Mothers' Day 2014

Mom

The first year's worth of holidays after losing a loved one is not fun. Mom's passing last October was so close to the winter holidays, they seemed very surreal (especially spending Christmas in Florida). I'll be staying home this Christmas, mostly because I'm going to Las Vegas for Thanksgiving. Just the three of us going: Me, myself and I. No schedule while there (except the ticketed shows I'll be seeing); no agenda. Just some insane people-watching and the sights and food of Sin City. I can't wait.

Still, today has been the most difficult holiday, so far. Most of my friends spent the day with their Moms. I can't begrudge them that. I would have done the same, if I could. Picking out just an "Aunt" card for my father's dear sister was certainly tough, given the lack of them at the store. And not looking for several new books for Mom to read was even tougher. She was midway through the last book I bought her (for her birthday) when she passed. 

I think I've mentioned before that all my mother wanted to be was a mother. She wanted seven children, but ended up with just two. When my parents split up after 27 years, she picked herself up and reinvented herself as a savvy working woman, dating but never re-marrying. She even briefly entertained a hot Russian who was five years younger than I was. She settled down when her health started to fail in her late 50's, but she was kept active by her job and the few friends she had. But once she was forced to retire (the Cadillac dealer she worked for went out of business), she sort of gave up and I watched her steady decline with a very sad heart. When she went into the hospital for the last time, I still had hope she would pull through. I thought we'd have a few more years with her, at least. But it was not to be.

Mom loved kids and animals. She's feeding a lorakeet at the Lowry Park Zoo in Tampa in that picture, the last time we went to visit my sister together (I'm guessing 2009). A voracious reader, she often went through two or three novels a week; mostly thrillers and mysteries. The last book she finished was "Under the Dome" because she like the series. She loved "The Walking Dead;" "Falling Skies;" "Grey's Anatomy;" "Scandal;" "Mike and Molly" (a show I find terribly unfunny); "Rizzoli and Isles;" "The Closer"/"Major Crimes;" and "Castle" and she'd be really pissed if she knew she was missing the "24" mini-series. She couldn't spell if you held a gun to her head; she mangled pronunciations and was the Queen of Spoonerisms. She was quick to laugh at herself about it, too. She often got celebrity names confused (Morgan Freeman was always Morgan Fairchild) and while she said she never had a favorite movie, if forced to pick one, it would have been Doctor Zhivago. 

She taught my sister and I to cook and do laundry when we were young so we would never have to depend on her. Her cooking when we were kids was awesome, though she often admitted my marinara (based on hers), was better than hers (even though she didn't really like either version). She raised us to be kind to everyone and to not have prejudices. When I finally came out to her, she cried - not because I was gay (she already knew that) but because she thought I was afraid to tell her. She came to almost every show I was in or directed until it became physically too difficult for her to do so and was always supportive of my artistic endeavors. She could out-swear most truckers and occasionally let her own mother's prejudices sneak out, but never with real malice and never without an admonition from me.

It's only been seven months since she left us and I know it will be a long time before I'm really used to the fact that she's gone, but today was just a little bit harder. I miss her - a lot -  and am not ashamed to admit it.

If your Mom is still with you, I hope you at least called her today. If you and your Mom are estranged or if your Mom is also gone, I hope you got through today as painlessly as possible. 

Happy Mothers' Day, Mom. And Happy Mothers' Day to you and your mother, as well.

Comedian John Roberts (of the terrible "Bob's Burgers") nails the suburban mom on the head with his video "Mother's Day."* And while Mom wasn't nearly as whiny as Roberts, I can hear her voice in plenty of the things he says.

*The placement of the apostrophe in Mothers' Day causes tons of anxiety. I must insist that since it is a day for all mothers, it should come after the final 'S,' while there are those who insist on making it singular by placing the apostrophe before the 'S.' IMHO, punctuating it the latter way makes it about one mother only.  Bad form, indeed.

More, anon.
Prospero

Some Truth, Some Justice and One More Thing

Scott "Kill the Gays" Lively. See: Degenerate; D-Bag; A-Hole; Creep

2013 has been quite a banner year for LGBT Equality, both here and abroad. Of course, these strides have been much to the consternation of the extreme right, who continually make claims about the "wrath of God" and the path to the End of Days, yet claim to follow a man who preached "Love they neighbor as thou wouldst love thyself." Jesus supposedly performed attended a marriage but is never quoted as saying anything about it. Nor does he say anything about homosexuality. Yes, he tells his followers to obey the laws of the Torah, but he was Jewish. Of course he would. I suspect that the man depicted in the New Testament would be pretty unpopular with modern extremists. "Hippie scum!" "Tree-Hugger!" "Fag!" (Oh, how I hated typing that word). "Commie Pig!" Still, you know that's what they call modern peace and anti-violence proponents.

I'm not, as you know, a believer. But I understand all and agree with most of the precepts in the New Testament. But they seem to me more instinctive, than anything. Yes, stealing and killing and raping are bad. I don't need a shaman to tell me that. That was my parents' (and later, my teachers') job. And I think they did pretty well. I didn't need to be afraid of eternal pain for not doing the right thing, though I was on occasion the recipient of momentary pain when I deserved it (which was extremely rare and not ever anywhere close to abusive). And the thought of the humiliation of being arrested has kept me from doing anything really stupid. That's not to say I haven't had close calls. I can think of more than a few times I was certain I would be calling for bail money, only to get off with a ticket or warning.

Scott Lively, author of the absurd The Pink Swastika, an "expose" in which Lively (pastor of the Abiding Truth Ministries, which is officially recognized by the SPLC as a Hate Group) claims that Hitler's Nazi's were gay and used their pent-up aggression to kill Jews (or some such crapalicious bovine excrement), has been ordered to stand trial for Crimes Against Humanity for his role in crafting and supporting Uganda's so-called "Kill the Gays Bill." Federal Judge Michael Ponser, ruling the case eligible for trail, said in part: 

"The history and current existence of discrimination against LGBTI people is precisely what qualifies them as a distinct targeted group eligible for protection under international law. The fact that a group continues to be vulnerable to widespread, systematic persecution in some parts of the world simply cannot shield one who commits a crime against humanity from liability."

 This truly is the beginning of the end for the Anti-Equality Movement. I don't know what penal sentence would accompany Lively's conviction, though I know what peni... No! No, no, no! Not going to go there (penile -- ooh, what a give-away!). Damnit! What I mean to say is that even in those "Country Club Prisons," some guys are going to be some other guy's bitch. And you may look tough, Rev, but I'm willing to place $100 on you crying like a little girl the first time your new cellmate bends your legs over your ears.

Someday, a very long time after all of us are gone, superstition will have fallen away to science and reason and none of this will matter.  But that someday is still a long way off (if we don't succumb to climate change before then). What matters now is stopping the people who preach hate under the guise of love, using fear and superstition to keep their followers in line. 

But here's the thing: They are getting desperate. They know that they are losing in the court of public opinion and they are running scared. We saw the same kinds of behaviors in the 60's and 70's when it came to African American and Women's Rights. Sadly, they will continue to moan and complain and paint themselves as martyrs and victims long after they've lost. But they'll eventually die off. I'm just glad I am here to see the start of it. 

Regardless of the trial's outcome, it is unlikely that the poison in Lively will dissipate. He can't bring himself to admit that he might be wrong and suddenly see the error of his ways. He isn't smart enough to evolve and reinterpret what he grew up 'knowing' to be the 'truth.' FDR said it the best: "The only thing we have to fear, is fear itself." We have much scarier things to worry about, folks. Love shouldn't be one of them.

As for Mr. Lively, I hope he is found very guilty (because he is) and that he spends many years living out the prison rape fantasies he's undoubtedly harbored since adolescence, though not nearly as pleasant as he probably imagined. I actually feel sad that he is so filled with hate and fear and can only hope he lets go of them and finds personal peace.

More, anon.
Prospero
.

Totally Torn

A few of you may be surprised to learn that Uncle P was a Scout. I started out as a Cub Scout in my local troop where my mother (bless her heart) was our Den Mother. I moved onto Webelo (don't even go there) and eventually Boy Scout. 

I quit scouting after a disastrous camping trip which involved torrential rain, flooding and some horrific bullying by other scouts in my troop.

It wouldn't be until college that I rediscovered the joys of camping (there were several trips with many dear friends, all of which are stories for another time). My last long-term BF, Ric, was an Eagle Scout (after high school, he hiked the Appalachian Trail alone) and often wore his uniform to gay clubs in protest of the BSA's anti-gay policies, as early as the late 90's (is it too much to say that it was little tight and a lot sexy?). Our last trip together was camping in Provincetown over an intensely hot and humid 4th of July weekend. But that really has little to do with this post.

Here's my dilemma: My Godson* is about to be rewarded the Honor of Eagle Scout on June 1st. I've already told his mother (another dear friend from college) that I am torn about being invited to attended J's Award Ceremony and she completely understands. While I am very proud of J for having made it to a level few scouts achieve, I can't help but feel that attending the ceremony would be hypocritical on my part. Can a gay former scout really approve of an award from an organization which continues to promote exclusion based on sexual orientation? 

The BSA recently announced a plan to allow openly gay Scouts, but not openly gay Scout Leaders. Really? So it's okay to be gay until you're 18? I don't get it. And neither do hundreds of thousands of gay scouts who want to participate, but can't once they're old enough to vote and serve in the military. Of course, serving in the military while openly gay is now allowed. If it's good enough for the U.S. Armed Forces, why isn't it good enough for the BSA? Talk about mixed messages.

Yes, the BSA was founded on 'Christian' principles. But that was one hundred and thirteen years ago! While most of the country has moved on, the BSA seems to be firmly rooted in the past. Even most Christians have progressed since 1910. Think there weren't gay scouts before now? Guess again. 

Here's the thing: While I will certainly be buying my Godson a gift to celebrate his achievement, I cannot in good conscience attend his award ceremony. And that just makes me sad.

*And yes, I totally see the irony in an atheist having a Godson. It's an honorific. Get over it. I have.

More, anon.
Prospero

Sorry - Monsters Are Still Real, Kids.

Faneuil Hall - Boston, Massachusetts.

So... Yesterday, another insane person (or persons) perpetrated another horrific crime against innocent people, this time against those who were attending and/or participating in the Boston Marathon.  I needed a day to process yet another horrific event before I could comment on it. And here's what I think.

The first time I ever went to Boston, I was working for a facility which housed mentally and physically disabled people. It was what I thought I wanted to do with my life right out of school. The 'school' really turned out to be a place where rich people dumped off the children of whom they were ashamed, but that's another story for another time. 

Anyway, a client was going home for the Holidays and I and another 'Houseparent' were asked to accompany him on the short flight to Boston. We flew in in the early morning morning, dropped the client off with his family and had nine hours to explore and play before flying home again. We shopped at Faneuil Hall; we walked all around downtown and ended up in a seafood place because the young lady I was with (i have no memory of her name) wanted chowder. I hate clam chowder and I have no idea what I ate - probably a fried platter. But I liked the city's vibe and wanted to go back.

In college, my friends Terry and Marly and I drove up to visit our friend Brian at his grandparents' once state-of-the-art mid-century home in Amherst. The next day we went into Boston and I am proud to say that my 20-something self did pretty good navigating the insanity that is Boston traffic. There was also an infamous 'research' trip to Salem (we were doing The Crucible and we left on Thursday, the 12th, after Mary called my new job, weeping and saying she was my sister and that Grandmom had died, so I could leave early*) which is very close to Boston. Of course, my dear K has family ties to the area, and I've been there on more than one occasion with her. It's a good town, filled with college students; teachers and professors and businesses of every kind, just like any major city. There are good neighborhoods and bad ones; fun things to do and lame things to do; history, art, theatre; shopping; great bars - Boston has always meant a very good time, every time I've been there.

So please bear with me when I say that I can't imagine the horror, the pain and the suffering inflicted on people who were, up until that moment, also experiencing Boston as a very good time. The fear and confusion must have been so intense. And so much pain (both physical and emotional). Horrible!

And for what? As of this writing, we still don't know who or why. Of course, the why almost doesn't matter. Did 'God' tell someone to do this to advance a political agenda? Or did a dog claiming to be God tell someone to do this so someone will finally acknowledge his pathetic existence? Was a spurned lover out to kill an ex who was running in the marathon or in the crowd? Maybe an angry, disqualified runner from the past wanted to exact his revenge. It doesn't matter.

What matters are the people killed and maimed; people whose lives have been irrevocably and horribly changed. And whether this was the act of an organized group of religious fanatics or of a loner writing a manifesto in a woodshed, it was ultimately an act of madness. When we were children, our parents did their best to convince us that there are no monsters under the bed or in the closet or hiding behind the coats on the coat-rack. "Monsters aren't real," they told us. But they lied. While there may be no green-skinned bogey-men with fangs and claws waiting to rend us to pieces, there are other monsters who never fail to prove their existence. In schools, malls, movie theaters and major sporting events; on trains and in office buildings; in the air and on the the ground; the monsters keep shouting "I am here! I am to be feared! I am a Monster!" 

Here's the thing: Don't fear the monster. He doesn't deserve your fear. Find the monster and punish him, so other monsters may think twice. I know there are far more good people in the world than bad, just as there are more beautiful things than ugly things. There's great art and literature and philanthropists and scientists who are working to sure disease and end suffering. There are dew-covered spiderwebs spilling prismatic rainbows in the morning sun and exotically plumed birds wading in warm swamps; romantic sunsets; sparkling beaches; fields of wildflowers... you get the idea. And we all should be able to take time to revel in the good things about life, without worrying if a bomb is sitting in that trashcan on the corner or if the guy sitting next to me at the AMC24 has gun under his unseasonal coat. 

I'm offering no solutions - that's for smarter folks than I to sort out. Of course, without bad things; without pain and suffering; we wouldn't be able to appreciate joy and pleasure, would we? Be glad for every day you wake up. Stop taking things so seriously. Smile.  Let the monsters know we're on to them and that we have no intention of letting them win.

Call me "Pollyana." Call me a cock-eyed optimist. Call me (gasp!) a Liberal. I really think Lennon and McCartney had it right:

Oh - I also think we really need to overhaul the mental heath care system in this country, ASAP. After Reagan dismantled it in the 80's, it's about time we overhauled and reinstituted comprehensive mental health care for those who may pose a danger to society.

More, anon.
Prospero

*Another trip worthy of it's own post.

Before Laramie

1979

This coming October will mark the 15th anniversary of Matthew Shepard's beating at the hands of two troglodytes in Laramie, Wyoming. But this past December marked the 25th anniversary of the murder of my friend and high school classmate Anthony Milano at the hands of two monsters who have yet to pay for their crimes. 

That's Tony on the far-right of the top row, right next to Uncle P (in the white shirt and over-sized aviators) in a photo from our high school senior year in 1979. The future looked so bright for all of us. 

Tony was quiet and shy but very smart and creative and subversively funny. A talented graphic artist with a skewed sense of humor, we spent three years together (with the rest of the good folks in this photo) in our High School Humanities program, led by a teacher who would go on to be the most celebrated High School Theatre Teacher in the country (and the first adult to tell me it was okay to be gay), Lou Volpe. 

About a year or so after this photo was taken, Tony and I ran into each other in a gay bar in Philadelphia (where we were both too young to be, legally), though neither of us was yet willing to admit even to each other that we were gay. He offered to drive me home to my apartment in Northeast Philly (I had taken the train into Center City) and we parted without saying a word about where we'd met. It was a very different time. 

Over the years since then, we'd meet in various places and situations, never once mentioning that encounter. The last time I saw him, I was working a retail job while trying to establish an acting career. It was early December and I was just too busy to take time out to have a meaningful conversation with him. I promised I would keep in touch and brushed him off, too concerned with whatever it was I was doing to worry about hurting his feelings. A week later, Tony was dead and I was wracked with guilt at having dismissed him.

On December 14th, 1987, Tony stopped for a sandwich and a beer at a local bar, where he ran into Frank Chester and Richard Laird, who goaded him into ostensibly giving them a ride home. Chester and Laird were both relatively attractive men. Did Tony think he was going to have sex with one or both of them? Was he too afraid to refuse their request for a ride? Did they ply him with the promise of more alcohol or drugs? Did they intimate they were willing to have sex with him? We'll never know. What we do know is that they led him to remote, wooded area and murdered him in very cold blood. It's still not clear who did what, though it is certain that one of them held Tony down while the other one slashed his throat with a box-cutter (so brutally that flesh was found in the surrounding trees). They then set his car on fire and left him for dead. Chester and Laird were eventually found guilty and sentenced to death, though both of them remain alive and well in Bucks County Prison, filing appeal after appeal.

I remember attending Tony's viewing and seeing his obviously sedated parents; the undertaker's less-than-successful attempt at hiding the damage to his throat in his surprisingly open casket and the dozens of my weeping classmates. It was surreal, to say the least. Tony's mother never recovered and passed away a few years later. His father, a mild-mannered barber, passed away in 2012. His sister, Annamarie, is the last member of the family to survive. She rarely gives interviews or comments on the events surrounding her brother's death. Chester and Laird are still incarcerated, even though Laird was re-tried in 2007 with the same outcome. 

As a whole, the LGBT community has made great strides in the last 25 years. Just this week saw two  historic Equality issues argued before the Supreme Court. Still, I can't help but wonder what Tony might have accomplished in those years, had his life not been cut short by two ignorant, homophobic creeps. Worse still... There are plenty of ignorant, fearful and violent people who wouldn't hesitate to do the same thing to a naive young gay, lesbian or trans person, given the chance.

As children, we're told there are no such things as monsters. Sadly, as adults, we learn that's just not true. Personally, I am usually against the Death Sentence. In this case, I am happy to make an exception. 

Sorry if this post was a bummer but I think things need to be brought into perspective every now and then. As much as we may want to celebrate the eminent demise of DOMA and Prop 8, I think we need to take a moment to remember all that has led up to it. Hate crimes against LGBTQ people are still reported on a daily basis. So many young LGBTQ people are still rejected by their families, bullied by their peers and ostracized by the churches in which they grew up. Suicide among LGBTQ youth remains at an all-time high. It's up to all of us to stop the madness and embrace the idea that we are all human, no matter who or how we love.

More, anon.
Prospero

Bite Me, Mother Nature (or: The Saddest Gay Post This Week)

Better call me a waaahhm-bulance.

As I sit in my home office writing this post, the 'historic' storm Nemo (really, Weather Channel?) is raging outside. Well, it's snowing. And has been for several hours, amassing less than 2" so far. Not enough to be crippling like in 1996, but just enough to make travel unwise and spoil a very special evening I was supposed to have with T. This after a truly  horrendous day at the Day Job. The storm is having a major impact on us, while causing unnecessary panic for our clients who don't read or bother to look at the updates on our website (or look in completely inappropriate places when they attempt to -- it's on the home page in bright orange! How can you not see that?). This was the worst possible weekend in all of winter for this storm to hit. I ended up having to stay late, on top of (and this is really just adding insult to injury) cancelling my very much-anticipated date with T because of the impending driving conditions (45 minutes of highway driving in sleet and snow isn't really all that wise). To be honest, it was quite possibly the worst Friday I've ever had (or at least certainly in the Top 5). 

So I came home and tried to cheer myself up a bit. I watched some comedies I'd DVR'd and then poured myself a drink and visited good old Towleroad, where there were two exceptionally gay clips that almost did the trick. You'll see why I say "almost."

First up, openly gay Bravo president and talk-show/reality-show host Andy Cohen recently had Jenny McCarthy and Calvin Klein Superbowl model Matthew Terry play a ridiculously exploitative game called "Paper or Plas-Take It Off:"

Terry may be young and very pretty,  but McCarthy might as well be an SNL cougar. Fail.

So, I went for some nonsense and the video for RuPaul's latest single, Peanut Butter. Watch first and then we'll discuss (may be NSFW):

First, let me get this right out of the way: Who the f**k is Big Freedia? Bitch scares me. Second: Ru, bubbulah, what the hell? Stick with dance tracks, girl. This bizarre rap/dubstep mashup weirdness just doesn't work. For anyone. 

Of course, RuPaul is outrageous. We get it. And we know you have to keep up with the times if you want to stay in the spotlight, but aren't the dancing twinks in banana hammocks in a video for a 'song' that's basically one big penis joke just overkill?* We deserve better from the Queen of Drag.

I really shouldn't complain. I know it could be so much worse. New York and New England are going to get slammed for the second -- and even third -- time in less than a year. Still, sometimes it seems I just can't get a friggin break for myself, ya know?

So I am left to console myself with smoke and drink, taking some pleasure in the idea of anticipation. After all, half the fun of any great roller-coaster is the anticipation as the train climbs that first hill, waiting to take that first breath-taking, soaring, weightless plunge*... I need a cigarette, now. Just don't remind me that an exceptionally horrendous Monday is just a brief two days away.

*Every single pun ever, intended.

I'll make this up to you, T. Promise.

More, anon.
Prospero

The Worst American Ever

'Douchebag' Is Too Kind a Word

John Boehner and the Repugnican-controlled House represent everything that is wrong with American politics, today. 

Walking off the the floor Monday night without even considering a relief bill to aid the the tens of thousands of victims of Superstorm Sandy in NY and NJ, Boehner cemented himself as the most-hated man in America. It certainly didn't help that on Friday, Boehner told Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid "Go f*ck yourself!" Twice. Really? This is how civilized adults conduct the business of the country?

By the way, that spinning sound you are hearing right now? It's coming from Lincoln's grave. 

It's pretty bad when even members of his own party are calling him out for his disgraceful, childish and callous disregard for the people whom he has sworn to protect. I'm not generally a fan of homophobic NJ Governor Chris Christie, but it's pretty bad when the party darling gives a press conference calling out Boehner's shameful behavior (via):

I may live in PA, but I was born in NJ, grew up in NJ and most of my friends and family live in NJ. I've spent many a Sunday afternoon on the boardwalk in Seaside Heights and more than a few dollars in the casinos of Atlantic City. The majority of the Theatre work I've done has been in NJ and there are very few weeks when I don't spend at least an evening there. It sickens me that Boehner and his cronies are so obsessed with their own agendas that they can't be bothered to help the very people they were elected to serve.

So go ahead and cry your crocodile tears, John Boehner. No one is buying your act anymore. Worst Person of the Year doesn't even cover it. You sir, are the Worst American in History. Go f*ck yourself, indeed!

More, anon.
Prospero

A Broken Nation

I had to spend some time looking at funny stuff before I could even entertain writing about the events of this morning. It's beyond the pale... incomprehensible; ghastly; horrific; senseless... the list goes on but there truly is no one word to describe the grief, pain and suffering in a town that might as well be Bedford Falls. 

Newtown is in southwestern Connecticut, just northeast of Dansbury. Filled with Colonial estates and modern McMansions, Newtown is the epitome of the American Dream, much like the place of the same name where I spend my days. It's not the kind of place where really bad things happen. At least not outside of closed doors. It might as well be called Pleasantville. Until today.

Today a monster killed 20 children and 6 adults, including his mother and himself. I'm calling this obviously insane person "No," because rather than becoming famous for the atrocities he committed this morning, his name should be stricken from the record. What worse fate can anyone suffer than to have any and all acknowledgement of one's existence erased forever? The cold-blooded son-of-a-bitch mowed down 20 children with an automatic weapon. Somehow, No slipped through the cracks of the mental health system and got himself some guns (legally purchased under his mother's license) and finally broke. As if of this writing, no one knows why No did what he did. Matricide is the act of a particularly disturbed individual to begin with. No shot his mother in the face, an exceptionally personal and brutal way to kill. No then went the place of his mother's employment and... well, did what he did.

I know I talked about the discussion my friend James and I had about guns after this summer's shooting in Colorado. That discussion continued among James and several other of my friends on Facebook toady in response to my original post:

"I can't imagine the grief and horror going on in CT right now. I wonder how the NRA lobbyists are going to spin this one? My heart goes out to the victims and their families... so tragic." 26 comments later, my 'Final final word' was: "Go tell the people you love that you love them. There is no warranty on life."

Here's the thing: No one wants to take away guns from responsible hunters and target shooters. No one wants to take pistols away from properly trained homeowners who want to protect themselves. What we want is for it to be harder for people like No to own guns. What we want is for it to be harder for gang kids to get guns. What we want is the chance for a 6 year old to grow up and live to his or her full potential. What we want is to be able to go to the mall or the movies or a political fundraiser without of fear of being shot. What we want are mental health professionals who will speak up when they feel a client may be dangerous. In 2011, 8 people were killed with guns in Great Britain. 10,728 were killed with guns in the U.S. Despite the difference in populations, those numbers are terrifying.

Of course, today's events aren't the only thing that prove our nation is broken. We're still fighting two costly wars; the economy is just coming back, though the much talked-about "fiscal cliff" could drive us back into recession. The extreme right continues to fight progress every step of the way, despite recent election results. The Tea Party may well be the worst thing to happen to American Democracy since the Civil War. Racism and homophobia continue to thrive in what is supposed to be the most advanced nation in the world. Corporations are legally recognized as 'people.' Does that mean if there's a hostile takeover, the aggressor can be charged with murder? Doubt that.

Speaking of the recent elections, I don't remember a more divisive Presidential race in my lifetime. Or an uglier one. Of course, several good things other than the re-election of President Obama happened in November. Four states approved Marriage Equality by voter majority and two states legalized recreational marijuana for personal use. Mr. Obama has said he has "bigger fish to fry" than pursuing antiquated laws left over from the Nixon administration. Too bad that greedy corporate goons drove Hostess out of business. Stoners in Colorado and Washington better learn to like Little Debbie and Tastykake (if they can get them). Oh, did I mention that one of the SCOTUS judges (whose son used to 'minister' to an "Ex-Gay" organization) openly flaunted his homophobia today? And just in case you forgot, Snooki made more money last week than you made all year. Donald Trump pays more for the stylist that does his ridiculous comb-over than you spend on groceries for a week (of course, that stylist may well be responsible for Mr. Trump's obvious brain damage). So many things broken...

How do we repair what's broken? I'm not sure. I have hope, though. I try to take solace in the fact that there truly are FAR more many good people in the world, than bad. Here's a video to prove it:

You should be good because it's the right thing to do, not because someone threatened you with eternal damnation if you didn't. Fear should never be anyone's motivation to do what's right. So, at the risk of repeating myself: Go tell the people you love that you love them, as often as possible. There are no warranties for our often surprisingly fragile lives.

You should also learn to take joy in your life and laugh as often as possible. I couldn't end such a dour downer of a post end on a such a somber note so please enjoy a bit of nonsense:

More, anon.

Prospero

More, anon.

Prospero

A Very Sad 'Reality' TV Celebrity Meltdown

Soft Porn... er... "Reality'" star Tila Tequila

Regular readers know how I feel about most so-called "reality TV." Manipulated by writers and producers and edited to provide the most salacious content possible, it is about as far from reality as Grimm's Fairy Tales.

The increasingly stupid populace at large just eats this crap up, and since it's much cheaper to produce than scripted shows, the networks keep pumping it out, ad nauseum. I know what I know about reality shows mostly from reading entertainment blogs and watch "The Soup" on E!. The phenomenon only serves to produce temporary celebrities who will be forgotten as soon as they and their publicists have run out of ways to exploit them.

Tila "Tequila" Nguyen is a Eurasian Penthouse and Maxim model who became semi-famous because of her MTV 'reality' dating show "A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila." A self-proclaimed bisexual, Tila has gone on to be a singer in two bands; the owner of now defunct dating website and the 'fiancee' of the late Johnson & Johnson heiress, Casey Johnson, who passed away from diabetic ketoacidocis in 2009. In an infamous 2010 incident, Tila was pelted with rocks, bottles and feces while appearing as an opener at an Insane Clown Posse concert.In March of this year, she went into rehab after attempting suicide by overdosing on pills.

Since then, she's kept a pretty low profile - until recently. Apparently, artificial fame has proven too much for the poor thing and she has taken to posting videos on YouTube in which she claims the Illuminati are conspiring to kill her for exposing their secrets. Yes, you read that correctly. The Illuminati. You know, the super secret society (a purported left-over of the Knights Templar) who supposedly run the world by manipulating governments, corporations, banks and the Free Masons.

Man, I love a good conspiracy theory. I love it even more when it is espoused by an obviously insane semi-celebrity desperate to remain relevant and in the news. The video below is almost as funny as the ones posted by the folks who believe the world is being run by reptilian aliens. Except none of these folks are really funny. Just sad. So very, very sad. You can skip around the clip without really missing anything - none of it makes any sense at all.

And that's just one of two videos she's posted on the subject. It's a shame, because she's actually adorable and could have a real career as a performer if she got her act together. I just want to bring her home and give a good home-cooked meal, administer some much-needed thorazine and rock her to sleep. Or slap the silly beotch about 30 or 40 times until she comes to her senses. 

Wow - that may well be what I need to snap me out of my recent funk.

Call me, Tila. I can help you. All you need is a dose of real reality.

More, anon.

Prospero

After a Day's Distance

I didn't want to talk about this yesterday, because I was too angry. I needed time to process what had happened for the second time in three weeks. I found that image to your left on Facebook today. Googling Mr. Parsons yielded no results as to the veracity of the quote. It doesn't matter, because the words themselves are true.

When we think of "terrorist," bin Laden will always come to mind. Except in Oklahoma, where they picture a young, Caucasian American male (whose name does not deserve mention). And now the people of Wisconsin will picture a skin-headed, jingoistic racist scumbag who entered a place a worship - the one place outside the home in which everyone (even atheists) should feel safe - and just started taking out the 'Others.' It is beyond sad. It is beyond sick. It is beyond comprehension.

The system failed everyone here; the shooter, included. Deemed fit for trial or not, these people are obviously not in their right minds. Something happened. Someone or something was the proverbial straw that broke these people. And there was no one there for them to stop it. The system is broken, all around. It's not just a gun issue. A friend from way back is a gun owner, and that's fine. He's stable and responsible and if the zombies come, I'm going to his house, first. He blames the mental health system, which surely has a hand in it. There's also a lot of fear and apathy out there - no one wants to get involved; no one has time to take a closer look; no one wants to get someone in trouble...

All we have is each other, folks. And whether you are religious or not, our only real job here is to be kind to and watch out for one another. It's not all that hard to understand, is it? Sadly, a lot of people don't.

More, anon.
Prospero