuckling. Then take a picture, and send it to me with a short (100 words or less) biography of your creation: uccellina at pacbell dot net.

I give you until the new moon – Friday, September 22, at midnight. Winners will be chosen, and prizes will be sent.

You have your mission. Now go.

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