Gnyargh. I've wrestled with whether I ought to even post this, but it's something that has come up before and made me feel uncomfortable and weird and like I'm a humor-deprived hick for feeling uncomfortable and weird, and I'm sorry if this irritates people, but I think, probably, I'm going to post it anyway.
Um. Ew. I hate to even bring the subject up again, but those dildos and butt-plugs do, in fact, seriously disgust me -- and not just because they're Christian symbols; I'm pretty sure I recall hearing that they also come Buddha-flavored, and that skeeves me just as badly. I think it's because, however little we know about any of these people, most reputable historians agree that at the base of the legends and mythologies are traces of real flesh-and-blood people.
There was an actual Prince Gautama who thought a lot about how much we all suffer and how we can cope with it, and there was an actual peasant preacher in Palestine who thought that the rich ought to stop crapping on the poor and who got smacked down hard for saying it, and he had a mother whose heart broke when she had to do the worst thing in the world and bury her child.
And I know that the latter two, at least, have been used by all kinds of horrid people as excuses for actions so blasphemous they make dildos and butt-plugs seem petty in comparison; and humanity being what it is, I'm sure there have been some right Buddhist bastards as well. But still, before they got made into sock puppets for other people's agendas, they were all actual people doing the best they could in a fucked-up world, and it seems profoundly un-funny to do that to their images.
And, all that said, I don't even care if others talk about them or joke about them; it comes up once a year or so and I skip or skim or both and it's all fine. It just feels weird to have this extremely strong reaction and never say anything about it.
Yeah...they would tell him his ears look funny, world domination is weird and totally make him cry...could they stop by Washington DC first?This was about Cindy's post, not JZ's post.
Harumph. I ought to send a cabal of kindergarten girls after that rascally rabbit. He wouldn't last the day.
They would all coo over how cute and adorable he is. Remember, Orbital Mind Control Lasers.
Yeah...they would tell him his ears look funny, world domination is weird and totally make him cry...could they stop by Washington DC first?
Um. No. If they saw the picture of Condi that I just saw, they would be too busy crying and peeing their pants to wreak the kind of havoc that is their gift.
They would all coo over how cute and adorable he is.
Exactly.
The Velveteen Rabbit
may be a touching childhood tale for human children, but smart bunnies ought to heed it as a cautionary tale.
Remember, Orbital Mind Control Lasers.
Yeah, they're immune. They can, admittedly, be bought.
I see and appreciate your point JZ, and won't argue your Ick. I think I might feel the same if the depictions on the, er, toys were original depictions. What I mean is, if they weren't copies of the same flowy robed, white, blue eyed European idea of the dark skinned, Palestinian peasant preacher- I would feel it was a depiction of a real person. Again though, not meant to be an argument.
t snickering in chagrined evil over erika's post
note to self: hide copy of the Hustler edition of Lives of the Saints before wife gets home.
Exactly. The Velveteen Rabbit may be a touching childhood tale for human children, but smart bunnies ought to heed it as a cautionary tale.
(I am a sap. A mere *mention* of The Velveteen Rabbit makes me sniffly.)
Yeah, they're immune. They can, admittedly, be bought.
With shiny things and candy, which are some of the things the Devilbunny likes best. Along with Orbital Mind Control Lasers.
Okay, here's the NOLA food report. Apologies in advance for the length, but Hec did ask for a FULL report.
Let's see...
Thursday lunch: Mandina's, cup of artichoke-oyster soup and a oyster/shrimp po'boy. (Which was HUGE, but delicious.)
Thursday dinner: Um...some place on Decatur that's not Tujaques, because the pris fixe didn't really work out for the vegetarian in the group. No idea what I ate/drank. Some kind of cajun seafood thing. Drank something, I'm sure, but I'm damned if I can remember what. Probably a vodka tonic.
Friday breakfast: Cafe Beignet, traditional breakfast (scrambled eggs, bacon, grits, coffee). YUM. Grits fucking rock.
Friday lunch: Central Grocery muffuletta! Split with DH. Diet Coke.
Friday pre-dinner: Ghost tour leaving from Flannagan's Pub, which included buy-one-get-one-free drink gift certificates. Most people got Hurricane's. I tried a sip of DH's, decreed it nasty, and did not end up taking advantage of my potential free drink.
Friday dinner: That place on the corner of that street and that other street. Red beans and rice, which were nummy, and procecco, which turned out not to go with the red beans and rice very well. But still nummy.
Friday late night: Walked over to Frenchman Street, had a vodka tonic at Bad Apples, and listened to some live jazz. During the set breaks, we took over the jukebox.
Saturday breakfast: Hotel buffet. BIG MISTAKE. Not to be repeated.
Saturday lunch: No clue. Did I eat lunch on Saturday? I know we did the swamp tour...huh. We may have skipped lunch.
Saturday mid-afternoon pit stop: Pimm's Cup and cheese board at Napolean House. It was lovely and refreshing, exactly as advertised.
Saturday dinner: Cafe Giovanni's. Drinks in the bar beforehand because our table wasn't ready. I had a vodka tonic, even though I was kind of tired of them. Dinner was two courses of pasta stuffed with/covered in cheese, with shrimp on top, and some hot peppers added for Cajun-ness. And red wine. Nummy.
Sunday brunch: Palace Cafe. Coffee, mimosa, and a shrimp quiche w/ creamed spinach that broke. me. in. half. It was too rich for me to finish, but DAYUM it was good. Oh, and a cappucino with Godiva liqueur, and kahlua. Next time, maybe I'll try something off the three-course pris fixe menu.
Sunday mid-afternoon pit stop/dinner: Muriel's. We got to the bar around 5, started drinking (and enjoying the free bread that the hot waiter kept bringing us), and by dinnertime, we decided that, really, we had no reason to leave. At only 2 vodka martinis with extra olives, I was the lightest drinker of the group. But the atmosphere was so pleasant, and the restaurant smelled so good that we persuaded the remaining 4 members of our group to join us there for dinner, instead of making us go out in the cold and walk somewhere else. While we were waiting for our table, HARRY FREAKING SHEARER came in behind us. Those of us who recognized him squeed quietly and explained who he was to everyone else. I had goat-cheese filled crepes topped with shrimp (SO GOOD) and salmon in a mustard-dill sauce (ALSO SO GOOD) and bread pudding (SO SO GOOD EVEN IF I COULD ONLY EAT TWO BITES BECAUSE IT WAS SO RICH). And another martini. With more extra olives. I like olives.
We shall not speak of Monday.
