Alarming News: I like Morgan Freeberg. A lot.
American Digest: And I like this from "The Blog That Nobody Reads", because it is -- mostly -- about me. What can I say? I'm on an ego trip today. It won't last.
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 brilliant.
Dr. Melissa Clouthier: Morgan Freeberg at House of Eratosthenes (pftthats a mouthful) honors big boned women in skimpy clothing. The picture there is priceless--keep scrolling down.
Exile in Portales: Via Gerard: Morgan Freeberg, a guy with a lot to say. And he speaks The Truth...and it's fascinating stuff. Worth a read, or three. Or six.
Just Muttering: Two nice pieces at House of Eratosthenes, one about a perhaps unintended effect of the Enron mess, and one on the Gore-y environ-movie.
Mein Blogovault: Make "the Blog that No One Reads" one of your daily reads.
The Virginian: I know this post will offend some people, but the author makes some good points.
Poetic Justice: Cletus! Ah gots a laiv one fer yew...
And nobody can tell it better than Daphne. Boy, she really rights good for a chick*.
One day you’re sitting at the kitchen table eating your pancakes, watching your apron clad mother pour your dad a cup of coffee with one hand while spooning oatmeal into your baby brother’s mouth with the other. The next day, dad’s gone, something called divorce explodes in your house, and mom’s showing up for meetings with the Mother Superior in a mini skirt and go-go boots. Or worse, she’s hanging out upstairs in Lila’s apartment, drinking Sangria, reeking of cheap incense and pot, wearing love beads and painting anti-war posters with smelly hippies.
Daycare and babysitters became the norm. Not enough money was a constant. The word no a daily refrain to any request. Meals eaten in front of the TV, strange boyfriends enter and exit the stage with frequency, untended children in outgrown clothes roam the neighborhood, the man named Dad abdicates into a pale ghost of a figure, if not a distant memory. Small vestiges of the life before still remain, but they aren’t enough to keep a child moored on solid ground. The parents are striding headlong into the age of personal fulfillment, dragging their hapless kids along for the ride with the last vestige of adult responsibility they possess.
But everybody’s happy, right? Millennia old social conventions and chains of traditional expectation had been broken, adults were free to follow their whims without condemnation from the neighbors and society at large. Patriarchy had been buried, women had rights, Vietnam had been lost. The air was sweet in the land of no remorse or consequence. Until it wasn’t anymore.
Hat tip to Blogger Friend Buck.
*Yeah, I’m just being a smartass. A chauvinist-pig, homonym-confused smartass.
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Daphne is in my A-rank of blogging goddesses. The girl can bring it. 🙂
- Buck | 02/06/2009 @ 14:10