Wednesday Bricolage

A Storm on a Mediterranean Coast - Claude-Joseph Vernet
(Source)

Before diving into whatever it is I plan to write (which means that as I write this I'm still rather up in the air as to the exact topic of this post, bear with me) I thought I'd share with you where I came up with the title of today's offering. Now coming into this I knew only two things: 1) I was going to use some Vernet to decorate the post (his work grows on me) and 2) it was going to be a "bunch of stuff," a potpourri, if you will.

Not sure if I've ever used the word potpourri in a post title before (didn't want to do so today, I try to avoid Jeopardy category-like post titles, usually), so I went looking for synonyms, here's what I found:

potpourri

a mixture of dried petals and spices placed in a bowl or small sack to perfume clothing or a room.
a mixture of things, especially a musical or literary medley.

synonyms: mixture, assortment, collection, selection, assemblage, medley, miscellany, mix, mélange, variety, mixed bag, patchwork, bricolage, ragbag, mishmash, salmagundi, jumble, farrago, hodgepodge, gallimaufry

I may have used "mishmash" before (I believe it might have been in conjunction with a Saturday post but Blogger says "no, can't find that," though truth be told there are days that some Google products can't find their ass with both hands and a hunting dog, pardon my French, nope that was me, I used the word as "Mish Mosh" - sigh, I blew that one...), hodgepodge, and maybe even mélange. (For those who wonder about such things, I no longer cut my own grass. I have a crew for that, they get it done quickly and I help the economy by paying them.)

Now I was sore tempted to go with salmagundi or farrago, maybe even gallimaufry, but there are times when my use of terms foreign to the American ear can be somewhat off-putting, dontcha know? (As in, doesn't matter how bloody clever it is, folks just ain't gonna be attracted and probably won't read the bloody thing.)

Bricolage though, I like it, I like it a lot. Sounds almost like "bricole" which is, I believe, a French term for a type of harness worn by gunners in the artillery (back in the day of course) for pulling the guns about when a horse just couldn't hack it. While they are strong, beautiful animals, there are places a horse just won't, or can't go. Then it's up to Pierre and Michel to hook up their bricoles to the gun and move that sucker.

But I digress.

Bricolage it is, which can be defined as "something constructed or created from a diverse range of available things." Which describes exactly what I have in mind for today. In other words, not to put too fine a point on it, I'm all over the place today, this will be a blogging version of "spray and pray." Loose off an entire magazine and hope I hit something. Not that I personally have ever done such a thing with an automatic weapon, tempting though that might be...

Part One, the First -

I feel rather out of touch with the greater part of society these days. They watch TV news, I do not. They listen to the radio, I mostly don't. Well, I do, but only sporadically and that listening is confined, for the most part, to sports. If the news comes on, or an advertisement, off goes the radio and I content myself with listening to road noise. (I only listen to the radio in the vehicle, never afoot and seldom in the Sarge Cave.)

So when folks commence to speaking about "current affairs" I am oft at a loss to follow just what the heck they're talking about. It's not that I am unaware of the affairs of the world, it's just that I am not keyed in to every subtle nuance of some great controversy. As I don't watch Fox or CNN on anything like a consistent basis, think, essentially, never, I am not completely tuned in to what the rest of America seems to be all fired up about. A character flaw perhaps but I find myself giving less and less of a you-know-what with what's going on in the world.

Part One, the Second -

While I don't watch much television, I am aware of what's going on  in the world. I get my news from various sources: other people, looking up specific things on the Web of World-Wideness, and I do have my news feed from the US Naval Institute, which keeps me apprised of all things nautical. I need that for professional reasons and because I find it interesting.

Oh yeah, one more thing, we don't really have "news" anymore, what we have is propaganda and advertisements masquerading as news. They're trying to sell you something, first, last, and always. So I take everything, and I mean everything, with a grain of salt. It's not that they're lying to us, they're just not giving us the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

Part Two, the First -

There are only two genders in our species. Everything else is either mental illness or some malfunction in the genes. "Identifying" as something you are not, doesn't make it so. Which is why I call that mental illness. I mentioned that at church the other day, my buddy (who was a corpsman with the Marines and is still a medical professional) pointed out that all that stuff had been taken out of the standard reference for diagnosing mental conditions (the DSM-IV I believe).

Well, homosexuality was once listed as a mental illness, it isn't any longer. I can understand that as I have a number of friends whose sexual preferences don't tend towards the norm (I won't say normal, as that term varies from era to era) and they aren't what I'd call mentally ill, far from it actually. They function as competent and valuable members of society. Then again, the folks I know who, ahem, swing that way don't march in parades or carry on in public about their sexual preferences. Most people don't, those who do, well, they suffer from a defect, whether it's of character or mental health, I can't say. (And by those who do I mean regardless of one's boudoir preferences, keep 'em to thyself. Thank you very much.)

Do what you will in the privacy of thine own dwelling and I'll leave you alone to do so, as long as it obeys the Hippocratic Oath, "first do no harm." (Which isn't really called out that way in said oath, but that's the gist of it. At least that's what I learned from the TV. See the danger there?) In other words, if it ain't hurting anyone, carry on.

Part Two, the Second -

So on the day I wrote this post (which was Tuesday) I read a post somewhere (probably chasing a Maggie's Farm link, though it might have been an Althouse, I don't remember) where I ran across the term "cisgender." I kind of knew what that meant, but not really. Groaning I decided to go ahead and look that up, which gave me "denoting or relating to a person whose sense of personal identity and gender corresponds with their birth sex."

After I had reassembled my head (for it had exploded, the various pieces scattering themselves about the room, fleeing from that word much the same way that cockroaches scramble for cover when the lights come on) I checked for how long that word had been around. Twelfth Century? 1600s? Nope and nope.

2010.

Yup, new word for a new "reality" and a new era. The era of "it's not your fault that you're AFU*." It's the albino, paternalistic, hetero, hierarchical something or other which has made you a complete loon "troubled."

When the progeny were growing up, one boy, two girls (can I still say that?) we didn't make them do anything related to their gender. (Their real gender, not their Hollywood, sick progressive assclown gender.) They tended to gravitate towards whatever interested them. Which is probably why they grew up to be productive members of society. Did The Naviguesser play with dolls (no, not action figures, I mean dolls), well, no, he didn't.

Did The Nuke and The WSO play with dolls? Yes, yes they did. They also liked toy trucks, cars, boats, and aircraft. The daughters went on to be in the Navy in jobs that were traditionally done by men. Because men had to do those as women weren't capable? No, they just weren't allowed in those fields for whatever reason. Back in the day. Yup, probably those damn patriarchs!

Anyhoo...

Part Three, the First of the Last -

Now I'm not saying that Tuna's latest post sent me down this semi-rant path today, not saying it didn't. But one point he made, which I liked, is that occasionally you have to do a brain dump, a mind clear, a reset if you will to get all that "stuff" out of that gray matter between one's aural sensors. Dreams kinda do that, organize a bunch of random stuff into an incoherent story then erase it. (Hhmm, sounds like some of my posts, without the erase it part...)

Part Three, the Last of the Last -

So I often rant, out loud, about the other drivers upon the highways and byways of this Great Nation of Ours. I question their abilities, ancestry, cognitive abilities, and knowledge of physics as I try not to die when I'm out on the road. While I do try and tone it down when The Missus Herself is occupying the Bomb-Nav seat (okay, the passenger's seat, I like to call it the Bomb-Nav seat) there are occasions when some ee-jit behind the wheel will try my patience to the point where I am compelled to blurt out some gratuitous insult in the general direction of the offending vehicle "operator." (Yes, I intentionally placed "operator" in quotes as I don't think someone barely in control of their vehicle really qualifies as an "operator.")

Now when I do that the love of my life will often complain that I complain too much and could I please "knock it off." Well, the other day I apparently violated the hard deck and she turned to me and said, "You know, those other drivers are probably saying the same thing about you?"

And I always answer...

That's when I get the "you're an idiot" look.

Time for Wapner...

Night: Mediterranean Coast Scene with Fishermen and Boats - Claude-Joseph Vernet
(Source)

One last note, sometimes life feels like that first painting, sometimes like the last painting. I don't know what it is about Vernet, bu damn, that man could paint!




*Why yes, if you guessed "All Fire Trucked Up," you get a cookie. As the late, great Don Rickles would say. (The "you get a cookie" part, not the "All Fire Trucked Up" part, just to be clear.