Alarming News: I like Morgan Freeberg. A lot.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: We were following a trackback and thinking "hmmm... this is a bloody excellent post!", and then we realized that it was just part III of, well, three...Damn. I wish I'd written those.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: ...I just remembered that I found a new blog a short while ago, House of Eratosthenes, that I really like. I like his common sense approach and his curiosity when it comes to why people believe what they believe rather than just what they believe.
Brutally Honest: Morgan Freeberg is an intriguing guy...[he] asks great questions and answers others with style, flair, reason and wit. On the blogroll he goes. Make him a part of your regular blogospheric reading. I certainly will.
Brutally Honest: Morgan Freeberg is brilliant.
Common Sense Junction: Misha @ Anti-Idiotarian never ceases to amaze me. He keeps finding other good blogs. I went over to A.I. this morning for my daily Misha fix and he had found this guy named Morgan Freeberg in Fair Oaks, California, that has a blog, House of Eratosthenes. Freeberg says its "The Blog That Nobody Reads" but it may now become the blog that everybody reads.
Jaded Haven: Good God, Morgan, you cover a topic from front to back with a screwy thoroughness I find mind boggling. I'm in awe of your thought proccesses, my friend, you're an exceptional talent. You start by throwing in the kitchen sink, tie in someone's syphilitic uncle, bend around a rip tide of brilliance and bring it all home in a neat, diamond dripping package of an exceptionally readable moment of damn fine wordsmithing. I love reading you.
Mein Blogovault: Make "the Blog that No One Reads" one of your daily reads.
Philmon: When Morgan meanders, stick with him - he's got a point and it'll be worth it in the end. He's not a hit-and-run snarky quip kind of guy. The pieces all fall into place like tumblers in a lock and bang! He's opened a cognative door for you.
Rightlinx: Morgan at House of Eratosthenes is one of the best writers out there. I read him nearly every day because he manages to provide an interesting perspective, even though I don't always agree.
Poetic Justice: Cletus! Ah gots a laiv one fer yew...
At the beginning of last month, I had read a study by a bunch of white-coat-propeller-beanie egghead scientists, which greatly intrigued me because it found favor with my pre-existing prejudices. That’s right, we treat scientifical studies the same way everybody else does here, except here, we admit it — studies need to be talked about favorably when they comport with what we already believed, and they should be criticized when they don’t.
This one needed to be analyzed at length, because it probed into just half of what we had observed before, and then sat around scratching it’s nuts, wondering “hmm, what could it mean???” without looking into the other half. Doncha just hate that? Silly propeller-beanie white-coat-wearing egghead scientists. There comes a time when having an open mind does little, save for letting the flies in. So…we filled in the stuff the propeller-beanie eggheads missed.
They were wondering this: Ritalin prescriptions, statistically, skyrocket after the parents of the subject have gotten divorced. Prescriptions for children of broken homes, more-or-less double compared to prescriptions for children of intact homes. What can it mean, what can it mean. And I said this: You’re messing around with the matriarch’s domain. Children are going to be prescribed what their mothers think they should be prescribed, because this is the turf of the Mom. She decides all. A zillion years of evolution condition men to do whatever it takes to obtain female approval before they’re born, and then eight years on the playground condition them to do whatever the female yard-duty teacher says — and to never, ever, ever pick on the girl. And then several decades of idiotic movies and television commercials condition men that they don’t know what the hell they’re talking about anyway.
And then there’s all those walls. They seem to represent a toe-hold into running the entire mansion. The “crystal ball” to her “evil sorceress.” Be it a house, or an apartment, a woman starts hanging her womanly things on the walls, and bam. Not a single thing goes on between those walls that fails to meet her approval. The place is hers. For some reason, men do not own those walls. Not even a tiny corner of the walls. So households are run by women…and in July of 2007, what we call “science” is just starting to figure this out.
All of which goes toward putting the woman in the driver’s seat when it comes to figuring out how boys are to be raised into men. After a divorce, not only do they have the authority to decide this…but they have the unilateral responsibility. Women are charged with figuring out how a boy is to become a man.
And they can’t handle it. A woman can write her name in the snow by pissing, more efficiently than she can turn a boy into a man. It’s not something she can do. She lacks the equipment.
The divorced Dad may not have these problems. He may not even approve of the Ritalin. It matters not…onto the prescription, the curtain-climbing critter goes. Mom wants it, she doesn’t see any way around it, so another prescription is written. We should not be surprised by that study. We should be surprised that Ritalin use doesn’t quadruple after divorce, instead of simply doubling.
Now, in order to substantiate that point, I first had to explore the power modern women have in putting their children on medication. Common sense says that women run a lot of things…what people observe in their everyday experiences, provided they’re open to them, supports the notion that women run a lot of things. But for forty years now we’ve been instructed to believe that women have come a long way, but are not there yet.
I can challenge my own theory easily: I want to hear of a family, wherein the Mom wanted the kid on something — treatment, meds, an after-school regimen, whatever — and the Dad didn’t, and the kid ended up not going on it. I dunno about you, but I never heard of such a thing. I don’t think I will, either. Women run this part of things.
And I went much further:
From what I’ve seen, and what I know…even in male-heavy households, every single room, every single wall, every single square inch — what the matriarch wants there, is what is there. What the matriarch doesn’t want there, doesn’t go. PERIOD. There doesn’t seem to be any limit on how far back-in-time this goes. In fact, from the information that has come to my attention…way back, generations ago, when men were supposed to be cheering each other on while we gave our wives black eyes and knocked their teeth out…the record seems to indicate something else. The record seems to indicate, Grandpa got home, put his shoes exactly where Grandma told him to put them, hung his coat where Grandma told him to hang it, and pretty much reconciled with whatever decorative scheme she had going on under that roof, until it was time to leave for work the following morning.
To the best of my knowledge, we’ve really been sold a bill of goods. I’m told men made all the decisions, but I haven’t gotten ahold of any solid information to help substantiate that. Speaking for myself, the best information I have is that men made all the decisions after they were dressed and out the door, and up until they crossed that threshold again at twilight. Just that 33% of the day. No more than that.
Women run the household. They rule the remaining sixteen hours. And here’s something else: How long has this been going on? Well, to the best I can see…not just for a mere chunk of the five millenia us guys are supposed to have been knocking their teeth out…but for all of that eon. Back to biblical times. Further than that, even.
Now we come to the point of this “Imitation is the Sincerest Form” posting. I don’t know if the clipboard-carrying white-coat propeller-beanie wearing eggheads at Iowa State University (ISU) read my blog. I would think hardly anybody does. But how then do you explain this gem, which popped last week all around the innernets, and has come to be one of those “everyone else is blogging about it, I might as well do it too” things. It seems our egghead academics have become open to the idea that perhaps the Daughters of Eve are not quite as powerless as we were — well, not as powerless as we were instructed to believe.
According to a study by Iowa State University (ISU), women have more power than their husbands when it comes to taking control in discussions and making decisions. Men might “wear the pants” but women are the ones who tell them which pair to put on.
The new study goes against previous research, showing men might be the ones who puff up their chests at work, but at home, women are the ones in charge.
“The study at least suggests that the marriage is a place where women can exert some power,” lead author David Vogel, a psychologist at Iowa State University (ISU), told LiveScience. “Whether or not it’s because of changing societal roles, we don’t know.”
Vogel and his team looked at 72 married couples, each averaging 33 years of age and having been married for about seven years. Two-thirds of the participants were Caucasian, 22 per cent Asian, 5 per cent Hispanic and 4 per cent African American. The remaining 3 per cent were classed as “other.”
Vogel says his study ran counter to what is typically believed about the relationship at home. He says traditional beliefs about men include them making more money in the work place, therefore being the key decision-maker at home. However, that is not the case according to Vogel.
And before all the men out there say “It’s only because she talks more,” researchers have already said this is not the case.
“It wasn’t just that the women were bringing up issues that weren’t being responded to, but that the men were actually going along with what they said,” ISU researcher and professor, Megan Murphy, said in a news release. “They were communicating more powerful messages, and men were responding to those messages by agreeing or giving in.”
I’ve been robbed, but I’m not calling the police. I’m quite flattered.
And I would add further, that to the nobodies who read The Blog That Nobody Reads, this isn’t leading-edge science. Not even close.
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