A Miserable Excuse for Light Posting and a "Must-Read"

More Adventures In Modern Dentistry today, with a morning appointment… coz that’s when The Good Doctor prefers to do these sorts of things… minor oral surgery, aka the laying in of more artificial bone to better facilitate the coming implants… as opposed to routine stuff like fillings and such. Dr. Thompson did cut me a sprout when he saw my baleful look as he proposed an 0800 appointment, and he graciously slipped the time to 0900 as a result. Which, as you know Gentle Reader, is what passes for The Dead of Night more often than not here at El Casa Móvil De Pennington. Dr. Thompson knows, too, as he let slip the fact that he’s an occasional reader of EIP. I was suitably flattered, but that emotion was surpassed by my sheer gratitude at not being forced to take to the streets before I’m fully caffeinated, and at something that closely resembles an Ungodly Hour. The general public should be grateful, too. Safety considerations, and all, dontcha know.

The foregoing is a left-handed way of informing you that posting will be light today. I’m typing this lil blurb out just before going to bed, as a matter of fact, and will post at midnite, or shortly thereafter. I would schedule the post, but Frickin’Blogger… and that’s ALL one word… is still hosing my format to the n^th goddamned degree. It takes me at least six separate editing passes after I’ve posted to get about half of the formatting correct (see the post immediately below: I gave up after the sixth editing pass, which you could verify, if you so choose, simply by looking at my Site Meter… the 9:33:08 pm entry, specifically. That’s me.). This is NOT a good thing. I’m seriously considering migrating EIP to a more format-friendly platform. Really. I am. It both amazes and mystifies me that Frickin’Blogger can’t seem to get a simple thing like fonts and spacing correct. And it pisses me right the Hell off, too. Didja notice?

―:☺:―

Lileks is GOOD today. No, check that: he’s GREAT. Here are a few excerpts to encourage you to go read the whole thing, as is my wont.

Oh, we're screedy today. It's a Canadian columnist vs. Sarah Palin; I could not resist.

[…]

I’m in a generous mood.

Or was, until I read this piece by a Canadian writer; it sums up with such delightful perfection what so many believe. So. Let’s have a look.

[…]

It's possible that Republican men, sexual inadequates that they are, really believe that women will vote for a woman just because she's a woman.

Consider the joy that would reign if someone wrote that “Democrats, racial guilt-mongers that they are, really believe that African-Americans will vote for an African-American just because he’s an African-American.” Of course Republican men don’t believe that women will vote for her just because she’s a woman. It’s surely a factor, but there’s the possibility that they will vote for her because she is not a woman like Heather Mallick.

You have to love the “Sexual inadequates that they are” line as well; if there’s one thing that’s amused me in the last two weeks, it’s the screechy distaste of Ms. Palin coming from men who embodied the Modern Alda Paradigm of masculinity, which is to say they are nervous around cars, think guns are icky, had their own Snugli, have wives in corporate jobs who make more money than they do, and still get dissed behind their backs because they can’t figure out how to make the bed. The Lost Boys, if you will. Now, some women can’t stand Sarah Palin for their own reasons, personal or ideological; same with men. Some men, however, are made deeply uneasy by her, because she’s the one who ignored the sensitive poet-guys in high school for the jocks, and didn’t seem to grasp the essential high-school truth that it’s cool to be a loser. But that’s rank psychoanalysis, and we won’t stoop to that.

[…]

They're unfamiliar with our true natures. Do they think vaginas call out to each other in the jungle night? I mean, I know men have their secret meetings at which they pledge to do manly things, like being irresponsible with their semen and postponing household repairs with glue and used matches. Guys will be guys, obviously.

It’s funny, because it’s true! Bronze that paragraph; if nothing else, it’s the death of PC, and license for guys to say anything. At least she’s honest about the idea of female solidarity – it matters only if the ideological stars have aligned – no, if the ideological cycles have synced, to use terms she’d probably employ. Or has already. It’s not about whether Sarah Palin is a woman, it’s whether she’s the right kind. She’s supposed to restrict snow machines, not ride them or for God’s sake get knocked up by some slopey-brow dullard who rides them. (Competitively! Gawd) Nationalize oil companies, don’t make deals. Have one or two children, not five – Good Gaia, woman, are you trying to make overstuffed congested Alaska top the one-million-citizen mark all by yourself?

As for guys being irresponsible with their precious bodily essences, who cares? Aren’t you using protection? Or are they using vagina-confusing Man-Beams to cloud your mind? As for putting off home repairs, here’s a hint: either learn how to do it yourself, or admit there might be yet in this enlightened age a strange vague hangover that divides labor based on innate gender-influenced personality traits. If you expect him to fix things, and you roll your eyes when he tries, and you accuse him of using spit and matches, his motivation will be diminished – and even then he’ll probably wait until you’re out of earshot before he mutters “what a fishwife.” If your man can’t fix anything it but whines that he can make a really good white sauce, don’t blame him when you have an affair with the electrician.

I know this: Mr. Palin probably doesn’t postpone household repairs, or use glue, or old matches. He can probably change the oil in the car, too. There are guys like that. Not every wife has to sit in a cold Jiffy Lube waiting room leafing through Field and Stream, wishing the weirdo in the other chair would stop looking at her legs.

Ladies and Gentlemen, this is world-class snark. Good snark. Great snark. Biting and oh-so-on-point snark. No one, and I mean NO ONE on Planet Gaia gets on a roll quite like Mr. Lileks. You’re truly missing something if you don’t read the whole thing.

I might be back later today, assuming the drugs are good and the residual pain isn’t debilitating after said drugs wear off. No big deal, it’s just life. And life only, as Bobby D sang.