The Equuschick Abused

After work today I was supposed to head to the hospital to get my last rabies vaccination, and this turned out to be a good thing because I had to get gas on the way and therefore had a heart attack that needed treating, too.

So this shot. We’ve explained to most of you, I think, that what I’m getting is not the shot you get when you’ve been exposed, only a preventative series of vaccinations. I don’t mind explaining this to all of you, but today it was a little different. I had to explain this to the woman giving me the shot. Telling the doctor who’s about to give you a shot just what shot she is supposed to be giving you is a disturbing thing to have to do. And just when I thought when we understood one another, she said “And it goes in your abdomen, right?” “No!” I said. “It goes in my arm. “Oh,” she said, surpised. “I guess I’ll just read what the directions have to say when I get it out.”

She did. She got out the directions that came with the vial and read them out loud to herself. I can’t tell you what this didn’t do for my confidence.

Eventually she thought she had figured out the highly complicated procedure of inserting a needle into an upper arm, and gave me the shot.

Either I am the first person she has ever in her life vaccinated, or she is just sadistic. You know how most people will use both hands, one to give the shot and the other to support your arm? She vaccinates one handed. As in, she walked up and stabbed me in a particularly gung ho and cowboy fashion. Perhaps she was neither sadistic or inexperienced, but only deluded and under the impression that I was a courderoy pincushion?

But anyway. It hurt more than the first two shots, it bled more than the first two shots, and I have no doubt that it will bruise more than the first two shots. *whimpers pathetically*

The Fates hadn’t had their fill of fun with me yet, apparantly. I just had to get a flat tire on the way home and be rescued by my grandfather and a county sherrif.
My mother was very encouraging, of course. “Don’t worry dear”, she said. “It happens. It just usually happens to you.”

Why, thank-you. That was absolutely guaranteed to make me feel better.

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Writing Exercise

Here’s an interesting exercise.

Read this post by Jeff Jarvis. Warning- it’s calculated to boil the blood of most Common Room scholars.

Now take a deep breath and read this response by Hugh Hewitt.

Next take notes. Which man sounds angrier? Why? What words and phrases seem to carry more bitterness? Make a short list of some of the harshest points. Now rewrite them so that they still communicate the author’s meaning, but in a gentler fashion.

In Much Ado About Nothing, Benedick complains that Beatrice ‘speaks poniards, and every word stabs.’ Beatrice is very funny. But is she winsome and persuasive?

Try, for a moment, to ignore the content of the above articles and judge only on style. Which of them is more persuasive? What can you learn and apply to your own writing from these two articles?

Update One: The Headmistress botched it again. This post is not by Pipsqueak.

Update Two: We are shocked and a little flustered to learn that Jeff Jarvis of the Buzz Machine has taken notice of our writing assignment. He says he’s auditing the course. We didn’t know the textbook could audit the course, but we won’t be so foolhardy as to argue with Mr. Jarvis about it.

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Treating the Disabled to Death

On March 11th, I referred to Christopher Nolan here in The Quality of Life, the Quality of Mercy

I said that “Mr. Nolan points out that one of the greatest ironies of this age is that now, when technology opens up opportunities and chances for life for the disabled that nobody could have ever even imagined 200 years ago, the ‘opportunity’ many of the able bodied are most anxious to share with the disabled is the chance to kill themselves, or to have the deed done to them under medical supervision. Neither Mr. Nolan nor our Cherub pose a threat to anybody. Neither of them can harm, maim, or kill another human being. So why would some prefer to see people like them aborted, quitely put to sleep, or, as in the case of Terri Shiavo, denied food and hydration?”

Joe Ford, a Harvard man with what I gather is severe C.P. makes some sharp observations about how Americans deal with the disabled here.

He points out that

“…society already believes to some degree that it is acceptable to murder disabled people.
As Schiavo starves to death, we are entering a world last encountered in Nazi Europe. Prior to the genocide of Jews, Gypsies, and Poles, the Nazis engaged in the mass murder of disabled children and adults, many of whom were taken from their families under the guise of receiving treatment for their disabling conditions. The Nazis believed that killing was the highest form of treatment for disability.”

He has more to say about it. Please go read. Bonnet tip to Powerline

Update: The Headmistress posted this. I didn’t realize this computer was still signed in under Pip’s account.

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Earthquake in Indonesia

Earthquake off the coast of

Maps here, here, and one of Sri Lanka here.

Helping Hands International
is one relief program I’m aware of. I’m sure there are many others.

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This is…..JennyAnyDots 🙂

Spring is on the way!!!!

I went on a walk through the woods with my cousins today. The weather was beautiful,
fresh, and sharp. We were able to see shoots of grass, flowers, and Poison Hemlock; we do not like this plant. The birds were so loud we almost had to yell to be heard above the racket.

I found some lovely poems about spring I wish to share.

Spring, Almost

The sunshine gleams so bright and warm,
The sky is blue and clear.
I run outdoors without a coat,
And spring is almost here.

Then before I know it,
Small clouds have blown together,
Till the sun just can’t get through them,
And again, it’s mitten weather.

A little madness in the Spring / Is wholesome even for the King.

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) US poet

When Spring Appears

give lusty cheers
when spring appears
when spring appears.

Buds and seeds
prick up their ears
and blades of grass
show eager spears.

And only icicles
weep tears
when spring appears
when spring appears

Author: Aileen Fisher

I hope you got as much joy out of these poems as I did!

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