Miss Utah says “Bep”

When I ask my kids an impossible question in a high-pressure situation — say, something like, “You thought it was okay to use a toilet plunger, a real, used toilet plunger, that is used for REAL POOP, for your Dalek costume?  What were you thinking?  Huh?  What made you think that was okay?” — they don’t know what to say.  They’re the ones who put themselves in that situation, and yet they know and I know that there is no acceptable answer to the question.  But I’m all caught up in the passion of the moment, and I actually stand there, glaring at them, waiting for an answer.  More than once, the answer I’ve gotten is ” . . . bep . . . ”

I don’t know what “bep” means.  It’s some kind of croaking that comes straight from the soul of a person who’s face to face with the impossible, I guess.

“Bep” is more or less what Miss Utah said in a widely circulated, widely mocked video from the Miss USA Pageant.  Someone named Nene Leakes asked her, “A recent report shows that in 40 percent of American families with children, women are the primary earners, yet they continue to earn less than men. What does this say about society?”  Here’s Miss Utah’s response:

Dopey, right?  Of course it is.  But my response was pretty much the same as what NPR blogger Linda Holmes says here:  that there’s no possible way anyone could give an intelligent or meaningful answer to that question, especially in that setting.

Not to put too fine a point on it, what kind of a simultaneously (1) dumb and (2) impossible to answer question is that? First of all, it’s three questions rolled into one — what does it say that in 40 percent of homes, women are the primary earners, or what does it say that women earn less than men, or what does it say that we allow these two facts to coexist?

Second of all, “What does this say about society?” Really? Not “What kinds of help do families need to make ends meet?” or something with at least some policy meat on the bones, but “What does this say about society?” Asked by NeNe Leakes? While you’re standing next to Giuliana Rancic, whose other job involves making people walk their fingernails down a tiny, hand-sized red carpet? What would have been a good answer to this question that could have been delivered in the time frame she had?

I think about this kind of stuff a lot. I’ve studied it. I’ve had about 20 years longer than Miss Utah USA to think about it. I have no idea what I would have said if someone had asked me such a moronic question on live television.

This isn’t the kind of question that actually tests what you know; it’s basically a test of your ability to generate cow patties on command.

What do they want from this poor woman?  They starve her and paint her and wrap her up like a rhinestone mummy, dangle a cash prize in front of her, and then ask her about women’s place in society.

I don’t suppose she stumbled because she was suddenly struck by a paralyzing bolt of irony.  I suppose she just got mixed up, and didn’t know what to say.  But still.

I don’t have any particular opinion about beauty pageants.  They used to seem exploitative and demeaning, but boy, you have to work pretty hard to stand out in that field these days.  It almost feels wholesome and reassuring that all these women have to do is trot around in bathing suits and have very white teeth, and nobody expects them to live tweet an orgasm or something.

What does that say about society?  Ohhhh, I don’t know.  Bep.

Honk honk!

Yesterday, as I pulled into that treacherous intersection that always makes drape my forearm across the steering wheel so I can steer better, I said to myself, “I’m not going to accidentally honk the horn today.  I’m not going to accidentally honk the horn today.”  And then I was all, “AUGHHH, WHY ARE YOU HONKING AT ME, JERK?”  Then, to cover my confusion, I wadded up an old Burger King bag and vehemently threw it into the backseat.  That’ll show ‘em.

I’m telling you this story because I want you to know what to expect when you read my blog.

I’ve been blogging for about six years now — most recently for the National Catholic Register.   I sometimes write for various other respectable publications, like Catholic Digest and Our Sunday Visitor, and I wrote the chapter on motherhood for Style, Sex, and Substance.  I speak at conferences and events.  And this fall, I’ll have my first book out:  an ebook and audiobook called The Sinner’s Guide to NFP.

I write about books and more books, art (good and bad), pro-life issues (good andbad), how to raise decent kids and have a decent marriage in an indecent world, and how to tell the difference between coming closer to God, and just copy-catting people’s holiness style; and how to see stuff that you need to see and do the stuff you need to do.  Among other things, I have recently covered the papal conclave, a secular company that’s bucking Obamacare, and, over the years, more posts than you mightthink it’s possible to write about modesty.

And then sometimes I just write about HONK HONNNK!

I think today is one of those days, and all of you guys out there — you know, my new readers, who have no idea who I am and no particular reason to keep on reading my stuff  – you’re the people in the cars around me.  Just living your lives, following the rules of the road, looking straight ahead so you don’t accidentally make eye contact with the twitchy lady driving the van with all the crooked bumper stickers and the windows that are so smeary, you can’t tell if that’s nine kids inside, or just an enormous amount of car garbage.  Carbage.

Well, before the light turns green, let me introduce myself.  I’m Simcha Fisher.  I’m 38 years old, I’ve been married for fifteen years, and I have both nine kids and a van full of garbage.  I’m a homeschooling failure, a drinker, a sorehead, a slob, a pedant, and, depending on who you ask, a prime example of what’s wrong with religious people, what’s wrong with the Church today, or what will continue to be wrong with the Church tomorrow unless we dooooooooooooo something.

The archives from my old blog should be up soon!  In the mean time, here is what I look like:

and here is what I feel like:

 

This lady is not me, however.  Repeat:  not me.

My sincere thanks to Elizabeth Scalia the Great for inviting me on!

Happy Father’s Day, Abba

Thanks for all the times you carried me.

561235_4000478245696_1356631474_n

Audiobook voice casting – need help!

Sorry for the non-father’s day-related post.  We’re celebrating here by weakly cheering on my husband for holding down an apple.  Yep, it’s pukesville U.S.A.  It’s just as well we didn’t get him the bourbon he really wanted, because Pepto Bismol makes a lousy mixer.  The steak is going back into the freezer, the whiffle bat is going back on the porch, and we’re having strawberry shortcake anyway, because what the hell.

Anyway, I need some quick help from you guys, especially if you’ve been reading my stuff for a while.  As I’ve mentioned, I’m putting out an audiobook in the fall. Audible.com will be using one of their professional readers, but they are letting me help choose someone.  The editor says:

Casting an audiobook is much like casting a film— use any description you like, to pinpoint the voice you imagine.

E.g.:  “Greta Garbo crossed with Tom Hanks and a pinch of mustard!”

Any casting notes you give me will go directly to the Audible Studio’s casting director, who will bake them in to the production of your audiobook.
So, I can’t just say, “Hire Anne Bancroft!”  I mean, she’s dead, but also, even if she were alive, I couldn’t say that.  But I can ask for someone who sounds like Anne Bancroft.
My problem is that I don’t know names.  I’m not familiar with a lot of famous voices.  I’m looking for someone who sounds friendly and motherly, I guess, but who can deliver a punch line with a real punch in it.  The book is chatty overall, grave in some places, and pretty tart many others.  I would like a woman with a deeper voice, maybe a little gravelly, with a good sense of comic timing.
I would be very grateful for any suggestions!  I said I’d turn in my casting notes on Monday.  Thanks!
Oh, and tomorrow I will have a Big!  Anouncement! (still not pregnant)

It happens to all of us.

I am not one of those conservatives who hates the environment. I don’t boycott my parish if the priest happens to mention Earth Day, and I don’t set a heap of tires on fire to make reparations for people who use cloth diapers. I even recycle, and use cloth dish towels, and do the laundry in cold water, and have a compost heap that is there on purpose.  I like the environment.

But when I am stuck in traffic with dozens and dozens of other idling cars and trucks, and the police have closed off two lanes while a tow truck maneuvers into position to tow one of these

oilfuelledbus

to the nearest Mobil station because it has run out of gas, then YES, I am going to laugh.

Need you ask?  It had a COEXIST bumper sticker.  I laughed!

Lesson of the day

 

skip doing laundry

Just the basics

Neato!  It’s the isolated vocal track of “Under Pressure” — just the two voices, nothing else.

This song, in its original, familiar form, always gave me hives because it’s like one of those recipes where you combine two fantastic and expensive ingredients, but rather than blending and melding to make something new and great, they just fight with each other.  I love Bowie and I love Freddie Mercury, but I never understood why everyone’s so ga ga about this song.  This stripped down version is a different take on it, anyway, and if it doesn’t exactly make the song work, it’s fascinating to listen to.  Holy cow, what talent.  I forgot how powerful Bowie’s voice is, and how otherworldly Freddie Mercury can sound.

This isolated vocal track of “Under Pressure” is more of a curiosity, but I just found out that there is a stripped down version of The Beatles’ album “Let It Be,” and that is something that really needed doing. (I guess they had brought Phil Spector on board to produce it, and then the main reason they made “Abbey Road” (which was made mostly after “Let It Be,” but released first) was so they could leave the world with one final actual Beatles album, since “Let It Be” kinda wasn’t.)

I grew up listening to a lot of “oldies,” and I like the whole Wall of Sound thing a lot, but setting it up behind The Beatles is like covering the Parthenon in chrome. “The Long and Winding Road,” especially, was just screaming to be left alone, and they had to crap it up with six inches of schmaltz — unforgiveable.  Here is the painful original:

and the stripped-down version, just vocals, guitar, and piano:

Whew!  Much better.

Theology of the Body reading recommendations?

A reader writes:

 I’ve got a Catholic friend who is sorely in need of some good reading materials on the main concepts in Theology of the Body. She buys into very secular views of contraception, abortion, marriage, and sex in general, and has admitted a total lack of education regarding the Catholic teaching on the subjects, as well as a (reluctant) interest in obtaining said education.

I’m looking for something that’s intelligent, readable, down to earth, doesn’t assume that you already agree with the Church teaching, and hits all the main points without an angry polemical vibe. I checked out some stuff by Christopher West, but didn’t like it too much.
Any suggestions, smarties?  If you have something to recommend, it would be very helpful if you could say a few things about why you liked it, or what kind of audience it would be appropriate for.
Thanks!

Now avalable: Encountering Christ: Homilies, Letters, and Addresses of Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio

The book my sister, Devra Torres, helped translate and edit is now available from Scepter Books:

Encountering Christ: Homilies, Letters, and Addresses of Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio (Pope Francis)     

pp56.1_EC_

 

Here is the short interview I did with her about the experience of translating Bergoglio’s words; and here is an entertaining post she wrote on her blog, giving a little preview of the riches to be found in our new pope’s words.

The book is available in paperback and Kindle.  Looks like a great read, with lots of variety.  Check it out!

Pee S. A.

We once had this cat who hated our guts.

 

(image source)

The kids named her “Cleo.”  We thought she was our pet; she thought we were her captors.  She was an indoor cat because I couldn’t catch her long enough to put her in the chew-proof box we purchased after she chewed through the pet carrier we purchased to bring her to the vet to get her shots.  I tried and tried to catch her, but we lived in a house with staircases on both ends, and I was pregnant — so around and around we would go.  She would scamper up one set of stairs, sit at the top and watch me struggle and clamber halfway up, and then -whisk!- away she would go, across the house and down the other set of stairs.

At one point, Cleo chewed a hole in the wall of the laundry room and lived inside the empty space,  haunting us like a furry black demon with her scuffling noises.  The only time she wanted anything to do with me is when she went into heat, when she would follow me around the kitchen, backing up, gazing at me with pleading eyes, and emitting the most pitiful yowls.

Anyway, she had one particular trick to show us just how much she despised us for sheltering and feeding her.  She would sit on the futon, waiting for me to come into the room.  As soon as I made eye contact, she would pee.  Then she would get up and leave the room, brushing past my ankles in a devastatingly ironic pantomime of normal feline affection, just to show me she could if she wanted to.

Don’t ask me why we kept this horrible animal around for as long as we did.  She was our first real pet, and I guess we figured we should keep her for the kids’ sake — although what good it did them to have a pet who lived inside the walls, I don’t know.  Anyway, while she was around, I got pretty good at getting pee out of things.  I made many batches of this special cleanser, and it always worked:

  • 1 quart of 3% hydrogen peroxide
  • 1/4 cup baking soda
  • 1 teaspoon of liquid soap

Gently mix all ingredients in a non-metal container. Do not mix or shake vigorously.  Saturate the stain with the liquid, and allow it to air dry (which might take 24 hours, I forget).  It should smell fine once it’s dry, but you may have to do a second time.  You can use this on any item or surface that can get wet — so, not wooden floors, but grout or concrete floors or just about anything else.  It does leave a ghost of a mark on light fabrics, but it’s better than pee!

Oh, so one day, I ran out of kitty litter, and I had a moment of clarity about this “pet.”  I opened the door and she took off like a streak.  We never saw her again.  Other creatures have left their mark on our house and belongings since then, but nothing ever smelled as bad as Cleo’s Anger Pee.