Harry Explains Childhood Naïveté

If a child is fortunate, he or she grows up in an environment free from trauma and conflict, blissfully unaware of adult troubles and the darker side of the world. I was one of those children, for which I am extremely grateful. Growing up in a loving and supportive family, however, usually comes with a certain amount of shelteredness. Let’s just say that when life doled out portions of naïveté, I didn’t just say thanks and move on; I went back for seconds and wrote a thank-you note afterwards.

Given the liberal helping of sheltered-à-la-king that I gobbled down as a kid, it’s not surprising that I developed some pretty weird ideas of how the world-at-large operated. This post is an exploration of some of the more amusing ones.

1. Bad guys in movies

Ah, the justice system. A place where bad guys are pursued and captured by men riding white horses, and then placed in action films to face their bloody fate. Wait, what? Yep, when I was a wee one I thought that when a villain was killed in a movie, he or she was played by a bona-fide criminal and actually died as a result of the wounds inflicted by the hero or heroine. In my small consciousness, it made sense; after all, why would anyone want to kill a good person by making him or her play the antagonist who gets a lead sandwich from James Bond? So basically, every action flick was the plot of The Condemned, with or without beefy Vin Diesel look-alikes.

2. Movies in general

I also thought, Mensa member that I was in my youth, that all movies were live performances. This, unlike the thing about executing criminals for the purpose of civilian entertainment, can be traced to an actual event. I went through a phase around the age of four during which I watched Richard Simmons’ iconic 1988 film Sweatin’ to the Oldies nonstop for days at a time. Not surprisingly, my mother soon tired of watching Simmons and his spandex-clad cronies gambol around, and requested that I “Give Richard a rest.” So, also not surprisingly, I fell under the impression that every time I wanted to watch Simmons’ video, he had to drop whatever he was doing and sweat to the oldies just for me. This belief extended to all live-action movies, but not animated ones. I wasn’t that dumb.

3. “Making out” versus “Making love”

Yeah, I thought they were the same thing. In retrospect, this makes Boyz II Men’s “I’ll Make Love to You”, that one line in “Brown Eyed Girl”, and Foghat’s “I Just Want to Make Love to You” seem way more PG-13 and way less likely to inspire the fury of Momzilla bloggers. Also, I had no idea that there was a difference between “making out” and “hooking up,” or between “hooking up” and “going on a date to the movies and holding hands on the way out.” This led to many confusing situations, and as a result a lot of people probably still think I was a degenerate tart (“That Harry, she’s always bragging about ‘hooking up’ on the weekend.”). Oh well.

4. The Mom Store

This one is a little more locally centered. During my childhood, I often passed a store called Mom’s Music Shop. The old-fashioned sign above the door, however, just read “Mom’s.” As a result, I thought that the store specialized in the manufacture and sale of Moms, and that if I grew dissatisfied with my own, I could (for a small fee, of course) purchase or rent my very own brand-new mother. This came in handy during arguments with my Mom, who was doubtless terrified when I threatened to “go to Mom’s and buy a new Mommy” every time she placed asparagus in front of me at the dinner table.

5. Life as a Hybrid (but not a Prius)

Sooooo, there’s just no denying how weird this one is. My favorite movie at age five was The Lion King – no, that’s not the weird part. I think alot of 90s children enjoyed the antics of Timon and Pumba and the gang (but not that awkward jungle quasi-sex scene between Simba and Nala: yuck). The strange part is that I somehow convinced myself, in my underdeveloped cerebrum, that I was a highly specialized half-human, half-lion hybrid. I would even intentionally sleep curled up like a cat, which isn’t really that comfortable if you’re not feline in origin, and occasionally lick my “paws” in public to clean them (which my mother probably explained to staring passerby with three words: lead. Paint. Chips.).

So, dear reader, next time the undersized adult in your life does something outrageously naïve, remember me and feel better about his or her future. I can’t think of a more decent conclusion (dried out brain is from final exam essay writing, ouchie!), so here are some wee pictures of the “Look of Disapproval” to compensate:

ಠ_ಠ      ಠ_ಠ      ಠ▃ಠ      ಠ▃ಠ      ლ(ಠ_ಠლ)      ლ(ಠ_ಠლ)       ಠ_ಠ       ಠ_ಠ      ಠ▃ಠ      ಠ▃ಠ

Also, my apologies to Gina Eliot for (unintentionally!) stealing her thunder; her logical dissection of truck nutz will undoubtedly deal a hearty blow to the intellectual gonads of this post.

They’re Almost Here! New Blog Posts!

We’re finishing up the semester right now, but as Winston Zeddemore would say, “hold on to your butts.”

Up first: A Freund-ian analysis of truck nutz.

Stranger than nonfiction?

Couldn’t resist the urge to reblog this:

Woman: Do you have a non-fiction section?
Book guy: Well, everything that’s not fiction is non-fiction. [Over] there’s cooking, and there’s history.
Woman: No, that’s not what I asked. Do you have a section for non-fiction?
Book guy: Well, there are no non-fiction novels. Everything here that’s not a novel is non-fiction.
Woman: But you don’t have a non-fiction section?
Book guy: No. Everything that isn’t fiction is non-fiction.

–Barnes & Noble, Staten Island 

From the site Overheard in New York

– Post by Harry Wollstonecraft Shelley

LADY BRITOMART DE GOLFECASTLE EXPLAINS HER NEW LITERARY THEORY

During the Nineteenth-Century, literary criticism was devoted to what they called Zeitgeist, or “The Spirit of the Age.”  This means that they believed every time period had some great, essential thought ideas, and every work of literature could be studied as an example of the ideas of the time at which it was written.  This theory has fallen out of favor, but it has sparked my interest and inspired me to uncover a new interpretive lens.

First, I will detail my thought process.  If the Zeigeist theory seeks to find the common thread in each successive age, should we not also seek the thread that connects the disparate ages?  This would give us a theory that can account for the whole of literature.  This would be a sort of “unified literary theory,” much like the long sought-for unified field theory of physics.

So, what connects all of the ages together?  Why, it is the oldest profession known to man: prostitution.  Ever since cavemen began exchanging dead mountain lions for cavewoman tail, prostitution has been a fact of human existence.  It stands to reason that it must also be a fact of human literature.

Pictured: A prostitute.

Shakespeare’s Hamlet?  Hamlet’s mother trades sex with the new king, her dead husband’s brother, for her continued status as queen of Denmark and all the crown jewels she wants.  What does that make her?  A prostitute.

 

 

 

Pictured: Sexy, sexy embroidery.

Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter?  Hester Prynne trades sex with local pastor Arthur Dimmesdale for lucrative embroidery skills.  (It’s a little known fact that Arthur Dimmesdale taught her how to sew during their torrid love affair.  He was a multi-talented pastor.)  What does that make Hester?  A prostitute.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pictured: Prostitution.

Twain’s Tom Sawyer?  Tom convincing the other kids to paint the fence for him is just another metaphor for prostitution.  The act of painting the fence, which the children think is pleasurable, is a metaphor for sex.  After convincing the other kids that painting fences is great, the other boys actually pay Tom to let them paint his fence…and they painted it all night long.  Well, all day long, but you know what I mean.  What does that make Tom?  That’s right.  A prostitute.

 

 

 

See?  It’s all about prostitution.  This new theory, which I call Prostitution Theory, will revolutionize literary studies.  The next few years should put all those pesky literary questions to rest, freeing English students to focus on more important things like Star Trek or Dancing with the Stars.

All I can say is: You’re welcome.

Pictured: Isn’t Spock great? Hold on a minute…are they doing what I think— Spock, no! This is going too far. You can’t be a…you know what. Stop it this instant! STOP IT!!!! WHAT HAVE I DONE?

(Lady B runs away crying, a broken literary critic.)

State of the Unicorn Address

State of the Unicorn Address

Lollicrats and Gumdroplicans, citizens of Funtimeland, I want to begin by talking a little about history. Long ago, both of the above-mentioned horselitical groups worked together as one to ensure the growth, success and protection of Funtimeland, a country founded on the tenets of life, liberty and the pursuit of marshmallows. They didn’t always one-hundred percent agree on things like unicorn education, healthcare, or the national budget, but they saw past their differences to make choices that benefitted all whenever possible.

But then, like a storm cloud over an outdoor tent party, dissent spread amongst the merry band of unicorns. The two groups started arguing about who had more marshmallows (a problem greatly exacerbated by the invention of the jumbo Jet-Puffed variety), who could build bigger cloud-castles and who was the best at solving unicorn crosswords (which are notoriously tricky every day, not just Sunday).

Before long, Lollicrats and Gumdroplicans wouldn’t even applaud for each other after rounds of musical toadstools, let alone gather together to talk openly about critical issues concerning Funtimeland. At that time, and still today, forces outside of Funtimeland worked and are working ceaselessly to penetrate the forests and dales of that great nation to rob the unicorns of their hard-sought marshmallows, destroy their starlight-driven energy system, and bring down their carrier pigeon communication and technology infrastructure.

Citizens of Funtimeland – palominos, chestnuts, pintos, and Appaloosas – I speak to you now! Now more than ever, unity is crucial. Whether you’re a Lollicrat or a Gumdroplican, you are both entitled to the rights and freedoms granted to all Funtimelandians and responsible for protecting our country and making it better for all unicorns.

You may be saying to yourself, “But I’m just an average Joenicorn – what can I possibly to do resolve these issues and overcome these challenges?” I have one word for you, citizen of Funtimeland: VOTE. Get out there this Whinnyvember and make your voice heard. Whether your mane lays on the left or the right side of your neck, whether you prefer Dum-Dums or Dots, you’re a valuable member of this great nation, and your vote counts.

So after all of that, you might wonder, what’s the State of the Unicorn? It isn’t perfect: conflict and disillusionment have struck us all, and hard times in the Farmer’s Market and clashes at the Foreign Rodeo have left us, some would say, a weakened country unfit to lead on a global scale. But I disagree. If we work together, if we can look past our differences in hide color, candy preference and marshmallow-earning scale, we have a strong future: a future where every Funtimelandian and member of the international unicorn community can stand tall and feel accepted, appreciated and empowered.

Thank you.

This post was, you guessed it, inspired by the State of the Union address. Funny story: I was sending a text saying “Just watched the State of the Union Address,” and my phone auto-finished “union” as “unicorn.” I thought to myself, “Harry my girl, if that isn’t equine inspiration to write a new blog post, nothing is.” So there you have it. I hope you enjoyed it, and more importantly, I hope you get out there this November and cast your vote for your favorite candidate, Lollicrat or Gumdroplican. We’re all in this together, folks; let’s make a difference together.

My goal isn’t to save the world one blog post at a time (alas), and I realize that this post may leave unaddressed the needs and voices of many other unicorns, but I hope that this exercise gives you a belly laugh and a few moments’ hard thought about our political system and how we can change for the better. Also, I beg the postmodernists to treat this metanarrative-tastic endeavor as pure pish-posh.

Rainbows, fluffy tails and joy for ALL. That’s my dream. – Harry Wollstonecraft Shelley

Just so everyone knows…

We’re not dead.  It’s the end of the semester.

And isn’t it ironic… don’t you think?

My dear friend Vita Sackville-West and I were discussing irony at a small get-together, as we held hands and stared into each other’s eyes in a strictly platonic fashion (I think Leonard was in the bathroom.) We were meditating on the common misconceptions about irony, so naturally the timeless work of Alanis Morissette’s “Ironic” entered our conversation. This seemingly innocent comparison exploded into a recognition of irony’s multiple layers of meaning, and a realization that those of us well-versed in irony often arrogantly dismiss the misled ironic attempts of others. The discussion deflated the convivial atmosphere of the party until Vita and I were compelled to conclude. I will try to revisit the topic here and unpack the fickle beast of irony, hopefully conveying ideas much more eloquently than I did over my third glass of wine with Vita.

The main problem lies in situational irony, which is troublesome mostly for the preponderance of poor analogies surrounding its explanation. We cringe when we hear irony misused in the classroom, but in every day life it is tolerated as a synonym for coincidental. For example, a person might say, “It’s raining and I forgot my umbrella… how ironic.” This case is merely an unfortunate happening: not ironic. Now, the very same situation would be ironic if our subject carried an umbrella with her constantly, and on this particular day chanced to leave it at home because she decided to break free from her dependence on the security of said umbrella. The situation would have bred a circumstance opposite of what was planned, at least according to the umbrella-forgetter. Here, we’ve reached the juncture at which irony becomes complicated. If irony is contrary to intention, to whose intention is it contrary? It’s unclear whether the determiner of ironic outcome is the entire public, the woman with the umbrella, or strictly those listening to her. Is irony objective, subjective, or in some murky area in between? I believe it’s the latter, for situational irony cannot be shared without conveying an individual’s perceptions to those ignorantly judging.

With the shortsightedness of audience considered, we can sympathize with Alanis Morissette’s plight. Her audience is the general public, so her challenge in creating irony rests in finding a set of expectations shared by her entire listening population. Unfortunately, Morissette, on the whole, fails in her attempt.

Let’s start our review positively by commending Morissette on the correct usages of irony. The most commonly defended instance of irony in Morisette’s work seems to be the case of Mr. Play-It-Safe. We all remember this poor chap. His fear of flying causes him to wait “his whole damn life to take that flight,” and his first flight crashes, presumably killing or at least severely maiming him. This already rings of irony for the audience, as the rarity of plane crashes is frequently stated evidence for the unfounded fear of flying. So  Mr. Play-It-Safe’s facing of his arguably illogical fear is given it’s ironic counterargument; plane crashes are always possible, and in this case he was right to be cautious. To put the proverbial icing on the cake, as his plane crashes, confirming his fears with horrific inertia, he thinks to himself, “Well, isn’t this nice?” Morisette has chosen an anecdote layered with universally-recognized  irony… don’t you think? Yes, Alanis, we really do think.

Unfortunately, Morissette makes more than a few blunders in situational irony, for example: “rain on your wedding day,” “a black fly in your Chardonnay,” “a traffic jam when you’re already late.” These are simply unpleasant circumstances, as are the majority of Morrissette’s lyrics (the ratio of correct to incorrect situations of irony is 3:8, if the reader must know.) Maybe Morissette finds these situations subjectively ironic; who’s to say? Alanis might explain that, in this situation, she was planning on lying to her boss by saying that her tardiness was due to traffic, and then she found herself in an actual traffic jam. It’s a stretch, to say the least. Let’s not be too hard on Alanis, though; the task of communicating situational irony is a formidable one.

Some have suggested that Morrisette is actually employing verbal irony in “Ironic.” In other words, the meaning behind the chorus, “isn’t it ironic?” actually implies its opposite. I call this theory “the secret genius approach.” This is plausible (she did play God in Dogma, after all.) The viewpoint is weakened, however, by Morissette’s lack of consistency. For the secret genius approach to hold sway, Morissette would have to change the chorus after true situational irony to something like “That’s in perfect accordance with evident intentions.” That’s not quite as catchy, is it?

I suppose, reader, that the point of the discussion here is simply this: if a situation doesn’t make your brain hurt, it’s probably not irony. Furthermore, if you are one of those who brags a complete understanding of irony: try explaining it. I think you’ll find it difficult to do the topic justice, as I have sorrowfully discovered in writing this entry. I can only hope that I’ve left you, reader, with a clear(ish) method of interpreting irony, and a song that will most certainly be stuck in your head for days.

Yours truly,

Ginny Woolf

Harry Explains Coffee

The many countries of the world have been at war with each other for millennia, fighting over land, resources, and weapons. With all of the differing cultural perspectives, it can be difficult to find common ground. There is one thing, however, which almost every country can agree is amazing – coffee. On any continent at any time, someone is guaranteed to be drinking what I like to call the Sacred Brew.

There are many things whose invention I often ponder – kissing, for instance, and Lunchables – but the birth of coffee is at the top of the list. Who first decided to take the berries off of an average-looking tree, dry and roast them over a fire, grind them up, strain them through water and drink the resulting brackish-colored liquid? It’s completely INSANE.

I’d like to hop into a Delorean and go back in time to shake the hands of the ancient guys and gals who took the brave leap into the jittery, magical world of caffeine. I’d also like to high-five the cavemen who died consuming poisonous mushrooms and thereby helped humans figure out which ones are okay to eat, but that’s a different story. For now, let’s focus on the beauty of joe. No, not Joe the guy next door who sunbathes daily in a leopard-print man-kini – I’m talking about joe the delicious, life-giving beverage loved by all new parents, graveyard shift workers and college students.

Coffee is such an important potion that the word for it in several completely unique languages is similar in spelling and pronunciation. For instance, in Holland the Dutch drink “koffie,” while the Welsh enjoy “coffi” and Hungarians can’t get enough “kávé.” A traveler from an English-speaking country in France or Germany would have no trouble figuring out “café” and “kaffee” on a menu, and in Greece “καφές” is a perennial favorite.

Countless times throughout history coffee has left a mark on world cultures – according to Wikipedia, that rock-solid bastion of academic legitimacy, coffee has been valued by human cultures at various times as a drink of religious importance, a symbol of political revolt and even a remedy for different ailments. Coffee made its way into the United States during the colonial period but did not become a staple beverage until the Revolutionary War, when tea lost its stronghold as the drink of choice among the rebellious colonies (Wikipedia). Coffee’s illustrious history calls to mind the question, “What’s so great about this stuff?”

That, unfortunately, is not a question that can be definitively answered through a Google search. There are as many reasons to love coffee as there are cultures who consume the Sacred Brew, and each society views it differently. Whether it’s coffee’s caffeine content, its rich aroma and flavor or its ability to keep a body warm on a cold day, its important place in the annals of humanity is something we can all agree on.

– Post by Harry Wollstonecraft Shelley

Works Cited

“Coffee.” Wikipedia. Accessed 14 Oct. 2011. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coffee.

The animals…they’ve gone wild!!1!

I know that the stated purpose of this blog is to (as graduate English students) explain things about life, the universe, and double-sided tape, but I have just had a brush with death that has widened my horizons with regard to post subjects.

I was walking up the steps of the library, on my way back to work after a class, and a squirrel darted into my path, making noises like a Geiger counter and looking completely out of its nut-grubbing mind. I quickly froze, resisting the urge to go into plank mode (which would have merely put my face closer to the squirrel’s teeth); after a quick look in my direction, however, the furry fiend decided that the bush across from me was a more worthy victim and pounced away into the shrubbery.

The madness did not end here, however.

Mere seconds later, as I conversed at the head of the stairs with fellow blog-star Ginny Woolf, a giant freaking HAWK the size of an Airbus nearly knocked my head off with its Brobdingnagian talons. In response, I reacted the way any self-respecting graduate student would – I screamed at the top of my lungs, “HOLY MOTHER OF SWEET JESUS!!!!” I think I can still hear my words reverberating off of the cement-and-brick buildings surrounding the quad.

Long story short, dear hypothetical (or, dare I hope, actual and living?) Readers, the take-away lesson of my zoological experiences is: keep an eye peeled. There is an army of hallucinogen-popping rodents and razor-clawed birds of prey waiting to take over the world at any moment.

– Post by Harry Wollstonecraft Shelley

 

An Airbus. Imagine this coming towards your face. No innuendo intended.