Archive for October, 2009


really? again? sigh.

October 22, 2009

so normally i don’t get into political stuff on this blog, but i’ve been flipping through news items for my column and i keep seeing articles on this, and i’m just getting pissy about it. so, in case you haven’t heard–because, unlike me, you don’t have four listservs dumping native american news into your inbox every day – there’s currently a case before the supreme court to have the washington redskins stripped of their trademark protection, on the grounds that the name is too offensive to deserve said protection.

now, there are some teams–the florida state seminoles come to mind, but i know there are others–who use a native mascot with the blessing of a local tribe. the tribes, for their part, take the name in the spirit it was intended, as a tribute or honor. but this is different. no one is honored by a name like the “redskins,” no matter what the team’s proponents say. 

it doesn’t matter what the original intention of the name was. the road to hell was paved with good intentions, after all. if you intend to “honor” someone, and they tell you that, instead, you’re offending them and their ancestors, then back down. your intentions don’t matter one bit in terms of what the outcome is. 

normally i’m of the opinion that we are far too PC in this country, far too afraid of offending people. but you know what? this is different. the team’s name is a freaking racial slur. you wouldn’t call them the washington kikes, would you?


on infidelity

October 22, 2009

do you ever hear a song, and in addition to giving you one of those “how have i not heard this before??!?!” moments, you instantly place it next to another song on your mental playlist, and then you start wondering what other songs you could put with them? behold, the beginnings of my infidelity playlist, which started when my friend changed his gchat status to “although my heart is hurtin my shotgun is working”: 

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monday morning philosophizing

October 19, 2009

This morning I was doing my usual blog-reading-over-coffee bit, and I came across the following quote from Milan Kundera, from The Unbearable Lightness of Being (which I read once, in college, I think):

“The goals we pursue are always veiled. A girl who longs for marriage longs for something she knows nothing about. The boy who hankers after fame has no idea what fame is. The thing that gives our every move its meaning is always totally unknown to us.”

And so, apropos to my continuing existential crisis, I started wondering about this, and about goals and success and whether we’re ever happy with what we have. If it’s true that the things we lust after, the goals that drive us, are inherently things we do not understand, then what happens when we get them? Are they better or worse than we thought they would be? Do we become disillusioned and move on, only to repeat the pattern? Do we readjust our thinking and become satisfied with what we have, even if it’s not what we thought we were getting?

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have i mentioned that i love sherman alexie?

October 16, 2009

because i do. from his august piece in the new yorker:

“You know, before you go in the MRI tube they ask you what kind of music you want to listen to—jazz, classical, rock, or country—and I remembered how my dad spent a lot of time in MRI tubes near the end of his life. So I was wondering what kind of music he chose. I mean, he couldn’t hear shit anyway by that time, but he still must have chosen something. And I wanted to choose the same thing he chose. So I picked country.”

“Was it good country?”

“It was fucking Shania Twain and Faith Hill shit. I was hoping for George Jones or Loretta Lynn, or even some George Strait. Hell, I would’ve cried if they’d played Charley Pride or Freddy Fender.”

“You wanted to hear the Alcoholic Indian Father Jukebox.”

“Hey, that’s my line. You can’t quote me to me.”

“Why not? You’re always quoting you to you.”

“Kiss my ass. So, hey, I’m O.K., I think. And I’m going to the store. I’ll see you in a bit. You want anything?”

“Ah, man, I love Trader Joe’s. But you know what’s bad about them? You fall in love with something they have—they stock it for a year—and then it just disappears. They had those wontons I loved, and now they don’t. I was willing to shop for you and the boys, but I don’t want anything for me. I’m on a one-man hunger strike against them.”

first, i would like to find a way to work “alcoholic indian father jukebox” into my daily conversation, preferably as a way to describe my favorite kind of country music.

second, my particular TJ’s items that are NEVER AGAIN TO BE FOUND are chicken pirogies, which are so much better than the potato ones (which are still pretty good).


best. thing. ever.

October 13, 2009

if you are not familiar with don cherry, get yourself over to youtube right now.



October 9, 2009

last weekend was, conveniently for those of us at hardly strictly, beautiful. and then, all of a sudden, it has become FALL, bitches. dark is coming on faster, the night air has that crisp bite and wintry glow. i put the quilt back on my bed, i have started wearing sweaters i haven’t seen in months, i had oatmeal this morning. it is cold when i go to bed and cold when i get up – but pleasantly chilly, not freezing cold, as it will be in another month or two.  

fall is my favorite season, and i am delighted at its return. and so i bring you these lovely photos from the boston globe’s big picture section.


safely home among the heathens once again

October 8, 2009

so i’ve been home for like a week now, but i have been busy, you guys. seriously busy. so while i have many, many pictures and many, many things to tell you about my trip to Ye Olde South, i will start with just this anecdote, which i believe totally sums up the weirdness of the south:

in savannah, we were wandering around the historic old part of the city and ended up in this yarn/craft/weaving store. sitting inside and knitting were exactly the kind of ladies you would expect to find knitting in an upscale craft store in a sophisticated city: tattooed hipster types. this kind of situation could be found in portland or san francisco or many other cities.

except they were talking about guns. hand guns, specifically, and how to go about getting a conceal & carry permit in georgia, and how if you’re pulled over (like a regular traffic stop or some such) you should always be sure to tell the cop that you a) are carrying a gun; and b) have a permit for it.