Though I'm a woman of a certain age, I haven't lost all awareness of what my grandmother used to refer to as "the opposite S-E-X." In fact, quite the reverse. We live in a society that believes that sex is only about sex, and is therefore the province of youth. For which I have two words: "Madame Pompadour."
ANGLO-SAXON ATTITUDES. I didn't exactly love "King Arthur," but I'll be re-watching it again tomorrow as I so often do. If you're a woman, you'll want to take a look at this.
JUST EAT THE DAMN PEACH. And this.
Both need to be cross-posted. I'll see to that eventually.
THE DISQUIETING DAMOZEL. New Year's Eve is the day I took my previous husband off the respirator. Even though it's been several years since that day I've never felt the same about New Year's Eve and the whole holiday season and maybe I never will. And of course this year's season was pretty much overwhelmed by my dear father-in-law's cancer surgery. 
BUCK NAKED POLITICS. At Buck Naked Politics, D Cupples---who understand statistics---points out that the endless pre-primary polls are actually pretty meaningless: in essence, a way for the media to do a bit of shit-stirring (if you'll pardon my unadorned Anglo-Saxon). She remains leery as well of the statistics we're being fed regarding the Iraq war.
It's cheating a bit, but I want to find a way to get the peach page going without spending so damn much time on it. The Office recaps were fun, but they took forever---ditto anything approaching a review, such as the ghost story series. Since Television without Pity is now covering The Office all the way back to the beginning---though I wish they'd got Jacob to do it----it's gone from a task with little point to a task with none at all. 
BUCK NAKED POLITICS. Today it was my turn at BN-Politics---D Cupples and I have sort of been taking turns over the holidays to allow ourselves a break from politics here and there. My first priority was to call attention to the excellent piece that Charles at Mercury Rising wrote in defense of Benazir Bhutto (who isn't being treated all that nicely in the media, to my surprise). That out of the way, I dealt with the latest from the Fred Thompson campaign. Evidently he's the zen candidate.
THE FLATLAND CHRONICLES. In a way, I'm relieved to find that "Yellow Ledbetter" is as impenetrable to other---and presumably younger---fans as it is to me. Before I looked up the lyrics, I had a vague notion it was a song about a soldier (references to letters and runways), but after I read the lyrics I didn't know what the hell it was all about. "Misheard lyrics guy" has put together a video illustrating his own personal audit. YL always makes me cry, but this time it was with laughter. It's the contrast between the imagery and the poignant, anguished quality of the music and Vedder's voice.
THE FLATLAND CHRONICLES. This is my newest photo essay and I don't really know what else to say about it but this: it is about fans. Not the electric sort or the sort who obsess over celebrities: the old fashioned sort, used for flapping languidly on a hot day, in certain Oriental dances, and by Victorian ladies for flirting. 
THE FLATLAND CHRONICLES. Inspired by recollections of Alice and her chess game, I posted 
"Who was Benazir Bhutto?" asks 
FLORIDIANA GLORIANA. 
