So, Naomi Wolf says that Harold Bloom groped her 20 years ago. And she was made ill and afraid by this and it hurt her academic career, but she couldn’t do anything then. And now, apparently Yale would have nothing to do with her complaint.

And, you know, people have opinions. Some people are mad at her for being mean to an old sick man. Some people are mad at her because they don’t like “victim feminism”. Some people are mad at her because she waited 20 years. Some other people are mad at her because she trades on her own physical attractiveness a lot and is obsessed with her youth and won’t stop talking about sex, and they think she has a double standard.

I’ve never met her, and I have no idea if she’s a nice lady or not. But I still think you shouldn’t grasp the thighs of your undergraduates. I had a prof in college who sexually harassed his (male) students, and I was lucky he didn’t find me attractive. What a situation to be in! My dad knew him, too, and they were on inter-campus committees together. What would I have done?

So, yeah. Maybe she is a publicity whore, and maybe this and maybe that, but if Bloom really does this stuff as much as is rumored I don’t care how eminent he is, or how old and feeble; that ain’t right. And sometimes you have to wait 20 years so that you’re famous and powerful yourself and you can say something without having powerful people trash your new career.

JUCHE! Flash

It’s a mark of our animal nature that we’re physically persistent in the face of meaninglessness.

I get up, work, eat, shit, wash myself, socialize, and take care of business despite abundant evidence that there’s no point in any of this. The executive brain says: “This makes no sense; why do we continue?” The soul says “I’m empty; this has no future”. But the colon and the leg muscles and the jaw keep clanking along obstinately, dragging the rest of me around.

I’m Galvani’s frog leg jerking to the current. And, maybe, so are you.

I am occasionally credited with launching a manhole cover into space.

Bang.

The ad at the bottom of the Amazon page for some nuclear weapons test DVD read:

Dove Gentle Exfoliating Bar, Value Pack (8, 4.2-Ounce Bars)
Gently remove dull, lifeless skin with Dove exfoliating bars.

“The Llewellyn Astral Projection Kit”.

This might explain some of the behavior I see on the road.

I think I just found the Houghton, MI version of L-Dog:

http://www.backroomup.com/about/management.html

Today I spent money, which I probably should not. I joined the local art museum which has become very good over the years, and also bought my mom’s birthday present which was a Joan Miró tote bag.

I also got all my hair chopped off by a beautiful Russian woman for $12.95.

Tonight I took Mom out for her birthday, which was the 75th so a big deal. Dinner at Pascal which is a rare treat. We had the prix fixe which consisted of:

Beet salad with goat cheese, hazelnuts, sherry vinaigrette
Vermouth steamed black mussels with onion, tomato, basil, and parmesan chips
Day boat scallops with portobello mushrooms, cipollino onions, & sage cream
Herb crusted rack of lamb with eggplant and mashed potato
Chocolate mousse cake with chocolate dipped strawberry

All washed down with an Alexander Valley Zinfandel.

GOOD LORD THAT WAS A GOOD MEAL. I don’t eat that way any more, but fortunately this was small courses of really good food rather than a Stuff-Stuff with Heavy experience. The beet salad was a foodgasm. Horribly expensive, but she only gets one 75th birthday.

Tomorrow I shall gnaw on a crispbread