Monday, September 28, 2009

On the other hand, I postively love the Moon Dancers compared with the Misogynist Ratfuckers


Between this charming piece of "art"
**

and the revolting ads for the motherfucking Tucker Max piece of shit all over -my- city (can't we have a ban?)

and the upcoming Roman Polanski nauseafest about to take over the media for the next ever...

among way too many others

i am not feeling the love today

**the "rape tunnel" would appear to be a hoax. to be honest I hadn't even gotten as far as someone was suggesting he was actually going to -do- it. It pisses me off enough that someone--like, o I don't know, Tucker Max? and the people putting ads like "Blind Girls Can't See You Coming" all over the goddam walls (unpeelable, I tried) not only think such things are hilarious and clever and "art" but get paid fuckloads to spray that shit all over everyone?

Enough.



Sunday, September 20, 2009

Have I mentioned lately that I execrate Cultural Feminists of the FluffyBunny Wicca-y type?


Well, I do.

Sadly, I can't recount the entire story here, as it involves a listserve whose email isn't really for public consumption.

Suffice it to say that I firmly believe that if you anthropomorphize the moon to the point where this story drives you into a state of utter panic and mourning WHAT HAVE WE BECOME, sending out calls for a mass protest and vigil against the "insane" "dudes" of NASA who would DARE to harm our sister-goddess' body like this? to the point where you say you can't "bear" to do the research to confirm the details of the story?

And then, when someone snarks her dissent -very mildly- at you, you are "driven to tears?" and then -separately-, after that, after an (admittedly not very heartfelt) apology from said snarker, said snarker then posts a snark-free link to the story for public interest, and you email back that y'all already KNOW "these facts" but the snarker needs to let it go because you're "grieving" anyway?

This + this = you are driving me to increasing levels of sadism, Fluffy Dianic Too Sensitive To Live Person.

and I mean. a -graduate- student. wtf critical thinking skills...? oh, right, those are from the Patriarchy, never mind.

nyargh.

EDIT In fact, I feel compelled to burst into Song. and so I shall.




Friday, September 18, 2009

L¹Shanah Tovah Tikatevu, by the way



As my Irish lapsed Catholic best friend just reminded me. Me, I was all like: Huh? Oh, um, yeah. You, too.

"bad Jew, no matzoh"

Seriously, the closest thing I know from Jewish tradition is the ancient ritual of Chinese Food And A Movie at Christmas. I mean I did use some of the holidays to stay out of school when I was a kid, but I would've used Arbor Day if I could've gotten away with it. We certainly didn't go to synagogue or anything like that-well, for a year or so when it seemed like a good structured way to get me out of the house, we did, as a social thing. No one in my family's been observant on either side as far back as I've known anyone (i.e. grandparents and one great-grandparent).

Which, in itself, is actually sort of a tradition among the Ashkenazim, I suppose.

Truthfully I find the God of the Old Testament hard to connect to; canon-speaking, I prefer that Jesus dude (less crazy about the books/dudes who came after him). It's just, culturally, well, I've tried to go to church, even the most progressive ones, and there's...something...about the culture of it that just doesn't land. Like, at all. MCC, Unitarians-admire the idea, like the sermons, still not feelin' it.

Whereas I can go to synagogue and generally feel more connected with the general vibe/people, especially after the service, but the service itself tends to leave me cold.

and neo-paganism, I have determined, is probably not for me either.

I guess I'm sort of an agnostic mystic at this point. I like the idea of having a regular practice of some sort, not to mention a community, but, well. We'll see.

Indeed.



(h/t Ilyka)

"YOU'RE NOT LISTENNNNNNINNNNNNNNG!!!! I DON'T WANT IT NOW!"

It's the PRINCIPLE of the thing, and DON'T YOU FORGET IT, BUB.