Brooklynite.

brooklynite @ 2009-09-18T09:14:00

2009-09-18T13:15:53Z

So I was reading to Casey from an American Girl book about a turn-of-the-century immigrant kid the night before last, and we got to the chapter where one of the girl's friends died of cholera.

Casey was a little upset, and she started asking me questions, and I knew the answers to some of them but not all of them, so we went in the living room and started looking stuff up online.

To make a long story short, she's decided to donate a bunch of her allowance money to cholera relief in Africa, and she's told her first grade teacher that she wants to work for Doctors Without Borders when she grows up.

Mulling.

2009-08-28T16:13:16Z

Hi all. Long time no see.

I'm thinking about making the archives of this blog friends-only by default, just so that I can link to new stuff (or, I guess, selected old stuff) from elsewhere without having to spend any energy wondering about what else I'm pointing them toward. Anybody know whether there's a simple easy way to do that?

More to say, but the perfect post is the enemy of the posted post, and all that. Back soon, I promise.

Ani DiFecko

2009-05-13T13:28:09Z

brooklynite @ 2009-03-04T14:02:00

2009-03-04T19:03:23Z

Elvis, whining: Me not want those tights. Me want purple tights.
Me: Are you crying about it?
Elvis, not whining: Me not crying. Me talking. Me want purple tights.

January 20, 2009

2009-01-20T07:25:25Z

In the fall of 1964 the leaders of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee made a visit to West Africa. At the time SNCC was one of the most prominent civil rights organizations in the United States, and its leaders were among the country's most capable black activists.

Traveling to Africa from Jim Crow America was a shock for these young people. At one point on the trip, as the group boarded an airplane, SNCC communications director Julian Bond noticed that the pilot was black. He turned to a friend and, only half joking, said "I hope this guy knows what he's doing."

Forty-four years ago one of America's most vocal advocates of racial equality wasn't quite sure that he trusted a black man to fly a plane. This morning, just before noon, a black man will be sworn in as president of the United States of America.

How quickly did this happen? How fast did we move from then to now?

Here's how quickly. Here's how fast.

When Julian Bond stepped onto that airplane, America's first black president was three years old.

Six years.

2009-01-05T13:39:06Z

Six years ago right now, two midwives were conferring. Today Casey is sitting in kindergarten, peeking at her watch, waiting for it to read 9:30.

Ah, youth.

2008-12-04T13:02:17Z

Just now, right after breakfast, Elvis toddled over to my bed, and hoisted one of her dolls up before climbing in herself. "Place. Eat. Baby." she said.

"This is the place for your baby to eat?" I asked. "Very cool. Come on up."

She settled in, held the baby in front of her, and lifted it to her mouth.

"Eat fingers." she said. "Eat eyes."

And then she did.

Gonna miss her now she's gone.

2008-12-03T11:47:31Z

Odetta.

brooklynite @ 2008-11-26T11:33:00

2008-11-26T16:36:33Z

Come on and dress me, dress me, dress me in my finest array,
'Cause just in case you haven't heard today is do-mi-do day!
Dress me in my silver garters, dress me in my diamond studs,
'Cause I'm going do-mi-do-ing in my do-mi-do duds!

I want my undulating undies with the marabou frills!
I want my beautiful bolero with the porcupine quills!
I want my purple nylon girdle with the orange blossom buds,
'Cause I'm going do-mi-do-ing in my do-mi-do duds!

Come on and dress me, dress me, dress me in my peekaboo blouse
With the lovely interlining made of Chesapeake mouse!
I want my polka-dotted dickie with the crinoline fringe,
For I'm going do-mi-do-ing on a do-mi-do binge!

I want my my lavender spats, and in addition to them,
I want my honey-colored gusset with the herringbone hem.
I want my softest little jacket made of watermelon suede,
And my long persimmon placket with the platinum braid.

I want my leg-of-mutton sleeves, and in addition to those,
I want my cutie chamois booties with the leopard-skin bows.
I want by pink-brocaded bodice with the fluffy fuzzy ruffs,
And my gorgeous bright blue bloomers with the monkey feather cuffs.

I want my organdy snood, and in addition to that,
I want my chiffon Mother Hubbard lined with Hudson Bay rat!
Dress me up from top to bottom, dress me up from tip to toe...
Dress me up in silk and spinach for today is do-mi-do!

Do-mi-do day! Do-mi-do day!

So come and dress me in the blossoms of a million pink trees!
Come on and dress me up in liverwurst! and camembert cheese!
Come on and dress me up in pretzels, dress me up in Bock beer suds...
'Cause I'm going ... do-mi-doing ...
In my do-mi-do duds!

Quote of the Day

2008-11-24T13:54:14Z

From my buddy Lauredhel:

No, your doctors and nurses are not standing there thinking “oh no I hope she doesn’t want a pap smear oh no don’t ask for a pap smear oh no not a pap smear OH NO she asked! Ew ew ew ew ew ew, not vag again, keep a straight face, pretend to make nice, here, get the gear out, hop up on the table dear, spread your ARGH ARGH ARGH VAG keep a straight face, ok, just relax, here we go, ICK ICK EW SMELLY VAG GROSS why did I ever do this job I never want to do a pap smear again phew it’s finished fill in the paperwork don’t meet her eyes oh no don’t make eye contact you’ve seen her DISGUSTING SMELLY VAG go away please don’t ever come back.”

Really. We’re not. If you ever get the slightest feeling that your doctor is thinking this? Move. It’s not normal.

Snerf.

2008-11-21T14:09:55Z

My great friend larryleveen reponds to my post from earlier this week, on the guy who claimed that courtrooms with gold-fringed flags weren't legitimate:

I met his cousin once. He claimed that stop signs with white borders were optional...

PS: Responses to your recent emails coming along soonest, Lar.

PPS: larryleveen, meet willendorf5761. willendorf5761, meet larryleveen.

Things that are boats, things that are not.

2008-11-18T13:20:03Z

This brought me right back to the salad days of the mid-nineties:

When I was a prosecutor, I had [a tax protestor] who claimed that the United States District Court did not have jurisdiction over him because the courtrooms had American flags with gold fringes, which established that they were admiralty courts and not courts of general jurisdiction. Judge Hupp, God rest him, wryly said, "I'll pretend you're a boat."

Meme OTD.

2008-11-17T22:05:31Z

If you saw me in a police car, what would you think I'd been arrested for?

(No points for identifying the thing that I actually was once arrested and put in the back of a police car for.)

Hiya.

2008-11-10T18:38:29Z

Juggling childcare, teaching, and all the stuff I let slide while I was finishing up the diss, so blogging is likely to be light for the next while, but I thought I'd wave.

Hi!

More news.

2008-11-05T06:28:46Z

John Murtha kept his House seat, despite calling his constituents racists. Marilyn Musgrave lost hers, for suggesting that liberals were traitors.

California's anti-marriage referendum is too close to call still, but New York's state senate flipped to the Democrats, so we may well get marriage equality in the Empire State next year. Here's hoping we nail down both.

Our House race here in Ohio is looking like a tough climb, but it's not over yet -- one of the vote-counting computers crashed hard, and it's not clear whether they'll have the count finished before morning.

Here's another.

2008-11-05T03:19:36Z

Prop 5 in Ohio this cycle was a referendum limiting the interest charged by payday lenders -- the folks who front poor working people cash until their paychecks come through.

Payday lenders are scumbags. This proposition would have capped their interest rates at 30% -- thirty percent! -- but they blanketed the state with ads, and polling said they were going to win.

They lost.

One more for the good guys.

A Change Is Gonna Come.

2008-11-05T03:02:15Z

OHIO!

2008-11-05T02:24:45Z

Boom. The room just exploded.

brooklynite @ 2008-11-04T19:48:00

2008-11-05T01:02:09Z

C2 and I did a round of door-knocking each of the last three days, and I made 112 GOTV phone calls last night. (It sounds like more than it is, honestly.) This afternoon I did a little gruntwork that I may or may not say more about later.

Right now we've staked out a corner at our House candidate's election-night party. There are maybe three dozen people here so far (the polls only just closed), and I count three open laptops.

I don't remember any at the shindig I went to in 2004.

More later, most likely.

Huh.

2008-11-02T15:19:49Z

So Dick Cheney speaks on McCain's behalf in Wyoming, and the same day Chris Rock speaks on Obama's behalf in Florida ... and it's the Cheney speech that blows up in the candidate's face.

Huh.

Interesting times we live in.

The distant future ... the distant future ...

2008-11-01T03:57:36Z

Another painting.

2008-10-30T15:23:27Z

Two others, actually.

Sitting beside me on the couch is a battered oil painting, on cheap art board, no frame, maybe eight inches by twenty. It's a river scene, almost a bayou. Whoever painted it had some lessons in how to paint trees, and water, but only a few -- the house at the left edge of the frame is pretty perfunctory, and its one red window is just strange.

If I was told the story right, and if I'm remembering the story right, the painting came into my family by way of an itinerant, probably the painter himself.

On the back of the painting is a watercolor and pencil painting of an orange and yellow flower in a black pot. Three blossoms, a tall dark green stalk. There's no background, and you can see the printing on the board along the left side. At some point someone was careless while they were painting a room, and there's some white spatter on the board, on top of the painting. Under the pot, in a child's hand, is the word "ARMORILLA." In the upper left corner, in the same hand, "FEB. 7. 1930." The year is scratched out with pencil, and "1931" is written in light pencil underneath.

She would have been not quite twelve then.

She's gone now. Last night, in her sleep. I'm okay, my dad's okay. This afternoon I'll tell my kid, the older kid, the one who carries her name, and I'll share a story or two while we're turning two cardboard boxes into two robot costumes for tomorrow.

Why Are You For Obama?

2008-10-28T17:55:00Z

My friend Shannon has created a cool website, as she sometimes does. Why For Obama is a place to post about why you're for Obama, and you can put up text, video, audio ... anything you like.

The most recent post is from the fabulous Maria Schneider of the fabulous Pathetic Geek Stories, but the point of the thing isn't just to read, it's to put yourself out there. So go. Put yourself out there.

And no, I haven't posted mine yet, but yes, I will. Or can. Or something.

One week.

2008-10-28T10:09:16Z

So who else is volunteering on election day? Who else has fun plans for election night? And who else, if all goes well, is going to make the schlep to DC on January 20?

I'm starting to get excited about this thing. Where's your head at?

Update: Chance of rain in Cincinnati November 4, high in the upper sixties.

No you can't have it back, silly rabbit.

2008-10-27T16:13:56Z

It's like they're trying to lose.