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still clueless

17 Monday Aug 2015

Posted by Khali in Journal

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assholery, jerkism, stalker in the making, white male privilege

Remember this guy? Well. Seems he’s back, and I haven’t any idea what he thinks he’s going to get out of it.

Tim's back

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Entitled much? (I like you, so you should talk to me.) Marginalizing my SO in order to ‘improve’ his chances. Distancing language making it seem like he doesn’t really care that I rejected him. No apology, really for being a jerk, just calling himself one which is part of the distancing, not the apology.

Listening to: Lily Allen
Reading: Hild – Nicola Griffith
Drinking: Lemonade & Bombay Sapphire
Wrote: 4922 words today

 

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Susan Snarks: The Power of Etymology

03 Sunday Aug 2014

Posted by Khali in Grammar Gripes

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"homosexual agenda", assholery, critical thinking, etymology, fear-mongering, homophobia, Homophone, ignorance, people scare me, things that make me angry, things that make you go hrm, Tim Torkildson, Utah, words, words have power, wtf

12109-nothing-in-the-world-is-more-dangerous-than-sincere-ignoranceI don’t know if you’ve come across that news story where a Utah teacher and blogger, Tim Torkildson was fired because his blog post about homophones was considered part of a “gay agenda”, but it has given me enough of a head shake to write this post. (I first saw the story on The Huffington Post and it’s been written about in several places as well). It probably shouldn’t be shocking that this happened in Utah, or at all, but I have to just put this out there: the English language is tricky.

This man’s boss, is ignorant, plain and simple, and I will explain why with the power of etymology. That’s etymology, not entomology, which is the study of insects. Bugs have no place here unless they are infesting someone’s brain. (Which is not something I can disprove, come to think of it.) Etymology on the other hand is the study of words and word origins. Seems a little nerdy, eh? But very useful when teaching about why some words in our language are spelled the way they are, or mean what they mean.

The word homophone derives from the Greek homo- (ὁμο-), “same”, and phōnḗ (φωνή), “voice, utterance”. The word incidentally, refers to a group of words that sound the same, but are spelled differently and have different meanings. Examples of homophones are words like ‘to’, ‘too’, and ‘two’ or ‘bear’ and ‘bare’. You get the idea and you probably also get why an ESL teacher would be talking about them on a blog.

The prefix, ‘homo-‘ can be attached to everything from milk (homogenized – where the fat globules are reduced in size and dispersed uniformly through the rest of the milk) to math (homomorphism: a function that preserves the algebraic operations between two algebraic systems). There are many words that use this Greek prefix that have nothing at all to do with a gay lifestyle: homocentric, homogamy, homograph, homogeny, homogenesis, homogenous, homologous, homograph, homonym, homophyly, homoplastic, homopolar, homosporous, homotaxis…. (if you don’t know what these words mean, I will link a dictionary for your reading pleasure. It’s riveting, I assure you!) you get the picture. So of course, homo- when it gets attached to ‘sexual’ means what? Right!

Now just to clear up a little more confusion about the word Homo. This is a Latin word, rather than a Greek prefix and means ‘human’ thus our scientific naming of Homo Sapiens and our ancestors like Homo Habilus, and Homo Erectus who always causes some sniggers in the back of the class, I’m sure. As such, this term also has little to do with a homosexual agenda – if one even exists.

In spite of these facts, there seems to be a pervasive and horrid logic that posits every word that begins with homo- is attached to some fabled conspiracy to make the world gay. This is something that I can blame a little on our heavy reliance on slang and an aversion to dictionary use or this thing called ‘reading’. “Homo” has become a derogatory term for a homosexual person and this has created confusion in those who are unable or unwilling to use critical thinking skills to avoid looking like a complete idiot. Er, I mean those who are unwilling or unable to use critical thinking skills to prevent some serious conclusion-jumping and unnecessarily embarrassing situations. (Better?) If Clarke Woodger had just pulled his dictionary out from where it was propping the door open he might have avoiding firing a decent educator.

Now, let me just finish with a small note: I am all about equal rights. I believe that everyone has the right to live their lives in a manner that makes them feel comfortable and happy. If they are gay, they are gay, if they are ignorant, they are ignorant, that is their right so long as they don’t try and inflict their lifestyles or ideals on others who do not feel the same way. [Of course, the inherent difference being that people don’t choose to be gay. Ignorance on the other hand, while debate-ably a choice, can be changed.]

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01 Monday Dec 2008

Posted by Khali in Journal

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assholery

So, a couple of revelations today. Troy isn’t doing Crystal Meth like he says he has, but he has been doing what I thought he was. You don’t use a spoon and a glass of water for just anything. How do I know? John took a look around in Troy’s room and also found syringes before he and Jay got back tonight. John’s mad. So it’s official, we’re moving out of this place come Jan. Troy’s had his chance and he fucking blew it.

Christ. I’ll write about the other one later. john and I are going to go out. We need it.

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19 Saturday Apr 2008

Posted by Khali in Journal

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assholery, I always ask the tough questions, memory lane

Speaking of the underworld – and reading the fucking paper (I knew there was a reason I didn’t do this often) how far would you go to protect a child that was not your own? Total stranger versus relative versus your own child. Would you just stand there and let some mean-ass adult beat a child bloody? I couldn’t. It is a tough question, because a) the child has no physical hope of fending off a violent attack from an adult and b) (depending on age) has no framework to decide whether said violent attack is justified or deserved or not. Also, in my rummaging about I found some old letters. I stared at the package for a good twenty minutes before I put it back where I found it. I didn’t read them, but neither could I throw them away.

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Dear Britney Detractors…

11 Tuesday Sep 2007

Posted by Khali in Journal

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assholery, us girls have got to stick together

I’m not a fan, but seriously, give the girl a break.

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to the asshole who stole my wallet

02 Tuesday Jan 2007

Posted by Khali in Journal

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assholery, jerkism, things that happened, things that make me angry

Fuck You.

Seriously, if you were that hard up for cash, and you’d asked, I’ve have given you something. Not that I had much in my wallet at the time (as you found out I’m sure, because all that was really in there was the coin I’d got to do my laundry which, by the way I’ve not done yet BECAUSE YOU TOOK IT, creep) but all you had to do was fucking ask. Hell, I’d have preferred if you’d even held me up and demanded my cash rather than this.

Because seriously, how fucking selfish are you? Do you know how much crap this causes? Not only do I have to replace all my cards and ALL MY FUCKING ID, but you’ve taken all sorts of personal possessions. I feel like you’ve cut off one of my fucking limbs you stupid cocksucker. There were photos in there, and a pawn ticket and stamps and an address for a friend I’d not seen in forever. The only ID picture I’ve ever liked. My LIBRARY CARD! OMG you bastard! Seriously. Hope you enjoy those restaurant gift certificates I got for Christmas and I hope you fucking choke on whatever you order. Karma baby. Fucking Karma.

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A Tale of Idiocy

13 Monday Mar 2006

Posted by Khali in Journal

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assholery, DIAF, full moon freaks, things you don't tell your mother, wtf

Our neighborhood is definately going down the crapper.

I was woken up this am before my alarm by some dude who locked himself out of the building. Now, this isn’t just some dude, he’s the building’s resident dealer. Our landlady knows this and has been trying to catch him for weeks so she can evict him. Anyway, I suppose dude had trotted down the street at some ungodly hour this am to make a sale, forgetting both his jacket and his keys. can we say “Bonehead”?

So what does he do? First, he wiggles the door, to see if it’s open. He is the one I gather, who usually puts a rock in the corner so that it doesn’t close properly. This time this morning whoever left for work or was coming home got wise to it and kicked the rock away. (I know I always do, I don’t want some random thief or whatever coming into the building, no way!) Granted, because of our position right above the door, it wakes me immediately. I don’t think anything of it at first because the door is opening and closing all night – but it continues. He jiggles, he whistles, he implores passing strangers for the use of their cell phones, all of which I can hear clear as day even though my window is closed. I roll over and mumble my displeasure at the freak whining under my balcony.

My alarm goes off, and J’s goes off and he turns his lamp on because that’s what people do when they’re going to get up from work. I’ve barely got my eyes open when dipshit buzzes us. Trust me, this is NOT a sound anyone wants to hear first thing in the morning. Granted the guy is probably freezing, but I have a hard time summoning and kind of sympathy for him. If it had been me I’d have either contacted the landlady and begged forgiveness for waking her, or hopped down to the 24-hour restaurant an hour ago to get some hot chocolate and wait until I knew people would be awake, but no, this guy is not normal. He has to get back inside because he knows he’ll have another ‘customer’ soon. So we ignore it the first time, thinking he’d get the picture, but no, he does it twice more.

I slap on my robe and poke my head over the deck and tell him to stop fucking buzzing and he whines about how cold he is – which I can see since he’s wearing short sleeves – but I tell him no. I don’t know him from Jack the Ripper thankyouverymuch if it’s urgent he can call the landlady. (It’s true, I’ve never seen him before!) J, peeved now that the guy’s giving me attitude calls her for him.

So our landlady drags her poor self out of bed and lets the fucker in, much to his chagrin. I’m sure he didn’t want her to know about his outings anyway. Then there is silence for and we think its over.

But its not.

Someone is outside now, yelling to our cold dude to be let in. Lo, if it isn’t his customers. J, out on the balcony with his morning smoke tells them to please not yell since people are still sleeping and the guy pulls attitude. Says he lives in the building and would J mind if he let him and his friends into the building. J says no, that he doesn’t know who they are and if it’s important he can call the landlady. Obviously he doesn’t live here and certainly doesn’t want the attention of the landlady, so he gets mouthy with J instead. Bad idea.

“You don’t like me, do you?” he says and J, blowing smoke, replies;
“No, I don’t,” and comes inside to call the landlady.

Our buzzer goes again and it’s just after 5am. I’m ready to march down the stairs and punch all three of their faces in, but from the strung-out glitter in their eyes I’m sure none of them’d feel it anyway.

Our landlady lets them in, but tells them its the last time. J tells her to call the cops, but she already knows they won’t send anyone because “there aren’t enough personnel to keep up with all the requests and complaints.”

Ten minutes later and they’re leaving and the cocky fucker buzzes our apartment again. At the glass doors I watch one of them finger me as they climb into a white car with no licence plates.

J predicts they will be back in two-three hours and he’s livid.

When we moved in the worst people here were the college kids who drank too much on a Friday night. Now we’ve got orange lights outside so junkies can’t shoot up and dealers and pimps are moving in and then out once they’re busted. J wants to speak to our local MLA who’s set up shop down the hill, because we don’t want this crap, especially if we’re going to have the kiddo with us.

Especially not if we’ve potentially got a repeat of this incident in our future.

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