(Feel free to skip if you’re not hot for ethnoapologetics.) THERE’S AN UGLY MEME IN the Jewish community that may or may not have analogs among other minority groups: the so-called “self-hating Jew.” This term, most often used in online…
Tag: PR
Hortatory self-aggrandizement.
Metaphorager Hope’d
(Tip o’ th’ Metaphorager Topper to obamaicon.me!)
PR Haiku
OUR NEW MOTTO IS: “All That’s News To Me, I Print.” (New York Times-inspired.)
Aside
ASTUTE READERS OF THE METAPHORAGER may have noted the default use of the masculine gender (e.g. he, him, his, man, etc.). This is due neither to a slight against the better-looking sex nor a political statement, but the love of such phrases as “MAN ON MOON” or “essential love of mankind” or “There are some things Man was not meant to know,” and as an XY kind of guy it just sort of comes natural to me.
My point is, if you’re hung up on a phrase, you’re missing the point.
New Feature: Metaphorager Via Email
AS PART OF OUR CONTINUING effort to serve You, The Reader, we at The Metaphorager are now offering an up-to-the-minute email subscription. Just input your e-dress to the box on the left to receive each post as it happens. (We…
Who Is This Prosatio Silban, And What Does He Want?
IN NORTHERN CALIFORNIA’S DIABLO VALLEY c. 1978, Dungeons & Dragons was barely known outside the fantasy-and-science-fiction community. I first learned of it around that time via David Hargrave‘s Arduin: a created world not unlike J.R.R. Tolkien’s Middle Earth, C.S. Lewis’…
Rethinking “Privacy”
RECENTLY, ONE OF MY FAVORITE blogs switched their commenting software from one which featured anonymous “handles” to one which can also link readers under their real names. It has caused me to rethink what I thought I took for granted…
What I Stand, For
HAVING JUST RECEIVED ORDERS FROM Fearless Leader to define my principles in 106 characters or less and then disperse them yea seedlike to the multitudes, I replied as follows: Clearer thinking. Don’t litter. Say “please” and “thank you” and mean…
When The Troll Sweats, Bottle It
IN THE STARS MY DESTINATION, Alfred Bester imagines a world peopled (in part) by a cast-off group of future savages who chant scientific formulae during their religious rituals. “Quant Suff!” they chant, in abbreviated imitation of “sufficient quantity.” “Quant Suff!”…
Am “I” The Only One?
IN THIS ELECTRONIC ME-FIRST age, it is both rare and a point of honor never to begin a blog post with “I.” (Nitpickery note: I mean the word and concept, not the letter. Yeesh.) Not that I’m not tempted —…
Aside
YESTERDAY, I POSTED A COMMENT to BoingBoing asking people to “Google ‘deconstructionist face-bullhorn’ (for) … where I stand on the whole horned-rim/hornrimmed/modern-equivalent-of-John-Lennon’s frames issue.” So far, 22 people have. Whee! (This post’s title is taken from a phenomenon well-known to after-hours Renaissance Pleasure Faire folk, whereby those standing at the bottom of the little valley need only howl once to provoke a full-throated choral reply from a horde of unseen collegial up-valleyites. And it never failed.)
“Judaism As Art”
or, There and Back Again Without Leaving (BECAUSE OF WORDPRESS, I’M REPUBLISHING this 2002 piece — it works better as a “post” than as a “page” — and although my kippa-wearing has become a bit less pronounced of late it…