September 2007 Archives

I've often remarked that The Boy received exactly NO physical characteristics from me--he is a teeny carbon copy of Hublet, which does afford me much amusement when I observe them standing side-by-side--but I take solace in the fact that his personality is much closer to mine than to Hublet's.

Well, I'll take solace in it until he hits adolescence, at which point I will deny that he has any personality traits even remotely resembling my own. 

So, as I've enjoyed The Boy's evolution into Boyhood, I've been waiting to see if he would ever share one trait that I hold dear to my heart (well, behind a love of roller coasters, which - CHECK!  Woo-hoo! Can't wait until the State Fair!):  a love of horror.

Hublet does not share this trait, and my annual Halloween Evil Dead Trilogy movie fests just aren't as much fun solo.

This past weekend, we were perusing the Cartoon Network and happened upon an ad for their Goosebumps Halloween Movie, weirdly titled, "The Witching Hour: Don't Think About it."  The Boy stared at the ad in fascination and then turned to me and said, "Oooh!  That's a SCARY Movie!"

My heart sank.  Until later that day, when The Boy asked, "Mommy, can we see that scary movie?"

I told him we'd TiVo it on Sunday, since it was 2 hours, and he could watch one hour Sunday, and one Monday.

And thus began The Great Scary Movie Experiment, wherein we would determine whether or not The Boy was indeed capable of handling a Goosebumps made-for-tv flick starring one of the Osment spawn as a disaffected goth chick.

Since the only nightmares The Boy's ever had have consisted of being attacked by giant blue bumblebees, I decided to remain hopeful.

We did have to snuggle with him during the scary parts, but he has now seen the whole thing, and it made him more excited than scared.  We did a total recap during bedtime last night, with The Boy acting out all the scary parts.  And as a bonus for me, it was fun to see a non-jaded horror movie viewer actually be SURPRISED at the "surprise twist" ending of a movie.

So, no nightmares.  No requests for additional lighting, checks under the bed or in the closet, or any of that stuff. And this morning, The Boy inquired about when the next scary movie was coming on.

Cartoon Network has scheduled the old Goosebumps series to run during October, so it looks like we'll be TiVo-ing those as well.

I've created a monster.

Yay!

Yeah, it's all about me here.

You know, the quote that sums up my feelings about the whole Columbia/Iran/UC Regents/Chemerinsky/Larry Summers/UC Davis/academic freedom fooferaw is this one:

The issue we see with Columbia is deeper than freedom of speech but rather the inconsistency with which university faculties choose to support it.

Some consistency would be refreshing, although you could be cynical and argue that the academy has always been perfectly consistent with regard to free speech:  as long as it conforms to a particular political ideology, it's free. Otherwise, not so much.

And now for something completely different:  HAT WATCH, DAY 22....

A Mr. Wuf head. Mr. Wuf is the NCSU mascot, for those who are unfamiliar with the Giant Mascot Copyright-Off of Aught Seven.  I was unaware that they made hats out of the upper portion of his head and jaw, but I guess you learn something new every day. 

Dropoff took almost 10 minutes today.

From patting yourselves on the back so hard.

Poor Columbia.  This whole thing has devolved into exactly the kind of political/media circus we've all expected, complete with self-satisfied proclamations on the part of Columbia's president that he will "ask tough questions," the inevitably clueless, morally equivalent knee-jerk response of student activists about how can that be fair, since we didn't "ask tough questions of the Minutemen racists," and an article in the Columbia Spectator with a comments section that has devolved into a flame war wherein the most scathing insult the students can muster is to call people "stupid." Granted, they are deft in their use of synonyms, but still...

But that whooshing sound you hear is the entire campus missing the point.  Several points, really, the most important of which is the simplest:  What, exactly, do they hope to accomplish by hosting this man, and what do they think will actually be accomplished by doing so?

According to the comments section, here's what some folks believe will be accomplished:

It's interesting that people constantly raise Hitler and Nazi Germany. Under Nicholas Murray Butler, Columbia got involved in a controversy back then when it tried to send a message of contragulations to, I think, Heidelberg, but was seen as an endorsement of Nazism.

Of course, today, we can see such criticism to be hollow and motivated by hysteria, but it was hard to do so at the time.

In time, people will think the same of the criticism of this invitation and recognize how forward-looking Columbia actually is.

Ah, so by inviting a crazy homicidal racist head of state to campus, Columbia will cement its reputation as "forward-looking." Nice to know that even in a high-stakes situation, the academy can still focus on the low-stakes payoff.

Now let me tell you, as a seasoned academic PR professional, what will actually be accomplished by hosting this visit:  a massive PR opportunity for a crazy dude, who will be able to use it to show that The Great Satan cannot possibly withstand his personal power, that the intelligentsia were cowed by his masterful arguments, and that America is a paper tiger. Do you think anyone in Iran will hear actual unedited audio, or see photos of the protests?  Do you think that maybe, just maybe, propagating those false impressions might inspire people to violence? But hey, as long as Columbia can be seen as "forward-looking," the rest is just details, right?

In addition, you've just called down a huge pile of crap upon your pr folks and donor managers. Not that my personal interest makes me biased... 

Ironically, after the firestorm of media dies down, I'm thinking that "forward-looking" is probably not going to be the adjective most commonly used to refer to Columbia.

Because I know you care - care! - about the series of themed chapeaus worn by our Crazy Hat Wearin' Drama Teacher, I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that this week she has taken it up a notch - yesterday she was fairly demure with a green dragon perched atop her pate, but today she went whole hog, or whole eagle, or whatever.

She had a blue eagle full face covering on.

And dropoff took an additional 5 minutes, probably because she couldn't see out of the eyeholes.

Sigh.

Let me see if I've got this right:

Larry Summers is too dangerous a symbol of racism and sexism to speak to any students attending university in California, but Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, who's been pretty upfront about wanting to bomb a country because he doesn't like Jews, and whose attitude toward women is somewhat less than progressive, is okay to speak at Columbia?

I wonder if Columbia would let Summers speak, and if Ahmadinejad would be welcomed by the UC regents?

It just seems that if the grounds for disinviting someone are that "inviting a keynote speaker who has come to symbolize gender and racial prejudice in academia conveys the wrong message to the university community and to the people of California," then I'm thinking the answer to part II of the above question is "no."  Dunno about part 1 - has Summers spoken at Columbia post-Harvard explosion?

On a related note, I would like to tell the Sisterhood At Large, Academic Division, to please stop acting like a bunch of prissy-pants weenie heads about Larry Summers.  You got his ass fired, which proves to anyone with a brain where the true power lies.  Getting all a-twitter because the guy may actually TALK IN PUBLIC AT A UNIVERSITY, ON A TOPIC COMPLETELY UNRELATED TO THE HARVARD HOO-HA, just makes you look like a bunch of wimpy chicks who can't handle icky bad words.

I'd tell you to grow a collective pair, but I don't feel like dealing with the mess that will result when your heads explode due to my use of scary, heteronormative, phallocentric LANGUAGE.

Ah, fall ball season.  I get to sit outside in the cooling autumn air and watch The Boy and others in his cohort spin around until they're dizzy, pick flowers, fall over - a lot - throw dirt, and play tag.

And that's when they're on the field.  The dugout is an entirely different matter.

But because I believe that fall ball really should be experienced to be believed, I have here attempted to give you a bit of the flavor of one of the games by recording snatches of the commenary heard during a t-ball game.

"Stop throwing dirt.  No, NOW!  There will be no dirt throwing!"

"Michael, the ball!  Yes, that ball!  Get it!"

"Jake, put down the bat and sit on the bench."

"Has anyone seen Christian's helmet?"

"Hayley!  Honey, you can't play shortstop lying down!  Will you stand up?  Okay, will you at least squat?"

"No. Dirt. Throwing!"

"Michael!  The Ball!  Yes, AGAIN!"

"Jake!  Son, swing that bat like you'd swing it at your sister!"  [sotto voce] "Well, if he would do it that way he'd get a home run every time!"

"Christian, what color is the helmet?  Blue?  Oh, that helps."

"Ethan!  Tag the runner!  The runner!  THE RUNNER!  You don't have to race him to second!"

"MICHAEL! THE BALL, SON!"

"Throw it to first!"

"Throw it to first!"

"Throw it to first!"

"Nevermind, sweetie.  The runner's on third now. Just hand it to the pitcher."

"Hayley?  Why are you sitting in the bleachers?  You're supposed to be in center field."

"Kids, stop wedging yourselves between the chain link fence and the dugout.  You'll get stuck."

"Here, Christian.  Just use this helmet.  Your mommy can help you find yours later."

"MICHAEL!  BALL!"

"Where's Christian's bat?"

"What did I tell you?  Didn't I say, 'don't throw dirt, you'll get it in your eyes?'  And what did you do?  And what happened?  Here, let me wash your eyes out."

"Christian, is this your helmet?  Where's your hat?"

"MICHAEL!  LOOK OUT!"

"Good job, guys!  See you next week!"

Man, I love T-ball.

So this particularly ignorant and self-absorbed student op-ed has already been thoroughly giggled at - read it, it's hilarious! 

Andrea links to the link to the article in IvyGate, in which myriad commenters pile onto the writer - not to point out the roughly 2 billion errors within the op-ed - but to make it PERFECTLY CLEAR that the writer DOES NOT GO TO COLUMBIA, DAMMIT! And that all these PRETENDERS who COULDN'T GET INTO COLUMBIA need to STOP SAYING THEY GO THERE! 

Which, okay, I get not wanting to see your school being dragged through the mud because of one dingaling's supremely uninformed ravings in a public forum, but let's get real. That's not the source of the outrage here. When you read between the lines (or even just read the lines themselves) the message is clear: Can't have those filthy little Barnard interlopers polluting the hallowed halls!  Thrill to the backhanded "compliments," the "damning with faint praise" and the whiffs of condescension so strong I had to step outside for fresh air after reading them!

Although I will hand it to the commenters - they are well-prepared, if they so choose, to pursue a life within academia, where the stakes are routinely this low.

Ah, intellectual snobbery:  our only true uniter in these divisive times.

Or, "why I skipped church this Sunday and had zero guilt."  Guilt is more Hublet's style, anyway.

I skipped because:

a) Apparently my body really, REALLY needed rest, since the combined efforts of both Hublet and The Boy were insufficient to rouse me before NOON.  I haven't slept past 9:30 a.m. since before The Boy was born. It. Was. FABULOUS.

and

b) We're studying Oprah.  In church.  Well, to be more specific we're studying Oprah in Sunday School, but coming as it does hot on the heels of a couple of weeks of soul-searching about what Starbucks can teach Christians about - what?  Better marketing? - my patience with this sort of thing is wearing thin, and I'm tired of sitting in class thinking snarky thoughts and trying very hard not to rain on the pop culture parade. So I will vent here instead.

Let me be clear. I can see why people would say, "Ooh, that's interesting!" when an author goes out of his or her way to demonstrate how you can find tenets of christianity among secular pop culture, but on the other hand, why is this news? If you're a practicing Christian, you tend to find the themes of redemption, salvation, grace and community everywhere, not just on television from 4 to 5 p.m. or while ensconced in a puffy velvet sofa and using the free wi-fi. Is pointing out the obvious really teaching us anything new?

And I can never escape the strange, underlying vibe of desperation in these efforts.  That somehow, we need to prove that religion is "relevant" to people, and that further, the best way to do it isn't by relying on teachings that have held up for thousands of years, but by emulating examples of 21st century consumer culture that, despite their popularity, are most often featured as punchlines to the "what's wrong with America?" joke.

It's almost as if we have to prove that it's okay to like vapid, throwaway crap by demonstrating that "there's plenty of God stuff in there, too!" Or the reverse, that it's okay to like God, because, see - it's cool and stuff! Just like Starbucks!

I don't think God is gonna hold that latte or being riveted by Oprah's latest book club selection against you, folks.  I like plenty of vapid, throwaway crap, too, and if I want a Grande Mocha, my butt's in the Starbucks line along with everyone else's. I'm not saying I'm somehow above pop culture, or that I'm some sort of lofty theologian - just that I don't see why I need to use Oprah to justify my religion, or why I should use my religion to justify my mocha.

I take The Boy to school every day at 8:00 a.m., which is the earliest you can drop off without having to do before school care.  Last year, one of the things I liked best about the morning drive was the military precision with which the drop-off was coordinated.  If you arrived before 8, you simply waited at the dropoff point until the school doors flew open--at exactly 8:00 a.m. On The Dot--and a serious, matronly woman armed with teeny tiny traffic cones emerged, followed by a petite blonde whose only job was to stand at the far end of the dropoff point and wave at you as you left.

The matronly woman, who I deemed "the cone nazi" early on, would position the traffic cones to ensure that you couldn't break ranks and pull around the cars in front of you in line.  And in case you're wondering, "but what about the pokey people who dawdle in the cars," don't.  There was always an assistant principal on hand, and if you hesitated too long in your Official Child Deployment, she would yank open your car door and all but toss your offspring and his or her belongings in the direction of the door. Then the cone nazi would give you the "move along" signal, and the little blonde chick would wave cheerily in your direction as you motored off to work.

As I am not a fan of either traffic or people who can't get their crap together in a timely matter, I've gotta say that school dropoff was AWESOME.  And I assumed it would be the same way this year.

Alas, apparently traffic duty is only a year-long sentence for the teachers at The Boy's school.

This year, I arrived at school expecting teeny tiny traffic cones, an army of assistant principals and an impatient cone nazi, but instead, I was confronted with an absence of cones, and a chick with a crab on her head.

Seriously. A crab. A large, plushy, crab. In the form of a hat.  Perched atop the head of the woman standing in the drop-off area.

The blonde chick was still there, but this year she was sheepish and armed with a baton with streamers on the end, the twin of which resided in the hand of crab-head lady.

The Boy informed me that Madame Crab Cranium was the drama teacher.

I heaved a sigh but kept silent.  Perhaps she would defy the stereotype of breezy, airy, anything goes, free-spirit, disorganized, drama person.

The next day I was greeted by a traffic cone - but it was only in the form of a hat.  Then there was a lobster, then a wedge of swiss, then a jaunty straw boater topped with random flora, then something that might have been a wizard's hat, or a whale.

Gone were the traffic cones.  Gone was the punctuality.  Gone was the orderly way in which traffic proceeded through drop-off.

And after yet ANOTHER day wondering how the hell somebody managed to actually PARK THEIR SUV IN THE DROPOFF LANE AND LEAVE IT UNATTENDED, and further, WHY A MOTHER CAN'T JUST GIVE THE KID A HIGH-FIVE AND SAY "SEE YA!" INSTEAD OF RE-ENACTING THE DEPARTURE SCENE FROM LORD OF THE RINGS, my high hopes were dashed.

While crab hats and streamers may be a balm for the soul, they are cold comfort to a harried mom in a Subaru with serious patience issues.

Another year, another chocolate cake with raspberry filling and mocha icing.  Yum.  Was awakened at 7:00 a.m. on the dot by a gift-bearing Boy, and much glee was expressed over my birthday gift:  a spanky new iPod nano in the refreshing shade of mint green.  AND the new ones have a volume lock function, which means that The Boy will be able to listen to the pod without me worrying about him jacking up the volume and deafening himself.  Of course, this means that I will have to share.  Hmmmm.....

Hublet's old school managed to drag itself from obscurity and straight into the crosshairs of both the ACLU and Michelle Malkin yesterday.  For such a small school, it certainly manages to deliver on the drama year after year after year.

In other news, this headline:

Law School Deanship Rescinded; Politics Blamed

Could probably serve as an all-purpose, fill-in-the-blank response appropriate for any academic decision-making moment.  [Insert position] Rescinded (or Filled, or Defunded, or Set On Fire); Politics Blamed.  Yep, that's pretty much a catchall.

Okay, so this isn't the most fabulous premiere entry for the newish MT blog, but it'll have to do.  So for now I am plain Jane, template-wise, and I'm trying to figure out how to:

a) Move my old archives over into my new blog, and

b) Add my links list to this puppy.

In the meantime, please be sure to update your links to the following URL:

bigarmwoman.com/tightly-wound