Okay, Now He's Asking For It

By "he", I am referring to our President. Please read this before continuing.

Let's begin with one of his quotes:

“I have been saying all the time that we need perseverance and patience and the willingness to defeat a terrorist organization, an ideology of hate, with not only military action but the spread of freedom,” Bush said.

“I believe this is the calling of our time.”

This is an old and tired rhetoric he's been vomiting up for years now.We all know how he wants to persevere and win the war on terrorism. I have yet to uncover just what the hell he's talking about. Just what is the war on terrorism? The war against an ideology, yes, but specifically one that is anti-American? One against non-democratic nations? And just where does this line of thinking end? There are countless other non-democratic, anti-American nations. Are we going to fuck with all of them or what? I intend these questions to be taken seriously and if my readers have answers to any of them, I'd like to know.

To continue:

“I have no doubt — the war came to our shores. Remember that,” he said, referring to the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist strikes on New York and Washington.

NO IT DID NOT. WAR DID NO COME TO OUR SHORES. One attack came to our shores. One retaliation in what has been years of bloodshed on OUR hands in the Middle East. I do not take September 11th lightly, nor do I disregard the incredible pain it caused the families involved, but PLEASE. Don't even try to say that war came here. One of our bombing excursions kills more Iraqis than September 11th ten fold. Besides, I seem to remember that Saddam Hussein and Iraq weren't responsible for the September 11th fiasco. Guess who was? Remember? Yeah, I barely do either.

And of course he goes on:

Bush said he could “understand the frustrations of our citizens.” But “if we retreat for the sake of popularity, is that the smart thing to do? My answer is absolutely not,” he said. “It’d be a huge mistake to give the battlefield to these extremists."

How about we retreat for the sake of our own citizens in New Orleans who are still homeless, jobless, and hopeless? If you need any further convincing how terrible the conditions still are in New Orleans, please read Jobetta's most recent post. How about we retreat because our education system has been left by the wayside? How about we retreat because the PEOPLE WHO YOU REPRESENT DON'T WANT US THERE?!?! He is the most pompous ass I've ever seen. His job is not to ignore the will of his people. I do, however, agree with him that sometimes he can't do what is popular. However, he never gives us an explination or reason or plan of action. Do I mean military strategy? Of course not. I mean a basic respect for those who voted his spoiled ass into power. He treats us and the press like children who should be seen and not heard. I, for one, am fed up.

And the coup de gras:

“People don’t like my policies, necessarily,” he said, noting opposition to the decision in 2002 to withdraw U.S. support for the International Criminal Court and his opposition to the Kyoto Protocols on global warning, in addition to the war in Iraq.

But “you’ve got to make decisions based upon what you think is right — that you can’t try to be popular,” he maintained.

Who said anything about popularity? The vast majority of people have been unconvinced with his leadership for well over a year now. We're used to you not being popular, Mr. President. ALL I WANT IS SOME KIND OF FUCKING EXPLINATION OTHER THAN YOUR TIRED, PEDANTIC, OVERUSED, STAY-THE-COURSE BULLSHIT AND WAIT-AND-SEE TACTICS. YOU ARE SPENDING OUR MONEY IN A WAR THAT WE DO NOT WANT.

I wish I could have access to his millions and spend his money on something he doesn't have a use for. You know, something extravagant like a reality check.

When Queens Collide

Last night, I was at dinner with two close friends. Both are gay, and one of them was describing two queens at his work. By "queens", I mean the over-the-top, flamboyant, fah-habulous gay men that have infiltrated society. Case in point - one of them speaks with an "English" accent but is not from nor has ever been to England. The other is just as socially inept, making reference to everything gay in any conversation of which he is a part. I've had the *pleasure* of meeting this one and he holds the world record for number of overtly sexual, awkward comments in a two-minute conversation. My friend at dinner went on to describe how these two absolutely despise one another. There is no real reason, other than their personalities are black holes of gayness, taking everything you say and making it disappear into a flippant comment about so-and-so's atrocious outfit or he-and-he's tight ass.

My point is this: colliding queens is a phenomenon all too common amongst us gay men. It's interesting to be part of a minority group that holds in-fighting as one of its most treasured vaules. In many gay circles, your worth as a caddy bitch depends on your ability to cut down someone you know only by appearance. I don't expect everything to be rosy and wonderful. And of course our political goals are one in the same. But when it comes to basic friendship, it can be indescribably difficult.

Y'all know me. I'm as opinionated as I can be, but I don't let that stop me from meeting others. Some of the best people I know wear atrocious outfits and don't have tight asses. I don't qualify meeting someone on whether or not I can stomach their paisley shirt (note to the world: throw away all your paisley). So, what is it then? What makes this such a phenomenon amongst the gays?

One word: insecurity. I'm not well-read enough in psychology to call it a coping mechanism, but it seems like that to me. I think any good psychologist can find coping mechanisms in anyone; it's kinda our human condition. For instance, I have an insatiable desire for good grades in school. It goes beyond planning for grad school. There is a primal need I have to impress others through my exploits as a great student. By "others", I mean professors. My family and friends know how zany I am about school, but my professors don't... well, they do now.

Is it a bad thing to excel at university? Of course not. I have also been fortunate enough to find a discipline in which I truly engage the material and look forward to class. But all this talk about how impressive and awe-inspiring my grades are doesn't further our conversation about the queens.

Every gay man experiences tremendous insecurity at one point or another. There is really no way around it in a society that largely regards gay people as a phenomenon rather than one of them. That said, how people cope with such a situation largely depends upon their ability to lift themselves above the muck and appreciate who they are anyway. My argument is that for certain people in the gay community, their way of coping is not to simply rise above the muck, but instead to blast off to another universe and spit upon the muck they think they left behind.

My advice to the queens is this: you can be funny without being caustic. You can make real, lasting friendships without stabbing people in the back. You can succeed because you're you, not because you play the gay card better than others. And finally, don't do drugs and stay in school.

Encounter of Trashiness

This happening occurred some time ago, perhaps a month or more, and I don't know why I haven't blogged about it yet. However, the time is now and the memory has not been wiped yet, so enjoy!

The gang was headed out to camp at Brice Creek. Scott and I had the upper hand, as I didn't have to go to class that Friday, and Scott didn't work on Friday. He therefore came down Thursday night, we packed up and prepared to leave early Friday in order to land ourselves a nice little campsite.

After a short stop at Subway in Cottage Grove, we were well on our warm sunny way as the road went from wide to narrow to no painted lines and canopied by doug firs and birches. The air was cool and refreshing, whipping up from the boistrous Brice Creek.

We have a "usual" spot near the end of all the campable areas, however, it was taken. There sat a very large truck with side compartments and an enclosed bed. There was a family strewn about, apparently enjoying themselves. The site next to it was also taken, but only by a van and some towels draped over the hood. As there were no tents or food or otherwise in this campsite, I figured it would be appropriate to ask the gentleman if it was permanently taken, or if they could move their shitty van. I cautiously approached the man, who was half naked and sun tanned to death. He paid me absolutely no attention until I was practically on top of him and asked whether that other site was taken. In a very dismissive tone, he informed me that not only was that site taken, the one across the street was too. I glanced over to see several coolers (and nothing else) occupying that site. More than just his demeanor, one could tell that this guy was, oh what's the phrase, cracked the fuck out. So was the rest of his family, who were enduring varying degrees of abuse from obnoxious dogs to wandering cats to a screaming baby and even louder mother.

Sometimes when you go camping, you have awuful neighbors. It happens. Determined to be in one of these campsites, Scott and I went across the street (where the coolers were) to find another spot. Low and behold, there was a large clearing in the forest where several tents could easily fit. There was even a burned out fire pit ready for use. We slowly debated whether or not we wanted to camp next to the Grimersons. Throwing caution and good sense to the wind, we began to unpack.

After trudging several heavy loads 60 feet from the car to the campsite, Mr. Grimerson began his little show. He opened several of the side hatches on his rig to reveal an entire sound system, complete with sub woofers and amplifiers. He played, nay blasted, Eminem circa 2000 from the trembling vehicle. I know I enjoy my exaggerations at times, but I am not kidding you when I say the volume was deafening. I think I said something like, "what the fuck?!" and looked over to see Mrs. Grimerson yelling at the same kid and the other daughter clutching her head and curling up like a ball. The dogs started yelping and the cats ran for cover. We were stopped in our tracks. Was he kidding? What were we supposed to do? Should we unpack more? The conversation about whether or not to look for another campsite was renewed, with more emphasis put on the "yes, we absolutely must move" side of things.

After trudging several heavy loads 60 feet from the campsite to the car, we were incensed and ready to give Mr. Grimerson a piece of our minds. Scott even suggested that we do, but then I thought back to my drug days. People who are high on something (I'm going to go out on a limb here and say meth) aren't to be fucked with. This guy was now glaring menacingly at us and I had no intention of taking his grimy fist to my face. Frustrated and now with more campsite-hunting ahead of us, we slowly rolled past his shitsite. The moment we came upon the fucker, he turned off the sound completely, waved and sneered, "have a nice day!"

As with every good Hollywood story, this one ends happily. We found an even better campsite, far from the Grimersons and we had a fantastic weekend. That is, after Sara and I gathered and took care of the seven bags of rotten trash in the campsite.

Figurative trash and literal trash. I leave it up to you which one the Grimersons most resemble.

Strep Throat Totally Sucks

I've been out for the past few days with strep throat. Today is the first day I can enter the world as a non-contagious specimen since Tuesday. My mom has an uncanny ability to detect what's wrong with me (I call it her sixth sense). I know lots of people *say* their mom can do that, but mine really does it. I called her Tuesday morning and opened my mouth. After a minute of talking with me she said, "sounds like you have strep". Okay, the last time she said that, I was like 16 or something. How can she know that?? I wasn't convinced until Wednesday when I went to the doctor and the test results turned up positive. I called her and told her she should go abroad to work miracles. She only chuckled like I was crazy. You know what? I hear that chuckle a lot...

Suffice to say, I've been cooped up like a dirty, cranky hermit. Robin has been off at work and then gallivanting with friends in the evenings. I don't blame him. If he were home with an infectious disease, I wouldn't be there either (and the Passive-Aggressive Statement of the Year Award goes to...).

Strep is such a downer. First of all, you're not going to be better in several days. It's only because of the heavy antibiotics that I'm considered "clean" again. Second, you get so worn down. For instance, all I wanted to do was sleep and watch TV. Normally when I'm sick, I want to sleep and play video games and watch TV. I only played a little bit of video games this time, and I had to interrupt my awesome session of KOTOR II to take a freakin' nap!

My little sister was there for me. I called her on Wednesday with a desperate plea for chicken noodle soup and Gatorade. Shut up, I know that's what you take when you have the flu, but I probably had a little bit of that too. She was so sweet and came over but didn't stay long as not to become infected with my death spores.

It's good to be back in the world again. We're going to the fair tonight with Clint and Missy. Perhaps others will join us, perhaps not. I intend on living life to its fullest as I can never get back these past three days. That is, until I go to heaven and beat them out of God.

What Makes You Wrong?

Of late, I have encountered a few bumper stickers that made me chuckle, made me think, and made me irritated. One that I found particularly hilarious was:

"My Gamer Fragged Your Honor Student"

Hell yeah they did.

However, another more irritating sticker read:

"Heterosexuals. How Can 95% of the Population Be Wrong?"

This was right next to the usual "One Man, One Woman" garbage and "I'm A Biggoted Child-Raping, Cum-Guzzling Hypocrite Who Takes It Up The Ass Every Wednesday At 1:17p.m."

Okay, so I made that "One Man, One Woman" one up.

To address the heterosexual one, I don't get it. I've seen similar stickers regarding land use, political parties and the like. I don't know where this proud child-raper is getting his/er statistic, I think the percentage is closer to 6% or 7% But that's not the point, now is it?

I don't think heterosexual people are wrong, so I don't get it. Does this mean that they are all in accordance regarding the treatment of homosexuals? Does it mean they all think homosexuality is some kind of abomination? Does it mean that there are 93-94% of the population who are child-rapers?

The point isn't that people are wrong, it's that there is perhaps more than one way to love a hole. Because that's what it boils down to, doesn't it? They're somehow so afraid of being wrong, then they proclaim they are not, when no one is accusing them of it. How can it be wrong to be you? If it weren't for heterosexual activity, there would be no humanity to bitch about. Think of how boring that would be.

I would also like to point out that this kind of reasoning is a textbook logical fallacy and falls under the category of "Appeal to Authority". 93-94% of people have nothing to do with one's biggotry, and to assume they would agree with you simply because they like a different hole is absurd at best. I want to poll the entire gay population of the United States and ask them whether or not they think heterosexuality is wrong. You know what? I don't even have to. I'm going to fight fire with fire and say that they don't give a shit.

Thinking back on history, I can remember when 90% of the population was probably wrong. I could be way out of line here, but I think Nazi Germany was wrong. I think Imperialist England was wrong. I think the torture and massacre of Native Americans was wrong. So, yeah buddy. I guess you can be and are wrong. Merry Xmas.