July 2005

Alluring Legs

Cross-posted from PhaWRONGula: Voluptuously Veiled.

They're luminous, leggy and lissome,
In diaphanous drag
. Don't dismiss 'em.
You see, I'm a sucker
For 'podes when they pucker,
But I can't find the courage to kiss 'em.

Betrothed

"Oh Nanny! I climbed the high turret today,
And I saw near the forest a gay little fawn
In the shadows and rays of the dawn through the trees;
May I go out and play with it please?"

"Elizabeth, the Master would be shocked!
We keep our castle locked to keep you safe
From monsters that seem playfully benign
But seek to lead your mind away from home."

"Oh Nanny! the view from the tower is grand,
And I saw to the edge of the land, where the hue
Of the sky changes into deep blue with white lace;
It's a shimmering beautiful place."

"Elizabeth, that sparkling blue is death
With freezing crushing depths to drag your heart
Away from this warm hearth where you belong,
Inside our castle's strong defensive walls."

"Oh Nanny! I climbed to the top of the gate
To see over the trees; there's a fete in the town
And some children are running around in the sun
May I go out and join in the fun?"

"Elizabeth, those children are diseased
Poor loveless waifs with fleas and scabby skin;
Their filthy lives begin and end in hate.
Stay here in this estate for your betrothed."

"Oh Nanny! it's obvious I'll never grow
To be happily-ever-devoted to him
Like some cosseted maid in a Grimm fairy tale
Always bound to the will of a male.

And Nanny, I wish there were some other way
But I'm damned if I'm going to stay in this tomb
To be kept as a trophy, a womb for his line;
This life can't be his; it is mine."

So Elizabeth made her escape late at night,
Down the wall, through the woods by the light of the moon,
Through the village where wrappers were strewn in the streets,
Past the glare of the signs and the beat from the bar,
And the twang of the bluesy guitars, to the guy
Asking "You from tha' castle up Ironbar Creek,
With tha' crazy-assed millionaire freak?"

OEDILFers

The OEDILF server is currently down due to a crash. Apologies for
the interruption. Normal insanity will be resumed as soon as possible.



Update: It's back

Mutilated Morality

[rant]

It's hard to understand exactly how stupidly prudish the family-valued-religious-right have become. Does America really need to fund a government investigation into how a game with a Mature 17+ rating that glorifies the violent use of a car to kill pedestrians, has been modded to allow it to show simulated S E X scenes? The game (without any modification) gives you kudos for wiping out innocent people stylishly, and Hillary's worried about it showing people engaged in mutual pleasure? Gosh! We wouldn't want our 17 year olds exposed to that now, would we? Let's keep them focused on lawlessness and gratuitous violence.

It's wonderful the way Hillary spins the phrase "fallen into the hands of young people across the country."

"Gee mom, I was like just playing this racing game where you kill people, and the 'hot coffee' mod just fell off the web onto my disc and installed itself! Honest!"

[/rant]

Packbawkies with friends in high places

Drangilly-danglilly
Guðmundur Arason,
Bishop of Hólar and
Abseiling ace,

Cut short his job as a
Cliff-consecrationist,
Graciously granting the
Wicked their place.

I've been reading a book of Icelandic folk and fairy tales (thanks Sigga). I found the tale of the consecration of Drangey's cliffs amusing. Superstition had built up around the deaths of experienced bird-catchers who worked the sheer cliffs. Guðmundur Arason "the Good" (1161-1237) set out with his holy water and a crack crew of clerics to fight the fearsome forces of evil, working from the foreshore, from a boat, or suspended from the tops of the cliffs where necessary. During one bold belayed blessing, a grey hairy hand emerged from the rock and started to slice his rope with a sabre. A voice told him to bless no more, since the wicked needed a place of their own, too.

Seeing the bishop had a double-dactyllic name, I had to write a double-dactyl for him.

Fire ants in your pants

Cross-posted from PhaWRONGula: Wasmannia auropunctata. Those fire ants sure do have interesting ways to pass on their genes. Read Pharyngula: Clone war of the sexes first.

Ploidity-droidity
Diploid queen fire ants
Clone themselves daughters to
Be the next queens,

Giving them life via
Parthenogenesis—
No need for males to get
Into their genes.

 

Clonally-dronally
Haploid male fire ants
Stoically cope with a
Karma to spurn,

Living their history of
Amatrilineal
Roots—a glass ceiling but
One that won't burn.

A "Love" Sonnet

Ask, "Is this love?" I'll ask you what you mean
By love—some silver screen that makes you blind
To faults, or some fantastic pact between
Imagined gods who've had your fate designed?
Perhaps four little letters are a key
To probe the private—password to the pants—
But used again, describe the wrath of she
Whose cubs are threatened by a pervert's glance.
This many-splendored word's a whore who sleeps
With sycophantic shallow flawless skin
And gloms the sinner's soul in haste but keeps
The way they are at bay because it's sin.
So tell me, why is such respect conferred
On one old overloaded worn-out word?

What trauma?

Over on Pharyngula, a fundie troll has been trying to assert that godlessness is related to family problems during childhood. e.g.

Well, I just can't help but notice that the people who espouse atheism, evolution, anti-Christian viewpoints, wild and cra-zee promiscuity, and aberrant sex of all kinds, all had some really tough stuff happen to them when they were young, usually involving big problems with their fathers, which I firmly believe is why they have a hard time establishing a relationship with their Heavenly Father.

Of course, the troll goes on to employ the time-honoured "proof by selective example" to show the "strength" of her argument. She lists a few prominent figures who've expressed views she hates and points to their family problems, and hopes to thereby denigrate their views. You can read the easy refutations of her assertions in the Pharyngula comment thread.

So, there's a fundie troll commenting on PZ Myers's blog. What's new?

A coincidental encounter with another fundie who clings to a similar opinion. That's what's new.

Last night a man, after talking to me for five minutes and finding out of my apostasy (the subject was inevitable since we met at a party of a mutual Christian friend), convinced himself that I must have suffered some life-changing negative event to cause me to reevaluate my faith. As became apparent during the conversation, this "perceptive" man was an only-a-theory, all-scientists-have-been-duped, not-a-clue-about-science fundamentalist.

I have lived a fortunate life. Abuse free. Trauma free. Happily married for over 23 years. Well balanced kids. Stable employment. What led me away from faith was learning—finding out about the history of the church, finding out how a council of ordinary men decided what books to include in their canon, examining the claims that had been taught to me and reinforced by Christian friends, understanding how religious memes survive and propagate.

It seems to me that the idea that learning leads away from the church is uncomfortable for fundamentalists. Any other excuse (e.g., traumatic experience) is a rationalization to cling to. Counter examples must be relegated as exceptions. 

I won't try to generalize to all Christian fundamentalists, but when you meet a fundie, it's wise to be prepared for the preconceptions they may have about your life, the way you think, and the way you've been duped by the world-wide conspiracy to marginalize (their interpretation of) God.