winter

'i get a little warm in my heart
when i think of winter
i put my hand in my father's glove'

the problem with rich people

A Spanish businessman filed a lawsuit against the parents of a boy he hit and killed with his luxury automobile in order to make them cover the costs of the damage the incident caused the car because, you know, he's a victim here too. Seriously. Luckily for humanity, he has since dropped the suit, but I still think someone should run him over with his luxury automobile and see how he likes it.

confession ii

I just watched Thirteen. I've loved Holly Hunter ever since dragging Catrin, Alice, & Erik to the Paramount Theater in Peekskill to see The Piano instead of hitting the Jefferson Valley Mall to see Ace Ventura Pet Detective back in high school. I've been intrigued with Evan Rachel Wood since seeing Down in the Valley a couple months ago. And I have a rather embarrassing confession to make. I've developed something of a crush on Jeremy Sisto of late. Oh the scruffiness.

everyone hates maureen

Maureen Dowd, it seems, is on track to becoming just about as loathed as the Ann Coulters and Michael Savages of the world. I'm not sure what's pushed her over the top in the minds of Googlers recently, but my silly little diatribe from last June seems to have garnered more comments recently than practically the rest of the Darker Mind in its entirety (not that that's saying much...).

And here I thought it was just me, being overly excitable again.

sex & the Catholic Anchor

The Catholic Anchor is running an editorial in its current issue that boggles the mind. You'll have to scroll down towards the bottom of the page, just before the Questioning the Pope section.*

According to this editorial, Alaskan youth are in serious trouble, for various reasons including but not limited to marijuana use, alcohol use, and sex. But the most troubling statistic of all, and this I can't really argue with, is that more than 1 in 10 teenagers said that they'd attempted suicide sometime within the last year.

The problem is that the Anchor goes on to blame the suicide rate on human sexuality. Any human sexuality that is not within the confines of marriage and for the purpose of procreation is, according to the Anchor, the cancer that is destroying an entire society. And furthermore, the government wastes money applying band-aids (drug awareness campaigns, crisis counseling, sex education, etc.) to cancer when what it should really be doing is weeding out the cancer. Meaning, I guess, human sexuality.

But you can't just assume that there is a correlation between high suicide rates and the fact that almost half of the teenagers had recently had sex. You can't just lump together all the myriad forms of human sexuality into one big nasty monster and say that this is the root cause of suicidal behavior.

The Anchor elaborates, "In the case of our hurting youth, their problems can often be traced back to their home life. Ultimately, many of these problems come back to the misuse of sex."

Alaska has the highest rate of rape in the United States, 2.4 times higher than any other state, and sexual assault on children is 6 times higher than any other state. One can only imagine that victims of rape are not limited to the 20 and over set, and one can only imagine that victims of rape and sexual assault (everything else being equal) might tend to attempt suicide at higher rates than those lucky enough to have never been raped or sexually assaulted. I don't have numbers on this, but still, it stands to reason.

But this is not the kind of sex that the 45% of kids who'd recently had sex are referring to, presumably. Are they really arguing that sex between a pair of sixteen year olds is the same thing as being molested by an uncle or older brother or any number of possibilities? This is just ludicrous.

Our brilliant editorialist goes on to explain that "once sex is unhinged from the context of a marriage between a man and a woman, it begins to wreck havoc human lives." I'm not quite sure what the point is here, but the writer seems a bit unhinged himself, and intent on blaming teen suicide rates on all forms of sexuality, both youth and adult.

I don't know that much about this stuff, but I've read that Alaska has among the highest domestic violence, poverty, depression, and substance abuse rates in the country, as well as rape and sexual assault rates. Isn't it possible that these other issues just might contribute more heavily to teen suicide than good, old-fashioned pre-marital sex?

*Which in and of itself annoyed me. I mean, doesn't "questioning" generally mean "calling into question" or doubting or otherwise wondering if something is right or wrong, good or bad? These questions are totally inane, not to mention somewhat nonsensical. I'm sorry, Mr. Ward, but you can not say, "What do you think is the greatest issue for American (Catholics) today?" You can say, "What is the greatest issue for (American) Catholics today?" but not the other way around.

catching up

Yesterday marked the 35th anniversary of Roe v. Wade.

I thought the rat I saw scurrying around the north end of the subway platform at 125th Street the other day was big, but that little guy didn't have anything on this particular rodent.

This from Erik, who clearly also spends too much time surfing the web.

Shockingly enough, the pharmaceutical industry has been misleading us about the effectiveness of certain antidepressants. I just saw a Law & Order rerun about that very notion last week.

Which brings me to a bit of happier news. Fred Thompson officially withdrew from the presidential race yesterday and I can go back to watching Law & Order reruns without thoughts of the most annoying DA ever being the next leader of the free world.

The great state of Virginia demonstrated its ongoing commitment to guns for everyone last week. I mean really, why shouldn't the mentally ill or the criminally minded have open access to guns?

This from the Onion earlier this week.

The New York Times came out swinging against Giuliani yesterday in this rather disturbing look at a man way to petty and vindictive to be in charge of weapons of mass destruction.

There was an excellent piece in the Times awhile back about an abortion provider by the name of Susan Wicklund, and yesterday Salon ran a short interview with her. I'm very much wanting to read her book.

Somehow, years ago, I ended up on a CNN breaking news email list, or something, and so I get an email or two a day about the latest, greatest, tidbit of information, sometimes actual news, political or otherwise, but more often the latest scandal (O.J. arrested again!). Yesterday's was an announcement that Heath Ledger had been found dead in his apartment. Apparently of a drug overdose. I'm feeling pretty sad about this, more than I would have expected certainly, perhaps due to coming to terms recently with the fact that I actually really liked him.

And that's it. As Hard Harry would say, "I'm done. Stick a fork in me, it's been grand."

missing cats & amazing friends

It's been a strange and surprisingly sad time, this week of losing Nova, this month of January.

I tend to be the kind of person who gives voice to the worst possible scenario; the darkest of black humor; the most dire of predictions (thus, I suppose, a stuffed Ebola virus being one of the best Christmas presents ever). The day before Nova was euthanized, I was joking with Erica about the possibility of her demise, and the joy of a catless existence, much to Erica's horror and dismay. I think, I hope, that Erica understands some people do this, I do this, to pull the rug out from under the worst thing happening, to make the world more manageable.

But I wish I could take it back, though Nova herself was a cat of dark humor, or so I imagine, and would probably not have minded my gallows humor, had she been able to understand it.

I find myself pausing out in the hallway before putting my key in the lock, hoping against hope that her previously annoying yowls will greet me at the door; that her previously annoying, stumble-inducing, ankle-entwining, fluffy little self will greet me upon entering my apartment.

It keeps on not happening.

I find myself glancing quickly at her favorite cardboard box, full of crumpled tissue paper, which I have yet to throw away, expecting to see her curled up, nose tucked firmly under paws. Or better yet, I keep hoping to be yowled at as I walk by this box of hers, one of her favorite activities, "heckling passers-by from the bleacher seats," as Chris and I used to put it.

I keep seeing the pile of yarn on the couch out of the corner of my eye, thinking first that it is Nova, second that I should not leave the yarn on the couch for fear of her inevitable lounging on top of it, third that the first is wrong and the second is no longer an issue.

It was in-between weather last Thursday, the day after I put her down. I'd had plans, or thought I had plans, to meet a particular friend for dinner that evening. I was playing down losing Nova, and declined another friend's offer to get together after work, only to discover at five o'clock that I really did want to see a friendly face, that I really did not want to go home to an empty apartment, and that the particular friend with whom I thought I'd had plans was nowhere to be found. It was raining, or snowing, or some unpleasant slushy mix betwixt and between. It was decidedly cold and windy and awful out that night. I walked down Broadway, and then down Central Park West, all the way to Columbus Circle, in this dreary, spitting weather, and found myself in tears much of the way, stumbling now and then, partially blinded by these tears and the rain.

I called my friend Dave, hoping against hope that he might be available for a drink, but there was no answer. I called Jill, who was on her way to a wine-tasting and couldn't talk long. So I went home, changed into dry clothes, curled up with a cup of tea and an afghan, alone on the couch.

Dave called later that night. He and his boyfriend, Josh, had been locked out of their apartment after work and had apparently spent the evening tracking down their landlord, drinking wine, and talking about me and Nova. And this is what they came up with:

Subject: Supernova ~ A celebration of life
From: David Bowles
Date: 1/17/2008 10:18 PM

"Nova was weird, but she was an institution." - Jill

As you may know, Emily's inimitable gray kitty was put to sleep this week. Losing a pet is really tough. Nova was a cat who, despite her notorious foibles, was a big part of Em's life. Josh suggested a gathering to celebrate her feline life, and I think it's a brilliant idea. Em's on board too, and would greatly appreciate your company. I'd offer our place, but we're living out of boxes. So come on over to Emily's place next Saturday, bring a bottle of wine or nosh, and a story or two about Nova.

We can all drink, talk about the cat, and then catch up or play Apples to Apples or drink more... because after all, Nova never liked being the center of attention for too long.

Saturday, Jan 26
6:00pm - whenever (not too, too late)

being home, 1.20.08

i'm half drunk on babble you transmit

There are songs, sometimes, that you fall in love with a little bit. For whatever reasons, because of a single turn of phrase, or catch in the throat, a song can grab you and never quite let go. Soul Coughing's True Dreams of Wichita, for me, is one of those songs, though I couldn't quite tell you why. I think it's a little bit because I've got relatives in Kansas, but mostly because, even after listening literally hundreds of times to "and you can stand on the arms of the Williamsburg Bridge crying hey man, well this is Babylon," something about it can still bring me to tears.

"signal got lost to the satellite
got lost in the rideup to the plungedown

man sends the ray of the electric light sends the impulse
through the air down to home

and you can stand on the arms of the Williamsburg Bridge crying
hey man, well this is Babylon
and you can fire out on a bus to the outside world down to Lousiana
you can take her with you

i've seen the rains of the real world come forward on the plain
i've seen the Kansas of your sweet little myth
you've never seen it, no,
i'm half sick on the drinks you mixed through your

true dreams of Wichita

Brooklyn like a sea in the asphalt stalks push out dead air from
a parking garage where you stand with the keys and your cool hat of
silence where you grip her love like a driver's license

i've seen you fire up the gas in the engine valves
i've seen your hand turn saintly on the radio dial
i've seen the airwaves pull your eyes towards heaven
outside Topeka in the phone lines her good teeth smile
was winding down

engine sputters ghosts out of gasoline fumes
they say you had it but you sold it
you didn't want it, no
i'm half drunk on babble you transmit through your

true dreams of Wichita

true dreams of Wichita..."

novita-love

I had to have Nova put to sleep this afternoon. We had a good run of it, she and I. It would have been eight years this March.

and then there was nova
nova & daniela
nova & me

in his own words, or, when crackpots go to washington

“I have opponents in this race who do not want to change the Constitution. But I believe it’s a lot easier to change the Constitution than it would be to change the word of the living god. And that’s what we need to do — is to amend the Constitution so it’s in God’s standards rather than try to change God’s standards so it lines up with some contemporary view of how we treat each other and how we treat the family.”

Mike Huckabee, on the failures of the Constitution. Because the Constitution should be God's Word. Because what we really want ruling our society, and the myriad religions and cultures and ethnicities and beliefs that make up our society, is Biblical law. Because we should offer to sacrifice our daughters in order to placate angry hordes, reinstate slavery and polygamy, execute any and all adulterers, and so on and so forth.

Willie Geist of MSNBC explained (pre-Michigan) that if the average American made such inane comments about the Constitution, "he’d be dismissed as a crackpot, but he’s Mike Huckabee and he’s basically the front-runner.”

The incomparable Steve Benen's take on this? "Maybe, but I’m still pretty comfortable calling Huckabee a crackpot anyway."

For more Bible fun, take a look at The Brick Testament, my new go-to site for all things holy. Well, that and The Skeptic's Annotated Bible.

in the news

Texans report seeing UFO

Rahm Emmanuel of the US House of Representatives recently gave Bush a light smack

Have I said how much I love Bob Herbert? I love Bob Herbert. That's not to say that I necessarily agree with everything he says, even in this article, but I love that he consistently writes for people who do not or can not write or speak for themselves. He is a moral compass in the newspaper world and I admire him greatly.

Yet another Texan in trouble, this time for inappropriate emails

Pre-emptive funerals are apparently gaining popularity in South Korea

New birthing center to open in Manhattan, which pleases me immensely, having been very disappointed that the Seton one closed several years ago.

Things get confusing when the pharmaceutical industry outruns the medicine it's supposed to be helping

A shout-out here to Maia, in the form of Anchorage in the news, or, when bald eagles go kamikaze

winter project

Cascade Eco Wool, 100% Natural Peruvian Wool

best christmas gifts ever