Monthly Archives: October 2009

Hallowe’en.

I never dress up anymore. At the last minute I decided I’d be a Browncoat–which requires more than a day’s planning. Next year, I’ll have the shiniest costume ever.

Promise.

Vamp tales.

I don’t think I’ve ever read Steyn’s review of Interview With a Vampire, (though I probably said the same thing last year), but it is so perfect, it hurts. As a angsty teen, Anne Rice was my favorite author–until, that is, my AP English teacher got ahold of me and introduced me to real literature–so when the movie version of Interview came out I was first in line. It is a movie that I loved at the time, more for the lush visuals of a stylized New Orleans than the actual acting, (Cruise as Lestat? Why?), but find I cannot sit through as a fully functional adult. I tried, several Hallowe’ens ago, to sit through the movie for old time’s sake and found I was actually embarrassed to be watching such horrible crap. Even Antonio Banderas’ accent couldn’t save it for me this time. And apparently, Kirsten Dunst has always been a terrible actress.

Steyn’s review is hilarious, even to a onetime Anne Rice fan like me. (I stopped reading her vamp series after the fourth installment. Body-swapping vampires are just silly.)

As promised.

Here’s the link to the story of the honor killing in Arizona. Ick. What an a-hole. I’m glad that his wife hung up on him.

Here’s another link in which the victim’s brother explains that although it’s super sad that his sister is undergoing spinal surgery and all that, but she was very disrespectful.

Peter-Ali Almaleki told CBS 5 News that his sister went “out of her way to disrespect” her traditional Muslim father.

[. . .]

Peter-Ali Almaleki said he loves his sister and that should she not have to be suffering her injuries. But he added that the family lives by different cultural values.

“One thing to one culture doesn’t make sense to another culture,” he added.

Well, that makes perfect sense, then.

On the radio.

As I was leaving my daughter’s school following the Hallowe’en festival dealie, I heard on the radio that there had been an attempted honor killing in Arizona. A father ran down his 20 year old daughter for being too Westernized.

I’ll find a link when I get home; I’m posting from the side of the road.

I can still remember a time when the sophisticated apologists could sneer that all criticism of fundamentalist Islam was hysteria–there hadn’t been any “honor killings” in the US.

And then we started paying attention.

This strain of evil is becoming all pervasive, infecting even the seemingly sane. I still cannot understand why men who use a similar argument to Andrea Yates–my kids will be better off in heaven–aren’t treated with the same revulsion. Oh, we’re shocked of course, but the PC religion component makes our cultural response seem a bit muted.

I must continue driving now, but I’ll have more on this later.

Have I ever mentioned

My extreme dislike of Cameron Diaz? This extends to nearly all romantic comedies. The genre actually makes me nauseous.

Also, I ate too much spaghetti. I made it too delicious. That’s right, I cooked dinner. Even made the sauce from scratch.

Foul creature.

Gore Vidal is–shocker!–a disgusting, hateful little man.

Being anti-woman is okay, as long as you vote for the right candidates.

That sinking feeling.

This is a big deal, right? So what’s the deterrent for radicalized Muslims in the US to refrain from engaging in anti-American activities? Jail time? Hardly. American prisons are breeding grounds for radical Islam’s bloody ideas. It makes me sick to think that “homegrown” terror attacks are all but inevitable, simply because we were too afraid, politically correct, or partisan to see the warning signs. While the Obama administration protects us against the evil right-wing ex-military Christianists clinging to their guns and religion, the real threat is solidifying within our borders.

How stupid we are.

Creepy.

One of the things that I love about Halloween is the plethora of “serious” specials on the History Channel and Discovery. It’s fantastic! At the moment, I am watching a two-hour special on la bête du Gévaudan. Honestly,  rural France in the 18th century would have been a crappy place to live. I mean, 18th century anyplace would have been crappy. But getting picked off by gigantic wolfmen in the cold, wild woods just adds insult to injury.

It was more than likely a garden-variety serial killer who used sensationalism to mask his dark nature, preying on the superstitions of his victims.

I’m absolutely fascinated by creepy stories from the 18th and 19th centuries, and I’m going to indulge in my annual re-reading of the Roanoke case. I’d love to make a trip to the east coast and engage in a bit of nerdy daytripping. I’ve mentioned before that the woods just creep me out like nobody’s business–all I’ve got to do is sit among the trees for less than a quarter hour before I start getting freaked out.

I’m a bit sissy, but I do love to scare myself.

This special has a bit of footage of real wolves, and this big black one with the yellow eyes is reminding me of my Jack, who is large, grey and has yellow eyes. The wolf, however, looks very much the predator when one looks in his eyes; Jack, on the other hand, looks like a slightly chubby pit bull/silver lab mix. Not so scary. Wolves give me a thrill when I see them, though not anything like the thrill that shoots up Chris Matthews’ leg every time he hears his master’s voice. That’s just dirty.

Anyway, I’m babbling in my sleepiness, so I’ve got to go. Maybe I’ll write something substantive tomorrow. Maybe not. Who knows? Come back and check.

Are you kidding me?

What the . . . ? That’s hilarious.

Cute.

Is it just me, or is KLo really cute? She has a sweet face. And she’s hella smart. I don’t mean to trivialize her or downplay her significance within the conservative movement (or whatever it is), I was just surprised by how cute she is. The picture NR runs with her stories doesn’t do her any justice.

I think she’s such a wonderful, fiercely independent and intelligent example of what a conservative woman should be and I respect the heck out of her. That doesn’t mean she’s not supercute.

Optimism.

Steyn’s got a post on an astonishing article out of Britain. I agree with his civilizational analysis, that western civilization will sit by complacently, a frog in a pot, as the heat is turned up incrementally by the ever expanding behemoth we call government.

I keep getting e-mails saying, “People will reach a tipping point and they’ll no longer put up with this stuff.” I doubt it. Right now the way to bet is that once free societies will retreat incrementally, one trivial step after another, into a totalitarian hell.

As much as it chafes to hear, Steyn’s absolutely right. We’re not going to fight it. It’s for our own good.

I don’t care

I’m still free
You can’t take the sky from me.

I also find spotless houses spooky.

Over the years, I’ve discovered something about myself, something I’m not exactly sure I’m all that pleased with: I thrive in situations of managed chaos. What I mean by “managed chaos” is this: I like my chaos to have boundaries, but after that, I want nothing more to do with structure. This means that sometimes my laundry doesn’t not get folded and put away promptly, or that I dust every day. It also means that my house will never be mistaken for a model home, my couch may or may not have matching cushions, and my bed probably won’t be made.

I like the living of life more than the mundane tidying up after the living has been done, and so when I read this article about this “slovenly slattern” (nice!), I had to laugh. I will kick the ass of anyone who calls me “slovenly”, but I cannot argue with the adjective “untidy.” I have not ever seen a horizontal surface that was not begging to have books, notebooks, or several months’ worth of National Review stacked on top of it. I don’t like things to be dirty, but I am a book piler. I like nothing more than being curled up on my couch with a blanket, a book and a Diet Coke on the side table.

I’ve got friends whose floors one could eat off, whose wine racks are always full, whose houses are completely spotless and I appreciate that very much. I love that there are women out there who take “housewife” very seriously. Me, not so much. I am a woman who likes her kid very much, and who really doesn’t like holding the crappy jobs she is–at least on paper–qualified for, but a housewife I am not. Don’t expect my house to look like I am.

Besides, you’re going to feel more at home in my house than you ever would in someone who uses the phrase “slovenly slattern” and means it.

Lovely.

When the Russians are even relatively astute in their analysis, you know you’re screwed.

As an aside, I love reading Pravda. It’s like the Daily Mail crossed with Star magazine with a smidge of Art Bell. Quite entertaining. And the direct translation into awkward English is delightfully droll.