The Dress

Who knits their own wedding dress? A crazy person…like me.

C’mon WoW. Save our economy!

When even NPR’s Wait, Wait…Don’t Tell Me host, Peter Sagal, refers to the current economic situation as a “cluster bleep”, you know we’re in trouble. Part of the problem is that no one can be quite sure how to fix it because economics isn’t the sort of science that lends itself to rigorous experimentation. I mean, what are you supposed to do? Create two societies with real people and different economic structures, and watch and see what happens? Well…maybe.

My message to the President (seriously, I actually sent this a few minutes ago):

“Wouldn’t it benefit stimulus policy debates if economic theory could be tested? Economic theory is impossible to test on real people, but isn’t it possible to approximate an experiment in the virtual economies of mmorpgs (massively multi-player online role playing games)? Popular mmorpgs already have organic societies and economies that, with some alterations, could reflect economic realities. Current software designers and players could easily be called to serve in experiments. Think about it.”

Oh, how I hope that somehow gets to the right geek on his staff. At minimum, I want someone on government payroll to go, “Huh,” before deleting it.

I only had 500 characters to send an online message to the White House and I used 499 of them. Otherwise I might have explained a bit further. If you’re staring at your screen bewildered, here’s what my old standby Wikipedia says, condensed for your convenience:

A mmorpg is a computer game in which a large number of players interact with one another in a virtual world. Mmorpgs are distinguished from many other games by the number of players and by the persistent world, which continues to exist and evolve while the player is away from the game.

I don’t personally play any mmorpgs, but I know people who love them. As an anthropologist, I find the whole concept pretty fascinating, particularly the economic systems.

Awaiting the White House’s response,

Betty

Does anyone want to get into a who’s-the-bigger-nerd-fight with me?

So, I’m watching the Miss America Pageant. You know, as one would watch a train full of over eager, civic-minded bikini models careen at full speed into a Las Vegas convention center. That’s pretty much what the pageant is, except Mario Lopez commentates and somebody wins.

I’m watching the beginning…

Oh, my goodness. I’m writing this as I’m watching it, and Miss Hawaii just took to the stage for the talent competition in the most distracting white feathered outfit (?), term definitely used loosely, I have ever seen. Somewhere Bjork’s swan dress is dying of shame.

Anyway, where was I?

I’m watching the beginning part when they introduce the contestants, and then the judges (which always include really random men like former Olympians), and then they get to the auditors who tally all of the judges’ score cards during commercial breaks. And, I think to myself, that’s where I would want to be…at the nerds’ table…with a calculator.

Miss Florida is, I’m not kidding, dancing in a sequined apron with a frying pan as a prop to the song “I Can Cook, Too.” Somebody tell the nerds with the calculators that we’ve found the ideal American woman. I have got to sign off or this is going to become a nonstop snarky commentary a mile long.

Heaven help us,

Betty

Frozen-solid things I saw today:

1. a big pool of spit

2. a pickle in a bag

(If you’re not familiar with this, it’s exactly what it sounds like – a huge, fat gherkin encased in a plastic bag filled with brine. It was frozen into a solid, opaque, wholly unappetizing picksickle.)

3. Chicago

Why Can’t the English Teach Their Children How to Pray?

The following comes from two emails sent between Betty and one of our intra-pondary friends. Betty and I have noticed a trend among some English to be very outwardly disapproving of Christianity with a fervor and gusto that they seem to reserve only for the aforementioned topic and also pudding.

This is the first email which was forwarded to a group of friends after Betty received it from her (ahem) well intentioned aunt.

“To: YOU
Date: TODAY
From: GOD
Subject: YOURSELF
Reference: LIFE

This is God. Today I will be handling All of your problems for you.
I do Not need your help. So, have a nice day.
I love you.

P.S. And, remember…
If life happens to deliver a situation to you that you cannot handle,
do Not attempt to resolve it yourself! Kindly put it in the SFGTD
(something for God to do) box. I will get to it in MY TIME. All
situations will be resolved, but in My time, not yours.

Once the matter is placed into the box, do not hold onto it by
worrying about it. Instead, focus on all the wonderful things that
are present in your life now.

If you find yourself stuck in traffic, don’t despair. There are people
in this world for whom driving is an unheard of privilege.

Should you have a bad day at work; think of the man who has been out
of work for years.

Should you despair over a relationship gone bad; think of the person
who has never known what it’s like to love and be loved in return.

Should you grieve the passing of another weekend; think of the woman
in dire straits, working twelve hours a day, seven days a week to feed
her children.

Should your car break down, leaving you miles away from assistance;
think of the paraplegic who would love the opportunity to take that
walk.

Should you notice a new gray hair in the mirror; think of the cancer
patient in chemo who wishes she had hair to examine.

Should you find yourself at a loss and pondering what is life all
about, asking what is my purpose? Be thankful. There are those who
didn’t live long enough to get the opportunity.

Should you find yourself the victim of other people’s bitterness,
ignorance, smallness or insecurities; remember, things could be worse.
You could be one of them!

Should you decide to send this to a friend; Thank you. You may have
touched their life in ways you will never know!
Now, you have a nice day.
God

God has seen you struggling,
God says it’s over.
A blessing is coming your way. If you believe in God, please send to
ten people (including me) please don’t ignore this.
You are being tested.”

I find that last sentence particularly creepy.

This next email was a response from one of our former colonizers, Jay.*

“To: God
Date: Today
Subject: Magical Problem Solving Box Mysteriously Absent
Reference: Please Advise

Dear God,

Thanks so much for your advice, which essentially seems to be a series
of increasingly melodramatic restatements of the form “Don’t feel bad
about all the bad things that happen to you – other people are in
worse situations than you!”. You have no idea how much that helps me
as a life philosophy.

I must admit I am a touch concerned that there does not appear to be a
“Something For God To Do” box in my immediate vicinity. Normally I
would look for one, or even try and build my own, but I see from your
advice that this constitutes a Problem, something am Not permitted to
try and solve for myself. Never mind, surely one will manifest in the
next few days. Perhaps I should just think of all the people who have
a phobia of being in a room with boxes, and who would kill to be in
the splendidly container free environs You have chosen to bless me
with. Or maybe those people, but also on fire and being laughed at by
small children, or something. That would definitely be worse! Yes! I
fully embrace your weird schadenfreude fuelled worldview!

You’re the best, God. I can’t wait until my magic problem-eating-box
gets here so you can deal with all my problems on whatever schedule
you passive-aggressively decide is appropriate.

Yours in eager anticipation,”

Jay

Amen!

*Name has been changed to make the writer feel like a bad ass member of the underground patriarchy resistance.

More fiber, stat!!!

Hooray for the internet and lovely, charitable people who take the time to self-produce and publish high quality instructional video files.  I knit already, of course (to borrow a phrase from other knit-addicts, “I knit so I do not kill people”), but up until just recently I have remained entirely immune to the spinning bug.  A while ago Bird taught me how to spin a little on a drop spindle.  Thanks Bird!  At first I dropped more than I actually spun, and Bird is far too far away (sniff) to keep teaching me.  However, I needn’t despair because found these fantastic instructional videos!  Check out www.theartofmegan.com for practical instruction on drafting, spinning and finishing on a drop spindle.  Or, check it out if the previous sentence seemed to be written in a foreign language and you’d like it translated.  After Megan helped me start spinning through my second little bunch of fiber I can say with total confidence that I have been bitten by the spinning bug.  I have been bitten hard and there is no cure; one can only treat this affliction with copious amounts of fiber.  More fiber, stat!!!

– Betty

P.S. Vote on Megan’s threadless t-shirt design here.

P.P.S. Thanks to the Farmer’s Almanac I know- “Stat,” used as a directive to medical personnel during in an emergency situation, is from the Latin word statim, which means “instantly” or “immediately.”  Interesting.

Bonobo Knows.

Excerpt from NY Times aritcle:

Bonobo apes and humans share 98 percent of the same genes, leading
some biologists to suggest that they, along with chimpanzees, should be
reclassified as members of the human genus. While their gestures,
postures, walk, and facial expressions have remarkable similarities to ours,
however, their social behavior is quite different.

Bonobos live in a peaceful matriarchy characterized by egalitarian
relationships. Power and status are of minimal concern. They build and
maintain social rapport with frequent erotic exchanges of every variety,
from intercourse to mutual masturbation to oral sex. Homosexual and
cross-generational contact is common.

“Bonobos use sex to appease, to bond, to make up after a fight, to ease
tensions, to cement alliances,” writes Natalie Angier in The New York
Times. Because it’s their social glue, says primatologist Dr. Frans de Waal,
author of *Bonobo: The Forgotten Ape,* sex is casual and free of
elaborate taboos. Unlike humans, bonobos are not obsessed with orgasm.
Their reproductive rate is similar to that of other primates.

“All of this has relevance for understanding the roots of human nature,”
concludes Angier. “De Waal corrects the image of humanity’s ancestors
as driven by aggression, hierarchical machinations, hunting, warfare, and
male dominance.”

(Source: Natalie Angier, *The New York Times,* April 22, 1997)

Thanks Lisa for sending me this article!

 Bonobos have been getting more and more attention lately as primatologists insist that we are most closely related to them than Gombe Chimpanzees. I hope so! They make a lot more love and other chimps make a lot more war. If Bonobos and humans are sistertaxa (meaning they are eachothers most closely related species on the evolutionary tree), then it is feasible that we can get rid of this ‘man is inherently violent’ stuff that our culture subscribes to. Not to mention, uses as an excuse for war and bad literature (I hate Lord of the Flies).

Thoughts?

-Bird

Holy Freakin’ Cute!

Or as my Japanese students would have said, “kawaiiiiiiiii!!!!!!” 

Designer Anna Hrachovec is amazing and I want to live in Mochimochi Land, her world of adorable and bizarre knitted toys.  Check out Sausage Dogs below.

 

Oh, Mr. Rochester!

At least he’s not hiding a mad wife in the attic.

This is how far our dating standards have fallen. Allow me to explain. Always the subject of men’s admiration, of late Bird has also been the unfortunate object of men’s petty fears, insecurities, and ridiculous immaturities. Bird is just one of those unique and confident gals hetero guys usually regard with a mingling of awe, respect and disbelief, which is precisely the problem. A relationship with a woman like Bird requires intelligence, energy, integrity, self-esteem and the maturity to know what you want and pursue it. So many guys are drawn to Bird and bask in her presence for a short while before retreating in a dust cloud of fear and unreturned phone calls.

It’s a variation of the Groucho Marx syndrom- guys (and surely girls as well) who couldn’t stand to be a member of any club that would have them as a member. In order to be with someone you respect, you have to respect yourself. Otherwise, you’ll wonder why your partner is debasing themselves by going out with a lowlife like you. Much better to just date someone you couldn’t respect in the first place.

That’s just one of the guy follies that have converged on Bird lately. She’s got another suitor who’s not sure he’s up to a multidate relationship. After all, one more lovely Saturday together is an enormous commitment. You’re practically married at that point. Much better to just ignore her for a while so the next time you see each other it’ll be like another first date all over again. In the immortal words of our mutual ex-roommate Evan, “This girl thinks for herself. I’m outta here!” (In fairness to Evan, you should know that he was mocking boys who think that way when he said that.)

Here’s where the mad wife comes in. When Bird called to tell me her latest string of irksome, straight-out-of-a-middle-school-hallway encounters with men (if they can even be called such), I was watching a melodramatic and hilarious Masterpiece theater adaptation of Jane Eyre. Bird and I agreed that no matter how ridiculous our suitors have been, at least we can reasonably assume we will never find a mad, murderous Caribbean wife in a date’s attic. (If you have no idea what I’m talking about read Jane Eyre. Read it immediately!)

The fact that this is a consolation is truly alarming. Just when we thought we had hit rock bottom in the pit of dating-despair, a trap door opened up under our feet and dropped us to new, unknown depths. Lucky for us, a big pile of immature guys with banal insecurities broke our fall.

-Betty

I love this! Someone posing as a Wall Street analyst has been crashing earnings conference calls and asking CEOs (who like to say as little about profits and especially losses as possible) really tough questions about things such as “price per hectoliter.” Nerdiest prank call ever.

-Betty