sitting on the edge of the sandbox, biting my tongue

March 6, 2017

The Day of March The 8th

After seizing power in 1917, the Bolsheviks quickly embarked on a program of societal transformation. An integral part of their cathartic agenda was a replacement of traditional pagan and Christian holidays like Christmas or Maslenitsa with newly created socialist rites.  Arguably the most successful of the newly introduced “red calendar days”, the one that the country celebrated in earnest, was International Women’s Day, colloquially known by its temporal marking as the Day of March the 8th.  Not so coincidentally, March 8 was the most subversive of all socialist holidays, and by “subversive” I don’t mean “commie pinko”.

The origins of International Women’s Day are shrouded in mystery.  It first popped up in New York City in 1909 when women workers may or may not have held a strike on that date. In the coming years lady socialists around the Western world led their own strikes on or around March 8th.  One such demonstration in St. Petersburg in 1917 quickly escalated into the overthrow of the tsarist regime.  It is no surprise then that shortly after the October revolution the Soviets canonized the women’s solidarity day. It wasn’t until 1965, however, that the USSR made it into a major holiday giving workers the day off.

The early driving force behind the establishment of the Soviet holiday was a comrade of Vladimir Lenin named Alexandra Kolontai. Here is Ms. Kolontai explaining the meaning of the new socialist observance in a 1920 speech:

Women’s Day or Working Women’s Day is a day of international solidarity, and a day for reviewing the strength and organization of proletarian women. […]

Only the overthrow of capitalism and the establishment of soviet power will save them from the world of suffering, humiliations and inequality that makes the life of the working woman in the capitalist countries so hard. The “Working Woman’s Day” turns from a day of struggle for the franchise into an international day of struggle for the full and absolute liberation of women, which means a struggle for the victory of the soviets and for communism!

One can celebrate many things — harvest, liberation from slavery, birthdays of people, countries and extraordinary historical and religious figures, but how does one mark the occasion of “struggle […] for the victory of communism” on behalf of the fair sex?

In 1965, when the Soviet subjects were allowed a day off to mark the occasion of female solidarity, Soviet women were obliged to work government jobs collecting government wages.  With professional opportunities being bleak and stay-at-home motherhood not an option, women were torn between not particularly satisfying jobs and not always appreciating families.  Without the free market working its magic to meet the needs of working families, this was a particularly difficult undertaking. American women justly complain about the double shift, but try working a double shift when you can’t drive up to a supermarket at 10:54 on Sunday night and buy everything you need to feed your family for a week.

There was also a problem with Russian men (and by “Russian” I mean the culturally Russian).  It’s not just that they generally believed women to be all around inferior, which they did and still do, but with the male/female ratio notoriously askew, there wasn’t (and there isn’t) enough of them.  And it’s not that there were so few of them, but that the ones who manages to survive wars and purges are often plagued by problems like sloth and alcoholism.  Women had to step up and do the men’s jobs, be strong when their men were weak.  Ladies were frequently seen on Soviet streets lifting and towing heavy objects, which was understood to be a problem, not a giant leap for womankind.  Those were not perky coeds who thought it would be cool to compete with men or be on equal terms with them, because they weren’t like their men at all.

Add to it the tragic but not frequently discussed at the time issue of abortion as birth control.  The exact number of abortions performed in the USSR is difficult to estimate because many of were done underground, but it’s not a stretch to say that all culturally Russian sexually active women capable of conception had more than one and often more than ten. This all took place against the background of high rate of alcohol consumption and other untreated mental illnesses.


I’m not sure who took this picture and when, but it appears to be from my birth city of Kharkov , and it is exactly how I remember the Kharkov’s dreary side.  It has the quintessential Russian feel — sure, the girl is hot, but look at the surroundings


In the 70’s and 80’s, when I was growing up, Kolontai’s talk of the overthrow of capitalism was absolutely alien to Soviet reality.  But oh, did we hear about the inevitable victory of socialist labor and other related topics!  Communist ideology was inescapable: pinned to the outer walls of highrises, spewed at politinformation meetings at work and schools, saturated on airwaves — virtually anywhere and everywhere, except for our apartments and especially our kitchens.  What Russian society craved at the time was an escape from the officialdom into a private world, interpersonal relationships, inner feelings.  Personal, not political, because personal was interesting and tangible, and political was gibberish.

I when I set out to write this post, I tried to look up the quote I picked up in one of my seminars that went along the lines that the anti-Soviet was Soviet too.  I couldn’t trace it, unfortunately.  It could be attributed to a well-known dissident for all I know, it could be late Soviet folklore.  The idea here is that everything political is deeply flawed, that the Soviet system wrapped its subjects in the blanket of politics and that politics became inescapable, and that even to resist Soviet reality with a different kind of politics, like the dissidents, was to give into the Soviet system.  Living a private life unbothered by the powers that be was, from that perspective, a true act of radicalism.


Soviet kitsch: postcard cuties bring early spring flowers to their love interests

And those, on this day Russian men give their women flowers, perfume and chocolates and children surprise their mothers with handmade crafts.  Wives and mothers spend the A.M. hours in the kitchen toiling on the labor-intensive mayo-based salads for the holiday feast to be spent with family and close friends.

The irony of the situation was quickly noted: on the supposed women’s day off it was women who busted their butts while, in best case scenarios, men relaxed in front of the television sets. (Worst case scenario? They were drinking someplace.). To offer help with housework this one day a year was considered an act of a true chivalry, but I’m not sure it ever happened, or, if help was offered, it was accepted (because who can trust dad to boil the carrots, right?) or if the offer extended beyond the manlier tasks like vacuuming the rug.


More Soviet kitsch: Serenading mom on March 8. Note the apron on the dad

The men watched tv, first national channel mostly — the other two channels unwatchable–skipping the Supreme Soviets session honoring some proletarian femmes, perhaps noting a program that bemoaned the way women are treated in everyday life and always enjoying the operetta.  Lots of it was aired that day, with the aria of Boni from Imre Kalman’s Silva deemed particularly good fit for the occasion:

“One cannot live without women in this world, oh no,” croons  Boni. “As the poet said, they are our happiness.”  Organizers of #DayWithoutWomen please take note.

When the Soviet empire came crumbling down, some socialist holidays were disposed of, but there was broad consensus that the New Year’s Eve, which still remains the most important holiday throughout the Russian cultural space, and Women’s Day are worth keeping.  It remains a deeply ingrained part of post-Soviet tradition.  Ukraine’s controversial Institute for Historical Memory proposed abolishing this vestige of Communism a month ago this year, but that fell of deaf ears; March 8 is genuinely popular in this set in its ways country.

In Russia and its former holdings the holiday  continues to functions as a combination of Valentine’s Day and Mothers Day, but with a Russian twist.  It’s perfectly normal for a Russian publication to make a list of hottest female politicians in the country, just to celebrate the womankind.  A more western-oriented feminists in That part of the world, both of them, look at March 8 traditions with suspicion these days, but they are marginal creatures.  There might be a different way to authentically commemorate a women’s day, but, not unlike the real communism, it hasn’t been tried yet.

America doesn’t need International Women’s Day because our consumer-oriented, individualist society developed different, better ways of showing appreciation of women. When Valentine’s Day and Mothers Day are true people’s holidays, March 8 was an occasion celected by the state that Soviet society made its own.  And yet there is something that we, feminists especially, can learn from this Soviet holiday, namely the idea that private life is worth living for its own sake, that at the end personal happiness is all that matters and that it shouldn’t be sacrificed on the altar of second wave feminism.

I want to leave you with a song by Alla Pugacheva, a spirited redhead with clear, powerful voice, who, in the 70’s and 80’s became the embodiment of personal, not political turn in the Soviet psyche.  She sang of feelings and relationships, love and artists, childhood and motherhood, and it resonated.  I didn’t appreciate Soviet pop at the time, but now, looking back, I get the phenomenon.  So here is One Million Scarlet Roses, her mid-80’s megahit we expected to hear on the first national channel at prime time on International Women’s Day.


February 16, 2014

We Are a Part of That Statistic

Filed under: relationships — edge of the sandbox @ 7:09 pm

What is this world coming to?  According to a Pew survey, 21% Of married women in this country are now living with a spouse with fewer degrees, but out of newlywed women married to less credentialed men, only 39% out-earn their husbands.

Pew never called me, but I know the story.  I started dating my future husband when I was in grad school.  He already had his degree… from SF State… in creative writing.  Laugh all you want.

Furthermore, I was advised to not waste my time with him because, when asked “what do you do?” my future husband answered “I play music”.  But you see, I very much like his creative side, and never for a moment thought he was a waste of time.  I saw intelligence, I saw character and I saw the genes with which to make cute kids.

Degrees don’t mean much these days, and good man can be found in places other than colleges.  Then there is this opinion about marrying a man you didn’t meet in college:

Could you marry a man who isn’t your intellectual or professional equal? Sure. But the likelihood is that it will be frustrating to be with someone who just can’t keep up with you or your friends. When the conversation turns to Jean Cocteau or Henrik Ibsen, the Bayeux Tapestry or Noam Chomsky, you won’t find that glazed look that comes over his face at all appealing. (Via Instapundit)

I had to look up Bayeux Tapestry.  Then again, I wasn’t raised in the English-speaking world.  I’m not sure too many undergads read Chomsky (grad students might scan it, if absolutely necessary).  Jean Cocteau or Henrik Ibsen: are you kidding me?  Much of the workload these days consists of Rococo Marxist takes on pop culture.  I realize the author, Susan Patton, was probably just trying to dress up her point, not comment on the substance of college kids’ conversation, and I am on record saying that the college years are a good time to look for a husband.

Over at Instapundit some readers commented that the statistic of women marrying down education-wise but not financially probably picks up men with engineering degrees who only need a BS to be a top income earner.  Back in 1990’s San Francisco when the economy was good, one didn’t need a degree to break into programming, and that’s just what my husband did.  I’d like to think that I don’t need to see a diploma to figure out that I’m talking to a brainy man.

September 10, 2013


Filed under: feminism, relationships, society — Tags: , — edge of the sandbox @ 9:42 pm

…what were you thinking?  Consider the following scenario:

THE end of a marriage is always sad, but divorce can be particularly devastating for a woman who still wants children but whose fertility is on the decline. Her ex may have many years left to start a new family of his own, but by the time she meets a new partner, it may be too late.


Could egg freezing help her save the last of her fertility?

That’s the hope of a 38-year-old woman who is a client of Ronald G. Lieberman, a family law attorney in Haddonfield, N.J. Mr. Lieberman is asking his client’s soon-to-be-former husband of eight years to pay $20,000 to cover her egg-freezing procedure, medication costs and several years of egg storage. “When they got married, the expectation was they would start a family,” he told me. “Now she might not have the chance much longer.” [Via Instapundit].

No word on whether her ex hooked up with a younger woman and started a family of his own.

But seriously, this woman tied the knot at 30, the age when she should be keenly aware of her fertility, and didn’t get to start a family until her marriage fell apart nearly decade later.  She can ask for all egg alimony she wants, but what good does it do if she can’t conceive a child?

She might had been a die-hard DINK — until she wasn’t — but more likely her husband got her to postpone motherhood indefinitely, and with an assist from feminists: “Yes, honey, there is so much to do, your career, travel!  Not this year.”  A-ha.  What she didn’t take into account is that 38 might be the end of the line for her, but he still feels* virile at 40, and that even though he said his vows, he had problems committing, e.g. making babies.  In a late marriage like that after a year or two it’s decision time.

Being very clear from the get-go doesn’t hurt, of course.  The “deciding together is we want children” attitude is confusing because acillating sends a signal that he doesn’t need to worry about fatherhood in the near future and possibly not ever.

An important thing to realize is that the women who don’t warn us that most will not eventually regret not having children don’t have our backs.  Most women who are childless by choice might enjoy being carefree when we are chasing tots, but they will feel very different about their choices at the end.  So be skeptical of women telling us that children are optional; they have political agendas and like to exert power over our bodies.  The fact that they can’t stop talking of bodies and power should be a hint.


* And possibly not aware of neurological problems of children conceived to older dads.

December 11, 2012

Methinks Berkeley Students Have No Problem Procuring Cheap Contraception

Filed under: education, politics, relationships — Tags: , , , — edge of the sandbox @ 10:27 am

I read The Daily Cal’s Sex on Tuesday column as an undergrad, and thought it was something of note.  When I came back on campus a few years later and attempted to read the same column, now written by a different girl (if there was ever a Sex on Tuesday boy, I missed it) and quickly concluded that a 20-year-old has no business writing sex advice.  Via College Insurrection I found that a girl by the name of Nadia Cho, now in custody of Sex on Tuesday, made a quite a splash proclaiming:

[H]aving sex on campus is actually very doable, and it’s lots of fun. It’s also surprisingly easy.

Note to the copy editor: “doable” connotes relative ease.  To avoid redundancy, strike out the last sentence.  Besides, even if we take our self-described “mischievous” author for her own word, sex on campus is not that easy.  She chose the evening before Thanksgiving when the campus is “marvelously empty” for her adventure, but try doing it the day before the first final when everyone and his mother is at The Stacks studying.  Plus, she makes it pretty clear that neither she nor her unfortunate male partner actually had an orgasm.  “I’m just not ambitious” — she explained.  I dono… What she does with her body in the privacy of whatever is really none of my business, but I like my newspaper correspondents thorough and ambitious.

To be sure, Ms. Cho has the theory to back her no-orgasm sex practice:

[S]ex isn’t always about cumming and having orgasms. Sometimes it’s for shits and giggles. Having expectations and goals can ruin the fun of it.

She has lots of theory.  For instance, she authoritatively states:

The risk of getting caught is what makes having sex in public so exciting. Without that, there wouldn’t be any novelty in doing it. It’s fun to challenge yourself to not make any noise while having sex.

Nadia Cho folds her hands

Nadia devoted several paragraphs to encouraging her fellow students to make out in public places.  Among her pearls:

Other than providing fun places to get down, Berkeley is the best place to explore your sexuality.

That sentence is a fine example of Berkeley undergrad writing.  Presumably “the best place to explore your sexuality” is “fun […] to get down”.  Rewrite and shorten.  The problem with undergraduates is that they get accustomed to getting paid by the word, so to say.  In every humanities class, they absolutely have to stretch their pearls to make up 8 pages, which prevents them from developing an ability to write as they think.  I shouldn’t pick on the columnist too much, I doubt I was any better when I was her age — although I wish I had more instruction.Ms. Cho continues:

Our school is a predominantly safe and accepting space with many places, people and resources to help you discover your sexual self.

“[P]redominantly safe”?  As far as I can tell, “predominantly safe” means keep on the look out for creeps — as any woman should, anywhere. But then there is this:

It is the place where I learned what it means to be queer, to recognize the presence of patriarchy, to attempt polyamory and to become more confident in my sexuality so I could go ahead with new experiences — attending naked parties and orgies and writing a sex column, just to name a few.

Ah, the patriarchy!  So that’s why Berkeley is not “safe” but merely “predominantly safe”, because there might be a patriarch roaming around somewhere.

Speaking of naked parties, are Nadia’s parents reading her world-famous column?  Well, doh!  Of course!  Considering that the girl is in no hurry to get home the day before Thanksgiving, the point of this writing exercise is most likely to get her bill-paying (Korean?  Patriarchal?) father know who’s the boss.  I don’t suppose the column will hurt her employment chances, not in the Bay Area, where patriarchy no longer prevents us women from enjoying our sexuality, but does she really want every romantic interest from this day forward googling her name?  And if she gets around to having a family, she has to presume that her kids will find out.  I have some decade-old silliness attached to my name floating online, nothing of sex on campus caliber, to be sure, but enough to dread the day when my kids will enter my name into a search engine.

Ms. Cho concludes her story:

Learn to appreciate your sexy side and experience a few frisky things during your time here. Take the Female Sexuality DeCal […]

That, my friends, is the difference between a Sex on Tuesday columnist and her audience: Female Sexuality DeCal.  Whatever it takes to have their pretty little brains occupied.

UPDATE: Linked by Doug Ross.  Thanks!

September 25, 2012

Bad Girls on Oxytocin

Filed under: feminism, relationships — Tags: , , — edge of the sandbox @ 11:18 am

In a series of Freudian slips President Obama let us know that in his view our allies are “noise” and the murdered American ambassador is “bump in the road”.  Elizabeth Warren looks more and more like a compulsive liar.  And I’m going to write about relationships.

“Why didn’t we tell them?” asks Leslie Loftis.  A young woman who had the brains to be admitted into Princeton confesses:

During the second semester of my freshman year, two of my closest female friends and I created an “Accomplishment Chart,” complete with a star for each “accomplishment” we had achieved. One of those friends had been dating a freshman boy since September and she had only one star. My other friend and I would taunt her ruthlessly for her lack of “accomplishments.” We, on the other hand, were plenty accomplished. Whenever I looked at the star stickers adorning my section of the chart, I would always laugh out loud, remembering the awful, drunken hookup that each star symbolized. There were many nights, though, when I couldn’t sleep from cringing at those memories. But I wouldn’t take those experiences back. Without them, I would have never realized how much I hate the hookup culture here.

It wasn’t until the end of my sophomore year that I finally started regarding my freshman hookups as mistakes. This was partially because I had a hard time admitting that I had messed up. For me, to regret a decision was on par with saying “I screwed up big time,” which I could barely admit to myself, let alone a peer. And the desire to seem like I already knew it all, despite never having lived on my own before, kept me from asking questions when I first got to Princeton. But even if I had, there were elements of the hookup culture I would have never been able to anticipate, let alone seek advice about.

I have to say, if after a year of bad sex this young lady figured that hook up culture sicks, she got out easy.  She could have picked up a disease or seriously screwed up her life.  But here is Temple of Mut with an excellent essay on why women are casualties of casual sex.  It has nothing to do with culture or feminism, it’s hormonal:

During millions of years of human evolution, the female system has been designed to begin a cascade of oxytocin production during two specific events: 1) When being intimate with a male; 2) When breast-feeding an infant. On the other hand, human males have very limited oxytocin levels (and actually release some of the little oxytocin they produce when “involved” with the woman of the moment).

Now, oxytocin is a wonderful thing. It energizes people, and makes them feel good about life. It enhances the immune system, as well as boosts other biochemical processes in the human body. Personally, after strawberry margaritas, oxytocin is my favorite chemical (and I have a graduate degree in chemistry, so I know chemicals).

However, as with everything else pleasurable in life, there can be a bit of a downside. Once a woman generates oxytocin, she will usually want to do everything in her power to keep up the production levels. For example, there are tales of women who nurse their babies past toddler-hood (until 3, 4 or 5 years in age). This is related to the fact these women want to continue releasing oxytocin (even though they will have other rationalizations).

The same thing is true following intimate relations. Oxytocin production can be stimulated in a woman through her lover’s voice, scent, sight and touch. This fact explains a wide range of female behaviors that follow intimacy. For example, women will call up their new partner frequently. They will steal their lover’s shirts to enjoy the scent. They will invent excuses to see the man-of-the moment. And the more oxytocin these women generate when with their lovers (or by talking to them), the more emotionally attached they get.

As they say, read the whole thing.  As a pop number from decades ago had it, you might like him better if you sleep together.  What Romeo Void didn’t warn us about is that you might like him too much:

Many feminists egg on young women to engage in no-strings-attached sex like certain men, but historically that’s not how women are “bad”.  As Mut explained, women don’t have much to gain from sleeping around.  The way women “have” men is by not sleeping with them, by making men lust after themselves, but not giving up sex.  A not-so-secret admirer is a fabulous ego-booster, and in certain circles one-sided friendships of this nature are quite common.

Granted, having a page is not an “accomplishment” that a young lady will decorate with a star on a chart — that would be gosh.  She has to be content with gossip that recognizes her as the girl who broke somebody’s little heart.  Even then, being a tease is rather dead-endinsh — but so is being a Cosanova.  However, getting a man interested and keeping him interested through decades of relationship does require some female talents.

I’ll be back shortly with a post about identity.

UPDATE: Linked by Legal Insurrection — many thanks to Professor Jacobson.

July 23, 2012

Was The South Always Different?

Filed under: relationships — Tags: , , , — edge of the sandbox @ 2:17 pm

A sophomore from Athens Amber Estes wrote an advice piece on how to find husband in college (via Instapundit).  The college years seem be a good time to pair up, especially when the men are conveniently pre-selected to meet certain minimum requirements, but some parents disagree.  In her cover story for The Atlantic, for instance, Katie Bolick recalled that her mother suggested that her college boyfriend break up with her daughter (many years down the road, her dad lamented that she’s unlucky in love).  A while ago, Penelope Trunk broke the mold recommending to start the husband hunt “early”, by 24.  I commented back then that’s what’s shocking about this statement is that 24 is considered early, and I think Estes might concur.

In the mid-90s, when I transferred to Berkeley in my junior year, I started out under the assumption that everyone would be looking for a spouse.  After all, this is what I knew in the Soviet Union where by the time they received their diplomas most women were married, likely had children, and possibly had already divorced.

It’s not just that I personally didn’t exactly follow Amber’s advice — I shopped for some outrageous get ups at Mars Mercantile and wasn’t too shy to parade them around campus, for instance — or that I didn’t do the Greek scene, which seems to be her thing.  I struggle to think of a single Berkeley alumni my age who married her college sweetheart — not sorority girls, not Russians, not anyone.

I found that few students were interested in romance, and that the relationships that did form on campus were often of the transient kind — one night stands, “open” relationships, or the ones that simple didn’t last long.  We were busy: the curriculum was fairly demanding, and we were on the studious side.  It’s worth noting that the atmosphere was cliquish and students didn’t talk much to each other.  Perhaps feminism played a role, and young men were unsure of themselves.  More importantly, there was the prevailing assumption that the 20s are not for childbearing.  Many of us were graduate degree-bound, and even the ones who weren’t didn’t want to be bound to a single individual at that stage.  If I mentioned wanting to have two children by the time I’m 30, other students thought it was crazytalk.  Most of them didn’t worry about such things.

They also, if you find this information relevant, didn’t think I was a motherly type.  My retort was that nearly everyone is a motherly type.  I eventually lost touch with my college friends, but I do know that at 33 I was among the first to get married, and at 34 I was among the first to give birth.  Personally, I found it very difficult to start a family in my 20s.  Perhaps I was doing it all wrong; I didn’t bake cookies for bf’s buddies as Estes suggests.  To the contrary, DH’s old bandmate called me a Zionist bitch, and I am still damn proud of it.  But I suspect that the less confrontational women fared worse than me when it comes to love, mainly because they didn’t plan for it.

I do see quite a few professional Bay Area mothers who started having kids in their late 20s.  But even within this “young mom” demo, I’m yet to meet a single woman who married a college sweetheart.  It could be sample bias, of course, but it might just be that around here we are not wired to meet our men on campus.  So either there is some kind of emerging trend for earlier marriage or the South is just different.

July 21, 2012

You Didn’t Build This, So We Are Going to Take It Away

On the other hand, you did write it, so I am going to link.

It’s napless madness around here.  If there is no child sitting on my lap at any given moment, it means that within five minutes there will be.  So basically I don’t really have a chance to read and comment, much less to post.  So I compiled a partial list of my reads… from the last several weeks.  I have a feeling half of my readers are probably looking at this and think that they wish they’d have my problems.  Consider one other mothers’ ordeal.

In sunny California, Governor Jerry Brown staged groundbreaking ceremonies for the speed train in SF and LA, where the train is popular with head-in-the-clouds types.  But not in the San Joaquin Valley where construction is actually going to take place but the project is unpopular.  I was listening to Armstrong and Getty this morning, and they were saying that although at the moment the Governor Brown proposal to raise taxes enjoys support of about 50% of Californians, 20% say that they will not vote for it if the bullet train is approved.  So hopefully Brown just killed his tax hike.

Elsewhere in California Sobek of Innocent Bystanders strongly recommends voting for Republican Elizabeth Emken for Senator.  He posted her picture, too.  Her opponent the Democratic  Senior Senator from California Diane Feinstein is endorsed by San Diego tea Party.  WHAT?  Let Leslie from Temple of Mut explain:

An important note to my Republican/Conservative friends — when the “Big Red Wave of 2010″ stopped at the Sierras and the state GOP failed to eject the contemptible Babs Boxer, then how in the hell do you think they are going to get rid of the much more respected Feinstein? As a friend, I say this to you: Direct your money and energies to battleground Senate races (e.g., Richard Mourdock in Indiana). This in not a battle worth fighting, given the field that is being offered.

Considering that it’s California, we can do much, much worse than Feinstein.  Since this unlikely endorsement, Feinstein was heard fuming over the leaks of classified information likely coming from the Obama Administration.  Not bad.  Even if she’s replaced by a Republican, I’d fear that the next election the Republican will be voted out and replaced by a doctrinaire left-winger.  Having sad that, because there is no chance Feinstein will not be elected, I’m voting for the GOP candidate.  I’m not going to go out of my way to get her elected, though.  A good place to go out of my way is Operation Counterweight.  Lets target those seats!

If a dead dog doesn’t get to vote, it’s racism because the dog is a black lab.  (Via The Daley Gator).

Lori Gottleib and Kate Bolick are missing out on the coolest party in Brooklyn.

Leslie Loftis compares marital advise then and now.

James O’Keefe shows that everything we suspect about the politics of “shovel-ready” jobs is true.  I suspect our President thinks that’s the kind of “shovel-ready” jobs that made hard-working people successful.

A related headline: You Didn’t Lose Your Job.  Somebody Else Made It Happen.

Anne’s Opinions is commemorating the Israeli victims of Bulgaria bus bombing.

A blood-curling video via Bob:

Via Instapundit, Suburban Illinois Jews are turning to GOP.  It’s about time.  I never understood why community as entrepreneurial as the American Jews embraced socialism.  I mean, I know the story about the pogroms, and the FDR fighting World War Two and all, but I still don’t get it.

King Shamus reviewed The Obama Effect.

Manhattan Infidel updates his Kennedy Malfeasance Template.

Linda NoOne is still not blogging in full force, but she did post some amazingly bad cover songs.

On Structuring Chaos I found a link to a terrific piece on the boomer generation by Nick Gillespie.  I thought of writing a response, and maybe I will if time allows.  Meanwhile, read it!

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