I actually got to listen to Bok read aloud-- he's an amazing vocalist-- and wrote the languages for Gene Roddenberry's "Earth: Final Conflict".

He is fantastic at bringing the music of the language to life-- rather than a focus on the meaning, the noise of the words is the focus.

And yes, I'm a language geek.

How about that grand is put towards improving shelters, for both women and men, or perhaps education and lobbying costs for the legalization of abortion, or any one of a hundred things that would improve equality on a far greater scale than a road sign that people rarely read, most likely don't care about and has no misogynistic or sexist intent.

It's a SIGN.

And if I'm working on a road, whether I've got a vagina or a penis, I'd like drivers to know it.

Call me a man if you like-- just don't run me over.

Seriously. PINK needs to focus its priorities. Because unless we've solved every other issue of gender (not female) equality, this is a ridiculous waste of time, money and resources.

Pffft.

"Despite his future profession that would bring her many proud-parent bragging moments, Louise winced every time she saw her sharp-eared son; and not for the first time, she cursed the evolutionary dictum that stated babies are to born head-first."

Poor baby. He looked rather nonplussed.

(Also, Vancouver is in British Columbia, Canada-- not Washington. :-))

Just in case you hadn't heard it...

Regis Philbin and Donald Trump made a recording of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.

Oh yes. The Donald. The Philbin.

And here it is.

http://www.hostropolis.com/april/mp3/xmas/Rudolph_Trump.mp3

http://blog.wfmu.org/freeform/2006/11/let_it_snow_ind.html

Just in case you didn't get enough Billy Idol the other 364 days of the year.

Billy Idol, the Christmas album: Happy Holidays.

Here's a double whammy-- movies and music:

At midnight on Christmas Eve 1914 (in the middle of WWI,) firing from the German trenches suddenly stopped. A German brass band began playing Christmas carols, most notably, "Stille Nacht" (Silent Night). They then began to sing English carols, in an attempt to create a truce with the allies.

Early, Christmas morning, the German soldiers came out of their trenches, approaching the allied lines, calling "Merry Christmas". At first the allied soldiers thought it was a trick, but they soon climbed out of their trenches and shook hands with the German soldiers.

The truce lasted a few days, and the men exchanged presents of cigarettes and plum puddings, sang carols and songs. They even played a game of Soccer. (Apparently, the Germans won, 3-2.)

This has been turned into a movie recently, "Joyeux Noël"-- which was nominated for Best Foreign Language film-- and it's beautiful. A lovely testement to the power of love and humanity over war. Especially at Christmas!

Christmas Carols were banned by Oliver Cromwell, in England between 1649 and 1660. Cromwell thought that Christmas should be a very solemn day so he banned carols and parties. The only celebration was by a sermon and a prayer service.

Funny how England also came up with Dickens' A Christmas Carol, huh? Coincidence? I think not.

Two actors from the 60's movie Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, Billie Mae Richards ("Rudolph") and Paul Soles ("Hermey"), are now neighbors in an Ontario retirement community.

Canada is offically the home of the North pole AND Rudolph.

The lyrics to the song "Fahoo Forays" apparently imitate classical Latin.

(I only knew this because my roomate is a classics major, and she started trying to translate the lyrics in the middle of the movie. While drunk.)

Patrick Stewart, (famous for his Captain Picard character on ST: TNG, and portraying Ebeneezer Scrooge as well) voiced the introduction to Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas-- it can be heard on the DVD.

Make it so, number one.

It wasn't that Francine didn't want to go bottom-feeding with the rest of the girls. She would have done anything to kick her partially webbed toes in the air while struggling to nip weeds from the slime-covered bottom of St. James' Park's lagoon. Her hideously inflated digestive tract was the issue. But little did Francine know that her rather embarassing intestinal gas problem was soon to become a potentially deadly affliction; it was the 3rd annual "Let Your Dogs Run Wild in the Park" day, and a sturdy bull mastiff had just taken a shine to the poor coot's arousingly swollen hindquarters.

We were on vacation in the Canadian rockies when my mother got word that her mother, my grandmother, had died.

I was devastated; my grandmother and I were very close. She used to record stories, birthday wishes and various little tidbits on cassette tapes that she would then mail across the pond to her Canadian grandchild.

My mother knew how upset I was about this, and how much I was missing my grandmother. Now, the thing you need to know about my mother is that she is not a sentimental or overly emotional person. She grew up in the decades following WWII in England, and as such, was pragmatic and stiff-upper-lipped. So it made what she did for me doubly-amazing.

Disappearing into our attic, my mother hauled out her sewing machine, fabric swatches and scissors. She worked for hours at a time, and after a week or so, my mom finally came down the stairs, with something in her arms.

She called me over, and sat me down, explaining "how much my grandmother loved me, and how she would always be there to keep me safe, watch over me, and share in my adventures." And then she pulled from behind her back, a life-sized doll that looked just like my gran; from the sensible english shoes with sturdy buckles, to her curled hair and kind face (all hand embroidered with incredibly intricate detail). She had even had my grandfather send over one of my granmother's dresses-- the one I always remembered her wearing-- and had dressed the doll in it.

As a little girl who had just lost her most favourite and loved grandparent, I was so comforted and happy-- both that I'd have my granny around forever, and that my reserved and cool mother had made me something so amazingly touching.

I still have my grandmother doll, and if I have a daughter, I'll tell her the story of how *her* grandmother gave me such an amazing, lasting present-- both in the doll and in love.

"And then I told Lashonda, 'girl, listen-- I know you dig the airbrushing and bedazzle diamonds, but this Anteater's got her own beat to jive to-- you dig?' I mean, there's nothing wrong with going au natural when you've got nails as fine as this. Girlfriend, she was gettin' all up in my grill-- and I practically put her litter through Ant College with all the acrylic wraps and gel fills she's done on these claws."

"Honestly. The very notion that I would want to socialize with these bunnies of the so-called "dust" variety is enough to make a rabbit of proper breeding retch."