Chaucer Hath Mad Jokes

I was supposed to be a discussion leader for the discussion on selections from Chaucer's Canterbury Tales this week, but there was a bit of a communications error, and my thunder totally got stolen. That's okay - I'm pretty sure I'll get to do Arthurian Heroes, which is almost as cool.

I had gone to some trouble to prepare this "Discussion Leader" post, and had thought of two things I really wanted to share in addition to the academic bits. So I whipped up some rhymed couplets. *Ahem* Forthwith:

Geoffrey Chaucer Hath a mighty blog
Which loaded with witticisms is; that churlish dog
Updates his posts on so seldom a moon,
Causing geeks like me to nearly swoon.
One may find the blog (and ken the dog anon)
At House of Flame, blogspot dot com
But whilst I dally with you here a time,
Allow a goodwife yet one more little rhyme.
I saw a comic upon the Google Plus,
As I was dawdling on this forum; it is attached, thus,
Click the attachment and humor you will see,
About the Middle Ages, that which tickles me.

The school's forum thingie is painfully out-moded, so the image below was an attachment that had to be "clicked" rather than just displayed in the post.

By the way, if you need a bawdy laugh, and/or if you haven't recently, find a nearby copy of the Tales, and read the Wife of Bath's Tale. Omg. Hysterical.

The Very Public Face of ... You.

Why would anyone trust a system designed to increase communication and increase the sharing of our information to do the opposite of that, especially when millions of dollars are at stake?

Okay, I know there's more stuff out there about FB using you for advertising or using your friends for advertising or some such... and here's the thing: These sites were designed to share your information. If someone is willing to pay them to do the thing they're already designed to do, can you really expect them to do otherwise?

Further:

If you don't want to be seen doing something embarrassing, do your embarrassing things at home, alone. If you don't want something you say overheard, don't say it where people can hear you. And if you don't want people to see what you write, or the picture you took, don't put it on the internet. Not in a private message, and not on your FB page, not even if you "restrict access."

Let's all take a moment and reflect on
public vs. private embarrassment

If you put a picture on any picture sharing site; or words or a picture on any social media site; if you publicly "like" or +1 something, you really should just assume that it's being datamined at best, and used against you and your friends at worst, and that's just from the marketing angle. It's like making the assumption that if you say something in a room full of people, you might see it on CNN later.

Just pretend you're Beyonce, and that 

someone cares what you say in a crowded room

And maybe that sucks - we're being told to choose between sharing everything we do on the internet, in every way in which it can be shared, and not sharing anything (or, hardly anything), and that is a tough choice. Kind of like the choice you make between keeping your thoughts to yourself, and maintaining a constant out-loud stream-of-consciousness.

Yes, I realize that allowing FB to access my location, or allowing my phone to transmit information to the Google network means that my motions can be tracked. But I'm trying to think of how many people I know or stories I've heard of where bandits used that data to mug someone on their way out of the swanky new bar they just checked into... And I can't. Mugged, sure. Due to a FourSquare check-in? I don't think so. It's still easier to stalk the old fashioned way - by tailing someone. So, the police can find me. My government can find me. Presumably, bandits could find me. But I have to say, that's a risk I'm willing to take to brag about the Bat Cave awesome restaurant I just went to.

Little-known fact: I'm actually the Mayor of the Bat Cave
on FourSquare. (No, not really)

So, maybe the choice isn't about sharing everything and not sharing anything. Maybe it's about how much faith you have in the good will (or apathy) of your fellow human beings (and corporations) and about how important it is to let everyone know what you had for lunch and which facial moisturizer is your latest favorite.

Memorializing a Moment

My son is at that age - still a little kid, but striving to be a Young Man, testing limits and boundaries, and once in a while being so dang tender and precious, it's almost heartbreaking.

I went upstairs to put my pajamas on. He was already in bed. He's one of those kids that pretty much goes to sleep within moments of going to bed.

I could hear him singing to himself. I couldn't quite make out the song (it was probably Macklemore or Imagine Dragons, but I'd rather believe it was Puff The Magic Dragon). I started to rebuke him - to tell him to hush, now, and go to sleep! But I just couldn't do it. How dear is that? A kid singing himself to sleep. I hope I never forget that.

Would he let me go and rock him? No, of course not. I don't even always get to tuck him in, especially if I don't rush to get there. He was asleep by the time I had finished washing my face.

I need a Pinterest for that. A Kodak for that moment. A memory stick I can put that moment on, straight from my brain, quick before it fades.

Deep Thoughts: A Friend's Worth

Recently, I was concerned that a friendship was threatened. I consulted another friend who has really excellent judgement. She put it into clear perspective: Is the thing threatening the friendship worth more than the friendship? How long do you expect the friendship to last? Just how much are you willing to sacrifice for this friend, and are they worth it?

Thank God, it all came to naught, and the friendship survived mostly intact.

Now, in a much different friendship, I'm finding myself asking the same types of questions. I've invested a lot of time and emotion into this friendship. The friend went through some major life events - and maybe I wasn't there like I should have been? - and now that life seems to have calmed down a bit, doesn't show any outward signs of wanting to continue the friendship at all. Messages have gone unanswered, expectations completely unfulfilled. And I'm pretty crushed about it.

Do I continue hoping that our friendship will revive at least a little? That requires an investment of hope, and hope is a bigger investment than time. Even if the friendship were a different shape, that would be welcome - the silence is killing me. Has this friendship reached its natural termination? Just how dear to me is this person still?

A New Pantheon

I was recently at a party where I mentioned that my paper on the three Greek works from which we read selections (the Iliad, the Odyssey, and the Aeneid - I'm seeking my B.A., if you didn't know) would actually be on how the women in these stories wield power. I didn't mention how much it irked me that in these three great works, the woman's role is really minimal, and mortal women especially are mostly portrayed as powerless pawns of their hero male family members and the gods, because, well, I didn't want to be that girl
at the party.

Little did I know, the person to whom I was speaking - a friend's husband, both of whom I had admired for other reasons - happened to have gotten his degree in feminine studies. The friend told me that her husband knew all about how women wield power. He laughed and said that what his degree was really about was how to create a society in which women are truly equal.

He mentioned the American and French schools of thought on gender equality, and said that the French school of thought - which is less popular - states that so long as women are living in a value-system created by men, the society cannot truly be objective; women will never be free from sexism, even when it's women talking about women, because they have to talk about it using the male-created terms. What women really need, he said, is their own pantheon, made up of deities that reflect women's values. (And here we see why it's not very popular. How many feminists do you know who are willing to abandon their faith to create and follow their own pantheon?)

And that got me to thinking: What's the one god that women really need? If I was going to create a pantheon for women, who would be in it? What would they look like? Do we need a healer? A fertility deity? A warrior? A beauty queen? A peace-maker? A wisdom deity? Do they have to all be women?

In Samuel Butler's translation of the Aeneid (why didn't my department head choose Fitzgerald? Maybe s/he was trying to be new and different?), Cupid, the god of love, takes on a boy's appearance so that when he greets Queen Dido and she hugs him, he can poison her to become infatuated with Aeneas. Because it's prepubescent boys that inspire love and infatuation? I don't think so.

Although, I'm not sure I'd have a love deity. Love is a property that should belong to every deity. I would have a fertility deity, but I think she'd also be the anti-fertility deity. She'd be the one you prayed to when it was month 5 of "we're trying to get pregnant" and day two of, "am I late, or did I count wrong?" and day 12 of, "okay, I planted, I watered... Now what?" and whenever you think of people facing drought or famine. Maybe she'd also be the one in charge of New Ideas and Healthy Changes. She'd be the one writers and artists and inventors prayed to.

Maybe she'd look a little like this

 What deity do you think women need?

Why I Secretly Kind of Hate A&E's Duck Dynasty

I fell in love with A&E's Duck Dynasty when I had to fact-check a claim made by the family patriarch - a man passionate about duck hunting, mostly retired, now - that he had given up a promising football career - to launch Duck Commander. (Spoiler alert: it's true. Terry Bradshaw was Phil Robertson's second string at LSU).

It's a combination of Good Values and comedy as sweet as Si's iced tea. Almost. Everyone knows someone like these characters - that lady at church that's always insisting you go get another plate of food; that woman at the PTA you'll never measure up to; the weird uncle; the boss trying in vain to wield his non-existent power - all wrapped up in humor, both dry and wet, and love for the members of one's own family.

I suggested insisted my parents watch an episode while we were visiting. My dad could relate to all the hunting references, and they could both relate to the references to life in the south. We excitedly bickered over which episode was the best, and landed on the one about the radio show, where Willie takes himself too seriously, and is ruthlessly ridiculed for his (truthfully non-existent) ineptitude when it comes to hunting.

It struck me as I watched Daddy, obviously not loving this show: he doesn't like it for the same reason he didn't like the Berenstain Bears: the stereotypes.* Papa bear is big and friendly and jolly and ridiculously foolish; a lot like Willie Robertson, the ineffectual boss. Mama bear is almost flawless - she's well-kempt, loves her family fiercely, and she's hard-working around the home; a lot like Miss Kay. Korie is Sister Bear - a little air-headed, but smart, good at keeping folks in line, and good at putting on the charm when she needs to. Brother Bear is played by Jace - he's always pushing his sibling's buttons, he's a cut-up, maybe more than a little arrogant, but deep down, he really cares. (Full disclosure: there's an alternate reality in which I'm married to Jace Robertson. Le sigh.)

In Duck Dynasty, you'll hear some reference to manhood being beard-dependant (or even tied to beard length) in almost every episode: Real men - men who are unafraid of a challenge, men who can hunt, men who aren't squeamish or lazy or who enjoy too much luxury - those men have beards. Real women cook or sew (not Korie. But then, she has her looks) and aren't squeamish, either. Real women don't hunt (they tried to get them to do so, once) and don't get dirty; their hair and makeup are always stylish and flawless.

Did you gals hear that? If you look that good, you don't have to cook or sew unless you want to. Aren't we the lucky ones?

I still like love that the family has minor disagreements, but not protracted arguments, and that they come together over a feast and a prayer at the end of each show. It doesn't bother me when A&E leaves "Jesus" in the prayer, and it doesn't bother me when they take it out.

I even kind of like the exploration of the conflict between old values ("pioneer" living; hard work; a nature-focused lifestyle) and the new reality (How do the old values fit into a luxurious life? How can we hold onto our humble origins while expanding our wealth and ensuring our children's future?).

But I hate the stereotypes about gender, and I hate the stereotypes about the south (chiefly, that the south is full of rednecks who only care about things they can blow-up, shoot, shoot at, or eat).

Duck Dynasty has mad jokes (the bit where Si does Chewbacca had us all on the floor). It has some good values (loyalty to family - including family you choose, not just the one you're born into - and enjoying the great outdoors and hard work and good food). The characters allow surprising glimpses of their hidden depth (the "old, stupid one," Si, gets caught making pop culture references all the time, and even though Phil seems mostly to enjoy his retirement, you do get the impression that he worked really hard to get there).

I'm just not sure I can sit back and enjoy it like I did before I looked closer, and that's too bad.

* This part might not actually be true - I know why Daddy doesn't like the Bears, but he might have much different reasons for not liking Duck Dynasty.

The Mini-Kitteh - a Dream

I have to guess that I heard my co-worker talking about her new black kitten without knowing I had heard - she was talking about him near me, so it's entirely possible. And maybe it was because while trying to park yesterday, I drove past a very cute tan-and-white Mini Cooper. Or is it Cooper Mini? Goodness, it's small. How do you fit a whole family into that- OMG a spot opened up!

I dreamed I found a Mini-Kitten. It was a full six weeks old and healthy and fit neatly into the palm of one hand. So I took it home. That was okay, because it was a mini-kitten, not a full-sized cat, and besides, it was really cute. it was black all over and it had slightly-longer, thicker, white hairs here and there, like super-soft porcupine spines.

It wrecked the house. It went tearing across my living room, knocking over tray tables, and shoving the ottoman out of the way. It went tearing across the dining room, knocking over dinner chairs and spilling half-full glasses of water and pushing lunchboxes and purses and newspapers off the table. The other cats were terrified.

It grew to the size of my whole hand, and then to its adult size - about 2/3 the size of my ninja kitty, who weighs less that 4 lbs. A mini-cat.