Opinions, art, debate
Or they could have sex. That would make the bowls feel a lot less dramatic.
It goes on and like this about the bowls on an infinite loop. Nobody will ever convince me that a man can care that much about the bowls. Given the shape of bowls, it’s hard not to read this as a cry for… not bowls.
You think it’s a parody but no, it’s real.
The sense of humor is dead and buried.
It’s Spain and Argentina, which makes the whole thing all the more grim.
There’s an ongoing battle for the Ukrainian city of Pokrovsk. It has been going on for 1,5 years. Ukrainians call the city Pokrovsk, which means “Virgin Mary’s Protective Veil.”
Do you know what Russians call it?
Krasnoarmeysk. Meaning, the city of the Red Army.
These are people who are fighting for very different things.
As a two-time immigrant, I’m most seriously opposed to this project. I’m not a mental invalid or a child. I made my own decisions and am living with their consequences, both good and bad. Nobody can make me feel anything. You are not my mommy and I’m not your toddler.
And what did I do to merit this daily soul-searching in front of a mirror? Moved? That’s my big, heroic feat? That I packed up my stuff and moved? My decision to move in pursuit of my own private goals places an obligation on people who never asked me to do it? Why is it that this particular personal decision is so privileged over any other? Why don’t we concentrate on how to make life easier for pregnant women, families with 3+ children, the elderly, the veterans?
Even among close friends such behavior would be creepy. Imagine your best friend telling you that she stands in front of a mirror every single day wondering how she can make your life better. You’d think she’s gone mental. You’d tell other people, “poor Lucy, I think she’s not well.” Because we all know that this isn’t a normal way of engaging among adults. Nobody wants to be anybody’s pity project.
I am deeply grateful that first Canada and then America accepted me as an immigrant. I don’t expect anything beyond that. To the contrary, I want to demonstrate that I provide value, that I’m not a drain. It actually feels really good to be able to say, “I put an enormous effort into assimilating, my child is as American as they get, I’m law-abiding, I’m productive, I’m not a drain on welfare resources, I pay a lot in taxes.” I received a big gift by being allowed to come. Now I must reciprocate. At the very least, I should try not to turn my presence into a punishment for the locals.
This Senator thinks he’s being kind but he’s completely counterproductive. This is a perfect example of what they call toxic empathy.
I read a suggestion in a novel that the government should institute gigantic financial awards for people who stay married for 50 years. It encourages early marriage, makes divorce a losing financial proposition, and encourages people to take better care of their health because what if you croak a week before the 50th anniversary of the wedding?
People will object that there will be fraud. But honestly, how many pairs of fraudsters will file joint income tax returns for half a century with the hope of getting a payout after that? I’m sure there will be a few but it won’t be a mass phenomenon. Imagine opening your entire finances to a stranger who you know is a crook. And how do you avoid starting a real relationship where the actual wife or husband won’t tolerate you never marrying them and being legally bound to some stranger?
Also, I believe that the payout should be doubled if people raise at least 3 kids in such a long, committed marriage. Huge, fabulous awards. This will openly establish what we value as a society.
Currently, our social payments reward dysfunction. We take money away from people who do everything right and award it to those who do everything wrong. This makes no sense. There should be rewards for socially productive behavior that advances society.
No, because they weren’t defeated. The US started paying reparations to Russia immediately after the collapse of the USSR. The Budapest Memorandum disarmed Russia’s neighbors and positioned it to start invading the now utterly defenseless neighboring countries. Nothing was asked for in return. There was no accountability, no Nuremberg trials, nobody even had to lose their job. How is it losing if the side that supposedly lost the conflict immediately proceeds to feed you, arm you, and humor you in every way possible?
The first time I even heard that the USSR supposedly lost the Cold War was when I arrived in Canada. I found it hilarious then, and I find it even more hilarious now. Russia duped the West by temporarily removing the red banners and then using Western resources to wage the exact same war on the West but much more aggressively.
Compare this to when Germany lost WWII. That was real losing. Germany officially capitulated, it was split in two, Nuremberg trials were held, the denazification campaign took place. That’s how you lose a war. But if after “losing” you get coddled, given payouts, and armed against your neighbors, in what sense is that losing?
The “woman” in this news report is 15. The two rapists are 17 but they are referred to as “boys.”
Children are traumatized by the truth about Santa in only one situation. If they perceive that there’s a foundational lie in the fabric of the family and don’t know how to verbalize it, they use Santa as a way of showing their discomfort with the actual lie.
For example, if one of the parents is cheating. That’s the trauma. The child intuits it but doesn’t know what it is that is bothering him. When he says “You lied to me!”, it’s not about Santa. It’s the actual, terrible dishonesty in the family that is bothering him.
It’s the end of the semester, and students started sending me messages of gratitude. I inspired them, I changed their lives. And it’s nice.
But it doesn’t give me anything like the feeling I get when people tell me here on the blog that they’ve read a book I recommended and loved it.
Teaching is a profession that loves me. But my true love is something else.
Of course, none of it comes anywhere near to the pleasure I derive from being a mom. That’s obviously in a category of its own. And a wife. I love being a wife. But beyond that, it’s talking about books that is my thing like nothing else in life.
Klara’s teacher sent me a long missive which, due to its length, I mistook for her autobiography.
Turns out it’s a list of Very Important Assignments that Klara missed in the 5 days we were away in Florida.
People take things way too seriously.
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