Silflay Hraka

As we were getting ready for bed tonight, Ngnat picked up her nighttime sippy cup and handed it to me.

“Daddy, I want fwesh wata.”

“Fresh water?”

Nodding her head, “Fwesh wata.”

“When did you start using adjectives?”

“uh-huh.”

And that was all I could get out of her on the subject. It’s always a mild surprise to me when I she tosses off a new word as if she’s used it all her life. Adjectives are just shocking. Nouns I’m used to, as we entered the “what’s that” phase a couple of weeks ago. Bedtime stories have become exercises in patience, as she has to point to each and every item on the page and have it identified before we can proceed.

“What’s that?”
“That’s a panda cub, honey.”
“What’s that?”
“That’s a panda daddy.”
“What’s that?”
“That’s a panda mommy.”
“What’s that?”
“That’s the panda mommy’s tail.”
“What’s that?”
“That’s the panda mommy’s ear.”
“What’s that?”
“That’s the puffer belly.”
……..
“What’s that?”
“That’s the fifteenth rivet on the undercarriage on the right of the puffer belly.”
“What’s that?”
“That’s the sixteenth rivet on the undercarriage on the right of the puffer belly, honey.*

And then I can turn the page. I try to read short books.

Not that I have much choice in the book reading department. Ngnat piles them in the middle of the bed and selects from the pile, and I have to read that one right then or there’ll be hell to pay. The pile grows every larger with each passing day, as she explores the bookshelf in her closet, or brings another book home from the library. Her mother and I learned very quickly that to drive by the library means we also have to stop at the library.

“Liberry!”
“Honey, it’s almost time for dinner.”
“LIBERRY!”
“Taylor, we just went to the library yesterday.”
“LIBERRY!!”

So we go to the liberry, and shush her when she screams “PAY PUZZLES” at the top of her lungs, and pay puzzles, and let her pick out a boog, and check out boog, and go home and read boog. She’s picked out startlingly age-appropriate books so far, not that I wouldn’t let her check out “A Children’s Guide to The General Theory of Relativity” just to see the look on the librarian’s face when she plunked it up onto the desk. They’re not necessarily seasonally appropriate, which is why for the past two nights we’ve been singing “The Little Drummer Boy“. She likes to do the descant.

“wum-pa-pum-pum”

After the song portion of the evening ritual is over comes the Naming of the Animals, in which I am to be the response part of the Animal Call and Response

“I wead the boog.”
“Ok, honey.”

She opens the books, seemingly at random, and points.
“Cacadile”
“Crocodile!”
“Hippawampus”
“Hippopatamus!”
“Dat’s a goat.”
“Goat!”
“Jiwaff”
“Giraffe!”
“Munkee”
“Monkey!”
“Ehfant!”
“Elephant!”

Then, as we have several books with elephants in them, we point out all those elephants. If this sounds like it takes a great deal of time, it does. I’d estimate we spend on average an hour a night between us doing various bedtime rituals, easing our parental guilt at sentencing her to daycare.

Aside: Not that she cares, of course. She loves daycare. Sometimes on the weekends she gets bored with us and asks to be taken to daycare.

Tonight, having finally clued in to the trend….Hey, she really likes elephants!…I remembered a really old copy of Babar that I’d put on the shelf a while back. It was one of a few that I had kept for years just on the off chance I’d get married and have a kid one day. Why I thought Babar might be out of print by then I don’t remember. I have about 20 books in that same category, among them Little Black Sambo. Dunno what I’ll do if she asks me to read that one day. Probably read it to her. Not reading it will feel like surrendering to the people who think niggardly is a racist term.

Anyway, Babar. Babar was another shock. I hadn’t looked at in 30-odd years. How bad could it be, it’s a kids’ book, right? A kid’s book for a tougher time, maybe, when children were dropping like flies from polio after working 8 hours down at the mill, and when one on’t cross beams went owt askew on treadle, well, they fixed it themselves or they weren’t paid. Reading Jazz Baby and Wemberly Worried doesn’t adequately prepare a man for Babar. Babar is twisted. It’s the Pulp Fiction of children’s literature. Here’s a quick jaunt through the highlights.

Page 1 - Babar is born.. His mother sings him to sleep each night. Baby Elephant Walk, I would think.
Page 4 - Babar’s mother is shot, with what appears to be an Army and Navy double barreled .500 elephant gun. The bloody lazy illustrator failed to indicate the external hammers, so I am not positive on this point.
Page 5 - Babar’s mother dies, and her murderer comes after Babar, presumably with visions of ivory billiard balls dancing in his head.
Page 11 - Babar finds an elderly lady who gives him money because she is sexually attracted to elephants and can read their minds. The book doesn’t state this explicitly, but it’s there. It’s all about the subtext, people.
Page 12 - Babar rides the elevator until he is directed to a male prostitute.
Page 13 - Babar dresses up like a giant leprechaun with a spats fetish.
Page 14 - Babar gets his picture taken by Adolf Hitler.
Page 17 - Babar, in a thong, does tai chi with his elderly sugar mamma.
Page 19 - “The Old Lady has given him the car. She gives him whatever he wants.”
Page 30 - The King of the Elephants overdoses on shrooms.
Page 36 - Babar agrees to become King of the Elephants, but only if they let him marry his cousin.
Page 37 - In his first act as King, Babar makes the elephant who nominated him for King his secretary of defense. This is why Judge Scalia expects to be Chief Justice one day soon.
Page 39 - Babar forces a camel to buy a wedding gown.
Page 41 - Babar gets married, goes into musth and tramples the other members of the wedding party! Wait, no, he just gets married. Damn.
Pages 42 and 43 - Mixed species dance party! This is obviously a clever commentary on the Jim Crow laws of the 1930′s. Once again, subtext. Don’t try this at home unless you’re an English major, folks.

Ngnat got through it ok, which is more than I can say for me, alternating as I was between absolute horror “His mommy died! What the hell is this doing in a kid’s book?” and Beavis “Shrooms, huh-huh huh-huh”. She put it in her pile afterwards, so I suppose I’ll be reading it again and again for a while, until she tires of it or asks Mommy if the hunter is going to shoot her, too.

Amazon tells me The Travels of Babar should be here in a week or so. I can’t wait.

*Free No-prize to the first person to correctly guess the book we were reading.

See this post and others of better quality at Blog Critics!

I have to go pick up my daughter now.

You don’t need to see his identification.
We don’t need to see his identification.
These are not the droids you’re looking for.
These are not the droids we’re looking for.
He can go about his business.
You can go about your business.
Place your bid now.
I will place my bid now.

Link via the Bear’s Cave

I don’t know what the hell Bubble Tea is, but I like taking tests.

What Drink Are You?

Link via Poet and Peasant

What to do on September 11th

Don’t watch, don’t listen

Responsibility to its consumers and a dedication to accuracy exist at only two measurements in broadcasting: all or nothing. Which underscores a final point about the tube, and a warning that if you have kids, or grandchildren, under the age of 5, you may want to go unplug your cable right now and not reattach it until Sept. 12th.

A psychologist hired by NBC startled its news executives last month by telling them that young children watching reports of the anniversary of the terrorist attacks will not be able to comprehend that the calamities they see are on videotape. Their brains just are not yet sufficiently developed to discern between “live” and “taped.” They are likely to think it is happening all over again.

Coverage all day long is likely to be wall to wall jumper videos, interspersed with “brave, widowed new mother” tearjerker interviews.

How do you feel?, the television will ask, and then cue the music, with the tastefully understanded network logo superimposed over a billowing cloud of dust. How do you feel?

I’m ok, thanks for asking. I’d feel better if you were to show me breaking news footage of explosions in Riyadh, though.

Guilty Pleasures

Top 5 Porn Titles We Would Like To See:

5. Nip?s Ahoy
4. The Lord of the Scrotum Rings
3. You Bet Your Bottom Holler
2. Mississippi Burning (Fur)
1. Batten Down the Snatches

Disease Hits Firs and Redwoods, Posing Risk of Economic Damage

Douglas fir, one of the nation’s most economically important timber species, and California’s coast redwood are infected with the fast- spreading new disease known as sudden oak death syndrome, scientists reported yesterday.

The causes of Sudden Oak Death Syndrome, SODS, are still unknown. For answers, scientists are looking at the photosynthetic system, the xylem and phloem, chemical imbalances, growth patterns and possible environmental factors. Studies have now identified risk factors. Although not causes of SODS, they seem to play a role. To help reduce the risk of SODS there are some general rules to follow.

The most important thing you can do to reduce SODS risk is to lay your sapling down to sleep on its back. Misidentification of a sapling’s back is one of the major causes of SODS. Remember, moss grows on the north side of a tree. Although delays in rolling over are common, (indeed, it has never been observed in the wild) in saplings who sleep on backs, the on-the-back position is appropriate for most trees, as well as a simple way to reduce the risk of SODS.

Always place a tree on firm, flat bedding because soft materials can trap the oxygen that plants exhale. This means that only a firm mattress, one that is not very pliable or flexible, with a tight-fitting cotton sheet on it, is best for the little sprout.

Make sure your sapling isn’t overheated. Overheating can be caused by a room that is too warm, wearing too much clothing or using too-heavy bedding. Signs of overheating within your tree include: fire.

Findings released by the National Center for Forestry Statistics reveal that women who smoke cigarettes during or after gardening increase their tree’s risk for SODS. Recent research also finds that SODS risk increases with each additional smoker in a family, the number of cigarettes smoked daily, and the length of time an sapling is exposed to smoke.

Miami Facing New Challenge on Gay Rights

But Nathaniel Wilcox, co-chairman of Take Back Miami-Dade, which was formed to support the repeal, said of gays: “They are using a tactic of deception in order to get into the government to force their lifestyle on people. As a Christian, as a man of God, I can’t stand up and justify backing a behavior that destroys families.”

“To force their lifestyle on people?”As if during the night, health insurance for same-sex partners will sneak into your house, like spiderman, and make you gay, while you kick and scream in protest. You go to bed one night a heterosexual father of two, and wake up the next day as a character from Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. I got news for you, Nathaniel Wilcox. If that’s all it take to make you gay, you’ve been sitting on the fence all greased up and ready to go for sometime now. Go find yourself a nice man and get it over with. In the long run, your family will thank you.

Bid to Justify a First Strike

I think it’s dawned on everyone that he can’t stand up in front of the United Nations on Sept. 12 and say, `It’s our way or the highway,’ ” said one senior administration official. “But that doesn’t mean he’s willing to pursue inspections. It’s up in the air.”

Seeking the approval of Congress I can understand. Frankly, if done right, it’s a formality. Stand up on September 11th, Mr. President, and say “On this first anniversary of an unprecedented attack against our nation, I ask you to help me prevent the next one.” That’s all that needs to be done. Congress won’t dare to vote against it, the potential political consequences would be too great.

But the U.N.? What possible repercussions are there if we piss off the U.N.? Are they going to tie up traffic in Manhattan, or stop vaccinating Africans against polio? The U.N. won’t do anything substantial to help us, and can’t do anything substantial to hinder us. Sure, it can provide a fig leaf of international approval, but the fig leaf isn’t for our benefit. It is solely for the benefit of the U.N., in the hopes that in future we will look to put on the fig leaf before we do anything, that in the absence of the fig leaf we will do nothing. And this administration is starting to fall for that argument.

So listen up, all you black helicopter, secret markings on the roadsigns people. Your Republican president is about to be trained to ask U.N. permission before he does anything. Slippery slope, people, slippery slope.

Screw the U.N. and the magnificent horse that we paid for that it rode in on.

I’m not actually opposed to international organizations. The problem is that the U.N. isn’t exclusive enough. There’s all sorts of riff-raff in there, and they’re jamming up the works. Nothing gets done. The U.N. today primarily exists as a money sink. What we need, and what I think War Now has suggested before , though I cannot find it, is a new international organization, composed at its birth primarily of democratic countries in the Anglosphere and Western Europe. A country doesn’t get to join unless it can demonstrate that it is a stable democracy with open markets and the rule of law. I’ll be willing to pay attention to the United Democracies, for that body will be built on common values. The United Nations was a utopian idea, and like so many utopian ideas, has proven to be more of a dystopia in actual practice.

The Five Fundamental Flaws of Leftism.

1. At parties, constant sermonizing inhibits your ability to id the drunk slutty girls, which means by the end of the night, you’re bitching to whomever will listen about how the chicks don’t care for guys who treat them right. Come to think of it, this is also one of the flaws of the Far Right. The lesson here? Shut your pie hole and get the lady another Kamikaze.

2. Your student job, at a used bookstore, graduate student position or fashionable nonprofit, doesn’t pay you well enough to own anything other than a bike or a constantly broken down car, so by the end of the night, you’re bitching to whomever will listen about how the chicks don’t care for guys who don’t have dough.

3. Most universities now prohibit sexual relationships between student and the faculty, so odds are you won’t get laid when you’re old, either.

4. Your commitment to zero population growth means that your genes won’t be passed on, and you know in your heart of hearts that they are superior genes. Also, the realization that in order to fully demonstrate your commitment you must first actually get laid is very depressing.

5. All the best drugs are available only from redneck Republican good ole boys or country-club Republican frat boys, at a considerably non-marxist markup that you can’t really afford. When you do scrape up the cash, you depart with the distinct impression that they consider you somewhat effeminate.

Wait, did I say flaws? I meant errors. And no, misplaying the throw from shortstop is not one of them. Though come to think of it, who do you think would be least likely to misplay the throw from shortstop, Maureen Dowd or George Will?