Last night, I dreamt an Indiana Jones movie, perhaps a callback to the time I fell asleep while Keyke was watching Temple of Doom. Most of the supporting cast represented figures from mythology and philosophy, and most of their names were misspelled. The main villain, played by Samuel L. Jackson, was called "Lussipherre" (a play on "Lucivar," if I'm not mistaken). The story was a heavy-handed allegory for the challenges of living an ethical life as expressed through fighting ninjas. Most of the symbolism was obvious and forgettable, but one heavily symbolic character stood out in my mind: Indiana Jones' comedy relief sidekick, Nietzsche (oddly, spelled right). During the fight scenes, Nietzsche would attempt to do something impossibly badass, then fail spectacularly - usually involving some sort of pratfall - causing Indy to shake his head, chuckling to himself, and say, "Oh, Nietzsche!"

"On top of Old Smokey, all covered with snow,
I lost my true lover from a-courtin' too slow.
Now courting's a pleasure and parting is grief,
But a false hearted lover is worse than a thief...

So come all you maidens and listen to me.
Never place your affections on a green willow tree,
For the leaves they will wither and the roots they will die
And your true love will leave you and you'll never know why."

-Traditional "On Top of Old Smokey"

It's hard enough to coordinate with two people, but when you're in a trio or a quartet, the difficulty increases exponentially. Hell, I find it hard to coordinate with myself.

The tempo wasn't our only problem. I rested eight measures, then I was supposed to come in. But the singer skipped one of the verses. The pianist missed the key change. We're going to have to transpose.

Should I come in now?

"Oh, I don't know! Maybe I could if I tried!"

-Willie Robbins, from "The Moment of Victory" by O. Henry

If you would be patient with me, I bet I could figure out what I am supposed to do. That time isn't a luxury I can count on. Right now, the room is spinning in circles, the brakes won't work, and I think I'm going to hit a tree.

No, it isn't your fault, but that doesn't make it mine.

Love can do that to you if you aren't careful. It often finds a way to even if you are careful. Love's like that. Sure it is.

"Dandy, you know you're moving much too fast,
And Dandy, you know you can't escape the past.
Look around you and see the people settle down,
And when you're old and grey you will remember what they said,
That two girls are too many, three's a crowd and four you're dead."

-The Kinks "Dandy"

Timing!

"The power of orange knickers
Under my petty coat
The power of listening to what
You don't want me to know

Can somebody tell me now, who is this terrorist
Those girls that smile kindly then rip your life to pieces?
Can somebody tell me now am I alone with this?
This little pill in my hand and with this secret kiss
Am I alone in this?
...
Can somebody tell me now a way out of this?
...
Shame shame - time to leave me now.
Shame shame - you've had your fun.
Shame shame for letting me think that I would be the one."

-Tori Amos "The Power of Orange Knickers

I shouldn't care. I shouldn't worry. I spend too much time worrying. Caring wears me ragged. Maybe I don't have to. I have someone else to care for me, someone to worry for me. I can't accept that, though. I can't have my own psychosis infecting someone else's life - not again.

Maybe she was right. She didn't give me the chance to mourn. Maybe that's why the water line keeps rising. Or maybe it's just that I don't have anywhere to pour it.

Maybe it's not me. Maybe it's the timing. Maybe I'm not detestable. Maybe I would have been fine in another year. But I wasn't ready, and I can't wait until I am ready before I start. So is the timing better when you have time or when you're ready? You can't have both.

After yet another few years, those eyes still haunt me. I feel like they're burned into the back of my head. I had a teacher who said she had eyes in the back of her head, but she never told me what a curse that is. When I was very young, I decided blue was my favourite colour. I guess it still is. I don't know why.

Maybe I am detestable, but I'm just wrong about why I am.

Maybe I'm right about everything and this is the only way it could possibly be.

Maybe it will be better tomorrow.

"I don't know why you think you can see me through.
All of this trying, when I can't see you
And I don't want to change myself for you,
But I do and I do and I do and I do and I do.

And if you like me now,
It won't be on my own terms.
And when I see you on Friday, I'll smile, but I won't know half what to say.
Something will surely take over. It's dreadful, but I'll sound sincere when I say..."

-Rorie Kelly "Sincere"

They're both frighteningly accurate, just out of context.

This weekend had its ups and downs.

Dear Rorie,

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to use your LiveJournal comments section as my soapbox. It just happened.

It just seems to me that free-will-as-separate-from-predetermined-biological-processes is much like Intelligent Design, in that it masquerades as science when it can really only logically be explained using God or magic. And I want to drop it, and I would if people's arguments against me were explanations for how free will DOESN'T require God or magic rather than misinterpretations of what I'm saying. And it is doubly frustrating because I haven't rejected God as a possibility or even a reality, just as a rhetorical tool.

So I throw more words in to try to clear up any misunderstanding and come to a series of statements that Anonymous Responder and I can both agree on (or at least agree to disagree on). But it seems to me that no matter how articulate or explicite or sincere I try to be, I can't seem to make myself understood, even though I still think what I said initially was clear and accurate. This is a larger problem with me and my inability to communicate properly. I wrote about that in the previous entry. But I wasn't sure if I made myself understood.

I can't help but think that throwing more words at the problem won't help fix it. I just don't know what words to remove. Thus my horrible vicious circle.

Anyway, I'm off to bed. Good night, pleasant dreams, and I hope you have a beautiful tomorrow.

Love,
Syd

"Not to put too fine a point on it,
Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet.
Make a little birdhouse in your soul."

-They Might Be Giants "Birdhouse in Your Soul"

I'm sick of Plato and his stupid fucking ideals. I don't want a glowing ball of woman. I need something messy and ragged and real.

It's tragic that my true love and I must be parted just because she doesn't really like me that much.

I don't know why they can't understand me. I make it a point to say what I mean. I try so hard to be articulate. Still, I stop just short of communication.

And I spent this weekend thinking of ways I could be just a little bit better. And I tried to sop up all of the ambient negativity to render the atmosphere clean. And I tried to use my internal negativity to radiate laughter and love. And I tried to be a poet. And I tried to be a friend. And I tried not to be one of those people. And I tried to be calming. And I tried to be reassuring. And I tried to show them what I am. And I tried to convince them what I could be. And I told only the truth, but not too much of it.

This week will be different.

In other news, all of my financial worries were briefly relieved today when I decided not to worry so much.

"Almost cut my hair.
It happened just the other day.
It's getting kind of long.
I could've said it was in my way.

...I feel like I owe it to someone"

-Crosby, Stills, and Nash "Almost Cut My Hair"

Written while intoxicated, before I forget exactly what happened.

"i'm gonna make it go away, like it never happened
like the author ran out of ink, before you got to me
it doesn't matter, you have your answer
my breath upon your hand
my breath upon your hand
we're never far from another life
but i never wanted to make you spend the night
with your loneliest thoughts
will you come around this time?
will i be left here?"

Hope is a precious thing. It energizes and motivates you. You must hold onto it tenaciously, or else you sink into despair. But hope is not an end in itself. To achieve your goals, action is required more than hope. The problem arises that, once action is taken, whether you win the object of your desire or lose it, you are guaranteed to lose your hope.

Action is not always preferable to hope. Sometimes, it requires intentionally impairing your judgement. Then hope gives way to reality. That isn't always as dismal as it sounds. It can be a very good reality or a very bad reality. Sometimes, it's good, but only for a very short time.

I would rather be who you thought I was than who I turned out to be. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to let you down.

"for every moment that i get too close
to the faceless void from which i stumbled
it's only because my heart swells over
and i misinterpret it, i dwell on my failures"

-The Velvet Teen "A Captive Audience"

"I’m gonna buy me a ticket as far as I can;
I ain't never comin' back.
I’m gonna take me that south-bound all the way to Georgia
Until the train it run out of track.
Can't you see? Can't you see
What that woman has been doing to me?"

-The Marshall Tucker Band "Can't You See"

How long is now?

That's the question that has been vexing me this week. It's hard to pose to people, because they assume I said it wrong or they confuse long with soon. It's a real problem, though, and it isn't an impossible question. Now that we have reached the present, we have passed through then, how long does it have to stay now? When can it be later? When can I move from a present that has ended into the future that I planned for? Maybe I could move on at any time, but I don't want to if nobody will come with me.

Dulcinea reappeared a couple of times this week, just to remind me that I have no idea how life is supposed to work.

I got drunk with a friend last week. That is, I got drunk in front of her. She was driving that night and couldn't have too much to drink, so she contented herself to watch me have too much to drink. At least I think she did. As little as I am aware of the world around me, that awareness is halved when I've been drinking. I can't really remember everything we talked about, and I don't remember the context of what we did, but I'm sure I said something embarrassing - though I can't really ask her because other people might not know when I said something embarrassing, because I mean something that I should be embarrassed by, not that they should.

So, while drinking doesn't really solve any problems, it distracts me with smaller, less relevant anxieties, and that's as good as things have gotten in the past few weeks.

"Why talk about it? One false move and I am one of my
Histrionic friends with black-dyed hair and lousy poetry
That you hate so much and I pretend that I do too
For fear you'll laugh at me.

Because this is the real world and this is East Village Saturdays
And this is the line I'm dying to trip over;
And you're on the real side and I try to dance everywhere
And it just screws me up, but I've got some good songs, so..."

-Rorie Kelly "One False Move"

I would logically think that silverfish are the next-best thing to goldfish. It turns out that isn't the case.

I was trying to think of the best way to explicate my emotional state, and decided to go with a joke.

Q: Who was the emo kid's favourite physicist?
A: Anders Jonas Ångström

Thank you.

"[And I dream of tangled things
Like a crashed guitar and mangled strings.
I like the feelings that it brings.

Find the thing that makes you scream.
All the words come out unscreened.
Before the flying is the fall.

Closing an empty business
Undisclosed love notes unfinished
...
I miss you in the flesh.
Had the chance, but let it pass.
Didn't know there wouldn't be a next time.
...
Holding seashells in her hand,
More a fish than of the land,
Singing a siren's lullabye
...
In the light that you hold,
Perfect flowers became a single rose.
...
Vanish like a magic trick
Spinning round my head feels sick
Waiting for you to reappear

Floating about
Drifting asea
Nothing can take you for long.

So long. So long. So long.]"

-The Ditty Bops

That song doesn't exist according to Google. I couldn't find any record of the song anywhere. It doesn't even have a name. For the lyrics, I had to rely on my wholly unreliable ears. That experience of searching and finding no answers save for my own uncertain speculations is very appropriate for today. I feel like that song. Disregarded. Forgotten. Unlisted.

I cut my hair this week, so that wasn't a metaphor at all. Hair growth is completely involuntary, you know. I can't stop it, and I can't make it grow more quickly. My scalp isn't tied to any conscious thought. It can't think, but it certainly can feel. I feel bad for it, because it can never understand why I feel the need to discard months of its work.

I am indulging in music. I am soaking in emotion. If I can't have the sweetness, I will savour the sour and the bitter.

I feel very young. I hated my youth.

"I know your secret.
I knew you couldn't keep it.
Now that it's in my grip,
I am writing a song to exploit it.
Did you think that I wouldn't find out?
Did you think that your friends wouldn't tell me that

My boyfriend voted for Bush?
My boyfriend voted for Bush.
My boyfriend voted for Bush...
Guess who's not my boyfriend any more."

-Keyke "The Bush Song"

You could call it a sex dream. There was sex involved. Then again, you could just as easily call it a musical dream. Most of the dream was spent in bed. People would come in to use the computer, to play some records, or to make sure I was all right. I'm not really sure what was supposed to be wrong with me.

Jewelia was there - taking care of me, I suppose. At least it was someone who had Jewelia's face, with what I'm fairly sure was Jewelia's body attached. It was really Dream's face, she just happened to have the same one that Jewelia uses in the waking world. I called her Dream, but she wasn't actually Dream as we know him. I think she was Delirium or Epiphany (depending on what universe we were in), but I called her Dream because Dream, Death, and Delirium were all the same word.

There was a neoligism going around in the conversations - a bit of Internet slang - "30-6." It was used to describe what was considered the perfect size for a penis - 30 inches in circumference and 6 inches in length. Emily was bragging that she had had a 30-6 (that is to say, that she had sex with someone with a penis that size, not that one was attached to her body). Never having seen a 30-6 (in real life or the dream), I thought there was something peculiar about those proportions. I could be wrong, though.

Chris Heady was outside illustrating Keyke's "Bush Song." He was struggling to make it seem conversational - like a narrative rather than song lyrics. I got out of bed to cut my hair. My white hairs had turned red, but by the time I was done, they were purple.

That's how I remember it, anyway. It stuck with me all day (except for the bit about the 30-6, which I just remembered a couple of hours ago), so I thought I might write it down. There isn't really any symbolism that means anything to me in it, and were this a book or movie, this dream almost definitely would not appear. I think I like how dreams work in real life better.

(it wasn't forever)

"Girl, why not take out the trash and once you get him out
Tell him not to come back again?
Girl, put that cat in the bin after what he said
After everything he did...

Why, when it's so plain that he's just making it up
And he's still got you coming back for more -
Why you never, ever think of breaking it up?
Tell me, what bad deal's gonna close that door.

Girl, why not take out the trash and once you get him out
Tell him not to come back again?
Girl, why not give him the slip?
Get the crooked straight. Get the go-getter good and gone."

-They Might Be Giants "Take Out the Trash"

So, anyway, now that's over and all of her friends can stop pretending to like me.

I spent yesterday afternoon listening to break-up songs to get some perspective on situations not at all like my own.

I feel like not only do I not want to wallow in sorrow, I don't have the luxury. I have to pull my life back together. I can't live in pieces.

I don't blame her. I'm not angry at her. Things are fine between us. Still, you can't expect me not to be bitter.

I'm really most disappointed with myself. I didn't lose it. I didn't yell and call her a repulsive cum-guzzling white trash slut. I doubt anyone would have blamed me if I had. Why can't I break up like a normal person? Am I so dead inside?

I shouldn't be a push-over. I shouldn't just accept what decisions someone else makes. Everyone knows women don't want that. They can't abide someone wishy-washy. They want a raging tornado of misdirected fury. At least that's what I read in some magazine. Maybe I just don't have that in me. It's a shame.

It's really foolish to make a break-up pleasant. Then there's no incentive to stay together. Once two people are together, they should go through hell because of it. That's the way humanity has always conducted itself.

I'm so lame.

"Last night I dreamt you were gay.
It was all you needed to say -
Finally an answer for why you don't want me that way.

Last year I slept in your arms -
Slept right through the alarm -
But now you live in Virginia, alone on a farm.

Boys will be boys.
Boys will be boys.
Girls can't avoid
Pretty boys."

-Veruca Salt "Pretty Boys"

Eve is made of sunshine and flowers and she makes every day magical.

This entry has been removed due to orders by the High Majestrix.

"If I were a boy, even just for a day,
I’d roll out of bed in the morning
And throw on what I wanted, then go
Drink beer with the guys and chase after girls.
I’d kick it with who I wanted
And I’d never get confronted for it,
'Cause they’d stick up for me.

If I were a boy, I think I could understand
How it feels to love a girl.
I swear I’d be a better man.
I’d listen to her, 'cause I know how it hurts
When you lose the one you wanted
'Cause he’s taken you for granted
And everything you had got destroyed

If I were a boy, I would turn off my phone,
Tell everyone it’s broken
So they’d think that I was sleeping alone.
I’d put myself first and make the rules as I go
'Cause I know that she’d be faithful
Waiting for me to come home.

But you’re just a boy. You don’t understand
How it feels to love a girl someday
You wish you were a better man.
You don’t listen to her. You don’t care how it hurts
Until you lose the one you wanted,
'Cause you’ve taken her for granted
And everything you have got destroyed."

- Beyonce Knowles "If I Were a Boy"

Just in time for Halloween, this is Beyonce's spooky new single. You know, Ms. Knowles has opened my eyes to how as a man, I am secure in the knowledge that no woman would ever have sex with anyone but me. If only I had a heterosexual woman to teach me what it's really like to love a woman. Unfortunately, this track seems to be edited for time, and it cuts off before she reaches the verse where she says, "If I were a boy, I'd be paid what I deserve for a day's work," or "If I were a boy, I'd pee on everything." Maybe she also meant to add, "If I were a boy, my presidential campaign would be taken seriously by the mainstream media," or if she's Republican, "If I were a boy, I wouldn't be used as a cynical ploy to get idiots to vote for my party's candidate."

Still, maybe Beyonce should hold off on getting that operation for a little while. It turns out that all of the things mentioned in the song are things that women do, and, with a little perseverance, maybe Beyonce could manage to live the way she wants with the reproductive system she has. For instance, there are some bars now that admit women. They have a special kind of beer that doesn't burn your ovaries, so even women can drink it. However, if your plan is to get up first thing in the morning and go drinking, that isn't being a "boy" so much as being an "alcoholic." Some friends will stick up for you whether you're male or female. They're called "decent human beings." There are even some women who write songs with consistent rhyme schemes. Also, Beyonce may not keep up with current events, but scientist have recently come out with a "lady's cell phone" that doesn't require you to ram your dick into it. Most importantly, some women sleep with people who aren't their boyfriends. These women (or "uberwomen" as they're called) are not issued a mate at birth and have the option of having sex with whomever they choose.

Then again, it's hard to tell if Beyonce is for or against sleeping around. On one hand, she doesn't like a man who "take[s] her for granted," but if she were a boy, she would take whom I can only assume is herself for granted and "know that she’d be faithful / Waiting for me to come home." She'd "kick it with who [she] wanted" and even concoct elaborate cell phone deceptions of which no woman could ever conceive to keep her girlfriend/self from finding out. Maybe her point is just that women, unlike men, always treat their lovers well and that men could learn a lot from them. Really, I just think she hasn't found the right man. She should get together with Professor Higgins. They would really understand each other.

"Why can't a woman be more like a man?
Men are so honest, so thoroughly square;
Eternally noble, historically fair.
Who, when you win, will always give your back a pat.
Why can't a woman be like that?

Why does every one do what the others do?
Can't a woman learn to use her head?
Why do they do everything their mothers do?
Why don't they grow up, well, like their father instead?

Why can't a woman take after a man?
Men are so pleasant, so easy to please.
Whenever you're with them, you're always at ease.
Would you be slighted if I didn't speak for hours?
Would you be livid if I had a drink or two?
Would you be wounded if I never sent you flowers?
Well, why can't a woman be like you?

One man in a million may shout a bit.
Now and then, there's one with slight defects.
One perhaps whose truthfulness you doubt a bit,
But by and large we are a marvelous sex!

Why can't a woman take after a man?
Men are so friendly, good-natured and kind.
A better companion you never will find.
If I were hours late for dinner would you bellow?
If I forgot your silly birthday, would you fuss?
Would you complain if I took out another fellow?
Why can't a woman be like us?

Why can't a woman be more like a man?
Men are so decent, such regular chaps;
Ready to help you through any mishaps;
Ready to buck you up whenever you're glum.
Why can't a woman be a chum?

Why is thinking something women never do?
And why is logic never even tried?
Straightening up their hair is all they ever do.
Why don't they straighten up the mess that's inside?

Why can't a woman behave like a man?
If I was a woman who'd been to a ball,
Been hailed as a princess by one and by all;
Would I start weeping like a bathtub overflowing,
Or carry on as if my home were in a tree?
Would I run off and never tell me where I'm going?
Why can't a woman be like me?"

- Professor Higgins, from "My Fair Lady" by Alan Jay Lerner

The Republican Party is America's abusive boyfriend. They love America so much, and they swear that if we give them another chance, they'll really change this time.

Although they have yet to mention what specifically they intend to change...

The campaign is really heating up. I saw an article recently that posed the question, "Did [Barack Obama] back infanticide?" I was shocked that the rest of the article wasn't just the word "no." I sort of doubt that anyone who is stupid enough to think that a leading presidential candidate would publicly support killing babies knows what the word "infanticide" means. Then again, the biggest problem with the "Pro-Life" movement (as opposed to us liberals who are amateurs at living) is that they really don't seem to know what infanticide is. For reference, terminating a pregnancy in the second trimester is not infanticide and neither is playing golf nor enjoying a hamburger. In fact, killing a baby is pretty much the only thing that is infanticide.

epicene: ...
4. of the same gender class regardless of the sex of the being referred to ...
5. capable of referring to either sex... having common gender.

- Random House Unabridged Dictionary

I am utterly enraged, and doubly so since the object of my ire is something unspeakably geeky - though something geeky that seems to be deliberately trying to offend my feminist sensibilities. I refer, of course, to the problem of the perceived lack of a third-person epicene personal pronoun in English.

There have been many proposals to deal with the issue, but the problem is that, for one reason or another, they all suck.

- The phrase "he or she" has been proposed to indicate that the referent could be male or female. Unfortunately, almost everyone knows that this is stupid. As we know from the story of Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla, the purpose of a pronoun is to take the place of a noun to make sentences quicker and easier to say. Replacing a pronoun with the clunky phrase "he or she" defeats the purpose of using a pronoun in the first place. Linguists who advocate "he or she" should really refrain from making suggestions until they have as much grammatical acumen as anyone who watched Schoolhouse Rock.

- Some have noticed that the third person plural makes no gender distinction and have proposed that the third person plural pronoun "they" be used as a singular epicene pronoun. This proposal is almost as stupid as "he or she." It fails to take into account that the purpose of having the word "they" is that it indicates to the audience that multiple people or things are being indicated. If "they" becomes acceptable as a singular pronoun, it would lose its only reason for existing. The meaning would change to "one or more people or things that may be male or female or of an indeterminate gender or may be incapable of having gender." Effectively, at that point, you have broken the meaning of one of the most common words in English. This is why we can't have nice words!

- Since there is no convenient word in English that is always understood as "a male or female referent," some people would like to add a word such as "zie" or "thon" or "ta." This is an elegant solution, but unfortunately, people don't even recognize these as pronouns, so the only people who would immediately understand you would be other linguists. Everyone else would just wonder, "Who the fuck is Thon?"

- Some people insist on continuing to use the word "he" in the neuter sense as people have been doing pretty much since the inception of modern English. For the sake of fairness, I should point out that I am one of those people and that anyone who thinks that there is anything wrong with it is a moron.

At kith.org (a website I stumbled upon recently that has some interesting and amusing word games), Jed Hartman wrote an essay about epicene pronouns in which he said, "If you believe that 'he' really is a gender-neutral pronoun in modern usage, consider the following sentence (attribution unknown): 'Man is a mammal: he bears his young live and suckles them at his breasts.'" This would be a compelling argument were it not for the fact that there is absolutely nothing wrong with that sentence. Maybe I am biased because I read J.R.R. Tolkien at too young an age, but the word "Man" can be used to refer to the human race, including men, women, and people of ambiguous gender - and there are countless examples of this usage going back several centuries as well as modern usage. Since humanity (or "Man") is a species of mammal, it can be said that humanity bears live young and nurses said young. Whether the individuals who bear and nurse have Y chromosomes is irrelevant to the statement being made. If their gender were relevant, the writer should not have been using the epicene case in the first place. Using that sentence as "proof" that "he" does not work in the epicene case is like saying, "If you believe that George W. Bush was a bad president, consider that he decided to invade Iraq." The argument only makes sense if you already agree with it. It's also like saying that photons shouldn't exist because they behave like waves and particles, and that doesn't sound right.

The insistence that the word "he" always carries a male connotation is absurd, anyway. If gender connotation of the literal meanings of words were really that important to our use of language, then a man who killed a woman could not be convicted of homicide. Even if you got the case to court, no woman could give testimony. If a woman objected to this situation, she would not be able to protest. This might cause some men to become out of sorts, but they could not get hysterical. There are a plethora of words that at one time literally only applied to people of one gender, but now can be used to refer to people of any gender, and that includes the word "he."

Of course the issue I hear most often regarding the use of "he" in the epicene case is the issue of sexism. I have heard way too many times of the problem that the unmarked state of a person in our society is white and male. I cannot argue that this isn't the case, but I have also noticed that the unmarked person is usually at least moderately attractive, which is not necessarily the case with the average person, and I have yet to hear anyone address that problem. As an androphobe, I am sensitive to the problem of the assumption of an unspecified gender being seen as male, but sometimes you have to choose your battles. The truth is that you can't regulate the way people think, and no amount of stupid word games is going to change that.

When you get down to it, the problem is not so much the lack of epicene pronouns as the existence of gendered pronouns. As an argument for the necessity of gendered pronouns, Jed Hartman echoed Samuel R. Delaney's assertion that we are gendered, and that so much of our behaviour and experience depends upon gender. This seems hypocritical to me, considering he freely mentions that the unmarked state is that of a white male (and our experience in society is greatly dependent on race), and yet does not bring up the fact that no pronouns have racial characteristics. Pronouns are not meant to be descriptive, they are meant to be a quick stand-in for a named referent. If it's that fucking important to you that your audience know the gender of the referent, you can mention it when the referent is first identified.

The fact is that "he" already is an epicene pronoun, but in the interest of egalitarianism, I should point out that the only reason I say "he" rather than "she" is that of the two, "he" has fewer letters. Grammatically, there is no reason why one could not also use "she" in the epicene sense. However, I think it's silly when people try to regulate the use of only "he" or only "she" as a neuter pronoun, or even alternation between the two. A person can use "he" or "she" as much as she chooses, and it does not reveal any gender bias on his part.

I have noticed that, without enough actually wrong with Barack Obama, some people are spreading obviously unfounded rumours about him. For instance, due to his Arab-sounding name, people are saying that he is actually a Muslim. Others say he is receiving moral guidance from his former pastor, Rev. Wright, who is a radical leftist. Apparently, the people who believe these rumours cannot make the connection that if he has a pastor, he is probably not a Muslim. Some people, noticing that Obama has one black parent (and not noticing that his other parent is white) have claimed that he is racist against white people. Some have gone so far as to claim he intends to enslave the white race.

These rumours are ridiculous and won't fool anyone with half of his brain working, but in a national election, you can't count on all of the voting public to meet that qualification. Some unbelievably stupid people are falling for these rumours. I think it's time for those of us who are sickened by the lack of basic human decency in these attacks to fight back - by making ridiculous claims about John McCain.

It is much easier than it sounds. Sure, McCain doesn't have a suspiciously foreign sounding name, nor a threatening skin colour, but I notice his surname begins with "Mc," leading me to conclude that

John McCain is a member of the terrorist organization, the IRA. As president, he plans to turn America over to Irish rule.

The rumours don't even need that much basis in reality. For instance, you can say,

John McCain plans to deter anti-Israel terrorists from attacking America by dropping an atomic bomb on Jerusalem.

In his free time, John McCain enjoys performing abortions in his own home.

John McCain is a direct descendant of Cain, the first murderer.

John McCain credits his longevity to drinking human blood.

I know you may think that this sort of thing is childish and unconscionable. I prefer to think of it as pragmatic. We all know that simply telling the truth isn't enough. Telling people that Saddam Hussein had nothing to do with the attack on the World Trade Center did not keep over 40% of Americans from consistently believing that he was behind them, even to this day. Knowing that George W. Bush never served in Vietnam did not keep people from claiming that John Kerry was "unfit to command" based on possibly exaggerating his exploits in Vietnam. Truth and logic are not going to sway the stupid and irrational. The only way to level the playing field is to make the rumours on boths sides just as horrible.

I encourage everyone who reads this to post as many absurd, implausible lies about John McCain as they can in any blog or online forum he has access to. You can repost mine or make them up yourself. Remember that you aren't going to influence anyone who is willing to fact-check and that once it is on the Internet, it has to be true.