Don't feel bad if you don't know the meaning of vocabullyishness. I'd tell you to look it up, but you won't find it there. Why not? Because I coined it.
Ya see, I'm sitting at work catching up on Maureen Dowd's columns in the New York Times, when to my great vexation, I stumbled upon an unfamiliar item in the lexicon - solipsism. I moved on to her next column, and there it was again, solipsism.
What is the meaning of this curious word, I pondered, that it would be felicitous in two sequential columns? Extreme egocentrism. No, I'm not talking about my mother right now. It's the definition.
Do you ever discern that some writers take pleasure in bestowing words they cognize no one will comprehend? To the ambit of being loquacious? Me too. I deem this praxis to be an impudent essay to cause us sycophants to feel middling.
In other words - vocabullyishness.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
"Santa Isn't Black"!
(This is a re-post. I have writer's block!)
When's the last time you heard THAT at a Christmas party?
I heard it last night. Uttered by a 7-year old girl, embroiled in an argument with, you guessed it, a black Santa. Santa tried, in vain, to explain to her (over the raucous laughter) that there were, in fact, black Santas. "Just go out to East Denver".
She wasn't buying it.
I can't really say I blame her. I had to convince black Santa himself (as I was delivering my Santa suit a few days earlier) that there ARE black Santas. As proof, I showed him my Christmas ornament of a black Santa sitting at a piano.
He didn't buy it either.
Of course, until recently, no one thought that there would be a black President in the near future either. Which would lead one to think that times are changing, right? But change is slow, and racists never change their spots. (They just blot on a little concealer). But every woman knows that concealer doesn't work for very long.
I discovered a heavily "made-up" man at Friday night's Christmas party (which had no black Santas). We were having an interesting conversation about the First Amendment. Some of you might think that those are mutually-exclusive terms, but they're really not. (Previous readers will remember that I took a class in First Amendment Law taught by Archibald Cox).
Anyhoo, there was a small hullabaloo a while ago when a kid wore a t-shirt to school that said something about Obama being friends with terrorists. The school decided that the t-shirt was disruptive. They gave the kid the option to turn the shirt inside out, change, or be suspended. He chose to be suspended.
His father immediately alleged this was a violation of the First Amendment. So this guy at the party brings this up with a very strong belief that the First Amendment was, indeed, violated.
As someone who took First Amendment Law from the man who argued more First Amendment cases before the US Supreme Court than anyone else, and who had the most impact on how the First Amendment continues to be interpreted to this day, I explained to this man that kids in school do not enjoy the same First Amendment rights that the rest of us do.
This man was so annoyed that I felt I had to explain that this wasn't my idea. It's just the law. For a moment, I thought I had a real card-carrying member of the ACLU in my midst. But later, as he dismissed the notion of respecting others' religions, I realized that he was just another bigot.
I bet he would be surprised to know that Santa is black. (And God is a woman! )
When's the last time you heard THAT at a Christmas party?
I heard it last night. Uttered by a 7-year old girl, embroiled in an argument with, you guessed it, a black Santa. Santa tried, in vain, to explain to her (over the raucous laughter) that there were, in fact, black Santas. "Just go out to East Denver".
She wasn't buying it.
I can't really say I blame her. I had to convince black Santa himself (as I was delivering my Santa suit a few days earlier) that there ARE black Santas. As proof, I showed him my Christmas ornament of a black Santa sitting at a piano.
He didn't buy it either.
Of course, until recently, no one thought that there would be a black President in the near future either. Which would lead one to think that times are changing, right? But change is slow, and racists never change their spots. (They just blot on a little concealer). But every woman knows that concealer doesn't work for very long.
I discovered a heavily "made-up" man at Friday night's Christmas party (which had no black Santas). We were having an interesting conversation about the First Amendment. Some of you might think that those are mutually-exclusive terms, but they're really not. (Previous readers will remember that I took a class in First Amendment Law taught by Archibald Cox).
Anyhoo, there was a small hullabaloo a while ago when a kid wore a t-shirt to school that said something about Obama being friends with terrorists. The school decided that the t-shirt was disruptive. They gave the kid the option to turn the shirt inside out, change, or be suspended. He chose to be suspended.
His father immediately alleged this was a violation of the First Amendment. So this guy at the party brings this up with a very strong belief that the First Amendment was, indeed, violated.
As someone who took First Amendment Law from the man who argued more First Amendment cases before the US Supreme Court than anyone else, and who had the most impact on how the First Amendment continues to be interpreted to this day, I explained to this man that kids in school do not enjoy the same First Amendment rights that the rest of us do.
This man was so annoyed that I felt I had to explain that this wasn't my idea. It's just the law. For a moment, I thought I had a real card-carrying member of the ACLU in my midst. But later, as he dismissed the notion of respecting others' religions, I realized that he was just another bigot.
I bet he would be surprised to know that Santa is black. (And God is a woman! )
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Crocodiles Beware - Mom's In Town
Following my failed attempt to leave my mother in Ireland (see previous post), my sister and I were discussing where else we could send her. Maybe Florida. Lots of old people live in Florida. There's a beach. There's no snow.
More importantly, there's no me!
There are, however, TONS of crocodiles in Florida!
Do you know what creature is higher in the food chain than a crocodile? What makes a crocodile swim away shivering in his boots? There's only one creature that inspire fear in the cold heart of a crocodile
Skeletor.
Charmaine and I agreed that we could potentially be paid a great deal of money to send Skeletor to Florida. She could single-handedly stop the ploriferation of crocodiles in Florida without using any traditional weapons.
After minimal exposure to Skeletor, the crocs will lose all of their self-esteem. They will believe that they are too fat and will become anorexic (which is good for the 2-year old unsupervised children playing around the swamps).
It's a win/win!
Does anyone have Florida's phone number?
Sunday, October 18, 2009
My Bucket List
Today is my birthday. I am now 46. I am on technically on the downhill slide into 50.
My mother came by today to deliver my birthday present - two pounds of bacon. She also sent me a card that said that she loved me in spite of myself and that I didn't treat her like a mother, but she wished I did. (Happy fricking birthday to you, too!)
Last month, while drinking a couple (maybe more) pints in a pub in Ireland appropriately named "Bar Undertaker", my uncle John (the psychiatrist) asked me and my cousins if we were to die tomorrow, would we be satisfied with what we had done in our lives.
Tom said "Yes." Deirdre said "Yes." I said "No."
They looked at me, mouths agape, and asked, "Why not?"
Because I haven't changed the world yet. Duh! They responded uncomfortably that I better get going. So it got me thinking. What DO I want to do?
1. Hold an elective office.
2. Go to Paris.
3. Go to Russia.
4. Relearn French and Russian.
5. Grow a couple inches.
6. Write a book.
7. Take my kids to Ireland and show them the jail my grandfather broke into, thereby getting shot, the hospital next door where my grandmother helped him escape saving him from execution and everything else there.
8. Get paid for taking photos.
9. Live where there's no snow and where there is an ocean.
You may have sensed that I haven't put a lot of thought into this. Anyway, how about you? What do you still want to accomplish?
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
October 6
My father died 28 years ago today. Weird, huh! I was just shy of 17 then. Today, I am just shyof 46. I remember the year that I was alive longer without him than with him. It's strange.
It's been a long time.
The last time that I saw him, I was a very different person. And his absence in my life has probably shaped me as much as, if not more, than his presence.
But I miss him. At least the him that I expect he would be right now.
He would be so thrilled to have grandsons. Not because they were boys. But because they were mine.
Digital cameras. You have no idea how much my father would have loved those!
And I wonder what he would think of me now. With everything that I've done right, and everything that I've done wrong. Of course, he would love me - but what would he THINK of me?
It's strange to seek the approval of a person who doesn't exist.
The photo is my dad and sisters in Ireland around 42 years ago. Charmaine and Erin are wearing wigs. Apparently I refused to wear one. I guess I have always been stubborn :)
It's been a long time.
The last time that I saw him, I was a very different person. And his absence in my life has probably shaped me as much as, if not more, than his presence.
But I miss him. At least the him that I expect he would be right now.
He would be so thrilled to have grandsons. Not because they were boys. But because they were mine.
Digital cameras. You have no idea how much my father would have loved those!
And I wonder what he would think of me now. With everything that I've done right, and everything that I've done wrong. Of course, he would love me - but what would he THINK of me?
It's strange to seek the approval of a person who doesn't exist.
The photo is my dad and sisters in Ireland around 42 years ago. Charmaine and Erin are wearing wigs. Apparently I refused to wear one. I guess I have always been stubborn :)
Monday, September 28, 2009
The Great Escape
I begged my cousin to keep driving. No, I pleaded.
I didn't really want to leave my uncle in Ireland, but sometimes collateral damage is necessary for the common good.
He stopped. Damn it! He must not love me!
Tom should've been with me about this. In the middle of our 8 hour drive across the country to pick up Charmaine in Dublin, (don't get me started on that), Tom pulled over and said he had to go to the bathroom. He hightailed it across the street into a pub.
Given the opportunity to pee, I ran after him. He was not, in fact, in the bathroom. He was sitting at the counter ordering a beer. He told the bartender that he had to get away from "the two old farts" who were driving us nuts in the car. Understanding his frustration, I joined him.
Eventually the 2 old farts found us and we got back in the car.
I think my Skeletor and I need to take a trip to Africa!
You might wonder why I would want to leave Skeletor in Ireland. That is, if you haven't met her.
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