For the past couple of weeks, some raccoon or other critter has been making off with the cat food bowls. I had two stainless steel bowls on the patio and one morning I found one about 20 feet away and never found the other one. Then the next morning the remaining steel bowl was missing again along with a plastic bowl.
After finding the steel bowl a second time, it disappeared yet again and I haven't found it. But I did find a solution to this nagging problem.
Sweet Pea is wondering why the hell I'm taking photos of the bowls instead of filling them with chicken parts.
Using two Amy's vegetarian frozen entree bowls and a piece of wood I found in the garage, I screwed each bowl into the wood to secure it into place. Several days have passed and those bowls haven't gone anywhere.
UPDATE: Caught in the Act tonight! They left without any bowls.
Tater Tot has a definite shoe fetish. He naps in the bedroom against my walking shoes (which by the way, have over 300 miles on them although I am a few miles shy of hitting 300 miles since my official walking regimen began back in May -- I probably had walked close to 100 in them when I worked downtown) and also loves my Birkenstocks.
I can always tell when he's been on them because he creates an indentation which remains after he leaves the room.
Sissy is just being the usual bed slut.
The boys outside, Sweet Pea and Tiger, wondering when the food is coming.
Happy Friday!!
I have a 4-day weekend ahead of me so perhaps I can get back to some serious blogging over the weekend and into next week. We shall see.
So I was just telling txrad this amazing story about the Eric Clapton song were's listening to right now. It was recorded around 1968 and it stoked a big-ass memory of me visiting my Grandmother in Dallas for the first time.
She managed an apartment complex and had a secretary, a sort of hippie-ish gal.
We went out one day, to the World's Fair in San Antonio or maybe some lamer-ass shit in Dallas. (10th Avenue Freeze-Out!) But I spent $5 on a fake plastic pot of fake plastic sunflowers which would dance to music. I shit you not.
And upon returning to the apartment complex, I was hanging out in the financial office where the hippie chick sat, and she said, "hey boy, I want to buy those."
I said, "they're not for sale."
She asked me what I paid for them and I told her, and that dumb black-haired hippie offered me double.
I said "no."
I told her I'd sell them to her, since by this time I was already bored with them, and wanted my $5 back, for $5.
I wanted her to learn a lesson. The not-for-profit motive resonates way beyond the body and soul. Rock on, hippie chicks!
I can't think of one personally although some of that late 50s and early 60s shit takes a toll on my nerves.
I was just discussing with txrad about a radio station in Little Rock back around 1980 which was known as KQ94 and they played a lot of new stuff, like Dire Straits, Joe Jackson, and the like. He doesn't like that. Nor does he like Steely Dan. So I said I was going to post a song of theirs I really like, just to see if he could tolerate it, or be appalled by it. He can comment with his verdict.
I think he doesn't like any kind of rock/jazz fusion. But...come on for the Mystery Tour.
UPDATED 11/12: This is the YouTube clip I meant to post. Same song but someone put it to interesting video...
I was under the impression that abortion, both therapeutic, and elective, is legal in the United States. As a recognized medical procedure that is legal why would a publicly funded health plan not, by law, have to pay for it? Right to lifer’s and pro choicer’s opinions aside, the Stupak amendment is probably unconstitutional, aside from being an obvious pander to the radical right to get the health care bill passed.
I wonder, by the way, if those opposed to public funding for a legal operation are prepared to drop their current health care providers if they already pay for abortion procedures? Although some specific plans may exclude abortion, every insurance company does provide coverage for abortions. Therefore, whether your specific plan covers abortions or not, the company you currently are insured with does pay for people to have abortions. That means your premiums help pay for abortions already. If I was strongly against abortions, I would cancel my insurance immediately. That would send a message to health insurance companies. If one thing will get their attention it is the threat of losing some money.
If the Stupak amended health care bill were to remain unchanged, and be passed by the Senate, the public option will actually be the only insurance available that does not pay for any abortions, under any circumstances. I would imagine the hard core right to lifer’s would be opting out of their current plans and lining up for the new public option. That would be odd, as many on the right who are also right to lifer’s are actually opposed to any public insurance plan. I suppose those folks, after canceling their current abortion providing health care providers, and being committed against public insurance will become the new uninsured. Talk about ironic.
That's the number of top Obama advisors who favor sending more troops to Afghanistan, including Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton. I am just...numb.
Three of the options call for specific levels of additional troops. The low-end option would add 20,000 to 25,000 troops, a middle option calls for about 30,000, and another embraces Gen. Stanley A. McChrystal’s request for roughly 40,000 more troops. Administration officials said that a fourth option was added only in the past few days. They declined to identify any troop level attached to it.
Perhaps that fourth option should have a troop reduction level attached to it.
I've only smoked 3 cigarettes since 8:30 this morning, and I went over 5 hours today without one at all. If I can do that much, I can do much more. I can break this fucking habit. It doesn't have to control me.
I used to not mind getting older. I remember turning 20 and feeling like a new era had begun because I was no longer a teen, although I enjoyed being a teen. It was as if I had shed some skin.
Turning 30 was another milestone but it didn't impact me negatively at all. I didn't look 30, not did I feel 30. What's to complain about when I still occasionally got carded for buying beer?
Then came 40. That one hit me pretty hard after a decade of still feeling 20-something-ish. It was like going from 29 to 40 overnight. And throughout this decade of 40s, another big number was always on my mind.
October 22 is always a dreaded day because it marks the halfway point between birthdays and on that day this year I became 49.5 which rounds up to 50. I'm not rounding up yet, but when January rolls around, I'll be telling myself I'm 50 even though the official date will still be over four months away.
As I reflect back on nearly a half-century of living I'm astonished at how quickly segments of it passed, as well as how warped some of it seems in retrospect. I often hear about how quickly time passes as you get older, and it does seem that way.
As a child going into my teen years, all I wanted was to be 18 and graduate from high school and begin a life. From 14 to 18 seemed like a lifetime of waiting, studying, and simply trying to pass each class. Four years now certainly doesn't seem like four years then, but of course it's exactly the same.
I remember the thrill of finally going to my first R-rated film. Hearing an actor spew the F-word seemed so naughty and adult. In college I remember my first trip from Fayetteville, Arkansas over to the Oklahoma state line -- a trip of roughly 30 minutes -- to purchase beer. Arkansas' drinking age was 21 while in Oklahoma it was 18.
My years in my 20s were certainly busy. And in theory that would tend to make the years pass in a blur but that was not the case at all. I bounced around from college to college within the University of Arkansas system, from Fayetteville to Little Rock, back to Fayetteville, back to Little Rock, and one semester in Monticello, about 30 miles from my hometown after a botched start to a semester at the University of Denver.
I was clueless about what to do with my life, what I wanted to be when I grew up, and what to study. And I was grappling with being gay and closeted.
In December of 1982 my dad died at a hospital in Little Rock while I happened to be enrolled in college there. I really felt that I was too young to be dealing with the death of a parent at 22. So I put blinders on and tried to get on with my life.
I suppose I really needed to get away on some level emotionally. It was early in 1983 when I signed up for a work abroad program through the university which allowed me to live and work legally in another country for six months. After much deliberation I decided on London. After all, I'd already been there several times using grant money and loans which were supposed to be used for educational purposes.
In the summer of 1983 I left for England, found myself a small but very nice flat in an ideal area of London, and within a couple of weeks had secured a job at the HMV Shop's flagship store. Granted, had I been more mature, it might have made more sense to find something that would give me better pay, a salary on which I might have a chance of making ends meet as well as gaining experience in the business world. But I was a lover of music, an avid collector of LPs, and the HMV was my ideal, especially since I had shopped there on previous visits.
During that six months of working, I became very comfortable with that new and exciting life, far from the rigors of studying for some degree -- any degree, really -- in Arkansas. My co-workers were wonderful and the comfort level around them enabled me to easily come out of the closet which felt so liberating!
I didn't want this experience to end so I began researching ways to extend my stay. Short of getting married (to a British woman), there really wasn't much hope. I was allowed to apply for an extension though, knowing it would ultimately be rejected. It was only a question of how long it would take for someone in the government immigration office to deal with my request. In an era when Commodore computers with 5-inch floppy disks were all the rage, it could have been quite a while.
After a year there, I made a choice to fly back to Arkansas to visit my mother for two weeks. That was a decision which ultimately would seal my fate. Upon reentry into England, the immigration authorities at the airport suspected something after noticing I had been in England far longer than the six-month stamp in my passport. And the fact that I was returning raised all sorts of red flags. I spent the bulk of that exhausting day in a detention center being interrogated.
Ultimately, I was allowed to enter, but with a 3-month stamp and a "no work allowed" status. I gave notice at work, and continued to work those last two weeks while I made plans regarding what to do next. I was there for a total of 14 months. It seemed like a lifetime. I felt British and I felt at home there, and yet I was being cast away.
After a failed attempt at establishing myself in Los Angeles, I returned to Arkansas completely broke and in debt. I enrolled in college again in Little Rock and this time I managed to finish and got a degree in January, 1988, more than nine years after I embarked on that education.
What a life I had lived already. I did more between 17 and 28 than most people could conceive of doing. I had gone from a life on the farm to getting a bachelor's degree and was the first person in my family to do so. And in between I had traveled to Israel and Jordan, multiple trips to England, a summer of studying French on the southern coast of France, with weekend trips to Italy, Spain, and Portugal. I had visited pen pals in Germany & Holland in addition to a trek into Scandinavia to spend a week with a friend in Finland. I had gone skiing in Switzerland.
Not only had I come out of the closet in England, I was starting to work on it in the US. While finishing up the degree in Little Rock, I began meeting people at various jobs I held. I was lured out to clubs where I'd meet more people, and I would be introduced to a gay club and, naturally, a few relationships would happen. None of them amounted to anything, just a fling for a few weeks before the situation dissolved away.
But 1988 was a big year for me. When I look back on that year I'm honestly astonished. Despite being 28 and having had a decade of amazing life experiences, I still had never held a steady job which would support me and pay the rent, and I had only just graduated college. I still felt young because all of life seemed to still be ahead of me. I certainly didn't feel or act 28.
It was in 1988 that I entered a relationship with an 18-year-old -- a relationship which felt right finally. I thought it was love but it turned out to be just another confused kid who was just perhaps a bit more confused than I was considering that he was about to start college and I had just finished.
After that failed attempt at a relationship, I really felt like there was no future for me in Arkansas. My best friend had just moved to Denver and I had stayed behind on account of this so-called love affair. When that crashed, I packed my bags and went to Denver in January, 1989. I got my first real job and started a new life.
Again, what seemed like a very long time was only about 18 months. I'd made new friends in Denver and one of them was planning a move to San Diego. She wasn't keen on making the move alone, and as I was always up for a new adventure, I agreed to move again. In the summer of 1990 I was on the road again, in a U-Haul towing an orange VW Beatle.
I was also up to my old tricks again, behaving like a rich adolescent by taking jobs I wanted to do as opposed to seriously going after employment which would support my lifestyle. I took a job as a cashier at San Diego State University. Almost all the employees were students at the school, and most of them were Dutch, oddly enough. I enjoyed it because it had that international feel which I had so enjoyed by working in London. But it was not sustainable.
Thankfully, in August of 1990, something really amazing happened one night at a club. I met txrad and this time being "in love" actually meant something. It was mutual, and real. And suddenly my life wasn't just about me. I no longer could just pack up and move anywhere on a whim.
I still had the Los Angeles itch dating back to when I left London and chose LA as my next destination and home. So txrad and I agreed that I would move to LA and as soon as I found a "real" job, I'd get an apartment we could afford and he would join me. That's exactly how it played out. By April, 1991 I had achieved my desire of having work and an apartment in Los Angeles, and a partner in love. At the age of 30.99, real life had begun finally.
I'm not sure what it is about approaching 50 which has caused me to reflect back on my life and the concept of time. Three years now seems like a complete and total blur. A couple of cats have died and I've changed jobs a couple of times. Nothing at all like the three years between 1988 and 1991 when I went from being a single horny boy constantly on the move to a man embarking on a career in advertising with a permanent spouse.
My 30s were all about working and living in Los Angeles, getting pay raises and bonuses, and having a dream of buying a house. We did that late in 1995 or early 1996. And we adopted our first cat. Then an opportunity arose here in Austin and we sold our house in LA barely a year after moving in, and we moved to Texas and bought a house. Twelve years have passed and we are still in the same house and loving it. Often I have to pinch myself to believe that I've been with the same man and the same career for 19 years. That's longer than it took me to reach high school graduation from the point of my birth! How did I do it? And what comes next?
One thing is different about approaching 50 than any of the other age markers. There's no longer a feeling of just starting out. I no longer have this concept of a wide open life ahead of me full of possibilities and wonder.
I no longer speak of the "next job." Frankly, I'm happy doing what I do. And it is entirely conceivable I could do it another 10 or 12 years and then retire. The notion that I might never have to update my resume again, or go on a job interview, is pleasurable, but a strange concept with a dark lining.
That experience at 22 of losing my father was just a taste of what was to come decades later. Now I'm no longer "too young" to lose relatives and friends. Along the way I've lost some of both. But now at 50, I'm starting to wonder, is it all about coming to terms with mortality? Is that what 50 means?
My mother is in her mid-80s and has already broken a hip. My brother is in his 60s. I have aunts and uncles in their 70s and 80s. Pretty soon it's going to be a non-stop parade of funerals. Then one day I'm going to wake up and realize it's just me now. There will be no brother, no mother or father or grandparents, just me. And that's if I'm lucky enough to be the last man standing.
Perhaps 50 is a wake-up call to slow down and savor life instead of rushing through it. After all, if I'm shocked that I will have been in a relationship and a steady career for 20 years on my 50th birthday, and amazed that it passed so quickly, the math in projecting the future isn't very appealing. When this short cycle passes again, I will be writing a blog post about the horrors of being 70. And that's rather disturbing. I hope I can at least manage to get the bathrooms cleaned a couple of times between now and then!
It's as if, in my brain, I hit the pause button on aging in 1988 and still think and behave as if I'm 28...which actually means I'm thinking and behaving as if I'm 20! When I stumble across a photo of me from the 80s and 90s, I ask myself, "who WAS that guy?" And when I see a current photo of myself I ask, "who IS that guy?" I just don't see myself as nearly 50 until I see past and current photographs for comparison. Gone are the days when I will go back to college, work in a book store or a record store, buy a youth rail pass in Europe and hang out for nine weeks, have a fling with an 18-year-old, or move from one city to another every year or so. Also gone are the days of sleeping on a futon, but that's a good thing!
I am settled. That realization might indicate the time has come to unpause and hit the fast-forward button to reality. But on second thought, I might put that off until April, 2010. There's no point in rushing into it. That gives me time to work out a couple of kinks before I can cut loose and stick it deep inside.
Sort of. If you can count one Republican vote in favor.
After months of acrimonious partisanship, Democrats closed ranks on a 220-215 vote that included 39 defections, mostly from the party's conservative ranks. But the bill attracted a surprise Republican convert: Rep. Anh "Joseph" Cao of Louisiana, who represents the Democratic-leaning district of New Orleans and had been the target of a last-minute White House lobbying campaign. GOP House leaders had predicted their members would unanimously oppose the bill.
Naturally the 220-215 vote didn't come without a hitch.
Down one floor, in her office, House Speaker Nancy Pelosi desperately tried to deal with an issue that has bedeviled Democrats for more than a generation — abortion.
After hours of heated talks, the people she was trying to convince — some of her closest allies — burst angrily out of her office.
Her attempts at winning them over had failed, and Ms. Pelosi, the first woman speaker and an ardent defender of abortion rights, had no choice but to do the unthinkable. To save the health care bill she had to give in to abortion opponents in her party and allow them to propose tight restrictions barring any insurance plan that is purchased with government subsidies from covering abortions.
On a positive note, Representative Jim McDermott, Democrat of Washington, slipped in a little gem.
Lower taxes for gay couples who receive health benefits from employers. Nutrition labeling requirements for snack food sold in vending machines and many restaurants. A new program to teach parents how to interact with their children.
[...]
Supporters of gay rights have long been trying to change the tax treatment of health benefits provided by employers to the domestic partners of their employees. In effect, such benefits are now treated as taxable income for the employee, and the employer may owe payroll taxes on their fair-market value.
Under the bill, such benefits would be tax-free, just like health benefits provided to the family of an employee married to a person of the opposite sex.
The health care bill now goes back to the Senate. We'll see how they grind it up before voting. We appear to be moving forward... with something.
Many people voted for Barack Obama because his predecessor was an incompetent moron, and they bought into the idea Obama would bring much needed change into federal politics. W had been at the helm as the US was attacked on 9/11, had started two wars resulting in tens of thousands of deaths, sanctioned torture, opened concentration camps, allowed the constitution to be shredded, spied on his citizens, attempted to appoint his cleaning lady to the supreme court, and as a finishing touch, managed to all but bankrupt the nation. Choosing living fossil, John McCain and the rustic and ridiculous Sarah Palin as the Republican candidates all but handed Obama the victory in 2008.
Well it is November of 2009, one year since the presidential election, 11 months into Obama’s presidency and most of the promised changes have not materialized, nor does it appear, will they. Even if one concedes that many of the problems with bringing about change have been the result of a congress that is filled with members owned by lobbyists, including douche bags in the Democratic party such as Blanche Lincoln and Mike Ross, the last eleven months have been filled with compromise and defeat. The most disturbing and disappointing part of the Obama presidency to date are the things he could have done without any congressional interference. He could have, with a presidential order, put an end to the don’t ask/don’t tell farce. He could have ended the war in Afghanistan, or at least began winding it down instead of hemming and hawing on troop numbers, making him appear indecisive, and on a purely cynical note, giving the Republican spin machine the gift of shifting ownership of the war from the son of a bitch Bush to Obama.
His appointments to very important positions within the government and the military have been equally puzzling and disappointing. Timothy Geithner is a tax cheat and is now in charge of finances for the country? General Stanley A. McChrystal, who orchestrated the Pat Tillman friendly fire cover up by approving a press release that he knew was false can be trusted to run the war in Afghanistan? Janet Napolitano, who did almost nothing to stem illegal immigration as Arizona Governor, is chosen to head Homeland Security?
His decision to not pursue criminal prosecution of those who approved and committed torture in the Bush administration is not just disappointing, it is itself criminal. Rather than face criticism and feigned outrage from the Republicans who allowed atrocities to be carried out in the name of the USA, Obama has chosen to become an accessory after the fact. Obama seems to be a man who does not have one principle he will not compromise. He continued to hand out money to banks and businesses that through no fault of the taxpayers whose money they were given, mismanaged themselves into positions of bankruptcy. When he should have been demanding a public option in health care reform, he remained all but silent, as if any health care bill would mean a victory for him, regardless if it actually provided relief to the millions of US citizens without coverage, or just meant more money for insurance companies. The photo op when some watered down compromise filled piece of shit legislation stuffed with pork for already well fed insurance companies and pharmaceutical companies is signed in the Rose Garden seems much more valuable to Obama than fighting for real change that will improve life for millions. Many of those millions, it should be noted voted for Obama, hoping for change that would improve their lives.
When necessary, compromise is a useful tool in negotiation. “When necessary” is the key phrase here. You don’t start negotiating, especially when you have all the numbers in your favor, by offering up compromise. You only do this when you either are lying about what you really want to achieve, or do not believe it is worth fighting for in the first place. Either way Obama is being either disingenuous or weak, and either way he has lost many supporters, and is on his way to becoming a one term president.
Granted, eleven months are less than a quarter of his term as president, and there is a long way to go, but the first year of a presidency is, arguably, the only opportunity for any change to occur. After this it is mid term elections, followed by the run up to 2012. With congressmen and senators more interested in raising money and preserving votes for the next few years than supporting anything “controversial” that may actually improve things it is doubtful any legislation heralding substantive change will ever see the light of day.
During the 2008 election campaign Barack endured the slurs of fools and Republicans. He was called a ”secret” Muslim, a communist sympathizer; he was accused of hanging out with terrorists. Honestly, the idiots who said these things and worse probably garnered as many votes for Obama as did convince rational people not to vote for him. It is very disheartening, and monumentally disappointing that it appears Barack Obama has managed to not only lose the support of many who defended him and ultimately helped elect him, but provided ample evidence that there are many very real weaknesses that will preclude many the option of voting for him again in 2012
You would think, since I had the day off I could have done more posting, and gotten the pussy blog posted earlier. But no, I am a man of tradition and 5pm is usually the time.
Sissy was in her favorite chair, blending in.
Cute hairy cat feet.
This the first time I've managed to get a photo of her "button finger." Sissy is a polydactyl with the extra "thumb" claw. One of hers actually grows in a circle. I've never seen anything quite like it, nor have I been able to get a photo of it before now. I'm quite happy! Normally when I try to touch it she pulls away unless she's VERY relaxed. You can also see it in the top photo on the paw against the arm of the chair.
Sweet Pea was not very camouflaged. The odd one out.
Tiger blending into his chair, and looking quite chipper for a 100-year-old cat.
This little snippet below, highlighted in red, caught my notice this morning in the New York Times.
Representative John Murtha, the Pennsylvania Democrat who is chairman of the House appropriations defense subcommittee, cited $40 billion last week as a hypothetical amount for the supplemental financing request. The number represented a standard calculation of $1 billion for every 1,000 troops deployed.
And people say a health care public option is too expensive? Sweet Jesus.
Let's put this in perspective. My hometown in Arkansas needs some help. Seriously. With around 4,000 residents, a Pentagon war budget would get them about $4 billion.
They could build a subway line through town out to the Wal-Mart. And riding it could be free. With what was leftover, they could build everyone in town a new house and provide free medical care and free groceries from the Socialist Supermarket. And I think there would still be enough to provide everyone a car, with a complimentary tank of gas every month, not that they'd need THAT much help, with the subway and all.
But the important thing to remember is that situations in the US are fine and dandy. No one really needs any help. We have no infrastructure needs, everyone has access to transportation to get where they need to go, health care costs are completely reasonable, and no one goes hungry.
But lynching re-enactments are fun, right? As long as it's it’s just for fun.
A federal court jury in Jonesboro has ruled in favor of six black employees of Nucor-Yamato Steel Co. in a race discrimination case that included evidence of lynching re-enactments and portrayals of black employees as monkeys.
Yeah, this is the state that was so fed up with Bush that they voted even more strongly for McCain because he was white first, and a Republican second, as opposed to that black dude running. People in Arkansas were afraid the White House lawn would be used for growing watermelons.
Which, by the way, would be fine with me if the soil wasn't toxic, which it is, and if they gave the produce to the homeless.
Pardon me if I don't want to focus on the silver linings from yesterday's election results. There are some, and I'm honestly sick of dealing with them, but here are a few:
1. 47% of Maine voters were in favor of marriage equality. That would be fine and dandy if the other 53% would just keep on marrying and divorcing and having affairs on the side, taking their marriage benefits for granted, and stopped trying to tell the rest of us that we can't have it because it's not "normal."
2. In Kalamazoo, Mich., voters, by a wide margin, approved a measure that bars discrimination based on sexual orientation. Nice, but you've got to wonder if marriage equality had been on the ballot, Michigan as a whole would reject it and possibly even a slim majority of voters in Kalamazoo. In essence, this tells me some of them don't believe in discrimination until such time as us Queers try to attain genuine equality and then they would be more than willing to discriminate.
To the credit of Michigan, there are 15 other cities with a gay-rights ordinance. But again, this is a no-brainer. Equal rights and anti-discrimination ordinances shouldn't be creeping along incrementally, city by city, state by state.
3. Referendum 71 in Washington state which grants same sex domestic partners all the rights of married couples is passing... barely.. with 51% of voter support. And only because it's not marriage... just feels like it. Kinda, sorta.
For those of you who want to focus on the silver linings, go right ahead. They are incremental baby steps in the general direction of progress which is not a bad thing. Except we have about 1,000 miles to go and baby steps aren't really doing it for me since I'm not going to be here in this body in 2187.
Gee, does that make me seem selfish?
Sorry, but the idea of John Q. Public and Joanne Q. Public groping my basic human rights in the voting booth after hearing right-wing Bible-thumpers spewing hatred and vitriol makes me feel violated.
I want to ask these same people who argue that marriage is a sacred institution, designed for optimal child-rearing by the picture-perfect mommie and daddy, why they aren't pursuing legislation to outlaw divorce and impose severe penalties for infidelities. I want to know why they aren't spending outrageous sums of money to require that newlyweds start screwing without protection right away so they can pump out babies which is God's will.
The answer is simple. It's really not about that. It's just about their contempt for us. And you know what? The feeling is mutual.
You, the 53% in Maine and elsewhere, can vote to prevent us from having the same rights and equality which you enjoy. That much is apparent as 30 other states have shown. What you cannot do, much to your dismay, is vote to drive us back into the closet. You cannot vote to break us apart and prevent us from falling in love. You cannot vote to prevent us from buying homes, French kissing, snuggling on the sofa, paying taxes, working our asses off to have a comfortable retirement, dining out, buying shit we don't need, and having wild sex.
Like it or not, we're free to do all those things just like you. We are just like you, except for our sexual orientation. And we will continue to be here, in your face, day in and day out, serving you food in restaurants, selling you shit you don't need, cutting your hair in salons, landscaping your yards, fighting on the battlefield, and providing services which make your life easier, all the while pushing our "agenda" to have exactly the same rights.
I'm too stressed to even watch election results regarding LGBT issues. I need at least one small victory. Somewhere.
Update: After having read this post, I commented to txrad that it was very "Atriosy". Hmm. He turned me on to blogging about 3 1/2 years ago and never in my wildest imagination would I have thought I'd be coining terms like that even today.
Suffice it to say I won't have 223 comments on this post tonight.
Pertinent updates:
New Jersey: Down and fucking out.
Maine can frankly blow me... at least all 266,000 of those regressives who just can't stand the thought of equality unless you want to be in love their way.
This is quite an amazing video. I received a link in an email from my brother which opened in Real Player. Instead of linking to that, I found the same video on YouTube. The text in the email I have pasted below the video which explains what's going on.
If this is 24-hours of air traffic, I can't imagine how much jet fuel and other substances we are injesting daily, and it should not be hard to fathom how years of this could affect climate change. Just sayin'.
It is a 24 hour observation of all of the large aircraft flights in the world, condensed down to about 2 minutes.
From space they look like bees, but the yellow dots are the airplanes in the sky during a 24 hour period.
You will see the light of the day moving from the east to the west, as the Earth spins on its axis. Note how the flow drops at night in Europe and NA.
And see the aircraft flow of traffic leaving the North American continent and traveling at night to arrive in Europe in the morning. Then you will see the flow changing, leaving Europe in the morning and flying to the American continent in daylight.
And watch the North America traffic move from East to West as the sun comes up.
Ever wonder why Air Traffic Controllers get headaches ???
There is nothing about the first day of a new year, or the first day of a new month, which should prompt any kind of vow to change a behavior. After all, it would have been just as easy on October 27. Nevertheless, I am happy to see the arrival of November because October was such a pain in the ass, right from day one.
It was the month during which my brother was served with an eviction notice and filed for bankruptcy. It was also the month when my mother finally had a spot on her face and chest removed. The spot on her chest was cancerous but the doctor claims he got it all removed and she's feeling better.
October 22 marked the mid-point in my journey from being 49 to 50 (more on that in a later post) which is taking a toll on me emotionally. My creativity was zapped, the blog suffered, and I wasn't sure I'd ever write another meaningful post. I have no idea how many people even stop by here now since I quit looking at the SiteMeter at least a month ago.
October was also a month where I shamed myself. I'm really not the kind of person who gets on a public soapbox and calls someone a (c)ucking (f)unt and a psychotic bitch, and yet I have done each -- on my blog and on my Facebook page. I am the type of person who will mutter those in the privacy of my vehicle when I'm cut off or tail-gated, but that's quite a bit different. I'm not saying it's right, or good karma even in that situation, but it's not as bad as doing it in a public forum.
I can act very adolescent at times but it's usually in the framework of my humor rather than being expressed through emotional negativity. So I am resolving publicly to behave myself and conduct myself with just a bit more decorum. Not much more; I am not going to be untrue to myself. I will continue laughing at and publishing penis humor for my inner child. I just don't need to take the lowest road when I disagree with someone by resorting to the worst degrading insults.
The recipient of my anger -- in both instances -- is the owner of a popular feminist community blog who bills herself the "Queen Cunt of Fuck Mountain." Instead of reacting with hostility when she does something which pisses me off, I need to train myself to view it as a laughable absurdity, whether it might be a blog comment policy or an over-the-top rude response on her part to another commenter.
In the grand scheme of things, it's just not that important enough for me get my panties in a knot. This is my blog and I can do whatever the hell I want with it, and the same is true of Melissa and her blog. But if I'm really unable to control my own reactions without going into a profanity-laced tirade, then I probably shouldn't be reading the blog at all. To my credit, I had stayed away for 2 1/2 weeks before venturing in there on a tip-off.
Although I've said this before, it's worth repeating. I have very little philosophical disagreements with Melissa on political and social issues. My beef is more of a personal one, involving personalities, treatment of others, the evolution (or de-evolution, some would rightfully argue) of the blog culture, and blog policies. I can either separate myself from it entirely, or deal with it maturely without flushing my own progressive and feminist credentials down the crapper. Because there are few things I dislike more than a hypocrite. A male feminist referring to a female feminist as a *ucking *unt and a *itch is probably the pinnacle of hypocrisy.
If used at all, the word "bitch" should be used as a verb, as in, I'll be bitching about the weather until spring, or reserved for referring to a female dog, or perhaps to intangible concepts like, October was a bitch. It was indeed, but only because I made it one. So, good riddance, October.
On Thursday I was reading the Arkansas Times and I read a piece about a band called Gossip with Beth Ditto on vocals. They got started in the Searcy, Arkansas area and went on to extraordinary fame in Europe.
The fact that Beth Ditto is a fat woman, and a rocker extraordinaire, did not escape my notice. A fat woman comfortable in her skin and her talent.
I was telling txrad tonight about this band from Arkansas with a fat woman on vocals, and he asked, "Beth Ditto?" I had no idea whatsoever that he knew of her. Interesting. We are so aligned.
This video gives me chills and I wish I was, or had been, in Little Rock for the gig.
She's fat and you can't do anything about it. And she's fucking awesome. Just enjoy.
This gets better when YouTube can take a storage dump.
I hope no kiddies stop by here tonight because we have NO candy in the house. We don't even like candy so we don't stock it. And come to think of it, we've lived here 12 years and have never had any trick-or-treaters stop by here. Let's keep that tradition going!
I used to be a mahvelous ice skating champ. And I have the scars and foot numbness to prove it. But I love Bach, because he reminds me of me. I had an ice skating class in Little Rock. It fulfilled a physical ed requirement and got me to graduation right after witchcraft.
But on our grand finale where I was expected to skate backwards and all sorts of other shit, I opted out.. And I regret it to this day.
I was talking about Elvis Costello tonight and got kind of heavy on Facebook with it, so decided to share, as if offering up an iced cake.
It's funny because when I was in my new wave phase I was a HUGE fan of Costello, and then he farted out that country album, and I made for the exit. Never much looked back at him since, except here and there, you know, street change. And then lo and behold, he does the most amazing this (hey, did you know "this" and "shit" have the same letters in a 4-letter word? HELL, EVERYTHING ON TV IS OBSCENE!) shit.
Finally, Hate Crimes legislation passes, although somewhat stealthily.
The measure, attached to an essential military-spending bill, broadens the definition of federal hate crimes to include those committed because of a victim’s gender or gender identity, or sexual orientation. It gives victims the same federal safeguards already afforded to people who are victims of violent crimes because of their race, color, religion or national origin.
Nevertheless, the vote was noteworthy in that our Texas senators, for once, didn't shame me, even though they were voting FOR a military-spending bill.
Senator Feingold gets my applause for looking at the bigger picture.
The only Democrat to oppose it was Senator Russ Feingold of Wisconsin, who said he could not vote for the current bill “because it does nothing to bring our open-ended and disproportionate military commitment in Afghanistan to an end and/or to ensure that our troops are safely and expeditiously redeployed from Iraq.”
As happy as I am that we finally have this legislation headed to Obama's desk, it sure would have been nice to see this pass on its own, rather than being attached to a hawk bill, but I'll take it.
Senator Jim DeMint, Republican of South Carolina, said he agreed that hate crimes were terrible. “That’s why they are already illegal,” Mr. DeMint said, asserting that the new law was a dangerous, even “Orwellian” step toward “thought crime.”
Bullshit. Whenever there is a murder, there is an investigation into the motivation. Senator DeMint can blow that "thought crime" crap out his ass.
txrad and I were talking of racism and I admitted.
I was. From around 15-ish until I was 22-ish.
Now I COULD have been prior to 15 but I'm going to chalk all that shit up to youthful ignorance. Yes, I was. It's how I was raised.
I ran the fucking Reagan for President headquarters in Desha County, Arkansas. (Check the voter stats on that county!) Which was brave, considering I didn't know another Republican other than the vet. I also combined that office into the Frank White for Governor office. Yeah, he's the dude that ran against Bill Clinton's first term as Governer, also I dispute success in that one.
What got me into the racism business though, was my parents. I didn't have a notion of skin color prior to my parents deciding to fuck unprotected. I didn't have a notion of skin color prior to their introducing it, probably during the time we had the Negro maid, and their only complaint about her was that she would decide to take a dump (as in, "a shit") while my parents would sit down to dinner.
Black revenge. Ahhh, I love it. And besides, if my Dad had put in something besides those Tahitians' slatted bathroom doors which allowed his white odors out, and let the black odors out, and one was a problem and one was not, what would be the problem, exactly.
Dedicated to Joe Santos of New York-style pizza fame.
First get your 3 teaspoons of yeast going in a cup of warm water with 1/2 teaspoon of salt and sugar. Then add 2 3/4 cups of flour. I use a blend of whole wheat and bread flour. Adjust to your preferences. Pour in enough olive oil during a count to 8. Put in a KitchenAid with a dough hook for 3 minutes then massage, cover in olive oil and let it sit in a warm oven for an hour or so.
Then the fun begins.
Start with the meat substitute. Or use real meat if you are that way.
Meanwhile, I prepare the onions and jalapeño.
Next up is a large portobello and a couple of garlic cloves (not pictured).
Once all that is sauteed, time to assemble. Spread that dough and create a well of some depth to hold all the shit that's going on top.
The dough does on a base of corn meal, and then a layer of tomato sauce goes on the dough. Then the mozzarella.
The gloppy topping of fake meat, onion, garlic, and jalapeño go on top.
Then the Roma tomato. Bake at 450 for 17 minutes then add the fresh basil picked from your own garden. Garnish with a generous amount of parmesan cheese which we do NOT have tonight, and enjoy.
Put your three feet up and relax and watch a James Bond flick or something.
He wants to interview the one who jumped the stage at that Rod Stewart concert back in the day.
Damn, wouldn't that be a score. Does anyone know how I can find her? Is Lexus-Nexus good for that kind of thing? Or is it Lexis-Nexis, or Lexus Nexis, or Lexis Nexus?
Inquiring minds want to know. Meanwhile, I think I hear Deborah Harry.
Some of you know I've been wanting to learn Spanish for years and have never taken the dive.
Within the past week, I made a trip up to the corner store, Buddy's on Hwy. 290, to purchase a product to feed my severe nicotine addiction, and while I was buying, this dude comes in and addresses the clerk in Spanish (which is odd because I thought she was Indian since there was sitar music in the background), and she immediately and instinctively replied back.
Now, she was dealing with me in English, and her brain switched immediately.
What's really funny is that so did mine.
I heard their quick conversation in Spanish and my brain converted it to English in the wink of an eye, despite that I was also conducting a business transaction in English.
This incident was so profound to me, and so beautiful, and so global. I just don't understand why we can't all speak the same language while communicating, and praying, and worshiping, and politicking, in that other language.
When I lived in LA, my ear was trained for dialects, accents, and people who just struggled with English. You adapted.
It has been awhile since I've had the creative spark required to write a post of any substance whatsoever. Several events of the past few weeks have caused me to become very introspective. My 85-year-old mother's health is up and down with several visits to doctors in the past couple of months, and another one scheduled for next Monday.
My brother, who is 62, is saddled with a lot of debt and having his workshop and residence foreclosed upon this month. I have no idea what he's going to do. We've been doing a lot of communicating via email and I suppose there are things he wants to share since we're all getting older -- things like my grandfather being gay. That was a bit of a shocker.
My grandfather died while my mother was pregnant with me in late 1959. My brother would have been 12 at the time I guess. His first wife (he went through three of them) was my grandmother and during my growing up years, she was something of a magnet for gay men. Apparently, that was not something which just suddenly developed in the 1970s. It would have been interesting to have known my grandfather had he lived long enough for me to retain any memory.
My father was very much into photography and passed that hobby to both of his gay sons. He had a darkroom set up at our home for developing pictures which was quite a long and drawn out process involving the use of negatives, and then a light source to project the imagine onto special paper. The image was still not visible until it was placed in a tray of some noxious chemical liquid which would allow the image to develop on the paper. Once the image had reached the desired level, the paper was then transferred to another tray of liquid which would stop the developing process. The photo was then hung to dry and he'd move on to the next negative and repeat this process. This really makes me appreciate digital cameras although aesthetically, the quality of my father's black and white photos was astounding.
He would later purchase a slide projector and a projection screen and we all began buying color slide film which had to be shipped off to be processed. Through the years I snapped a lot of pictures. I took my camera on many trips to Europe and my one trip to Israel and Jordan and captured many slides.
A few years ago my brother gathered up all the dozens of boxes of slides which were stored at my mom's house and took them to his place. He bought a slide scanner and managed to get quite a few saved digitally by 2004 -- photos from the 60s and 70s, but none of my trips overseas yet.
I have been in a state of heightened anxiety about the fate of these slides now that my brother is facing eviction. Last week I was planning a drive to Arkansas to pick them up. Unfortunately my brother was going to be out of town on some work project so I had to cancel my plans. And in a way I was quite relieved at being excused from a 9-hour drive to Little Rock, and then another 3 hours the next morning to the northeast corner of the state. Instead, he's going to keep scanning while he's still living there, and presumably, will box everything else up and ship it on to me at the last minute.
Aside from all that, I've had some sporadic back pain which I know is partly caused by stress, and also by an improper seating arrangement at my desk (which has been corrected), and probably by a mattress which is not suitable for me. It cost quite a bit of money to improve my seating comfort while working. It may cost even more to improve my sleep situation. But hey, I spend 8 hours in the bed and another 10 hours at my desk. It would be money well spent to improve my life in those 18 hours a day.
Tater Tot and Sissy often sleep on the same bed and that's the only time he doesn't try to harass her. I'm surprised she'll even share a bed with him. Tot likes to sleep in a loaf position unless he's sitting in the sun, and then he'll stretch out.
Sissy is usually in a slut-sprawl when sleeping.
Meanwhile, Sweet Pea is wondering when I'm going to fill the bowl outside. I already did that twice this morning. He seems to eat about three times as much food when the weather is cool.
Happy Friday everyone! It doesn't even feel like Friday to me since I am taking today through next Tuesday as vacation days. I almost forgot I needed to perform my Friday pussy duties.
It just struck me today while I was on the bed having a bonding moment with my kitty that I could have been burned at the stake in the 1600s. And then I realized just how little the mentality of the fanatics has changed in the past 400 years. Amazing.
It gets worse. Notice in the next video how God seems to favor white people. Jesus was soooo white. Jesus.
Yep, the witch hunts have begun. Because, you know, we're after your children. We want to de-bone them for our winter stew. YUM YUM!
At $30, this is more than I typically spend on tequila since some of my favorites are quite fine and sell between $17 and $24. But this is new and organic! Some guy in Texas teamed up with a Scotsman in Mexico, found an organic distillery, and are marketing this as Republic Tequila. The bottle is shaped like Texas!
Last night's post was a prime example of where I tend to go, rant-wise, after an extremely depressing day at work in which my emotional state shuts down my ability to function. Throw some alcohol in the mix and away we go!
But now that it's out there, let's really discuss this. What has Bill Maher said or done that really pisses you off? Feel free to provide links in comments.
As I said to a Facebook friend this morning, Maher may indeed be a douche. I generally agree with the guy politically, and although I don't catch every Real Time broadcast, I do get a few laughs from it.
That being said, Maher can come across as quite full of himself. And that little laugh he does after he makes a funny can grate on my nerves. But I just can't quite picture him as fauxgressive "misogynist, transphobic, disablist wankstain" based on comments in one television interview.
And by the way, my first-impression interpretation of his comments was that he was referring to the worst fears of Glenn Beck's fan base. Oh well, 6 million viewers are going to walk away with 6 million interpretations. That's life.
Melissa said this about Glenn Beck today. No, she said it about Bill Maher.
Yeah,baby. Bring it on. Except that it's all a lie. You are nothing more than a Glenn Beck of the "progressive right."
Get with the program, dearie. Oh, do you mind if I call you dearie? I used to call you the lazy fat-assed bitch from hell, but I meant it humorously. That was before you crowned yourself, "Queen Cunt of Fuck Mountain."
Well, allrighteythen.
Seriously, this shit needs to be called out. And I'm doing it.
