Lady H's Blog

Bush Error 404 -- Bush Not Found In Crawford

I took a break from political poetry to go Bush hunting, but all I could find was this.

Two Crackpot Pats & Bush Vacation Humor

I've mustered up a new batch of political poems: two limericks about a pair of our country's Crackpot Pats, Pat Robertson and Pat Boone; and a poem and haiku about Bush's extended vacation and his summer reading list. Here's my Pat Robertson limerick:

A Broadcasting Preacher Named Pat
By Madeleine Begun Kane

A broadcasting preacher named Pat,
Who quite frequently talks through his hat,
Seems to think it's God's will
That we Prez Chavez kill.
Then we'll take all his oil, and that's that.

You'll find all four of the poems here and my podcast version is here.

Sacred Space in Motion

Dancing last night at Soul Motion with Vinn Marti, I prayed to the all-pervading light, "Can you use this moment? Can you use it to show me your ancient face? Let me use the body to lose the body. Show me that I am not a body."

At first I would see an image of myself moving a certain way, then decide to enact that vision. Gradually that gave way to discovering the movements as they occurred, watching myself dance. Finally I began to consciously note the movements only after they had occurred, as I stood in stillness waiting for the next motion to come. While in the midst of each movement there was no mind to observe with. There was only the motion itself.

At the spiritual singing circles with Wind Cloud there is a song we often sing, and usually I wind up being the dancer for the group. It goes something like this:

Loving is a beautiful feeling, dance 'til you rise in love.
Dancing is a beautiful feeling, dance 'til you rise above.
Disappear in the song, 'til the dancer is gone,
until only the dance remains.

And this I sing to you now, for you are sacred space. This is my prayer. May you use the body to lose the body. May you lose the dancer and become the dance. May you see your ancient face and recognize your true nature, in this very moment.

-- From the Indigo Ocean insight and inspiration weblog

*Another* dark side of V-J Day...

The first being nuclear fall-out...

Here's an article on today's SFGATE.com:

The dark side of V-J Day | The story of the city's deadliest riot has been largely forgotten

Today is the 60th anniversary of a terrible day in San Francisco's history -- a victory riot that left 11 dead, 1,000 injured and the city's reputation besmirched.

"It was the deadliest riot in the city's history,'' said Kevin Mullen, a retired deputy chief of police who has written extensively about crime in San Francisco.

The riot, which followed the Japanese surrender announcement by a day, was mostly confined to downtown San Francisco and involved thousands of drunken soldiers and sailors, most of them teenagers, who smashed store windows, attacked women, halted all traffic, wrecked Muni streetcars -- 30 of them were disabled, and one Muni worker was killed. The rioters took over Market Street and refused to leave until military and civilian police drove them away long after nightfall following hours of chaos.

"A looting, smashing crowd is tearing up Market Street tonight,'' Chronicle reporter Stanton Delaplane wrote at 8 o'clock that Wednesday night. "... this crowd is out of hand. You couldn't stop it if you tried, not short of tear gas and fire hoses.''

And under a quintessential shot of soldiers force-kissing young women, the caption reads:

As the party turned ugly, there were -- along with iconic images of sailors kissing strangers -- eyewitness reports of gang rapes.

This story hardly surprises me as I've always kind of assumed these celebrations broke out in this manner at some point during the course of the day. Take a large number of men who assume they can force themselves on random women, add booze and the acceptability of such behavior in the name of "victory," and you've got a recipe for violence against women. Seems odd that the focus is only on San Francisco. I truly doubt this behavior, on such a large scale, only happened here on that day or any day like it.

It also bugs me that in the mainstream media, violent riots of primarily white people hardly result in the social and political legacies that people of color get to deal with.

The article goes on to quote a retired deputy police chief:

"If you pull all restraints off and add liquor, that's what happens,'' said Mullen, the former deputy police chief. "Everybody went nuts. These were not veterans, they were young people who hadn't been in the war. They were not warriors,'' he said.

They hadn't seen the war, and now they didn't have to. There would be no invasion of Japan, no long casualty lists. These young men would not see combat. So they got drunk. They were all drunk, the reporter Delaplane wrote. One in four, he thought, was "falling down drunk.''

"You put young girls with them and add liquor, and that's what happens,'' Mullen said. Some of the women were not so willing; there were several rapes, some gang rapes reported by eyewitnesses, but none was ever officially reported.

I just love it when people who have any amount of privilege give dismissive explanations so we can all can just murmur, "Ohhhh..." and nod our heads vapidly.

This is also posted on my (recently resurrected) blog Zoloft, Take Me Away. Cheers!

Ode To Cindy Sheehan

Will Cindy Sheehan's Crawford encampment prove to be a tipping point? Will her Texas standoff with George Bush inspire an antiwar activism growth spurt? The answer to both questions is a definite maybe. But whatever happens, we owe Cindy Sheehan a debt of gratitude, and I owe her this Ode:

Ode To Cindy Sheehan
By Madeleine Begun Kane

"The mother of a soldier dead
Has Dubya running scared.
Her very name fills Bush with dread.
Face Sheehan? Dub don't dare.

She's camped outside Dub's pseudo-ranch,
In Crawford's daunting heat..."

The rest of my Ode to Cindy Sheehan is here.

And the audio / podcast version is here.

Girl Group Doo Wop Brill Building Heaven

Gonna Take a Miracle [Expanded]
Laura Nyro with LaBelle

When I saw this CD in my local B&N last week it was all I could do not to scream, I was that ecstatic. Even if I had screamed, I'm sure the guys behind the counter would not have flinched. They're used to me coming in, usually looking for something that's a little bit off the beaten track, and then when I find it they have to put up with 10 minutes of me waxing rhapsodic about how fabulous whatever it is, is.

Now you must understand, my LP version of Gonna Take A Miracle is 34 years old, and for at least the last 25 of those years it's been unplayable, thanks to a certain ex's surefire breakup technique:

1) take a paperclip.
2) bend one end of paperclip outward.
3) take Terrible Soon-to-be Ex-girlfriend's favorite LP out of its cover.
4) apply sharp outwardly-pointing end of paperclip to LP.
5) repeat step 4 ten or eleven times

Not to mention that my cat Sonny sprayed boy-kitty spunk all over it.

But was all that enough to make me throw the LP away? Oh god no. I tried scrubbing off the cat jizz but nothing could get rid of the reek, so I wrapped it in 3-mil poly and eventually it got stashed away in boxes with all the other vinyl. For a long time it was so painful to remember how much I loved that record that I put it out of my mind completely for lo these many years, never seeking it out on CD until suddenly: there it was! In re-mastered, reissued and EXPANDED CD format! And it was all I could do not to do the ecstatic scream thing.

In the late 60s and into the 70s, there was a succession of female singer-songwriters who provided the soundtrack to my life. Sometimes it would be Joni Mitchell singing A Case of You; other times it would be Judy Collins singing Marat/Sade
but most often it was Laura Nyro singing New York Tendaberry

My mother, bless her eternally well-intentioned but incurably ditsy heart, would put up with Laura Nyro playing nonstop on the clunky big console stereo in the dining room of our house in south Minneapolis; endless hours of Bronx-born Jewish/Italian Nyro wailing, until finally Mom would say:
"Honey, would you please turn that colored woman down!?"

And after I got through laughing, of course I would. Turn the volume down on Laura Nyro, I mean. At least, I did until Gonna Take A Miracle came out in 1971. Then whenever it was on the turntable the volume was always cranked up to 11. Always.

Laura Nyro and Patti Labelle happened to meet in 1971 and discovered they were rabid fans of each other's music. They shared a love for the kind of music they grew up singing, the a capella arrangements soaring up from street corners and echoing in train station stairwells. Laura was already beginnning to gravitate towards that style in her newest album Christmas and the Beads of Sweat, which included the Goffin-King song Up On the Roof. With Laura singing lead vocals backed by soul trio "Labelle", which included Patti Labelle, Nona Hendryx and Sara Dash, they decided to do an entire album of nothing but covers of those girl group, doo wop, Brill Building Sound songs from the early 60s.

The liner notes say there was a very tight six-day window to record in, but the singers spent so much time just "vibing" together that 5 days went by without recording a single note. So the recording was all done on that sixth and last day, and because of the time constraints, most of the tracks are first takes. For that reason, and even more because of the obvious love and bond between the musicians that manifests on every track, the sheer power and raw emotion of this album knocks you right back on your ass.

This record was the soundtrack to our days in 1971 and 1972 and 1973, and by "our days" I mean mine and Annie's and Chris's and Greta's and Barbara's and California Chris's and a couple other women whose names I've forgotten now.

We were white, Scandy, Lutheran girls attending a small liberal arts college in rural Minnesota. More important [to us, anyway] was that we were also Earth mothers; girl freaks; hippie chicks; and Amazons [plus one Little French Waif]. We felt deeply. We had raised consciousness. We had passion in our souls. We had sisterhood, and sisterhood was powerful. This was our music, and we did not share it with men. Ever. [Oooh, like they felt so left out. Of course, guys were unbelievably relieved to not have to listen to this stuff.]

Gonna Take a Miracle could be a good soundtrack for those times when we were newly in love and life was a never-ending stoned soul picnic, but more frequently it was the soundtrack when relationships went sour. When love went bad and nothing was ever going to be the same ever again.

And by "love" we didn't mean that Incense and Peppermints I Got You Babe crapola.
No, even then we knew that what we meant was Crazy love. Obsessive love. Years Of Psychotherapy In Your Future love. Restraining Order love. Love so wild and scary that white Scandy Lutheran girls --even progressive counterculture ones-- would never be able to express it in song. Only dark, ethnic, New York women, with their powerful voices and gritty strength were capable of really, really, really singing about that kind of love.

These are the tracks that appeared on the original release in 1971:

1. I Met Him on a Sunday
[doo Sunday ronday ronday ronday boppa doo ron]
2. The Bells
[remember, if you ever leave me I'll go insane!]
3. Monkey Time/Dancing in the Street
[wish I could shimmy like my sister Kate]
4. Desiree*
5. You've Really Got a Hold on Me
[Tighter...]
6. Spanish Harlem
[love's growing in the street, right up through the concrete]
7. Jimmy Mack
[that boy he keeps coming around/he's trying to wear my resistance down]
8. The Wind*
9. Nowhere to Run
[cuz I know you're no good for me, but free of you I never will be]
10.It's Gonna Take a Miracle
[didn't you know/it wouldn't be so easy letting you go?]

*If you had to skip any, I'd say skip the two dreamy, ethereal cuts "Desiree" and "The Wind". We don't want that "wispy" "breathy" "dreamy" love shit. No! We want obsessive compulsive love like "You Really Got a Hold On Me" and psychotic I- hear- voices- nobody- else- can- hear love like "The Bells"!

The expanded part of the CD is four previously-unreleased tracks from a May 30, 1971 performance at the Fillmore East. Just Laura at the piano, first riffing through Ain't Nothing Like the Real Thing and then a segue to You Make me Feel Like a Natural Woman and then a verse of Ooh Child Things Are Gonna Get Easier, and finally you can hear a collective ecstatic gasp from the audience as they recognize the opening of Up On The Roof.

It's sweet soulful psycho girl music. And

no, Ma, I will NOT turn that colored woman down.



This post also appears here.

Bolton and Novak and Bush, Oh, My!

I've written three new limericks about John Bolton's recess appointment, Bob Novak's on-air freak out, and our country's lame excuse for a president. Here's one of the limericks:

Dubya's Down Time
By Madeleine Begun Kane

George Dubya sure loves to vacation,
And his workout time Dub rarely rations.
He likes recesses too,
For the power imbued
To name refuse to wreck our fine nation.

My three new limericks are here and my audio version is here.

Mad Kane

The Courage to Follow Your Signals

I was going to do the 24-hour blogathon this year [The Worthwhile Cause: Outward Bound - Women of Courage]. All Signals were off though. From the web production to even registering. I think the solution was perfect. A simple statement, a simple direction. No statistics keeping or excessive content. Simply Outward Bound has a wonderful program for women in need "Women of Courage" and this is what it is about.

On Friday evening I was talking about this Blogathon 2005 campaign to a roommate. That talk was very useful. It changed the direction of what I was going to write about (music) to relationships.

I will be keeping this Worthwhile blog up and it will be about relationships. I've got to get the comments to work. I hope that during the course of this blogging others will discuss (otherwise known as comment). Discussion is the most important part of blogging I think. Its growth.

That's what I always look for in relationships with myself and with others, growth.

We get so many signals about relationships of all kinds in our life. How many of us have the courage to follow those signals. Its hard indeed.

My roommate and many others in my life and people I come in contact with everyday all have this same topic of discussion. This significant other in their life (or wannabe) isn't giving them what they want. I always see that as a big signal in my own life. #1 can someone else give us what we want? #2 if someone can't give us what we've asked for (getting it) should we keep looking for it #3 can we grow with someone else (as long as we are both playing or working on getting it to achieve this desire. These are points discussed on the Dr. Phil show, Oprah and capitalized in Amazon.com bestsellers (such as "Closing the Deal : Two Married Guys Take You from Single Miss to Wedded Bliss")

We all have our own original answers and experiences. I believe that there is no one answer to these questions or points of discussion. We each have to make up our own hearts and mind (hearts&mind) Discussion via the media I've mentioned above helps. If we keep ourselves open to discussion I believe we can get what we want in this life.

Books Women will Love

Illustrator and book addict Patricia Storms recounts her indignation at finding a table of "Books Men Will Love" and "Books Women Will Love" laden with stereotypical selections of politics and chick lit, respectively. But, not only did she take her concerns to the book store staff, and the company's head office, she sent a letter to the CEO of the book store chain, with positive results.

Someone should write a book about standing up to subtle, pervasive forms of sexism in our culture. That would be a book that women will love (and hopefully men too!).

Speak to the Women in Congress!

Ask Roberts

What would you like to hear women in Congress ask Judge Roberts? Here's your chance - go to that link and let them know!

War? What War?

I've finally figured out why the Bush administration didn't bother to properly equip our soldiers in Iraq: We're not fighting a war - we're in a "struggle." And who needs body armor and armored vehicles for a measly struggle? I'm referring to Bush's latest sloganeering effort, giving the "global war on terror" a spanking new name: "global struggle against violent extremism." And that brings me to my latest poem:

War? What War?
By Madeleine Begun Kane

The war on terror's going bad,
So what's a Prez to do?
He simply calls it something else.
The "struggle" has debuted.

Bush starts a war without a plan.
A needless war, to boot.
And when it fails, his course is clear...

The rest of my War? What War? poem is here. And my audio version of this post is here.

And in case you missed it, my Working Stiffed job hunting humor is here and my audio version of Working Stiffed is here.

Act now: protect 11 yo girl facing 3 years in prison for defending herself from bully

I saw an article about this and I couldn't believe it, so I went looking for more info, and sure enough, it's true.

Here is the link to the following article:

Fresno, CA: On April 29th, Maribel was playing on the sidewalk with her 6-year-old brother and other younger children, when boys rode by on their bikes. They started teasing her, calling her names and hitting her with water balloons. The 11-year-old girl threw a rock to defend herself as neighborhood boys pelted her, hitting one hard enough to make him bleed. The boy admitted to officers that he started the fight and was quickly released from the hospital after getting his head stitched up. The boy's family stated they did not want to press charges.
Regardless, 11-year-old Maribel is now being charged with felony assault.

An 11-year-old girl, acting in self-defence, should not be treated as a felon. We have a duty as people to prevent this from becoming a precedent.

Maribel has already spent five days in Juvenile hall, allowed one half-hour visit from her parents, and 30 days under house arrest.
Maximum sentance is up to three years in a state correctional facility.
Maribel's Lawyer says the prosecution is not interested in a deal.

This site was put in place to let the Fresno court system, and those around the country, know that this is not acceptable.
Act Now!

Click here for contact information and to sign the pledge & petition.

Emails to Maribel will be forwarded from Maribel@FreeMaribel.org
Snail mail can be sent C/O Richard A. Beshwate
2014 telare st
suite 414
Fresno Ca
93721

Americans United: Take Action - stop Roberts!

Oppose Roberts for Supreme court!

Please go to this action page at Americans United for the Separation of Church and State and send letters to your congress people. It just takes a minute, and it's painless - unlike living in a country where the government limits your sex life, your religious expression, and your reproductive options. We have to stop this guy cold.

Tell your representatives that you won't go back to the 50's - The 1750's!

Shrub's SCOTUS Pick: Reproductive Rights Endangered

From the San Diego Union-Tribune (from an Associated Press report):

Bush chose federal appeals court judge John G. Roberts Jr. on Tuesday as his first nominee for the Supreme Court, selecting a rock solid conservative whose nomination could trigger a tumultuous battle over the direction of the nation's highest court, a senior administration official said.

Bush offered the position to Roberts in a telephone call at 12:35 p.m. after a luncheon with the visting prime minister of Australia, John Howard. He was to announce it later with a flourish in a nationally broadcast speech to the nation.

Roberts has been on the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit since June 2003 after being picked for that seat by Bush.

Already, plans are on to protest the nomination. If you will be in DC tomorrow,check this out and attend, if you are so inclined:

JOIN the National Organization for Women (NOW), Wednesday, July 20, at 10:00 am for a demonstration against the nomination of anti-abortion rights John Roberts to the United States Supreme Court!

Dirksen Senate Office Building - Senate Swamp


Constitution and First St SE

The United States Senate must NOT confirm John Roberts. Let's show our support for women's rights.

So, who is this guy and what's behind the just-started furor?

Roberts serves on the US Court
of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit. A staunch conservative, the Buffalo, NY, native is reputed to be a quiet, thoughtful person who is an accompished orator. Roberts once was a law clerk for Chief Justice William Rehnquist, worked as a lawyer, and is a former deputy solicitor general.

According to a 2002 Buzzflash op-ed, he is, like SCOTUS also-ran Edith Clement, a Bush campaign-contributor:

John G. Roberts, Jr., the Hogan & Hartson partner nominated for the DC Circuit, also donated $1000 to Bush -- this really is starting to look like a cover charge -- with $3000 to other Republicans and $3900 to Hogan & Hartson's PAC. The PAC gave $136,000, aside from individual donations, and $30,000 in soft money. Roberts then donated $1000 to the Bush recount effort. Hogan & Hartson clients include Mobil Oil Corporation, 3M, and Hartford Accident & Indemnity.

And it appears Roberts is no friend to those who support reproductive rights. In one Supreme Court 1991 case during the reign of King George the Elder, Rust v. Sullivan, then-deputy solicitor general Roberts co-wrote a brief supporting the anti-choice government's wish to ban doctors in federally-funded family-planning programs from even discussing the alternative of abortion with patients. He also worked to overturn Roe v. Wade -- not once, but numerous times.

From the National Abortion Federation:

As an attorney in the Justice Departments of Ronald Reagan and George H.W. Bush, Roberts repeatedly argued for the reversal of Roe v. Wade stating that there was "no support in the text, structure or history of the Constitution" for the reasoning behind Roe. NAF believes that the appointment of Roberts will weaken the protections of Roe and its progeny. Numerous cases impacting the accessibility of abortion could come before this circuit, including administrative decisions such as the availability of mifepristone (RU-486).

Slate calls Roberts a hard-liner on the issue. Apparently, that is putting it mildly.

Additonally, the apparent nominee is someone with whom King George the Younger feels comfortable. That may be due, in part, to the fact that Roberts is seen as a jurist who supports giving the White House wide flexibility in its general operations and particularly in its handling of the so-called War on Terror.

Before his elevation to the DC Circuit Court, web site The Dossiers included Roberts in a list of "deeply conservative judges" the Bush administration intended and intends to foist upon the American populace via the federal judicial bench.

"As a political appointee in the Reagan administration, Roberts worked to oppose both busing and affirmative action as means of desegregation. Roberts was also involved in the administration's highly controversial efforts to make it nearly impossible for Voting Rights plaintiffs to prove violations. He later represented the first Bush administration in taking anti-choice positions in two high-profile reproductive rights cases. Roberts is nominated to the DC Circuit which hears many critical cases involving health, safety and civil rights regulations." Alliance for Justice Report

As we know, Roberts made it to the DC appeals court by a near unanimous Senate confirmation vote. Now the man the New York Sun called a "confirmable conservative" appears to be on his way to consideration by the Senate for a lifelong appointment to the Supreme Court. I don't know about you, but I am quite fearful.

from all facts and opinions

Spelunking for Mr. Right

In a comment I made to one of my own recent post, I noticed that I considered that the possibility of finding a man who wanted the same level of physical and emotional intimacy that I desire might be, at this point in my life, a mere fantasy.

Then I realized that this is the same complaint that echoes thru the blogs of many single women over the age of 40.

Obviously, I'm not alone in my contention. And, as many of our blogs prove out, not alone in my frustration.

What is it that makes it so difficult for us to find Mr. Right...or even Mr. Okay? And are all those Mr. Wrong-for-Us guys looking for their own Ms. Right?

One aspect of adult life that is rarely discussed is the way socializing patterns change after the age of 30. Often, when we are in our 20's and early 30's, men's and women's social lives revolve around things like softball and volleyball teams, bars and night clubs, house parties, cocktail parties for professionals, and other types of events that are fertile meeting grounds. But when the friends start to marry off and settle down, these events either stop completely or change shape. We don't have time for team sports. The house parties that were once full of singles become chatty groups of couples with men in one room and women in the other. The people in the bars get younger, and the professionally-oriented cocktail parties start to be more about making network connections than personal connections (mostly because the participants are wearing little rings on their left fingers).

Along with the change in the social milieu, there are changes in our personal lives as well. Women often go out with groups of friends. When the friends marry off and have children, going out may be a semi-annual event. Even then, the conversation usually isn't about the hot guys in the room, but about the job, the man, and the kids.

The advice we got as young women--that there is safety in numbers--becomes hard to follow once we hit adulthood. The numbers aren't there. So, if we want to go to a swanky cocktail bar, we can either go it alone or maybe, just maybe, be able to drum up a younger friend to accompany us.

However, the older-woman-with-a-friend can sometimes be perceived quite differently than the younger-woman-with-a-friend-or-two. Older/younger women pairs even when dressed to kill, can be perceived as a lesbian couple out on the town. Chances then of meeting those two good-looking lawyers at the end of the bar, no matter how much eye contact is exchanged, won't happen. The world of upscale bars and swanky cocktail lounges, after all, are realms of appearance, and first impressions are indeed everything.

If a woman wants to chance sitting in the swanky bar or lounge alone, she will have to fend off the amorous advances of the prowling married man in mid-life crisis. Depending on the customs of the geographic area, even talking to one of these marauders could give a girl a "reputation," and completely ward off the smattering of singles that might in the room. She will also have to compete with the professional late 20 and 30-somethings that also show up at these places.

The odds, then, decrease as the competition increases.

What, then, is it that makes single men over the age of 40 both elusive and more sensitive than they might have been when they were younger? Men's lives, too, change after 40. Overall, men are not big on going out in large groups, even when they are younger, and there is little change in that once they hit middle age. Yet habits do change, and bar-going habits are the first to do so. Most men will seek out the proverbial "old-man bar"--the corner joint or sports bar where they can go, have a couple of beers, watch the game, and maybe exchange a few comments with the bartender or another guy or group of guys at the bar. The intention is specifically *not* to meet anyone (so women, take note: don't go to the old-man bar.)

There's something in men that often drives them away from people rather than to socialize more. Maybe they just get tired of talking with and supervising others, and the level social playing field of the old-man bar can then be most appealing. Also, in a time where the slightest remark can be interpreted as sexual harassment, the single-gender atmosphere of the old man bar is quite a comfort.

As the coupling of friends continues, men are more than likely to begin to shy away from house parties. Rarely will one find a single man among the marrieds at a houseparty (although there may be a single female or two among the women). Single men seem to have less and less to talk about with house-husbands, unless they, too, are condo/house owners concerned about yardwork. Still, most men will keep their married friends at a talking-over-the-fence-while-cutting-hedges place and not join in at the coupled-up social gathering.

As men get more into middle age, they might start to think about their fitness levels. Many will start going to the gym or joining hiking, biking or other outdoor activity groups. Gyms, however, can have the cachet of the swanky bar and are also realms of appearance. Men will more often than not consider hitting on the young hardbodies rather than consider talking with the woman who's more than likely at their own age and fitness level.

Hiking, biking or outdoorsy groups can have a modicum of single men. Many men are most comfortable re-invigorating an interest in a solo outdoor activity such as biking and hiking that they may have enjoyed when they were younger. There are levels of competition in biking and running clubs, but it is a different sort of competition than what exists in a softball or hockey team. Hiking allows a man to demonstrate a certain strength and mastery--he can also be with people or go far away from them. The socializing flexibility and personal athletic challege are quite appealing.

However, this is problematic for most women. Often, we've had trouble with the "athletic" stuff since high school. Being in a female-centered desk job can keep a woman even more non-athletic than ever. There is, then, the fear that taking up hiking and biking will make a woman look as if she is making that desperate, last-ditch and most humiliating attempt to meet Mr. Right. Men tend to look at middle-aged athletic novices as helpless ninnies, rather than as cute young things in need of mentoring and assistance (as our younger counterparts are apt to be perceived).

What, then, about charitable groups, such as Habitat for Humanity or the local food bank? The merits of volunteering (and even church groups) have been over-stated for many years now. Sure, men do volunteer for these sorts of activities, but the odds are far lower in these groups than for athletic pursuits. Once again, men's spare time has more to do with wanting to get away from people, not taking on more responsibility for them by increasing interaction with them.

What, too, about personal ads on Internet dating sites? I've done the whole personal ad thing, and find that it's also not the same for people over 40 as it is for those in their 20's and 30's. The pool is shallower and far less fresh. Some men have had profiles on those sites since their inception and it becomes something of a game for them. There are also some little-discussed pitfalls to internet dating. If you find yourself wanting to register for something like Match.com, also check out Alt.com, AdultFriendFinder.com, and Passion.com. Women just might find that the guy on Match.com who says he's ready for a long-term relationship is, on the latter three sites, looking for wild no strings attached sex with women, men, groups and couples. Some men will load up on internet dating and swinging sites to try to beat the odds and get some kind of action. Some get more than they bargained for, but, a lot, I believe, get even less.


What, then IS a woman to do?

Got me on this one. I can see the patterns, but have no clue what to do about them. How I meet someone depends on whether or not I'm wiling to see what The Fates will send me, or if I'm willing to endure a certain amount of ridicule pursuing "manly" activities. With knowing the patterns, I may not have the solution, but at least I know that not meeting someone is more about the changes in the social milieu, and middle-aged men's tendencies toward lonerdom, than it is about any way I appear or any thing that I say or do.

After all, it takes two to tango, but if one is at the ball and the other at the old-man bar, there won't be any dancing...

The Japan Times Online- Rape as an instrument of War

The Japan Times Online :

"According to a report prepared by the International Committee of the Red Cross, titled 'Women and War' and based on two years of research from 1998 to 1999, approximately 80 percent of war victims are women and children. This is mainly because military conflicts now more commonly engulf towns and cities instead of only frontline areas.

There are many in this world for whom the ravages of war - including arson, looting, murder and rape -- are a way of life. These people have known little else than war all their lives, like their parents before them and their children (if they survive) after them. These generations of war face atrocities on a daily basis, and most of these go unnoticed by the rest of the world.
--snip--

While rape can be used to brutalize both sexes, it is usually committed against women during wartime -- males are usually killed or captured. Ongoing conflicts in many countries, including Palestine, Kashmir, Iraq, Afghanistan and Congo, have victims of war rapes running into the thousands.
--snip--

Rape is a more effective weapon of war than killing. Many victims say they would prefer death over life after being raped." [emphasis mine]

Read the whole article if you have the stomach for it.

I'm cross-posting this every damned place I can because I'm sick of people telling me that war affects men and women equally.

80% Women and Children. Only one in five is a man. War is a Woman's issue. Women's Rights Are Human Rights.

Courting "Net-oriety"

Whether it's called "blogebrity" or "net-oriety," let's face it, most of us like the attention we get from blogging. This article on MSN talks about how many nowdays court Internet fame thru their blogs.

Timely piece, given I was speaking with someone yesterday about just this topic. She was surprised how much of myself that I expose on my blog.

But it doesn't really bother me to do so. Blogging, to me, cannot encompass the totality of my person. It features a side of me--a personna. It is me but a portion of me. It is a portion of me that is different from others, and I do not mind showing that portion of myself to the world. That portion has alot of knowledge about two particular areas--sex and religion--and a modicum of self-awareness that makes for decent memoir.

I like to tell stories.

Sometimes telling the stories of our lives is more compelling and effective than simply reporting our opinion on an issue or newsstory that others have already left comments about. Telling that life-story in a way that makes people look at their own lives and experiences is, I think, a talent in itself.

Weaving stories from the outside world into stories of our world is also a unique way of communicating. It draws paralells, makes us part of something more, shows others our mind on issues we find important as it tells the reader something about who we are.

It can bring us "net-oriety" or not. "Net-oriety" is as slow as the word it derives from, unless the personna is cultivated in a way that is sensational enough to make people gasp as if they are observing a train wreck. Is this a good thing? Do those of us who blog really want to be the next big train wreck? Some probably do, given the way they manage to over-expose themselves. But I don't think that's what most of us are out to do. I'll freely admit that I enjoy when my sitemeter numbers skyrocket, but I am a bit ambivalent about what I need to do to mantain those numbers. I usually ask myself "is this blog for the world, for the pursuit of net-oriety, or for me? what is its purpose and is that purpose congruent with the personna?"

Sometimes the purpose changes. Blogs have an organic nature, and as such, can be subject to change. Yet is the change congruent with who we are (or want to be) on our blogs? Is the possibility of losing readers inconsequential to the need to express oneself via blogging?

Perhaps some bloggers are more adept at courting net-oriety. Perhaps they have a sense of noterity from their personal lives--they know how to mantain a personna that captivates others. Net-oriety is easy for them.

So, I wonder about my own desires for net-oriety. Is it what I want? Is it something I can handle? Can I spot the trend that will make it for me, and am I willing to adapt my personna to achieve it?

It's an on-going process. We'll see.

crossposted on love & hope & sex & dreams where you will find other meditations on blogging, identity and personna.

Cheney's Last Throes (Blog Post & Podcast)

I've finally managed to add audio to my blog and have recorded my last few political poems and song parodies as podcasts.

In my latest blog post and podcast, I comment on and (in the case of my podcast) sing about Cheney's claim that the Iraq insurgency is in its last throes. Here's how Cheney's Last Throes begins:

Cheney's Last Throes (Sing To "On Top Of Old Smokey")
By Madeleine Begun Kane

Dick says the insurgents
Are in their last throes,
The war's almost over,
We're beating our foes.

Iraq violence surges.
It's gotten much worse.
Yet Cheney keeps telling
Lies chapter and verse.

When ABC's Terry
Dared question Dick's lie...

The rest of my song parody is here:
Cheney's Last Throes Blog Post

And my Cheney's Last Throes Podcast is here:
Cheney's Last Throes Podcast

Detoxing

My body aches all over, but it is more pronounced in my upper chest, behind my breastbone.

Heart Chakra.

I am trying to eat good foods, to stay away from the junk and sugar. Don't really even want the junk right now--so the good foods will keep me going and on an even keel.

When I can eat.

I miss the Apollo archetype, the Golden Boy that was the personification of all I could never have nor ever be because I wasn't born at the right conjunction of stars and planets and social class.

It wasn't that I was never pretty enough--it was more that the world I grew up in was far too disordered to give me what I needed to be good enough. But it's always much easier to say that I'm not pretty enough. Pretty is a superficial quality and easily quantifiable. Disorder, chaos, and the sense of "trailer trash" can be hidden behind the prettiness, but is like a cheap perfume that lingers in a cloud after your presence is gone.

They always know it.

I would like to cry, but I can't. That's nothing new. I'm not someone who cries all that often. I didn't cry much at my mother's funeral. Sometimes I can only cry at movies--at the depictions of someone else's hurt and sorrow because I compartmentalize mine so well that I don't conciously even know it's there.

It lurks behind my eyes and in my body. In my mind and my hands I am working, doing things, making things happen, making the next career move and the Next Big Step in my life transpire.

If I keep busy, keep my Eyes on the Prize, I won't t have time for feelings. They can be in a box in the back of a room somewhere in my brain. I can work on improving my Self and my Standing In The Community by building a solid reputation as a fairly decent freelance writer.

And I won't have time for sex because I'll be too busy.

I miss the crashing of bodies and the warmth of another in my space; breathing hard like a marathon runner and a heartbeat right up against mine.

I miss sex that was like heroin.

I miss it so bad that I can't even look at nor touch another.

I have to close that energy gap in my heart chakra. Let it heal over like a scraped knee. Don't pick the scab. Let it peel away naturally.

If I ignore it all, maybe it won't hurt as much. Maybe it will just feel like I'm getting over the flu. Maybe it will heal up and go away without me ever knowing it.

Maybe it will be over and gone before I know it.

Maybe...maybe...

--Tish G.
crossposted here