Note to the jerk who insisted on blocking my driveway, and refused to move when I told him to, saying I needed to “ask nicely”:

You would not have said that to a man. You’re the one breaking the law here, not me, and I have no obligation to be nice to you at all.  Had I not been in a tearing hurry, I would have sat in my car and called 911.

Also, I am somewhat relieved that you clearly don’t understand sarcasm, or you would have heard my saccharine “please  move your car” for what it was: “f*** you.”

As we say in the South, bless your heart.


Summer is nearly over, thank goodness.

Today was the first day of school.  It was the first time in 18 years I have not had a child to get off to school in the morning.  I’m rather sad about this.

I had a job interview today. It was an initial interview, but it seemed to go well. I don’t know if they will call me back for a second interview.

I hate having Impostor Syndrome. 

I have letters I need to write, but I am sitting here reading about the coverage of Michael Brown case and the protests in Ferguson.

Note to my Facebook friend: I like you, but that “you weren’t there, so you don’t know the officer’s side of things?” Brown was shot six times, with several of the bullets having two entry and exit points.  He was unarmed. Res ipsa loquitur. 

The militarization of police across the country is scary.  

The head of the Missouri GOP says that Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton putting up voter registration booths is “disgusting.” Wait, isn’t that how we want people to resolve disputes with the government? By voting for elected officials who will represent their interests? 

The Red-Headed Menace rode his bike back and forth after midnight a couple of weeks ago.  I had the discussion about privilege with him, that even in our more or less enlightened part of the world, had he been a person of color he might have been stopped for no reason. It’s only been a few years since the Palo Alto police chief had to publicly apologize for a directive for officers to stop young African-American men, due to a string of burglaries where the suspect was black. 

Ferguson goes on my list of things I’m not discussing on Facebook right now, along with the situation in Gaza.

I dressed up for the interview — I don’t know what to do now. “All dressed up with no place to go” is a trite saying, but true in this case.



The problems with agriculture.

I have written about my lack of respect for the anti-GMO position as being nonscientific, agreeing with those who characterized this issue as being “the climate-change of the left.” (I am not alone on this: Neil DeGrasse Tyson feels this way, too.)  While I still think the anti-GMO stance is wrong, I am willing to admit the picture is more nuanced than I previously felt.   What both reinforced my opinion of GMOs while informing me of the bigger picture was a series of posts by Nathanael Johnson called Panic-Free GMOs at (As an aside, did you know that some of the hybrids for some crops were created by bombarding seeds with radiation? That’s natural?)

I think that there are a lot of other issues with agriculture — especially large-scale agribusiness — that we need need to be concerned with.  So, if I am not opposed to GMOs, what am I unhappy about?

1. I oppose any restrictions on research in the area of genetic engineering, by either side.  I also oppose restrictions on food production and distribution not based on science.*

2. I oppose monoculture.  Monoculture can cause a raft of environmental and social problems.

3. I oppose any crop developed through genetic modification or traditional techniques which allows farmers to increase pesticide or herbicide use, and therefore increase the exposure to harmful chemicals that farm workers face.

4. I oppose the use of slave labor in farming cacao and other crops.

5. I oppose the mistreatment of farmworkers, especially undocumented migrants in the United States. (This goes for exploitation of workers in other fields as well, such as construction.)

6. I oppose the use of child labor in agriculture.

7. I oppose the creation of sterile seeds, however developed, and patents on seeds which prevent farmers from saving seed from one crop to use for their next.

8. I oppose the routine use of antibiotics in livestock.

9. I oppose the inhuman conditions under which chickens are raised.

10.  I oppose raising crops in climates for which they were not originally suited, and the massive diversion of resources (usually water) which this requires.  That means I am unhappy at rice being grown in California’s Central Valley, which is essentially a desert.

11. I oppose fish farming methods which result in environmental degradation, as well as overfishing. The Monterey Bay Aquarium has a good guide to environmentally sound choices. (Eat more catfish! No Chilean Seabass!)

12. I oppose the destruction of habitat for the creation of palm plantations, or other crops or livestock.

13.  I oppose any regulation that favors large agribusiness over small local farmers.

And finally,

14. I strongly support increasing federal oversight of agriculture .

Except for 1, 3, and 7, very little of that involves GMOs.

Am I perfect in adhering to these principles? No, and I admit it.  But I am working on it — buying Fair Trade coffee and chocolate, where available. Looking to limit my use of products with palm oil  or palm kernel oil. Checking the Monterey Bay Aquarium’s Seafood Watch List before getting seafood.  (It’s hard: my favorite seafood craving is grouper.  I love fried-grouper sandwiches, and I admit I do not ask the restaurant where they get their fish from.)

I think those are reasonable stances to take.

*That, of course, goes for antiscientific regulation in general, whether it is GMOs, abortion regulations based on scientific fairy tales, or requirement that teachers include Intelligent Design in classroom education. (Not all of those are equally unscientific, of course. There is room for GMO debates and there is none for creationism; I do not mean to equate the two.)



When heroes fall.

I call it the Frank Lloyd Wright axiom: sometimes geniuses are horrible human beings.

Most of the time, I can separate the person from their creation: I can look at the Robie House and admire its beauty.  The fact that Wright was an arrogant SOB (the model for Ayn Rand’s protagonist in Atlas Shrugged) who ran off with the wife of a client does not in the end figure into any assessment of his work.

Sometimes, though, I cannot in my mind divorce the awful things someone has done from what it is I admire them for.

I am not a scientist. While I know Richard Feynmann for being an important figure in physics, I’d be lying if I said I understood what his accomplishments were. My admiration for Feynmann had always come from his seeming attitudes towards the world, his willingness to be provocative and outrageous, and his ability to capture lyrically the  essence of what is magnificent about the world.  Until today, one of his quotes was listed on my sidebar.

That changed with the accounts I have read recently about how Feynmann  treated women. That women continue to be mistreated and marginalized in science and academia today is not Feynmann’s fault, but the willingness to excuse his behavior sends troubling messages.  As I am n0t a scientist, and my admiration is based mainly on his nonscientific attributes, I cannot divorce his humorous writing from his willingness to prey on women, in a manner that would make a PUA proud. I cannot read his eloquent defense of the magnificence of stars set apart from any creationist mythos without also recalling that he thought the young women he targeted in bars “worse than whores” if they wouldn’t have sex with him.  I can’t let go of the fact that he likewise sought out the wives of his graduate students.  As the wife of a Ph.D., who remembers how much power your advisor can hold over your future (especially one as notable as Feynmann), had I had to face it, being sought after for special attention by a husband’s advisor would have made me sick with fear. Coercive does not even begin to describe such a situation.

He cannot be a hero any longer.

He is not the only person whose work I cannot encounter without revulsion for reasons totally separate from that work: I gave up on Orson Scott Card a long time ago.  The good that John Edwards or Anthony Weiner did for progressives is drowned by my disgust and horror at their other activities.

And then there is Marion Zimmer Bradley. The disclosures about her behavior make Feynmann look like a feminist.

I have read all the Darkover novels.  I loved The Mists of Avalon.  I discounted the disturbing aspects of her novels (the status of women on Darkover, the incest and sexual violence towards women and young girls in Avalon) as being simply parts of her convincing world-building.  It’s not as though she approved of those things, I thought.  And on Darkover, she created a world where homosexuality was acknowledged, and accepted.

Recently, her daughter has come forward telling of the severe physical and sexual abuse she suffered at the hands of her mother. ( A good summary of the fandom coverage by Jim Hines can be found here.) In addition, MZB’s husband, Walter Breen, was a serial molester of young boys, and Bradley covered for him to the point where she can be seen as facilitating the molestation.  By her own admission, she had no problem in Breen sexually assaulting minors.

After first reading about the abuse, I reread one of her Darkover novels.  I was struck by its treatment of children and women’s sexuality, among other things.  What sort of mind creates such  a place? And excuses it? And then there is Avalon, which includes the following description of a fertility rite:

“The little blue-painted girl who had borne the fertilizing blood was drawn down into the arms of a sinewy old hunter, and Morgaine saw her briefly struggle and cry out, go down under his body, her legs opening to the irresistible force of nature in them.”

Good Lord in heaven.  Child rape painted as an “irresistible force of nature.”

I can no longer read MZB’s work.  Art is the result of the artist.  She committed, and excused in others, horrific acts of predation on children.  Nothing she can write can overcome that:  all of her work is tainted.

There are differences of opinion on this, clearly.  A writer at Entertainment Weekly  who discovered Mists of Avalon after hearing about the allegations against MZB finds the book brilliant.   And the comments on any post about this will include some by people who clearly find the works “feminist,” although rethinking what she wrote about Darkover makes that a questionable assessment. (Yes, she had the Guild of Renunciates who were independent women; they were however, considered outside society and scorned because they forfeited the protection of men — most women were destined for marriage. Or to work in the Towers.) In her Darkover Landfall, her Darkover origin story, she creates a world in which women go overnight from being independent scientists to baby machines. Because of MZB’s unquestionable gifts as a writer, I have read that book probably six or seven times, and only on the last read did it bother me. Not to mention that, as one commenter I read pointed out, in her books telepathy signals a person’s desires, sexual and otherwise, so “no” really can mean “yes.”

I have lost a literary friend.  I have read the all of the Darkover novels, many of repeatedly. The only thing I can think that would be worse, as far as reading, would be if a horrible revelation came to light about Jane Austen.

Great writers and scientists are people.  Sometimes that means they do horrible things. Looking the other way, excusing their actions because they are great artists, merely denigrates and belittles their victims.*

It’s a matter of who you want to stand next to, emotionally.  I choose to stand next to the powerless.

*For me, one of the most painful statements by Moira Greyland, MZB’s daughter, who has come forth with the details of her horrific treatment at the hands of her mother, was that she waited so long to air the abuse because of fear that MZB’s fans would be angry. Sadly, I find this completely understandable.

Feminists can’t write? News to me.

Charlotte Allen, guest blogging in the L.A. Times, doesn’t understand feminist writers today, because they can’t write. Poor baby.

As evidence, she produces a sentence by Rebecca Traitser,in a piece that appeared in the New Republic:

“I wish that every woman whose actions and worth are parsed and restricted, congratulated and condemned in this country might just once get to wheel around — on the committee that doesn’t believe their medically corroborated story of assault, or on the protesters who tell them that termination is a sin they will regret, or on the boss who tells them he doesn’t believe in their sexual choices, or on the mid-fifties man who congratulates them, or himself, on finding them appealing deep into their dotage — and go black in the eyes and say, ‘I don’t [expletive] care if you like it.’ ”

That’s it.  One piece.  Or, rather, one sentence. That is all the evidence for “feminists today can’t write” that Allen gives. By the way, the sentence on which Allen based her assessment of the lack of coherence among new feminist writers was the last sentence of a piece that I had read weeks ago, which had spread like wildfire among my Facebook friends.

“But what does ‘go black in the eyes’ mean?” Allen whines. “How about ‘the boss who tells them he doesn’t believe in their sexual choices’? What on earth is that supposed to refer to? The boss is a pimp, and his hookers are picking the wrong johns?”

Three paragraphs before, Traitster said exactly what she meant by “black in the eyes”:

Instead, I’ve been thinking about an anecdote in Tina Fey’s Bossypants. Amy Poehler, then new to “Saturday Night Live,” was engaging in some loud and unladylike vulgarity in the writers’ room when the show’s then-star Jimmy Fallon jokingly told her to cut it out, saying, “It’s not cute! I don’t like it!” In Fey’s retelling, Poehler “went black in the eyes for a second, and wheeled around on him,” forcefully informing him: “I don’t fucking care if you like it.”  [emphasis mine]


As far as the “boss who tells them he doesn’t believe in their sexual choices,” how else can she parse the Hobby Lobby decision, and the continued right-wing insistence that single women who have sex are sluts? Allen claims to be befuddled by a sentence (and yes, it’s a long sentence, so maybe it challenged her apparently limited reading comprehension) that was perfectly clear in the context of the article in which it appeared.

There are, of course, many wonderful feminist writers out there. The writing is more informal than that published in the 60s and 70s, but to a large extent that can be placed at the Internet’s feet. The important writers on feminist subjects are likely these days to be bloggers, either at major media sites or independent. There are too many to name; a good place to start is with a blog aggregator like There are also a lot of blogs which have a definitely feminist outlook.  Some of them are even by men: one of my favorites, Whatever by John Scalzi, once ran a post on what a feminist looks like. (Among other things, Scalzi has announced a policy of not being part of SF conventions that do not have clearly stated anti-harrassment policies.  One of the upshots of this is that Scalzi’s event in San Diego was not held at Comic-Con, but elsewhere.)

That’s the Internet.  It is the media of the moment in which we live. But women writers in all sorts of media are raising their voices to protest attacks on their reproductive freedom, denounce a culture which excuses rape and other violence against women, expose and object to the inequalities and harassment women are subjected to in the workplace, and so on.

Of course, Allen is just being disingenuous: she begins her piece by saying

I’m not a feminist — that’s an understatement — but I sometimes get nostalgic for feminists.

Not today’s feminists, though, but the feminists of yore — of what’s called “the Second Wave,” the radical women’s movement of the 1960s and early 1970s. It’s not that I agreed with what those Second Wave feminists advocated: It mostly consisted of throwing away your makeup, ditching your husband, and going to live in an all-women, macrobiotic-diet “collective.”

It was because those old gals could write. Their ideas might have been repellent, but they expressed them in bell-clear, eloquent English that any professional writer would envy. [emphasis mine]


(Note her disdain for the very writers she purports to praise: they clearly are not “professional writers.”)

I’ve read a lot of “Second Wave” feminist works, and yes, they are brilliant, but the writing is not the uniform marvel that Allen would have you believe.  There is a lot of pedestrian writing in Betty Friedan’s work, for example. That does not matter to Allen.  She cherrypicks lyrical and moving passages out of important feminist works, and contrasts that with one sentence taken out of context from an informal editorial piece by one writer. On the basis of that, she is willing to dismiss all feminists today as dolts.

Allen ends with

Now, I don’t believe a thing those Second-Wavers wrote. I don’t want to bash the male sex, quit cooking for my husband, or start a revolution. But I’d rather read their writings than the sloppy prose that today’s wave of feminists produces. [emphasis mine]


In the end what Allen really objects to are the ideas that feminist writers have been promulgating. Our ideas are “repellent.”  In the 70s, she would have written the same article, deriding the same writers that she now praises for their incoherent ranting.

There’s just no pleasing some people.  Especially anti-feminists.

Some things to think about. (More links.)

Senior NSA official claims that we live a police state.

Blackmail as part of the NSA’s playbook.  I thought that went away when J. Edgar Hoover died, but then I have always been naive.

Tom Engelhardt’s Requiem for America.  Engelhardt’s saying a lot of what I have thought over the past couple of years, only much more eloquently.  I want my country back, damn it, but that’s not going to happen.

(Hat tip to Mike the Mad Biologist for the foregoing.)

From slacktivist: A Good Joke Can Change The World.