MTheads

Do You Need Any Wonder Bras To Go With That?

Back when we had lice, I decided, based on anecdotal testimonies from complete strangers on the internet, to go out and buy the world's most powerful hair blower and desiccate the evil.  So, off I went to the nearest appliance store.  As there are usually eight Russian employees per customer, I was immediately asked if I needed help.  In my best, clearest Russian I explained that I was looking for the world's most powerful hair blower.  This also turned out to be the world's most expensive.  Then, since this store also stocked the world's least expensive hair blower for around 5 bucks, I grabbed a couple of those.  Five of us in the family have long hair and we only had one pathetic machine.

The young man helping me looked at me in a way that said, "Why are you buying so many hair blowers?"  I told him, again in near perfect Russian, that I needed them because I wanted a lot of children.  He thought this was hilarious, and he shouted out to his horde of fellow workers just what I had said.  This got a big laugh.  Of course, I was going for: "I need them because I have a lot of children."

It didn't help any that I tried to explain what I really meant.  Too late.  I was now a man-hungry, middle-aged woman looking to get that glossy, blow-dried look in order to snag a baby daddy.  Why do I try to speak Russian?

A Rare Find In The Free Book Bin. Part One.

I'm finishing off a book of selected writings with author comments by Arthur Koestler called Bricks to Babel.  He was an incredibly gifted writer.  I have trouble knowing where to begin because this book is one gigantic tome of erudition, acute observations, and thoughtful reminiscences.  I had not read anything of his prior to this book, though he is often referenced in books I read.  And the only book of his I had previously heard of is Darkness at Noon.  But based on the extracts I read, I think I'd really enjoy his novel Gladiators.  It's not in print anymore so I'm having trouble tracking it down.  Oh, but I will.  Or, I should say, my husband will.   

I also enjoyed his auto-biographical and commentary selections.  In one of his most intriguing essays for me, he questions the motivation behind non-believing Jews continuing to identify themselves as Jews.  Why bother with a moniker that has the potential to create problems and to create barriers for oneself and ones' children if one doesn't believe Jews are God's chosen people?  It's an interesting question.  And one that has been batted around for some time, apparently.  Who knew it?  Thoughtfully selected extract:

Let me concede at once that psychologically there is every excuse for Jews being emotional, illogical and touchy on the question of renunciation - even if they are unable to say what exactly they are reluctant to renounce.  But let it also be understood that, while every man has a right to act irrationally and against his own interests, he has no right to act in this way where the future of his children is concerned.  I would like to make it clear at this point that my whole line of argument, and the practical conclusions derived from it, are aimed not at the present, but at the next generation, at the decisions which men and women who were brought up in the Jewish community must take regarding not their own status, but the future of their children.  Once this point is clearly established, a number of objections against the process of assimilation will be automatically removed.

He berated those on the Left who refused to condemn Soviet totalitarianism even after its excesses became known.  Koestler wrote that "young idealists" are particularly prone to becoming "shipwrecked" on particular "logical fallacies and emotional eddies."  To help them avoid these fallacies in thinking, he listed "seven deadly fallacies" to avoid.  Here are several:

The confusion of Left and East.  Some on the Left felt they had to support the Soviet Union since they thought of it as on their side of the political spectrum -- home team support and all that.  He argued that what was happening in the Soviet Union was not socialism.

The soul-searching fallacy and the fallacy of the false equation.  Closely related.  These have to do with assuming the guilt of American and European societies -- imperialism, poor treatment of minorities, etc. -- to be equal to Soviet totalitarian crimes.  Since we too are just as guilty, we do not have a right to condemn the Soviet Union's excesses. 

The anti-anti attitude fallacy.  Koestler explains: "It runs: "I am not a Communist.  In fact, I dislike Communist politics, but I don't want to be identified with anti-Communist witchhunting."  Hence I am neither a Communist nor an anti-communist, but an anti-anti-Communist"."

All these fallacies in political thought as observed by Koestler are still with us, though the vocabulary has changed.  Many people cannot embrace what is good about America because American society does not correspond to their idealistic vision of perfection.  Many people who consider themselves progressives are actually more anti-anti-conservatives.  And vice versa.  And don't many of us root for the home team -- Dynamo Dems or Red Bull Reps -- without always giving what's best for the country our fullest consideration?  It's about winning, and egos are bruised when the other guy wins.

Lame Recycled Picture

This is it.  Yes, same dog, same sweater which tags this picture as from last year, same bizarre tongue.  But, still, so funny every time I see it. 

Orthodoxy As Heterodoxy

I finished G.K. Chestertons' Orthodoxy.  Enjoyed it.  I like the rambling kind of thoughtful non-fiction.  Several quotes I marked (on my Kindle):

It is always easy to be a modernist; as it is easy to be a snob. 

Seriousness is not a virtue.  It would be a heresy, but a much more sensible heresy, to say that seriousness is a vice.

The Christian is quite free to believe that there is a considerable amount of settled order and inevitable development in the universe.  But the materialist is not allowed to admit into his spotless machine the slightest speck of spiritualism or miracle (In other words, the Christian has a broader spectrum of thought available to him than does the materialist/determinist/atheist).

Tradition means giving votes to the most obscure of all classes, our ancestors.  It is the democracy of the dead.  Tradition refuses to submit to the small and arrogant oligarchy of those who merely happen to be walking about.

One idea Chesterton wrestled with in the book was the idea that a state of anarchy would lead to great restrictions on individuals.  He meant the anarchy that many of his "modern Utopian friends" believed would grow out of their perfect society:  Freedom from all ties and obligations; freedom from the "liberty to bind" oneself to obligations and expectations; freedom from failure or success.  A life without meaning.

I myself have argued with various friends that individuality and eccentricity -- the true kinds, not the comfortable sorts found off-the-shelf -- flourish best in structured, conservative environments.  I'm not talking about dictatorships and other harsh regimes.  I mean societies with rule of law and a history of tolerance and fairness.  The warp and weave of these traditional cultures allow individuals to play off them, to use them, and to retreat to them in times of need.  Why waste energy reinventing the wheels of society? 

Chesterton thought traditional Christian societies more expansive and tolerant of humanity than any society based on humanistic principles could be.  He wrote that tradition was an outgrowth of democracy with each generation having a say and adding and keeping what seems best.  He was not saying societies shouldn't be improved.  He was arguing against Utopias and against the arguments of many intellectuals that societies based on miracles ought to be destroyed and rebuilt on new scientific theories, theories he considered narrow and ultimately self destructive.

At its heart, the book is an argument for Christianity in an age of encroaching Atheism.  He feared what would replace Christian ethics.  He wrote the book in 1908, and he died in 1936.  I wonder what he would have thought of the world after WWII.

Что Это? (English trans. I'm scared...hold me)

No, this is not a manifestation of Cthulhu on Earth, though I can understand the mistake.  This is the remains of my husband's take out food.  It was herring under marinated beets, red pepper, potatoes, and mayo.  Not the most attractive dish after being half eaten.  

My husband didn't like this particular version of the dish much.  Why he took a picture of it, I don't know.  I can tell you that when the kids and I enlarged this gem from the thumbnail view (trying to figure out what the hell it was), we all drew back from the screen. 

Like I Know How Much 33 3/4 Ounces Are...Give Holding Capacity In Something Less Ambiguous, Please.

We buy much of our stuff from the internet.  Sometimes we don't get what we were expecting.  I wanted some carafes for wine and juice so I bought several from a store on the internet.  When they got here, I saw that the dimensions were not what I had expected.  I had assumed the vessels would be large enough to hold a bottle of wine.  Nope.  They are little versions of carafes.  I'm not sure what I'm going to do with them.  They are too cute to return.

This is the perspective of the carafe as seen via the internet.  It's huge, right?

This is the mind-blowing reality.  What did I do to deserve 12 tiny carafes???

Sometimes There Are No Right Answers, Only Guesses.

I wonder how the illegal immigration question would shake out if Hispanics voted overwhelmingly Republican?  The arguments on both sides of the issue often seem disingenuous to me.  The crocodile tears of Hispanics and their supporters over the fear that any measure designed to slow the flow of illegal aliens across our borders means a new holocaust drive me batty.  I don't like emotional arguments, especially not arguments that accuse all white people of being racist who aren't pro-cause of the day.  Yawn.  If we're all racists, to what are you appealing?

I don't buy into the implied notion that protecting one's borders is immoral.  And if it's not immoral, why are we wrong to do so?  Is it immoral to force people here illegally back to their home countries?  It's a risk these people took.  They were given no expectation of citizenship if they could make it here.  Again, where is the immorality of making citizenship a process rather than a right?  Most countries have procedures one must follow to become citizens.  So do we.  My point is, we're not immoral for trying to curtail illegal immigration.

To the argument that we're racists because we're focusing on curtailing Mexican illegal immigration, I say that's silly as Mexican-born people make up the greatest number of legal immigrants to the States.  We are the oddest racists.

At the same time, I certainly don't want to herald in a new age of identity checks and overt police presence watching our movements to make sure we're acting "American" enough.  And I dislike the argument that illegal aliens are criminals in the same way that armed robbers are criminals.  They are trying to find work.  We are providing it.  We won't solve illegal immigration as long as we keep paying them.  Sort of like the drug war.  As long as there is a market, there will be sellers.  The only quick solution to both drugs and illegal immigration would be to create a police state.  Free from crime at last.

Despite thinking border control and a crackdown on illegal immigrants are actions well within our rights, and such actions are not morally wrong, I still come down on the side of fairly open borders and easy citizenship for our closest neighbors.  Sometimes it's not about right or wrong, but about preferences.  And I prefer the messiness of laissez faire to the neatness of Big Government.  The only thing that would be strengthened by solving illegal immigration would be the power of the Government.  

I'll Have The Herring In A Fur Coat, Please. He's Freezing.

My husband and I recently went to a Russian restaurant across from the Lubyanka called Glavpivtorg, which means something like main beer trade.  The interior is beautiful and the food so very good.  I had farmers' borscht with apples and spices, and a dish with herring under a layer of grated beets and other vegetables.  The dish is called 'herring in a fur coat'.  Very Russian.  And very good.  

Also, they served us rye garlic bread.  I liked the robustness of the rye.  I'm going to try and make this at home with my rye bread.  My husband says that for Russia the beer selection was quite good.  We had Timmerman's Kriek lambic. 

It was a great afternoon out.  Then we went to the big bookstore Biblio Globus and bought several English language movies with Russian subtitles -- a painless way to practice our Russian.  

I wish I had taken a picture of the herring dish.  It was quite eye catching.

It's as if they had reserved the entire restaurant for us.  As it should be.

Here's my borscht.  With the apples and sweet spices, it was like a Christmas borscht.

No, No. I'm Sure This Is The Right Way Home.

I took the boys to the amusement park at Gorky Park the other day.  We had a great time, except for the short cut I subjected them to at the end of the day.  The last words anyone in my family wants to hear from me is "I know a short cut home, or to the hotel room, or to the mall, or to the next state."  It's never a short cut.  But I can't help myself.  Reverse routes, A to B and then B to A, there and back, are redundant.  The strong eschew the known; the strong embrace the thrill of mapless navigation; and the strong always drag their family along for company.

So, after a tiring afternoon enjoying rides in the heat, I dragged the two boys on an accidental tour of a part of Moscow I've never visited.  After an hour of trying to find a metro station, any metro station, we reversed course and headed back for Gorky Park.  Needless to say, the second glimpse of the park was not quite as exciting as the first.  We'll laugh about this later. 

This was a fun roller coaster, though brutal on the neck and pocketbook. 

Interesting. 

Here's our second sighting of the rides at Gorky Park.  The boys are not speaking to me at this point. 

Zardoz Lives...As Zardog

Zardog

This picture cracks me up.  I keep trying to come up with the perfect thing to say about it.  But I keep laughing whenever I look at it.  It's like the other day when I was doing yet another exhaustive search for "lice" on the internet and I came across several lines from one of my own posts -- the lines about the nits being visible only through an electron microscope.  Some poor soul is going to read that (if they make it to search page 48) and think it's true or that I'm an idiot or both.