I was reading ... somewhere ... a post by a young woman of color who's teaching at a college. She was having problems with a (white, male) student; for an assignment early in the year he'd turned in something which was about his sexual experiences (sorry - my memory's a bit vague on the details). She gave him a bad grade, largely because it wasn't what she'd assigned. He protested the grade and even after having the grade left as originally set, protested throughout the year. He'd sit in her class with his arms folded, glaring at her. He turned up in her class the following year, with the same attitude. She was concerned for her safety.

The response was as you might expect - women, people of color, gays, etc., gave advice on how to protect herself - making sure he'd never get her alone, making campus security and the administration aware that there was a problem. Others responded that it was a stupid assignment and he'd responded in protest to its stupidity; that she was stereotyping him and she was the problem.

Don't know if this problem will ever go away; probably not in my lifetime, but maybe someday.

I LOVED that panel with the guy erecting a giant erection.

It's depressing cause it's true.

Because really, I had no idea I'm a radical, insane, hairy, lesbo feminist if I'm just saying that women and LGTBQ should feel safe walking the streets and that we should stop ignoring it - but apparently I am.

It might be difficult to explain, later, why I like Greg Dulli's music so much. I was listening to Omerta earlier and thought how well most of it describes my feeling towards social change via feminism at the moment. While I'm all Brathes' girl with The Death of the Author, I sometimes recognize an extreme argument when I see one (for the record, I do not find Dulli's lyrics sexist. Yes, even Be Sweet).

Oh hey, one of you guys is going to be receiving a package from California in the next few days. It's just something my sister was going to give to the goodwill that I thought belonged with you.

If it's any consolation, things have gotten better. When I graduated from high school it was standard to have classified ads headed "Help Wanted - Men" and "Help Wanted - Women". When I graduated from college, my (women's) college didn't get a lot of companies looking to recruit, while our brother school did. The boys graduating also got credit card offers; after almost a year of being out on my own, I had to have my father co-sign in order to get a credit card. When I was interviewing for jobs that first summer (and for several years afterwards), it was still legal to ask about my plans for marriage and children. And one of the first questions asked was always "how fast do you type?" There were quotas - and very stingy ones - for women in any graduate school, especially law and medical school. Sexual harassment was the norm, with very few people seeing anything wrong with it.

So ... progress.

I know I baby picspammed yesterday, but holy crap, these came out too cute not to share!

No such thing as picspam when it's a cutie of that magnitude. Goodness, GC, what an bundle of adorableness.

Greetings, all.

So Hubby ran our housemate to work, then came home and woke me up--praise be it's my day off--and said, "Let's go bother some doctors." Yes, the dear doofus spent the night playing "The nitro has knocked it down, I don't want to go back on Plavix" roulette. So at 9 AM we went to the ER, where his regular cardiologist was on call, yay, so we had immediate access to the person who knows Hubby's heart best.

The EKGs and blood tests haven't shown anything that says definitively "Heart attack here," so they did an angiogram--what's one more, and an official disabled designation pays for it--and that didn't show anything definitive either. So he's currently in the hospital for the night to see if anything weird happens. He should be home tomorrow.

They now do angiograms through the wrist, not through the groin. It's much less invasive, not as far to go, and other good things. When we started with the heart adventures, angiograms involved heavy sandbags on the incision site in the groin to make sure everything stayed sealed. I have been amazed at the progression in technique.

It may have been bad angina, it may have been the crimped nerves in his neck mimicking a heart problem. We've got the best cardiology department in the state less than two miles from the house, we might as well use it.

Thank you all for the ~ma, I think it's going to be OK.

Cereal:

Great set of pictures from a benefit screening of RHPS with a shadow cast performance of professional actors including Lea Michelle as Janet, Matthew Morrison as Brad, Jack Nicholson as the Narrator, George Lopez as Chuckie Grey, and Julian McMahon as Frank (and he makes a SPLENDID Frank). Best picture though was the cast going bonkers as Tim Curry was called up on stage at the conclusion of the performance.

There are also a couple of vids in the article as well.

[link]

Jorge Garcia! Rock on.

Thanks for checking in, Connie. Glad to hear your husband is OK. Sorry about the night in the hospital, tho. Those never involve a good night's sleep.

Connie, glad your hubby has the more-or-less all-clear signal.

They now do angiograms through the wrist, not through the groin.

Wow, really? My dad hasn't had one through the wrist yet!

When we started with the heart adventures, angiograms involved heavy sandbags on the incision site in the groin to make sure everything stayed sealed. I have been amazed at the progression in technique.

Just the move away from the sandbags was a godsend.