goddess of clarity: a blog about politics, culture, and serenity

Archive: December 16 - December 31, 2005

December 28, 2005 — 22:05 EST

The first movie I ever saw was a triple bill of The Last Voyage of Noah's Ark, Buck Rogers in the 25th Century, and The Sting at the Levittown Drive-In. The first movie I saw in a proper theater was E.T. And the first show I saw on a color television was a PBS nature documentary on sea turtles ("Look at the blue! Look at the green!" my siblings and I screamed as Dad twirled the exotic new COLOR and TINT knobs).

As of last night I now have a new "first" to look back on with nostalgia in twenty years: the first TV program I saw in high definition (for the record, it was House, starring the gruffly yummy Hugh Laurie). We may be coming a bit late to the party, but after 14 months of research and about three dozen reconnaissance missions to the local Best Buy, Mr. Goddess and I finally bit the bullet and bought an HDTV as a Christmas gift for ourselves.

Again, for the record, we bought a 30-inch Samsung SlimFit, which is a traditional "big tube" television (or CRT) as opposed to the newer LCD or plasma screens (go with the proven -- and cheaper -- technology, I always say). It's got a built-in HD tuner, a 16:9 widescreen aspect ratio, HDMI inputs, and a partridge in a pear tree. All of this is basically geek speak for "My Lord of the Rings DVDs look awwwwwwwwesooome!"

The guy from Best Buy came to set it up while I was at work, and Mr. Goddess kept calling me throughout the day to give me progress reports on how he and his new television were doing. "Now I'm watching a DVD." "Now I'm watching over-the-air HDTV." "Now I'm watching cable." It was kinda sweet, really. Like we'd just brought home a new, softly glowing, electronic puppy or something. "Now he's sitting up." "Ahhhh, he just rolled over!" I tried to detect any sense of buyer's remorse or disappointment in his voice, and hearing none I was very excited to get home from work and see for myself.

As I walked through the door, Mr. Goddess had a huge smile on his face. "Wait, close your eyes," he said as he clamped his hand over my face and steered me toward the living room. "OK, wait a minute, wait a minute." I can hear the sound of multiple remote controls being fumbled with as I stand there in blind anticipation. "OK, now!" I open my eyes.

It's the beacon lighting scene from Return of the King. And it's fan-fucking-tastic! There is no buyer's remorse. No disappointment. There is only a momentary flicker of guilt that an electronic appliance could fill me with such joy, followed immediately by a rush of regret at the hours wasted watching DVDs on that inferior, smelly TV now sitting alone and unloved in our upstairs storage space.

—lori.

December 26, 2005 — 11:00 EST

Christmas Factoid #5

$565: What the average individual American consumer spent on gifts this holiday season.

Before....

After ....

—lori.

December 25, 2005 — 21:07 EST :: permalink

Christmas Factoid #4

Rickets, or possibly renal tubular acidosis: the ailment that afflicted Tiny Tim in Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol. Doctors have tried for decades to determine, based on clues in the literary classic, just what the hell was wrong with Tiny Tim. And since "bone-crushing, Dickensian poverty" isn't listed in the Merck Manual, I suppose rickets is as good a guess as any.

Have a happy, vitamin D enriched, holiday.

—lori.

December 23, 2005 — 09:30 EST

Every year in the world of household Christmas decorations, there seems to be one new product, one trendsetter, that takes the market by storm. Several years ago, it was those dangling, icicle lights that were the Next Big Thing. Now they are everywhere, firmly entrenched in the mainstream of holiday illuminations.

After that, it was those lighted deer posed artfully in the front yard. The real snazzy ones were animatronic, with the neck and head of the deer bobbing up and down to make them look more lifelike (as if any creature covered in small silver lightbulbs could be called "lifelike").

Next came those spotlight things that flashed a rotating series of holiday scenes across your garage door, or even better yet, made it look as though giant electronic snowflakes were falling in front of your entire house.

The ever-popular icicle lights, paired with the wheel of holiday clip art. Nice.

Then, of course, came the dreaded inflatables: the giant Homer Simpson Santas and Grinches that resemble particularly sad Macy's Day balloons as soon as it rains a little and they start to droop, as they inevitably do.

This snowman may look happy now, but he will soon resemble a pile of Hefty white kitchen trash bags abandoned on this suburban front yard.

This year's hot new item is a derivation of the inflatable. I am speaking, of course, of the giant inflatable snow globe. Just tether it securly to your lawn, then run 60 yards of extension cord to an outlet at the back of the house and voila! Real snow shaking action, only giant-sized!

When will the madness end?

—lori.

December 21, 2005 — 10:12 EST

A Christmas Cookie Carol

Oh the weather outside is frightful
But my new space heater is so delightful
So while I make cookie dough
Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

It doesn't show signs of stopping
But I'm making sugar topping
So as long as the wine does flow
Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

I baked Christmas cookies last night and I was pleasantly shocked when both batches turned out as expected with no kitchen disasters. (Witness the perfect pile of pecan sandies below.)

This is something of a minor miracle. Baking has never been something that comes naturally to me. What usually happens is that I adhere slavishly to each step in the recipe, only to have the "crumbly, soft dough" I've been promised turn out to be more like a "chalky, unweildy mess."

But not this time. Although ... my frozen sugar cookie dough does look more like a couple of large, uncircumsised penises.

Which led me to refer to them for the rest of the night as "penis cookies." Once they are covered in green red and green sugar crystals, I think they'll look especially festive.

—lori.

December 20, 2005 — 10:49 EST

President Bush Haiku

(An ocassional look at the actual musings of George W. Bush through the medium of 19th-century Japanese verse)

We use FISA still—
Also, this is a different—
A different war, Stretch.

I was happily eating my breakfast on Saturday morning, when I heard something that almost made me do a corn-flake spit-take. The President had popped up on CNN, apparently to deliver a televised version of his weekly radio address. What he said stopped my spoon in mid-air. I had to look up a transcript later in the day to make sure he said what I thought he said. Because what he said sounded something like this: "I'm the president, bee-yatch! I can do whatever the hell I want. So the rest of you can just sit down and shut up. God bless America."

Or words to that effect.

The President was basically proudly and defiantly admitting that he authorized the National Security Agency to spy on U.S. citizens without any court order or warrant to do so. The Patriot Act already gave the secret FISA court expanded powers to grant these kinds of warrants—and the court almost never denies these applications—but apparently even this minimal safeguard was too much for the president.

So maybe the president has just gone crazy. Or maybe he's crazy like a fox. Over the last couple days I've been hearing traditionally liberal commentators talk about the FISA court like it's some beleaguered champion of civil liberties. The FISA law sucks! The court meets in secret, and has never even revealed how many Americans have been subjected to surveillance under its auspices. FISA does have one thing going for it, though: it is the law of the land, passed by our elected representatives in Congress. And in undermining it, the President has managed to make the FISA court seem like a reasonable, moderate alternative.

Bush's rationale for this power grab seems to be that the Congressional authorization for the use of force that was passed three days after the September 11th attacks gives him the authority to do whatever the hell he wants as long as he wraps it in the veneer of the "War on Terror." And God knows when that's gonna end.

This is why I watch Project Runway, to forget about shit like this.

—lori.