Mr Plog Preparing For The Platform ... Er ... Pavement.

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April 2009

Not Just Another Hallmark Holiday

I love dismissing holidays that I think are just a big bag of shite. One of my favourite tricks used to involve telling my friends that St. Valentine was an anti-semite, right at the point they were gearing up to get all flowered/chocolated/majorly ripped off at candlelit dinner time. (Perverse I know, but amid all my worthy, caring, humanist qualities there is a palapable strain of - non-polymorphus - perversity. Forgive me, dear reader, for all those occasions ahead where it is bound to rear its fugly head .)

Now, where was I? asked the Tangetessa. Ah, yes, craptastic pre-printed dates for the diary. There are many. Do you know what's NOT one though? I'll give you a clue. It falls today in my native Australia (is native ok in that sense or have I just trashed post-colonial thinking in one fell swoop? Is one fell swoop ok?) and I think, the US.

Mother's Day.

And not just because I love, adore and venerate my mother, which I do, but because it didn't originate in a cauldron of commercialism via Disney and Coke (and origins are sooooo important to me as my marvellous Mr Plog is finding out. So far, so verboten: veil, white, the list goes on). Although a modern holiday (not to be confused with British Mothering Sunday, now also, confusingly, called Mother's Day, which dates to the 16th century), there was an earlier attempt to set this date by Julia Ward Howe (1819-1910), writer of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic". She was so moved by the horrors of war that in 1870 she took it upon herself to rally women together, across national lines, to oppose war. Her Mother's Day declaration follows:

Arise then ... women of this day!

Arise, all women who have hearts!

Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
"We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."

From the bosom of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
Our own. It says: "Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe our dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil at the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace...
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.

Tragically so timeless. We're so progressive, aren't we, that in the past 140 years we've reached the moon yet we can't halt this man-made (yep, I went there!) phenomenon. It's not to say that women in power would be all sugar and spice ("Hi! Have you met my friends Margaret and Golda?") but, um, it's worth trying, no?

This morning in London, where it is not Mother's Day, I happen to be going to a session on transnational feminism, part of a seminar organised by European Alternatives. It is described in the programme with the following:

Feminism has become increasingly recognised as a legitimate concern at the international level. At the same time, equality itself remains decidedly allusive in many sectors of life, sex trafficking and female abuse are still prevalent even in ‘Western’ states. What remains of the feminist project of the 60s and 70s, what are the implications of ‘postcolonial’ critiques of feminism, and what possibilities are there for a radical transnational and cosmopolitan feminism to arise?

Thinking about Julia Ward Howe on this day, thinking about all the mothers who have buried their children for a load of piss masking itself as ideology, I think the feminist project needs to be a lot broader. Let's stop war, sistahs! Let's gather together all the good men we know who aren't reflected in the dark halls of power, let's re-educate all those misguided menz and womenz who think gun play and nukular weapons are ok and let's make next Mother's Day and all the Mother's Days thereafter safer, happier, freer and better.

And may all of you mums have a great one this year. Shout out especially to mine and all the cool new ones, of all steps and shapes. I know it's not easy, you guys, but you're all amazing! xxx

Sarah Haskins Is My Homegirl

I love Sarah Haskins ... and so should you!



To all the funny ladies out there ... especially the one who last night taught me that quinoa is pronounced "key-noir" and reminded me again that nothing is off-limits as far as the funny is concerned ...

RIP Dom DeLuise

One of my favourite films of all time:



My favourite actors are often those who work in an ensemble: the Christopher Guest/ Harry Shearer/ Catherine O'Hara crew; the early Woody - Diane Keaton - Tony Roberts brigade, but my first and most favoured are those Mel Brooks Mischief Makers: Madeleine Kahn, Harvey Korman, Marty Feldman ... and a big beautiful bear of a man sadly lost to us on May 4th. (And thanks to Spaceballs, May the fourth always be with him ...)

Not only was Dom DeLuise a comic genius in his own right (Silent Movie, History of the World, Part One), but he left a wonderful legacy to the world in the form of his sons Peter (readers of a certain age may remember him as Johnny Depp's partner-in-preventing-crime-while-looking-young in 21 Jump Street) and the lesser known Michael (Jess' stepfather on Gilmore Girls) and David (one of Dick's students in 3rd Rock From The Sun). Unlike Baldwins, there can never be enough DeLuises in the Holly 'hood.

Also touching is the statement released by his family: "It's easy to mourn his death, but easier to remember a time when he made you laugh." That's how I try to recall my main (funny, burly, bearded) man. Hoping that Dom and my dad are sharing a few giggles and guffaws somewhere fabulous.

xxx

Zen And The Art Of Sanitary Napkins

I could have been a zillionaire trust fund baby had my mum patented her invention -- pads with adhesive. A sixties menstruater, she hated the belts that were then the sole means so she removed the pads and used double-sided adhesive tape (what we in Australia call "sticky tape", not sure how it translates but yaknowehatimean) to stick the pads to her underwear. Shame my otherwise perfect brilliant amazing Mum has not a shred of enterprising commercial spirit (which I unfortunately inherited)! Ah, well. I hear love is better than money anyway ...

Also - did you know that pads and tampons in many countries still incur a luxury tax? A LUXURY TAX! Do the Dead White Men of the political stage REALLY think that getting your gawdamn period is a luxury? Or are they too scared of the word period to face redressing this social and fiscal injustice of most bloody proportions? Many years ago I found myself getting rather tipsy with our former Prime Minister, Bob "Beer-record-breaker" Hawke. "Bob?" I drunkenly rasped in the Great Man's face. "Yes, Dr. P?" he replied. "'How many years were you PM for?" I asked. "Nine" he replied. "Nine?!" I yelled, "And in nine years you couldn't find the time to take the luxury tax off tampons? Do you really think it's a LUXURY to get your period?!". He looked at me with the eyes he must have used to seduce Blanche/destroy Hazel and said "You know what Plog? You're right. Until now I always thought I'd done a good job but you're absolutely right".

See? The pad IS mightier than the sword.

Sweet William: 1993 - 2009

Life is precious, no matter who owns it (or, more accurately - poignantly - leases it). There's a house in Manchester, England (or, more accurately, a home, such is the lifeblood that pulsates through it) that would well serve as a model for most societies. It is a place where a variety of species of various ages and needs co-exist (mostly!) peacefully. A place where everyone - from twin to dog to tortoise that was - is nourished and needed and has a place that is uniquely theirs.

The loss of William, and the fact that it is keenly felt by so many, is a testament to S, our very own Dr. Do-a-lot, who does so much to advance love between all creatures, great and small.

RIP, Willie.

Mash Ups: Mr Plog's Top Five

One of the things I love about life with Mr. P is how full of music it is, although I must admit that I was pretty intimidated the first time I scrolled through his ipod and only recognised one out of a trillion tracks. And now? Let's just say that last night a dj shaved my wife ...

Anyhoo, one of his favourite tricks at the mo' is pulling excellent mash-ups out of his musical sleeve. Here's a list of his Top Five 'Shouldn't Work But Do' Tracks, in no particular order:

1. "Back To Beg" (DJ Zebra) - Frankie Valli vs Amy Winehouse
2. "For Once In My Bleeding Life" (Madmixmustang) - Stevie Wonder vs Leona Lewis
3. "Part-Time Umbrella Lover" (Pheugoo) - Stevie Wonder vs Rihanna
4. "You Give The Superman Lovers A Bad Name" (Pheugoo)- Bon Jovi vs Superman Lovers
5. "Beautiful, Easy Girls" (Pheugoo)- Sean Kingston vs The Commodores

Have a search and a listen and let us know what you think ...