When I was a kid we had these handy little punched-out steel devices euphemized as "church keys".
This euphemism was clearly ironic because these little tools were designed mostly to give you access to beer, the oldest form of alcoholic beverage, the kind of ungodly substance that church-related "blue laws" still prohibit the sales of on Sundays in many towns across this great open-minded yet thoroughly Puritanical country called "America" even today.
One end had a little pry tab designed to provide just the right leverage to pop off a "crown" bottle cap. Of course these could also used for sodas, but I doubt they got the nickname "church key" for that application.
On the other end the steel came to a triangular point, and it was designed to give leverage to punch a triangle-shaped hole in the metal flat-top beverage cans of the day before "pop-tops" were invented.
Time went by and beverage manufacturers and "bottlers" figured out that people would probably drink more if it was easier to get the containers open, so they created "pop top" metal cans. For the first few years, you pulled the tab right off, and people made decorative chains with them but mostly threw them on the ground, which not only made a mess but presented a hazard to different animals that would ingest them with gruesome results.
Under pressure, we got the pop-tops of today, where the thirsty patron simply pulls a metal tab up which forces a metal lever down to push the tab open, but keep it attached to the inside of the can. So then cans were easy to open without a "church key", and didn't pose any particular environmental threat apart from throwing the cans themselves down. But animals can't eat those, so they weren't such a threat.
A few years went by and some packaging genius actually realized that the conventional crown-top bottle cap could be combined with a simple twist-off screw top mechanism, and make it so you could now open beverage bottles without a tool as well.
Finally! Full beverage liberation! You could buy beer (or pop) in cans, or bottles, go somewhere, and drink them without need of any kind of tool. For awhile resourceful people had figured out different ways to pop the caps off bottles, some risking their teeth, some prying with a belt-buckle or key, some actually carrying small openers on their keychains (which I always took as a sign of somebody way too focused on drinking), and I even saw a guy pull off the tops with his EYE socket! Now THAT'S the kind of bar trick worth risking your vision on!
But as more years have gone by, massive breweries have been met with small, custom outfits called "microbreweries". These purveyors along with other brands of smaller volume, "specialty" production beers, decided that it was somehow more "fitting" to reinforce the impression of "old-timey goodness" (as if most beer was at one time uniformly delicious) of their product by bottling it in a threadless, old-style crown bottle caps that require a tool to remove.
If you're not careful and you've gotten used to twisting off beer bottle caps with your hand (soda had long since gone to screw top plastic bottles) and you encountered one of these old "non-screwtop" bottles and tried to twist the cap off with your hand, well, some level of pain would generally ensue as your tightened grip tried to turn the sharp-edged crown tops off that wouldn't twist at all. That can really hurt, like grabbing a woodworker's sharpened rasp tool and just twisting your skin against it to see how bad it would hurt.
But the thing that pisses me off enough to write this is that now it's commonly used as a marketing gimmick meant to communicate, "quality, low-volume beer." But it's being used by huge breweries just to give that impression, so now I have to jump back four decades or so and make sure I have a tool to open these bottles just because some marketing genius thought it was "cool". People can buy cold beer, go someplace nice to drink it, and not be able to get the stupid bottles open, just for "marketing" purposes.
There is no good, practical reason not to make every single beer bottle cap twist off--none. But they still force people to reflexively try to twist, go "ouch!", and then rattle around in a drawer looking for what should be a completely obsolete tool. Just because they think we're such suckers that we'll believe any swill with a non-twist off cap will automatically taste good, just because they use an inconvenient and obsolete closure on the bottle.
So I write this mostly in vain, hoping that somehow it will cause a spell to be cast over every marketing manager who decides to make my life a hassle by making this arbitrary decision, and cause them immediate death for their sin, or at least, severely gouged hands.
Translation: Beer-bottlers, stop using non-twist off bottle caps, you're not fooling anybody!
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Monday, February 17, 2014
The KARKIL Dictionary Defines: Unployee
Unployee, n: a person that works for a company in a capacity similar to an employee, but for no compensation; volunteer. It seems possible that as the ACA Healthcare law goes into effect, lots of people will be quitting jobs that they hate, but they will still want to have something to do even if they don't get paid. Also, there is a trend called "freeworking" where someone interested in pursuing a certain activity offers his services to somebody doing it just for the experience, CV credit, even portfolio samples. Such a person, since they aren't officially employed but still working as if they were, is an unployee.
Friday, February 14, 2014
The Devils of New Mexico
My poor relatives who mostly live back in the cold, gray Soviet Midwest have long had to put up with me bragging about the spectacularly amenable climate out here in my chosen home land of New Mexico. I feel like I have to keep them aware of how progressive this state is (Minnesotans like to think they live in the Progressive Utopia, and they may be right, except it is SOOO C-C-COLD!), because since people don't pay much attention to us, and because the state is mostly poor and the school systems questionable, they assume a state like this is run like a plantation with white bosses calling the shots in Santa Fe over the long-suffering native and Latino population.
And whether you consider it a point of pride, a liability, or just a stat, NM has long been the only non-Caucasian majority state in the US. (California is expected to join us soon.)
But the fact is that this is a state that has been almost exclusively progressive despite Republican governors. We banned capital punishment, tolerate NO laws that discriminate against women (or ethnically disenfranchised--you can't just say "minorities" here), and their right to make their own choices, and we have some of the most advanced and "careful" voting laws in the country, where you are NOT required to vote in a precinct, and we generally have WEEKS of early voting--plus, we are a leader in abandoning digital voting systems because of how easily corruptible they are, and thus require real paper records for every election.
This ain't Ohio or Florida.
Tie that in with the delightful climate (Valentines Day is t-shirt weather here, folks), the ready access to gorgeous wilderness and skiing, and the generally more relaxed pace of life (we have just TWO interstate-level highways: one that goes North to South, and one that goes East to West, and they intersect right in the very middle of our most populous city. If you have trouble getting around here, you have much more serious problems than roads can fix), and things sometime verge on the idyllic, if it weren't for...
...the DEVIL'S charm, the evil, bike tire shredding and excruciatingly painful "GOAT'S HEAD".
The goat's head is like a little burr that grows on a very common weed out here, so it is EVERYWHERE. And the problem that you go out for a walk and they get stuck in your shoes, and then you come inside and they get into your carpet, and then you walk in bare feet and...OUCH!!!
Burrs aren't generally human-friendly, but this burr is like one specially-engineered by Satan Himself (His Glorious Majesty...or perhaps I've said too much? Anyway...) It is very strong and sturdy with super-sharp barbed tips, which mean if one embeds itself in your foot expect SERIOUS pain and then a big problem getting them out, because you can't just grab them with you hand, that just compounds your injuries. You have to find a way to pry this thing out of your tender flesh without breaking off the burrs in your tissues, which ensures the pain stays with you for as long as possible.
I'm a real idiot, I've been living here for decades and it only just occurred to me to ban shoes beyond the front door.
Meanwhile, due to their persistent nature it's hard to vacuum them up, but they are easy enough to pick up with your feet if you don't mind the pain.
Oh yeah, and we have a hollowed-out mountain range full of old atomic weapons residue on the edge of town, and a prominent world-class nuclear weapons lab along with us, painting a very prominent first-strike bulls-eye on us. Not to mention the goofily-named radioactive dump called "WIPP".
We try not to think about all that. It's not mellow.
.
And whether you consider it a point of pride, a liability, or just a stat, NM has long been the only non-Caucasian majority state in the US. (California is expected to join us soon.)
But the fact is that this is a state that has been almost exclusively progressive despite Republican governors. We banned capital punishment, tolerate NO laws that discriminate against women (or ethnically disenfranchised--you can't just say "minorities" here), and their right to make their own choices, and we have some of the most advanced and "careful" voting laws in the country, where you are NOT required to vote in a precinct, and we generally have WEEKS of early voting--plus, we are a leader in abandoning digital voting systems because of how easily corruptible they are, and thus require real paper records for every election.
This ain't Ohio or Florida.
Tie that in with the delightful climate (Valentines Day is t-shirt weather here, folks), the ready access to gorgeous wilderness and skiing, and the generally more relaxed pace of life (we have just TWO interstate-level highways: one that goes North to South, and one that goes East to West, and they intersect right in the very middle of our most populous city. If you have trouble getting around here, you have much more serious problems than roads can fix), and things sometime verge on the idyllic, if it weren't for...
...the DEVIL'S charm, the evil, bike tire shredding and excruciatingly painful "GOAT'S HEAD".
The goat's head is like a little burr that grows on a very common weed out here, so it is EVERYWHERE. And the problem that you go out for a walk and they get stuck in your shoes, and then you come inside and they get into your carpet, and then you walk in bare feet and...OUCH!!!
Burrs aren't generally human-friendly, but this burr is like one specially-engineered by Satan Himself (His Glorious Majesty...or perhaps I've said too much? Anyway...) It is very strong and sturdy with super-sharp barbed tips, which mean if one embeds itself in your foot expect SERIOUS pain and then a big problem getting them out, because you can't just grab them with you hand, that just compounds your injuries. You have to find a way to pry this thing out of your tender flesh without breaking off the burrs in your tissues, which ensures the pain stays with you for as long as possible.
I'm a real idiot, I've been living here for decades and it only just occurred to me to ban shoes beyond the front door.
Meanwhile, due to their persistent nature it's hard to vacuum them up, but they are easy enough to pick up with your feet if you don't mind the pain.
Oh yeah, and we have a hollowed-out mountain range full of old atomic weapons residue on the edge of town, and a prominent world-class nuclear weapons lab along with us, painting a very prominent first-strike bulls-eye on us. Not to mention the goofily-named radioactive dump called "WIPP".
We try not to think about all that. It's not mellow.
.
Changing Tires on a Moving Car
Not unusually, today I was obsessing about my personal problems. (I'm one of these sickeningly self-absorbed assholes who's always whining about DEPRESSION...I know, I know, but so far hating myself for it isn't really helping.)
So I went out for a walk and I just started thinking, "People really don't get how serious my problem is, it's really kind of a bitch to try to fix your broken mind when all you have to fix it with is a broken mind...yea, it's really kind of like the classic problem, changing a flat tire on a moving car."
And I was SO sick of thinking about it I just decided to figure that out.
You know, how to fix a flat tire...on a moving car. It's a vivid phrase because it's just seems so impossible--but IS it? If I had unlimited resources, and advance time to prepare, but just a normal car with normal tires and wheels--how could it ever be changed without stopping the car? Is it REALLY an unsolvable problem?
At first I thought, I'd need a computer-controlled robot that could calibrate and sync itself to the rotation of my wheels. But then I thought--NO, I wouldn't. I'd still need the robot, plus I'd need a small "trolley" device, something that a precision robot could reach out of the car, position BEHIND the flat tire, somehow solidly affix it to the axle and/or frame, and deploy, so that the probably TWO wheels on it could LIFT and SUPPORT the moving car. The trolley would just need to have two smaller wheels, one to go in front, and one behind, the flat tire.
But WAIT...I wouldn't even REALLY need that. I could imagine a SINGLE wheel trolley that would work as long as it could be rigidly attached, and pushed DOWN to lift and support the vehicle. But as if being PRACTICAL mattered, I can more easily imagine a two-wheeled device being stable, and the built-in lifting mechanism being simpler and easier to implement because there would be less "front to back" instability, with two wheels, it seems like it work be easier to make.
If you could do that, then program the robot--or even a person--to simply reach out, detach the defective wheel, pull it in, grab a spare, put it in position, screw in the lug nuts, and then reverse the installation of the trolley device, such that the car would once again be supported by its own four wheels.
Wow. Not that hard AFTER all.
Now..what the hell am I going to do about this stupid DEPRESSION?
So I went out for a walk and I just started thinking, "People really don't get how serious my problem is, it's really kind of a bitch to try to fix your broken mind when all you have to fix it with is a broken mind...yea, it's really kind of like the classic problem, changing a flat tire on a moving car."
And I was SO sick of thinking about it I just decided to figure that out.
You know, how to fix a flat tire...on a moving car. It's a vivid phrase because it's just seems so impossible--but IS it? If I had unlimited resources, and advance time to prepare, but just a normal car with normal tires and wheels--how could it ever be changed without stopping the car? Is it REALLY an unsolvable problem?
At first I thought, I'd need a computer-controlled robot that could calibrate and sync itself to the rotation of my wheels. But then I thought--NO, I wouldn't. I'd still need the robot, plus I'd need a small "trolley" device, something that a precision robot could reach out of the car, position BEHIND the flat tire, somehow solidly affix it to the axle and/or frame, and deploy, so that the probably TWO wheels on it could LIFT and SUPPORT the moving car. The trolley would just need to have two smaller wheels, one to go in front, and one behind, the flat tire.
But WAIT...I wouldn't even REALLY need that. I could imagine a SINGLE wheel trolley that would work as long as it could be rigidly attached, and pushed DOWN to lift and support the vehicle. But as if being PRACTICAL mattered, I can more easily imagine a two-wheeled device being stable, and the built-in lifting mechanism being simpler and easier to implement because there would be less "front to back" instability, with two wheels, it seems like it work be easier to make.
If you could do that, then program the robot--or even a person--to simply reach out, detach the defective wheel, pull it in, grab a spare, put it in position, screw in the lug nuts, and then reverse the installation of the trolley device, such that the car would once again be supported by its own four wheels.
Wow. Not that hard AFTER all.
Now..what the hell am I going to do about this stupid DEPRESSION?
Sunday, February 9, 2014
The "Because I Feel Like It" Series: First Hearing "Let It Be"
The first time I ever heard the Beatles album, "Let It Be" was in 1970 when it was just released. I was 13 years old.
It's no distinction but I was at the time a long-time Beatles fan. So many millions, if not BILLIONS, of people have come to love the music of The Beatles since they appeared in the 1960s that saying you like them is like saying you like water. But at the time, it was different, it was MAGICAL.
When each album was released you were ready, you ran down to the record store and bought the LP as soon as you could.
But I was on vacation in Pittsburgh, PA, near where my mom grew up, in the cool city apartment of my cool single uncle whom we called "Timer" for obscure family reasons. It was...cool.
He lived in this area of Pittsburgh, a city I never knew well since I was only there as a kid, in a cool apartment on a very steep street on a hill, overlooking the "Three Rivers" that intersect there. Timer seemed to me to be kind of a Jay Gatsby smooth East Coast preppie, never burdened by a wife or girlfriend so he seemed especially cool and free. I didn't realize until years later that he was gay. The signs were all there but it wasn't talked about then as it is now. Sadly, Timer died young of brain cancer. This was way before AIDS.
I remember my eyes alighting on the album like a precious jewel, when I saw it it seemed to blot out everything else in my field of vision. Almost tremulously I asked if I could listen to it, and Timer said, "Sure!", and he put the LP on his hi-fi for me, a nice one with FULL STEREO, and he gave me HEADPHONES to listen to it. I remember sitting there with a feeling of disbelief at my own good fortune. Nobody else in the world had anything better.
I don't really remember listening to the specific songs and yet I somehow remember listening to all of them. I remember the awe I felt as each new one came on, "Let It Be" had a certain sophistication, refinement and spirituality to it that were mesmerizing.
I mean, just think of it: listening to something like "Let It Be", immediately after it was released, it was like being anointed. I was completely free of 44 full years of gummy, complicated context. It didn't compare to ANYTHING. It came out, and gently, and with sublime dignity, it created its own dimension to float in.
There is a certain pleasure to that that is beyond expression.
I remembering the sun streaming in through his windows and watching the glittering dust particles float lazily as I listened. I was really too young to realize what a perfect moment it was, but it felt like time had just opened up, and everything was just there all around me, and there was no notion in my head that I didn't have everything in that moment. No anticipation except for the music, no need, no discomfort or worry, I could have been hanging upside down by my ankles and I would have just hung there, a sense of eternal completeness occupied every part of my mind and body.
All thoughts of what had been and what was to come were silenced as I sat in quiet delight listening to "Across the Universe". I'm going to type some of the well-known lyrics now not because I think anybody wants to read them, but just because I want to FEEL it.
Words are flowing out like endless
Rain into a paper cup
They slither wildly as they slip away
Across the Universe.
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy
Are drifting through my open mind
Possessing and caressing me.
Oh my God! Please forget you read anything before the lyrics started; they capture much better than I could the exact way I felt then.
Except the part about the dust sparkling in the sun beams. That magnified the whole experience immensely by simply, eloquently mirroring the feeling of the lyrics.
It was...again...magical. Just...
Magical.
It's no distinction but I was at the time a long-time Beatles fan. So many millions, if not BILLIONS, of people have come to love the music of The Beatles since they appeared in the 1960s that saying you like them is like saying you like water. But at the time, it was different, it was MAGICAL.
When each album was released you were ready, you ran down to the record store and bought the LP as soon as you could.
But I was on vacation in Pittsburgh, PA, near where my mom grew up, in the cool city apartment of my cool single uncle whom we called "Timer" for obscure family reasons. It was...cool.
He lived in this area of Pittsburgh, a city I never knew well since I was only there as a kid, in a cool apartment on a very steep street on a hill, overlooking the "Three Rivers" that intersect there. Timer seemed to me to be kind of a Jay Gatsby smooth East Coast preppie, never burdened by a wife or girlfriend so he seemed especially cool and free. I didn't realize until years later that he was gay. The signs were all there but it wasn't talked about then as it is now. Sadly, Timer died young of brain cancer. This was way before AIDS.
I remember my eyes alighting on the album like a precious jewel, when I saw it it seemed to blot out everything else in my field of vision. Almost tremulously I asked if I could listen to it, and Timer said, "Sure!", and he put the LP on his hi-fi for me, a nice one with FULL STEREO, and he gave me HEADPHONES to listen to it. I remember sitting there with a feeling of disbelief at my own good fortune. Nobody else in the world had anything better.
I don't really remember listening to the specific songs and yet I somehow remember listening to all of them. I remember the awe I felt as each new one came on, "Let It Be" had a certain sophistication, refinement and spirituality to it that were mesmerizing.
I mean, just think of it: listening to something like "Let It Be", immediately after it was released, it was like being anointed. I was completely free of 44 full years of gummy, complicated context. It didn't compare to ANYTHING. It came out, and gently, and with sublime dignity, it created its own dimension to float in.
There is a certain pleasure to that that is beyond expression.
I remembering the sun streaming in through his windows and watching the glittering dust particles float lazily as I listened. I was really too young to realize what a perfect moment it was, but it felt like time had just opened up, and everything was just there all around me, and there was no notion in my head that I didn't have everything in that moment. No anticipation except for the music, no need, no discomfort or worry, I could have been hanging upside down by my ankles and I would have just hung there, a sense of eternal completeness occupied every part of my mind and body.
All thoughts of what had been and what was to come were silenced as I sat in quiet delight listening to "Across the Universe". I'm going to type some of the well-known lyrics now not because I think anybody wants to read them, but just because I want to FEEL it.
Words are flowing out like endless
Rain into a paper cup
They slither wildly as they slip away
Across the Universe.
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy
Are drifting through my open mind
Possessing and caressing me.
Oh my God! Please forget you read anything before the lyrics started; they capture much better than I could the exact way I felt then.
Except the part about the dust sparkling in the sun beams. That magnified the whole experience immensely by simply, eloquently mirroring the feeling of the lyrics.
It was...again...magical. Just...
Magical.
Saturday, February 8, 2014
KARKIL Dictionary: Geofitti
The Karma Killers Dictionary defines: Geo-fitti: n; any kind of imagery or detail put in place at a scale with the intention that it will be imaged by a satellite, hopefully so it will appear on a satellite mapping service such as Google Maps. Ex: "The gang on Big Bang Theory wanted Howard's wedding to be captured by a Google satellite, so they held it on a rooftop and created a giant white circle out of sheets of paper so it would be easy to pick out of a satellite image that they calculated was due to be shot precisely at the time of the wedding."
A portmanteau of "Geo" meaning Earth, and "Grafitti", informal or unofficial visual expressions on public surfaces.
A portmanteau of "Geo" meaning Earth, and "Grafitti", informal or unofficial visual expressions on public surfaces.
A British "Dick Van Dyke" Show
I've just finished watching a "Britcom" from the late 70s called "The Good Life." It consists of four seasons of 7-half hour episodes, and is available on Amazon Prime.
I mostly don't go for shows before the turn of the century anymore. I find then crude, clunky, and irrelevant. Even stuff from the 90s can be too cheesy. I don't even really enjoy them for their kitsch, or even nostalgic value.
One thing was different. When I first got Netflix, I watched every episode of Dick Van Dyke from start to finish, in order. I've seem them all of course, many times, but not for decades.
And I found it clever, charming and pleasing. The characters are well-drawn and engaging. You find yourself really just relating to them, as people.
And it all revolves around Dick, the classic "normal guy" at the center of the whole American sitcom oeuvre. But even he is allowed to good around and act silly, and instead of it chafing, it's charming.
"The Good Life" isn't much like DVD in concept, or even execution. No office gang, but still the neighbors as close friends.
And it was made more than a decade later. But it's got a concept that's just as intriguing today as it ever was.
The main characters are the goofy Tom, and his sharp but loving wife Barbara. It's his birthday, and his corporate job has left him feeling empty and bleak. He stays up late, and a concept comes to him. He is so excited his wakes up his wife to tell her: "I am so tired of working indirectly, doing symbolic things that return symbolic value that we have to decide how to extract meaning from, and it's driving me crazy. I don't WANT to be a cog in a machine whose function I don't even understand."
"Barbara, I want to quit, and become completely SELF-SUFFICIENT."
She fusses and resists for a bit, but slowly the fundamental value of what he is saying gets to her, and she jumps on board. They are going to quit all jobs, and do everything they can to provide for all their needs, with a goal of using as little money as possible. They mostly won't make it, and they mostly won't need it.
The "hobby farm" concept is not new. But when they think about moving to a place better suited for farming and livestock, they realize that they love their house, and their neighbors, and they don't want to go. So they decide that they are going to make a go of it right there in their small suburban home.
Their best friends are their neighbors, Jerry (!) and Margo. Tom and Jerry work at the same company, but Jerry thinks they're buts, and they want to continue working up the corporate ladder, being involved in "society" functions, and so on. They're a little bit upper-crusty and snobbish, especially Margo. But even though they can't really get on board with the "self-sufficiency" idea, they love their friends, and wish to remain close, and be supportive. They very quickly resign themselves to living next door to this mess of dirt, crops, goats and chickens, because it's for their friends.
The self-sufficiency concept is rich enough to drive the plot consistently through every episode. Sometimes it verges on being like a little workshop class, as they install and old wood burning cook stove, and make everything themselves. Tom is inventive so he immediately sets up a generator based on converting the effluence from the pigs into methane. Whether it's really strictly possible is beside the point. It's believable enough, and you want them to succeed.
One of their first breakthrough is making their own "pea pod burgundy" which looks like Alka Seltzer and packs a punch. No lifestyle is worth living with out booze, of course.
As you watch, you gain admiration for the sheer effectiveness of the physical comedy, and how they seem to give life to every scenario. It's always interesting, never overwhelming, and even the tribulations aren't so "dark".
While I'm watching this, I feel soothed by it. It's not edgy, nor challenging, nor controversial. And they do some really bizarre things, like turning their rototiller into a crude but effective powered vehicle so they can pick up supplies.
I can go on and simply describe every episode but instead I urge you to find a way to check it out for yourselves. In this scary-ass world where even the entertainment is often about terrorism, it's like an island. Whatever mood you're in, you can watch it and be soothed and amused, even when you're not laughing out loud.
And really, this world has become so serious, even our favorite comics can be so dark (Louis CK? He's the perfect person to laugh your ass of to while the last bit of blood drains out your wrists), this...is LIGHT, and happy.
That is a giant niche in our lives that needs filling, and The Good Life fills it amiably and satisfyingly.
I mostly don't go for shows before the turn of the century anymore. I find then crude, clunky, and irrelevant. Even stuff from the 90s can be too cheesy. I don't even really enjoy them for their kitsch, or even nostalgic value.
One thing was different. When I first got Netflix, I watched every episode of Dick Van Dyke from start to finish, in order. I've seem them all of course, many times, but not for decades.
And I found it clever, charming and pleasing. The characters are well-drawn and engaging. You find yourself really just relating to them, as people.
And it all revolves around Dick, the classic "normal guy" at the center of the whole American sitcom oeuvre. But even he is allowed to good around and act silly, and instead of it chafing, it's charming.
"The Good Life" isn't much like DVD in concept, or even execution. No office gang, but still the neighbors as close friends.
And it was made more than a decade later. But it's got a concept that's just as intriguing today as it ever was.
The main characters are the goofy Tom, and his sharp but loving wife Barbara. It's his birthday, and his corporate job has left him feeling empty and bleak. He stays up late, and a concept comes to him. He is so excited his wakes up his wife to tell her: "I am so tired of working indirectly, doing symbolic things that return symbolic value that we have to decide how to extract meaning from, and it's driving me crazy. I don't WANT to be a cog in a machine whose function I don't even understand."
"Barbara, I want to quit, and become completely SELF-SUFFICIENT."
She fusses and resists for a bit, but slowly the fundamental value of what he is saying gets to her, and she jumps on board. They are going to quit all jobs, and do everything they can to provide for all their needs, with a goal of using as little money as possible. They mostly won't make it, and they mostly won't need it.
The "hobby farm" concept is not new. But when they think about moving to a place better suited for farming and livestock, they realize that they love their house, and their neighbors, and they don't want to go. So they decide that they are going to make a go of it right there in their small suburban home.
Their best friends are their neighbors, Jerry (!) and Margo. Tom and Jerry work at the same company, but Jerry thinks they're buts, and they want to continue working up the corporate ladder, being involved in "society" functions, and so on. They're a little bit upper-crusty and snobbish, especially Margo. But even though they can't really get on board with the "self-sufficiency" idea, they love their friends, and wish to remain close, and be supportive. They very quickly resign themselves to living next door to this mess of dirt, crops, goats and chickens, because it's for their friends.
The self-sufficiency concept is rich enough to drive the plot consistently through every episode. Sometimes it verges on being like a little workshop class, as they install and old wood burning cook stove, and make everything themselves. Tom is inventive so he immediately sets up a generator based on converting the effluence from the pigs into methane. Whether it's really strictly possible is beside the point. It's believable enough, and you want them to succeed.
One of their first breakthrough is making their own "pea pod burgundy" which looks like Alka Seltzer and packs a punch. No lifestyle is worth living with out booze, of course.
As you watch, you gain admiration for the sheer effectiveness of the physical comedy, and how they seem to give life to every scenario. It's always interesting, never overwhelming, and even the tribulations aren't so "dark".
While I'm watching this, I feel soothed by it. It's not edgy, nor challenging, nor controversial. And they do some really bizarre things, like turning their rototiller into a crude but effective powered vehicle so they can pick up supplies.
I can go on and simply describe every episode but instead I urge you to find a way to check it out for yourselves. In this scary-ass world where even the entertainment is often about terrorism, it's like an island. Whatever mood you're in, you can watch it and be soothed and amused, even when you're not laughing out loud.
And really, this world has become so serious, even our favorite comics can be so dark (Louis CK? He's the perfect person to laugh your ass of to while the last bit of blood drains out your wrists), this...is LIGHT, and happy.
That is a giant niche in our lives that needs filling, and The Good Life fills it amiably and satisfyingly.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Pussy Riot? I don't know...REVISED
Since I wrote this I've had time to reflect on the value that Pussy Riot has given to the Russian people and oppressed people everywhere, and how ultimately it may matter more than the criticisms I make below. I won't withdraw it, but just preface it to say that I'm no longer convinced that the doubts I raise are the very first order of importance.
============================================
Like most good lib...er, PROGRESSIVES, I started out just generally advocating for Pussy Riot. I figure that if Putin throws them in jail, they MUST be heroes.
(In fact, Putin spoke out and SPECIFICALLY stated that their actions didn't merit prison. Perhaps he was disingenuous, it's hard to know. Many other people came right out and suggested they be imprisoned, but Putin did not.)
But realizing I didn't really know much about them, I checked out their page on WikiPedia. What I found there didn't please me.
Petty egotistical fixation
First of all, it seems that one primary member wrote to a former member while they were both in jail, or at least she was. And the woman she wrote didn't reply fast enough, so she just basically said, "Fuck her, she's dead to me."
In a letter dated February 1, 2013 and published by her father on the Echo of Moscow web site, Tolokonnikova distanced herself from Samutsevich, saying "Samutsevich hasn't written to me for two months. That's it, to me she is already dead. There will be no more talk of collaborating after this."
What kind of people are they?! This doesn't seem like the behavior of genuine ideological protesters, but more of pissed of suburban teenagers. "Um, so, like...I saw Tiffany and, she, um...like didn't even LOOK at me...so, like...as far as I'm concerned, she can, like, eat shit." Not inspirational, CHILDISH.
Sexual "minority"
Plus, they mentioned a little term on the page for a concept they seem to support called the "sexual minority". I clicked around a little to find out exactly what it meant, and it appears to have been originated by a Swedish creator of a counter-culture protest movement which advocated for, among other things, people's free right to have sex with CHILDREN, including, but not only, their OWN kids.
Pussy Riot members have been outspoken in their support of LGBT rights, and in an early interview they confirmed that the group includes at least one member of a sexual minority.
[switch to "WP/sexual_minority"]...
The term was coined most likely in the late 1960s under the influence of Lars Ullerstam's ground breaking book "The Erotic Minorities: A Swedish View"
. . .
Ullerstam was a propagator in those times for sexual relationships between children and adults, between parents and their own children. He stated that it also was very common among his friends. Lars Ullerstam was a medical doctor and psychiatrist in Stockholm, capital of Sweden.
Surely no one can say that the whole of their body of protest is illegitimate, and admittedly the term "sexual minority" has several definitions. But if you are a PROTEST group, then what you SAY is what MATTERS. And if you deliberately choose to use a specific term over another (they could have described the member as "LGBT", as "persecuted for gender preference", but they didn't). And if I can easily produce evidence that this term was ORIGINATED by a notorious advocate of what we consider "child sexual abuse" and "statutory rape", surely they can. After all, they are trying to get people to listen to them, so they are most particularly responsible for the specific terms they choose to represent themselves. They could have qualified their statement, adding, "...although not in the sense that we approve of the practice of having sex with children, a meaning that has been associated with sexual minority before." But they DIDN'T disclaim this implication. Maybe this means they're BAD, or just plain STUPID or CARELESS, but none of these are things I would choose to support.
Again, the main things protestors and dissidents use are WORDS. As such, just as we should respect their specific protests, we should hold them responsible for the specific language they choose to use.
(You are within reason if you point out that they didn't actually say, but merely "confirmed" this. But if a reporter asked me to confirm or deny if my friend might be considered a child sex abuser, I'd say, "Well, not exactly...I don't think I'm willing to confirm THAT." Even if she wasn't sure what it meant. "'Sexual minority' I don't know, but definitely having preferences that are subject to persecution by an immoral regime." Remember, as a protestor, YOUR WORDS ARE WHAT MATTERS MOST.)
Beyond that, their activities are punctuated by childish antics and behavior. Just because they excuse their actions by say, "only illegal acts are capable of gaining international attention", doesn't mean they deserve respect.
And you know what? I am much less interested in what now seems to me to be a group of opportunistic young women who found a cause to boost themselves into the international spotlight, while implicitly supporting STATUTORY RAPE, while they scrap among themselves saying, "WE'RE the REAL PUSSY RIOT!" "Nuh-uh, WE are!"
Weirdly, the ones that just got out of prison and have come to the US to inflame our most gullible. Just before that, they released a statement that they no longer considered themselves part of Pussy Riot.
In February 2014, both Alyokhina and Tolokonnikova were announced as no longer being members of the group.
Huuhhh...??? So...are we still supporting Pussy Riot, or not?
Get your shit together or shut the hell up. Maybe the worst thing is that for anyone thoughtful enough to pay attention, they almost give people who righteously protest against the persecution of LGBT people a bad name. They should go home and play and leave the difficult stuff to the grownups. Because fundamentally the worldwide persecution of LGBT people is not a game, it's a serious issue. They have enough to cope with, they don't need a bunch of cranky punks confusing people about their right to be accepted.
Pussy Riot, I am OUTTAHERE!
PS to AMY GOODMAN: I have always had tremendous respect for your work on DemocracyNow! But not only do you give completely uncritical support to these questionable people in Pussy Riot, but just this week you had someone on that hailed a disgruntled former Olympic luge athlete as an "Olympic Snowden" (!), as if being pissed off because Verizon didn't give you exactly the endorsement deal you wanted was somehow comparable to sacrificing your freedom and possibly your LIFE to protect the freedom of others, as the ACTUAL Snowden did. Disgraceful.
(BTW, if anyone can prove me wrong, please do so. I would be delighted to not believe this. If they truly do not support these twisted, illegal behaviors, then they are responsible for clearing it up. its not like they haven't read their own WP page! If they question terms, have someone edit the page, its a WIKI! Again, it is a PRIMARY responsibility to pay attention to these things, so people cannot discredit you. If the info survives, it's more likely true.)
My source is Wikipedia, the quotes are from the pages for "Pussy Riot" and "sexual minority".
============================================
Like most good lib...er, PROGRESSIVES, I started out just generally advocating for Pussy Riot. I figure that if Putin throws them in jail, they MUST be heroes.
(In fact, Putin spoke out and SPECIFICALLY stated that their actions didn't merit prison. Perhaps he was disingenuous, it's hard to know. Many other people came right out and suggested they be imprisoned, but Putin did not.)
But realizing I didn't really know much about them, I checked out their page on WikiPedia. What I found there didn't please me.
Petty egotistical fixation
First of all, it seems that one primary member wrote to a former member while they were both in jail, or at least she was. And the woman she wrote didn't reply fast enough, so she just basically said, "Fuck her, she's dead to me."
In a letter dated February 1, 2013 and published by her father on the Echo of Moscow web site, Tolokonnikova distanced herself from Samutsevich, saying "Samutsevich hasn't written to me for two months. That's it, to me she is already dead. There will be no more talk of collaborating after this."
What kind of people are they?! This doesn't seem like the behavior of genuine ideological protesters, but more of pissed of suburban teenagers. "Um, so, like...I saw Tiffany and, she, um...like didn't even LOOK at me...so, like...as far as I'm concerned, she can, like, eat shit." Not inspirational, CHILDISH.
Sexual "minority"
Plus, they mentioned a little term on the page for a concept they seem to support called the "sexual minority". I clicked around a little to find out exactly what it meant, and it appears to have been originated by a Swedish creator of a counter-culture protest movement which advocated for, among other things, people's free right to have sex with CHILDREN, including, but not only, their OWN kids.
Pussy Riot members have been outspoken in their support of LGBT rights, and in an early interview they confirmed that the group includes at least one member of a sexual minority.
[switch to "WP/sexual_minority"]...
The term was coined most likely in the late 1960s under the influence of Lars Ullerstam's ground breaking book "The Erotic Minorities: A Swedish View"
. . .
Ullerstam was a propagator in those times for sexual relationships between children and adults, between parents and their own children. He stated that it also was very common among his friends. Lars Ullerstam was a medical doctor and psychiatrist in Stockholm, capital of Sweden.
Surely no one can say that the whole of their body of protest is illegitimate, and admittedly the term "sexual minority" has several definitions. But if you are a PROTEST group, then what you SAY is what MATTERS. And if you deliberately choose to use a specific term over another (they could have described the member as "LGBT", as "persecuted for gender preference", but they didn't). And if I can easily produce evidence that this term was ORIGINATED by a notorious advocate of what we consider "child sexual abuse" and "statutory rape", surely they can. After all, they are trying to get people to listen to them, so they are most particularly responsible for the specific terms they choose to represent themselves. They could have qualified their statement, adding, "...although not in the sense that we approve of the practice of having sex with children, a meaning that has been associated with sexual minority before." But they DIDN'T disclaim this implication. Maybe this means they're BAD, or just plain STUPID or CARELESS, but none of these are things I would choose to support.
Again, the main things protestors and dissidents use are WORDS. As such, just as we should respect their specific protests, we should hold them responsible for the specific language they choose to use.
(You are within reason if you point out that they didn't actually say, but merely "confirmed" this. But if a reporter asked me to confirm or deny if my friend might be considered a child sex abuser, I'd say, "Well, not exactly...I don't think I'm willing to confirm THAT." Even if she wasn't sure what it meant. "'Sexual minority' I don't know, but definitely having preferences that are subject to persecution by an immoral regime." Remember, as a protestor, YOUR WORDS ARE WHAT MATTERS MOST.)
Beyond that, their activities are punctuated by childish antics and behavior. Just because they excuse their actions by say, "only illegal acts are capable of gaining international attention", doesn't mean they deserve respect.
And you know what? I am much less interested in what now seems to me to be a group of opportunistic young women who found a cause to boost themselves into the international spotlight, while implicitly supporting STATUTORY RAPE, while they scrap among themselves saying, "WE'RE the REAL PUSSY RIOT!" "Nuh-uh, WE are!"
Weirdly, the ones that just got out of prison and have come to the US to inflame our most gullible. Just before that, they released a statement that they no longer considered themselves part of Pussy Riot.
In February 2014, both Alyokhina and Tolokonnikova were announced as no longer being members of the group.
Huuhhh...??? So...are we still supporting Pussy Riot, or not?
Get your shit together or shut the hell up. Maybe the worst thing is that for anyone thoughtful enough to pay attention, they almost give people who righteously protest against the persecution of LGBT people a bad name. They should go home and play and leave the difficult stuff to the grownups. Because fundamentally the worldwide persecution of LGBT people is not a game, it's a serious issue. They have enough to cope with, they don't need a bunch of cranky punks confusing people about their right to be accepted.
Pussy Riot, I am OUTTAHERE!
PS to AMY GOODMAN: I have always had tremendous respect for your work on DemocracyNow! But not only do you give completely uncritical support to these questionable people in Pussy Riot, but just this week you had someone on that hailed a disgruntled former Olympic luge athlete as an "Olympic Snowden" (!), as if being pissed off because Verizon didn't give you exactly the endorsement deal you wanted was somehow comparable to sacrificing your freedom and possibly your LIFE to protect the freedom of others, as the ACTUAL Snowden did. Disgraceful.
(BTW, if anyone can prove me wrong, please do so. I would be delighted to not believe this. If they truly do not support these twisted, illegal behaviors, then they are responsible for clearing it up. its not like they haven't read their own WP page! If they question terms, have someone edit the page, its a WIKI! Again, it is a PRIMARY responsibility to pay attention to these things, so people cannot discredit you. If the info survives, it's more likely true.)
My source is Wikipedia, the quotes are from the pages for "Pussy Riot" and "sexual minority".
Monday, February 3, 2014
Woody REALLY?
Maybe a subject line based on a pun is not appropriate for a topic as devoid of humor as child sexual abuse, but I find it hard to fix any real sense of truth to this whole awful story.
In case you didn't hear, the whole issue of whether American filmmaker extraordinaire Woody Allen committed sexual abuse on his adoptive daughter Dylan has been brought back into the spotlight after more than a decade's hibernation with the publishing of an open letter by the supposed victim herself, Dylan Farrow, now a married 28 year old woman.
Not intending any prejudice for saying so, the letter is a masterpiece of persuasion that uses some pretty powerful rhetorical devices to make its point.
She begins by breezily posing the question, as one might at a dinner party, "What is your favorite Woody Allen movie?" She asks that the reader withhold their answer to give her a moment to make a comment.
In that comment she fairly graphically describes what she says is her memory of being sexually abused by Allen. It is more than a little disturbing and, if true, should really lead to Allen getting the full "Lance Armstrong" (ie: to be stripped of all awards and commendations of any kind, and a universal public loathing imposed) accompanied by a healthy prison sentence.
She ends the letter by writing, "Now, with all that in mind, tell me: What is your favorite Woody Allen movie?"
I don't want to say I doubt her word, but there is something about a letter so beautifully crafted for manipulation that sets off my "bullshit detector". This "detector" is not always right, I'm just saying that if someone was trying to gather public sympathy to condemn someone, this is a very good example of how to achieve this end, true or false. Something in me just wishes it weren't so cleverly expressed.
But then, if you really went through what she says she did, you would probably have written this letter about 10,000 different times in your head, and she's obviously an articulate and intelligent person, so why not write it for maximum impact?
The comments I read were all very supportive, but we cannot consider ourselves dispassionate seekers of the truth if we don't admit that memories like this have been shown before to be unreliable; sometimes true, and sometimes just not. Influencing memory is pretty well-known, and if this were shown to be a false, "induced" memory, then it wouldn't be the first one.
One the other hand, how can we turn a cold heart to a person revealing that she was sexually abused by her own father figure? Surely we cannot simply dismiss such a complaint insisting that she provide some sort of "proof" that could never be produced?
Allen, of course, flatly denies these allegations, which means very close to absolutely nothing. The only thing he has to keep him free is the Constitutional presumption of innocence. So it would seem that the only hope for resolution in this case is through the courts. She said he did wrong, he says he didn't; we can't go about deciding these things based on sympathy for the image of a child violated, when it's possible that he in fact didn't do it. To be honest, I don't think I can decide which is worse: to let a child see her abuser go free, or to falsely saddle someone with the horrendous, nearly unbearable stigma of being a child molester.
This is an extremely difficult problem. When I read the letter all I can think is "Kill the bastard!", but that's an emotional response. In our system of justice you are not supposed to find someone guilty merely on someone else's "say so".
That said, I must say that circumstantially Allen looks like nothing so much as a closet child abuser when judged merely by his own work. I vividly remember the genuinely sleazy way Allen made a sexual relationship between a middle-aged man and an under-aged schoolgirl seem "glamorous" in his movie "Manhattan", in which he showed himself in cosmopolitan scenes around Manhattan holding a decidedly "girlish" Mariel Hemingway by the hand. It was shot in arty black-and-white, and loved by critics, and though I was fairly young at the time (which would tend to make me see younger people as more "grown-up"), the whole thing made me feel downright creepy.
And a certain lascivious, even prurient, sexuality can be said to permeate much of Allen's work. I personally can't look at all the high-toned borderline soft-core porn he has produced without some wincing, and some sense that if anybody would be guilty of something like this, a pervo like Woody wouldn't be my last guess for perpetrator.
Of course, a lot of Allen's filmmaking is clearly meant to stroke his need to feel attractive to attractive women of various ages. I remember always feeling a little dubious watching movies like "Sleeper" and "Annie Hall", as good as they were, that a really attractive young woman like Diane Keaton was would actually choose to be with this goofy looking little clown is hard to swallow. It's just rare to see couples so hugely mismatched in terms of attractiveness, and even Woody would admit that he is no one's idea of a heart throb or matinee idol.
And yet it can't be denied that the self-admitted "schlemiel" Allen did indeed "score" some very attractive women in his day--including Diane Keaton! Suddenly you find yourself in a world where black is white, up is down, dogs and cats are sleeping together...how can anyone hope to gain true perspective in the face of these events?
I guess if it came time to declare a position bearing no true weight of a legal or any other kind, I would have to point back to "Manhattan", wherein Allen made a statement for all the world to see, that it's perfectly fine and natural for a middle-aged man to cavort sexually with an underage girl.
Woody, I'm trying to think of things to help you, but you sure didn't do yourself any favors by thrusting that into the ineradicable public memory. When it comes right down to it, I never would have let that "talented" creep anywhere near MY daughter.
Upon that realization I can't help but ask, "Hey Mia, where the hell were YOU when all this was supposedly happening?" Are we to believe that Mia Farrow can condemn him now, when she was actually on the scene when this stuff was happening? I mean, if I can look at the man and his work and decide that I wouldn't leave my daughter alone with him, why wasn't Mia thinking the exact same thing? Certainly she was close enough to know him much better than any of us? So why did she let this happen, why didn't she protect her daughter, and why isn't her daughter angry at her NOW for her part in this?
At a certain point it's hard to accept Dylan declaring Woody a "monster" without also hearing her say, "and Mom, just where the hell were you anyway? I was a little kid, I had no one to protect me! Am I supposed to believe that all this happened without you suspecting a single thing? Mom, I dearly wish I could hold you innocent in this mess, but circumstances just don't allow it."
I think I'm going to have to close this with a double guilty verdict: Woody, you are a sick bastard, please go to prison, AND, Mia, hitch a ride with Woody, because a mom as shitty at protecting her children as you deserves only barely more freedom than the perpetrator himself.
In case you didn't hear, the whole issue of whether American filmmaker extraordinaire Woody Allen committed sexual abuse on his adoptive daughter Dylan has been brought back into the spotlight after more than a decade's hibernation with the publishing of an open letter by the supposed victim herself, Dylan Farrow, now a married 28 year old woman.
Not intending any prejudice for saying so, the letter is a masterpiece of persuasion that uses some pretty powerful rhetorical devices to make its point.
She begins by breezily posing the question, as one might at a dinner party, "What is your favorite Woody Allen movie?" She asks that the reader withhold their answer to give her a moment to make a comment.
In that comment she fairly graphically describes what she says is her memory of being sexually abused by Allen. It is more than a little disturbing and, if true, should really lead to Allen getting the full "Lance Armstrong" (ie: to be stripped of all awards and commendations of any kind, and a universal public loathing imposed) accompanied by a healthy prison sentence.
She ends the letter by writing, "Now, with all that in mind, tell me: What is your favorite Woody Allen movie?"
I don't want to say I doubt her word, but there is something about a letter so beautifully crafted for manipulation that sets off my "bullshit detector". This "detector" is not always right, I'm just saying that if someone was trying to gather public sympathy to condemn someone, this is a very good example of how to achieve this end, true or false. Something in me just wishes it weren't so cleverly expressed.
But then, if you really went through what she says she did, you would probably have written this letter about 10,000 different times in your head, and she's obviously an articulate and intelligent person, so why not write it for maximum impact?
The comments I read were all very supportive, but we cannot consider ourselves dispassionate seekers of the truth if we don't admit that memories like this have been shown before to be unreliable; sometimes true, and sometimes just not. Influencing memory is pretty well-known, and if this were shown to be a false, "induced" memory, then it wouldn't be the first one.
One the other hand, how can we turn a cold heart to a person revealing that she was sexually abused by her own father figure? Surely we cannot simply dismiss such a complaint insisting that she provide some sort of "proof" that could never be produced?
Allen, of course, flatly denies these allegations, which means very close to absolutely nothing. The only thing he has to keep him free is the Constitutional presumption of innocence. So it would seem that the only hope for resolution in this case is through the courts. She said he did wrong, he says he didn't; we can't go about deciding these things based on sympathy for the image of a child violated, when it's possible that he in fact didn't do it. To be honest, I don't think I can decide which is worse: to let a child see her abuser go free, or to falsely saddle someone with the horrendous, nearly unbearable stigma of being a child molester.
This is an extremely difficult problem. When I read the letter all I can think is "Kill the bastard!", but that's an emotional response. In our system of justice you are not supposed to find someone guilty merely on someone else's "say so".
That said, I must say that circumstantially Allen looks like nothing so much as a closet child abuser when judged merely by his own work. I vividly remember the genuinely sleazy way Allen made a sexual relationship between a middle-aged man and an under-aged schoolgirl seem "glamorous" in his movie "Manhattan", in which he showed himself in cosmopolitan scenes around Manhattan holding a decidedly "girlish" Mariel Hemingway by the hand. It was shot in arty black-and-white, and loved by critics, and though I was fairly young at the time (which would tend to make me see younger people as more "grown-up"), the whole thing made me feel downright creepy.
And a certain lascivious, even prurient, sexuality can be said to permeate much of Allen's work. I personally can't look at all the high-toned borderline soft-core porn he has produced without some wincing, and some sense that if anybody would be guilty of something like this, a pervo like Woody wouldn't be my last guess for perpetrator.
Of course, a lot of Allen's filmmaking is clearly meant to stroke his need to feel attractive to attractive women of various ages. I remember always feeling a little dubious watching movies like "Sleeper" and "Annie Hall", as good as they were, that a really attractive young woman like Diane Keaton was would actually choose to be with this goofy looking little clown is hard to swallow. It's just rare to see couples so hugely mismatched in terms of attractiveness, and even Woody would admit that he is no one's idea of a heart throb or matinee idol.
And yet it can't be denied that the self-admitted "schlemiel" Allen did indeed "score" some very attractive women in his day--including Diane Keaton! Suddenly you find yourself in a world where black is white, up is down, dogs and cats are sleeping together...how can anyone hope to gain true perspective in the face of these events?
I guess if it came time to declare a position bearing no true weight of a legal or any other kind, I would have to point back to "Manhattan", wherein Allen made a statement for all the world to see, that it's perfectly fine and natural for a middle-aged man to cavort sexually with an underage girl.
Woody, I'm trying to think of things to help you, but you sure didn't do yourself any favors by thrusting that into the ineradicable public memory. When it comes right down to it, I never would have let that "talented" creep anywhere near MY daughter.
Upon that realization I can't help but ask, "Hey Mia, where the hell were YOU when all this was supposedly happening?" Are we to believe that Mia Farrow can condemn him now, when she was actually on the scene when this stuff was happening? I mean, if I can look at the man and his work and decide that I wouldn't leave my daughter alone with him, why wasn't Mia thinking the exact same thing? Certainly she was close enough to know him much better than any of us? So why did she let this happen, why didn't she protect her daughter, and why isn't her daughter angry at her NOW for her part in this?
At a certain point it's hard to accept Dylan declaring Woody a "monster" without also hearing her say, "and Mom, just where the hell were you anyway? I was a little kid, I had no one to protect me! Am I supposed to believe that all this happened without you suspecting a single thing? Mom, I dearly wish I could hold you innocent in this mess, but circumstances just don't allow it."
I think I'm going to have to close this with a double guilty verdict: Woody, you are a sick bastard, please go to prison, AND, Mia, hitch a ride with Woody, because a mom as shitty at protecting her children as you deserves only barely more freedom than the perpetrator himself.
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