April 12, 2007

Tim O'Reilly . . .

can admit his mistakes. I shall have to take my hat off to him, reluctantly: there is still something about the notion of formal blogging rules that rubs me the wrong way. Who knows?—maybe it has to do with bad potty training in my early years. I shall have to take that up with my mom. ("Mom, I feel damaged. Cash, check, money order, or PayPal?—or would you like to trade steak dinners and pharmaceuticals for peace in the family? I can cope with that, you know.")

But he does have a point, inasmuch as we fall into several separate camps regarding how we handle our commenters and how we frame our arguments. It might indeed be handy to know what someone's policies are just by perusing his/her sidebar.

One sticky little issue, though: what about those of us who haven't managed to meet our own standards?

Perhaps I should ban myself from my own blog for name-calling. Wouldn't I look noble if I did that?

I've decided that falling down once in four years is entirely permissible.

After all, if there were no hypocrites, that would indicate that no one had the guts to stand up for morality at all.

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April 11, 2007

I Can See That the Islamofascists

. . . have been reading their Dale Carnegie.

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David Linden's Book Mentioned on Jay Leno

The Accidental Mind is getting more media attention—albeit obliquely, in this case.

But a profile in Newsweek: Fuckin' A. Furthermore, Jan Steckel is buying copies for her near and dear.

David is now Bloomsberry-in-Chief from among the Santa Monica High School Crowd of Pimentos or whatever it was that they called themselves. Unless one counts Sandra Tsing Loh. I would certainly count David Coons. That is, David B. Coons. And Nora Zungri certainly qualifies, along with Kate Sanford, Greg Turk, and Keith Goldfarb, whose icon at the top of the page appears to be a photograph of him taken by a brilliant young photographer in her 20s, using a borrowed medium-format camera.

Aw, heck. One cannot be thorough about this, but I'm starting to dig embarrassing people: I've always liked doing that sort of thing. Let's mention Eric Enderton, his lovely wife Elaine, Jon Mandel, and Mike Marinacci, as well as Janine Ellen Young.

Here endeth today's catalog, but it remains to be seen who will emerge as the group's Virginia Woolf—and who's destined to only be Maynard Keynes.

BTW, I'd actually love to see an intelligent creationist take David Linden's book on. Alas, I'm one of those "creation through evolution" milquetoasts.

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Do I Really Believe in "Drafting" People for President?

Maybe. I sure tried to get Condi to run, back in the days before diplomacy made her hands so dirty, Neptune's seas may never wash them clean.

And I do believe George W. Bush got drafted; I was never convinced he really wanted the job, deep down.

But it's kind of a crappy job, if you think about it: the pay sucks, and you have to deal with Islamofascists. Plus, everyone blames you for things that have nothing to do with the Executive Branch. Including the damned economy . . . whassup with that?

On the other hand, this sure makes for good theater.

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Another Completely Fictional Piece of Dialogue

"I got a new phone."

"So I read; you didn't really get the one you linked, though—did you?"

"What's wrong with the one I linked?"

"Well, it has flowers on it."

"Those aren't flowers; they are cherry blossom tattoos. Different thing entirely. The fact that they're tattoos makes them tuff."

"Joy, it's pink."

"More like a magenta color, really. It matches my iPod."

"Why didn't you just get a Hello Kitty phone?"

"Because I'm holding out for a Hello Kitty car, you woman-hater."

Misogyny in the blogosphere rears its ugly head once more.

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Okay. Say You Knew Someone

. . . who was pushing 45, and had dry, sensitive skin even in her youth. This person's hands are beginning to look like she wears crocodile gloves, and her face is covered in fine lines.

But she's breaking out. As in, acne.

Whom would you blame for this phenomenon?

I'm going to go with the tried-and-true—George W. Bush—unless someone has a better idea. I'm certainly open to suggestions.

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April 10, 2007

Yep. Chicks Do Rule.

Iowahawk has some cool car porn up: very hard-core stuff.

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And Yet More on the Proposed Code of Conduct:

Frank J rolls his own.

Via Cal Tech Girl

(That was a Google-bomb, BTW: I don't like "CalTech Girl." I want it to be "Cal Tech Girl." Who cares how she actually wants it to appear?—she's a scientist, and she should leave these delicate issues to a competent editor. Like, um . . . me.

From now on, please link her as Cal Tech Girl. Cal Tech should be two words.)

UPDATE: I've been vetoed! Apparently, Pasadena houses the California Institute of technology. Who knew?

But someone ought to tell the CS Department, nicht?

I have been given special dispensation to use "Dudette from the Land of the Nerds," but it's small consolation, really.

Apparently, things are almost as bad at the website for the Massachusetts Institute of technology, since in display type they use "mit," and in plain text it's MIT. Of course, at no point is it styled "MIt," which would be the equivalent of "Caltech."

Not that I'm an embittered English major who never gets her way, and has never truly accepted that it's The New York Times, but Los Angeles Times (no article required). Or why I once worked (I kid you not) at Hunting Magazine. (Why the capital "M," if the word Magazine isn't part of the name?)

Goodnight; I'm off to consume huge quantities of gin.

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Nope.

The proposed "Blogger's Code of Conduct" seems too restrictive to me.

I like some of my anonymous commenters.

I reserve the right to engage trolls if I feel like it.

I will, at my whim, delete any comments that don't seem to further discussion in some way.

In four years of blogging I've never really had a nice blog war, but I hear they are really good for traffic, and I reserve the right to engage in one should the spirit strike. I won't agree to contact people privately, or submit to mediation, though I've certainly done the former, and I may well accept the latter—should the situation warrant it.

In short, my policies boil down to this: I consider WWJD? (That is, What Would Joy Do?) Then I do it.

H/t: Wendy.

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Tony Snow's "Get Well Card"

Via the New York Post:

The ailing White House press secretary and amateur rock musician got a special get-well gift this week: a guitar signed by Roger Daltrey (The Who), Brian Wilson (Beach Boys) and Paul Stanley (Kiss). It was presented to him by David Fishof, creator of Rock 'n Roll Fantasy Camp, which Snow attended last year.

H/t: The Cotillion gals (we stopped talking about sex for a moment, and I found out about this cool story).

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April 09, 2007

News Flash: People Get Nasty on the Blogosphere!

And sometimes women are equated with their genitalia! (Men are, too, but somehow female genitalia is just . . . nastier than male genitalia. Because no one is supposed to talk about ours, for some reason. Because it is nasty: lather, rinse, repeat.)

Okay, sorry. But I'm starting to weary of the Cyber-Stalking/Online Sexism/Kathy Sierra "issue."

Let's lay it on the line, here:

1) Mary Katherine Ham is perfectly correct in the CNN segment: conservative women endure more verbal abuse than liberal women. And MK's performance here was a tour de force.

It's easy to see why center-right women get singled out for abuse: After all, a) sometimes conservatives are inhibited by religious convictions, so they do pull their punches sometimes; and b) there is a species of self-evidently unsexist person on the left [all women, plus men who go to pro-choice rallies] who because of her/his credentials has license to throw otherwise sexist language around as much as he/she wants.

2) As everyone with opposable thumbs/forefingers has noticed, anonymity tends to loosen people's inhibitions, and thereby fosters assholism of every variety.

However:

3) Complaining about verbal abuse of female bloggers is the online equivalent of bemoaning the fact that women are the victims of so many serial killings. Guess what? Some men really, really hate women. That's unlikely to change—at least, not in the next few weeks. Even if I hold my breath.

I feel sorry for the haters: they had mean mommies.

4) At the end of the day, I don't care.

If it's threatening, report it. If it isn't, ignore it or delete it. As RightGirl remarked, "as much as I sympathize with her, it seems to me that all Kathy Sierra has succeeded in doing is making us all out to be a bunch of weak wallflowers."

There is something to be said for that point of view. Sticks, stone, and .45 Government Models will break my bones, but calling me a whore is just uncreative. Frankly, it makes you look bad, Bro.


UPDATE: Hackbarth has a mini-roundup on the proposed "Blogospheric Code of Conduct."

I just can't see that we need such a thing, but if someone want to try to herd cats, it should be interesting to watch. Try opening a can of tuna.

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April 08, 2007

Don't Ever Let Anyone Tell You

. . . that it isn't a freakin' blast to live near the sea. We walked down to the bluffs of Shell Beach today from my uncle's place, and it was really, really nice.

Memo to self: get rich again. Soon.

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And Then There is My 96-Year-Old Grandmother.

We had drifted a bit in the past 20 years. Perhaps when I expected her to be warm and grandmotherly, she was cold and practical. And, perhaps, vice versa: when she wanted a devoted granddaughter, she was presented with the cynical thinking machine.

But something changed this time around. And I don't know why. Or maybe I do, but I don't want to dissect it quite yet. Not here. Not now.

Her mind is of course still razor-sharp, but the body has been betraying her for a few years. She's frail, and she knows that her bones are weak, so she does everything she can to avoid falling: she understands the stakes, and takes hold of anything that will help her to keep her balance. (And let us remember that our vices can be blessings. I've been addicted to milk since childhood. I tend to run the gamut from skim to 2% and back again, but I still consume plenty of dairy. If I live as long as I intend to, that might turn into a Damn Fine Thing.)

Naturally, I ask her about the years she lived in Phoenix. She tells me a little, but I don't press the issue when it becomes clear that she was miserable for the four years she lived there with her parents, from the age of 18 to 22.

She gave up crafts ten or 15 years ago, but she was an expert knitter back in middle age and her early senior years (and an expert seamstress, crocheter, weaver, and general craftswoman to boot).

I tell her I keep trying to go back to knitting. I explain that my mood swings have too strong an influence on how tight I pull the yarn, and my rows come out uneven, like a child's work. (I am exaggerating as I say this, but not by much.)

She leans forward and confides: "those mood swings come from your mother."

It wasn't said maliciously, though I doubt my mother would take kindly to the remark (and I'm very happy she doesn't read my blog). Of course it's mostly correct.

My father continues to insist that his mother once came to blows with his first wife (my own mom), several years before I was born. My mother has always denied this, but this doesn't happen to be one of the arenas in which my father makes up his own facts. It's exactly the sort of issue wherein his memory would be superior to hers.

I should have asked grandma about that today. "So, who laid on the first bitch-slap, huh?"

Well, you know: I didn't. It is Easter, after all.

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I Witnessed an Interesting Conversation Today

. . . between my 70-year-old father and my ten-year-old nephew. (Well, nephew Ray will be ten in May.)

The difference is, my nephew doesn't just sort of blurt out whatever thoughts jump into his brain. My father does.

Grandpa J: If you ever want to know what Auntie Joy is thinking, just go read the blog Little Miss Attila.

Me: Dad!

Grandpa J: Oh, right. Ignore the naughty words. There are naughty words.

You know, your aunt is a Republican. She's sort of rare, inasmuch as she's a Republican who attended college.

[Thanks. Like I wanted to be out to my brother's family.]

Aunt Joy: Did you know your grandfather once came within a hundred pages of actually finishing a book? I'm so proud of him.

Nephew Ray: Keep arguing, you two. I like this.

Grandpa J: So, is your older brother (13-year-old Alan) showing signs of heterosexuality yet?

Nephew Ray: I don't think he's made out with anyone—and he doesn't talk about girls to me or my parents. But I think he has thoughts.

Grandpa J: Lots of thoughts, but no action?

Aunt Joy: Sounds like your grandpa's life.

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What a Day.

I just took my evening sedative; if I get my page quota done today, it'll be a minor miracle. Well, that's why I set it high: I knew there would be days I wouldn't be able to write.

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And Yet More Blogkeeping . . .

My four-year blogversary was a few weeks ago. Within another week or two, I expect to reach the 300,000-hit mark.

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April 07, 2007

Happy Easter!

Blogging will be light today as A the H and I head up the coast to have Easter dinner with my uncle, aunt, grandmother, brother, sister-in-law, and nephews in Pismo Beach.

I'll try to grab some sexy coastline shots and post them circa Monday.

If you do celebrate Easter, do try to remember the reason for the season.

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Defensive Use of Guns?

ABC is apparently asking for stories from ordinary citizens who have used guns in self-defense (including by brandishing them). No word on whether John Stossel is involved, but it is for 20/20, and we should probably send our stories in. More here.

Via Insty.

FWIW, I once appeared on a small segment on CNN as a gun owner/Second Amendment advocate who considered herself a feminist (this was in the early 1990s, and another of those "women against gun violence" groups had just formed—I was the "equal time" tokenette). Those who saw the segment said I came off pretty well, despite the fact that the woman who interviewed me was a major consumer of the gun-control Kool-Aid.

So it's worth doing even if the 20/20 segment in question is not produced by St. John.

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Goldstein on the Iranian/British Standoff.

Did we "reward piracy"? Well, probably. This time.

And the fact that the EU and the UN are useless is hardly news.

It's just that I choose to believe that the grownups (the U.S., the Brits, the Australians) have long-term intentions beyond letting legitimate Iranian hostages go.

As I've said before, capturing the British sailors was an act of war. It's just that the war itself may be time-released.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 11:03 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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April 06, 2007

My Cell Phone Finally Died Today.

So I got something cool, but not quite the heart's desire: it's light and pretty, but it doesn't have a qwerty keyboard, so I'm not sure how I'm supposed to send people text messages (not that I do it that often, anyway--but I feel like I ought to be able to).

Before I had to worry about the Impending Car Replacement Project I think I was leaning toward the Sidekick (or maybe even a Treo), but I can always get one of those later. The one feature this phone has that my old one doesn't, is that there is supposedly a calandar in it somewhere. (So I might not need a smart phone or even a PDA before I can ditch my paper agenda. We'll see. BTW, did you know that my pocket calendar is gay? It came out to me right after I brought it home from Office Depot. No one else knows, though, so please don't talk about it.)

Posted by: Attila Girl at 10:52 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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