fast beauty

You don't need to speak Japanese to understand this. I guess this ran in Japan, but maybe in other markets, too, because understanding the language isn't important and it's eye catching.

Too bad Windows 8 sucks because this is a very clever ad.

duck face

When I see a picture like this, like many people I'm sure, I can't decide if it's meant to be satirical or serious.

Is he trying to look like an incredible douchebag in a deliberate parody? Or is he actually a bona fide incredible douchebag?

That's the problem with so many duck face photos -- often you can't tell if the subject is funny or tragic.

But then again, can a douchebag being a douchebag really be tragic?

happy thanksgiving

Happy Turkeyday to those of you in the United States. Sadly, it's a non-existent holiday here in Australia. Sometimes I take my husband to a gathering of American expatriates on the holiday but not this year.

It's a celebration the Aussies could totally get into if they had a chance. They love celebrating with families and they're by-and-large a happy, peaceful people. Maybe I should make it my life's mission to bring Thanksgiving to Australia.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all. I am thankful you share your time by visiting here.

digital tulipomania

I've been reading about the now-shuttered website Silk Road, called by some in the media "the eBay for illegal drugs." The site was run by Ross Ulbricht, who now sits in jail awaiting trial.

Transactions on Silk Road were commonly funded with Bitcoins, a virtual currency of sorts. Bitcoin was founded by an unidentified individual and run by unknown persons.

It is not regulated by any government or financial institution. You either hold Bitcoins online in an account or on your computer in a digital "wallet." Bitcoin transactions are untraceable and leave no digital path that can be traced. New Bitcoins are created on a regular basis and are awarded to anyone who solves increasingly complex online cryptographic puzzles. You can also buy them with the mainstream currency of your choice or accept them in a transaction.

Bitcoin is popular for illegal transactions but has gained some traction with legitimate vendors, too. Because it's not issued by any authority, its value fluctuates widely, fueled by speculation. The "value" of a Bitcoin, for example, has increased four-fold in this past month alone when compared to the US dollar and UK pound.

Bitcoins can be stolen and counterfeited. How much of that occurs is not known.

Some people rave about Bitcoin. Others are very wary, and that includes me. I could see its use if you wanted to spend $10 or $20 on something. But given the utter lack of transparency and recourse should something go wrong, not to mention the massive potential bubble in its exchange rate now, I think it's about as safe as holding Peruvian tin stock, as the old expression goes.

So holding any significant amount of assets in Bitcoin is beyond foolish, in my opinion.

My blogs are free, so you don't have to pay one red cent. But if I were to accept payment (which I will never do), I would not accept Bitcoin.

It's like digital tulipomania.

whitey bulger and me

Like many people, I'm fascinated by the true-life story of mobster Whitey Bulger's capture in 2011 after hiding in plain sight for sixteen years.

This past weekend, the American news program 60 Minutes ran a piece on events surrounding his years in hiding and his ultimate capture. (If you're like me and outside the US, you may find the video is blocked but you can read the transcript or you can use a proxy to circumvent the video ban.)

The FBI agent who arrested Bulger is quoted on the show saying he was surprised when he learned that Bulger shopped at the 99 Cents Only store. "Why you shopping at the 99 Cents Store?" he asked the criminal mastermind. "You have half a million dollars under your bed."

I used to shop regularly at the 99 Cents Only stores when I lived in California and Nevada. Like dollar stores, everything in the place is priced at ninety-nine cents or less. People I knew laughed at how I frequented such an allegedly declasse place.

Yes, like any dollar store, a lot of the stuff they sell is junk. But they also sell good-quality fair trade items peddled in "regular" stores for much more. Their cleaning products are dirt cheap and often the same brands you see for twice or three times the price in the supermarket. On occasion, you can find incredible buys at literally pennies on the dollar for stuff the store chain bought from liquidators.

I also find it interesting that the FBI agent apparently thought the 99 Cents Only store was just for poor people. Having money doesn't mean you can't be frugal. If you can save dollars where it doesn't matter, like on cleaning products, you can bank the rest or spend it on something nice for yourself.

Bulger lived in Santa Monica for nearly the entire time he was on the lam. I'm guessing he shopped in the 99 Cents Only store that was near his apartment, which happened to be the same store I often frequented.

That leaves me wondering if I ever saw him there or around town in Santa Monica. I'll never know, in part because he looked utterly unremarkable while in hiding. He resembled any of a thousand old men you see puttering around town on any given day.

loving las vegas

Harper's magazine has an interesting article by the gifted writer Colson Whitehead in their latest issue titled "Loving Las Vegas: What the Prudes Get Wrong About Sin City." It's behind a pay firewall at the magazine's website, but I found a free copy online here (click the orange "download now" bar).

As regular readers of this blog may recall, I lived in Las Vegas for a period of time. I always think of my time there as a sort of exile from Los Angeles, a city I had to leave because of a psycho ex-boyfriend-turned-stalker. So I've always sort of resented Vegas, because I like the City of Angels much more.

I've also thought the so-called Sin City had something of a unwarranted reputation. You don't need to go to Vegas these days to sin. You can find all sorts of lowlife and debauchery in nearly any large, medium, or even small city in America.

Back in the 1950s and 1960s, Vegas was thought of as a sort of hedonist's playground, where you could do things -- often legally -- not possible anywhere else. But times have changed considerably; you can find women and gambling and late-night wildness and anything else in many urban areas throughout the country. Arguably Los Angeles and New York are far more sinful than Sin City.

Vegas's dubious reputation now may be partly a result of the city's promotional tagline "what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas." That's doubtful, or at least no more or less than any other city.

That deliberate besmirching of it's own reputation has led to the city's being thought of by some as a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah. That probably scares off some who think of themselves as virtuous, while at the same time it's like flypaper to those who promote themselves as virtuous.

When I danced nude in a club, I soon lost count of the obvious out-of-towners who were making their first trip to Vegas. More often than not, they were like walking cliches: they drank too much, were too loud, and utterly mesmerized by pussy.

When you think about it, men like that are the ones who bring the sin to Sin City. Vegas provides the temptation, but the out-of-towners are the ones who succumb. For those who live there, it's no more of a sin city than anyplace else.

me and my friend

This is one of my all-time pet peeves: "me and my friend." As in: "Me and my friend went shopping today."

This is an abomination, thankfully, that I never witness here in Australia. Aussies can mangle English but they don't commit this particular sin.

I regularly see it used online, however, by Americans at sites like Reddit and Facebook. And I can remember hearing it all the time when I lived in the US.

"Me" can never be the subject in a sentence. Never never ever.

I dropped out of high school in the ninth grade, yet I know this is wrong. Why do people use it so shamelessly, particularly those who are well educated?

why they fight

This lovely sentiment was created by an anonymous child in an elementary school class to be sent with care packages to US military personnel serving in Afghanistan.

As you can see, the teacher corrected the child's work and sent it back to be done over.

I'm almost positive that the soldiers would find the original far more memorable than the do-over. I showed this to my Aussie veteran husband, and he thought it was absolutely hysterical.

crackhead politicians

Unless you live in a cave, you've probably heard about the mayor of Toronto who has admitted to smoking crack. Now comes news of a congressman from Florida who was arrested for and plead guilty to cocaine possession.

Neither plans to resign. In fact, both have insisted they will not resign.

I'm sorry, what part of "violating the public trust" do you not understand?

Coke and crack are not like booze or pot. You can have a drink or two or a joint or two at the end of the day to unwind, but unless you let it get out of control, it shouldn't interfere with your job representing the people.

Crack and coke are very different. They are both extremely addictive. They fuck up your priorities and, after a while, your entire life.

Go. Just go. Resign and check into rehab. The both of you. Now. We never want to hear from you again. Ever.

big day

I tend to write entries here the day before they appear, and today will be no exception. It's our son's first birthday as of this writing (November 20), but this will actually appear the day after.

We're not having a big blowout birthday event for him because he's probably too young to really appreciate that it would be about him if fifty relatives are there. So it'll just be the three of us. I've made a small cake and we have wrapped a few presents.

Sometimes, it seems like this year has flown by, but at other times, his birth seems like far more than a year ago. Now the whole motherhood thing seems like second nature to me, but a year ago I was still a little on edge about the whole idea of parenting.

I think of the former me who thought she never wanted to be a mother. Hello, were you ever way off the mark.

kardashian overdose

I subscribe to a variety of news feeds from various publications and websites. It's often a handy way to follow trending topics. Most of these are about political and public affairs issues, but a few are from entertainment sites.

I've subscribed to Us magazine's feed for years. It was one of the first, if not the first, I signed up for. It used to have a mixture of more serious entertainment news with light, fluffy, gossipy stuff.

Six months or so ago, for whatever reason, the feed became saturated with "news" about talent-impaired Kim Kardashian. You'd almost think her publicist -- or the media whore herself -- had taken over the feed.

Enough is enough. Today, I unsubscribed after receiving five updates in a 24-hour period about something of no consequence she was doing: what she wore someplace, what she tweeted about someone, what her kid did, blah blah blah. Fuck that noise.

I find it hard to believe anyone gives a rat's ass what she does. On the few times I click through to links in the stories, most if not all of the reader comments were decidedly anti-Kardashian. So it doesn't seem like a lot of Us readers are anticipating "news" about her.

One of those smart, brainy type writers needs to pen a brilliant think piece about why someone like her would be such a narcissist that she craves attention for every minor little insignificant thing that she does and why anyone would give a flying fuck about someone with no talent other than the ability to become famous for being famous?

Meanwhile, in real actual news, devastating natural disasters leave countless people homeless in several places around the world.

11.22.63

The fiftieth anniversary of the Kennedy Assassination falls this Friday. The event is garnering some media play here in Australia, so I have to imagine the coverage is much more extensive back home in the US.

Kennedy's death happened long before I was born, but like most people I imagine, I have relatives and friends who remember. When I was a child and spending summers at my grandparents, I used to pour through the stash of old Life magazines that they had. I remember looking at and reading the various issues from immediately after Kennedy was shot.

The entire Life archive is now available online for free, and I was reading through this issue about Lee Harvey Oswald last night. Looking at these issues again as a more informed adult, I'm struck by two distinct thoughts.

First, the Secret Service really seemed to be naive back then about ways a President could be shot. Now, a President is in a completely sealed perimeter when he (and perhaps soon she) moves in public. The idea now seems moronic that a seven-story building like Texas School Book Depository, where Oswald fired at Kennedy, would be all but unguarded when it was directly in a motorcade route.

The second thought I had was how authorities really made no effort to investigate Oswald when he returned from the Soviet Union in 1962 after defecting there three years earlier. He even admitted when he renounced his US citizenship that he would turn over information to the Soviets (he had been a military radar operator with a security clearance). Yet he was allowed back into the US with almost no scrutiny and even loaned money by the US government for his return trip from Moscow.

Some conspiracy theorists have long speculated that Oswald was a sort of "Manchurian candidate" sent by the Soviets back to the US to kill Kennedy. That's almost certainly not true, yet you'd think the American government would've scrutinized him somewhat on his return.

sweet tooth

I've just finished reading British writer Ian McEwan's latest novel Sweet Tooth. I actually read it twice over; as soon as I finished it, I started reading it again. That's because of a surprise in the last chapter that made me want to read it again, knowing what I knew having just read the book.

I've always thought McEwan was brilliant and I particularly loved his masterwork Atonement. I started out thinking, as I read the early chapters, that Sweet Tooth didn't have the power of Atonement. Once I finished it, however, I realized it was every bit as strong. I particularly love surprise twists at the end, and like Atonement, McEwan does much the same in his newest novel.

I suspected all along that a big twist would be coming and imaged various scenarios. Once I hit the last chapter, I discovered I was right about the surprise at the end, but completely missed in predicting what it was.

I always recommend McEwan to readers I know, so if you're not familiar with his work, I strongly recommend you give him a go. I think he's one of the best novelists in the English language who's currently writing and publishing.

incredible driving video

I wonder how many cars you have to wreck before you learn to drive like this? The bravest people in this video are the ones on the Segways. One wrong move and the undertaker would need to clean up your remains with a spatula.

consent versus ownership

I have no problem with unusual sex play that's 100 percent consensual. I think many people would agree with me.

So if you want to dress up like a whore and have 20 men use you like their sex slave, then that's your choice. As long as you can walk away at any time and your safe words are always respected, then have fun.

There comes a point, however, where a line is crossed from consent into outright ownership. When someone so completely surrenders his or her freedom and is outright owned by someone, meaning that consent is waved or cannot be revoked, then I think this is a problem.

It becomes even more of a problem when the "owner" exploits someone else's vulnerabilities and inadequacies, particularly when the "slave" may not be in a healthy enough place mentally to give true consent.

This photo bothered me because this looks like something beyond consent where she's outright "owned" by someone else, where she has allowed herself to be scarred for life to please him. Someone can revoke consent to sex play and decide not to do it again, but this woman, whomever she is, cannot undo a decision that seems to have been made entirely at someone else's whim.

I am reminded of the acclaimed 1980s movie Star 80, which told the true-life story of a violent and sociopathic narcissist who tried to own a beautiful but vulnerable and troubled woman, the Playboy Playmate Dorothy Stratten. I saw it on cable several times when I lived in the US and it has always stuck with me, a warning about overly controlling men. This photo made me think of that again.

tingly all over

If you ever need forgiveness from the woman in your life for something you've done. Or if you want to try to convince her to change her mind about something that's important to you. Or if you love her to pieces and want to make her day.

This is what you need to do. If you don't know how to do it, learn it and remember it. Watch these little loops and let them be your teacher.

If you're a man with magic fingers, you might just be able to talk her into almost anything.

I found a one-minute video of this little moment on this somewhat spammy webpage.

spy in a bag

Some people tend to believe the most implausible explanations for certain things over the much more probable, logical ones. I am not one of those. I find most conspiracy theories to be utter nonsense.

Gareth Williams was a spy of some sort for MI6, the British equivalent of the CIA. Three years ago, he was found dead in a London safehouse, stuffed inside a gym bag in his bathtub. The bag was closed with two padlocks.

Williams' DNA was not found on the bathtub rim nor on the locks sealing the bag, but both it and the locks had an unidentified person's DNA. Some DNA found in his flat remains unidentified, presumably because no source can be located for a match.

In 2012, a coroner in the UK found that Williams was "unlawfully killed" by an unknown person or persons and that his death was "unnatural and likely to have been criminally mediated." A pathologist testified at the witness that Williams would have lived only three minutes before being suffocated in the bag.

This week, however, after investigating for three years, Scotland Yard (aka the Metropolitan Police) said "it was more probable" nobody was in his apartment when he died and that his death was an accident. The reason for their conclusion? They couldn't find enough evidence.

Williams had a history of some kind of BDSM lifestyle. His landlords once found him bound to his bed, hands and arms tied, unable to free himself.

I could see how someone could conclude that Williams's MI6 work had nothing to do with his death. But the BDSM history suggests both a motive and a possible perpetrator, albeit possibly accidental.

But trying to sell that it was an accident and self-inflicted based on incomplete evidence? How about concluding you're unable to reach a conclusion, as opposed to presuming something without evidence?

I think any conspiracy theorist should be allowed a free pass on Williams's death, because the "official" explanation from Scotland Yard is baloney.

my strange addiction

I happened to be reading something about the so-called "reality" program My Strange Addiction on the American cable channel TLC. That network isn't available here in Australia, but I easily found some episodes online. (We have a channel here called TLC, but it's entirely different with only travel programming.)

The Strange Addiction premise is simple: people with odd and often disquieting obsessions are profiled for most of the show, then in the last few minutes a therapist is bought in for some fleeting suggestions for counseling.

Some of the addictions featured on the show include people who eat bizarre things, an obsessive tanner, coffee enema freaks, an obsessive cleaner, a baby fetishist, an obsessive cyclist, people who obsessively smell the same product or item for years, and more. Strange diets appear to be the most popular on the show, with folks profiled who eat or drink a particular item over and over again: cat food, tape, gasoline, deodorant, sand, nail polish, you name it.

The program has pretty widely been condemned by both television critics and mental health professionals. It's easy to see why. From what I watched, the freak element is the majority of the show, with the therapy only tacked on at the end like a sheepish afterthought.

So who's at fault here? One could blame the viewers for watching this. You could also blame the so-called victims, who will freely humiliate themselves in exchange for appearing on television. But I think the greatest portion of blame lies with TLC for exploiting disturbed and sometimes outright mentally ill people while making a buck at their expense.

I don't think there's anything the government should or can do. Trying to suppress a show like this could only come with outright censorship. I think it's up to viewers to refuse to watch garbage like this.

When I was a kid, I watched TLC when it was The Learning Channel when it was something like PBS, but now it airs primarily crap "reality" programs. I guess people today would rather gape at exploited circus freaks on a "reality" show than actually learn something interesting.

In the 18th century, people in London went to Bethlem Royal Hospital to amuse themselves by watching insane inmates. Today, they have "reality" television to fulfill that prurient need.

the fifth-grade slut

This was purportedly found by an elementary school teacher in her classroom. If you're having trouble reading, here's a larger image.

Ashely is clearly a mercenary girl. She has future boyfriends stacked up like waiting planes at an airport. She obviously has a future in some sort of high-power career.

The boy who sent this did not have his hopes entirely dashed. Ashely will be his sometime soon. I wonder if he's also realized that the relationship is doomed even before it starts, because Ashely will be stacking up replacements behind him.

In fact, she may already have one lined up behind him already.

huh?

"Huh?" is a word and it's found universally around the world in countless languages. I learned this by reading parts of this academic article, which is not easy to read. I have no idea how I originally found this link.

The article is so obtuse that it's not easy for a layperson like me to understand. Based on my reading, I think "huh?" is found in so many languages because it's a result of social evolution, not our genetic makeup. Because humans live in societies, "huh?" very early evolved as a sort of a universal noise to indicate something wasn't heard or understood. It's as fundamental to our species as a laugh or a cry. (And, I'm guessing, human orgasm sounds, too.)

I know some people who never say "huh?" They use something more like "eh?" while others simply say "what?" or "pardon?" But maybe that's more because of their upbringing -- perhaps they were taught it was "impolite" to say "huh?"

I may be inaccurate in my interpretations of this article because of the unwieldy prose, so if you think I'm wrong, feel free to add your thoughts in a comment.

McHorrible

Even if this had been done by the most accomplished tattoo artist in the world, this would still be a horrendous mistake. Given it's a pretty feeble rendition of Ronald McDonald, coupled with the ugly gangsta graffiti below it, and you've entered a whole new realm of horrible.

What makes people want to give some gigantic multi-national corporation

As a child, I always thought Ronald McDonald was creepy. The makeup on his face looked more like something from a horror movie than a happy clown. I'm no longer a kid, but I still find him somehow repulsive in a "keep away from my child" way.

bittersweet

Monday will be Veterans Day in America, and I imagine that's the reason this video was put online. It's touching but also a painful reminder of how often veterans are overlooked and forgotten.

I've gotten to know some Aussie vets through my veteran husband, and I've come to see how the ones who more successfully transition back into civilian life often seem to have a strong network of friends and family.

Don't wait to be asked. Make the first step to reach out and support them with more than just a greeting.

a sad/happy story

Here's another find I stumbled into online. In 1842, a Dutch aristocrat married a commoner, a man eleven years her senior and a cavalry colonel.

He died after they were married for 38 years and, as required by law, he was buried in the Protestant section of the cemetery. When she died eight years later, she could not be buried beside him and had to go into the Catholic part of the cemetery.

Rather than be interred in the aristocratic family tomb, she decided before her death on this solution -- they would be buried beside each other but divided by the Protestant/Catholic wall. Their common tombstone would unite them for all eternity with their hands forever clasped together.

The stone has stood for more than 100 years now, thumbing its nose at narrow-mindedness and bigotry.

women wired to want hung men

When looking for something else online recently, I happened on this article about a scientific study that concluded women are wired by evolution to be more attracted to well endowed men. The bigger he is, the greater their interest.

The reasoning has to do with both survival of the species and a woman's pleasure. One could easily see how it wasn't difficult for women to see the goods before humankind evolved to wearing clothes. If everyone was running around naked, the ladies would all know who the big boys were.

As humans evolved, presumably they had enough premarital sex for the word to get out as to who was packing. In our more modern times, I've seen statistics that couples who engage in premarital sex have a lower divorce rate. This might also explain why people were so sexually screwed up in Victorian times, because far fewer women would've had a chance to test drive their intended.

I will admit that, all other things being equal, I am more attracted to a well endowed man. But I also learned long ago that a small-seeming unexcited man could grow to a monster, so you can't go by first impressions. One past lover in particular appeared rather dinky dicked when he undressed, but once he got hard, he was well above average.

Men might get a little hung up about studies like this, particularly when they're at or below average in size. It's important to remember these are only first impressions. If a man is hung but he's a jerk, he may get more one-night stands but he'll be striking out with repeat customers.

Bottom line: women are attracted to far more than dick size. It's a nice value-added option but doesn't close the deal.

long-distance humor

In most cities, spectators carry signs encouraging the runners during a marathon, particularly a family member or friend.

In New York, the signs are little more in your face. It's New Yawk, after all. You got a problem with that?

Somebody collected some good ones from the Big Apple and put them here. I have to admit watching a marathon is rather boring. Okay, really boring. Nothing really interesting happens. It's just a lot of running people. You can see them on trails and sidewalks any day of the week.

The longer you hang around, the worse the runners get, because they're the increasingly slower ones. Four hours in, you have sweat-drenched people gasping for breath and minutes from their first heart attack. They all have the slightly panicked "why did I do this" look.

I only went to the Los Angeles marathon because a friend was running. I would've had much more fun with a sign like one of these. I think I'd write something like, "If you win this race, I'll let you eat my pussy." I think that would be a conversation starter.

four days of no sex

The Husband will soon have a medical test which necessitates that he abstain from any sexual activity for 96 hours beforehand.

We both decided the easiest way to make this as painless as possible is for either he or I to take a short trip during this period so that we don't slip up and he has to reschedule his appointment. Not having sex would make us think more about sex and thus make it harder not to throw caution to the wind and have sex if were both in the same house.

He's looking to see if he can get a short, out-of-town gig in Melbourne. Otherwise, I will take a short trip with Joey to visit a friend in Canberra.

This is like some 1970s French sex farce where we have to go to extraordinary lengths to keep from having sex.

fading or evolving rapture?

I'm currently reading English novelist Ian McEwan's latest book Sweet Tooth. At one point, in a story within a story, the narrator says, "even in the most richly communicative and reciprocal love affairs, it is nearly impossible to sustain that initial state of rapture beyond a few weeks."

Based on my own experience with my husband, I'd have to agree somewhat and disagree somewhat. The initial state may have passed but what follows is not necessarily worse or inferior.

I think intense love evolves as opposed to waning. At least that's been my experience. The beginning is like spring, a riot of sensory stimulation. But those blossoms are ephemeral. They're replaced by a much longer period of temperate, lush growth. Spring is the prettiest but not as lasting; summer lasts longer with a warm, comforting stablity.

The same with love. Its spring phase may seem more intense, but the summer phase is more enduring. This is where romance transitions into the more lasting and durable and permanent relationship.

Autumn follows, but much later, after summer seems almost indefinite. Fall is a quiet and beautious winding down of affairs. It can often be the most glorious of seasons, the true flame of a rich life.

You only ever have a first week of a love affair once, but that doesn't mean you can't remember and relive and celebrate that affair through a lifetime in many different ways.

I'd like to think James and I are about mid-May in our relationship. The blossoms of the earliest spring may no longer distract us, but that doesn't mean our relationship now pales in comparison.

(As for the book itself, McEwan is one of my favorite writers, and Sweet Tooth doesn't disappoint.)

an incredible voice

This little girl has a stunning voice. She's not perfect, but at that age, who cares. With training, I cannot imagine she won't become a major talent.

She has a little babyish voice when she speaks. You can see an interview of her here, where she's chatting in Dutch, but you get the idea. This longer video has other behind-the-scenes bits of interest.

voluntary chastity is true deviancy

New Statesman, a brainy British magazine, recently published a piece about a French editor who chose to be abstinent for twelve years. Apparently she did not even masturbate during this self-imposed exile. She's now written a book about her experience.

The reaction among her friends was not surprising: some tried to sleep with her, others tried to fix her up, still others wondered what was wrong. No one seemed to comprehend she wanted to be celibate.

From reading the Statesman piece, I understand why she did it, but I'm also left wondering if sex didn't really ring her chimes like it does for many other people. Perhaps it wasn't as big a sacrifice for her as it might be for others. I couldn't go twelve days without sex, so twelve years seems an unduly harsh self-sentence imposed for the rationale she gives.

But it is her choice, and her choice should be respected.

The article seems well balanced in perspective, but I thought the title was rather insensitive and perhaps an editor's contribution: "true deviancy is choosing not to have sex."

We should not pass judgement on someone else's sexual decisions, as odd as they may seem to us, as long as the choice is consensual and does no harm to others.

her most excellent exalted majesty

I was reading something that references "Her Majesty's Prison" in Britain. I've always thought that was a rather fanciful title for something that is decidedly un-royal.

In fact, the title is outright ludicrous. Has the queen ever visited any of "her" prisons? Perhaps once or twice to look at some exhibit or display for a photo op while safely out of range from any real prisoners or danger. But it's not like she visits them regularly to see how they're going, like the prison CEO or anything.

That got me to thinking about the absurd practice of calling a monarch "his majesty" or "her majesty." Some even have more grandiose grand addresses, like "his excellent majesty." If you know anything about history, you know it's chock full of very unmajestic monarchs. Richard III would be a good example.

So who started insisting that everyone should address the monarch as "your majesty"? That sounds like something a bully would do as a child. "You must now call me his majesty and bow every time you speak to me."

Now some of this is my anti-royalist husband rubbing off on me. But I was somewhat this way before I even met him. I can't see I could ever bring myself to bow our curtsy to anyone.

Thankfully I didn't live in the fifteenth century, when I could end up doing serious time for not groveling before the king.