Twisted Spinster

I was not surprised by any of this — here’s a US map of presidential winners by county. Note: it may look like more red than blue, but note all the metropolitan areas and how they voted. My county in Florida, Seminole, went for McCain by a slender margin, but Orange County, where the city of Orlando is located, went for Obama by a larger margin. And as for the county of my birth, Miami-Dade, it and the two other counties that make up the “Tri-County Area” are solid blue. I have no particular beef I want to express in posting this, I just like maps. (Note: it’s in the Washington Post, so YMMV, caveat lector, etc.)

(Via The Black Informant.)

I’m the King of Town!

The election of our new prez reminds me of this scene:

DOCTOR: […]So how has he managed all this?  The Master was always sort of…hypnotic but this is on a massive scale.

MARTHA: I was gonna vote for him.

DOCTOR: Really?

MARTHA: Well, it was before I even met you.  And I liked him.

JACK: Me too.

DOCTOR: Why do you say that?  What was his policy?  What did he stand for?

MARTHA: (dreamy) I dunno.  He always sounded…good. (fingers start tapping) Like you could trust him.  Just nice.  He spoke about…I can’t really remember, but it was good.  Just the sound of his voice.

DOCTOR: What’s that?

MARTHA: (startled) What?

DOCTOR: That!  That tapping, that rhythm!  What are you doing?

MARTHA: I dunno.  It’s nothing.  It’s j—  I dunno!

(Via.) I’d link to a clip on Youtube if I could find one, but I don’t have the patience to go through all of them, and most of them seem to have been made into music videos anyway.

Well, I at least managed to resist the hypnotic lure of a pretty appearance and smooth voice, but as usual I’m in the minority. Most people in this country pick candidates the way they pick new boyfriends, and with about as much success. I expect the chorus of “He… he wasn’t like that when I first met him!” to start in, oh, say about a couple of weeks. I plan to stock up on popcorn.

Oh, and for God’s sake, my fellow righties, quit whining. I can’t even mouse over the links on my blogroll, the shrieking noise that comes out of my computer speakers is deafening. Here’s a breath of sense from Steven Den Beste. Remember, it’s leftists who whine that the world will not change to their whims, not us. (Via Slublog at Ace of Spades.) Here’s another person who feels pretty good, Steve H. He seems to think God is punishing us with Obama. I don’t know… God may just be doing some pre-punishing fucking with our heads. If you were God, wouldn’t you mess with your creation every now and then?

(Edited to add picture, because I felt like it. Later: edited to conserve the space-time continuum, which we all know now is a finite pie-shaped object just like wealth and everything else.)

(Found here. In fact, the whole sequence is hilarious. It is way too easy to caption Doctor Who stills to The Big Lebowski. There must be a reason for this but I’m afraid to think about it too much — I might figure it out.)

Another: “nobody fucks with the Jesus.” Haahahahaha.

Hey, you know what? I think Doctor Who needs more multiculturism. Not to mention the addition of dancing and singing. And, uh, shower scenes. We haven’t had one since New Earth…

I have been thinking of starting my novel, finally, for reals y’all, this month. I was kind of inspired by NaNoWriMo*, though not inspired enough to join up. But it’s time I got down to brass tacks. Which is why I need to take a break from this blog.

Ha ha! Just kidding. It’s easier to give up heroin, probably. Still, most of what’s going on in Serious Blog Stuff is much too distracting to my tiny brain, so my posts here will probably just be stupid ones about British scifi tv and my cats. You know, as normal.

*Gah, that hurt to type. It’s so stupid. I know it’s an abbreviation for “National Novel-Writing-Month,” which sounds kind of bland, but couldn’t they have picked something else for their domain name? “NaNoWriMo” sounds like something a toddler would say. “What’s mommy doing today, hunnee?” “Na no wi mo!” Blaarrrgghh!

Apparently that’s become the thing to do. Well. Here’s why I’m not going to do it:

— I don’t trust the mail. Come on, hasn’t anyone had stuff disappear into the black hole at the center of the postal system at least once? I haven’t had a lot of bad luck with snail mail — still, voting is important, there’s no need to hang it on something so out of my control as the guy cleaning out the outgoing mailbox at my complex.

— The polling place is around the block from my apartment.

— I don’t have a job, so the usual “I’ll miss work” excuses don’t apply. I plan to get up at my leisure on Tuesday, amble on over to the polling place, cast my vote, and walk back home. Yes, walk — I have a car, but as I said the place is around the block, and frankly I need the exercise.

I don’t think early voting is a travesty, though. However, some of the objections to it on this list (I haven’t read the whole thing, not that interested) might also apply. YMMV.

(Via Machinery of the Night.)

Have you noticed the trend for teachers to refer to themselves and other teachers as “educators”? It sounds so authoritative and academic — it’s all about that extra syllable, and as well it doesn’t bring to mind the mundane world of dusty erasers (though everyone seems to use those whiteboards now), homework, and sarcastic sexist songs sung by the likes of David Lee Roth. Now I don’t know whether this practice is confined to the left side of the political spectrum (I happened to find it in Rush Limbaugh’s transcript of a show on Obama’s recent infomercial on the United States of Misery we live in — the person who used it was one of Obama’s Victim-Americans), but that doesn’t matter; I’d just like it to stop. (Full disclosure: my father was a teacher in the Dade County School system in Florida, in the years before it became the Miami-Dade County School district, and before it was de rigueur for teachers to call themselves “educators.”)

(Via Kathy Shaidle.)

My, how times have changed. Back in the 90s when I still lived in Miami my goth friends and I used to go to this bar in Ft. Lauderdale called Squeeze to see local bands like Marilyn Manson and the Spooky Kids, and such. One Halloween we went to their special Halloween party. They were having a costume party. The guy who won had come in dressed as Jesus, complete with a (no doubt made of cardboard or styrofoam) cross hanging off his back. Everyone applauded, even the punks and the guys dressed like Satan.

In a related (more or less) area, speaking of political histrionics, let’s not be these people. Not that I have (or want, currently) a love life to speak of, but I certainly can’t imagine putting anything in my life on hold because I’m waiting for the horse I’m backing to win. I’ll bet she does the same thing to her boyfriend when American Idol is on. (Is that show still on? I never watch it so I don’t know. If it isn’t, substitute some other talent contest thing. When I was a kids I used to watch The Gong Show but that show was cool.)

That’s what I’m beginning to think. I’ve just been informed that we in this country are going through an “ordeal” just because there is a presidential election. Well… no. In my world “ordeals” are something that cause real mental or physical discomfort, and have a more material cause than sitting in the comfort of one’s home at one’s computer fuming because of what someone else typed on their keyboard in the comfort of their home. Let me set something straight: I am not suffering in any way, shape, or form because of this election. I am not sitting here seething in fury or suffering from back spasms — unlike, say, these poor saps. (Is mental collapse due to political beliefs the new neurasthenia? Discuss.)

Instead, I am entertained and amused by the whole thing. Of course, the idea of having a president who is basically a communist is a serious matter. But it’s also funny, especially in light of the fact that another great American tradition, that of tearing down the great man we’ve spent all this time building up, has already started.

Added: perhaps we should apply the MST3K Mantra to our forays into political thought. Or at least, that’s what I’m going to do.

I think I know the real reason David Tennant is leaving Doctor Who. As per his current contract with the BBC, he’s not allowed to attend scifi conventions while he is playing the role. But after he’s free of this obligation, not to mention scripts that make sure any female who gets so much as a hug from the Doctor might as well be the Non-Final Girl in a slasher flick, look what awaits.

Yep. Not wanting to “overstay his welcome” and wanting to “bow out when it’s still fun” my ass.

(Via Ace of Spades.)