First, before we get to the column, does everything written about Obama have to include "audacity" somewhere in the title? That got old about two months into the primary, and now it's just a hackneyed cliche. And that doesn't just include Chuck Krauthammer, but every member of the media. No more audacity, please.

Now to the meat and potatoes, Chuck is at it again with this piece, doing his best to find something to rail about against Obama. Today's subject is vanity. The Kraut Hammer takes issue with Obama's plans to speak at the Brandenburg Gate-- where Kennedy spoke, and where Reagan said "tear down this wall"--Chucky says that Obama hasn't earned his stripes enough to deserve a speech at such a historic venue. The mere fact that Obama would give a speech at this particular landmark just shows his extreme vanity. His audacious vanity of audacity, maybe? No that's the title of Chuck Krauthammer's next piece.

To be fair, Chuck has a bit of a case with the whole vanity thing, Obama is pretty full of himself. But, as he is wont to do, Krauthammer takes a legitimate point and then stretches it and exaggerates as much as possible, ultimately making him look petulant and angry. Case in point:

"After all, in the words of his own slogan, 'we are the ones we've been waiting for,' which, translating the royal 'we,' means: ' I am the one we've been waiting for.'

Here's our problem with Chucky Krauthammer: even when he is right he treads into the realm of absurdity, seemingly for no reason. The quoted sentence above makes no sense and is a completely unnecessary and unfounded attack. When Obama says "we are the ones we've been waiting for," he's referring to himself? And he's using the royal we? But wait, "we" is used twice in that sentence, shouldn't that translate to "I am the one I've been waiting for?" Not a great campaign slogan. Not very subtle, either.

There are other instances of exaggeration, as well as some where Chuck exhibits some actual insight. But, overall this is just another Kraut Hammer piece, full of childish attacks as always. Charles Krauthammer, even when you may be right, you find a way to sabotage yourself so that you are always wrong. And your writing is hackneyed and only mildly coherent.

Too many women in this country look at having a baby like taking a crap.  You want to get it out of you as quickly as possible, wipe the icky residue away, and then forget the whole nasty business ever happened.  I don't understand that outlook, personally.  I thought that the process of bringing a child into the world was pretty kick ass.  Its something I like to talk about, because it was cool.  Yeah, it hurt, and sure, there were some gross parts, but in a nation where we line up to see the latest gore porn sequel every time the masterminds behind Saw decided they'd like a little more money, can we really not handle hearing about a little placenta?  Seriously, people, don't be such pussies.  I'm as squeemish as the next person, but this isn't feces, its a child.

So yeah, I'll say it, I peed myself in transition.  Several times.  I'll say it, I pooped on the delivery table while pushing.  I'll say it, some sort of green fluid gushed out of me after they yanked my son out.  And yeah, I'll say it, I bled like a stuffed pig for six weeks after labor.  Its all part of that kick ass labor experience I had, and I'm very sorry if you didn't have a kick ass labor experience yourself.

All it takes to have a kick ass labor experience is to participate in your own labor.  You don't have to do it all natural, with no drugs, like I did.  Natural birth isn't for everyone.  If you're the type of person who would rather wake up in bed next to Ted Bundy than to run a mile, natural labor is probably not for you.  If you're the type of person who cries when you get a paper cut, natural labor is probably not for you.  If you're the type of person who makes your husband have sex with you through a hole in a sheet with all the lights out so he can't see your shameful, shameful nakedness, you probably should go ahead and schedule an elective c section.  But whatever kind of person you are, you can still take an active role in your labor and participate fully in the experience, and wind up having a totally empowering birth experience. 

All you have to do is research your pregnancy and labor options fully, and pick the options that are best for you.  Maybe you know you want pain relief, but you're terrified of needles.  Do a little research, and you'll be relieved to know that there are many pain relief alternatives to the epidural, such as Demerol (which my aunt says was just great for her first labor, but not enough pain relief for her second).  Or maybe you want to look into sedation methods for when they put in that epidural needle, so that you can just ignore the whole needle ordeal.  Look into your options!  Don't just lean back and figure the doctor is a professional, so let him decide.  Nobody knows you like you.

Next, write a birth plan and give it to your doctor.  Birth plans are awesome.  They let the doctor and nurses know what kind of person you are, what kind of birth you want, and how best to serve you during your labor.  A lot of women think a birth plan is not necessary if they are not having a natural birth.  WRONG!  Since you researched your options and have picked a specific plan that's going to be best for the unique and special individual you are, you're going to want to articulate that to your hospital staff - even if your plan looks like the pretty standard action plan of most OBs (epidural, augmentation with pit).  If we all demanded to be treated like the unique individuals with unique individual needs that we are, that action plan would not be standard.  There would be no standard!  For example, when writing up my birth plan, I seriously considered requesting an IV (totally not standard for an otherwise natural birth).  Why?  Because I like them.  They make me feel super hydrated.  I know I'm crazy.  No, I'm unique.  So are you.  Demand to be treated as such.  (Furthermore, you'll probably want to specify how you want yourself and your baby treated after birth, otherwise god only knows what they'll do to you)

Finally, ask questions.  Why? Good question.  Because things change.  You can never have total control over labor, but if something happens and your plans change, you will feel better about everything if you know whats happening and what your options are from there.  Women who report feeling positive about their birth despite emergency cesareans all say that the thing that let them feel so empowered after such a drastic change in plans was getting all the information they could from the doctor so that they were able to participate in the decision process.

Look, all the time you hear people saying that its about the journey, not about the destination.  People apply that cliche to everything, from your career to relationships.  But for whatever reason, we don't want to apply it to labor and birth?  Come on.  Sure, that baby destination is pretty awesome, but if you don't participate in the journey to the baby, you're really missing out on a pretty kick ass thing your body is doing.

Here we go with post part two of the most used search terms: "Holmes place gay". Just to update you on what I wrote about Holmes Place gyms in the past, please click here. Now, the detailed continuation, in connection with what you might like to hear and what might interest you...

Holmes place (gym) in Berlin has two saunas. One is positioned inside the male locker room and one is a mixed sauna, positioned close to the swimming pool. My odyssey took place in the mixed sauna, which made the entire story form my past Holmes place post even more ugly then it already was. So, After several days of waiting for the representatives from Holmes place to explain the discrimination perpetrated upon me, I finally received an offer to join their club for an aprox. 50% monthly sale with a one year membership. I still got no apology or explanation of any kind from them and then

some weeks pass by... weeks turn into months and finally, last Friday, a guy approaches me at work and says he knows me from Holmes place... I go bananas and ask him how on earth could he know me if I went there only twice in my life and months earlier. The options were two in my opinion: 1) He found me irresistible and remembered me immediately (but that was definitely not the case cause he was there with his girlfriend) and case nr. 2) I did something special that caught his attention, like the way I did the exercises or the way I was dressed... Right, you read right... the way I was dressed. After the pathetic scandal of me and my tank-top, I thought he might have been one of the guys that found me "offensive" for the rest of the clients working out.

I asked him if he remembered me because he thought I was not dressed properly that day. he looked at me with a face that seemed not to understand weather or not I was making a joke. I told him it was not a joke and that one of the trainers actually told me I should put on a t-shirt next time I come to Holmes place and I told him that there was a woman with an even bigger decolté then mine and that after me pointing this fact out to him, he told me it was O.K. for her to wear a decolté cause she was a woman. This trainer also added that it is offensive of me to wear a tank-top in front of clients that don't look as good as me. What kind of a fake sick moral is that?! I mean, the more I think about it and the more it pisses me off.

Anyway, this guy I met at work listened to my story and couldn't believe his ears. His conclusion was that the only logical explanation to the story was that the trainer was jealous of my looks. He told me he remembered me because I had the type of toned body he considers to be perfect. Not blown up, bulky and pumped to unnatural limits like most of the brain dead in the gym. Indeed, I never took any powders, artificial protein bomb shakes or anything of the kind. I always stuck to natural products and exercises where you mostly work with your own body weight and do a lot of repetitions rather then lifting extra weights, pumping yourself up like the incredible Hulk and tricking your body into thinking you are actually taller and more massive than you really are. So I guess that explains a lot... personal jealousy from some asshole trainer made me leave the gym for good.

Boy, now I wish I stayed just to show up again in the same tank-top and talk to the manager. By the way, I always train in a tank-top and long trousers. Most of the men in Holmes place had these microscopic tight shorts and nobody said a word to them... probably cause this specific trainer didn't have to compete with the size of their dicks, generously showing through the, at times, more then thin shorts fabric. Yes, this is a gay gym indeed... the kind where jealousy, territorial fights and all the "who's gonna get to fuck the sexy newcomer first" schemes all add up to the saddest of sights... a cheap telenovela/soap opera in which I, frankly, do not want to take part. So let the jerks fuck with each other and let them keep their illusion of being able to dominate a revere, just like animals. In their little worlds, they dream up their illusions of being kings in heavenly bodies... but remember you losers... your looks will fade and with them fades sex appeal, beauty and your power in your little world... and before you even know it, there will be another little princess wanting to become queen and she will kick you off your imaginary throne and you will suddenly be told that, not only what you wear, but who you have come to be, is suddenly not good enough. The new queen will tell you: "You scare off the clients".

And as far as the search terms "gay" and "gay sex" is concerned... I think this little gym story pretty much portrays a lot of realities in the gay community. Just see what goes on in the borough of Schoeneberg, where the extreme cliché gay ghetto is. Almost all of the men living there are victims of the structure described above. The "Holmes place gym" is really just a metaphor for most gay communities. I wish homosexuals would break out of the cliché and start living a normal gay life, without all the superficial shit that nowadays goes with it! Sex is not just the pounding grunt from a cheap porn movie and "real men" are not more "real" and "male" if they dress up in uniforms that satisfy perverted fantasies.

People, be free! Be free to express yourselves. And never be afraid that someone might judge you or laugh at you for what you are. The losers that do so just see themselves reflected in you and cannot take it because they are weak and they know it and it kills them! So, the next time you "go to the gym" (metaphorically speaking, of course), be sure to wear your "tank-top".

Love,

Ivan

Again and again i come back to eroticism in my SLphotography, exploring different ways. In my last two images (you can find them here in this post) i tried to show a different angle using what we can consider a classical femenine setting (pose, composition, outfit, ...) with a really masculine shape.

Erotica is made of cliché, made of standard images and ideas. Of course they can be quite diverse, but at the same time they are really restrictive. Even there are some different "restrictions" the main ones are about gender.

I'm not the first mixing in an image elements of one gender on a model of the other gender, this is also a cliché, but i'm playing this cliché on myself, and will be interesting to see how people react.

But anyway the question is: Why limit erotism? I presume the gender roles are stronger in sexuality than in any other part of the human being, that may be the reason to this limit.

I think the images are at the same time hot, crazy and funny, that was my intention when shooting and editing them.

This nerdwad crow in particular could have used my advice.  Mad ignant.  Hank the meathead red-tailed hawk is not to be screwed with in this manner.  He's not gonna be impressed.  He'll put up his nictating membrane to shield his razor-sharp eyes—so he'll barely be able to see what's going on—and he still won't give a shit that you're pecking him stupid.  He waited till this poetry club spaz tired himself out, then casually ripped his bowels out with, like, a single toe.

So the next time you think about challenging an illegitimate regime of oppression and fear-mongering because you listened to the Les Mis original cast recording a few hundred times?  Just cower and worship like you're told, ya beasting cunts.  And stop singing.   

—Nero    

<>< Tracy Simmons

~a trite, stereotyped expression; a sentence or phrase, usually expressing a popular or common thought or idea, that has lost originality, ingenuity, and impact by long overuse.

Maybe I'm just a simplistic nut, but, if something is popular or common thought, maybe that is because the people who have lived it, have found it to be true? I think what makes a cliché so irritating at times, is the manner in which it is rattled off. As I have stated in other Blog posts, we can say many things, but when it actually comes down to the dirt and grime and weeping with those who weep, we'd rather give them a cliché. For example, Romans 8:28. Why do these words hurt so much when they should provide the ultimate comfort for our life in Christ? Is it the words themselves? Well, that can't be, considering they are the eternal Word of God portrayed. I would suggest it is the manner in which it is often said, without the care or hands of love behind it to bring the words to their ultimate fruition. Maybe we should be a part of making all things work together for good in the lives of our friends. I am as guilty of this at times as the next person.

As I'm getting older, I see more and more how many of the "clichés" I found people telling me are so incredibly true; true to the bone. I think of one in particular today, as I watch my sweet babies getting older before my eyes. A grumpy nurse, with no bedside manner whatsoever, rattled off to me as we were leaving the hospital with Maron, something to the affect of, "Enjoy this time while you can, before you know it they are grown up". I of course, annoyed with how little she seemed to care about us except to make our leaving the hospital as difficult as possible, discounted what she said and went on about my life. Now, don't get me wrong, she was definitely the best example of how not to use a cliché. But boy, that cliché rings loud and clear now. I was always so worried about my house being just perfect with Maron, or annoyed that she needed to be laying right next to me to fall asleep, or that my pants were now laden with her projectile poop. I let all of these inconveniences take away the precious moments I was losing and didn't even know I was. I can still see that sweet little face (very little, probably only weeks or so old) about to drift off to sleep on the floor, but unable to because she saw mommy on the couch and wanted the comfort of being near me. And that projectile poop should have just made me laugh, and tickle her tummy as I cleaned it up, and try to enjoy that sweet smile that didn't know what was even going on. I know I cherished my sweet baby girl, and I have plenty of those precious memories too. But oh the RIDICULOUS every-day life that would frustrate me so! To the point of giving me blinders, and making my little sweetheart seem an inconvenience, keeping me from seeing the sparkling bow of grace on my gift from God Almighty. Don't think I am telling you you have to laugh every time their is a catastrophe, or that those difficult things aren't really difficult. I only mean to say, look at how quickly that dirty child (from whatever mess it was) sees only the bubbles and toys in the bathtub, and their sweet mommy there to clean up the mess, hopefully, with joy.

At the risk of sounding morbid, I must say, I often think of how important my role to my children is and what it would be like if I passed away. I do not say that to sound prideful, or like God is not a perfect Father to those without fathers or mothers. I mean only to say, this is a delicate role He has designed, and it means much. Mothers not being at home to clean up the projectile poop because they are more in love with a career, does more damage than meaning someone else has to clean up the mess. Someone else has to clean up the mess in their hearts, as they look back and realize every milestone they experienced was shared with someone else, and that the woman that Titus says was designed to love them (and commanded to) and be maker/manager of their home, is not there. How precious a role it is, to nurture and train up, by example, in the home. They will do what they see us doing. They will value with their own children, what we value with them. I am very blessed to be able to stay home, because of my husband's convictions and commitment to that. And to women whose husbands do not share this conviction, you can delight in your submission to that man, and know you are still pleasing God as you work by your husband's command. But to those mothers that can be at home, and aren't for their own reasons that are not necessary, I implore you, take this little cliché for what it is, and ask God to give you the ability and joy to love that little face that is before you today, because it won't always be there.

God knows I am anything but the model parent. When you think of all the people in the world fit to be a parent, I fall very short of the ideal image. I feel often, God shows grace in my sin, that I might offer others grace in theirs. So may I, after only three small years of experience, offer you a cliché that really isn't, today? You will never get this time back. No matter how many children you have, each child is unique and a special gift all their own, and while more children may come along for you to change, nurse, or love, they are not replacements for any child. If I can help with the dirt and grime, and laugh with you, to make the moment a memory rather than something to begrudge, I will gladly do it. They need to see us handling life's speed bumps with grace, patience, and joy. As one of my favorite T-shirts says, we can change the world, one diaper at a time!

Your friend,
Rachel

to him, life is a nail biter
for her, it’s old hat
despite their differences
they decide to give it a fair shake

II

they meet up to tie one on
the bar is loud as all get out
Cat caught your tongue? he teases
Penny for your thoughts, she counters
…bored out of her friggen' mind

he begins airing dirty laundry
Son of a gun!
suddenly they find themselves
laughing until the cows come home

III

drunk as skunks
they tilt at windmills…
certainly comfort comes in a bottle
no…a warm bed
they agree to disagree
everything's good to the last drop
he’s successfully romanced the stone
and she’s leaving no stone unturned

IV

For a stitch in time
they love with kid gloves on
they stumble out of the bar
lambs to the slaughter house
the rest is history

...a nail in their splintered coffins

© S R Kenney 2008

For KR

[:OP: “Tomadoi Bitter Tune” by Miran Himemiya and Chocolate Rockers:]

I love the OP theme! It's quite unique and I totally enjoyed the first 15 seconds of it (The photoshop part). Song-wise, it's just alright but what is absolutely entertaining is the animation... I just didn't mind the fanservice there though ;)

What is probably present in the entire show is that lots and lots of cliche's were scattered throughout the whole episode. Here are some of them:

Cliche#1: Nerdy Loser (TM) who doesn't even get a visit from his hormones no matter how slutty his roomates are (mentioning that there's a horny teacher and a drunkard sister... talk about more cliches)...

Cliche#2: Perfect pretty little girl who is scripted to fall for him...

This is where Yuuto discovers Haruka's dirty little big secret... She's an otaku!!! Look at her reaction! Soooooo kawaii~!!!

Fanservice shot... Can you see anything?

Peek-a-boo!

Haruka ignores Yuuto because she thinks that he'll spread her secret to the whole school. Yuuto then tries to talk to her and when he got the chance, he admitted that he won't tell anyone about it no matter what.

Cliche #3: Boy pledges to the girl in the sunset...

Cliche #4: Girl clings to the boy in the dark then he feels something soft in his arms...

Haruka asks Yuuto not to tell scary stories but she just did it.

OMG shut up just for once!

After the library mission is over and Haruka is safe from getting announced that she borrowed 'something-that-she-shouldn't-let-anyone-know-that-she-borrows-it' book, they not got to know themselves better.

Cliche #5: They now call each other with their first names...

[:ED: “Hitosashiyubi Quiet!” by N’s: Mamiko Noto, Kana Ueda, Mai Goto, Rina Satou, Kaori Shimizu:]

I also enjoyed watching the ED sequence. This is one of the most fun I've seen so far this year.

Impressions:

I actually find this episode amusing and enjoyable and I must admit that this is the first ever fan-service show that kept me on to the very last minute of it. Seiyuu-wise, I'm glad to hear Mamiko Noto again and this time, she's playing a girl! (No more damn shoutas...) About the dude who plays Yuuto (Hatano Watari), I think he also did well and he has a fitting voice for him. I found the story very interesting, especially that Haruka is actually a closet-otaku. I'm looking forward to more of this series and I'll just nevermind all the fan-services here. I'm also gonna keep blogging this one up for 3 reasons: the ending looks win, Mamiko Noto and of course, the super cute Haruka Nogizaka.

El otro día estaba viendo una película y un personaje dijo: "Esto es injusto". A lo que otro le contestó: "La vida es injusta".

Creo que debe ser una de las frases que más apareció en la historia del cine.

Esto me puso a pensar en los clichés que usan los guionistas pochocleros y buscando en google encontré una página muy buena donde enumeran y clasifican una gran variedad de los recursos más recontra archi utilizados en el cine.

Cliché Nacional: Hace un par de años, siempre que comenzaba un nuevo ciclo de Susana Gimenez... tarde o temprano aparecía como invitado el Enano Nelson.

Cada tanto, Liniers nos deja una ilustración de la vaca cinéfila que se dedica a deschavar los caminos más recorridos por el séptimo arte. Guarda que es adictivo.

Não é que eu não goste de cachorros, o problema é minha alergia que sempre ataca! Ficar coçando e espirrando a noite toda não é dos passatempos mais divertidos!

Já quanto a ficar animado até a porta da balada, todos devem concordar comigo que não é muito legal ver sua namorada se acabando na pista de dança e mil e quinhentos marmanjos loucos pra dar o bote! mas fora isso, normal, ânimo 100%! Tanto é que mais pra frente, vocês vão ver o que rolou na nossa balada de ontem...

Nosso namoro flui bem porque antes de tudo vem o carinho de um pelo outro! Isto não basta, poxa? E sim, nosso aniversário de namoro está chegando! Surpresas virão!

Quanto ao nome do blog... a Laura sempre se esquece... sou jornalista e uso a lógica da ordem alfabética!

Vamos agora ao que interessa! Fomos pra balada ontem, a Laura curte muito o lugar e eu até que curto também - a Fun House é divertida, tirando alguns freaks que a frequentam -, mas o real motivo da nossa ida foi ver a banda de um amigo nosso, o Alê, que toca e canta com o Deavollo. Foi uma noite agradável, dançamos na pista, ambos fomos cantados (o que é bom pra alma e massageia o ego - sim, eu sou clichê!) e ainda terminamos a noite tomando café, uma atividade prazeirosa, na qual podemos trocar nossas impressões sobre a balada!

Resultado, chegamos em casa às 6 e meia da manhã. Laura ainda está dormindo (sim, dessa vez ela dormiu aqui em casa) e eu acordei para terminar um freela e daqui a pouco vou levar café pra ela na cama.

Agora, depois disso, vocês ainda acham que eu não curto uma balada?

Amanhã temos um show de outro amigo nosso! Eita semana agitada... e com a vida que temos de comunicadores, vamos ficando cada vez mais pobres, mais isso é papo para outro post.

Take care!

This is among my first attempts at writing a synopsis, and *whine* it's hard!  :(  I just spent an hour on the first paragraph, and I'm not one of those edit-as-you-go types either.  I'm a write-it-forward type, but condensing six manuscript pages into one paragraph ain't easy!

This is where I begin to resent people, like Albert Zuckerman, who dis the romance genre.  Sooo reading about the intertwining lives of people as they fall in love (or lust) might not appeal to his individual taste or might even seem cliche to him.  But as far as writing goes, romance writers perform the same functions as fiction (and even non-fiction) writers.

We write, revise, edit, and proof.  We struggle to avoid cliches and endeavor to use the best possible combinations of words to convey emotion and reveal character.  We pitch, synopsize, and query.  We are trained, skilled, and talented.  We teach ourselves to persevere.  We become our characters.  We solve the world's problems through symbolic characters, engaging plots, and timeless and universal themes.

And now for some totally gloating, IN YOUR FACE statistics!  Heh heh  :)  According to the Romance Writers of America, in 2006, romance outsold every market category (except religion/inspirational).  We cornered over a quarter of the book sales market.  We generated $1.37 billion in sales.  Oh-oh, wait!  What's this, Zuckerman?  The classic literary fiction you so prize earned only $448 million in sales?  Aww, tsk tsk.  I think this calls for something...

w00t!

Okay, now I need to get back to work.  Later, fellow writers!  :)

"Parabéns pra você" é muito chatinha e muito clichê.

by [|-DaRio-|]

I've been losing myself in my weed patch garden and in magazines or books (but the poor Buddha still waits <background post here>, renewed for 2 more weeks from the county library (maxed out now), though I've also had the other copy from the city library for 3 weeks now. I have 2 Buddha books just reeking of good things they could impart if I could just read one of them...) because I'm "processing."

I just feel like my postings and non-postings are kind of crabby (and some would add "and boring" to that). Sorry, dear reader. Believe it or not, I strive to be light (yet deep!), humorous (yet profound!), and engaging. No really, I do...

I've been processing a couple of things. The main one is should I proactively decide that my days at the Everywhere Place are numbered and I need to go now, under my own power, or can I handle the consequences of taking chance that they're maybe not numbered and go through some inevitable pain etc. to stay a little longer because I like the place?

You'd know exactly who I was talking about if I mentioned the name of the Everywhere Place, but suffice it to say that there's a pretty big M&A (that's "mergers & acquisitions" for my fellow art historians) battle on between the Everywhere Place and another place known for increasing its (profit) margins by cutting cutting cutting.

When a major multi-national corporation starts cutting costs it's not just downright goofy. it's not bad enough that you have to start begging for pencil lead for your mechanical pencil (seriously --- been there, done that), but people get fired (aka getting "RIF'd," "attritted," laid off, reduced, etc.) <another post about this>.

Yeah, yeah, I know it's business, corporate america, the way the real world works, nothing personal, blah blah blah. But really, if you have any heart, loyalty or work ethic it IS personal.

I'm not saying it should be this way, but I wonder if the qualities that make one take it personally may also be the ones that make one a good employee. I'm not talking about me of course (me take it personally?!), just musing...

Some people at work have been through this a lot (some 3 times and more!). They seem immune to it all, and it really seems like it's no big deal to them. But like it or not, I'm easily attachable, and what I thought would be easy (leaving) may not be so much.

The reality of cutbacks, layoffs, cost-cutting measures, whatever you want to call it, is harsh. It's brutal. At my last job at the Mother Ship, one time we knew when the firings were coming and another time it was a surprise attack, but both were harsh. Even though I "made it" through both of the cuts, I learned (on a real level) that corporate america is harsh and impersonal.

In corporate america now, you should (IMHO) do your best, but when something better comes along you should jump on it. Because when the tables are turned they will do the same to you in a heartbeat. Harsh, sad, possibly amoral of them, but true.

Usually when you ( I ) leave a job, I am ready. I'm looking forward to the new place and the --- clichéd word alert --- challenge of a new job, but I'm leaving the old place for a reason: I've learned all I can from the position or the place, I need a change, the management changes (i.e. - sucks), whatever. It's time. Even though there are people you'll miss and you have some good memories, you're ready to go & you know it's for the best.

But when you think you still have good work to do, you're not finished learning the lessons you're meant to learn there (job-wise or lifewise), and mostly, you just really like the people you work with and what you're doing, it is hard hard hard to think about leaving, not to mention pre-emptively doing it on your own initiative. Hard hard hard.

As a legalized 'ho,' employed by a legalized pimp, which is a company that pimps you out contracts you to a john a company you report to work at every day and then takes a cut of your billable hours, you have a certain comfort knowing you're not trapped when things like this happen. There's degree of freedom in knowing this.

But when it actually comes to pass and you're not ready for it to happen yet, intellectually understanding it and living it, doing it, are all more difficult.

Tonight while I was yardening it finally hit me:I am going through the 5 (?) stages of grieving that Elizabeth Kubler-Ross defined and wrote about.

Adding insult to injury is that I need a new pimp 'cause this one's been 'jackin' me). So my work is doubled before I've even started! While I know it will all work out in the end, it's the getting there (going thru the process: both the "get a new job" process and the "accept that I have to get a new job even though I don't wanna" process) that can be sucky. well, not necessarily sucky, but not something I'm particularly looking forward to.

I just think it might be worse to stay and watch all these "lifers" (some there for 20+ years!) go through this for the first time. My tendency is to be like a paper towel: I absorb a lot, even the icky stuff, and I've absorbed enough moisture I don't have control over (let alone what I do have control over) and think I just might be saturated.

So the long story is that that's why I haven't been feeling it lately.

'Cause when a person is practicing "Would you like fries with that?", beginning the poverty program (tonight: turkey dogs 'n' buns, and dammit I just remembered I forgot to heat and eat the beans), and they're just not really feeling it, do you really want to read this person's posts?

I know --- me neither.

While some are overused, others too obvious, most are blunt and do not convey any craftsmanship that may be present in the lyrics. In short, they're a turnoff. As soon as I hear one of these words my expectations just drop. That's not to say these words can't be used well, but the more of them included in one piece, the less likely it is that the work is a brilliant gem.

When writing one should strive to 'show' and not 'tell'. The writing then takes on a more experiential tone and not one of a third grade book report on a teenager's breakup letter. I felt used, then I felt angry, then I felt ... blah, blah, blah. One can only hope that producers in the recording studio would have an intervention before anything was committed to tape. Alas, all too often terrible lyrics slip out into the wild and sully what would have been a perfectly listenable song.

The List:

Dark, Darkness, Black, Night, Pain, Hurt, Broken, Sad, Angry, Rage, Feel, Love, Understand, Cry, Tear, Empty, Cold, Stone, Want, Alone, Care, Blood, Hide, Mask, Heart, Everybody, No one, Run

Overview
B's quote is a stunning, and all-too-common example of a logical fallacy: a flaw or error in reasoning. The main result of logical fallacies is actually not to resolve the question presented. Rather, it is to shift the scope of the argument to topics that are already accepted as true by the one using the fallacy.

Here, the speaker intends to rebut the conclusions made by A. The proper way of doing so is called refutation, and is properly done by B calling into question the validity or persuasiveness of D, E, F, by presenting (1) new evidence that contradicts D, E, F; (2) new evidence that weakens D, E, F; (3) showing that D, E, F are actually G, H, I; (4) showing that D, E, F actually should lead to conclusions J, K, L instead of X, Y, Z; and so on. In eviscerating D, E, F, B can undermine the conclusions X, Y, Z that follow.

However, instead of engaging in refutation, here B has simply shifted the scope to something else--B has dispensed with X, Y, Z and D, E, F entirely. When B talks about "Michel Foucault," "turning over in his grave," and "Thumbs down," B is not talking about or addressing anything A has asserted. The benefit of this is that the cognitive dissonance of B is quelled--but not because he was right in his argument, but rather because he didn't have to address what the argument was actually about (X, Y, Z and D, E, F). Here's an example of what's essentially going on:

A: I think religion is a sham because there is no evidence of any kind that God exists, and religious people still suffer without reason.
B: Religion is not a sham because St. Augustine is upset. Boo to you.

Thought-terminating clichés
A thought-terminating cliché, as defined by Robert Jay Lifton, is "the most far-reaching and complex of human problems are compressed into brief, highly reductive, definitive-sounding phrases, easily memorized and easily expressed." (Thought Reform and the Psychology of Totalism, page 429). They can be any kind of logical fallacy, but the most frequent appear to be appeals to authority (discussed later) and "ignorance of refutation." Almost every logical fallacy can be described as a form of Ignorance of Refutation: here, Michel Foucault may indeed be turning over in his grave, and mammalian digits may be pointed earthward, but neither event has anything to do with whether X, Y, Z or D, E, F are true or false.

But B makes a more "complex" kind of illogical argument here. B makes what I like to call a Prestigious Fallacy.

The Prestigious Fallacy
Known as one kind of the Appeal to Authority in Greek times, I think the Prestigious Fallacy is a better name, for it elucidates the emotional motivations of the arguer. A little differently, too: the appeal to authority is used to bolster an assertion actually made, whereas a prestigious fallacy doesn't necessarily--no assertion may be made at all.

The kinds of prestigious fallacies that are made often cite famous/important people (politicians, academics, authors, poets, artists, musicians, philosophers) or institutions (particularly Harvard/Yale/Princeton/Stanford and Oxbridge).

That being said, if I could jump through the air in slow motion as the truck speeds by, destroying the roadblock and exploding several cars, one motorcycle and a nearby telephone pole (for some reason), hitting the ground and rolling to a crouch, MAYBE I would run in front of a roadblock like that.

One never knows.