Ever have one of those days when you’re all ready to have some fun…
… and life just seems to get in your way?
I hate days like that!
Saw this last week and it tickled me!
I am a sucker for the ‘flaky upper crust!’
I love it!
I’ve always had a bizarre fascination with Little Lord Fauntleroy types. It probably explains my fondness for the Monty comic strip character Master Sedgwick Nuttingham IV.
What with that most ghastly of holidays behind us, I thought it appropriate that Sedgie put in an appearance!
I hope you all had a relatively tragedy-free February 14th!
NB: I’ve been in Israel since February 11th. Hang in there, my little geeks and nerdlings. If all goes well, I will be returning Monday the 25th.
This morning, I ran into a blog post about how to name your baby. The author of this blog site, Cappy, has written a series of ‘How To’ articles. They’re delightful. Check them out.
With respect to the How to Name Your Baby blog post, I would just like to add one thing.
I call it my Kindergarten Roll Call Test. It is a good way to weed out ‘clunker’ names.
OK… you are trying to come up with a name for your newborn or soon-to-be-born child.
Imagine a group of 5-year-olds in kindergarten. Their teacher, Miss Niedermeyer, is conducting the roll call.
“Jennifer… Scott… Sarah… David… Michael… Montana Sky… “
If in your mind you hear a sound kind of like a game show buzzer indicating a contestant failed… then the proposed name should be discarded.
Let’s try it again!
“Mary… Mark… Anna… Daniel… Constitution… ” BUZZER!!
The Kindergarten Roll Call Test.
Learn it. Live it. Love it.
TRUST ME… your kids will thank you one day.
This New Yorker Cartoon by Jack Ziegler is lovingly dedicated to ♠sabbiespurses♠.
As a public defender, there are people I represent… and people I don’t usually get to represent.
These are some of the people I serve.
I call them the Damsels in Distress.
They get screwed (figuratively or literally) by their families. Their boyfriends steal their money and break their hearts. Their best friends betray them and steal their boyfriends. Children’s Aid wants to apprehend their kids. The police and prosecutors want to convict and sentence them. And it sometimes seems to them that the only person willing to listen to them and help them… is me.
They’re not all angels. Believe me, they’re not. They are not actually thankful or appreciative. In the years since I’ve become a lawyer, I can count on two hands the times some of them said “thank you” to me.
But that’s not why I do it. I don’t do it for their appreciation. There is no prestige in what I do, that’s for sure. I certainly don’t do it for the money. Public defenders are the lowest paid of all lawyers. Despite what some arrogant, ignorant people may say, public defenders are not awash in the princely sums lavished upon us by the Legal Aid system.
I do it for the same reason that I can’t just sit in my deck chair sipping margaritas while watching an unsupervised toddler waddle precariously at the edge of a swimming pool. And should the tiny little terror fall in, I can’t sit there and say, “Well… I COULD help the little squirt. I just don’t want to.”
I do it because it is the right thing to do.
Coulrophobia is the fear of clowns.
Please note that I did not say it was the irrational fear of clowns.
Nothing could be more rational than being afraid of a guy in floppy shoes, fright wig, garish make-up and a red nose.
It is not unlike my fear of bad Irish drag queens. Perfectly reasonable.
I don’t know who first came up with the idea of clowns. I’m sure it was the result of some drunken Graeco-Roman stage gag gone horribly out of control.
It is interesting to note that I don’t have a fear of mimes. I harbour a deep-seated loathing for them, of course. Who doesn’t? But not fear.
I’m also not afraid of the old commedia dell’arte clowns. I do not lie awake at night knowing that Pulchinello or Arlecchino is hiding under my bed just waiting to get up to no good.
Nor am I afraid of Shakespearean clowns… other than the not-unreasonable fear that they might bore me to death.
(Bring on the waterworks!)
Nor do I fear the heart-broken clown in Leoncavallo’s I Pagliacci, although I am embarrassed at the fact that I cry every effen time I hear him sing “Vesti la Giubba.”
Truly, I do. It’s sad yet pathetic. Can’t stop the waterworks. Really.
Nope… the source of my greatest nightmare is the 19th and early 20th century Barnum & Bailey style ‘modern’ circus clown.
Scares the crap out of me.
I get the sinking feeling that the moment I turn my back, the psychotic sociopath who is masquerading (literally) as a clown reveals his true self, thrusting a knife into my neck.
So parents, for the love of all that is good and decent, don’t inflict clowns on your kids. Don’t take them to the circus thinking they’ll have a blast as they watch an ever increasing hoard of serial killers come out of a tiny clown car.
All you are doing is guaranteeing them years on some psychiatrist’s couch, blaming you for why they break into a cold sweat whenever they see Ronald McDonald.
I’m sorry but this little girl is simply Evil Incarnate!
That adorably cute little face says it all (i.e. ‘I am the Spawn of Satan! Can I have a cookie?’)
And yet… there is humour here, as well.
A dark, evil, perverse humour, perhaps… but humour all the same.
A milder, funnier version was put together in this commercial for the 2010 Young Director Award.
My kinda kid!
Victorian Age children always creep me out.
I think it is how they are so often portrayed as little adults rather than what they actually are (i.e. children).
Add to it a Victorian penchant for the contrasting youth and death, innocence and obscenity and you get stuff like this photo.
The fact that her eyes are almost completely black, like some satanic little squirt, also adds to the general all round creep-fest motif.
It bothers me when I see unattended children.
Maybe because it is so rare these days. It seems that when I was a mere tot I was left to run amok completely unattended. Entire weekends were spent with adults having only the vaguest idea where I was.
I somehow made it home for lunch. I learned to come home when the street lights came on. Other than that, my friends and I roamed around town like feral cats and dogs.
It wasn’t really all that unusual ‘way back when.’
Now? A whole different playground, folks.
We seem to have been lured into this mindset that the world is programmed to hurt, maim and kill children if they are not supervised every single minute of the day.
No one seemed to worry when yours truly played with mercury or lawn darts… a toy that appeared to be specially designed for killing children.
Amazingly enough, the Lawn Darts packages actually contains this warning:
WARNING: Lawn Darts can be dangerous and may cause serious of fatal injury. Read instructions carefully. Keep away from children
Often times, this sense of being bothered by unattended children quickly turns into annoyance.
Maybe it’s a feeling of “if the parents don’t worry about their offspring, why the heck should I?”
I’ve begun to notice signs in commercial establishments that echo this feeling of mine.
I admire the tactic. Threaten to make the insufferable little beasts even more of a nightmare than they are already!
I don’t know if it works but I have to tell you, I admire the effort.
Well done, folks!