Talk Shows

The talk shows* I prefer to all others are the ones about custody battles and battles over real estate. It’s weird because neither issue has ever been present in my life to any extent.

* They play in the background while I cook or play Cinderella, like today when I’m sorting beans.

Tuesday Link Encyclopedia and Self-Promotion

A very insightful post on why Google is trying to destroy blogging.

One of the biggest dilemmas facing this generation (and, without a doubt, the coming ones, too) is whether to adopt a nomadic lifestyle as the only road to prosperity. This is the great transformation of our times that Zygmunt Bauman has been talking about. The choice between the psychological comfort of familiar places and familiar people and the financial comfort of a successful career is becoming inevitable.

Rabbis complicit in sexual abuse of children. I’m shocked that after all of the horrible scandals with organized religion there are still people who want to belong to these organizations.

Blogs are once again becoming less stylish and less used – mostly the consequence of mass migration to social crap like Facebook. Perfectly fine with me. It just means the smarter people who can handle long-form, complex discussion will still visit blogs while the simpering masses will inhabit Facebook.” Exactly. I tried the Facebook format and can speak from experience when I say that it is the most idiotic format that I have ever encountered. It’s even worse than Twitter. I never have anything to say on Facebook because I can’t come up with a comment or meme that would be shallow enough.

It’s a disgrace that a bunch of adults would create such a drama around the bathroom visits of an elementary school kid. How tragic it is that such tactless, stupid freaks would choose to go into primary education.

Should a protest be solely about protesting or should it have some ideological content?

I’m envious of this beautiful office. Somehow, I can never personalize my own space to this extent. Or any extent.

Unschooling,” a new fad among lazy, abusive parents. I recently met somebody who was homeschooling two kids aged 10 and 12. This homeschooler didn’t possess the most basic spelling skills or the most primitive knowledge of history, geography, or grammar. The difference between “their” and “there” was a mystery to this person. The tragedy of two kids who had this person as their only source of intellectual and academic nourishment doesn’t bear to be contemplated. The chances that they will catch up with their peers are non-existent.

Are you uncomfortable with ambiguity? It’s a common condition, but a highly problematic one. The compulsion to quell that unease can inspire snap judgments, rigid thinking, and bad decision-making. Fortunately, new research suggests a simple antidote for this affliction: Read more literary fiction.” This “research” is completely stupid. Few people read more fiction than I do. And even fewer people have such a low tolerance for ambiguity as I do. All of these worthless studies can be manipulated to “prove” pretty much anything. And by the way, I decided the linked article was stupid after reading only the first 2 sentences even though I read an entire novel yesterday.

People, will nothing prevent you from handing over your money to stupid religious fanatics who treat your children like garbage while charging you an enormous fee?

And the post of the week: male feminism in 1914.

My Feminist Journey, Part III

As I matured, I formed an image of men as sensitive, fragile, likely to wither under the weight of their health issues and psychological problems. Men were prone to messing up in a variety of ways, and it was up to women to gather and hold long conferences on how to straighten them out.

Whenever a man screwed up really badly there was an immediate investigation aimed at discovering which woman was at fault for not managing his life in a more efficient manner.

“Men! What can you expect from them? It’s our job as women to make sure they stay alive,” I would hear.

Men who didn’t have any women to take care of them were objects of intense pity. I still can’t see lonely old men without an overpowering sense of guilt and compassion. Lonely old women never evoked the same emotions in anybody, however, because it was obvious that they could taken perfect care of themselves.

The women I saw around could do anything. They made money, managed their families, and could bully anybody in sight into submission. They didn’t look happy, though. Just the opposite, they acted like intensely miserable people. They yelled, had hysterical outbursts, beat their children for no reason, and cried a lot more than they smiled.

It took me many years to find out why the women I knew were so unhappy.