- August 2017
- July 2017
- June 2017
- May 2017
- April 2017
- March 2017
- February 2017
- January 2017
- December 2016
- November 2016
- October 2016
- September 2016
- August 2016
- July 2016
- June 2016
- May 2016
- April 2016
- March 2016
- February 2016
- January 2016
- December 2015
- November 2015
- October 2015
- September 2015
- August 2015
- July 2015
- June 2015
- May 2015
- April 2015
- March 2015
- February 2015
- January 2015
- December 2014
- November 2014
- October 2014
- September 2014
- August 2014
- July 2014
- June 2014
- May 2014
- April 2014
- March 2014
- February 2014
- January 2014
- December 2013
- November 2013
- October 2013
- September 2013
- August 2013
- June 2013
- May 2013
- April 2013
- March 2013
- February 2013
- January 2013
- December 2012
- November 2012
- October 2012
- September 2012
- August 2012
- July 2012
- June 2012
- May 2012
- April 2012
- March 2012
- February 2012
- January 2012
- December 2011
- November 2011
- October 2011
- September 2011
- August 2011
- July 2011
- June 2011
- May 2011
- April 2011
- March 2011
- February 2011
- January 2011
- December 2010
- November 2010
- October 2010
- August 2010
- July 2010
- December 2009
- November 2009
- October 2009
- September 2009
- August 2009
- July 2009
- August 2007
- July 2007
- June 2007
Spell To Be Said Against Hatred
Until each breath refuses “they,” “those,” “them.”
Until the Dramatis Personae of the book’s first page says “Each one is you.”
Until hope bows to its hopelessness only as one self bows to another.
Until cruelty bends to its work and sees suddenly “I.”
Until anger and insult know themselves burnable legs of a useless chair.
Until the unsurprised unbidden knees find themselves nonetheless bending.
Until fear bows to its object as a bird’s shadow bows to its bird.
Until the ache of the solitude inside the hands, the ribs, the ankles.
Until the sound the mouse makes inside the mouth of the cat.
Until the inaudible acids bathing the coral.
Until what feels no one’s weighing is no longer weightless.
Until what feels no one’s earning is no longer taken.
Until grief, pity, confusion, laughter, longing see themselves mirrors.
Until by “we” we mean I, them, you, the muskrat, the tiger, the hunger.
Until by “I” we mean as a dog barks, sounding and vanishing and sounding and
Until by “until” we mean I, we, you, them, the muskrat, the tiger, the hunger,
the lonely barking of the dog before it is answered.
There are many reasons why one may study ancient Greek and Koine Greek; as a student of the classics, archaeology, new testament studies, pure interest, but when we learn a new language we are often bowled over by the amount of rules and terms to remember with just the basics. So in response to some of my students I am here providing some of the most important rules when learning basic Greek so one can remember them, refer to them and read the Greek better.
- 24 Letters, many similar to English ones
- 7 vowels
- Short vowels = α ε ι ο υ
- Long vowels = α η ι ω υ = note Eta and Omega are long forms of Epsilon and Omicron
- Γγ is pronounced as ng. Thus ἅγγελος is angelos (angel)
- There is still debate over how eta is pronounced
- Iota can sometimes behave as a consonant when…
View original post 1,184 more words
My dear sister Janet,
It is 2:00 in the morning and most of our men are asleep in their dugouts—yet I could not sleep myself before writing to you of the wonderful events of Christmas Eve. In truth, what happened seems almost like a fairy tale, and if I hadn’t been through it myself, I would scarce believe it. Just imagine: While you and the family sang carols before the fire there in London, I did the same with enemy soldiers here on the battlefields of France!
Published on Aug 9, 2017
James Demore of Google recently wrote a memo detailing his thoughts about Google’s various diversity initiatives. Inside the company, and then outside, it went viral. He lost his job, in consequence: for “perpetuating gender stereotypes.” The problem is that everything James claimed is solidly backed by well-developed scientific literatures. Thus, the company that is arguably in charge of more of the world’s communication than any other has now fired a promising engineer for stating a series of established scientific truths.
That’s worth thinking about.
Here are a series of references buttressing each and every claim James made in his memo, which has been erroneously deemed pseudo-scientific (full papers linked where possible):
Larger/large and stable sex differences in more gender-neutral countries: (Note: these findings runs precisely and exactly contrary to social constructionist theory: thus, it’s been tested, and it’s wrong).
The general importance of exposure to sex-linked steroids on fetal and then lifetime development:
Hines (2015) http://bit.ly/2uufOiv
Exposure to prenatal testosterone and interest in things or people (even when the exposure is among females):
Berenbaum (1992): http://bit.ly/2uKxpSQ
Beltz (2011): http://bit.ly/2hPXC1c
Baron-Cohen (2014): http://bit.ly/2vn4KXq
Hines (2016): http://bit.ly/2hPYKSu
To quote de Bruyn et al: high status predicts more mating opportunities and, thus, increased reproductive success. “This is true for human adults in many cultures, both ‘modern’ as well as ‘primitive’ (Betzig, 1986). In fact, this theory seems to be confirmed for non-human primates (Cheney, 1983; Cowlishaw and Dunbar, 1991; Dewsbury, 1982; Gray, 1985; Maslow, 1936) and other animals from widely differing ecologies (Ellis, 1995) such as squirrels (Farentinos, 1972), cockerels (Kratzer and Craig, 1980), and cockroaches (Breed, Smith, and Gall, 1980).” Status also increases female reproductive success, via a different pathway: “For females, it is generally argued that dominance is not necessarily a path to more copulations, as it is for males. It appears that important benefits bestowed upon dominant women are access to resources and less harassment from rivals (Campbell, 2002). Thus, dominant females tend to have higher offspring survival rates, at least among simians (Pusey, Williams, and Goodall, 1997); thus, dominance among females also appears to be linked to reproductive success.”
Personality and political belief:
Gerber (2010): http://bit.ly/2hOpnHa
Hirsh (2010): http://bit.ly/2fsxIzB
Gerber (2011): http://bit.ly/2hJ1Kjb
Xu (2013): http://bit.ly/2ftDhOq
Burton (2015): http://bit.ly/2uoPS87
Occupations by gender:
The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants:
“A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.”
(Second Amendment to the Constitution.)
BY SEAMUS HEANEY
Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.
Under my window, a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging. I look down
Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds
Bends low, comes up twenty years away
Stooping in rhythm through potato drills
Where he was digging.
The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft
Against the inside knee was levered firmly.
He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep
To scatter new potatoes that we picked,
Loving their cool hardness in our hands.
By God, the old man could handle a spade.
Just like his old man.
My grandfather cut more turf in a day
Than any other man on Toner’s bog.
Once I carried him milk in a bottle
Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up
To drink it, then fell to right away
Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods
Over his shoulder, going down and down
For the good turf. Digging.
The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap
Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
Through living roots awaken in my head.
But I’ve no spade to follow men like them.
Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I’ll dig with it.
Oracabessa – origins disputed but most likely leave over
from the Spanish. Oracabeza, Golden Head, though
what gold was here other than light shining off the bay,
other than bananas bursting out from red flowers? But
this too is disputed – not the flowers – rather, the origin
of bananas; they may have come here with Columbus on
a ship that in 1502 slipped into Orcabessa the way grief
sometimes slips into a room. In those days the sailor
tried to name the island Santa Maria, as if not knowing
we already had a name, in another language, a language
whose speakers would soon die – though this too is
disputed – not the deaths, but the completeness of
genocide. Consider, if you will, such leave-over words as
barbecue; consider hurricane; consider the word Jamaica,
land of wood and water – but not of gold. Could someone
please go back in time and tell Columbus, in Taino there
is no word for gold. Christopher Columbus, in Italiano
Cristoforo Colombo, en español Cristóbal Colón. A teacher
once told me ‘Colón’ is root word for colonist, and though
I know that was false etymology, there is some truth to it.
Oracabessa – place where you might find such tranquil
villas as Golden Cove, Golden Clouds or Goldeneye –
longtime home of Ian Fleming who sat there on cliff’s
edge, the morning’s breakfast brought to him by a woman
named Doris, the scent of ackee and crisp-fried
breadfruit wafting up to his nostrils while between his
teeth he bit a number 2 pencil, all the time looking out to
sea as if fishing for a story – maybe a man – an incredible
man – let’s call him Bond. James Bond. Who knew 007
wasn’t Scottish, but a barefoot bwoy from St Mary, Jamaica.
Like so many others, he too would migrate – the brutish
winter cooling his complexion down to white. Such stories!
Goldfinger, GoldenEye, The Man with the Golden Gun.
Did you never stop to wonder where all this gold came
from? Did you never stop to ask, what was found in El
Dorado? Well, let me tell you: not a nugget, not an ounce
of ore – but light gilding the bay, and perhaps bananas, and
perhaps ackee, and such language as could summon
wind to capsize Columbus’s ships – and if that’s not gold,
then what is?
A Small Needful Fact
Is that Eric Garner worked
for some time for the Parks and Rec.
Horticultural Department, which means,
perhaps, that with his very large hands,
perhaps, in all likelihood,
he put gently into the earth
some plants which, most likely,
some of them, in all likelihood,
continue to grow, continue
to do what such plants do, like house
and feed small and necessary creatures,
like being pleasant to touch and smell,
like converting sunlight
into food, like making it easier
for us to breathe.
jasper texas 1998
BY LUCILLE CLIFTON
i am a man’s head hunched in the road.
i was chosen to speak by the members
of my body. the arm as it pulled away
pointed toward me, the hand opened once
and was gone.
why and why and why
should i call a white man brother?
who is the human in this place,
the thing that is dragged or the dragger?
what does my daughter say?
the sun is a blister overhead.
if i were alive i could not bear it.
the townsfolk sing we shall overcome
while hope bleeds slowly from my mouth
into the dirt that covers us all.
i am done with this dust. i am done.