theworldofdale

Archive for the ‘Science’ Category

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women aren’t better than men

In News and Politics, Relationships, Science on May 2, 2011 at 11:56 pm

I’m sorry. It’s true. While there are ways in which women should be nurtured and cared for, they aren’t better people. So when I heard that the woman who had been killed in the bin Laden raid had been used as a human shield, I still couldn’t feel sorry for her. For one thing, this raid proved that bin Laden was a coward. He was hiding and when shit got real, he would still rather sacrifice another human’s life instead of his own, including a nearby woman.

But I’m glad those soldiers still killed her. Listen, it pains me to know that I’m not repulsed by their deaths. I am opposed to the death penalty in all circumstances. But when you pick on my friends and family (or my country), I get defensive and I would personally totally fuck you up. Because my friends and family (and country) aren’t perfect, but they’re mine and they are still pretty awesome and no worse than your folks. It didn’t bother me that there was collateral damage, including a woman. Being a woman doesn’t make you innocent. When you’re fucking with bin Laden, you can’t think your shit is safe. You know there’s a good chance you’re going to die for this man. What I’m saying is that it’s a calculated risk.

Women and children first. I don’t get it. Trust me, I’d love to because I’m a woman and therefore my ass sits on the boat’s first seat. But men are important and valid and while I still expect him to take care of me, I wouldn’t be Rose making Jack stay in the water while I stretched out on a raft. (That’s a Titanic reference for anyone under the age of 26). Let’s really embrace feminism and say that a woman’s life isn’t worth less or more than a man’s. If killing that woman meant killing bin Laden, it’s okay by me. I shudder inside at knowing I’m capable of that sort of vengeance, but I’m not going to deny it, either. But I know that people are going to have to say that it’s worse to kill a woman. It’s not. It’s not worse to kill a child, or to kill an old person. It’s a human life of value. I know it’s a radical idea, but when it comes right down to it, there’s no difference between me and Donald Trump. Shudder.

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the battle of the sexes

In Communication, News and Politics, Relationships, Science on April 28, 2011 at 9:32 pm

In the battle of the sexes, men are the superpower. They are the United States, or the USSR, or China. They have the resources. They have the inherent advantages of size and strength and speed. They get to go around doing pretty much whatever they want without regard to the collateral damage.

Women are Afghanistan. We seem like we’re weak. We seem to lack resources. We seem like we can’t fend for ourselves and we’re kind of bat-shit crazy. Everyone wants to take care of us. We are, in short, a mess.

But we can’t be beaten. Even Alexander the Great, who suppressed enough of his sexual urges to take over half the planet, still couldn’t conquer Afganistan. Do you think if he had a Josephine he wouldn’t have ended up with a Waterloo? Give me a break. Men have power, but the real super power belongs to women. And it’s in our pants.

My favorite comedian, Louis CK, has said that the most amazing thing about women is that we can decide to not have sex. Right in the middle, we can just decide not to do it anymore, and we can stop. Men don’t have this luxury, and therefore are required to do our bidding once the plateau has been crossed. I have no problem when a man thinks of me as a sex object. While he is thinking with his dick, I’m thinking with my brain and all of a sudden, he’s helping me move that weekend. There is a power in sexuality and to pretend there isn’t is as much a feminist manifesto as making sandwiches in the nude.

Men are awesome, women are awesome. Relationships are awesome. Love is a beautiful, genius thing. But like many things of beauty and genius, it’s fucking crazy.

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god and other unacceptable topics

In Communication, Health and Wellness, Home, News and Politics, Relationships, Science on March 10, 2011 at 11:46 pm

For the people who thought they knew what tonight’s post was about: Sorry. That’s for another day.

Religion is one of those things, along with sex, politics, and poop, that you aren’t supposed to talk about in mixed company. As you may guess, I enjoy talking about things that should not be discussed in mixed company.

My personal take on religion is that, like relationships, it’s a personal thing that is no one else’s business. In other words, I don’t give a shit what you think, and what I think is not your concern.

Still. Sometimes I feel like there is a dichotomy that religion boils down to, and it’s whether there is an omnimpotent being. God-ish, you may say.

I’m willing to admit that I’m in the fold of belief in God-ish. And I hesitate to narrow it further, as my beliefs are varied and broad and as far as I’m concerned, not mutually exclusive nor any of your business. What events result in that faith are pretty simple.

When I’m at the end of my rope, there’s a knot. I know that is totally 5th grade book fair poster involving a kitten philosophy. But it’s true. Yesterday was mad shitty. I mean, mad shitty. Think about the shittiest day, dial back someone dying, and that was my Wednesday. It really fucked up the whole week. I figured that life as Wednesday was barely worth it.

Then today happened. And it wasn’t perfect. There was still no sun. But I got a surprise gift from someone who thinks about me when I’m not around, which, let’s face it, is a pretty awesome compliment. Then a bit of good company sandwiched between the next slice of awesome: a childhood career dream come true. To settle the day, good conversation with good friends and a cuddle with my dog.

I suppose it could be a coincidence that a horrible day was followed by a day full of steady pick-me-ups. But it’s happened far too often to make me think that it’s not statistically significant. There’s too many times where I get to learn my lesson, but then get my scrapes bandaged and my lollipop received to think that someone isn’t looking out for me. Whether it’s the soul of my grandmother, a God, or magnetic energy from the sun in the form of Tom Cruise, I can’t help but feel like I’m not alone. Which is nice.

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charlie sheen is not cool

In Entertainment and Nightlife, Health and Wellness, Home, News and Politics, Science, Work on March 4, 2011 at 3:35 pm

As much as I hate to be one of the billion people talking about Charlie Sheen when there are far more important matters in the world (Libya, unions, Bockfest), I feel like mine might be a minority (or solitary) opinion.

Charlie Sheen is not cool.

He’s not funny. He’s not winning. He’s definitely not inspiring. He’s sick.

Whether his brain was fried before the drugs is up for debate. What isn’t up for debate is that this is a grown man with 5 children. What would be mildly entertaining if he were a 22-year-old guy drunk at a party is a serious problem when it’s a 45-year-old man with responsibilities he is ignoring. As quotable as he has been in the past few weeks, he has 4 children under the age of 10. His youngest two children are with a woman who has plenty of her problems of her own. I don’t think any of us suspected that Denise Richards would come out of this family looking like the smart one.

Charlie Sheen is tragic. The likelihood of this ending happily ever after is slim. The United States is cheering the destruction of a human being, while ignoring the thousands who are losing their livelihoods and their lives.

I hate to be such a Debbie Downer, trust me. I prefer to keep this and my Twitter account as light and as bummer-free as possible. But the admiration people are showing for Charlie Sheen is distressing. Mental illness isn’t cool. Drug abuse isn’t cool. Having a harem isn’t cool (no, really. It’s not).

Charlie Sheen is not cool.

And he’s definitely not winning.

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don’t want your stacks, just crack my back

In Communication, Health and Wellness, Science, Work on February 20, 2011 at 3:28 pm

I was brought up to distrust chiropractors. I grew up in Detroit, where they had a reputation for offering to cure back pain, acne, cancer, and social awkardness. Needless to say, my parents were skeptical, and therefore, so was I. As another indication of how much my parents influence my choices, I still have never tasted a Brussel sprout, because both of my parents hate them.

My doubt about chiropractic was only enforced when I was in a car accident in 2006. As I was turning left onto a side street, a driver on the side street didn’t see me and pulled out and hit my car, t-bone style, directly into my driver’s side door. He had insurance, so my car (eventually) got fixed. Plus, I got to drive a Pontiac Grand Prix for a couple weeks, which feels like a race car compared to my Saturn.

One of my co-workers bugged me to go see a chiropractor, because after the accident, I had a problem with my back in that it hurt so much I couldn’t walk. I didn’t want to go, but finally, he bugged me so much that I went ahead and made an appointment to see his chiropractor. Without touching me once and only asking a couple of questions, the he told me I would have to come in 3 times a week for at least 6 months. So I left.

Fast forward 5 years, and my back is still messed up. Sometimes I throw it out in an attempt to carry things or bend over or walk. I’d get massages at the massage school where they would try to rub out the knot in my back, and I’d end up with bruises.

Then my mom’s best friend recommended that she go see a chiropractor in their town. My mom went, because she trusts her best friend even more than I trust my co-workers. And she liked him. She trusted him. And she felt better. I decided to give it another try.

I feel better. I’m a convert. But only for my chiropractor- I still won’t go to any other one. And not just because he’s hot (even though that obviously helps). But because he’s honest with me about what he can and can’t do, and he doesn’t try to get me to come see him more often that I want to (again, the hotness helps here). As much as I enjoy having hot guys on top of me, I wouldn’t pay $25 a pop for it if it didn’t cure back pain.

Now if there was only something he could do about my social awkwardness…

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do a body good

In Health and Wellness, Relationships, Science on January 23, 2011 at 9:32 pm

I think I know my body pretty well. I don’t always treat it that well- the Dale family historically abuse our bodies. We smoke or drink or tan or eat unhealthy food or don’t exercise or sometimes all of those in a single day. But there’s no cancer in my bloodline, and we look young for our age and live a long time. We are addicted to things and pretty crazy and usually have bad knees, but overall, not a bad ROI.

I know I have some male readers (honestly, it still astounds me that I have readers at all), but bear with me here. I’m going to be quite frank about what happens to a lady’s body, but you’re all big boys and you can handle it.

I don’t take birth control. I stopped when I didn’t have health insurance, because there was no reason to spend money on non-essentials. I still practice safe sex (and you should too, because having STDs is such a mood-killer). But I realized that I kind of liked not being on the Pill.

Then a friend had a stroke- which her doctors attributed mainly to long-term use of the Pill.  I also read about this study, where researchers found that the Pill can skew to which kind of mate you are attracted. Basically, without the Pill, you naturally seek out someone who is going to be complementary to you in genetics. You’re going to produce viable young. When you are on the Pill, you find yourself attracted to someone with similar genetics. And how are you supposed to resist infection with that?

Woman takes the Pill. She marries a guy with a similar genetic makeup (like marrying a cousin, basically). They decide to have a kid, and the woman stops taking the Pill. And all of a sudden, her husband smells different. Stinky. And then, she’s thinking… this was a mistake. I smelled the wrong man.

I know my body now. I know that when I’m ovulating, I’m glowing and eating healthy and attracting all sorts of male attention because they can sense some baby-making possibilities. Then I hit PMS, and my body hates me for passing up an opportunity to use that egg, so I eat pizza and take naps and become very sensitive to people being so crass as to not read my mind and do my bidding.

I’m not opposed to birth control. I just feel like I do better by my body (which, to be honest, is still not very good) when I’m in tune with what these hormones are trying to tell me.

By the way, they’re telling me: “Hey! We’re trying to make a baby in here! What the fuck?!”