The Devil You Know

This began as a comment response to Virginia Gal's latest post. As frequently happens, I started running off at the keyboard, so I just made this a post of its own.

The reason why most Americans are less fearful of homegrown terrorism than they are of foreign terrorism comes down to people being less afraid of the devil they know versus the devil they don't know.

White people have been in America waaaayy longer than Arab and Muslim people. So, when a white asshole bombs a building, it's perceived as a freak event, because virtually every American of any creed or color knows 1,000 basically nice white people for every 1 white average jerk. However, very few average Americans - and I mean statistically, racially/ethnically average (still about 70% white) - personally know or have met more than one or two Arabs or Muslims. So, when an Arab or Muslim asshole flies a plane of mid-week passengers into a building, it's not perceived as a freak event, but as, "wow, this must be the norm!"

Some fuel to this anti-Arab or anti-Muslim prejudice, at least in my lifetime, is that the only images of Muslims we've received in the media have been of the PLO shooting old Jewish American men in wheelchairs and tossing them off the boughs of cruise ships; terrorists bombing discos frequented by Americans in Berlin; bombing our barracks and embassies in Beirut; masked gunmen killing the Israeli Olympic team in Munich; Muslim men with scarves covering half their faces chanting "death to America" and burning effigies of presidents, and flags; jihadists hijacking our airplanes in the 80s or blowing them up over foreign destinations; and not the least of images, women who must cover from head to toe and be beholden to the men in their lives, walking several paces behind their husbands who view them as nothing more than machines to make more men. (I'm sure that last image was harsh on my part, but seriously, they treat women like shit in most of these countries.) With the exception of the cultural sexism, are those vicious behaviors freak occurrences in the Arab world and among Muslims? Almost certainly. But how can you expect an average American - who may or may not have ever met an Arab or Muslim - who only gets that news and those images to think that there is not a threat posed against him from the average Arab or Muslim?

Speaking for myself, even the American who wants to look beyond the bad news events and knows that most people in the world are basically decent, if flawed, still views the Arab world with a good dose of suspicion and distrust (as evidenced by my assertion of their sexism). I believe in working to deliberately stamping out stereotypes, but the anti-stereotype PSAs and campaigns that arose after 9/11, intending to help the average American know that the average American Arab or Muslim wasn't out to get them, were a bit too little too late by at least 15 years. I'm glad they were there, but by the time they ran, we'd been getting Arab/Muslim terrorist news since the 70s. Why was it only after the towers were destroyed that the Arab community and "moral media influencers" felt the need to make sure people in Omaha knew that an NYC cabbie was not an enemy of the state?

The stereotypes are unfair to the vast majority Arab and Muslim Americans, but being counfounded that the average American buys into them is like being confounded that someone who's only ever gotten food poisoning off of shellfish is extremely suspicious of the ceviche you made. No matter how bloody awesome, slap-your-momma good the ceviche is.

All that said, it isn't like white men have been profiled, at least in the past. It just isn't as obvious, because, most Americans are familiar with white men so they don't notice profiling. How do I know? Before the days of 9/11, when I traveled by air by myself, I was pulled aside for a random swab of my carry-ons for explosive materials, or open bag check maybe 20% of the time. When I traveled with Honey, it was 80% of the time - and I can only assume it was higher for him, traveling alone. Why? Because Honey fits the physical Timothy McVeigh stereotype. He is an averaged-height blonde with close-cropped hair; a blue-eyed young man who is quiet and carries himself with a military bearing. He looks like he could be the type who'd join a government-fearing militia. (THANK GOD, Buddha and Oprah that he's exactly the opposite!) It did distress me that once 9/11 happened, the airport distrust of him entirely dissipated immediately. Just because we have a new threat doesn't mean the old one has gone away. But his profiling wasn't problematic because as an educated white man ascending a solid career ladder, in a society built to support educated white men in power, even if he's inconvenienced for 5 minutes, he faces basically no other prejudices, suspicions or harassments.

And that's where it's harder for Arab Americans or frankly, for anyone who looks like they come from a predominantly Muslim country. If the dark skinned guy with a prayer cap is pulled aside for extra check, no big deal. But that same guy gets side-long glances everywhere, all the time. He's probably been the direct recipient of a racial slur from some raging asshole at some point in his life, or at least the recipient of some insensitive comment from someone who may not have known any better. He's hypersensitive to his differentness in this WASP-affluence society. That's not to say he shouldn't be pulled aside for a check; it's just to say it probably feels as much like yet another indignity as an inconvenience.

I genuinely hope the recent cowardly murder of Dr. Tiller and the horrible episode of at the Holocaust museum will re-open our eyes to domestic threats. American-grown extremists are out there and, I suspect, since we turned our backs from them, they have been quietly steeping in the past decade or so. Unfortunately, through first-hand conversations with people who have this experience, I've learned how hard it is for law enforcement officials to make a move on extremist groups and individuals. I know we like to complain about all the damage that the Bush administration did to our civil liberties - and I do think he did - but there are still plenty of levels of bureaucracy out there to protect us from wrongful investigation and arrest. So much so that people like that bitter old white supremacist from last week, who may have indeed been on a watchlist, are still able to do what he did. A watch list is just that. Our law enforcement agencies, from the fed through the local, don't always have the teeth we think they do.

In the meantime, I suppose all those of us on the ground can do is work to recognize our own fears and work against them. And maybe, just maybe try to befriend someone who is different from us - racially, politically, religiously, regionally, sexually, etc - so that we can mutually influence one another. Build our tiny bridges where we can.

My Preconceived Notions Are Wrong, Apprarently

As I think I've mentioned before, I recently cut back to a part-time schedule at work. The idea was that I would reduce work-related stress that was not only weighing on me, but Honey, and allow myself to re-evaluate my priorities and explore other activities and interests a little more. I've discovered that I really do like a part-time schedule. The last time I worked part time was about three years ago, and though I wasn't particularly thrilled with the actual work I was doing then (kind of as now), I found it worked well with my personality and temperament.

Despite the fact that I've not blogged as much as I should, I have been finding more opportunities to write - and about movies, no less; a personal favorite. And last week, on one of my days off, I decided on a whim to go to a casting call for a commercial. It was an open audition, the call for which crossed my inbox by way of a professional listerve I belong to. I hadn't been to a call like that in years. At least nine years - since before I moved to the east coast. I dressed the part, as well I could (outdoorsy early-30s mom) and just figured I'd go to get an idea of the experience. Not only had it been a long time since I'd done a casting call, I'd gone to precious few in the past, so I really did just want to get an idea of how these things ran. I got to the casting office, signed in, and was a little nervous; despite my attendance solely for the sake of curiosity, nerves still kicked in. Then I started looking at all the women there reading for the same part that I was there for. They were all at least 2" - 4" taller than me, and quite visibly leaner. I easily had 10 pounds on each of them. Their hair was better prepared and their make up more immaculate. Once I realized I was out of my league, I actually relaxed a lot more. They're not going to cast me. My resume is terribly thin, and most of it is related to Clinton-era college shows, and for as "outdoorsy momsy" as I may look in real life, I've worked in and around media enough to know you have to hire a hot mom, not a real mom. This isn't my primary career anyway, so I really have nothing to fear. I can just get this one under my belt and learn more for next time. When it was my turn to go into the room, I slated for the camera, did a few readings of the lines, adjusting them according to the director's requests, and was out in less than 3 or 4 minutes.

As per usual, I replayed the whole action in my head on the drive home, wondering if I could have done anything differently that would have made a better impression. Could've done this; could've done that. Oh well; these are definitely notes I'll remember for the next time, whenever the hell that may be. Also part of the mental meanderings on the ride home were: "Wow, that was fun! Do I want to get back into this? I know don't want to pursue a stage career, but what about commercials and the like? That's short; good for my interest span. But I hate hustling. But maybe I'm a better place in my life to do this now than when I was out of college. Hmm."

Then, the improbable happened. Yesterday afternoon, I was just plugging away at work when my cell phone rang. I didn't recognize the number, but answered anyway. It was the casting agency. Oh, this is the "thanks, but no thanks," call. I wasn't expecting it, but I think many places do that sort of thing, so ... "I'm calling to let you know that they'd like to use you," the agent's assistant stated matter of factly. "Okay," I replied, not missing a beat or betraying the extraordinary surprise I was actually feeling. She gave me the information I needed and later I talked to the stylist a couple of times in the evening to get an idea of what kind of personal wardrobe to bring, in addition to what she was bringing.

I was in a tickly haze for about an hour after the call. I went to this audition, as a whim; as a shy toe to test the water. I wasn't expecting to be cast at all. I'm terribly excited - scared, since I'm normally before a live audience, not a camera - but excited. I'll be getting call time and more information later today. We'll be shooting outside, so I'm sure it'll be seriously cold, but as I'm positive I'll have a lot of nerves racing, I don't know that I'll be freezing. In retrospect, maybe they cast me because I really do look like I could be someone's mom, not an unattainable, idealized hot mom. Maybe I exude a playful nurturing? One of my best friends thinks it helps that I have a very corn-fed, middle-America look (think Jessica Lange or Jodie Foster) ie, prone to be outdoors. So my strawberry-amber mane, my stubborn jawline and my ample hips and bosom paid off for me this time. Who'd've thunk?

All I know is: I'm more comfortable with the idea of my being cast, now. And I've decided to approach this with a sense of fun. When I'm thrown into performance situations with new people with whom I've never performed, I find I'm braver in my performances, because I have no preconceptions. Well, this will be an all new bunch for me. Preconceptions are just speedbumps. This will also be a good learning experience. Hopefully, it'll help me decide if this is something I am interested in pursuing more regularly. I'm not competitve by nature, and when I was in college and immediately after, I felt like auditioning was competing and I hated it. But I'm older (hopefully wiser) now, and maybe I can change my attitude: it's not a competition, it's a chance to play and have fun. I perform - and audition - so much better when I have fun.

The shoot is a day away. Right now, I'm calm and eager. If I can just stay out of my head, it'll all be great. Deep breaths; load the iPod; no preconceived notions.

* photo courtesy of Penguin Feeding Time via Flickr Creative Commons

Leonard Cohen and The Perils of Being a Preacher's Progeny

I tried to find a soundfile to embed, but alas, I couldn't. So I posted this video, which I really only want you to listen to. The sound is grainy, clearly an old LP, but I actually kind of like that.

I am a preacher's kid. Before I get into the meat of this post, please allow me to address your first set of questions: No, my home life was not like that of the chick in Footloose! Nor was I a rebellious, booz-swilling, drug-addled, leg-spreading hellian. Nor was I (or am I) a white-gloved, goody two-shoes. I was just a kid who lived in a home with a dog and parents who loved her and her brother. I was brought us up in a religious household and my parents encouraged introspection and inquiry, and mercy toward others, so I've always been personally baffled by the constrictive Footloose model. (Though that more closely mirrors the preacher-kid [PK] upbringing my mom had.)

Peril #1: Having to swat off stereotypes superglued to you and to your family. (Do doctors', cops' or military members' kids get the same "knowing" wink and tongue-click that PKs get? Ugh. Letting it go.) Peril #2: If you're female, you are concerned that you might end up marrying a preacher. Why? Because your mom was a PK, or your grandmother, or someone close in the family line. It seems to be genetic. I had several PK friends in high school and college, and they all had that fear. Nothing against ministers - most of us were very comfortable in church, loved other ministers and repected our minister parents (some were mothers, of course) - but the tendency for preachers' daughters to marry back into the ministry unnerved us. Not only is it an itinerant lifestyle - a few years in Texas, a few in Oregon, etc - like a military family, but we know first hand the social pressure of expectations on ministers' families and the wives, specifically. They're mini-First Ladies, whether they like it or not or are good at it or not; especially in small communities. My peers and I were children of feminism. We didn't want to be shoe-horned.

There are more, I'm sure. Like people suppose you to be able to quote and accept the Bible front to back or conversely that you totally reject religion (the adult version of the PK stereotypes). But the peril that I stumbled upon recently was actually rather benign. And yes, it tarries back to the simple video embedded above.

Most preachers I know draw heavily upon pop-culture for their sermon references. Our last minister loved to reference Ann Lamott, who Darla recommended I read to help me better my writing. The minister of the church where Honey and I met and married frequently referenced Emily Dickinson, upon whose works he wrote his doctoral dissertation. One of Honey's favorite religion professors - also a retired minister - would open his semester with a class screening of Star Wars. My dad is partial to dropping Bob Dylan references. In fact, he has a sermon in his repetoire, "I Was So Much Older Then, I'm Younger Than That Now," though I can't recall what the theological tie-in theme is.

When you grow up hearing movie scenes, song or poetry lyrics and literary themes framed in terms of biblical or theological analogies, or in terms of modern parable, it's easy to kind of find them everywhere. And sometimes, there are moments that just coalesce and I think, "Dang, this is a sermon analogy begging to happen." This is the benign peril of which I write.

A few months ago, in advance of the release of the lastest Indiana Jones movie, Honey and I rewatched the first three. Toward the end of the movie, Indy and his father are escaping the crumbling temple where the grail has been kept for eons. The hot blond Nazi has just fallen into a widening crevasse, and now Indy is in the same danger. His father, who refuses to call him Indiana, now clings to Indy, trying to lift him out of the crevasse. "Henry, let it go!" he pleads. Indy ignores him, blinded by sudden greed, trying to reach for the grail just beyond his grasp. Then his father calmly calls, "Indiana." The trance is broken. Indy relents and is pulled to safety. Immediately, the voice of Leonard Cohen sprung into my head singing, "love calls you by your name." Then two seconds later, I thought, "Man, there has to be a sermon in here."

Now, I can't think of that scene, nor listen to that song without thinking that they are begging to be weaved into a sermon. Perilous!

I rarely fixate on song lyrics (it can take me years of hearing a song over and over before it really strikes me what the artist is conveying), but what I love about "Love Calls You By Your Name" is that it seems to bring quiet mercy to moments of vulnerability in spaces narrow and vast: "between the windmill and the grain/ between the traitor and her pain." At least that's what I hear. And I've always been touched that Dr. Jones the elder humbled himself to the name that his son recognized. I can't think of an exact scripture reference that this could tie in to; the bible is full of naming and calling issues (Sarai became Sarah; Gabriel pretty much tells Mary what she's gonna call her baby; God calls Samuel out in the night; the still small voice). I think ceremonial re-naming is still something done in Judaism, on occasion. But frankly, it seems like this could be used in several sermons. Love calls you by your name. God is love. God calls you when and where you are vulnerable and most in need of mercy ... I don't know.

But that's my peril. Benign; but it itches. The upshot of this is that I've since introduced my dad to Leonard Cohen. As my dad is the one who trained my musical palate to favor yarn-spinning and story-tellers, I'm a little surprised that he wasn't more familiar with him, beyond the ubiquitous "Hallelujiah." Especially since they're both baby boomers! But he likes him and I have a feeling is going to seek him out more. Maybe I'll get him some CDs for Christmas.

Since this is my 200th post, and since you've been so nice to read this far, I figure I'll give a little more media. Enjoy the mixtape I made for Dad ... who just got electricity back TODAY, two weeks after Ike blew through (WOOHOO!), and who will be facing open heart surgery in another 3 weeks. Yipes. Here's love calling out to him!

Good Time Girls

A lot of what I do at work is in support of informational campaigns, often it's blatant advertising. Usually these campaigns are for internal audiences, but some campaigns that we've supported are external. For the external ones, think mostly regional and low-level national.

Yesterday, one of my coworkers was looking at old-school propaganda online and came across this little gem to the right, here. It really cracked me up, for various reasons, but also kind of bummed me out, as well.

My first reaction is that it's hilarious that the government will tie anything and everything
to whatever the current national effort is: "Don't dip your wick where it don't belong boys, 'cause if you do, you may as well be handing the keys to Il Duce!" The featured girl's face is so apple-pie that even I wouldn't suspect her to have the clap. And, of course, it's easy for me, 60 some years on to laugh at the concerns of my forebears. That's what we do!

However, what bums me out is that this ad just perpetuates the notion that sex - and any consequences that follow - is solely a woman's accountability. Men can't be held accountable for their actions. Those poor souls are programmed to bang anything in their path with an orifice. Women are wily and want to destroy them whether it be with STDs, babies or the allure of that most destructive of all powers, love.

Look, I get it: on the whole, men seek sex more aggressively than women. And men in wartime even more so. And the government and society want to make sure soldiers are healthy. So, I totally understand why that campaign was created, and probably still exists to some extent today. And for sure, I wish there was more of a pop culture notion of sexual discretion and discrimination (not sexism, but partner discrimination).

For instance, one of mine and Honey's current favorite shows is Entourage. We both really like it - though I'm sensing a post soon on it, because I tire of its portrayal of women. However, I have yet to see an episode where someone either doesn't have sex or the show doesn't end with a segue into someone about to get laid. The guys' only goals in life are sex, getting stoned and material goods. They're so promiscuous, I'm astonished they've not mentioned burning pee, yet. And why wouldn't they mention it? Because there's never any indication that they use condoms. It's never discussed. Think about it: when was the last time condom usage was discussed in any movie, TV show or widely and easily accessible morsel of the pop culture diet? Aside from Knocked Up, none comes readily to mind. As one who went through puberty and adolescence in the late 80s and early 90s, I was bombarded with AIDS, and by extension, STD prevention information, a huge chunk of which was dedicated to condom usage. MTV had PSAs every other commercial break; posters about safe sex, waiting and partner discrimination were all over school; Channel One did sex ed segments all the friggin' time. I didn't watch much in the way of 90210, but I seem to remember them, and shows with teen and young adult audiences, at least positively addressing condom usage fairly regularly in the 80s and early 90s. By the time I was 13, I knew full well that a supportive tangent to the "abstinence till marriage ethic" of my household, was the cultural ethic of "know who you're sleeping with; make sure you're both clean; get tested; use condoms." It didn't occur to me not to use condoms by the time I was having sex - even when I was on the pill. And then it just seemed to stop right around 1996. Poof! AIDS wasn't killing as many people, so we can just stop letting condoms get in the way of our sexy characters having sex. Rubbers aren't sexy, so why should we spoil the moment? Where did our pop culture sense of partner discrimination and condom usage go? I would love to see a return to some sense of sexual responsibility on TV and in film.

That mini-rant is to say: I appreciate the government's having wanted to persuade soldiers to be cautious.

But there's still something about that poster that just smarts. Maybe it's that the girl does look so innocent. Certainly, just because you look healthy doesn't mean you are. But there's an interesting dualism in the message of that poster, I think. It's the tacit acknowledgment that boys seek out the "innocent" kind of girls as much as the "slutty" ones, because they're safe: a virgin can't tell you if you're good in bed or bad; she won't have an STD; you can trick her into your pants with the promise of "love." And that that's preferred - because boys can't be expected to only masturbate! And the flipside of this poster goes back to what I brushed up against, earlier: women are out to lure you into a trap; some of them use their innocent looks to ensnare you and leave you with a pus-filled penis!

As a society, if we buy that women in relation to sex are to be viewed essentially as succubae, then it makes it easier to punish us for being us. It allows for stupid rape laws, like one I remember reading about in Italy in the 90s: it cannot be considered rape if the purported victim wore blue jeans, because jeans are too difficult to remove and therefore she must've consented. (I really hope that's been struck down.) Or like the legal conversation that comes up every now and then: if the victim asked her aggressor to use a condom, then can it be considered rape? If that's not rape, then I propose a scenario where a man is mugged, stabbed repeatedly and not wanting a withdrawn death, asks his assailant to slit his throat: he hasn't been murdered, he's committed suicide; his attacker should go free. But beyond stupid rape laws, the woman as succubus idea punishes us in other ways: well, if you wanted to make a good living, you shouldn't have had babies; if you wanted to climb the corporate ladder, you shouldn't have worn a short skirt (or worse, you should have). Or in other far less fortunate countries: well, if you wanted to learn to read, you should've been born a boy! Woman, you knew what you were in for - you created sex!

Blech!

It seems as though we're taking a step backward these days what with both anti-sexuality in many abstinence-only movements, and hyper-sexuality in pop culture. It's like those two conflicting points of view are pushing us back, making sex more male oriented and promoting succubus-driven attitudes on sex. However, I do feel, very much, like attitudes towards women, sex and our shared responsibilities have shifted a lot in this country in the last 100, 60, 40 and even 20 years. So for that, I'm tremendously grateful. And if/when Honey and I have children we will definitely instill in them shared sexual responsibility, none of this "boys will be boys" and "girls must be guarded a Swiss bank" bullshit. But I don't look forward to the uphill battle we'll face with the ghosts of that poster in our culture.

If God, Then stupid

This morning, lying in bed, I read an article in Newsweek about scientists who are not godless and the uphill battle they face in some universities and schools. Namely, that because they believe evolution is real, the boards of these schools deny them the right to teach it. Nevermind that the scientists in question are usually devout Christians.

That many institutional Christians reject any academic study of evolution or any other study which might defy their narrow belief system is not surprising. People rather expect it. But something that I've only caught whiffs of in the last few years is the idea that to believe in God, you must be ignorant.

The article didn't directly address that prejudice, but it brushed up against it and moved back toward the predictable bigotry of the fundamentalists. Nonetheless, it got me thinking about it.

A few years ago, my father, a protestant minister, was honored to be chosen to attend an intensive week-long theology course at Oxford. The topic of the study was science. Living in Texas, he's used to fundamentalists blocking enlightened discussion about science, so when he got to Oxford, he said he was all geared up to pick on the fundamentalists who so prejudicely deride science in the public realm. However, his instructor told him that in England, it is he who is derided immensely. His instructor, an Episcopal priest and professor of theology as well as a practicing scientist, is the leader of a group of scientists who are also ordained ministers. He does not question evolution or any other law or established theory. But because he believes, worships and promotes God, he is subject to ridicule by the scientific and academic establishment in England.

About a year ago, I picked up a coworker of mine from the airport and drove her to the office after her honeymoon on safari. As I relished all the details of her adventure, she was telling me about how great their guide was. He was so well educated, so smart, but he was really religious. A lot of the guides on their tour were really religious but they were well-educated. "It was really strange," she told me.

Then one night I was listening to a book talk on C-Span radio. It was Julia Sweeney reading from and talking about her book about her journey from Catholicism to Atheism. It was of course funny and poignant. Then an audience member asked her a question which I forget but to which she answered essentially that her mom was still a Christian because she didn't have the insight and introspection that Julia did. I don't know Julia Sweeney's mom. Maybe she isn't that introspective, but it seemed really presumptuous. Kind of like how I once told a good friend of mine I was going through a crisis in faith and she just shrugged and said I'd some day realize there wasn't a god because all smart people do eventually.

So that's where we are in this society? That if you're a believer, then you must be ignorant? Isn't that just as bigotted as believing an atheist has no soul or nothing to contribute to your own spiritual growth?

What bothers me about this is that this prejudice does not come from traditionally uneducated people. Fundamentalist groups in this country tend to appeal to people who may not have had that broad a formal or life education. They appeal to groups who know others mostly like them and who have not been in broad contact with people whose experiences differ. But the "you can't be smart and faithful" folks tend to come from more ethnically heterogeneous areas or, in the case of critics like Dawkins, places of high education. These tend to be the same folks who are much more socially tolerant. And yet, I can only suspect two things which would contribute to this prejudice:

1) Like my coworker who's Catholic in name only, they've lived in societies that are so secularized that to even talk about faith openly puts you in a weird light (places like Vermont - c'mon Dean; nobody in VT talks about religion, that's why your sudden openness rings hollow in the South). So they only thing they know of open discussion is what they see in the media which only focuses on book-burning scandals. You'd never hear about the church I helped charter in Texas, led by a gay man. Nor of the illegal refugees my church gave shelter to during an emergency. Kind of like how if you live in an all-white area of the country, you may be prone to fear blacks because guess how the media portrays them.

2) Maybe no matter how heterogeneous one's environs, this actually just goes to show we really only surround ourselves with like-minded people. Though I spent a large chunk of my childhood in the very Baptist Texas Panhandle, my parents encouraged me to seek other points of view and didn't fret when I asked questions. And though the majority of my friends in the past have been white of Christian background, I've always felt very comfortable getting to know people of other faiths and heritages as well as friends who reject the notion of God. If someone can't fathom that a person could be both genuinely faithful and genuinely intelligent and introspective, to me that not only shows a lack of imagination on the part of that person, it shows they've never really stepped outside their tight circle of experience to get to know someone of a differing viewpoint.

I have always been angry at Christians who stand in the way of education. Not only does it paint a negative picture of us with which others can easily (and often rightly) attack us, it shows great distrust in God. It tells me they want to keep God in a box; that they don't believe God could still be speaking to us, that new scientific revelations don't have to be soulless, but rather, can reveal the utter beauty of God's handiwork. Still, the tendency I feel like I have been sniffing - to believe that faith is a sure sign of idiocy - is just as offensive as the prejudice of the fundamentalist. It's essentially the same prejudice in my mind: you are less than desirable; I have nothing to learn from you; I must save you and society from yourself.

How haughty both sides of the fence are. I'm so glad I sit precariously on the top and sneer down at them both! teehee! What is it that pride comes before, again ...? ;)

File this under "Well, duh!"

A recent article from Discovery Channel news reports that stereotypes dehumanize the people they're applied to. Wow. Really? Who'd've thunk?

In a study, psychology students were asked to list some "uniquely human traits."

These traits, generally believed to distinguish us from other animals, were linked with civility, moral sensibility, intelligence and rationality.

Those stereotyped thus are at risk of dehumanization.

"Likening a group to animals goes on in everyday perception of other people," he says.

He said children, artists and the elderly all tend to be stereotyped this way.

That's awesome. I consider myself more of the artist-type. Fab for me! I'll be easier to torture, apparently.

Speaking of dehumanization and psychological experiments, if you want to hear an interview with the professor who ran the Stanford Prison Experiment back in 1971, listen here. He's apparently written a new book applying what he learned in that study to life, war and math teachers.

... oh, sorry. Was I dehumanizing there? What can I say? As an artist, I lack civility, rationality and moral sensibility.

Happy ... Easter?

Springtime is one of my favorite times of year out here in major metropolis East Coast America. It's truly lovely. The blooming trees and daffodils fill me with joy. Something I have noticed, however, is that for as long as we've lived here, Easter has never felt like Easter to me. That's not true, our first Easter here - 6 years ago - was beautiful: sunny, mild and glorious.

Every Easter since has seemed to follow weather pattern that is just antithetical to the point of Easter in my opinion. It basically goes like this. We have some warm days in early Spring ... or maybe we don't, but invariably, Easter Sunday is almost always overcast, wet, cold or some combination of the three. You don't feel inspired to wear sandals or pastel colors at all.

Today is of course, no different. Though it's partly sunny right now, it's also about 35 degrees outside. I believe the only reasonable response to that on an Easter Sunday is: you're bloody kidding me, right? Having spent the bulk of my childhood in the Panhandle of Texas which is prone to see it last snowstorms in mid-March and is not warm year-round like people think, I'd like to think maybe I'd be cool with this meteorological holiday abomination. But no. Because even in the Panhandle, it's generally 65 to 75 degrees on Easter Sunday, so you can still hunt eggs in short sleeves and not have to wear anything heavier than a light sweater to church. However, global climate change seems to have afflicted the native lands today as well. It's 45 degrees here, feeling 32; there it's 32 degrees feeling 22. (Note to self: never move further north than New York City.)

Why does this upset me so much? Because Easter should be mildly warm and inviting. It should be the time of the year when we feel comfortable enough to shed layers and let our bare skin soak in the first few kisses of the sun. Easter is when Jesus rose from the dead; it shouldn't feel dead and defeated outside. Rain on Easter is an unfortunate occasional occurrence. But after 7 years of rain or overcast or stupid cold as this, I'm prone to just ask Jesus to sleep in another week or so. If I were Christ, that's what I would do: hit the snooze button until it's picnic weather. "Melt the clouds of sin and sadness/ Drive the dark of night away" go some lines from "Joyful Joyful We Adore Thee." How can I feel like the clouds of sin and sadness are melted when it's bloody raining outside? Even from the pagan viewpoint of Easter or Spring festivities: seriously, do you feel fertile and like you want to celebrate renewal when people are wearing dark overcoats and the sun hides her face?

Honey thinks it's odd and amusing that I am so vehement about Easter Sunday weather. (Did I tell you there was a dusting of snow o'er everything at 7AM, yesterday? Infuriating.) His viewpoint, and I hope someday I can adopt it is that it's the weather and it's beyond your control, so why get bothered? I guess I have such fond memories of new dresses and playing barefoot outdoors on Easter Sunday after church, that it saddens me to see children here bundle up at church on Easter. Plus, I'm a very solar-powered individual, I've decided. I enjoy changing seasons and appreciate what they bring to the environment, but ultimately I LOVE the sun. And once winter is over, all I want is to bathe in the sun's light and soak up her warmth.

On the upside, Honey and I did go to church this morning. It was the first time this year. Last year was the first time ever that I hadn't worshipped on Easter and I felt empty for like a week. It's so strange, not having gone to church for all intents and purposes, in over two years that some Sundays really are more impactful than others. I love celebrating the resurrection, ultimately. Miss any other Sunday but the one that celebrates the defining event of the religion. We went to a neighborhood Lutheran church. We'd not done a Lutheran service in a while and we both forgot how much they love to do readings. It was like out the wazoo - almost Catholic.

The service was fair; as first time visitors, it felt a little alien, but we acclimated decently. The sermon was okay, but no really new inspiration on the Easter story - or at least, none that I picked up on. Maybe he needed to work on the delivery. In the 10 years Honey and I have been together, the ministers of churches we've belonged to have been excellent orators. Even my dad, whose tone tends to be more colloquial and less "speakery", is a really engaging storyteller, capable of great analogies. So our expectations are kind of artificially high. We did sing "Christ the Lord is Risen Today," which to me makes any Easter service, no matter how full of flourish or understated, complete. Two years ago, at my sister-in-law's church, we didn't sing it on Easter and it felt kind of like ... "no, I don't think he is risen today."

Of course, contributing to that sentiment was that it 48 degrees and rainy outside.

Prickly bias pickle

I'm not sure what to make of this whole "sale of American stateside ports management to a United Arab Emirates based company" hub-ub. Part of me says, "wtf? Isn't that like the fox guarding the henhouse?" But then I take a deep breath and tell myself to stop being such a prejudiced, racist slimeball. But then I think that to be "okay" with the sale to a UAE company is to be on President Bush's side. And that's one prejudice I really don't feel like relenting. Just like if I stop travelling by air, "the terrorists win," if I don't object to the UAE company sale, "the purzident" wins. CRAP! It's such a conundrum! Which knee jerk prejudice do give in to? The one that fears that everyone south of Athens and east of Rio de Janeiro wants a sea of dead Americans? Or the the one that recoils at that a hazing-loving, science-fearing, subpar, lying leader may be in the right every now and then? ... I think I'll just have to eat crow on this one and at least superficially agree with the purzident.

It's my understanding that these ports were most recently owned and managed by a British company. I question at least the surface wisdom of selling any stateside transport management to any foreign country - probably because we live in a post-9/11 country. However, it seems that as long as there's that precedent, to deny sale to an economic and political ally just because a lot of people in your country associate another country as "one of them," is just wrong and caves into prejudices like mine or worse. Frist - or some other Republican lawmaker - was talking from the house or senate floor yesterday about how 3 of the 9/11 hijackers either came from or had ties to the UAE. He seemed to think this was enough for us to deny this sale. Well, if our fearless elected officials (or "defaulted by voter apathy" officials) truly worried about business with countries who gave us baddies, we'd've long ago ditched Saudi Arabia and we'd've been legally mandated to ride bikes or drive super-alt fuel cars. Or, of course, we would've gone to war. But ... y'know ... whatever.

If the UAE based company sale is completed, I figure one of many, but probably two, things could happen: A) Nothing. The ports go on as they always have and the Coast Guard does their job, protecting us as best they as they are able. B) An inevitable terrorist attack occurs in our porous ports. The UAE company has major egg on their face, just because they were the ones in ownership and virtually every non-Muslim American's fear has been confirmed. (Maybe even confirming the fears of some Muslim Americans.) Shrub and Co. start piling the shit as high as possible to divert attention from the fact that they haven't done a good job building up the safety of American ports, and they end up blaming the Coast Guard. ... That said, I think the UAE company is going to do all it can to make itself look good to the average American. I have no idea if or how theocratic the UAE is, but I suspect this company will do what it can to keep not only a very secular image in the US, but weed out any potential "right-wing" employees, so as to minimize the occurence of or appearance there could ever be an occurence of an "inside job." I actually have more confidence in the UAE company to monitor itself over here than I do in my own government's commitment to increasint and improving port security. But the UAE company has more to lose in public opinion if anything goes wrong.

I'm unhappy with the sale, but I can live with it a lot better than I think Capitol Hill or the media can.
In the meantime, I'm reading a cool book called Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking. It's by the dude who wrote Tipping Point, which is still on my to read list. I'm only like 50 pages into this one, thus far, but I love how he's getting into the whole "gut reaction" thing. I'm finishing up the piece on the Gottman Institute at UWashington which studies marital and similarly committed relationships. If you've ever heard the piece on This American Life about it (episode 261, "The Sanctity of Marriage" air date 3/26/04) you know the gist of this chapter. If not, you must listen to it. ... my honey is falling asleep, so I should probably turn out the light and catch my 40 winks, too.

I'm sure all 2 of my readers will have something to say to chasten my igorant ass, tomorrow.