Strollerderby : breeders

And Now - The Gay Brain

Brett Singer — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 18:10:00 GMT

First it was the gay gene (and it wasn't Bugle Boy! Apologies to Bill Maher whom I stole that joke from.) Now the powers that be have decided that there is a gay brain. Scientists studied the sizes of the left and right brains of 90 people, and found that, "Gay men and heterosexual women had halves of a similar size, while the right side was bigger in lesbian women and heterosexual men." So gay men have brain halves like straight women, and gay women have brain halves like straight men. Got that? This will be on the test.

This isn't the first attempt to "prove" that gayness is born, not made. There was the gay gene (see above), and then the theory that what happens in the womb could affect male sexuality. According to the BBC, "this is the first time…that scientists have used brain scanners" to attempt to determine the cognitive differences between gay people and us breeders.

In theory, this is a good discovery, since it helps put to rest the idea espoused by certain lunatics that homosexuality can be "cured." But it could help the loonies' cause too, couldn't it? Imagine if someone proposes a test be given to children at birth, or in utero. Then what? I know that sounds extreme but some people are, well, extreme (like this lady – don't click this link unless you want to get angry.) There's a part of me that wonders if sexual orientation is something we need to find a reason for.

image: The Situationist, and then messed with by me. * = Homosexualis Gaygaygayus is a term I just made up, obviously.

Rich guy pretends to be gynecologist to see women naked (he ain't no fruit!)

Political Nanny: Women, Dear Sweet Angry Women!

Clay Aiken ain't no fruit

Best of FameCrawler: Week of May 30th

Strollerderby Playdate: The Awful Blog I Can't Stop Reading

Madeline Holler — Wed, 09 Jan 2008 12:32:00 GMT

How can it be that I am a regular reader of this blog? I mean, you could hardly call it a blog -- she posts only once or twice a month, it's not terribly interesting, it's surrounded by ads for gentle yet overpriced baby laundry detergent that you don't even need.

And it's her! Her! I don't even like her! I am not interested in her! I do nothing but criticize and disagree with her. I didn't watch her on TV before and, now that she's back, I still don't. I won't! Yet, I read her blog. I check it for updates, feel let down when there are none. I find myself identifying with her truly mundane stories and smiling at -- and I mean this in the rudest ways -- the very unfunny funny things she strains to write. Please, what is wrong with me?

Somehow, I have let Elisabeth Hasselbeck get under my skin and into the heart of my web browser. Bafflingly, I don't consider the three minutes I put in each month checking out her posts -- she doesn't even have links or games or a photo album to look through! -- wasted time. How could I? I love reading it! But shouldn't I hate myself a little more for loving it? Shouldn't I want to soak in a tub of scalding hot water and gentle Dreft soap bubbles?

It's like the playgroup I go to again and again. The membership is dwindling, the only mom who shows up is the one you have nothing in common with. Nothing! But I keep going -- once or twice a month -- to not connect, to not agree, to not enjoy. Why go? Why not.

Darwin Awards: These People Aren't Breeders

Karen Murphy — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 22:03:00 GMT

Okay, so I have a morbid sense of humor, but I've always enjoyed the annual Darwin Awards. You know about these, right? They "salute the improvement of the human genome by honoring those who accidentally remove themselves from it." Which means, you know, more air to breathe/space/just general good stuff for the rest of us. And I'm especially glad that many of the Darwin Awards recipients (posthumous) never got the chance to breed.

Like this couple:

They're the ones found inexplicably naked in the road an hour after sunrise and were taken to a hospital where they died. It turns out they were having sex on a nearby high rooftop and fell off of it while otherwise engaged.

Or the naked man who jumped into the bear cage in a Serbian zoo.

Or the alcoholic who embalmed himself with a couple of liters of sherry. In an enema.

Here, by the way, are the rules for submission to the Darwin Awarrds, in case you know of anyone who qualifies:

Reproduction: Out of the gene pool: dead or sterile.
Excellence: Astounding misapplication of judgment.
Self-Selection: Cause one's own demise.
Maturity: Capable of sound judgment.
Veracity: The event must be true.

The Darwin Awards stories, "which range from the sublimely ironic to the pathetically stupid, display examples of trial and (fatal) error that vividly illustrate evolution in all its selective glory."

Photo: maniacworld.com

Babble Talk: The Thoughtful Non-Breeder

Karen Murphy — Fri, 01 Jun 2007 14:52:00 GMT

In this week's edition of "Notes From a Non-Breeder" here on Babble, Johanna Gohmann speaks honestly and forthrightly about why she's chosen to stay child-free, at least for now. Jo comes from a large family herself and is the aunt to an entire football squad of nieces and nephews, the only of her siblings yet to procreate.

That's a lot of pressure.

Frankly, I was prepared to hate this article, having read some of the bizarre and spiteful comments to Patti's plea that we all just get along. I mean, there is definitely some major polarization going on between the Breeders and the Non-Breeders. And why can't we all just get along? It seems to me that the choice to have a child or not is a very personal one, and no one can really understand your motivations for your choice but you.

But Johanna clearly and poignantly states her reasoning for remaining childfree, the biggest one not being any reservations about children themselves, but more about her own capacities as a parent. It seems to me that someone as thoughtful and reasoning as Johanna about her own abilities and perhaps shortcomings would likely be a great candidate for parenthood, if that's her ultimate choice. I think all any of us can really aspire to is knowing ourselves and accepting what we see, whatever that truly is.