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...
Speaking of Feministing: Ever wonder what the inside of a feminist’s house or apartment looks like?
In my relatively brief lifetime thus far, I’ve seen the perimeter of “Things That Honk Off Feminists” flung outward so far and wide, that I can’t think of a single idea that incorporates both “females” and “cleaning things” that does not fall within it.
To hear them tell it, when feminists live with men they bring their bitching and pissing and moaning to an abrupt halt once they have achieved “equality” as far as “help with the household chores.” But that would imply, would it not, that the feminist of the household is mopping the floor and scrubbing the toilets fifty percent of the time. It’s been over twenty years since my last romantic relationship with a real die-hard post-modern feminist now…I’m not even sure the phrase “post-modern” can apply to days so far gone.
But the image of a self-professed feminist grabbing those Windex wipes and happily scrubbing toothpaste droplets off the bathroom mirror, cheerfully whistling to herself because she’s only doing this half the time — it’s a bit much for me to envision. The message that’s been ground into my cranium, forcefully, for decades now, is that housework and feminine things do not go together. Not even for a moment.
And in case I should forget (warning, suggestive content):
Theory A is that they’re sincere, and they just want a more equitable divide in the household labor.
Theory B is the bitches are just lazy.
It occurs to me that if I was stuck with the household labor and ready to mount a mini-revolution for a more equitable distribution, starting a blog to be read by others, constantly carping away at total strangers what they should find disgusting and reprehensible in movie tropes and everyday television commercials and other blogs — this would have very little to do with what I was trying to do. Right? I mean, I’d whack that schmuck in the back of the head to get him to help out. If he goes for it, it’s just a piece of history, and if he doesn’t, I’ve got a choice. Blogging would be a completely unrelated activity. A distraction, even.
So I’m leanin’ toward B.
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