This is an excellent essay on rendering textbooks so politically correct that they become propaganda.
read more | digg story
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Amusing Reading
The man who created this list was fired from his job for publishing politically incorrect thoughts: A Lefty Lexicon
(via Pub Philosopher)
(via Pub Philosopher)
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
The Color of His Skin
I came to a part in my novel in which I envisioned a character singing an anti-racism song. I thought about simply declaring that she sang such a song, but I also thought the novel might be stronger if I actually gave the lyrics to the song. Below is my first try at it. Constructive criticism is welcome, that is, if anyone actually reads this. Zane is the name of the character's husband.
The Color of His Skin
I met him on a windy night.
My hat blew from my head.
Zane picked it up and turned to me,
And with a grin he said,
"I know the gods have made this wind
Just so we two could meet.
We should respect their will if you'll
Excuse my grand conceit."
I must admit his forwardness
Induced a rapid blink.
You see, his skin is golden brown,
And me, my skin is pink.
His hands are deft. His back is strong. And, yes, his skin is brown.
His eyes are kind. His mind is wise. And, yes, his skin is brown.
But still, he was a handsome beast
And had a nimble tongue.
I thought of right and wrong and said,
"Aw hell, the night is young."
We chatted down the street, and then
We dodged a weaving car.
The drunken folk were out, so we
Took shelter in a bar.
The keeper scowled a little when
Zane purchased me a drink.
You see, his skin is golden brown,
And me, my skin is pink.
His hands are deft. His back is strong. And, yes, his skin is brown.
His eyes are kind. His mind is wise. And, yes, his skin is brown.
And by the evening's end I knew
That wind had set our fate.
The only question that remained
Was could we beat the hate?
I took him home to meet my kin,
And told what lay ahead.
I said our love ran deep and strong,
And soon we would be wed.
"I'm sorry, child," my mother said.
"I'll save you from this brink.
You see, his skin is golden brown,
And you, your skin is pink."
And on that day I learned a truth
I sing without a qualm:
There comes a time in all our lives
To say to hell with Mom.
His hands are deft. His back is strong. And, yes, his skin is brown.
His eyes are kind. His mind is wise. And, yes, his skin is brown.
Technorati tags: novel writing, verse, writing
The Color of His Skin
I met him on a windy night.
My hat blew from my head.
Zane picked it up and turned to me,
And with a grin he said,
"I know the gods have made this wind
Just so we two could meet.
We should respect their will if you'll
Excuse my grand conceit."
I must admit his forwardness
Induced a rapid blink.
You see, his skin is golden brown,
And me, my skin is pink.
His hands are deft. His back is strong. And, yes, his skin is brown.
His eyes are kind. His mind is wise. And, yes, his skin is brown.
But still, he was a handsome beast
And had a nimble tongue.
I thought of right and wrong and said,
"Aw hell, the night is young."
We chatted down the street, and then
We dodged a weaving car.
The drunken folk were out, so we
Took shelter in a bar.
The keeper scowled a little when
Zane purchased me a drink.
You see, his skin is golden brown,
And me, my skin is pink.
His hands are deft. His back is strong. And, yes, his skin is brown.
His eyes are kind. His mind is wise. And, yes, his skin is brown.
And by the evening's end I knew
That wind had set our fate.
The only question that remained
Was could we beat the hate?
I took him home to meet my kin,
And told what lay ahead.
I said our love ran deep and strong,
And soon we would be wed.
"I'm sorry, child," my mother said.
"I'll save you from this brink.
You see, his skin is golden brown,
And you, your skin is pink."
And on that day I learned a truth
I sing without a qualm:
There comes a time in all our lives
To say to hell with Mom.
His hands are deft. His back is strong. And, yes, his skin is brown.
His eyes are kind. His mind is wise. And, yes, his skin is brown.
Technorati tags: novel writing, verse, writing
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
The Subconscious Speaks
I dreamed about one of the characters in my novel last night (plus several of the cast members of the early ER and a small dog with a hacksaw).
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Novel Progress 3
I have a bit more than 37,000 words of rough draft, so my pace has fallen off some. It's not that I'm blocked; I've just been tired lately, and my concentration is off. On the bright side, I still like what I've been writing. To be this far along and still like it is a record for me. I've also been doing some editing as I write. I find that is a good warm-up before I start writing new stuff. Everything but today's output has had at least one revision.
I intend to post the novel to the Web, but I'm debating with myself whether I should start posting it as a serial before I get it finished. On the pro side, it would help keep me inspired to get it finished, and a lot of Web novels are done that way for that reason. On the con side, it makes it harder to revise, and I would be posting a draft rather than the finished manuscript. And what happens if I don't finish? A large number of unfinished novels lurk on the Web. It is frustrating to read the start of one, like it, await the next chapter, and eventually realize it is never going to come.
I intend to post the novel to the Web, but I'm debating with myself whether I should start posting it as a serial before I get it finished. On the pro side, it would help keep me inspired to get it finished, and a lot of Web novels are done that way for that reason. On the con side, it makes it harder to revise, and I would be posting a draft rather than the finished manuscript. And what happens if I don't finish? A large number of unfinished novels lurk on the Web. It is frustrating to read the start of one, like it, await the next chapter, and eventually realize it is never going to come.
Technorati tags: novel writing, writing
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Quit Digging
I know! Let's take all our troops home except for enough to maintain a few navy bases, deport all Muslims who aren't already citizens, cut back legal immigration to about 200,000 per year, make those who get in the very best people we can get, and start enforcing our laws against illegal immigration. It wouldn't fix everything, but it would at least stop making the problems worse.
Friday, August 04, 2006
The Wikipedia Game
I have just invented a game. Pick a topic, any topic, as long as you think Wikipedia has an article on it. Go the Wikipedia front page. Starting with links on the front page, you must navigate to your selected topic by only clicking links, that is, without any use of search.
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