Category: homophobia

It Ain’t Easy Being Easy

Work at home Friday, and we made it through another work week in one piece (at least so far). The world is still here (for now), too, so if you’ve made it without losing your mind, killing someone, or just completely breaking down sobbing in a corner, congratulations! I did get tired yesterday afternoon, which wasn’t a surprise, but I was fine all morning and managed to get a lot done at the office, which was awesome. I was a bit tired to write words last night, so I decided to just chill, relax, do some chores when I felt like it, and think instead about what I am going to write today after my work-at-home duties. Naturally, that meant me doing little-to-nothing once I got home. Sparky was feeling lonely and needing some comfort love, which meant me providing my lap for his bed for almost the entire evening. I didn’t mind, of course; sleeping purr-kitty is very relaxing and calming. I caught up on the horrific news–these are the times that would have killed Molly Ivins, because trying to keep up on everything and writing humorously about it would have worn her down for sure.

So, apparently CNN conservative sleazebag Scott Jennings was outed as a closet case by Chef Joe Gera1. (See Matthew Rettenmund’s blog, along with some other queer news as well as some shots of actor Tom Blyth in the altogether; he’s a good resource and you should think about subscribing!) Scott Jennings is one of those white male mediocrities who has wound up as a fascism-enabler–this rat will definitely go down with the ship–and sits there with that asshole smirk while he smugly condescends to everyone else on the show. CNN was also responsible for giving us Tucker Carlson, thanks so much for that, by the way. It also raised the specter of outing again. I always go by the original ACT UP explanation for outing–if you are in a position to do harm to queer people, you do, and you’re closeted, well, fuck you and you definitely should be outed. (See: Aaron Schock) Are the allegations about Jennings accurate? Maybe, maybe not. But as far as I am concerned, we can put his unwashed fascist ass on a ice floe and set it adrift north of Canada.

Sparky only let me have about a half an hour of extra sleep this morning, so I am up way eariler than I’d intended; I never voluntarily get up at six thirty in the morning. I do feel rested and good. We watched another episode of Unchosen last night, which took another twist I didn’t see coming in last night’s episode. I kind of had wondered if this kind of twist was coming–mainly, because the show is doing such a great job with the characters that it seemed natural, but it still was a big surprise when they landed the twist. We are obsessed with this show, and of course, it has me thinking about cults again as well as Kansas, which is where I always think of when my mind turns to cults. I was thinking last night about several books I want to write that are set in Kansas–there are three I really hope I get to do while I am still writing. I also thought some more about the next Scotty, and I’m thinking I may move it up from Carnival to the Halloween before, as the story develops in my brain. I do love this creative phase I’m enjoying right now, and it’s not as frenetic and wild as they used to be; probably because the anxiety is under control so I am not getting dozens of new ideas weekly, which is also kind of a relief. I think having my mind ping around so rapid-fire the way it used to was also kind of exhausting and stressful. I like this whole new calm, centered thing medication is doing to my brain these days. And now it’s the weekend, with me feeling calm and rested and excellent. Huzzah!

I do have some work duties to do this morning that I will be diving into as soon as I finish writing this, and some other personal chores that have to be done this morning, too, which shouldn’t be an issue. I do think I am going to mostly stay home today. I have a couple of errands I can run later on (or tomorrow), and of course I’d like to get some cleaning done around here. I also need to wash and clean out the car since I am driving north a week from today (Paul leaves Tuesday to head north, too).

So I want to do some reading and writing this weekend, and get some newsletters finished as well. I feel good about everything in my life at the moment, and that’s always lovely. I am still doing a lot of processing and thinking about things that occurred in my life and making sense of them–and their lasting impact–on who I am. Maybe it was the anxiety, but I was always afraid somewhat to look back and relive/think about things again; mainly because I was certain I’d be embarrassed or ashamed. ANd maybe that’s true. Maybe I didn’t do this before because there was so much anxiety, and so much determination to always see the bad or negative about myself and now I can actually handle it? Regardless, I’m actually kind of enjoying this unpacking process while being kinder to, and forgiving, myself.

That’s healthy, right?

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have yourself a merry little Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check back in tomorrow with a progress report. Ta till then!

Anubis, Egyptian god of the afterlife and Lord of the Sacred Land
  1. We’ll see if there’s any truth or veracity to the claim, but it did make me laugh. He is so self-loathing, which is clearly apparent. I guess not thinking it was about sucking dick was probably a self-defense mechanism my brain used to protect from the horror of thinking him queer. ↩︎

He Stopped Loving Her Today

And here we are on a Saturday morning and I am up early again. I went to bed early last night, too, which was nice–I was a bit tired after this week’s Hacks and The Boys. I feel very good this morning, too. I have some ZOOM things to do for the Bold Strokes Book-a-thon; a reading at three and moderating a panel tonight at seven, and another panel tomorrow at six pm my time. The national gymnastics finals are today at three, so I’ll be watching on my iPad during the reading–with no offense intended at all for the other readers; I’ve been waiting to watch this since last year, and I’ll be listening to the readers, not the meet.

Yesterday was lovely. I got my work-at-home chores done, cleaned some, did laundry all day, and had a nice relaxing day at home, which was super-nice. I spent the early evening ater Paul got home catching up on the news, and ordered a pizza from Reginelli’s–which is another example of how small a town New Orleans can be. When I served on jury duty for that civil case all those years ago, the plaintiff was a Reginelli, and that case inspired Murder in the Irish Channel, a Chanse novel I am particularly proud of, and what our friend Susan would order for our Game of Thrones nights at her home. I also managed to get a late newsletter out, discussing Cheryl A. Head’s marvelous short story “Finding Jimmy Baldwin,” which you can read right here. I am going to try to get another one out tomorrow, to be back on the twice weekly schedule, but we shall see how that goes. I have some errands to run today, too, before settling in for the reading and the panel and the gymnastics. I should also probably pick up and do some more cleaning, too. I am going to try to get some reading done this morning, too…Listen for the Whisperer‘s second chapter, and back to the novel I’ve been trying to get into for several weeks now, with no disrespect intended for the author or the book itself; it’s me, not the book. I think reading the short stories might have helped kick the reading gene back into gear; although I suppose we shall see this morning, won’t we?

And of course, later this month I am going to both Alabama and Florida, which means an audiobook to listen to and write about, so huzzah for that. The audiobooks actually make me look forward to going on long drives again, and of course, I am now anxiety-free so I don’t get tense and tired while driving , which always resulted in me being exhausted; I wasn’t tired at all the last time I drove to Kentucky, which is my benchmark for long drives. Obviously, given a choice I wouldn’t take all these drives, but I make the best of them, and listening to books definitely has made them much more bearable. I’m not sure exactly what I am going to listen to on this drive; I do have some interesting books downloaded already on my phone.

Nothing about that rape academy website (or whatever it was; I was far too disgusted by what it was for and about so didn’t dig into the news reports deeply) surprised me, other than I thought the number of visits (or hits, or whatever the term is for that) was shockingly low at sixty-two million, frankly; I would have assumed it was one out of every two or three men–but then again, not everyone had heard of that website, so it would have been significantly higher otherwise. As everyone says, maybe not all men but always a man, which is accurate. The men are clearly not okay, and haven’t been in a while, but as long as they continue subscribing to the notion that women are merely sperm depositories whose sole function is running the house and squirting out fetuses, they will continue to be. I’ve always been grateful not to be a straight man, because that privilege comes at too great a cost for me. The whole manosphere thing has always been hilarious to me; who thinks Joe Rogan is a fucking role model? How sad and pathetic is that? That man-child Braden Peters (talk about generic white-boy names!) is clearly mentally unwell and his parents clearly failed him. (You can’t start injecting testosterone at fourteen without parental consent, can you? There were places in his life where his parents should have parented better, but he also bears some responsibility for how broken he is; overdosing on crystal meth is a warning sign he clearly isn’t capable of reading.) How can anyone look at Theo Von, Joe Rogan, Andrew Schulz, and other grifters of their ilk, and think, that’s what I want to be like.

Shudder.

So many podcasts and their podcasters are the dregs of humanity. But when you’re selling something people want to buy–your inability to get laid isn’t your fault–you’ll always make money.

And their mentality that gay men are somehow lesser than them because we’re not into the bullshit they are is laughable. None of them would get laid if they were gay men; no gay men would ever find them attractive–especially when you know they don’t clean their ass properly because “that’s some gay hit, man.” No fucking thanks. That any woman would ever want to fuck any of their unhygienic selves–I mean, I can smell Theo Von through the screen, you know? He also used to work out at my old gym once in a while; it was weird seeing him when he was nothing more than that douche from Road Rules trying to start a comedy career. And no, even when he was younger and in much better shape–he was still completely unfuckable, to me at any rate. Trust me, bros, you ain’t got nothing to fear from us queers, okay?

So, no, the straight men aren’t okay. Thank God my straight male friends aren’t anything like them–but they wouldn’t be my friends if they were. I don’t assume all straight men are homophobic sexist pricks until proven otherwise…but they often prove themselves lacking in that area without any prompting or assistance from me. I’ve been wanting to tackle the topic of “boys will be boys” and “locker room talk” as one of my masculinity essays, but haven’t really found my way into it–the US Men’s Olympic Hockey team made me think of it, along with the Access Hollywood tape we all listened to back in 2016–and trying to find my way into the subject. The rape academy shit may be the key to the opening paragraph, plus the fact that I’ve spent a lot of time in locker rooms throughout my lie, or in male-only spaces, and have heard it myself.

I also never excused it.

Sigh.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines and getting some breakfast. Have a great Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

Statue of Ramses II at night with the crescent moon

Smoky Mountain Rain

Yes, this is yet another song that inspired me to write a short story–“No Security Provided,” thus far an unfinished first draft, about a woman driving north on I-75 hurriedly but has to make a rest stop and finds herself in a bad situation–which I really should finish someday. It has the potential to be a very good story, you know? Or it could be a worthless piece of crap no one will want. Your mileage might vary. I’m sure it often does.

For the first time in three weeks I have a work-at-home Friday, and it feels nice to be getting back into my normal routine. Yesterday was fine; I made it through the day unscathed, not tired, and pretty cheerful for the most part. I got home in time to see the final rotation of the Gymnastics national semifinals, in which LSU clinched a spot in the finals with three incredible floor routines back to back to wrap up their night. That made me even cheerier, and watching the news didn’t upset me too terribly. (I think I’ve just snapped about the country, to be honest; I’m numb to it all, with one notable exception–more on that later) I have some quality assurance to get done this morning, and some chores I’d like to take care of. I’ll need to also figure out what to get from the grocery store and what to have delivered, and when. I do need to run uptown to the post office, and maybe can drop off a load of books to the library sale. I can do that tomorrow, and swing by–oh, you don’t need to know the rundown of my plans for the weekend. I’m not sure I do, to be honest, other than as a reminder. I’ve been watching Jeopardy! clips on Youtube, trying to sharpen my mind, as well as playing a computer game that requires focus and concentration. I don’t know if that will work or not, but it seems to be? Anyway, I am feeling content this morning. The good night’s sleep undoubtedly helped with me feeling good and rested this morning, and that is so awesome, you know? I didn’t even sleep in that late, either. Sparky was a cuddlebug again this morning, but not as patient as he was last weekend waiting for me to get up and feed him, so I was up shortly after seven without issue. I am on my second cup of coffee this morning, and I already had my morning coffee cake, but my stomach still feels a bit on the empty side, so I’ll be making some toast or something in a moment.

It occurred to me yesterday, as the news of the CNN story on the so-called on-line “rape academy,” that I will never run out of material for my newsletter series on masculinity, will I? Certainly not as long as mediocre straight men can’t get laid due to their looks or lack of personality….scratch a straight man, and the odds are in your favor when it comes to finding one who’s a rapist, or one who has thought about it. Intrusive thoughts are still your thoughts. And the way men will always circle the wagons without question or thought when a man is credibly accused of sexual assault has always been rather telling, I’ve always believed. Not all men, of course, one can never truly generalize any demographic group as there are always plenty of exceptions to the generalization, but…it’s always a man.

I remember as a kid, when reading about history or mythology, I’d encounter the word rape and not know what it meant; I assumed it meant abducting them and nothing more than that–the rape of the Sabine women comes to mind–and it wasn’t until much later that I realized what the gods and soldiers were actually doing, and how casually the concept was introduced to me, and by extension, to all kids in that time period as not a big deal that it’s no wonder than men are socialized to think their cavemannish belief they are entitled to a woman’s body whenever and wherever they want. (This is why I love Sarah Weinman’s work so much–Without Consent is probably one of the most important non-fiction works on women’s bodily autonomy in years–or at least since her last book. I really need to read it again so I can write about it. It’s just too important of a book for me to dash off some thoughts without being thoughtful, you know?)

It also looks to be another stunning April day outside, so maybe sitting outside with a book this afternoon might be a good call. Or a little walk down to the park and back, or over to Walgreens; I do need to get some Claritin. So, I think I’m going to bring this to a close and head over into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, y’all, and I’ll be back yet again in the morning.

Fins

I have to go into the office to work today, as there is no one to do walk-in testing–which also means I have to be there all day. I was highly annoyed at first, as anyone would be, and then decided being annoyed wasn’t going to make anything better, so accepted it and moved on. I also bartered Monday as my work-at-home day, so that will be very nice. Isn’t that a better outcome than being bitter and brooding? I am feeling better mentally lately, and staying in a mostly positive mind space. Obviously, the world is (gesticulates arms around) whatever the fuck this is, and it is very easy to get angry, or defeated, or overwhelmed–but that doesn’t help and that doesn’t make anything better and it certainly doesn’t make enduring these interesting times in which we find ourselves living in these days.

Imagine threatening the Pope–the bloody POPE–with kidnapping? You know what another name for the Avignon Papacy was? The Babylonian Captivity. BIBLICAL, wouldn’t you say? Catholics consider the Avignon Papacy such an affront to God they called that period the same name that is used for the Babylonian enslavement of Israel.

Interesting times indeed. Good luck with going after the Vatican. It’s also been interesting seeing Catholics shocked to realize evangelicals don’t actually consider them to be Christians–and don’t think they don’t have Catholics on the list for cleansing, too. Catholics have long been stigmatized in this country–how many Catholic presidents have we had? Just the one?–but once the evil right wing theocratic fascists figured out that abortion was a winning issue for them and a way to drag the Catholics in to use them for political power, that has kind of died down some…but it’s never gone away. Bigotries and prejudices don’t go away suddenly and without conscious choice…and I doubt that anyone put in the work in evangelical circles to truly kill off anti-Catholic bigotry.

Which is why it’s so weird that the majority of Supreme Court justices are Catholic.

I’ve always felt that the Religious Right had a day of reckoning coming, because one thing the vast majority of Christians can agree on is that every other Christian who doesn’t believe the same things and worships even the slightest bit differently is going straight to hell. That coalition was always doomed to fragment, and it’s a bit satisfying for me–who recognized the threat they posed to politics and culture and society back in the 1970s when they started to rise.

Yesterday wasn’t a bad day at work, and I wasn’t super tired when I got home. Paul got home shortly after I fed Sparky, and we settled in for the evening (it’s been an eternity since we’ve both been home in the evening). We caught up on the news, including a bizarre press conference, and then started watching Detective Hole. I had not read the books1, but the show looked interesting. The show is very good, if a bit on the bleak side–but that’s the Scandinavian noir/dark style, isn’t it? Visually, it’s stunning, and the plot is interesting. We will continue watching, but the first episode was a bit intense, so we then switched over to the first episode of the final season of The Boys, which recently dropped–they are not hiding the allegories anymore, you’d have to be a complete idiot to not see what they are doing–yet as always, there are people who don’t get they are on the wrong side in real life and gat very upset when the truth of what they’re enjoying hits them and they realize they like a WOKE SHOW. Oh, the horrors.

I want to write this weekend, and I am going to try. The essays are taking a bit out of me, especially when I write a long one like this most recent one. But hope springs eternal, doesn’t it? I feel really rested this morning, too. It’s nice not having to go in at the time I usually do; I was able to sleep a little later than usual this morning, which felt great. I think I will have the energy to be around people today and not want to commit any homicides–but I also haven’t driven to work yet, either; the drive can sometimes be a bit much with idiots on I-10. There’s no rush to get there; I technically don’t have to be there until ten, but I also have a meeting at ten so I need to be there by then for sure.

Oh, I was also included in this lovely write-up for Crime Reads for current and upcoming new works; you can read it here if you like.

All right, I am going to get another cup of coffee and get ready to head into the spice mines. May your Friday be as lovely as you are, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow.

Rome, if you want to—Rome around the world…
  1. Not after I heard the main character’s name, because I still am a thirteen year old boy sometimes. ↩︎

A New World

Thursday and it’s not my last day in the office for the week; I have to go in for a meeting tomorrow morning, but I get to leave right after so that will be nice; I’ll run some errands on the way home and get that out of the way for the weekend; anything else can be delivered. I didn’t really want to get up this morning, or out of bed; knowing I have to get up to an alarm tomorrow morning (Good Friday) doesn’t help much, either. But it rained overnight so I did sleep well, despite the rain kicking my sinuses back into fifth gear. I’ll be semi-sort of busy today at work; yesterday was busy but not terribly exhausting. I’m having dinner with a friend tomorrow night, so that’s something to look forward to. I do feel pretty okay this morning, but my legs are a bit fatigued. I’m also starving, so I need to eat something before I head to work this morning.

Yesterday was a rainy day alternating with sunshine and blue skies; there was a terrific downpour in the mid-afternoon which made me wish I was home with Sparky in my lap, reading. Ah, well, it wasn’t to be, and the damp in the air made the air conditioning at the office feel even colder. It was a good, if busy, day; I had a lot of clients and a lot of work to catch up on…I am almost current with everything, but hopefully coming in tomorrow morning for the meeting will help me get a lot of that done. It’s weird, it’s about a year from when I got so sick last year and wound up in the hospital, so I am really paying attention to my body and keeping an eye out for warning signs. I am medicated for that condition now (so many pills every morning and night, sigh), so it shouldn’t be an issue but…this year is probably the only year I will worry about it returning. But it does make for some not-as-bad-as-they-used-to-be stressed reactive thinking for a moment or so.

It was also very weird but I recently managed to feel bad for Lindsey Graham, and it’s not that often that I feel bad for a terrible person. I despise Graham, but there are a lot of things you can use to attack him rather than calling him gay or Miss Lindsey or Aunt Pittypat–all of which are not only homophobic but also transphobic in some cases. Yes, there are a lot of closeted gay men in the MAGA movement (self-loathing, party of one, your table is ready), and yes, they do a lot of damage not just to queers but to everyone who isn’t a white man…but mocking them for being gay and closeted isn’t it. With all due respect, Graham has undoubtedly been bullied and mocked for being gay his entire life–and as someone who also experienced that until I came out, I can empathize and have sympathy for that. Also, if he wants to go to, and enjoys, Disney World, and also likes bubble wands? On the one hand, I am not opposed to anything that makes someone happy, and the notion that straight adult men can’t love Disney is…well, gendered. I don’t know if Lindsey Graham is gay or bisexual or whatever it is that he likes to do; he may be asexual for all we know. But I don’t like speculation (or bullying) based on rumors. Lindsey Graham is a horrible, horrible human being; we don’t need to throw all queers under the bus in order to drag him for filth. It’s also very interesting how many “allies” will immediately go to queer slurs and insults if they decide someone “deserves” it. Graham deserves to be bullied and mocked and dragged, but not for going to Disney World (in itself nothing shameful; but shame him for going instead of doing his job, not because it’s a “gendered” thing to love Disney as an adult) or for possibly having an alternate sexuality. Don’t make me defend Lindsey Graham anymore, people. I don’t like it–but bullying someone for being gay, whether they are or not, is bullshit.

There are plenty of reasons to drag Graham–his masculinity isn’t one of them.

Likewise, I don’t care what Bryon Noem does in his private life, and what kind of marriage the Noems have had (staying married for their Christian bona fides would be my guess)…but yes, it’s the height of hypocrisy to be the morality police for everyone else when you have a marriage agreement of some sort, just like Erikkka Kirk can’t wrap herself in her wailing widowhood when she’s clearly been having the time of her life since her husband’s murder–and it’s not even been a full year yet. MAGA people are clearly mostly freaks privately and that’s fine. As long as no one is being harmed and consent is involved, knock your socks off. But don’t police everyone else’s morality when you have feet of clay, you know?

Let’s not forget the couch fucker also did drag when he was in college.

Sigh.

Paul didn’t get home last night before I went to bed, so it was just me and Sparky in my easy chair watching news clips and watching documentaries about inbred Hapsburgs, which I enjoy for some reason. The Hapsburgs have always fascinated me, with their inbreeding and religious fanaticism (which always makes me shake my head; there is literally nothing in the Bible that instructs anyone to mass murder people who believe differently. The Hapsburgs were the illustration of “there’s no hate quite like Christian love.” I wasn’t tired, but Sparky was very needy and wanted my lap to sleep in; he was dead to the world, dreaming and talking some in his sleep, and so I didn’t want to disturb him. It’s silly, I know–he’ll just go sleep somewhere else if I get up–but the dirty looks he gives me when I do disturb him are quite compelling. No one can side-eye quite like a sleepy cat, can they?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. It may rain again today, and it’s definitely going to be muggy today. Sigh. I need to pick up some more Claritin tomorrow. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

There’s nothing prettier than the Quarter on a foggy evening

All the Beautiful Worlds

Ah, you have to love waking up and checking your email and the first subject line you see is Reminder: Inspector Hole is now on Netflix. It always makes me laugh–as does the fact his first name is Harry–because I sometimes have the maturity level of a junior high student. I’ve always meant to get to Jo Nesbø’s highly acclaimed series, just never have. The Festivals will be over by Sunday night, and so normality might return to the Lost Apartment (I’m not counting on it) soon and we can start watching a new show, or the new season of a favorite. I’ll be done with The Traitors New Zealand (I’m not enjoying this season as much thus far, but it should start kicking into gear soon. I was bitterly disappointed they banished the hottest guy already, which threw a wrench in my social theory I was developing from watching. Then again, it could be the exception that proves the rule. Sorry, Fili, you were gone too soon) by the end of the weekend. I will be heading down to the Quarter later for the Saints and Sinners opening party, but will probably come home directly after. Everything I have to do is on Sunday, which will make for a long, draining day, and am very glad I wisely took Monday off to recover and run errands and get ready for the week. I have some work-at-home duties to get done and a training later this morning on-line, so I am also going to try to clean the apartment when my eyes get bleary and start to cross. I got up and fed Sparky on time before going back to bed for a couple of hours, so I feel very rested this morning. Sparky is also playful this morning, so he’s alternating between attacking me with claws and fangs or chasing a bottlecap. He really is adorable, if a bit of a pest sometimes.

I was tired when I left the office yesterday and came straight home from work. I plopped down into my chair with Lord Sparkster and caught up on the news, which was horrible as per usual with this regime. I obviously watched an episode of The Traitors because of course I did, have you been paying attention? I was going to start watching the new Paul Theroux documentary but after seeing the toxic white men all day on social media I just couldn’t face even watching these twerps getting mocked the way I am sure the documentary does (my favorite comment to these pricks on-line is “if everyone’s an alpha no one is”), but I’ll try it tomorrow or tonight when I get home from the party.

The world figure skating championships are also this weekend, with Ilia Malinin in first after the men’s short, with the other Americans in the Top Ten–and Amber Glenn and Isabeau Levito are third and fourth, in medal position. I was very happy to see Ilia’s short program on YouTube last night; he seems much freer and happier than he did in Italy at the Olympics.

All the homophobes are, of course, out in force since it was revealed that a future season of Bridgerton will actually feature a lesbian romance by changing the gender of the male lead to a woman. Oh, the straight white ladies—the same ones who creamed themselves—and still do—about Heated Rivalry, and members of the m/m community suddenly realizing, like gay men have been telling them for almost twenty years, that it’s a fetish for some of you and you need to listen to gay men and call out the homophobia which you never did.

For the record, you homophobic bitches, I read and consume lesbian art regularly because it’s good, not because it gets me off. If a gay man can read and enjoy lesbian art, a straight woman certainly can. Then again, if it’s okay for straight women to write vampires and space aliens why can’t they write gay men? (This has been said to me any number of times. Yes, we only exist in fiction, bitch.) I saw a lot of this misogynistic patriarchical thinking from a lot of hateful straight white women yesterday, and no, you’re never beating the allegations, ladies. Clean up your community and stop attacking gay men.

Someone also pointed out something interesting in response to one of those right-wingers who posted about how he has liberal friends and they all get along because they don’t talk about politics—they noted these posts only ever come from the right, never the left. How often do you see someone on the left post about how they’re still friends with their right-winger friends and family because they don’t talk politics? It’s never someone who isn’t MAGA, and the post inevitably was triggered by being cut off from friends and family members because you voted for a pedophile who’s destroying the world. “You make politics your personality!“ Well, I sure as fuck wouldn’t if I were MAGA, for one, and for two, it’s not politics, it’s morality. How many “I regret my vote” posts and videos have you seen from Harris voters? None? I do see a lot of pining and sadness from MAGA people who’ve been cut off, but they never seem to grasp what their vote and support actually showed decent human beings about who they actually are. I wouldn’t feel safe having my kids around people who support pedophilia, or just are okay with looking the other way.

Sigh.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

The Temple of Poseidon, Attica, Greece

Maybe Love Will Change Your Mind

Work at home Friday, with the sun up and bright and the sky is clear and blue–almost cerulean, if you like–and I feel pretty good. I was very tired when I got home from work yesterday afternoon, and despite my best intentions I didn’t get anything done last night other than providing a lap for Sparky and finishing season one of The Traitors UK. Are you tired of my latest obsession yet? Paul isn’t quite as obsessed as I am, of course, and he finds my passion for the show a little amusing. But what can I say? It’s an absolutely delightful escape from the world and its assorted horrors; and it makes me happy and helps me relax. And we need to find joy in the world when there is so much trying to tear us all down and make us miserable. Joy feels like resistance, nourishing my soul so I can face the horrors of each and every day, and the more joy we find, the less likely the bastards are to win.

I think there was some excellent news with the removal of Kristi Noem (aptly namedKristi Lynn Arnold Noem (KLAN) from Homeland Security after all the taxpayer funded waste so she can, among other things, fuck Corey Lewandowski in the air to her heart’s content. Remember draining the swamp? How quaint that old demagogue slogan sounds now, doesn’t it? Almost like America First. And yet people still support this criminal gang that are looting the country and driving the national debt through the roof and up into the sky–it’s orbiting Pluto now, and about to break free and head for Sirius. I love how Democrats are the people who supposedly waste our tax dollars, while their God-emperor just steals from us with both hands. She’s being replaced by Markwayne Mullin, who sounds like a character from Green Acres, or a villain from an old Burt Reynolds caper movie. He’s another short man with a Napoleon complex (see Greg Bovino, Dan Bongino, Joe Rogan, etc.) who thinks he’s a lot tougher than he actually is–mainly because being short everyone else has to punch down to hit him. What nonsensical shit he’ll get up to–he’s as bad, if not worse, than Secretary KLAN–she’s just stupid and useless; I think he is stupid and evil–and God forbid, sees this as his ticket to higher office. Although Oklahoma could do the funniest thing and elect a Democrat to replace him…won’t happen; Oklahoma is too far gone into their hatred and bigotry and self-righteous white victimhood to send such a message to Washington; his replacement in the Senate will most likely be even worse.

I’ve also been loving the Reich-wing excuses and justifications for this insane and illegal war in the Middle East that we’ve started; I think my favorite was “we’ve been at war with Iran for forty-seven years!” Then why was the Reagan administration selling them arms to fund the Contras in Nicaragua, because that was definitely aid and comfort to the enemy and Oliver North should have been executed? See how easy that was? They are lying to us about everything, and I can’t imagine with our bases being hit how we’ve not had more casualties than what they’ve admitted to–you know, the “suckers and losers” he has referenced numerous times in the past.

I am also kind of angry about some other things–namely, the Texas Democrat need to vote for anyone other than the qualified and definitely battle-tested Black woman for the “new great white hope” from Texas (anyone remember Beto, or whatever his name was? Whatever happened to him?), who also doesn’t believe in Medicare for all and has anyone really dug into his reproductive freedom stance, or queer rights? No offense, but after being betrayed by the faux-progressive campaign stances of grifting trash like Kyrsten Sinema or John Fetterman, forgive me if I don’t climb right up on that train–and neither do Black Texas voters. His surrogates were not above using racism and misogyny to smear and slander Ms. Crockett, and his campaign did nothing–and no one on our side of the aisle should ever be okay with that kind of bullshit, especially one led by a Christian. I also saw some horrific racism on-line yesterday from white Texas gays–we’re never beating the allegations, guys, until you examine your fucking privilege–which led to a lot of blocking. Being marginalized doesn’t give you carte blanche to oppress other marginalized people. You can’t keep going to the Black community–especially Black women–for money, volunteers and votes when you consistently reward their hard work with racism, and of course the pro-genocide slander was right there for racists to use–and then “we need to rally behind the candidate!” Without the Black community, no Democrat will hold national office ever again. So maybe, white Democrats, take a moment and think about who you are driving away from the polls. If Black Texans don’t turn out in November, that seat stays MAGA. So, the Talarico people need to start making amends for their bullshit, stat. Hilarious how the same people who couldn’t bring themselves to vote for Jasmine Crockett were cheering her congressional takedown of KLAN the very day they couldn’t bring their anti-Black asses to vote for her the day before. “We love you! Way to go! But we’re not going to send you back to Congress, sorry!”

Seriously, and the racist white gays? You’re an embarrassment and a disgrace. It even looks like you’d vote against your own rights rather than vote for a Black candidate, and then you wonder why the Black community doesn’t trust or support us? Get the FUCK out of here. The Republicans didn’t want her on the ticket. SO what the fuck does that tell you, you stupid fucking assholes.

I was also alerted to a lovely Youtube review of Hurricane Season Hustle yesterday by Google alerts. Check it out!

Gorgeous Max Parker from last summer’s Netflix hit, Boots, which was cancelled because the Pentagon was pouty about gays in the military, the snowflakes.

Kick It

Well, I intended to get up early today and get a job on it, but I stayed up later than I intended and I was very comfortable–I even got up to feed Sparky and went right back to bed like a lag-a-bed–and so I figured what the hell and stayed in bed relaxing and napping until finally I got up. I stayed up too late watching Connor Storrie on Saturday Night Live–intending to see the monologue and then either watch the whole show or clips this morning. Yet I stayed up, watching, and next thing we knew it was midnight and we’d watched the entire show for the first time in decades. This will always be a Heated Rivalry and everything related to it fan account; it’s a show that brings me joy, and the endless enthusiasm worldwide for the show and everything connected to it also brings me joy. I’ll talk more about last night’s episode, and everything that goes along with that a bit later on.

Dan Simmons, a writer I used to admire, died recently. I had read some of his works in the late 1980s and early 1990s (Carrion Comfort, Summer of Night, Children of the Night) and I really enjoyed the books. I had also read both Song of Kali and Fires of Eden, which I enjoyed but made me very uncomfortable–they reminded me of early twentieth century books about “exoticized” locations and peoples; Song of Kali even seemed like a “means well but still offensive” juvenile series book for kids written pre-1970–and having been to Hawaii, Fires of Eden was an interesting take, I thought at the time, on the old Hawaiian gods; now being more aware than I was when I was a clueless dolt, it’s probably deeply offensive to indigenous Hawaiians. I stopped reading Simmons when I moved away from reading horror to reading exclusively crime and/or queer lit; I’d even forgotten about him entirely until I was judging an award one year and his novel Flashback was entered. “Oh, Dan Simmons! I love his work and had forgotten about it” only to read and see that all it was just a lengthy diatribe that’s message was nearly as conservative and ignorant as anything written by Ayn Rand. The main character is a former college liberal arts professor in a dystopian world ruined by things like free health care and everyone granted a guaranteed income, which naturally led to the collapse of everything good and decent and meaningful in the world–and there was a lot of talk how electing a Black president in 2008 was the beginning of the end. I gave it a zero rating on my judging form, threw it in the garbage, and vowed to never read, or reread, anything he wrote ever again. I don’t give my money to homophobes. I did like the television mini-series of his novel The Terror, despite its blatant homophobia (of course the gay sailor is the villain, because of course), but I was also amused that the second season was a slap in Simmons’ face, focused on the internment of Japanese Americans during the second world war–I’m sure he was a fan of those camps, given his politics. I did feel a bit of a pang when I heard he’d died (one of those too bad he wasted his talent by becoming a fascist), but he really was a good writer, and yes, a shame that happened to him.

Oh, well. It’s a nice day outside today, too!

Yesterday was a pretty good day, overall. I got some much-needed rest, did some chores around here, ran some errands, and was a kitty bed for Sparky for a good while. I have some more chores to do this morning, of course, and I am not really going to plan to do anything today. Plans don’t always seem to happen the way I want them to on the weekends, and making plans and announcing them publicly isn’t really the smart way to go here, because then I have to come here and make excuses for myself, or admit to not operating as efficiently as I like to think of myself being. Which, now that I think about it, is definitely a me thing, a holdover from the anxiety and my youthful training to not be lazy–as though taking it easy and resting and relaxing is somehow a bad thing. I keep finding all these habits and mental things that are all coping mechanisms I built up over the years to handle the anxiety, or try to manage it, at any rate.

We also watched Reality Check, about Tyra Banks and America’s Next Top Model, which we used to watch back in the day, and really, none of what they depicted in the documentary came as a surprise. I saw how they treated the bigger girls, I saw how they slut-shamed Shandi, and so forth. We didn’t watch the show as it aired, but would watch the marathons cable channels would run on the weekends, so it was comfort watching while recovering from going out the night before–lying on the couch, ordering a pizza, no energy, etc.–and everyone excused everything by saying “yes, well, this is the industry”–instead of “we should be fighting to change this.” The world and culture is very different now than it was when the show first started airing, but I’m not precisely sure when we stopped watching; probably when the weekend marathons were discontinued. Even with all the new attention the show has gotten this decade (people found it during lockdown), Tyra still seems to think she didn’t do anything bad or anything wrong, there’s no real accountability other than “I wouldn’t do that now.” (She also wasn’t the first Black supermodel, so I don’t know why she is fine with erasing Naomi Sims? I don’t know modeling that well (it’s not something I’ve ever cared enough about, frankly, to pay much attention to), so maybe there were others before Tyra that I don’t know or remember, but I am pretty damned sure Naomi Sims was before Tyra. I could be wrong.

I really enjoyed watching Saturday Night Live, and while some of the skits didn’t hit, he certainly did. He was terrific on live television! I also loved that they used his old skit from clown school–stripper hit by a car on the way to a bachelorette party–and he was terrific at the physical comedy it required (plus, we got to see him in a bikini, but it wasn’t gratuitous or sexy, which was a lovely flip and a metaphor about always have to deliver for fans), and his monologue was terrific. Like everyone, I was a little bothered by CAA and NBC (hockey AND the Olympics) using his luster and star power to rehabilitate the boys’ team’s image–horribly unfair, especially given how new his star is and not even considering the damage it could cause his image–but the quiet, polite applause when the NFL’s “chosen sacrificial lambs came on stage, and their awkward faces was perfect. They looked like two little boys who wanted to be anywhere else rather than where they were, sorry they got caught and sorry they had to be there, but if they didn’t want to lose Internet privileges they had to do this. They also didn’t look ashamed or sorry, either. But the looks on their faces when Hilary Knight and Megan Keller got long, sustained applause and cheers–something they didn’t get, and never will now outside of a hockey arena–their little bubble finally pierced and they realized oh man we really did fuck up those cheers would have been for US had we not fucked up and I think I watched Toothless Jack die a bit inside. Once again, the women have to clean up after the men, after the men not only laughed at their accomplishments with a rapist pedo and turned the entire conversation about the women’s gold medal into “about what the men did”–you not only buried the national pride in your own medal but built up at the women at your own expense. I also loved how Tkachuk was cornered into admitting his god-king used and embarrassed him on the global stage–I also love how clips of him getting absolutely drilled on the ice are going viral every time it happens. Close the Northern border indeed.

Schadenfreude and her sister karma are bitches indeed.

It was also exciting that Hudson Williams showed up, too!

And yes, I know what’s going on in the Middle East, but don’t have words to express how apoplectic my anger and rage is. Give me time.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back before work tomorrow morning.

Rose Garden

Good morning! I’m feeling good this morning after a lovely evening of sleep and an even lovelier day of doing very little. I must confess I did feel a bit on the guilty side last evening when I went up the stairs and slid under the covers; but the way I feel this morning makes me think that it was a very good thing that I took a rest day, really. Paul also took a rest day–he wore himself out with a couple of all nighters–and so things were quiet and calm around here all day. I had intended to only sit for a moment and ice my ankles, but Sparky curled up into my lap and I put on season 2 of The Traitors, Paul came downstairs and got under the blankets on the couch…and that’s primarily what I did yesterday: binge-watched The Traitors all the way through the reunion. I have figured out how they keep us hooked and watching–all those cliffhangers and twists and turns–because every time the credits roll I have to see what happened. Paul’s been calling me an addict all week, but yesterday he was the one with the “We have to see who they killed” or “start the next one so we find out if the recruit said yes” and finally I said, “yes, but I’m the addict” and we had a marvelous laugh. We finished up the second season around eleven thirty, but “had to start the third” to see who was in the cast.

I don’t think I’ve been this involved in a show in quite some time? Certainly not a reality show, in any case. We also want to watch the Tyra documentary on Netflix because we used to marathon America’s Next Top Model when they would do marathons on some network–I want to say Bravo but I know that’s wrong–Bravo was our go-to for marathons of The West Wing and Law and Order back in the day. We gradually stopped watching–some of the stuff they did on the show made me uncomfortable, honestly–so I am interested in watching. I knew the show had to be a train wreck behind the scenes, because well, Tyra Banks, and I’d also like to watch the one about The Biggest Loser–a show I never watched because (blech) Jillian Michaels (vomit), plus I worked in fitness for nearly ten years, so I knew, just from the commercials, that it wasn’t good for the contestants and no one seemed to be concerned about their safety, physical and mental. I’ve also never watched any of the romance ones (although I loved the fictional show unReal) because it just seemed…I don’t know, absurd; at first they seemed cringy to me–“who wants to go on television to find a life partner?”–but there’s an audience for them apparently. (Also, I found out it incredibly insensitive and insulting that “marriage equality” was undermining the sanctity of marriage while straight people not only mocked marriage with these shows but made it blatantly obvious how little the actual undermining of the sanctity of marriage truly bothered anyone; it was just the usual homophobic trash with a cross up their ass…and that’s not even mentioning adultery and divorce…)

Sigh. The hypocrisy of the straights never ceases to surprise me.

I did spend some time yesterday cleaning the boxes of books off the top of the cabinets. I have two more to go; it was difficult with the Achilles tendons tightness to climb up and down the ladder, but I also cleared off the top shelf in the pantry for this contents of these boxes. The kitchen is a mess–a bad one, at that–so I am going to spend some time on that this morning when I finish this. I would like to read and do some writing, too, but I am also not going to beat myself to death if I don’t. I feel good this morning but I do need to ice the ankles again today, so I am not entirely sure I won’t get sucked into the comfort of my easy chair and purring kitty sleeping in my lap with the remote control right there on the side table. I did get a lot of the laundry done–there’s very little left going into the week–and I would like to get the pantry/laundry room into some sort of tidy order. Ah, dreams are lovely things, aren’t they?

But in taking the boxes down I also found some books that reminded me of how my childhood interest in history took off–the juvenile histories of Genevieve Foster, “parallel histories” is how she described them, which is kind of what A Distant Mirror by Barbara Tuchman is, so yes, there must be a blog essay about these books and how they inevitably got me incredibly interested in history and how it is all connected (also how it constantly repeats). I paged through some of them while bingeing The Traitors yesterday–I bought copies after Katrina, probably in an attempt to reconnect with my personal history, which I did a lot of in those years–and memories came flooding back; and I also remembered a lot of the contents of those books, too. The first one I read–and I checked them out of the library at Eli Whitney Elementary regularly–was George Washington and His World…and I loved the concept of all that historical information being given to give context to that time and that world. So, my wanting to write that kind of history of the sixteenth century was probably already wired into my brain before reading A Distant Mirror, and probably partly why I loved it so much. I also pruned books out of the bookcases and some of the boxes, which is more progress on the house. Next weekend, I’ll drop some boxes of books at the library sale and will also probably drop off beads at ArcGNO.

And on that note, I’m going to get more coffee and make some breakfast. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning! See you then!

A terrific shot by Linda Minutola, who does great work! Best place to get a burger grilled under a hubcap!

Blue Eyes

Its the morning of Ash Wednesday and I am up at my normal time, trying to get back to normal and back into my normal day-to-day life now that Carnival is over for another year. The city is probably still in ruins, because there’s only so much they can clean up overnight, you know? The trees of St. Charles are dripping with beads and crepe paper and, of course, toilet paper from racist Tucks, er, Sucks1. I am so tired of the insidious nature of racism in incredibly stupid and small-minded white people. I can’t imagine how exhausted racialized communities feel. The closest thing I can think of would be how tired I am of homophobia and homophobes.

You haters are fucking tedious, you know? Get a fucking life already.

Readjusting back to normality after Deep Gras is always tricky. It’s Fat Tuesday that always winds up throwing me off–I am always aware that it’s Monday during Lundi Gras, but it felt like Sunday yesterday and I keep thinking today is Monday, and it’s not. That will take some mental adjusting, as will that tomorrow is my last day in the office again. But I feel very rested this morning, too. I spent a. great deal of time yesterday icing my ankles, so the Achilles tendons aren’t very tender this morning, but I am sure that will change as the day gets longer. I’ll ice them again tonight, of course, and I have some errands to do after work on the way home, too. I made potato leek soup in the slow cooker yesterday–it was sublime, probably the best I’ve ever made, and I added shallots this time, too–and that was quite lovely for dinner. I did chores and picked up a lot around the house, but never got around to the floors, which I hope to get to this weekend. I also managed to read some, which was very lovely, and I had a very strong burst of creativity yesterday that resulted in me making significant headway on an essay for the newsletter after sending a promotional one out over the course of the lengthy weekend, while getting an idea for another one–and I thought I was finished with the promotional Scotty newsletters; so that is a very good thing.

I also need to pack up more beads to donate to ArcGNO this weekend, and should also probably drop off a box of books at the library sale. I made some other reorganization decisions about the apartment this weekend, too–I need to clear out a shelf in the pantry so I can take some boxes down from the tops of the cabinets–and I really need to get the floors done. The house always looks so much better when I’ve done the floors, and maybe this weekend I can get the workspace windows cleaned, depending on the weather; I’ve not bothered to look ahead just yet. If it rains or is too cold, the windows can certainly wait.

While I did things yesterday, I was bingeing Celebrity Traitors from the UK, and even with a majority of the cast being people I had NO idea who they were, it was an excellent cast and an even more enjoyable game. I primarily wanted to see how the game ends, since I’ve never seen a season finale, and now that I know, I am pretty pleased, as I was afraid the way they wrap it all up might be a let down, but it’s not. And there was someone I’d actually met and had dinner/drinks with years and years ago in the cast! Yes, I am going to humblebrag, but the British actress Celia Imrie and I have mutual friends in common–and I had dinner with her and our mutual friend when they came through New Orleans a while back, which was marvelous. Naturally, I was rooting for her, but she was one of the last murder victims, alas. Stephen Fry was also on, and he was the first person I’ve seen note how badly the game is stacked in favor of the Traitors; I also observed to Paul “they really shouldn’t feel bad for banishing people who aren’t Traitors; the Faithful outnumber the Traitors by a 19 to 3 ratio, so of course they are going to banish incorrectly more often than not. I suspect I would be terrible at this game unless I was a Traitor.

If you’re a politics junkie2 and love watching MAGA eating themselves, pay attention to the Louisiana Republican primary for Senator Bill Cassidy (the pro-life OB-GYN who looks like a Muppet gone wrong) for some hilarity. Cassidy, as you may remember, committed the egregious sin of voting for Trump’s impeachment after January 6–hoping the person with no long-term memory would forget that six years later. About a month or so ago, Orange Foolius handpicked congresswoman Julia Letlow to endorse for the race. I’m not entirely certain she’d even announced? Cassidy’s dark money PACs are now going after Letlow, tying her to DEI and Nancy Pelosi and President Biden as a “dangerous liberal” (it took me a while to type that while laughing hysterically); does OF still have pull in Louisiana now? After a couple of weeks of silence, Letlow has finally released her own attack ads on Cassidy and seriously, this primary race can easily be called A Confederacy of Dunces.

I was sorry to hear that both Jesse Jackson and Robert Duvall died over Deep Gras. Both contributed significantly to society in their own ways, and giants cannot be replaced. I mean, look at this iteration of the current Democratic Party–where are all the great Democrats I grew up watching legislate? I mean, even the Kennedy in the forefront of public policy today is a very poor imitation of his father and uncles, pissing and shitting all over the family name. I also find it interesting that Hunter Biden was targeted and hounded for having addiction issues, while MAGA celebrates the brain worm guy who had addiction issues and clearly has something wrong with him.

After finishing reading The Secret of Hangman’s Inn, I started writing a newsletter essay about the Ken Holt series and this book in general, with a particular look at the series’ homo-eroticism–based on my recent reread of the book itself. The series, expertly written by Sam and Beryl Epstein under the name Bruce Campbell, is very much of it’s time–and you could easily see how things had changed since they were written. I remember there was a clue in one book that had to do with the cotter pin holding automobile tires on–they don’t have those anymore–and of course, no television, no automatic transmissions on cars, having to depend on phone calls and being home to take them, newspapers and syndicates with journalistic ethics, and so on. But this particular reread made me realize something about the juvenile series that I hadn’t ever caught on to before–and that will also be a strong piece of the newsletter essay.

I also decided yesterday what my next Scotty book will be and when it will be set. I wanted to jump ahead–the most recent, this new one, is set in August of 2019, and I am going to skip ahead to Mardi Gras 2022, when the parades rolled again after the canceled parade season of 2021–and I even know what it’s going to be about. Huzzah!

So yes, I had a very productive and good day yesterday. I feel rested, my right Achilles tendon has a bit of a twinge but the left feels good, and I feel rested and relaxed and motivated to get things done. And as always, we’ll see how long this feeling lasts. I am going to head into the spice mines now, and hope to have a great day post-Carnival.

Have a great Ash Wednesday if you “celebrate”, and if you don’t, have a lovely Wednesday–the rest of the work week is the downhill slide into the weekend, which will be here before I know it or am ready for it!

American swimmer Caeleb Dressel is an Olympic champion. And has pretty blue eyes.

Photographed at the University of Florida in Gainesville. Mandatory Credit: Robert Deutsch-USA TODAY ORG XMIT: USATODAY-451287 [Via MerlinFTP Drop]
  1. I saw yesterday that the racist assholes who hung black dolls by the neck with beads from their float have been kicked out of Tucks. Good. They also should be named and shamed, but I doubt that will happen. ↩︎
  2. This is an example of a time when I really miss Victoria. ↩︎