Archive for January, 2017

Random quote of the day:

“If one tells the truth, one is sure, sooner or later, to be found out.”

—Oscar Wilde, “Phrases and Philosophies for the Use of the Young,” The Chameleon, December 1894

 

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Lucy and Ethel, Justin Bieber, or the Kardashian Klan. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

 

Random quote of the day:

“The trouble is if you don’t spend your life yourself, other people spend it for you.”

—Peter Shaffer, Five Finger Exercise: A Play

 

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Lucy and Ethel, Justin Bieber, or the Kardashian Klan. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

 

Random quote of the day:

“Everyone is an explorer. How could you possibly live your life looking at a door and not open it?”

—Robert D. Ballard, quoted in On Assignment with National Geographic by Mark Collins Jenkins

 

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Lucy and Ethel, Justin Bieber, or the Kardashian Klan. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

 

Random quote of the day:

“People almost invariably arrive at their beliefs not on the basis of proof but on the basis of what they find attractive.”

—Blaise Pascal, The Art of Persuasion

 

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Lucy and Ethel, Justin Bieber, or the Kardashian Klan. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

 

Random quote of the day:

“The enchanting, and sometimes terrifying, thing is that the world can be so many things to so many different souls. That it can be, and is, all these at one and the same time.”

—Henry Miller, Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymous Bosch

 

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Lucy and Ethel, Justin Bieber, or the Kardashian Klan. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

 

Random quote of the day:

“If the olive trees knew the hands that planted them, their oil would become tears.”

—Mahmoud Darwish

 

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Lucy and Ethel, Justin Bieber, or the Kardashian Klan. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.


Conseil Tenu par les Rats
by Gustave Doré


Rat magic and first world problems

My third, and mostly successful, extermination company came to the house last week. They had to reinforce some of the extensive anti-rat measures they did last June to seal the house from intruders. That previous round of prevention seemed to have worked pretty well. It didn’t appear that I had lost any more appliances, anyway. Through chewing hoses and what-like, the rats had taken out my washer six times, my refrigerator water hoses twice, completely ruined the fairly new dishwasher so it can’t be fixed, and stolen insulation from my antique stove. All that seemed to cease, as I said, after the rat men did their thing last June. Then the furnace man showed up after the rat men left. During the summer when I wasn’t using heat, the rats had chewed holes through all the ducts and built nests—which is why I kept smelling something burning and can’t now use the furnace because of fire danger. I have no heat until the furnace crew comes to replace ducts on Saturday. It’s the busy season for heating folk and they’re working overtime to fit me in. Which I’m paying for, of course.

We didn’t used to live in the state of rat siege I’ve experienced in the last couple of years. I didn’t think it had anything to do with magic, but now I’m thinking maybe it did. Rat magic? Spirit of place magic? The magic of persistent and smart vermin and the spells to counter them. Or maybe the magic of my missing mother who died almost two years ago. She said the first time she stepped into this house it welcomed her with open arms. She knew she was home. I believe that. I truly think the house loved her. We had rats when she was alive, but nothing like this deluge and we never lost any appliances to them. My mama had her some powerful mojo, I tells you.

I’ve tried the magic of plugging holes with wire mess and solid metal, the magic of rat traps, the magic of cayenne pepper dumped down their holes and liquefied to spray on appliance hoses and the surfaces they frequent, the magic of poison, and now I’ve experienced the magic of my third round of mesh and metal and traps. These vermin are also partial to building rat nests in my bookshelves, consisting of my books and notebooks, taking over my art and craft cabinets–there’s a metaphor I don’t wish to examine too closely. I make sure I lock up every scrap of food at night, which cheeses off the cat. She liked snacking at night. I told her since she decided to retire from mousing, those were the breaks.

Before that second round of anti-ratting seemed to save my appliances, I felt pretty desperate. I decided I had nothing left to lose and I’d try some more conventional magic—spells and charms and the like. If nothing else, it was something to make me feel less helpless. Interestingly, rat spells are sparse, at least on the on the internet and in the books on magic I have. Our ancestors probably recognized the futility of trying to get rid of these insistent, persistent, adaptable rodents. I found one candle spell; an ancient Christian amulet which I talked about here; a few references to putting mummified cats in crawl spaces and building foundations to ward off the beasties. One of the more passive aggressive techniques I found entailed writing letters to the rats stating that the eating was much better at the neighbors’ houses and they should go there and leave (my) house alone. The letters are then stuffed down the rat holes. As any fan of Outlander can tell you, this is reminiscent of the Scottish tradition of “rat satires,” improvised songs indicating that they should leave the house alone and go to the neighbors.

I am not passive aggressive by nature, nor did I wish to mummify my cat or any other cat, and I felt I needed something quicker than making an amulet. I decided to do the candle spell.

My experience with the spell

I mentioned that I was desperate and wanted something quick, right? The spell had to begin on the night of the full moon at moonrise—and the day I found it was the full moon. I didn’t want to wait another month so decided to use what I had around the house. It called for yellow candles and the only yellow candles I had were about three inches long. You were supposed to run the spell for two hours every night until the candles burnt up. The ones I had probably wouldn’t make it through the first night, but I thought it better than nothing. (First corner cut.) The spell called for a sprig of heather so I confidently went into the front yard and only then realized the gardener had pulled up the heather bush. I quickly looked up the magic properties of heather and realized rosemary had many of the same, so I cut a sprig off my rosemary bush. (Second corner cut.) Moonrise was late that night and I had to get up at 5:45 the next morning for work, so I started the ritual early. (Third corner cut.) About 45 minutes into the ritual, the rats started making an unusual amount of noise in their favorite room, the one where I keep my birds. In general, their behavior was much louder and more aggressive that night. One of them got up on the fridge and scooted down the face of it, knocking off one of the magnets. My magnet portraying the three faces of Hecate. Most of the candles from my ritual burned out after about 90 minutes, but one brave little flame burned on. Just shy of the two hour mark the candleholder for that brave little flame spontaneously shattered.

Between the raucous behavior of the rats, the cracked glass, and the Hecate magnet I had a strong suspicion the Universe was telling me something. Maybe to do the ritual the proper way next time. Or maybe Hecate and the rat gods were saying, “I hate dabblers.” I rather thought it the latter. I’ve long maintained that dabbling is a dangerous practice, but I had set aside my principles that night in frustration. Henceforth, I’ve decided it would be better to take my own—and Hecate’s and the rat gods advice—and leave the magic to those who know what they’re doing.

The rat siege continues, though it has abated somewhat. I accept that it will continue. Nature always finds a way in where humans wish to keep it out—no magic about that. After all, the rats consider this their home as well. Maybe instead of fighting them I should try propitiating the rat gods? Or maybe the spirit of place, to see if the house will help me as it did my mother.

 

Random quote of the day:

“I’m not afraid of annihilation. I’m not afraid of death. But I just want to know more…before I go.”

—Maurice Sendak, The Paris Review, December 27, 2011

 

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Lucy and Ethel, Justin Bieber, or the Kardashian Klan. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

 

Random quote of the day:

“It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come our real work,

and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.

The mind that is not baffled is not employed.

The impeded stream is the one that sings.”

—Wendell Berry, “The Real Work”

 

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Lucy and Ethel, Justin Bieber, or the Kardashian Klan. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

 

When I’m on vacation I find myself watching things I wouldn’t normally. Like Godzilla, Mothra, and King Ghidorah on El Rey Network. (If you like martial arts, Lucha Libre, and monster movies, ERN is the network for you.) Often I have them on in the background while I do other things, like trying to clean out the crapton of possessions from this house (my mom the hoarder meets her daughter the hoarder—but that’s another post).

Today when I was semi-watching GMAKG I noticed a theme.  Reporters trying to get a scoop, scrambling to be the first to get the monsters on screen and have the biggest, most spectacular footage. Pretty much the 24-hour news cycle run amok. There was the selfish, big network reporter, determined to beat out the competition no matter who got hurt. While hovering in a helicopter over the Mothra Mom and Godzilla fight, even when his cameraman and pilot told him it was too dangerous, it was entirely predictable that he and his crew would be killed in a big hurry. Then there was the plucky girl reporter from the “Bargain Basement station of the airwaves” (their description) who wanted the scoop just as bad, but grew in the process of pursuing the story. She learned that keeping people informed and helping save lives was more important, and that she had a job to do and a responsibility to uphold.

Frankly, that latter was a more nuanced view of journalism then I anticipated from a monster movie. I suppose it helped that her father was the brave naval commander who decided he had to sacrifice himself for the good of his country and humanity in general. A good example for his daughter. But the thing is, as goofy and paint-by-the-numbers as this movie was, it did portray some important things about journalism.

The 24-hour news cycle is a monster that isn’t good for the people consuming it, and it isn’t good for journalism. It cheapens the stories being told, sensationalizes even the most heart-wrenching tragedies, gives demagogues a huge platform, and, in special cases, normalizes authoritarian bullying. It also makes for specialty news platforms that pander to one political wing or another, further widening the gulf which splinters this country. Instead of pulling together as Americans have historically, we are pulling away and pulling against each other. Traditionally, we have agreed to disagree, but when we needed to get things done, we set aside our differences to get the job done. Now we seem only to want to dance on each other’s corpses. Broadcast journalism in general is not doing its job, not CNN, not Fox News, not MSNBC, not local and network news. They pander, sensationalize, and normalize.

Journalism is both a noble and ignoble profession. People have complained about it for centuries. Some of that is because of guttersnipe reporters who want the scoop no matter who it hurts, but another part of it is because good reporters often tell people the stories they don’t want to hear. Some people want to hear “truthiness” rather than hard to listen to facts. They want to be told it’s okay to hold onto their prejudices; it’s okay to keep living a lifestyle that harms the environment; it’s okay to see how many toys they can possess, even though it may not be good for society as a whole or their own family health and that when they die, nobody wins.

Some people react to these unpleasant messages by wanting to kill the messenger. Sometimes literally. Journalists die for their stories all over the world in strongman and strife-torn societies: in Russia, in Afghanistan, in Mexico, in Somalia, in Turkey, in Myanmar. The list is long, as attested by the Committee to Protect Journalists. The list even includes the USA. So far, the confirmed motives of journalist killings in the U.S. have not been for criticizing the government. I hope that doesn’t change. But it could.

The thing is, the First Amendment and the protection of journalists telling difficult stories is one of the cornerstones of American freedom, the so-called “American exceptionalism.” That includes the irritating sensationalist press as well as “real reporters.” You can’t curtail one without curtailing the other; you can’t keep America safe from demagogues by gagging people who say the things you don’t want to hear. I’m not talking about fake news. We have to remain vigilant about filtering that kind of propaganda and allowing libel laws to works (if you can track down the source of the fake news).

You can’t cherry pick the Constitution. If there is anything like American-generated holy writ it is the Bill of Rights and the Constitution. I remember a time when people took this at face value, when it was an essential part of the American soul. The 24-hour news cycle and the merchants of partisanship have helped erode this. We must protect the First Amendment, we must ferret out and expose fake news for what it is, and we must allow journalists to do their very necessary and sometimes uncomfortable job of protecting us from miscreants and demagogues.

You know, the real scary monsters.