An article in the NY Times, popular on Blogdex today, says that a lot of today's teens are anti-abortion. Interestingly, a quote toward the end of the article reveals a fairly profound misunderstanding on the part of at least one young person:
"There are better contraceptives — RU-486, the morning-after pill — along with an emphasis on sex ed, abstinence and slogans like, 'Not me, Not now,'" said a sophomore at Hunter College High School in Manhattan whose father did not want her to be identified. "Abortion isn't such an issue, because getting pregnant isn't such a prevalent problem among my peers."If they think that the morning-after pill — to say nothing of RU-486, f'r Chrissakes — will continue to be available after a ban on abortion, they have a rude awakening in store. The anti-abortionists would outlaw most women's hormonal contraceptives on the grounds that they can prevent a fertilized egg from implanting, so it's hard to imagine they would overlook methods that are explicitly post-fertilization.
On the bright side, those arguments don't apply to men's hormonal contraception. On the down side, I'm not optimistic that men have any interest in managing their fertility. But I'm probably just cranky from my unmodulated hormones.
I have come to realize that pretty much any emotion I have shows on my face. Someone came by today and commented that I had seemed upset when he had complained to me yesterday (he assured me that he wouldn't make a fuss about the problem he had complained about. Unfortunately, I'm supposed to listen to those sorts of things with calm and objectivity. I thought I was, but apparently I'm high.) It's a good thing that I really do enjoy my job, or everyone would know that I didn't.
I've decided that this is a good thing. I'm a straightforward (perhaps even simple) person, at least emotionally.
I Used to Believe is a site for all the goofy stuff you thought as a kid. It's the kind of site to share with your mom.
Michael Moore is planning his new film, Fahrenheit 911. Apparently Bowling for Columbine made wads of cash, so he's had no problem continuing his mission of complaining for a better America.
An extremely cool view of a camel, from Japan, in 1862. Turns out they just love daikon!
"Life is a matter of passing the time enjoyably. There may be other things in life, but I've been too busy passing my time enjoyably to think very deeply about them."
Peter Cook, The Guardian, January 1994
Samuel Pepys's (pronounced "Marshmallow Peeps") diary is online now, a day at a time. American Memory has the life stories of ordinary people available, too, drawn from the Federal Writer's Project. The only drawback is that an effort to present them as they really are makes some of them harder to read (every crossed out word is written out and bracketed with the information that it was crossed out.) Here's one that is pretty illegible that I've streamlined. Original transcription is here. Keeping in mind that retaining dialect in transcription wasn't always out of style.
Week ending Aug. 18, 1939.
LIFE STORIES SERIES.
Isaac Grove, Retired Negro Farmer, Hillsdale Road, Cottage Hill Ala. Mobile Co.
Ila B. Prine, Writer, Mobile, Ala.
"I'S WEAK AN' WEARY"
"Jes a minnit, Miss, I'll git right up and talk to you"
Isaac sounded as though it was an effort to get out of bed and open the door, as grunts came from the room.
When the door opened and he stepped out, it gave you the impression that an old prophet had come back in the form of a negro.
He is six feet tall, with broad shoulders that are very erect for a man eighty years old. His close-cropped hair and sparse beard were snowy white. His clothes showed signs of long wear, especially the thin faded blue shirt. The brown trousers were held loosely upon him by suspenders that had been mended with strings and his feet were bare. He stood with a Questioning expression on his face, and he hesitated before speaking.
You'll have to excuse me, Miss," he apologized, "I neber gits up early any more cause I'm gittin' so I can't hardly see. I's nearly blind, and I's too old to work, so I jes stays in bed unless somebody comes and calls me.
"You see I's been livin' in dis section ever since two years atter de S'render. I wuz six years old when my Ma and Pa brung me here. Dere wuz five of us chillun, two girls and three boys. Dey's all dead now 'cept me and one ob de boys, an' I don't know where he is. He strayed off some place an' I ain't got no record of him.
Yes'm, it gits pretty lonely here by myself, but de Lord has been good to me. I's had good health all my life until not long ago I wuz a pullin' on a vine and it broke an' I fell against a stump an' broke two or three of my ribs. Since den I's got rheumatism and I gets weak spells.
"I sometimes wonders how I does manage, but God's got a few christian people left in dis world, and some of dem comes and brings me somethin' to eat. You take not long ago, I'd been up to de store to git a little kerosene, and de man what lives over yonder called to me and said, 'wait a minute'. In a little while here come aa child bringing me a bucket wid some grub in it. Some church woman had sent it by him. Dere wuz a piece of meat in it, as well as cooked things, an' dat's de only reason I's got any meat now.
"But I does know dat dere's as much difference in people as dere is in chalk and cheese. For you take dat boy of mine, he's de only one left out of de seven chillun me and de old woman had. One Sunday when dey had de big baptizing three months ago, I asked him for a quarter, he said 'I'll give it to you atter while. I'll come by your house atter de baptisin'. Dat boy ain't been by here, nor I ain't seed him 'til de other day, when de 'sociation had de big turnout. He aint neber give me dat quarter, and he had it de afternoon I asked him for one. Jes to think how I worked to take care of him, too. If I'd saved de money I's made on dis place, 'stead of lettin' them run through with it, I wouldn't be poor now, 'cause I's made plenty on dis place. I used to haul some good stuff from under dis hill. I 'members one load of 'taters and beans, I got eighty dollars fer it. Law, yes, I's raised stuff on de ten acres I cultivated, course I had fifteen all together, but only had ten fenced. It ain't fenced now, though. Folk's kept a stealing de posts and lumber for stove wood, until dere ain't a one left. Den dey warn't satisfied wid dat; dey stole my chickens, and finally toted off my chicken house.
"My first house where we lived wuz down dere under de hill, where you see dem big oaks trees. It got bad and de old woman wanted a bungalow built up here on de hill, so seventeen years ago I started dis house for her, but never did git it finished 'fore she died thirteen years ago. It wuz a strange thing how she wuz taken. She hadn't been feelin' rail good for sometime, but wuz able to help in de field. She had a washin' she always done on Mondays, den she helped me in de field 'til Friday when she ironed. Dis Friday I carried de clothes as I allus did. Dat night sometime she got up and fell in de floor. When she got back in de bed she said she wuz all right. Next day she seemed to feel bad an' I watched her all day but didn't say nothin'. Sometime durin' de night I heard my old mule scufflin' in de barn and I went out to see 'bout him, and while I wuz out dere I heard her fall again. So I hurried in de house and found she'd fell an' pushed de window open, but had crawled in de bed by de time I got to her. I told her den not to try to git up any more by herself no matter where I wuz, call me. But she didn't say nothin.' Next mornin' she warn't able to git up, and by afternoon I noticed her tongue wuz gittin' thick, and heavy. So I said to her "Ain't you seed nothin' this week?' and she said 'No.' So I asked her if de Lord seed fit to take her, wuz she ready to die? She tol' me, 'You know I's ready. I's 'pented an' been saved a long time ago; and you know she never spoke again 'til de following Wednesday morning when it wuz jes a crackin' day; she jus shouted herself away. Lord dat wuz a good woman. She'd been a member of the Ebenezer Baptist Church for years, an' she was also a member of de Starlight Hall. De Hall is 'sociation what takes care of de sick and buries de dead. I's been a member of it 'til I got where I couldn't keep up my sick fees. Dey tol' me dey'd bury me for what I's all ready paid in, but I jes' has to 'pend on de good christian people to help me when I gits sick.
"I sometimes thinks when I gits hongry, an' specially atter de way my boy acted, I wish I could die. If God don't care for me, de sooner and de quicker I wants to go, for I knows he's ready for me. Long as he wants me to stay here, he's go'na give me food.
"You know, Missie I stands for what's right and I don't believe in all dis dancin' and frolickin', an' dat's de reason my own boy treats me bad. Dey's all de time havin' dese wild dances and parties. Dat boy has got 'leven chillun and dey is bad. One of his boys, my own grandson robbed me here 'bout two years ago. I wuz gittin' a little help from de Government, and I had three dollars and ten cents in my pocket. De wey dey knowed it wuz, I went up to de store and I'm so blind I can't hardly see, so I asked him to take a dollar and buy me some coffee, so dey seed me wid dat money. Dat night I took off my pants and hung dem on de bed post. When I gits on my back I snores loud, an' dey could hear me, so dey work at my door and gits it open and takes my pocket book, and when I wakes my axe wuz lyin' 'cross my front door. I know dey had it to hit me wid, if I'd waked up. But you see God didn't suffer me to wake 'til de next mornin'. I know God had a hand in caring for me, 'cause any other time I'd a heard 'em, 'cause nobody can put dere foot on dat step 'less I hear 'em. But both of dem boys has paid for dere meaness; for Tunstall, my grandson wuz sent up for eighteen months for stealin' a cow from de woman what raised him. He even called de woman mamma, den stole her cow. De other boy dat wuz with him is servin' three years for stealin' another cow by hisself. So you see, folks thinks they can git away with their meaness, but God sho' will overtake 'em. He settles wid 'em.
"Jes like a fellow name Ed Seifert what has lived here close by me all my life. Me and him both farmed an' I allus had plenty tools, and when Ed would need anything I loaned it to him. I's loaned him as much as ten dollars at a time, when he needed money. Well, a few years ago Ed bought hisself a cultivator an' mine wuz wore out, so I saw him one day, an' I said, 'Ed, I wants to borry your cultivator tomorrow if you ain't usin' it.' He said, 'Send over tomorrow and git it.' So de next mornin' my mind said don't send, go yo' self, so I went; and when I got dere he said: 'You can't git it.' Well, I jes looked at him in 'stonishment, 'cause to think of all the tools I had lent him, and even let him have money several times, I jes couldn't help but say, 'Well, what you know about dat?' But I come on home, an' I didn't feel good t'wards Ed for a long time. But one day I seed him on de streets in Mobile, and I went up to him and say, Ed I don't feel jes right t'wards you 'bout de way you treated me 'bout dat cultivator. Atter dat, de bad feelin' left me and Ed'd. In fac', he wuz here on de Sunday he died, he and some other mens come to see me, and Ed set on de bed by me. He left atter a little while and went to his mother-in-law's house, an' drapped dead face down`ard on de ground.
"Well, tain't no use thinkin' 'bout all dat now, for its all pas' and gone. But dem things'll come back to you sometimes, When you gits to thinkin' of de pas'. Dat reminds me of a strange thing dat heppened to me years ago. One day dis same Ed Seifert I's been talkin' 'bout an' me wus a-comin' through de woods where we'd been chippin' boxes for turpentine. Dis has been a long time ago, and night overtook us on de way home. Me an' Ed'd been talkin' about sperits, when all of a sudden one of dem come up behin' us. We both heard it an' stopped, an' when we stopped she stopped. You know long years ago women folks wore big skirts wid a heap of starched clothes under dem. Well, dis sperit sounded jes like a woman wid starched skirts walking fast, and every step we'd take, she'd take a step. Dey would sound zum, sum, zum, zum. We never said a word 'til we got home, and I asked Ed if he heard dat sperit? He said 'Yes" and I told him by the 'turnel God I did, too.
"Another time over on Bluff Creek in Mississippi, I wuz goin' up one trail-like road one night wid another man, and we had to pass old cemetery, and he'd been teasin' me 'bout g'osts and' h'ants, when all of a sudden we heard dis sound like de wind blowin' through the grass. We had to pass one more grave dat was by itself up de road from de cemetery, and jes 'fore gettin' dere we had to pass a big crape myrtle tree, when all a sudden dis g'ost come right through dat tree an' went 'head of us, makin' a noise jes like de wind. I told dat man to let it go, for I guess it was going to de grave ahead of us, and I sho' didn't want to interfere wid it. It sho' scared us both, but I knowed if we trusted God it couldn't hurt us. I's always trusted him, and you see I'm still here.
"I come from a family of long livers anyhow," my ma lived to ninety-nine years old and my grandfolks lived nearly dat long, too, so you see I's liable to be here sometime yat, but I hopes not, for I's weak an' weary of dis sinful world.
Mos all dis younger generation is agin me 'cause I tells dem of dere sinful ways. But I's go'na fight for de lord as long as I kin."
A helpful guy from one of my satellite TV mailing lists has compiled a list of possible new shows that might be hitting your screen soon.
The Economist gives a level-headed (as always) look at the effect the current war will probably have on international relations. Another article gives some history of the Kurdish people and the political ramifications for them of the conflict. Yes, it helps to know about the Ottoman empire.
In today's cynical bastard department, we have the sadly unsurprising "news" that many pro-war rallies around the country have been organized by ClearChannel radio stations. Paul Krugman outlines the Bush-ClearChannel history.
The Internet Speculative Fiction Database is back, update your bookmarks!
University of Toronto researchers have constructed a "metamaterial" lens, with properties that appear to confound traditional physics. I read a couple years ago about somebody having constructed a material with a negative index of refraction, and this appears to be more of the same. Freaky shit.
After becoming irritated by the number of bloggers linking to New York Times and Washington Post articles, which require cookie configurations I'm unwilling to allow on my browser, I've found a workaround: Google News surfs those papers, and if you can figure out a good search string from the citation you have, you can get to the articles. The NYT Google results come back with a link you can use anywhere, but the WP apparently wants your "referrer" header to be from Google. Of course, once Google News becomes a subscription service I'm screwed again.
In other news, people continue to die from SARS. The CDC has a contrary view to earlier reports that it might be a member of the paramyxovirus family. If transmission of this thing were just a little bit easier, I suspect we'd all be fucked.
I never learned conversation skills in school, but from the looks of a fifties English textbook I just bought, students used to be drilled in appropriate small talk and how to write a letter. I think this information could be quite helpful to the Internet community at large.
Here's the first of several tips on conversation from Junior English in Action, book 3, 6th edition, 1956.
Say Something
Don't be afraid to break the conversational ice. You needn't say anything important or witty. Speak up and try to sound self-confident even though you're quaking inside. What will you say?
Take a tip from Mary Ellen. She and a girl friend had just been introduced to two boys. The awkward silence that sometimes follows introductions lengthened. Suddenly Mary Ellen said in a tone of great satisfaction, "You know, we had the best scrambled eggs for supper tonight!" "Aw, we had a salad," complained one of the boys. "How I hate salads!" And the conversation was on.
Simple, wasn't it? Yet two things about Mary Ellen's remark are important. She mentioned a topic of general interest -- food -- and she said something pleasant. When you're stuck for a topic, remember Mary Ellen and the scrambled eggs.
Activity 1: Thinking Up Conversation Starters
Imagine yourself in each of the following situations. For each case make up three questions to start a conversation.
Example
You start a conversation with a new student in town.
1. Do you have far to come to school?
2. Is our school different from the one you attended last year?
3. Did you have a hard time finding your way around our school your first day here?
1. At a meeting of the Dramatics Club you sit next to a boy or girl you don't know.
2. Your sister's friend, a college freshman, calls to take your sister to the movies. Your sister isn't quite ready.
3. You transfer to a new school. As you wait to get your program card made out, you sit next to another pupil who has just transferred to the school.
4. At the party you meet a boy who plays on your school baseball or basketball team.
Entertaining Public Harm Announcements, brought to you by Worth1000. The ones that make you kinda uncomfortable tell you that it's quality comedy.
The Wikipedia has a nice concise look at depleted uranium. As you might suspect, it is depleted of its radiation (it's a waste product of the process of harvesting the radioactive part). It is, however, chemically toxic, like lead. And lead is really really not good for you, and is even worse for small growing persons.
According to the BBC, "The ceremony was being broadcast live in the US on TV network ABC, but it also broke off from the event to relay the latest news on the war in Iraq." Since I wasn't watching the packaged-for-domestic-consumption product, I didn't have to endure that. It's a shame Michael Moore isn't more articulate when he doesn't get final cut. I mean, "fictition"?
Linked through Gone and Forgotten, take a look at this archive of German Propaganda, in translation. The reason for the link is this Nazi debunking of Superman.
Someone called today to ask if we have tax forms (yes) and would we have a certain obscure form (no, but we can print one out from the IRS web site). Could we do this over the phone? (Um, what?)
Technorati has a quick blog link rating thingie- essentially lets you see what lots of people have linked to in the past two hours.
Those who have seen the "Chicken of Tomorrow" short on MST3K will perhaps find interesting resonances in this story about a retired chicken sexer.
Update: sorry, the link's gone all subscribers-only, so the tales of keeping fingernails exactly the right length to pry open newborn chicks' nether regions are lost to us.
I don't recall either "Chicken of Tomorrow" or the Atlantic piece mentioning the vast amounts of chick shit the sexing process involves (gotta clean out the cloaca, you know).
My favorite cartoonist and my favorite sex educator combine forces to make some sexy sex-ed for grownups! Read at your own risk!
In the staff room right now is one of the armchairs, with a piece of red tape across the arms bearing a sign that reads "SMELLS LIKE BEER." I love my job.
Close-up magicians are super cool, but the freaks get the chicks. A great article about some guys who can do some cool stuff.
A UK library that's doing many of the things that US libraries are already doing to meet "customer" needs is calling itself an Idea Store, and the librarians are "Ideas Supervisors." I guess it's good to move away from the image of "jerk who makes you pay fines" but I'd rather be the jerk who helps you find stuff instead of having to supervise any damn ideas. I also notice that they have a "cheery" security guard to tell the kids to stop making fart noises. I wonder if parents listen to them more than they do me.
A first-person account of the flu-like scary sickness (currently nicknamed SARS). The CDC is keeping us posted.
Maybe it's a really bad flu, but it doesn't look like they think so. Anyway, people are dying, and we're not sure why. On a purely selfish note, I'm especially disturbed by its presence in BC and GA.
Grauniad cricket journo goes goofy, public reaction mixed. It's a much accelerated version of that column about balancing work and life, I think.
I was unable to find a more pertinent link for the Betty Crocker recipe cards mentioned earlier. Some may take this to mean that there is a niche open for my collection on the web. Others may point out that Betty Crocker is owned by General Mills and they may not be happy about even a research-oriented web display of their wares. Moral: I am a chicken.
This seems like the kind of project my co-blogger might get into. We already own a complete set of the similar cards produced by Betty Crocker at about the same time.
The FP collective has been advocating the policy of swapping shopper ID/discount cards at every opportunity. This guy has taken that idea in an interesting direction: send him mail, and he'll send you a sticker to put over the barcode on your Safeway card so that you're contributing to his shopper record. I'm thinking I'll do it.
OK, so I've decided to allow myself to read a book other than for professional purposes (that is, I've decided to read a grown-up-person book), and would like to read one with a more involved narrative than the craft books I've been skimming. But now that I set my mind to do it, I'm not sure where to start. Can you help?
Here are some books that I've really liked, and keep in mind that you should avoid the kind of book recommendations common with a certain provider of book recommendations (I'll just call them What Do I Read Next, because that's their name) that holds that should the hero happen to use a canoe in the book you like, you must be an avid fan of any book involving canoes. I'm much more interested in writing style and ideas than canoes, thank you.
American Gods by Neil Gaiman
Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson
A Darker Place by Laurie R. King
Virtual Light by William Gibson
Zeitgeist by Bruce Sterling
Passage by Connie Willis
Get your artificial hippocampus now. Designed entirely through black-box analysis: "Slices of rat hippocampus were stimulated with electrical signals millions of times, until scientists could be sure which input produced a corresponding output."
If any of our loyal FP readers would like any of these posters made into an iron-on transfer or temporary tattoo, let me know. I would be happy to crank them out for you.
While you're doing your spring cleaning, why not consider cleaning out your wallet? Check your credit report, cancel credit cards you don't use, opt out of marketing lists, and tell credit agencies to call you before they issue credit in your name. Learn these and more handy tips from the Privacy Rights Clearinghouse.
The Grauniad is starting a series of columns on balancing work and home life, the first sets out the premise that a life dedicated to work starves other parts of our lives. I'm interested to see the directions the column will take.
Here's a selection of news sites:
Yahoo News vs UK Yahoo News vs Australia and NZ Yahoo News
For those compulsive headline-scanners and people who've exhausted the small sliver of actual entertainment on the web, take a look at NewsNow.
It's not news that we've been dropping leaflets all over Iraq (at least in the no-fly zones), but I hadn't been aware that the contents were being published by our friends at U.S. Central Command. I found this one particularly heart-warming. I'm touched at our concern that the livelihoods of Iraqi citizens will be Ruined if anything happens to the Iraqi oil industry, so they damned well better leave it intact for us -- I mean, for the sake of their future, of course.
People in the US are turning to news sites in Europe for real news. And while it's enough to be noticed by European webmasters, is it enough to be noticed by American news providers? Would the numbers be high enough for an all-EU based news channel to be provided in the US (instead of Discover Plant channel or whatever).
To the extent that claiming something on the web means anything, I'm claiming the phrase "Buddhist attack" (also "Buddha attack") to mean a self-inflicted denial-of-service (or Denial of Self) attack. That bit of jargon is purely my invention. I actually coined it (in front of witnesses) a few months ago, but only just this minute remembered to claim it publicly.
For all of you forced to wear badges, spice up your work life with Retractamals!
From Memepool, a bunch of stuff I want to look at later:
SFPL's Lesbian Pulp Fiction Archive
and people who re-use books as journals. Can someone show me how to do this?
USA Today is carrying tips on how to not look so danged American when traveling abroad. Here's a few tips from FP:
Don't wear T-shirts with slogans or pop-culture icons on them, unless they're Tintin.
Try wearing leather shoes!
Artificially stain your teeth, or wear amusing gag teeth.
Learn about geography and current events. Know the names of world leaders!
