perfidy

Did your mama hit you? Then you said it right.

Recently, my son has been exposed (as all children eventually are) to foul language, cursing, swearing, oaths, and the like. Surprisingly, little of this exposure has come from me. As responsible parental units, we have taken a moderate approach in discouraging the boy from dropping the F-bomb and its cousins. We don't freak out, we don't appear shocked and horrified; we just calmly beat the crap out of him, point out that it is impolite to say things like that, and that it is something that we generally don't do. This method has proven to be fairly effective.

The other day, I was watching a zombie flick late in the evening. The boy woke up, and we watched some brain munching for a bit. John pointed out, accurately, that there was a rather copious amount of bad words along with the brain eating. I explained that when people are scared, they often use bad words. (Screenwriters also use bad words when they are frightened by deadlines or being viewed as "inauthentic" or "not edgy.") This led to a discussion of the appropriate use of bad language.

The boy played with the envelope a little.

"Well, I'll just use bad words when I'm scared." No, not really.

"Okay, just when there's a spider." Nope. If it's dark. If my sister sits on me. If mommy doesn't buy me a toy. If I see Brittney Spears. If...

Well, I wanted to watch the rest of the movie. "It's time to go to bed, and not use bad words."

"Well, I'll just use bad words when I'm being chased by zombies."

"Son, you have my permission to use any bad word you can think of, as many times as you want." His eyes lit up with the possibilities.

"But only if the zombies come, and not before." Despair. "Now back in bed."

I was reminded of this incident when I ran across this little gem, from someone who takes a rather opposite approach to swearing for the very young:

For reasons that are not yet clear to me, a lot of parents we know are worried about their children learning cuss words. This is a truly charming display of futility. In the world we live in, even the most sheltered Amish child will have learned enough swear words to cuss like a longshoreman or the Irish by the time it is five.

So I am approaching the issue from a much more realistic perspective. I am not going to waste energy keeping Cordelia from swear words. Instead, I’m going to skip a step and just make sure that she is able to use them in more colorful ways than her schoolyard chums.

If some dirty little sprog says she is a poo-poo head, I want her to be able to call him a “ball-draining cum junkie”. She should be able to deflect all those silly little schoolyard taunts by tossing off a casual “Lick my ass, fucktard.”

And if some boy says she has cooties, I want her to fire right back with “Yeah. Well, we’ll see how easy you say that when my cock’s in your mouth.” This doesn’t make any sense, of course, but hopefully it’ll confuse and distract him enough for her to really put the boot in.

I see this as simply giving her the skills she needs to function in a complex and ever-changing world.

[wik] I realized, just as soon as Johno pointed it out, that my post was mysteriously truncated. In reconstituting the post, I realized that the text at the link is different from the quote above. Sometime between Thursday, May 15, 2003 4:55:06 PM and earlier this afternoon, Jeff Vogel bowdlerized (a bit) his own text. This is the new version on his website:

For reasons that are not yet clear to me, a lot of parents we know are worried about their children learning cuss words. This is a truly charming display of futility. In the world we live in, even the most sheltered Amish child will have learned enough swear words to cuss like a longshoreman or the Irish by the time it is five.

So I am approaching the issue from a much more realistic perspective. I am not going to waste energy keeping Cordelia from swear words. Instead, I’m going to skip a step and just make sure that she is able to use them in more colorful ways than her schoolyard chums.

If some dirty little sprog says she is a poo-poo head, I want her to be able to lash out with an uninterrupted spray of obscenities, most of which will have no meaning to either her or her opponent. The enemy may not understand why he has just been called a “fucktard,” of course, but hopefully it’ll confuse and distract him enough for her to really put the boot in.

I see this as simply giving her the skills she needs to function in a complex and ever-changing world.

How disappointing, and how glad I didn't empty the trash after I deleted the word doc that contained the original.

Erector sets are now classified as a weapons-grade munition and are illegal to export.

There is no form of life lower than the barracks thief.

Doesn't matter what it's for, how much money it was, or what the stolen item was; stealing from comrades who trust you with their lives is beyond the pale. If you are a barracks thief, you can only pray to someday be preferable company to an intestinal fluke. After, one would hope, you got the beatdown you richly deserved.

At least this one got nailed.

Cause the communist party in space

The fact that there are now enough Chinese astronauts to make a formal commie party in space is interesting, I guess. I mean, nothing wrong with that if those are your rules for doing things.

This bit was kinda creepy though. From Yang Liwei, first Chinese astronaut in space:

Like foreign astronauts having their beliefs, we believe in communism, which is also a spiritual power

I believe in the holy power of the workers owning the means of production, and I thank His Eminence the Party Chair every day I am chained to this machine turning out fake vomit and Silly Putty. Amen.

[wik] Eh, looks like the linked story is crapping out. Well, it was about Chicoms in space. Until it works again, enjoy this picture of a Cheese Doodle sculpture.

First post. Here I go!

As a general rule, I don't write much about politics. Lord knows I have my own political views. Mr. Kate, I'm sure, would be happy to tell you how much fun it is to listen to my bilious gibberish during any given presidential address. However, in everyday life, I prefer to avoid it. It's pointless. If I'm with a group of people who share my political affiliation, then the conversation just seems like verbal wankery. And there is nothing I deplore more than, say, listening to a couple of half-drunk douches engaged in a scintillating debate about the socio-political implications of Roe v. Wade. How bloody original. Hey, who wants to do shots?

However ...

My mother is in the habit of forwarding me electronic manifestos that appear to have been written by some Cletus sitting around in his underwear and tube socks while on break from 24-hour online border surveillance. The one she sent me today, however, got me all riled up because it essentially implied that the vast majority who voted Democrat in the 2000 presidential election are/were tenement-dwelling, welfare-abusing murderers, and that the Democratic party is systematically destroying democracy as we know it.

So, after replying-all to the e-mail (thereby involving a large portion of my extended family) and feeling very self-satisfied with my thoughtful, intelligent response, I started digging around online and eventually realized that the offending e-mail was the apparently-notorious "Fall of the Athenian Republic," which has its own debunker page on snopes.com.

Ahem. Foot, this is Mouth. Mouth, Foot.

Lesson learned. Just more evidence that I have no business whatsoever talking about politics. Perhaps you'd like to hear a story about my cats?

Coast to coast in 32 hours or less.

Facinating discourse on the redemptive and cathartic power of cursing.

At one point back in mid-April, I stepped on the bathroom scale and was surprised by what I saw. Shocked, even. I was a solid fift...no, more precisely, I was a flabby fifteen pounds heavier than I thought, or believed, or fantasized, I was.

I finally reached a point where I was not only disappointed in my own appearance, but sickened.

So I started swimming, and after a couple months started regular Nautilus circuits. I ran a little during the day, but- as expected- it's a little too hard on my tibiae; treadmill might be better than the track in that regard, but I loathe treadmills.

Much of September was a total wash, due to a ridiculous side project I was working on, and frankly I needed that hour-a-night of gym time to work on it. I'm trying to get back into an exercise routine but that project is becoming like poop on your shoe, except for the most peritnent distinction: that the poop is paying you for being there.

Anyway, as of last Saturday I was down 31 pounds from my April grossness. Given the vagaries of the last six weeks or so, I probably scraped 30 in early September. All of my fat pants have gone to Goodwill, and a coupla pairs I bought to replace those are on their way out. But without all this extracurricular work, and a little more discipline, I would probably be closing in on 50 pounds by now. I've pushed that off to the end of the calendar year, but as long as my side work doesn't go away, the weight probably won't either.

But back on point, it's pretty sobering to lose 12-13% of your body weight and still be a fat bastard. I mean, I keep realistic goals in mind- like fitting into the shorts I bought months ago with the 32 waist. Looking like Brad Pitt in Fight Club is out of the question for a working slob who just crossed into the latter half of his 30s. But I know though that slicing off another 20, 25 pounds is possible and achievable (besides, I did it once before as a much younger man), and if I can look in the mirror and not feel nauseous, I think I've won.

And those 32 shorts: I can button them, but I look like a balloon with a rubber band around it.

Which is progress.

Ugliness ensues, and the internets get weakened.

You should read the whole Wired article, honestly. The money quote from Mr. Schneier:

Oddly enough, Storm isn't doing much, so far, except gathering strength. Aside from continuing to infect other Windows machines and attacking particular sites that are attacking it, Storm has only been implicated in some pump-and-dump stock scams. There are rumors that Storm is leased out to other criminal groups. Other than that, nothing.

Personally, I'm worried about what Storm's creators are planning for Phase II.

Be scared, but also be aware that breaking the internet for one country breaks it for all developed countries. The wonders of interconnectedness!