So Michael Jackson is in the news again. He has purchased a 14 acre luxury home in Bahrain. Good, get the fuck out of the USA, Mike, don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.

But I have to say, I feel bad for his kids. I mean, they already wear what amounts to burqa here in the US. Ever seen pics of them in those scarves covering them from head to knees?

I suppose when he moves, his sons will be freed from their little Michael enforced purdah, but his daughter? Oh Lordy. Can you say "Fashion sense for you, little girl, is now limited to a black abayah!"? I knew you could.

I wonder if that child will ever feel the sunlight on her face again.

Way to go,. Mike. Rape kids in America, run away, and bury your daughter in a society that just granted women's suffrage three fucking years ago (a daring move that 60% of WOMEN in Bahrain were opposed to!). A place where the women are covered head to foot, and female tourists are required to wear full length skirts when in public. A place where women have no right to divorce a brutal bastard of a husband. A place where the men can still have up to four wives if they want them. A place where a woman was recently sent to jail for questioning the use of Sharia in the family courts.

I can just hear Michael's thoughts on the matter: "Fuck yeah, let me take my daughter THERE."


Apparently at least one person here sees this as an anti-Islam rant. No.

This is an anti-child molester running and hiding overseas rant. This is about a man who keeps his children wrapped up like sausages, and is now taking his daughter to a country that has a very far way to go before the women there are treated with anything resembling equality.

It has DICK to do with Islam, which, in reasonable people's hands, is NOT a religion of war, death, terror, or shitting on women, just like in reasonable people's hands, Christianity isn't about those things either.

I am not anti-Islam. I have one hell of a lot of respect for Islam, and I do indeed know the fucking difference between Muslims and crazy people. It's a BIG difference. Thanks.

I have never done one of these daylog deals, but it's been 365 days since my last effort at E2 and I try to hammer out at least one node per year, whether I feel like it or not. Many people can function without an external framework of obligation, but I am not one of those people. The daylogs are often dismissed as the red headed stepchild of E2 because they pass mostly without editorial scrutiny, which is why they are usually the first things I read every morning. They are, like the Chatterbox, the extemporaneous cutting edge of this place and if they didn't already exist we would have to invent them.

My own personal E2 experience came full circle yesterday, with my publisher's permission to repost all of the essays that had been removed for a printed anthology. We had always planned to restore them eventually and I was delighted to find that they could be returned to the nodegel with the original dates, Ching!s, and hard links intact. Many publishers would wince at the idea of giving away stories with one hand that they're selling for top dollar with the other, but I have a unique relationship with my publisher. She makes me wash dishes and vacuum the floor when she's not giving away my stuff for free on the Internet.

There is often wailing and gnashing of teeth over the fact that people who were once avid contributors to E2 wane in their production of new work after a time. Speaking only for myself, the type of work I submit to E2 is necessarily limited in scope because I only write down stuff that I know for sure. When I've connected a couple of dots, I make a note of it. When I am able to go for a long spell without writing anything down, it simply means that I've already said everything I thought was important.

Even though I rarely add content to the site, I still log in every so often to read, or to vote, or to message a contributor with feedback, or to add a relevant softlink, or to help guide a new user, or just to stay in touch with the many hundreds of people I care about who frequent E2. The millions of passive readers directed to E2 via Google are swell, but an engaged, logged in audience is the primary appeal of this place. When we discourage people from making the scene because they don't churn out content, we throw ice water on the first few rows of our audience. When we chastise people for being chatty in the Chatterbox rather than adding content, we throw a pall over the entire scene.

E2 is life in microcosm and the learning curve is steep. We cannot at once have specifically high expectations for content and at the same time express impatience with people who just wish to hang out and get a feel for the place. The 20 names or so at the bottom of the user list are the most important people here. If that sentence sounds funny to you, it might be time for a little break from E2. It will still be here when you return, and unless you've pasted some kind of vitriolic rant on your homenode, everybody will be happy to see you again.

All of the people currently on the staff at E2 have several things in common. The most important trait they all share is that they answer their private messages in a timely fashion or direct you to somebody who will. If you ever have a question about E2, you can message anybody with a little symbol next to his or her name and they'll answer it for you. If you ever have a problem with one of the people with a little symbol next to their name, you can message dem bones and he'll straighten it right out for you. If you've got a serious problem with dem bones, well, you're probably at the wrong web site. (bones retired, but you can still message him for dating advice and that kind of thing.)

When something is really bugging you about E2, back away from it for awhile and ask yourself if you're not projecting a personal issue onto the big picture. A trip to the greatest museum on Earth can be soured if you are suffering from indigestion or diarrhea. The thing that E2 does better than anything else is to remember stuff and it would be a shame to mark your stay at one of the greatest museums on Earth with postcards that complain of a bellyache.

Everything2 has never been a better web site than it is this morning. It will be a better web site tomorrow than it is today, and the day after that it will be better still.

Kind of blows your mind if you think about it too much.

Today I finally opened up to him.
A task that had seemed so daunting, so herculean in effort all this while was reduced to a walk in the park once the first words escaped my mouth.

Lets face it, my dad and I have never been close to each other. Being in a boarding school for the major part of my school life meant that we spent very little time together. During my vacations a fledgling business kept him occupied till the wee hours of the morning further ensuring that we spent the minimum time together. Though my dad did try bonding with me during my high-school years it was too little, too late, with the experience leaving us both embittered. By this time friends took greater priority as they had always been there unlike my parents..

But the situtation changed drastically when I joined college. I was suddenly surrounded by strangers most of whom were away from their homes for the first time in their life. The fact that I was an old hand when it came to this did'nt help me one bit in my struggle to make new friends. The saying - "Birds of a feather flock together" was never more true and I was struggling to cope.

With my self-confidence at an all time low and a sagging morale I just didnt know whom to turn to.
All my friends were away, not that anybody in my group could offer advice, much less understand the situation that I was in. That's when a voice deep down reminded me that dad was only a phone call away. And so with a heavy heart and a broken soul I dialled..

There have been times that I have shouted at you, cursed you and hated you from the very core of my heart for faults that now when I look back were more mine than yours. But you have always understood and never deserted me or given up on me. I just hope that someday I can get around to telling you what a great person you actually are.

Thank you for being there when ever I needed you.

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