Recently I read a few net discussions where men were discussing what women like and want in men. The dissenting input of any actual women was, as usual, summarily ignored.
These discussions are rather common, and what always strikes me about them is that the real subject of the discussion is usually not what women in general want, but what kind of things are most likely to improve a man's chances with women.
These are not the same thing, of course. If 60% of women want the feature A and 50% of men have it, and 5% of women want the feature B but 0.01% of men have it, then the feature B is a lot more useful in attracting women than the feature A, but women still on average like the feature A a lot more often than the feature B.
What never ceases to amaze me is that the vast majority of the participants usually fail to see this difference.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Work and shopping
Been very busy at work for the last two weeks, with the feeling that I am being fucked in every hole, and not in a positive way. It is an interesting project, mind, but I wish I had more time for it and less other urgent stuff to do at the same time.
I firmly believe in the soul-healing power of shopping (twice the healing points if done on the don't-buy-anything day). Also, it's sale season right now.
Yesterday was a good day to shop for shoes, apparently (did I mention that my real name is Imelda Marcos?). I like funky shoes, but I usually buy sensible ones. This time I figured that I have enough sensible shoes and I want to buy something funky. This is pretty hard, because my other requirement for the shoes, besides funkiness, was that I'd be able to put them on and walk at least 15 thousand steps in a row without socks, blisters, pain or band-aids.
Usually I buy Eccos and Clarks and Lacoste, now I wanted something new. I have wanted a pair of El Naturalista for a while, but the fuckers don't make them in my size. Bought a pair of Art, which is a sort of El Naturalista ripoff (or is it the other way around?) which actually fits. We'll see if it works for me.
BTW - has anyone tried Fly London? This is another shoe company that appeared here during the last year or two. They cost like real shoes, and feel like you can hammer nails with them. Does anyone actually buy them?
Next time I am going shopping to Verkkokauppa. Easier than the shoes.
I firmly believe in the soul-healing power of shopping (twice the healing points if done on the don't-buy-anything day). Also, it's sale season right now.
Yesterday was a good day to shop for shoes, apparently (did I mention that my real name is Imelda Marcos?). I like funky shoes, but I usually buy sensible ones. This time I figured that I have enough sensible shoes and I want to buy something funky. This is pretty hard, because my other requirement for the shoes, besides funkiness, was that I'd be able to put them on and walk at least 15 thousand steps in a row without socks, blisters, pain or band-aids.
Usually I buy Eccos and Clarks and Lacoste, now I wanted something new. I have wanted a pair of El Naturalista for a while, but the fuckers don't make them in my size. Bought a pair of Art, which is a sort of El Naturalista ripoff (or is it the other way around?) which actually fits. We'll see if it works for me.
BTW - has anyone tried Fly London? This is another shoe company that appeared here during the last year or two. They cost like real shoes, and feel like you can hammer nails with them. Does anyone actually buy them?
Next time I am going shopping to Verkkokauppa. Easier than the shoes.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Today is not my day
Had to go to work today, and decided to shop a little before that.
Ran to the bus. Fell, hit my leg in several places, and my head. The leg is sore. The head is perfectly OK, probably because it's empty.
Went shopping. All the shoes were too small and almost all the clothes (except a pair of capri jeans) were too ugly. Bought a kettle instead.
Then my pants suddenly disintegrated. Just at the same moment I realized that the bus that comes close to my workplace doesn't run on Sundays. Had to walk to work in disintegrated pants.
Ran to the bus. Fell, hit my leg in several places, and my head. The leg is sore. The head is perfectly OK, probably because it's empty.
Went shopping. All the shoes were too small and almost all the clothes (except a pair of capri jeans) were too ugly. Bought a kettle instead.
Then my pants suddenly disintegrated. Just at the same moment I realized that the bus that comes close to my workplace doesn't run on Sundays. Had to walk to work in disintegrated pants.
Report on non-alcoholic red wine
Just like several people said in response to my question, the non-alcoholic red wine turned out to be bad. However, it was much improved by a shot of vodka (the shot of vodka was poured into the wine, not ingested by me before the tasting).
Mommie dearest
I am rarely bothered by other people's custody battles, international or otherwise, and always use sufficient birth control to avoid having any of my own. Usually I just assume that the sprog has two loving (if not necessarily very sensible) parents in any case, and the court will sort out the rights of the adults somehow.
Lately there has been an exception to that:
Natalia Zarubina, a Russian woman, came to Portugal illegally in 2001 in order to work. There she met a Ukrainian man named Georgi Tsiklauri, started a relationship with him, and in April 2003 a little girl was born. They called her Alexandra.
Soon after Sandra's birth they broke up, and the child stayed with her mother, who, according to witnesses, did not take particularly good care of her. The father didn't either. Another Russian woman said that she knew a couple that would take care of the child, and so Natalia left Sandra to Florinda Vieira and João Pinheiro. She was 17 months old and weighed 5.7 kg. They took her in and raised her as their own child.
The father was told about the arrangement, and wanted nothing to do with the kid, financially or otherwise.
The mother visited the daughter sometimes, often drunk. The daughter did not speak any Russian.
Anyway, at some point the authorities noticed that Natalia was there illegally, and tried to kick her out. At that point she remembered that she had a daughter, demanded that the daughter be kicked out together with her, and Florinda and João tried to demand the kid for themselves. A custody battle ensued, along with a pause in deportation proceedings.
The first trial resulted in custody being given to Florinda and João. After that Natalia's mother wrote to Putin, and the Russian embassy interfered in the next trial. A Russian citizenship was arranged for Sandra, and the representatives from the embassy started pestering the judge, promising that in Russia Sandra will have the same living conditions as in Portugal.
What the fuck was the judge thinking? (This is pretty much what the judge himself is saying now.) Even apart from the fact that Russian diplomats are not the kind of people that you would want to buy a used car from, or give a used child to, for this girl you can't arrange the same living conditions in Russia (or the US, Finland or Spain, for that matter), as in Portugal. The reason being, there are only two people in the world whom she calls "mom" and "dad", and they happen to live in Portugal.
During the custody battle Florinda and João claimed that Natalia was a prostitute, alcoholic, and drug user, and that she was gonna take Sandra to a place where there is no toilet, and everyone drinks vodka and eats spam (not the email kind).
The claim about prostitution and drugs could well have been just a baseless custody war weapon, especially since I find it very difficult to imagine that some human being would pay real money for Ms. Zarubina's company. The stereotype of Russians living without toilets and drinking vodka all the time pissed off quite a lot of Russians, since most of them don't really live like that.
What is, however, a matter of public record, was that Natalia had to be removed from the roof of a bus by police and firefighters while being drunk and aggressive, and had to be taken to a psychiatric facility. Also, that the psychologist who used to supervise Natalia's visits said that ever since the visits became supervised the child is not afraid of the mother's verbal and physical aggression anymore.
The was also a demonstration of the members of the local Russian community in Braga, the city where Natalia lived. The basic point: "we know that bitch, please don't give her the poor child".
Anyway, the judge, whatever the fuck he happened to be thinking, gave the child to the, uhm, mother, and she took little Sandra and her dog to Russia.
Now the Russian TV made a report on her. Several, actually, this is just one. Holy shit! They really don't have a toilet, or indeed a real bed for her. They really are all drunk, except possibly the grandmother. There really is spam on the table. And most importantly, the mother is obviously neither decent enough not bright enough to abstain from hitting the child on national TV.
They live with Natalia's parents, brother and other daughter. This other daughter was never supported by her mother financially, and and hadn't seen her since 2001. She is 14, and already pronouncing death threats on national TV.
Florinda and João were invited by a Russian TV program in the end of May and tried to come to Russia, but for some reason were refused a visa.
The Portuguese are negotiating for Natalia and Sandra to come back, and Natalia is trying to get some money out of them. We'll see how that develops, but so far looks bad.
Lately there has been an exception to that:
Natalia Zarubina, a Russian woman, came to Portugal illegally in 2001 in order to work. There she met a Ukrainian man named Georgi Tsiklauri, started a relationship with him, and in April 2003 a little girl was born. They called her Alexandra.
Soon after Sandra's birth they broke up, and the child stayed with her mother, who, according to witnesses, did not take particularly good care of her. The father didn't either. Another Russian woman said that she knew a couple that would take care of the child, and so Natalia left Sandra to Florinda Vieira and João Pinheiro. She was 17 months old and weighed 5.7 kg. They took her in and raised her as their own child.
The father was told about the arrangement, and wanted nothing to do with the kid, financially or otherwise.
The mother visited the daughter sometimes, often drunk. The daughter did not speak any Russian.
Anyway, at some point the authorities noticed that Natalia was there illegally, and tried to kick her out. At that point she remembered that she had a daughter, demanded that the daughter be kicked out together with her, and Florinda and João tried to demand the kid for themselves. A custody battle ensued, along with a pause in deportation proceedings.
The first trial resulted in custody being given to Florinda and João. After that Natalia's mother wrote to Putin, and the Russian embassy interfered in the next trial. A Russian citizenship was arranged for Sandra, and the representatives from the embassy started pestering the judge, promising that in Russia Sandra will have the same living conditions as in Portugal.
What the fuck was the judge thinking? (This is pretty much what the judge himself is saying now.) Even apart from the fact that Russian diplomats are not the kind of people that you would want to buy a used car from, or give a used child to, for this girl you can't arrange the same living conditions in Russia (or the US, Finland or Spain, for that matter), as in Portugal. The reason being, there are only two people in the world whom she calls "mom" and "dad", and they happen to live in Portugal.
During the custody battle Florinda and João claimed that Natalia was a prostitute, alcoholic, and drug user, and that she was gonna take Sandra to a place where there is no toilet, and everyone drinks vodka and eats spam (not the email kind).
The claim about prostitution and drugs could well have been just a baseless custody war weapon, especially since I find it very difficult to imagine that some human being would pay real money for Ms. Zarubina's company. The stereotype of Russians living without toilets and drinking vodka all the time pissed off quite a lot of Russians, since most of them don't really live like that.
What is, however, a matter of public record, was that Natalia had to be removed from the roof of a bus by police and firefighters while being drunk and aggressive, and had to be taken to a psychiatric facility. Also, that the psychologist who used to supervise Natalia's visits said that ever since the visits became supervised the child is not afraid of the mother's verbal and physical aggression anymore.
The was also a demonstration of the members of the local Russian community in Braga, the city where Natalia lived. The basic point: "we know that bitch, please don't give her the poor child".
Anyway, the judge, whatever the fuck he happened to be thinking, gave the child to the, uhm, mother, and she took little Sandra and her dog to Russia.
Now the Russian TV made a report on her. Several, actually, this is just one. Holy shit! They really don't have a toilet, or indeed a real bed for her. They really are all drunk, except possibly the grandmother. There really is spam on the table. And most importantly, the mother is obviously neither decent enough not bright enough to abstain from hitting the child on national TV.
They live with Natalia's parents, brother and other daughter. This other daughter was never supported by her mother financially, and and hadn't seen her since 2001. She is 14, and already pronouncing death threats on national TV.
Florinda and João were invited by a Russian TV program in the end of May and tried to come to Russia, but for some reason were refused a visa.
The Portuguese are negotiating for Natalia and Sandra to come back, and Natalia is trying to get some money out of them. We'll see how that develops, but so far looks bad.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Portugal: demonstrations, zoophile union, and fado in Chiado
Portugal was quite pretty. Before going there I was a bit stressed out about the language, mostly because I used to be able to speak it and had forgotten most of it. As usual, it was not worth stressing about. I could read everything I wanted to read, and could say everything I wanted to say. Understanding was a bit more difficult, because the Portuguese don't speak Portuguese like normal people from Somerville and Watertown. They eat almost every vowel that's remotely edible, and don't palatalize t's and d's where they should. They do, however, speak English better than most of the southern Europe.
Lisbon is full of places that are very retro and give you the feeling that you are inside some Italian neorealist movie of the fifties. Usually I only like the fifties on screen, but it was all right for a short vacation. And it was certainly unlike any other place I'd seen.
The city is situated on a bank (not both banks, really) of a huge river called Tejo. They have an unbelievably long bridge over it, 17 kilometers or so.
We stayed in Chiado apartments (well, one of them), and I highly recommend the place to everyone who goes to Lisbon for a week or more. Beautiful apartment, spacious, well-equipped, great location, great view, great everything.
Except for fado. But it's not the apartment's fault. You can't escape the damn thing anywhere in Portugal.
In fact, everywhere in Europe musicians of dubious quality like to play outside in the center of the city in hope that somebody will give them some money to go away, but in Portugal the extent of the problem was orders of magnitude worse than elsewhere. They have fado.
Fado is the Portuguese version of the common folk music topic "I am a redneck, and nobody wants to have sex with me", mostly - or so I heard - with the added theme of "I am a redneck lost at sea, and if anybody even wants to have sex with me, they surely aren't here on the boat". But whereas other peoples of Europe sing of their horny redneckitude to cheerful or at least melodic tunes, fado tunes sound like the cries of a donkey that is being raped to death excruciatingly slowly.
(Speaking about the raped donkeys: they (the Portuguese, not the donkeys) have an organization called União Zoófila. It is some animal protection organization, but the name is suggestive.)
And they sell it. To masochists, I assume, or maybe to the Deaf community. We had a fadomobile parked right on our street all day, an ancient car that played fado all day and had a human being sitting in it and selling the CDs. Every time we walked by the fadomobile we discussed various ways of sabotaging it, but there were too many witnesses.
When the fadomobile left for the night live musicians came out, even though every time they did so they risked becoming dead musicians. The worst were a couple of guys that played one night right under our windows. Their music was composed as atrociously as the fadomobile's, and played even worse. I considered throwing eggs, rotten tomatoes and other similar tokens of appreciation at them, had to remind myself that I am a cultured and law-abiding Western woman, and also that the area is probably monitored by security cameras. Then Benka came out of here room, where she went to escape the sound, and reminded me that we don't have any eggs.
Benka has become a total jock in her advanced age. Good for her, but I am not sure the rest of us will survive it. Every time she sees any steps, her reflex is to run up them. I am afraid to visit the Empire State Building with her.
The Portuguese have obliged her and built a great many steps. They also built Lisbon on a number of hills.
Anyway, this time she brought a step meter with her, and it became a bane of our existence. She holds a very firm opinion that a person who hasn't walked 25 thousand steps during the day does not deserve any lunch, and the problem with that is that after you walk 25000 steps it's usually time for dinner. My parents also disapprove of such human needs as coffee, water, or sitting down for a minute, so every time I feel in need of any of the above I get to hear a lecture about my weaknesses. I am, however, allowed to piss without a lecture.
BTW - the public places in Portugal are usually rather well-equipped with toilets.
The favorite hobby of the Portuguese seem to be demonstrations. On the day we arrived, there was a demonstration against "fortress Europe". On the day before we left, there was a demonstration of teachers against bureaucracy. One of them asked us to send them an extra Obama, if we have one. I told him that I'd be glad to send them the Obama that we have in the White House, and he found this rather generous.
In between those two big demonstrations there was a number of smaller ones. On the days when the government failed to do anything objectionable and thus provide a good reason for a demonstration, folk dancing was substituted for it.
More later.
Lisbon is full of places that are very retro and give you the feeling that you are inside some Italian neorealist movie of the fifties. Usually I only like the fifties on screen, but it was all right for a short vacation. And it was certainly unlike any other place I'd seen.
The city is situated on a bank (not both banks, really) of a huge river called Tejo. They have an unbelievably long bridge over it, 17 kilometers or so.
We stayed in Chiado apartments (well, one of them), and I highly recommend the place to everyone who goes to Lisbon for a week or more. Beautiful apartment, spacious, well-equipped, great location, great view, great everything.
Except for fado. But it's not the apartment's fault. You can't escape the damn thing anywhere in Portugal.
In fact, everywhere in Europe musicians of dubious quality like to play outside in the center of the city in hope that somebody will give them some money to go away, but in Portugal the extent of the problem was orders of magnitude worse than elsewhere. They have fado.
Fado is the Portuguese version of the common folk music topic "I am a redneck, and nobody wants to have sex with me", mostly - or so I heard - with the added theme of "I am a redneck lost at sea, and if anybody even wants to have sex with me, they surely aren't here on the boat". But whereas other peoples of Europe sing of their horny redneckitude to cheerful or at least melodic tunes, fado tunes sound like the cries of a donkey that is being raped to death excruciatingly slowly.
(Speaking about the raped donkeys: they (the Portuguese, not the donkeys) have an organization called União Zoófila. It is some animal protection organization, but the name is suggestive.)
And they sell it. To masochists, I assume, or maybe to the Deaf community. We had a fadomobile parked right on our street all day, an ancient car that played fado all day and had a human being sitting in it and selling the CDs. Every time we walked by the fadomobile we discussed various ways of sabotaging it, but there were too many witnesses.
When the fadomobile left for the night live musicians came out, even though every time they did so they risked becoming dead musicians. The worst were a couple of guys that played one night right under our windows. Their music was composed as atrociously as the fadomobile's, and played even worse. I considered throwing eggs, rotten tomatoes and other similar tokens of appreciation at them, had to remind myself that I am a cultured and law-abiding Western woman, and also that the area is probably monitored by security cameras. Then Benka came out of here room, where she went to escape the sound, and reminded me that we don't have any eggs.
Benka has become a total jock in her advanced age. Good for her, but I am not sure the rest of us will survive it. Every time she sees any steps, her reflex is to run up them. I am afraid to visit the Empire State Building with her.
The Portuguese have obliged her and built a great many steps. They also built Lisbon on a number of hills.
Anyway, this time she brought a step meter with her, and it became a bane of our existence. She holds a very firm opinion that a person who hasn't walked 25 thousand steps during the day does not deserve any lunch, and the problem with that is that after you walk 25000 steps it's usually time for dinner. My parents also disapprove of such human needs as coffee, water, or sitting down for a minute, so every time I feel in need of any of the above I get to hear a lecture about my weaknesses. I am, however, allowed to piss without a lecture.
BTW - the public places in Portugal are usually rather well-equipped with toilets.
The favorite hobby of the Portuguese seem to be demonstrations. On the day we arrived, there was a demonstration against "fortress Europe". On the day before we left, there was a demonstration of teachers against bureaucracy. One of them asked us to send them an extra Obama, if we have one. I told him that I'd be glad to send them the Obama that we have in the White House, and he found this rather generous.
In between those two big demonstrations there was a number of smaller ones. On the days when the government failed to do anything objectionable and thus provide a good reason for a demonstration, folk dancing was substituted for it.
More later.
Monday, June 08, 2009
I am back
I am back after three weeks of various adventures and misadventures in Portugal and the Netherlands. Despite dire warnings by my father, I was not eaten by a goat, and did not fall off a mountain. I must have also gotten old, because nowadays the words Amsterdam and "coffee shop" produce a mental image of an establishment that sells actual coffee.
I'll write more on this after I get some sleep.
I'll write more on this after I get some sleep.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Eek! Alle bagage is gelost!
Reading "Alle bagage is gelost" is shocking for a second, until the English translation comes up on the screen and you realize that 'gelost' means 'unloaded'.
Traumatic memory loss
I'd never believed one can forget a traumatic event, but apparently I have. When I was 4 (and this was an age from which I remember a lot), two people got killed by a train a few meters from me. I sure remember the adults talking about it, but until now I didn't know that I was actually there.
I have no memory of the event whatsoever.
I have no memory of the event whatsoever.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
How do you make love to a porcupine?
Carefully. Very carefully.
This simple wisdom was lost on a couple of Russians, as well as the really sad experience of their countryman with a raccoon.
Incredible. Fucking incredible (pun intended). If one can imagine a person of a certain kind of sexual inclination wanting to make love to a raccoon, which at least looks cute and fluffy until it starts giving you a blow job, one would think that the very sight of a porcupine makes one realize why fucking one is a very bad idea indeed.
The lawmakers of the state of Florida thought otherwise, and made having sex with a porcupine a crime. This did not deter two Russian tourists, who wanted to know why it was a crime.
Well, they found out. Porcupine needles in the genital area were not fun.
This simple wisdom was lost on a couple of Russians, as well as the really sad experience of their countryman with a raccoon.
Incredible. Fucking incredible (pun intended). If one can imagine a person of a certain kind of sexual inclination wanting to make love to a raccoon, which at least looks cute and fluffy until it starts giving you a blow job, one would think that the very sight of a porcupine makes one realize why fucking one is a very bad idea indeed.
The lawmakers of the state of Florida thought otherwise, and made having sex with a porcupine a crime. This did not deter two Russian tourists, who wanted to know why it was a crime.
Well, they found out. Porcupine needles in the genital area were not fun.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Juden verboten
Haus Sonnenhof, a hotel in Serfaus, Tyrol, Austria, decided to provide its customers with some of that old-days Austrian retro when they told a customer that due to bad experiences in the past they are not willing to take Jewish guests.
I should probably skip all the tempting little jabs about Jews' and Austrians' bad experiences in the past. Everyone else is doing them, anyway. I do remember an Austrian war museum, which, unlike any war remembrance I'd seen in Germany, considered the local (Salzburg) regiment great heroes. Their most heroic deed, incidentally, was to burn down Rovaniemi and to steal a Finnish soldier's boot. But I digress...
And before anyone asks: no, the owners of the hotel are not Muslim, or atleast they have perfectly German names.
What's really interesting is the stuff that is not mentioned:
1. How did they know that the guy was Jewish? Asking ethnicity or religion is not a standard operating procedure in Austrian hotels (not since they lost the war, anyway), and Austrian Jewish last names are not all that different from other Austrian last names. And the guy was an Austrian (and his wife a Belgian). Or did the guy ask for some particular Jewish accomodations?
2. Assuming the hotel just wanted to avoid Jewish guests, what made them stand up and say it? They must have known it would cause a scandal, and it is a lot easier just to say "sorry, we are full". Considering that there are a lot of hotels renting to Jews in the area, nobody is likely to notice or suspect anything.
If the man actually asked for some Jewish accommodations, getting rid of him is even easier. "Sorry, we are unable to provide..."
So, what is to be gained from an antisemitic grand stand? Do the owners actually want a scandal? What for? Did the owners even really write the email - my first thought was that some disgruntled employee did?
I should probably skip all the tempting little jabs about Jews' and Austrians' bad experiences in the past. Everyone else is doing them, anyway. I do remember an Austrian war museum, which, unlike any war remembrance I'd seen in Germany, considered the local (Salzburg) regiment great heroes. Their most heroic deed, incidentally, was to burn down Rovaniemi and to steal a Finnish soldier's boot. But I digress...
And before anyone asks: no, the owners of the hotel are not Muslim, or atleast they have perfectly German names.
What's really interesting is the stuff that is not mentioned:
1. How did they know that the guy was Jewish? Asking ethnicity or religion is not a standard operating procedure in Austrian hotels (not since they lost the war, anyway), and Austrian Jewish last names are not all that different from other Austrian last names. And the guy was an Austrian (and his wife a Belgian). Or did the guy ask for some particular Jewish accomodations?
2. Assuming the hotel just wanted to avoid Jewish guests, what made them stand up and say it? They must have known it would cause a scandal, and it is a lot easier just to say "sorry, we are full". Considering that there are a lot of hotels renting to Jews in the area, nobody is likely to notice or suspect anything.
If the man actually asked for some Jewish accommodations, getting rid of him is even easier. "Sorry, we are unable to provide..."
So, what is to be gained from an antisemitic grand stand? Do the owners actually want a scandal? What for? Did the owners even really write the email - my first thought was that some disgruntled employee did?
Monday, May 11, 2009
Breaking news: pigs evolved from Jews
A new fatwa published in Egypt determines that the source of all pigs is Jews, and therefore it is permissible to slaughter all the pigs, and eating them is forbidden.
Does this mean that eating Jews is forbidden too? Nice to know.
Sheikh Ali Osman from the Egyptian Waqf ministry, who has issued this fatwa, says that he is still waiting for response from the Al-Azhar fatwa committee. The Al-Azhar fatwa committee is apparently still looking for a Jewish psychiatrist to introduce to Sheikh Ali Osman.
Does this mean that eating Jews is forbidden too? Nice to know.
Sheikh Ali Osman from the Egyptian Waqf ministry, who has issued this fatwa, says that he is still waiting for response from the Al-Azhar fatwa committee. The Al-Azhar fatwa committee is apparently still looking for a Jewish psychiatrist to introduce to Sheikh Ali Osman.
Vanity
It's always been a mystery to me why people accuse each other of vanity, or lack thereof.
I don't mean, obviously, the hardcore extremes like somebody making sure the makeup is quite right before leaving a burning building. I don't mean expression of dislike for some particular article of clothing, either. I mean the animosity that some people show to others for adorning themselves, or failing to do so.
Market value theorists will probably point out that it does make sense, as far as the market value theory goes, to encourage self-adornment in the opposite sex and discourage it in one's own (for heteros, anyway. I am not even going into gays.). They will undoubtedly be right, too. It doesn't however explain why people do it just as cheerfully the other way around. For every Finnish woman saying that Russian women dress up too much and use too much makeup, there is a Russian woman saying that Finnish women dress up too little and use too little makeup.
(This phenomenon is fairly common both ways, among all nations whose languages I understand, and among both sexes, but the worst offenders tend to be men disapproving of other men trying to stand out of the crowd. Men doing so are of course a small minority, but a rather vocal and occasionally violent one. I am not sure whether they know how pathetic they sound.)
The accusations of vanity and lack thereof usually involve a lot of amateur psychology, usually accusing the other party (whoever they are and whatever they do) of lack of self-esteem, and, in case of dressed-down women and dressed-up men, guesses at their sexual orientation.
The reason the whole thing came to my mind was the truly weird dimensions the conversation takes when talking about facial transplants. (The first facial transplant in the US, and its owner, were revealed a few days ago.) Now, like during the time the first facial transplant was planned, there were discussions about whether this is worth doing "just for the sake of vanity" and how everything is the fault of our evil, evil society that judges people based on their looks.
What the hell is wrong with those people? Can't they for once leave the poor buggers who need a transplant in peace, and the society as well?
One can discuss endlessly in which ways the society pays too much attention to appearances, but I certainly don't think that the reason one is not comfortable living without a face is the fault of any particular society. I think people have evolved to recoil and stiffle a scream at the sight of a person who does not have most of his or her face, and I don't think any amount of societal change is likely to do anything about it.
An adult person should obviously do their best to suppress the visible reaction, but one really cannot. One can and should try to be polite, but there is really no way to act naturally around those people, and it is quite obvious to them. And yes, young children do get scared. And no, people without a face should not have to apologize for being so vain as to want one.
That said, the woman in question said that she used to get nasty comments from (I assume technically adult) people. What the fuck is wrong with those people? Are they sociopaths or just plain stupid?
While we are on the subject of really stupid sociopaths: the dumbest thing I have ever heard on the subject of vanity was "beauty isn't on the outside, it's on the inside", said by a woman whose son was on trial for throwing acid into two people's faces. In court, at the sentencing hearing.
I don't mean, obviously, the hardcore extremes like somebody making sure the makeup is quite right before leaving a burning building. I don't mean expression of dislike for some particular article of clothing, either. I mean the animosity that some people show to others for adorning themselves, or failing to do so.
Market value theorists will probably point out that it does make sense, as far as the market value theory goes, to encourage self-adornment in the opposite sex and discourage it in one's own (for heteros, anyway. I am not even going into gays.). They will undoubtedly be right, too. It doesn't however explain why people do it just as cheerfully the other way around. For every Finnish woman saying that Russian women dress up too much and use too much makeup, there is a Russian woman saying that Finnish women dress up too little and use too little makeup.
(This phenomenon is fairly common both ways, among all nations whose languages I understand, and among both sexes, but the worst offenders tend to be men disapproving of other men trying to stand out of the crowd. Men doing so are of course a small minority, but a rather vocal and occasionally violent one. I am not sure whether they know how pathetic they sound.)
The accusations of vanity and lack thereof usually involve a lot of amateur psychology, usually accusing the other party (whoever they are and whatever they do) of lack of self-esteem, and, in case of dressed-down women and dressed-up men, guesses at their sexual orientation.
The reason the whole thing came to my mind was the truly weird dimensions the conversation takes when talking about facial transplants. (The first facial transplant in the US, and its owner, were revealed a few days ago.) Now, like during the time the first facial transplant was planned, there were discussions about whether this is worth doing "just for the sake of vanity" and how everything is the fault of our evil, evil society that judges people based on their looks.
What the hell is wrong with those people? Can't they for once leave the poor buggers who need a transplant in peace, and the society as well?
One can discuss endlessly in which ways the society pays too much attention to appearances, but I certainly don't think that the reason one is not comfortable living without a face is the fault of any particular society. I think people have evolved to recoil and stiffle a scream at the sight of a person who does not have most of his or her face, and I don't think any amount of societal change is likely to do anything about it.
An adult person should obviously do their best to suppress the visible reaction, but one really cannot. One can and should try to be polite, but there is really no way to act naturally around those people, and it is quite obvious to them. And yes, young children do get scared. And no, people without a face should not have to apologize for being so vain as to want one.
That said, the woman in question said that she used to get nasty comments from (I assume technically adult) people. What the fuck is wrong with those people? Are they sociopaths or just plain stupid?
While we are on the subject of really stupid sociopaths: the dumbest thing I have ever heard on the subject of vanity was "beauty isn't on the outside, it's on the inside", said by a woman whose son was on trial for throwing acid into two people's faces. In court, at the sentencing hearing.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Art demands sacrifices
Actor Sasha Baron Cohen decided to bleach his hair for an upcoming movie. Yes, all of it.
Dear children, when it says on the package not to get that stuff on your mucous membranes, they do mean your anus, among other things. The anal bleaching practiced by porn stars does not involve hair or hair bleach.
Dear children, when it says on the package not to get that stuff on your mucous membranes, they do mean your anus, among other things. The anal bleaching practiced by porn stars does not involve hair or hair bleach.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Crazy rabbis are waking up, must be the spring
We Jews don't have very many crazy clerics, but the ones we do have are really trying very hard to get in the news.
(OTOH, how do I know that there are only few? The vast majority of Jews make do with very few rabbis; for all I know the most religious 10% might all be rabbis. Whatever.)
Anyway, Rabbi Nahum Gortald from a rabbinical court south of Tel Aviv urged the authorities to limit the number of female foreign workers, lest the men run away with them. They are stealing our men and jobs! (Well, probably not the rabbis' men and jobs.) This request comes after a woman lodged a complaint at the court after her husband had an affair with a Filipina employee. The government will summarily ignore the request, just like it usually does.
Mind you, if I were married to somebody who goes to Rabbi Gortald to complain about me, I would probably have an affair with a Filipina employee too.
While Rabbi Nahum Gortald is concerned about the Israeli women not having enough men, Rabbi Yaakov Yosef has the opposite problem. He wants to banish hopeless old bachelors (the ultra-orthodox men over 20) from Jerusalem. This will encourage them to find a wife by 19, because, as the rabbi says, "any man who reaches the age of 20 must hurry without tarrying," or else he won't find himself a wife. You heard, men? Hurry up, for tomorrow you might turn twenty and then it will be too late! No woman will ever want you again!
Hold on, I thought they had a massive problem with leftover women whose husbands were stolen by Filipina employees?
The rabbi might have a point, though. If I were to take a husband who'd just read Talmud all day instead of performing marital duties, he better be very young and very pretty. And then we'll talk about those marital duties. Maybe by the age of 20 they are too old to be persuaded to have sex.
On the other hand, what is the rabbi thinking? If some morons listen to him and actually leave Jerusalem, there will be even fewer religious women for them elsewhere. Then they might be lured into bed by secular women. Or, god forbid, Filipina employees.
(OTOH, how do I know that there are only few? The vast majority of Jews make do with very few rabbis; for all I know the most religious 10% might all be rabbis. Whatever.)
Anyway, Rabbi Nahum Gortald from a rabbinical court south of Tel Aviv urged the authorities to limit the number of female foreign workers, lest the men run away with them. They are stealing our men and jobs! (Well, probably not the rabbis' men and jobs.) This request comes after a woman lodged a complaint at the court after her husband had an affair with a Filipina employee. The government will summarily ignore the request, just like it usually does.
Mind you, if I were married to somebody who goes to Rabbi Gortald to complain about me, I would probably have an affair with a Filipina employee too.
While Rabbi Nahum Gortald is concerned about the Israeli women not having enough men, Rabbi Yaakov Yosef has the opposite problem. He wants to banish hopeless old bachelors (the ultra-orthodox men over 20) from Jerusalem. This will encourage them to find a wife by 19, because, as the rabbi says, "any man who reaches the age of 20 must hurry without tarrying," or else he won't find himself a wife. You heard, men? Hurry up, for tomorrow you might turn twenty and then it will be too late! No woman will ever want you again!
Hold on, I thought they had a massive problem with leftover women whose husbands were stolen by Filipina employees?
The rabbi might have a point, though. If I were to take a husband who'd just read Talmud all day instead of performing marital duties, he better be very young and very pretty. And then we'll talk about those marital duties. Maybe by the age of 20 they are too old to be persuaded to have sex.
On the other hand, what is the rabbi thinking? If some morons listen to him and actually leave Jerusalem, there will be even fewer religious women for them elsewhere. Then they might be lured into bed by secular women. Or, god forbid, Filipina employees.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Päivän quote, aka "it's not a bug, it's a feature"
"Kyseessä ei ole mikään bugi, vaan on normaalia, että kun äänikomento näppiä painaa ja vaikka et sanoisikaan mitään puhelin yrittää hakea lähimmän mahdollisen "taustamelua" vastaavan nimen osoitekirjsta ja alkaa soittamaan siihen numeroon. Puhelimesi vaikuttaa toimivan oikein."
Nokia Care, vastaukseksi kysymykseen siitä, miksi mun Nokia 6555 soittaa satunnaisille ihmisille mun osoitelistalta jos vahingossa painaa ääninumerovalinta-nappia. Edellinen kysymykseni koski sitä, miten ääninumerovalinnan saa pois päältä, ja vastaus oli "ei mitenkään".
Nyt kyllä tekee mieli opettaa tämän featuren keksijälle mitä sanat "cell phone penetration" oikeasti tarkoittavat.
Nokia Care, vastaukseksi kysymykseen siitä, miksi mun Nokia 6555 soittaa satunnaisille ihmisille mun osoitelistalta jos vahingossa painaa ääninumerovalinta-nappia. Edellinen kysymykseni koski sitä, miten ääninumerovalinnan saa pois päältä, ja vastaus oli "ei mitenkään".
Nyt kyllä tekee mieli opettaa tämän featuren keksijälle mitä sanat "cell phone penetration" oikeasti tarkoittavat.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Spring and wine
The neighbor's bulldog seems to like me. She has invaded my apartment three times already, although nowadays the owner tends to be on a shorter leash and has learned to extract her from my place really fast.
I am not sure how I managed to earn such attention.
Spring is coming. It's getting warm, which seems sort of noteworthy.
Vappu is coming too. Objective: not to drink too much sparkling wine. Gonna be an epic fail.
While we are on the subject of wine: I bought a bottle of non-alcoholic red today and the salesperson specifically warned me that it was non-alcoholic. Which makes me wonder: why is there so little non-alcoholic wine around? Is it bad? (I am about to find out.) I have a feeling that people tend to think of non-alcoholic wine as something fake and unworthy - including the people who actually dislike alcohol and drink wine for taste only. Oh well, maybe it is bad. We'll see.
Went to the zoo yesterday. I tend to go there on a sunny day and then remember why cloudy days are better. Anyway, it was a disappointment: no more seals, no more arctic foxes, most of the animals asleep somewhere. The only things that saved the day were a couple of camels kissing like young lovers, and a very determined otter that was trying to give itself a blow job.
I am not sure how I managed to earn such attention.
Spring is coming. It's getting warm, which seems sort of noteworthy.
Vappu is coming too. Objective: not to drink too much sparkling wine. Gonna be an epic fail.
While we are on the subject of wine: I bought a bottle of non-alcoholic red today and the salesperson specifically warned me that it was non-alcoholic. Which makes me wonder: why is there so little non-alcoholic wine around? Is it bad? (I am about to find out.) I have a feeling that people tend to think of non-alcoholic wine as something fake and unworthy - including the people who actually dislike alcohol and drink wine for taste only. Oh well, maybe it is bad. We'll see.
Went to the zoo yesterday. I tend to go there on a sunny day and then remember why cloudy days are better. Anyway, it was a disappointment: no more seals, no more arctic foxes, most of the animals asleep somewhere. The only things that saved the day were a couple of camels kissing like young lovers, and a very determined otter that was trying to give itself a blow job.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
A story
Finally finished the first draft of a story I was writing.
It's semi-humorous semi-violent science fiction. It's fairly long, but if somebody bothers to read it, comments are welcome.
It's semi-humorous semi-violent science fiction. It's fairly long, but if somebody bothers to read it, comments are welcome.
Pant crisis
Pant crisis is upon me again, and this time seriously.
Pants can't stand me. I, on the other hand, can't stand skirts. We have a problem.
Bad habits die hard. I tend to walk a lot, walk with my legs touching each other, and sit in weird positions with my legs wide open and/or crossed. All of this leads to occasional violent disintegration of pants, resulting in excessive ventilation in the crotch area and involuntary indecent exposure.
Buying bigger pants doesn't help. The pair that disintegrated on me a couple of days ago was so big they tended to fall off completely, and once actually did so when I forgot to wear a belt.
Anyway, yesterday I realized that I am one rather flimsy pair of pants away from having to run to a pant store wrapped in a towel or a jacket (yes, happened to me once before) and went shopping.
Shit. The Eighties fashions - may their inventors forever wear shoulder pads in their condoms - came back with a vengeance, and most of the pants are really tight in the lower leg. Apart from the ugliness of it, the problem is, they don't fit. At all. It's quite natural that some pants are too small and don't fit my ass, but I try the pants meant for my size and can't fit them over my calves. They never even reach the ass. The ones that do reach the ass are so big that they don't want to stay on it.
In my experience this is not a problem that can be solved by gaining or losing weight, the proportions stay the same.
This time I found a pair of jeans that actually fit, but if this Eighties thing continues and spreads, what the hell am I gonna do?
Pants can't stand me. I, on the other hand, can't stand skirts. We have a problem.
Bad habits die hard. I tend to walk a lot, walk with my legs touching each other, and sit in weird positions with my legs wide open and/or crossed. All of this leads to occasional violent disintegration of pants, resulting in excessive ventilation in the crotch area and involuntary indecent exposure.
Buying bigger pants doesn't help. The pair that disintegrated on me a couple of days ago was so big they tended to fall off completely, and once actually did so when I forgot to wear a belt.
Anyway, yesterday I realized that I am one rather flimsy pair of pants away from having to run to a pant store wrapped in a towel or a jacket (yes, happened to me once before) and went shopping.
Shit. The Eighties fashions - may their inventors forever wear shoulder pads in their condoms - came back with a vengeance, and most of the pants are really tight in the lower leg. Apart from the ugliness of it, the problem is, they don't fit. At all. It's quite natural that some pants are too small and don't fit my ass, but I try the pants meant for my size and can't fit them over my calves. They never even reach the ass. The ones that do reach the ass are so big that they don't want to stay on it.
In my experience this is not a problem that can be solved by gaining or losing weight, the proportions stay the same.
This time I found a pair of jeans that actually fit, but if this Eighties thing continues and spreads, what the hell am I gonna do?
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
"Community, paging community!"
Lately there has been a problem in Rovaniemi. A group of young Kurdish asylum seekers has been harassing women. More specifically, a 22-year old Iranian-born woman, her sister, who was harassed in front of her small child, some other foreign-born women and some Finnish women. The harassment mostly targeted foreign-born women, has lasted for four months, and consisted of shouting obscenities, following women, spitting on them, and at least one death threat. The harassers were somewhat fewer than a dozen young Kurdish men. The asylum seeker center is not sure who they are.
Excuse me? The Rovaniemi asylum seeker center has 100 places. Is it really hard to find who those people are? How many of the residents exactly are young Kurdish men?
Now Astrid Thors, Finland's immigration minister, is hoping that Finland's Kurdish community will take responsibility for the actions of the young men.
She is aware that there is no Kurdish community in Rovaniemi.
WTF? More specifically, what the fuck does she expect them to do? It would be of course nice if Kurds in general disapproved of the aforementioned behavior, and some surely do, but what does she expect them to do about it, especially if they live elsewhere and don't know the guys in question?
She also says that those are isolated incidents. Let's see. There are 86 Kurdish-speaking people resident in Lapland (not including the asylum applicants). I am not sure what exactly is meant by "young Kurdish men", but 19 of them are men aged 15-29. If there are, say, 10 harassers, and if they are the only young Kurdish men in the asylum seeker center, they constitute about a third of Lapland's young Kurdish men. To me this sure looks like a significant part of the community is in fact trying to teach values to immigrant women, and rather actively - the are just not the values that I, or Astrid Thors, would like to be taught.
On a more general note, every time the official authorities say they are "working with the community" it gives me cold shivers. Yeah, I understand that sometimes the police, for example, needs to know something about some community, and then they ask somebody they know. But every time there is talk about negotiation with a community, or a community taking responsibility, or a community demanding this or that, some kind of "community leaders" tend to arise.
Who are my community leaders? I have no idea, but I know that I have not elected them, have not empowered them to speak for me, and have no means of making them answer to me. If they tell me that they have agreed on something on my behalf, I will answer with a one-finger salute.
Yes, if the authorities wish that Russians/Jews/Americans stop doing some illegal thing (for example, mooning the immigration minister), and I know some Russians/Jews/Americans who are doing it, I'll tell them it's not nice. On the other hand, I would say the same thing to the Finns I know, and I certainly wouldn't approach strangers of any ethnicity or national origin to tell them not to do it.
We have police here in Finland, and other Powers That Be, including the employees of the asylum seeker center. They should be capable of a) explaining to people what is allowed and what is not and b) punishing them if the need arises. Without calling on an ethnic community, especially one that is not even present in the city in question.
If I am doing something the state doesn't like, I want to hear it from the state itself, in whatever form is appropriate.
And if the state really needs the community to explain to its members how to behave, it means that the state is already in pretty serious trouble.
Excuse me? The Rovaniemi asylum seeker center has 100 places. Is it really hard to find who those people are? How many of the residents exactly are young Kurdish men?
Now Astrid Thors, Finland's immigration minister, is hoping that Finland's Kurdish community will take responsibility for the actions of the young men.
She is aware that there is no Kurdish community in Rovaniemi.
WTF? More specifically, what the fuck does she expect them to do? It would be of course nice if Kurds in general disapproved of the aforementioned behavior, and some surely do, but what does she expect them to do about it, especially if they live elsewhere and don't know the guys in question?
She also says that those are isolated incidents. Let's see. There are 86 Kurdish-speaking people resident in Lapland (not including the asylum applicants). I am not sure what exactly is meant by "young Kurdish men", but 19 of them are men aged 15-29. If there are, say, 10 harassers, and if they are the only young Kurdish men in the asylum seeker center, they constitute about a third of Lapland's young Kurdish men. To me this sure looks like a significant part of the community is in fact trying to teach values to immigrant women, and rather actively - the are just not the values that I, or Astrid Thors, would like to be taught.
On a more general note, every time the official authorities say they are "working with the community" it gives me cold shivers. Yeah, I understand that sometimes the police, for example, needs to know something about some community, and then they ask somebody they know. But every time there is talk about negotiation with a community, or a community taking responsibility, or a community demanding this or that, some kind of "community leaders" tend to arise.
Who are my community leaders? I have no idea, but I know that I have not elected them, have not empowered them to speak for me, and have no means of making them answer to me. If they tell me that they have agreed on something on my behalf, I will answer with a one-finger salute.
Yes, if the authorities wish that Russians/Jews/Americans stop doing some illegal thing (for example, mooning the immigration minister), and I know some Russians/Jews/Americans who are doing it, I'll tell them it's not nice. On the other hand, I would say the same thing to the Finns I know, and I certainly wouldn't approach strangers of any ethnicity or national origin to tell them not to do it.
We have police here in Finland, and other Powers That Be, including the employees of the asylum seeker center. They should be capable of a) explaining to people what is allowed and what is not and b) punishing them if the need arises. Without calling on an ethnic community, especially one that is not even present in the city in question.
If I am doing something the state doesn't like, I want to hear it from the state itself, in whatever form is appropriate.
And if the state really needs the community to explain to its members how to behave, it means that the state is already in pretty serious trouble.
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