A fine and tragic example of the true oppression of women, thought and the freedom of religious expression is the stabbing of a nun in a Coptic church in Egypt at the hands of who other than Islamic fundamentalists.
I pose the question again? "Freshman?" Why don't you all get your panties flannel boxers in a bunch over something that really matters. Like women who selflessly serve others getting stabbed because Muslims didn't like the alleged content of a play staged at their home church. And I quote:
"If those responsible for the offence do not admit their guilt, then every Christian holding a sermon in the incriminated church will become a target of the mujahadeen."
This isn't a joke. It's not a movie. These people mean it and we're sittin here watching grass grow and finding things like "freshman" to complain about.
*Sigh.* What an amazing world we would live in if people were really informed.
After "potty parity," the doing away with the term "firemen" and other so called sexist terms, I cannot say I am surprised by this latest move by the radical, feminist left. However, it still deeply saddens/angers me.
Dennis Prager just finished discussing the article on his show.
To say that the word "freshman" is misogynistic and oppressive is one of the greatest abuses of thought and language that I can possibly think of. These throw back hippie, stick-it-to-the-man, feminist nutcases living in their ivory towers need to get out into the world and see what oppression and misogyny really is. First stop: The Middle East. Don't like the word "freshman?" How about female circumcision? Or not being allowed to show an ounce of skin in public. Or getting your throat slit or stoned to death simply because someone said you slept around, or because your brothers raped and impregnated you. How about forced abortions? What about those things ladies? Are those okay because they're culturally relative? Are we morally equivalent to those barbaric practices because it's evil not really sensitive to make judgments, on anything?
If there is one thing that gets me all worked up it's misguided anger that labels the wrong things "evil." When I was in college, in our Women in the Media classes, or our Interpersonal Communication classes or underwater basket weaving classes, the subject of oppressive male dominated speech patterns always seemed to come up. I was 18 years old when I entered my upper division classes and even at that age I remember being shocked, horrified and outraged that this was the front running issue on everyone's mind. I remember trying to bring up the treatment of women in most places outside of the West, and getting blank "where did white girl come from?" stares. I eventually gave up trying to convince people that worse treatment was out there, that the terms "semester" and "waitress" were not going to keep them back from being successful, and more importantly happy and fulfilled.
This act, by this high school, shows the extent of the narcissism, willful ignorance and foolishness of many on the left, particularly those who ascribe to the feminist ideal.
I don't think this is the end of Western Civilization, but I do think this is one giant leap in the direction of an Orwellian Utopia.
I've recently been turned on to StatCounter by a far more savvy and sophisticated blogger, and I have to say that although I wish I had had this from the beginning, for the purpose of seeing how many uniques I've had since the inception of my lovely site, I'm actually quite glad I haven't had it. Why, you say? Because if I wasn't already an internet junkie, I am now. Boy that site is addicting. Not only is it fun to track the hits, but it's also really exciting to see where they come from.
I've had hits from Turkey, France, Malaysia, Lebanon, Canada, and all over the US. My plan to take over the world is slowly coming to be.
"They overcame him
by the blood of the Lamb
and by the word of their testimony;
they did not love their lives so much
as to shrink from death" --Revelation 12:11 NIV
Everyone has a story. I've learned that as I've gotten older. And what I've learned beyond that is that it isn't always apparent what type of story people are living out during the time you brush by them on the street, interact with them in a store or even pray with them on a Sunday morning. But how amazing when you do get to hear them. They can humble, teach, encourage, or all three. All this to say, I just have to tell part of my story, not to accomplish any of the above, but simply because I'm amazed at what God has brought me through, and I thought it might just encourage others, even if on a miniscule level to not only look for the same in their life, but to share it with others.
When I was about 12 years old, the entire make up of my skin began to change. And by make up, I don't mean Cover Girl. I started noticing really awful blemishes, and not only were they horrible to look at, they were terribly painful. No big deal, they were on my forehead, and I had bangs (awful 90's bangs, but bangs nonetheless).
It might be more polite not to share with you the gritty details of my saga, but I actually think that's the fun part, though far more exciting to deliver in person to see the looks of horror on people's faces. So, here goes.
That began the most horrendous round of cystic acne I and my dermatologists had ever seen. What started on my forehead quickly moved to my temples, to my cheeks ending under my jawline. Luckily, the cheek area under my eyes and my chin were spared so I could, at times, somewhat hide the hell that became my skin. I became quite skilled at covering up my acne. I would scoop all my hair as close to my face as possible and walk with the wind, instead of against it, so as not to call further attention to myself. When I would walk into doctor's offices, they would say, "Oh it doesn't look that bad." Then I'd pull back my hair, their face would turn white and they'd recover themselves as quickly as possible to say, "Oh, um, *ahem* um, well, let's take a look at this." Great for a teenage girl's self-esteem. Even better is when she hears, "This is going to cause permanent scarring."
During this time, I was very active in my youth group. My parents told me that I could stay home from church if I wanted to, but I wasn't about to let silly old acne keep me from my God, my friends and serving the body of Christ. I'm a stubborn one, what can I say?
Calling my acne "acne" is really offensive to acne. Mine was like epidermal Hiroshima. I had gigantic cysts on my face. Sometimes I would lie awake at night and count over 100 of them. My best friend at the time could have passed for teenage Barbie. Perfect body, hair--beautiful. Totally missed what I was going through and actually asked me once, "Have you ever had a zit that just, hurt?" I didn't even know how to respond.
You know how they tell every teenager not to pick his zits? Well, I didn't have to. They'd burst when I was walking down the hall. I would often run to the nearest bathroom because I knew something was amiss. I could feel it. My pillow cases were always bloody. Eventually those cysts became giant purple scabs that stood about 1/4 inch off my face. They had to be biopsied, they were that bad. The diagnosis? Always: infected.
I went on Accutane, which saved my skin from further decay, but was another ring of hell, in and of itself. If you aren't already familiar with the medication, it dries out every mucus membrane in your body, in the hopes that it stops the production of oil and more acne. My skin became so dry that it would flake off in pieces, my lips were always cracked. I got rashes on my arms, and my hair would also crack it was so dry. After the accutane, I had to get injections in my skin, under the jawline (you have no idea how sensitive that area is until someone sticks a needle in it) into my raised scars to help bring them down. Gitmo has nothing on my plastic surgeon's office.
I met every kind of person during my two year stint with acne. I met cruel girls who would mock me while flitting their perfect silky hair, walking away in their designer clothes. But I have to say I preferred the outright cruelty to the horrified stares. I met wonderful, compassionate, male peers who saw me for more than just Freddie Kruger's ugly sidekick. And there were always the little kids who would say, "What happened to your face?" I got very creative in my answers: car accidents, fires, bike accidents, anything that would get them to look at me as a human being, instead of a freak show.
During this season, God truly began to work in me a humility and a tenderheartedness that I do not believe I would possess had I not gone through this trial. {This trial didn't stop at 15 either. The acne left horrible, pitted scars on my face. I had my first laser surgery to help flatten the effects when I was about 16, and the next at 17. I'll probably have round three later this year.} I don't look at people the same way. I can look at the perfect Barbie of a girl and laugh, knowing that if it isn't her looks, it's something else that will help her realize life isn't her chihuahua to drag around in a Prada purse.
I also identified with those who would never be the Paris Hiltons of the world. Not only was I able to sympathize deeply with the rejects and outcasts, but I was also able to speak to them that they aren't to be defined by what the world sees them as. The world saw a freak in me, but I wasn't defined by that. I knew that I was a daughter of the High King and He would get me through. I knew that someday "this too would pass." And I trusted that he'd get me through the next trial.
I'm not entirely sure why I'm sharing this other than to say that pictures can cover a multitude of sins. I photograph well; I won't lie. But it's been a long haul getting to that place. Along that broken road, I felt the pulse of my Master and his heart for those who are hurting and broken. I learned not to take people's cruelty so close to heart. I started marching to the beat of my own drummer, the one who carried me through my trials.
I'm so thankful that the Lord gave me a strong spirit at such a young age. I knew that "the Lord [would] restore [unto me] the years the locust have eaten." It was my reality. I clung to the Words of God. The verse the Lord gave me for that season of my life was out of Isaiah: "Every valley shall be raised up, every mountain and hill made low; the rough ground shall become level, the rugged places a plain (40:4)." Those words brought tremendous life and healing to my soul and even to my skin, because my countenance grew lighter and more joyful the more I realized that this earthly shell I will someday shed for something far more glorious than I can imagine.
I'm not going to assume this does anything for anyone. I just had to give glory to God for what He's done in my life. And that's just one small example. My skin may bear the scars from years of genetic destruction, but my soul bears none, and that's only for my Savior.
I've always had a soft spot for men in uniform. I'm not entirely sure what it is about them. If it's their sense of duty, their sacrifice, courage, discipline or any other possible appealing character trait implied by the donning of a military uniform. I respect them immensely. Conversely, I have a very fierce contempt for those who would demean, condescend, diminish or cause harm to the men who serve our country. But I digress.
One man in uniform who has recently garnered every last ounce of respect I could possibly conjure is Capt. Danjel Bout currently serving in the U.S. Army stationed in Baghdad, Iraq. Capt. Bout is an incredibly upstanding man. I found out about him through My Vast Right Wing Conspiracy, when he was a runner up for The King of Cotillion.
Capt. Bout, or Thunder6, has a blog titled 365 and a Wakeup. In it he chronicles the many events currently underway in and around Southern Baghdad. He has three posts dedicated to the Iraqi Constitutional Elections. Before that he beautifully eulogizes a comrade in arms. It's always harder to read about the fallen from their fellow soldiers.
Thunder6 writes in the most beautiful prose, proving wrong all the whining, pansy liberals who claim that only undereducated, ignorant children join the military. I can only aspire to be as eloquent a communicator as Capt. Bout. His writings make the war real, with stories you'll never hear from the mainstream media, sharing sacrifices, joys, tremendous sorrows and great pride in serving the people of Iraq and representing the United States of America. I highly recommend his blog. It's absolutely riveting. Make sure you set a part ample amounts of time before clicking over. You won't want to stop reading his accounts.
God bless you and your men, Capt. Bout.
It's been a few days (my apologies), so where to start.
Thank you all for the sympathy for my car situation. I didn't know where to start, so my dad ran around and found a replacement for the entire side view mirror system. We couldn't find one to match the paint, so for now my driver's side mirror is black. My car is dark green so it isn't too awful. My family is looking into a surveilance system, other than our huge dog, who normally does a fabulous job. Since it's my car that is singled out on the block and among our cars, we thought it best to install some system that monitors the whereabouts of those near my car.
My foreign roommate arrived safe and sound. We've had a great time together so far, though I do feel bad sometimes when I have to work during the day and can't entertain her. She's certainly capable of handling her own, but I like being an attentive hostess. Our only downfall? We are both night people. Since she's in my room, we stay up really late (sometimes till 1:30 a.m.) talking about all kinds of things. The other night we both stayed up talking about Islam. We also talked about Capitalism v. Socialism and if it's true capitalism to incorporate some of socialism into the infrastructure. And we've covered European v. American weddings. Fascinating topics. We're enjoying the conversations but hurting in the morning.
I got to play dress up yesterday for a friend who is putting together a portfolio for her hair and make up styles. My hair was weaved and had crazy extensions in it. My face and upper body was given a paint-by-numbers routine resulting in a great tan and serious make up. I looked like Malibu Barbie at the end of the day. We started around 7, and they (photographer, artist) left around 3:30. Can I tell you how exhausted I was? I don't have a new respect for models, but it was tiring. It was quite amazing how well everything turned out, but I did feel like the look immediately lowered my IQ by 20 points. My make up artist told me, "Look, honey, we know you, but don't go standing on any corners tonight, okay?" I'll have pictures in an album when I moved to MuNu (still working on it).
I've gotta get to reading the news again. It's been a busy couple weeks. I teach an ESL class every week that I also have been dying to write about. I'll be mostly glued to the computer this weekend, so hopefully I'll have time to do all those things.
Life is good. Blogging is catching up. Be back soon.
Who knew such great friendships could be formed over the blogosphere? Mac, you're the best.
Everybody, vote for MacStansbury (left column).
It's weird to link to something that is linked back to me, but this is one of the highest (and most unexpected) compliments I've ever been paid and one of the most caring posts I've read, so I had to link.
Vote for Mac! :)
Today is Cotillion Day and we have a few party favors:
This week, one brave cotillionette managed to host the cotillion roundup all by herself. Show her love and appreciation by visiting her site and telling her what a fantastic job she's done.
Our King of Cotillion/Cotillion Beefcake finalists have been selected. We're down the final four. Go to Beth's site to check out the beefcake photos. (They are so loving being objectified; further proof of male/female differences.) And vote to your little heart's content. Well, actually you're only allowed to vote once a day, but who's counting?
Finally, Tuesday also means the appearance of a new Dennis Prager article. This week his article is entitled, How the Left Has Harmed America This Week. It's a fantastic read, one that both thoughtful people on the left and right should read and know about.
This morning saw the second time my car has been egged in five days. Last Thursday, my car was covered in broken egg shells and all the other innerds of the egg. I had to get it detailed just to get the shells out of my driver's side handle. This morning, my car was egged so badly that my side mirror was broken, left shattered on the street. The estimate is that it will cost me $250 because they can't just replace the mirror, they have to replace the entire system of wiring, etc. So, because of mean people, I'm out hundreds of dollars and my paint is scratched and damaged because of the egg whites, yoke and shell.
If I weren't a Christian with a firm grasp on human nature and how unfair the world is because of sin, this might come as a total shock that someone would do something so cruel, many times over (this is really about the fifth egg attack in a year and a half). But I don't believe that people are naturally good, so this doesn't come as a surprise. I also believe in reaping what you sow, karma as some world systems would call it, and what may come as a total surprise is when the egger sees the quality of life diminish around him/her and and finds himself/herself as the brunt of random, cruel acts.
The nature of vandalism, terror and other crimes of the like is to attack under the radar, but cast enough suspicion on whom it might be so that the victim begins to accuse those whom he knows are probably at fault. However, since not enough evidence was left to support the claim, the vandal/terrorist throws hands up innocently and says, "How could you say that? You have no proof." And he's right. We see it in Israel, Iraq, the United States, and on and on. They're crazy makers, throwing punches in the dark and whining and crying intolerance when they get hit back. Thus victim becomes perp, while perp walks away smirking.
I know the game. I ain't playing. Count me out.
In the meantime, and on a global scale, I feel for Israel and all other countries dealing with issues of terror right now. Human nature is the same on a micro and macro level. On the basketball court, it's always the guy who retaliates who gets the penalty. On an international dispute level, it's always the defenders who are made to look like the bad guys. It's not changed for thousands of years on large and small scales, so I don't expect things in my own little personal world to be any different.
I am thankful that, in the words of Steven Curtis Chapman, "we are not home yet." I don't put my eggs in the world's basket, forgive the pun. I know there is a place where there is perfect justice and peace, it's just not here. Something to look forward to.
My favorite piece of news this week? I could not stop laughing when I read this and saw the image on Drudge. It is so fun/refreshing when reporters make themselves out to be the overlydramatic, sometimes fraudulent attention getters that they really are. Even Matt Lauer had a hard time composing himself. When Matt Lauer and Katie Couric call your journalism tactics into question, you know you've hit rock bottom.
I had a feeling that I might be alone in my distaste for the movie A History of Violence. I identified it as an extremely arrogant film, and lo and behold, the critics loved it. Roger Ebert would be better served to just make out with the director, he's so sycophantic. He actually compares Viggo Mortensen's character in the movie to Jimmy Stewart in It's a Wonderful Life. This is so laughable it's almost not worth refuting. I just thought I'd give little snippets of the suck-up reviews, the same ones, who, of course, thought The Passion of the Christ was full of "pornographic violence with no point." Hmm...
Roger Ebert's opening (if this doesn't prove my point, I don't know what does):
David Cronenberg says his title "A History of Violence" has three levels: It refers (1) to a suspect with a long history of violence; (2) to the historical use of violence as a means of settling disputes, and (3) to the innate violence of Darwinian evolution, in which better-adapted organisms replace those less able to cope. "I am a complete Darwinian," says Cronenberg.
~~I couldn't have asked for better proof of my assertion about the director (see my review).Here again, Roger proves my point. (Man, if I were in court, I'd so pull this guy as one of my witnesses.) Emphasis mine.
This is not a movie about plot, but about character. It is about how people turn out the way they do, and about whether the world sometimes functions like a fool's paradise. I never give a moment's thought about finding water to drink. In New Orleans a few weeks ago, would I have been willing to steal from stores or fight other people for drinkable water? Yes, if it meant life for myself and my family.
From The San Francisco Examiner:
Cronenberg is careful to not foist his opinions on the viewer, instead allowing you to draw your own conclusions. But one thing is certain: Violence is a part of everyone's life and this movie is quick to point that out.
~~Is that so? But I thought guns killed people, not people? Apparently, violence is a part of everyone, except our evil troops fighting for our evil President and his evil ideas about freedom. That violence is apparently unacceptable.
The Hollywood Reporter (apparently we saw two different films altogether):
David Cronenberg's "A History of Violence" is a cleverly told "what if?" movie that raises significant questions about trust, redemption and forgiveness.
~Except that none of those questions are ever really raised and certainly never answered.
One of the Canadian director's more straightforward pictures, it should delight mainstream audiences who prefer their action pictures to have some depth of character, several twists in the plot and a satisfying conclusion.
~~Here we see our first problem: Canadian director. Second problem with this analysis: there is absolutely no satisfying conclusion whatsoever. And these so-called plot twists? More like further excuses to show more gratuitous violence. Oh, and delight would hardly be the word. I'm thinking more along the lines of horrify.The story moves so swiftly
~Except that it doesn'tAshton Holmes does fine work as the son, and Heidi Hayes is eerily wise as the young daughter.
~Both kids were terrible overactors, and the girl had all but two lines. I suppose, by wise, he means "better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt."
I can't bear to subject you to more of this. I had a great laugh when reading some of these. I maintain my original advice: DO NOT SEE THIS FILM. It will do nothing but disturb you, make you hate Hollywood even more, and make you feel like a horrible person for 1.) not walking out, and 2.) giving money to this piece of trash. I should know.
Tonight a good friend of mine from overseas is coming to stay with me for two months. My family and I have been vigorously preparing for her arrival, which has shed light on a strange familial phenomenon. My family's home has been under steady construction for over a decade. But the periods of time that one can chart rapid growth always comes at holidays or upon a visitor's stay. The motivation to finish projects, paint things, fix things up is exponentially greater when we know we'll have guests. I don't know if this is true of most families, but it is of mine.
Needless to say, it's been fun watching further progress on our big and little projects, but I am worn out and I've hardly gotten any of my money making work done.
I am looking forward to hosting someone for two months. It's great fun being a tour guide and helping someone discover the cool things about your own stomping grounds. I never do tourist activities anymore. Plus, this is a great season to come to Los Angeles. The weather is nice, compared to the European country she's from, there are fun seasonal things to do and of course, we have our best holidays: Thanksgiving and Christmas.
One of the reasons I enjoy traveling is learning about the people in various regions. It should be fun comparing our country's traditions during the winter seasons, comparing foods, languages and other customs. She's a brilliant thinker and all around wonderful person as well, and our birthdays are only 8 days apart. She's planning a permanent move out here and most likely will be looking for work in her field of child psychology/counseling. I will keep you all aprised of our European/American interchanges. We certainly have a great deal to talk about on the political front, her country having just gone through radical changes in leadership, and the overall European sentiment toward our administration promises to be a fun topic of conversation.
I'm off to make an American dessert for her welcome back mini-party. Ciao!
I found the hideous creature's match set. Happy Halloween! Bring this thing to the front door and you'd be the "coolest, freakiest people on the block." :)
Ever wonder what the world's ugliest dog looks like? I'm not sure it's even humane to let this thing live.
I'd post the picture, but I just can't stomach having that image on my pretty little site.
And I used to think some couples in our church were crazy. If there's one thing you could say about this couple, it's that they sure as heck obeyed, "Be fruitful and multiply." Wow.
I just finished watching the tail end of an A&E special called, "Horrors of Hussein." All I can say is, "Too little, too late." This documentary, among others like it, should have been shown leading up to the war to garner more support for President Bush's decision to invade Baghdad. Now, Cindy Sheehan and her ridiculous ilk should be handcuffed to chairs and made to watch these things and then asked, "Do you still think your son died in vain?"
In the little time I have to blog, I thought I'd relay some of what I saw and pose the question to the liberal community, "Wouldn't this be enough of a reason to liberate these people?"
I came into the show as the narrator was talking about one of Saddam's ministers who had the courage to give Hussein an honest answer to a tough question. Saddam thanked the man for his candor and told him to leave. The minister's wife begged Hussein to return him home to her, assuring him that her husband had always been loyal to him. Hussein did return the man home, in a body bag, the minister's body cut to pieces.
As Saddam grew more paranoid, he only allowed a select few people to be his trusted aides. Among those people were his sons, now dead, thank God. Uday was the exhibitionist of the two, making no effort to cover his desire to torture and kill those whom he wished dead. As most know, he was given the ministry of sports, or whatever it was called. It is believed that he had 50 athletes murdered, and hundreds more tortured for not winning or doing exactly as he had expected.
One of his body doubles gave an account of his random impulse to torture people. They were in a hotel when Uday saw a honeymooning couple. He struck the husband, and grabbed the wife. His body double begged him to leave them alone. Uday hit him. He then had the husband beaten and dragged the wife to his room where he raped her. She then jumped off the top story of the hotel to her death.
Uday also had his own torture chambers. His favorite form of torture was laying a victim on his back, tying his feet in metal braces above his body and beating the soles of his feet with baseball bats, crushing the bones.
Like Hitler, Hussein kept records of over a million people. He kept records of torture, their family life, minute details. Still today our Coalition Forces are uncovering mass graves, and bodies seem to surface wherever they go.
Those who would say that President Bush is evil or Hitler are so grossly ignorant their very existence is a testament to a merciful God, as I've said before. We have absolutely no concept of what it is like to live under a tyrannical dictator, constantly in fear that whatever we say might have us tortured or murdered along with our family. If I were to speak against Pres. Bush, I never have to worry he would have my tongue cut out.
My hat's off to A&E, though I think the special should have been shown long before now. Maybe it was; I sure can hope. This information needs to be widespread to all the liberal camps who claim this war is evil and that war never solved anything. Ignorance is not bliss. It's downright dangerous.
What I saw would be reason enough to invade that country to liberate those poor people from the hell they called home. I can't begin to imagine what it would be like having lived under his reign of terror.
God bless them as they figure things out now and begin the long healing process that is so desperately needed. And God bless President Bush and our troops for starting that process.
I've finally gotten the go-ahead to move to my new host. Now I'm just waiting for my wonderful designer Tammy to help me get it all set up. I'm very excited and will let you all know when the official switch has happened.
I will keep this site and possibly cross post for a bit. I'm going to downgrade my account and keep this URL until everyone knows about the new one.
I'll keep you posted. No pun intended. :)
Okay blog loving ladies. We have a golden opportunity this week. We know what it's like to constantly be judged and assessed by our looks, not that I'm complaining, but now it's our turn. Beth, over at My Vast Right Wing Conspiracy, has come up with a contest for what is basically Homecoming King of Cotillion. So, the tables have turned, gentlemen, and now it's the ladies' turn to vote: Who's the Hottest Blogger Worthy of the Cotillion Crown?
Check out the photos at Beth's site, mark down your finalists, come back here and vote! :) Enjoy.
You may be wondering about the poll on your left. Explanation to follow tomorrow. In the meantime, you may go here to read more. But come back to vote at my site. I want to see the results.
Tonight's discussion on the Infiltration of Islam in the West was incredible, spare one lone CAIR plant. Alleged plant. The moderator for the evening was Avi Davis, who in his own right certainly could have contributed a great deal to the discussion. Avi is the co-founder of the Israel-Christian Nexus, an organization I fully support, not just intellectually and emotionally but financially. He is an accomplished attorney and journalist. He recently finished writing a book called Crucible of Conflict which is due out in the spring of '06. He also has a website, which is www.jewsweek.com.
Robert Spencer kicked off the bulk of the discussion with a lesson in the history of Islam and Jihad. He was very careful to fully back his claims with scriptures from the Qu'ran and other Islamic texts. I would go into his arguments, but frankly, I'm exhausted and have a full day ahead of me. The second part of the discussion resumes tomorrow evening where he will be joined by a Rabbi as well. In the meantime, please visit his website JihadWatch and subsidiary DhimmiWatch (see previous post and left hand panel for links). And while you're at it, purchase his newest release and New York Times Bestseller (8 weeks running), The Politically Incorrect Guide to Islam and the Crusades.
The other presenter was a brilliant Pakistani Muslim named Tashbi Sayyed, Ph.D. He is the Editor-in-Chief of Muslim World Today. He has degrees from multiple countries, speaks 3 languages and is an excellent resource on Islam. He had tremendously insightful and sobering things to say that I will relay to you tomorrow. He too will be there tomorrow evening for the continuation.
The theme of tonight was the History of Jihad. Tomorrow they will cover the Manifestations of Jihad in Modern History.
Though Bono and company mean well, and I do not doubt their sincerity, AIDS is not, in any way the single greatest threat to humanity as they would purport. It's the expansion of Islamic rule. AIDS may steal the body, but what of our rights, humanity and freedom being taken from us? What is life without freedom?
More to come.
Recently, I have gotten a slew of invitations for interesting events. I'm not sure what mailing list I've been added to, but whomever did it must have liked me. That or they thought they'd be torturing me through added pieces of mail...little did they know.
Tonight I'll be attending a discussion on The Infiltration of Islam in the West. The speakers participating are a Jewish philosopher, a Muslim advocate and Christian analyst Robert Spencer. Spencer is the founder of two websites JihadWatch and DhimmiWatch. He's written several books on Islam, exposing the truth about the religion and practices without attacking the system or its followers. He was prompted to write one of his books about Islam after the 9/11 attacks, when a great deal of apologists were screaming that Islam was a religion of peace. He answers that claim and then some.
I highly recommend visiting his website and informing yourself of the infiltration of Islamic policies in our own country. It's actually quite alarming. The mainstream media would call you a conspiracy theorist if you said that Islam is intent on ruling the world. Spencer is able to provide hard evidence in support of that statement.
I will most certainly try as hard as can be to remember all I hear tonight and dictate it for you. I'm very much looking forward to it. At the very least, listening to a Jew, a Muslim and a Christian talk about Islam is sure to be fascinating.
I may make a lot of enemies with this post. But when has that ever stopped me?
Enter at your own risk.
I basically hate MySpace. Why? For several reasons, but first I will start by affirming the one positive thing about it, other than it's a cash cow right now. Basically a glorified message board, it can be a way for people to communicate with each other if they're away from loved ones, family, etc. (I've recently seen my cousins communicate with my brother on the site, which is really neat.) Other than that, I hate it. Again, why?
First of all, I've not seen a MySpace account that isn't fully self involved. Now, if you are a traveling musician (like many of my friends), then you have interesting things to talk about. If you are a part of a really unique profession, you do as well. If you're a hurricane relief worker, you also would have amazing stories. As for the rest, well....
I feel like I've watched MTV, read Teen People, The National Enquirer and all the other trivial pursuit magazines, for hours after looking at some of the accounts. I never close the window thinking, "Man, am I ever glad I perused that site. My life has been enriched and enlightened." I actually leave thinking, "I hate this website."
I say this in great conflict, being the proud owner of my own blog, struggling to self-examine and ask if I am guilty of the same social crime. Maybe I am. But I hate narcissism. And our culture is chalk full of it. Having a "Me, me, me" website simply fuels the narcissism and affirms self-importance. I know I'm taking a risk here, but it must be said.
It's easy to differentiate between fully narcissitic sites/accounts and those that aren't. Most bloggers write in first person. We aren't journalists, so there's no protocol or duty to exclude personal experience or opinion. In fact, those are the two things that drive the blog industry. We make no bones about having an opinion, where journalists of now adamantly insist that they are without bias. No comment.
In college, my favorite professor, Dr. Peter Marston, used to give essay exams that could not exceed 1 page. If we went one line past that limit, he wouldn't read it and we'd be marked down. The content we would often be tested on was quite difficult and weighty, so many would object, crying that it wasn't enough room to answer his questions. He believed in being accurate and concise in writing and would respond, "You think you even have enough thoughts to fill up a 3x5 card?!?" To which the sorority girl who asked would huff and slump in her chair.
He's right. If he were grading this post, he'd tell me to cut out half of it. I would love to write a book someday, and believe I will, but I haven't started because, let's be honest, what could I possibly say right now? I do have a great deal of life experience for someone my age, but who am I kidding? My thoughts could only fill up a chapter, maybe. In the meantime, I'm going to keep pursuing knowledge and wisdom and try to avoid inflating the idea of my own importance.
So, as much as I love my close friends and family on myspace, I maintain my dislike and advise said account holders to keep writing about fascinating, funny, interesting topics (I know most already do). Because a good read is hard to find. :)
Reason #342 Why I hate Typepad:
The Stats are disabled right now, and have been for about 4 days. Yes, I know, I should have gotten site meter, but I didn't, and what are you going to do about it? :)
I'll have other methods of checking stats when the new blog comes...still waiting on MuNu peeps. Until then, I'm left to guess how many hits I've had.
I'm still a Large Mammal, which is a complete relief. As long as that remains, so will my sanity.
Quite possibly one of the more frustrating things in my life has come quite recently. It's a very cerebral frustration. It's not emotionally draining, just mentally taxing. And, like most problems, it's because of a bunch of high schoolers, or people in close proximity thereof.
What is it, you ask?
It's when you are preparing Algebra tests for students and realize that the test you prepared quizzed them on the use of solving linear systems through elimination, only to find out their book calls it "linear combinations," not "elimination." Strike that. Start over. *Throwing arms up!* God has a very interesting sense of humor making me a math tutor. I chose Communication Studies for my B.A. because 1.) I like to talk and read, and 2.) no math involved beyond statistics (which is a terribly evil math course. 2 + 2 can equal 5 there. If there was one thing I always counted on with math, it was it's absolute nature. And now statistics had to come along and screw the whole thing up.)
I digress. It's a funny path to opt out of every possible math class due to sheer hatred of the subject and fear that it's the one area in which you are an utter disaster, to end up tutoring that subject full time, and rather liking it, too.
C. S. Lewis felt that time was one of the greatest pieces of evidence for the existence of heaven. Mankind seems constantly surprised by the passing of time. We see someone we haven't seen since they were a child and we're astonished, genuinely so, at their growth and development. It's almost as if we expected them to remain the same. Parents are always taken aback when their child gets married, remarking, "It seems like only yesterday when they were only this big." Why is this?
Lewis contends that humans being shocked by the passage of time is about as ridiculous as a fish constantly startled by the presence of water. That is, unless that fish was really meant for land. So it is with us; we are meant for a timeless existence. We know it, deep down. We aren't supposed to get old, wrinkles and watch people die. Why would this seem unjust unless we instinctively knew that it wasn't our destiny?
Heaven, as it is described in the Bible is not full of celestial virgins, or one's own planet; it is a timeless, eternal, neverchanging existence with the Creator. Before the fall of man (see: Adam & Eve), life on earth was quite similar. Afterward, we became bound by time, human limitations, death and a severe separation from God.
The Bible says that God placed "eternity in (our) hearts." Every human being that ever existed has had a sense of the eternal. This can easily be seen in moments of sorrow, panic, and pain. The first thing people ask when they feel pain is, "Where is God now? How can there be a just God if there is so much injustice in the world?" Well, how would we know injustice unless we had a just God to measure such injustices? The question proves the existence.
Why would people cry out to a higher power, question that power's benevolence and lament the passing of time unless there 1.) was a higher power, 2.) He was/is good and 3.) we're meant to live with Him in an eternal, timeless place?
One of the many lovely questions brought by my favorite author of all time--Clive Staples Lewis, aka "Jack."
Hysteria is a name and characteristic synonymous with the Left, which Dennis Prager will tell you. (Hat tip: Muzzy.) Virtually every tenet and belief of theirs is predicated upon complete and absolute hysteria. I've seen it, tried to debate it, given up on it. It is not something I frequently encounter with the Right. Within the Christian community, I've seen it. It always happens when people let their emotions get the better of them (hence why I'm fully opposed to a woman in the Oval Office).
However, the Right is uncharacteristically manic over the SCOTUS nominee Harriet Miers. Thomas Sowell has an excellent piece about the hysteria behind the nomination. He tries to address the "she's going to be Sandra Day O'Conner" crowd, as well as the "where the heck did she come from?" crowd. And he does so so eloquently.
Looming in the background is the specter of people like Justice Anthony Kennedy, who went on the High Court with a "conservative" label and then succumbed to the Washington liberal culture. But while the past is undeniable, it is also not predestination.
This administration needs to be held responsible for its own shortcomings but not those of previous Republican administrations
Click here to read the rest.
In the meantime, I'm still sticking to the "be still and know" principle. Whining, complaining, thrashing about on personal blogs won't help this situation. Mindfulness, prayer, and upholding expectations of a Supreme Court Justice will help.
I am very excited about my new blog. Tammy from A Mom and Her Blog is designing the page, and it looks amazing! I would show you the preview but I don't want to spoil the fun. Okay, if you really really really want to see, comment or email me and I'll forward you a link. I'm so excited!! :)
I'm just waiting to hear back from the MuNu people with the final "okay." Then we're moving.
So...am I keeping Portia? I loved The Night Writer's idea. What I'm thinking of doing is keeping Portia Rediscovered as my domain and coming up with a title that's a bit different. Beth at My Vast Right Wing Conspiracy's has that arrangement. Her actual URL is bamapachyderm.com. So, we'll see.
The moment I've been waiting for all my life has finally come!
No, I'm not engaged.
No, I didn't get an honorary Ph.D. Darn Universities don't know what they're missing.
And no, I didn't just sign the best record deal in history.
I'm a Large Mammal!! Whoohooo!! I'm so excited about this. I don't particularly enjoy being called "fatty," but this title will be just fine for my wee little blog.
Only problem is now that I'll be switching hosts, I'm hoping I won't go back to being an Insignificant Microbe or anything....that would be more devastating than...than...having John Kerry for President. Well...maybe not... but close! Real close!
I am so excited about my new blog. I have the artwork and designer all lined up.
I still haven't heard from many of you as to whether or not I should keep my name. Speak now or forever hold your peace. Please speak now. :)
Can anyone say they didn't see this one coming? Please. Could there have been another outcome? You publicize your private life to death, basically prostituting yourself out for attention, things probably won't end well.
Everyone in Hollywood is getting divorced right now. In churches we often say weddings come in waves. I guess it's just the opposite in Tinseltown. Hopefully this will mean less of them. One can only hope, and pray earnestly.
(Hat tip: The Amazing, the Handsome and Ever So Talented MacStansbury writing forMy Vast Right Wing Conspiracy. They don't know what they've got in him. )
I am proud to announce that I am officially ditching Typepad, as of tonight. I'm setting up shop with all the other Cotillion ladies at mu.nu. They've offered their services to all cotillionettes. One of the perks of being in a community with intelligent, witty, and terribly attractive women. Who could resist us?
So, what remains to be seen is: Do I stick with "Portia Rediscovered"? I was talking it over with "Mutti" who assured me that I am, in many ways, like Portia. She wasn't a real attorney, but she held her own in court. Not just that, as a layperson, she convinced them that not only was she a legal expert, but she spared a man's life with her persuasive and riveting arguments. She also was able to laugh at her self. And she really messed with her husband's head. :)
I like to argue and laugh at myself. If I had a husband, I might just mess with him, just a little. :)
So, what do you think? I like the Portia part...do I stick with the original title?
In the words of the KRLA ad wizards, "Your opinion counts."
I've just discovered that my use of pictures to illustrate my posts has greatly diminished. No more picture books here. For mature audiences only...wait, I mean, for agh...whatever.
I guess you'll have to be a print learner to like my new groove.
Scrounging around the dumpster that is the mainstream media, digging for something worthy of my comment, I came across this strange piece of gossip. I can imagine how disappointing this would be for a man, but he must not have known the character of the woman he was with.
The other amazing part of this gossip column is the request for privacy. I've always been astounded at how people will ask for privacy on a matter they've completely expounded on online. If you don't want people to know what is going on in your personal life, the internet is a very strange place to tell them that, after telling them what's going on. If you don't want crazy people following you to work, don't tell them where you work. Don't post your picture if you don't want people knowing what you look like. Don't tell people the details of your tragic situation and then ask them to stay out of it. Seems elementary to me, but that is just me.
I haven't had any spam for some amount of time, so I've done away with the moderator option on the comments. You are free to roam about the comment section without being spied on. Though I do reserve the right to delete your comments, edit them for spelling or block you if I feel you're not contributing to the spirit and the letter of this site.
That'll be all.
If you aren't already a fan of Mike over at Captoe, well, you should be. However, he's moved sites. His new site is called InedibleInk; I'll let him explain the title to you. The format is great. If you're into photography, he has plenty of great prints to show off, and he's just a darn good blogger. So, as of today, the slot just under MacStansbury (left panel) that used to read "Captoe" will now read "InedibleInk." Same author, different site.
I've also begun to clean up my blogrolls. I've renamed Bloggerville, "Bloglings." This is inspired by The Inklings group that C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkein, among other brilliant authors were a part of. These are the writers that fall in the "Great Minds Think Alike" category, and they're the blogs I check every day, without fail. Okay, maybe sometimes with fail. But mostly not.
Visit them often, and tell them I sent you. They're phenomenal reads, great men (and woman, R Cubed), all around good eggs. :)
I was going to blog about the nomination of Harriet Miers, but I'm not going to anymore. Why?
For one, I know close to nothing about her history, what makes a great Supreme Court justice, the history behind the court, etc etc etc.
Secondly, why should I comment when there are far more articulate and thoughtful bloggers out there helping to guide the confused, the depressed, the disgruntled? The Anchoress has to be one of my favorite bloggers. This woman is chalk full of wisdom, insight and an uncanny ability to put it all to paper. She posts in an attempt to calm the fears and angry rants of those on the right who don't think Miers is right enough. I personally think William Kristol is being a bit too liberal about the whole deal. Head, man, use your head!! We're conservatives, we don't put all our eggs in the government basket.
I stand behind The Anchoress' exhortation: Be still. And for the love of Pete, just watch and wait, will ya? Conservatives need to just take a deep breath and chill. Politics isn't our highest aim nor our savior, or have we forgotten that?
I wrote an extremely long review of this movie yesterday, but then was told by a great proofreader that I gave a little too much information. Not plot giveaways, namely because there is no plot, but informed that readers didn't need to know the sickness I saw on screen to the extent that I told them. So, I'm rewriting this. It's still really long though.
Let me first start by saying: do not see this movie under any circumstance. If someone forces you at gunpoint, take the bullet. Trust me. Don't rent it. Don't be fooled by the previews that deceitfully make you think this is some type of small town mystery. It's not. There's no plot, lame dialogue, over the top acting, sick violence, disgusting sex. There's nothing enriching about this film, whatsoever. Avoid it, and tell everyone you know to do the same.
If I could sum up the movie, A History of Violence, in one word it would be: gratuitous. Every last part of this movie is gratuitous. The excruciatingly slow pace of the scenes; the awkward, soap opera pauses; the violence; the sex; everything. It was all over the top, with of course, no explanation whatsoever. It was like being subjected to a bad modern art exhibit for two hours.
You know it's bad when you're watching a movie and the only thing you can think of is: "How am I going to rip this apart on my blog?"
The other thought rummaging around my head throughout the entirety of the movie was how much I hate the arrogance of Hollywood. There was literally no point to this movie. But when I identified the lack of story in my mind I could see some snotty, beret wearing writer/director sipping on his latte condescendingly informing me: "Ha. But there is not point and that is the point. You wouldn't understand."
There was no explanation of the main character's history. There was no explanation as to how he "reformed" himself. There was no explanation to anything, at all. There was no resolution at the end. It was one of those ridiculously futile exercises in showing the masses how unrefined we are because we actually like, I don't know...a story!
I'm a big fan of independent films. I like things that are a little off the beaten track. But I like good stories, happy ending or not. This had no story. It had no point other than to shock the viewers. Allow me to explain. (Please note, if you are hell bent on seeing this film, I'm going to give things away in this review. Don't click on the link if you want to pollute your mind and see the sorry waste of celluloid.)
The first scene of the movie begins with two complete low lifes who appear unable to move any faster than molasses (I'm not exaggerating). As a viewer, I was under the impression that they were up to no good, as they were leaving a beat up, old motel. My suspicions were confirmed when one of the sorry excuses for a human being walks into the motel's management office where we're given a glimpse of what his partner in crime has done. The manager and maid are limp on the linoleum, awash in their own blood. As if that opening wasn't bad enough, a scared, whimpering little girl appears from behind a door, hoping the scummy criminal will calm her down or help her out. Quite the contrary. After the man gently touches his finger to his lips, shushing the little girl, he shoots her. Yeah, this is the intro to the movie. I should have walked out then.
But, a sucker for hoping things will redeem themselves, I stayed. Much to my regret.
Let me just fill you in on the absolute ridiculousness of the plot. This little example explains a whole lot. The main character's son is in high school. One day he laments that they'll be playing baseball in P.E., and he's terrible in right field. The next scene finds him on the field, bored to tears, hoping not to get a piece of the action for fear he'd mess it up. Then comes pretty boy jock to the plate. As predicted, he knocks one straight into right field. He arrogantly struts his stuff to first base under the assumption that he hit it out. Well, the kid catches the ball, and the camera zooms in on jock boy's face. He looks like someone just murdered his whole family in cold blood. He then attempts to beat down right fielder boy since he "caught the ball." Call me stupid, but I played sports in high school. You'd be hard pressed to find someone that retarded that he'd beat someone up for playing the sport. I thought I was watching Not Another Teen Movie or something at that point. But I digress....
Let me move onto the sex. Okay, you could call me a prude, old school, whatever you want, but I just don't think it's necessary to make movie goers voyeurs. I think sex in movies can be tastefully done; it can also be quite comic. Most of those instances occur when a couple begins to play around with one another, the camera fades out, then we come back into the scene after all is said and done. That's fine by me. I think most people post-puberty can put two and two together.
That said, I can't believe this movie wasn't rated NC-17. Not that it isn't great that a married couple is into each other after umpteen amount of years, but I do not need to see anything remotely close to what was shown on that screen. I'll spare you the disgusting details. Just trust me on this one. What was shown should never be allowed on a mainstream outlet such as a wide release film.
Again, should have walked out. Didn't. can't say why.
Oh, but I'm not done. The violence. In many movies, the violence portrayed has a point, either a message or it's a key element to the plot. The violence in this movie was the plot. You see one close up of a man's face blown off (no joke...bloody tissue hanging from bones), you've seen enough and don't need another. That didn't stop them. The violence and almost erotic shots of the aftermath were enough to make you lose your lunch. Luckily, I hadn't eaten anything.
That's not all there is to say about the film, but I'll spare you any more of my rantings. I did learn one thing. I have super strong convictions, but apparently I'm just as susceptible to the next person when it comes to calling attention to myself to walk out of a theater. I hope never to replicate that experience. I'm walkin next time.
Liberals and Democrats believe in big government. They would ideally like for the government to be the provider of virtually everything--healthcare, retirement funds, babysitting, and emergency relief. Conservatives and Republicans, however, believe that privately owned/run organizations are always more trustworthy, more effective and more accountable, therefore more preferable a means to take care of those in need of the aforementioned things.
Katrina has shown the marked difference between the parties and political ideologies. The liberals are up in arms about the response of the government. The conservatives expected no less and gave their money and support to private charities. Not only were the Salvation Army, The American Red Cross, Samaritan's Purse, and Feed the Children more quick to respond, they've been far more effective in mobilizing help and providing food and shelter all because of one thing: no red tape. Oh, and maybe one more thing: no politicians.
I gave my money to Samaritan's Purse and Feed the Children. I've just received an email from Samaritan's Purse about the progress they've made and what they need to achieve even more. THAT is why I support private, Christian charities. Have you ever gotten an email from the government updating you of the whereabouts of your taxes? I think I'd faint if I had.
I'm pasting the email for all to see. And in case you haven't supported a charity yet, this is a great one. Samaritan's Purse is Billy Graham's charity, and they're truly an amazing organization. Click on the link if you want to see what they've done with my money, so far.
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