From: Dutton, Thomas. Editor’s Letter. The Dramatic Censor 1:1 (4 Jan. 1800): 4.
In this state of abject degeneracy, the propriety and indeed necessity, of erecting a critical tribunal for the reformation of the Stage, will be disputed by no lover of legitimate drama, and unvitiated taste. The nature of the evil demands a remedy, which shall meet the complaint in its fullest extent. This the proprietors of The Dramatic Censor, and Weekly Theatrical Report hope to provide in the work they now submit to the candid judgment of an enlightened public. Embarking in the present undertaking, not from motives of speculative emolument, but from a firm conviction of the utility of their plan, it is their fixed, irrevocable determination scrupulously to adhere to the principles on which that plan is founded. These are, strict impartiality, and undeviating critical integrity. They will neither sacrifice to personal friendship, nor to pique. Truth is, and shall remain, the sole object of their views. They will speak with freedom, alike when the duties of their office all for censure, or for praise. And, though they never must feel reluctant, when compelled to wound; they will perform this part of their censorial function with the conscientious feelings of a human surgeon, who probes a fore, not for the purpose of inflicting pain, but as the necessary preliminary of a cure.
Remedy:
1. A means of counteracting a source of misery or difficulty, in early use especially sin, evil, or a vice; a means of relieving a bad situation or avoiding a problem.
2. A cure for a disease, disorder, injury, etc.; a medicine or treatment that promotes healing or alleviates symptoms.
Censor:
1. The title of two magistrates in ancient Rome, who drew up the register or census of the citizens, etc., and had the supervision of public morals.
2. a. transf. One who exercises official or officious supervision over morals and conduct. b. spec. An official in some countries whose duty it is to inspect all books, journals, dramatic pieces, etc., before publication, to secure that they shall contain nothing immoral, heretical, or offensive to the government. More explicitly dramatic censor, film censor.
Dramatic Censor as remedy (censorship as remedy); ‘truth’ as remedy (seemingly, objective).
4:28 pm • 2 January 2012
From: Dutton, Thomas. Editor’s Letter. The Dramatic Censor 1:1 (4 Jan. 1800): 4.
In this state of abject degeneracy, the propriety and indeed necessity, of erecting a critical tribunal for the reformation of the Stage, will be disputed by no lover of legitimate drama, and unvitiated taste. The nature of the evil demands a remedy, which shall meet the complaint in its fullest extent. This the proprietors of The Dramatic Censor, and Weekly Theatrical Report hope to provide in the work they now submit to the candid judgment of an enlightened public. Embarking in the present undertaking, not from motives of speculative emolument, but from a firm conviction of the utility of their plan, it is their fixed, irrevocable determination scrupulously to adhere to the principles on which that plan is founded. These are, strict impartiality, and undeviating critical integrity. They will neither sacrifice to personal friendship, nor to pique. Truth is, and shall remain, the sole object of their views. They will speak with freedom, alike when the duties of their office all for censure, or for praise. And, though they never must feel reluctant, when compelled to wound; they will perform this part of their censorial function with the conscientious feelings of a human surgeon, who probes a fore, not for the purpose of inflicting pain, but as the necessary preliminary of a cure.
Remedy:
1. A means of counteracting a source of misery or difficulty, in early use especially sin, evil, or a vice; a means of relieving a bad situation or avoiding a problem.
2. A cure for a disease, disorder, injury, etc.; a medicine or treatment that promotes healing or alleviates symptoms.
Censor:
1. The title of two magistrates in ancient Rome, who drew up the register or census of the citizens, etc., and had the supervision of public morals.
2. a. transf. One who exercises official or officious supervision over morals and conduct. b. spec. An official in some countries whose duty it is to inspect all books, journals, dramatic pieces, etc., before publication, to secure that they shall contain nothing immoral, heretical, or offensive to the government. More explicitly dramatic censor, film censor.
Dramatic Censor as remedy (censorship as remedy); ‘truth’ as remedy (seemingly, objective).
4:28 pm • 2 January 2012
When’s it a baby?
Today, I breathe a sigh of relief for the people of Mississippi; Amendment 26, or the ‘Fetal Personhood Amendment,’ as it’s being called, did not pass. The amendment sought to grant human rights to—I don’t even know what to call them, as ‘fetus’ seems, to me, to suggest something fetus-y, so I’ll go with—fertilized eggs. That anyone would think this is a valid idea makes me want to jam a wooden spoon into my brain and whirl it around, but that 45% of voters supported it is outrageous.
Mind you, I’ve got nothing against fertilized eggs and wish them all the best, but suggesting that they’re human, when they’re about as aware as the kleenex I just blew my nose on, is a little ridiculous. And the implications for birth control are terrible. Condom breaks? Aw shit, guess you’re having a baby. Got raped? Too bad; here’s a kid you might not want to compound whatever trauma you’re already feeling. Made a drunken mistake? Well, this’ll learn ya…
What blows my mind is that ‘pro-life’-ers claim to be compassionate and empathetic—enough to fight for a little lump of goopy-egg-stuff—but do not, in fact, act compassionately towards the grown human beings who’s lives would be thrown into turmoil by the birth of an unwanted child. Possible humans matter more than the ones who are living and breathing next to you on the bus in the morning, serve you your coffee, or smile at you in class? Seriously? Who are these people? How are there enough of them to comprise nearly half a state?
But enough with the common observances. What really gets my goat is that this debate is centred around the definition of ‘life.’ This seems to be a common fall-back: but it’s alive, waah. Yes, it is alive. I won’t contest that living matter is living matter. But are you going to stand outside and picket when, say, people mow their lawns? Didn’t think so. If there is to be a definition of personhood, it has to be based on more than just ‘life.’
I realized the other day, when I was speaking with a woman who lost a child in the third trimester, that there is a moment when a fetus becomes more than a fetus. Then I recalled that when my cousin was talking about her ultrasound a few weeks back, the word she and I both used to describe what she had hanging out in her uterus was ‘babies’ (she’s pregnant with twins). This, I think, is maybe enlightening.
It seems to me that a baby becomes a baby, a little person, when it enters into the social sphere as such: when we start to love it, or care about it, or feel something about it that makes us turn it into a person. Some people, I think, bring a ‘child’ into being even before it’s conceived, some do it months after, some at birth, and some on a random Tuesday afternoon, while they’re watching Oprah and feel it kick.
That is to say, I don’t think there is any one universal moment were we can say bam, it’s a person, give it some rights. At least not while it’s setting up shop in somebody else’s body—when it starts crawling around and stirring shit up on it’s own, fair enough. Of course, as a society who likes things uniform for everyone, we find this unpractical, but, dammit, sometimes things are indeed impractical and individual.
Of course, you could say, but I love this woman’s hypothetical baby. I’m bringing it into being. That’s fine, but as my grandpa would say, love is an action, not a statement. And the hypothetical love of some assbag who’s never going interact with that child or stay up helping with its homework isn’t worth a hell of a lot. That moment of love has to come from the person who’s acting out the love. First and foremost, some woman has to say, I love the idea of this little fucker enough to let it mooch off me for nine months, sit on my bladder all day, and then shoot it out of my vagina. (And, certainly, there’s nothing wrong with not loving the idea of a kid enough to do that—I know I don’t.) You can’t say, I love this little fucker enough to take away your right to your body and make you shoot it out of your vagina and then pay some tax dollars to educate it or whatever—you take it to school though, or find someone who will.
So, love and action from the person carrying around the baby, seem, to me, to be pretty important factors in initially establishing personhood. And just fertilizing an egg doesn’t give us that. Accordingly, I think we have to accept that there’s no one universal moment when we can say ‘Woot, person,’ because life is, after all, individual.
7:15 pm • 10 November 2011
“The hearts of the young are enclosed in a crystal case. It is this that breaks when they first fall in love. Then the heart is set free to grow, to be moulded into human material. Remember that later, when you think your heart broken by your first love. The heart does not break: only this cold isolating crystal.”
— Rosamund Lehman, The Ballad and the Source
3:30 am • 7 September 2009
“If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.”
— Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms
3:13 am • 29 August 2009
Just made this rabbit vase from an old Orangina bottle and some acrylic paint. I call her Ethel. My life is one giant exercise in loveable inanity.
10:04 am • 13 August 2009
Sometimes I stay up late into the night in order to sew stuffed animals. Here is the just-completed Glynnis, the owl, who started life as an octopus. I’m telling you, I could have been a C-grade elf.
4:26 am • 8 June 2009
Can you believe that I only paid 25 cents for this thing!? It’s E-freaking-T! This is why I love me a garage sale. Also, I think I have a career waiting for me in interior decorating for the awesome-at-heart…
7:36 pm • 6 June 2009
