Binders Full Of Wrong

Let’s say you’re in charge of the hiring and firing—
You’re after a woman who’ll answer to you.
Assuming you’re needing a binder to find ‘er
You’re likely admitting you don’t have a clue
Despite your executive power, you cower,
Cos all of your partners, for years, have been men
You’re frightened to look past the he-males, at females—
Accustomed to capons, you don’t want a hen.

Your yes-men will tell you, debating’s creating
An alternate viewpoint; an alternate world.
Available polls seem to notice the POTUS
Is there at the top, with his banner unfurled.
The strategy thus far you’re trying (that’s “lying”)
May work in the short term, but not in the long;
The truth, though (the stuff you’re not saying)’s dismaying
Your lies do all right, but your truth is all wrong
[Read more…]

Debate: The Least-Informed Are In Charge Of The Questions

There was a voter, undecided,
Though I cannot fathom why;
Perhaps a faulty compass guided
Him, as days and weeks flew by.
Friends would prod, and neighbors chided
“Such an indecisive guy!”
With rapt attention undivided
All would roll their eyes and sigh.
The networks parked where he resided
(Never was he camera-shy)
The interviews that he provided
Kept the ratings climbing high.

Today, as news-mobiles collided
In his yard, I caught his eye:
“If I decide”, the man confided,
“All these cameras say good-bye!”

Yeah, old verse. I’m still grading.

Radio Silence

Ok, just received four shiny new batches of tests to grade, so I’m kicking myself off the interwebs for a bit. You’ll have to content yourselves with browsing through the archives for unread gems. I think both of them are in there, somewhere. And leave me wonderful comments for when I come back. Or not. Mostly, this post is here to remind me to get off the blog and back to the tests. So if you see me on twitter, or in the comments here, there, or anywhere, yell at me.

A cuttlefish found itself blue
It had far too much grading to do
You may find this quite weird,
But it just… disappeared…

“Whatever Your Religion, We Are All One Family”

We’re all God’s children, can’t you see?
One giant, global family
We all love God, it seems to me
It’s just what people do!

“God-consciousness” is all around
Wherever humankind is found
It shows us all our common ground
I’m just the same as you!

One sees it best when one ignores
Religion’s role in bloody wars
A history that underscores
The way that faiths divide

The truth, so far as I detect,
Is, each and every separate sect
Will claim to be the one correct
And God is on their side

Y’know, it’s funny. I have heard that there are two sorts of people who view religion through the lenses of fundamentalism: fundamentalists and atheists. The majority of religious people are not so rigid; they are the moderate and liberal believers, the cafeteria Catholics, the warm and fuzzy spiritualists, the people who think, just maybe, that Deepak Chopra has a point. They are what much of religion is, rather than what the books say it should be.

One such example showed up in the Huffpo–an essay with the same title as my post here, by a rev. Ed Bacon. It’s the sort of thing my sister would love, and which I find cloyingly saccharine. He writes of how we are all really the same, in the manner that only the privileged can; it’s as if he “doesn’t see religion”, like Stephen Colbert doesn’t see race, and like the able-bodied tell my nephew they don’t see his wheelchair (“I really can’t see how you missed it; I’m sitting in it right now”).

The amusing bit, though, is the juxtaposition between his pollyanna writing and the cynical, often atheist, commenters at Huffpo. They certainly do see religion, and a good number of them don’t like what they see.

Robot Octopus!

Robot Octopus. Two words that are awesome together.

I want a robot octopus
To play with in the pool
To go for walks on rainy days
And follow me to school
To count upon its tentacles
And help me out with math
To find my rubber ducky
When I lose it in the bath

I want a robot octopus
I’ll take one, any size!
With sensors in its tentacles,
And artificial eyes
I’ll run it by remote control
It’s gonna be such fun…
I want a robot octopus
Could someone make me one?

Ouch.

My point, dear sir, is simply put:
I’m asking you—get off my foot.

You must forgive my clumsiness
I did not mean to cause distress
I so regret I did transgress,
As everybody sees!
It clearly wasn’t what I meant—
I mean, it was not my intent
I trod your toes by accident
I beg your pardon—please!

I do not know the way things went;
It might well be an accident.
My point, dear sir, is simply put:
I’m asking you—get off my foot.

I tell you, I was unaware!
It isn’t that I did not care
I didn’t know your foot was there!
It never crossed my mind!
I took a step; I did not know
That in my path, an inch below
My boot, there sat your tender toe,
Disastrously aligned!

The crucial point, is not, in fairness
The lack, or presence, of awareness
My point, dear sir, is simply put:
I’m asking you—get off my foot.

My friends and I—my awesome bro’s—
Have secret greetings that we chose;
We show our love by stomping toes
It’s good, you see, not bad!
You can’t assume I meant to harm
In truth, it shows a certain charm!
I take offense at your alarm—
It’s wrong that you’re so mad!

Your friends, of course, are not my friends
My toe is where their privilege ends
My point, dear sir, is simply put:
I’m asking you—get off my foot.

I do not care. I have the right
To leave my footprints where I might
I will not bend, nor feel contrite—
You ought to let it go.
I’ll step just where I damn well choose
If there’s a toe—I don’t care whose—
I’ll take my step. Some win, some lose…
Too bad about your toe

Your reasons are not my concern
But clearly you have much to learn
My point, dear sir, is simply put:
I’m telling you—get off my foot.

The moral of the story… If you are hurting someone, the thing to do is to stop hurting them. Not to try to explain why you are continuing to hurt them. Or why you didn’t know you were hurting them. Or why you don’t have to worry about such trivial things as their pain….

Cuttlecap tip to Natalie, for a metaphor even I could understand.

Pennsylvania Pol Panders, Protecting Public Pledge

“I pledge allegiance…” no, I don’t.
A public prayer? Again, I won’t.
My first amendment rights allow my protest in this case!

The Pennsylvania House, this week
Observed a Rep refuse to speak
The chairman made an issue just to pander to his base.

A Democrat refused to pray
Though why she did, I cannot say
Perhaps she knows that Jesus was opposed to public prayer

The chairman (from the GOP)
Decided (so it seems to me)
That pledging one’s allegiance is the government’s affair

The chairman doesn’t find it odd
To swear allegiance “under God”
And hold this as a standard for the country to enforce

The chairman will defend the pledge
Because he finds it gives an edge
Political expedience will always be his course.

PA lawmaker refuses to say Pledge of Allegiance at House meeting

Democratic Rep. Babette Josephs said the words “under God” in the Pledge make it a prayer, and she refused to say it.

When Republican Chairman Darryl Metcalfe, who represents Butler, asked Josephs to lead the pledge, she refused.

As everyone was standing to say the pledge, Josephs said, “Based on my First Amendment rights and based on the fact that I really think it’s a prayer, I don’t pray in public.”

Josephs is retiring in just a few days, so there’s not much reason for this, other than Metcalfe grubbing for points with his base.

Debating The Debate (VP Edition)

This evening the veeps are debating, creating
A whirlwind of chaos—a media blitz
With donkeys and elephants doing the viewing
(and quite a few others who don’t give two shits)
We closely examine each faction’s reactions—
The reasons they’re likely to call it a “win”
The truth is, it only produces excuses
As partisans scramble, applying their spin.

The groups who would call it a horse-race, of course, face
The task of promoting their narrative views
For others, whose take is more subtle, rebuttal
Will never be seen on the six o’clock news
The debate may have vast, influential potential
Or maybe it’s little or nothing of note
I see, in a mix of conclusions, confusion…
It does, and it doesn’t, affect how you’ll vote.

“Completely Wrong”

Mitt
Was
Completely wrong
He should have known it all along
So come and sing a silly song
Wrong! La-la-la—Wrong! La-la-la-la-la! (oh!)

Mitt
Told
A bunch of lies
He did it lots; it’s no surprise
It’s time to open up your eyes
Lie! La-la-la—Lie! La-la-la-la!

Mitt
Is full of shit
Not just a bit
It doesn’t quit
Mitt
Just won’t commit
Each view is split
He’s not legit

Mitt
Is
A wealthy man
He’s running just because he can
“Say anything” is Romney’s plan
Run! La-la-la—Run! La-la-la-la!

Mitt
Is
Completely wrong
We should have known it all along
So come and sing a silly song
Wrong! La-la-la—Wrong! La-la-la-la-la! (oh!)

I was walking the Cuttledog, and this song came to me… sung in the voices of several Muppets. Don’t judge me.

Cuttlecap tip to Ian