Get shit done.

I woke up this morning to a FB post wherein someone referred to an article and erroneously concluded that because he didn't contribute to society, that was the reason he was single. (By the by, he's a government employee, providing an extremely valuable service.) The article's title piqued my interest (Six Harsh Truths That Will Make You A Better Person), but I was ready to discount it as just another random, unnecessary posting by Cracked, and a waste of my time. Still, I read on.

And damn...for a website that puts out some occasionally snarky and annoying and sometimes funny shit, this was one whopper of an article. I mean, wasn't this once a magazine that sold itself as a second-rate Mad Magazine? From such lowly dregs apparently come gems like this years later.

Here's the gist of this article: You know who gets shit done? People who get shit done. It's all nice and good if you're nice, or if you're talented, or if you're one of the beautiful people, or if you're charismatic, or if you have money, but at the end of the day, that's not what people are interested in. They want to know if you can get shit done. And if you can, awesome.

This was pretty much written from a business perspective, as far as I can tell. You could extrapolate it to many other areas in life, too. But I've learned this a number of times, the hard way, and it has stuck with me ever since.

Years ago, while working as a server at Good Earth in upper-crust Edina, MN, I occasionally interacted with another, more experienced server, who was basically a bitch. Could not stand her. Condescending, mean, brusque, and just not someone I cared to associate with. Also: a stickler for rules. She came in one morning for her shift, and she was scheduled to take over part of my section for lunch. A couple sat down in said part of my section not 45 seconds before her shift started, and despite my being slammed, she refused to help me out and take this couple. So I gritted my teeth and proceeded to do the best I could, all while beginning to nurse one poisonous grudge.
But I soon realized that despite her attitude, she always worked the busiest sections toward the front of the restaurant, never broke a sweat, and regularly pulled in two to three times the tips I did. My take-home: Diners didn't care that she was snippy. They cared that she was efficient and got shit done...and tipped her accordingly. I was much nicer, but somewhat bumbling - and never left the back of the restaurant. Nice is nice, but it won't pay the rent.

Fast forward to chiropractic school. In the mock patient visits, I was always told I had great patient rapport. But I sometimes forgot things here and there: not completing a full neurological exam, forgetting key or confirmatory orthopedic tests, not ordering the correct lab tests...the things that students often miss as they're learning and drinking out of a fire hydrant. But while I was working on those things, it was the students who had lesser bedside manner and didn't care much for niceties who did the right things and got the higher scores.

Years later, I'm still learning this lesson. People always compliment me on how nice I am, or how modest or unassuming I am, whether I'm in a professional setting or simply among friends. But again, that doesn't pay the rent. Being efficient and effective at your job does. And sometimes I fantasize about how great it would be to be an utter bitch who could really give a shit about anything other than getting shit done...and damn people's feelings in the process.

So I responded to this guy. Told him how much I thought the article was dead on. And he countered with a "woe is me...so according to this article, I should kill myself?" I slammed my head against the wall so hard I about gave the wall an aneurysm. And perhaps this isn't a perspective that will work for him. (Apparently, self-destructive hyperbole does work for him, though.) Nor did it for a friend of his, who maintained that love and caring and friendship was enough to make this world go round. Oh well. You can't reach everyone.

I guess I've become immune to the idea that love and flowers and rainbows and glitter is all you need. I mean, I've promised Mr. Man a very belated birthday cake. It was two days ago, and he began last night to gripe about how it hadn't materialized. The fact that I love him doesn't change anything for his expectations. I gotta get this damned cake made. And I'm not gonna enjoy making it...and I may even bitch about it. But he'll have his cake, as promised, and that will mean more to him than a platitude of "I love yous." At the very least, it'll be physical evidence to support my sentiments.

"There are three things I have learned never to discuss with other people: religion, politics, and the Great Pumpkin."

The newest religion has nothing to do with some supernatural, omnipotent and omniscient being. No God, no Tao, no Jesus, no Buddha, no Allah, no Mohammed, no Krishna, nothing. The newest religion is based on the worship of technology. To be more specific, it's the worship of computers and cell phones. And I find it utterly repugnant.

I'm SO lucky that I get to witness, firsthand, the evangelical furor with which guys* support their favorite company/platform/what-have-you. With equal passion, they decry the other side. We can bring it down to the polarity of Apple vs. Windows/Android. This largely occurs because I get to live with a guy who is a self-avowed tech geek, and who is firmly on the Windows/Android side of the divide. He says he can understand (begrudgingly) the appeal of Apple, but let's not fool anyone...he looks at those who love Apple products with utter disdain. And he has ample opportunity to express said disdain and get into conversations and arguments with believers on the other (read: evil) side of the schism.

When talking to people about this schism, I hear things like "Oh, he's drunk the Kool-Aid," "iPhone = Apple = the devil," "People who follow Apple...it's like they're in a cult," and the like. And I'm seriouslythisclose to expunge these people from my FB feed. True believers of all stripes, get thee behind me and begone!

*For whatever reason, I have yet to hear a single woman engage in this annoying conversation. Very wise.

Like A Prayer - Madonna

No, really. This happens to be one insanely awesome album, the best she's ever done. It doesn't contain what I consider her undisputable highs ("Holiday" and "Vogue"), but it's her most consistent. It lands right at the end of her coy boy toy phase, just before she began to indulge in hardcore Erotica and Sex. That confluence alone would make Like A Prayer an especially fascinating chapter in Madonna's chameleonic career. But she went another step and practically made a concept album out of it, with at least half of the songs dealing with Family, whether literal or figurative. To belabor the point: mother ("Promise to Try"), father ("Oh Father"), sisters and brothers ("Keep It Together"), children ("Dear Jessie"), lovers ("Love Song", "Cherish"), spouses ("Till Death Do Us Part")...you get it.

What Madonna does here, also more than with any other album, is bare her soul. Much has been made of her intense love and longing for her mother, who died when Madonna was five, and whom Madonna has emulated and idolized. You hear her feelings spilled out on the gorgeous and deathly serious "Promise to Try," full of swelling strings and deep piano. Her pain also bleeds through on "Oh Father," during which she invokes not just the pain her father inflicted on her, but the symbolic Father of her church as well. But arguably, her deepest pain comes during the frenetic "Till Death Do Us Part." Remove the lyrics, and you have what could almost pass for a happy pop song. But at the time, Madonna was going through tremendous relationship anguish with her then-husband Sean Penn, and the couple divorced shortly before Like A Prayer was released. If the rumors on the tabloids didn't spell out her troubles clearly enough, her lyrics sure did: After listening to "The bruises, they will fade away/You hit so hard with the words you say," it was hard not to feel guilty over reducing Sean and Madonna to a celebrity couple for our consumption and amusement.

On the lighter side, "Dear Jessie" is a sweet and whimsical pop confection sung to a little girl, all "pink elephants and lemonade...candy kisses and a sunny day." Who knew Madonna could be so endearing, guileless, and motherlike? There's no other song in Madonna's canon like it, and it's utterly delightful. And in the midst of so many relationships on the album gone wrong, "Cherish" celebrates a deep and fulfilling relationship gone right...beyond infatuation and even beyond romance into joyous hopes for a lifetime of solid love with her perfect man. (I must pause here: that video. WHEW...that video. Those perfectly muscled and gorgeous mermen. *sigh*) And if there is any song that still keeps one foot firmly planted in the '80s, it's "Keep It Together." With a funky bassline and awesome syncopation, the song could fit seamlessly in True Blue from three years before. But instead of yelling "where's the party?" or naively gushing that "love makes the world go round," she profoundly asserts: "Brothers and sisters...they hold the key to your heart and your soul...don't forget that your family is gold." So much for the lighthearted hedonism of her youth...she's beginning to grow up.

The best and most convincing message on Like a Prayer comes in the form of self-affirmation and women's empowerment with "Express Yourself." The version here is pretty lighthearted and celebratory, full of synthesized brass and hoots. You know Madonna has some hard-won wisdom when she sings "You deserve the best in life, so if the time isn't right, then move on! Second-best is never enough...you'll do much better, baby, on your own!" Pop seldom has such profound lyrics, so hearing this song on FM radio was a revelation. (The version on The Immaculate Collection is a good deal rawer and funkier, but both versions are equally effective and enjoyable.)

The two songs that bookend the album are also nearly mirror images of each other. I'd argue that the title song is actually one of the weaker songs here. Bouncing between hushed gospel choruses and the bold sounds Madonna is known for does not make for a convincing song. Having said that, check out that edgy video. And duh...we all know what she meant when she sang "I'm down on my knees/I wanna take you there." (Again, I have to point out the version on The Immaculate Collection, which is a vast improvement on the original; its insistent crescendo suits the mood perfectly.) But then you play the song backward, add in some wild guitar strangling and botched tongue-in-cheek Catholic prayers ("Who art all good/Like I knew you would/And deserving of all my love"), and you have the hilarious "Act of Contrition." It would be unfair to disclose how the song ends. Just listen to it.

Hell, just listen to the whole album. And buy it. Yes, it's kind of a relic from the '80s, but it's also damn near impeccable. I'm not the biggest Madonna fan - in fact, I find it hard to muster up much enthusiasm for the majority of her music - but this album really has to be heard.

I'd like to be positive...I just don't have the energy.

Things that really don't affect me, (despite everyone around me insisting that they do, or else they wouldn't be posting them on Facebook with such gravitas and insistence), and my admittedly asshole-ish responses.

• James Gandolfini - Really could care less. I never watched The Sopranos. Never had any desire to. My interest, passing as it was, with the Mafia began and ended with watching Goodfellas. Joe Pesci's "You think I'm funny?" scene was beyond chilling, but holy paregoric, Batman, I am forevermore turned off of "Layla" because of that neverending...uh...ending. And the movie was just fuckin' deathless. Anyhoo, the guy never did a thing for me. As my oh-so-compassionate dad would say, "We all die. It just happens. Move on." (Said most recently about my sister-in-law's mom dying suddenly of cancer, while said sister-in-law was still, understandably, grieving a few months later.)
• Paula Deen - A Southern woman being racist. Is this where I'm supposed to act shocked? Pass the butter, please.
• Another of my colleagues - First off, let me say that I'm a traitor to the cause, and my colleagues are becoming less and less my people every day. I've mentioned my annoyance with astrology and a certain doc's reliance on it for her life's direction (despite the fact that, yes indeed, I do fit the picture of a Pisces perfectly), but this post, with no context whatsoever, implying its universal application, just...I just can't. "Hang on to your haciendas. There is a huge energetic clearing afoot. Trade 'pushing through it' to surrendering to the moment today..."
• Still, anything bear-related - For me, this is the equivalent of girls/women looking at fashion magazines and the perfect models therein, and alternately desiring those bodies for themselves, and seething with jealousy, frustration, and self-loathing that no matter how they try, they will never be able to measure up. And yes, I am going to one of the biggest bear-related events of the year (a good friend is on this page, bottom center.) I have such mixed emotions about it. Anyhow, I see endless posts about this bear event, that woofy guy (worst term ever, by the way), this bear group, and I die a bit inside. How ironic that the bear community sprang from annoyance about big hairy guys not fitting into the clone/twink culture of the '70s and '80s. I'm closer to being a bear than a twink or a clone, but nope, it ain't me. I know, I know...breathe, breathe, you're perfect as you are, don't compare yourself to others, just be yourself...sometimes it ain't easy.

Maybe this means that I should spend less time on Faceplace, or just cull my friends more judiciously. Of course, the whole Gandolfini worship and anguish seems pretty endemic, so I'll just have to ride this one out.

The grumpy old contrarian strikes!

- I do not like David Sedaris.
- I do not like alcohol...at least, in huge amounts.
- I am a natural doctor who has little interest in nutrition.
- In particular, I hate pushing nutritional supplements.
- It is "brrr" when describing how cold you feel. Not "burrr." That's a misspelling of a thorn. So there.
- I hate Michelangelo Signorile. Simply because he has such an infuriatingly long, pretentious name that's hard to pronounce. And he insists on the full version, too. I don't care that he's a gay activist/writer. Of course he's gay. No one who's straight would go by "Michelangelo" nowadays, unless they're Italian.
- David Beckham can suck my left nut.
- And Victoria Beckham can rot for all I care. She's not worthy to suck either of my nuts.
- Not going to my 20 year high school reunion. The people all in charge of it were the people I abhorred back in the day. The pictures they're posting (particularly of 20 years ago) nauseate me. And if people really want to see how I'm doing, it's not like I'm hard to find online. (Only thing that may change my mind: if the Silver Skating Dame herself actually ends up showing up, but that's kinda doubtful. She keeps a pretty low profile online as well.)
- I'm not gluten free. And I won't go gluten free until I personally decide it's worth it, despite what the vast majority of my colleagues say.

Speaking of where my colleagues and I are concerned:
- I am NOT a fan of Breitenbush Hot Springs.
- I am not a fan of much that is new-agey.
- I HAAATE, with a withering hatred, The Four Agreements.
- I likewise hate the egomaniac Wayne Dyer. (Publishing an audiobook where you recite the Tao te Ching, then give your personal interpretation of it immediately pushes you into the realm of douchebaggery.)
- Many of my colleagues with whom I shared Portland for four years, believe that the sterile, often warehouse-like Powell's Books is the best bookstore in the universe. These ignorant, misguided dolts have never been to Tattered Cover here in Denver.

Obviously, you'll see more. Go ahead and judge me as bitter. So are you, deep inside. Give in to it. Cold pricklies are your friends.

Meow! Meow!

Oh, my legions of followers, I had to jump on the bandwagon. For the two of you with internet access who have yet to see this, set aside a leisurely 20 minutes to watch it. Then like a good thriller you can't put down, you'll be compelled to watch the second 20 minutes.

Folks, there's some major pathology there. Yes, obvious. Unrepentant delusion, solid and impermeable to reason as a concrete wall, is hard to come by even in this age of rampant mental illness. But these two nutjobs take the...uh...cake. (I did not mean to go there, I swear.) Halfway through the show, I was muttering to myself, "God, these people are a homeopathic case just waiting to be taken." And ten minutes later, I was all, "Oh HELL no." Who'd want to deal with these fucked up fantods?

Incidentally, I've known about the link between cats and mental disease in humans; it was, I believe, brought up in med school lo these many years ago. Or perhaps sometime later. (It's not that farfetched, really. Eccentric cat ladies, anyone? Anyone ever seen Grey Gardens?) And lots of research actually substantiates this now. It did not pass my observation that these wackadoos own three cats...and referred to them as their kids in cat costumes. And how the wife actually began meowing during the show? A big hint that she's not all there - if the unjustified aggressive attacking of their diners didn't tip you off to that before. I wonder how long the two of them have been this way, and wonder if there's a correlation between when they got their cats and when things started spiraling downhill. I mean, at one point, they did garner some rave reviews for their restaurant, but that was five years ago.

I'd be so curious to see if, indeed, these folks are infected with Toxoplasma, and if so, how an antiparasitic protocol would work for them. But don't expect me to be the one to either suggest the link or to recommend therapy. If it were to result in a restaurant turning around and succeeding, it might be worth a try. And if this is a confirmable case, I suddenly have much more pity in my heart for these two (I really hesitate to say "compassion" after seeing how they treat everyone around them) and much less incredulity.

RAPE CULTURE MUST DIE.

There. I said it. And I fully believe it, too.

I haven't been camping out at the Steubenville courthouse, so anything I hear has been second-hand, but the media aren't looking too good for making the boys out to appear victims. As well they shouldn't. As far as rape goes, that looked awfully premeditated and...well, isn't that the definition of "first-degree"? And yet again, the young woman was blamed for being...what? Overly seductive? Too much of a tease? REALLY? Have some respect - for yourself and DEFINTELY for her. Think about her family. Her friends. Her future. Think beyond your crotch and the next 15 minutes.

So. How not to annihilate rape culture: Exhibit A.

A good friend posted this tonight, and again, I agree with the sentiment. But GOD. As a man (and yes, I place myself in the company of all my brothers, straight and otherwise), this reeeeeallly rubs me the wrong way. Allow me to retort to certain of these 10 tips to end rape.

1. Don't put drugs in women's drinks? Fine. (Already biting my tongue to hold back the snark here.)
2. Got it. The next time I see a woman walking alone, I will leave her the HELL alone.
3. I will do my damndest to hold back my animal urges when I pull over to help a woman whose car has broken down. Actually, tellya what. I won't even bother pulling over. My animal urges might get the best of me.
4. I will make sure not to rape a woman if I happen to get in a lift/elevator and she's the only one there. In fact, I will just stay the hell away from her. Won't even get in the goddamned elevator. Who knows what awful impulse could come over me?
5. I will stay the HELL away from the window of a woman's house. I will stay the HELL away from a woman if she is anywhere near two parked cars. And I SURE AS HELL will not rape her.
6. I am so fucking stupid and violent that I can't keep from assaulting myself, let alone assaulting other people. I am the very embodiment of why the buddy system is so badly needed to protect the citizenry of our good society. Ya know, why don't you just arrest me on account of I may do something rash anyway. Probably better for all involved. Consider it a preemptive strike in the war against rape.

Okay. I can't go on. You see how twisted and perverse I get? This graphic is so incredibly demeaning and condescending and disrespectful and sexist that it just makes my skin curdle. Makes me want to have absolutely NOTHING to do with women. And it definitely makes me want to have absolutely NOTHING to do with anything rape-related. Including helping those who have been raped.

I know that my sentiments come across as infantile when compared to the very legitimate anguish that a rape survivor has to deal with for the rest of his (yes, I said "his"...it's not a crime exclusive to women) or her life. And I admit that I have my emotional funny bones - hit me in just the right spot, and you'll cause a deep, irrational, lingering response. This graphic does exactly that. This is NOT the way to address the issue of rape. It may be a way for women to get their anger and frustration out, but it's perilously close to counterproductive.

Reminds me once of seeing a woman on the college lecture circuit. She was incredibly brave to come forward and talk about her experience of being raped repeatedly one night in college. It was brutal to hear. It was also tremendously unnerving to hear how she had to muster up the courage to report to her RA about it. His response? Silence, at first. Then getting up from the chair, and punching a hole in the wall. Because that's what she really needed to experience after such a violent attack: another indirect form of violence.

Annihilating rape culture. As if that's something that could just be permanently and quickly erased. But here's a start. Once again, our man Hank here to save the day. Key quote: "To me, the problem that needs to be addressed is where in the information chain were the two offenders made to understand that what they did was not wrong on every possible level?" Another key, kickass quote: "...let young people understand that women have been kicking ass in high threat conditions for ages and they are worthy of respect." THAT'S what I'm talking about.

(No. Seriously. If you didn't click on Hank's link above, fucking click on it and read it in its entirety.)

"...and morally...uh...straight?"

Let it never be said, much to my chagrin, that I was ever a consistent blogger. I feel like perhaps I should do the hackneyed "answer one question every day for a month" routine, just to keep my quill semi-sharpened...and you, my adoring few fans, on the edge of your seats. On to the pithy stuff, shall we?

The new pope: Meh. I'm not Catholic, and only by the most tangential of tangents Christian. I should care exactly why? The whole thing reeks of an insanely ornate drag pageant, anyhow, with no links to the real world. The pope is the closest person to God? Please. I'm sure Jorge is a perfectly fine individual...in fact, on the surface, he looks infinitely better than Ratzinger ever did (not that that's a high bar to clear), but I just...Look. Much ado about nothing, in my book.

Retrograde Mercury: c'mon, people. Get realistic. It's a planet. Because a planet looks like it's reversed its course in the sky for a bit does not mean it's the cause of all manner of communication and/or transportation snafus that may occur at that time.

Boy Scouts of America has sent out a survey to pretty much everyone associated with them in re: how to wring their hands about the whole gay thing. Yours truly got the survey as well (I was an Eagle Scout), and you best believe I filled it out and sent it back. I had to laugh about the whole "is it okay for a homosexual to share a tent with a heterosexual" questioning. Well, it hasn't seemed to be an issue up to this point, and this sort of thing has been going on since...oh, since the beginning. We're just now out about it. Honestly, I'm glad the dialogue is taking place. I reiterate what I originally said about the potential ramifications of undoing DADT: if a gay boy/young man is coming on too much and disrupting the morale of others in their patrol/troop, then that's an issue that should be addressed by confronting said guy. If others are just really freaked out about OMG ONE OF TEH GAYZE IZ AMONGST US! AAAIIEEE!, then that's a whole other issue, and those guys need to sit down and ask themselves exactly why they are so freaked out. I expect that as time goes on, this will approach the level of non-issue. At least amongst the more rational of those associated with BSA.

Today's Grumpy Cat post brought to you by a mom who once thought - and bragged to her friends - that I read through the Bible three times. (Nope...not even once. Really not sure where she got that.) Also brought to you by the friends of mine who, despite their wits about them, still lean on astrology as a crutch (and believe that retrograde Mercury is the source of all their woes a few times a year). Finally brought to you by a fellow summer camp counselor back in the mid '90s who fantasized with me about just fleeing to Mexico together and shirking our duties as aquatics director and wilderness survival counselor...and who let on that to him, homosexuality was not an issue. (Still smacking my head over totally missing exactly what he was saying to me.)

More airport hell.

Lots of things I would do were I benign dictator of this country. Banning car alarms would be one. And this would be another:

To all those who do not go to airports often, THIS would be required reading before each trip. And to get a good idea of the resentment and outright anger caused by disobeying these most basic rules of courtesy and efficiency, THIS would be required listening. Oh, and a required signed disclaimer stating that any injury to one's person as a result of infraction of these rules is the injured person's responsibility only.

In a nutshell, standing on the left is an affront to my very German sense of efficiency (and I am a huge proponent of the motto "lead, follow, or get out of the way"), and if I bowl you over, you had it coming.

Oh, for STUPID.

And now, for your edification, an excerpt of an e-mail that a family friend sent to his family and friends the day after this year's election, and which my mother deemed worthy to send to the rest of the family.

I worry that we have lost the America that made us great. The vast, voting part of our population has decided that they would rather be taken care of than be responsible and rewarded for their hard work, individual initiative and success.
This is not a republican/democrat thing. Rather it is an assault on the very fiber of our countries founding principles... What made us the greatest country in the world. We have gradually slipped into mediocrity. We have 50% of our population paying zero taxes...and wanting even more freebies! How is that a good scenario??? For almost 100 years America has been the worlds protector. Now, as evidenced by what happened in Libya and the killing of our own soldiers by "friendlies" in Afganistan, we are no longer respected, revered and feared. And, it seems, as evidenced by the election, we don't even care.
We have reelected a President who will turn us into a socialist country, having no idea that it will spiral us into social oblivion. In the meantime , he will continue to spend more time and OUR money vacationing on airforce one Than any other President in history. we should be ashamed.
Perhaps I am just a fatalist worrywart, hopefully things will work out ok, and that America can become great again. For the benefit of all our growing kids, I hope and pray so!
 

Now, let me start by saying that I understand the worry. That first sentence is universal, particularly amongst those for whom the day after a bitterly contested election is full of regret, extreme disappointment, and fear for the future. I felt that acutely eight years ago, after our country re-elected whom many consider among the worst presidents in our nation's history. I went to bed early that night. Through the door crack, I heard that Bush took Ohio, and felt a deep pit in my stomach. I went fetal. And I woke up the next morning full of regret, extreme disappointment, and fear for the future. (And I still have yet to forgive Ohio for that...with apologies to my friends who do live in Ohio.)

And there ends my defense of this e-mail. On to the scission.

"The vast voting part of our population has decided that they would rather be taken care of..." This is pure right-wing demoralizing bullshit, tainted with fear and loathing, and smeared on the wall with broad strokes. I heard it for years growing up, often pointed at me for being lazy and not working hard, and being totally irresponsible. There are few things less attractive than condescension from an ivory tower and assuming that because people are not doing well, that they would rather be taken care of instead of working hard. (I prefer the latter myself.) Also? The "vast voting part of our population," I assume, means "those who voted for Obama." From an electoral vote standpoint, yes, 332 to 206 is a pretty solid defeat. But the popular vote is - as of this writing - roughly 2.5%, among the smaller margins in presidential election history. And I'd argue that the vast voting part of our population decided to believe in a country that does not "take care of them" (Republicanspeak for "coddle them into uselessness"), but rather provides opportunities for them to succeed. That, I would argue, transcends party lines.

"We have gradually slipped into mediocrity." Depends on the benchmarks by which you define mediocrity. (Non-sequitur: here's a brillant excerpt from one of my fave shows, The Newsroom.) Economically, I'd unfortunately agree...but the question of why divides me from this writer. From a social standpoint, though, we've made leaps and bounds over where we have been. There have been many periods of economic prosperity throughout the 20th century: the 1920s, the 1950s, the 1980s, even the 1990s. But accompanying the first part of the century was stifling social and often political conservatism, replete with very narrow standards of propriety. My parents look back, in particular, on the 1950s as an era to emulate. Everyone knew their place. Everyone functioned efficiently. And our country was full of civic pride. (At least, that was the facade.) I could go on about the 1950s and how "perfect" it was. But I think the majority of Americans suffered quite a bit under this facade. And I am certain the majority of Americans now would chafe under its sexism, racism, and homophobia. At any rate, economically, we ebb and surge. And you could argue that there are strong elements of bread and circuses in society nowadays, which I find highly unfortunate. But socially, we are far from mediocre; indeed, we continue to improve every day. (The writer would probably demur...his vision of a perfect America fades more and more into the sunset each day. And I've debunked that vision.)

"We have 50% of our population paying zero taxes." Oh HELL no. Hold my weave while I go medieval on this one. I'm sure what this writer meant was "zero federal income tax." So sez the Heritage Foundation. No talk about state or local income tax, to say nothing of sales tax. The implication is that 50% of the population is not contributing their fair share. Speaking of not contributing a fair share, show me a person paying no taxes, and I'll show you a corporation earning many times more than that person, yet also paying no taxes. How many corporations like to take advantage of loopholes and contort themselves into avoiding taxes? Many more than I'd like to think of...but the amount of money that could be pumped into our economy if these corporations actually did pay their fair share would be staggering...and would bring us out of a deficit and into unquestionable prosperity. I look at corporations that shirk their duty to contribute their fair share to America as destructive, unpatriotic, and un-American. To contribute to the infrastructure, stability, and growth of a country by contributing a portion of earnings to the body that governs it is patriotic. (Obviously, within reason. It is entirely possible to contribute a significant share of profits and still remain profitable. I adhere to the Elizabeth Warren school of thought.)

"For almost 100 years America has been the worlds (sic) protector." Said as if that's something to be proud of. And perhaps it is. Sorry, but I tend to be a bit more...um...hmm. "Isolationist" is too strong of a word. Let's just say that I don't think America needs to fulfill that role. We've got plenty of problems at home to deal with. Which leads me to the next point...

Afghanistan. My grandfather spent years and years after retiring from the army (as a brigadier general) in Afghanistan and Pakistan, fascinated by the culture and society, and working to defend it from the then-Soviet Union. His experience was that as soon as the Soviet Union dissolved, and the respective countries began to address their own issues, the unity that Afghanis and Pakistanis had against their Soviet enemies also dissolved. These countries are largely composed of smaller social groups that have historically always fought and killed each other, often in the service of honor and vengeance. Here's the idea: You killed my father, therefore I am bound to honor the memory of my father to wreak vengeance and kill you. Easy to see how this self-perpetuates into perpetuity. In my grandfather's opinion, outside influence could help decrease this violence, but could not address the centuries-long vengeance that dictates so much of their culture. The sooner we get out of Afghanistan, the better.

"We have reelected a President who will turn us into a socialist country..." *groan* Highly, highly unlikely. Where's the evidence? Obamacare? Individual mandates? The policy that the Heritage Foundation began endorsing back in the day? The policy that Romney - that socialist Commie pinko - spearheaded successfully in his home state? Yeah, that one. Nope, sorry. Try again. If not Obamacare, then what else? Where's the evidence? I see none.
Incidentally, naming Obama a socialist is a hairsbreadth from outright racism...the hatred behind it is the same. Only racism isn't as politically correct nowadays. You can accuse others of being un-American and get away with it more easily. Of course, racist anti-Obama sentiment is still insanely easy to find. Just not quite as visible.

"...he will continue to spend more time and OUR money vacationing on airforce one Than any other President in history." (all sic) How do you back this up? How can you predict this? If the issue is wasting money and time on vacation instead of fulfilling duties as this nation's president, then God, this is an easy issue to address, particularly for those who love Dubya.

I'm not a particularly political individual, but sometimes you have to respond to ignorance when it hits close to home. My work here is done for now. I've a life to lead.

Good God, North Carolina...

Really? What the everloving fuck?

The language of Amendment One in North Carolina, passed today: "Marriage between one man and one woman is the only domestic legal union that shall be valid or recognized in this State.” Hmm...think about that. A "domestic legal union." This basically means that not only would same-sex gay & lesbian unions would not be legal, but any sort of common law living arrangements (and the benefits appertaining thereto) would also not be legal. Never mind that there is already a law banning same-sex marriages. The fucktards in NC decided that wasn't enough. Now, this law pretty much undermines some domestic violence protection, screws with child custody issues, and - yes, that most visible of rights - curtails hospital visitation privileges. Way to preserve the sanctity of good old-fashioned one man-one woman Christian marriage (because of course, there's only one kind, right?) and ensure the stability of society.

Of course, the fact that many people didn't understand what they were voting for didn't help matters, either. Gotta love those informed voters.

About five years ago, I attended a cousin's wedding in Fayetteville. The minister, douchenozzle that he was, saw fit to insert some political comment during the blessing about how a marriage should only be between a man and a woman. Were I not surrounded by loving and supportive family (and loving and supportive of my cousin's marriage myself), I would have stood up and stomped out of that church posthaste. As loudly and obtrusively as possible. Just infuriated me.

Now, because I can be a cruel-hearted and vindictive bitch, if I lived in North Carolina, and were a law enforcement official of some sort, I would gleefully enforce this law to its fullest extent, making damn well and sure that those who voted for it and failed to understand its ramifications would be punished to the fullest extent of the law for their ignorance. Of course, for those who voted against it, I'd feel pretty heavy-hearted and frustratingly duty-bound to follow through with state-mandated responsibility, dragging my feet the entire way.

The requisite disclaimer: I have plenty of family and a few friends who hail from North Carolina (see above). With a possible exception (and even then, I kinda doubt...), I know for a fact all of them would have voted against this hateful amendment. A few of them even went out of their way to campaign against it, which I'm grateful for. So I can't make a blanket statement on how all North Carolinians are ignent and hateful.

Still...way to go, North Carolina. Congratulations on becoming this nation's newest hate state. (Said with mockery from another erstwhile hate state...which incidentally, at this very hour, is coming awfully close to making civil unions legal.)

=====

UPDATE: Check that. Apparently, when you have a Republican-controlled House, they see fit to filibuster this bill until the midnight deadline, and you don't have room to gloat. Once again, on the wrong side of history.)

"Tim Tebow is not a religious symbol."

...so don't write about him using religious imagery, alright?

Good sweet godforsaken Jeebus in a frozen pillbox, people. I am SICK of it.

I've already written about the phenomenon that is Tim Tebow before. I was repulsed before, and I am utterly sick to my stomach now. Because I live in Denver, I get to read headlines once a week about this boy. Sometimes more, because, well, now his very un-Christian way of showing his Christianity at the end of games or in the end zone has become something of a national phenomenon, no longer simply a local thang. But everyone loves him. A friend of mine (whom, yes, I have also written about before) actually has Tebow's name written backwards as his middle name on Facebook, so deep does his enthusiasm go. And I throw up in my mouth a little whenever I see it.

People, this is making me about as nauseated as it did to have to handle eight years of having to utter the phrase "President Bush." And that, my fellow Americans, was well-nigh intolerable. (Ohio, I hold you and your, uh, questionable voting/counting methods in '04 responsible. I don't care you voted Obama in '08...we didn't need you after all the votes were tallied. Send my regards to Pennsylvania, Indiana, and Virginia for that one.)

Now I've heard it all. Tebow is...oh, God, I can barely bring myself to type it. Suffice it to say that I got this from Fox Sports. (See? Why am I even reading this tripe? Fox Sports? That should be kryptonite to me. But there it was, and my addled mind chose to read the article. Effective headline, though: "Tebow might be a true revelation"; it sickened me and made me want to read more.)

Okay: here's the quote.

"Tebow’s birth — a product of his mother’s faith and refusal to listen to doctors advising her to abort — might very well have been a religious miracle."

Great. The last thing we need is for our ailing football franchise - because that's really the most important thing here, to support our local sports team, right? - is for the latest golden boy to be branded a religious miracle because his parents did not abort. Regarding this situation, Tebow is the product of some dedicated and stubborn parents who wanted to keep their child, damn what the doctors said. And that he turned out alright is certainly much to their credit. And from a Whitman/Emersonian standpoint, yes, life is a miraculous thing, no sarcasm intended. But c'mon, people. A religious miracle? That goes about 100 steps too far.

But that's not all. Let's go one sentence previous.

"He’s a shrine to the power of a strong, committed, passionate two-parent upbringing."

A shrine!? Someone stop me before I slap this sports columnist silly. The point here is that Tebow's success is because he had two parents (heterosexual, bien sûr). The comparison is to other QBs like Michael Vick (that paragon of perfection who should still be serving time, and someone whom I sincerely hope karma will address at some point). Apparently, Vick limped along in a single-parent home, and that's why he fails. Tebow was lucky (no, sorry, my fellow Christians. You're right. Luck doesn't exist. It's blessed) blessed enough to have two parents. But seriously? That's the reason for his success? Dude, let me take you aside. (I reserve my "Honey, honey, honey, what's all this?" Karen Walker routine for my fellow gay boys. "Dude" makes more sense here.) There are millions upon millions of people here who were fortunate enough to grow up in two-parent families. I'm sure lots of quarterbacks, too. And I'd imagine that the vast majority of those QBs aren't bringing football teams back from ignominy. The vast majority of children raised by two parents aren't making headlines because of their successes. So don't ascribe Tebow's success to that. And STOP with the religious imagery, and do NOT call him a shrine or a miracle. Because everytime you do that, even God spits up in His mouth a little.

At least no one spilled a drink on me, right?

How to feel like Martha Dumptruck:

• Go out on the town to do karaoke.
• Forget to tell friends you're going out.
• Find out that the bar you went to suddenly has a vastly different crowd.
• Don't drink. (Alcohol, that is.)
• Pick one of the most middle-of-the-road, boring songs you can think of to sing.
• Sing it...ah, okay-like. Not fabulous.
• Get tired of the spot.
• Leave and go to another karaoke spot...this one at a watering hole with an established clientele.
• Order more non-alcoholic drinks, and get the eye (not the good kind) from the bartender.
• Feel sheepish, and order what you think is the smallest dessert on the menu to ease your qualms.
• Freak out when you get a behemoth of a dessert. (Yes, you do have to eat it all, says your inner Jewish mom.)
• Sing "Miss Chatelaine" by k.d. lang. In her register.
• Once you're done, have the drag queen who is hosting ask you where you tucked your balls. (Let me reiterate: a drag queen is asking you this.)
• Walk off and finish eating your huge slice of cake.
• Notice that only one other person there seems to be eating, and it's rabbit food.
• Did I mention no friends around? At all.

At least I can take solace in the fact that eventually, Martha ended up spending a fun evening of movies and popcorn with Veronica. Self-effacement, sweetie darlings. I do it all for you.

Seel-yeh Beer-ghee-teh?

(Prompted by a college classmate's recent posting about the birth of her first daughter.)

If you're announcing the girl's name, and then you immediately have to post a pronunciation guide for both the first and the middle name, you FAIL. When your daughter grows up, she will harbor resentment toward you in a special place in her heart. Go back to baby-naming 101.

(Incidentally, what does it mean that I, who most likely will not have kids, have such strong opinions about baby names?)

"Le roi est mort, vive le plutocratie."

Oog. Being sick sucks. I saw two patients this morning, both pretty involved and really cool cases. But toward the end of the second one, it quickly became apparent that I was running on fumes. I had to head home, and man, when you're sick, it really sucks to have a 45-minute commute. *ducks to avoid heavy metal objects thrown at head* I know lots of you out there have longer commutes, but for Denver, this is quite the big deal.

And now, the news...

Those of you in FB Land who have friends who tend to lean to the left and post their predilections for all to see have undoubtedly received this beauty over the past day or so:

Remember when teachers, public employees, libraries, Planned Parenthood, NPR and PBS crashed the stock market, wiped out half of our 401Ks, took trillions in TARP money, spilled oil in the Gulf of Mexico, gave themselves billions in bonuses, and paid no taxes? Yeah, me neither. Pass it on!

Pretty stinging indictment, this. Well, at least on paper or on your screen. Pithy, accurate, brilliant. Sure, it'll make people think. But in the long run, will it make much difference?

I don't think many people would argue that our country is in awful shape. Bloggers EVERYWHERE are commenting about it. Hell, Roger Ebert recently penned a brilliant, if devastating, look at the inequality of wealth distribution in our plutocracy. And you thought (well, actually, I did think) that he mainly reviewed movies and such. (Oh, you hadn't heard? Democracy in America is dead, folks.) The thing that really makes this awful is the fact that it doesn't matter where you land on the political spectrum...most likely you think our country is going down the wrong path. I myself tend to lean left, and as such, get the humor when, say, The Onion marks the occasion of the death of the American Dream, or when Steven Colbert blasts Jon Kyl for saying that Planned Parenthood devotes 90% of its resources to abortions (margin of error: 87%.) But it's devastating to know the truth or the sentiment behind these stories. Also, folks on the right are just as pissed...witness the rise of the phenomenon that rhymes with "Me Farting." And I feel about like I did when I was reading the writings of Soviet era dissidents in college...just an inescapable sense of hopelessness, that nothing can change for the better.

In my mind, the last time we had such a volatile political landscape was in the 1960s. Speaking from the POV of someone who was never there, I still get the feeling that there was some really strong idealism there that tempered it somewhat. I may be wrong. But I sure don't see any evidence of idealism or hope from either side, aside from Obama's slogan. The Tea Party is primarily reactionary; I don't think they have thought through what they stand for as much as what they stand against. But they do seem to be accomplishing some things. As for the political left, all I seem to read about is how disorganized and weak the Democrats are, kowtowing to the Republicans and Teabaggers.

On a more personal level, over the past four years, I have borne close witness to five bills in our state legislature, all for great causes, being struck down by...well, by the Teabaggers (and their libertarian forebears). I've seen how a bill becomes a law (or doesn't), and it ain't NOTHING as appealing or fun as Schoolhouse Rock would have us believe. I really would rather watch sausage being made. And this is incredibly dispiriting. The days of Jimmy Stewart, ever the cockeyed optimist, going to Washington to stand up for the common man, are so far away they might as well be gone. If I'm thinking like this now, you KNOW I don't ever want to be involved in politics ever again.

Let me continue my descent into the void. We're in the land of bread and circuses, and have been for decades now; I defy anyone to prove otherwise. But it's particularly tough when the circuses take the form of some hilarious but stinging satire, broadcast to millions, with at least part of the goal being to rile up the masses...and nothing happens...at least to my eye.

One last thing: Teabaggers are all up in arms about how Obama is trying to turn our country socialist. It hasn't happened, folks, and it probably won't. But I'll repeat what I said up above: while our economy is still functioning, we have lost all semblance of democracy. THAT is what I think is the true tragedy. If we did have a democracy, the asshole bankers of Wall Street (to point a finger at a salient target) would be brought to justice and punished severely for their actions. Nope. They're protected by their millions and millions. I would SO love to run across one of 'em by happenstance at some point and go all Steven Slater on their sorry ass.

And in the meantime, Thomas Jefferson is turning in his grave something awful.

Of fools and kings...

...and I think we "fools" in this case might be smarter than the kings.

(Or: rants about the inability of our fucking government to repeal a stupid, stupid law, despite all evidence showing that it should.)

Now, I ain't no politico. (Imagine me as an armchair warrior, saying that with a good Southern drawl, slow and deliberate.) I seldom get riled up over politics. I usually keep my head down, and don't talk about things over which, aside from voting in this (har-de-har-har) democratic nation, I basically have very little control. But this is a fucking travesty.

As one of my friends put it, only in America can a 17-vote majority not pass legislation. I'm talking, of course, about Don't Ask Don't Tell. (There's a seldom-mentioned third part to that: Don't Pursue, but meh...niggling details, right?) Didn't pass today by a vote of 57-40. (Needed 60 to pass.) Gadamighty, but I am so disillusioned by our gummint. Indulge me in some no-solution spleen-venting, m'kay?

I have no desire to be in the military, nor have I ever. But I do have a great deal of respect for the men and women who live and work in service to our country in one of the most honorable ways I know. Soldiers put themselves in harm's way regularly. They do what they can to protect our country and preserve the stability thereof that helps to ensure a pretty damned productive society. I like the statement, overblown though it may be in some cases, that soldiers write a blank check to the nation for the total up to and including their lives. Quite true.

Not gonna go that much into the extra sacrifice that gay men and lesbians make. We all know it. Under DADT, they can't tell the truth about who they are and what, at a very core level, defines them. They live a lie so they can serve their country. Being honest about who they are places them at risk of being discharged. It also places them at significant risk of being harassed, physically and otherwise, although that's decreasing day by day as we're becoming more visible and more accepted.

But here's what really galls me. Despite such overwhelming evidence that out gay men and lesbians do not pose a risk to a unit's morale and ability to function; despite a recommendation by the motherfucking PENTAGON, for crying out loud, that DADT should be repealed; despite a majority of servicemen and servicewomen who believe that DADT should be repealed; despite a majority of Americans who believe that DADT should be repealed, it remains intact due to the asshattery of Congress.

If I ever met John McCain (thanks to Sarah Silverman, I know his name rhymes with "shit stain"), I'd spit in his face. Hypocrite that he is, he originally stated that he would go with whatever recommendation the Pentagon handed down regarding DADT. I'm sure he did that figuring that such a conservative, old-guard entity would never recommend anything other than maintaining the status quo. Well, oops. Now with this recommendation, he's been making flippy floppy and leading the charge to keep DADT intact. He's stated that more research needs to be done, more thought needs to be put in, and it shouldn't be repealed. He's even gone so far as to say that the recommendation is that DADT can be repealed, but the recommendation doesn't say it should. Good God. Get me a battleaxe.

With this position, McCain is saying that we should continue to accept convicted felons into the military to serve our nation, however warped they might be. But out gay men and lesbians, regardless of how morally upright they might be, or how powerful, or intelligent, or diplomatic, or dedicated, or self-sacrificing, or honorable they might be, should not hold a position in our military, and if found out, should be discharged. In essence, gay men and lesbians (assuming they are not felons themselves) hold a lower status in the military than felons.

He's also saying that the priority should be placed on discharging out gay men and lesbians, regardless of the position they hold, or of the scarcity of their talents. Witness the soldier whose fluency in a number of Middle Eastern languages, and subsequent value as an intelligence expert, was trumped by who he's attracted to. Never mind that there was no one nearly as qualified as he was to do his job. Never mind that his expertise - which I'm sure came in pretty handy about 5 years ago - was judged inconsequential when placed beside his orientation. And especially never mind that the end result of this could have contributed to a breach of security in our country, no matter how small. (He and over 13,000 other soldiers were discharged because of DADT. How's about THAT for a loss of valuable men and women who would otherwise protect our country?) McCain and his fellow blithering idiots believe that we should just plain get rid of the queers.

Other stupid-asses who have made it into holding public office believe that gay men are, across the board, wispy little fairies with limp wrists and who can't hold their own physically. Or at least that's what they say publicly. (Pandering to their constituents?) I'd love to invite them to some of the gay bars I frequent and show them the guys there - physically daunting, huge in some cases, who are awfully muscle-bound and know how to use their muscles. I'd love to introduce them to the gay men I know who are - right now - serving our country faithfully and loyally (one of them out, no less), and whose compatriots consider them tremendous assets. I'd love to show them gay men who don't know the first thing about flaming, and wouldn't know how to flip their wrists convincingly if their lives depended on it. But they could certainly handle an M-16 if given the proper training.

Oh, and of course, there's the argument that gay men are all ravenous sex machines who would try to come on to straight men if they were placed in close quarters together. Please. Soldiers - regardless of orientation - are there to do a job, and they know it. Straight men have largely proven that they can function in the field with women without disrupting morale. If a straight man is that insecure about a gay man potentially coming on to him, he needs to address why he's so insecure. (To be fair, if a gay man ends up coming on to a straight man and it does interfere with morale, then disciplinary action should be taken.) (Another non-sequitur: one of my favorite ways to totally deflate straight guys who think I'm checking them out: "Don't flatter yourself." Catches 'em off-guard every time.)

I'm done.

DADT MUST GO. NOW.

"...a cross between MC Hammer and The Beverly Hillbillies Grandma..."

Michael Kors is a treasure. Even when you take away his contributions to fashion. His witticisms are simply brilliant. This blog title just happened to be his best one yet this season of Project Runway. I also have a soft spot for "barefoot Appalachian Li'l Abner Barbie."

There's being catty for the sake of fun, you guys. But yeesh! Who pissed in the judges' bowls of Bitchy Bits this time? Duchess L'Orange (aka Kors) looked like he'd just had his teeth scraped with a rusty metal hasp, and Nina Garcia (aka Meana Garzilla) looked next in line for the torture. And it didn't help that this TV season's ice queen extraordinaire, January Jones (aka Mrs. Betty Francis) was on line to help with the executions. Nope...no wacky Milla Jovovich here. Not even Frau Seal was friendly. Interrrupting a designer trying to discuss his dress just to say you're about to lose it laughing because he was so way off the mark (even though he was so way off the mark) is just plain rude. (Thus saith the king of run-on sentences.) There must have been some gawdawful disaster backstage before taping began, and I cannot wait to hear what it was all about during the reunion show.

And on the flip side: let's hear it for the hometown boy! Team Mondo! He's bound for Fashion Week, kids. Mark my words. He and Gretchen and...well, I would have said Valerie before tonight, and I do adore her, but she's slipped a few too many times now for me to be so confident in her. That third spot's up for grabs by this point.

=====

And now for some completely depressing things: this was the front page of MSN.com tonight. This stupid-ass self-pity party. And directly underneath it, this latest attack on the sacred institution that is marriage. Seriously, you guys, if gay men were to try and bring marriage down, I don't think they could come close to what this monstrosity is proposing. We just want some simple legal rights and some tax benefits awarded to our straight brothers and sisters that we don't have. Meanwhile, brides-to-be are using this show not for finding the man of their dreams and pledging eternal love, but as a means for getting the lipo they've always wanted. Seriously. Another nail in the coffin of meaningful marriage, y'all.

And the worst of it all: total, endemic lack of confidence. Well, at least small business is doing among the, uh, least bad of them all. Huzzah for the small business owner. (Yes, that's me patting myself on the back.)

Generic blog title about misspelling.

Yeah, I'm a lazy, uncreative bum. And I let others do the work for me. Put a sock in it. I shoveled a foot of the wettest, gloppiest snow of the season off our driveway for over an hour today and had a craptacularly useless day otherwise.

So.

Now that we all are clear on my emotional state, let's move on to indulge more of my supposed moral superiority where language is concerned, shall we? Check out this beauty. Anything that references hemorrhoids in the battle against spelling "lose" wrong is golden. And here is the whipped cream on top: "If you put an "A" in "definitely," you're definitely an A-hole." Bonus points for offering up this advice as a poster you can purchase.

Ahh...sweet balm to the soul...

Henry Rollins - Airport Hell

Henry Rollins rules. Over everyone. At least when he's opening his mouth and spewing some of the most razor-sharp commentary on popular culture you'll ever hear. I ain't much a fan of his music; he's way too heavy-handed, and there isn't much fun to be had with his tunes. Even Weight, his band's most critically-lauded album from 1994, was a bit harsh. But put him in front of an audience without a band, and just tell him to GO!, and he will deliver. He'll make you think, but beyond that, damn, will he make you laugh.

I'm at the airport right now, and although I don't travel as much as the peripatetic Rollins, I totally get his skewering of the whole airport scene. When people go to the airport, their IQ does plummet 40 points. Any sane, rational human being gets this, and some prepare accordingly. But others are just too stupid to understand the simplest of concepts.

For example, the metal detector. "What does a metal detector detect? Me-tal," he imbecilically points out, along with the rest of his amused audience. But who doesn't get it? The old man with a janitor's keychain and a month's supply of laundry quarters in his pockets who has to run through the metal detector three times. Apparently, the rules don't apply to him. Or how about showing your ID and boarding pass? How simple is this? Have it in hand. Answer the security questions quickly. Drop off your bags. And move along to the gate. Total time elapsed should take no more than one minute. Two, tops. But some dig in their pockets, trying to find these most essential of objects. And of course, this happens after standing impatiently in line, doing nothing. But the worst part? "Where are these people standing?" Rollins seethes. "In front of ME!" Naturellement.

Rollins continues with the sarcasm, longing for the day when there is a "sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up" light in the plane, and fantasizing about slamming through people who sag on the side of the moving walkway, hurtling them into the air and sending carry-on bags flying, scattering papers and undergarments everywhere. But until then, he still has to deal with the idiots who fail to grasp the simplest of concepts.

Sure, there's simple yelling and spleen-venting that goes nowhere. But Hank has a very worthy point. These people who stand in front of him, acting stupid and wasting time, are slowly killing him. What little life we have on this planet, he reasons, is far too valuable to spend in line, an unwitting victim of the inanities of others. This from a guy who had to dodge bullets in gang shootings back in his heyday with Black Flag. But he also saw one of these shootings result in the death of one of his best friends, right in front of him. Rollins knows whereof he speaks.

Really, any of Hank's spoken-word stuff is brilliant. The older he gets, the more incisive he gets, the more expressive his dead-on impressions of old fragile women or teenage skater punks. One of his most daring of monologues, from the album Big Ugly Mouth, is a cryptically-titled "Touch and Go," wherein he extols the virtues of beating off. As a twenty-something dude. To fellow twenty-something dudes and their girlfriends. Yipes. It takes major balls to talk about that onstage for nearly ten minutes at a time in your life when merely admitting that you beat off is just asking to be ridiculed. The Boxed Life is even more brilliant; though I haven't heard it for years, it was a staple during my stint as a college radio DJ. But the most hilarious stuff I've yet heard accompanies "Airport Hell" on Think Tank. He debunks homophobia (while convincingly explaining why he's not gay despite continual rumors), relives the stupidest thing he ever did onstage ("I just kicked my own ass!"), explains how he'd persuade nations like Iraq not to fuck with us (starting with executions during televised sports events like the Super Bowl), wants to rename El Nino "the First Four Black Sabbath Albums," and wrings tears in a parable about a teenager with terminal cancer who, as his last wish, wanted to just spend some time with Rollins himself. Honestly, the whole double-album should be required listening for...well, at the very least, for anyone reading this blog. If nothing else, a few more people would pull their heads out of their asses and act a bit smarter at the airport.

"I swear with God as my witness, I will never pick up another man!...in a library...on a Saturday...unless he's cute...and drives a nice car. Amen."

Okay. So I was never one of these guys who got into the Golden Girls back in the day. Just didn't appeal to me. It was only years later, after coming out, that I realized second-hand just how big a touchstone GG was to so many gay men. And it kinda makes sense. The foursome exhibit, collectively and individually, traits that we boys enjoy. There's the self-confessed, uh, sexually generous one (Rue McClanahan/Blanche), the outspoken one who doesn't put up with bullshit of any sort (Bea Arthur/Maude...er, I mean Dorothy), the nice one who is just a bit ditzy for her own good (Betty White/Rose), and the ornery one who just lets her trap fly, and damn the consequences (Estelle Getty/Sophia). Still, it doesn't really appeal to me that much. Sit me down and force me to watch an episode? Sure. But I won't go out of my way to watch it.

Then again, I may have to reconsider. I may have missed something wonderful. Apparently, not only are Blanche, Dorothy, Rose and Sophia all lots of fun to watch, they are responsible for having recruited and seduced many young influenceable boys to the dark side back in the 1980s. At least, so sez Stephenson Billings, a right-wing Christian and probable closet case who writes for ChristWire.org.

Ho boy, do you have to read this article. Seriously, I'm amused and confused by it. I can't tell whether he's serious, or whether he's parodying the right wing Christian wackos who are suffering some sort of mental condition. If he's serious, then oblivious self-mockery was never so luscious to behold. Here's some fun tidbits from the article, for those of you who just don't have the time and/or attention span:

• "The Golden Girls television program was never much to look at. A foursome of Florida geriatrics getting agitated about pharmacy bills and shoulder pads - who could ever find such a thing interesting?" How about the author? He wrote over 1500 words about this show and believe me...he has a pretty good grasp on some of its arcana.


• "Our lonely boys...slender, unathletic children...were left out of the fun militarism of the Reagan years." I'm sorry, but I just don't reach this guy. How is militarism fun?


• "The show lit a match which enflamed their intense physical urges. With the utmost cruelty and immorality, the Golden Girls seized upon this opportunity to cross the hormonal wires of America's lost generation." Um, I think this guy is confusing this show with porn. But let's follow his convoluted logic, shall we?


• "When the rush of cheesecake and gabfests wore thin, these hairless boys needed a harder thrill...same-sex experimentation. What woman would have them now, anyway?" Um, maybe dumb women who don't know enough to avoid getting into self-defeating relationships with gay men? Or those who misguidedly think they can change them around. In the words of Henry Rollins, if you were gay and someone straight came up to you and said, "I can turn you around," don't you think you'd be REALLY certain of your sexual orientation at that point?


• "This led to the worse [sic] excesses of early homosexual visibility - the most enormous of drag queens, the dirtiest of leather daddies, the most enticing of twinkie boys, androgyny, overeating, public sex, and the birth of "camp." Dear God, where to start? That's quite a compliment, honoring the Golden Girls with being the fount from which all these aspects of gay culture sprang. But let's step back, shall we? Let's touch on just a few of these. Drag queens? Been around forever and ever - both enormous and tiny. They kicked off Stonewall, and quite honestly, every queer individual of every stripe owes a debt of gratitude to them. Leather daddies? Oh yeah, I can see where homespun, wholesome Rose Nylund inspired guys to don biker's caps, tight, tight leather pants, and put on a hypermasculine persona. Nothing to do with Marlon Brando in The Wild One or Tom of Finland's illustrations. Nothing whatsoever. Overeating? Oh yeah, that cornerstone of gay culture. Must have been all that cheesecake. If it weren't for us gay boys, the Cheesecake Factory would be kaput. And the birth of camp? Seriously? Um, go back to (at LEAST) 1930s Berlin, where cabaret shows were all the rage. There is where camp enjoyed a rampant heyday, if not its actual birth.

See, I feel stupid having to explain these things. I feel like I'm teaching a fifth grader for the millionth time that 2+2=4.

One more thing: How about his accusations of leather daddies and flaming queens who "attack with the swiftness of a ninja," then head off "groping someone's son in a Sears lavatory"? Ya know, this equating homosexuality with pedophilia has to STOP. We gay men aren't interested in boys. We're interested in men.

I have to stop. I can't stoop to this guy's inanity anymore. It's kinda useless for me to mock him at this point...he does such a good job of it himself. Instinct should seriously consider hiring him on as a regular contributor.