I like the North Florida Southern accent, my native accent. I think it’s pretty and its argot evocative. Consciously discarding it, though, helped me in my career and in my life but I hate that I had to.

People like me — we code switchers, we dwellers in two worlds — gain a lot from the mainstream world by embracing it and denying parts of ourselves others see as distasteful or louche. But it comes at a cost, a constantly-paid price of suppression of deep parts of one’s self that can only be subdued and not excised, that are always there under the surface that if they slip through immediately brand one as of the wrong class, from the wrong place.

I have ambivalent feelings towards my natal land, obviously. Some of the worst and best experiences of my life happened there. Certainly almost all of my formative ones. I love large parts of it. I hate large parts of it. This is just the way it is. Has a home ever been to one degree or another not a prison in some sense, though?

In North Florida once as an adult with my partner, I went to a dock projecting out into Ocean Pond, 80 feet of rought wood jutting out among cypress and lily pads. There was a man on the dock fishing. I talked to him about North Florida fishing holes only once- and former-denizens would know, sharing tips and jawing about what any two old fisher people talk about and probably have for the last 100,000 years.

My partner who typically is more loquacious than I am wasn’t really saying a word. It wasn’t until later that I realized that she hadn’t really understood anything he’d said. He with his deep and sonorous North Florida patois was evading any interpretations of hers; she had not parsed enough to make sense of anything. This of course was my native accent. I didn’t even realize.

Later, though — as if there not a million other confirmations — as she said that she thought the North Florida accent was lovely, I knew I’d found the right one.

The World War to Save Livable Ecology.

Nuclear war would probably be a net benefit to ecology of earth as the fallout half-life of modern nuclear weapons is short. Also, many animals and plants are more resilient in important ways than are humans, and the biodeversity near cities that would be obliterated is far lower than forest/wilderness areas that would be relatively unscathed.

Full-scale nuclear exchange would cause humans to go extinct or nearly so, but would probably not directly cause that many more animal/plant extinctions for various reasons, some of which are mentioned above.

Also, “nuclear winter” is probably a myth as modern nuclear weapons are almost all air-bursted. (And because the burning of the Kuwaiti oil fields during the first Gulf War caused a scientific re-thinking of the effects of even very large fires on the atmosphere.)

Net result of nuclear war is that in 200 years, the biosphere would be well on the way to recovery.

Some of the annotations of Shakespeare are garbage.

Those who don’t understand the plays and/or words as used at the time should really avoid writing annotations.

Annoying.

Here’s something most people don’t seem to know: Federal taxes don’t fund federal spending.

Here’s what happens to the money that you send to the IRS: It goes ka-poof! Essentially destroyed. If you were sending in physical cash, they’d throw it into an incinerator.

Yeah, this blows people’s minds and seems just wrong at first glance, but a sovereign currency couldn’t really work any other way.

More details here.

Near ‘Collapse,’ Minnesota to Raise Obamacare Rates by Half.

But, but but…Kevin Drum and Amanda Marcotte said this was lies, all lies, by those evil Obama-haters! How could this be?

Anyone who thought the ACA was anything but a giveaway to insurance companies with some completely accidental and incidental benefits to the average person was just wrong and delusional.

The question is did Obama know that he was being conned or is this outcome what he intended? Either way, hard to say it looks good for him or for the ACA. Either he was a rube or an extortionist.

I’m not a team player because that means you have to believe BS too often. That the ACA is groundbreaking legislation is the BS all Good Liberals must now believe.

The Series That Broke Your Hearts Out of Nowhere.

The death of Shannon Rutherford on Lost. Starts the series as a clueless, terrible person. Someone I’d want to be nowhere near, that I’d spend every effort to stay far away from.

She’s defined herself — and others have defined her — by her situation and physical attractiveness. Both matter a lot less in her new circumstances so she’s forced to change, to more truly become herself. To be better. Shannon caused me to think again about how much our milieu defines us and how everyone gets inaccurately pigeonholed by life, by how we look, by how we speak and then we come to live those roles even against our will. (And many people get really, really angry when we attempt to change.)

Inertia keeps us where we are, and it takes a seismic shift (being stranded on a weird funky-ass dangerous island, joining the army) for us to alter ourselves.

I thought to myself, “There’s no way a show like this is going to kill off the pretty blonde girl once she makes it past the first episode. That just doesn’t happen on mainstream American TV shows.”

Well, wrong.

And just as she was becoming someone worth knowing, worth being. Great character because many Lost fans to this day hate her because of her “uselessness” despite the fact that she had a better character journey than almost anyone else on the show. She is what defines a compelling character: conflict, pathos, change, redemption, reflection. For these reasons and because Maggie Grace did an excellent job of portraying her, she’s one of my favorite TV characters of all time.

It reminded me in metaphorical terms that when we try to change, often the universe itself (in the form of other people for most of us) tries to keep pushing our heads back into the muck.

I realized very young that most people only barely examined the surface of things. I also realized I was just not that way early, too.

It’s mystifying to me for instance when someone can watch a film like Ex Machina and conclude that it’s just the same — with the same themes and conclusions — as other films with sexy, sexy robots. I literally sneer at those people unconsciously because I wonder how so much brain damage can occur in such a small space.

The film of course is completely a repudiation of all of those ideas, all of those cultural touchstones, and all of the contemptible patriarchy that causes such thoughtless art to be made.

Along with this of course is that most people (even very smart ones like Casey Johnston) are only dimly aware of history, of cultural moments and touchstones prior to 20 years ago or so (strangely, often including things that occurred in their own lifetimes? How does this happen?!), and have a complete blindness to their own assumptions.

Most people I think are constantly assuring themselves that they are right whereas I am constantly asking myself, “What if I were wrong? How would that look?” My opinions are strong but weakly held. With new evidence, my opinions change fluidly. Anything else would be intellectually dishonest.

Back to Ex Machina. It’s a good litmus test, I think. If your opinion of the movie is that it’s about how Caleb was so callously wronged or that it was about how Ava was portrayed thoughtlessly as a sexbot, you probably aren’t the kind of person I want to engage with because you have nothing to teach me. I’ve already been stupid and I don’t need to go back there again.

About a million adults assured me that by the time I was 30, I’d listen religiously to the same music I did when I was 16, would not ever try anything new, would never step outside of my comfort zone — just like them.

I knew they were fucking idiots even when I was 13, but now I’ve proven it with my life.

Sitting here listening to “Sweet Talk” by Kito and Reija Lee.

I listen to more pop and new music now than I did when I was 15. And I’ve done all the things nearly all those morons assured me that I could not do — at least those that I wanted to or cared about.

I’ve had an epic life. Just epic, and met a great partner because of it. Thank heaven I did not listen to any of those depressing doofuses. Thank heaven for this uncommon obstinate stubbornness I just seem to have been born with.

To all those North Florida dipshits and bullies and naysayers, fuck all of you. Every last one of you. You were shitting on me, but it turned out to be fertilizer. Joke’s on you now and forevermore, assholes.

By the way, I’ve been trying to figure out all the stuff that Holtzmann wears during Ghostbusters.

Those great glasses she wears? They are antique CESCO 24 safety goggles from the 1920s or so. Lenses didn’t come in yellow, apparently, so those are additions. But how cool is that? Not just hipster shit but real safety goggles. (So in the GB world she’s probably replaced them with her own yellow-tinted prescription lenses.)

Next up? Those driving gloves she’s wearing. I think she’s the only character I’d ever consider cosplaying, though that’d make many people angry I’m guessing.

Practice matters, but it’s not enough.

I’m a good shot. I’ve always been a good shot. When I started shooting, I was already a good shot. I could hit things even then that other people couldn’t hit. I got better with time and practice, but I was obviously good right away.

For instance, I was better than my father within a week of starting shooting even though I was seven and he’d been shooting for 25 years. I suspect my natural talent ceiling was very high, perhaps world class, if I’d pursued it as a vocation.

But math is the antipode. I started out poor and got worse with time. In high school, I studied far more than most of my schoolmates and performed far worse. There is no amount of practice that will make me excel or even be good at this field.

That’s just life.

When I brought this issue up with Hambrick, he noted that, in his introductory psychology course, some of the students who study very little do better than the ones who study a lot.

I could probably walk in and take the final exam of that class and score in the top one percent. Why? I remember things well. Has nothing to do with practice. Just another genetic gift I suspect. (My mom had true eidetic memory; I just have really good memory.)

It’s not fair that genes determine so much. But it seems to be the case. Welcome to an indifferent universe.

Ex Machina is the only film about which I’d be tempted to write a book-length scene-by-scence deconstruction and historical contextualizing of.

Bracelets you don’t want to wear.

I like “Soggy Waffle” and “One Cunt Wolf Pack.” Sounds like the bands that opened for Gwar when I saw them back in ’93.

These occur because the vendors don’t speak English very well and people who do speak the language order these as a prank and never pay for them or pick them up.

That’s just her collection of prankster orders.