I’m very bothered by the suggestion repeated by every journalist in the country that an interest in children’s health and anti-trafficking work are somehow “soft” or only of interest to  mothers and not fathers. Or sisters, brothers, single people.

Why are we accepting the discourse that marginalizes these crucial issues as trivial or “soft”? How is hugging a child more “soft” than shaking the hand of a construction worker? How is children’s health more a female than a male issue? Do the men you know not care about the health of their children? If so, then stop hanging out with those morons, they suck.

Since when is screeching like a banshee about walls or scary, big Muslims more respectable than working to stop human trafficking?

Folks, let’s stop the insanity promoted by unprofessional and stupid journalists and avoid repeating the idiotic “Why has Hillary gone soft?” trope after them. These losers transmit nothing but their diseased sexism. When Hillary talks about foreign affairs, she’s hawkish and tries to be “like a man.” When she talks about anything else, she’s weak and only appeals to weaklings. Enough of this! None of this crap is making our lives better or advancing our understanding of anything.

I love academia more than anybody else I know. But I would have been just as happy in absolutely any other profession that I chose. If I decided to be a janitor, then that would be the best profession in the world. I could easily quit academia and not perceive it as tragic or write any of those sad quit-lit missives. The source of professional contentment resides in me and not in any specific profession.

P.S. I’m talking about being happy in any profession, not in any working conditions. Working conditions, of course, can be objectively bad.

. . . can be found at the link. Highly recommended.

It’s long but complex issues cannot be discussed in soundbites.

Just saw an article where a fellow ridicules Hillary’s new ads because, according to him, they are directed at Midwestern mothers. Realized that I’m one of said mothers and wondered what’s supposed to be so wrong about us. Are we too dowdy? Too stupid? Too small-minded to understand the true greatness of somebody like the article’s author?

The casual sexism of these pieces of woman-hating garbage – who, I am sure, consider themselves true progressives – is making me want to vomit.

“If you support Hillary,” they screech, “you must be a villain, a Nazi, a beast. . . no, wait, you are even worse: you are a Midwestern mother! Burn!”

One of the ads this freak of nature dismisses as boring and unmemorable is about the work Hillary did to stop the trafficking of women and girls. Because – yawn! – what can be more boring than trafficking of women and girls? What a pedestrian, trivial concern that can only look relevant to those contemptible Midwestern mothers.

My heart skips a beat, my pulse quickens, my mouth goes dry when I see I got a new message. From care.com.

The pediatrician doesn’t quit. Today she was shocked that a 4-month-old doesn’t yet stand.

I suspect she’s one of those Tiger Moms whose children are terrified into standing at 4 months and into marching to their violin lessons, little violins clutched in plump baby hands, at 6 months.

I understand the supporters of Brexit but I believe they are making a huge mistake. Europeans have a convenient scapegoat they blame for the global impact of liquid capital. The creation of the EU coincided with the beginning of liquefaction, so now they have convinced themselves that if the EU is dismantled, time will turn back and all that’s fluid will congeal back to solidity. They will waste precious time futzing about with the EU, taking it apart and putting it back, and getting into endless independentist quagmires instead of figuring out what to do about the actual issue.

We are lucky in North America that we don’t have such an easy scapegoat. The “tax the banksters!” and “build a wall!” substitutes for the European “leave the EU and everything will be peachy-rosy” are too weak to distract anybody for a significant period of time. As a result, we will start figuring things out sooner and will be far ahead of everybody else in the world. 

I was so upset over the duplicitous nannies last night that when N brought home four different kinds of sausage, I didn’t even look which kinds. And I didn’t look at the kilka he brought either. Me! Indifferent to kilka! That’s serious stress right there.

I thought that its year-long stability and permanence was one of the greatest advantages of the job I’m offering. I was actually starting every conversation with, “This is guaranteed employment for at least a year” because I thought people would like that.

Boy, was I stupid. Permanence – even for just a year – was the job’s greatest drawback. Of course, I knew younger people would prefer a patchwork of short, burst-like contracts to a single longer one. But I didn’t know this was going to be the case for older people, too.

Apparently, fluidity is being embraced far more aggressively than I thought. And it’s curious that nobody is even trying to discuss the enormous transformation of the very concept of work that is occurring.

Remember my sister’s company I keep telling you about? With free trips to Japan as gifts to employees, profit-sharing, gym memberships, education funds, spa visits, flexible working conditions, supplemental health insurance, and every method of cherishing employees under the sun? Think it’s easy for them to hire?  Ha ha. People prefer to work for telemarketing call centers instead. No spas, restaurants and trips but you can pop in and out, work in short, staccato bursts, float freely from one place to another.

It’s fluidity, stupid.

This is becoming farcical, people. I’m talking to a candidate.

“Are you sure you are available 20 hours a week for at least a year?”

“Yes, I’m available!”

“For a year? Meaning, at least until next June?”

“Yes, sure.”

Fifteen minutes later.

“Can you come over for an interview next week?”

“No, I can’t next week, I have several appointments for the baby. I’m 7 months pregnant.”

“But if you are pregnant, how can you work for me for a year?”

“A year?? No, I can only do until August.”

Curtain.

This conversation took place in writing, so it’s not my accent that is causing this.