Latrines, taboos, vulgarity, and the Internet

Some scholarly articles are unusually rich in detail.  Who knew that a medieval cure for bed-wetting was to feed the offender with ground hedgehog, while "among the Dahomeans of West Africa repeat offenders had a live frog attached to their waist to shock them into self-mastery"?

The anthropology of physical elimination is rich.  One cited researcher proposes a link between intolerant societies and their marginal control of excretion-borne health threats:

Recently it has even been argued that cross-national differences in closed-mindedness and intolerance are excretion-related:  countries with higher levels of parasite stress, associated psychologically with disgust and materially with poor sanitation, are less likely to have robust democracies, individual freedom, equitable distribution of economic resources and gender equality (Thornhill et al., 2009).

Another interesting link may be found between the rise of the internet and the decline of robust "latrinalia":

Arguably in the internet age there is little point writing taboo thoughts on bathroom walls: why scribble for a meagre one-at-a-time audience when you can make equally vulgar anonymous comments on a public discussion board or chatroom?

H/t Rocket Science.

The hand weaver and the factory maid

AVI's posting of a Steeleye Span song led me, as such things often do, to a YouTube jaunt.  Here is a song about the social dislocations of the industrial revolution:  a hand-weaving man's girlfriend has become a factory maid who no longer wants to let him into her bedroom at night.  It's always been one of my favorite Steeleye Span productions, not only for the way Maddy Pryor alternates with the instruments between the primary and secondary tunes, but for the glorious a cappella ending chorus, with her terrific voice tripled in tracks.  The YouTube notes suggest that this is a mashup of at least three traditional songs.  The uploader provided appropriate images of looms and fabrics.



Oh, when I was a tailor, I carried my bodkin and shears. 
When I was a weaver, I carried my roods and my gear. 
My temples also, my smallclothes and reed in my hand. 
And wherever I go, there's the jolly bold weaver again.


I'm a hand weaver to me trade; I fell in love with a factory maid. 
And if I could but her favor win, I'd stand beside her and weave by steam.


Me father to me scornful said, "How could you marry a factory maid? 
When you could have girls fine and gay, dressed like unto the Queen of May?"


"As for your fine girls, I don't care. If I could but enjoy my dear, 
I'd stand in the factory all the day, and she and I would keep our shuttles in play."


I went to my love's bedroom door, where oftentimes I had been before. 
But I could not speak nor yet get in the pleasant bed where my love lay in.


"How can you say it's a pleasant bed, when nought lies there but a factory maid?" 
"A factory lass although she be, blessed is the man that enjoys she."


Oh, pleasant thoughts run through me mind, as I turn down her sheets so fine 
And see her two breasts standing so, like two white hills all covered with snow.


The loom goes click and the loom goes clack 
The shuttle flies forward and then flies back 
The weaver's so bent that he's like to crack 
Such a wearisome trade is the weaver's.

The yarn is made into cloth at last 
The ends of weft they are made quite fast 
The weaver's labors are now all passed 
Such a wearisome trade is the weaver's.


Where are the girls?  I will tell you plain: The girls have all gone to weave by steam, 
And if you'd find them you must rise at dawn, and trudge to the mill in the early morn.

Union

I survived the wedding festivities and have only to show you all now how lovely my young niece was.  My niece the doktah.  She's a tiny thing, barely over five feet tall.  She had not one single bridezilla moment, but took everything completely in stride, with that 1,000-watt smile going the whole time.  There was a terrific Irish band and lots of singing and dancing of jigs.

My sister lost (!!) the first ribbon I crocheted for the bride's bouquet, but I made another and brought it with me. The lost one resurfaced today. I figure now my niece has two, which is a good start on a christening outfit.

Killer shoes on the bride:

Oh, yes, I guess there was a groom, too.  That's him on the right, his older brother on the left, and my father's longtime physics colleague between them.  The groom's family were as charming a group of Irishmen as you'd ever hope to meet, and very fine dancers and toast-givers.

The Good Old Days

Once upon a time, the CIA used to wage cultural and psychological warfare against communists and other baleful influences.  Of course, so did their foes:  the USSR had a far more expansive program than is commonly known.  They had the insight to fund, not poetry reviews or high-culture magazines, but straight news:  and to arrange to provide that news for free in third world countries.

I guess the USSR method has been the more enduring, although it has passed from governments to interstate actors.

How the Catholic Bishops Should Fight

This woman has an excellent grasp of the strategic situation.

Withdrawing health insurance (like Franciscan University at Steubenville, Ohio), shutting down schools, closing adoption agencies, soup kitchens or ANYTHING ELSE in "protest" of ObamaCare and the HHS "mandates" is EXACTLY, PRECISELY, TOTALLY and COMPLETELY what the Obama regime wants.... 

Listen, you fools. YOU DON'T SHUT ANYTHING DOWN. You keep going exactly as you have been, and you force those dirty rotten SOBs to literally storm your hospitals and shut YOU down at gunpoint. And I'm not kidding. Make them physically shut down your hospital by dragging you out at gunpoint. Make them physically shut down your schools. Make them shut down your university by force because you won't cover abortions in your student health plan. Make them physically shut down your soup kitchens. Make them shut down your adoption agencies[.]

My sense is that the response to shutting down Catholic hospitals, etc., will be for the government to sigh pitiably and say, "Well, that just goes to show why something as important as hospitals/schools/adoption services can only be entrusted to the government."  That's what they wanted anyway:  government to have unquestioned and unlimited authority over this sphere of life.

On the other hand, defiance of the law -- justified because it is a gross violation of the principle of religious freedom, and remains so regardless of the decision of the courts -- forces the government to shut you down.  Let the people see armed Federal agents shutting down hospices and nunneries and orphanages.  Let the people see that the principle of free birth control and abortion is worth that much to the government.

The Kangaroo Stalks at Midnight

Apparently some of those marsupials can have malice aforethought....

A hostile kangaroo launched a savage assault on a mother after spending two days stalking her - then attacked her husband as she recovered in hospital.

Now that's an interesting concept, being stalked by a kangaroo.  Have they finally gotten rid of all the rifles in Australia, then?

In Defense of Skinner

Mentioned in our recent discussion of A Clockwork Orange, B. F. Skinner is one of the least-beloved figures of modern history.  A new article argues that we've got him all wrong.

[His study] turned out to be the crowded basement sanctum of an inveterate tinkerer and gadget guy. Lacking WiFi and Bluetooth in his office, Skinner had jury-rigged strings and all sorts of wooden and cardboard doodads that enabled him to tweak his environment from his desk chair: by hiding the face of a clock he found himself watching, or by turning on a tape recorder that inspired him to organize his thoughts. 

Though more advanced in execution, today’s electronic nudges and tweaks are identical in purpose: use what you can control to affect what you can’t. The simple elegance of this concept flips on its head Chomsky’s suggestion that behavior modification treats people as if they were no more intelligent than animals. What distinguishes our intellect from animals’ is not that we can go against our environment—most of us can’t, not in the long run—but rather that we can purposefully alter our environment to shape our behavior in ways we choose.

Pause and consider; and then we can discuss.

One thing about history. There's always more of it.



Wikipedia article on the Cristero War. (Because I know nobody has ever heard of this.)

There's No Duck, Though....

You may remember this clever political theory from 2008.

I presented to an anxiously waiting world a Meta Theory of Recent Presidential Elections, encapsulated by the idea that “Bugs Bunny always beats Daffy Duck.”... 

The Bugs-Daffy frame is another way of saying that ever since the dawn of television put the public personalities of candidates front and center, the one who is more comfortable in his or her own skin always prevails against the more uptight, rigid foe.

The model has a lot to offer, when you have candidates who basically fit the models.  Romney, whatever else he is, is not much like Daffy Duck.

No, I think another rule of Warner Brothers applies to this race:  "The Turtle Always Wins."

Memorial Day

On occasions like this, I always feel like it is impossible to say what needs to be said.  I am always afraid of leaving unsaid the most important thing, through lack of wit; and my wits are worse this year, for illness and lack of sleep.

So I will trust to music to say what I cannot think to say, and to the judgment of trusted companions.

Via the BSBFB:

Via Phil, at Lars Walker's place:

Via BLACKFIVE:

That last one's not just music, but it's got good history and a pretty solid time-on-target airstrike at the end.  That last hit was a little late, but the rest of them are inside the three-second standard.

Horseback Riding

Oh, for goodness sake.

[Ann Romney's dressage trainer] Mr. Ebeling was at ease with the wealthy women drawn to the sport of dressage, in which horses costing up to seven figures execute pirouettes and other dancelike moves for riders wearing tails and top hats.

Well, OK, "up to."  Remember those posts about the Dawsonville Pool Room from a little while back?  Well, just down the road is Unicorn Valley Farm, run by a nice lady named Carol.  She has horses to sell from around eight hundred bucks up to a few thousand, and will break and train them six days a week for you for $720 a month.  If you can't afford a horse but still want to learn, she'll cheaply lease you time on one who knows dressage already.  If you do that, or if you already own a horse who knows, the price for human beginners is forty bucks a month.  For all of these prices, if you don't have that much money but you or your kids know how to shovel out a horse stall, there's a discount.

She used to sponsor the equine club for the local high school, until the recession hurt her enough that she couldn't afford to give that much time and money to charity any more.  Even so, I can promise you that there are a lot of poor girls from Dawson County who know more about dressage than Ann Romney.  Nothing against Mrs. Romney:  but I've seen some of them ride.

The High Feste of Pentecoste

Today is the day to swear again the old oath.

[Arthur] charged them never to do outrage nor murder, and always to flee treason; and to give mercy unto him that asked mercy, upon pain of forfeit of their worship and the lordship of king Arthur; and always to do ladies, damsels, and gentlewomen and widows service, to strengthen them in their rights, and never to force them, upon pain of death. Also, that no man fight a duel they knew was wrong, neither for love nor for worldly gain. So unto this were all knights sworn who were of the Table Round, both old and young. "And every yere so were the[y] swome at the high feste of Pentecoste."

Pentecost was the day when the Grail Quest began, which destroyed the might of the Round Table.  The Grail visited Arthur's table at the feast, and then passed away again.  Instead of accepting the grace offered, they quested after it as if they could win it by their own valor and worthiness, and so were destroyed.

Pentecost is the right day for that message.  Before the time of the apostles it had been the feast of firstfruits.  If early spring represents the return of fertility, early summer allows us to see the first children that come of that renewed fertility.  It is the first nourishment that comes to us after the winter.  There remains a long summer ahead before the full harvest -- summer was the hungry time, in the middle ages.  Yet here is a first taste of grace, and a promise of greater grace to come.

Arthur did not go on the quest for the Grail, but stayed true to his duty to keep the walls of this world.

And therewith the king said: Ah, knight Sir Launcelot, I require thee thou counsel me, for I would that this quest were undone, an it might be Sir, said Sir Launcelot, ye saw yesterday so many worthy knights that then were sworn that they may not leave it in no manner of wise. That wot I well, said the king, but it shall so heavy me at their departing that I wot well there shall no manner of joy remedy me. And then the king and the queen went unto the minster. So anon Launcelot and Gawaine commanded their men to bring their arms. And when they all were armed save their shields and their helms, then they came to their fellowship, which were all ready in the same wise, for to go to the minster to hear their service...

And then they put on their helms and departed, and recommended them all wholly unto the queen; and there was weeping and great sorrow. Then the queen departed into her chamber and held her, so that no man should perceive her great sorrows. When Sir Launcelot missed the queen he went till her chamber, and when she saw him she cried aloud: O Launcelot, Launcelot, ye have betrayed me and put me to the death, for to leave thus my lord.

It is a grave question that troubles me every year:  is it right to go on the quest, or is it not?  Lancelot holds that it is better to die in that quest than in any other fashion.  Death is sure to us all, but the suffering of the quest prepares and purifies the spirit, so that it might be a little less unfit for the presence of God.

Arthur holds to his duty to keep the space in this world in which joy is possible, and trust in the coming of the later grace.  So he held Camelot, and the peace of the land and the people, while his knights broke themselves in the wilderness.

Ave, gallus gallus

A Smithsonian article traces the 10,000-year-old domestication of these descendants of the dinosaurs by their upstart rivals, the mammals.  Modern chickens probably sprang from a northeast Indian red junglefowl, but there may have been a yellow-skinned gray-feathered relative from southern India in the woodpile as well.  By 2,000 B.C., chickens had spread to Mesopotamia.  Homer does not mention them, but chickens became quite popular with the later Greeks and Romans, who appreciated the handiness of an animal whose slaughter produced just enough meat for a moderate household for a day.  Polynesian seafarers may have introduced them to South America in pre-Columbian times.  Today, Americans alone eat nine billion chickens a year, while KFC has opened more than 3,000 outlets in mainland China in just the last 25 years.

From Santeria to Jewish mothers to General Tso, this article is encyclopedic.  And now I'm inspired to enjoy some of my husband's superb fried chicken, left over from last night, for Sunday dinner.  Tomorrow, I hit the road for Philadelphia, there to attend my niece's wedding.

Memorial

These pipers are not from a military service but from the intimate, traditional, and highly satisfying memorial service we gave to honor my aunt on Friday.  Still, they seem an appropriate image for this weekend.  Like Grim, I have been ailing significantly (I hope he doesn't have the ugly bug I caught), and am just now creeping out among the living after a week of needing an hour's nap to recover from every ten minutes spent vertical.  I'm getting old.  The obituary notices of my contemporaries, or even their children, are starting to come with astounding regularity, another just this weekend.  A Memorial weekend indeed.

There's nothing like pipes at a funeral.  The snare drum was an indispensable addition as well.  We stuck to the King James version of the service, not only to suit my stodgy tastes but in honor of my old-fashioned aunt, who was born in 1915 and never really got used to the modernized Book of Common Prayer.  Doris Elizabeth Kilpatrick Watts, R.I.P.

Memorial Day Weekend

I want to wish all of you a happy Memorial Day weekend.  I continue to be rather ill this weekend, and thus must regret that I am unable to do due honor to those who ought to be remembered.  However, my good brothers at BLACKFIVE are busy.

All the best to all of you, as you remember.  By coincidence tomorrow is the Feast of Pentecost; I will try to have something for that.  Otherwise, you may not see much of me for a few more days.

A Glimpse of the Death of the Law

There's either a lot to be said about this story, or almost nothing.  I'm going to go with the latter because a lot of ink has been spilled on it today, and maybe you should just read it if you haven't so far.

I'll say only three things.

Knowingly falsely sending a SWAT team to someone's house should be prosecuted as attempted murder.  The team in this case was apparently entirely professional, and nobody got hurt:  but things turn out otherwise so often when such teams are used that we ought to prosecute it as an attempt to kill the target.  In the case that someone is actually killed by one of these false reports, it should be prosecuted as premeditated murder.

One of the things I did in the war that I feel best about was that, for a while toward the end of my time there, the intel shop would ask me before executing raids on tribal targets for whom they had actionable intelligence.  Very often I could talk them through how the 'informant' proved to be from another tribe with an active beef, while the target of the raid was a highly ranked member of the tribe to be raided.  If they could talk us into it, we would detain or kill one of their enemy's key leaders, while also driving a wedge between US forces and their enemy tribe.  That was very hard to do, though, and there's no reason to believe it can be replicated here. We really need to rethink whether having so many SWAT teams in America is a good idea, or whether commando-style teams ought to be used for so many purposes.  Now that this firewall has been breached, and the tactic has made it here, we need to give careful thought to where, and indeed to whether, such a team is really appropriate.

Finally, Patterico has a screen capture of a message from one of his enemies.  Allow me to suggest that the wrong part is bolded.

That is not the worst-case scenario.  The worst-case scenario is that you convince ordinary reasonable and rational people that the law can no longer protect decent people, but that the courts have been captured to serve the interests of the wicked.  This is a very high-risk strategy, and not only for the people engaged in it.

If it becomes widely used it also represents a potentially fatal risk to the authority of the courts.  Jurists and legislators had better find a way to take this threat seriously, and institute controls to prevent their institutions being captured for such purposes.

Phalanx

The following is a South Korean training video.  It shows some remarkable infantry tactics, a kind of update of ancient infantry tactics.  South Korean protests get rather unruly, as the video may suggest.



Note the flanking maneuver from 2:33-3:20 or  so, where a wing of the enemy is cut off and destroyed (presumably in this case, they would merely be arrested).  Also the use of a kind of pure-infantry bounding overwatch from 5:30-7:00.  This allows them to advance against significant resistance, including incendiaries, and capture territory while maintaining formation.

Malum in Se

Cassandra has a post by this title today, treating some of the abuses currently coming to light.  It is starting to seem like there is a new example every day.  I hope she is right that people of good will can come together.

The Real Numbers

USA Today has been on this story for years, and they deserve credit for continuing to make the point and bring it back around to our attention every so often.  One of the things that a robust journalism should do is bring these kinds of major national issues to our attention when the powerful are trying to hide the scale of the problem.

If you applied corporate accounting rules to Federal spending, we'd see that our current budget deficit is over five trillion dollars a year.  To balance the budget at current spending rates, the average American family would need to fork over almost its entire income in Federal tax alone.

That doesn't speak to the state crises, which are not limited to California.  This is just the Federal problem.

However, that's just the scale for this year.  Look at the bigger picture:

Federal debt and retiree commitments equal $561,254 per household. By contrast, an average household owes a combined $116,057 for mortgages, car loans and other debts.

Well, so the average American household is $677,000 in debt.  What's the average net worth of an American household?  It's a lot higher than I would have thought -- $434,000 and change.  (The median net worth is much closer to what I would have expected, but there are a certain number of very rich people out there).

So that's just an extra $137,000 that the average household needs to earn in its lifetime, and things will be ducky.  (That is, the $561,000 in 'extra' debt you don't know you have, minus average net worth, which already considers the average $116,000 in ordinary debt.)  After you fork that over, you can start getting ahead.

Arming Law-Enforcement Drones

A deputy sheriff in Texas has a suggestion:  how about we arm drones with rubber bullets and tear gas?

Charles Krauthammer has a response:



Oh, wait, sorry.  Mr. Krauthammer's actual wording can be read here.