Last week, Shaker Susan indicated in comments that s/he might be looking toward this day with a bit of dread -- that they'd probably be alone, and that can be a very tough thing -- a thing that I know from direct experience.
Christmas Day can feel like a very lonely time -- for a multitude of reasons -- whether because it's something you don't celebrate at all, or you are celebrating a different holiday altogether and feeling overrun by the status quo, or because you do celebrate Christmas and think of it as a time when you should be in connection with others (and you aren't this year, for whatever reason), or because you are actually surrounded by people (say, your relatives) but you feel isolated and cut off from them -- or just -- because . . . . .
I told Shaker Susan that I'd be thinking of hir today, and I am. I'm thinking of my purse-wielding sister Broce, too . . . .
In fact, I'm thinking of every Shaker (and every human) who might be feeling left out, or tossed away, or just plain and simple lonely -- of those who might be struggling with hunger, or fear, or pain, or dis-ease of the body/heart/mind, or financial difficulty, or relationship problems, or other challenges. I'm thinking of you, and remembering times when Christmas seemed like the loneliest day of the year to me.
I don't celebrate Christmas as others do. I don't do presents anymore, and haven't for years. I do still use the day as an excuse to laze about, spend a little more from my grocery-budget (when I can) to get something that feels like a treat, connect with loved ones on the phone/in person, and I do relish the quiet that seems to descend on my little town on days like these -- "holidays/holy days". This year, I'm also getting to enjoy watching the snow do a slow vanishing act outside.
So, Shakers, if you're feeling a bit down today, know that at least one heart and one mind (mine) are holding you in consideration and contemplation -- and please feel free to use the comment thread of this post as an impromptu virtual pub, or just a place to vent or connect or give a shout out to other Shakers and the world.
I mean, if the predominant message of today is supposed to be "Joy to the World" and shit, then let's make some Shaker Cheer!
It's very early morning here, but I'll be checking the thread through the day.
Sleepy Near Seattle,
PortlyDyke
You're In My Thoughts Today
Daily Kitteh
Schmerry Mishmosh!
I'm not fat; I'm jolly.
Not a creature was stirring, not
even a mouse...'cuz I killed it.
I Write Letters
Dear Shaker Men,
I was wondering how you feel about Dennis Prager's contention that men are like animals in order to advance his argument that wives should submit sexually to their husbands even when they don't want to because men can't feel loved if they're not being fucked.
(If you're a gay man, of course you don't even figure into Prager's heterocentrist equations, except insomuch as he makes no distinction that he's talking only about straight men; it is simply men whose "sexual nature is far closer to that of animals" and who know that their partners love them "first and foremost by [their] willingness to give [their] bod[ies] to him.")
It must be thrilling to have such a prominent figure dedicate an entire column (and this is only Part One!) to coercing a woman to submit to you, irrespective of her desire, lest she risk your (totally justifiable) emotionally withdrawing from her, cheating on her, and/or leaving her, and that he does so with no apparent regard for the the fact that sex coerced via threat is rape. What lucky fellas you are!
Perhaps you'd like to contact Mr. Prager and thank him for being such a swell dude.
Love,
Liss
P.S. Isn't it just kooky how Prager accuses feminists like me of being man-haters? He's so humble. I could never hate men as much as he does!
Shaker Gourmet: Crockpot Ham Bone Soup
Our recipe this wekk comes from Shaker tricia, who used made it after Thanksgiving this year. Perfect for leftover ham bones from your holiday dinners!
If you'd like to participate in Shaker Gourmet, email me at: shakergourmet (at) gmail.comCrockpot Ham Bone Soup
1 ham bone (with some meat left on)
16 oz fresh frozen tomatoes (or 1-2 small cans diced)
1 can of large red kidney beans
1 small head of cabbage
1 medium yellow onion
1 Tablespoon "Better than Bouillon" ham flavor
2 bay leaves
paprika to taste
dried red pepper to taste
1 Tablespoon of olive oil
1/4 cup vinegar (I used apple cider) or cooking wine
1 - 2 cups of water
Put the ham bone, bouillon, tomatoes, beans, about 1 cup of water, and spices in the crockpot and turn on high.
Chop the cabbage into bite size pieces and put in crockpot.
Chop the onion and sweat in a pan with the olive oil. When the onion is soft add the vinegar and cook until most of the liquid is absorbed. Add the onion and any liquid to the crockpot.
Add more water if needed. Let the soup cook on high for about 4 hours or turn the crockpot to low and cook overnight.
Daily Caganer -- Oh, Holy Shite
I started to think about all this Caganer bull hockey, and suddenly my head was in a spin -- I mean, if the Caganer is supposed to be at the Nativity, and Baby Jesus is in the manger already -- and you must keep the Caganer out of sight of the Baby Jesus because it's His Birthday and stuff -- then why am I Caganering before December 25th?
Suddenly, I wonder if I've made a terrible fox paws.
True, the Caganer could be pre-fertilizing the area so that there would be plenty of fecund land from which to reap the hay and straw that a crowded inn-stable would need, what with oxes and asses keeping time, and sheep from visiting shepherds and camels from visiting Magi -- but . . . .
. . . . . I feverishly googled for some kind of Miss Manners for Caganers -- but no.
So, since I'm not from Catalonia, and I really don't comprehend all the ins and outs of Caganeria, yet -- I'll just have to learn as I go -- stick to my gut responses, and fly by the seat of my pants.
Now, I may be wrong about this, but somehow, I suspect that making this type of video is definitely something you should NOT do with a Caganer:
I mean, doesn't that just have to be wrong?
This has been your Daily Caganer. Click Here for Parts I, II, III, IV, V ,VI, VII, VIII
& IX
Question of the Day
What area(s) of your life, despite all your best efforts, can you never seem to get organized?
I've got two words for you: Laundry. Email.
Bookends
[Bookends background.]
From the Obama transition team, care of The Politico:
On January 20th, President-elect Barack Obama will take the oath of office using the same Bible upon which President Lincoln was sworn in at his first inauguration. The Bible is currently part of the collections of the Library of Congress. Though there is no constitutional requirement for the use of a Bible during the swearing-in, Presidents have traditionally used Bibles for the ceremony, choosing a volume with personal or historical significance. President-elect Obama will be the first President sworn in using the Lincoln Bible since its initial use in 1861.I really wish the inclusion of Rick Warren hadn't put a massive damper on what would have been my boundless levels of enthusiasm about this announcement.
See Digby for related reading, especially her last paragraph, which is beautifully spot-on.
In Ur Series, Stealin' Your Poopin' Statues
Okay, so it's not really a Caganer, but I saw this wonderful little fellow online yesterday, and had to share it with the rest of you. Portly has given me permission to totally rip her off, so I'm free to inflict upon you...
Marzipan Coin-Pooping Man!!
What better way to celebrate Christmas and use your leftover almond paste than by molding it into a little man taking a dump? Yummy! I simply adore the description:Traditional New Year's gift in Germany for Good Luck and prosperity. Don't we all need some??
It just amuses me to no end that, even though they coyly omit part of the word, the site actually says "shitting" rather than "pooping."
The meaning behind this tradition: When you present this to someone for the New Year, you are wishing them so much success in the upcoming year that they will be sh..ing gold coins. Give these out to your New Year's Eve guests.
You see, Deeky? The Germans do always make good stuff!
So Red The Robe
Like most As-Seen-On-TV! type products, I tend to shrug whenever I see them and think I could take it or leave it. Usually I lean toward leave it, since I have no real need for a Bedazzler or a fishing rod that will fold up nicely into my jacket pocket. I make an exception for the Sham-Wow guy who irks me to no end, with his stupid little Janet Jackson headset and annoying comments ("It's made in Germany, and you know the Germans always make good stuff"). He makes me want to punch the TV.
But I saw this one the other night and it made me laugh.
The Snuggie: The blanket with sleeves! Which, at first glance, seems like an innocuous enough product. Kind of makes the wearer look like they've got on a robe. And that's okay. Except, the red robe version makes the wearer look distinctly like a Satan-worshipping cultist.
And that's why I laughed.
See devil worshippers watch TV! See Satan's minions check their email! And my personal fave: Cultist eating popcorn! Knitting, reading time with the kids, backgammon! Cook smores around the fire, high five at the human sacrifice: Satanic families do it all! And there's nothing like getting your morning coffee or checking the Lifestyle section of the paper in your flaming-red devil-worshipping attire.
A Surfeit of Low Expectations
[Trigger warning.]
It's not exactly news that paying the slightest modicum of attention to the trajectory of most reported rape cases in the US (report, lackluster investigation, media frenzy, voracious victim-blaming, disappointing result) leaves one with pathetically low expectations for any sort of justice, or even a not-soul-crushingly-awful outcome.
And yet, occasionally, I still have experiences where the true plunderment of my reasonable expectations serves to remind me how grim the situation really is.
Reading this AP report about the horrific gang rape case I mentioned in yesterday's blogaround, in which "a woman in the San Francisco Bay area was jumped by four men, taunted for being a lesbian, repeatedly raped and left naked outside an abandoned apartment building," I saw:
"It just pushes it beyond fathomable," [Richmond police Lt. Mark Gagan] said. "The level of trauma — physical and emotional — this victim has suffered is extreme."—and I thought, with reverberating relief, Oh, thank Maude they know how serious it is. Thank Maude they're investigating.
Authorities are characterizing the attack as a hate crime but declined to reveal why they think the woman was singled out because of her sexual orientation. Gagan would say only that the victim lived openly with a female partner and had a rainbow flag sticker on her car.
That thought was followed immediately by the realization that it is eight thousand shades of fucked up I can so easily imagine a case this ghastly being ignored, its victim treated with contempt.
It should not be a relief that this case is being pursued and its victim being treated with compassion. It should be so routine that all I have to say is: "As well it should be."
In Things I Never Expected to See in My Lifetime
A picture of the American president, on holiday and shirtless, posted at a celebrity gossip site, eliciting comments like "I'd tap that."
I'm not saying that's a good thing. I'm not saying it's a bad thing, either. (I do have an opinion, but that's a whole other post.) Here, I'm just saying it's...profoundly unexpected, lol.
Meanwhile: Security breach?
Movies You Can't Netflix: Santa Claus
(Hola, Shakers, su pelÃcula vienen hoy de México alrededor de 1959. ¡Feliz Navidad, bichos!)
Forget everything you thought you knew about Santa Claus. This movie* pisses all over those notions like it's had one too many cervezas. Santa does not live at the North Pole. Nope, he lives in a castle on a cloud in outer space. That ain't the half of it: His reindeer are windup toys, there are no elves, and he has to battle it out with Lucifer for the hearts and minds of all the children down on Earth.
Instead of elves, Santa has a whole mess of little kids helping him out. Children from every corner of the globe have been sent to help Santa. They labor night and day making toys for other kids the world over. It's like one big multi-ethnic sweatshop (which maybe explains why the African delegation is wearing nothing but leopard-print loincloths... No, I guess it doesn't. (This bit is, just FYI, usually removed from broadcast versions of the movie**.))
And Santa has gizmos galore in his ... laboratory. He's got a telescope that can spy on anyone anywhere, a giant ear in a radar dish that can pickup even a whisper, and a weird contraption that allows him to see what every child is dreaming about. It's been said Santa knows if you've been bad or good and all that, but until I saw him in action here, I never realized how creepy that really was. (No telecom immunity for Santa, I say!)
Lucifer doesn't like Santa, but hey, Lucifer doesn't like anyone. He sends Mitch***, his top henchman, up to earth to tempt all the kiddies into ill behavior, and thereby pissing off Santa to no end. First and foremost on Mitch's list is Lupita, a poor peasant girl whose only wish is to have a dolly of her own. But try as he might, Mitch can't turn the girl to the dark side (i.e. petty theft.) She "doesn't want to be evil" (her words) and shuns Mitch.
On Christmas Eve Mitch does his best to muck things up for Santa, moving chimneys and setting door knobs aflame. But Santa is pretty spry, plus he's got a bag of magic powder given to him by his old friend Merlin. Yeah, Merlin. Apparently he's no longer working for King Arthur and is now mixing things up at Santa's castle. In fact, he's the only other adult there. Forget what I said about the place being like a sweatshop, it's more like Neverland Ranch.
And as much as Mitch is bound to ruin things for Santa, Santa is determined to get Lupita that dolly she wants. He's one final stop before sunrise, which he has to avoid lest the reindeer turn to dust. (Are they vampire reindeer? Fuck if I know. I thought they were mechanical.) But Mitch puts a Doberman between Santa and Lupita, and it's up to Merlin to save the day.
This sort of makes Santa look not only like a wimp, but daft as well. But that's okay, because Lupita gets her doll and Mitch is defeated once more.
This film was originally produced in Mexico, and later "Americanized" by producer K. Gordon Murray. I've no idea how much his version resembles the original, or if his work can count as an "improvement." The production is so head-scratchingly bizarre, I don't know if it pleases me more to think the original version was just as loopy, or that Murray thought up all the crazy shit himself for American matinee audiences. Either way, I recommend gulping down a puke-inducing level of eggnog and sitting down to watch this unique bit of cinema.* The film is available here, should you be inclined to view it. Thanks, Liss!
** If you're a glutton for punishment and want to see the offending image, click here, but be warned, it's in really bad taste. WTP is the only thing that comes to mind when I see it.
*** Actually, his name is Pitch, but the narrator kind of mumbles it the first time out, and I misheard it. But it was imprinted on my brain as "Mitch," so that's who he'll always be to me.
28 Days
So, every time there's an interview in People magazine with President and First Lady Bush, I have to buy it. I have to buy it, and read it, and hate it. It's just one of those things. Something about the magical combination of People's horrendous interviewing skillz and the Bushes' propensity for talking absolute shite, in a tone as though it's meant for three-year-olds, just makes me crave these journalistic slices of brilliance.
Anyway, there's an interview in the latest issue of People, so I had to buy it, and I'm reading the "Bush 2008 Interview" (which is titled Into the Sunset; I told you this shit was superb) this morning when I come across this gobsmacking bit of behind-the-curtaineering into Bush's psyche:
Which moments from the last eight years do you revisit most often?I love how he knows that just going right into the baseball thing would be callous, so he throws a bone to the families of the soldiers who died in the two wars he started and summarily turned into enormous clusterfucktastrophes, noting he hears their stories and knows their pride, even if he can't be fucking arsed to attend their funerals and fund the VA.
THE PRESIDENT: I definitely think about the families I've met of the fallen soldiers—about the compassion, love and determination of the families, to make sure that the Commander-in-Chief hears their stories and knows their pride.
I think about throwing out that pitch at the World Series on [Oct. 30] 2001. My heart was racing when I got to the mound. Didn't want to bounce it. Didn't want to let the fans down. My heart was pumping so hard, I wasn't sure if I could lift my arm. I never felt that anxious any other time during my presidency, curiously enough.
Thirty-five words on thousands of dead soldiers, then right onto the good stuff!—a memory so important to him he evidently got the date wrong.
A major terrorist attack, two wars, Abu Ghraib, the execution of a foreign leader, a drowned American city, multiple school shootings, natural disasters, international crises, genocides, the suspension of habeas corpus, outing one of our own spies, spying on American citizens, disregarding the Geneva Conventions in order to torture detainees, soaring unemployment, record foreclosures, increased homelessness and hunger, a harrowing economic crisis—and he "never felt that anxious any other time during [his] presidency, curiously enough."
It's like while everyone else was getting increasingly stressed, he was getting ever more relaxed: The Curious Case of President Douchebrain!
28 days...
Cheney Whispers Don't Ask, Don't Tell
Since I've decided The Washington Times is my new favorite gay newspaper, allow me to share this headline: "Bush, Cheney comforted troops privately." Hawt. Sounds like a Dink Flamingo production.
From Dink's website:
Hot on the tails of The Surge, comes this white-hot sequel: Legendary power-bottom Dick Cheney returns to the screen in blistering performance as The Rear Admiral. Dick doesn't ask, he tells the young, raw recruits how he wants it! And they deilver, in only the way the men of the U.S. military can: with an unflinching lust for man-on-man action!The article itself is pretty galling, and I don't recommend reading it unless you'd like to make yourself angry. But, I'll use anything as an excuse to post a Dink Flamingo picture.
Stand at attention, boys, for the red, white and pink!
Daily Caganer -- Internetz Traditionz Edition
Well, since I'm all into DIYing my Caganers now (which is not, as it turns out, at all like lolling your fat or heying your gay), I thought of some Caganers I'd like to see that I couldn't find at Caganer.com -- something a little more timely and internetty and viral and meme-y:
[Updated to reflect JoAsakura's excellent suggestion.]
This has been your Daily Caganer. Click Here for Parts I, II, III, IV, V ,VI, VII & VIII
And don't forget! Only two more shitting days til Xmas!!11!!!1!!!!!
