Wow.

This has been a rollercoaster of a week.

I did not think I would hear someone, in this day and age, state that the courts should not have overturned the anti-miscegenation laws, on the basis that that decision did not have popular support.

I did not think I would get to spend a very nice evening in the company of a very good friend who, for work reasons, I haven't seen in 9 months.

I did not think I would hear people who profess to be patriots exhibit a very basic lack of understanding about how our government works.

I did not think I would finish my son's pirate costume for the party... later this morning. But I did. And it kicks ass.

For more reasons than I state here, what a week.

I hope to get more writing done.

Gah.

You know, I'm all for teenagers putting off having sex until they're older, and telling them that abstinence is the best way to go while they're in high school (provided that message is coupled with a thorough and accurate discussion of birth control and general sex ed), but these just skeeve me right the hell out.

"Here, girls! Your sexuality belongs to your father, until he gives it to your husband!"

And what's with this bit:

“I’ve heard from fathers that this challenged them, to guard their own eyes, for example,” Mr. Wilson said. “It is a call to covenant which basically says I as my daughter’s father will be a man of integrity and purity.”

Right, because those vows that you made to your wife all those years ago aren't really to be taken seriously.

Creepy creepy creepy.

ETA: And where are the purity balls for the boys? Last I checked, it takes two to tango.

Drabble: Corona

Title:  Corona
Author: concertigrossi
Rating: G
Word count: exactly 100
Characters: James Norrington
Notes: For the "Fire" challenge on potc100

He was fourteen when first he saw the corposants: the blue-purple flashes along the tops.   He raced up to get a better look.  As the crewmen watched the young man in motion, the eldritch glow leapt to where he clung to the rigging. It eddied around him. 

He laughed.  It tickled.

When he returned to earth, Mr. Norrington was the subject of some debate:  St. Elmo’s Fire augured well when on the masts, but around a man’s body?  An unquestioned death-mark.

Once James survived the requisite twenty-five hours, the superstitious decided instead that he was in St. Erasmus’ good graces.