new world order

Last night my landlord (who is seventy-four) was bemoaning the fact that we in North America spend so much money keeping our elderly alive for ten years longer than we should, while the world lurches under the weight of ridiculous overpopulation and poverty. He's been reading "The Upside of Down", about the inevitable downfall of the consumer/conformist "developed" nations, and was glum about our chances as a race.

We came up with a solution - a solution so breathtakingly simple that it's a wonder it's not been thought of before: all the male leaders in the entire world should step down and hand the reins over to the women. I know, I know... I'm a sexist pig who ought to be shot (or at least burned to death on a heap of bras), but hear me out.

Men are aggressive, obnoxious pigs who plow violently ahead when wisdom cries "caution". Yes, men are responsible for a few scientific "advances", but they've caused eight million times more regressions. Sure, men are handy in a pinch (like getting the lids off of pesky jam jars), but don't you think it would be better if they had women to tell them what to do?

Females can be catty, vituperative, whining, wheedling whirlwinds of pissyness - but they don't start wars. They may demand a ridiculous assortment of consumer products (products the producing of which makes for ecological disaster and economic oppression) to hide the way they actually look and to one-up the other women - but let's face it, they mostly only do this because men treat them like objects in the first place!

Sure, we'd probably end up putting down our guns and having "International Feeling Day" and "Nail Polish Wednesdays" ... but the guns would be down, right? I know it's not too likely. But what are we without our dreams? Think about it.

fruit

Tomatoes are not fruit. I know everyone keeps trying to tell you they are, but I'm here to disagree. This morning after doing my regular horsescat-shovelling and chicken hydrating for rent, Landlady Lady asked me if I'd yard out the tomato plants in the greenhouse. Which I did.

It got me thinking about how scientists say tomatoes are fruit, and how the rest of us know better. You don't make a garden salad with tomatoes, for instance, and call it a fruit salad. You don't scoop some salsa with a corn chip and call it fruit dip, do you? Of course not. Because you're not a scientist, the sort of furry creature (it's mold) that wears coke bottles for glasses and obscure joke-pins like "no brain, no pain" on their lab coats.

Fruit grows on trees, people. Seriously. Just because the scientific "community" (that's a joke) says otherwise doesn't mean we've got to believe them. We don't have to bow down before anything that unofficially bestamps itself with an official "science" stamp. We're living in a society that worships at the church of "Science", but that doesn't mean we've gotta join the pile.

Remember - tomatoes are vegetables. VEGETABLES!

carpe jugulum

A fair amount of my theological instruction these days is coming from Terry Pratchett. For those who don't know him, Mr. Pratchett is the author of dozens and dozens and even more dozens of books, and happens to be Britain's best-selling living novelist. He writes edgy, insightful, wise, satirical fantasy; and is best known for his Discworld series, which is all about a world floating through space on the backs of four gargantuan elephants, who happen to be standing on the back of A'Tuin, the even more gargantuan World Turtle.

So I thought I would share with you a few insights from a moment in the book Carpe Jugulum (which includes vital information on how to defeat vampires), in which Granny Weatherwax (a witch) is discussing the nature of things with Mr. Oats (a preist of OM). To begin with, Mr. Oats says...

"There is a very interesting debate raging at the moment on the nature of sin..."

To which Granny Weatherwax replies...

"And what do they think? Against it, are they?"

"It's not as simple as that. It's not a black and white issue. There are so many shades of gray."

"Nope."

"Pardon?"

"There's no grays, only white that's got grubby. I'm surprised you don't know that. And sin, young man, is when you treat people as things. Including yourself. That's what sin is."

"It's a lot more complicated than that -"

"No. It ain't. When people say things are a lot more complicated than that, they means they're getting worried that they won't like the truth. People as things, that's where it starts."

Later, Granny Weatherwax goes on to expound...

"If I thought there was some god who really did care two hoots about people, who watched them like a father and cared for 'em like a mother... well, you wouldn't catch me sayin' things like 'there are two sides to every question' and 'we must respect other people's beliefs'! You wouldn't find me just being gen'rally nice in the hope that it'd all turn out right in the end, not if that flame was burning in me like an unforgivin' sword. And I did say burnin', Mister Oats, 'cos that's what it'd be. You say that people don't burn folk and sacrifice people anymore, but that's what true faith would mean, y'see? Sacrificin' your own life, one day at a time, to the flame, declarin' the truth of it, workin' for it, breathin' the soul of it. That's religion. Anything else is just... is just bein' nice. And a way of keepin' in touch with the neighbors."

"Out of the mouths of witches..." they always say. Or something.

huevo

Well, here's my latest. It's deep... and stuff.