the known unknown

I was talking to a friend yesterday who said, in the midst of a heavy-duty conversation about life and religion, "I can't figure out whether you're a Christian or an agnostic."

I told her I felt the same way about myself. I have no idea if I'm one or the other.

I believe in a supreme being. But I don't believe that with the strength and absolute conviction that I believe my husband loves me.

I believe in a supreme being but realize I may be wrong. I believe in an afterlife but realize I may be wrong. I believe in a Christian God but realize I may be wrong.

I believe that's called doubt. The opposite is believing without question, or blind faith. I know I don't have blind faith.

So I guess I believe in doubt or with doubt. I believe, but there's always a big asterisk next to that.

I believe trying to be a good person is the most important thing in life, with good meaning I don't harm other people physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually. I can still be a good person and lie about your new skirt not making you look fat. I can't be a good person if I hurt you intentionally.

I've never worried about whether something I do is a "sin," because if no other person is harmed, potentially or actually, then whether some established theology thinks of me as "bad" is irrelevant. If having earned a living naked or fucking a man before marriage was a "sin," no one was harmed, so I don't care what some theologically conversant person thinks. That would make me a "sinner" in some theologies.

I also believe, if a supreme being exists and/or the Christian God exists, then he or she could care less that I danced naked for money or fucked men before I was married. The husband is perfectly okay with my past, so I don't think it need concern any theologian or deity.

So I pray to a supreme being who may or may not exist. I pray that I will always try to be good to other people because I think it's the right and human thing to do. I don't worry if a deity is keeping a score sheet on my bedroom behavior or employment attire.

the road not taken

I read something yesterday where the writer claimed that Robert Frost's famous poem "The Road Not Taken" (full text) had become a cliche. It is now universally taught in American and English schools. Because of that, as the writer posited, the poem has been "adopted as an anthem by wannabe rebels who fundamentally misunderstand it."

So how is that Robert Frost's fault? Does that mean the poem should just be ignored? That it is of lesser importance simply because it's popular and possibly not always understood?

And who are you, Mr. Critic, to decide that you understand it so well and other people misunderstand it? Have you personally questioned each of them to determine that they did, in fact, misunderstand it?

That aside, I don't care what Mr. Critic thinks: I still like the poem and other Frost poems, too. I've liked "The Road Not Taken" ever since I first read it when I was about eleven or so. Does that make me impossibly provincial and commonplace to still like it?

Frost could articulate simple wisdom in a way few other writers could, thus making him widely accessible. While those who aspire to be great aesthetes might find him shopworn, I refuse to think of myself as somehow inferior for continuing to like his poems.

porn that's safe for work

I absolutely howled with laughter when I saw this. The phone dialing in particular just killed me. Now I'm gonna say to my husband, "oooh, baby, dial my phone some more."

Yes, this porn can be viewed at work and shared with others. You can even share it with your grandmother, your clergyman, and your boss.

classic cool

Speaking as a sometimes professional model, IMHO models as a whole are not as glamorous as they once were. I've seen runway models in shoots of recent shows who looked more like heavily medicated bag ladies.

If I lived fifty years earlier, I think I could have made a much better living as a model because of my size. Given that most top models today average around six foot tall, and I'm only five six, I have an unavoidable handicap I could never overcome. In the 1950s and 60s, however, before the anorexic age and the stork age that followed, the "ideal" model was just about my size and measurements.

The photograph below (enlargement) was taken in 1949 for Life magazine by the wonderfully named Nina Leen. She captured when cool was classic.

an underwhelming 2014 movie season

My Hollywood insider pal sent a package with twenty of his Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences "screeners," the pre-release DVDs of the big holiday-season movies the studios send to Oscar voters in hopes they'll snag a nod.

My friend is also a member of several guild unions, which also have their awards, so he often receives the same screener two or three times over, hence, his generosity.

So far, I have to say I've been underwhelmed by some of the "big" movies the studios are trotting out as Oscar bait this season. Foxcatcher, about the DuPont heir who flips out and kills an Olympic gold medal wrestler, has two great performances in an underwhelming and sometimes murky story. Gone Girl is a slick dud with unbelievable characters spouting too-witty-to-be-real dialog far too often.

Interstellar is showy and stunning in parts but wildly inconsistent with some surprisingly wooden acting in important moments. American Sniper is a rambling, episodic downer. Nightcrawler is a well done movie about scuzzy people who give you no reason to care about what happens to them.

The Judge had two fantastic performances in a sticky, gooey but badly dog-eared Hallmark card crammed with cloying cliches. Unbroken is intense and well done by director Angelina Jolie but as much fun as an all-expense-paid vacation to a gulag.

And The Grand Budapest Hotel is a honeyed, over-the-top exercise in self love. We gave that the ultimate thumbs down by stopping it half way. Life's too short to endure someone else's pretentious twaddle.

The only standout so far in the batch we've seen is Belle, an intriguing and gorgeous but not flawless period romance based loosely on a true story. Both my husband and I liked it.

Guaranteed, this is an incomplete analysis; we have not yet had time to watch some other movies he sent, like Still Alice, Boyhood, Inherent Vice, A Most Violent Year, Wild, and Mr. Turner. All look very promising. Some might well disappoint, but maybe some won't.

On the whole, I don't think this will be a memorable year for the Hollywood studios.

the linguini rug

I sometimes see home decor magazines with photo features of rooms that are incredibly impractical because they'd be impossible to clean. Rugs in particular seem to be selected for people who never live in their own homes.

Some have long animal fur carpeting while others have ridiculously thick shag piling. These are not rooms for anyone with children, pets, or elderly visitors. One spilled red wine and it's all over.

This is not a shot from a decorating magazine, but you'll get the idea. How the hell do you clean that rug? It would take all afternoon with a strong vacuum and a special comb.

The photo and related shots do not show enough of the room to determine if it's a set or a real home, but someone had to make that rug and presumably people buy for their own places. I suspect these are all people with very patient cleaning ladies and men.

Merry Christmas!

For everyone who celebrates the holiday, have a blessed and memorable day. This is also our sixth wedding anniversary.

Sometimes it seems like it was just a few months ago we were married. Other times, it seems like I have known my husband my entire life.

Six years ago, I worried a bit that I was rushing into things. Now, I realize it was the best decision I've ever made.

Hope Santa was good to you and brought you what you wanted!

a child at Christmas

I've always loved my son unconditionally, yet as he grows older, I honestly believe I love him more and more. I think that's because, as he ages, his personality grows in magnitudes. There's so much more "there" there as he becomes more expressive and communicative.

At one year old, the Christmas season pretty much completely went over his head last year. The only thing he seemed to really notice were the glittery lights and glittery things.

Now that he's two, he seems to grasp the basics and that fills him with wonderment. He's a generous child as it is, and seems very excited about the idea of giving gifts and seeing the recipients' reactions.

We bought his present for Daddy together and then wrapped it, and as soon as he next saw he saw my husband, Joey looked at me and asked "Daddy box?" He hasn't quite grasped the concept of wrapping gifts and then waiting to give them.

As for me, I can't wait to see how he reacts when he sees some of the presents he will receive. After he opens them, however, the biggest challenge might be how to convince him not to give them away to his cousins.

hooters and tits

It's no secret that some women loathe the Hooters restaurant chain. They believe the places demean and exploit women.

I came across this comment on an internet news item that represents that thinking, albeit in a funny way.

I never worked as a Hooters Girl, but I was a nude dancer for a total of about five years. If someone doesn't like Hooters, chances are that person believes nude dancing is demeaning and exploitational, too.

I have a much different perspective. I knew when I danced naked that men wanted me. They could look but they couldn't touch. They could fantasize but they could not actualize.

Rather than seeing this as them exploiting me, I always saw it as the other way around. I exploited them. I flirted and teased and showed them all the goods, but then I didn't put out, all the while they paid me excellent tips. I imagine a good many men who watched me dance earned less in a year than I did.

Some girls were aloof and cold toward the men at the places I worked, but I always went out of my way to be sweet and kind. I had a compliment for everyone. I consciously exploited them, because I knew if I was nice to a man while showing him my birthday suit, he would tip more.

I believe firmly in equality for women. But that doesn't mean we can't use our best assets to our own advantage.

his son wears dresses

I somehow landed on this article when I was looking for something else. It's a first person piece about a man who allows his two-year-old son to wear frilly dresses. You can click through to the link and read more..

In all honesty, my parenting alarm went off when I read this. At two, the boy is too young yet to really grasp the idea of gender. I suspect he wants to wear the dresses because they belong to his older sister.

The father started putting him in dresses because the kid pitched such a fit when he tried to put him in shorts and T-shirts. I have to wonder if this is a parent afraid of the word "no."

I also wonder at the wisdom of broadcasting the child's behavior to the entire world, complete with multiple photos. What if this embarrasses him later? Dad wants to be hip and allow the boy to make his own choices. Did the boy give him permission to publicize his attire and, if so, does he even understand the Internet? I highly doubt it.

Dad writes "I don't want him to ever feel like he wasn't able to express himself." That sounds nice on the surface, but is it wise to encourage a child to flaunt societal norms without him fully understanding any possible downside? What if he wants to change his mind later, but you've plastered his pictures on the internet, where they'll possibly last for decades?

If grown men want to wear dresses, that's their business. They should have the freedom to do so. But as a parent, I think you have a duty to protect your child from possible mockery before he understands why he's being mocked. When you add up the debits and credits with this idea, I think you need to err on the side of caution.

A child who doesn't yet fully understand gender does not understand why people laugh at males in dresses. As a parent, you have to learn how to say no at times. And a child has to learn that when a parent says no, the parent cannot be ignored or overruled, particularly when the child is two.

He wants to wear a dress now. What if he wants to drink scotch or smoke cigars at eight? Should he be allowed to "express" himself that way, too?

In closing, if you read the article, you might also find a male reader's comments to be very interesting.

human plumage

I note for the record that most of the people with a visible gender in this video are male. As the mother of a boy, I'm already imagining that, in about ten years, I will experience a new kind of stress and terror I've never had before when Joey takes greater and greater risks inherent to his sex. I see it in his older cousins. I see it in his own father and uncles.

Why do boys always want to do scary shit while girls mostly avoid such challenges? Because just as female birds are attracted to mates with flashy plumage, we female humans are attracted to dangerous men. I suspect that is why men take the risks they do -- they don't do it to impress us, but their DNA is hard-wired to do risky things to attract a mate.

hair-pulling frustration

Ugh. I spent I don't know how many hours on the phone on international calls back to the US yesterday trying to straighten out a problem caused by my brokerage company. Fortunately they accept international collect calls from overseas customers.

The problem was compounded by poor transmission problems somewhere from here and there which caused the call to disconnect suddenly several times. The satellite electronic echo was also quite bad on every call. And then to add insult to injury, the brokerage's computer system went down twice and had to be rebooted.

On the rare occasion I have to make calls like this, I need to get up extra early because of the time difference between Australia and the US. Considering how ubiquitous computers and internet access have become, you'd think the stock market could operate 24/7, which would certainly make things a lot easier.

In the end, the brokerage was extremely helpful and apologetic about the problem. I'm also fortunate that they're one of the few US financial institutions that have no problem with expat American customers, even small investors like me. So, in the end, notwithstanding the hours spent, all was well.

I miss ice skating

I saw a Christmas card yesterday that had people in an idyllic ice skating scene. That made me think about how long it's been since I last went skating. I haven't been to a rink since I lived in New York, so it's been close to ten years. I didn't skate when I lived in LA and Vegas.

I grew up in metro Chicago, so I learned to ice skate when I was very small. Needless to say, given the warmer climate here, Australia does not go in much for ice skating. There are only two public rinks in the entire Sydney area, and neither is close to us.

My husband has only been skating once in his entire life. Or, as he puts it, he only put on ice skates once in his life and then spent the next hour falling on his ass. Recruiting him to go skating has not been a successful endeavor.

If the rinks were closer, I would love to take my son when he gets a little older so he could learn to skate, too. I suspect it's one of those skills that, if you don't learn early, you'll never really learn.

The picture below is from 1937 by photographer John Albok, who documented many scenes of life in New York City from the 1930s to the 1980s. And, yes, the dude is ice skating while wearing a suit. True cool is timeless.

drug legalization

I read an internet political forum yesterday where some people advocated legalization all drugs. Pot, coke, heroin, meth, you name it could be bought, sold, possessed, and used without fear of criminal prosecution. Laws would still be on the books prohibiting driving while impaired and so on, but otherwise all drugs would be legal and consumable like booze.

Proponents of such plans advocate as much personal freedom as possible. If you want to fry your brains with drugs, they say, then that's your business.

This may sound good to some in theory, but I believe such ideas are naively optimistic. A society where all drugs are legal will be a society with a sizable portion of unproductive people wasted out of their mind for a good portion of their lives.

I've known people with meth addictions and have witnessed them systematically destroy their lives. How would allowing people to progressively broil their brains lead to a better, more productive society?

And what about prescription drugs? Should we be allowed to self-medicate, to pick and choose whatever sounds good, damn the consequences? What would be the cost to the medical infrastructure for a society where people shopped in a pharmacy like a supermarket?

My father-in-law, for instance, is on several heart medicines that require careful monitoring for dosage modification. What would happen if we left such decisions up to people uneducated in pharmacy science? What about drug conflicts?

Legalizing pot is one thing. All in all, IMHO it would be no more harmful to the individual and society than booze.

But legalizing coke or heroin or meth is something else entirely. While it might maximize liberty for those who want to abuse such drugs, it could result a pretty shitty society for the rest of us.

Just look at Somalia where half the population is wasted on khat or the Soviet Union where half the population was drunk on cheap vodka. Neither would be successful societies anyone would want to emulate.

This is not to say, of course, that better and more humane methods can't be used to help those with addiction problems. Dumping them in prisons is not a viable, long-term solution. It's just postponing a problem while it grows ever larger.

breaking bad's broken marriage

The husband and I have been watching Breaking Bad on DVD. Because we don't have any premium TV, we didn't see it when it was originally broadcast.

We're now up to early in the third season. If you've seen the show, you know that two married characters separate around this point. It's pretty abrupt -- she kicks him out and then, soon after, asks for a divorce.

He's very secretive about something he does away from the house and has income from a mysterious source. I think it's safe to say she is pretty sure he's not stepping out on her.

She ultimately figures out the secret to a certain degree and then he tells all. But she's already made up her mind before that and doesn't allow him to explain the reason he was engaged in the secret activity, which we know is really for her benefit.

The husband has also been seriously ill recently and may be again soon. In addition, they have a newborn baby.

They obviously have a problem in their marriage that he could not be totally honest with her from the get go, but in his defense he had a pretty valid reason. If you're familiar with the show, you know what it is. If you're not, I'm being vague so I don't give away any spoilers.

IMHO she's too hard on him. If he's not stepping out on you, you need to meet him somewhere halfway. You need to respect that he will tell you the secret with time. I know if he was my husband I wouldn't boot him out because of one secretive thing unrelated to infidelity

Every marriage is different, but there are certain commonalities, too. One is that communication is essential. But I don't believe, personally, that husband and wife must communicate on all channels about everything all the time in real time. I think each needs to bend over backwards to give the other the benefit of the doubt, particularly when one spouse has had a lot of other shit in his or her life.

In the fictional marriage, the husband has been very sick and facing what seemed to be certain and imminent death. She should have cut him some slack when the secret came toa boil. She gave up on him too easily, something I've seen spouses do in real marriages.

After all, the marriage vows say "for better, for worse." That means you don't head for the hills as soon as you see a few clouds on the horizon. Together, you tough out whatever blows in.

terrorist or deeply disturbed?

The hostage situation has ended here in Sydney. As I write this, most press outlets are reporting three people are dead, including the lone gunman.

Whatever the final count, the sole perpetrator sounds like a deeply disturbed individual. As one talking head commented today, he represented a case of "psychopathology in search of a cause."

Like many mentally ill individuals, he had a history of spouting a lot of religious nonsense and is a self-proclaimed cleric. He also had a history of repeated criminal charges on incidents that weren't politically motivated.

I've noticed that the more responsible media has refrained from referring to this situation as "a terrorist incident." I agree with them. A lone gunman and hostages does not terrorism make without other necessary factors. It's a crime, not terrorism.

Terrorism is a "sexy" word thrown around a lot by the more sensational media, and I think they do a disservice. They've made true terrorism sound commonplace by using the term so often and often inappropriately.

The 911 attacks were terrorism. A suicide bomber who kills and injures dozens is terrorism. Such incidents are politically motivated by a group of individuals intent on seeding discord and fear among innocent people.

But a lone loser with a gun is not a terrorist. He was a serious problem that went unaddressed until it was far too late.

hostages seized in Sydney

I sat down to write up a blog entry just as the news broke that hostages were seized in what may be a terrorist situation at a Martin Place cafe in downtown Sydney. Depending on the particular outlet, the media is reporting that anywhere between ten and forty people may be held prisoner.

By the time this posts, the situation may have changed and, hopefully, resolved peacefully with no injuries or loss of life. You can follow a news feed with the latest developments. I have to take Joey to an appointment here in the burbs in a little while, so I will leave extra early in case traffic is bad.

It goes without saying this incident is very disturbing. Australia is a peaceful country compared with the rest of the world so this is quite shocking. My husband and I have never been to the particular cafe in question, but we have both been to Martin Place many times.

It's stuff like this that makes one consider avoiding popular areas in any city. Acts of terrorism don't bring people to an understanding of "the other side," IMHO, but only make people more entrenched in their beliefs.

You don't change minds by threatening with a clenched fist.

I want to try this

Long ago I learned a feather can be a wonderfully erotic bedroom toy. But I never thought about a small paintbrush.

I suspect the trick is to use a very soft brush that's perhaps a quarter of an inch thick.

I think I'll make a stop at an art supply store soon and buy one of these as a gift for my husband. I know he'll enjoy putting it to good use.

This begs the question, of course, is whether I should give it a test drive in the store.

no means no versus yes means yes

A movement is afoot to change sexual consent standards from "no means no" to "yes means yes." At first glance, this may seem to be a mere quibble over semantics, but it's more than that.

In a world defined by "no means no," after a woman (or a man) says "no" when passions begins to heat up, that means the partner must stop. Say he kisses you and his hand then wanders into your blouse. You push away and say "no." That means he must stop that and trying to escalate into a sexual encounter.

As a woman, I fully support this idea. There must be consent, and if she (or he) says "no," then there is no deal. Stop.

With "yes means yes," that means both parties must specifically say "yes" before anything begins. IMHO that's just impractical. It might sound good in theory, but in practice it could be pretty ridiculous.

You're sitting on the couch, music plays softly on the stereo, moonlight filters in through the window, and you're staring into each other's eyes. He scoots a little closer.

Now, what, you're supposed to say, "yes, you can kiss me now"? And he says, "yes, I will do that"? The kiss breaks, and then she says "yes, you may put your hand in my blouse"? And he answers, "yes I'll do that now"?

I think this idea needs to go back to the drawing board.

porn protest pokes parliament

Demonstrators in London today plan a mass face-sitting and simulated sex protest against Britain's new draconian anti-porn law that prohibits certain consentual sex acts in porn. The new legislation appears designed to target mostly BDSM practices, particularly those pleasurable to women.

Viewers can still watch porn with the prohibited acts and videos featuring them can be imported but not produced in the UK.

"A man is allowed to put his penis in a woman�s mouth and choke her, but a woman is not allowed to ejaculate," noted one of the protest organizers. "How sexist is that?"

Another commented via Twitter: "A state which outlaws women's jizz and does little about rape needs a bloody good whipping."

At least 500 protestors are expected to sit on each other's faces and simulate sex acts outside of Parliament. Organizers are using the hashtag #pornprotest and hope the event will break the Guinness World Record for facesitting.

expensive scribbles

What is the image below? Something a hyperactive child scribbled on a chalkboard? Or was it done by a kid trying to form elongated ovals to learn cursive writing?

Or is it a $69.6 million painting that recently sold at Christie's auction house in New York?

If you guessed the last one, you guessed right. It was done in 1970 with house paint and wax crayon on canvas by artist Cy Twombly. It's one of his signature abstract works (more examples).

The work is visually interesting and would fill the wall in a reception area or large room, perhaps used in contrast with a piece of traditional antique furniture.

But at nearly $70 million, which is more than a Rembrandt would bring? I don't know about that. Maybe that makes me sound like a philistine, but if you planned to give me a painting and said pick a Twombly or a Rembrandt, I'd vote for the Dutch dude.

prince william doing porn?

I've seen this guy before, and while I know he's not really Prince William, I wonder if he was hired because of his resemblance. Or am I the only one who thinks he looks like the heir to the heir apparent?

Even if the lookalike factor was intentional, I imagine in porn the biggest "talent" a male must have is the ability to keep it up during a long shoot. Most people who look at porn are male, and most of them aren't looking at the guys laying pipe onscreen.

I saw a news item yesterday about how the real Prince William flew on a commercial jet from New York to Washington the other day. Well la de da. I've inherited enough of my husband's anti-royalist sentiments not to be impressed by a "royal" mingling with "commoners." He was born into an obscenely rich family of moochers, so other than that, he has no talents to make him newsworthy and noteworthy.

britain's desert

I discovered a fascinating website over the weekend, called "Unusual Places," which explores unusual, surreal, and little-known locales throughout the world in words and pictures. Some of the sites are so bizarre they look like they were created by Hollywood computer generated imagery.

I learned, for instance, that Britain has a desert in Kent. The pictures make it look like something in the American west.

I love websites like this because they offer a five-minute diversion when you're doing something else, like waiting for something in the oven or on endless phone hold..

the best week

I read a novel recently where a character paraphrased something the 18th century writer Samuel Johnson purportedly said: that there wasn't a week of his life he'd voluntarily live through again. The character then goes on to agree with this sentiment.

Now Dr. Johnson may have been brilliant, but I don't agree with him here. I can think of several different memorable weeks in my life that I would love to experience again. One was a particularly lovely week I spent with my grandfather. Another was the week immediately after I met my husband and still another was the first week after my son was born. The week we married makes a fourth.

Although such an experience is probably impossible, I do imagine that some highlights of a re-lived week might seem underwhelming in a second helping. By anticipating that might happen, the experience could still be exhilarating. I know at times in dreams I've experienced moments from memorable weeks and the sensation has always been wonderful.

Maybe the day will come, with some kind of miracle drug and virtual reality, that we could come close to reliving moments from our past. If given the chance, I would certainly want to try that.

highly recommended

I mentioned in a post the other day that I was reading Ian McEwan's newest novel The Children Act. I ended up reading it three times back-to-back because it's rather short and I enjoyed studying it in detail.

Although McEwan is one of my all-time favorite writers and this is one of his better books, I didn't give it my highest recommendation because I thought it could have been somewhat longer and devoted that time to exploring the central characters with some more detail and depth.

While very, very good, I don't think it's quite at the highest level of his Atonement and On Chesil Beach. Personally, Atonement is one of my favorite all-time books.

Like many of McEwan's more recent novels, The Children Act is heartbreaking. It's not an upbeat book, but it's so well written, so subtle, that you cannot help but enjoy his mastery.

lucky people

I have to admit some of these bits made me laugh, even though I realize the people were very nearly killed. The lady with the shopping who is almost mowed down in the street is a particular favorite. She didn't seem much fazed that she almost drew her final breath.

I suspect the one in the gas station pissed his pants right before the camera went to black. His hands are the clue. My husband always fills up at pumps away from the street because he once saw a car skid out of control and right into people filling up. Fortunately no one was killed but some people were pretty badly injured.

The post title notwithstanding, I don't really believe in luck. Our lives are filled with random moments and events. It's the reason one person is hit by a truck while another is a near-miss. Luck (or unluck) of the draw.

My husband, however, disagrees. He is a hopeless romantic. He believes we were destined to meet. As much as I love him, I know it was just a happy accident.

the giving child

When I'm out and about with Joey, he sometimes takes it upon himself to present perfect strangers with things he thinks they should have. Yesterday in the supermarket he removed a pasta package from a shelf beside which I had the cart parked and just handed it to a woman going down the aisle.

He has a deadly serious look on his face when he does this, like he senses the person really needs what he's giving them. He's done the same thing in a variety store and more than once at the library.

At home, he will do this with his toys when we have visitors. He'll pick out a toy, seemingly at random, and then just hand it to the guest. If they start to play with it as if to amuse him, he looks at them like they're deranged and then goes back to amusing himself with the rest of the toys.

One day I found a teaspoon in my purse and another time several clothes pins. I know I didn't put them there but I suspect he did.

Perhaps he has a future working on a game show. Show her what's she's won, Joey!

too much bush?

I know some guys are really turned on by a girl with a natural, hairy snatch, but are more turned off by it? The girl below is about as bushy as they come.

You can tell by examining the whole photo series that she grooms a bit but not much. To each his or her own, I guess, but if I were her, I would do some serious trimming on that lawn. I wouldn't want to scare off a guy from muff diving.

the clitoris police strike again

Almost as if avoiding any publicity, lawmakers in the UK yesterday banned a long list of consensual acts that will no longer be allowed in British porn, including spanking, facesitting, and golden showers. Also, verbal abuse and female ejaculation, in the words of a Monty Python skit, "are right out."

As has been noted, the total list of banned acts seems more concerned about things that pleasure women as opposed to those pleasuring men. Certain acts, including facesitting, are singled out for harsher punishment.

And in a particular stroke of idiocy, purchasing and/or viewing such acts in porn is not prohibited, just production within the UK of films depicting them. Apparently lawmakers in London are more worried about jobs lost in other countries but not their own. If they want to see the impact on their own country's adult industry, they only need review how porn production cratered in LA County when condoms were required there by law.

What possible harm to society could result by making a porn video in Leeds or Winchester where a woman is spanked and then sits on the man's face? Rioting in the streets? Mass starvation? A plague of locusts?

Some politicians in London need a good spanking. But not on film, of course.

the law vs. common sense

After an initial read, I'm currently back-to-back re-reading Ian McEwan's excellent new novel The Children Act. He is one of my favorite writers, and I often read his books twice through this way the first time I encounter them.

The story is about a family court judge in London facing a crisis in her marriage. She also has several important cases on her docket that cause her considerable anxiety.

One case involves a pair of newborn Siamese twin boys. The healthier baby could survive and thrive on his own were he separated from his brother, who is seriously underdeveloped and has no chance of surviving.

If the children are not separated, both will die within a few weeks. If they are separated, one will die and the other stands a very good chance of living a healthy, normal life.

The twins' parents are deeply religious and won't give permission to separate the twins, thereby dooming them to certain death. The hospital and medical staff bring a court action so they may ignore the parents and separate the children to save the one.

British law, as expressed in the book, could go either way on the matter. For me, however, it's a no-brainer. Common sense should prevail. You save the one twin and let the other go. Surgery must be performed. This is basic Solomon's wisdom.

Notwithstanding that I'm a parent, I also believe that parents do not own children. They are not possessions. I do not believe a child's health and welfare should ever be subordinated to a parent's "rights." As a parent, I am my child's guardian, not his owner.

If you can't let one child go in order to save the other, then you're not fit to be a parent IMHO. A child's life should never be sacrificed in the name of "parental rights" or on the whim of a parent's religion.

medicating your panda

A short video sequence posted online purports to be of a man trying to medicate a juvenile panda. As you can see from the click-through, this does not appear to be a successful way to do it.

I have to wonder why he is doing this in what appears to be a very difficult way. Why didn't he separate the animals so one would not pester him when he's trying to work on the other one? Why not remove the panda from its pen and put it in some kind of veterinary restraint?

Whatever the answers, the pandas nonetheless are impossibly cute.