- 48% of Americans polled reject Evolution
- 34% of college graduates think the biblical account of creation is fact.
Archive for March, 2007|Monthly archive page
I think my last encounter with a critter was pre-scotchneat.ca, but it was a humdinger battle with a squirrel that had decided the bottom of an unused chimney in my house was a good place to build a home. The pest guy that came to take care of it clearly underestimated his wile and brawn.
You see, we rigged up this one-way cage in the basement at the opening for the chimney and laced it with peanut butter. The squirrel would come out, eat and then ram his way back through the one-way gate and into the chimney. It took us 5 days to catch him and I was freaked out the whole time that he would escape into the house and hold JL hostage for the rest of the pb. My Dad came up and superglued the chimney cap after that.
Aaanyway, I’m lying in bed last night, reading. When I hear… a scritching. Just on the other side of the wall from my bed. No shit.
Something is in the coldspace between the wall upstairs and the outside edge of the roof. There’s a little coldspace/crawlspace there and I could hear it moving around I had to tape the heat vent and cold air return and put stuff in front of them to feel safe. Not that it can get in the ventilation system, I don’t think….
Doesn’t sound like mice, so might be my old friend the squirrel. Way I’m feeling this morning, his life is in the balance.
Needless to say, I did not sleep well, and I’ll have to call pest control this morning. Gods know how they are going to see in there, since it’s all closed up.
I need a nap, a scotch and a scope camera (and maybe some pb).
As a non-Fashionista, I mostly go merrily on my way oblivious to the edicts that I must wear skinny jeans, or a fat belt. But the images that fashion produces soak into our culture and our consciousness whether we want them to or not. And they absolutely set the mark for our shared definition of beauty.
That’s why this trend is dangerous. And offensive and stupid and so overwhelming that I can’t process my anger. It doesn’t help that women are part of the machinery that’s producing this crap. I’m reduced to a running monologue of weak put-downs like Get a life, or Grow up, or Get a backbone.
This is not good, people. Not good at all.
Check out Pharyngula’s “I get mail“.
I would enjoy his reading of the Watchtower literature that I get on my porch from time to time. I would like to buy him a scotch.
When I started this blog, I went to great pains NOT to let anyone find it, at least not easily. I had a real fear of people knowing who I was, of letting this electronic world come into my physical world. The idea was discomforting.
But as I progressed, I met great people online, became more comfortable with people reading me, became more trusting that this was a healthy, engaging, rewarding way to share my thoughts.
Today, Kathy Sierra posted this: Death threats against bloggers are NOT “protected speech” (why I cancelled my ETech presentations).
Can you imagine how she must feel? How violated and scared? And presumably this is all for being insightful, creative, and dedicated to her profession. For taking the time to write thoughtful posts and give thoughtful talks–to be a leader in this community. Somehow, this is justification for those people to go beyond puerile?
I keep thinking, though, that there are more of us than there are of them. That one of the best things about an open community is that we can decide what it is or what it isn’t, each with our own decisions, our own writing and conduct and without tacitly accepting all of it as “protected speech”. This isn’t and shouldn’t be “protected speech”.
My good friends at liquidesign are going to give scotchneat a new buffo look. I gave them a colour palette of sorts, and some images that reflect me (or at least my look and feel). I couldn’t really think of a theme, but “cultured batshit pretty” came to mind.
You know, like… Knights Templar drinking Macallan or Bowmore while wearing hot pink velour track suits in the courtyard of the Best Western Carcasonne.
Melle says “wrought iron, citrus fruit, and Moorish tilework (the history, the geometry, and the colours)”, which is right also, of course. Oh, and speaking of fruit, have you tried the Del Monte cranberry fruit and yogurt bars? Good golly. I could eat all of the frozen cranberry parts for dinner.
I’m very excited to see what we come up with, and you’ll see the finished product here, soon… ish.
Seriously. If I have to talk on the phone, doing so while lolling seems almost civilized. As Melle suggested, there should be an automatic “mute” button that reacts to snoring…
Apparently, in the new season of Simple Life, Paris and Nicole will be counselling kids at a “fat farm”???
Never mind the wasted television pixels, what kind of sadism is this? Ya think the kids can get Nicole to eat something? And maybe convince the two of them to go be humans or something?
I’ve been staring at piles of stuff in my basement all winter and thinking how I should be going through it, getting rid of things. There are boxes there that I haven’t touched since I moved in, 8 years ago…
At the time, those boxes were my “life” – old report cards, my school letter, piles of notes and essays and handouts from school and conferences and whatnot. I am a woman of words.
Tonight was the night. One box. Report cards gone. Proceedings gone. Reference manuals gone. Pictures gone. I looked them over once and put them in the recycle pile.
Funny thing is, I feel lighter.