Do The Right Thing (And Shut The Fuck Up)

Allow me to not be the first to say that Sarah Palin is full of shit. To be fair I did not watch the entirety of her random press conference, nor have I been paying much attention to the pundits' reactions to it. I learned during the campaign that just about none of them know how to do anything other than yell. But her insanity and the inanity of people's reaction, one in particular, serves only to drive me more towards misanthropy than the whole of Nazi Germany could ever hope to.

John Tantillo is not a political pundit. He may have come up with the name for Bill O'Reilly's show, according to wikipedia he's got a masters and a doctorate in two different fields of psychology, and he's apparently some sort of marketing whiz. But if his opinion piece is any hint that doesn't mean he's intelligent. And in the esteemed tradition of Fox News, anyone who has even a clue as to what the fuck they're talking about dictates what to do, think, and believe to the middle class. Pawns of the liberal elite to manipulate Americans and turn this great country into Europe Lite.

'She's not a loser or a quitter, she's a maverick with a bright political future.' Doctor Tantillo contends that the reasons she offered--because of the wasteful spending and time consuming nature of investigations against her administration, and the media treating her family like shit--are valid and need not be questioned. Ask yourself, how much sense does this make: Palin leaves office, and the authorities immediately drop all investigations against her because she left office. The offender is gone and therefore they and their cronies don't need to be brought to justice. So if I kill someone in Ohio and then drive to Pennsylvania all is right with the world. I left the scene of the crime, right? State and federal tax dollars will continue to be spent on the investigations (frivolous or not, it doesn't matter), and the new governor will still be hamstrung by the probing authorities. Just because someone runs away from their cloud of shit doesn't mean the cloud of shit miraculously disappears and nobody cares anymore.

Of course media coverage about the Palin family has been unfair, irrational, invasive, probably inaccurate, and definitely stupid. But again, just because she's no longer governor doesn;t mean the media is going to leave her alone. She's still a MILF, a severely retarded 30% of the American people still like her, that means there's still money in the media obsessing over her and her family. At this point, Sarah Palin is a lot like Obama in that she has a very noticeable celebrity factor. But for a second, let's pretend that after a few weeks the media will leave her alone in Wasilla. If she is as poised to grow as thew good Doctor suggests, what makes you think that as soon as she steps back into the limelight the media won't stalk her again?

Personally I don't know what her motivations are for quitting (because that's what she did, she fucking quit, don't try to romanticize it) her job. My first thought was that she, like Mike Huckabee recently, realized there's more money to be made in the private sector than the public. But I can't pretend like I know what she's thinking, she might have even believed the things she said. Sarah Palin the politician is just as short-sighted, senseless, and stupid as her fans. The 25% that believed Jesus would return in 2007 (and have probably upped their rapture date to 'sometime in 2009') probably form her core constituency. Whether or not Dr. Tantillo can be found on the corner preaching damnation is an unknown. What is known, however, is that he's a bold-face dumbass incapable of thinking for himself. Stick to marketing, John.

I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire

To make things easier for people in Ohio I tell them I'm from DC, since whenever I mention Rockville--even if I say it's a DC suburb--they assume it's in the shadows of Baltimore. Idiots. While I like the city well enough, I only spent the first six years of my life there. I like going back but I don't get to do it too often because my friends here rarely seem up for adventuring in the big bad city. I will concede to them though, it's a strange city. Political jokes aside (really Joe?), any city that has fried chicken stores with barbed wire lining the roof is not your typical residential area.

Another odd thing about DC is who the people there like, and I can think of no case better than former Mayor and current City Councilman Marion Barry. If the name sounds familiar, it should. Marion was first the Mayor of DC from the glorious years of 1979 to 1991, and just before that final year he was caught on camera in an FBI sting smoking crack with an ex-girlfriend/informant. When the feds burst into the room and arrested the Mayor, he offered the hidden camera the classic line "Bitch set me up." After spending 6 months in jail, the people elected him to a 4th term as mayor. Currently he's on probation for tax evasion. And as a personal sticking point, Marion was also the sole dissenting vote on the city council regarding a bill recognizing same-sex marriages performed elsewhere. Why? "All hell is going to break loose...we may have a civil war. The black community is just adamant against this." If that weren't enough, yesterday he was arrested for stalking a woman. How many steps back is it this time?

Barry's people insist the accuser is full of shit, claiming she's accused him of stalking several times. You know how hoodrats get when their friends are threatened; it's always everybody's fault but the actual perpetrator. Just like little children. People love him in parts of the city but I never hear anything about what he did to benefit the community, whether it be black people, Ward 8 (most of comically-downtrodden Southeast), or the city as a whole. He's just a pretty cool guy, and doesn't afraid of anything apparently. Gliding through life sharply-dressed with a tongue that kills. Of course it seems typical that the residents of southeast, of all parts of the city, would fall for this time and time again. Like his 1992 council campaign slogan said, "He May Not Be Perfect, But He's Perfect For D.C.!" Idiots.

"Bobby. You're George W. Bush, and Love is 9/11. Do Not Invade Iraq!"

Last night was a bad night. I was in a bad way. My BAC was .00 and I still haven't smoked anything since mid-May. And no, that's not why I was in a bad way. Last summer I was afraid to leave Rockville, and this summer I'm afraid to stay here any longer. I miss everything about Athens, from the parade of drunkards on Court St. literally ever night to the brick streets and genuine masonry in the buildings. Rockville is like one of those dull, depressing small towns you see in those coming-of-age stories, except they've dressed it up real pretty in tree lined streets and prefab, generic-European-looking storefronts in "Rockville Town Square", about four square blocks of overpriced food and stores full of things nobody wants to buy. The library's pretty nice, though.

Most of what I miss about Athens though is definitely my friends. That fact became alarmingly clear when, a little while ago, one of them drunk-dialed me. It didn't even matter that he had way too much. Just hearing his voice made be so unbelievably happy. A week removed and I still can't put it into words. And that caught me a bit off guard; I've spoken on the phone with other friends and while I was glad to hear from them, I wasn't anywhere near that happy. Then again, this guy and I have a bit of history. We've only really known each other for a couple of months now, but for two gay men who aren't an item we spent a lot of time together. A lot of flirtatious time. Now, I like it as much as the next guy but I had no idea it would lead to this. From the very beginning I thought my attraction to him would remain a physical one and nothing more. Sure enough, as time went on I thought about him more and more. Just how much I miss him hit me in the face again last night, with a simple question prompted by a facebook status: "what's wrong lil lumpkin?"

I told him everything. Without names. I don't know what I was thinking, I was so tired and I didn't know what to do. But I told him everything. Throughout the whole conversation, he didn't even pick up that I was talking about him. But the one word I didn't want to hear out of the five hundred thousand in the English language did surface, several times: love. He said it, not me. There's so much about this I'm clueless to. How did something like this gain so much power over me, am I right to be telling anyone, am I worrying over nothing, do I really like him this much, why/how am I writing this post, did I just miss a golden opportunity to come out to my mother, why did I tell him specifically who I--in his words--am in love with. I didn't want to hear that word but it so perfectly sums up what I've been feeling. And they call this shit beautiful.

Like a fatass crab molting its shell, I've never felt so vulnerable in my life; not necessarily expecting but certainly being afraid of getting boiled, gutted, and eaten. He said he wasn't weirded out--"in fact I'm flattered."--but of course that doesn't satisfy my mind.

"He's just saying that," my brain goes.
"Please shut the fuck up," I respond, "this is all your goddamn fault."
...
"At least he didn't brutally shoot me down, or just stop talking to me.."
"Not yet."
"I swear to fucking god, if you don't hush the fuck up right fucking now--" Silence, for a second anyway.
"'Maybe when school starts'? I mean, I can't expect him to promise to wait; that's basically a long distance relationship and it's unfair to expect that out of him. I don't even want that."
"Okay so he didn't outright reject you. He's just letting you down easy, fall quarter will turn into 'sometime later maybe' and we both know that'll never come. You'll be lucky to remain friends."

You probably find yourself sitting there, thinking "what has this boy gotten himself into?" Is it love or is it just, uh, confusion? As soon as I know I'll clue you in.

Crazy Little Thing Called Love

You've probably never heard of it. And even if you have odds are it's because of recent token media coverage now that Obama has decreed June to be Pride Month, and for a month people act like they care about the homos. But if you haven't heard of it, don't feel bad. I didn't know what the hell a Stonewall Inn was until about a year ago when I happened to come across it on Wikipedia while combing through articles, following one link to another. Nobody told me about it in school, my mother never brought it up despite being a child of the age, you get the idea. I knew who Stonewall Jackson was, but I doubted and still doubt his name bears any relation to the place in New York City.

To make a long and complicated story short and neat in the interest of time and space, the Stonewall Inn was, 40 years ago yesterday, the start of the gay rights movement in the United States and much of the world. New York's Finest had taken to raiding gay bars under the auspices of enforcing the law, but the queerbaits at the Stonewall unexpectedly showed some resistance. The NYPD quickly lost control of the situation, and for five days a community shouted out their collective window and proclaimed they were mad as hell and they weren't going to take it anymore (seven years too early I know, but the line fits perfectly). Exactly a year after the riots on Christopher Street the community held the world's first gay pride parade, marching from the Stonewall Inn to Central Park.

Now, four decades removed from the riots where do we find ourselves? Everything those couple hundred pissed off queens could never have even dreamed of, for one. For a civil rights movement that started such a short time ago, the gay community has made truly remarkable progress. Prior to 1969, coming out anywhere was a formal request to be disowned by your parents and/or fired by your employer. While "the heartland", Central and South America, Africa, the Middle East, and huge swaths of Asia still have a long way to go, at least there are places on this planet where gay people can be somewhat accepted by other people and where the wandering can find refuge.

The Netherlands, Belgium, Spain, South Africa, and Canada are currently the only five countries on the planet where same-sex marriage is legalized without restriction. The marriage debate is an easy one nowadays to coalesce the whole gay rights movement into. It happens every day. And while the right to marry is certainly a very important one it would be irresponsible to assume the marriage issue is the only stain left unwashed.

In Ohio, I can be fired from my job effective immediately if my employer decides she doesn't like queers. In Florida, if my landlord feels the same way he can kick me out of my house for no other reason than that. In Jamaica I can be beaten and harassed by police officers. Half a world away, I can be tortured, mutilated, raped, hunted and killed--legally or otherwise--for daring to be myself. But no LGBT person anywhere is immune from rejection by so-called friends and family. Old habits die hard, and it's easy to say you accept gay people before your son or daughter, or even spouse comes out to you. Several people I know learned that the hard way, and it's something I am legitimately afraid to face. I don't know if people are born gay or not, but I can say with absolute certainty that it is not a conscious choice.

It's always amazing how much things change and how much they can manage to stay exactly the same. Our current president promised to be a "fierce advocate" of LGBT rights. He promised to end Don't Ask, Don't Tell and repeal the Defense of Marriage Act, opening the doors for the United States to eventually become #6 on the previously mentioned list. Infamously, he has taken no action against DADT and his administration defended DOMA in court using the Bryantesque comparison of homosexuals to pedophiles. Simultaneously, he declares June to officially be Pride Month as if that's supposed to make amends. The notion of a homophobic federal government sanctioning "Pride Month" reeks of the tokenism of Black History Month immersed in White History Year. And it's disgusting.

Bob Dylan once asked a world, "How many roads must a man walk down before you call him a man?" Like the black civil rights movement, and like the process of coming out for every LGBT person, there is no definite end but death. So long as there are gay people and straight people, institutionalized discrimination will always be something to struggle against. The point of the gay rights movement is not to reach some sunshiney, saccharine promised land. The point is to be free to live and love as we see fit. It's that simple. A freedom to be yourself is not just an American right, it's a human right. If a handful of broke, homeless, slightly drunk queers can stand up on a lonely New York night and spark a cultural movement, imagine what millions can do.

The Day The Lols Died

Billy Mays, infomercial and internet royalty, has died. He was 50.

If America were a bearded middle aged white man with a loud, obnoxious voice commanding your attention and trying to get you to buy something (who are we kidding, that is America), then Billy Mays was the majestic eagle soaring over the suburban mega-mall and crapping on the BMW's in the parking lot. And with that precious eagle now extinct, all we have is Vince the garden variety ShamWow pigeon. There can be only one Billy Mays.

In addiction to being an infomercial personality, Billy was an internet (read:4chan) icon. Fox News, the it-getters that they are, clearly understand this as they cast aside yet another South American military coup to devote Sunday's headlines to the one and only Billy Mays--and in all caps too; he would have approved. Fox's storied relationship with 4chan, tracing back to hackers on steroids and corruptions of "lol", is one of but a few support mechanisms the internet community has in troubled times like these. Now who will yell at us through the television and computer screens? Where will the internet get its infolols from now? Today the internet weeps, for it has lost one of its few heroes.

Now if you'll excuse me I'm off to buy some Mighty Putty. To mend my soul.