daily dose of news

M. Watson/Ardea via Animals Animals and the New York Times

I've found that people think they're pretty clever and loveable when they hate on France and Obama. There's a thin line for me on whether I will support their strong opinions as freedom of speech or stop talking to them because they sound asinine.

Example: Early last year a young man was visiting my roommates when he saw my lifesize cardboard Obama next to my desk and smartly asked if he could use it for target practice. I responded, "Why would you think I would find that funny?" Did you know that boys get really quiet after you ask them that?

In contrast, late last year some friends, including Alicia and her father, were over for dinner which–because of extenuating circumstances–was taking place in our study. A's dad sees my Obama and asks where I got it so he can get his own to use for target practice. While still befuddling to me because the thought of shooting a recognizable human image is horrifying, this is more acceptable: he didn't suggest I would condone the shooting of my own Obama.

This is all a preface to explain that upon immediately reading these two news articles I found a bit amusing I thought I would post them on le facebook but then I realized I know some people who would comment and I'd get annoyed and I don't want to get annoyed.

But imagine, France is enacting a new ban on the words Facebook and Twitter: French TV and radio employees must use generic terms unless you are citing Facebook or Twitter as a source. This includes the phrase Follow us on Twitter/Facebook because these are all forms of "clandestine advertising." However, tweeter, meaning "to tweet," is now a verb in Robert's French dictionary. Click here for full article. 

Also, if France does not clean up its agricultural and urbanization policies it could be fined $24.6 million because the way it is going now it is failing to protect the Great Hamsters of Alsace, the last Western European wild hamster species. Full article.  



P.S. Does anyone know how to stop textwrap around photos on blogger?

facets of humanity*

Tell me you don't find these excerpts from a letter between Qaddafi and Obama fascinating. 
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/20/world/africa/20libya.html?_r=1&hp

*humanity of fascists

saguaro

The world has gotten taller in the last year. At least, I'm fairly certain it would be abnormal and not a real thing for me to have shrunk five inches. Everyone I live with and talk to seem to be taller than me. And every pair of pants I wear or try on need to be rolled up at least four inches. I feel like a child again. In two days I turn twenty three--a thing which I can't think too deeply about because my brain might explode--and I feel like child.

Sometimes childness might not be such a bad thing. The other morning I saw a children's book about cacti on the sofa. Of course I read it. I felt particularly smart for all the information I was able to glean in those twenty pages. Then I realized why I feel like I was smarter as a child. They have cool books like that for children. Why I can't seem to find something that fun for older kinds of people? My new favorite hangout: the children's library.

In light of embracing this young readers' sampler style of information, I continue.



This ^ is an amazing idea. Read more about it here.


That first year, I sometimes would hum a little to myself, "Obama makes me feel young and twenty one again." He's charming (a new thing I'm trying to embrace), he utilizes technology (I love technology and the media), and he promises transparent politics (wow). The White House Accountability website makes me swoon. I hesitated bringing this up because people seem to fixate on my crush on the Obamas therefore naturally adding drama to any of my thoughts on politics. But I'm going to say it. Why did this happen? I know I can't expect Dave (1993).


I found a new olive oil cake. J. Bottoms and I are bicycling to a little fancy market to buy spelt flour and such suches and to make it. For my birthday. Ooooooooeeeeee.


End of sampler.

image from: craftzine.com blog.

obama and his glasses

I have a life-size Obama at my desk. EB's brother got him as a white elephant and EB stole him away and gave me the lovely present. I laughed and clapped with glee when I saw him and now everytime I walk in the study I jump because I think there's a lurker. Well, there is. It's just a cardboard president lurker.

The best kind.

I walked around looking for a job today and almost got conned into ordering the local paper. Again. It's been a long time since I've looked for a job. In fact, I've only looked once. Last year people were offering me jobs all the time. I had to turn jobs down.

I wish that by opening your arms wide and giving your world a tight enough squeeze you could smooth everything into place. You would not feel guilty or half-ended or like half-of-a-friend or like the inconsiderate-sister because you squeezed ever so tightly and that effused love which makes everything all right. You wouldn't be wide-awaked thinking about time flying. How you age and your parents age and someday you go to the grocery store with grandma white hair and everyone treats you differently. You wouldn't be thinking about all the kind things you should be doing and how no one will know how special they are and how it's long past due that you registered your bicycle with the police and if it gets stolen you deserve it and your life will end.

[gaskhdf]
which means: [siiiiighhhh]

Maybe, since you can't do that, you could have some tortilla soup and imagine what it would be like if you could see all the stars in the sky and some extra ones, too. Imagine if there were so many extra stars it could rain stars and they would make shish and ahhh like the light shooting out of the Beast's fingers in the Disney cartoon. And they would bounce off the ground just a little ways like marshmellows do.

Or, option two: Maybe you could fly away to Greece and float in the Mediterranean Sea and have sun-warmed face. Oh yes! Then when you dried off you could walk around in your sun dress and dance with all the locals. Yokels.

GAREEECE!!!!!

Love,
Marge