Blample Sog

The deci-hic!-der

2006-05-04T19:43:00.000-04:00

What ever happened to those rumours a few months ago about Dubya being back on the sauce?

Damn Swedes!

2006-02-22T20:21:00.000-05:00

The charger on my cell phone broke; a 2-millimetre square doodad on my expensive Swedish cell phone's charger snapped off this morning instead of removing itself smoothly from the phone. My phone was Lorena Bobbitt to the charger's John.

At first I was confused. My phone is European, Scandinavian even. Scandinavia = quality! The simple phrase "Imported from Sweden" evoke images of sturdy milk jugs, stalwart Viking vessels, and ABBA, the group that could do no wrong (except for the insipid "Thank you for the Music").

Dreams of pine trees, reindeer, and lithe, blonde, milk-fed, Swedish lads clouded my brain as I surveyed my Ikea bookshelves that collapsed in a heap after 3 years of service and are now held up by walls and wishful thinking; my Ikea kitchen table that got all permanently wobbly-kneed the first time I put my groceries down on it; my Ikea bed that collapsed after (during!) only one night that was only slightly more active than all other nights.

The realisation was slow in coming that I shouldn't be too surprised that my Sony Ericsson Z500A - that is, by the way, spectacularly user unfriendly - should snap into pieces. I mean, the Swedes and their quality, eh! Aren't they also responsible for Ace of Base? A pox on you, Sweden!

But instead of taking my anger and frustration out on an entire Scandinavian country - and perhaps its neighbours (I have my eye on you, Finland) - because of a few individuals - because it would be just nutty to blame an entire Scandinavian country and perhaps its neigbours for the actions of a few individuals, I decided to trek to the people who sold me the shoddy falling apart Sony Ericsson Z500A cameraphone that takes tiny, pointilist photos that look like a Georges Seurat on a bad day. I may as well have been speaking in Swedish to them, or perhaps Finnish.

Even though I am a "valued customer" who has never paid a bill late even in the roughest days of unemployment/no freelance with a piece of still-waranteed merchandise they sold me, Rogers were unwilling simply to replace the silly little charger and instead lead me on a "compromise" that has left me phoneless for eight weeks. Because of a 2mm square piece or plastic, my entire phone has to be shipped away. The wonders of modern technology and the corporate approach to client services (or "care", as they refer to it as if we were all in on the joke).

I should never have signed a contract with them. And my friends wonder why I'm afraid of commitment.

Israeli group announces anti-Semitic cartoons contest!

2006-02-14T16:48:00.000-05:00

Amitai Sandy (29), graphic artist and publisher of Dimona Comix Publishing, from Tel-Aviv, Israel, has followed the unfolding of the "Muhammad cartoon-gate" events in amazement, until finally he came up with the right answer to all this insanity - and so he announced today the launch of a new anti-Semitic cartoons contest - this time drawn by Jews themselves!

"We'll show the world we can do the best, sharpest, most offensive Jew hating cartoons ever published!" said Sandy "No Iranian will beat us on our home turf!"

It's the Woody Allen/Mel Brooks defense! No one can make fun of as as well as we can ourselves! I haven't been so happy to be Jewish since the first Pesakh (Passover) seder after my bar mitzvah where I got to drink the four glasses of wine with real wine instead of grape juice!

Only the strong can laugh at themselves, and with such chutzpah too!

Cream of ballot soup

2006-01-24T12:57:00.000-05:00

Since I'm a gay, lefty, Jewish Canadian, I suppose I'm obligated to mention yesterday's Canadian election. Here goes. This is my comment on the yesterday's Canadian election. I did not eat my ballot.

It had never occurred to me before that eating my ballot was a possible course of action once behind the voting piece of cardboard. According to Elections Canada's Frequently Asked Questions, a question voters frequently ask is, "Is someone allowed to eat a ballot?" I had no idea Canadian voters would think to ask this - and frequently even - although it does go a long way towards explaining why the Conservatives won. Many Canadians are kind of stupid.

The answer by the way is, "No. It is an act of fraud to eat your ballot." Phew! Good thing I didn't eat it then! I would have been in some trouble!

Normally I have to restrain myself from scribbling, "They're all fucking crooks who should be forced to watch their own campaign speeches over and over and over again!" Either that or I feel the urge to madly draw little happy faces in the circles where we're supposed to mark our "X". However, I believe that voting is a privilege and one not to be squandered, so even though every single politician in the world remind me of that guy from high school who tried very, very hard to be popular, was treasurer of the student council, but went alone to the graduation dance - even the female politicians - I still plug my nose, avert my eyes from what I'm about to do, and vote strategically so that the worst of the bunch can't get elected.

Until this election, that is. This time, I voted with my brain instead of with my fear. I voted for a candidate I didn't think had a hope in hell of winning and for a party I would like to see in official opposition one day. Official opposition standing is a wish I used to wish for the lefty NDPs until they formed a bizarre alliance with the Conservatives to force this election in a cynical power grab. Good thing it paid off for them, eh.

In any case, I don't agree with everything on the Green's platform, but I do agree with most of it. Besides the perfect Blample Sog party - which would make it illegal not to offer me publishing contracts, by the way - does not exist. If I hadn't voted this party, I would have been sorely tempted to eat my ballot. By voting and not voting strategically, I voted for an idealistic party not corrupted by political cynicism (bye-bye NDP!), I didn't have to go home and wash off the slime immediately after voting, and I wasn't arrested after committing an apparent act of fraud.

The Liberals have been chastised, Paul Martin has stepped down as Liberal leader, and the Conservatives have a much smaller minority than expected (translation for those American lefties who pronounce doom and gloom without having the slightest inkling how Canadian politics work: they won the most seats in our House of Commons but they don't have to most seats overall meaning that they are powerless to get anything done without the help of the other parties, which isn't too likely. Therefore, fix your own gutless Democrats and then we'll chat about the downfall of the North American left). They may try to take away same-sex marriage rights, for example, and they may actually be able to shove it through the House, but it'll never get through the Senate and the courts will knock it down. They won't be able to get anything done without the other parties and the Government will fall the second one of the crazies brings up Intelligent Design. I give them twelve months max.

So it may be the end of the world as we know it, but I feel fine. I'm quite happy about it all, in fact. But I can't help wondering if ballot goes better with white wine or with red?

There are other movies I'd rather see

2006-01-21T20:48:00.000-05:00

"You haven't seen 'Brokeback Mountain'?" It's the same reaction of shock and lightly simmered outrage I get when I tell people that I - a real live, fully-out-of-the-closet, multiple-hair-product-buying gay man do not swoon for Martha Stewart. Not do I wish I could talk and do dismissive hand movement and finger snaps like Ru Paul. I may have procured myself copy of Madonna's newest, but I still don't think either Bette or Babs have lovely, moving singing voices. I guess that last one makes me a bad Jew, too.

And it's not just other fags (which is, by the way, a word that only we are allowed to use) who give this attitude over the movie. Straight people are taken aback too. Their world view appears to rest on the assumption that different people act the way they had been told that different people act, and this includes what movie you want to spend a week's wages to see: All Jews love "Schindler's List" and anything by Mel Brooks; all Blacks love "Waiting to Exhale" and "Barbershop"; all women love "My Big, Fat Greek, Wedding" and "Sleepless in Seattle"; and all gays like watching two sexy guys have hot, wild, passionate sex in a tent.

OK, so I guess like watching sexy guys have hot, wild, passionate sex in a tent (more than two is fine, even), especially two hot guys like Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal. Heath's broad, round features are slightly model perfect for my taste, but the sexy Ozzie accent certainly raises up what his thin lips bring down. And Jake! Now there's a nice, Jewish boy I could take home to my mother! But I still don't plan to see the movie anytime soon, just like I never plan to buy a Céline Dion album anytime soon (Ooop! Now I'm a bad Canadian too!). This does not make me a bad fag.

A bad fag claims masculinity and the ability to act straight (whatever that means, since both Don Knotts and Dame Edna are straight) as his highest virtues while ridiculing those ones who are firmly in touch with their feminine side.

A bad queer waits until they are famous to come out (Elton John, Rosie O'Donnell, Ellen Degeneres). They turn their coming-out into such a glitzy media event that the struggle - something the rest of us mortals go through - coming out to our families, friends, and co-workers without the piles of money the stars have to fall back on should something go wrong are about as important as mosquito bites.

A bad fag - who is certainly welcome to his political beliefs - sides with the most extreme members of his side of the political spectrum, such as Jeff Gannon, to the detriment of the rights of all queers and by extension, of his own.

A bad fag gets married and has kids, disappears on the weekend and comes home to give his wife all sorts of enchanting infections because he's not, like, gay n'stuff so he doesn't have to worry about protecting himself from, like, AIDS n'shit.

A bad fag never comes out.

I just don't want to go see an ol' love story. That's all. I'm glad everyone and their eighty-year-old grandmother realise it's an important film and want to see it, and that they seem to like it too. I'm all for that. This flick's for them, not for me. I'm glad they like it. That makes me a happy fag. I'm off to see "TransAmerica".

Neo Zion

2006-01-17T12:06:00.000-05:00

This is the kind of crap North American Jews have to put up with a lot.

Jewish mothers

2006-01-13T20:56:00.000-05:00

Almost half of Europe's Jews are descended from just four women, according to a new study. [...] The four women are thought to have lived in the Middle East about 1,000 years ago but they may not have lived anywhere near other, according to the study published in the American Journal of Human Genetics. However, they bequeathed genetic signatures to their descendents, which do not appear in non-Jews and are rare in Jews not of Ashkenazi origin.

I'm sure that close friend and main nemesis AlefAlef - who is Sephardi whereas I am Ashkenazi - is simply heartbroken that he and I are not more closely related.

Much ado about nothing

2006-01-13T11:54:00.000-05:00

LOL! And,like, all the bubbles in my head keep totally popping and stuff! LOL! ;)
Via Mr V

Food for thought

2006-01-13T11:52:00.000-05:00

Cartoon by Bill Schorr.

Go sit on the lawn and do nothing

2006-01-09T10:51:00.000-05:00

I set a deadline for myself so of course I didn't meet it. One thousand measly words were all I needed to write. One thousand tiny, insignificant words in a pretty blurby picture that will dazzle a potential publisher - a biggee in the Canadian market, no less - who had already expressed interest on a book I'm pretending to write.

My self-imposed deadline, conceived on Friday, was today. Therefore, I spent the weekend making out with a cute guy, fighting with close friend and nemesis AlefAlef, making up with close friend and nemesis AlefAlef, playing an atrociously addictive computer game called Civilization (I just defeated both the Aztecs and the English; not even the Spanish can claim that!), singing along with Fiona Apple 'cause she, like, totally gets my soul, man (If there was a If there was a better way to go then it would find me / I can't help it, the road just rolls out behind me / Be kind to me or treat me mean / I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine), and reading up on American politics as a distraction from Canada's upcoming election in which the party, whose main platform is to tell me that I may not, in fact, get married after all, seems slated to win.

With the world falling apart and all, why should waste my time writing a novel about young, bilingual, Jews from Montreal trying to understand their murky ties to Quebec, Canada, and Israel when there are kooky American ultra-right-wing sites to both amuse and nauseate me? Why should I flesh out the details of a short story - an adaptation of the story of Job - when there are cities to take over and slaves to capture? Indeed, why should I try and find a way to scrounge up February rent when Fiona warbles at me with her sweet, gravely voice (If you don't have a date, celebrate / Go out and sit on the lawn and do nothing).

The solution is to find myself a good agent and a good editor to make complete nudniks of themselves until I relent and meet my deadlines. I have always been the an acolyte of the procrastinatory branch of the religion of Western work ethic, but if I succeed in turning this publisher away I'll more than likely have to take my vows and become a high priest in the field. No vows of celibacy for me. Non-celibacy is one of the finest manners of procrastination.

When I was in high school I literally tied myself to my desk when it came time to write papers so that I would stay seated. It did restrain me physically but it couldn't keep my brain from taking me travelling through time and space to anywhere but wherever I was supposed to be writing from. And this - get this! - was in the days before home computers took over the Western hemisphere. There was no such thing as email (imagine!). No such thing as Internet, the biggest distraction of them all. Thanks a lot, Al Gore!

Hey look - I've spent almost 500 hundred words in writing this. Time well wasted.

Fun with bedhead

2006-01-08T11:42:00.000-05:00

Winter and cabin fever do bizarre things to one's sense of propriety. I woke up this morning and was amused to no end to realise that with my bedhead, I look like a Dr Seuss character.

When I was a teenager I had hair similar to this, but on purpose ... it was the 80s.

Desperate Housewives

2006-01-07T12:26:00.000-05:00

Courtesy of Mr V

Of mess and men

2006-01-06T19:30:00.000-05:00

A conversation with Dr DG during a commercial break in "Family Guy":

DG: How many guys have you dated in the past couple of months?

Me: Define "dating".

DG: Um ... been on more than three dates with.

Me: Dunno ... four, I guess. No. Five. No. Four. The one with bad breath only got two dates.

DG: God! What do you do to them?

Me: [shrug] Guess I'm not meeting the right guys.

DG: Hmmmmmph ... [takes a sip of beer and quickly squeezes this in just before Peter Stewie says something droll] I think you just keep dumping them so you don't have to clean your apartment.

Am I that shallow? I drink espresso and like classical music. How could I possibly be that shallow?

I have date #4 with a guy who looks like a tall Anderson Cooper with dark hair. I wonder how long I can hold out before I have to clean my dump and invite him over.

Kickback Mountain

2006-01-05T19:46:00.000-05:00

(pillaged from Americablog)

Almost as much fun as watching Jake Gylenhaal bottom for Heath Ledger!

Coulter and flu season

2005-12-27T13:23:00.000-05:00

What kind of an era do we now live in where one friend won't euthanise another simply because it's immoral to kill someone just because they only have a cold? What a world we live in! Next thing you know they'll be telling us that pollution isn't bad and that democratically elected leaders have the power to do anything they like and have absolutely no worried of accountability whatsoever to anyone they may happen represent! Is that where we're headed?

Expecting nothing but pure, unadulterated sympathy from close friend and main nemesis AlefAlef. This, after all, is the man sat all the way through all 46 baffling hours of "Alexander" with me – perhaps the funniest movie of all time – just because I wanted that 1-second glimpse of Colin Farrell's balls (it was worth it!). Such strong friendship. Such camaraderie. Such brotherly love.

Well, I was to be bitterly disappointed when I called him last night. For the past few days I have been suffering from constipation of the head and forest fire of the lungs. Just a cold you say? My sinuses are so stuffed that my eyeballs are popping out à la Quasimodo and my throat and lungs are so raw that I talk like Gollum. It's precious!

My hypotheses on this wretched illness are the following: a) I have consumption and will soon die swooning in morbid romance all over my divan while my lovers kill each other in a jealous rage (now I must acquire a divan and a pair of jealous lovers and figure out how to swoon) or b) Bill O'Reilly is right and this is divine retribution for wishing a "Happy Holidays" to a Christian. Who would have thought that Fox News would get something right?

The phone call went something like this:

Me: Honey, I need you to do me a favour.

AlefAlef: Now?

Me: Well, soon. I need you to come over and kill me.

AlefAlef: Oh honey ... [brief pause while words of sympathy are formed] ... it would be no fun for me if you're already expecting it.

After a long conversation in which it was observed that I was hysterical and feeling far too sorry for myself than the situation merited (come back to me when you haven't left your apartment in 3 days and your bedhead makes you look like the guy from A Flock of Seagulls and we'll chat about who feels too sorry for whoself!) and that AlefAlef is cold, cruel, heartless, and made of stone, I realised that I'll have to go it alone. I would have to get all Ann Coulter on these germs' ass!

Standing up to my full height (I'm actually a little taller than Ms Coulter) I proclaimed, "Microbes! I'd like to talk to you ... with a baseball bat!"

No effect other than that I had to blow my nose.

"Bugs! If you didn't throw like little girls, you'd give me something manly like pneumonia or tuberculosis!"

I coughed a bit. A lot. Now I know what colour my phlegm is.

"Germs! I will take away women germs' right to vote! I will invade you, kill your leaders, and convert you all to ... er ... Christianity ...?" (I'm Jewish.)

Nothing. A microscopic disease-laden wolf howled in the distance. A furball from my cat – who, it would appear, has neither flesh nor blood, only fur – tumbled by.

The germs were obviously ignoring me and so I got bored and went to bed, but could not sleep. We should all learn a lesson from my germs. If we ignore Ann Coulter long enough, eventually she'll get bored and sink into a pit of her own misery. I can't see any jealous lovers fighting for her attention though.

I don't blame Korea anymore

2005-12-23T09:34:00.000-05:00

I don't get nervous about dates anymore. I've been on too many to think of them - most of them - as anything but the last five minutes of that cheezy, over-theatrical sitcom ("Reba" springs immediately to mind) you accidentally turn on early and decide to watch until the show you really want to see comes on; not what you wanted, but it's the necessary lead up that will remind you why you like your real show so much. Besides, there's nothing else to do while you wait.

Even though I don't get nervous, do like to make a good impression and so I spruce up a bit. My normally floppy hair that is exactly the same style as it was immediately preceding that fateful day in the early 80s when I discovered feathering and mousse - luckily that's in style these days - is made to swoop, spike, glisten, and arc gracefully. The clothes I choose are picked specifically for their ability to mask my expanding waistline. Shaving, usually only a thrice-weekly event for me, occurs immediately prior to walking out the door so as to be as smooth as possible. Extra attention is paid to the quality of my breath.

I wish I could say the same for the guy I went on a date with a couple of days ago.

"Hello," he said, turning to me when I met up him in the video store.

"Aaaaaah!" I screamed inside my head, taking a step back as I was suddenly enveloped in a cloud of rancid fumes that reminded me of that time when I was hiking and I accidentally stumbled onto a dump.

I'd noticed it the first time we'd meet but at that time I'd attributed it to the spicy Korean food we'd had the appeared to have been immersed in chilli oil for several months before being served. A couple of those weird breath strips did the trick and our end-of-date, pre-carnal physical relations were quite delightful.

It was clear to me this time, however, that Korea was not the culprit. It was simply that the boy produces his own chemical weapons, perhaps as a natural shield against guys who want him for his, it must be admitted, luscious body.

He suggested a few movies I had little interest in seeing ("War of the Worlds", "Fantastic Four") and I agreed limply, so great was my desire to be out in fresh air. I chose food from a Lebanese restaurant I know has very garlicky tehini so I would have the excuse to pull out the breath strips. However, after a couple of hours of perching on the edge of the couch surrounded by the eternal fumes of Hell, I lost all my energy and made my excuses (man, was I tired/had to get up early the next morning/forgot to feed the cat).

It's not as if he were unhygienic and unkempt. He is neat, his apartment is clean, and the toothpaste tube in his bathroom has those smooth indentations that indicate regular squooshing. And he's kind, sweet, smart, interested in the world, and cute to boot. It's just that he has a rotting corpse lodged in the back of his throat.

It would only take one uncomfortable conversation to clear this up - so to speak - with him. I'm not so superficial that I'd dump a guy I like because of something as silly as a little bad breath.

Or am I? I haven't heard from him since then and the fact that he may not have liked me all that much the second time around comes as a bit of a relief. I feel no rushing urge to get in contact with ol' zombie mouth either. Perhaps this was just the last few minutes of a show that had potential the first time, but the second time was, well, not so hot.

Besides, yesterday I met this really cute guy - taller than me (which is rare), very cute, soft-spoken and a little shy. We made plans to meet for a movie next week. I wonder what will turn out to be wrong with him?

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of Poo)

2005-12-23T09:28:00.000-05:00

I've just heard the new Eurythmocs song. I wonder of this is how the boomers felt when Jefferson Airplane mutated into Starship and oozed "We Built This City (On Rock and Roll)". Yeeeesh!

Back

2005-12-22T09:23:00.000-05:00

...from my fantasy honeymoon with Noah Huntley,

...machete victim in "28 Days Later" and adult Peter (Click; it's a great pic) in that new mediocre Narnia movie. The honeymoon's over and the marriage was a fantasy, but it was a good fantasy.

Very Pretty

2005-12-22T09:20:00.000-05:00

Christmas lights In Belo Horizonte, Brazil. Pillaged from Mr V.

Rosa Parks, February 4, 1913 - October 24, 2005

2005-10-25T08:21:00.000-04:00

"When he saw me still sitting, he asked if I was going to stand up and I said, 'No, I'm not.' And he said, 'Well, if you don't stand up, I'm going to have to call the police and have you arrested.' I said, 'You may do that.'"

Will work for glory

2005-10-22T12:18:00.000-04:00

So rarely do I respond to taunts on other blogs - or even use the word 'blog', but Mr V is a unique guy :P

Does basing your music and image on ultra left-wing politics while selling your song about urban poverty to hock Honda Civics make you a player or a sell out? Mr V "loves" M.I.A.'s new gas-guzzling ads (with the profanity removed, of course). I don't care for the ads, still like her albums, agree that she should be able to do exactly as she likes with her creations; but think that an artist who evokes the memory of her Tamil Tiger dad to sell cars to yuppies and guppies who like her stuff solely because it has a good beat is an opportunist.

I used to shiver and fear a little for my life when she chanted "Just like PLO, I don't surrend-o"; now it sounds as harmless as a bowl of lo-fat strawberry jello and makes me chuckle. Next she'll be having lunch at the White House like another former favourite of mine.

Very Pretty

2005-10-22T12:10:00.000-04:00

Brian Mandelbaum from my guilty pleasure, "The Apprentice".

I'm sorry

2005-10-16T10:01:00.000-04:00

- from PostSecret

Breakfast

2005-10-14T10:56:00.000-04:00

I can eat again! The sun set in Winnipeg at approximately 6:45PM yesterday evening, bringing to a close 24 hours of no food, no water, no sex (big deal; I'm staying with my parents), and, bringing me the most difficulty, no coffee. Yom Kippur is the most holy of all the holidays on the Jewish calendar. Because we're Jews, the most holy is, of course, the most difficult.

"May your Yom Kippur be filled with guilt and misery," was my e-mail greeting to close friend and nemesis AlefAlef back in Toronto. "May yours be even worse!" was his response. The greetings were tongue in cheek. No one really wishes anyone pain on Yom Kippur, the day when we atone for our sins from the previous year. But it is a festival with neither rejoicing nor celebration. The most anyone can wish for someone else is an easy fast.

Wednesday evening and all day yesterday were indeed filled with misery due to an incompetent khazan, kind of the equivalent of a choir director but without the choir ... usually. Usually, because choirs are not normally part of a traditional service. This khazan decided to introduce us to an assemblage of dedicated, enthusiastic, and utterly talentless people who screeched and yowled fervently like a crowd of cats trapped together into a cage. Albatrossing above them was the khazan himself, straining every nerve - his and ours - to extend his limited vocal register above and beyond what adolescence had given him. Peace with God was heard to reach through the cacophony.

My parents' congregation is one that believes in a lot of audience participation. Various prayers and readings are assigned to captive congregants to be read to the rest of the crowd. I was assigned an uplifting passage that began "We are feeble" and continued on from that inspirational tidbit, reminding us that all dreams and desires come to naught, that we will all die and be as if we had never been, and that life was one long path of suffering and pain. Party!

A few minutes after the reading, I had an illogical fit of the giggles and had to hunch over and look really really really observant to hide them. It's a good thing I was in the process of making peace with God at the time.

One blast of tekia gdola on the shofar and it finally ended. I could eat again! I abandoned my parents to a break fast at the president of the congregations with the Rabbi and a bunch of other high-up muckety-mucks from the synagogue. I went to my sister’s and we stuffed ourselves silly. Got tummy aches, and watched "The Apprentice". That lazy, snotty Toral deserved to be kicked off. Man, does she ever need to make a lot of peace.

Still alive

2005-10-10T17:47:00.000-04:00

I've just been at my parents' cottage on the shores of Lake Winnipeg. I'd forgotten how pleasant it is not to need my iPod drowning out dirty city noises. It's wonderful to walk and hear the birds, the waves, and the wind through through the trees.

My phone cam takes half decent pictures, although it doesn't do justice to the gorgeous fall foliage. Still, I got some pretty nice shots. Here's one.

Pause

2005-10-02T21:01:00.000-04:00

My parents lead a primitive existence. They only have a dial-up internet connection. They have cable, but not digital cable. They only got Windows last year and my mother swears that it was invented by demons. They bought a cappuccino maker but refuse to use the milk steamer. They don’t believe in fabric softener.

Off I go to Canada’s wild, wild West. I will plunge into an existence of regular attendance at the bet knesset (synagogue), suppers with the rabbi and congregation president. Little old babushkot who were already white-haired at my bar mitsva will pinch my face and order me to invite them to my wedding before they’re dead ten times already.

My mother will offer me grilled cheese sandwich after grilled cheese sandwich (she makes the best in the west) and my father will be unable to answer even a simple yes/no question without a thorough evaluation of the circumstance, revisiting of precedents, and examination tangential yet essential details.

My sister, who is almost 30, and I, who just turned 35, will have at least one meal at my parents’, glaring over the shabat candles at each other over some tiny grievance, and spend the next 2 days giving one another the silent treatment. It will end when she tries to set me up with one in a long line of her gay friends. She doesn’t know my taste very well, but she certainly makes an enormous effort.

Winnipeg is about one month further into autumn than Toronto is. Today I am wearing shorts in Toronto. By tomorrow evening, when I walk to synagogue for Rosh Hashana with my family (minus the sister and her also-Jewish girlfriend), I will be wishing that I’d brought winter dress socks. By the time I come back to Toronto it will be approaching that temperature in this city as well.

Winnipeg at this time of year is beautiful. The trees have all burst into fluttery oranges and brilliant reds. They will grace the cities one hundred-foot oaks and elms a few more weeks before cascading to the ground. The wind will blow crisply, a pleasant taste of the winter to come, later. And the big prairie sky will never lose its sparkling blue, even on days when it climbs all the way up to 15C. In this city of seven hundred thousand, you can still see the stars at night and the Northern Lights. Once I saw a comet in the Northern Lights; without using a telescope.

I have moved around a lot in my short 35 years. Winnipeg is the place I have stayed still – or was made to stay still – the longest. I can never return to the life there, although I enjoy being reminded what it’s like to be anchored and completely surrounded by unconditional love. And grilled cheese sandwiches.

Writer's blocks

2005-09-30T16:54:00.000-04:00

Writing a novel, I said once, is like trying to make the Mountains of Edom out of Lego blocks. Or to build the whole of Paris, buildings, squares, and boulevards, down to the last street bench, out of matchsticks.

- Amos Oz, A Tale of Love and Darkness

I have set My bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between Me and the earth

2005-09-30T16:23:00.000-04:00

Alabama State Senator Hank Erwin gives his theory on why Katrina hit the Gulf Coast.

New Orleans and the Mississippi Gulf Coast have always been known for gambling, sin and wickedness. It is the kind of behavior that ultimately brings the judgment of God. [...] [T]he signature of New Orleans is the French Quarter, Bourbon Street. It is known for sin. And you have a Bible that says God will judge sin, you can put two and two together and say, it may not be the judgment of God, but it sure looks like the footprint.

But what of the fact that the evil, sinful, anti-christful French Quarter was left largely unscathed by God's wrath?

Well, I understand that, and I think the lord sent them a message that we need to turn around or we may have another hurricane come.

Watch the interview here

If I understand correctly and then extrapolate, a theory that states that noxious man-made emissions pollute the atmosphere and lead to global warming, one of the consequences of which is a higher frequency of category 4 and 5 storms in the Gulf of Mexico is far-fetched. A convoluted plot by a smiting, faceless almighty in which tens of thousands of innocents suffer to demonstrate a point to a few middle-aged gamblers from Iowa and some university-aged Mardi Gras revellers, however, is a perfectly sound theory. One of the great things about God is that you can make him say what you want him to say. The proof?

The New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary was flooded by Katrina. But Erwin said the Baptists knew they were ministering in a sinful place that could be targeted.

- links via Crooks and Liars

For an even better take on Katrina and the Almighty, go here and click on the picture.

- via -=JeW*SCHooL=-

Mysterious and secretive

2005-09-30T16:15:00.000-04:00

Someboday in Toronto is very strange. A quick check of my stats showed that a Torontonian came to this site with the search, "Who is Bonhomme? What kind of creature is he?" Assuming I'm the Bonhomme in question, I'm not sure how to answer. I've never been very good with open-ended questions. You tell me what kind of creature I am.

Scary numbers

2005-09-28T10:16:00.000-04:00

President Bush is being briefed by Rumsfeld who tells him 3 Brazilian soldiers have been killed. Bush pauses for a minute and asks nervously:

"How many is a brazillion?"

- via Mr V

And Martha just points and laughs

2005-09-23T17:21:00.000-04:00

Our hearts were in the right place but our culinary abilities were, as far as I could tell, down the street in the pub. Yesterday my good friend Sexy Realtor and I decided to make jerk chicken tacos. Our success was limited, and our tummies left half empty.

It started off quite easily. The chicken jerked perfectly and the wine – guava juice for me - flowed swiftly. Our supper's fate began to make its ominous presence known when, due to a complete lack of foresight, we jerked the chicken with the bones still in it. This is was silly because one sign of a successful taco is when you don't have to pick bones out of your teeth when you eat. Another is when you do not experience internal bleeding and intestinal infection due to chicken bone splinters lodges in your digestive tract. No Martha Stewart I, but I do know how to make a taco. And so we set to work deboning the jerk.

Sexy Realtor used a knife. I know myself much too well to entrust myself with a sharp, pointy object. I reasoned that whatever damage I could inflict would be much lessened if I used my fingers. Good thing.

When one is deboning chicken one must dive right in with abandon. I am a highly-strung and excitable individual who bottles up much of my frustration with the incredibly inane people with whom I come into contact daily, and so I relished the opportunity to rip flesh from bone, even if it was just a jerked chicken.

When one is using one's fingers with food covered in sauce, one must be careful not to get the sauce anywhere but on the food. This would be true of any sauce, but particular attention should be paid to sauces that stain and hot, spicy, sauces, such as jerk sauce, for example. One should never, say, laugh uproariously at something hilarious one's co-chef has said, and reach up to wipe away a little laugh tear from one’s face without first rinsing the caustic solution from one’s fingers. The consequences could be dire.

The pain in my right eyeball was instantaneous. It felt is if it were self-combusting while boring its way back into my brain at the same time. I hadn't known such agony since I sat all the way through "Alexander" because the extremely sexually attractive man I was dating at the time insisted on seeing it. My brain emptied itself of all thoughts save survival.

I ran blindly in circles around Sexy Realtor's kitchen. His five thousand pound chocolate lab with halitosis thought I was playing an amusing game and yipped and jumped half a pace behind me, tugging at my shirt with his fangs. My friend managed to fend off my flailing arms and lead me to the sink, but I tripped on squirming the dog and hit my head on the corner of the counter. I decided to wait for death, shivering in a heap on the kitchen floor while the dog covered my face with sloppy, malodorous affection.

Due to the excitement, we forgot to finish deboning the chicken. What's more, we forgot about the taco shells warming in the oven until several of them caught fire and the smoke detector went off, which sent the dog off into a frenzy of howls. Perhaps he thought if he howled loud enough we wouldn't notice he'd stolen the cheese of the counter, eaten half and pulverised the other half. The only cheese left in the apartment was romano. Also, the sour cream was off, the lettuce wilted, and the tomatoes squooshy.

And so once the smoke had cleared and my eyeball had oozed itself back into its socket, we were left with splitnery, blackened, tomato-sogged tacos that left us gasping for air due the hot jerk chicken and begging for water due to the tangy romano cheese. One more brilliant idea foiled by the indignity of reality. Martha would have just laughed and talked about, while still in prison, all the delicious and attractive nibbles she had made with just flour, water, prison rations and a little bit the creative spirit.

Orcs Kill Monopoly Pieces: Little Dog First to Go

2005-09-23T16:09:00.000-04:00

I am old enough for technology to pass me by. I laughed at my parents as they struggled with DVDs, cell phones, and Windows, but now I am old enough to feel left out by the march of innovation.

I first noticed this morning as I was reading an article on the BBC site that made absolutely no sense to me. It talked of a deadly plague that was killing not people, but game characters all over the world. Passed on by virtual evil mutant blood, as I understand it, the virtual disease became a virtual epidemic once it had entered "the orc capital city of Ogrimmar". Maybe that"s where all my missing sock twins have got to as well.

Now, people with spotty faces and no dates all over the world are in a tizzy over their game characters swooning and languishing on their virtual divans, but as near as I can tell, some virtual monopoly pieces have broken and need to be replaced. But I admit that I am mostly befuddled by this controversy. All I know is: never let orcs near your Monopoly. They don't play well with others.

I hate blogs that post pictures of dogs, cats, and kids

2005-09-23T15:36:00.000-04:00

... but my cat is the most elegantly gorgeous cat that has ever existed.

His name is נודניק (pronounced "nude Nick"), which means "pain in the butt", more or less, in Hebrew.

Don't read on an empty stomach

2005-09-21T13:16:00.000-04:00

New Yorkers always think they know the real thing when it comes to Chinese food. Forty years ago it was egg rolls, chop suey and drinks with paper umbrellas. Then it was General Tso's chicken and sesame noodles.

But over the past decade, as large communities of people from India, Peru, Korea, Trinidad and Guyana have formed here, New York has had to expand its ideas about what Chinese food can be.

Dishes like chili-spiked, deep-fried chicken lollipops [(recipe)], which are a Chinese-Indian specialty, and lo mein topped with chunks of peppery jerk chicken, served at De Bamboo Express, a Chinese-West Indian restaurant in Brooklyn, are what Chinese food is now to thousands of New Yorkers.

Although we are lowly Torontonians and not classy New Yorkers, a friend and I have been inspired by the article: tomorrow we fuse Jamaica to Mexico (well, Texas really) and will be making jerk chicken tacos.

I want to fly this bird

2005-09-21T12:47:00.000-04:00

Despite cancellations from Air Canada, due to union woes, and Northwest and Delta, due to bankruptcy, Boeing's 787 Dreamliner has already notched up an impressive 200 orders in one year. It boasts all sorts of technological features I don't pretend to understand (lightweight poly-something), but my homosexuality is all a-twitter over its radical new approach to interior design.

I prefer it over Airbus' ostentatious double-decker 380 that will feature lounges, gyms, boutiques, and restaurants that remind me a little of the Love Boat and that the likes of me will never be allowed to see. Check out the swooping arches, enormous windows, and calm nightlighting on the 787.

The 787 Dreamliner enters service in 2008.

So fine me, then

2005-09-20T21:07:00.000-04:00

By raising the fines that would be levied against offending broadcasters some fifteenfold, to a fee of about $500,000 per crudity broadcast, and by threatening to revoke the licenses of repeat polluters, the Senate seeks to return to the public square the gentler tenor of yesteryear, when seldom were heard any scurrilous words, and famous guys were not foul mouthed all day.

Yet researchers who study the evolution of language and the psychology of swearing say that they have no idea what mystic model of linguistic gentility the critics might have in mind. Cursing, they say, is a human universal. Every language, dialect or patois ever studied, living or dead, spoken by millions or by a small tribe, turns out to have its share of forbidden speech, some variant on comedian George Carlin's famous list of the seven dirty words that are not supposed to be uttered on radio or television.

I completely agree that regulating speech in any venue is ridiculous and contrary to human nature, but sometimes I wish that some of us could use a little more imagination than fucking throwing in the fucking swear every 2 or 3 fucking words when they talk, fuck! I must be aging quite rapidly.

That meshuggeneh undead shiksa

2005-09-20T20:53:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time, a bridegroom jokingly recited his marriage vows over a skeletal finger protruding from the earth. After placing his ring on the bone, his mirth turned to horror when a grasping hand burst forth, followed by a corpse in a tattered shroud, her dead eyes staring as she proclaimed, "My husband."

This chilling Jewish folk tale hails from a cycle of stories about the great 16th-century mystic, Rabbi Isaac Luria of Safed, in what is now northern Israel, said Howard Schwartz, a top Jewish folklorist and professor at the University of Missouri-St. Louis. It also apparently inspired Tim Burton's charmingly ghoulish animated film, "Corpse Bride".

- via -=JeW*SCHooL=-

It is also the first time since I was a child that animated, non-living have got me all choked up. Take an afternoon off from being all serious and adult and go have fun with this charming movie.

Brownie's heckuva job

2005-09-15T13:05:00.000-04:00

In an interview with the New York Times, Michael Brown, former director of FEMA, demonstrates the various qualities that made him such a capable leader before, during, and after the cataclysm of Hurricane Katrina (note the ring of awesomely powerful credibility surrounding his words):

Effective leadership and communication

"I am having a horrible time," Mr. Brown said he told Mr. Chertoff and a White House official - either Mr. Card or his deputy, Joe Hagin - in a status report that evening. "I can't get a unified command established."

Assertiveness

"Would you please call the mayor and tell him to ask people to evacuate?" Mr. Brown said he asked Mr. Bush in a phone call.

Level-headed leadership (and articulateness)

Mr. Brown passed the list on to the state emergency operations center in Baton Rouge, but when he returned that evening he was surprised to find that nothing had been done. "I am just screaming at my F.C.O., 'Where are the helicopters?'"he recalled. "'Where is the National Guard? Where is all the stuff that the mayor wanted?'"

Fact-finding

In fact, he said, he learned about the evacuees there from the first media reports more than 24 hours earlier, but the reports conflicted with information from local authorities and he had no staff on the site until Thursday.

Brownie's final word

"Until you have been there," he said, "you don't realize it is the middle of a hurricane."

And even if you were there too, apparently.

Now, let us not forget the man who gave him this job ...

Una conversación fantástica

2005-09-15T12:56:00.000-04:00

This morning while sitting in a café, innocently reading my book and minding my own business, I was flirted with by the mind-blowingly talented and mind-numbingly sexy Gael García Bernal.

Admittedly, it wasn't really the mind-blowingly talented and mind-numbingly sexy Gael García Bernal. However, the precocious man who took me happily away from my book could have easily been his equally sexy (no word yet on the talent), equally charmingly accented, ever-so-slightly older gay cousin. Happy Birthday to me!

Permission to be a jerk

2005-09-15T12:43:00.000-04:00

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22) Aggressive line-cutting at lunch today inspires you to be more assertive. There are many things to do this week, and you will be able to swiftly plough through them all if you abandon all pretence of being nice, courteous and giving two fucks about the feelings of others. For the next few days, permit yourself to become that pushy jerk off who elbows through the crowd on the subway platform in order to nab the first available seat. For once, dirty looks become the sign of a job well done.

This describes me even on the best of days and I don't really need the affirmation. Still, it's nice to hear.

Update - Another horoscope concurs the first one in a less round-about way:

VIRGO (August 23 - September 22) You're a proud individual, and there are just some things that you've never been able to bring yourself to say, but "Give me some more goddamned fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy right fucking now" isn't one of them.

How Curious George Escaped the Nazis

2005-09-13T13:42:00.000-04:00

Curious George is every 2-year-old sticking his finger into the light socket, pouring milk onto the floor to watch it pool, creating chaos everywhere. One reason the mischievous monkey is such a popular children's book character is that he makes 4- to 6-year-olds feel superior: fond memories, but we've given all that up now.

[...]

But in truth, "Curious George" almost didn't make it onto the page. A new book, The Journey That Saved Curious George: The True Wartime Escape of Margret and H. A. Rey (Houghton Mifflin), tells of how George's creators, both German-born Jews, fled from Paris by bicycle in June 1940, carrying the manuscript of what would become "Curious George" as Nazis prepared to invade.

Never Forget

2005-09-11T00:07:00.000-04:00

I Wish I Were Somebody's Crony!

2005-09-10T13:02:00.000-04:00

[Brown] is the former head of the Arabian Horse Association but his official biography says he was also in charge of emergency services in the city of Edmond, Oklahoma, in the late 1970s. However, a spokesman for the city told Time Magazine that his role was really that of an intern - nobody reported to him.

I want a job that I can screw up in just about every possible way after having padded my CV, with the result that I not only get to keep my job, but keep my salary with reduced duties. That bozo Brown has got it made!

Sufjan

2005-09-10T12:58:00.000-04:00

"I had the typical aspiration to be signed to a big label, just like anybody else," he admits. "But after I didn't hear back from a few places, and when the feedback I did get made no sense to me, I started to think about what I really wanted".

You have to love (or rather, I have to love) a singer/songwriter who gives titles like "They Are Night Zombies!! They Are Neighbors!! They Have Come Back From The Dead!! Ahhhh!" to his songs. Sufjan Steven's sold out Toronto show is this evening and I’m going, thanks to the magic of friends who know what to get me for my birthday (especially when I tell them what to get me for my birthday).

Very Pretty

2005-09-10T12:57:00.000-04:00

American actor, Daniel Dae Kim

Punctured Eardrums and Pierced Bubbles

2005-09-08T21:22:00.000-04:00

There are very few sounds with the awesome power to cut through the battery of drums and gravely guitars of grunge circa 1992. The eardrum-puncturing shrieks of little girls at play, however, reduces even Nirvana to quiet, Sunday afternoon jazz.

I am across the street from a Catholic primary school for girls. What is it about that very special ear-bloodying timbre? Why do little girls screech like miniature banshees as they play in the schoolyard? Are they so wrapped up in their games that they literally scream at the thought of losing? Are they being tortured by their nuns?

The girls and I got a treat yesterday. We witnessed the arrest of what turned out to be a violent criminal across the street from the school and right outside my entrance. The real life show was even complete with some mild police brutality in the form of hair pulling, a punch in the stomach and a kick to the nuts. The guy had a gun. It was a whole lot of fun. The little girls greeted the spectacle with silence.

When I moved into this neighbourhood it was fairly safe. Now I am treated to witnessing at least one arrest a week, sometimes involving multiple police cars. Last month there were four murders on my block. This may be nothing by American standards, but I don't live in America.

Poor girls. Their parents spend so much money to give them a nice Catholic upbringing, all calm and peaceful. It seems to me so naïve to try to shield children within a bubble of religion and pray that the good Lord will make everything alright. Real life will always sneak itself in, one way or another.

Very Pretty

2005-09-08T21:17:00.000-04:00

English actor, Naveen Andrews.

Let Them Eat Cake

2005-09-06T10:17:00.000-04:00

And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this – this is working very well for them.

- via And Now, José?

Barbara Bush, Dubya’s mommy, speaking in the notion that many of Katrina’s survivors, now in Texas, are contemplating remaining in Texas. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Very Pretty

2005-09-06T10:15:00.000-04:00

American model and actor, Jason Olive

A Stream of 5s (or, Happy Birthday to Me)

2005-09-04T11:44:00.000-04:00

When I was 5, my family moved to a country where only my father could speak the language. It must have been scary, but all I remember of it was coming to the realisation that there are many ways to pronounce the letter "r" and all its counterparts in other alphabets. Because I was young and my brain was still elastic, I picked up the language much quicker than my mother. When she went shopping, she would take me as the translator. I don't remember this and I wonder if I thought it was strange that I was able to do something my mother wanted. She must have felt very isolated and lonely.

When I was 15, I was an alterna-fag in the making. I was addicted to Kate Bush, the Cocteau Twins, Joni Mitchell, and, incongruously, Heart. Nirvana was only half a decade away. I would hide in my room and talk for hours on the phone with my friends, almost all girls, and write e e cumming-inspired poetry that, when I read it now, either makes me laugh hysterically or flush with embarrassment. At school I got good grades and was popular, and although I hated high school, I loved high school.

When I was 25, I had been living in Montreal for five years. I was the manager in charge of training and HR policy development at a small software company that would go belly-up one year later and throw me into the professional confusion I still find myself in today, ten years later. I hated working there and I couldn't imagine what the rest of my life would be like if I stayed.

I hung out in seedy bars in Montreal, chainsmoking and talking politics in French, which is what one did in Montreal in the 90s if one was artsy and bilingual (or, as in my case, trilingual). I still believed that true love would come for me and wash me clean. That delusion has since departed. Although I found my life stagnant, I had high hopes for humanity. We seemed to be learning something valuable. 9/11 and its aftermath was six years away.

Today I turn 35. I think back to when I was a child who thought that, in the year 2000 when I was to turn 30, I would be so incredibly old and I couldn’t imagine what that would be like. I am five years older than that now and I'm still waiting to know what it feels like to be so old.

I speak several languages now, and although I don't listen to the same music anymore – aside from Joni Mitchell who is still a favourite – but there is always something floating out of my iTunes when I’m home and my iPod when I'm not.

I have abandoned all illusions of career, but am certain my writing is good enough to one publish (although I loathe the shmoozing aspect of publication-hunting). In the meantime, I accept short-term contracts and am able to scrape by.

I don’t live in Montreal anymore, but I miss it. I don't smoke anymore and I don't miss it. I don't smoke anymore and I don’tI like Toronto and will stay here for a while. I can't see myself growing old here though. I'm young enough to change cities when I feel like it. I still talk politics but miss the – what seem now in a post-9/11 world – simple politics of language debate and an independent Quebec.

9/11, Iraq, suicide bombers, war, Intifada, settlements, extremists, and a very scary neighbouring country to the south have shaken my upbeat view of humanity. We are just as barbaric as we always have been, but the difference is that now we have technology to both hide it and magnify it at the same time.

But life goes on and follows its course. Looking back, it's easy to see how the streams flow forward. Although it is often dark but most often tedious and mundane, life has occasional moments of great joy. Those are the moments to live for.

Speak Now

2005-09-02T21:20:00.000-04:00

Five days after the Katrina has hit and still tens of thousands are left desperate, with no food, no water, no way out of the city. There are reports of rapes, gunfire, and massive explosions as bodies are left to rot in the streets or among survivors at the Convention Centre because there is no way of removing them in the anarchy.

Michael Brown, Director of the Federal Emergency Management Agency attempts to sidestep the issue of why the emergency reaction was so slow and small. Ted Koppel doesn't let him get away with it. Neither does CNN's Paula Zahn (via Bring It On!).

And what is the President of the United States doing? Pledging aid five days after the initial disaster and putting on Sad Face for photo ops.

Please, give of your earnings, give of your time, if you can. Open your home to evacuees if you live close enough.

But at the same time, speak your mind. I do not understand why all of America isn't seething over the massive failure of the American government to take immediate control of the situation before it descended into dire chaos and placed tens of thousands of its citizens in further peril.

This is not about political rhetoric or partisan affiliations. This is about massive human suffering on a scale unknown in your country. This is about your elected government that has proven completely unable to care for the very citizens it represents and is meant to protect; in many cases, the very citizens who placed it in this position of power. This is about leaders too insulated the mundane realities to do anything but hide behind a theocratic veil and hope for the best.

By the very nature of democracy, something you claim as the pillar of American existence, are you not obligated to tell your leaders when they have done wrong? Are you not obligated to demand explanations? Is it not your responsibility to demand results?

So please give, and give generously whatever you can. But that should not stop you from speaking your mind. That should not stop you from acting upon what you know in your heart is right.

SPEAK NOW

Very, Very Hot

2005-09-02T21:19:00.000-04:00

CNN reporter Anderson Cooper, reporting from one of the myriad destroyed towns on the Gulf, when he rips into Democrat Louisiana Senator Mary Landrieu (who didn't actually deserve to be the target of the tirade). You're sexy when you seethe, Anderson.

Calm

2005-09-02T17:06:00.000-04:00

Very Pretty

2005-09-02T17:02:00.000-04:00

American actor, Daniel Sunjata.

Apparently, Blacks "Loot" and Whites "Find"

2005-09-01T08:30:00.000-04:00

Racist photocaptions from Yahoo News divide the desperate into the good and the bad:

"A young man walks through chest deep flood water after looting a grocery store in New Orleans on Tuesday, Aug. 30, 2005."

"Two residents wade through chest-deep water after finding bread and soda from a local grocery store after Hurricane Katrina came through the area in New Orleans, Louisiana."
- via Besotted Blog

A cheer to Yahoo for showing us the difference between the "right" kind of desperation and the "wrong" kind.

UPDATE: According to the director of media relations the agency that accepted the first picture, the photographer "saw the person go into the shop and take the goods". In his own words, the photographer who took the second picture explains, "These people were not ducking into a store and busting down windows to get electronics. They picked up bread and cokes that were floating in the water".

Fair's fair. The young man who was described as a looter, looted (according to the director of media relations of the agency that accepted the photograph and caption). The people who found the food, found it.

And what does Yahoo, who first posted the pictures say? They say they don't have time to check the things out before the post them.

Admittedly, neither did I before I jumped to my immediate conclusion. But this is not a news agency. It's a blog and anyone who thinks you get anything more than half-baked opinions based on poorly researched facts in blogs is delusional.

To help those in need, click here.

Scientific America

2005-08-31T13:27:00.000-04:00

American adults in general do not understand what molecules are (other than that they are really small). Fewer than a third can identify DNA as a key to heredity. Only about 10 percent know what radiation is. One adult American in five thinks the Sun revolves around the Earth, an idea science had abandoned by the 17th century.

[...] While scientific literacy has doubled over the past two decades, only 20 to 25 percent of Americans are "scientifically savvy and alert," he said in an interview. Most of the rest "don't have a clue." At a time when science permeates debates on everything from global warming to stem cell research, he said, people's inability to understand basic scientific concepts undermines their ability to take part in the democratic process.

Now I understand why the alleged merits of Intelligent Design can even be debated in that country. It is because millions of Americans have no clue what science is, don't know what a theory is, and cannot judge the merits of one theory vs another. This is why they can consider the untenable theory of ID along the same lines as the provable Theory of Evolution.

My Heart Aches

2005-08-31T13:26:00.000-04:00

As many as 1,000 people may have died in a stampede of Shia pilgrims in northern Baghdad, Iraqi health officials have said. The incident happened on a river bridge as about a million Shias marched to a shrine for a religious festival. Witnesses said panic spread over rumours of suicide bombers.

Compensation for All Victims of Terror

2005-08-31T13:25:00.000-04:00

The teenage Israeli soldier who killed four Israeli Arabs in a shooting rampage on a bus has been branded a Jewish terrorist, but the people who died cannot be recognized as terrorist victims, the Defense Ministry said Tuesday. Under current law, an assailant must be a member of the "enemy forces" against Israel for the action to be considered terrorism, said Mayan Malkin, a spokeswoman with the Defense Ministry. But in this case the shooter was Jewish and his attack cannot be designated as terror, said Malkin.

.
One might posit that anyone who shoots citizens of Israel – 20% of the population of Israel is Arab – is an enemy of Israel. A true "Friend of Israel" seeks to change this xenophobic situation, not defend it. Luckily, not only is the Israeli Prime Minister's office seeking to change, or at least review, its compensation laws, and Knesset member Mohammed Barakeh is seeking to amend the law to include any one hurt by "hostile activities by a terror organization", much better definition.

Prezzie From the Land of Oz

2005-08-31T13:24:00.000-04:00

I received a very thoughtful gift from Melbourne this morning.

Intelligent Design's Flawed Methodology

2005-08-28T12:18:00.000-04:00

First you misuse or misdescribe some scientist's work. Then you get an angry rebuttal. Then, instead of dealing forthrightly with the charges leveled, you cite the rebuttal as evidence that there is a 'controversy' to teach.

Note that the trick is content-free. You can use it on any topic. 'Smith's work in geology supports my argument that the earth is flat,' you say, misrepresenting Smith's work. When Smith responds with a denunciation of your misuse of her work, you respond, saying something like: 'See what a controversy we have here? Professor Smith and I are locked in a titanic scientific debate. We should teach the controversy in the classrooms'.

By the way, I believe that the universe was created by a colossal, multi-tentacled pan-dimensional (it would be, since it invented them) anteater-like entity with magenta fur (click on the thumbnail above for the full impact). Is that kinda what the IDers had in mind?

Very Pretty

2005-08-28T07:45:00.000-04:00

Israeli singer Ivri Lider (עברי לידר)

Lucy in the Field with Flowers

2005-08-25T20:06:00.000-04:00

"The motion, the chair, the sway of her breast, the subtle hues of the sky, the expression on her face -- every detail combines to create this transcendent and compelling portrait, every detail cries out 'masterpiece'."

- Courtesy of the Museum of Particularly Bad Art

Very Pretty

2005-08-25T20:04:00.000-04:00

Egyptian singer Amr Diab

Evil Scourge

2005-08-23T14:37:00.000-04:00

Ashgabat, Turkmenistan — He has outlawed opera and ballet and railed against long hair and gold teeth, but now President Saparmurat Niyazov is determined to wipe out another perceived scourge: lip synching.

Mr. Niyazov has ordered a ban on lip synching performances across the tightly controlled Central Asian country, citing "a negative effect on the development of singing and musical art," the president's office said Tuesday.

Good thing for Milli Vanilli they weren't from Turkmenistan.

Further to: In an effort to protect society, Turkmenistan's president has taken one step further and banned all recorded music at public functions. The general population of that country, who make on average under US $100 a month, must be very happy he's making so much effort for their well-being.

Contemplating Infinity

2005-08-23T14:02:00.000-04:00

Humans began to understand the true scale of geological time in the early 19th century. The probable depth of cosmological time and the extent of the history of the human species have come to light only within our own lifetimes.

That is a lot to absorb and, not surprisingly, many people refuse to absorb it. Nearly every attack on evolution - whether it is called intelligent design or plain creationism, synonyms for the same faith-based rejection of evolution - ultimately requires a foreshortening of cosmological, geological and biological time.

Humans feel much more content imagining a world of more human proportions, with a shorter time scale and a simple narrative sense of cause and effect. But what we prefer to believe makes no difference. The fact that life on Earth has arrived at a point where it is possible for humans to have beliefs is due to the steady ticking away of eons and the trial and error of natural selection.

The only intelligent discussion I have found on Intelligent Design (please note the sarcasm) may be found here.

So True

2005-08-21T18:57:00.000-04:00

From PostSecret

2046

2005-08-21T13:50:00.000-04:00

Tony Leung ("Hero", "In the Mood for Love", "Happy Together", "Chunking Express") reprises his role of melancholy loner Chow Mo Wan in Kar Wai Wong's latest slow motion drama, "2046". In the semi-sequel to Wai's "In the Mood for Love", Chow, devastated by the loss of Maggie Cheung at the end of the previous movie, takes refuge in womanising, drinking, gambling, and writing sci-fi erotica for a living against the backdrop of troubled Hong Kong in the 1960s.

In an effort to forget his lost love and numb his broken heart, Chow goes through women like tissues, including an ice-cold Cambodian refugee with a shadowy past played by the exquisitely ravishing Li Gong ("Farewell my Concubine", "Raise the Red Lantern"), and alcoholic call girl Ziyi Zhang ("Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon", "Hero", "House of Flying Daggers"). It isn’t until he helps other-worldly Faye Wong ("Chunking Express") reunite with her estranged Japanese boyfriend (Takuya Kimura, see below) that he begins on a path of redemption and resignation to his loveless fate.

"2046" wanders all over the place and goes on far to long. In that respect is perfectly faithful to its subject matter: mending a broken heart takes one to strange places and takes far longer than one can stand. Outstanding performances from Leung (no one can do sad lone wolf like him) and Ziyi, who finally gets a chance to do much more than fly through the air and beat up evil-doers, and gorgeous art direction save the movie in it moodily tedious bits. Happiness is elusive, Wai tells us, but you can only find it by going forward, not by holding back.

Very Pretty

2005-08-21T13:43:00.000-04:00

Japanese pop and movie star, and jilted lover in "2046", Takuya Kimura

Lighten Up, DC

2005-08-21T13:34:00.000-04:00

DC Comics has ordered a New York gallery to remove pictures which show Batman and Robin kissing and embracing [...] Arts website Artnet was also told to remove the series of semi-naked images of Batman and Robin from its website. DC Comics was unavailable to comment.

Future Shock

2005-08-21T13:25:00.000-04:00

Police in Japan have arrested a Chinese student over the use of a network of software "bots" to steal items in an online role playing game (RPG). [...] Players were attacked in the game, Lineage II, and their items were then sold for cash on auction sites. [...] The attacks were carried out using automated bots, which are difficult for human game players to defeat.

Who stole what from whom using what, now?

Reality Check

2005-08-18T08:38:00.000-04:00

Two thousand housing units will soon be demolished in the Gaza settlements, but in the West Bank, Mr Sharon's government is planning to build another 6,000 units, further cementing Israel's grip on the bit of the occupied territories that really matters. [...] In conjunction with Israel's "security barrier", which points to the eventual annexation of some 10% of the West Bank and threatens to cut off tens of thousands of Palestinian Jerusalemites from their own city, Mr Sharon's settlement policies suggest that he has already decided what Israel's future borders will be.

Sign of Things to Come?

2005-08-18T08:30:00.000-04:00

Mongolian Eyes?

2005-08-17T10:16:00.000-04:00

The papers, from the probe into Jean Charles de Menezes' death, and leaked to ITV, suggest he was restrained before being shot eight times [ ... ] The documents, including witness statements, also suggest Mr de Menezes did not hurdle the barrier at Stockwell tube station, as first reports previously suggested, and was not wearing a padded jacket that could have concealed a bomb.

Another paper indicates what criterion London police used to get their positive identification of Mr De Menezes.

One of the clinching factors in the mistaken identification appears to have been the fact that some of the officers agreed Mr de Menezes had the 'same Mongolian eyes' as one of the terror suspects.

- via The Dawn of Man

Racial profiling (ignorant, incorrect racial profiling at that), shoot-to-kill orders, and a self-important love of brutality! The world keeps getting better and better!

Sometimes a Dream is Just a Dream

2005-08-17T08:15:00.000-04:00

If you can view these pictures without shedding so much as a tear, you're simply inhumane. For it or against it, you must feel it. And if you are for it, then just know and feel this pain and never forget what it has been caused for. You must remain eternally vigilant in making sure that this does not go down in history as a grand mistake. If this is a step towards justice, make sure that justice is truly attained. Do not let this end up a mere appeasment of killers.

- from Jewschool

A dream is a dream. It has nothing to do with reality and exists in isolation, away from the consequences it may have. This is the problem of Israeli settlements adn with the occupation of Gaza and Trans-Jordan (West Bank). The dream of a "Greater Israel" ignores the human crisis it causes.

I am one of a steadily decreasing number of Jews who still believe, perhaps naively, that there is yet a chance for peace with the complete withdrawal to the 1967 border, including the painful ceding of East Jerusalem. Nevertheless, I was raised since I was old enough to be brainwashed with the dream of a Greater Israel and I find the Hitnatkut (Disengagement) very difficult to witness. In the words of one Israeli,

My feeling is that just as a parent will sometimes say 'no' to their child's heartfelt request, here too we've been told 'No' by God, after all our crying and pleading.

I know that the sacrifice of a dream for a greater good cannot be a bad thing. Part of me knows this is the right thing. Another part of me only wants to believe this sacrifce is the right thing.

And when I see the reaction of Palestinian militants. my blood runds cold.

Hire Me, Puny Mortal

2005-08-16T13:50:00.000-04:00

My glorious contract has come to an end. I completed what I was hired to do and have said farewell to my office with a door that closes. I was so successful that my contract ended. This leads me to wonder if I could of stayed there had a done a lousy job. It's probably best not to think too much about that.

And so now I have the opportunity of embarking on one of the most humiliating experiences in which one chooses to engage: the job hunt. I would perhaps get more fulfillment out of it if I were into S&M, another activity in which people willingly welcome pain. I, however, prefer my ego oversized and my demeanour conceited. This is how you start your job search. By the end, you're usually a jiggling little lump of blood and flesh that will do anything for a little bit of money.

Last night I dreamt that I was sent to work in Antarctica. It wasn't so bad there, you know. It was kind of like a giant underground shopping mall with nary a penguin in sight. The troubles began when I was swept away by raging floods and lost in an impenetrable, opaque fog. Just great. Add golobal warming to my list of nightmare-worthy immediate worries and mix it all around with job-hunting to make for one fun-filled night. Pass the SSRIs, please.

I have had bouts of unemployment in the past and can procrastinate like a university student a week before semester's end. There's MSN, there's email, there's an insidious computer game called Civilization III. I don't have a TV, so I'm spared that particular joyous brainmelt.

Another pastime, walking aimlessly all over the city with the excuse that I must get my thoughts in order and find a focus in order to zip through the next job interview with bells and whistles, has been curtailed by my neighbourhood’s recent crime spree. There has been another fatal shooting in the area. Four people have been shot dead in as many weeks, all within a block of my apartment. I'll stay at home, thank you.

I have managed to send out a few CVs, despite my brain's best efforts to keep me otherwise unoccupied. I have only one more to send out today to meet my daily quota:

Mortal,

Cower in terror before my awesome might. Hire me or your days will be spent in agony, your nights in horrific torture. I am perfection itself and your brains will liquefy and dribble out your nose and ears should I be in the least dissatisfied with our communication. Eternal darkness is your future.

Please do not hesitate to contact me should you have any questions or to set up an interview.

Sincerely,

Bonhomme Soleil

Very Pretty

2005-08-16T11:23:00.000-04:00

Cheezy Israeli singer, Harel Skaat (הראל סקעת)

Big Day

2005-08-14T18:11:00.000-04:00

Israel has begun its disengagement from Gaza. May this day bring about the beginning of peace for all Israelis, all Palestinians, and for the rest of the world.

Bonhomme Soleil

2005-08-12T19:28:00.000-04:00

New name. Same laissez-faire attitude.

Gunfire Outside my Window

2005-08-08T20:46:00.000-04:00

I was awoken by the lovely sound of gunshots outside my bedroom window at 4AM. At first I wondered if I were in Detroit or Washington DC. Then remembered that I was in my steadily decaying downtown Toronto neighbourhood.

People, exclusively those who live in green, leafy neighbourhoods farther out from the centre, tell me to be glad I don't live in the States. They point out that Toronto sees as many homicides in a year as New York does in a month (with no proof to back up their stats, mind you). I'm glad they enjoy their green, leafy neighbourhoods. I would too, had I the cash.

The city's answer has to build glass towers in my neighbourhood in the hope that the rich, beautiful people who move in to inhabit them will somehow drive out the riffraff by the very power of their magnificence. It doesn't work. Soon there will be poor people swooning on the streets and rich people looking out over the city in their high towers. Such a wonderful solution.

And in the meantime, two people lost their lives outside my bedroom window this morning.

A Human Issue

2005-08-08T20:38:00.000-04:00

The Israeli-Palestinian conflict is not a Muslim issue. It is a dispute over land, it is about an occupation that must end and it is about a people who deserve a state. But it is not a religious dispute [ . . . ] It is a human issue.

- stong words in Muslim Wake Up! by Mona Eltahawy

via -=JeW*SCHooL=-

What I Am Worth

2005-07-29T19:24:00.000-04:00

Instead of heeding the customs of my people or getting drunk like my other people, I have been surfing the net and I came across a very strange thing. I am, apparently, worth $5,836.86 and 10 shares of me were, unbeknownst to me, recently purchased by a Mr Alexander Maier. How could I have missed it when I went on the market?

What's more, I had apparently suffered a dramatic tumble in value (how horrible!) until said purchase of various parts of me by Mr Maier, as can be seen in the graph thingy above. I understand nothing of this, but I extend my hearty and heartfelt gratitude to Mr Maier, whoever he may be, for maintaining and enhancing my value.

Kiss that Frog

2005-07-29T10:53:00.000-04:00

I like this idea. Blue Security, an Israeli internet security company, compiles lists of spammers e-mails sent to them by members. The spammers are then offered a few chances to delete forever Blue Security members e-mails from their mailing lists permanently. After a few warnings and spam is still sent out to members, the company then bomabrds their sites with complaints until they can no longer function, the internet business version of being blasted to smithereens. This is much like what happens to internet users when we're the target of a nasty spammer sending a constant stream of messages for days on end. Click here.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

2005-07-28T19:52:00.000-04:00

Yesterday evening, I attended the volunteer appreciation party at the HIV/AIDS organisation where I volunteer (as opposed to the one where I work). There were hundreds of cute boys, drinks (although I don't drink), nibbles, hundreds of cute boys, a singer who was very popular in the 80s and has since dropped of the face of the Earth. There were also door prizes: certificates for massages, for manicures, for pedicures, for expensive restaurants.

And two air tickets to anywhere in North America. Guess which prize I won.

I found myself suddenly surrounded by cute boys, for some reason. But being unboyfriendable these day, I will forced to test the strength of my relationship with my good friend AlefAlef and take him instead of those opportunistic beauties. And already we're fighting, he and I: AlefAlef wants to go to a beach and get skin cancer, whereas I want to hike in the wilderness and get eaten alive by blood-sucking, pestilence-spreading insects. The compromise may be the Yucatan, where he can ruin is complexion and I can wander through Mayan ruins.

My elation lasted right up until this morning when I read about the subject of the following post. Then it slumped dramatically.

Iran Hangs Two Gay Teenagers

2005-07-28T19:50:00.000-04:00

Two gay Iranian teenagers -- one 18, the other believed to be 16 or 17, were executed this week for the "crime" of homosexuality, Irangay_teens the Iranian Student News Agency (ISNA) reported on July 19 [ . . . ] The two youths -- identified only by their initials as M.A. and A.M., were hanged on July 19 in Edalat (Justice) Square in the city of Mashhad in north-eastern Iran, on the orders of Court No. 19.

I live in one of the countries that leads the world in human rights while on the other side of the world, teenagers are hanged for loving whom they love. Pakistan makes headlines for the horrific legalised gang rape of a young woman, yet the hanging of two teenagers makes nary a blip in the world.

I haven't been able to get the image of the young boy weeping minutes before his death out of my mind. I hope I have troubles sleeping tonight.

Canada, Vikings, War Over Frozen Arctic Pebble?

2005-07-27T08:06:00.000-04:00

In Greenland, it's being called an unjustified occupation, while Canadian diplomats won't even deign to call it an irritant. [...] "When someone unfairly tries to exercise their influence on the island, which is claimed by both Greenland/Denmark and Canada, I can't interpret the action as anything but occupation," Josef Motzfeldt, deputy leader of Greenland's home rule government, was quoted as saying on a Danish Internet site. And while Mr. Motzfeldt was dialing up the outrage, another newspaper, Berlingske Tidende, was reporting that a Danish inspection ship might be heading to Hans Island next month.

When the Danes try to reclaim Newfoundland, then the world will be in trouble.

The Art of Demotivation

2005-07-21T07:22:00.000-04:00

from Despair, Inc.

Secret

2005-07-21T07:20:00.000-04:00

From Postsecret of the Week
Via Mr V

Scotty To Be Beamed Up

2005-07-21T07:19:00.000-04:00

The ashes of Star Trek actor James Doohan, who died on Wednesday, are to be sent into space at his request … The Space Services Inc company said Doohan's ashes could be on a Falcon 1 rocket launching from California's Vandenberg Air Force Base, tentatively scheduled for launch in September.

Très beau

2005-07-21T07:17:00.000-04:00

Alexandre Despatie

Very Pretty

2005-07-19T20:37:00.000-04:00

Canadian diver who won a gold medal today at the World Aquatic Games in Montreal, Alexandre Despatie

Calgon, Take Me Away

2005-07-17T20:22:00.000-04:00

Separately blown off by two friends and cancelled on three times on two days by the same cute boy (now not so cute), I have spent the entire weekend in complete isolation. My inescapable conclusion: people are better in theory than in reality, even people I already know.

I will fade into the much more pleasant fantasy world of the new Harry Potter. I hear someone close to the main character of the work dies.

Live 8 B Gone, Part Deux

2005-07-15T12:20:00.000-04:00

But the truth is that it was not for us, for Africa, that the musicians at Live 8 were singing; it was to amuse the crowds and to clear their own consciences, and whether they realized it or not, to reinforce dictatorships. They still believe us to be like children that they must save, as if we don't realize ourselves what the source of our problems is.

from the New York Times (registration required, although it's free).
Thanks to Mr. V for pointing the article out to me.

Live 8 B Gone

2005-07-13T21:05:00.000-04:00

One of my best friends knows very well that there is much more to African aid than aging smug pop stars (can I please slap Geldof and Bono now?), wearing pieces of white rubber on one's wrist, and tsk-tsking over the state of the world. He has just returned from six months in Chad with Doctors Without Borders (Médecins sans frontières, or MSF) where he was in charge of the medical services for two camps of Sudanese refugees escaping civil war and genocide.

My friend was the sole doctor for 40 000 traumatised, malnourished people with very little food, who had to endure several epidemics of tuberculosis and meningitis, and who had not much to do but sit and remember. There are some of the pictures he took. The people in these pictures gave their permission to have their photos taken and are aware that the photos will be distributed in one form or another. I have left out the photos that may disturb the weak of stomach. The weak of heart may find some if these disturbing. I hope you are one of the latter.

Please click on a thumbnail for the full view:

The entrance to the walled compound with armed guards where MSF staff are housed. No machine guns allowed.

The ambulance

This is typical of the drawings the children in the camps draw. Note the bright colours, despite the violent subject matter. Note also the detail on the machine guns; they are instantly recognizable so these children must therefore have seen many in their short lives.

Mother and daughter during a tuberculosis epidemic. The mother survived the TB. Her daughter passed away two days after this photo was taken.

A six-year-old girl and her brother. Their father had killed by rebels about a year ago and their mother died of TB two weeks previously while they were making their way from Sudan to the camps in Chad. The two arrived at the camp alone. Note the little boy's hair loss and his over-round cheeks. This demonstrates severe malnutrition.

Two much happier pictures of mothers and children. All residents of the camps were asked to go to the medical centre for a round of inoculations to preëmpt an outbreak of meningitis.

My friend wants to leave with MSF again.

Not in My Name

2005-07-12T09:37:00.000-04:00

A candlelight vigil was held this evening in front of the British Embassy to Bahrain to show solidarity with the British people, and to express our complete rejection of the terror attacks in London that took place on Thursday. It was attended by over a hundred people and was organized by a wide range of civil societies: Islamists, Leftists and human rights groups.

A similar vigial was held outside Jordan's British Embassy.

Courtesy of Chan'ad Bahraini

La Belle Ville

2005-07-08T21:39:00.000-04:00

Although it's impossible to escape the Canadian media's gleeful pronouncements that Canada is next on al-Qaeda's hitlist, I am escaping the drudgery of normal life in Toronto. I'm on vacation in Montreal, my adopted city from when I arrived here 1990 until 2002, my other home. City of the best bagels in the world (and i know from bagels, me!) and poutine, my favourite (completely non-kosher) guilty junk food pleasure. Montréal, tu me manques . . .

No Hope for Humanity, Part Deux

2005-07-07T06:28:00.000-04:00

Explosions on the London Underground network and a double-decker bus in the city cause "terrible injuries".

The Fat Cats Keep Getting Fatter

2005-07-05T12:58:00.000-04:00

I just asked a coworker who had moved here from Ethiopia fifteen years ago what she thought of Live 8.

"When they sent all the grain after that other concert in the 80s, the government didn't sell it [word for word transcription, by the way]. It sold it to people who could still afford to pay. These weren't the starving people. So what good is it going to do if you cancel the debts. The government will just have more money to make itself rich with, and all the debts come from payin for wars anyways. How will that help people. Better teach the poor people how to live than make rich, powerful people richer."

She did have some good things to say, though. "It's better than nothing, I guess. Plus it's good to see that Paul McCartney can stil sing."

I disagree on the last point.

Raise Your Own Awareness

2005-07-02T10:44:00.000-04:00

Come to our little show of self-satisfied, aging, white, mega-millionaire, talentless popstars and feel good about yourself: you have done something significant for Africa. Raise your little white rubber wristband high into the sky with clenched fist at your free show (because you certainly wouldn't pay money to see these smug dinosaurs) while African musicians stand in the shadows (the photo is of Ethiopia's Gigi). Oh, the fantastic photo ops for all these magnanimous, benevolent, generous millionaires at Live 8 as they rant conveniently and hypocritically about the evils of capitalism. Look how we care about those poor, poor Africans.

If you truly want to make a difference, turn your TV off and check out these links:

The Day My Dreams Will Match Up With My Pay

2005-07-01T22:20:00.000-04:00

Helping the kids out of their coats
But wait the babies haven't been born
Unpacking the bags and setting up
And planting lilacs and buttercups

But in the meantime I've got it hard
Second floor living without a yard
It may be years until the day
My dreams will match up with my pay

"Mushaboom" by Feist

I Live in a Great Country

2005-07-01T13:30:00.000-04:00

HAPPY CANADA DAY

Blample Sog

The deci-*hic!*-der

Damn Swedes!

Israeli group announces anti-Semitic cartoons contest!

Cream of ballot soup

There are other movies I'd rather see

Neo Zion

Jewish mothers

Much ado about nothing

Food for thought

Go sit on the lawn and do nothing

Fun with bedhead

Desperate Housewives

Of mess and men

Kickback Mountain

Coulter and flu season

I don't blame Korea anymore

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of Poo)

Back

Very Pretty

Rosa Parks, February 4, 1913 - October 24, 2005

Will work for glory

Very Pretty

I'm sorry

Breakfast

Still alive

Pause

Writer's blocks

I have set My bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between Me and the earth

Mysterious and secretive

Scary numbers

And Martha just points and laughs

Orcs Kill Monopoly Pieces: Little Dog First to Go

I hate blogs that post pictures of dogs, cats, and kids

Don't read on an empty stomach

I want to fly this bird

So fine me, then

That meshuggeneh undead shiksa

Brownie's heckuva job

Una conversación fantástica

Permission to be a jerk

How Curious George Escaped the Nazis

Never Forget

I Wish I Were Somebody's Crony!

Sufjan

Very Pretty

Punctured Eardrums and Pierced Bubbles

Very Pretty

Let Them Eat Cake

Very Pretty

A Stream of 5s (or, Happy Birthday to Me)

Speak Now

Very, Very Hot

Calm

Very Pretty

Apparently, Blacks "Loot" and Whites "Find"

Scientific America

My Heart Aches

Compensation for All Victims of Terror

Prezzie From the Land of Oz

Intelligent Design's Flawed Methodology

Very Pretty

Lucy in the Field with Flowers

Very Pretty

Evil Scourge

Contemplating Infinity

So True

2046

Very Pretty

Lighten Up, DC

Future Shock

Reality Check

Sign of Things to Come?

Mongolian Eyes?

Sometimes a Dream is Just a Dream

Hire Me, Puny Mortal

Very Pretty

Big Day

Bonhomme Soleil

Gunfire Outside my Window

The deci-hic!-der