A whole new spin on "who's your daddy"...

I remember when I was younger hearing a song on the radio called "I'm My Own Grandpa".  It was one of those natty novelty tunes, where a man marries a widow with an adult daughter, and his father marries the daughter.  Then both couples have kids.

Go on, think about the family tree for a minute ... the father is the son's stepson in-law.  The father's kid is the man's half brother AND step grandson.  The man's daughter is the father's half step-sister AND granddaughter.  And, of course, the man is his own grandfather.  Trippy, huh?

But of course even with the worlds most fucked up family tree, no one in that particular song was involved in incest.

Not like this poor woman in Ohio who found out after her husband's death that the man was, in fact, her father.  Can you imagine?  You live with a man for all those years, only to find out later that all that time you were being lied to.  And not only by him, but by family, friends, pretty much half of the community!

Because you can't convince me that they didn't know!  Sure most of them are dead and gone now, so there's no way to know for sure, but some of them MUST have know!  After all, it was an uncle who told her after the man died.  Makes you wonder why the hell no one thought it would be a good idea to clue her in before she married him, doesn't it!

I think if I was her I'd be utterly furious with everyone, and I certainly wouldn't be letting it get out into the media, but this woman made the decision to go public.  Seriously, that takes some guts!  She wanted to show that it was possible to get over something like this, and that she wasn't ashamed.  And she shouldn't be!  SHE didn't do anything wrong!

No, it was the people in her family who fucked up royally!  It was her husband who I'm sure knew what their real relationship was!  They must have had heaps of time to clue her into the fact, or even let her know later on, but instead they chose to just let it stay secret.  But this woman, she didn't do a damned thing to be ashamed of, and I give her total credit for embracing that fact.

... but if I'm being completely honest, I have to admit that the first thing that came into my head when I read this was "Oh god, I hope he never asked her to call him Daddy when they were in bed".

Yeah, I know.  Sorry.

The face of evil had an enormous beard ... who knew...

I love Harry Potter.  It's like the great equaliser.  No matter who you are, or what walk of life you're from, you've probably got at least a passing knowledge of the stories.  I can go up to anyone, even if I haven't met them before, and ask them, "Which did you prefer, Prisoner of Azkaban or Goblet of Fire", and wham, I've made a new best friend as we discuss the pros and cons of Sirius Black versus Cedric Diggory.  But there's a point about these books that I find myself constantly disagreeing with everyone else. 

In my opinion, the Harry Potter novels have the most vile bad guy in them of all time.

I know what you're thinking.  You're wondering why this is such a scandalous thing for me to believe.  After all, I'd hardly be the only one in the world to believe that Lord Voldemort was with worst of the worst.  Ah, but therein lies the rub!  You see, I DON'T think Voldemort is the worst of villians.

In fact, I'd have to say that as far as bad guys go, he's pretty pedestrian.  Sure, he likes to kill people, and sure, he's out for world domination, but that's fairly standard when it comes to that demographic.  Lets be honest, if he didn't have at least one of these goals in his resume, we'd think him a pretty crap evil dude.  Even so, there's another character in Harry Potter who I think was much, much worse than old Mouldyshorts.

Albus Dumbledore.

Is this the face of evil?

Now, before you start getting all twitterpated and asking me what in tarnation I think I'm doing, accusing one of the greatest wizards of our age of being evil, I'd like you to think for a few minutes on his actions over the course of the books.  Hell, over the course of Harry's whole life!  The man has been ... shall we say a little negligent?

Lets look at the facts, hmm?  Dumbledore takes a baby whose just been orphaned and, knowing full well that he'll be at best neglected, at worst abused, leaves him on the doorstep of his magic-phobic Aunt and Uncle.  He does this not because he thinks that they'll take care of the baby, but because he knows he can build blood wards around the house and he wants to keep the baby alive.  Again, not out of any love for the kid, but because he knows that Mouldyshorts isn't really dead and he's going to need that kid sometime in the future.  After all, you've got to protect your assets.

Then he leaves the boy there for ten years, not once seeming to notice or care that the kid is growing up in an emotionally abusive household where he's treated like he doesn't matter at all.  In fact, I'd even go so far as to assume that was his intention all along.  After all, we all know how this story ends.  If you're grooming a kid to be willing to kill themselves on demand, you'd better make damned sure they think they're worth less than everyone else or they might just up and refuse when the time comes.

Then, when the boy turns eleven, you whisk him off to the world of witches and wizards.  Make sure he's overwhelmed with the thrill of it all and showered with friendship and admiration.  But don't forget to stick him back in that hell hole every Summer so he can be well and truly squashed again before you swoop back in and release him just before the start of the new school year.  After all, you want him to feel pathetically grateful, all the better for making sure he'll be a good sacrificial lamb when the time comes.

Lather, rinse, repeat at least seven times.

Oh, and don't forget during those seven years to turn a blind eye to glaringly dangerous situations that crop up in the castle.  In fact, why not prod the kid in their direction and see how he holds up.  Best way to see how he's coming along, and who cares if you endanger hundreds of other kids in the process.  After all, it's all for the greater good.

And it doesn't hurt if you show the kid a little familial affection.  Be the doting grandparent he never had.  Hell, he's never had any parental care, so he'll lap it up.  By the end of it, he'll be willing to do anything you say is necessary, even if that's walking in front of a loaded wand.

Then at the end of all that you should have a well trained human sacrifice, willing to march himself out and offer himself up because, after all, he loves these people, and it's not like he's worth a damn to anyone.

Oh yeah, Dumbledore's a real prince.

Can't fit a cat, let alone swing one...

Have any of you read about the trend at the moment to have really teeny living spaces?  And by teeny I don't mean a studio apartment in a pre-war brick fire trap, I'm talking about houses of Lilliputian dimensions.  Wee little houses that people are buying so they can get rid of their mortgages and live a simpler "uncluttered" life.

Maybe not quite as small as this, but close!

I'm pretty lucky as far as house size goes.  My fibro shack is on the large side at about 800 square feet, with two large bedrooms, a huge lounge and only five minutes from the city.  Not a bad score considering what I pay in rent.  But even so there are days when I wish I had more room to spread out it.  More places to go and more wall space to put furniture against.  I could really use a proper desk, but I'd have to sacrifice a couch for it and I'm just not willing to.  It's the cat's couch and she'd never forgive me.

Yes, my cat has her own couch.  Don't judge, you haven't seen her death glare!

But some people are actually choosing to downgrade their living spaces and are moving into places that are as small as 200 square feet.  Seriously!  That's the size of a one car garage!  The couple in the article moved themselves, their two kids, and their dog and cat into a space smaller than my lounge room.

If you were on your own I could see it potentially working as long as you didn't have too many possessions, but it must be ridiculously cramped for a family of four.  And I don't even want to think about issues of privacy and what they do when they want a bit of "grown up" time.  I just hope to god they have some sort of wall put up in their shoebox so they don't traumatise the kids too much.

Therapist:  So, Dan, tell me more about your parents. 

Dan:  It would happen at night ... always at night... 

Therapist:  Go on. 

Dan:  They thought we were asleep.  We weren't asleep!  The moaning!  The groaning!  Some nights, I can still hear the banging! 

Therapist:  ... um...

Dan:  I still have flashbacks whenever anyone says "Who's your daddy"!

Therapist:  ... you know, I think it might be best if we met twice a week from now on.  Or daily!  Would daily work for you?

 Oh well, I suppose they have to have SOMETHING to tell their therapist about.

Answering the age old question...

You know, there are some things that I just assumed were always going to be a mystery.  Who built Stonehenge?  How long is a piece of string?  How did Steve Irwin get so popular?  Could a man handle childbirth?  All unanswerable questions, wouldn't you think?

At least I assumed that the question of men and childbirth was unanswerable.  After all, how the hell do you test that theory?  Get a guy knocked up?

But some clever, or perhaps sadistic, scientist has worked out how to give a man all the symptoms and sensations of going through labour, excluding the actual pushing out a human being through a hole not really sized for it.  By attaching electrodes to specific spots on the man's abdomen, they can mimic the contractions a pregnant woman has, thus finally answering the question of who has a lower pain threshold, men or women.

It's interesting though.  This bloke manages to make it through three hours of simulated labour before he throws in the towel.  Not exactly realistic I suppose, a pregnant woman wouldn't be able to just give up half way through.  But other than tying him to he bed I guess they couldn't really force him to continue.

But I thought you mothers out there would find this video very interesting ... especially as guilt trip inducing material.  It should be good for breakfast in bed for the next few weekends at the very least.

To the back of the bus, kids...

You know it might be a bit naive of me, but I like to think that as a species we're getting better with the whole racism thing.  Sure, we still like to kill each other over things like who has the best toys and whose imaginary friend in the sky is cooler/scarier/kinder, but we do seem to have gotten a bit better about the senseless bigotry based on nothing more than a physical trait like skin colour or eye shape.

And then I go and read something like this, and I realise that from time to time we're still as dumb as rocks.

Every year when the little kiddies are sent off to their first year of school you could reasonably assume that the worst problem they'll have to face is if they know where the bathroom is, whether their Mum packed them the good stuff for recess, and who's going to get first turn on the swings.  At least, that's how it should be.

One thing they shouldn't have to worry about is whether they're being discriminated against because of their skin colour!

As unbelievable as it sounds, it would seem that a school in New York made the questionable decision to divide their kiddies up into different kindergarten classes based on their skin colour.  Yep, you heard me right, they took a bunch of five year olds and split them up into white and not-white.

What the hell!  I thought we were done with shit like this years ago!  Those kids are going to find plenty of reasons to hate their fellow man when they grow up, they don't need stupid, pointless prejudices instilled in them as well!

At first the school did the usual "Segregation?  What segregation!  I know not of this segregation of which you speak!" schtick, but after an investigation found that for at least the past two years they've been splitting the kids up based on ethnicity, they really didn't have a leg to stand on.  I believe they've cut a deal and are going to be monitored for the next couple of years, but that hardly seems good enough, does it.

So I'd like to offer my highly illustrious Douchebag Award to the school that thought it was appropriate to teach five year olds that judging people by how they look is okay.  Congratulations on your attempt to set the civil rights movement back by fifty year.

Oh Disney, what can't you do...

Hello children.  Are we all sitting comfortably?  Good, then we'll begin.

Today we're going to learn about *hushed whisper* lady bits!  That's right, we're going to learn about that time of the month, Disney style!

Oh yes, you heard me right.  Turns out that Disney is good for more than just animated movies about dancing teapots and questionably accented crustaceans.  They also, back in the day, dipped their toe into the educational film market!  There's a few of them out there, but I thought that today we could all check out "The Story of Menstruation".  The title says it all, I think.

In it we get to watch as a character vaguely reminiscent of Cinderella navigates the minefield of young womanhood, narrated by someone who sounds a heck of a lot like June Allyson.  Come on, June, you were a star!  There's no way in the world you needed to do a voice over for a third rate educational short!  You were in Two Girls and a Sailor for gods sake!

Sorry, got carried away...

In the film they seem to put an awful lot of emphasis on the fact that girls "come in all shapes and sizes", and there's a frankly disturbing obsession with the word glands, but other than that there's not much as far as information goes.  There's just ten minutes of vague explanations and euphemisms, along with some rather questionable advice about not getting too hot or cold and "just getting over it" when you feel a tad emotional.

Yeah, that one gave me a sudden urge to grab something stabby too.

If this is how girls back in the 40's learned about their periods, I feel sorry for the poor dears!  The reality of it must have come as a bit of a shock if this was their primary source of information before the big event.  It's cruel if you ask me.  How were they supposed to prepare themselves for the water retention?  The cramps?  The sudden and inexplicable urge to sob because you can't open the pickle jar?  Not to mention the fact that your uterus practically liquefies and falls out!

Bad form, Disney!

Something that really make me giggle, though, was the fact that the film was sponsored by Kotex.  They had infomercials back in the 40's.  Who knew!

Conversations with a feline dictator...

Kellie:  *coming into the house*  Gypsy, I'm home!

Gypsy the feline dictator:  It's about time, you worthless human!  Now, bring me chicken immediately!

Kellie:  *looking around*  ... oh my god!  What happened in here!

Gypsy the feline dictator:  Ah, I see you're admiring the proof of my savagery and cunning.  It was a worthy foe and it fought valiantly, but it was no match for my obviously superior tactical knowledge.

Kellie:  But ... I was gone for an hour ... how did you ...

Gypsy the feline dictator:  I see you're speechless from fear of my retribution, but you are safe from my wrath provided you bring me chicken.  Now!

Kellie:  It's EVERYWHERE!  How did you even get in the cupboard to get it out?  And how did you get it open?

Gypsy the feline dictator:  Best not to ask such questions, puny mortal!  The answers are far beyond your understanding.

Kellie:  *grabbing a broom*  This is going to take forever to clean up...


... and this, my friends, is how I ended up spending half an hour vacuuming up rice that had been spread through my entire house!  I'm still not sure how she managed to get the bag open, or why she thought it was necessary to drag it all around the house, leaving a trail of grains in her wake, but I've learned my lesson.  Make sure the pantry cupboard is shut properly before you leave the house.