A short quiz, via Newshoggers, that gives you a detailed sense of your place on the Political Compass, rather than just saying "I'm liberal" or "I'm conservative." As the site says, "On the standard left-right scale, how do you distinguish leftists like Stalin and Gandhi? It's not sufficient to say that Stalin was simply more left than Gandhi. There are fundamental political differences between them that the old categories on their own can't explain. Similarly, we generally describe social reactionaries as 'right-wingers', yet that leaves left-wing reactionaries like Robert Mugabe and Pol Pot off the hook."
Your political compass
Economic Left/Right: -4.12
Social Libertarian/Authoritarian: -5.13
An analysis of your score follows the test. Take it; it's pretty enlightening. I'm just glad I didn't end up in the same ideological neighborhood as Robert Mugabe or Pol Pot. Although I am apparently more left and less authoritarian than my boyfriend Barack Obama. Oh well!
On the subject of graphs and charts, Bambina has been playing with Word Art on her computer, which also includes the ability to create org charts and other representations. Her favorite graph is the Venn Diagram (those three circles that intersect in order to show a commonality between and among them). I just mentioned in passing that the circles were called a Venn Diagram and how they are different from concentric circles, etc etc. Later in the day we were pretending to be mermaids who meet up at a local river. When I asked her what her name was she said, "Venn. Venn Diagram." So I said my name was Concentric. Concentric Circle, but my friends call me Connie.
I love listening to her theories. She insists that she will have 89 children and live in California when she is older and is a doctor-princess-fairy. I remarked that 89 kids was quite a lot, and she said, "We will just have lots of rooms with doors, then." She's also quite sure that she will not marry a boy--because why would anyone do that?
On the topic of the presidential race, she's pretty pissed that the Democratic nominee-apparent has yet to show up and read his "Welcome Barack Obama to Our House!" sign on the lawn. She's so mad she's about ready to vote for Bob Barr. Just kidding! She's totally in the tank for Huckabee...
July 4th was pretty fun. Our afternoon was spent at a city-wide festival that promised rides, games and vendors. It wasn't that great, but Bambina had a great time, scoring the July 4th Fun Trifecta: A ride on a machine operated by a Carnie, a large ice cream-like confection purchased from a caravan with a cash register, and a face painted with an American flag. Good times. The first part of the day we went to a morning "festival" in the town center that turned out to be some footraces for each age group, free balloons from a state representative, and a one mile long line for free ice cream at 10am. We laughed out loud (though probably shouldn't have) when Bambina said, "This is lame!" BBDD said he can't imagine where she has heard someone (cough cough, Mama) say that. Then we went shopping at the mall because Bloomies was having a sale, and we wanted to look for dresses for an upcoming wedding for me. Well, you know how that goes. We ended up looking in the kids department. Bambina is all about creative control these days, so she just started taking dresses off the racks, till she had about 7, and decided it would be fun to try them on. I think this is a variant on her previous need to see every public toilet in whatever building we entered. Now she has to see the fitting rooms of every store. So in we go, where she tried on every dress and settled on a seersucker one as her favorite, because BBDD is going to rock his seersucker suit at said wedding. All well and good (and thank you Gram and Pop for the dress!). But now the pressure is on me from her to wear seersucker too.
I recognize that my child has a need to have her mommy look like her these days. I get it. She really really wants us to dress alike and have our hair the same style and length. I get it that she wants to feel like we are physically similar somehow, and I am sympathetic to the point of seriously considering Lilly Pulitzer dresses as somehow acceptable wardrobe choices. I also know that I would walk on glass while on fire with my internal organs hanging out for my daughter. You know it, I know it and the American people know it. But the question remains: Will I be seen dead in seersucker for my daughter?
We've got two weeks to figure it out, and I'll let you know. But since I'm the shmo you already know I am, don't be surprised to see me post a photo of myself in this:
Yup. I suspect we will be the Chinese-Jewish-WASP? contingent at the wedding, looking a lot like this:
Don't say I didn't warn you. Besides, the BBDD does look lovely in his suit. And, as I said to him, my only rule for him sartorially is that he never, never wears pants in any shade that could be characterized as "watermelon" or "peach", never wears one of those nautical belts worn mostly by people who do not sail, and does not ever commit the cardinal sin (in my mind) of wearing penny loafers with no socks. I saw a guy crossing the street the other day with shorts and penny loafers--no socks. I wanted to yell out that he must have forgotten something at home. Either he forgot his socks, or more appropriately, he forgot not to wear leather shoes with shorts. My Dad always did his "downmarket" version of this by wearing patent leather black shoes with shorts. And I know your dad wore his white ones! So I'm hoping that by laying down the law with the BBDD (who, for the record, is not at all inclined to dress in pastel pants, nautical belts and leather shoes with bare feet), that we can end this terrible cycle of fashion violence perpetrated by the country club set.
And on that ludicrous note, I am off to pick up Bambina at preschool. In my watermelon pants, nautical belt, and sockless golf shoes. ;)