Springtime in the Rockies! Ain't nobody got time for that.

Oh boy. The posts across the country from my friends about spring are just givin' me a case of the facepalms. Yes, it is spring. Has been now, too, for about...oh...less than a week now. At least from a calendar standpoint. And because it is now the season of bunnies and daffodils and crocuses and robins and finches and new beginnings, said friends are assuming that spring also means, with little variation, warmer weather. And less/no snow. These are friends that, I must hasten to add, live in such temperate locales as New Hampshire and Wisconsin and Colorado. And when we get snow...OMG what's happening it can't be happening here it's SPRING not winter that dadgum groundhog lied to us all!!!

Please. Snow in spring - even large storms - are as common as Easter. Every year we get 'em. March is the snowiest month on average in Denver...and this year has proven this statistic right - the storm from two days ago gave us 10 inches of glop, a week or two after another 8" storm. I've seen big snowstorms hit Denver as late as late April. Snow can hit us in May. There's even been a trace of snow measured in June here before. And I'm certain that the aforementioned locales have similar weather patterns. So hesh, you. Bitching about snow after March 20th makes as much sense as bitching about summerlike weather after September 20th.

Besides, I'm no fan of shoveling snow (did I REALLY have to forget taking down the snowblower AGAIN this winter?), but at least at this time of year, it's nice to have light at 7:00 while you're shoveling.

And apropos of nothing, here's your dose of late '70s yacht rock. Some songs you forget about for years. Then you hear 'em, and either they promote involuntary reverse peristalsis, or they just hit you all kinds of right. This one's the latter for me. (With apologies for that damned ad before it.)

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.)

Love devastation!

Suicide Blonde - INXS: I never really had a huge, huge draw when this song came out originally. It is definitely one of INXS's best and most visceral songs, and the video is appropriately sexy. But when you're just 20, turn onto the main drag just after sunset in Satellite Beach, Florida during your spring break, driving a fabulous white convertible BMW, this song comes on the radio, and every light in sight suddenly turns green in front of you, it just hits you in the gut: you are SO in the right place at the right time, and you own the goddamned world. Flooring it never felt so liberating.

This Used To Be My Playground - Madonna: You know what's really sad? Knowing just how gracelessly Madonner is aging nowadays, pandering to the kids and forcing them to worship her in the least attractive way possible. (Seriously: I think M.I.A.'s flipping off the cameras during the Super Bowl concert was meant in every way toward Madonna...and to steal her thunder, too.) But doubly sad is listening to this lush and poignant bit of adult contemporary, and hearing what she could have been capable of, had she just accepted that people get older, and life moves on. And considering what a soulless wasteland adult contemporary music can be, that's high praise. (More high praise: this is the best of her late '80s-early '90s ballads, including the stunning "Spanish Eyes" and "Take a Bow.") Then again, maybe she took the lyrics too much to heart: "Say goodbye to yesterday/Those are words I'll never say." Compare this to the shite she's putting out there now. It's embarrassing. Still partying like she's 29, I guess. Sigh.

iTunes v. 11: MUST DIE. Dramatically simplified player, my ass. I know the desire to stuff every last medium into what was once a strict music player, to make a product all things to all people. I'm over it. This is enough, seriously, to make me seriously consider giving up my iPods (yes, plural) and just stick to my Android goods. Steve Jobs, we hardly knew ye.

El Alem Allah - Amr Diab: If this guy - pretty easy on the eyes, BTW - had any stateside exposure back in 2000, he would have seriously ruled the pop charts for a bit. As it is, Egypt got the spoils. And traditionalists in defense of Islamic culture screamed bloody murder because ZOMG WESTERN INFLUENCE MUST DIE!!! But hey...it's a breezy, bouncy, and insanely catchy pop tune in the vein of Ricky Martin. Besides, melding Arabic and Western music seems to be working for this guy - he's been the top Egyptian pop star for nearly 30 years. I found this one about three years ago, and it's been in heavy rotation in the car ever since.

He says the sun came out last night. He says it sang to him.

Whenever you talk about something that transcends the limits of our five most well-known senses, people tend to get creeped out unless you are given the proper context or enough advance warning. Or, if you're lucky, they are already on board, and willing to hear you out. Which, my legions of followers, you may consider my "enough advance warning."

In high school, during my speech and debate years, I would dread meets. Waking up at gawdawful hours on Saturday mornings to take a bus ride sometimes a town or two down the road, sometimes nearly two hours away. I'd then either give three speeches or debate three times (topic: Established: that the United States should significantly expand space exploration beyond the earth's mesosphere) over the course of the next eight hours, then take said bus back. And in the process, stress would be running high, and health would be running down.

So on Friday nights, while tucked into bed with the lights turned out, I began kind of "reaching out" to the next day, to see how it would go. And almost always, I would get a really good idea of how the next day would go. If I felt smoothness, like a canoe gliding over a glass-calm lake, then I knew the next day would be a success, in whatever way. It always meant I'd do well in my meet, but would usually mean I was in good spirits during the day, too. If it felt turbulent, then things would not go well.

For some reason, I tried it a few nights ago, and it was pretty dead-on. The next day felt somewhat turbulent, and true to form, yesterday was a fairly jagged day. The afternoon got better, but the morning was definitely not fun at all. Inspired by this, I decided to do the same last night. What I felt was utter chaos and madness, the likes of which I've never felt before, and I almost doubted myself. Felt again a few minutes later, and it was still the same. And...yup. Unfortunately, today has been AWFUL. Type of day that gives you Facebook remorse. You know how you just want to yell your troubles out to the world, and FB seems like such a perfect place to do it? Yeah, I've made that mistake before a few times, and made an utter fool out of myself. But where do you yell it out? On a semi-public blog, where people could find out who you are if they really tried? That skirts the line, too. Let's just say that a fight is a really crappy way to start a day, particularly if the one you're yelling at really didn't deserve it, but you needed to get out some massive frustration somehow. Add on a frightening phone call from work and a broken commitment from a friend (trivial though it was), and I've been playing "How to Disappear Completely" over and over in my head today.

So yeah, this quasi-ESP thing, sensing the near-future in the vaguest of ways is a bit creepy but pretty cool. But it does beg the question: if I can sense it, can I change it somehow if a bad day is coming on?

And banana pudding...mmm...

It is an injustice universally acknowledged that when invited to a birthday party at which über-creamy mac and cheese mixed with andouille sausage is served, one should ideally be able to snarf down at least a whole plateful, yet the richness thereof coupled with the limits of the human stomach make such a delicious and heavenly endeavor fruitless.

Bah.

What is this that stands before me?

My God...have you heard what the kids are listening to these days?

Along with my fancy new wheels (which totally rock despite the MAIN HOLY COMPUTER DYING ON ME only one week in), I got the requisite free trial to Sirius. They really have everything on there, don't they? I've been bopping along to the '80s, enjoying the new wave station, occasionally indulging my classical jones, and very occasionally dipping into the Studio 54 station (which...the more I listen to it, the gladder I am I decided not to pursue being a Studio 54-ish DJ a few years ago). But I also discovered Ozzy's Boneyard, and fell in love. Mr. Man doesn't understand the appeal, but when I need to get my anger on, that station is golden. Besides, who ever heard of a touchy-feely natural doctor yelling along to Black Sabbath on the way to work? (One of many stereotypes I tend to smash.)

But WOW. I turned on Liquid Metal recently, conveniently skipping over the hair metal station, and my mind was blown. That shit is HEAVY - a tidal wave of mud, with distorted low rumblings and howlings that pass for vocals, lightning-fast drumming, and guitars that will pummel you into submission - if they don't pulverize your eardrums first. Makes Ozzy's Boneyard sound quaint in comparison. In particular, I heard a band called Suicide Silence. Yeah. That band'll scare off all but the most diehard aggro adrenaline junkies. But they weren't the first I'd heard to indulge in pure noise. That honor goes to a band with a name so crude and obscene, I'll just abbreviate it - as most people do - as A.C. Some of my favorite, uh..."songs" from them: "Flower Shop Guy," "Stayin' Alive (Oi! Version)," and "I'm Still Standing." (They do their fair share of covers, but compress them into blocks of sludge, usually with a healthy slab of humor to leaven the proceedings.) Thanks go to my college roommate for introducing me to them back in the land of pastor's kids and good Lu-the-ran folk.

Back to my "they really have everything on there" statement: on second thought, maybe not. I'd LOVE to see an industrial station on there. Some of the bands I'd entertain:

• Skinny Puppy
• NIN
• KMFDM
• Einsturzende Neubauten
• Cabaret Voltaire
• Pailhead
• Ministry (Twitch through Psalm 69)
• Throbbing Gristle
• Front 242
• Combichrist
• Rammstein
• VNV Nation

Come back if you want, kids...I may have added others since I first wrote these down. And yeah, the genre may be a bit too narrow to merit a station all its own, but it would be fun to try it.

In not-so-related news, doing shrugs with 185 lbs hanging off your shoulders is tough. Holy crap, but my traps are killing me today. Or they would be if I didn't indulge in ginger and turmeric in my morning smoothies. I'm convinced of it. As it is, it's just a dull ache.

MELISMAS MUST DIE!!!

And Mariah and Christina must suffer accordingly, too.

That is all.

The best years of your life (or something...) (part 3)

And to continue the series (here are parts 1 and 2)...here's what I'd tell myself back in 11th grade.

-- High school years are the best years of your life? Hmm...okay. Well, if you believe that, then this here's the best of the best. Enjoy it while you've got it.

-- Speaking of the best of the best: welcome to choir! And welcome to the top choir in school. And welcome to being one of the top tenors in school. And hey...let's go all the way. Welcome to being one of the top tenors in the whole goddamned state. Now go and rock All State. Enjoy rooming with S.W. (and you know exactly what I mean. Mm-hmm...) Oh, and I can't wait to see you go berserk at the dance to "Rock Lobster." One of your best moments EVER.

-- Have fun at Lollapalooza. Especially that makeshift drum thang made out of garbage. Another one of your best moments ever. You shoulda gone to the one the year before, but better late than never.

-- Two words: Henry Rollins. Get that man's poetry ASAFP. Head down to Wax Trax and get some of his spoken word shit. It will blow your mind.

-- Finally, enjoy that Skinny Puppy show. No joke: it'll be one of the best shows you'll ever, ever see...filmed handgun suicides, fake baby entrails thrown at the audience, and the most fun, wildest mosh pit you'll ever be in. No, it's not what most people would consider good entertainment, but if it works for you, awesome.

-- Here I go again, sounding like that damned broken record: SPEECH? AGAIN!? You really hate yourself, don't you? Um...wait. Don't answer that one. Quit. NOW. Or...y'know...don't. And don't come bitching to me about how tough life is. You don't have to make it that way.

-- Did you hear me on that last one? You don't have to go out of your way to make life hard. Life has a funny way of doing that pretty well by itself. For example...

-- *CRASH* Jesus. Congratulations on backing into that guy's car...while it was parked. Yeah, the one he has for sale. Wouldn't have happened if you were...oh, God, I give up. Have fun at that damned speech tournament today. And no, leaving the scene of a crime is not the smartest thing to do, regardless of what your well-meaning companion says to do. People are watching, even if you can't see them.

-- Okay, enough with the snark. You're frightened enough as it is. Let's hit Perkins again. I'll buy.

-- Your acne. No, it's not an issue. It's the way you're going about treating it. Snow cones of acetone to the face are...uh...kinda weird. Sulfur ointments stink, right? Those antibiotics you're taking for months on end are going to fuck you up for much longer and in worse ways than you'd imagine. I know you hate being a pencil-necked stick figure. So don't take that damned antibiotic that cuts your appetite in half! (If you want, I have some ideas...)

-- Oh, and that weight gain you're getting off of prednisone (for your bronchitis...AGAIN) may seem cool, but swim team will obliterate it in a heartbeat. Enjoy it while it lasts.

-- I hope you enjoy dating the Silver Skating Dame. You both are adorable. Seriously. And you really are gonna have some great times. Enjoy your time together.

-- RE: your dad. Yes, he's being an ass. But at the same time, he is trying to reach you. And that's not his forte. I'm not saying you need to fully embrace him. Just recognize that he's putting forth an effort.

-- Okay, now that you are REALLY pissed at me, take some time off, then let's hit Paris on the Platte. Get whatever you want. And let's stay up as late as you want. Delve into your inner Jack Kerouac.

Maybe I'll put a hole in your head...y'know, just for the fuck of it.

Oh, God, I'm gonna get political again. If this happens much more, I'll have to ask someone to up my meds or something. And I am not intending to flame-bait here, so don't flame.

Okay. It's a big one. Y'all ready?

A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.

In the mad dash of gun-toters to defend their God-given constitutional rights to bear arms, I think there's something that we have forgotten. The first part of that sentence, to be specific. Now, this is my interpretation, and a relatively uneducated one. I have not yet read up on what our founding fathers were thinking when they came up with this amendment, but since it was the second one in our constitution, they obviously thought it was extremely important. But let's look at this all the same.

I feel like there is a huge disconnect between current reality and the first four words of this amendment. "A well regulated militia" does not really exemplify what our country is dealing with right now. Would a member of a well regulated militia gun down kindergarteners and teachers? Or enter a high school and murder fellow students, then commit suicide? Or gun down people enjoying a movie? Not in my definition. A member of a well regulated militia would not commit murder of one's innocent peers. That is the realm of insanity.

Here's where definitions really become important. According to Webster's 3rd (our stateside equivalent to the Oxford English Dictionary), here are the two applicable (not obsolete) definitions of militia:

1. a part of the organized armed forces of a country whose members live at home, carry on their usual vocations, and except for occasional calls for drill or instruction are liable to call only in emergency.
2. the whole body of able-bodied male citizens declared by law as being subject to call to military service
 

The way I read this is that as long as the use and possession of firearms is placed in the context of military service, whether by troops or civilians, it is fine. And this military service has to be well regulated, as do the people who participate in it, with the ultimate goal of securing and maintaining a free state. This does not mean people can just go out and get guns because they want to. They should be subject to regular training - and I doubt most folk out there would take issue with this. I mean, that's what gun clubs, target practice, and hunting are for. But they should also be subject to regular screening regarding their mental and emotional stability. I do not want someone buying a gun who is going through a divorce or was just fired, and who has anger management issues, psychopathic tendencies, or severe depression. This does not support a well regulated militia or the security of a free state. (Of course, this begs the question: what if said person already has a gun? Is the gun then subject to being confiscated? And who approaches said person to take that gun? I'm not quite ready to answer that one.) Also, what if a person wants a gun, but does not want to be a member of the military or in a similar supporting role? What if they just want to, say, go hunting? Hmm...I'd have a hard time taking guns away from people who use them purely for sport. (As you may have guessed, I'm just brain farting onto this screed by now.)

I don't view the second amendment as a carte blanche right to bear arms. It has to be taken in the context of a secure, free state, one in which parents feel safe sending their kids to the school of their choice, or people feel safe engaging in a night's entertainment of their choice. It has to be taken in the context of the first part of that sentence. And for now, that's all I have to say. Maybe more later.

(Note: after sifting through a few other blogs and articles, I'm starting to see more context behind the 2nd amendment, and can see that some of what I've written may be considered facile. But I still stand behind the logic of it. I'm not a fan of psychopaths with weapons.)