For A 2005 Game That Sure Crossed The Line

Wow that's just gross. In mid-June 2005, a software patch for the game dubbed the "Hot Coffee mod" was released by Patrick Wildenborg (under the Internet alias "PatrickW"), a 38-year old modder from the Netherlands. The name "Hot Coffee" refers to the way the released game alludes to the unseen sex scenes. In the unmodified game, the player takes his girlfriend to her front door and she asks him if he would like to come in for "some coffee". He agrees, and the camera stays outside, swaying back and forth a bit, while moaning sounds are heard.
After installing the patch, users can enter the main character's girlfriends' houses and engage in a crudely rendered, fully clothed or nude sexual intercourse mini-game. The fallout from the controversy resulted in a public response from high-ranking politicians in the United States and elsewhere and resulted in the game's recall and re-release.
On July 20, 2005, North America's organization that establishes content ratings for video games, the ESRB, changed the rating of the game from Mature (M) to Adults Only (AO), making San Andreas the only mass-released AO console game in the United States. Rockstar announced that it would cease production of the version of the game that included the controversial content. Rockstar gave distributors the option of applying an Adults Only ESRB rating sticker to copies of the game, or returning them to be replaced by versions without the Hot Coffee content. Many retailers pulled the game off their shelves in compliance with their own store regulations that kept them from selling AO games. That same month in Australia, the Office of Film and Literature Classification revoked its original rating of MA15+, meaning that the game could no longer be sold there.
In August 2005, Rockstar North released an official "Cold Coffee" patch for the PC version of the game and re-released San Andreas with the "Hot Coffee" scenes removed (Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas Version 2.0), allowing the game to return to its "M" rating. The PlayStation 2 and Xbox versions have also been re-released with the "Hot Coffee" scenes removed in the Greatest Hits Edition, the Platinum Edition, the "GTA Trilogy Pack" for Xbox and PlayStation 2, as well as a Special Edition for PlayStation 2 that includes the documentary film Sunday Driver. The updated game disc has "SECOND EDITION" text under the "M" rating logo.
On November 8, 2007, Take-Two announced a proposed settlement to the class action litigation that had been brought against them following the Hot Coffee controversy. If the proposed settlement is approved by the court, neither Take-Two nor Rockstar would admit liability or wrongdoing. Consumers would be able to swap their AO-rated copies of the game for M-rated versions and may also qualify for a $35 cash payment upon signing a sworn statement.
A report in The New York Times on June 25, 2008 revealed that a total of 2,676 claims for the compensation package had been filed.

Why is this "Essential" to the Game? Is it supposed to be sexy? 'Cause it's not.

As a Grand Theft Auto player, I really liked the San Andrea's game. But that is just obnoxiously gross. Personally I think it's bad enough that you can pay for prostitutes in that game. Period. I don't think it should be there, as part of the game. It adds absolutely nothing to the game. Further more it leads to sexual objectifying of women in that game. It's not okay. The only reason I play that game and others like it, is because I would never do that in real life, I don't even do that on the game. But you see I can remove myself from the game. But there are some people who can't.

Mohawks: They're Not An "Indian Hairstyle"

So to start of with I have a mohawk. I recently got it cut again, and ever since then a lot of people (specifically older people) have told me I look like an "Indian" or they will ask if I am "Indian." First of all if you're going to be an idiot, be politically correct. Second of all saying that I look like an "Indian" due to my hairstyle is axiomatically incorrect. Most people believe that the Mohawks, like some indigenous tribes in the Great Lakes region, sometimes wore their hair cut off except for a narrow strip down the middle of the scalp from the forehead to the nape, that was approximately three finger widths across. However, the idea that Mohawks had "Mohawk hairstyles" is incorrect, and came from Hollywood movies, particularly Drums Along the Mohawk. The true hairstyle of the Mohawk, including the entire Six Nations, was to remove the hair from the head by plucking (not shaving) tuft by tuft of hair until all that was left was a square of hair on the back crown of the head. The remaining hair was shortened so that three short braids of hair were created and those braids were highly decorated.

Also some people have asked me if I had cancer. That just makes zero sense to me. Especially because a haircut is voluntary cancer is not. I don't see anybody going "I volunteer to have cancer"

So seriously please just stop with the Mohawk stereotypes. Go find something better to stereotype, or better yet don't use stereotypes. That's cool too.

"When Was The Last Time You Heard Of A Women Intellectual?"

Wow. I think ignorance has gone above and beyond at Trumansburg. So a good friend of mine stated on Facebook that he couldn't think of any women intellectuals, because there wasn't any. He then proceeded to name Nikola Tesla, Thomas Edison, and Albert Einstein as only a few of many more male intellectuals.
To that I say Nikola was an intellectual but he was also a very strange strange man.  He developed a hatred of jewelry and round objects, could not bear to touch hair, did not like to shake hands, and became obsessed with the number three—he often felt compelled to walk around a block three times before entering a building, and demanded 18 napkins (a number divisible by three) to polish his silver and glasses and plates until they were impeccable whenever he went dining. If he read one of an author's books, he had to read all of his books.
Tesla, like many of his era, became a proponent of an imposed selective breeding version of eugenics. His opinion stemmed from the belief that humans' "pity" had interfered with the natural "ruthless workings of nature," rather than from conceptions of a "master race" or inherent superiority of one person over another. His advocacy of it was, however, to push it further. In a 1937 interview, he stated:
... man's new sense of pity began to interfere with the ruthless workings of nature. The only method compatible with our notions of civilization and the race is to prevent the breeding of the unfit by sterilization and the deliberate guidance of the mating instinct .... The trend of opinion among eugenists is that we must make marriage more difficult. Certainly no one who is not a desirable parent should be permitted to produce progeny. A century from now it will no more occur to a normal person to mate with a person eugenically unfit than to marry a habitual criminal.

Anyway the point of this post was to name multiple women intellectuals so I guess I should get on with it.

Margaret Atwood (1939– ), an iconic Canadian feminist novelist, expresses both the “goddess” and “activist” modes of the mid-twentieth century movement, via a confrontational style that gained converts by avoiding both violence and eccentricity.

Aung San Suu Kyi (1945– ), a Nobel Peace Prize laureate and scholar living under house arrest and many other restrictions imposed by her native Burma’s (Myanmar’s) military rulers, leads a popular political movement and party whose non-violence and civil disobedience offer hope for eventual democratic government.

Karen Armstrong (1944– ), formerly a Roman Catholic nun in her native Britain and widely considered a force for ecumenism, now considers herself a “creative monotheist,” whose many books offer iconoclasm regarding major monotheist religions.

Susan Blackmore (1951– ), a British evolutionary psychologist, developed Richard Dawkins’s concept of the “meme” (a theoretical Darwinian unit of thought that she believes responsible for human behavior) through her many books, articles, and lectures.

Mary Daly (1928– ), an American Catholic theologian who felt that Vatican II did not go nearly far enough, achieved wide recognition for rejecting Christian and what she sees as other “patriarchal” thinking patterns in favor of a spirituality of women’s liberation.

Midge Decter (1927– ), an American editor and writer, was a leftist in her youth but, drawn to observant Judaism and a conservative political approach, has become a leading figure at the flagship magazine Commentary.

Barbara Ehrenreich (1941– ), an American journalist, wrote many books from a socialist perspective, but is best known for her bestselling Nickeled and Dimed (2002), for which she took low wage service jobs to investigate the workers’ lives.

Susan Faludi (1959– ), a Pulitzer Prize-winning American journalist and author, is best known for advocating “power” feminism rather than “victim” feminism, attacking irrelevant “deconstruction” theory, and warning of a coming backlash against feminism.

Susan Greenfield (1950– ), a British pharmacologist and student of consciousness, has held a number of distinguished science posts despite colleagues’ criticism of her controversial theories on the dangers to children of computers and social networking.

Germaine Greer (1939– ), an Australian scholar and journalist whose best known work is the major 1970s feminist text The Female Eunuch (1970), originally advocated sexual liberation but, more recently, has lauded celibacy.

Gertrude Himmelfarb (1922– ), an American scholar drawn to examining the roots of social progress and decay, is best known for her sympathetic portrayals of Victorian society, dealing with similar social problems to those faced today.

Mary Midgley (1919– ), a British philosopher of science, has received much criticism for opposing the growing religion of science and arguing that pre-Darwinian ideas of human nature tell us more than the latest pop-science evolutionary psychology best-seller.

Peggy Noonan (1950– ), an American political historian and journalist, is best known for her emphasis on the character of political and religious figures, rather than their glamour, as her biographies of John Paul II and Ronald Reagan attest.

Melanie Phillips (1951– ), a British journalist and author, has targeted the growing climate of censorship and political and social irrationality in Western countries, for which she has received both livid denunciation as a “conservative” and the Orwell Prize for political journalism (1996).

Naomi Wolf (1962– ), an American author, editor, and essayist, is best known for The Beauty Myth (2002), which portrayed successful women as haunted by the need to look like movie stars

Just to name a few.

Dark Knight Apollonian/Dionysian

After revisiting Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight, viewing the juxtaposition between Batman and The Joker in a Nietzschean context made a lot more sense.

Nietzsche, in The Birth of Tragedy, used the Apollonian/Dionysian dichotomy from Ancient Greece to explain the constant struggle between Apollo’s order (law, beauty, reason) and Dionysos’ chaos (hedonistic appetites, drunkenness, sexual urges, primal instinct). The light side and the dark side. Thus, as this reasoning goes, to totally repress the darkness would be to remain ignorant, and thus misunderstand reality as it as only understood in the Apollonian context. So Nietzsche proposed that these two elements were not opposing, but rather complementary.

Batman, the Dark Knight, represents Apollo. He operates on vitruous principles and seeks law, order and justice above all things. The Joker represents Dionysos: he seeks chaos and ultimately the disruption of order. He doesn’t value material things. When rewarded with a room-full of money, he dispassionately doused it with gasoline and set it on fire. He is therefore a philosophical villain, viewing the order enforced by Batman as a mere illusion. The Joker intends to show Gotham City that these delusions of order, their “system,” is feeble. This is further highlighted when The Joker talks to Harvey Dent (Two-Face) in the hospital.

“Do I really look like a guy with a plan? You know what I am? I’m a dog chasing cars. I wouldn’t know what to do with one if I caught it. You know, I just… do things. The mob has plans, the cops have plans, Gordon’s got plans. You know, they’re schemers. Schemers trying to control their little worlds. I’m not a schemer. I try to show the schemers how pathetic their attempts to control things really are.”
Harvey Dent is an interesting character, because as the D.A., he values and fights for this same order as Batman. However, as symbolized by the two-sided coin, there was a there romanticized view of chaos, and its complementary role in a truly fair order. So Harvey Dent/Two-Face was the living embodiment of the struggle between the light and the darkness, the order and the chaos. Later in their discussion, The Joker expands on his role:
“Introduce a little anarchy. Upset the established order, and everything becomes chaos. I’m an agent of chaos. Oh, and you know the thing about chaos? It’s fair.”
So we see this battle between the Apollonian/Batman force and the Dionysian/Joker force for the heart and soul of Harvey Dent. Everything Dent has fought for came crashing down, and The Joker strikes a chord with him — paving the way for the transition into Two-Face.
What is probably the strongest symbolic imagery the film offers is the scene wherein Batman finally captures The Joker:
Batman and The Joker are facing (The Joker upside down), which makes for a very yin-yang imagery: as above, so below.  The Joker reveals that he doesn’t want to destroy Batman. He needs Batman. And they are destined to partake in this Apollonian/Dionysian duality duel for eternity. Their Nietzschean relationship has come full circle.

The Joker: Oh, you. You just couldn’t let me go, could you? This is what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. You are truly incorruptible, aren’t you? Huh? You won’t kill me out of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness. And I won’t kill you because you’re just too much fun. I think you and I are destined to do this forever.

Batman: You’ll be in a padded cell forever.

The Joker: Maybe we can share one. You know, they’ll be doubling up, the rate this city’s inhabitants are losing their minds.

Batman: This city just showed you that it’s full of people ready to believe in good.

The Joker: Until their spirit breaks completely. Until they get a good look at the real Harvey Dent and all the heroic things he’s done. You didn’t think I’d risk losing the battle for Gotham’s soul in a fist fight with you? No. You need an ace in the hole. Mine’s Harvey.

Batman: What did you do?

The Joker: I took Gotham’s white knight and I brought him down to our level. It wasn’t hard. You see, madness, as you know, is like gravity. All it takes is a little push!

The film ends with Batman, who himself has disrupted the order of Gotham City, despite being the Apollonian figure, realizing that he must operate outside of the order, in order to enforce order. This makes him an even greater supernatural figure, rather than simply a crime-fighter. He is a deified force of Gotham and is the Order. He will constantly battle the agents of chaos in an eternal battle for Gotham’s soul. Apollo is thus the Dark Knight.

Stand Alone (Nathan's Story Part II)

Once upon a time there was a peasant named Nathan....blah blah blah, if you guys don't know the beginning story I refer you to http://nathanshaveninvasion.blogspot.com/2013/05/nathans-story.html.

Anyway so Nathan and the Queen are still having some problems. Mainly that Nathan was formerly a girl and most of the towns folk don't like it, or at least they don't acknowledge it. You see Nathan was forced to put it on a rock similar to the stele "finger" of Hammurabi's Code, so that all the towns folk could see it. Nathan was forced to do it because it seemed as though nobody was really getting that he was different, even though he tried really hard to make it very plain, and obvious. However the Queen didn't really like that at all. She thought that the towns folk needed an apologize and an immediate retraction of the statement until Nathan could formally tell the towns folk of his decisions. Now Nathan thought it was a idiotic idea since all he really did was put his true self on the line, so all the confusion would be cleared up, and he didn't have to pretend anymore. Nathan really wanted to know that, although he had announced his alternate persona to everybody, most people still ignored his seemingly simple request, or even worse, refused to acknowledge him at all. The Queen pointed out that because Nathan was living with the King, that the towns folk didn't, and wouldn't respect his choice because he didn't have private conversations with anybody. Nathan thought that the Queen was being unreasonable because if the towns folk hadn't caught on by then, than shouldn't they just take the news in stride and not continue to knock Nathan down. The Queen also pointed out that Nathan needed his family to support him, and if they didn't accept his choice, then he would just have to suck it up and deal. Now Nathan had always been one for fairness and acceptance, but the Queen was not like that. Nathan, up until a few months ago, when the witch doctors noticed that he wasn't okay, had always stood alone (save for a few people here and there, particularly Sir. Alex Solla and his clan of Wonderful People, along with Robin McColley and The Seido Karate Clan.) But for the Queen to try to say that she had his back really irked Nathan because that was far from true. You see when the towns folk would talk smack about Nathan, the Queen wouldn't respond. But when people talked smack about anybody (including  the Queen and the Dragon) he would climb down their throat. To Nathan family went like this "I can talk smack about you, but nobody else can." Because family is supposed to have your back right? Well Nathan thought that was true and still sort of does. But still Nathan stands alone, and when someone knocks him down he will pick himself back up, Nathan is no longer a quitter. And now until forever, Nathan will stand up for what is right.  

Regents Exams Are Ridiculous

Hey all, so for those who live in the super fantastic state of New York you probably know about the regents exams. For those who don't they are incredibly flawed state tests that make up a percentage of your overall final grade. Well I just took the biology regents and if asked how I thought I did, all I can say is I haven't any idea. I could have gotten a one hundred, I could have gotten a six. I have no idea at all. The questions were so oddly worded that I was confused as to the question was actually asking. Simply because the questions were really basic most of the time but some all I could think in my head was "wtf is this?? I don't have the slightest idea what this is, and I certainly don't know to make it less resistant to one thing or another" and it certainly wasn't as though I had a bad teacher. My teacher Mr. Gordon Bonnet of Skeptophilia.blogspot.com was without a doubt the very best teacher I've ever had. Sorry that was my regents testing rant for the day. Have a good day all.

Hekkenfeld

Hey guys just trying to get a little publicity for my friends from the band Hekkenfeld. This guys are great. Hekkenfeld is the European name for Hekla, which is a well-known volcano in Iceland. The name comes from the book Islandsklukkan by the Icelandic Nobel price author Halldor Laxness. His main character in the book, Jon Hreggvidsson, gets the name Jon van Hekkenfeld as he travels in Europe and makes up horrific tales of Iceland and the Icelandic people; for example that Hekla (Hekkenfeld) is the entrance to hell itself.
“All men in Holland knew Hekkenfeld in Iceland where hell lies beneath, and wanted to hear all about this legendary mountain. They called the man “van Hekkenfeld.”

Íslandsklukkan, H.L. p. 109 (just about)
The name has also been used as a swear word. “Go to Hekkenfeld!” witch is even worse than “Go to Hell!”.
The name fits the band well. On a famous Old Icelandic map there is a picture of an erupting Hekla and underneath it says: “Hekla perpetuis damnata estib. et nivib. horrendo boatu lapides evomit” or ‘Hekla, damned with everlasting flames and snow casts up rocks with horrendous noise’. The band Hekkenfeld makes similar if not more noise than the mountain.

•  Birgir Hilmarsson (Vocals 2000- )

•  Jón Þorgrímur Friðriksson (Guitar and backing vocals 2000- )

•  Stefán Sigurðsson (Bass 2002- )

•  Óskar Ágústsson (Guitar 2000- )

•  Unnsteinn Ólafsson (Drums 2001- )

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xpImlyHKQhE

Check it out guys! They are a great Icelandic Band!

The REAL History Behind Assassins Creed

The Assassins Creed Series takes place in real periods of history, but what part of those periods are actually real, and what is just made up? Some deeper historical context might help. For example the organizations in the game, did the Order of Assassins, and the Knights Templar actually exist? Well the Assassins were an order founded by the shia Muslims founded by Hassan-i Sabbāh during the first crusades. Instead of direct attacks Hassan-e Sabbāh would send out particular members to kill high ranking leaders. In fact it is thought that the word assassin is derived from the word assassiyun which means those faithful to the foundation. In the game the assassin stronghold of Masyaf is the headquarters of the order. And while this was the case during the games timeframe (1191) the layout of the castle is mostly fictionalized.

The assassins power began to wan as the Mongol Empire began to destroy many of their strongholds during the 13th century. And by the 14th century the last remnants of the brotherhood were swept away. So while assassination techniques could have been passed down from Italy to Colonial America, the actual order of the assassins was long gone.

Now the games antagonist, The Knights Templar was another real organization, that has been the source of many conspiracy theories. The Templar's were founded to protect Christian pilgrims in the holy land. Initially impoverished the knights grew in power due to the Popes favor. Between military victories against muslims and using their own assets to set up a banking system for pilgrims The Knights Templar became one of the most powerful organizations in the world. However the Crusades dragged on and the Muslims regained much of the holy land and The Knights Templar became less and less popular. By 1312 the church officially disbanded the organization. While several groups claim to be philosophical heirs to the Templars, such as the Free Masons, there is no direct link of any kind.

In what ways are the games weapons and tactics realistic? The original Assassins carried out their task with a knife or other form of blade but unfortunately the retractable hidden blades of the games didn't really exist. In addition Assassins typically didn't use poison or bows and arrows as these were thought to be sloppy and increased the targets chance for survival. Along side the blade Assassins also used intimidation to achieve their objective. For example the aversion of collateral damage to innocent bystanders, a feature present in the game.

An upcoming side mission (downloadable content) for Assassins Creed 3 has a plot where George Washington becomes a tyrant, and also becomes King of the U.S after successfully defeating the British. Its an interesting alternative history, so that leads to the question could George Washington become King if had so desired? Well there were two points in history where such a result could have taken place. First was at the end of the war where several officers in the continental army were angry at not being paid by congress, and were looking for a strong figure to completely take over the new country. Washington easily fit the criteria for this role. Another chance was when Washington was elected first president, he was so popular that it is not out of line to say that he could have taken full control, bypassed congress, and became king with the support of the public. He also refused to run for a third term a custom kept by many presidents.

So the Assassins Creed definitely has some fact to it.

Why Do We Laugh When Someone Falls?

So the other day my friend tripped and fell while I was watching. And of course I laughed. But why? Why would somebody laugh when someone else has the potential to really hurt themselves. Well according to William F. Fry of Stanford University the fall happens in a "play frame." This is a real life event that happens in a non serious context.





 But say I fell off the Empire State Building, the result of which would be mortally threatening, serious, and all together not very funny (especially not to me). But if I'm just casually walking, and I trip and fall, that creates the play frame, in which I'm not really going to get hurt and spectators are safe to laugh at me.

But why is laughing the response? Laughter is thought to be a way of releasing cognitive energy. Our brains are constantly analyzing, and processing trying to predict what happens next. So if someone tosses you a baseball you can compute where to move your hand to catch it. So laughter may be simply the release of the energy of our thoughts.

Okay but why is laughter such a common and universal response to falling? It is an incongruity to a typical and boring event such as walking. It is a sudden outcome that we didn't expect. And as long as the person is okay, our energy gets burned off and released in the form of laughter instead of say, panic or concern.

And that reaction might not be societal or culturally influenced at all, so someone in China or Iceland or Brazil may all laugh at their friend falling down. Because it might just be in our brains to react that way. Inside our brains some neurologists have observed mirror neurons. Those are neurons that fire in the observers brain that mirror those of someone else preforming an action. So if we see someone falling down those neurons would make you feel like you were the one falling and flailing and feeling silly. Instantaneously recreating the brain activity of the person falling, stimulating you physiologically "tickling" your brain.

Now without a lot of research on mirror neurons, there are some doubts on their roles, even their existence. But the fact remains that laughing is good for you. And not just on obvious ways like reducing your stress but on physical ways like benefiting vascular health. Laughing is in our blood.

Trans Versus Lesbian

Hey guys so this is just my take on how to tell the difference between being a lesbian and identifying as trans. People ask me a lot, how did I know, or they tell me their story about how they like girls and how they like to dress in "male" clothes, but they don't quite feel like a man. So they will ask if I think transition is right for them. And every time I get that question I sit there and think how the hell should I know if transition is right for you?

First of, I don't know that transition is right for anybody. I can't determine that, that isn't something I can determine now or ever. I suggest that you go to therapy to help get that outside perspective, and to have someone you can open up to without the fear of friends or family finding out anything.


But I think the main focus here is that you can be a girl and wear male clothes. You can wear boxers and want to look muscular and like girls and all that, without being trans. I mean I understand that when you play with that gender line, you may wonder what you are. You might think well maybe I'm a lesbian or maybe I am trans. I get that you kind of battle that in between, but I don't think that just because you're a female who likes females and dresses like a guy that you are absolutely transgender. I feel like a lot of people are crossing that line super quick I mean they see trans guys out there and they think immediately oh well I fit that criteria so I must be trans too. I don't know that it takes years to recognize that you're the opposite gender on the inside, but I do think it takes a fair amount of time to establish that it is the way you want to live.

So how do I know that you're trans? Well I don't. But if you can get up everyday knowing that you're a lesbian and that you dress like a guy, and you're okay with that, then maybe transitions not right for you. But if you're getting up and are upset about how your clothes fit or how you look, when you want to fit in with the opposite gender, and not because of your sexual orientation but because of how you actually feel inside.

Honestly you don't have to make a choice right away, just because testosterone and estrogen are available to you, you shouldn't just say "oh alright I'll get that" I do not suggest starting T until you wake up every single day and feel like a man. And you don't flip flop between genders. Especially because if you change your mind, you're are screwed if you have already started T.

Its really okay to ride the gender line, it truly is.

Criticism of John Steinbeck's "The Chrysanthemums"

The many critics who have debated for decades over the reason for Elisa Allen's frustrations in ‘‘The
Chrysanthemums’’ have focused on two ideas: that Elisa is oppressed, either by a male-dominated society or by a practical-minded one, and that her flowers are for her some sort of compensation for what is missing in her life. The chrysanthemums have been interpreted as symbols of Elisa's sexuality, or childlessness, or artistic sensibility, and all of these connections make sense when looking at Elisa's connections to her husband or to society. It is also possible, I believe, and useful, to look at the flowers as literal flowers, as signs of Elisa's connection with the natural world.
Since the rekindling of the feminist movement in the 1960s and 1970s, and the rise of the environmental movement in the same years, writers including Annie Dillard, Alice Walker and Starhawk have wondered in writing whether the same impulses that lead men to conquer new land and dominate the environment also lead them to dominate women. In 1974, the French writer Francoise d'Eaubonne applied the term ecofeminism to the philosophy that women have a spiritual connection with nature that is stronger than men's, that women and nature are dominated by men in similar ways, and that women's connections to nature can be a source of strength.

 Carol J. Adams explains in the introduction to her anthology Ecofeminism and the Sacred, ‘‘Ecofeminism identifies the twin domination of women and the rest of nature. To the issues of sexism, racism, classism, and heterosexism that concern feminists, ecofeminists add naturism—the oppression of the rest of nature. Ecofeminism argues that connections between the oppression of women and the rest of nature must be recognized to understand adequately both oppressions.’’

''Oppression'' seems too strong a word for the ways in which Elisa is subdued by her life as Henry's wife, yet clearly she is limited in ways that frustrate her. She is proud of her garden, but must fence it off to protect it from the domesticated animals, the ‘‘cattle and dogs and chickens.’’ She feels she must ask Henry's permission to enjoy a glass of wine. Even the tinker, who seems to understand her at least a little bit, keeps telling her what she cannot do. ‘‘It ain't the right kind of life for a woman,’’ he says. ‘‘It would be a lonely life for a woman.’’

Elisa already leads a lonely life, in terms of her connections with other human beings. Her only passion is for her garden, and when she is alone in the garden she is her truest self. As Henry says, she has ‘‘a gift with things.’’ Her mother, too, had the gift. ‘‘She could stick anything in the ground and make it grow. She said it was having planters' hands that knew how to do it.’’ Her connection with the garden, with nature, is something she feels but cannot explain. She tells the tinker, ''I can only tell you what it feels like. It's when you're picking off the buds you don't want. Everything goes right down into your fingertips. You watch your fingers work. They do it themselves. You can feel how it is.They pick and pick the buds. They never make a mistake. They're with the plant. Do you see? Your fingers and the plant. You can feel that, right up your arm. They know.’’ It isn't just plant life that can call up this response. For Elisa, just being outside on a dark night sends her soaring: ''When the night is dark—why, the stars are sharp-pointed, and there's quiet. Why, you rise up and up! Every pointed star gets driven into your body. It's like that. Hot and sharp and—lovely.’’

This gift, this oneness with the plant, is a source of strength. Several times throughout the story, Steinbeck comments on her strength. As she works in the garden, her face is ‘‘lean and strong,’’ she uses ‘‘strong fingers,’’ her work is ‘‘over-powerful. The chrysanthemum stems seemed "too small and easy for her energy.'' She feels at her most powerful when she is using her planter's hands, which ''never make a mistake. You can feel it. When you're like that you can't do anything wrong.’’ The thought of sharing this connection to nature with another person—the ''lady down the road a piece'' who ''has got the nicest garden you ever seen''—makes Elisa giddy. Her eyes shine, her breast swells, her voice grows husky. And when she has done it, when she has reached past all the men in the story across the bridge of nature to another woman, she finds her greatest strength. ‘‘I'm strong,’’ she tells Henry. ‘‘I never knew before how strong.’’ What Elisa would like to do is get out of the Valley and see the world, to break her bonds with Henry and strengthen her bonds with the land. She is fascinated with the tinker's life, traveling back and forth trying ‘‘to follow nice weather." "That sounds like a nice kind of a way to live,’’ she says.

The word nice comes up again and again in her conversation with the tinker. The woman down the road has the ''nicest garden you ever seen,'' but she would like to have some ‘‘nice chrysanthemums.’’ ‘‘It must be nice’’ to sleep in the wagon, Elisa comments. ‘‘It must be very nice. I wish women could do such things.’’ For Elisa, the word is an expression of deep and mysterious feelings, of an essential connection. But both the men in her life reveal that they do not understand, that the word is one they can use casually. When Elisa describes the feeling of being under the stars, and comes close to reaching for the man, he replies, ''It's nice, just like you say. Only when you don't have no dinner, it ain't.’’ His response makes her ashamed. She has been about to reach for a kindred spirit, and he has just brought the conversation down from spiritual fulfillment to material comfort. Henry, too, fails the test. He walks in when she is at her most artificial, when she is penciled and rouged and the least like her natural self, and declares, ‘‘You look so nice!’’ Her reply is swift and terrible: ''Nice? You think I look nice! What do you mean by nice?'' However kindly he may be, however hard he tries, Henry just doesn't get it. For him, nature is something to be subdued, brought under control. It's how he makes his living. When Elisa is disturbed, after Henry returns from his chores, she looks down toward the river road ''where the willow-line was still yellow with frosted leaves so that under the high gray fog they seemed a thin band of sunshine.’’

When Henry is disturbed by his failure to say the right thing, he looks ''down toward the tractor shed.’’ He acknowledges Elisa's ‘‘gift with things,’’ but he sees the flowers only in terms of their size, not their beauty. ''Some of those yellow chrysanthemums you had this year were ten inches across.’’ (Elisa knows that for men, size is all that matters when it comes to flowers, and at first she brags about her chrysanthemums in those terms with the tinker.) Henry does not understand growing things only because they are beautiful. Instead, he wishes she would ''work out in the orchard and raise some apples that big.’’ The tinker, even when he is trying to establish himself as a sensitive soul, makes a slip and betrays his own lack of comprehension. Just after describing their appearance he comments, ''They smell kind of nasty till you get used to them." "It's a good bitter smell,’’ Elisa retorts, ''not nasty at all.’’ In ''The Chrysanthemums'' men are constantly at odds with nature. The first hint of human activity in the story is an image of farming: ''On the broad level land floor the gang plows bit deep and left the black earth shining like metal.’’

 Henry and the men from the Western Meat Company make a deal for steers, or castrated cattle. Henry's roadster bounces along the road disturbing animals, ‘‘raising the birds and driving the rabbits into the brush. Two cranes flapped heavily over the willow-line and dropped into the river-bed.’’ No wonder the narrator refers to the ranch as ‘‘Henry Allen's foothill ranch.'' These activities are not Elisa' s; she literally has no ownership of them.

The ultimate betrayal of nature is the tinker's, the deliberate destruction of the chrysanthemums for the sake of fifty cents and a red pot. Stanley Renner rightly points out that Steinbeck himself was not a feminist. In Modern Fiction Studies he writes, ‘‘although, of course, biography need not inevitably determine a writer's perspective, Steinbeck's feelings about his marriage at the time the story was written were far from those of the implied author who would have written the essentially feminist version of the story.’’ It is not at all required, however, that Steinbeck be a feminist himself, much less an ecofeminist, for the body of thought called ''ecofeminism'' to have something interesting to say about Steinbeck's fiction. This is a case, then, of the story standing as an example of something that is true and important—the different ways men and women might respond to nature—that the author was not aware of revealing.

9 Reasons The U.S Is No Longer The Land Of The Free

As we pass judgment on countries we consider unfree, Americans remain confident that any definition of a free nation must include their own — the land of free. Yet, the laws and practices of the land should shake that confidence. The list of powers acquired by the U.S. government since 9/11 puts us in rather troubling company.

1. President Obama has claimed, as President George W. Bush did before him, the right to order the killing of any citizen considered a terrorist or an abettor of terrorism. Last year, he approved the killing of U.S. citizen Anwar al-Awlaqi and another citizen under this claimed inherent authority. Last month, administration officials affirmed that power, stating that the president can order the assassination of any citizen whom he considers allied with terrorists. (Nations such as Nigeria, Iran and Syria have been routinely criticized for extrajudicial killings of enemies of the state.)

2. Under the law signed last month, t
errorism suspects are to be held by the military; the president also has the authority to indefinitely detain citizens accused of terrorism. While the administration claims that this provision only codified existing law, experts widely contest this view, and the administration has opposed efforts to challenge such authority in federal courts. The government continues to claim the right to strip citizens of legal protections based on its sole discretion. (China recently codified a more limited detention law for its citizens, while countries such as Cambodia have been singled out by the United States for “prolonged detention.”)

3. The president now decides whether a person will receive a trial in the federal courts or in a military tribunal, a system that has been ridiculed around the world for lacking basic due process protections. Bush claimed this authority in 2001, and Obama has cont
inued the practice. (Egypt and China have been denounced for maintaining separate military justice systems for selected defendants, including civilians.)

4. The president may now order warrantless surveillance, including a new capability to force companies and organizations to turn over information on citizens’ finances, communications and associations. Bush acquired this sweeping power under the Patriot Act in 2001, and in 2011, Obama extended the power, including searches of everything from business documents to library records. The government can use “national security letters” to demand, without probable cause, that organizations turn over information on citizens — and order them not to reveal the disclosure to the affected party. (Saudi Arabia and Pakistan operate under laws that allow the government to engage in widespread discretionary surveillance.) The government now routinely uses secret evidence to detain individuals and employs secret evidence in federal and military courts. It also forces the dismissal of cases against the United States by simply filing declarations that the cases would make the government reveal classified information that would harm national security — a claim made in a variety of privacy lawsuits and largely accepted by federal judges without question. Even legal opinions, cited as the basis for the government’s actions under the Bush and Obama administrations, have been classified. This allows the government to claim secret legal arguments to support secret proceedings using secret evidence. In addition, some cases never make it to court at all. The federal courts routinely deny constitutional challenges to policies and programs under a narrow definition of standing to bring a case.

5. The world clamored for prosecutions of those responsible for waterboarding terrorism suspects during the Bush administration, but the Obama administration said in 2009 that it would not allow CIA employees to be investigated or prosecuted for such actions. This gutted not just treaty obligations but the Nuremberg principles of international law. When courts in countries such as Spain moved to investigate Bush officials for war crimes, the Obama administration reportedly urged foreign officials not to allow such cases to proceed, despite the fact that the United States has long claimed the same authority with regard to alleged war criminals in other countries. (Various nations have resisted investigations of officials accused of war crimes and torture. Some, such as Serbia and Chile, eventually relented to comply with international law; countries that have denied independent investigations include Iran, Syria and China.)

6. The government has increased its use of the secret Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court, which has expanded its secret warrants to include individuals deemed to be aiding or abetting hostile foreign governments or organizations. In 2011, Obama renewed these powers, including allowing secret searches of individuals who are not part of an identifiable terrorist group. The administration has asserted the right to ignore congressional limits on such surveillance. (Pakistan places national security surveillance under the unchecked powers of the military or intelligence services.

7. Like the Bush administration, the Obama administration has successfully pushed for immunity for companies that assist in warrantless surveillance of citizens, blocking the ability of citizens to challenge the violation of privacy. (Similarly, China has maintained sweeping immunity claims both inside and outside the country and routinely blocks lawsuits against private companies.)

8. The Obama administration has successfully defended its claim that it can use GPS devices to monitor every move of targeted citizens without securing any court order or review. (Saudi Arabia has installed massive public surveillance systems, while Cuba is notorious for active monitoring of selected citizens.)

9. The government now has the ability to transfer both citizens and noncitizens to another country under a system known as extraordinary rendition, which has been denounced as using other countries, such as Syria, Saudi Arabia, Egypt and Pakistan, to torture suspects. The Obama administration says it is not continuing the abuses of this practice under Bush, but it insists on the unfettered right to order such transfers — including the possible transfer of U.S. citizens.

An authoritarian nation is defined not just by the use of authoritarian powers, but by the ability to use them. If a president can take away your freedom or your life on his own authority, all rights become little more than a discretionary grant subject to executive will. The framers lived under autocratic rule and comprehended this danger better than we do. James Madison famously warned that we needed a system that did not depend on the good intentions or motivations of our rulers: “If men were angels, no government would be necessary.” Benjamin Franklin was more direct. In 1787, a Mrs. Powel confronted Franklin after the signing of the Constitution and asked, “Well, Doctor, what have we got — a republic or a monarchy?” His response was a bit unsettling: “A republic, Madam, if you can keep it.”

Zenification of America

I hear the phrase "it is what it is" a lot these days. I like it. The words strike me as an attempt to express a minor epiphany. The speaker is announcing in a casual way that they accurately perceive an unchangeable reality and have accepted it as such. There's no defeat implied, it's just an articulation of consciousness doing its thing. To me, this represents the Zenification of America. An evolutionary step forward from "c'est la vie," which implied a weary, apathetic resignation. The Frenchification of America, if you will. Another phrase I've been hearing quite often is, "it's all good." This one really bothers me. A cursory look around would indicate that "it" is not even remotely "all good." This might represent the Canadafication of America.

Vote!

Hey guys just so you know the little poll thing is just a survey I'm taking. So the question is: Am I writing about things you like? So just give me some feed back, and if you want me to write about a particular thing just comment!

House By The Railroad

This story is based on the painting "House By The Railroad" By  Edward Hopper

July 12th Eighteen Eighty Six: 8:55 pm. The year that all the people in that pretty little house by the railroad were killed by a man named Dutch van der Linde.

July 12th   Eighteen Ninety six: 8:55 pm. The year my family and I moved into that house by the railroad. When we got to the house I pulled the coach up and hustled my family out to see what a lovely home we bought.
 
“Oh John, its perfect” said my wife Abigail, tears brimming in her eyes.

But it wasn’t perfect something was off about it. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. But I could not place my finger on it. Thinking it was just me being paranoid; I shrugged it off and walked up the steps to the porch. It was an older house, you could tell by the door alone. The door was a deep brown coat of paint, with green and yellow stain glass windows. The door knob looked ancient. So ancient I thought that if I twisted too hard I would twist the knob off entirely.

Taking a deep breath and preparing for what lay inside, I twisted the knob, and swung the door wide open. Suddenly I felt very cold, as though I would never feel warm again, as though I would never be happy again. Shaking it off again I motioned for the family to come inside.

“Come on, it’s beautiful inside.” Yeah once you get passed the feeling of death, I’m sure it’s dandy.
But so far I haven’t been able to get passed that.

6:45 pm:

When night fell upon the house, it looked scarier than ever. Had I been my son Jack I would not have slept a moment in that house. However I was tired and so was Abigail, and Jack, so we all went to sleep. But let me tell you oh how I wish I hadn’t.

July 13th 12:59 am:

Suddenly a terrible shriek awoke me, and in front of my very eyes, a woman was being choked, with a red plastic rope, by a giant of a man. I was paralyzed by fear so I could not move to help the young women. I just watched in horror as the women succumbed to the giant of a man. When he was sure he had killed her, he walked closer to me, as though he intended to kill me too. But when he reached me, he stopped and stood, just grinning horribly. As I watched this man I studied his face. He had a very long square face. With a bushy black mustache that framed his upper lip almost exactly. He had black hair except for his sideburns which were mostly greying. He wore an orange shirt. But the scariest part about him was his eyes. They were black and utterly soulless, like a dolls eyes. But there was more to them. They had a pleading expression, as though he wanted to get help, that he felt bad even though he just murdered a gorgeous woman. He tilted his head back and screamed, and I truly woke up.

1:22 am:

“John! John Marston!! You listen to me, you wake up now, you hear?” said Abigail. “If you don’t stop thrashing about I’m going to have to smother you with a pillow” Abigail was glaring at me with her pillow clenched in her fists as though she intended to use it for what she threatened.
“Alright, alright I’m up, I’m up, now put that thing down before you hurt someone with it” I said as I walked out of the bedroom to go get our family dog; Rufus, to take him for a walk. With Rufus in tow I walked out of the ancient door. “Come on Rufus, hurry up its cold out here” That’s when I noticed Rufus was growling in the general direction of the railroad

1:35 am:

“What’s out there ol’ buddy? There isn’t a darn thing out there, quite trying to punk me” I said shaking my head. Turning to take Rufus back in, before everybody starts seeing things that aren’t there, I caught a glimpse of a man with salt and pepper hair and an orange shirt. Leaving Rufus to fend for himself, I sprint to the house to get my Springfield Model 1892-99 Krag-Jørgensen rifle.

Standing on the porch, I can’t seem to see either Rufus or the man in orange. “Great that’s just perfect” I mumbled under my breath. “Who’d want to steal that good for nothing mutt anyway” I said a little louder.

1:48 am:

Suddenly I heard a loud yelp down by the tracks. Rushing down to the tracks I see Rufus just lying there, whimpering and whining. “Rufus!!” I shout almost tripping and falling flat on my face.
When I reached him it was too late. He was gone forever, and for no probable cause. There was nobody around him and there was no wound. “Great” I thought “This is going to kill Jack, how do I tell him? It would be easier to tell him if Abigail died but no it had to be Rufus” Slowly shaking my head in despair I make the slow, tiring, journey back to the house

July 14th 4:45 p.m.

“Hey Jack, come here son, we got to talk” I mumbled, half hoping he wouldn’t hear me and I could forget this whole nightmare.

“Yeah Pa? What’s up?” Jack said walking towards me from the back of the house

What was he doing back there?

Shaking my head to dispel the thought and then looking down I said “Jack, your dog died, I’m sorry son” Jack just laughed

“Good try Pa, but you’ll have to do better than that. Can’t pull the wool over my eyes that easily anymore,
I’m wise to you” Jack laughed “Rufus is on the back porch, alive as ever.” Just to prove his point, Jack whistled. Nothing happen, no one moved a muscle. Raising his eyebrows, Jack whispered “I know I just saw him, I know it” Still nothing.

“Son I’m not joking, he is gone, forever. There’s nothing you can do.” Jack sat down on the lawn holding his knees to his chest.

“He can’t be gone, He can’t be, I, I just saw him a few minutes ago...” quickly he stood up pointing angrily at me “Show me the body. Right now! I want to see it! I know you are lying to me! Show me now!!!”

“Jack...son...”

“No Pa! Right now! Where is the body?!” He said snapping his head back and forth, looking around. I pointed to the railroad. Jack sprinted down to the tracks, franticly searching. Searching for something he wasn’t ever going to find. He wasn't ever going to find Rufus’s dead body at least not today, because Rufus was standing there. His tail was wagging a mile a minute, and he had no discernible wounds, no broken bones, not even a scratch.

5:30 p.m.

“See?! Told ya Pa. Told ya he was okay, no if you don’t mind it’s late and I’m going to bed, it’s been a long strange day” I looked up at the sun, it was only about 5:35. Well Marston, you just told the boy his dog was dead when he wasn’t. You would be tired too. Sighing inwardly, I decide I’m going to bed too.

July 15th 3:23 a.m.

Sometime that night Rufus started barking. Of course it awoke me, not Abigail or Jack, but me. “Why does this happen to me?” I moan. Slowly I walk downstairs to open the door. Peering out into the black night, I whisper “Rufus?!” All I hear is Rufus barking. Turning around, I walk back inside to get a candle, walk back outside and head towards the sound of Rufus barking. Of course it’s coming from the railroad. “Why wouldn’t it be?”  I thought angrily “That stupid dog I hope he get’s....”  Suddenly a gust of air almost knocked me down. It didn’t, but it blew out my candle. I was alone in the dark. It was silent; nothing moved nothing made a sound. Run! Now! I turned and sprinted towards the house, and that’s when everything came back to life. Still running, I hear a yelp that turned into a growl. Suddenly I am down, looking up at the drooling growling face that used to be Jacks dog. But it wasn’t Jacks dog anymore, wasn't Rufus, wasn’t anything. It was soulless just like the man with the orange shirt; you could see it in his eyes. Just as quickly as he had knocked me down, he disappeared.

Frantically I rush back to the house to get my Springfield Model 1892-99 Krag-Jørgensen rifle, and rush back out, pointing the barrel in the general direction of any sound I heard. “Come on Rufus! Come on you deranged maniac! I hope you drown in your own blood you lousy mutt!” Stomping back inside I go upstairs and go to bed. Before I fall asleep I whisper “Please let everything be normal tomorrow”

8:17 a.m.

Of course when we moved I forgot to pack my lucky rabbits foot. So my silent prayer, if you will, did not work. In fact if anything it made matters worse. Rufus was back and more evil than ever. Today he tried taking a bite out of Jack. Being attacked apparently made Jack much like me. Very cold hearted. Immediately after Rufus bit him, he pulled out his pistol and shot Rufus square in the face. “I just love natural selection” Jack sneered.

12:20 p.m.

Something’s up with Jack, after he shot Rufus, he has been talking awful strangely, saying things as though Abigail and I were dead. Today when I went to town Jack followed me and declared a duel on some poor fella walking down the street. Of course Jack won, but that isn’t the strange part. After he killed the man, he walked up to his body, looted it, and then said “I just did humanity a favor, if my Ma saw you, she’d roll over in her grave”

August 22nd 4:57 p.m.

Several weeks later I rode my horse into town again, assuming that Jack was in the house. When I got to town there was Jack, completely terrorizing a pudgy lawman. Jack had hogtied him and was taunting him saying things like “You killed my Pa! You are first on my list.” Looking down at my hands it is evident I am not dead, my hands aren’t green or marble colored. “Maybe I’m a zombie…but I would have to die first before becoming the undead”

“Jack what the hell are you doing?! Stop scaring the fat off that lawman! It ain’t nice!” I shouted at Jack. He looked up at me, and kicked the lawman one last time, before cutting him free.

Glaring angrily at the mortified lawman Jack said “I’ll sink down to your level next time mister” Then he turned and calmly sauntered over to me, “Howdy Pa. Nice seeing you again” As though he doesn’t see me every day.

“Jack you fool! You are coming with me” I said grabbing his collar like he was a little boy again.

“No Pa! How bout we settle this like men? Right here, Right now!” He said putting his hand on his holster.

“Son you are getting way too big for your britches. I would shoot you dead in a second if you weren’t my son. But you are so let’s go.” I said turning my horse towards home.

“Pa get back here and fight like a man!” Jack screamed throwing his hat down in the dirt, looking as though he was about to have a temper tantrum.

Shaking my head I get out my lasso that is always looped on my belt. “Son don’t push me, I will hurt you. You can count on that” Jumping off my horse I walk over and lasso Jack and hogtie him. “What the hell has gotten into you? If you act like a child, I’ll treat you like one” I said putting Jack on the back of my horse

“Now quit squirming and no annoying the horse, don’t make me give you a beating.”
When we get back home, Jack has calmed down quite a bit. Taking him off the horse I said “now if I untie you do you promise to stop acting so crazy?” Jack attempted to sit up, found he couldn’t and then lay back down

“Yes Pa…I promise” Jack said in a strangled voice that meant I probably shouldn’t trust him.

“Alright son, you better mind now you hear?” Stupid me, of course I trust him, and only bad things can come of it. Shaking my head I cut Jack loose and begin to walk to the house.

11:31 pm

I was sitting in the master bedroom rubbing the blisters on my feet when Abigail bursts through the door, almost knocking it off the hinges.

“John, we need to talk” says Abigail on the verge of sobbing

“Okay let’s talk. What do you want to talk about?”  Feeling more angry and irritated than I probably should.

“I-I can’t remember” she said crying now. How pathetic

“You can't remember... Maybe it was about... Jack? Maybe it was about him. I think we should discuss Jack. I think we should discuss what should be done with him. What should be done with him?” I said trying to control the budding rage I felt inside me.

“I don't know.” Abigail moaned burying her head in her hands

“I don't think that's true. I think you have some very definite ideas about what should be done with Jack and I'd like to know what they are.” I was really seeing red now. I wanted to throw something, just so Abigail would shut up.

“Well, I think... maybe... he should be taken to a doctor” Abigail said, hiccupping slightly because she was crying so hard.

“You think ‘maybe’ he should be taken to a doctor?” I said angrily.

“Yes” Abigail said in a strangled voice.

"When’ do you think ‘maybe’ he should be taken to a doctor?” I asked more aggressively than I should have.

“As soon as possible” Abigail said seriously.

“As soon as possible” I said in a high pitched voice, mocking her.

“John…What are... you...” Abigail said staring at me like I was nuts, which of course, I probably was.

“You think his well-being might be at risk” I almost growled at her. God if she would just shut her face I wouldn’t be so angry. Stupid women doesn’t know when to shut up.

“Y-Yes!” she said. She looked so scared now.

“You are concerned about him.” I said taking a step towards her; she of course took a step back. That makes me so angry, like she has anything to be afraid of.

“Yes!” She shouted nervously

“And are you concerned about ME?” I said still trying to keep the perpetually growing rage inside of me from leaping out at her. This random anger was aimed in no particular direction, just sprays and sprays, but this time, she was in its way.

“Of course I am!” Abigail shouted at me, while slowly backing away from me.

“Of course you are! Have you ever thought about my responsibilities?” I said feeling myself about to snap

“Oh John, what are you talking about?”

“Have you ever had a SINGLE MOMENT'S THOUGHT about my responsibilities? Have you ever thought, for a single solitary moment about my responsibilities to my family and this house?! This house is just CRAZY. Ghosts running around, dead dogs coming back to life, Jack being such a little freak, and then you…oh you…you little…so typical of you to create a problem like this when I finally have a chance to accomplish something, how the hell did I have the misfortune of getting stuck with someone the likes of you?!”

“When his life was ruined, his family killed, his farm destroyed, Job knelt down on the ground and yelled up to the heavens, "Why god? Why me?" and the thundering voice of God answered, ‘There's just something about you that pisses me off’” Abigail said coldly

“Oh? And what would that be, darling, love of my life?” I step towards her and push her, almost knocking her to the ground. Shut your mouth women, it’ll end better for you if you do. If you don’t, well there’s no telling what I will do.

“John, everything about you pisses me off, and if that’s the case then you must make God furious. You’re a stupid man who makes stupid choices. How I hate you for it, and yet here I stay with you. I must be a fool to be with a man like you” Abigail screamed in my face.

“Women you best get out of my face” I glared feeling something breaking inside me. Not physically but emotionally something just snapped inside my mind.

“John we need to leave this crazy place, it’s affecting all of us, and not for the better. You and I never have arguments let alone ones where we are down each other’s throat for basically nothing. We need to get out of here NOW!!! If we don’t we will end up killing each other, our son included. Oh John can’t you see that?! Please, we need to leave.”

“Fine then, go, you can leave but Jack stays” I said sitting down on the bed in defeat. “Need a heart? Need a brain? Go ahead take mine, take everything I have.”

“John quit looking like the epitome of despair and suffering. Everything’s okay, we just need to leave so everything will continue to be okay, that’s all, nothing more, and nothing less. Just come with us so you don’t get hurt too. You aren’t as strong as you may think, emotionally I mean. Just look at you, you are sitting on the bed looking like a five year old about to have a temper tantrum. Over the fact that I want to leave this god awful place, and because I think Jack needs some form of treatment. If that’s not emotional weakness I don’t know what is.”

Scoffing I rolled up my sleeves “See? I’m emotionally strong I don’t self-harm or whatever you are implying, so I’d suggest getting your facts straight before you accuse me of such nonsense. Or you could just keep your mouth shut, that’d work too” I stood up angrily heading to the door “Oh and I don’t have Munchausen Syndrome or Munchausen by Proxy either so shut up. Nor do I have Lesch–Nyhan syndrome, Trichotillomania, I don’t participate in self-flagellation, and I don’t have somatoform disorder either so don’t even think about it.” I said opening the door, to exit the bedroom.
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure you have all of those things.” Abigail mumbled under her breath.
“You are right; I have Munchausen by proxy because you make me sick!!” I said just as I left.

August 23rd 1:02 a.m.

 Slamming the door so hard behind me that my teeth rattled, I stomped down the hallway muttering to myself. “God forsaken women…needs to be taught a lesson…needs to take her medicine…Jack too…need to take medicine…feel better…medicine is good…I am good…okay…I’m okay…must make them…take… their…medicine” Finally I come to the place I wanted to be: the Kitchen.  The one place stocked full of knives and other various deadly weapons that we use daily without having any intent other than cutting up that dastardly little carrot that consistently moves when you try to cut it. Without a moment’s hesitation I grab the largest knife I could find and draw it across my palm without much downward force. It left a minor gash, but just think, what with a lot of force this little thing could do.

1:13 a.m.

“Jack!! Come here buddy, I just want to talk to you. We need to discuss your behavior as of late. It hasn’t been good Jack old buddy. It needs to be fixed. I’ve got just the thing to fix it.” Staggering into Jack’s room I see his sleeping form, completely vulnerable. “This is a cash and carry world Jack, buddy. You pay as you go. Sometimes it's a little. Mostly it's a lot. Sometimes it's all you have.” I said raising the knife “This time Jack old buddy, it is all you have” To emphasize that the knife rushes down, gleaming in the light of the full moon.

1:59 a.m.

The deed was done. Now on to Abigail, oh how I would relish her demise. It would be the single kindest act I would ever preform, and nobody would be here to bear witness to it. What a shame.
“Abigail! Darling, I’m sorry I was such a monster earlier; I promise from now on you will get the very BEST from me. Scouts honor. Come on honey, I promise to make everything up to you, just give me a chance.” I said tucking the knife into my now rolled down shirt sleeve. I head towards the bedroom we had shared for thirty-seven miserable nights.

I reach the door to the bedroom, and self-consciously look around to make sure nobody was watching. My cheeks turned red as though I was five and my mother had caught me picking my nose. Who would be watching you? God you are all hyped up. Relax John; this is all you have to do for the time being. Better do it now before it becomes too hard. Better to rip the bandage off.

Shaking my head I attempt to open the door. It’s locked. Oh that…oh she’s going to get it now. By God she is going to take her medicine. Taking a step back I kick the door open, right off its hinges. “HONEY I’M HOME!!!” I scream. That was a pointless waste of breath, I soon come to realize because nobody is in there except me. Gee, you probably scared the pants off a dust bunny.
“ABIGAIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I shout at the top of my lungs. “COME OUT; COME OUT, WHEREVER YOU ARE!!!”  Suddenly I get an amazing idea. Don’t go to her, let her come to you. Wire the house with booby traps.
Turning around, I head towards the ancient front door. On my way I keep my arm raised in case I see Abigail, but of course I don’t. Like I already said I forgot my lucky rabbit’s foot.

3:30 a.m.

When I reach the door I throw it open and take a step outside. Still no Abigail. I close the door quietly and make my way down the stairs, hoping, praying, that the stairs don’t give me away. Silently I sprint across the lawn and down to a shed that I had only vaguely noticed before.
I slow down so as to not run face first into the little shed. “It’s locked” I said, out of breath. Well no kidding. Sighing inwardly I try to figure out how to get into the shed without making a lot of noise. It is evident that that won’t happen, so in frustration I lower my shoulder and ram the door. Its old wood so it smashes with ease.

Inside the shed there was a spool of wire and several round pieces of wood. Perfect. Taking one of the larger pieces of wood, I begin to sharpen one end.

5:30 a.m.

Once the trap is ready, I drag it back to the house. But then I run into a little problem. The Stairs…I forgot them!! So I take apart the trap and drag it piece by piece into the house, desperately trying not to make any noise. Dragging the largest part up the stairs first was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. First I ripped my pant leg on a nail that happened to be there, that had never tripped me up before. Its Abigail’s fault, she put it there, just to trip you up, to obfuscate you. “Obfuscate?”  I said out loud in the dark, talking to nobody.

“Yes, obfuscate, it means to confuse, to baffle” a mysterious voice said right behind my shoulder. Quickly I turn my head to see who was speaking to me. Nothing, I found myself staring into the darkness, looking at everything, and seeing nothing.
5:45 a.m.
“Who-who’s there?” I said softly, expecting the worst. My cheeks flushed again as though I was embarrassed at being caught setting a trap in order to kill my wife. “What do you want?” I said a little louder. “Who are you? Show yourself” I could feel myself getting louder and louder. “Come out you COWARD!” Shut up! Shut up! Your wife will hear you! God you idiot! Just keep going, it wasn't anything, just the wind. “Just the wind, it was just the wind” I mumbled, hoisting the wood back up onto my shoulder.

6:50 a.m.

When I had gotten all the wood up onto the porch, it occurred to me that I forgot the spool of wire. Sighing I turn around to go back and get it, when something dropped at my feet: the spool of wire. “You’re welcome” a voice said. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but what did it matter; I had the wire, now I could finish the trap.

7:20 a.m.

Once the trap was set, all I had to do is wait. No, all you have to do is inveigle Abigail into walking right into the trap without you walking into it first. “Inveigle…?” I shake my head to clear all the clutter in my mind. “Abigail! Come here lovely, I’m sorry, I promise I won’t hurt you; just come here so I can give you a surprise!”  You do realize that Abigail is not as stupid as you are. If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out...
“And so Abigail is my right eye that is apparently supposed to offend me? Whatever you say. Hey Abigail! Come on babe! Come out now, it’s okay, come on” Nothing happened, nobody moved, all I could hear was the sound of my breathing, in and out, very rhythmically. Tell her you killed her son, Jack. That will make her come to you.
“ABIGAIL!! I KILLED YOUR SON! HE IS DEAD HAHAHAHA I KILLED HIM. HE IS DEAD, DEAD I TELL YOU!!!!!” I scream at the top of my lungs. I walk back into the kitchen hoping maybe Abigail was there getting something to defend herself with. I’m walking slowly back through the kitchen when suddenly I hear something fall in the pantry. “Gotcha” I say to myself. I open the pantry door and let it swing towards me.

Something hits me in the head. I am down, dazed and confused. “Guess I didn’t like the way you looked” I heard Abigail laugh. Touching my head I feel something warm and sticky. THAT’S IT!!!!
Standing up I look at Abigail who is shaking like a leaf. “Hmm now that wasn’t very nice, now was it? I’m going to teach you that hitting people isn’t nice” Abigail turns and sprints out of the Kitchen, towards the general direction of Jack’s bedroom. “Ha-ha you have got a surprise coming to you Abigail, a big surprise.” I shout. Looking down I see my Springfield Model 1892-99 Krag-Jørgensen rifle, the butt of the gun covered in my blood. How’d she get to that? Just as I was beginning to contemplate how she got my prized gun, I hear a shriek coming from Jacks room.

“Do you like your surprise?! Frankly I think it’s magnificent!” I screamed at Abigail who had appeared at Jacks doorway. She looked at me in terror and then fled towards the main door of the house, towards the trap I had laid for her. Suddenly I hear a crashing sound followed immediately after by a shriek so full of pain it could pierce your heart like a barb. I walk up to the now sprung trap. “I wish I could say that was an accident Abigail, but then if I did I would be lying” I laugh “Now don’t move a muscle I will be right back.” I said to the corpse. “I need to let the lawmen know exactly when you died” I walk away laughing to myself. I go into Jacks room and find the large Grandfather clock. I open it and bring the pendulum to a stop. “There, now all I have to do is wait for the lawmen to come check on us, and they will since nobody in my family will be seen or heard of”

9:10 a.m.

So I wait, and wait, and wait. The lawmen said that when they found me that I was repeatedly saying “They said the birds refused to sing. And the thermometer fell suddenly. As if God himself had His breath stolen away. No one there dared speak aloud. As much in shame as in sorrow. They uncovered the bodies one by one. The eyes of the dead were closed, as if waiting for permission to open them. Were they still dreaming of ice cream and monkey bars? Of birthday cake and no future but the afternoon? Or had their innocence been taken along with their lives? Buried in the cold earth so long ago. These fates seemed too cruel even for God to allow. Or are the tragic young born again when the world's not looking?”

December 16th 6:00 p.m.

So now here I sit, in a large white cell, with a twin bed with straps hanging off it. I cannot have any dangerous objects with me, and they made me write this in red crayon on circles of paper. Funny the crayon had to be red; I feel like it signifies what I have done in my life. If I had been a good man, maybe it would have been green, or if I had been a kind man maybe a sky blue crayon would be my writing utensil. But no I am a bad man so I get red, which is fine by me since that’s all I see nowadays anyway. I finally found out who the mysterious voice belonged to when I was making the trap: Dutch van der Linde. He had apparently murdered his who family in an effort to regain control in his life, in his mind he was the alpha, but to everybody else he was the Beta, the lesser of importance. By now though Dutch has been long dead, condemned to die with his knees bent in an electric chair, a fate determined by a jury of his “peers”. If only I could be so lucky.

But no, I am forced to spend the remainder of my days with the “crazies”. The people society declares unfit to be in public because we have killed someone or we are mentally incompetent. The way I see it, if those are the standards for locking people up in the nuthouse, then we should all be in this place, every single last one of us. We are all killers and we are all, to varying degrees, crazy. Who decides who is crazy and who is not? I don’t see people walking around with a stamp that says insane on it. No because the term crazy is an arbitrary thing, no one type of person is crazy, it depends. It is not a universal invariant. But I guess I am a “crazy” to the outside world, which is okay, I will just sit here and rot, my only reading material, my previously written work and the case file against me. What a pleasure it will be. I do so desperately wish that I had a fate more like Van der Linde’s but some of us just aren’t that lucky. If only I hadn’t forgotten my lucky rabbits foot

Fame

Have you ever wanted to be famous? To have adoring fans screaming your name? To have your picture greet the crowds on the door? Fans demanding encores? If your into that stuff great just be careful don’t let it get to your head. You see every day that fame can be good or bad depending on how you use it.
Fame can make you more respected like Princess Di, Steven Tyler, and Michael Jackson. Princess Di was a much respected person because she was a kind honorable person not just a future queen. People loved her because she spent so much time, effort and money towards charity. Steven Tyler is famous for his time in Aerosmith, but he is respected because he was friends with a terminal cancer patient. Steven spent lots of time with the fifteen year old and when the teen died Steven was distraught with grief. Michael Jackson is famous for four reasons: His music, his legendary father, Michael’s music, and his recent death. Even though Michael is a controversial character he still managed to do a lot of good in the world; mainly having to do with charity. All of these people have used fame for good in some way but there are others who just go crazy with fame.
Some people use fame for good but others wild with the fame. A good example of people going crazy with fame would be none other than, Lady Gaga. The famed Lady Gaga reportedly threatened legal action when an Ice Cream shop produced a new flavor of ice cream. The flavor was supposed to taste like breast milk and the name was Baby Ga
ga. Lady Gaga has also stunned people with her choice of attire to certain events, such as to the Grammies, or to see the Queen of England. When she went to the Grammies she was in a sort of transparent egg. When she hatched out of the egg she had should
er plates on that made her shoulders appear to be pointy. When she visited the Queen she wore a flamboyant red rubber dress with an old timey collar around her neck. That outfit caused uproar with millions of people simply because it seemed to make fun of the Queen. Another example of bad choices that made people more famous would be Frerard. Gerard Way and Frank Iero from My Chemical Romance started a rumor that said they were really into each other. They acted it out on stage when they performed. They used Fame in a strange and potentially bad way unlike Steven Tyler and Princess Diana.
When people are famous they will remember you forever, especially if you do or act in a strange way or if your death was a suicide or a gruesome murder. For example, people remember Charles Manson because of the murders he planned. When he planned the murder of the eight and a half month pregnant Sharon Tate and told his followers to write “pigs” and “helter skelter” on the walls in her blood, people heard about it and Manson is now famous because of the horrible thing he did. Another example would be Marilyn Monroe. Her death was a huge conspiracy because nobody was sure whether she was murdered or if it was suicide.
Fame can be good or bad depending on how you use it. Charles and Marilyn are a far cry from each other but they are still famous, they just chose to use it differently. If you’re not stupid with fame you will be okay but really if you are people never forget.

The Physics Of Santa Claus

I. There are approximately two billion children (persons under 18) in the world. However, since Santa does not visit children of Muslim, Hindu, Jewish or Buddhist religions, this reduces the workload for Christmas night to 15% of the total, or 378 million (according to the Population Reference Bureau). At an average (census) rate of 3.5 children per house hold, that comes to 108 million homes, presuming that there is at least one good child in each.

II. Santa has about 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the different time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he travels east to west (which seems logical). This works out to 967.7 visits per second.

This is to say that for each Christian household with a good child, Santa has around 1/1000th of a second to park the sleigh, hop out, jump down the chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under the tree, eat whatever snacks have been left for him, get back up the chimney, jump into the sleigh and get on to the next house. Assuming that each of these 108 million stops is evenly distributed around the earth (which, of course, we know to be false, but will accept for the purposes of our calculations), we are now talking about 0.78 miles per household; a total trip of 75.5 million miles, not counting bathroom stops or breaks. This means Santa's sleigh is moving at 650 miles per second -- 3,000 times the speed of sound. For purposes of comparison, the fastest man-made vehicle, the Ulysses space probe, moves at a poky 27.4 miles per second, and a conventional Reindeer can run (at best) 15 miles per hour.

III. The payload of the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming that each child gets nothing more than a medium sized Lego set (two pounds), the sleigh is carrying over 500 thousand tons, not counting Santa himself. On land, a conventional Reindeer can pull no more than 300 pounds. Even granting that the "flying" Reindeer could pull ten times the normal amount, the job can't be done with eight or even nine of them -- Santa would need 360,000 of them. This increases the payload, not counting the weight of the sleigh, another 54,000 tons, or roughly seven times the weight of the Queen Elizabeth (the ship, not the monarch).

IV. 600,000 tons traveling at 650 miles per second crates enormous air resistance -- this would heat up the Reindeer in the same fashion as a spacecraft re-entering the earth's atmosphere. The lead pair of Reindeer would absorb 14.3 quintillion joules of energy per second each. In short, they would burst into flames almost instantaneously, exposing the Reindeer behind them and creating deafening sonic booms in their wake. The entire Reindeer team would be vaporized within 4.26 thousandths of a second, or right about the time Santa reached the fifth house on his trip. Not that it matters, however, since Santa, as a result of accelerating from a dead stop to 650 m.p.s. in .001 seconds, would be subjected to forces of 17,500 g's. A 250 pound Santa (which seems ludicrously slim) would be pinned to the back of the sleigh by 4,315,015 pounds of force, instantly crushing his bones and organs and reducing him to a quivering blob of pink goo.

V. Therefore, if Santa did exist, he's dead now.

Gas Lighting

Gaslighting is a form of mental abuse in which false information is presented with the intent of making a victim doubt his or her own memory, perception and sanity. Instances may range simply from the denial by an abuser that previous abusive incidents ever occurred, up to the staging of bizarre events by the abuser with the intention of disorienting the victim.The term "gaslighting" comes from the play Gas Light and its film adaptations. The term is now also used in clinical and research literature. The term derives from the 1938 stage play Gas Light (known as Angel Street in the United States), and the 1940 and 1944 film adaptations. The plot concerns a husband who attempts to convince his wife and others that she is insane by manipulating small elements of their environment, and subsequently insisting that she is mistaken or misremembering when she points out these changes. The title stems from the dimming of the house's gas lights which happens when the husband is using the gas lights in the attic while searching there for hidden treasure. The wife accurately notices the dimming lights, but the husband insists she is imagining.
The term "gaslighting" has been used colloquially since 1971 or earlier to describe efforts to manipulate someone's sense of reality. In a 1980 book on child sex abuse, Florence Rush summarized George Cukor's 1944 film version of Gas Light, and writes, "even today the word [gaslight] is used to describe an attempt to destroy another's perception of reality".[4] The term was further popularized in Victor Santoro's 1994 book Gaslighting: How to Drive Your Enemies Crazy, which outlines ostensibly legal tactics the reader might use to annoy others.
The 2000 Steely Dan album Two Against Nature includes a song entitled "Gaslighting Abbie". Musicians Walter Becker and Donald Fagen acknowledged that the lyrics were inspired by the Gas Light film featuring Charles Boyer.
Psychologist Martha Stout states that sociopaths frequently use gaslighting tactics. Sociopaths consistently transgress social mores, break laws, and exploit others, but are also typically charming and convincing liars who consistently denywrongdoing. Thus, some who have been victimized by sociopaths may doubt their perceptions. Jacobson and Gottman report that some physically abusive spouses may gaslight their partners, even flatly denying that they have been violent. Psychologists Gertrude Gass and William C. Nichols use the term "gaslighting" to describe a dynamic observed in some cases of marital infidelity: "Therapists may contribute to the victim's distress through mislabeling the women's reactions. [...] The gaslighting behaviors of the husband provide a recipe for the so-called 'nervous breakdown' for some women [and] suicide in some of the worst situations"
Gaslighting can also occur in parent-child relationships, with either parent or child (or both) lying to each other and attempting to undermine perceptions
Gee this sounds really familiar…where have I heard that before? Ohh that’s right prominent people in my life actively gaslight, well, I’m glad I now have a name for it.