Thoughts from the left field...

So taking a quick break from pregnancy madness...

Yes, I'm still pregnant.  Please stop asking me that!

I'm at 37 weeks.

Why, thank you, I also think I'm huge.

No, it's not twins.

Yes, I'm aware I could go 2 weeks over.

Thanks for pointing out that I look amazing.  Though your shock that I'm still pregnant kinda takes the joy out of your observation.  Can we talk about something else now?  'K thanks.

One of my favorite "movies" is actually the mini-series "Band of Brothers."  I have a mild to medium sized obsession with the European theatre of war in WWII and I don't know if you remember me talking about it a bit WAAAAAY back in 2009 in this post, which I just re-read and found very funny, if I do say so m'self, so if you want to wander off and give it a good read, just go on ahead and then come back.    Or not.  No pressure.

Anywaaaaay, DR1 is showing "The Pacific" right now.  It's not as good as "Band of Brothers" which is more documentary feeling and includes interviews with the guys who really had been there and done that, but it's good for showing how freaking awful the Pacific theatre of war really was.  And seriously, it was AWFUL.  Why we decided to go back to fight in the tropics two more times in the twentieth century is beyond me...  'Course now it's the "in" thing to be fighting in the desert.  Can we swap to arctic battles, a la Hoth for a while, just to mix it up some?  It would give our submarine captains something to do, at any rate.

Both of my grandfathers served in the Pacific.  As far as I know, neither were in Guadalcanal or Midway or Iwo Jima.  But neither really talked about their experiences very much and we kids were not encouraged to ask either.  Now it's too late because they've both passed away... but I also don't think I'd feel comfortable asking them about something that might have been repressed for a reason.  Towards the end, one of my grandfathers did randomly start telling stories about the war, about arresting Japanese soldiers hidden in caves, but it was all a bit garbled, Gramps being a bit off by that stage.

But the point being, I had relatives that served.  (My dad, for the record, was drafted but got a medical discharge, for which we are all eternally grateful.  My dad and Vietnam would just not have got on well, I'm sure of it.)  And so I asked my DB what his grandparents were doing, you know, while living under the Nazi thumb and all.

The answer: nothing.  Just doing their thing.  Making shoes and whatever the other one did (totally blanked on that one, my bad).  And I had a bit of a mind-boggle.  For the record: there were Danes who sabotaged the train tracks and kept goods from supplying the German army, who made their way to England to volunteer for the war, who smuggled Jews to Sweden, who resisted in various ways - who were right and proper heroes.  But there were far more who didn't really do anything other than what they had been doing before the war.  Only now with more Nazis.

Back to the mind-boggle.

Part of my historical narrative or what-have-you growing up was that Europe totally sucked in WWII and we Americans had to come in and pull everyone's butts out of the fire.  But then you "get educated" and learn that really, America helped a great deal, but we should downplay that bit and spend some time pointing out the plucky Brits, daring French, and stalwart Belgians who were a huge part of the victory.   Oh, and we should sort of tip our hats to the Russians, but only after pointing out that Stalin was a big dick and we hate him lots, the commie bastard, but thanks for distracting Hitler even if it meant shooting your own people IN THE BACK, jerk.  And now it's a full pendulum swing back again - my grandparents were getting shot at so yours could MAKE SHOES??  *boggle*

The DB is mighty embarrassed, to tell the truth.  We had a good long discussion about the role of the military in DK and how it is perceived by the average Dane (an embarrassment and something only homicidal freaks do).  My husband was one of the "lucky" few to get drafted and he hated his boot camp and opted for the civil service as fast as he could.  Strangely enough, it's all the American war dramas he's watched that have given him a different view of the military in Denmark.  (Lord knows his boot camp was a PR disaster.  He was trained "in case someone invaded Denmark."  Who's going to invade Denmark, the DB asked.  "Never you mind!" shouted the drill sergeant, "now go crawl in the mud with your out-dated rifle!")  He's still pretty embarrassed by the Danish Military Might, it's small and managed to get involved in the wrong wars, but now he sees it more as a tool that can be used for good, if the higher ups weren't a bunch of asshats.  He wonders what he would have done if he'd lived in Denmark in WWII.  He also wonders what it would be like to live somewhere were the military is a source of nationalist (although my conservative friends would prefer me to say "patriotic") pride and what would it be like to have all of your friends signing up to go off to war.  (He'd like to think that he would have resist if he lived in DK, but isn't sure he'd have known what to do, but is fairly confident he would have signed up with his friends if he'd lived in the US.)

Me, I have a hard time imagining what it would be like to *not* have seen pictures of my grandfathers in uniform.  Just about everyone I know from the US had at least one relative who has served in one war (or "armed conflict") or another.  My hometown newspaper covers deployments, medals, and graduations of "local" troops.  Conversely, I imagine that it was a lot easier in Denmark to protest the war in Afghanistan and Iraq than it was in the US (to all those assholes who rolled down their windows to yell at us to get behind the Commander and Chief, I just wanna say I TOLD YOU SO! *pbth*).  Yeah, you should have tried to be a pacifist in New England after 9/11 - that was not exactly easy, y'all.  So glad that thousands of people had to die before I was proved right.  *Sigh*

Like many Americans, I'm torn between the support I have for the men and women who voluntarily sign up to put their lives on the line for a noble concept and the disgust I have for the men and women who send those brave souls into pointless conflicts.  I'm as proud of my grandfathers and their generation for going to war as I am of those who fought to bring our troops home from Vietnam.  I will carry placards and partake in sit-ins to promote peace, but I will totally blow your fucking head off if you lay a hand on my family.

It's not Veterans Day, or Memorial Day, or the 5th of May (Denmark's liberation day) - but go on, hug a veteran.  You know you want to.

Musings at 19 weeks

I swore I'd never wear leggings.  But then I got pregnant and fat and couldn't wear my long underwear and since it was deemed that all pregnant women are always hot, there isn't any maternity long underwear in the land of cold-flesh-stripping-wind, so I succumbed to the next best thing.  At least I'm not wearing them under sweaters and pretending they are the same thing as pants, because, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, they are SO NOT. Yes, chick on the bike with the floral panties, you may want to reconsider your fashion choices.

Anyway, in this post I want to take you back a few years, to a time when I was dedicated to the idea that I would never have children.  I'm not a fan of kids.  I can think of a few that I like, some quite a lot, but generally, they piss me off.  And babies?  Seriously, socks and duct tape were invented because of babies.  I can think of 100 reasons to not have children.  Many of which are very noble, like “there are too many people in the world, I should not add another mouth to it!”  Others less noble but no less valid like “I really am grossed out by poop.”  Standing in line behind a woman and her brood of snotty entitled brats, I'm the one usually thinking, "enforced sterilization, brilliant idea!  We can put it in kool-aid!"

I still have those thoughts, by the way.  Don't think the "joys" of impending motherhood have made me baby-crazy.  I see a screaming child throwing himself on the floor of the supermarket while his mother begs him to stop and offers him chocolate and I'm thinking, "if I run you both down in the parking lot, Darwin will thank me.  I'll get a motherf*cking medal!"

Years ago I didn’t even think I had what it took to be a mother.  The culturally reinforced idea being that the “Perfect Mother” is patient and caring and loving and calm and, above all, happy to sacrifice every ounce of their soul to the care and nurture of their child. You hear these ideals all the time from mothers, don't you?  The "I gave it all up for my child and it was the best thing that ever happened to us" "Once I knew I was going to be a mother, nothing else mattered" "You stop being selfish the moment you become a mother."  Quick, quick, tell me more about how you gave up saving gorillas and a place at Harvard Law school for your child!  I can totally match that.  I gave up… heroin.  Yeah.  Actually, I was *going* to be a heroin junkie, but I gave up that dream for the sake of my child.  The sacrifices I make, you wouldn’t even believe it!  You also hear the scorn in their voices when they talk about women who put their children into daycare and rush off back to work (and who worse yet, are glad to talk to adults again), who, oh the horrors, dyed their hair while pregnant (it totally gives your kid autism, dontcha know), the women who hire nannies and then ship the spawn off the boarding schools. Okay, I'm totally with you on that one.  Hiring an au pair so you can keep up with your book club-museum openings-Sex in the City-lifestyle?  Why the hell did you bother to breed, you cow!  And since I knew that I would not want to stop being an archaeologist and going to far off places,  I just figured that children and I would just not mix.

But I've come to think about motherhood differently, obviously, before I got pregnant (so this is not the hormones talking, I thought this stuff out long and hard).  I changed my mind and figured, hell yeah, I can totally do this, I have amazing genes and gifts that should be passed on to posterity!  If other women can keep up with their careers and have grown up jobs, why is this denied to archaeologists?  Why can’t I have it all?  Why can’t I just try?  Why, since I certainly don’t fit into anyone’s idea of a cultural norm, expect to fit into the über-narrow category of “Perfect Mother?”  Why should I even try - the “Perfect Mother” usually turns up on Nanny 911 or Supernanny begging for help because she’s too patient and caring and has become nothing but a breeding doormat with a brood of future sociopaths!  

This change in thinking is because I've been reading a lot of blogs over these last few years - written by women who may not necessarily fit the culturally accepted idea of the “Perfect Mother,” but who rock at parenthood all the same. Women like The Bloggess, as well as Dooce, the Pioneer Woman, and Aunt Becky (from Mommy wants Vodka), gave me the confidence I needed when I began to realize that I wanted to make little Archaeospawns with the Danish Boy.  You don't need to have all the things that THEY tell you make a “Perfect Mother.”  What you really need are balls.

Metaphorically speaking.  Although the other kind do help with the conception bit of Mommyhood.  

(And I do know of a number of individuals who have balls, who make excellent Mommies, although we call them Daddies, but I'm talking about the cultural ideal of "motherhood" to which I think many women feel the need to live up to.  Fatherhood comes with it’s own set of problems.)

Dooce taught me that you can have severe post-partum depression, ending in a full on break-down, get hospitalized, and still be a great mom (no one's died - I say, SUCCESS!).  Pioneer Woman taught me that you can end up living a life you never expected and you are quite possibly not qualified for but still successfully raise kids in circumstances you never imagined and that it's okay to not do laundry and miss sushi.  Aunt Becky taught me that you can be full of compassion, patience and respect for people, and sometimes you can want to beat them with baseball bats, get uproariously drunk and dance on tables, and this is okay too.  The Bloggess taught me that you can be off the wall, slightly nuts, and absolutely glorious and still be a mom.  

Then there's all the real-life moms I know...

Actually, they intimidate me because they are totally grace under fire.  Ladies, could you please bitch a bit more about your kids?  The times you want to bop them on the head or run away and join the circus because at least then you'd get some peace and quiet?  I mean, I get why you don't, because some nutjob (or ex-thing) will call child-protective services on you and trolls will leave nasty messages telling you how you have simply RUINED your child's life because don't you know EVERY CHILD IS A GIFT FROM GOD?

Despite having too many fantastic real-life roll-models that totally undermine my confidence levels, I realized that I have many excellent Mom qualities that are going to help me be an awesome mom.  Ever seen the contents of my purse?

Half of that stuff is first aid stuff.  The Tic-Tacs?  Actually holds painkillers.  The silver pill packet? Antihistamines.  Ray Bans?  'Cause a girl has to look cool, you know. (Hey I had a lot more money last year.  I worked in the desert, I needed sunglasses.  I lived in a tent, I deserved Ray Bans.)  I have eye drops and hand creams, lip balm, cuticle cream, iodine wipes and band-aids.  Hair clips and bobby pins (I may need to pick a lock) and throat lozenges.  I have a bus pass for Århus.  I have scratch paper and pens because I need to write stuff down (ISBN numbers for books I want, addresses, things I need to buy or remember) and my husband is a journalist who never remembers to carry a pen and notepad of his own.   I am PREPARED.

I may get distracted and put the peanut butter in the fridge and the butter in the pantry, but I know where almost all of my husband's belongings are at any given time.  I have cat like reflexes - my husband came THIS CLOSE to grabbing the door of the wood stove, which was HOT, with his bare hand, and I reached out, grabbed his hand and yelled "NO!"  I can also whip up a risotto out of whatever is in my kitchen.  I'm a lot more patient than I thought I was (dig with a stark raving lunatic who can't find his ass with both hands and a map, if you manage not to kill him - or even lose your temper with him when he totally screws up, *and* successfully excavate a square despite his best efforts, you are WAY more patient than Job, who was actually really kinda whinny).  And did I mention I have balls?  I can say "no" and risk you hating me forever and ever and I know you totally mean it this time!  I catch my kid eating dirt?  Ah, well, it's full of minerals, how about next time we eat some carrots, m'kay?  Skin your knee?  Uh, oh, do you think we'll have to amputate?  No? You think you're going to make it?  Well aren't you brave!  Let me just bind that up for you and you can be on your way then.

So thank you to all the moms out there who gave me insight into the workings of the mommy mind, those who blazed a trail for me to follow, those who tripped, fell, broke a limb and lived to tell me “dude, there is a serious pot-hole up ahead, watch your ass!” I say:

THANK YOU!  I AM GOING TO TOTALLY ROCK THE SHIT OUT OF MOMMYHOOD!

Some randomness for your day

For my "text" I used the Geek Quiz blog post from last week.  I'm rather tickled.  I think I need a stuffed Cthulhu for my desk.

I write like
H. P. Lovecraft

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Totally hereditary...

In case you've ever wondered if I was dropped on my head at birth... well, my mom is suspiciously mum on the matter.  But if you've ever met my dad, you'd quickly know where I got my sense of humor.

The following excerpts were taken from emails my dad sent me.  The brain he's referring to at first is his old Day Planner organizer.

 <= it looked like this.

"Yes, your Dad bought a  Blackberry.  President Obama had one.  If it's good enough for him, it's good enough for me.  It has replaced my old brain.  The old brain was wearing out, was large and cumbersome.  Now my new brain is smaller and fits on my belt and vibrates when it gets a message.  Somewhat like my real brain.  Except for the part about the belt.

  Today we have a man installing an irrigation system at our house. ... I enjoy the solitude of watering plants, but we have so many plants now that it is more time consuming than I'd like it to be.  Even though many of the plants are dead.  Watering dead plants is just not what it used to be."  

"If tourist season only begins in mid-June does that mean you have to wait till then to shot them?  Is there a limit?  Is Sarah Palin aware of this?  Dick Cheny?  When does tourist season end?  Have you seen many tourist tied to the hoods of cars?  Do you see many tourist lying on the side of the road?  Send us a picture."

Updates and things

Boy it's been a while! I managed to post a quiz and I've run around commenting on some blogs, but otherwise it's been all anxiety, highs, and lows in the archaeogoddess universe. I've written about a gazillion blog posts in my head... often at 2 am when I trying to get myself to sleep and I'm too tired to get up and write them down, but it doesn't keep the brain from type type typing away behind my sandpaper eyes.

News:

• I am going to Qatar for 5 months, beginning Oct. 31st for a PAID archaeology gig. This is excellent because I need the money and I need to start building a career, neither of which is happening because I spend all my time researching for a never-ending dissertation. (See below)
• Because I'm going off to work and contribute to the mortgage, my advisors on my dissertation don't think I'll finish any time soon. In fact, they've suggested that I've got so much work to do that I should go live in the library. Somehow I've got to balance Danish class with research. Somethings going to give. I wonder if I can take a break from Danish not just for the time I'll be out of the country, but also now that I need those extra hours every day....
• Suggestions from my advisors have included the following vague and scary bits: "...you may need to change the title of your dissertation and your focus." Since the title is a very exact description of what I am doing, not a nice vague sexy title with jargon, I am very worried. Focus... eh, I knew that was coming. Like I ever had a chance to write an anthropological dissertation when I've got art historians for readers! And they are all asking me to dump the economic section and I want to scream "I TOLD YOU IT WAS F**KING POINTLESS YOU STUPID NAVEL GAZERS! BUT OH NO YOU KEPT QUOTING BILL CLINTON AT ME 'it's the economy, stupid' AND I TOLD YOU IT DIDN'T WORK BUT YOU SAID 'I'M THE PERSON WHO KNOWS THINGS AND I SAY YOU DO THIS' AND SO I DID AND NOW YOU ARE ALL PRETENDING LIKE IT WAS ALL ME WHO'S BEEN FORCING THIS POINTLESS SECTION FORWARD!!" But that's why I blog this stuff. So I don't end up killing little old men.

Things done:

• The laundry.
• The Twilight series from start to finish in a little over two days. Heh.
• A haircut.

Things left undone:

• Knitting. I've got to start knitting while watching tv. I should watch more tv.

Evidence of love in an increasingly cold world:

• My birthday was a few days ago and my husband, who has been in Holland since the last week of August, had bought my birthday present and hid it in his sock drawer before he left. He called and told me where it was so I would have a present from him on my birthday (well, actually a day late since I was out with friends on my birthday and nowhere near the sock drawer). He rocks my world, that man.
• Say what you will about Facebook, getting happy birthday wishes from people you know from all over the world is fan-freakin'-tastic. Having people checking up on you from time to time to make sure you haven't gone crazy or dropped into a spiral of depression = awesome!

Completely random crap from my head:

• I finally figured out how to make pre-made frozen pan-fried spring rolls that don't suck. Fry them in oil. I think my husband burns them in butter. Ugh. I love him dearly, but WTF? Then they are all soft and mushy on the outside, completely lacking in the crunch that one needs. And I bought kick ass sweet chili sauce that I would drink if I could. Instead I'm just putting it on everything. Oh, and if you are going to drop frozen spring rolls into hot oil... hold the lid of the pan like a shield in front of you and have a pair of long handled tongs to reach around to flip them. Because ice meets hot oil is a terrible thing. Why some idiot thought that it would be a good idea to make frozen spring rolls that must be fried is beyond me. Obviously someone who doesn't cook at home.
• Going to Qatar means Projekt Dejlig will require some alterations. No American Thanksgiving at my place. Sorry!! I figured by this late in the year there'd be no way we were going to be leaving before December, but I figured wrong. Well, that frozen pumpkin mash will still be good for a non-Thanksgiving pie, right? Also means severe cuts in Christmassing. I'll get a Christmas vacation, but it's not going to be the overthetop extravaganza I was fantasizing about. But finally, after all these years, I am going to be a real, paid, archaeologist.

This is my day

This pretty much sums up how I am feeling today.

Meanwhile I am knitting a... well.... it was going to be a scarf, only it is much thinner than I intended. There was a casting on issue. I could cast on then as I did the first row I kept dropping stitches. The time I finally got it to work I had only made it 8 stitches wide. Schtupid. Anyway, now it's a bookmark. DON'T BE TELLING ME YOU SHOULDN'T KNIT BOOKMARKS AND THAT MY BOOKS WON'T CLOSE PROPERLY! DO YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT? My goal is to finish it and try something a bit WIDER.

(Actually it's a fairly good doll scarf, maybe my stuffed penguin would like it instead? I'll ask her tonight.)

Comedy wise, I'm going to investigate Russell Peters a bit more.



Hopefully I'll be able to knit and watch without poking myself in the eye.

And if you were wondering, although you probably weren't, I am still cooking like a mad woman. There have just been a severe lack of kitchen disasters to write about. I may have even perfected risotto. Or at least gotten pretty good at it. I just now need to learn to make less than 8 servings at a go. I *am* cooking for one while my Dane studies abroad in Holland. Yeah, and WTF, I'm stuck here in Denmark and he's off camping in the woods and chillin' in coffee houses? Well, it's only fair, I get to head off to warm and exotic locations in the summer... But still, I'm stuck in DENMARK without a DANE!!??!!

Because I can't help myself...

In case not everyone noticed that yesterday's image included "no PUBIC option" (damn it, if congress doesn't put free Brazilian waxes for everyone in the new health care plan, I ain't voting for it!) I give you LOLPolitics. (Actually brought to you by Pundit Kitchen aka LOL News.)

Brings ignorant to a whole new level!

7 reasons why you want to be my friend...

This challenge came to me from The Writer. The task is to list 7 things that make me awesome and then tag 7 bloggers that I think are awesome to do the same. I tried to tag 7 bloggers that she didn't tag, so as to spread the "joy" far and wide. (I would have tagged more, but I'd like some people to still like me tomorrow!)

7 things that make me awesome

This was HARD. I can tell you what I suck at: I suck at telling you how I’m awesome. Can’t we all just accept that I’m awesome and leave it at that?

No?

Gah, I’m going to be so embarrassed by the end of this post I’ll have to go hide my head under the blankets. I once wrote a recommendation for myself that was so blah that the professor gave me a stern talking to and refused to sign it until I’d jazzed it up.

So I spent the day thinking and then the night dreaming about this, and these are the seven things about myself that either I know I kick ass at, or I have been told REPEATEDLY that I’m good at. If you disagree, please don’t tell me, I’ll be crushed. ☺

1) Organization goddess

How many people do you know who have organized their cupboards and then made a diagram to aid others in understanding the system? My greatest goal is to get a lamination machine and one of those label makers and go to town on my apartment. Nothing would ever be out of place ever again!

This is highly amusing to people who have known me for a long time. My jacket pockets were black holes of doom. I once found a full sized stapler in there. But you never know when you need to staple something!! My travel purse can still be that way; I’ve lost knives in it (bad move if they’re found by security at the airport, damn X-ray machine) and yet I always had a pocket for gum and candy as well as a bag of emergency medical supplies.

You know, I dream of owning a filing cabinet.

When it comes to planning a trip, I am ALL over it.

Need to schedule 60 high school interns to 150 tasks spread out over three months so that no student works with a teacher who they can’t stand, everyone gets equal hours and at least one of their top choice tasks? Ooooh, it makes my toes tingle with excitement!

2) Cooking diva

From being unable to boil an egg to whipping up a three-dish meal, OMG who is this strange woman and what happened to the microwave burritos? I love to cook and I am damn good at it.

I think this was always a latent gift, because my sister would only eat salad if I’d made a specific salad dressing. She says that I’m the only one who can do it right. Woe to me if I decide to make another dressing or play with the recipe. She waits all year for that salad dressing and she will have it!

3) If you discount my arachnophobia...I'm one brave lady

Dude, I packed up my life in the US and came to a country where people speak a strange throat disease and eat herring on bread. If that’s not bravery I don’t know what is. I also work in parts of the world that the US constantly issues travel warnings about.

(That may be stupidity... but isn't that a form of bravery too?)

I’ll try just about anything once. Maybe not sky diving or bungee jumping... I fall all over the place enough as it is.

There are a lot of things that scare me, but I do them anyway. Again, the line between stupidity and bravery is very fine.

4) Non-judgementalist... which is too a word, stop judging my spelling!!

There is very little you can say or do that will shock and appall me. You’d have to be a racist, cat-killing asshole with a taste for small children for me to refuse to be in your company. I can be surprised by what you tell me, but I’ll get over it. I guarantee I'll accept you for who you are and if you are a good person inside I will always love you and forgive you.

5) I’m funny, or at least I amuse you people...

I’m not going to start doing stand-up comedy, but I can usually make a person laugh. I can be serious, really, I swear to you, but I can’t stand the thought of taking everything so seriously that you miss out of the humor and joy of life. Life is funny! Just look at the duck-billed platypus!

6) Last week we lived in Bermuda, this week we’re in Canada, we aren’t sure where we’re going to be next… no worries!

No, we’ve actually been in Denmark for the last 6 months. I’ve never been to Bermuda and only just across the border into Canada twice, but we have no idea where we’ll be next year. And that’s okay. I don’t need to have a set plan. I can adapt. I’m very adaptable. Besides, I love to organize (see #1) so changing everything just gives me something new and fun to do.

7) I am the Archaeogoddess

I am an archaeologist, how freakin’ awesome is that? I go to crazy places and dig up old stuff! And I’m damn good at it. I’ve excavated 4000 year old burials, handled numerous 2000 year old coins, and worn 1500 year old earrings. I’ve also been in possession of a body buried only 30 years ago and I have carefully excavated a beer can. Hey, it’s not always really old stuff! We archaeologists often downplay our awesomeness because we basically spend 10 years in school to learn how to dig square holes with crappy equipment and none of us are going to save the world or even a single life… but we know you all wanted to be archaeologists at some point.

Now for my seven unlucky bastards friends... (In no particular order...)
The Craig
Laura, Queen of the Universe
Fuzzy
PiNG
Indra
Corinne
Babs

Why the Danish Royal Family rocks...

Okay, so it wasn't the funniest of CNN reports, but everyone was fine and another nut who thinks he can make stupid jokes about bombs on planes is safely locked up. Do you think that as they dragged him away he was trying to explain "Danish humor" to his we-aren't-laughing Danish security officers?

Danish humor is not "funny-ha-ha" but "were-you-dropped-on-your-head-at-birth" kind of humor. By the way, after hearing a particularly bad Danish joke, asking "were you dropped on your head at birth?" is an excellent repartee and your skills at Danish humor will be considered finely tuned. Because being dropped on your head at birth is considered funny in Denmark.

Anyway, the point of this post, although it is pretty pointless, now that I think of it, is that what jumped out at me from this article was that the crown prince and crown princess were flying for an official trip to Washington on a commercial flight. Yeah, probably first class, but still, commercial, not private jet.

The Danish royal family has more sense than American automakers. It's not that big of a surprise, but then remember just over 200 years ago America decided it couldn't be governed by a king who talked to trees, but the rest of England was, like, whatever man, we'll just lock him up and wait for him to die, what's the big deal?* Royalty and sanity are not always bedfellows.






*yes, I am aware that the American revolution had little to do with George's preoccupation with tree conversations and mostly to do with what they saw as unfair taxation without adequate representation in Parliament and that if it hadn't been for the Regency, England would have suffered greatly for lack of a sane king and it was in fact a very big deal at the time.

I would gladly have Jon Stewart's baby

I just wanna throw that out there.

There is this widely held belief that funny people are not smart. I think it dates back to the class clown in elementary school. You know, the kid who used to put pencils up his nose because that was the only way he could gain approval? And because you knew one funny kid in your class and you knew he was a total idiot, you extrapolated your experience and assumed all funny people were not necessarily the brightest crayon in the drawer.

And by "you" I do not mean to point the finger at "you" the reader but more of a general drunken pointing around the bar at "youse" who may not be in the bar at all, but is in fact a cow in the field over yonder.

So don't be all up in my face and saying I'm calling you stupid. Especially if you were the class clown. You all scare me with the pencil thing - don't you know it can go into your brain and you could DIE!?!

Anyway not all comedians are smart and not all nerds are brilliantly funny. But sometimes you get really funny crazy smart people. Jon Stewart is one of these people. Yeah, he's got writers to help him out, but in the hot seat, going head to head with someone, it's all on him.

I call on you to witness the YouTube Jon Steward vs. Crossfire showdown. Check out time stamp 7:51: bow-tie boy (what WAS his name?) says, "Wait, I thought you were going to be funny!?" And Stewart replies, "No, I'm not going to be your monkey." I usually lose track of the conversation at that point because I'm hootin' and hollerin' and making a damn fool of myself, pointing at the screen and doing my impression of "That's the Way." It's not pretty.

But most recently there was Crammer vs. Not-Crammer. The whole thing built up over several days and I only just got around to watching all of it. Hey, yesterday I rocked my dissertation, thank you very much, I need me some articulate comedic commentary to make the little angry German in my head go away. But you can see in this episode where Crammer, having just gone on Martha Stewart and beaten the heck out of some dough after she says he should think of someone he hates... like Jon Stewart..., goes on The Daily Show and tries to make nice. Sort of smooth over the whole thing. See, Crammer got GREAT publicity out of this "show-down of the hosts" (reported on all news media - CNN WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? I'm shocked Wolf Blitzer didn't do 'round the clock coverage and the Countdown to the Debate of the Century), and now on The Daily Show he wanted to sort of say, "yeah, we could have tried harder. Oh well, what can you do?" Smile, shake hands, walk away and declare victory.

Stewart wasn't having any of it. He goes after Crammer with a mission, to point out that Crammer, among others on CNBC, knew the crap that was going on behind the scenes and then instead of calling people on it, were cashing in on it and encouraging others to cash in too. On a Business NEWS Network. I think Stewart put it best the day before, when he talked about creating an atmosphere of excitement. That's what these programs were doing. I mean, Crammer's is called "Fast Money" it's all about how to make money fast. (There are some clips shown that suggest that not only did Crammer know that there were questionable activites, but that he was going to promote them anyway. Oops. Never have the discussion about how you are going to do highly questionable things when there are cameras around. That's like rule #1 of romantic comedy. If there is a camera it will be on and you will rue the day you walked in that door!)

There is a very valid point that didn't get hammered home (well, there were a lot of points to hit) that I'd like to talk about, muhself. Crammer mentions in the interview that he's only a commentator. But his show is filled with advice, not commentary. His motto is "In Crammer We Trust" and he comes across as a financial advisor, advising the viewer on what to do with their money and where he thinks the market is going to go. His excuse on why he is not responsible for the chaos that came from his advice is that he wasn't giving advice, he was just commenting.

But does a commenter take calls and tell people to buy or sell stock?? I mean, a sports commentator is in a booth above the field looking down and talking about what's going on, he's not coaching the damn game! The sports commentator is saying, "Ah, did that look like a mask-grab Bob? I guess the ref didn't see that one!" "Oh, no wait, Jim, there's the yellow flag now!" "Boy is couch Fred going to be mad, that was Jack's 33rd personal foul this season, I think he'll be out for the championships!" That's commenting!! (And can you tell I don't watch sports?)

But I must be confused, I mean, hey, I still find The Daily Show one of the best news programs on TV. (And it will be as long as Wolf I-can't-stop-talking-to-let-my-coanchors-you-know-anchor Blizter is moderating. Wolf, SHUT UP! Your monotone makes my flesh crawl, you pretend to be stupid in order to lead an interview which insults your viewers intelligence, and you never say anything remotely interesting! Get back into the trenches and learn to be a reporter.)

Anyway, this all connects with my life in a very important way, I just managed to work "America: The Book" into my dissertation. I came across "My Life" by Bill Clinton in a bibliography on coin hoards of the second-seventh centuries and I've always wondered if it's actually cited in the text or was thrown in the bib for comic effect. It made my day! I read a lot of bibliographies and I get very bored. I was rather morose as I couldn't work any sci-fi or fantasy comparisons into my dissertation, because I also want to perk up some graduate students life someday. Thank you, Scriptores Historiae Augustae, not only did I manage to get something odd into my bibliography, but you actually made it relevant!!

O Wonderus Internets!

So I had a comment from an amazing person, GutsyWriter, which I traced back to her blog (as one does). The post she had today included a video. It was kinda long, 20 minutes and while I was intrigued by her post, I wasn't sure if I was going to watch it or not. I ought to be putting new data into my dissertation. But then, it was lunch time and I can't type while I eat a salami sandwich with jalapenos (you have to keep the top of the sandwich tight against the bottom because those jalapenos want OUT, you really need both hands).

I highly recommend this video. It's smart, it's funny, it's not really that long. It's about creativity, intelligence, and education. I felt very validated for my choice of profession, even if I never make any money at it. I also feel slightly embarrassed for being one of those disembodied heads he mentions. Explains my inability to keep myself from running into things that are quite obviously hard and unyielding. If you have ever been educated in a school setting, you will relate. If you have children who are going through the system, you will relate. If you think British people are funny, you will relate.



I think I would very much like to have an art room now. I want to get my paints out and do something with glue. That would be the room for any kind of creative expression, not just picture art, because creativity comes in all kinds of forms and I want to celebrate them all!

Librarians - superior humans all around...

It occurs to me that I have been extraordinarily spoiled while growing up. My mother is a librarian. This meant that I could get my hands on just about any book I wanted to read, quickly, and often for as long as I wanted. (Pst, if you are the child of a librarian, you don't have to pay late fines!) Now I thought that this was awesome, but I thought that the awesomeness of it was because she was my mother and loves me. Well, it is true, she is my mother and current research suggests that she loves me, but I did not quite realize the amazing amount of awesomeness that came from her being a librarian.

See, librarians are superior human beings. There is a great amount of evidence to support this.
1) The existence of L-Space and the librarian mastery of it. (Check wikipedia - they know it to be true!)
2) The following conversation I had with the on-line librarian at my university library:

Librarian: Hi!

aimguest50525423: Hi! I am currently doing research in another country. Before I left I had made a photocopy of an article, but seem to have not copied one page. Is there any way I can request that it be scanned and emailed to me?

Librarian: What was the name of the article?

aimguest50525423: "The Mildenhall Treasure: Roald Dahl's ultimate tale of the unexpected" in Antiquity 71 (1977) Issue 271 (Spring) - I need page 72! :-)

Librarian: I'll go get it and scan it. What's your email?

aimguest50525423: xxx@xxx.xxx - You are a saint! Many happy returns and a fantastic holiday to you!!

Librarian: Only a slight exaggeration. As long as it's on the shelf, we'll be all set. Happy holidays!

And low and behold it was done! LIbrarians are made of awesome.