My pants do not require that they do.

Which is, of course, the follow-up line to, "Not everyone believes what you believe!"

Sorry, trying to think of what I could possibly do at a blogger reading, and came up with the comments from this post. Which is probably defeating the purpose. Or something.

Anyway, so.

On the afteroon of Thursday, Feb. 19, on Boing Boing, I read about this great idea. Basically, people are generously sending flowers to random gay couples waiting in line to get married in San Francisco. This is a brilliant idea, but I immediately recognized a problem. The flower shops apparently charge about US $45 to deliver these flowers. That's probably market value, but it's a bit steep for individuals who might want to help out (particularly if they're paying in Canadian dollars or other weaker currencies) but can't spare fifty bucks.

Hence, Flowers for Al and Don. I'm using a PayPal account to collect money, with which I'll buy bouquets in bulk for the couples in line. You can donate as much or little as you please, and I pledge that every cent (minus the PayPal fees) that I receive will go to this project.

Mentioned this in passing, in an update, a few days back, but think it deserves to go front and center(ed).

And then there's this at Electrolite, regarding Da Mayor's statetment from a few days back:

As Teresa remarked when she heard this, “Are we going to have a revolution led by mayors?”

Apparently so. Aided and abetted by people sending flowers.

As far as revolutions go, I seen worse.

Spent some of yesterday afternoon at Heartland Cafe, reading Wonder Woman: The Complete History. I'd forgotten that Chip Kidd handled the design on it.

I'd also forgotten that Gloria Steinem worked -- why does using "undercover" in this sentence seem like such a bad idea? -- undercover as a cocktail waitress at the/a Playboy Club back in the day. And never knew she'd worked with Harvey Kurtzman. Odd that, feminists being all humorless and what-not.

Anyway, it's a lovely book to just flip through, including tons of artwork, but you'll not be disappointed if you actually read the text. Some of theories of her creator, Dr. William Moulton Marston, are a bit, ah, let's go with "wacky," keeping in mind that's just my belief, and leave it at that.

But this bit:

William Moulton Marston was born in 1893 and graduated from Harvard in 1915; later that same year he married Elizabeth Holloway, who had attended Mount Holyoke. In a letter written more than half a century later to comics fan Jerry Bails, she said that she had been offered a position in her alma mater's psychology deparrtment, but she had other plans: "to marry Bill Marston" and "to go to law school, which I also did a week after we were married." She couldn't attend classes with Marston at Harvard, which did not admit woman, and she dismissed the era's idea of a separate Harvard law school for women as "lovely law for ladies."

It indicates to me that maybe there were some real-life inspirations here and there.

Not looking up when Harvard started admitting wimmenandminorities, because it'll just ruin my sunny disposition.