The bloom in the river is turning it green
And it’s killing off all of the fishes,
The river is dying, tree-huggers are crying,
But Mabel, just look at my dishes!

They sparkle! They glimmer! They’re spotlessly clean!
They’re as gorgeous as gorgeous can be!
The scientists may see the cause of the bloom,
I see a reflection of me!

We used to find perch here, and big rainbow trout,
Now it’s carp, gulping air as they spawn;
It’s ugly, so turn your gaze elsewhere, and look
At my beautiful, beautiful lawn!

It’s lush and it’s leafy, it’s weed-free and dense,
A most wonderful deep shade of green;
Sure the chemicals cost a bit more to apply,
But the sacrifice works, as you’ve seen!

The rivers and lakes, and the oceans as well
Are polluted with all sorts of ooze,
From shipwrecks and oil spills and who all knows what—
We’ve watched it each night on the news—

We’ve got to do something! It really looks bad!
This pollution is truly obscene!
But our dishes, our laundry, our car and our lawn,
We’ve been doing our part to keep clean!

From NPR, a story today on why your dishes aren’t as sparkling clean as they used to be. Turns out, it’s not your fault. Dishwashing detergent has been reformulated, without phosphates.

This was supposed to be good for waterways. But it turned a simple chore into a frustrating mystery for many people across the country.

A couple of months ago, Sandra Young from Vernon, Fla., started to notice that something was seriously amiss with her dishes.

“The pots and pans were gray, the aluminum was starting to turn black, the glasses had fingerprints and lip prints still on them, and they were starting to get this powdery look to them,” Vernon says. “I’m like, oh, my goodness, my dishwasher must be dying, I better get a new dishwasher.”

Young’s not alone. Many people across the country are tearing out their hair over stained flatware, filmy glasses and ruined dishes.

But this is NPR, so I’m sure the story will remind us that phosphates contribute to algal blooms, and show this obsession over sparkling dishes for the vanity it is. Right?

But dirty and damaged dishes are turning many people into skeptics, including Wright.

“I’m angry at the people who decided that phosphate was growing algae. I’m not sure that I believe that,” [Sue] Wright [from Austin, Texas] adds.

Um… skeptics? Those who require evidence? NPR, the word you were looking for was “pinheads”. But I’m sure there will be a scientist speaking soon, to set Wright… er, right.

Susan Baba from Procter and Gamble says the company had no choice. It just wasn’t feasible to make detergent with phosphates for some states and without them for others.

“You know, this isn’t really a huge environmental win,” she says.

That’s because phosphates are wonder ingredients. They not only strip food and grease from dishes but also prevent crud from getting reattached during the wash. So she says without phosphates, people have to wash or rinse their dishes before they put them in the dishwasher, which wastes water. Or they run their dishwasher twice, which wastes electricity.

I’m sure an industry spokeswoman is unbiased, though. Who needs scientists to speak for the science?

Anyway, you just know that NPR (NPR!) will close by chastising the people who are more concerned with seeing their reflections in their dishes than seeing the pollution they are dumping into the ecosystem. Never put your outhouse upstream from your well, and all that. Right, NPR?

But not everyone is willing to adjust. Sandra Young figured out a way to undo the phosphate ban — at least in her own kitchen.

She bought some trisodium phosphate at a hardware store and started mixing her own formula.

“It seems to be working pretty good,” Young says.

Other people have given up on their machines altogether and are washing dishes by hand. But some are switching to other brands and making peace with phosphate-free detergents.

Thanks, NPR–I never would have thought of that! I’ll just pop right out to the hardware store, and my problem is solved! It’s now the problem of the people (and other organisms) who live downstream.

Funny thing about an ecosystem. We’re all downstream. Thanks, NPR.

Photo source

The war against Christmas has taken a turn
With the hanging of one of the elves—
No need for a godless opponent, we learn,
The Christians can fight it themselves!

For some, any elf is the work of the Devil—
It’s Satan, not Santa, at play
He’s not making toys; he’s distributing evil
And needs to be hanged right away!

We’ve all hung our stockings, and mistletoe too,
But an elf is a new one on me!
But pastor Jon Knudsen knew just what to do,
So he hanged it, for children to see!

For Christmas is sacred, and solemn, and sad,
So we’re killing off Santa, forthwith!
And the lesson, this season, is “God will get mad,
So you’d better believe the right myth!”

I couldn’t have made up this story; it boggles the imagination. Santa and the elves are the Devil’s work. This we already knew, but what are ya gonna do? Pastor Knudsen did what the rest of us can only wish we had the courage to do; he hanged an elf.

Let me repeat that: He hanged an elf.

The war on Christmas is not fought from without; it is fought from within. What could possibly kill Christmas? Taking it seriously, that’s what could kill it.

Think of the children (won’t somebody, please?)–little Bjorn has a choice between a Santa Claus who brings him presents, or “the truth about christmas” for which a pastor hanged an elf. Game over, man. The believers have scored, but it’s an own goal.

The good news?

The executed elf was originally supposed to remain hanging from the church until Sunday, and the church had set up a night watch in order to prevent it from being stolen.

One offended resident took action Monday afternoon while no one was watching, however, and pulled down the elf. He left a message with the pastor that the elf was being “kept safe until after the New Year”.

Knudsen reported the theft to the police, and the culprit confessed. The police, however, refused to press charges, stating that their “caseload was too heavy to make investigating theft of a stuffed toy elf a priority”.

Cuttlecap tip to Noadi, via twitter.

Freedom of speech offends me
And I hope it always will,
Till the sun explodes, or worlds collide,
Or hands of time stand still.
If I hate what you are saying
And you hate my words as well
That’s the way we know it’s working,
Or as far as I can tell.
You are free to be offensive,
Rude and crude and vile and mean—
It’s a radical idea,
But the best I’ve ever seen.

Strange… someone was looking for a particular verse of mine last night, and couldn’t find it. Looking through my computer files around the date in question, I found this one, which google tells me I never posted anywhere. Not here as a post, nor anywhere else as a comment. Not terribly surprising–I wrote it the morning my brother died, in the time when we were still optimistic that he’d recover. I know there have been times I’ve started on a verse, then set it aside when, say, the dog needed walking. I wonder how many orphaned poems there are on various computer drives (including dead drives) scattered around my life-space.

What with the WikiLeaks stuff going on, freedom of speech is being tested in a different way–not so much offensive speech, as speech that a person or party in power does not want to be made public. But I’ll put this verse up today anyway, and you can probably guess my stance on today’s issue as well.

I’m healthy and wealthy; I’ve outgrown my past;
When I need to lose weight, I can diet or fast;
Starvation is not in the lot I’ve been cast—
My perspective is clearly not skewed.
I can buy the best produce they’ve managed to breed,
Have it shipped to my doorstep with mind-boggling speed;
In a world of such plenty, I don’t see the need
For genetically modified food

We can learn about foods from the Frankenstein myth
And distill what we know into substance and pith:
It’s much safer, our going without food than with
If the food isn’t natural, like mine
Some time in the future, we might pay the price
For life-saving products like GMO rice
(Of course the poor love it, but we can think twice—
Our neglect will be purely benign!)

Concerned about pesticides used to grow cotton?
The GE varieties best be forgotten;
We want, after all, to show people how rotten
Such produce can be for the Earth
The civilized buyer will treat as pariah,
The virus-resistant new strains of papaya,
A slap in the face of our dear Mother Gaia,
Despite how the poor see its worth

Of course, there’s a view, if you’re willing to learn,
Where the rest of humanity’s still our concern—
Even those who don’t make what us comfy folk earn,
But who still do the best they are able—
If you’re part of the planet (it seems so to me)
And look all around you, and find you agree
With John Donne, when he noted the bell tolls for thee…
There’s a seat here, for you, at the table.

I have noticed a pattern. You may have seen, our historically incredibly good health has allowed the fortunate members of our culture, the beneficiaries of decades of vaccination, sanitation, medication, and other ations, to wax eloquent of the virtues of a romanticized past, and to forego vaccines or other procedures that our grandparents would have viewed as miraculous. Our affluence, essentially, has allowed us to forget our very recent past, and to make stupid decisions without the consequences those same decisions would have led to not long ago.

Similarly, our affluence with regard to diet has similarly allowed us the privilege of choosing options which are simply impossible for most of the world. The problem is, we are forcing our blinkered views on others who are not so privileged as we are. The unvaccinated child is victim of a privileged parent’s ignorance (as are the child’s friends). The poor consumers may be victim of the privileged consumers’ natural food fetish, if the latter can bend regulations to their will. Myths of frankenfoods don’t match the actual safety record, but may be enough to hinder their development in a world where food is not nearly so easy to come by as it is for, well, me.

Scary graphics and bullet points make compelling viewing; “GM foods shown to be safe–film at eleven!” will have people asleep by 10:59. Unless. Unless you are one of those who needs drought-resistant crops. Or cares about pesticide and fertilizer runoff killing the fish you need to eat. Or whose life is changed by biofortified Golden rice. But those people are not watching TV, so they can be safely ignored. And we all know, a problem that isn’t in your own back yard, isn’t really a problem at all.

Just how wonderful is Oprah?
We may never know for sure;
Any scientific answer
Is, at this point, premature–
Oprah borders on angelic;
She’s a miracle, it’s true!
She’s beyond the realm of science
Or what scientists can view.

Just how awesome is her intellect?
How sensitive her soul?
How delicate her energies,
Which no one can control–
Can her viewers’ admiration
Make the world a better place?
Is her heart so big it really can
Be seen from outer space?

Does she really know The Secret
Is the cure for all your ills?
Will she tell you modern medicine’s
The one that really kills?
Will she take responsibility
For those who die of cancer?
Is there any depth she will not go?
We’ll never know the answer.

Context: Here, here, and especially here.

The new book, and the gorgeous mug from CafePress.

Reader Joan comments here:

Move over Dawkins..

Missed the book sale by one day
But I love it anyway
It would certainly be gold at any price.
Boxed shrink packaging is great.
This book will not meet the fate
Of poor handling here. You need not roll the dice

Three hundred forty poems plus one
This book promises much fun
And the content has included added spice.
There are illustrations, ten
(Cephalopodic, never men)
And the photo plates are way more than nice.

There’s no space here to reveal
The great depth of its appeal,
Humor, irony, a palatable screed.
But it passed my final litmus
I don’t have to wait for Xmas
To open up this truly perfect read.

Wow! This is just an amazing magnum opus. The volume, variety and quality of the poems stun me and I’m astounded at what a great job LuLu did with it. No ratty newprintish stock. The cover, the layout, and the quality of the paper are indistinguishable from expensive college texts. And, oh yes, It’s just as funny as hell. ( Should one believe that it exists and that there is anything to laugh about down there.)

*blush*

One small correction–it’s actually not 341 poems; it’s 244 (if I counted correctly), but well over 300 pages of actual content (plus the foreword and table of contents and that sort of thing). Still, that’s less than a dime a poem–try and get that sort of deal with any other cephalopod!

Joan is right, though–I just got my own copies yesterday, and it really looks great. It shocked me to see just how much there is here (and yeah, I wrote it and put it together, so if anyone should have known better…). It’s considerably more substantial than I was anticipating, and I had honestly forgotten just how good some of this stuff is. I’ve had a great time putting this collection together and revisiting some of the old verses, but it is soooo much nicer to have in a book than to scroll back through pages on this blog.

Thank you, Joan! Enjoy it in good health!

It’s Donohue’s proclivity
To protest progressivity
He’ll make a scene (nativity)
Predictably, each year—
The atheists’ activity
Regarding his festivity
Is pure insensitivity—
Just let him bend your ear.

A war on Christianity
By atheist humanity—
The harshest of profanity,
The godless at their worst!
His writing, though, is vanity
That borders on insanity
So silly, its inanity
Is what we notice first.

Oh, my. According to CNN’s “belief blog“, Bill Donohue has taken it upon himself (read: pleaded for donations from gullible and fearful combatants in the War FOR Christmas) to take the high road:

This supposedly peaceful time of year has the capacity to create tension – Christmas light rivalries and fights over whether religious decorations should adorn government spaces.

But the conservative Catholic League for Religious and Civil Rights says it is just trying to spread holiday cheer by sending nativity scenes to governors in all 50 states.

In a letter last month, the Catholic League told governors and their chiefs of staff that the nativities were on their way and suggested they be displayed in capitol rotundas.

Just trying to spread holiday cheer. That’s all. Nothing paranoid about that. Oops, their slip is showing:

The Catholic League says its campaign is meant to counter what it calls “militant atheists.” The group is erecting a life-sized nativity scene in Central Park on December 16. The world’s largest menorah is currently on display there.

“We’re taking the moral high road,” says a statement on the group’s website. “The atheists are out in force this year trying to neuter Christmas. While a few of their efforts are benign… most are predictably hostile.”

The “militant” and “hostile” atheists have committed such atrocities as… erect billboards. Clearly, the pendulum has swung far enough that Donohue’s plea for the demolition of the first amendment. It’s only fair.

Our day at the park
Having fun on the ark
Will begin as we stroll up the ramp
With the mammals and dino’s
And strange hellifino’s
And all of it, gaudy and camp

There are creatures in twos
Like the grandest of zoos
Some in cages for people to see
Some are plastic, of course,
Like the odd “Jesus horse”
You can ride on (just children!) for free

With the tour guide explaining
It soon will start raining—
It’s best that we get through the doors
And with thunder and lightning
More piped-in than frightening
The skies open up, and it pours

It isn’t surprising
The water starts rising
With rivers obscuring the ground
We’re on board! We’re the winners!
We laugh at the sinners
Outside, who are there to be drowned.

Some electrical junction
Is bound to malfunction;
The waters continue to rise—
Now it’s panic and screaming
(Please tell me we’re dreaming!)
On board, we can hear all the cries

Now the water is rushing,
The pipes are still gushing,
We realize, we’re really afloat!
Like the Genesis story
We share in the glory
And ride in the biblical boat

Though it’s ill-built and creaky,
Substantially leaky,
We ought to be fine for a while
And although we’re all stuck
We rejoice in our luck
And we look at each other and smile.

Soon the still-rising tides
Means the screaming subsides
From the folks who did not get on board
And we know that God willed
That these people be killed
So we all praise the works of Our Lord

As the day turns to night
With no rescue in sight
Our exhaustion will drive us to sleep
Though the children are wary
Cos darkness is scary
And the lions are eating the sheep

So we all sleep in shifts
As our giant bed drifts
And there’s still not a star in the sky
Soon the sun will arrive
And we’re mostly alive
And if not, then God wants us to die.

At the whim of the weather
We huddle together
As carnivores roam through the decks
And we learned within hours
The stench overpowers—
Of feces, of death, and of sex

When the rain finally ceases
We pick up the pieces
And head to the top deck, for sun,
Where the clean-smelling breezes
Sweep by (thank you Jesus!)
And we kneel down and pray, every one!

As we float, we survey
The remains of the day
From our vantage above, on the ark
Where our neighbors and friends
Met their untimely ends
With the visitors there at the park

And we bow heads, and praise
God’s mysterious ways—
Our friends’ bodies have now begun bloating
And as plump as you please
They rise up through the seas
All disfigured and blue, they are floating

All the husbands and wives,
Little children whose lives
Were destroyed by their callous Creator
While we’re safe on the ark
Cos we chose to embark
A bit sooner, and not a bit later

There was water to drink
But it’s starting to stink
And starvation’s its own form of hell
But the hunger and thirst
Isn’t even the worst—
More than that, is the horrible smell

The miasma which flows
Though you cover your nose
Overwhelms you, and just never ends
And the worst of it all
This olfactory pall
Is the smell of our neighbors and friends

We float day after day
As around us, decay
And disease take a toll on our minds;
And our bodies grow weak
As around us, unspeak-
able horrors are all that one finds

In the decks down below
Where we never dare go
There is carnage like never before;
Most the mammals are gone
But the beetles live on
As they feast on the filth and the gore

There are maggots and flies
Which is no great surprise
In the dung and the foul, rancid meat
But up top, it is grim
Cos the pickings are slim
And there’s nothing for humans to eat

If we haven’t quite died
When the waters subside
We’ll praise God, and we won’t think to sue
Sure, it’s horribly cruel
But we learned, at home school
That what’s right is what Yahweh would do

It happened again, just this morning,
As Winter took over from Fall
I find thirty-two gloves for my right hand;
For my left, I find nothing at all.

As I bike from my home to my office
Though the weather’s exceedingly nice
I arrive with my right hand all toasty
But my left, like a large block of ice.

Is it dogs? Is it mice? Is it chipmunks?
Is it vengeful and devious elves?
Are my neighbors conspiring against me?
Do my gloves walk away by themselves?

I suspect my left gloves band together
In some secret lair, hidden from sight;
In their absence I travel half-frozen,
But don’t worry—I’m clearly all right.

It doesn’t seem quite fair to me, but it appears that Lulu (where my book is available) is having a CyberMonday sale–today only, 25% off any purchase (30% off purchases of $750 or more, for anyone who wants to buy 38 copies of my book). To those people who already have their copies on the way–I’m sorry; I honestly didn’t know they were going to do this.

My question is, are they lowering the price by cutting authors’ commissions? Or is that sheer paranoia on my part?

Anyway… they say the code for today is CYBER25 to get the discount. You should all try it out, and get your shopping out of the way early.

The Cyber Monday shoppers
Could find savings on some whoppers
If they buy a giant flat-screen, or a Kindle or a Nook
They could click away at clothing
Or computer gear with loathing
Or could see their worries melt away, by ordering my book.
They could feel the calm erasing
The anxieties they’re facing–
Sure, they could use medication, but I’ve got a better way
If your gift-list has you crying
And you want to stop the buying
Might I recommend the Cuttle-Book–but order it today!