If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

This week’s headline:

“Five years down the road, Harry might have become a fornicating, drug-addicted Evolutionist!” ~ Grace Anne fanfiction of Harry Potter

Friday afternoon. Sunny and lovely, 77 degrees.

I had an absolutely dreadful night, and at some point I had a horrible dream about a friend from whom I have been estranged for many years, but I dreamt that his two-year-old daughter had died in a horrible accident, and no one had told me . . . and then I was awakened this morning by some very loud yard machine that sounded as if it needed a new muffler. Egads.

I tend to have an allergic reaction to one of my pain medications: I start to itch all over, even into my scalp, so I try to avoid this particular medication unless I absolutely have to have it. Benadryl helps, sometimes. I bought some of that ointment that I had seen advertised—Tricalm, but I don’t see that it helps any better than plain old hydrocortisone cream. That’s seven bucks wasted. Anyway, I awoke several times during the night and morning because of the uncontrollable itching, do once the noise started, I just gave up and got out of bed.

I consoled myself for the lack of sleep by working my way through a small book: Drowned, by Swedish author Therese Bohman. I’ve been wanting to read more Swedish authors ever since I finished Stieg Larsson’s Millenium Trilogy. The story was good, even though the writing was a bit uneven, but I really did not like the ending.

Oh well.

“The couple’s problems might be sexy and Aquarian, but the solution was the same as it ever was: Allie had to ‘hold her tongue’ and ‘mend her ways’ to avoid ‘bossing and manipulating’ Kip.” ~ From a December 1970 “Can This Marriage be Saved?” column

I seem to be on quite a tangent lately, which is, unfortunately, compelled by too many recent news stories concerning domestic abuse, college rapes, and other vile things.

The warped world of 1950s marriage counseling:

Ladies Home Journal Illustration by Coby Whitmore 1959

Ladies Home Journal Illustration by Coby Whitmore (1959)

Do you remember the “Can This Marriage be Saved?” column in Ladies Home Journal? Well a recent article shed light on a patently one-sided vein to the early columns in the 50’s, 60’s, and 70’s. For example, in the case of Sue and her physically abusive husband Joe

But it was Sue who had the most work to do. She showed a lack of insight – she didn’t understand her husband. By refusing to have sex with him after he hit her, ‘she… touched off another almost inevitable explosion. Many husbands endeavour to make up for their misdeeds by such ardour, a fact of life that wise and loving wives accept.’

W-ORD Channel 7 News With John Oliver & Cookie Monster

Ah yes. The Scholastic Book Fair—nothing better. I used to send Alexis in with a blank check and a maximum budget. The librarians loved that. Good times.

Actress Nina Millin’s Beyoncelogues: “Best Thing I Never Had”

Classic Art Meets Magazine Covers:

Barbara Walters- Arrangement in Grey and Black No.1 (Whistler's Mother)

Barbara Walters + “Whistler’s Mother”

Kate Upton- The Priestess

Kate Upton + “The Priestess”

From beauty to blegh: Is this not one of the creepiest things you have ever seen?

Say what?

Photo: We'll have more steak in just a momentaneousment.

Brett and I were just discussing the failures of public schools, and then I saw this:

georgetakei:</p><br /><br /> <p>I’m going to need a lot of patience just to not hit my forehead so hard with my palm.<br /><br /><br /> Source: That’s Messed Up - http://po.st/1df5Hk

You put what in my candy?

Photo: The other OTHER white meat.

Definite face palm Tiger face palmmoment . . .

wtfpopo

Your weekly public service informational announcement:

This is so cool: Pendulum wave demonstration

I would love to own a pair of these jeans:

 

If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

Welcome to this Friday’s edition of leftovers. I’ve gone to great lengths to assimilate tidbits from the interwebs for your viewing and reading pleasure. I highly recommend a dry white wine to accompany this week’s dose of snark and sass. Please sit back, turn off your cell phones, and enjoy . . .

This week’s headline:

“Did you just ‘He who smelt it, dealt it’ racism? Did you really?” ~ Jon Stewart, “The Daily Show” (8-26-14)

Watch it:

One more headline on world issues because it really helps to put things in perspective:

“I hate when women wear the wrong foundation color, it might be the worst thing on the planet when they wear their makeup too light.” ~ Kim Kardashian, world-renowned spokesperson for everything from the asinine to the insipid

Since I missed it on Tuesday:

I told you, Corey.

LMAO:
Photo: Oh, I'm sorry. Did I break your concentration?

Oxford comma all the way!

So this is where those crop circles originated:

This is actually a thing, and it costs about five bucks:

public toilet

 

How cool is this?

Being passive aggressive at work:

So I found this site called Cake Wrecks . . . almost as good as the bad tweets:

That’s right . . . imagine being able to spell achieve . . .

Um . . . too literal?

Obviously I cannot draw any puzzle pieces, but I can draw your request for some instead . . .

Apparently, someone got a promotion, and the request was for a ladder with a stick person climbing up . . . oh my . . .

Silly, silly man. Never tell a woman what to do . . .

Do yourself a favor, go here and read all of the comments and questions on this baby. Just don’t do it with a mouthful of coffee . . . very hard to get off screen . . .

Samsung UN85S9 85-Inch 4K Ultra HD 120Hz 3D Smart LED TV

Samsung UN85S9 85-Inch 4K Ultra HD 120Hz 3D Smart LED TV
$39,997.99

And finally, reaffirmation that love, honor, and respect still hold sway in some corners of the world:

A veritable potpourri of images . . . an indubitable hodgepodge, if you will . . .

Small Things:

Family party this afternoon, so of course I forgot to schedule this . . . what’s new?

Lolita

Needs no words.

LM Montgomery

Yep, that’s me.

Want this so much. Words cannot do justice to my craving for such a superb taste treat . . .

San Fermin, Running of the Bulls in New Orleans, July 12

Enough fluff . . .

Big Things

NEWS ALERT:

Residents Of Toledo Are Urged NOT To Drink Or Boil Water, Water Contains Algal Toxins. Boiling the water in Toledo will NOT destroy the toxins, it will increase the concentration of toxins in the water. Do not give any water to your pets or livestock. If you live in Toledo, Ohio and need water, call 734-997-7500 to see if they still have some available for delivery.

Bigger Things

and finally, in the “I had to read it to believe it” category:

I know that I am late to the game in discussing the following, but hey, in this case, better late than never truly cannot be understated:

People actually complained that the character of Rue in The Hunger Games trilogy was black. I have to admit that I am completely stymied by such a reaction. I just don’t get it. I mean, what gives, people? The color of a character’s skin determines your level of compassion? A character who you assumed was Caucasian actually wasn’t, and that means you have a reason to complain? Who are you? But more importantly, how do you manage to survive with such a small, small brain?

For more information, I am offering this link to a March 2012 article in The New Yorker: “White Until Proven Black: Imagining Race in Hunger Games,” as well as this link to a related blog article: “‘Why is Rue a Little Black Girl?’ – The Problem of Innocence in the Dark Fantastic.” Both articles reference these:

 

and these:

and then these:

All of this is about a character that author Suzanne Collins described on page 45 as follows:

“And most hauntingly, a twelve-year-old girl from District 11. She has dark brown skin and eyes, but other than that’s she’s very like Prim in size and demeanor”

Folks, get real.

More later. Peace.

Music by Mourning Ritual, “Bad Moon Rising”

“Choose your words meticulously and then let them rumble up from some deep furnace of conviction.” ~ Ron Suskind, A Hope in the Unseen: An American Odyssey from the Inner City to the Ivy League

The richer and more copious one’s vocabulary and the greater one’s awareness of fine distinctions and subtle nuances of meaning, the more fertile and precise is likely to be one’s thinking. Knowledge of things and knowledge of the words for them grow together. If you do not know the words, you can hardly know the thing.” ~ Henry Hazlitt, from Thinking as a Science

“He also taught us hundred-dollar words as playthings: Why say “a little” when you could say “a paucity”? Why say “a lot” when “a plethora” was so much more fun? One of our summer games involved him in instructing me and my brother, Hank, to “mosey”, “sidle,” “amble,” “strut,” and “skulk” across the room—forcing us to put physical sensations to those words we only read. How did it actually feel to sidle? Do you do it sideways?” ~ Robert Lane Greene, from You Are What You Speak: Grammar Grouches, Language Laws, and the Politics of Identity

 


 

The Word

Down near the bottom
of the crossed-out list
of things you have to do today,

between “green thread”
and “broccoli,” you find
that you have penciled “sunlight.”

Resting on the page, the word
is beautiful. It touches you
as if you had a friend

and sunlight were a present
he had sent from someplace distant
as this morning—to cheer you up,

and to remind you that,
among your duties, pleasure
is a thing

that also needs accomplishing.
Do you remember?
that time and light are kinds

of love, and love
is no less practical
than a coffee grinder

or a safe spare tire?
Tomorrow you may be utterly
without a clue,

but today you get a telegram
from the heart in exile,
proclaiming that the kingdom

still exists,
the king and queen alive,
still speaking to their children,

—to any one among them
who can find the time
to sit out in the sun and listen.

~ Tony Hoagland

                   

Words

The world does not need words. It articulates itself
in sunlight, leaves, and shadows. The stones on the path
are no less real for lying uncatalogued and uncounted.
The fluent leaves speak only the dialect of pure being.
The kiss is still fully itself though no words were spoken.

And one word transforms it into something less or other—
illicit, chaste, perfunctory, conjugal, covert.
Even calling it a kiss betrays the fluster of hands
glancing the skin or gripping a shoulder, the slow
arching of neck or knee, the silent touching of tongues.

Yet the stones remain less real to those who cannot
name them, or read the mute syllables graven in silica.
To see a red stone is less than seeing it as jasper—
metamorphic quartz, cousin to the flint the Kiowa
carved as arrowheads. To name is to know and remember.

The sunlight needs no praise piercing the rainclouds,
painting the rocks and leaves with light, then dissolving
each lucent droplet back into the clouds that engendered it.
The daylight needs no praise, and so we praise it always—
greater than ourselves and all the airy words we summon.

~ Dana Gioia

                    

Music by Seether, “Words as Weapons”