I sometimes wonder why I post so little. And then I remember it is because I read so much… here’s a small sampling from just a few minutes of reading this morning. I hope that if you haven’t explored the links on my blogroll, you’ll take some time to do so. It is an eclectic mix, lots of politics, yes, but also lots of just damn fine writers and artists. Sometimes they fill a few minutes of my day, sometimes hours of it, and I love them all….
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Liberalism is trust of the people tempered by prudence. Conservatism is distrust of the people tempered by fear.
–William Gladstone (via Blog With a View)
“I think part of the problem is that the Bush administration is treating terrorism like it’s the number one killer of Americans. If we’re spending a gazillion dollars to ensure a tree won’t fall on the house, but the house is on fire and no one is doing anything about it…well, I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this. We really need a return to common sense in the government. We need a reasonable balance between spending money on fighting the specter of terrorism and fighting the reality of every day crime in our neighborhoods. And we really need to learn the difference between throwing money at something for show, and spending money wisely and efficiently on efforts that are useful and that matter.” (via Pesky Apostrophe)
“It’s about education vs. advertising. Billions of dollars are spent every year persuading us that we’re too busy to cook, that an Uncrustables without transfats is now a healthy choice, that sugary cereal with Vitamin C added is just as good as eating an apple. Junk food is now more American than Mom’s apple pie — when’s the last time mom made the crust, or even the pie? Kindergarten is an excellent place to begin reprogramming appetites, but what we really need is a fruit and vegetable lobby in Washington that’s at least as well funded as the beef one — $80 million per year thanks to a mandatory $1-per-head-of-cattle “contribution” from all ranchers — let alone Kellogg’s.”(via The Ethicurean)
“Her scar was still heinous upon first reaction, cutting through her otherwise young and trim abdominal wall. But it was the kind of scar that can expose the illusion of beauty, the imperfection of perfection. For once I felt ashamed for going along with the airbrushed magazine covers, the five story billboards of svelte flesh, and the soft core images of perfect curves projecting out nightly from my television. “It looks like it’s healing well.” I told her. I didn’t know if it would be appropriate or not, but I decided to say it anyway. “Your scar is a story. I hope you can own it. Don’t ever be ashamed by it. It’s a testament to your strength, a mark of your courage.”
She nodded silently.
The word scar was derived from the Greek word eschara, meaning fireplace. Traditionally the fireplace was in the heart of the house, and around it most domestic activities took place. It was the center of family life and an area where children gathered to be with family. It was a common setting for injuries, many of which resulted in wounds. Eventually these scars became so associated with the hearth that the language used to describe the end result of healing became indistinguishable from its cause.
Scars have always been irreversible brandings seared by the fiery hearth. They are tattoos of story etched into our fragile physical being, personal emblems chosen by terrible circumstance. Rape, surgery, assault, suicide, war. Some careless being who drinks too much and plows his rolling tank of steel into a young woman’s carefree bubble.
Scars are knots that hold the entire world together.” (Via Dr. Charles)
