Showing posts with label women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label women. Show all posts

2008/07/06

MoDo Sunday



Have I expressed my undying eternal admiration of the Times' own Irish-Catholic post-feminist rebel Maureen Dowd? Here's a taste of this foxy columnist's incomparable work:

Excerepted from
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/07/06/opinion/06dowd.html

An Ideal Husband

Published: July 6, 2008

This weekend, we celebrate our great American pastime: messy celebrity divorces.

There’s the Christie Brinkley/Peter Cook fireworks on Long Island and the Madonna/Guy Ritchie/A-Rod Roman candle in New York.

So how do you avoid a relationship where you end up saying, “The man who I was living with, I just didn’t know who he was” — as Brinkley did in court when talking about her husband’s $3,000-a-month Internet porn and swinger site habit? (Not to mention the 18-year-old mistress/assistant.)

Father Pat Connor, a 79-year-old Catholic priest born in Australia and based in Bordentown, N.J., has spent his celibate life — including nine years as a missionary in India — mulling connubial bliss. His decades of marriage counseling led him to distill some “mostly common sense” advice about how to dodge mates who would maul your happiness.

“Hollywood says you can be deeply in love with someone and then your marriage will work,” the twinkly eyed, white-haired priest says. “But you can be deeply in love with someone to whom you cannot be successfully married.”

For 40 years, he has been giving a lecture — “Whom Not to Marry” — to high school seniors, mostly girls because they’re more interested.

“It’s important to do it before they fall seriously in love, because then it will be too late,” he explains. “Infatuation trumps judgment.”

I asked him to summarize his talk:

“Never marry a man who has no friends,” he starts. “This usually means that he will be incapable of the intimacy that marriage demands. I am always amazed at the number of men I have counseled who have no friends. Since, as the Hebrew Scriptures say, ‘Iron shapes iron and friend shapes friend,’ what are his friends like? What do your friends and family members think of him? Sometimes, your friends can’t render an impartial judgment because they are envious that you are beating them in the race to the altar. Envy beclouds judgment.

“Does he use money responsibly? Is he stingy? Most marriages that founder do so because of money — she’s thrifty, he’s on his 10th credit card.

“Steer clear of someone whose life you can run, who never makes demands counter to yours. It’s good to have a doormat in the home, but not if it’s your husband.

“Is he overly attached to his mother and her mythical apron strings? When he wants to make a decision, say, about where you should go on your honeymoon, he doesn’t consult you, he consults his mother. (I’ve known cases where the mother accompanies the couple on their honeymoon!)

“Does he have a sense of humor? That covers a multitude of sins. My mother was once asked how she managed to live harmoniously with three men — my father, brother and me. Her answer, delivered with awesome arrogance, was: ‘You simply operate on the assumption that no man matures after the age of 11.’ My father fell about laughing.

“A therapist friend insists that ‘more marriages are killed by silence than by violence.’ The strong, silent type can be charming but ultimately destructive. That world-class misogynist, Paul of Tarsus, got it right when he said, ‘In all your dealings with one another, speak the truth to one another in love that you may grow up.’

“Don’t marry a problem character thinking you will change him. He’s a heavy drinker, or some other kind of addict, but if he marries a good woman, he’ll settle down. People are the same after marriage as before, only more so.

“Take a good, unsentimental look at his family — you’ll learn a lot about him and his attitude towards women. Kay made a monstrous mistake marrying Michael Corleone! Is there a history of divorce in the family? An atmosphere of racism, sexism or prejudice in his home? Are his goals and deepest beliefs worthy and similar to yours? I remember counseling a pious Catholic woman that it might not be prudent to marry a pious Muslim, whose attitude about women was very different. Love trumped prudence; the annulment process was instigated by her six months later.

“Imagine a religious fundamentalist married to an agnostic. One would have to pray that the fundamentalist doesn’t open the Bible and hit the page in which Abraham is willing to obey God and slit his son’s throat.

“Finally: Does he possess those character traits that add up to a good human being — the willingness to forgive, praise, be courteous? Or is he inclined to be a fibber, to fits of rage, to be a control freak, to be envious of you, to be secretive?

“After I regale a group with this talk, the despairing cry goes up: ‘But you’ve eliminated everyone!’ Life is unfair.”


=//Turnquest

2007/05/17

Computer Hope

This is a completely off-topic vanity post. Ignore if you were looking for more self-righteous snide poli-commentary.

Part One: A Woman I Admire

There's a woman I admire. Most days I'm not like this. In fact, I intend to admire strictly women's physical forms. This is due to the tendency for women to be rather deeply unconfident about themselves. They don't necessarily have to be unconfident about their looks, or even their personalities. In fact, a lot of the time it's the future. The feeling that maybe they somehow won't have the life they've settled on having since they were 8. What if I don't marry a doctor? What if I'm not vacationing in the Mediterranian? What if I'm not one hundred percent secure in my house, family, belongings, credit, relationship, body, mind, social class, sexual life, education, status or sense of accomplishment?

I suppose this is where the man comes in. Sweeping down from the heavens on a flying horse, the man of a thousand faces lands in front of the Cinderella girl and takes her away on a magical journey; all expenses paid, Visa or Mastercard. This guy, Mr. Denzel-Cruise-Pitt- Banderas-Usher-Trudeau-Kennedy Jr. has no past. He was manifested in college. Studies, has solid grades, writes insightful essays on post-modernist social theories. Tutors calculus on the side. Majors in Health, but of course, he intends on getting an MBA.

Aside from the serious side, he loves to have fun, goes out with his invisible friends. Loves harmless things like futball or hockey or poker, gangster movies and magazines with women celebrities on the cover. Naked women celebrities. Oh sure, he can be sensitive and has to be able to listen to you for hours. But it comforts you that he has this manly side to him.

He's got to know how to dress, and how to smell, and how to fix his hair, and how to shave, how to floss and how to have a good smile. 'Course, all that's useless if the poor bloke is just plain ol' ugly. No, he's got to have great, fantastic, piercing eyes too. A lack of facial hair. Short, well-cropped hair on top. Shaves down there too. Strong jaws are great, as are clean eyebrows. Can't have ears that are too big or noses too long. Sparkling teeth, a must. I mean, nothing worse than going to bed with a guy who gives you a reeky, unclean feeling.

But this was about women.

This woman, well... it started with a cellphone call on a Wednesday afternoon while walking from Tim Hortons to my car. The day was bright but cloudy with a lack of shadows anywhere and a white-gray hue colouring everything else. I answered the call from my friend Anthony, or Tony. As he was explaining, he had been having some computer trouble and required my help to restore the device to proper working order. So I head on over.

He invites me in and we go to his bedroom where the machine has had its steel casing removed, exposing the motherboard circuits and fans inside. The computer's about 2 years old, so it's pretty much on schedule for fucking up. Tony explains that the machine is just not booting up and that when he starts it, the machine displays a message:

"Invalid system disk."

A troublesome situation. I get on down on my hands and knees and try to examine the insides for any signs of physical damage, i.e. burn or scorch marks, unplugged cables, cockaroaches... Nothing. Things seem to be alright. Tony stands a few feet away, arms crossed, an expression of concern on his face. I try to remember my youthful days fixing errors like these. Unfortunately, many of those "fixes" resulted in formatting the hard drive and thereby deleting everything that was on the computer. I volunteered the question anyway.

"Uh say Tony, you didn't happen by any chance to backup your stuff?"
"Backup?"
"Yea, like burn a CD or DVD with your important photos and documents, just in case something like this happened."
"Uh no, I didn't."
"Oh."
"Are you saying all the stuff is gone?!"
"Naw bro...um not yet at least."

He fretted and squinted his eyes a little, then arched his eyebrows.

"Hold on, let me ask my sister."

He took out his mobile phone and dialed a number. A few terse phrases were exchanged and he hung up.

"Uh no, she didn't back anything up."

"Um, this is your sister's computer then?"

"Yea."

I paused for a brief moment before turning back to the dusty innards of the machine. Thinking for a few moments, I re-evaluated the situation and decided to try a number of different options. First, I tried starting the computer and entering the BIOS mode. That didn't work, because the computer was not even getting that far ahead in its bootup process. Then, I removed the hard drive and stuck in another one that I had to get from home. Still no good. That isolated the problem to something besides hard drive failure. Unscrewing the power supply (while precariously being grounded to Tony's chrome floor lamp) and installing a new one, a process that took a good hour, didn't have any effect either. Same old "Invalid system disk."

I figured I had to take a break and reconsider my options. I went out for a smoke, taking a walk around the block with Tony keeping watch for his parents.

"So what's your sister's name?" I asked with the most innocent of intentions.
"Fay. Why?"
"I dunno. She has important stuff on it?"
"What?"
"Important stuff. Does she have important stuff on her computer?"
"Well, mostly college stuff, papers. That's all I ever see her using it for."
"Mmm."

We returned to the house. I had thought up something along the lines of using a boot disk. I took out my laptop and went on Microsoft's website to download the software necessary in order to burn a boot CD. As I burned the disk, I noticed a sound coming from my CD drive. It sounded not quite like the usual calm whirring of a CD writer but more like a harsher, grinding noise. Not a good sign. I immediately aborted the process, not caring for a worthless blank CD. No good, the software closed but the grinding noise continued. Panicking, I unplugged the laptop, but of course, it had a battery. Throwing all caution to the wind, I manually ripped out my battery and shut the whole thing down. The grinding stopped. Tony looked at me, rather emotionlessly and said:

"Dude, you just fuck up your computer?"
I replied after catching my breath, my heartbeat returning to normal.
"Nono, it's fine now."
"Uh naw man, there's smoke coming out of it."

I whipped my head towards the dead computer. Indeed, the man was right. Whisps of smoke were leaking out of the CD drive. I did my best to force the thing open. After ten minutes of sticking in pins and screwdrivers, the thing opened to reveal a melted CD and some serious phyiscal damage. I threw away the CD, cursing its creator.

"Fuck, that thing looks sort of cool," said Tony. He went and digged the melted shard of polycarbonate plastic, which had assumed the shape of an old-fashioned sour-dough donut. Like a warped oatmeal and walnut cookie with a hole in the middle. The thing still shined.

I gave my laptop a few more minutes before replacing my battery and starting it. A message came up.

"Invalid system disk."

TO BE CONTINUED.