Tag Archives: religion

MP7&8: Two for Tuesday

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No, that’s not the name of the movie! I saw two flicks last weekend and I’m gonna tell you about them in this poast. No spoilers, relax.

1. The Cakemaker. Saturday I saw this film alone because none of my friends were interested, boo hoo. Actually, I don’t mind seeing movies alone, so no biggie. This is an Israeli movie, and the credits are in Hebrew, plus some subtitles. So, if this bugs you, be aware. It also has some gay lurve scenes, not super graphic, but even so ~ this might bother some sqeamish types. Though idk why they’d be reading my blog. Anyway. I liked this movie a lot. It was a very well-crafted relationship drama, involving multiple relationships. To really grok what’s going on in the second half, it’s helpful to understand Kosher rules. You don’t have to though. Ultimately, it’s a sad movie, exploring grief and loss. Simple really, yet layered, like a cake. And there are cakes. Cookies too.

2. Three Identical Strangers. Saw this on Sunday with two friends. It’s hard to say much about this film without giving away any of the suspense, but I will say that it was extremely disturbing. My friends agree. It doesn’t seem like it would be upsetting from the brief ads, or even from the first third of the film itself, but it takes one twist and then another and another and bam! You’re left a bit shocked and definitely sad. Oh, and it’s not really a movie as much as a documentary, which I didn’t know and might not have gone if I had. Remember, I like movies to entertain me, not Wikipedia me. But I must admit I found TIS fascinating, so maybe I should be more open-minded toward docus going forward. My friends and I concur that TIS could have been cut in length ~ too much irrelevant and repetitive jabber.

Alrighty then. After these two good but downer flicks, I am ready for a fun movie! Where’s Mamma Mia playing?!

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Don’t Believe Everything You Read

Especially here. Remember back in the day when I was jabbering on about how much I lurve That Girl? Like last week? Well, I’ve changed my mind. Sunday I wrote a bunch in the morning and then took a little break, which turned into a 12-hour TG binge. At first, I still enjoyed the eps, especially the ones with guest stars, such as “Compudate,” which featured Rich Little doing impressions. I adore him and lost respect for Ann when she didn’t dump Don for Rich. Wtf? Ridiculous. Don’s a total bore. The more I watched the more convinced of this I became. What did she even see in him? He is totally dull. The British photog dude is also way more fun than Don, but nope. I guess it must be this opposites thing ~ sparkling butterfly needs a lump of mashed potatoes for a partner so she can make sure she’s always the center of attention. If she had gone with Rich, he might have grabbed some of the spotlight for himself. That’s fine for her, but what about us, the audience? After almost two full seasons, I’m really tired of Mr. Boring.

But that’s not even the main thing. There’s something about TG that’s really started to bug me. Several somethings.

1. The show takes place in NYC and everyone is white. There’s nothing but white people everywhere. White people celebrating generic white Christian holidays. No matter where Ann goes in the city, she never encounters anyone or anything but this. Amazing!

2. The city is freakishly clean.

3. Ann wants a career and left her small town to be independent, which seemed refreshing at first, but it’s not this way at all. She’s still emotionally yoked to her parents 24/7, especially to her father, and she calls him Daddy constantly, which is as irritating as her “Oh Donalds.” Daddy pops into her apartment whenever because he has “business in the city,” though he’s allegedly running a restaurant two hours away in the small town, and he has zero respect for her privacy. Ann is obsessed with his opinion regarding everything she does, whether it’s cooking a turkey or wearing dangling earrings, and it’s disgusting.

4. I’ve seen several eps now where Ann gets into dicey situations involving some creepy older man coming onto her and she wriggles out of it with her silly, spunky personality. If at any point she is actually physically touched, the scene is interrupted by Mr. Boring lumping in. Even when Don punches some otter guy in the face, he manages to be dull about it and hurt his widdle paw. The point is, nothing bad ever really happens to Ann, since she’s a “good girl.” This is the message we always have received.

5. Even worse, both Donald and Ann say “terrific” every freaking minute and it drives me up the wall. Of all the things, this started to turn me off the most Sunday night until I began dreading any positive announcement, since it would always be followed up with the inevitable. Why didn’t anyone buy these writers a thesaurus?!

Yes, I praised the writers earlier, so I’m blaming them now. Live by, die by. Goodbye, That Girl.

*

Of course I realize this was back then ~ I don’t care. I’m criticizing it now anyway, just like I did IDOJ.

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Fuzzy Atheism

Prism

Ten years ago today I wrote a woo poast in my secret blog, the one I was keeping while my mom died of cancer. I’ve never been a super duper militant atheist like some, maybe because I wasn’t rebelling against anything at home. I simply didn’t  believe, that’s all. My nonbelief was never a huge deal to me, or to my parents, though I realized early on it was shocking to others, especially when we moved to the midwest in the 1970s. So, I mostly kept quiet about it. Back then, you didn’t blast your personal beliefs all over town as you do now. No Facebook, blogs, instagram, Twitter, etc.

There have been many times my lack of belief gets fuzzy. I want to believe, like other people do. It seems to be so comforting. Why shouldn’t there be more? A greater thing, a purpose. Why do connections have to end with death? Why can’t we be with our loved ones again in some way? That all sounds good. Sometimes it sounds too good, especially when I’m sad, and I start to imagine it could possibly, maybe, be true, somehow. Well, why not?

Ten years ago today I wrote that my ex-husband and I had worked everything out and were getting along better than ever. I called him my “soul mate” in that blog poast. But we split up about a year and a half later. I also wrote about the hallucination I had of an angel when I was sick with a very high fever in 1996. And finally I wrote of an earlier time when I was depressed and asked for a sign that things would improve, closed my eyes, and opened them to see rainbows in the room. They were prisms from the sunlight hitting my glass animals at certain angles.

Maybe I was trying to cobble together bits of evidence for some sort of belief-cake, idk. I’d have to read more entries ~ and it’s possible I dropped the topic altogether. I’m not re-reading every entry of the death diary now, not that there are so many. I may at some point, or not; they aren’t going anywhere. I’m busy lately with various projects and have finally stopped forcing myself to do things in my free time that make me unhappy. Happiness is a choice, as “they” always tell us.

I do enjoy keeping up this blog, though lately rather sporadically. Thank you for reading!

Passover Pome

O Elijah
Your chair is bare
No call, no text
I wash hands next
Time for a prayer

O Elijah
The herbs are bitter
But the wine is sweet
I try not to look
At your empty seat

O my
I have lost count
Of cups of wine
Is this the third
From Elijah, no word

O matzo
Why are you so dry
Can I dunk you in wine
Much better, no butter
Oops need new glass

Alas Elijah
Seems I have drunk your wine
Blackberry mmm so fine
Don’t be sad my friend
Next year, in Jerusalem!

OMG migraine
Is your fault Elijah
Turn off the light
Is this a new plague
Mine go up to eleven

Chasing Amish

In my continuing mission to read a variety of romance subgenres (cowboys and dragons done and dusted), I have now turned to the Amish. Apparently this is quite a big fu… fudgy deal. Justine McDaniel gives a nice overview of the bonnet ripper phenom, which is what inspired me to check it out myself.

The other day, I downloaded four Amish romances for my Kindle (free in Kindle Unlimited, natch ~ you didn’t think I would actually pay for these, right?) and got started.

First book: Fruitful Love by Michelle Eastwood. This is possibly the worst thing I’ve ever read. There was absolutely no plot, no conflict, nothing interesting in any way, shape, or form happening in this story. The characters were boring and had zero personality, no quirks, no flaws, no shiny spots, nothing. Girl meets boy, girl gets boy, the end. WTF? Saving grace: it was super-short.

Second book: An Amish Choice by Diana Morgan. OK, here we have a real story. I liked many things about this book. The protags were surprisingly real and flawed. They were extremely relatable and could have been any religion. The hero is a good man, but speaks impulsively and hurts people’s feelings. This is a problem for him throughout. The heroine is also a good person, but sometimes bitchy and irrational. Both of them are confused and have a hard time figuring out what they really want. Just like it is, you know?

Problems with AAC include POV shifting, typos, and annoying rando paragraph indents. Writers! Use block formatting for Kindle! Indenting looks like crap, and sometimes the uploading process double indents, or otherwise screws things up. Yucky. (I may not have fixed all mine yet, so shhhh.) But these could be (and are) issues with any books and have nothing do do with Amishness.

So, I had one good experience and one bad… and I bailed on the last two. I kinda get the idea now: a lot of baking, a lot of buggying, and a smattering of German.

Danke.

Sexy Amish

Too Much Barney

Dinoluv

 

 

You let your sweet innocent little girls watch this stuff and the next thing you know they’re writing things like Taken by the Pterodactyl. Well, not MY girls, but someone has been churning out monster erotica (it’s a thing) and slamming it all over Amazon, which isn’t THAT weird, I guess, cuz people will write any sort of crazy crap, but what’s really mind-boggling is that buyers have been totally gobbling up dinopr0n.

Unfortunately just when we find out that it’s a thing, Amazon has declared WAR on it. We can’t have peeps reading dinopr0n cuz it is too gross. Actually, it kinda is ~ just google up images for monster erotica. Yucky. Not to be judgmental or anything, but what a bunch of sicko freakazoids. Readers and writers both. I am not above putting all sorts of keywords here to get hits however.

What?

It is my dream to have the Barney lawyers contact me with a take down demand. I live for that kind of excitement, my peeps.

In the meantime, let us attempt to assign proportionate blame for this oogy mess. Surely the Flintstones must get some for showing people coexisting with dinos, yes? How about that dopey Creation Museum? Those Young Earth peeps must accept some responsibility for the spurt of dinopr0n. Who else?

You’d better check a couple times for that monster under your bed. Eesh!

Twelve Twelve Twelve

People are all excited about this triplet of a day, though I think 11/11/11 was better because all the numbers were the same. Be that as it may, I heart the number 12.  Follow that link to find out a whole bunch of cool things about 12.

Twelve is a sublime number, a number that has a perfect number of divisors, and the sum of its divisors is also a perfect number.

Twelve is the atomic number of magnesium.

There’s a bunch of religious yaddery to do with 12.

Has anyone seen the film The Twelve Chairs? Absolutely hilarious.

And of course there’s a baker’s dozen, which isn’t 12, but 13, which reminds me that my oven always burns cookies, making me sad/mad. To console myself, I bought some pink shoes off Amazon this morning.  That has nothing to do with 12 obviously.

Tomorrow is Thor’s Day the thirteenth. This means nothing, except only 8 more days until the end of the world, so use them wisely, wouldja? Kthx.