Read this at parentdish: http://www.parentdish.com/2010/03/17/danish-artist-dresses-her-baby-like-hitler-other-evil-dictators/ and this: http://www.parentdish.com/2010/03/17/moms-fight-to-hang-her-laundry-outside-gets-dirty/.
I believe in freedom of expression but I am repulsed by pictures of babies dressed as brutal murderers. I believe in saving the planet and clean clothes but you have to respect a majority vote so long as no-one is getting hurt.
I believe I have nothing to blog about today so I thought you might like some odd news. If I find any, I’ll let you know.
This is turning out to be a funny month. I have hardly written anything since Christmas but suddenly I am busy with writing events; as well as those I have told you about, I am going to workshop On The Park with Year Six children at the school where I help out. After their SATs, of course, so I have weeks to not sleep at night, worrying about it.
It occurred to me to look for writing jobs i.e. full-time, salaried positions that require me to put pen to paper or finger to keyboard, as well as admin jobs. And they are out there! I am not qualified for any of them, sadly, but that’s a minor detail.
I’m feeling a little sad today because I have my last writing class tonight. I have thoroughly enjoyed it and I have learned a lot. It was my third creative writing course since finishing with the OU. I’ll have to find another college but Stockport is rapidly running out.
Any ideas?
The Laughing Housewife 
No, I don’t like it either, and how will that baby feel when he grows up and understands that his mother dressed him this way? It’s so silly and irresponsible… art or no art.
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It’s horrible, isn’t it?
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I’ve always thought it weird too that people dress their babies in suits with ears on the hoods – get a pet if that’s what you want. And I absolutely loathe those cutesy Anne Geddes (no relation) pictures of babies as/in cabbages and so forth.
As for not being able to hang out washing… people are weird about that too. When I moved house three years ago and was living in temporary accommodation, the man next door used to wait for me to come back every day so that he could comment on my underwear hanging on the line. Admittedly, I was going through a very colourful stage but even so, I found it offensive. Creep.
Now I have a washing line in my south facing terraced garden and I’ve noticed that you can see it from the other side of the valley. I often wonder how many tourists must have my sheets and so forth flapping in their Provençal hilltop village photos.
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I don’t like those creepy AG pictures either.
I’d love to know how many tourists are cursing you. 🙂
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One of the ancient ladies in the village I used to live in suffered the shame of having her (enormous cotton) knickers photographed and put on a postcard that sells all over Provence. Possibly the world for all I know. (She is called Artemise)
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