Sex, but not the good kind
I woke up with a headache this morning, then made it worse by working on my NiP for four hours. I’m deep in editing hell (fixing plot holes, setting up deus so they ain’t ex machina in the last fifty pages, that sort of thing). Fortunately, the manuscript will, by tomorrow afternoon, be up to snuff.
No, that does not mean I’m sending it out. It means I’m willing to print it out so I can begin my hard copy edit. Yippee!
Bottom line, I had serious literary brain freeze a moment ago trying to come up with a topic for today’s blog. My best idea was to take the top ten search topics at Technorati and use them in my own version of the Aristrocrats Joke*. The trouble with that idea is (1) I really don’t want to exploit Cindy Sheehan, and (2) the Aristrocrats Joke is filthy enough that I would surely alienate half my readership or more. (I think I’d be down to Maureen and Gabriele ;o)
Instead, I asked Karen, “What old story of mine haven’t I told yet?”
Without one second’s pause: “Male pelvic exams in medical school.”
God I love her.
Rummy Exaggerating
If you’re in the mood for edification, Karen will soon be posting the first installment of her capsule history of Afghanistan.
Has everyone left who is going to leave? Good. I’m assuming the rest of you want to hear about the teaching of male pelvic exams to naive medical students.
First, let me assure you that we did not practice on one another. Heavens, no. We’d never be able to look at each other afterwards. Homophobia is rampant among male medical students, as my tale of Fred has previously demonstrated.
Instead, the school enlisted the assistance of a corps of seasoned men, doubtless gathered by trolling Polk Street with a bullhorn. Heterosexuals do not volunteer for this job. Undoubtedly, this boosted the anxiety of Fred and a few of my other friends, but they sucked it up (so to speak). Like other medical students, they well understood the meaning of the phrase “requirement for graduation.”
We divided up into mixed-sex groups of four and met privately with our volunteers in small classrooms. One by one, we pulled on our gloves and practiced palpating our volunteer’s penis and testicles. (“That’s my epididymis. That’s normal. If you feel any other bumps down there, that would be bad.”) We each finished our round-the-world journey with a visit to Mr. Prostate. Our volunteer was great; Fred Rogers was never this patient.
Afterwards, we compared notes. Fierce howling and gnashing of teeth from Fred’s group told me that something special had happened there. I approached and heard the story retold for everyone’s benefit.
“He . . .”
“Yes?”
“He . . .”
“Go on!”
“He said . . . he said, ‘Oh, my. Look at that. I have a little drip.'”
Yes, we all recovered from the trauma.
D.
*If you simply must here a version of this joke, follow the link, and download the South Park version. As I understand it, this is one of the least offensive versions of the joke, but you will still be offended. You’ve been warned.
Working on a short history of Afghanistan
I’ll start posting tomorrow starting with prehistoric Afghanistan which dates back to 100,000 BC.
Pulpy Goodness
Check out the first chapter of Smart Bitch Candy’s serialized novel, The Book of Angels.
Candy is only a few thousand words into this, but she has already given us a ball-busting heroine, an eldritch book used for summoning the elder gods, one dwarf-snuffing, and one ninja demon-killer, with the promise of some serious demon foo soon to come.
Who needs literature?!
How to Avoid Spiders
Hi, Tarantula Lady here.
In defense of spiders, I’ve got to say, they’re not as bad as you might think. No spider is interested in attacking a human; they just want to get away. If you learn a little bit about them, you can avoid most problems.
1) Black widows and brown recluse spiders can be dangerous but they are very reluctant to bite you; they’d rather escape. In order to be bitten, you have to corner them somehow and then press your skin against them. NEVER kill them by crushing them against your skin. You’ll drive their fangs in and envenomate yourself. It’s like jabbing yourself with a poisonous needle. If they get on you, brush them off and then nail them with something like a flyswatter if you want to kill them.
2) If you see a spider wandering around your house, it’s a male looking for a mate. I don’t have a big problem with someone killing it, since the critter doesn’t have much longer to live, probably a few months at best. However, he isn’t interested in attacking you; he just wants to meet up with a female.
3) Spiders don’t live in your toilet. There are no documented cases of someone being bitten on the ass while sitting on the toilet.
4) Spiders don’t bite you in the exact center of your forehead while you’re sleeping at night. There have been reports of people developing ulcers in the middle of their foreheads which are blamed on house spiders. It’s way too suspicious that the “bite” is so precisely located in the exact center. I think these people have shingles since that disease has a symmetric pattern of rashes and sores.
5) Spiders are not well studied animals because pesticide companies won’t fund any research on them. They’re beneficial predators and farmers _don’t_ want to kill them. Only harmful pests get lots of research. However, a heart medication has been developed from the venom of a Mexican Red Knee tarantula.
6) Tarantulas are big and hairy but a lot of them are bizarrely good natured. No one has ever died or developed ANY permanent health problems from a tarantula bite; it might be rather painful, though. Most New World species are docile and can be handled with very little danger but there are some exceptions; they also have VERY irritating hairs so leave them alone unless you read up on them. If you see tarantulas wandering around at night in the Southwest, they’re, you guessed it, short-lived males looking for a mate. The females stay safe in their underground burrows. Old World species can be pretty foul-tempered, but, hey, they’re not in the U.S. or much in Europe. They’re predominantly in the warmer parts in Africa and southern Asia. They can’t survive in colder regions like northern Europe. There are no native U.S. tarantula species east of the Mississippi; there is one small colony of escapees in an orange grove in Florida.
7) Full-grown tarantulas don’t suddenly erupt from cacti. In the U.S., most tarantulas live in arid regions in the southwest. The females generally stay in their burrows. After mating, she’ll build an eggsac, and after a few months, 1/4″ spiderlings emerge. They usually disperse but a few may hang around Mom who will feed and take care of them.
That’s everything I can come up with right now. If people want to avoid a particular type of animal, they should learn a little about them. It’ll be easier to figure out ways to stay away from them.
Arachnophobia!
Not two years ago, if I found a spider in the bathroom I’d scream like a banshee. Just ask my wife.
“Karen! A spider!”
“So?”
“Do something, anything!”
Yes, those were the days. A time of peace and tranquility, when I didn’t share my bedroom with forty tarantulas. Yeah, you heard me.
It wasn’t always this way. As a kid, I used to catch flies and throw them into spider webs. And before you ask, no, I didn’t wet the bed, set fires, or torture small animals (except by feeding flies to spiders, of course).
I’m not sure when spiders began creeping me out, or why. I do know that I got over it fairly quickly. Nothing like constant exposure to take you past your fears.
Once Karen started collecting, oh boy did she start collecting. She says it’s a chick thing.
Think about it. Tarantulas could be feminist mascots. The females are bigger, faster, smarter, and longer-lived than males. They control the sexual encounter, not the boys. For every time a male eats a female, it goes the other way 1000 times. Nor does the female always eat the male after sex. If she has a good time, she’s free to keep him around for future flings.
But back to the main focus of this blog: me. I mean, arachnophobia. I still won’t let the tarantulas crawl on me, but I help Karen out from time to time. Lifting cages, for example — I’m good at that. And pointing things out. “Oooh, Karen, look at the fat ass on that one.”
For the arachnophobes in my audience, I’m going to give you a gradual introduction to spiders. Desensitization therapy: that’s the name of the game. We’ll begin with the new image for Karen’s blog (over there on the right somewhere). Isn’t she cute? And so yummy, too. Is there anything better than candy corn fangs?
D.
What will it take?
Bush’s poll numbers on Iraq have spiraled down inexorably. In particular, the recent deaths of 14 Marines from a powerful roadside bomb have eroded public support of the Iraq War.
Like the Tet Offensive in Vietnam, huge explosions and casualties can change U.S. policy. If there are successful bombings and mass casualties, the war will become more and more unpopular. Bush will be forced to change course in Iraq.
Does that mean I want to see Americans die in battle? No. I’ve seen the photos that the mainstream media will not publish. I know what an IED will do to arms, legs, and faces, the areas unprotected by body armor. But, I wonder if anything less than widespread public outrage will stop the delusions of Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld and the rest of the neocons.
The general public won’t pay attention if there aren’t spectacular killings. Remember when the death of one soldier would be prominently displayed in the news? Would that even get reported today? If U.S. soldiers and Marines die at the rate of 1-2 per day, the war will just keep on going indefinitely. How long until it goes past 2,000, past 3,000, past how many more until it ends?
How many Iraqi civilians will die? How many children will suffer the agonizing brutality of war?
How many of our civil rights will go down the toilet? What will happen to our economy? Will al Qaeda strike in the U.S.? Bush is creating huge numbers of guerrilla fighters with extensive experience in bomb making and urban warfare. It isn’t very hard to attack a subway system or a crowded mall.
Must it take some spectacularly awful atrocity to end Bush’s idiocy in Iraq? I hope very, very much this will not happen, but I fear for the worst.
Sociobiology of Boobage 101
In 1983, Vincent Sarich taught a course at Berkeley called “The Evolution of Human Behavior.” He let us know on the first day that the class was experimental. He had some rough ideas about course content — some things he wanted to talk about, a handful of ideas he wanted to share.
Sounded like good clean fun, and we really did have a blast, too. Professor Sarich (that grizzly teddy bear on the left) was good to his word. He talked, we listened — and argued with him, of course.
For a final exam, he asked us to write three short essays on topics of our own choosing. They had to be somewhat relevant to the course, but beyond that, we were on our own. My three topics:
Genius, a maladaptive trait
Why are hiccups contagious?
The Road Warrior: a sociobiologic perspective
I got an A+.
Funny thing, though. I’ve only retained two things from that class. One is a concept: the Tragedy of the Commons (see the Wikipedia article here, or the original article here), which suggests that folks will always choose their own self interest over the common good, even to their ultimate detriment. If you’re curious about this, I recommend you start with the Wiki article, since it is shorter than the original article and has considerably more perspective.
The other thing I learned in Professor Sarich’s class is why men love cleavage. “I want to talk about breasts today,” he said, except that with his slight speech impediment it came out “breashts.” “Why are they so appealing?”
The traditional sociobiological interpretation is that large breasts are desirable because they translate to well fed babies. Sociobiology was big back then. Still is, for all I know. In case you’re unfamiliar with it, here’s the basic idea. Our behavior is ruled by our genes, and in particular, our genes’ desire to pass on more of themselves to the next generation. “But,” you argue, “genes are not sentient.” Pshaw! Genes don’t have to be sentient to find ways of furthering their own interests.
Back to boobs. Professor Sarich contended that the sociobiologists were wrong. Men don’t love breasts because they want well fed babies. Men crave hooters because of a cross-wiring problem. You see, men get boobs confused with butts:
always gave me wood.
It’s gotta be true.
D.
Support Cindy Sheehan
Cindy Sheehan, the woman who has camped out in front of Bush’s ranch, demanding answers — that’s who. For my Canadian and European readers, learn more about Cindy’s story here, at Daily Kos. You’ll find a wealth of links in the right-hand side bar.
Through her heroism, Cindy has done more to expose the President’s cowardice than anyone in the main stream media to date.
You can support Cindy by donating to her cause. We did.
D.