I come from Alabama
With my banjo on my knee
I'm going to Louisiana,
My true love for to see

It rained all night
The day I left
The weather it was dry
The sun so hot,
I froze to death
Susanna, don't you cry

Oh, Susanna,
Oh don't you cry for me
For I come from Alabama
With my banjo on my knee

I had a dream the other night
When everything was still
I thought I saw Susanna
A-coming down the hill

The buckwheat cake
Was in her mouth
The tear was
In her eye
Says I, I'm coming from the south
Susanna, don't you cry

Oh, Susanna,
Oh don't you cry for me
For I come from Alabama
With my banjo on my knee

lyrics - Stephen Foster

Actual original lyrics.

I've been joking with someone near and dear about coming back from Alabama with a banjo on his knee, so thought I'd look up additional lyrics.  I learned this song as a kid, of course, with the above sanitized lyrics.  Little did I know it was actually a minstrel song.

It's pernicious to strip something of its original intent and then present it as being harmless.  Many of those songs I sang with my grandfather on his  back porch, years ago, were "cleaned up" minstrel songs.  It would have been better if they'd been left with their racist lyrics, and I'd learned other songs.

Mah fellow aMurkans, do please outrage your Puritan neighbors by erecting a Maypole. I'd be sneaking through a neighboring village's outskirts to have my purely secular way with their Maypole, but alas... none have been erected.

Today is my labor day. Unfortunately, former president Grover Cleveland didn't agree. You'd think he wouldn't have had a problem with riots, considering the Stamp Act.

Rather than offering me a sprig of Lily-of-the-Valley, I'd prefer the whole plant. If you can't manage a plant, a few pips would do.

...weather permitting.

I'm sure everyone's already heard, but for those who might have forgotten and would like a reminder: Don't forget about the lunar eclipse tonight. It'll be visible from the Americas, Africa, Europe, and the Central Pacific.

It starts around 8:43 p.m. ET (that's 7:43 p.m. Central, 6:43 p.m. Mountain and 5:43 p.m. Pacific). Sorry such Americas-and-English-language-centric time. Google is your friend if you don't know the adjustment for your time zone.

I've heard varying reports about when the eclipse will be full, but I'm going to take NASA's word for it that 10:01 PM ET is when the total eclipse begins.

NASA's page about this eclipse.

Good luck hitting the above linked page, as I suspect the server is being hit hard.

Some info. on how to photograph an eclipse.

As much as I'd love to take my own photos, I'm not taking my camera outside, as it's bloody cold.

A Thanksgiving Prayer
by William S. Burroughs

To John Dillinger, in hope he is still alive.
Thanksgiving Day, November 28, 1986.

Thanks for the wild turkey and the passenger pigeons, destined to be shit out through wholesome American guts.

Thanks for a continent to despoil and poison.

Thanks for Indians to provide a modicum of challenge and danger.

Thanks for vast herds of bison to kill and skin leaving the carcasses to rot.

Thanks for bounties on wolves and coyotes.

Thanks for the American dream, to vulgarize and to falsify until the bare lies shine through.

Thanks for the KKK.

For nigger-killin' lawmen, feelin' their notches.

For decent church-goin' women, with their mean, pinched, bitter, evil faces.

Thanks for "Kill a Queer for Christ" stickers.

Thanks for laboratory AIDS.

Thanks for Prohibition and the war against drugs.

Thanks for a country where nobody's allowed to mind their own business.

Thanks for a nation of finks.

Yes, thanks for all the memories-- all right let's see your arms!

You always were a headache and you always were a bore.

Thanks for the last and greatest betrayal of the last and greatest of human dreams.

I've decided, once again, to celebrate through December 4th. It gives all those people who say things like "Oh, if I'd known it was your birthday, I'd have given you  _______________.", or "Oh, if I'd known it was your birthday, I'd have wished you a happy one".   It's never too late.

Unfortunately, erasmushad to leave early in the morning for a work related training conference. He'll be gone through next Friday. Since most of my old Vermont friends magically vanished during the nine years I lived in Vermont, I went it alone in Burlington.  My new atheist friend (some day I'll go on about why I mention she's an atheist), lives too far away for me to drive to Burlington, then down to her place.  I'm sure she had her kids for the weekend, which would limit how far she could drive.  Anyhow, it was my birthday, and I didn't want to have to cater to the two finickiest eaters I know (her kids).

 

erasmus was having ankle problems, so we stayed home. Since we live on a rural road, everyone takes their kids into Rutland for the parade and candy, or Brandon just for candy. I miss handing out candy bribes to kids. The last place we lived, we actually got door-to-door traffic and saw some great costumes.

The Rutland Halloween Parade has ties with the comic world. Once upon a time, various superhero comic book writers showed up as guests of honor and/or sporting costumes. The Rutland Herald posted some photos of this year's parade. From my cable access channel viewpoint, I didn't see one comicbook superhero or heroine.

It's been said and written that the parade is the longest running and largest Halloween parade in the US.   Of course, other areas with Halloween parades think that they have the largest parade.   I suppose I'll let the Guinness Book sort them out.

I ventured out briefly to pick up some last minute candy, just in case some Trick or Treaters actually did show up. We had some Hershey's minis that came free with purchase of printer ink, but all that was left were dregs. I'd procrastinated carefully timed my departure to allow enough time to return home and meet beggars with candy in hand, and a couple of  bakery treats for Mr. Bad Ankle and myself.

Of course, my old alter ego horned in on errands. Most people didn't bat an eye, especially not the kids darting door to door in costume. However, I did get a couple of dirty looks.   At least no one came on to me, as has happened in the past.  I mean... I just wanted to buy some candy and a couple of fruit tarts. 

The following was posted on an OKCupid journal by a young woman as "Dictionary for decoding personal ads". I find it interesting that a woman posted this, and that she took out "women's" from the title. She got it from Craig's List, and found the last entry particularly clever.



Ø 40-ish..................................49.
Ø Adventurous..........................Slept with everyone.
Ø Athletic................................No breasts.
Ø Average looking.....................Moooo.
Ø Beautiful..............................Pathological liar.
Ø Emotionally Secure..................On medication.
Ø Feminist...............................Fat.
Ø Free Spirit.................................Junkie.
Ø Friendship first.......................Former Slut.
Ø New-Age.........................Body hair in the wrong places.
Ø Old-fashioned........................No B.J.'s
Ø Open-minded.........................Desperate.
Ø Outgoing..............................Loud and embarrassing.
Ø Professional................. ..........Bitch.
Ø Voluptuous...........................Very fat.
Ø Large frame...........................Hugely fat.
Ø Wants soul mate.....................Stalker.

Here's where it appeared originally:

http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/all/

I must say, the two times I was literally stalked by men were just a laugh riot.

Would someone who has a bit more time than I do at the moment please explain why this is misogynistic? I'm behind on Halloween preparations, and someone needs to offset the usual cluelessness like "Yes, but if I posted a list aimed at men, would that still make this one misogynistic?"

Fiends on MyDisgrace and OKStupid, please to be forgiving of redundancy.

Voting ends July 9th at 11:59 PT. Please don't wait to vote!

Fourteen Springfields across the US are vying to host the hometown premiere of The Simpsons Movie. To cast your vote for Springfield, Vermont click the star located under Springfield, Vermont on the USA today website. You can only vote once in this contest. D'oh!

To view the video, (or the videos the 13 other Springfields submitted), you need a broadband Internet connection and the latest Flash plug-in (version 8 or higher).

P.S. I don't live in Springfield, Vermont, but I think it is worthy.

According to About.com: Geography, the Summer Solstice is 2:06 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time (18:06 UTC).

I suspect the Southern Hemispher's Winter Solstice is around the same time.

Our power was out from about 7:30 AM on Monday until some time yesterday. Thirty-three hours, according to He Who Keeps Better Tabs On Such Things than me. That Nor'easter that screeched through here almost knocked-out our entire county.

After the initial "Wah!", I went into "our power could be out for quite some time" mode. I ate the ice cream before it melted. One must have priorities.

Then, I moved the most perishables into a cooler with the ice units from the freezer. I did not, alas, make it into the shower before we lost water pressure upstairs, nor before the water in the hot water heater cooled down. Thankfully, we have a propane-run stove, so I was able to boil water.

More than 50,000 CVPS customers lost power in Monday's storm, as winds gusted up to 70 mph.

Browsing the cheap-o bargain store the other day, I espied an odd product in the "feminine hygiene" section.

Femtex tampons.

Please accept this invitation to "Lost", the next internet phenomenon. If you don't, I'm going to be eliminated from the game.

About the game:
"This game is a student project that aims to show how 7 million people connect and become the game with the most number of players ever. It's about finding new ways of communicating an idea and crossing the boundary between the internet and the real world.

You can join the game if you find an invitation. An invitation is an internet address that looks like this: www.lost.eu/example - but instead of the word 'example' there are some random numbers and letters.

There are invitations written everywhere - from beaches in Mexico to train stations in Poland - on the internet and in reality.

Once you have joined, you can win by scoring points. To score points you must invite other people to the game in the most creative way possible, using a unique link that is given to you. www.lost.eu/yourlink
Each time you invite someone, a timer on your profile resets. If it ever reaches zero, you lose.

When the game reaches 7 million players the player who has survived with the highest score will win $5000, and the top ten $500 each. A prize will also be given to the best photograph of an invitation.

Is there something else? Maybe. And if you can survive until Level 2 without losing the game, maybe you will find out ... "

I have studied many philosophers and many cats. The wisdom of cats is infinitely superior." - Hippolyte Taine

"There are two means of refuge from the miseries of life: music and cats." - Albert Schweitzer

"Cats know how to obtain food without labor, shelter without confinement, and love without penalties." - W. L. George

"A cat has absolute emotional honesty: human beings, for one reason or another, may hide their feelings, but a cat does not." - Ernest Hemingway

"Cats can be cooperative when something feels good, which, to a cat, is the way everything is supposed to feel as much of the time as possible." - Roger Caras

"We should be careful to get out of an experience only the wisdom that is in it and stop there, lest we be like the cat that sits down on a hot stove-lid. She will never sit down on a hot stove-lid again, and that is well; but also she will never sit down on a cold one anymore." - Mark Twain

"I rarely meddled in the cat's personal affairs and she rarely meddled in mine. Neither of us was foolish enough to attribute human emotions to our pets." - Kinky Friedman

“Ignorant people think it's the noise which fighting cats make that is so aggravating, but it ain't so; it's the sickening grammar they use.” ---Mark Twain

"You can keep a dog; but it is the cat who keeps people, because cats find humans useful domestic animals."- George Mikes

"Cats' hearing apparatus is built to allow the human voice to easily go in one ear and out the other." - Stephen Baker

"The mathematical probability of a common cat doing exactly as it pleases is the one scientific absolute in the world." - Lynn M. Osband

"The cat is domestic only as far as suits its own ends..." - Saki

"If you are worthy of its affection, a cat will be your friend, but never your slave."- Theophile Gautier

"Cats are smarter than dogs. You can't get eight cats to pull a sled through snow." - Jeff Valdez

"One of the most striking differences between a cat and a lie is that a cat only has nine lives." - Mark Twain

"A dog is like a liberal, he wants to please everybody. A cat doesn't really need to know that everybody loves him." - William Kunstler

"Poets generally love cats--because poets have no delusions about their own superiority."- Marion Garretty

When I first heard this neologism bandied about, I thought... oh, hurrah! A word that describes me! Another descriptor I can add to my parade of hyphens!

But then, I found out how the creator had defined the word, and decided it wasn't quite my cuppa. According to the Urban Dictionary:

1. sapiosexual

One who finds intelligence the most sexually attractive feature.

for the most part, true sapiosexuals do not exist, and instead are merely pansexual intellectual snobs

(Heh! I love the second sentence. Woo hoo! I am a pansexual intellectual snob!)

"Me? I don't care too much about the plumbing. I want an incisive, inquisitive, insightful, irreverent mind. I want someone for whom philosophical discussion is foreplay. I want someone who sometimes makes me go ouch due to their wit and evil sense of humor. I want someone that I can reach out and touch randomly. I want someone I can cuddle with.

I decided all that means that I am sapiosexual."

The quoted bit is (as I remember) from "Wolfieboy" on LiveJournal, who may have created it, as I haven't seen any older references than 2002.

Anyhow, I'm not keen on the concept of "foreplay". In my experience people (mostly men) use it as a precursor term to Tab A into Slot B, or any activity leading to orgasm... but mostly Tab A into Slot B. Orgasm is not the end-all and be-all. Activities often thought of as "foreplay" can stand alone, as far as I'm concerned. Therefore, I don't use the term "foreplay" in any context.

As for "fucking with people's minds", the only time I've heard that concept used has been in a manipulative sense, similar to "mind games". Definitely not my cuppa.

When I brought this to the attention of the person in question, he made all sorts of assumptions about me, and patted me on the head. Anyone who knows me well has seen how rumbley I get when I've been patronized. O, the flashing eyes! The gnashing teeth!

Maybe I can create a more inclusive term that doesn't use "foreplay" or "mind fucking" in the definition. That's not even to mention poor reading comprehension fornicating with assumptions. Who knows how some people ever get into their lofty ivory tower?

Ah yes... the matter of plumbing. Saying/writing something like "plumbing doesn't matter to me" sounds similar to "I don't see color". Of course plumbing matters, even if you are pansexual! The plumbing you're born with (or reassigned, in some cases) ends up dictating how you're indoctrinated... er... enculturated, and also how you are treated by society at large. We don't live in a glorious gender-neutral utopia just yet.

Once I have created this new, improved term... everyone can fawn at my feet. I will smile beneficently all around.

***
Edit: Alas. ""fucking with people's minds" is not listed in the Urban Dictionary. It is listed in one of the creator's LJ journal posts about the term. I don't feel up to linking.

As much as I enjoy pranks, I don't see any reason to limit them to April Fool's Day. Early on in my LiveJournal sojourn, I stayed up all night to switch my journal around. The objective was to make it look like someone had hijacked it. How was this accomplished? Possibly the pastel pink theme, or "Britney Speers" as a listed interest.

As I remember, I also changed the privacy settings on about a month's worth of journal posts to "private", so they wouldn't show up unless someone worked hard to click through links. Then, I think I complained about my parents in a few posts, and got all soppy about my boyfriend in lots more. I think I threw in something about how I hated school, too. Oh, and... the obligatory quizzes and "memes".

Of course, I don't remember exactly. Pranks tend to be ephemeral. It was an awful lot of work to confuse people for a day.

No holiday in the Eve L. universe is complete without a link to its history: April Fool's Day Origins.

I've been sitting on my hands, twiddling my thumbs, and now... hands will fly.

This journal will no longer be work safe. Yeah, verily... I will often not be using the LJ Cut. A friend with dial-up made a request eons ago. How can I not honor it?

I doubt this point in cyberspace will burn anyone's eye sockets. It won't be incredibly more exciting than it's already been. But, as I have inadvertently offended a former friend, I feel I should issue a statement for those accustomed to the same ol' bump-and-grind.

...won't be riding on the dashboard of my car.

Plastic Jesus is an entirely different matter.

"I don't care if it rains or freezes
'Long as I got my Plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car.
Through my trials and tribulations
And my travels through the nations
With my Plastic Jesus I'll go far.

Plastic Jesus! Plastic Jesus,
Riding on the dashboard of my car
I'm afraid He'll have to go.
His magnets ruin my radio
And if I have a wreck He'll leave a scar."

Oops, I did it again. I signed up for yet another social networking disservice. You might be saying to yourself, "Self, she does this all the time... she signs up, then she deletes her profile. Why should I be bothered to add her as a friend?"

You'd be right. Why should you trust me? I have been so fickle in the past.

This time, believe me... I won't be deleting my MySpace profile. Feel free to add me as your friend, even if we've never met, and/or talked on the phone, and/or seen each other in the flesh.

You'll be seeing the real, unexpurgated me.

How can I keep from singing?

I recently read Pope Joan, a novel by Donna Woolfolk Cross. It was enjoyable until it devolved into a romance novel. Not that I have anything against romance novels in general, as I've read a few that were excellent. Mostly, I find them boring. Not that I find romance boring, as long as it's egalitarian romance.

Anyhow, the book did have me in its grip until Johanna felt the first stirrings of romance, but I continued to read because I wanted to see how Ms. Woolfolk Cross would deal with historical facts of the age. The European Dark Ages are not my forte, but then what historical period is? As far as I know, she dealt with them quite well, although I have heard that Vikings did not go into battle with horned helms. That was the only anachronism I could find.

I may have fallen back on the reading wagon, as I hadn't read a book completely for quite some time. Amazing what the deadline pressure of a book reading group will do. The next book for our library reading group is on death and dying. Woo hoo! As if there wasn't enough of that in "Pope Joan". At least the next book won't have quite so much torture.

Today's wee tidbit of excitement was finding out that Lola will be portraying Pope Joan in an upcoming film.

Mah Faylow aMurkans,

You will appear uninformed, nay... possibly even ignorant if you state that today is "St. Patty's Day". There is no "St. Patty". I should know, once upon a time I read my "Lives of the Saints" from cover-to-cover. I was a good Catholic girl, who could expect less? Now I think the book would be a good primer for sadists and masochists, but that's a subject for another day.

The man honored today by the Roman Catholic church and breweries is known in English as St. Patrick. The correct diminutive is "St. Pat". In Irish, he's known as St. Padraig. "Padraig" is the Irish form of the Latin name, "Patricius". The diminutive of "Padraig" is "Paddy". "Patrick" also has evolved from the original Latin.

So, if your spell checker changes "St. Paddy" to "St. Patty", you might want to attend to that. "Patty" is a diminutive of "Patricia", which is a female's name. I personally don't take issue with men who want to name themselves Patricia/Patti, or women who want to call themselves Patrick/Pat. Just try to get your diminutives matching, as I don't think the saint would be amused.

The operative word in "shepherd's pie" is "shepherd". What do shepherds do? They herd sheep. Somehow, that's cleverly been included right in the word. So when someone tries to fob off shepherd's pie that's made with beef and no mutton (or even lamb), you'll know its counterfeit. Accept nothing less than the authentic article!

Green beer?! Unless the Irish Tourist Board has totally caved to Murkan tourist dollars, no one in Ireland drinks green beer. As far as I know, it would take extraordinary measures to turn a good stout green. I'd be a bit concerned as to what this process does to my innards beyond the effect of alcohol. Murkan Lager has traditionally only been good for trapping slugs in the garden, so I don't care how it's been tampered. Just keep in mind that green beer is a Murkan invention, and not something that's traditional in Ireland, for accuracy's sake.

The traditional Irish meal on St. Patrick's day is bacon (quite a different article in Ireland) and cabbage. Notice that nowhere in that sentence was corned beef mentioned? That's right... corned beef is not traditionally Irish. The proper place for corned beef is on a Reuben sandwich. It's highly probable that this tradition followed by people of Irish descent in the USA was born in New York City's Kosher delis.

Please don't get me started on "stage Irish". Why is it that people who claim vehemently and vociferously to be "Irish" run around spouting phrases that were actually spoken by people belittling the Irish? No one in Ireland greets anyone with "Top of the mornin'" unless they're mocking a US touron.

Same with "Erin Go Bragh". "Bragh" does not exist in the Irish language. I've also seen "bragh" spelled "brach", i.e. "Erin go brach". Well... "brach" means "pus" in Irish. As Tim Murphy points out in his helpful page "Irish Phrases... that drive me NUTS!": Erin is the anglicisation of the Irish word Éireann which translates literally to "Of Ireland"; the actual word in Irish for just plain "Ireland" is Éire. He also muses on other possibilities of what someone could have meant by "bragh". I find it all amusing. Thanks to Tim Murphy, I don't have to reinvent the wheel.

The traditional way to celebrate St. Patrick's Day is to attend mass. Want some authentic Irish street cred? Find yourself a local Catholic church, and get down on bended knee.

Earlier fluffy snow has morphed into freezing rain. It crackles against our windows. I liked it better when it was more like a soft pillow than knives and daggers.

The wind almost howls, with the occasional bellow. Oh, now it is howling. Now it's catching its breath.

I hurt my right shoulder shoveling snow the other day, still from The Great St. Valentine's Blizzard of 2007. I also broke my faithful snow shovel's handle. That snow shovel has been a good tool longer than I've been in any lovership. It's now possible that erasmus and I (as a configuration of domestic partnership) will outlive my shovel, unless I can fix the handle.

via chr0me_kitten, from skywardprodigal, originally (?) from I CAN HAS CHEEZBURGER?

Stephen Colbert is now an ice cream flavor.

Americone Dream is "a decadent melting pot of vanilla ice cream with fudge-covered waffle cone pieces and a caramel swirl. It’s the sweet taste of liberty in your mouth. Colbert believes AmeriCone Dream can make a difference. 'I’m not afraid to say it. Dessert has a well-known liberal agenda. What I hope to do with this ice cream is bring some balance back to the freezer case.'"

"Stephen Colbert is donating his proceeds from the sale of AMERICONE DREAM to charity through The Stephen Colbert AmeriCone Dream Fund. The Fund will support charities of concern to Stephen such as food and medical assistance for disadvantaged children, helping veterans and their familes, and environmental causes. Said Colbert, 'I will save the world.'"

On Monday March 5th Ben & Jerry’s co-founders Ben Cohen & Jerry Greenfield are scheduled to appear as guests on The Colbert Report.

Not only did the lovely neighbors help shovel out enough of the driveway by hand just before the blizzard slammed us in full, the Lovely Husband came back on the evening of the 15th with a big ol' bucket loader and moved large quantities of snow out of the way. No charge!

How does this make them different than many of our other neighbors? Well... many of our other neighbors have offered to do all sorts of things for a nominal fee. I'm not sure if it's because we live in the newest house in the neighborhood (circa 1981) and people think we have money to burn, or if it's because wages are low in the area and people are always looking for ways to increase their modest income. Maybe it's both, or maybe something I haven't considered, or...

Anyhow, it does irk me slightly that my first conversation with some has involved them wanting money I don't have. To their credit, no one has been rude, although one was a bit pushy. She wanted to sell me Mary Kay, and seemed to think that the best way to do this was for her to come into my home and display her wares. I declined, as I don't use make-up, and am not keen on encouraging yet another pyramid scheme.

Last Fall, I did buy popcorn from the Lovely Boy next door, as I already had a relationship with his family. I'm more than happy to help out people with various fundraising when I can, but I'm not keen on the only relationship I have with a neighbor being when they want my money.

erasmus finally drove the car out on Saturday, the 17th. He had to shovel out the end of the driveway even more because the snow was still deep enough that the car tires just spun and spun. I would have helped, but I was going over Red Niagara Falls in a barrel.

Someone might do the math and think "Oh, you were snowed-in for three days!" It really wasn't that big of a deal, because I stocked up on the 13th. Our propane company had just filled the tank last week. Our fuel oil tank is mostly full. Our electricitiy rarely goes out. We're in a good situation, but we'd be in an even better situation with a wood stove.

Then, if the power did go out, we could have our Lovely Neighbors over to sit in front of the woodstove and talk about the weather.