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(Via Cecil.)
Wednesday Hangovers Read More »
"Witchcraft ban ends in Zimbabwe":
Zimbabwe has lifted a ban on the practice of witchcraft, repealing legislation dating back to colonial rule.
From July the government acknowledges that supernatural powers exist – but prohibits the use of magic to cause someone harm.
In 1899, colonial settlers made it a crime to accuse someone of being a witch or wizard – wary of the witch hunts in Europe a few centuries earlier which saw many people burned at the stake after such accusations.
But to most Zimbabweans, especially those who grew up in the rural areas, it has been absurd to say that the supernatural does not exist.
In fact, it is not hard to find vivid stories about the use of magic.
Alfred, for example, believes that he was bewitched at work some years ago, making him partly bald.
Now THAT, friends, is a great sentence. (Via Judith Berman.)
Well, This Is Good News Read More »
Don’t get me wrong; I like a good day off as much as the next person, no matter when it falls. But this has felt entirely like a Saturday (and yesterday like a Friday) and then, oh cruelness, it isn’t and tomorrow it’s back to the office for another three days. Hardly seems fair.
I slept way too late, but not wayyyy too late, even missing today’s Tour stage (which C and Emma are watching together in the other room as I type). (The early sprinters’ days aren’t my faves anyway.) I just bought tickets to the first matinee of The Devil Wears Prada, and afterward I plan to come home and write some new stuff set in a dive in the near-the-interstate wilds of West Virginia (yes, I finally got the girl on the road!), then take Emma (and C) for a long walk somewhere. Pretty much a perfect day.
Last night we bought the first season of the U.S. version of The Office, which it turns out we’d actually seen about half of. Still SO good. This didn’t seem remarkably Independence Day oriented at the time, but now, I see it’s a celebration of our co-opting of British culture. Cheers! We walked Emma the Dog-Girl before bed, as it’s been unbelievably hot here when the light is out. We looked at Venus and the Moon, looming and orange. There was some sort of patriotic, symphonic event going on in nearby Gratz Park and at Transylvania University, where we usually start Emma’s neighborhood walks (there’s one dog-girl chosen in each generation to fight the squirrels — and this is her SquirrelMouth). Dizzy with their patriotic tunes, people offered Emma popcorn, swooned and squealed over her, while she tried to avoid their sparklers. So much of fireworks is waiting and then being underwowed; I’ll be relieved when there’s an end to it.
But, hopefully, you have a more generous spirit about this sort of thing and actually enjoy it. Why couldn’t they have opened Pirates today? Anyone? Okay, off to it.
Pre-Holiday Hangovers Read More »
This morning, our local paper has a big profile of the fabulous daredevil Sunshine Ison’s amazing parents Cecil and Bet’s place, specifically focusing on Cecil’s fabulous dolls:
The first and most unsettling thing you notice about Cecil and Bet Ison’s Rowan County yard is the baby dolls.
Lots of plastic dolls, or parts of dolls.
Oh, how many nights have I spent there cattily watching beauty pageants and eating ice cream? About a year ago, I realized Sunshine’s probably my oldest friend; we met when we were 16ish at Governor’s School for the Arts. (And now, Erin’s in that category too, since I discovered she became Queen of Louisville and Poetry and we reconnected.)
So this article makes me very happy. There’s a multimedia thing with Cecil talking even. And mention of Bet’s unbelievably beautiful, complicated quilts (if no pictures). Check it. You won’t be sorry.
OH, and related, Sunshine has two great poems in the latest LCRW, "The Posthumous Voyages of Christopher Columbus" and "And If They Are Not Dead, They May Be Living Still." Order now.
Jeff VanderMeer brings the cat out of the open bag, into the light: Joe Hill (20th Century Ghosts) is Stephen King’s son.
Jeff’s right in that most everybody knew, but I’ve seen at least a couple of people find out who were SHOCKED, even people who’d met Hill. And after the Variety thing, it seemed odd that there were still blog posts disappearing that referenced this.
I do wonder if any of the reviewers (and there were several) who compared Hill’s work to King’s in their reviews actually didn’t know — perhaps they were all just being sly.
I have to say I was not surprised at all when I first found out about this. After reading "Best New Horror" and before knowing anything about who Hill was, I said to Christopher, "It’s going to turn out this is Stephen King writing under a pseudonym or something." But the reality’s much better, I think. And it’s time people are talking about this openly. So many people knew that even one not feels dishonest. The point has been made. The writing speaks for itself.
I HATE the trend of making sportscasters wear suits. Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen should never be in suits. They are retired; they are tan; they are incredibly wealthy and don’t need them. I suspect that Al Trautwig will look like a drunk who has been rolling around in a ditch somewhere in his, no matter who spit-smoothes his hair. And oh, Bob Roll, he’s just a polo shirt kinda guy.
Who told OLN shoulder pads were still okay?
Welcome to Le Tour, Great Doping Scandal of Holy F-ing Unbelievableness Edition. (You might want to check out Monsieur Sarvas‘ digs over the next few weeks. Excuse me as I geek out in bliss over his teeny interview with cycling journalism GOD Samuel Abt.) Bring on the tight shorts! No to suits! And where is Kirsten Gumm? She’d been getting better, we consense. And she would have said no, NO to suits.
p.s. Wish us luck trying to win Christopher a new bike this month!
UPDATED: LONG LIVE THE BOYS OF OLN! They have risen up against the suit tyrany and taken off their ties on the first live special of Le Tour. I can only credit Liggett and Sherwen with this act of fashion mutiny.
Commentatorial Fashion Sins Read More »