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May 30 2009

Fictional character returns to home planet

Twisty caught the red-eye back to Obstreperon last night. Her work here, she said, was done. Before she left she implanted a Blame-U-Lator in my lobe (the device will enable her to inject feminist dogma directly into my brain from anywhere in the space-time continuum). Then she rolled up in a ball and had me and Phil bounce her up into the stratosphere. I don’t know if you’ve ever bounced a spinster aunt into a flying saucer, but it takes at least two people and a lonely stretch of highway in the middle of a cloudless night. And a six-pack.

Here’s the note she left for you guys.

Twisty's farewell note

So long, and thanks for all the tacos.

Between you and me, I’m kind of relieved. We were starting to finish each others sentences and shit.

So, yeah. Um.

Hey, I know. Some of you — no doubt in an effort to ease an awkward situation — were asking about Maypearl and Bert and the skunks an that. So what the hell, here’s the status of those characters:

My golden retriever Bert, who had an encounter with a skunk a few weeks ago, continues to stink. I don’t notice it myself anymore but visitors to Spinster HQ — there really is a Spinster HQ — can definitely sense the offending molecules. I’d say it takes at least a six weeks for the high stink to wear off of a properly skunked golden retriever, but when in a dampened state that dog’ll be malodorous for months. Unfortunately, Bert swims daily.

My pretty pony
The view from Stella.

On the equine front: Maypearl and my old mare Stella, who used to be paddockmates, had a power struggle, and Stella lost. Stella sustained some soft tissue injuries, which was crummy. So she and Maypearl got a divorce forthwith, and now everything’s hunky dory. The nasty, domineering aspect of Maypearl’s character appears to be fading since doesn’t have anyone to kick around anymore, so she’s been manifesting an ever-so-much-more-so pleasant attitude toward the humans. For example, every time I pick out her hind feet, she farts and slaps me in the face with her tail. Every time. How cute is that!

And Stella has recovered from her injuries, and we’ve been hanging out more. Trotting gaily hither and thither, etc. But I worry about a strange, intervention-resistant fungus that appears to be working its way up her foreleg, and also about this odd protrusion on her belly which the vet, who can’t diagnose it, calls “the lump-oma.”

It’s almost impossible to keep horses healthy in captivity. They’re not like dogs or sea monkeys. Their systems are astonishingly fragile. It’s a constant struggle to balance diet, fencing, shelter, society, and exercise in such a manner as to keep them from snapping their legs in half or dying from colic or their hooves rotting off or one of them killing another one or them going stir-crazy.

For instance, when Stanley, my giant gelding, crashed through a gate because the fuckwhoozle rednecks next door thought it would be a good idea to shoot off some guns, thus terrifying him, he decimated a heavy wooden fence and completely fucked up both his front legs. He was in bandages from knee to hoof for six weeks, and stuck on stall rest to boot. I would asses the level of difficulty of  keeping clean bandages on a 1300 pound stall-bound horse for six weeks, on a scale of 1-10, at about 76. It would be easier to come up with a unified field theory.

Why do I even have horses, given my views on the general wrongitude of animal domination?

Well, I admit it. I like’em. They’re nice to hang around with. But whoa, people do appalling, abusive things to horses — mang, you would seriously puke up your tacos if I told you. Since I can hardly release them into the wild to roam the open range and pose on mountaintops for PBS cameras, I can at least see to it that my three are safe from psychopaths, are getting fed, have vet care, and have a nice place to live. I rescued my two little Arabian mares from a show barn with 200 horses. They weren’t right for the farm’s new breeding program and had totally fallen through the cracks. Nobody wanted them. And the place was a dump. How can anybody have 200 horses? In order to do that right you’d need about 2000 acres, 50 full-time trainers, grooms, muckers, feeders, and people who can fix tractors, and some serious ultra-millionaire action going on.

So another of my little causes is Stop Breeding Horses, all yall fucking idiots. Stop breeding dogs, too. And humans. There are more than enough of all of those to go around.

62 comments

  1. Larkspur

    Love you Twisty! I think I saw you last evening, way up high. Glad you’re not totally gone, just elsewhere, but nevertheless, I will miss you. I will raise a glass to you, early and often. (This was really the wrong decade to even think about quitting the vino.)

    Jill, thank you for the critter update. Yes, part of why I asked was the stress-reduction benefits. But mostly, I just like your pals, and I love hearing their stories because you tell them so well.

    I’ve just recently learned how precarious the lives of individual horses can be. If El Rancho ever attains brown recluse spider-free status, I’ll risk the rattlesnakes and come help with the shoveling and stuff.

  2. Rae

    Safe travels to Twisty! I hear Obstreperon is nice this time of year.

    Signed,
    Long-time lurker who will enjoy the Blaming with any name on its cover.

  3. iamnotanoctopus

    I will go into a full-blown panic if I am not immediately reassured that IBTP isn’t going the way of the dodo.

  4. Orange

    The sidebar describes Jill Psmith as a gentleman farmer, spinster aunt, and radical feminist, so I’m thinking this is the same ol’ blog it ever was, but with comments being directed to Jill and not Twisty. I wonder if the tenor of the comments will change with the heightened reality and humanity of a “Jill” vs. a “Twisty Faster.” And I’m pretty sure Jill has the same droll wit of the space-bound Twisty. But will Jill use the same creatively hilarious turns of phrase, or has she assigned that whimsy (but yo, whimsy with a rock-solid grounding in her rad-fem worldview) to the Twisty persona?

    I have a friend who blogs under a persona, and the persona can be rather gruff. So people pick fights with him, and this hurts his feelings because he’s actually a sensitive critter. Personas can be hard work. For me, “Orange” is just a fake name and not a persona. Or so say I–maybe others suspect that Orange and Amy are wildly different creatures. Hmm, what? Oh, sorry. This isn’t about me. Right. Carry on.

    Sorry the dog stinks and the horses have woes.

  5. Comrade PhysioProf

    I have a friend who blogs under a persona, and the persona can be rather gruff. So people pick fights with him, and this hurts his feelings because he’s actually a sensitive critter. Personas can be hard work.

    Human beings are nothing more than collections of various personae that are deployed in different circumstances. The idea that there is an underlying “real person” is illusory.

  6. procrastinatrix

    Hi, Ms. Psmith,

    Is your last name a Wodehouse reference, perhaps? I recall that you’ve mentioned his work on the blog before. I tried reading him in college, but the impenetrable slang put me off. Having enjoyed the Fry/Laurie TV versions, I may give him a try again.

    I’d love to know more about Twisty’s Aunt Orlando.

  7. frog princess

    Thank you for answering the skunk question. And I’m sorry about poor Bert’s lingering odor, but isn’t it nice our bodies allow us to experience nasal fatigue? Very useful to us in the days before so many of us got to enjoy the benefits of closed sewer systems and modern corpse disposal, I’d say.

    Maybe there’s a kind of nasal fatigue going on in the heads of women who can’t smell the coffee of patriarchal oppression. Glad your sniffer is still working in that regard.

    I do hope Twisty will come back and visit on special occasions and summer vacations.

  8. Val

    I had been wondering about dear Stanley since he had not been mentioned in a while (I didn’t want to inquire in case there had been a true tragedy.)… Damn, I started off w/”I” – lo siento!
    Anyway, out of my own herd currently holding steady @ 10, I have 1 Ancient One, 2 youngsters, 2 hopeless cripples, 1 on Injured Reserve, and 1 old-enough-to-be-semi-retired… That leaves me w/3 decent mounts (which is still a couple more than I have time to keep in decent shape, but that’s another story). I oughta post a sign: “I work for the comfort & convenience of my horses.” – but of course I wouldn’t give ‘em up for the world. I have a feeling you know what I mean.

  9. Throw Pillow

    In addition to Procrastinatrix’s query:

    Do you notice when people fail to pronounce the silent P?

    If P.G. Wodehouse were the type of writer who swore, he definitely would’ve coined “fuckwhoozle.” I’m glad that you’ve corrected his oversight in the filthy neologism department. Thank you for your beautiful prose; I’ve been enjoying it for three and a half years.

    A friend of mine wrote a not entirely laudatory senior thesis called Women in Wodehouse. But sentence to sentence, he was one of the greats.

  10. io

    Yaaaaayyyy!

    (I am glad Jill appears to still want to write here.)

    Oh, I feel the same way –stop breeding ‘em — about birds, especially those birds that live 30-40 years. People don’t realize what kind of commitment they are. Parrots in captivity often have the attention needs (and at least the intelligence) of a 2-year-old human. For 40 years.

  11. Squiggy

    I can’t live if livin’ is without Twisty. That last dust-up made me delve even deeper into both puppet and puppeteer. I read that article from that paper about Jill visiting the cave with the child. Reading it , I caught a bad case of enrapture-itis. If I could read Jill or Twisty all day every day I know I’d become whole and transcendent. I’d carry the book around like Jehovah’s Witness’s carry the Watchtower. I’d wedge pamphlets in neighbors doors every Saturday. I’d get skinny ’cause I’d need no food, nice due to constant horse-laughing, blushy because sharp intakes of breath from surprise and delight affords one’s organism great gulps of oxygen. If either of you two wrote ANYTHING it would be a best seller, truth teller, violence queller.
    Please say you will write a book. Then make it a string of them?

  12. Pinko Punko

    Dear Jill,

    Do you think TF will still respond to e-mails? Because I highly doubt Obstreperon has e-mail, in fact I think e-mail would be a capital crime on Obstreperon, but I think they don’t even have capital crimes there.

    I guess I will ask it here: Twisty has seen fit to stoke the fires of Brown Reclusivityphoberoni (the highly rational fear of a Brown Recluse rotting my leg off), since it seems possible that I am in for a change of scenery to more Reclusive climes, shall we say, the question for TF was “what the dilly-o with them spiders?”

  13. Notorious Ph.D.

    “Human beings are nothing more than collections of various personae that are deployed in different circumstances. The idea that there is an underlying “real person” is illusory.”

    I read something like this in an essay by Irving Goffman. Turned my brain inside-out for a while. Also this: “All the world is not, of course, merely a stage, but the ways in which it is not are hard to pinpoint.”

    Which has nothing to do with the fact that I will miss Twisty, and hope that this doesn’t mean the end of IBtP. (On the other hand, at least she didn’t leave us again with months of staring at a particularly nasty-looking mushroom.)

  14. rootlesscosmo

    All us Rootless Cosmopolitanians (our numbers are legion, that is to say ? 1) will miss Twisty a lot and hope for frequent blames and nature crap and whatever from Jill. Good wishes to all the non-human critters on the rancho and the human ones to.

    p.s.@ procrastinatrix: Psmith was my favorite Wodehouse character as a young Cosmo. He used to explain that “The P is silent, as in pshrimp.” Wodehouse may be one of those youthful amusements that smell kinda funny when you dig them out of the back of the garage, though.

  15. OVERLADY

    Are wild horses healthy, or are they all just YOUNG? Are horses fragile because of the way humans have bred them? Are there ANY non-fragile horses? Scottish Ponies? Mustangs?

  16. schatze

    I hope Tidy, Finn and Ro-Tel were ready for the return voyage and not stranded here. Did I miss the passing of Zippy?

  17. She-cago

    <3 Twisty!!!

  18. She-cago

    <3 Jill too :-)

  19. rootlesscosmo

    Sorry, that ? was supposed to be a “greater than or equal to” sign.

  20. rootlesscosmo

    And “to” was supposed to be “too.” Time to call Hospital Administration and tell them I’ll be doing that heart surgery another day.

  21. kate

    THANKS FOR THIS!!! one of my furious soapboxes is the human compulsion to FUCK UP EVERYTHING we lay our hands on so i MORE than second the QUIT BREEDING advice. i worked as a large animal vet tech (SX tech) for years and it is AMAZING how fragile horses are – and yes it is because WE have fucked them up with centuries of bad breeding practices. (Some breeds are healthier than others but they all suffer from our intervention) Horses are meant to roam, graze, poop and move on – they are HERD animals with a large range and keeping them in stalls and paddocks is a long slow death sentence (kinda like what is happening to elephants). Drove me NUTS all the hoopla about “YAY! a girl horsie won the Preakness!!!” Horses do the things they do because we MAKE them they don’t LOVE TO RACE. We had SO MANY racing horses come in injured and abused it alternately broke my heart and made me want to take a ballpeen hammer to the kneecaps of anyone connected to the racing industry – goes for polo, rodeo and all other human forced horse related ‘sports’ as well. i used to watch the breeding mares we had in the University program – they were allowed to roam romp kick bite play bully make alliances and interact in a HUGE area – they were allowed to JUST ACT LIKE HORSES – they paid NO ATTENTION TO US AT ALL left to their own devices. We don’t NEED horses anymore so i think we should do them a BIG FAVOR and just let them be – and then BRING ON THE BIRD FLU so we get a significant number of OUR asses wiped off the face of the earth – we would be doing everything else trying to live here an ENORMOUS favor!

  22. Nellie

    Though I’m sure Jill will keep on blaming, I will miss Twisty something awful. Daily doses of IBTP make the daily hell of being a radfem in high school worth it.

  23. procrastinatrix

    @ Throw Pillow and rootless cosmo: I often feel as though I’ve missed something pretty great having not stuck it out with Wodehouse. This blog is one reason, and your comments are others.

    I keep breaking the “don’t start with I” rule, sorry co-blamers and Jill-I’ll work on analysis before sharing too :)

    To those proposing a halt in animal (including human) breeding: do actions like adopting rescue animals (I’m thinking of retired racing greyhounds too) just take pressure off of abusive animal industries? Does it matter if individual animals are helped? I can’t decide.

  24. Spiders

    Jill, I love that you didn’t say sorry and I love that you didn’t edit “cuntalina” out of the post. I love you a little bit too, and Twisty of course. Whatever you do next, I hope I get to read it, or about it.
    I also look forward to citing you by your real name, in future scholarly works, and refering to your work as one of my most significant feminist influences. Cheers.

  25. Gayle

    “So another of my little causes is Stop Breeding Horses, all yall fucking idiots. Stop breeding dogs, too. And humans. There are more than enough of all of those to go around.”

    Okay. I can grasp this. Thank you for writing something that makes some damn sense.

    One thing, though: You left out cats.

    Fix your cats, people!

  26. Hedgepig

    I don’t suppose Twisty’s exit means the Earth is finally going to be demolished by Vogons? About bloody time. Until then, I’m certain Twisty will be able to communicate with us from Obstreperon. (The late Dr Violet Socks speaks often from the cosmic Smoking Lounge.)

    Actually, I’m not at all certain Twisty will communicate with us from Obstreperon, but I have to hope against hope that she will.

  27. DuckBilledPlacelot

    Jill:

    Do not leave us!

    You and your blog are a hundred kinds of awesome, and you make my days brighter, somehow, with your expert-level blaming. It’s a little bizarre, that reading about horribly overt instances of Awful Patriarchal Doom makes me happy, but you manage it.

    Everybody’s a critic, but you have helped raise my feminist consciousness. The critics haven’t and don’t, and instead make me a little ashamed, with their inability to trust your intentions and just let you freaking write. I hope you have decided to blog nonanonymously now, rather than abandoning the internet altogether.

    Thanks for what you do here. I should have said it sooner.

  28. Val

    Kate makes some good points (didn’t start off w/”I” this time!) – but for us poor permanently horse-crazy grown women, admiring wild mustangs just ain’t good enough! So I’ve mortgaged myself to as much acreage as I can afford so my horses can live as freely – probably more freely than I myself, ha ha – as possible.
    Here’s an interesting link about Saving the Mustangs which I came across whilst searching for wild horse lifespan data:
    http://www.wildhorsepreservation.com/index.html
    My hapless imprinted ponies DO seek me out in the pasture, so perhaps I mean more to them than an ambulatory feed bucket…

  29. Vibrating_Liz

    “I am Thompson with a P as in psychology; he is Thomson without a P as in St. Louis.” (English version of Hergé)

  30. hellonhairylegs

    What Nellie said.

    In her last moments Twisty expelled some of the poison that’s been seeping into the blogosphere. If the Blame-U-Lator is two way, tell her she’s awesome (and that she stole my farewell line).

  31. Virginia S. Wood, Psy.D.

    Twisty was larger than life. I don’t think I can make this adjustment.

  32. D

    Safe travels, Twisty!

    Welcome, Jill!

  33. Pulsar

    I also agree with nearly everything Kate said with the small exception of her “bring on the bird flu” sentiment, and for this reason: if we had a sudden epidemic of bird flu it would be the poor and starving people who would ultimately pay the price, not the rich who can afford medicine/health care/hospitalization. And who bears the brunt of any assault on poor people? Women. I get extremely frustrated with U.S. politicians who rant about how the population of countries like India and China needs to be controlled for the sake of the environment. Logically, if people in the U.S. are consuming incredibly disproportionate levels of the world’s resources, shouldn’t they be the ones reducing their populations?

  34. Katie

    Thank YOU, Twisty! May there be more tacos in your future.

  35. Kali

    A friend of mine wrote a not entirely laudatory senior thesis called Women in Wodehouse.

    Is it accessible somewhere? I’ve always liked the wide range of female characters in Wodehouse’s books and have been looking for a feminist analysis of his female characters.

  36. mir

    Vaya con diosa Twisty.

    Hi Jill. I look forward to your continued blaming, pet news, and pictures of bugs. Viva la tacqueaux.

  37. veganrampage

    Poor horses. My heart breaks for them. Captive elephants? Crazy talk. Elephants can and often do have PTSD, especially the captive ones.
    If you love horses find out what they do to race horses in this country when they lose one race too many races. They are trucked to Mexico or Canada, often hundreds of miles for days, with no food and worse no water, which if you know anything about horses you know this is torture. They are then slaughtered with cow murdering equipment which does not fit their horse shaped murdering needs, so horses are often yanked up by the legs alive, terrified, horse-screaming in agony- shall I go on? I have seen the video. I have witnessed this. That is what you patronize when you go to the track for fun. Or watch the filthy Kentucky Derby, or any other filthy animal abusing sport. That is what you are often feeding your cat or dog if it just says meat on the label. Companies are not required to label horse meat in “pet” or companion animal food in America, because we are squeamish about horses. We don’t mind murdering cows and pigs and chickens by the billions though. Factory farming and war are patriarchy in its purest form. If you think creating and ocean of shit a mile wide and 20 feet deep a few yards away from your “food”, or alternately having your food stand in that ocean for its short brutal life and then eating that “food”, and then having that ocean of shit run untreated into the rivers and underground water systems, if you think that is safe, think again. And yes, stop breeding everything immediately.
    You posted about animals. You got me started but IBTP.

    Mongolian horses are the healthiest and the least fucked with.

  38. rootlesscosmo

    I’ve always liked the wide range of female characters in Wodehouse’s books and have been looking for a feminist analysis of his female characters.

    @Kali: that certainly sounds interesting. In my (very uncertain) recollection Bertie Wooster’s aunts–was one called Agatha?–weren’t much more than hostile caricatures, and there was a caricature worker in one story who spoke admiringly of Stalin (“Stayling” as Wodehouse rendered the character’s comic-prole speech.) This snickering-public-school-boy Toryism goes some way, I think, toward explaining Wodehouse’s uninformed but spontaneous sympathy, as of one pukka Sahib to another, for Fascism in the 30′s. (A satiric poem in the New Statesman about 1937 mocked upper-class Brits who saw Franco as “the Great White Hope of Spain.”) Still, 1954 was a long time ago, and memory is a notoriously inaccurate guide.

  39. Jill

    Wodehouse was a misogynist, a classist, and a fascist. There is no wide range of female characters in his books. Stereotypical women, in the shape of either the battle-axe or the conniving debutante, are Wodehouse’s villains of choice.

  40. tinfoil hattie

    So another of my little causes is Stop Breeding Horses, all yall fucking idiots. Stop breeding dogs, too. And humans.

    Why do you hate children?

    (ducks)

    Sorry. I couldn’t resist.

  41. minervaK

    I don’t know what this means. I’ve always known that there’s some witty and intelligent person blauthoring this thing; whether she’s called Twisty or Jill or J. Edgar Hoover has never mattered. I just hope you keep writing.

  42. Throw Pillow

    Kali — It was an undergrad thesis that my friend doesn’t want put about too much, although I think she presented it (or something like it) at a conference at some point.

    The gist is much as Jill stated–Wodehouse’s female characters are basically there to infringe on the male characters’ idyllic boys-only dreamworld.

    The non-Wooster stuff features occasional male characters who actually enjoy the society of women in some capacity. Alas, the rare positively portrayed women aren’t allowed to do anything but fall in love with hapless men. Any woman with a hobby, much less a career, will inevitably be out to ruin men’s fun.

    But boy howdy could that fascist turn a phrase!

  43. orlando

    I sure don’t want to try and make this all about me, but does your “to do” list there say “call” Aunt Orlando or “kill” Aunt Orlando?

  44. speedbudget

    veganrampage, I had no idea. I only knew about the more egregious and illegal horse racing crimes, such as stuffing a sponge into a poor horse’s nose before a race so it can’t breathe and hence can’t run as fast and hence will lose.

    I don’t know why anybody patronizes that stuff.

    Viva la Jill.

  45. long-time reader

    Thanks to Twisty for over 100 pages of great posts on blaming the patriarchy. Farewell to her and Jill; this blamer won’t be reading a blog where gendered insults are some victorious act of defiance against those “horrible” feminists who don’t just lean back and ignore such comments because they came out of an ally’s mouth.

  46. Carolyn

    I just got back from Roman days in Corbridge and a guy there told me the Romans used to cut up horses’ nostrils thinking that would improve their breathing and cut off their ears to keep them from being grabbed in battle. Unfortunately I’ve come back with a new idea–the chariot driving looked like so much fun I’m going to ask my riding teacher next week how I can get to try it.

    I heard some woman on the radio yesterday saying ‘well we can’t teach kids that being gay is OK because what if they all decide to be gay? How would our species REPRODUCE?’–she actually sounded totally serious. Unlike a lot of people I know who’ve chosen not to have children, I have great genes, make ample money to support a kid, had an almost ideal childhood and think I’d make an excellent mother. But I’ve made what is probably the most unselfish decision I’ll ever make, not to usurp limited current and future resources that could go to other people and their children. (This is a good answer to those snide ‘well why don’t you just kill yourself then if you think there are too many humans?’ people.)

  47. Silence

    Amen to the stop breeding animals. This hits particularly close to home to me today because just yesterday, on the way back from Delaware, my mother had to break hard to avoid hitting a just-weaned gray-and-white kitten sitting in the middle of the road. There was a tiger-and-white kitten sitting by the brush, very close to the danger zone.

    Let me repeat this. Two barely weaned kittens were set by the side of a busy road — where people are known to drive fast and recklessly — to fend for themselves. Then ask yourself, ‘How the hell can some people be so fucking cruel?’ because honestly, it would have been kinder to drown them at birth.

    Fortunately for these two, some kindly spirit was watching out for them and they are now in a kitty bed in my basement, warm, fed, and safe and temporarily named ‘Bandit’ and ‘Biscuit.’ They’ll stay there until I find someone trustworthy to give them a forever home. I can’t keep them. I have three rescue cats and a rescue Greyhound already. So if you know someone who can’t spay their pet because of financial problems, be an angel and do it for them. If you know someone who just won’t spay their pets, choke ‘em and then have it done yourself.

    End of rant, and a ‘nice knowin’ ya and come back and visit’ to Twisty. Hope she’s enjoying her tequilas on some distant planet that’s free of the patriarchy.

  48. slythwolf

    That note worries me. The last time someone (okay, an entire species) left us a note like that, the world got destroyed.

  49. Deanna

    I’m going to miss Twisty. She was so pointed and slung language around in a very satisfying way.

    Good luck with the blog, Jill. I suggest instituting a drinking game the next time the dogpile ensues. Cause one always does.

    “blogger X generalized and failed to take my feelings into account” sip
    “Dear Maudz, what about the menz!” guffaw, then sip
    “blogger X has not written about my specific concerns in at least a week” gulp
    “blogger X failed to meet my overblown expectations of perfection” guzzle

  50. rubysecret

    Thank you to the peaks of Savage Death Island for all you have written here since day one, Twisty, Jill, or whoever else is behind the aforementioned curtain. This blog has been the only writing on the entire interweb that makes sense, and that’s been an oasis of comfort in a world that makes less sense every day. Again, thanks.

  51. zwarte

    Yeah. Whatever you say.

    The best anti-crap-horse-breeding site is “Fugly horse of the Day.”

    As in http://www.fuglyhorseoftheday.blogspot.com
    Copy, Paste, Enjoy.

    It is wonderful to hear about Stanley – even though he has suffered an injury.

  52. zwarte

    Has anyone written about the scents associated with horses? Their hay-chewing breath, the sweet smell of their necks under their manes?

    Horse huffing. MMmmm.

  53. Antoinette Niebieszczanski

    @Procrastinatrix: It matters very much to the individual animal.

    Bestest wishes to Twisty. I hope they have jumbo margaritas on Obstreperon.

  54. Elizabeth

    Twisty, Have you tried a tomato juice bath on Bert? It works on people. . .

  55. Agasaya

    First, sorry to delay in answering you, Pulsar, but I wound up in the hospital because the patriarchy loves to poison women and children (CO poisoning this time from gas fuels). So I am busy looking for a new residence at present with little success and will catch up as possible.

    Next, a thought for those of you who feel we ought to stop producing kids altogether. Considering the status of our current leadership, it seems prudent to try and create some outstanding future leaders or we’re all going to be wiped off the face of the earth. That will take the participation of all sentient people who encounter children (with or without ovaries, money and influence), if kids are to learn we are a species of individuals deserving of continuity. When these ‘new people’ address issues of existence instead of gender and cultural membership, we may have a shot at survival. We may even want to survive. It shouldn’t be this hard.

  56. vinoveritas

    Jill and Wodehouse! It’s like chocolate and peanut butter, I swear to baby Jesus.

  57. Pulsar

    Agasaya: No apology necessary. I wish you a speedy recovery and luck in finding somewhere to live.

  58. Lindy

    Aw… Goodbye Twisty, I’ll miss ya.

  59. Kali

    Hey, Twisty is not going anywhere. You may say I’m in denial but she really isn’t, really, really isn’t. I refuse to believe it.

    Regarding Wodehouse’s female characters, I beg to differ with the popular consensus here. Yes, there is Aunt Agatha. But there is also Aunt Dahlia – loud and obnoxious, but with a heart of gold. And she has hobbies – hunting and stealing cow creamers from her guests. Though the latter may involve ruining one man’s fun, he definitely is not a sympathetic character in that story. There are several women who ruin Bertie Wooster’s fun, but that is because he is an idiot. There is Florence Craye, an intellectual powerhouse who made him read “a perfectly frightful thing by a bird called Tolstoy”. There is Bobbie Wickham whose practical jokes involve Bertie getting into trouble, but getting into trouble is in his job description. There is the clash with Stiffy Byng, but that is only because he is bungling her attempts to secure the vicarage for her betrothed, another bungler.

    For every domineering Aunt Agatha or soupy Madeline Bassett, there is also a Jane, the chivalrous big game hunter, or Jill, a spunky farm owner and manager, or Dolly Molloy, the brains behind a sympathetically portrayed criminal operation, or Lotus Blossom, the actress with orange hair and a pet alligator, or the several women who beat men, even their boyfriends (horrors!) in golf and tennis.

    I can’t think of any other male author from his time who had so many strong, independent, adventurous female characters.

  60. StarWatcher

    Here’s a skunk-smell cure that really works.

    Basic recipe –

    1 pint household hydrogen peroxide
    1 handful baking soda
    1 good squirt liquid soap

    (multiply by 2 or 3, depending on size of dog)

    Mix all together in a large bowl. Bathe dog with mixture. Rinse. Then shampoo as usual, rinse again.

    My brother found this for me; developed by a chemist with a skunked dog, and it really works. (I’ve had occasion to use it several times.)

    WARNING — do NOT mix ahead of time and store; it will explode the container. Just keep the ingredients on hand.

  61. Cathy

    No way could Twisty’s work here be done. Feminism may never be done as long as there are people. Must be “women’s work.” Maybe she’s just sick of putting up with all the blown lobes and crap? We’re all a bit unhinged here in the land of the P.

    And thank you, kate, Pulsar, Silence, and all. Cruelty toward animals is the foundation of the P. Man’s inhumanity to man is exceeded by his inhumanity toward women, children and animals. Purebred dogs are also more likely to get sick because of breeding practices.

  62. Barbara

    First time commenter

    Noooooooooooooooooooo!! come back

    Dear Twisty
    Greeting from Haiti. i love your blog .It was my Birthday this week i am a better person for having you and my blog list. Is it possible we could clone you so very young women and the world could have her own spinster Aunt. Your blog is amazing and gives me hope. I live in a country where there isn’t a lot of hope where the common good doesn’t exist. this is country where child slavery and hatred of women and people and general is allowed to fester. Yet everyday I look around and i see opportunity and reason to hope. But the task seems so insurmountable. Because as with all the planet Haiti is facing a climate catastrophe, And the human rights abuses are so many. Twity there has got to be a way to change things. sometimes the shit get so bad that i have developed a mild ulcer from all the rage inside of me I’m just turn 24 and i mad as hell. I can’t believe after thousand of year of human existence and we women have leave under the patriarchy and all for and if you are young women of color in the global south you have to live under the Kyriarchy of the world. There has to be a way for this to end once and for all.Do we have to declare war. What would the Amazons do? I need an outlet to let the rage out, cause my ulcer might kill me before the patriarchy does . Then again leaving this shit hole planet seems so much more enticing right now. Or twisty you could take me away to your planet.

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