Mon Dieu!

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death

Just the other day I decided to take the scenic route home in the evening. Rather than zipping home on the highway, I meandered along the back country roads, mooed at some cows, and generally enjoyed the breeze and the sway of the trees. The journey was lovely and relaxing but for one blemish--the endless stream of churches. There are loads of them along the way, but one church message board particularly caught my eye; it mentioned the usual schedule for Sunday service, but added this vapid pearl of pseudo-wisdom, "BOWED KNEES SAVE FAMILIES". Firstly, it is difficult to take anything seriously that has been written to rhyme. Secondly: Huh? Are they really trying to say that the way to help mankind--to save the world--to ease suffering is to talk to their invisible mutual friend? It's such a ridiculously trite sentiment that I can't understand how anyone could express it without being nauseated. This particular church is essentially saying, "Don't worry about volunteering or service work. Just pray to G-d to make it all better. Think happy thoughts and your work is done here". It is absolutely appalling for anyone who sees a point to the conservation of humanity to say that they're just going to sit on their asses and hope things get better. They're going to to feel self-righteous for having wished for sunshine and daisies? That's their strategy?

On a more lighthearted note:

Parsnips-a-Plenty

I know that one ought to only have righteous rage regarding the important issues in life: injustice, violence, and poverty should make us angry, but at the moment, I'm quite angry about veg. I hate parsnips, turnips, and celery with a fiery and all-consuming passion. I've always felt this way, but the soup I'm desperately trying to eat at the moment has brought it to the front of my consciousness.

Parsnips and turnips are similar in that they both have miserable flavors and textures--they're like horrible imitations of potatoes that simply haven't got it right. They are the rubbish covers of Beatles songs of the vegetable world. They're somewhat similar in appearance to the real thing, and if you're not paying attention, you might be fooled, but ultimately they're an unpleasant surprise. There is nothing worse at the dinner table than biting into what you thought was a lovely potato and discovering it to be none other than the dreaded parsnip.
There is no situation where someone could hand you a parsnip, and you could not say, "Hey-- lemme do ya one better: here's a potato!" Parsnips, however, have one redeeming trait: they are the subject of one of my favorite idioms:

"Fine words butter no parsnips."

World Wide Words has an interesting discussion of the origins of this expression here.

On the topic of celery, which is a vile form of veg if I ever unintentionally ate one, I can only say this: there are two kinds of people in the world--people who hate celery, and people who cannot taste celery. If you complain about celery, non-celery-detesting-people invariably claim that it has no taste. They are horribly wrong: I can genuinely smell it from the other side of a room, and it is instantaneously recognizable in any sort of a soup, stew, or salad. Apart from it's polluting flavor, it has a shockingly disgusting texture that ought to put any right-thinking person off their food for several days!

How do people consume these horrifying vegetables? I do not know.

Festival for the Eno!

I finally got out the Eno River Festival, and it was fantastic!  I haven't gone since about '99 or '00, and I can't believe I've stayed away for so long!  The first time I went was with my Uncle who is a hard-core environmentalist.  He had an impressive garden filled with all-native species, and he had a section of the Eno that he routinely maintained.  He'd go out there and fight kudzu and other invasive plants.  It was a magical experience wandering from booth to booth making things out of clay, observing amphibians, and watching the river.  

Although going back this year I was interested in different things, it had that same magical feel. It's a huge festival with a lot going on, but most can be classed in two broad categories: Environmental & Political and, Arts & Music.   There were several stages with a mixture of folk, rock, blues, bluegrass, and gospel music playing, and around these were little clumps of vendors with their wares: pottery, paintings, and knit/crochet/cloth goods.  So much pretty!!!  There were some gorgeous bags... **drool**  I started to feel like a bit of hippie when I started noticing the preponderance of tie dye and hacky-sacks.  Although there was a big emphasis on green technologies (composting, solar energy, rain barrels) the event was pretty politically broad-- the Democrats, Republicans, and Libertarians were all well represented at their booths.  I stopped by the Libertarians to say hi.  They were very nice, and gave me a copy of 'Discover Liberty'.  They tried to convince me to register to vote as a libertarian...  

They were not the only ones who got my age wrong.  One fellow that I was talking to about solar heating asked what I do for a living now that I'm out of school.  At another booth I was a given a survey for people 18+.  Ah well.  I'm nearly there!  Only about 4 months left!  

Back to the music:  The rock was mediocre at best, but the bluegrass, gospel etc were fantastic!  There was a group of cloggers (above) who danced while a small country trio played fiddle  for them, and I LOVED THEM!  

On top of the myoozak and all the cool art in the individual booths, there were some incredible large sculptures floating around:

There were three guys hard at work on this sand sculpture.

This llama is made of recycled plastic bags!

Even more striking than the sculptures all over the place, in my opinion, were the trash facilities.  Yes.  You heard me: the trash.  Instead of just having trash bins, they had paper recycling, glass recycling, plastic recycling, and compost bins!  It was incredible!  They made sure that all the food vendors used packaging and utensils that were biodegradable-- no guilt!!

It's amazing how much technology for sustainable living is already available; maybe the world won't come crashing to end!

ROBOTIC BEINGS RULE THE WORLD!

I love robots.  I can't help it.  But really, who doesn't?  They permeate our culture-- we read books about robots, write songs about robots, draw robots, make movies about robots, and build real robots.  We're fascinated by these creations that are so like us, but so unlike us.  Although they tend to fall into a farcical troupe of pirates, ninja, samurai etc, I would contend that there's something more serious at work here.  Robots are an avenue for us to discuss what humanity means.  Stay with me-- all the drama that we write regarding robots centers on the distillation of what we think makes us different from other animals and from our beloved computers.  We exist at a strange intersection between the primal and the logical, and we seek out a third source that pulls it all together.  We're looking for the 'soul'-- that strange and ethereal concept that theologians and laymen alike are so fond of bringing up.  It is a magical essence that has no physical indication of presence, and we are adamant that it must exist, or else... how are we special?  We MUST be special! 

 

H'anyway...  although I'm certainly willing to believe that there's more to the universe than modern science can detect or quantify, I'm NOT willing to buy into this tripe about spirits and souls.  In other words: Awa' an' bile yer heid religion!

O.K.  I'll admit: that's really not where I thought this was going.  

Robots.  

I've made a video about the day when robots take the earth back from us.  I was looking at my robot playlist (yes.  I have a robot playlist), when I thought, "Y'know what would be fantastic?  Yes, self, I do know.  How about a robot video?!"  It's to the tune of Yoshimi Battles the PInk Robots (part 1).  I'll post it soon!

Robot Playlist:

• Fight Test -- The Flaming Lips
• One More Robot/Sympathy 3000-21 -- The Flaming Lips
• Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots (part 1) -- The Flaming Lips
• Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots (part 2) -- The Flaming Lips
• Robots -- Flight of the Conchords
• The Robots -- Kraftwerk
• Mr. Roboto -- Styx

FRESH ART! COME GET IT WHILE IT'S HOT!

O.K. -- Not all of it is exactly fresh, but it's still damn hot! I've got a lot of my work up on picasa. It isn't well photographed, but it's there. Some of it will probably end up in my portfolio, but I'm in the process of decided what shows off my skills to best advantage. Many of them are still works in progress, so any suggestions/advice = WELCOME.

Check it out:

Latest
Still Pretty Recent
Destined to Get the Family Farm

Here's a little enticing preview:

^--- 'Blue Dancer', a sculpture @ the NCMA in Raleigh

I'm Proud to be an American (MURKUN!!)

**This is an excerpt from a 'letter' home during my week at hyper-patriotic boot camp (Tar Heel Girls' State) taken from the evening of Flag Day**


Flag Day was horrible.

We had to march out in complete silence, and align in reverent rows facing the flag while girls wearing white dresses, who in a militaristic fashion, marched in actually barking "left... left... left, right, left". We stood at attention in the sweltering heat and had to listen to an awful poem dedicated to the flag.

Most patriotic poetry is unpleasant to say the least, but this particular one crossed too many lines for my liking. Perhaps it was too honest about us. Stepping back from that, in the first place, I'm uncomfortable with the idea of pledging my allegiance to a FLAG rather than to a COUNTRY. I'm supposed to be willing to die for a couple scraps of colored cloth? If I'm going to be loyal to anything it would have to be the the people of my country--living, breathing, humans. Why should I pledge myself to an abstract idea that has little to do with me or anything that I care about. It's too easy for a symbol to be co-opted and used to mean something that it shouldn't; it is too divorced from the reality of the United States which is multifaceted and simultaneously beautiful and horrifying.

The pledge confuses me on another count: the frequency. Every day? Really? Is that necessary? Are we trying to say that our allegiance has to be renewed daily or it goes sour? Does loyalty have such an early expiration date as that? It isn't a particularly meaningful sort of allegiance/loyalty if it only lasts for a day. Ah well. Anyway, the poem made me feel like we were the evil empire (or the Alliance from Firefly & Serenity). There was one line about the flag feeling proud when mothers clutch it and weep for their lost sons, which made me feel physically sick. We're proud of causing death?! I often find patriotic rhetoric a bit silly, but that really disgusted me. By the end of the ceremony, when they were retiring the flag, I couldn't help but think to myself "Take it down. Get it out of my sight." I don't like feeling that way, but I really, really hated the sight of it.

Here's the horror itself:

I am the Flag
Howard Schnauber

---

I am the flag of the United States of America.
My name is Old Glory.
I fly atop the world's tallest buildings. <-- NOT ANYMORE WE DON'T
I stand watch in America's halls of justice. <-- AND OVERFLOWING PRISONS
I fly majestically over institutions of learning. <-- AND CHURCHES SEEKING TO RETURN TO THE DARK AGES
I stand guard with power in the world.
Look up ... and see me.


I stand for peace, honor, truth and justice. <-- DO WE? DO WE REALLY? AND HOW EXACTLY HAVE WE SHOWN THAT LATELY?
I stand for freedom. <-- WHEN I THINK OF AMERICA I THINK OF DETAINEE PRISONS AND THE DEFENSE OF MARRIAGE ACT
I am confident.
I am arrogant. <--- OH YEAH.. THAT'S JUST WHAT WE NEED.
I am proud. <-- OF WHAT EXACTLY?

When I am flown with my fellow banners,
my head is a little higher,
my colors a little truer. <-- OH LOVELY... SO WE THINK WE'RE BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE?

I bow to no one!
I am recognized all over the world. <-- YEAH... THAT'S NOT NECESSARILY GOOD...
I am worshipped -- I am saluted. <-- CREEPY!
I am loved -- I am revered.
I am respected -- and I am feared. <-- THAT DOESN'T MAKE ME FEEL TOO PROUD

I have fought in every battle of every war <--- UM. NO. WHAT?
for more then 200 years.
I was flown at Valley Forge,
Gettysburg, Shiloh and Appomattox.
I was there at San Juan Hill,
the trenches of France,
in the Argonne Forest,
Anzio, Rome, and the beaches of Normandy.
Guam, Okinawa, Korea and
KheSan, Saigon, Vietnam know me. <--- NOT IN A POSITIVE WAY THOUGH
I was there.

I led my troops.
I was dirty, battleworn and tired,
but my soldiers cheered me
And I was proud.
I have been burned, torn and trampled
on the streets of countries I have helped set free.
It does not hurt, for I am invincible. <-- MWAHAHAHA WE WILL MULTIPLY AND COVER THE EARTH!!!!

I have been soiled upon, burned, torn
and trampled on the streets of my country.
And when it's by those whom I've served in battle -- it hurts. <-- I THOUGHT YOU LIKED FREEDOM!? WHAT ABOUT FREEDOM OF SPEECH?
But I shall overcome -- for I am strong. <--- NO YOU WON'T. YOU'RE JUST A SYMBOL!! SHUT UP!

I have slipped the bonds of Earth
and stood watch over the uncharted frontiers of space
from my vantage point on the moon.
I have borne silent witness
to all of America's finest hours.
But my finest hours are yet to come.

When I am torn into strips and used as bandages
for my wounded comrades on the battlefield,
When I am flown at half-mast to honor my soldier,
Or when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving parent
at the grave of their fallen son or daughter,
I am proud. <-- AGAIN. SICKENING. I SEE NOTHING IN THIS STANZA TO BE PROUD OF.

My name is 'Old Glory'!
Long may I wave
o'er the land of the free
and the home of the brave.

Another odd thing is that during the sessions in the chapel where we link arms, sway, and sing 'God Bless the USA', devout atheist though I am, I involuntarily look towards the stained glass window at the pinnacle of the chapel and think "Please forgive me". I'm not sure who I'm talking to. Perhaps my parents. Perhaps my new country if I emigrate. Perhaps myself. At any rate, it makes me feel less horrible about participating in the cult-like behavior--It reminds me that I don't actually believe the bullshit that's coming out of my mouth.

At the Movies

Recently, while at the movies with friends, we made the traditional post-movie pit stop as a herd. As we squeezed into the restroom with all the little old ladies, who had come to see Ocean's Thirteen, I saw it. There were glow sticks for sale in the tampon dispenser. Yes. Glow sticks. Could there be a more unfit thing to sell in the restroom?-- aside from, perhaps, kittens. On first thought they seem very ill-suited for the slot, but there are similarities:

• the size and shape is nearly identical
• dogs and small children should be discouraged from chewing on them
• they change color with use
• they're fabulous for 3D mixed-media work
  

Ultimately, I had to see one. I had to own one. A Women's Room Glow Stick.


I rummaged about for the quarters, put my change in the machine, and turned the lever. Out came a small white box not unlike a pack of cigarettes. There were three tiny glow sticks inside. They weren't even at a size where the logical progression from tampon to glow stick could be imagined. They were a complete non sequitur really. I can only guess what the stock folks were thinking.


"You know what would make the movie going experience even better?"
"What?"
"Teenagers with glow sticks."
"I know just the place."