Welcome to Donna Puleio, our 27th blogger. Donna blogs at Working Class Matters. She lives a bit out of Pittsburgh so we get several great new perspectives with her arrival.
Welcome, Donna!
Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Female DJs Set Fashion Styles in NYC
The New York Times has a cool and interesting article today about female DJs in New York City who are becoming the trendsetters.
Apparently Agent Ska isn't the only one bringing the 1950s ska/James Bond/Fedora style back:
"Yes, they are shaping their fans’ musical preferences. And to judge by the prevalence of high-waisted trousers, suspenders, cropped leather jackets, porkpie hats and fedoras on the dance floors, they are calling the tune in fashion as well"...“When you go into a club and the D.J. is wearing something, it almost gives it idol status,” said Frannie Schultz, 21, a college student from Brooklyn. Ms. Schultz, who mingles high style and low in deference to idols like Leigh Lezark of the MisShapes and Roxy Cottontail, noted that on the Lower East Side, epicenter of the downtown club scene, style is “centered around the promoters and the D.J.’s.”
I was surprised that there were enough female DJs to write this article about. I always see male DJ's and I'd been wondering when the tables would be turned (haha! Get it? Tables Turned?!?) My question wasn't too off base.
"A decade ago, only a handful of women, including Ms. Bond and Ms. Nellor, could claim the kind of style clout that comes with a presence in the D.J. booth.
“The barrier was high for females trying to enter an essentially male-dominated field,” said Rob Principe, a founder of Scratch Academy, a school for aspiring D.J.’s with outposts in New York, Miami and Los Angeles. Today, women are less intimidated, Mr. Principe said. In 2002, when the school was established, 10 to 15 percent of applicants were women. Now that figure is closer to 40 percent.
“D.J.-dom has definitely been a boy’s club, a kind of cabal,” said Alexandra Wagner, the editor of Fader, a magazine that covers emerging music and fashion. It is a club, she noted, that women are only now penetrating in significant numbers."
"They were enlisted, said Margo Brunell, the director of marketing for J. Crew, after being spotted on the Web. “We would look at the blogs and discover that the women who posted there were talking about fashion in one sentence and referencing to a cool D.J. they had seen in the next.”
-Agent Ska-
Pittsburgh Girls support Girls in Afghanistan
Wanted to share this event with other Pittsburgh women, as I am so proud of the girls at the school where I work...
Snipped from a student-written press release:
As part of its ongoing fundraising efforts, The Ellis Afghan Sister School Club will present a $2700 check to Mrs. Fahima Vorgetts, board member of Women for Afghan Women. The check will benefit Khwahari, Ellis’ sister school in Afghanistan, making their running fundraising total over $16,000.
Ellis students began the sister school project in 2004 when they learned that girls like them in Afghanistan were studying in tents because they had no school building. The girls resolved to build a school.
The club will host an informal coffee and conversation session with Mrs. Vorgetts from 5:30-7:00 in the Ellis Babcock Library, with the opportunity to purchase Afghan rugs and jewelry. Mrs. Vorgetts will discuss the status of the sister school and her human rights work in Afghanistan. The event is free and open to the public.
The story was covered last year in the Post-Gazette, and the girls have a website.
Fahima is an inspiring speaker - and a real on-the-ground activist working to change the lives of women. If you are free this evening, I invite you to come to Ellis and hear her speak.
MY FRIEND FRITZ AND THE FLAMING POPPYSEED ROLL
I was thinking about my neighbor and dear friend Fritz yesterday when I read this in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Not because Fritz was a coal miner, but because he has been my surrogate grandfather for a number of years. My grandfather was a coal miner.
Anthony "Tony" Petrosky was the only remaining grandfather I had at the age of four, and that's when he died. It is a moment in my life that visits me often, because I was the one who found him. He was napping on the sofa while my grandmother was preparing Sunday dinner and she told me it was time to wake him up. So I started to tug on him, and then I went to tell my Uncle Joe, who was still living at home at the time, that he wouldn't move, and I remember watching as his efforts went from "come on, Dad, get up," to desperation. I didn't know the word for it then, but I understood the emotion on his face. When my mother realized what was happening, she pulled me away.
He was taken to the hospital shortly after and pronounced dead. He died of "black lung." There are few photos of he and I together, but being the first grandchild, I was the recipient of all of his attention for what short time we had together. The thing I remember about him most was that he knew how to have fun.
He certainly didn't have the most glorious of childhoods -- he started working in the mines at 14, lived through the strike, slept in a tent (my grandmother has the photos) and told tales of eating coffee soup, so it took me a while to figure out why he was so happy. But as I would come to learn, the toughest people I know have the most genuine senses of humor and are, above all, able to laugh at their situations and themselves the most.
Anthony "Tony" Petrosky was the only remaining grandfather I had at the age of four, and that's when he died. It is a moment in my life that visits me often, because I was the one who found him. He was napping on the sofa while my grandmother was preparing Sunday dinner and she told me it was time to wake him up. So I started to tug on him, and then I went to tell my Uncle Joe, who was still living at home at the time, that he wouldn't move, and I remember watching as his efforts went from "come on, Dad, get up," to desperation. I didn't know the word for it then, but I understood the emotion on his face. When my mother realized what was happening, she pulled me away.
He was taken to the hospital shortly after and pronounced dead. He died of "black lung." There are few photos of he and I together, but being the first grandchild, I was the recipient of all of his attention for what short time we had together. The thing I remember about him most was that he knew how to have fun.
He certainly didn't have the most glorious of childhoods -- he started working in the mines at 14, lived through the strike, slept in a tent (my grandmother has the photos) and told tales of eating coffee soup, so it took me a while to figure out why he was so happy. But as I would come to learn, the toughest people I know have the most genuine senses of humor and are, above all, able to laugh at their situations and themselves the most.
My favorite photo of him has to be the one where he's dressed up as Little Bo Peep for Halloween. Wig and all. He was a real ham in front of the camera.
Reading the story about the exhibit at the Heinz History Center also reminded me of one of my early (June 2006), mangled attempts at blogging. I left the text exactly in its original, raw form; I only changed the font and color for easier reading (I was using a different background color when I started out, as if that matters in the least ... ).
Reading the story about the exhibit at the Heinz History Center also reminded me of one of my early (June 2006), mangled attempts at blogging. I left the text exactly in its original, raw form; I only changed the font and color for easier reading (I was using a different background color when I started out, as if that matters in the least ... ).
***
The photo of Fritz was taken when we were celebrating his 89th birthday the day before Thanksgiving. He lived at own home until October. Now he has a new home, and new neighbors, but his old neighbors still visit him as much as they can.
He is one of the funniest people I have ever met in my life. Sharp as a tack. And "not for his age." For any age.
(Poppyseed roll from Dave's Terrace Bakery, Whitehall. Smoke alarms going off courtesy of Ms. Mon.)
He is one of the funniest people I have ever met in my life. Sharp as a tack. And "not for his age." For any age.
(Poppyseed roll from Dave's Terrace Bakery, Whitehall. Smoke alarms going off courtesy of Ms. Mon.)
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
Why does a youth minister
... have a sawed-off shotgun in his home? And why would he give it to a 14 year old boy to examine? And why are children from youth ministry at his home on a school night?
That's a lot of poor judgement for one man to make in a single evening. Especially one given responsibility for young people. What's up with that?
I did the whole youth group thing in high school and college. I'm pretty sure my parents would nev-ah have left me go to the youth director's home and I'm absolutely sure I wouldn't have gone back if they knew he gave weapon exhibits to teenagers. Of course, my parent's church was pastored by Father John Wellinger so perhaps that isn't the best comparison.
But, seriously, can someone explain to me how a leader of young men and women isn't being held up for more scrutiny here? Even if you can explain why he owns the gun, why was it loaded? Even if you explain that, why would he show it to a child? Even if you explain that, why would he ... nah, you can't explain it.
Can you?
Chelsea and her sister, Ashley, 18, left to return to their nearby
house, but Chelsea forgot her purse. As she returned to Mr. Owens' living room
to get it, a sawed-off shotgun being examined by a 14-year-old boy in the group
went off.
She was killed instantly.
Mr. Owens told police one of the boys
wanted to look at the shotgun. He said he unloaded it before handing it to him.
However, it still contained a cartridge. Police could not be reached yesterday
to say if charges will be filed.
That's a lot of poor judgement for one man to make in a single evening. Especially one given responsibility for young people. What's up with that?
I did the whole youth group thing in high school and college. I'm pretty sure my parents would nev-ah have left me go to the youth director's home and I'm absolutely sure I wouldn't have gone back if they knew he gave weapon exhibits to teenagers. Of course, my parent's church was pastored by Father John Wellinger so perhaps that isn't the best comparison.
But, seriously, can someone explain to me how a leader of young men and women isn't being held up for more scrutiny here? Even if you can explain why he owns the gun, why was it loaded? Even if you explain that, why would he show it to a child? Even if you explain that, why would he ... nah, you can't explain it.
Can you?
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Do you know this song lyric?
Chalk this up to desperation.
I hate the annual clash of interfamilial holiday traditions. I am not a list maker. If you don't know me well enough to determine what I'd like as a present, don't buy one. Ask me my size, my color preference, etc. Don't ask me what I want. I know I'm particular and fussy. I read books from the library. I borrow CD's from Ledcat. Pay attention!
On the flip side, being handed a list is like a giant wall of expectation bashing Jesus AND Santa into a tiny heap of "Sparkle Season" dust. Don't give me the list of crap you haven't gotten around to buying for yourself. Don't put me in a box. Don't tell me you want Lemon Verbana Body Lotion from the Bath & Body Works because I'm not buying you something that was slathered on a cat for testing purposes. I'm going to The Body Shop and purchasing the closest possible scent. The fact that you would even suggest shows you don't know me well enough to receive a gift from me. Don't give me three gift card options. Don't tell me to send your kid a check because I'll never pick something he'd like. And for Mona's sake, please don't give me a gift and pout when I don't succumb to the temptation to spend $25.00 on people I don't even like very much. There are plenty of people I do like for whom I will not shell out $25.00.
So, Ledcat's mother has a small list. She's pretty creative and goes off-list so I can roll with that. She once made me a cute little "dress" for my dishsoap b/c I admired hers. She made it! For me! That's worth several years of semi-list requests.
She wants the album containing a song she hears on the radio. I'm guessing an Adult Contemporary Station out of Youngstown somewhere between 100.7 and 99.7. There's a "countryish" song sung by a woman with the title something like "Go Ahead and Try."
That's all I know. Both of her 90something parents are in the hospital and she finds the song uplifting and inspiring. She's also really worn down and just can't recall any more than that. So I search the Internet, sign up for (gulp!) country music lyric boards and still, nothing.
Help a lesbian out! I may have take Green Day out of my work CD player and listen to Lite Rock. That won't be good for anyone. Especially the kids!
ps: I recognize that my whole refusal to "compromise my values" arguement re The Body Shop is completely undermined by the plea for help on a list item. But ... she made me a dress, ladies!
I hate the annual clash of interfamilial holiday traditions. I am not a list maker. If you don't know me well enough to determine what I'd like as a present, don't buy one. Ask me my size, my color preference, etc. Don't ask me what I want. I know I'm particular and fussy. I read books from the library. I borrow CD's from Ledcat. Pay attention!
On the flip side, being handed a list is like a giant wall of expectation bashing Jesus AND Santa into a tiny heap of "Sparkle Season" dust. Don't give me the list of crap you haven't gotten around to buying for yourself. Don't put me in a box. Don't tell me you want Lemon Verbana Body Lotion from the Bath & Body Works because I'm not buying you something that was slathered on a cat for testing purposes. I'm going to The Body Shop and purchasing the closest possible scent. The fact that you would even suggest shows you don't know me well enough to receive a gift from me. Don't give me three gift card options. Don't tell me to send your kid a check because I'll never pick something he'd like. And for Mona's sake, please don't give me a gift and pout when I don't succumb to the temptation to spend $25.00 on people I don't even like very much. There are plenty of people I do like for whom I will not shell out $25.00.
So, Ledcat's mother has a small list. She's pretty creative and goes off-list so I can roll with that. She once made me a cute little "dress" for my dishsoap b/c I admired hers. She made it! For me! That's worth several years of semi-list requests.
She wants the album containing a song she hears on the radio. I'm guessing an Adult Contemporary Station out of Youngstown somewhere between 100.7 and 99.7. There's a "countryish" song sung by a woman with the title something like "Go Ahead and Try."
That's all I know. Both of her 90something parents are in the hospital and she finds the song uplifting and inspiring. She's also really worn down and just can't recall any more than that. So I search the Internet, sign up for (gulp!) country music lyric boards and still, nothing.
Help a lesbian out! I may have take Green Day out of my work CD player and listen to Lite Rock. That won't be good for anyone. Especially the kids!
ps: I recognize that my whole refusal to "compromise my values" arguement re The Body Shop is completely undermined by the plea for help on a list item. But ... she made me a dress, ladies!
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Friday, November 23, 2007
Officer Bradley – there oughta be a law
Source: WPXI – Rick Earle story, he’s doing a follow up.
The details I have:
Pgh. Police Ofcr. Bradley Walker was arrested – 2 counts of assault. Spent night in All. County jail. Is now out, without bail, back on active duty with NO restrictions – yes, that means he still has his gun.
With all of the media attention, council hearings, public outcry & demand for redress over the last 6 months, this is how the police brass reacts to
Council will deliberate the new ordinance, which merges Shields/Peduto’s work with that of the Admin. & Police Dept., on Weds., November 28th.
THANKFUL I AM NOT GOING SHOPPING, AMONG OTHER THINGS
Of course I'm thankful for family, friends and freedom and blah blah blah. But let's explore this "free" thing a little more, shall we?I would like to thank all the women who freely give their time, effort and talent to this blog, so that I may have informative and entertaining things to read. Free!
I would like to thank the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette for making their paper available to me. Free!
And the Trib. Free!
And all the other newspapers and magazines and online publications I am able to access -- gratis.
Library? Fa-ree!
I would like to thank my colleagues at the Carbolic Smoke Ball for continuing to entertain me. No charge for that, either. Or any of the other blogs that I read.
I would like to thank the good folks at City Paper and the other publications to which I have contributed for paying me, as well as for gainful employment outside the realm of writing -- so that I can continue to write in other forums ... you guessed it ... for free!
Which brings me back to being free to make the very conscious decision to not go shopping today. I feel like I don't lack for a thing.
That's better than free. It's priceless.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
HAPPY THANKSGIVING
we still have so much to be thankful for.
today, i will concentrate on those things.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Harlan loves the Mommy Bloggers!
Perhaps you've read "Help Me Harlan" in the Post-Gazette Sunday edition? As opposed to the Cat's Call/Just Ask Cat advice drivel tucked into Tuesday's edition? Harlan is nationally syndicated ("Like Dear Abby, only younger, hairier and a man."). Cat Specter has local political and society connections, plus a kicky beret. I'm not a fan.
Anyhoo, Harlan is working on a "How to be helpful" book for first time fathers and he wants help from mommies and daddies across the land. Follow the links to share your thoughts on how an expectant father can be supportive throughout pregnancy.
I generally like Harlan's advice, but have to admit that I groaned when he made the oh-so-obvious joke about eating a hamburger in front a woman in labor sucking on ice chips. Having never given birth myself, I can speculate that feeling helpless and terrified far transcend being a clueless, bumbling fool.
My brother-in-law is an awesome father, 100% invested in coparenting his toddler. He was as involved in the pregnancy as possible (from my limited vantage, I must acknowledge). But after being up for 26 straight hours, he went home for a nap and didn't wake up when he was supposed to return to the hospital. After an understandably frantic call from his wife, Ledcat had to literally drag him out of his bed which set in motion a predictable chain of guilt, anger, frustration and some yelling. Meanwhile, I fed the cats. I must give him props for how he handled the entire situation, post-nap. And no one jokes about it. Especially because she's pregnant again.
Harlan should be sure to include one sure-fire solution to these situations: have a set of childless, lesbian aunties on hand at all times for daddy shaking and cat feeding. Plus, where other bring flowers, we bring diapers. Amen.
Anyhoo, Harlan is working on a "How to be helpful" book for first time fathers and he wants help from mommies and daddies across the land. Follow the links to share your thoughts on how an expectant father can be supportive throughout pregnancy.
I generally like Harlan's advice, but have to admit that I groaned when he made the oh-so-obvious joke about eating a hamburger in front a woman in labor sucking on ice chips. Having never given birth myself, I can speculate that feeling helpless and terrified far transcend being a clueless, bumbling fool.
My brother-in-law is an awesome father, 100% invested in coparenting his toddler. He was as involved in the pregnancy as possible (from my limited vantage, I must acknowledge). But after being up for 26 straight hours, he went home for a nap and didn't wake up when he was supposed to return to the hospital. After an understandably frantic call from his wife, Ledcat had to literally drag him out of his bed which set in motion a predictable chain of guilt, anger, frustration and some yelling. Meanwhile, I fed the cats. I must give him props for how he handled the entire situation, post-nap. And no one jokes about it. Especially because she's pregnant again.
Harlan should be sure to include one sure-fire solution to these situations: have a set of childless, lesbian aunties on hand at all times for daddy shaking and cat feeding. Plus, where other bring flowers, we bring diapers. Amen.
The Society: 25 Bloggerettes Strong!
Welcome to Jamie, Pandora and nytesong whose participation brings The Society membership to a robust 25 bloggers. Yesterday (November 17) was our 7th month anniversary. One doesn't necessarily have anything to do with the other, but there you have it.
Be sure to check out The Society blogroll in the right-hand column for a glimpse of what's up for discussion in our individual domains.
Welcome, again!
Sue
*****************************************************************************
UPDATE: Not three minutes after I posted this message, Eleanor became our 26th member. Welcome to Eleanor, too!
Be sure to check out The Society blogroll in the right-hand column for a glimpse of what's up for discussion in our individual domains.
Welcome, again!
Sue
*****************************************************************************
UPDATE: Not three minutes after I posted this message, Eleanor became our 26th member. Welcome to Eleanor, too!
Three Books for Three Days
During the past three days, I had the good sense and the ability to read three incredible books: Terror Dream, Susan Faludi; Blindness, Jose Sarmago; and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, Jonathan Safran Foer. My thoughts rarely ever stray too far from analysing post 9.11 United States, but the first and the last titles allowed me to examine the event from other, fresher microscopes.
Faludi; though at times I get annoyed when her emotions, innocence, and lack of experience (of poverty, of motherhood, of siblings even) interfere with her logic and reason, I always hang on for the ride because I know - whether or not I agree with her observations - that I will praise her for her insight. Part of her thesis is that America returned to its (ir)regularly scheduled program following 9.11; the one in which voices of intelligent women all but disappear from the media, the one in which women are the helpless victims, and men are our saviors.
My opinion: it's a valid and true argument. It wasn't and isn't enough that the U.S. is fighting a war (as a result of the despotic rule of GWB n' Co). I believe the same thing occured during the years of the Vietnam War. The war wasn't just over there>>>, it was propagandized as an attack on home soil as well, with enemies like "hippies" (who, in reality opposed so much more than the war!), "blacks", drug users, criminals (laughable, considering it was Nixon pushing the message), feminists, and Muslims. Why did masses of people still rise up against the system? Was the propaganda late in coming? Was there no real attack on home soil, like Pearl Harbor, to gather together the people to fight and support a war? Did citizens have too much freedom? Or federal authorities too little control? Was it because they didn't have a privatized mercenary army? Obviously, this isn't the medium to properly address these questions; I just want to plant the seeds.
I don't know about you, but from where I stand I've been able to see unbelievable change in this country in the past six years. For the record: I don't participate in viewing television programs and I don't pay much attention to corporate media, which includes movies and popular magazines. I witness enough of it though. I read more than anyone I know, not much fiction. And I observe people...on purpose. I listen to them, watch their actions, their mannerisms.
Right now, the change coming to mind pertaining directly to women is how readily so many are willing to objectify themselves these days. I see it more in the younger women. It seems common, accepted and most definitely encouraged. Is it related to 9.11 and the return to cultural mores long established that place women in the mythological role of victim or object needed by the supposed hero to validate his self worth? I don't know. I just notice it, and after reading Terror Dream the other day, I thought, 'man, I wish I could have a conversation with this woman', because she's observed something similar. Her book provided me with a different venue to explore what I think I believe about that. Anyway, I highly recommend taking the time to read it or sections of it, and be patient. While Faludi may not have 20/20 insight, she's damn close.
Oh! Almost forgot! As for Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close - not that anyone is looking to be told what to read - you should just read it, obviously. (that's something Oskar would say - obviously) Oskar is the nine year old from whose perspective the reader hears most of the narrative, and whose father had a meeting at Windows on the World the morning of 9.11. It's...well...it speaks for itself. Yes, it's that good.
lk
Faludi; though at times I get annoyed when her emotions, innocence, and lack of experience (of poverty, of motherhood, of siblings even) interfere with her logic and reason, I always hang on for the ride because I know - whether or not I agree with her observations - that I will praise her for her insight. Part of her thesis is that America returned to its (ir)regularly scheduled program following 9.11; the one in which voices of intelligent women all but disappear from the media, the one in which women are the helpless victims, and men are our saviors.
My opinion: it's a valid and true argument. It wasn't and isn't enough that the U.S. is fighting a war (as a result of the despotic rule of GWB n' Co). I believe the same thing occured during the years of the Vietnam War. The war wasn't just over there>>>, it was propagandized as an attack on home soil as well, with enemies like "hippies" (who, in reality opposed so much more than the war!), "blacks", drug users, criminals (laughable, considering it was Nixon pushing the message), feminists, and Muslims. Why did masses of people still rise up against the system? Was the propaganda late in coming? Was there no real attack on home soil, like Pearl Harbor, to gather together the people to fight and support a war? Did citizens have too much freedom? Or federal authorities too little control? Was it because they didn't have a privatized mercenary army? Obviously, this isn't the medium to properly address these questions; I just want to plant the seeds.
I don't know about you, but from where I stand I've been able to see unbelievable change in this country in the past six years. For the record: I don't participate in viewing television programs and I don't pay much attention to corporate media, which includes movies and popular magazines. I witness enough of it though. I read more than anyone I know, not much fiction. And I observe people...on purpose. I listen to them, watch their actions, their mannerisms.
Right now, the change coming to mind pertaining directly to women is how readily so many are willing to objectify themselves these days. I see it more in the younger women. It seems common, accepted and most definitely encouraged. Is it related to 9.11 and the return to cultural mores long established that place women in the mythological role of victim or object needed by the supposed hero to validate his self worth? I don't know. I just notice it, and after reading Terror Dream the other day, I thought, 'man, I wish I could have a conversation with this woman', because she's observed something similar. Her book provided me with a different venue to explore what I think I believe about that. Anyway, I highly recommend taking the time to read it or sections of it, and be patient. While Faludi may not have 20/20 insight, she's damn close.
Oh! Almost forgot! As for Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close - not that anyone is looking to be told what to read - you should just read it, obviously. (that's something Oskar would say - obviously) Oskar is the nine year old from whose perspective the reader hears most of the narrative, and whose father had a meeting at Windows on the World the morning of 9.11. It's...well...it speaks for itself. Yes, it's that good.
lk
Friday, November 16, 2007
La terreur transsexuelle
I received this from a friend in France. Its a Turkish documentary on trans issues and how trans people are portrayed (poorly) in the media and larger society. It's subtitled in French.
http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x38vqh_la-terreur-transsexuelle_politics
http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x38vqh_la-terreur-transsexuelle_politics
Anyone else catch this headline?
“Tomorrow on ‘Good Morning America,’ our correspondent faces the greatest fear of women undergoing cancer: losing her hair.”
Anyone else a little uneasy over it?
Anyone else a little uneasy over it?
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Mrs. Huckabee likes the weapons
According to the Wonkette:
Polite small talk over cucumber sandwiches and Earl Gray may work for some tea parties, but Janet Huckabee likes talking weapons. During a tea party at the South Carolina governor’s mansion, Huckabee told CNN she’s pretty good with a grenade launcher. “I have fired a grenade launcher and hit the target two out of three times, so I think that’s pretty good odds for me,” she said, noting that she had a special interest in military matters and has also jumped out of an airplane, flown in an F-16 and shot an MP5 submachine gun.
-Agent Ska-
Polite small talk over cucumber sandwiches and Earl Gray may work for some tea parties, but Janet Huckabee likes talking weapons. During a tea party at the South Carolina governor’s mansion, Huckabee told CNN she’s pretty good with a grenade launcher. “I have fired a grenade launcher and hit the target two out of three times, so I think that’s pretty good odds for me,” she said, noting that she had a special interest in military matters and has also jumped out of an airplane, flown in an F-16 and shot an MP5 submachine gun.
(Cue Meatloaf: Now don’t be sad… cause two out of three ain’t bad.)
“I just was at the National Guard training camp at Camp Robinson and they just said we just want to, you know, introduce you to some of the equipment and some of the military guns that they have. And so one of them happened to be a grenade launcher, and so I shot it, and they said, ‘You’re good.’ And I said, ‘Thank you.’”
We’re not sure why, but we sort of think there’s something sexy about a woman wielding weapons. Issues?
Mrs. Huckabee: 2-for-3 with a grenade launcher [CNN]
-Agent Ska-
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Pittsburgh Transgender Day of Remembrance
The Pittsburgh Transgender Day of Remembrance will be held on Sunday, November 18, 2007, at St. Andrew Lutheran Church, 304 Morewood Avenue, Pittsburgh, PA. 15213
Ceremony will begin at 7pm and last no later than 8pm. Reception to follow.
Please contact Emilia Lombardi for more information. 412-383-2233, or elombardi@stophiv.pitt.edu.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Post-Gazette on ENDA "It is a shame"
This is the best the PG could muster on a legislative "victory" at the expense of the most vulnerable members in our (LGBT) community:
Wow. The rest of the piece is decent, but there's no real examination of how leaving gender presentation and gender identity out of the legislation impacts us all. There's no sentence about the improbability of amending the act somewhere down the line. There's no acknowledgement that the majority of national LGBT organizations opposed the stripped down version and, thus, no reason to ask why.
And, most importantly, there's no acknowledgement of the legislation introduced in the Pennsylvania chambers by Dan Frankel.
While I personally appreciate their support, I wish the PG editors had written the complex analysis circumstances warrant rather than churning out the "we love the homos" refrain.
That's a shame.
If anything, HR 3685 does not go far enough. It should have covered
transsexual and transgender individuals, who are just as worthy of compassion
and understanding, but their interests were sacrificed to increase political
support.
That's a shame. But this bill, if it wins support in the Senate, as
we hope it will, would make a historic statement about tolerating
tolerance.
Wow. The rest of the piece is decent, but there's no real examination of how leaving gender presentation and gender identity out of the legislation impacts us all. There's no sentence about the improbability of amending the act somewhere down the line. There's no acknowledgement that the majority of national LGBT organizations opposed the stripped down version and, thus, no reason to ask why.
And, most importantly, there's no acknowledgement of the legislation introduced in the Pennsylvania chambers by Dan Frankel.
While I personally appreciate their support, I wish the PG editors had written the complex analysis circumstances warrant rather than churning out the "we love the homos" refrain.
That's a shame.
Mind Boggling
A lawyer for the man accused of raping a University of Cincinnati student said the encounter could have been consensual because the woman has a history of sleepwalking.
And it gets even worse.
And it gets even worse.
COULD WE JUST TWEAK IT TO "THE BIKE BEFORE EASTER?"
THANKS A LOT FOR THE BIKE, SANTA
I really want to love this man and give him a great big hug and say, on behalf of all the children, thank you! Really I do. I want to wax rhapsodic about his jolly spirit of giving with unbridled ecstasy and unparalled gratitude.
But I can't. Because from personal experience, I can tell you that, in this climate, there is nothing more tragic than receiving a bicycle for Christmas. Really. Just hear me out. Then poo-poo me all you want.
There's no argument that a bike always makes for a magnificent, magical moment when its discovered placed just so in front of a glistening tree on Christmas morning. But then a harsh -- and a literal cold -- reality hits. You can't ride it. Even as a seven-year-old, you know this shit.
It's icy out. It's snowy out. It's freeeeezing. And God only knows when this is going to change. Days seem like months and months seem like years to a kid.
But I can't. Because from personal experience, I can tell you that, in this climate, there is nothing more tragic than receiving a bicycle for Christmas. Really. Just hear me out. Then poo-poo me all you want.
There's no argument that a bike always makes for a magnificent, magical moment when its discovered placed just so in front of a glistening tree on Christmas morning. But then a harsh -- and a literal cold -- reality hits. You can't ride it. Even as a seven-year-old, you know this shit.
It's icy out. It's snowy out. It's freeeeezing. And God only knows when this is going to change. Days seem like months and months seem like years to a kid.
I remember my first shiny red (they all used to be shiny and red) bike. It had no gears, and somewhat intimidating fenders (my mother's first attempt at keeping the boys away, I think). And I clearly recall pleading with my mother to take it out on Christmas day for a glorious maiden voyage that I'd love to share with you, but I can't. Because the roads were covered with snow.
"No! Are you crazy? You can't ride a bicycle out there in this weather!" (Talk about the pot calling the kettle black, mom.)
The Christmas bicycle tradition of giving would continue until I was 16, and had worked my way up to a sleek blue ten-speed with ram horn handlebars. (We didn't get cars like kids get today, guys.)
You would think that I would have remembered this as an adult, with my own children. But no, there is something in the soul that subconsciously wants to torment your children the way you were tormented. So when my older two were small, they both got bikes one year. And they couldn't ride them. All they could do was admire them, and maybe cruise them across the living room.
"No! Are you crazy? You can't ride a bicycle out there in this weather!" (Talk about the pot calling the kettle black, mom.)
The Christmas bicycle tradition of giving would continue until I was 16, and had worked my way up to a sleek blue ten-speed with ram horn handlebars. (We didn't get cars like kids get today, guys.)
You would think that I would have remembered this as an adult, with my own children. But no, there is something in the soul that subconsciously wants to torment your children the way you were tormented. So when my older two were small, they both got bikes one year. And they couldn't ride them. All they could do was admire them, and maybe cruise them across the living room.
It was after that fateful Christmas morning when I realized I was repeating the proverbial mistakes of the past that I vowed to never give a bike for a Christmas gift again. It's heartbreaking. The waiting ... and the waiting. The staring at the bike. Then the eventual storing of the bike. The realization that you've given Huffy money you could have invested in a short-term CD. Sad, sad, sad.
Since the kids have birthdays in April and May, I promised myself that's when they'd get a new bike -- if they needed it.
Since the kids have birthdays in April and May, I promised myself that's when they'd get a new bike -- if they needed it.
The cycle of heartbreak had to end, once and for all.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
"Female Serial Killer Has To Work Twice As Hard To Achieve Notoriety"
OTSEGO, MI—While she may not be making the nightly news or gracing the covers of Time and Newsweek, 46-year-old nursing-home worker Barbara Louise Huxley is a dedicated, ruthless killer. But in today's male-dominated world of remorseless slaughter, Huxley has been forced to murder twice as many innocent victims just to gain the public exposure and foster the widespread panic her male counterparts routinely enjoy.
.....
"There's nothing more upsetting than strangling someone with surgical tubing, only to have them look at you in shock and disbelief," Huxley said. "It's like, 'Why are you so surprised? Is it because I'm a woman?!'"
Read the rest here.
Gotta love The Onion.
:-)
-Agent Ska-
.....
"There's nothing more upsetting than strangling someone with surgical tubing, only to have them look at you in shock and disbelief," Huxley said. "It's like, 'Why are you so surprised? Is it because I'm a woman?!'"
Read the rest here.
Gotta love The Onion.
:-)
-Agent Ska-
Veterans Day
November 11 is Veterans Day (observed tomorrow). In honor of that, I'm passing along this list of things you can do to support the troops that made its way into my mailbox:
TOP 10 WAYS TO SUPPORT OUR TROOPS
(With apologies to David Letterman)
10. Post a message on the Wounded Heroes Tribute page
Go to http://www.caringbridge.org/ to send a message to someone recovering from injuries.
9. Knit or crochet a helmet liner
Go to www.geocities.com/helmetliner to download the pattern.
8. Donate Phone Cards
Go to operationuplink@vfw.org , to send phone cards to our troops overseas.
7. Send Books
Go to http://www.booksforsoldiers.com/ , to find out how to send books to our troops in Iraq, Afghanistan and in military hospitals.
6. Help Provide Groceries
Go to http://www.comissaries.com/ , to help provide groceries for service families.
5. Donate Your Frequent Flyer Miles
Go to http://www.heromiles.org/ , to help service men and women get back to their families.
4. Support the Coalition to Salute America’s Heroes
Go to http://www.saluteheroes.org/ to help wounded and disabled veterans
3. Visit http://www.anysoldier.com/
Get names and addresses of service men and women and send them care packages.
2. Give To Homes For Our Troops
Call 866-7-troops, to donate to build or remodel accessible homes for severely injured veterans
1. Call Your Congressman
Tell him Dennis Kucinich is right. Impeach Bush and Cheney Now!
Saturday, November 10, 2007
BROKEN ON A SATURDAY MORNING
Dearest Gary Pletsch,I told you this would happen.
For years, I have purchased your pottery only as gifts to be given to other people (I specify because the practice of "buying gifts for oneself" seems to be growing in popularity). In fact, one of your beautiful blue cobalt bowls was bestowed upon my good friend Mary and her husband, who have on many occasions, along with their giant Newfoundlands, taken to entertaining me in their lovely home. (Though it was probably more the other way around.)
Another, larger, dusky green bowl belongs to my artsy, ragtime piano-playing friend Chris, who (or whom, whichever school of wordsmithery you subscribe to) me (or I; see previous parenthetical statement) and my kids love because he's one of the funniest people we know. He refers to his three brothers as "the unholy trinity" (one's a lawyer, one has a Ph.D. and is a school bully expert --and Chris always cracks me up when he says, "Well, he should know all about bullying since he beat the living shit out of me when I was a kid" -- and I forget what the third one does; I only met him once at at a funeral --but I'm sure he's equally nefarious). I yelled at him because I found your lovely bowl in the dishwasher at his house. More than once. He uses it as a centerpiece on his table and always puts it out when we're coming over because he knows it makes me happy. Until he puts it in the dishwasher again.
Even Marie has a lovely plate that you made. (Figure that one out.)
Being that I have such a soft spot for potters, I finally gave in to you. You wore me down like a pair of 20-inch tires in Brookline during the spring thaw until I got a piece of my own, after I told you and I told you, "my kids will break it."
Now, I'm left here to pace and ponder how to put a positive spin on my shattered piece of pottery. Oh, the turmoil!
Do you think if I put "Unchained Melody" on the stereo, plant myself in my youngest son's Sit 'N Spin and concentrate hard enough, Patrick Swayze will embrace me from behind? I mean, at least then I wouldn't care so much about the broken pottery.
Sincerely,
Ms. Mon
P.S. Crazy Glue, right?
Friday, November 9, 2007
Rapist of 12 year-old hired by Pgh Public Works
Crossposted from 2pj at Sue and Sherry's request (with a h/t to Gloria who posted this story to a mailing list):
From kdka.com:Bernard Pendleton is a truck driver for the City Public Works Department. He's a Democratic Committeeman. He's also a convicted felon.
Court documents show that in 1987 Pendleton approached a 12-year-old girl at a bus stop, asked her if she wanted to go smoke marijuana, then took her to a house and raped her, threatening, "If you tell somebody, you know what is going to happen."
[snip]
Public Works Director Guy Costa is one of several city leaders who approved the hiring of Pendleton because of his Democratic Party affiliation. They never saw his criminal file - didn't know he raped a 12-year-old. But they did know he was a felon. Right on his job application he admits to pleading guilty to statutory rape and illegal gun possession.
"We felt it was good for us to hire him as a truck driver," Costa said.
Griffin: "So it's okay then? On his record he says, 'I have been convicted rape.' That doesn't come across anybody's desk?"
Costa: "Based on the information we had at the time we felt that he was the best candidate."
(Apparently, however, there is no truth to the rumor that Public Works will be handing out Aqua Dots to city children for the holidays.)
May we add that this type of thing is exactly why we need ordinances and not just departmental polices when it comes to hiring and promotions practices in this city?
While we are gratified to learn that women's and DV groups are continuing to meet with police and city officials this week over police policies on officers with domestic violence histories, we cannot allow the police bureau to simply institute their own guidelines.
There must be laws in place when it comes to the safety of women and children in our city.
.
Coffee Houses?
I am searching for a list of coffee houses. I'm trying something a bit innovative (one hopes) by taking my foster parent recruitment on the road in 2008 (The CoffeeHouse Tour). I'd like to tap into the community aspect and use it as a vehicle to educate the public about foster care - to tap into the need for the community to embrace children in the foster care system, be it as foster parents or in some other way.
A classic example was my asking some friends to contribute $3.00 to help us send a really amazing set of foster parents out for dinner. They have a lot of children in their care and do a great - no, make that amazing - job, so we were able to arrange for childcare and a nice dinner. (Childcare for foster care is a bit more complicated than asking your neighbor's teen to watch the children for a few hours.) I asked the babysitter how it went and she told me they came home looking more rested and relaxed than they had in the past six months. Recharging their batteries helps them continue to foster parent at that super-awesome level. It was a lovely testimony to how everyday folks can support foster families. $3.00 made a real difference. And you'll never hear about it on the news, so I'm going to make sure you hear about it from me.
So I'm gonna spend six months drinking coffee and snacking on biscotti -- for the kids, of course.
I've discovered that coffeehouses are very prevalent in the East End and the Northside, so I need some help to ID spots in other parts of town. Any thoughts?
I've contacted:
Amani
Beleza
The Vault
Quiet Storm
Taza D'oro
Coffee Tree Roasters
Crazy Mocha
mojoe
Aldo
Blue Horse
So I'm good with the North Side and the entire East End. I'd really like to find something in the Penn Hills/Monroeville area, the West End and the Homestead/Munhall area. Maybe the North Hills.
Help!
So here's my official plea for information on CoffeeHouses or similar places. Ideally, I need
A classic example was my asking some friends to contribute $3.00 to help us send a really amazing set of foster parents out for dinner. They have a lot of children in their care and do a great - no, make that amazing - job, so we were able to arrange for childcare and a nice dinner. (Childcare for foster care is a bit more complicated than asking your neighbor's teen to watch the children for a few hours.) I asked the babysitter how it went and she told me they came home looking more rested and relaxed than they had in the past six months. Recharging their batteries helps them continue to foster parent at that super-awesome level. It was a lovely testimony to how everyday folks can support foster families. $3.00 made a real difference. And you'll never hear about it on the news, so I'm going to make sure you hear about it from me.
So I'm gonna spend six months drinking coffee and snacking on biscotti -- for the kids, of course.
I've discovered that coffeehouses are very prevalent in the East End and the Northside, so I need some help to ID spots in other parts of town. Any thoughts?
I've contacted:
Amani
Beleza
The Vault
Quiet Storm
Taza D'oro
Coffee Tree Roasters
Crazy Mocha
mojoe
Aldo
Blue Horse
So I'm good with the North Side and the entire East End. I'd really like to find something in the Penn Hills/Monroeville area, the West End and the Homestead/Munhall area. Maybe the North Hills.
Help!
So here's my official plea for information on CoffeeHouses or similar places. Ideally, I need
Thursday, November 8, 2007
"ONCE YOU LET HUGGING GO, YOU KNOW WHAT'LL HAPPEN ... "
These are the things that make me want to pull my hair out and scream.These are the things that just make me laugh.
These are the things that drive me to drink.
P.S. Please don't let me forget this next time I go to the grocery store.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Clarification: Chris Potter Rocks as a Feminist
From this week's City Paper
Potter wrote a column about the Duquesne University/WDUQ/Planned Parenthood debacle. He suggested protesting the actions of Duquesne University by making a donation to PP in the name of the University President, Charles Dougherty.
Dougherty contacted PP by letter stating that he did not wish to be associated with donations. PP contacted the City Paper, but didn't release the letter or make further comment.
So the City Paper is dutifully informing readers in a delicious "why didn't you just let sleeping dogs lie, Chuck?" kind of way. Read on and let me know what you think ...
Potter wrote a column about the Duquesne University/WDUQ/Planned Parenthood debacle. He suggested protesting the actions of Duquesne University by making a donation to PP in the name of the University President, Charles Dougherty.
Dougherty contacted PP by letter stating that he did not wish to be associated with donations. PP contacted the City Paper, but didn't release the letter or make further comment.
So the City Paper is dutifully informing readers in a delicious "why didn't you just let sleeping dogs lie, Chuck?" kind of way. Read on and let me know what you think ...
City Paper apologizes to readers who might have thought Dougherty did want you to [make a contribution in his name.] We tried to make it
clear that contributing to Planned Parenthood was probably
the last thing Dougherty wanted -- and that this was precisely why City
Paper was suggesting it. City Paper's point was that Duquesne
administrators had hijacked WDUQ's name and reputation to promote their own
ideology; we were merely returning the favor.
But apparently, at least one person, Charles J. Dougherty, was confused on
this point.
So to ensure there are no further misunderstandings, Chris Potter will make
another contribution in the name of Charles J. Dougherty. This time it
willbe to NARAL Pro-Choice America, the country's foremost advocate for
reproductive freedom.If you care to follow suit, make out your check to "NARAL Pro-Choice America," and mail it to 1156 15th Street NW, Washington, DC 20005. Bear in mind, please, that Charles J. Dougherty does not wish to be associated with your gift."
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
VOTE
go vote.
Freedoms Plow by
Langston Hughes
When a man starts out with nothing,
When a man starts out with his hands
Empty, but clean,
When a man starts to build a world,
He starts first with himself
And the faith that is in his heart-
The strength there,
The will there to build.
First in the heart is the dream-
Then the mind starts seeking a way.
His eyes look out on the world,
On the great wooded world,
On the rich soil of the world,
On the rivers of the world.
The eyes see there materials for building,
See the difficulties, too, and the obstacles.
The mind seeks a way to overcome these obstacles.
The hand seeks tools to cut the wood,
To till the soil, and harness the power of the waters.
Then the hand seeks other hands to help,
A community of hands to help-
Thus the dream becomes not one man's dream alone,
But a community dream.
Not my dream alone, but our dream.
Not my world alone,
But your world and my world,
Belonging to all the hands who build.
A long time ago, but not too long ago,
Ships came from across the sea
Bringing the Pilgrims and prayer-makers,
Adventurers and booty seekers,
Free men and indentured servants,
Slave men and slave masters, all new-
To a new world, America!
With billowing sails the galleons came
Bringing men and dreams, women and dreams.
In little bands together,
Heart reaching out to heart,
Hand reaching out to hand,
They began to build our land.
Some were free hands
Seeking a greater freedom,
Some were indentured hands
Hoping to find their freedom,
Some were slave hands
Guarding in their hearts the seed of freedom,
But the word was there always:
Freedom.
Down into the earth went the plow
In the free hands and the slave hands,
In indentured hands and adventurous hands,
Turning the rich soil went the plow in many hands
That planted and harvested the food that fed
And the cotton that clothed America.
Clang against the trees went the ax into many hands
That hewed and shaped the rooftops of America.
Splash into the rivers and the seas went the boat-hulls
That moved and transported America.
Crack went the whips that drove the horses
Across the plains of America.
Free hands and slave hands,
Indentured hands, adventurous hands,
White hands and black hands
Held the plow handles,
Ax handles, hammer handles,
Launched the boats and whipped the horses
That fed and housed and moved America.
Thus together through labor,
All these hands made America.
Labor! Out of labor came villages
And the towns that grew cities.
Labor! Out of labor came the rowboats
And the sailboats and the steamboats,
Came the wagons, and the coaches,
Covered wagons, stage coaches,
Out of labor came the factories,
Came the foundries, came the railroads.
Came the marts and markets, shops and stores,
Came the mighty products moulded, manufactured,
Sold in shops, piled in warehouses,
Shipped the wide world over:
Out of labor-white hands and black hands-
Came the dream, the strength, the will,
And the way to build America.
Now it is Me here, and You there.
Now it's Manhattan, Chicago,
Seattle, New Orleans,
Boston and El Paso-
Now it's the U.S.A.
A long time ago, but not too long ago, a man said:
ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL--
ENDOWED BY THEIR CREATOR
WITH CERTAIN UNALIENABLE RIGHTS--
AMONG THESE LIFE, LIBERTY
AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS.
His name was Jefferson. There were slaves then,
But in their hearts the slaves believed him, too,
And silently too for granted
That what he said was also meant for them.
It was a long time ago,
But not so long ago at that, Lincoln said:
NO MAN IS GOOD ENOUGH
TO GOVERN ANOTHER MAN
WITHOUT THAT OTHER'S CONSENT.
There were slaves then, too,
But in their hearts the slaves knew
What he said must be meant for every human being-
Else it had no meaning for anyone.
Then a man said:
BETTER TO DIE FREE
THAN TO LIVE SLAVES
He was a colored man who had been a slave
But had run away to freedom.
And the slaves knew
What Frederick Douglass said was true.
With John Brown at Harper's Ferry, Negroes died.
John Brown was hung.
Before the Civil War, days were dark,
And nobody knew for sure
When freedom would triumph
"Or if it would," thought some.
But others new it had to triumph.
In those dark days of slavery,
Guarding in their hearts the seed of freedom,
The slaves made up a song:
Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
That song meant just what it said: Hold On!
Freedom will come!
Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
Out of war it came, bloody and terrible!
But it came!
Some there were, as always,
Who doubted that the war would end right,
That the slaves would be free,
Or that the union would stand,
But now we know how it all came out.
Out of the darkest days for people and a nation,
We know now how it came out.
There was light when the battle clouds rolled away.
There was a great wooded land,
And men united as a nation.
America is a dream.
The poet says it was promises.
The people say it is promises-that will come true.
The people do not always say things out loud,
Nor write them down on paper.
The people often hold
Great thoughts in their deepest hearts
And sometimes only blunderingly express them,
Haltingly and stumblingly say them,
And faultily put them into practice.
The people do not always understand each other.
But there is, somewhere there,
Always the trying to understand,
And the trying to say,
"You are a man. Together we are building our land."
America!
Land created in common,
Dream nourished in common,
Keep your hand on the plow! Hold on!
If the house is not yet finished,
Don't be discouraged, builder!
If the fight is not yet won,
Don't be weary, soldier!
The plan and the pattern is here,
Woven from the beginning
Into the warp and woof of America:
ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL.
NO MAN IS GOOD ENOUGH
TO GOVERN ANOTHER MAN
WITHOUT HIS CONSENT.
BETTER DIE FREE,
THAN TO LIVE SLAVES.
Who said those things? Americans!
Who owns those words? America!
Who is America? You, me!
We are America!
To the enemy who would conquer us from without,
We say, NO!
To the enemy who would divide
And conquer us from within,
We say, NO!
FREEDOM!
BROTHERHOOD!
DEMOCRACY!
To all the enemies of these great words:
We say, NO!
A long time ago,
An enslaved people heading toward freedom
Made up a song:
Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
The plow plowed a new furrow
Across the field of history.
Into that furrow the freedom seed was dropped.
From that seed a tree grew, is growing, will ever grow.
That tree is for everybody,
For all America, for all the world.
May its branches spread and shelter grow
Until all races and all peoples know its shade.
KEEP YOUR HAND ON THE PLOW! HOLD ON!
Freedoms Plow by
Langston Hughes
When a man starts out with nothing,
When a man starts out with his hands
Empty, but clean,
When a man starts to build a world,
He starts first with himself
And the faith that is in his heart-
The strength there,
The will there to build.
First in the heart is the dream-
Then the mind starts seeking a way.
His eyes look out on the world,
On the great wooded world,
On the rich soil of the world,
On the rivers of the world.
The eyes see there materials for building,
See the difficulties, too, and the obstacles.
The mind seeks a way to overcome these obstacles.
The hand seeks tools to cut the wood,
To till the soil, and harness the power of the waters.
Then the hand seeks other hands to help,
A community of hands to help-
Thus the dream becomes not one man's dream alone,
But a community dream.
Not my dream alone, but our dream.
Not my world alone,
But your world and my world,
Belonging to all the hands who build.
A long time ago, but not too long ago,
Ships came from across the sea
Bringing the Pilgrims and prayer-makers,
Adventurers and booty seekers,
Free men and indentured servants,
Slave men and slave masters, all new-
To a new world, America!
With billowing sails the galleons came
Bringing men and dreams, women and dreams.
In little bands together,
Heart reaching out to heart,
Hand reaching out to hand,
They began to build our land.
Some were free hands
Seeking a greater freedom,
Some were indentured hands
Hoping to find their freedom,
Some were slave hands
Guarding in their hearts the seed of freedom,
But the word was there always:
Freedom.
Down into the earth went the plow
In the free hands and the slave hands,
In indentured hands and adventurous hands,
Turning the rich soil went the plow in many hands
That planted and harvested the food that fed
And the cotton that clothed America.
Clang against the trees went the ax into many hands
That hewed and shaped the rooftops of America.
Splash into the rivers and the seas went the boat-hulls
That moved and transported America.
Crack went the whips that drove the horses
Across the plains of America.
Free hands and slave hands,
Indentured hands, adventurous hands,
White hands and black hands
Held the plow handles,
Ax handles, hammer handles,
Launched the boats and whipped the horses
That fed and housed and moved America.
Thus together through labor,
All these hands made America.
Labor! Out of labor came villages
And the towns that grew cities.
Labor! Out of labor came the rowboats
And the sailboats and the steamboats,
Came the wagons, and the coaches,
Covered wagons, stage coaches,
Out of labor came the factories,
Came the foundries, came the railroads.
Came the marts and markets, shops and stores,
Came the mighty products moulded, manufactured,
Sold in shops, piled in warehouses,
Shipped the wide world over:
Out of labor-white hands and black hands-
Came the dream, the strength, the will,
And the way to build America.
Now it is Me here, and You there.
Now it's Manhattan, Chicago,
Seattle, New Orleans,
Boston and El Paso-
Now it's the U.S.A.
A long time ago, but not too long ago, a man said:
ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL--
ENDOWED BY THEIR CREATOR
WITH CERTAIN UNALIENABLE RIGHTS--
AMONG THESE LIFE, LIBERTY
AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS.
His name was Jefferson. There were slaves then,
But in their hearts the slaves believed him, too,
And silently too for granted
That what he said was also meant for them.
It was a long time ago,
But not so long ago at that, Lincoln said:
NO MAN IS GOOD ENOUGH
TO GOVERN ANOTHER MAN
WITHOUT THAT OTHER'S CONSENT.
There were slaves then, too,
But in their hearts the slaves knew
What he said must be meant for every human being-
Else it had no meaning for anyone.
Then a man said:
BETTER TO DIE FREE
THAN TO LIVE SLAVES
He was a colored man who had been a slave
But had run away to freedom.
And the slaves knew
What Frederick Douglass said was true.
With John Brown at Harper's Ferry, Negroes died.
John Brown was hung.
Before the Civil War, days were dark,
And nobody knew for sure
When freedom would triumph
"Or if it would," thought some.
But others new it had to triumph.
In those dark days of slavery,
Guarding in their hearts the seed of freedom,
The slaves made up a song:
Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
That song meant just what it said: Hold On!
Freedom will come!
Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
Out of war it came, bloody and terrible!
But it came!
Some there were, as always,
Who doubted that the war would end right,
That the slaves would be free,
Or that the union would stand,
But now we know how it all came out.
Out of the darkest days for people and a nation,
We know now how it came out.
There was light when the battle clouds rolled away.
There was a great wooded land,
And men united as a nation.
America is a dream.
The poet says it was promises.
The people say it is promises-that will come true.
The people do not always say things out loud,
Nor write them down on paper.
The people often hold
Great thoughts in their deepest hearts
And sometimes only blunderingly express them,
Haltingly and stumblingly say them,
And faultily put them into practice.
The people do not always understand each other.
But there is, somewhere there,
Always the trying to understand,
And the trying to say,
"You are a man. Together we are building our land."
America!
Land created in common,
Dream nourished in common,
Keep your hand on the plow! Hold on!
If the house is not yet finished,
Don't be discouraged, builder!
If the fight is not yet won,
Don't be weary, soldier!
The plan and the pattern is here,
Woven from the beginning
Into the warp and woof of America:
ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL.
NO MAN IS GOOD ENOUGH
TO GOVERN ANOTHER MAN
WITHOUT HIS CONSENT.
BETTER DIE FREE,
THAN TO LIVE SLAVES.
Who said those things? Americans!
Who owns those words? America!
Who is America? You, me!
We are America!
To the enemy who would conquer us from without,
We say, NO!
To the enemy who would divide
And conquer us from within,
We say, NO!
FREEDOM!
BROTHERHOOD!
DEMOCRACY!
To all the enemies of these great words:
We say, NO!
A long time ago,
An enslaved people heading toward freedom
Made up a song:
Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
The plow plowed a new furrow
Across the field of history.
Into that furrow the freedom seed was dropped.
From that seed a tree grew, is growing, will ever grow.
That tree is for everybody,
For all America, for all the world.
May its branches spread and shelter grow
Until all races and all peoples know its shade.
KEEP YOUR HAND ON THE PLOW! HOLD ON!
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Barney Frank Reception
I attended the reception for Barney Frank this past Saturday, which was held at the very beautiful home of Christine Donohue (who herself is running for judgeship for the Superior Court of PA) and sponsored by Stonewall Democrats. It was very nice and I and a number of my friends from the University and from around town were there. But my main goal of the afternoon was to hear what Rep. Frank had to say about the Employment Nondiscrimination Act.
The facts; ENDA will be coming up for a vote this week; Rep Baldwin will offer and then pull her amendment so it will not receive a vote; ENDA without gender identity protections will go forward for a vote (Rep’s Doyle and Altmire stated that they were going to vote yea for this bill); and then it’s the wait to see if the Senate picks it up. None of this is actually new, but a couple things caught my attention.
The first was a comment made by Rep. Frank about how politicians say one thing and do another. One might ask “how is this new?”, but being reminded of this does make this whole situation understandable. My hypothesis is that Reps told activists/lobbyists one thing (that they are supportive of gender identity within ENDA) and then told their leadership another (I can’t vote for this). That could explain the disparate perceptions between Rep Frank and activists. But being a good scientist I can’t either find support or nonsupport of this hypothesis because I don’t have the data to make such a pronouncement. But it does bring attention to the problems inherent in this process. How do we as activists know when people are not only supportive but also willing to act on that feeling?
Needless to say, those supporting gender identity and trans inclusion not only need to continue their work but to step things up a bit. In addition, those of us (and include myself in this) who have been a bit lax in getting involved need to get more involved. We need to move out of our comfort zone because politicians need more education and those currently working toward inclusion need the help. We can no longer be complacent. This includes PA Rep. Frankel’s ENDA for
This brings me to my second observation about Rep. Frank. I don’t think I exist in his community. I think he is very fixated within a very specific idea of a gay and lesbian community and see’s the transgender community as something distinct as opposed to being part of a larger whole. That is not to say that he hates transpeople, it’s more that he gives us as much thought as he does with the Llama Milk Producers of America. We exist in his eyes, but not much more than that. Rep. Baldwin, on the other hand, sees transpeople as being part of her community. Much of this is generational, and Rep. Frank is not alone. There are many LGB people (with varying degrees of animosity) with the same feeling that transpeople are not part of their community. They are a group that people have been neglected in being educated about trans issues. We have been focusing primarily upon the transphobia and trans-ignorance of non-LGB people rather than the transphobia and trans-ignorance found among LGB people. I also want to include dealing with the homophobia found among transpeople in this as well. All this fighting ignores those of us who are queer in our sexuality and our gender and who end up getting caught up in this mess.
My to do list is as follows:
2. Contact Rep. Doyle for his advice in educating his peers.
3. Contact PA Rep Frankle to ask him what needs to be done so that the PA ENDA remains inclusive of gender identity.
Regardless of my personal feelings for many of the people and groups involved, there is much to be done and I don’t feel I have the luxury of righteous anger no matter how appropriate it is.Saturday, November 3, 2007
SATURDAY RELOAD: THOUGHTS AT AN UNGODLY HOUR ON A SATURDAY MORNING
Written Saturday, posted today. (Because stale bread makes better French toast.)
To sleep, perchance ... to sleep.
You'll never, ever hear me bragging that I only need five hours of sleep, as though this somehow made me more virtuous than the person who needs six, seven, eight or nine. I can get by on five hours (and countless times less, like you, dear reader), but then I am crabby. Very crabby. It is only if I act on this clinically well-documented predisposition to be "crabby" from sleep deprivation that I am willing to admit that, in terms of ethical parlance, I stand on lower, moral high ground than my neighbor. (That must be why I like high heels so much.)
My daughter has piano lessons this morning, but she had a sleepover last night and needs to be picked up at 8:30, meaning I need at least an hour to become "caffeinated" and therefore functional. Her piano lessons aren't until 10:30, but she needs to primp. Why she needs to look like she's going to the prom to see Mrs. Dinglehoffer to play Finiculi Finicula, I've no idea. Wait, I do. She's a teenager. I'm just being rhetorically obtuse. Writers love doing that. Isn't that annoying?
(Ms. Mon to Ms. Mon: You said you don't write posts like this. You make fun of posts like this. I sincerely hope you are going to taunt yourself sufficiently when this post is over. No. Don't write that. You're going to write about the laundry? What's happened to you? Please, for the love of all that is sacrilege, stop now! Do I HAVE TO REMIND YOU ABOUT THAT B+, MS. MON? You know -- the B+ you received in that post-graduate class at Duquesne when you wrote some drivel about your theories on where all the missing socks go? )
So as I was saying, before Ms. Mon interrupted (it would have been Vivian, her copyreader, but alas, she is not a member of the society): I have so much laundry to catch up on since my dryer was broken for several days. It was just the heating element, and so, I feel good that it cost only $150 to repair, and it wasn't another case of "it's cheaper to replace it than to fix," as so many things are these days. Without digressing into an invective of my conspiracy theories (SEE: "THEY MAKE THEM THAT WAY ON PURPOSE BECAUSE MY GRANDMOTHER STILL HAS THE SAME DAMN TV SHE HAD 40 YEARS AGO AND IT WORKS JUST FINE"), suffice it to say I'm rather perturbed that this has become more the rule than the exception. (Monday update: Yes, I read the the story about should you fix or toss your iPod ... but remember, it's still Saturday here on this post. So forget I just wrote that.)
I notice there are a lot of booster and lobbying sites for green this and green that, and that's all fine and dandy, but I'm one of those people who tries to practice that adage, "be the change you want to see in the world." (Stop throwing corn at me, Halloween's over.) In the summer I actually do put laundry outside to dry once in a while, but it's just not practical time-wise for me. I have a line in my basement laundry room, but the clothes take forever to dry, since that's the coldest part of the house. And again, a time issue.
So I ask myself, do I have the most energy efficient dryer I can? I'm not sure. I have meetings with my kids, and during the latest one -- prompted by the incident now known as "MADDIE BROKE THE DRYER" -- I tell my son to stop underloading (he is notorious for putting a "special jersey" in that needs to be fluffed) because it wastes electricity, and laundry has a symbiotic relationship with other laundry, and we don't want it getting lonely or anything because that's when the clothes start turning on us, as in the white clothes turning red, or blue, usually .... and then I tell my daughter that she can't overload, because the dryer can only hold so much Abercrombie & Fitch (yes, we had that talk -- you know, about the messages on the shirts -- and it was indeed heated, but we came to a compromise), and we need it to last as long as possible (it's two years old). My seven-year-old, thankfully, has no interest in doing anything but dirtying clothes. Nothing warms my heart more than a mud-caked seven-year-old.
I'm not a big fan of all the chemical products available to wash laundry, either. Truly -- how many products do you need for clean clothes? I also think of the impact all of these chemicals have on the enviroment. Speaking of which, I absolutely detest air fresheners and my gut tells me they're bad for our bodies. (What, your gut doesn't talk?)
The thing about air fresheners is, they smell like air fresheners. They don't smell like "dewey mornings." I have tried the "oil" plug-in type fresheners (I have three kids and a dog, so go figure), but they make my throat scratchy and honestly, if the warning says they'll outright kill your parakeet* ... what are they doing to us?
I think air fresheners are nothing but toxins in pretty packages and I've had it with them. I know someone who has one of those toilet paper holders that "releases" a fresh scent every time you unroll the t.p. ... and I just choke. Just call me the bathroom asthmatic.
Gladé me ass. (Forgive the Irish pirate potty talk.)
And speaking of near asthmastic incidents, why I was just in a class this weekend and for some reason, the chalk dust was really bothering me. I usually don't sit that close to the board though, so maybe that's why. I always have to sit on the end seat near the door when I'm in a classroom, because I have claustrophobia. Or maybe it's just classtrophobia. Classtroclaustrophobia? Possible. I never rule anything out.
* Not that I ever killed a parakeet this way, mind you. He resuscitated quite nicely.
Ahh .... so that's what it's like to write "one of those posts."
Friday, November 2, 2007
a little friday smile
something light to start a friday night.
Once a Pennsylvanian, ALWAYS a Pennsylvanian!
You've never referred to Philadelphia as anything
but "Philly" and New Jersey has always been " Jersey"
You refer to Pennsylvania as "PA" (pronounced
Pee-ay). How many other states do that?
"You guys" is a perfectly acceptable reference to
a group of men and women
You know how to respond to the question
"Djeetyet?" (Didyoueatyet?)
You learned to pronounce Bryn Mawr, Wilkes-Barre ,
Schuylkill , the Pocono's, Tamaqua, Tunkannock, Bala
Cynwyd, Duquesne and Monongahela.
And we know Lancaster is pronounced Lank aster,
not Lan kaster.
You know what a "Mummer" is, and are disappointed
if you can't catch at least highlights of the parade.
You know what " Punxsutawney Phil" is, and what it
means if he sees his shadow.
The first day of buck and the first day of doe season are school holidays.
You know how to get 'rid' of things and how to read up.
You can use the phrase "fire hall wedding reception "
and not even bat an eye.
You can't go to a wedding without hearing the
"Chicken Dance," at least one polka and either an
Italian song (sung in Italian,) or "Hava Nagila."
At least five people on your block have electric
"candles" in all or most their windows all year long.
You know what a "Hex sign" is.
You know what a "State Store" is, and your
out-of-state friends find it incredulous that you
can't purchase liquor at the mini-mart.
You own only 4 condiments:
salt, pepper, mustard and ketchup.
Words like "hoagie," "crick," "chipped ham," "dippy eggs",
"sticky buns," "shoo-fly pie," "lemon sponge pie", "pierogies" and
"pocketbook" actually mean something to you.
That's PA slang for purse!
You can eat cold pizza (even for breakfast) and know others who do the same. (those from NY find this "barbaric.")
You not only have heard of Birch Beer, but you know it comes in several colors:
Red, White, Brown, Gold.
You know several places to purchase or that serve Scrapple, Summer Sausage and
Hot Bacon Dressing. You can eat a cold soft pretzel from a street vendor without fear and enjoy it. It almost always comes with mustard.
You know the difference between a cheese steak and a pizza steak sandwich,
and know that you can't get a really good one out side PA,
except Atlantic City on the boardwalk.
You live for summer, when street and county fairs sign al the beginning
of funnel cake season. Customers ask the waitress for "dippy eggs" for breakfast.
You know that Blue Ball, Intercourse, Paradise , Climax, Bird-in-Hand, Beaver, Moon, Virginville, Mars, and Slippery Rock are PA towns.
(and the first three were consecutive stops on the Reading RR).
You know what a township, borough, and commonwealth is.
You can identify drivers from New York , New Jersey , Maryland or other neighboring states by their unique and irritating driv ing ha bits.
A traffic jam is 10 cars waiting to pass a horse-drawn carriage on the highway
in Lancaster County .
You know several people who have hit deer more than once.
You carry jumper cables in your car and your female passengers
know how to use them.
You still keep kitty litter, starting fluid, de-icer, or a snowbrush in your trunk,
even if you now live in the south.
Driving is always better in winter because the
potholes are filled with snow.
As a kid you built snow forts and leaf piles that were taller than you were.
Your graduating class consisted of mostly Polish, German, and Italian names.
You know beer doesn't grow in a garden but you know where to find a beer garden.
You also know someone who lives "down the lane".
You actually understand all this and send it on to other Pennsylvanians
or former Pennsylvanians!
YEAH ! ! THAT'S "PA" AND WE LOVE IT
Once a Pennsylvanian, ALWAYS a Pennsylvanian!
You've never referred to Philadelphia as anything
but "Philly" and New Jersey has always been " Jersey"
You refer to Pennsylvania as "PA" (pronounced
Pee-ay). How many other states do that?
"You guys" is a perfectly acceptable reference to
a group of men and women
You know how to respond to the question
"Djeetyet?" (Didyoueatyet?)
You learned to pronounce Bryn Mawr, Wilkes-Barre ,
Schuylkill , the Pocono's, Tamaqua, Tunkannock, Bala
Cynwyd, Duquesne and Monongahela.
And we know Lancaster is pronounced Lank aster,
not Lan kaster.
You know what a "Mummer" is, and are disappointed
if you can't catch at least highlights of the parade.
You know what " Punxsutawney Phil" is, and what it
means if he sees his shadow.
The first day of buck and the first day of doe season are school holidays.
You know how to get 'rid' of things and how to read up.
You can use the phrase "fire hall wedding reception "
and not even bat an eye.
You can't go to a wedding without hearing the
"Chicken Dance," at least one polka and either an
Italian song (sung in Italian,) or "Hava Nagila."
At least five people on your block have electric
"candles" in all or most their windows all year long.
You know what a "Hex sign" is.
You know what a "State Store" is, and your
out-of-state friends find it incredulous that you
can't purchase liquor at the mini-mart.
You own only 4 condiments:
salt, pepper, mustard and ketchup.
Words like "hoagie," "crick," "chipped ham," "dippy eggs",
"sticky buns," "shoo-fly pie," "lemon sponge pie", "pierogies" and
"pocketbook" actually mean something to you.
That's PA slang for purse!
You can eat cold pizza (even for breakfast) and know others who do the same. (those from NY find this "barbaric.")
You not only have heard of Birch Beer, but you know it comes in several colors:
Red, White, Brown, Gold.
You know several places to purchase or that serve Scrapple, Summer Sausage and
Hot Bacon Dressing. You can eat a cold soft pretzel from a street vendor without fear and enjoy it. It almost always comes with mustard.
You know the difference between a cheese steak and a pizza steak sandwich,
and know that you can't get a really good one out side PA,
except Atlantic City on the boardwalk.
You live for summer, when street and county fairs sign al the beginning
of funnel cake season. Customers ask the waitress for "dippy eggs" for breakfast.
You know that Blue Ball, Intercourse, Paradise , Climax, Bird-in-Hand, Beaver, Moon, Virginville, Mars, and Slippery Rock are PA towns.
(and the first three were consecutive stops on the Reading RR).
You know what a township, borough, and commonwealth is.
You can identify drivers from New York , New Jersey , Maryland or other neighboring states by their unique and irritating driv ing ha bits.
A traffic jam is 10 cars waiting to pass a horse-drawn carriage on the highway
in Lancaster County .
You know several people who have hit deer more than once.
You carry jumper cables in your car and your female passengers
know how to use them.
You still keep kitty litter, starting fluid, de-icer, or a snowbrush in your trunk,
even if you now live in the south.
Driving is always better in winter because the
potholes are filled with snow.
As a kid you built snow forts and leaf piles that were taller than you were.
Your graduating class consisted of mostly Polish, German, and Italian names.
You know beer doesn't grow in a garden but you know where to find a beer garden.
You also know someone who lives "down the lane".
You actually understand all this and send it on to other Pennsylvanians
or former Pennsylvanians!
YEAH ! ! THAT'S "PA" AND WE LOVE IT
Mark DeSantis is Good for Gay Women
I'm endorsing Mark DeSantis for Mayor. Last night, he publicly stated his support for civil unions and pledged to appoint a liaison to the gay community in his Administration. He is also pro-choice, another very important litmus test for gay women.
Luke Ravenstahl, on the other hand, opposes gay marriage and civil unions. His only vote on choice was to oppose it. He may not have openly supported Rick Santorum, but he certainly mirrors Santorum when it comes to policy that matters for our community.
A vote for Mark DeSantis is a vote to move the gay community forward.
More at my blog.
Luke Ravenstahl, on the other hand, opposes gay marriage and civil unions. His only vote on choice was to oppose it. He may not have openly supported Rick Santorum, but he certainly mirrors Santorum when it comes to policy that matters for our community.
A vote for Mark DeSantis is a vote to move the gay community forward.
More at my blog.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
TO QUOTE JOHN MCINTIRE: "NANNY NANNY BOO BOO"
Geez -- they've got me on the ticker again at The Huffington Post ... and honestly, I'm not running this because I'm in love with myself (that's a given), but because I'm quoted under PAUL FREAKIN' MCCARTNEY.
Hey, Jude, don't be afraid
And any time you feel the pain, hey, Jude, refrain
Hey, Jude!
So let it out and let it in, hey, Jude, begin
Hey, Jude, don't make it bad
And that kinda reminds me ... Paul McCartney wrote this song with John Lennon and wouldn't ya know it? It conveys an absolutely lovely idea.
Hey, Jude,
don't make it bad
Take a sad song and make it better
Remember to let her into your heart
Then you can start to make it better
Hey, Jude, don't be afraid
You were made to go out and get her
The minute you let her under your skin
Then you begin to make it better.
And any time you feel the pain, hey, Jude, refrain
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders
Well don't you know that its a fool who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder
Hey, Jude!
Don't let her down
You have found her, now go and get her
Remember, to let her into your heart
Then you can start to make it better.
So let it out and let it in, hey, Jude, begin
You're waiting for someone to perform with
And don't you know that it's just you, hey, Jude,
You'll do, the movement you need is on your shoulder
Hey, Jude, don't make it bad
Take a sad song and make it better
Remember to let her into your heart
Then you can start to make it better
WE'VE MADE THE HUFFINGTON POST!
We've been linked!
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/topics/Ellen+DeGeneres
I should really use those keywords/buzzwords more often. But you know -- I want to be a "destination blog." (I'm killing myself, here.)
And a big h/t to Gloria -- since we all know I totally stole the Ellen DeGeneres joke from her.
I'm even quoted in the "What People Are Saying" column today ... right under Paul McCartney's ex, Heather Mills.
And so now my proclamation of premenopausal angst will live in infamy!
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/topics/Ellen+DeGeneres
I should really use those keywords/buzzwords more often. But you know -- I want to be a "destination blog." (I'm killing myself, here.)
And a big h/t to Gloria -- since we all know I totally stole the Ellen DeGeneres joke from her.
I'm even quoted in the "What People Are Saying" column today ... right under Paul McCartney's ex, Heather Mills.
And so now my proclamation of premenopausal angst will live in infamy!
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