quiverfull

Have you heard about this? Somehow it's escaped my notice until now, even though apparently there's been some attention to it in the national media over the past two or three years.

Quiverfull is the philosophy espoused by a certain brand of extremely nutty fundamental Christians that one should just have as many children as God fits to "bless" you with, and all forms of birth control (even the natural family planning that even the most old skool of Catholics--and the Pope--are down with) are sinful. This tends to go along with a bunch of related uber-fundie ideas, like women being submissive to their husbands, and homeschooling, and keeping your children away from the outside bad influences inherent in our culture.

I came across this in an online discussion of some Discovery Channel reality shows (really! that's shows, plural! as in more than one!) about people with a dozen or more children, which I have never seen. I gather they're a train wreck of monumental proportions and people watch out of morbid fascination. Tater tot casserole! Babies handed off to their siblings to raise! Dads who found their own basement churches! Neighbors dropping trash bags of old clothes on the porch, which are then descended on by swarms of children looking for something that fits! I have to try to catch at least one of these shows, to see if it's all as bad as the semi-horrified mocking would have me believe. Maybe when I get over my HGTV addiction.

What really astounds me, though, are the number of people posting to these threads who actually know people who are fundie religious whackos. It occurs to me that, living in what I fondly like to call my little blue-state paradise, while I get to meet all kinds of colorful and unusual people, I don't know any religious whackos. All the people I know who actually go to church or temple are nice, moderate, everyday kind of people. They aren't freaked by women wearing pants or cutting their hair, they don't make their four-year-old daughters wear bathing suits that cover them to the ankles, and they don't start their own churches in their garage. So, yeah, I think I'm missing out.

Does anyone want to take up a collection to send me on a field trip to Arkansas, or perhaps Texas? That'd be swell.

xoxo

that's how I escaped my certain fate

Forgive the tangential title, por favor. I was listening to the Burma CD a kind friend burned for me this afternoon. (Shh! Don't tell the feds on us! [Oh, that joke never gets old.])

So, this is what I wanted to write about this morning but hesitated to. I'm going to try to take all identifying elements from this story, but I suppose if you're a really determined stalker, you could maybe figure them out. I'll take my chances.

My ex is involved in local politics. We don't live in the same city, but close enough that I get to read about his exploits in the paper now and again. He pretty much exemplifies what we all know, or at least strongly suspect, about local politics, namely that the people involved do not get involved out of any overwhelming sense of civic duty, but rather as the chance to feel like a big fish in a small pond or because they like the drama, the draaaama. In my ex's case, he originally became involved because his (ex)girlfriend was running for school commitee or fucking someone on the school commitee (at a time when he thought she was fucking only him) or some such. Believe me, I couldn't keep up with the draaaama, but basically he ran for office for revenge and/or spite. And then found out he liked it.

Fast forward several years, and he's up for reelection once again. I glanced at the front page of the local paper this morning to see an article about how incredibly dirty the race he's in is becoming and how one of his opponents supposedly is running a smear campaign, sending out info about every brush with the law, etc., that my ex has had from [insert year here] to [insert other year here], in an attempt to paint him as less than stable. My blood ran cold, I swear to god, because within the years referenced, our initial separation took place, and yeah, I had taken one restraining order out on him. I couldn't even keep reading because I didn't want to see if it was mentioned.

I didn't even want to know. If it was in the paper, I would feel so violated, seeing my private business from 20 years ago in print like that. I know that sounds retarded coming from a woman who posts ridiculously personal things on the internet. But writing what you choose to in a way that you choose to is far different than feeling raped by some fucking journalist putting stuff in the paper that feels like private family shit.

I get so disgusted about that when I see it in the national arena: dirt about politicians being dug up that doesn't just affect them, but also embarrasses their innocent families. I just never thought I'd have to worry about it in my own life.

xoxo

desk update

...if only because the natives get restless when there are too many baseball entries in a row and I'm not yet sure I want to talk about what I really want to talk about today.

Yesterday I washed and sanded and gave my desk its first coat of this: http://www.behr.com/behrx/act/view/products_detail?prodGroupId=29&catName=Faux%2FDecorative+Finishes&catId=18 in 14 carat.

I now have a piece of furniture that looks like C3PO, and it is so cool. I also did not paint the drawers closed (I checked this morning) so I am not as inept with this sort of thing as I'm sure you people suspect I might be. The twenty-odd hours of HGTV that I've watched since I realized I get it on my satellite must have seeped into my subconscious or something.

After I do the second coat I think I'll be better able to tell if I want to decoupage it or whether it looks awesome just the way it is. Stay tuned.

xoxo

today's culturally insensitive moment

I was watching the beginning of the game last night with D--painfully, because watching Dice K pitch is always an adventure in anxiety for me. Some pitchers, you know pretty much immediately whether it's going to be a good game or a bad game for them. With Mr Matsuzaka, however, this can swing wildly from inning to inning. I never fully relax watching him throw, even when he appears to be cruising.

Last night at one point, getting extremely concerned about the direction the swing seemed to be going, I said aloud, "Please, God, let Dice K strike this guy out." On second thought, I amended it.

"No, wait--please, Buddha, let Dice K strike this guy out."

And he did. Thank you, Buddha.

Get with the program! You just have to appeal to the right deity and/or religious figure.

xoxo

necessary public apology

JD Drew, I take back everything I ever said about you. Srsly, man, you are not an overpaid washed-up hick.

Now go out and use the new-found appreciation of the fans wisely, 'k?

xoxo

break out yer teasing comb

After much discussion and a flurry of frantic e-mailing, it's been decided: I'm going to be Amy Winehouse for Halloween. The friend who invited me to this little soiree is going to be The Other Baldwin Brother, and together we're going to be "Hey! I Signed Myself Out of Rehab to Come to This Fookin' Party!"

Actually, I have never heard Ms Winehouse speak, so I have no idea if she has the type of British accent in which "fookin" is a word. I'll have to study up on this. Perhaps whilst applying my temporary tattoos.

The eyeliner's gonna take my full concentration, however.

xoxo

PG-whatever

Yesterday Dan was watching American History X (is that the name of it? the movie where Ed Norton plays the skinhead, anyway...that one) on FX. I had never seen it before and I got sucked in unawares, so much so that towards the end of the movie, I was going "Does he get killed? He does, doesn't he? I can see it coming..." And D was just smirking at me. "Watch. Just watch the movie. You'll find out what happens."

(If you've seen it, you'll appreciate that, um, yeah, I did not see what was coming.)

Anyway, what sort of freaked me out was that, seeing as the movie was on basic cable, they dubbed out all the swear words, the way they do. No fucks, no shits, etc. etc. But then they left in all the horrible, nasty racial, religious, and ethnic slurs the characters used, all those words that absolutely no one says in public anymore. The effect was really bizarre. You had dialogue overdubbed so that a neo-nazi's using the ridiculous euphemism "bullspit" while in the next line he's allowed to say "spic" and worse.

I understand that editing out the hate speech would have seriously diluted the power of the movie. But if you're going to leave in words that are going to make viewers cringe, why edit out terms like "bullshit" that aren't going to offend anyone other than maybe somebody's 93 year old spinster Auntie Bertrice? If anyone can explain this to me in a way that makes any sense whatsoever, I will...owe you one.

xoxo