So, I was given the privledge of going with my mother to take my brother and his girlfriend to their Junior Prom at the Atlanta Zoo. Before we left my mother had mentioned hearing of an accident at Peachtree Industrial and 285. Apparently said accident did not end happily for all involved, as we were forced to turn off onto 285 in the opposite direction of the one in which we'd have liked to take because of a police barricade. There was nothing barricided other than the road itself being examined by two policemen with measuring tape. But of course, that couldn't be the only highlight of such a trip, no no, fate would never have that. Instead I got the rare 'treat' of watching someone, in what I hope will be a unique experience, at a GA toll booth in the "50 cents only" lane get out of their car to make change with the vehicle behind them, giving me no choice but to believe that what they say about over half of all americans being functionally illiterate is true.

That said, we can move onto the afformentioned disturbance that bothers me. So, here, I offer the fastest and simplest way I can. Search Google for the phrase Penis Envy, click on the second link from the top, read it. When you get to the "the saga continues", brace yourself for graphics of a phallic nature, the second of which is the true cause of my disturbance. As for why, I'll put that in white so a not to spoil the suprise, unless you do want to highlight it yourself and spoil it yourself, so here goes: What bothers me is, of course, the second of the dildo images, Joan of Arc. I can understand the greater meaning of the entire show and the subsiquent displays, but that one bothers me. Jeanne was a mere 19 at the age of her death, a chaste girl who heard the voice of God. I quote from a biography the following "Much was made of her insistence on wearing male clothing. She was told that for a woman to wear men's clothing was a crime against God. Her determination to continue wearing it (because her voices hadn't yet told her to change, as well as for protection from sexual abuse by her jailors)" and rest my case as to distrubance there.

There you have it. More on the adventurers of my family later.

But before I go, my last odd statement on life in general, again keeping with the whole Prom thing. Here goes: Anyone who gets laid on Prom night obviously did not dance hard enough.