Tag: Christianity

Forty Miles of Bad Road

Work at home Friday, and all is well in Gregworld. Granted, I haven’t looked at the news today or checked in on social media (probably should avoid that, to be honest), so my cheery mood should last until at least I finish this entry. I do have to go to the gym today, and I need to run a couple of errands, but other than that I think I am going to at least try to stay inside for most of the weekend. I may take a walk tomorrow morning, depending on how I feel, but I can’t just keep pretending the stamina will come back on its own, and it’s going to be tough getting it back. My eating habits are getting better, I am sleeping better, and my anxiety is almost completely gone.

I did a little writing last night, and it felt kind of good, so I am hoping to get back on that horse this weekend completely as well. I felt off all week, not sure what that was about, but today I don’t anymore. This week was also one of those weird weeks where I was more tired at the beginning of the week than I was at the end, which I am sure has everything to do with changing the sleep schedule on the weekends and then having to adjust back. I am not going to get up at six on my off-days; that will never happen–I have never been a “spring right out of bed wide awake” person, and I think that will last my entire life. I can live with it, to be honest. I hope to have a great weekend. I don’t have to do much more than touching up around the apartment, so I can get into a deeper clean this weekend–more paper is going to be tossed, as well as more books being pruned for the library sale. I’m looking forward to reading more of Ford’s Suicide Notes and possibly finishing it this weekend…and then perhaps reading some nonfiction until I leave on the trip. I still haven’t finished Rival Queens, and that’s something I really need to finish so I can move on to another.

We also finished the first season of Vigil, which was terrific right up to the closing credits. We immediately dove into season two, which is another murder mystery with international intrigue involving military operations in a fictional country in the Middle East (it occurred to me yesterday that middle east is very Eurocentric; it probably started being called that during the Roman Empire, when that was, to them, the middle east; is there another way of referring to that region that I’ve missed somehow? Something to ponder), so it’s similar but extremely different from the first season. There’s also going to be a new episode of Mary and George today, which I am very excited about. Oh! I should read The King’s Assassin for nonfiction; the show is based on the book and I do have a copy! Perfect! The day just got that much better!

I still need to rein in and focus my creativity, which is still bouncing all over the place like a whack-a-mole. But I do think if I settle into writing and Sparky doesn’t harass me, I think I should be able to get a lot done. He did start trying to get fed at his usual time, and he is nothing if not determined. He didn’t relent until I finally gave up and got up at seven thirty, and now he is nowhere to be seen. I do love the little rascal, and he’s so happy to have us both home at night together that I hate to think I’ll be gone for about seven days starting next weekend. I also need to get my shit together for that trip, too. I think I have my audiobooks downloaded and prepared–Carol Goodman’s The Drowning Tree for the way up, and either a Lisa Unger or another Goodman for my drive back. I think I’m going to take the Tremblay, the Ford sequel, and one of the Koryta as Carson books.

I also dug out my old essay “Recovering Christian” to look over, with an eye towards revision/rewrite and possibly either sharing here or over on Substack (I”m not sure if we’re supposed to still be using Substack or not, but for longer form essays it’s probably better than here). I’ve been thinking a lot about Christianity lately, and how it’s been thoroughly debased and weaponized in this country (just as it was for centuries in Europe) and has become about everything except the teachings and ministry of Jesus Christ. The modern American version of Christianity is undoubtedly the whore of Babylon from Revelations; and false prophets abound in our modern times. See what I mean about my creativity? I saw some “christian” tomfoolery on social media the last few days, and it was enraging. I may not go to church anymore, and I may not consider myself to be an actual Christian, but I swear, how do I know the Bible and their faith so much better than so many so-called Christians?

“Blind faith”, I guess.

And on that note, I am going to get something to eat and start getting ready for my day. Hope you have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later on.

Here Comes Peter Cottontail

Easter, which really should be the highest holy day of Christianity–but it’s not. That would be Christmas, which again–really doesn’t make sense. But at least the date of Jesus’ birth is fixed–as opposed to how the day of his death floats.

I overslept again this morning and I suspect my exhaustion–which carried me through yesterday as well–has everything to do with the situation on Friday. Yes, I know I am being vague, but I also never am sure about crossing a privacy line for someone else. Essentially, I lost the entire day, and let’s just say that I am glad I am on anxiety medication because my mind would have exploded this past week, probably. But it was exhausting and draining, both emotionally and physically, and that all kind of caught up with me yesterday. I did get some things done–laundry and I did run an errand–but was completely worn out yesterday and had excessive fatigue. I feel better this morning than I did yesterday, but I also have a lot to do today and hope that I can manage somehow. I feel motivated today, which I didn’t have the energy for yesterday, and as soon as I finish this I am going to get cleaned up and finish cleaning the kitchen and dive into my day.

Sounds good, anyway.

It’s also a very bright and cheery day out there–it’s been cold since around the festivals–and I am hoping to cook out today, too. We spent most of the day relaxing with the television on. I did read some of Last Summer, too, which I am really getting into, and I think my next read will be an old Michael Koryta, The Cypress House. He really is one of my favorite writers, and I need to read more of his backlist as well as get caught up on recent releases. I pruned the books a very little yesterday, and we did watch some great stuff yesterday. We watched Quiet on Set Friday night, which was grim and creepy and horrifying, and then yesterday we watched Thanksgiving and moved onto Will Trent, which we’d been meaning to get around to but kept forgetting–it’s quite good. Thanksgiving was another holiday slasher movie, kind of clever and didn’t take itself too seriously (always a plus in a slasher movie) and I enjoyed–but it didn’t say anything new or do anything wildly clever or original. Quiet on Set, on the other hand, was deeply disturbing–which brings me to another point about the falsity of the right and it’s anti-queer lies about grooming and pedophilia. Every day I see pieces posted on social media about another male (sometimes with a female accomplice) convicted of raping and/or sexually abusing children…and getting off with thirty days in prison, or three months, or suspended sentences.

Where is all the outrage about THAT? Judges and juries giving light sentences for raping children? That’s how I know the right is all smoke and mirrors when it comes to these issues. They chose to attack a small minority and accuse them of not being safe around children, but where is there concern about all these religious figures, church leaders, your counselors, and COPS who are getting away with destroying children? Watching Quiet on Set made me aware just how hypocritical they are. If they really cared about children and keeping them safe, they’d go after actual people who, you know, commit the crimes and the disgusting sentences they get for said crimes. It’s hard to take any country seriously who doesn’t punish actual perpetrators of crimes against children, but instead accuses innocent parties while looking the other way when the criminals don’t fit their narrative.

I’m tired of liars using children as a bait-and-switch to come for queer people.

Sigh. It’s easy to get frustrated and fearful these days with the world in the state it is currently in; I take no pleasure in seeing my predictions about the rise of modern American fascism, made in the early 1990s, coming true in my twilight years. You see, I recognized the rhetoric of the right, and how they were using queer people as scapegoats for everything, in the decade as the same language and dialogues that Germans used on Jews and queers in the 1930’s, and I also saw, with the rise of Fox News, the further decline of the American system and way of life. We’ve never really achieved, as a country, the democratic utopia the founders strove for–but it seems like a significant portion of the country no longer sees patriotism as country over party anymore. The Divine Right of Republicans to run the country was part of the unholy marriage of conservatives and evangelicals that Reagan fostered as a Machiavellian scheme to retain power. The right has been smearing the left as communists since the fall of the Tsar in 1917–it’s still a slur they sneer today (communist, commies, socialists) while painting themselves, quite offensively, as the real patriotic Americans.

Sometimes I think I am thinking overly optimistic and that more and more Americans are beginning to see the tin god as precisely that; a golden calf they worship despite their Holy Book’s continued warnings about false gods, false witness, and liars.

And for the record, I have always believed that faith in religion should be shown by works, not words. Anyone can say they are a Christian and they love Jesus–it’s their behavior and what they do that truly matters.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a happy Easter, Constant Reader, and I may be back later.

I Ran

It’s cold again this morning, and I really didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. The cold is unpleasant, and it does kind of effect my mood. Yesterday was most emphatically not a good one; nothing worth complaining about for any one single thing, but any number of little things going wrong that snowball until by the end of the day I didn’t want to be around people or even be on-line or do anything other than sit in my chair, doom-scroll, and watch Youtube. The evening was essentially wasted, but I feel like I did manage to be functional around the office yesterday and get my job done. It was so cold! I had ice on my windshield yesterday morning and no scraper, but once the defroster warmed up it made short work of that wretched ice and I headed for work. Several of the bridges around the metro area were closed–the causeway and the Boggs Bridge over the river in St. James or Charles or Jean le Baptiste (I like how that sounds in French better than in English). Schools were closed, and there was no traffic, either in the morning or in the afternoon. I drove all the way uptown on Claiborne from the office to get the mail, and managed to get there and back to the house in less than half an hour–and I wasn’t speeding. Paul wisely worked at home yesterday, not venturing out into the cold at all. I also watched the second part of the Real Housewives of Salt Lake City reunion, which is kind of interesting.

I also wasn’t in the mood to read last night. I hate when I have days like that, and I was also spiraling by the time I got home. It was deeply unpleasant, and it’s been a very long time since that’s happened. I don’t know why my new meds decided to stop working, but that’s the kind of thing it’s supposed to not allow to happen. I really don’t like spiraling, and the worst part of it is that I’m aware that it’s happening but there’s nothing I can do to make it stop. But it remains a good reminder of how much better I’ve been doing and how much happier and more relaxed and less anxious I’ve been since changing medications. I also hardly ate anything yesterday, which is always an indication that I am really stressed out, too. My eating and stress are inevitably tied together; I’m not sure why that is but it has a lot to do with a lifetime of body image problems. One would think that by age sixty-two I would know better and wouldn’t fall back so easily into bad habits and bad behaviors, but here we are.

It’s also Pay-the-Bills Wednesday, and due to the vagaries of how pay periods fall when there are more than two in a month, this is kind of like an extra paycheck; a few bills to pay but otherwise a little flush. I’m going to try to be wise and save some of it for upcoming medical bills–dealing with my wonderful new insurance plan was part of yesterday’s idiocy; suffice it to say Blue Cross Blue Shield of Louisiana is still the same piece of shit health insurance company they were when I gladly said farewell to them fourteen years ago, only to have them show up again like a fucking herpes chancre on the tip of your penis. Humana wasn’t great by any means, but when I think about how I would have had to fight Blue Cross/Blue Shield for every penny for my surgery and recovery time, I thank the Lord they were still my carrier last year. I have also now found myself in the same boat so many others have found themselves in: having to work for the health insurance, and the day job gradually taking so much time and energy that my other sources of income suffered, to the point where I now also can’t afford to quit my job. Yes, that’s my American freedom: unable to leave a job because I need the insurance, no matter how shitty and useless it actually is.

I don’t want this for the younger generations, either. They deserve better than what my generation had, not worse. That was the American dream I was raised on–where each generation is better off than the one before. That really isn’t true anymore. I honestly don’t know who the people are who can afford the rents in New Orleans, let alone buy property. Owning your own home was the cornerstone of American prosperity, because that was the seed from which all generational wealth grew for the middle class. How can you buy a house when your student loan debt payment is more than a mortgage? Why is college so expensive, and why are administrative expenses rising while academic expenses in univerity budgets are being cut regularly? So kids are spending far more for an education that isn’t as fully rounded as it used to be, and plunging deeply into debt for careers that won’t allow them to ever see daylight. I mean, you can pay off a mortgage, but student loans? Good fucking luck. I thank the universe every day that I never had student loans. Isn’t it malpractice to charge more in college fees and tuition and other associated expenses than the student will ever make in that field in a year? Shouldn’t someone be telling students this so they can actually make an informed decision about their future?

Capitalism has been exposed over the last forty or so years as a fool’s game, and it’s destroying our country in the process. Greed and selfishness is the real American way, and I really don’t think our Constitution gives people the freedom to exploit and scam others. Capitalism and Christianity do not go hand in hand, either; capitalism should be the antithesis of Christianity, and anyone preaching the so-called “prosperity gospel” is teaching heresy.

Le sigh. And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Stay warm, Constant Reader, and I may be back later.

Holiday Spirit

Imagine my shock and horror last evening when I realized that Christmas is next weekend. What the hell happened to December? Where did it go? Suddenly, I am almost out of time to do and mail my Christmas cards, and I really don’t want to save the awesome ones I bought for next year. Sheesh. But…I also didn’t/am not get(ting) down on myself about that fact, either; which is a really positive place for me to be in at the moment. Is the reset of my brain that I was determined to get taken care of during my recovery from surgery actually working? Perhaps…and the surgery recovery kind of was a blur where I was lucky to remember what day of the week it was, let alone the date. The new meds seem to be taking care of my anxiety, which is precisely what I needed–it’s so nice to not freak out or spiral about things over which I have no control, and calm Greg is always the best Greg. (I do know people rather enjoy when I go on a Julia Sugarbaker rant, though.) I slept well again last night, which was marvelous, and of course Sparky’s body clock alerted him that my alarm was going to be buzzing away annoyingly soon, so he emerged from his under-the-bed cave around five thirty-ish to climb up into the bed and cuddle until it was time for me to rise from the depths of Morpheus and fill his food bowl.

There’s really nothing quite so comforting as a soft kitten resting on you, purring, is there? I also think it’s kind of amazing that he’s left my injured arm alone ever since the brace went on it. My right arm is a battlefield of scabs and scars from his claws–as is my right leg (that’s the one he likes to use to climb me), but my left arm? Other than the surgery incisions and the purplish netting over them, it’s pristine. He also will stretch out in my lap to sleep–just like Scooter, he wants my lap as soon as I get home from work, and also like Scooter, my desk chair belongs to him and he refuses to sleep in my lap if I am sitting there–and always rests his cute little arm in the crook of my left elbow and purrs contentedly as his little purr engine soothes my soul.

How did I manage to live so long without having a cat? So many years wasted when I could have been saving cats from shelters. Ah, well.

We were super-busy at work yesterday–we’re heavily scheduled today too–but I applied myself and got caught up on most of, if not all, of my desk duties around my clients. I also felt better yesterday–certainly more alive and awake and present than I was on Tuesday, for sure, for sure–and I feel like today is going to be a good day overall as well. I am feeling better about most things, really (though I do wonder if the anxiety and eager-to-please mentality that comes out of it is what has motivated me to write so much over the last twenty or so years), and it’s much easier to stay positive even as the world burns to the ground around us.

It’s weird to be in the midst of the Christmas season, venerating the birth of the prophet/savior of the Christian religion (and why is a religious holiday a legal one?) while at the same time the people who claim to be his followers have put our democracy under attack and are going after everyone else’s rights–because make no mistake, if one group’s rights are under attack, everyone’s rights are under attack. (And don’t #notallChristians me; if you aren’t speaking against your Christo-fascist brethren, you’re a collaborator at worst or complicit at best. Remove the mote from your own eyes before coming for the one in mine, thank you very much….and I bet I know the Christian religion and your holy book better than you do.)

The part I don’t get about bodily autonomy opponents is this: if you believe the government has the right to interfere with women’s health care choices over the recommendations of the medical field, you really can’t at the same time object to government intervention in health insurance and health care, either… yet it’s always the same thing. (And you can’t break the law by claiming you do so because of your faith gives you a fucking free pass. “Render unto Caesar”, remember that Jesus quote? He’s saying the government is an authority to be respected, not that “if you follow me you can use me to do whatever you want!)”) Surrendering bodily autonomy means giving the government a say in your health care–so if you oppose abortion and choice, you better shut the fuck up and get vaccinated and wear masks when the government tells you to; and you need to shut the fuck up about the Affordable Care Act, Medicaid, and Medicare (I’m looking at you, demon-spawn from hell Nikki Haley). You love to talk about slippery slopes when it comes to the Second Amendment, but you’re all about the government telling women what they can and can’t do with their wombs and bodies? The fact they don’t give a fuck about child care and child health and public education and ensuring all children have the basic necessities of life is all the evidence anyone needs to know the “save the precious babies!” argument is shallower than a salad bowl. They don’t care about babies, they don’t care about women, and they don’t care about freedom, period.

They only freedom they care about is the freedom to control–and how is that freedom?

And the real slippery slope is that if the government can tell you that you have to have a child…means that the government also has the right to order you to have one…and the right to not let you have one when you choose.

Funny how the only slippery slope they care about is the one about guns.

And all the hate speech around transpeople and calling all queer people groomers while not going after organized religion–where it seems most of the child-rape happens–is another indicator of cognitive dissonance so powerful that you seriously have to wonder about the functionality of their brains, and people who don’t have a logic-based brain aren’t people I want to listen to about anything.

Rant over…for now, at any rate.

I was, however, thoroughly exhausted yesterday when I got home from work. Adjusting to being back at work is taking a little more time than I would have liked, but it is what it is. Tonight I have to do some errands on the way home from work, so I am hoping I am not as dog-tired when I get off tonight as I was yesterday. I did get some things done once I got home, but not nearly enough, and of course Sparky was very needy after his first long afternoon home alone in almost a month. He’s such a mischievous little brat sometimes. Did I mention he turned the washing machine on the other day? He’s lucky he’s also incredibly cute and sweet–but he is still an evil genius. I’ve always thought the entire point of Lucifer/Satan having been the most beautiful of the angels before the fall was a warning to humans to not be fooled into thinking beauty means good…and the degeneration of what he looked like during the late Dark and early Middle Ages into a horned, red monster with claws and a tail was just another step in the demonization of non-Christian religions; as there are any number of different pagan gods who looked like that who were also not evil.

But here it is, a mere eleven days before Christmas. It’s such a tired and boring cliché to even attempt to add anything to the conversation about the commercialization of the holiday season; that ship has long since set sail. I mean, as I always point out, it was already such a problem in the early 1960’s that Charles Schultz wrote and animated A Charlie Brown Christmas to illustrate the point. What could I possibly add to that? Paul and I have decided not to get each other gifts this year; we both buy anything we want or need whenever we think about it. All I ever want is books, anyway, and I am trying to cut back on adding books to the house unless books are going out of the house–and trying to ensure more are going out than coming in is the optimal at this moment. I’ve also decided to dispose of marked up manuscripts and early drafts of things; everything is digitized anyway, and it will clear up a lot of room in the storage attic and the apartment. Any boxes of books in the attic can also be donated, so that’s the new plan for when I have the full use of my arm again–getting rid of all that shit. I also need to cut back on streaming services I pay for, as they are all jacking up their prices for the holidays; and some of them I rarely, if ever use. It would be cheaper in the long run to simply buy the full seasons from Apple than pay for the service every month…and that would also make me more selective about what we actually watch.

It’s nice to feel good about myself and my life again, despite the state of the world, you know?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check back in with you again later.

Back Door Santa

Today’s title sounds rather like a gay Christmas tune, does it not? It certainly sounds like a great title for a gay porn story set during the Christmas season, and just typing that out made me immediately regret never doing a Christmas gay porn anthology–imagine how the evangelicals (aka cosplay Christians) would have reacted to that!

And Jayden Daniels won the Heisman Trophy! GEAUX TIGERS!

I overslept this morning, mainly because I didn’t sleep well last night. I didn’t feel good yesterday; I ran some errands and came home exhausted, collapsing into my chair in exhaustion and later on, started feeling crummy; my stomach was really bothering me for some reason, and I went to bed early, hoping to sleep it off….only couldn’t sleep for a long time. I did finally fall asleep after midnight, and when Sparky got me up for his six am feeding I went back to bed and stayed there until almost nine thirty. I don’t feel that great this morning, either, which is not a good thing, either. I think my blood sugar crashed and I never really replenished it yesterday, and I also think I’m dehydrated–so no, this coffee isn’t really helping much here, either. I think when I finish writing this I am going to go sit in my chair and read for awhile until I feel somewhat better, and will write later on today.

I hate when I don’t feel well, you know?

We got caught up on Monarch: Legacy of Monsters yesterday, and then watched Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny, which was…disappointing. I love the character, I love Harrison Ford, and I love Phoebe Waller-Bridge, but the movie just didn’t engage me the way the first and third movies did; the second, fourth and fifth being disappointments. Just thinking about those movies for a moment, though–the first and third movies are predicated on the idea that the Bible is true, and there is a God up there in the heavens or wherever that is supposed to be. Likewise, horror films and books as a general rule, also work as inadvertent Christian propaganda; vampires and The Exorcist go so far as to say Catholicism is the only “good” force to combat non-Christian supernatural forces. There’s an essay in that; I’ve always found it amusing that Christians–especially Catholics–are very anti-horror because “demons and witches” and “the devil” while the work itself actually is predicated on the foundation that the Bible, and Christianity, are not only real but the primary defense against evil in the world. (It always amused me the way the church always came for Anne Rice, when all they had to do was read her books to see how staunchly pro-Catholic they actually were.)

I was too tired and unwell yesterday to be able to focus on reading more of Raquel’s book, but I am going to probably dig into that for a while this morning once I finish this and put some food into my system to see if that helps me feel better. I think it’s weather related; our bipolar weather swung back into the warm and wet side again yesterday afternoon and into the evening, so it may have been a combination of sinus, blood sugar crash, and dehydration–so I am going to have to have some of that rehydration drink today. It really does suck how a bad night can throw you off your game; all I want to do is go back to bed and rest some more. This doesn’t bode well as I have to go back to work on Tuesday; yikes! But if it wears me out, it wears me out–and should mean I’ll sleep well that night.

We also watched some of the Grand Prix figure skating final last night, too–after finishing Indy and giving up on another show we were watching–and there just aren’t a lot of good, top quality skaters anymore; there’s a huge drop-off from the top three–and the pairs? Yikes. The team that won was the best of the six, for sure, despite a lot of mistakes. Skating just isn’t as much fun to watch as it used to be–although Ilia Malinin and his insane amount of quads in every long program is pretty impressive, and he’s getting better at the artistry, which used to be practically non-existent in his programs. I think he’s going to be one of the greater skaters, as long as his body holds out–all those quads are a lot of pressure on his ankles, knees, and hips.

Sorry to be so dull today, but yikes–exhausted and tired and still not feeling super great.let me eat something and maybe that will help–and so I will bid you adieu on this Sunday morning, and hope you have a lovely day.

The Old Rugged Cross

As an adult, it has always amused me that historically gay men (or men who were attracted to other men) inevitably became/were artists, and just as inevitably were commissioned to sculpt and paint and create religious art to adorn Catholic cathedrals and the palaces of the church hierarchy. I loved that they used their art and their patron’s money to create images of beautiful men in various stages of undress or nudity, but since it was within the context of a religious scene, it was okay. Even the crucifix inevitably shows Jesus in nothing more than a modesty loincloth, with his lean muscular frame carved lovingly to look beautiful and sexy. The eroticism of classic religious art, that competing duality of religious fervor and sexual ecstasy (look at depictions of the Ecstasy of St. Teresa sometime, if you want to see some straight up erotic imagery; I’ve always wanted to use “The Ecstasy of St. Teresa” as a title sometime), confused me as a child–it wasn’t until much later that I realized most classic and Renaissance religious art could be easily be categorized as “Revenge of the Homosexuals on a Repressive Institution”–but it also interested me. When I was a kid hungering for erotic masculine images, I could never go wrong with religious art.

I mean, this is on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel:

And don’t even get me started on depictions of St. Sebastian.

I love that they sculpted his pubic hair onto that last statue. Nice authenticity!

Someday I may write about St. Sebastian…or a boarding school named after him, which would be nice imagery for a queer crime/horror y/a set at such a place.

There was also a lot of homoerotic art in depictions of Greek and Roman mythology–the Laöcoön statue is one; and any depictions of Hercules/Heracles, Achilles, Apollo, etc.

And we’ll talk about Ganymede another time.

I was raised as a Christian, of the Church of Christ brand of Protestantism–and a hard, cruel, you’re-going-to-burn-in-hell-for-believing-anything-else faith it is indeed. I can’t speak to what that denomination is like outside of the South, or even Alabama for that matter–I did notice that the version in Kansas wasn’t nearly as hard or unforgiving; but still pretty unforgiving, in comparison to other sects–but I do know that where I am from, the Church of Christ is hard, rough, and sees a lot of stuff as sin. (Southern Churches of Christ are also very argumentative–which hardly seems Christian, does it? Members are always getting up in arms about something and wind up going to another congregation, sometimes having to move churches more than once.

And when I was about eight or nine, my grandmother bought me a copy of The Children’s Bible, which was filled with illustrations (amazing how all those Middle Eastern Israelites were white, and even some had blond hair and blue eyes)…and maybe (probably) it wasn’t the intent of the publisher, but there was some seriously homoerotic imagery in the book. About ten years ago I was thinking about The Children’s Bible and wondering whatever happened to my copy…and remembering some of the illustrations in it, I thought no, you can’t be remembering that correctly and so I went on eBay and bought a used copy.

And when it arrived, my memories were actually correct.

I mean, look at the muscles on Goliath. That image was burned indelibly into my brain, and it’s entirely possible my appreciation of muscles comes from….The Children’s Bible.

Perish the thought!

Grooming!

Indoctrination!

And of course, my favorite story in the book was David and Jonathan.

I mean, look at how they drew David!

I mean, it may not be Michelangelo, but damn.

(I also love that a Bronze Age Middle Eastern Jew somehow had pearly white skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiight.)

Though David has awesome legs in both depictions, seriously.

When I was a kid, I’d always reread the David and Jonathan story (can’t imagine why it was my favorite…). I wanted a best friend like David–I always saw myself as Jonathan, the supporting player, the way I always did–gorgeous and charismatic and beautiful and beloved of God. I would think about the story and while I was too young and innocent to conceive of it as anything other than friendship–the same way I thought of the “friendship” between Achilles and Patroclus in tales of the Trojan War–when I got older, whenever I thought about the story I wondered about how deep that friendship between Prince Jonathan and David son of Jesse was. Why include the story at all? It really doesn’t add a whole lot to the tale of David’s life, and did it really matter for King Saul to have a son who was David’s friend and great love? Jonathan dies–not even the Bible was immune from bury your gays–and David mourned him with a great grief that seemed a bit more than “my best bro died.” I wanted to write the story myself, despite my lack of historical knowledge of the period or even when it was actually set, but I wanted to write about their love, their falling in love–and let’s face it, God didn’t really seem to have a lot of problems with their relationship, did he? He didn’t come to David and tell him to stop giving it to Jonathan; God didn’t curse the two of them or punish Israel for it; and yes, Jonathan is eventually killed…but even then God doesn’t come to David and say, did you not read Leviticus? I could hardly let you go on fucking him forever, you know.

So, I guess I am supposed to read it literally and just think they were best friends and loved each other as brothers. Yeah, no. There’s absolutely no reason for this story to be included in the David story in the Bible; none, unless of course there’s a kernal of truth in the story (don’t come for me, I’ve never bothered to find out if the Bible’s Old Testament kings of Israel were real people; I do know that real people turned up in the Old Testament that existed in history–Babylonians and Assyrians, for example, as well as Egyptians)but the mystery for me of why this story was included, why it was included if its merely legend or why was it included if they were real is the real question. There’s no moral lesson to be learned from the story of their friendship; their love and loyalty to each other was an issue for Jonathan because his friend’s greatest enemy was Jonathan’s own father, a king anointed by God–despite God capriciously turning His back on Saul for really such an insignificant reason that it really just boiled down to God just liked David better; I always felt sorry for Saul–how much would it suck to lose God’s favor for no good reason? Just because God found someone He liked better? (And considering the things God forgave David for, or just overlooked, really makes the hard turn away from Saul that much more petty and bitchy.)

God’s kind of an asshole in the Old Testament, frankly.

But yes, I’d love to write this story sometime. (Because I don’t have enough else to do, right?) I’d also want to write it from Jonathan’s perspective, although the death would be hard to do (Madeline Miller managed it with Song of Achilles quite beautifully) story-wise; but is the kind of challenge I love. Maybe someday, and maybe writing it will help me in my constant and never-ending life quest to come to terms with the religious grooming drilled into my brain as a child. I even have a great title for it, too.

I also have a novel in mind revolving around Michelangelo’s statue of David, too; maybe I could combine research and do them at the same time. THAT would be a challenge, would it not?

The World Turned Upside Down

Happy Second Class Citizen Independence Day, Constant Reader!

I am so tired of being Cassandra on the walls of Troy, warning people of the impending doom from the consequences of their narcissistic privilege, only to be either ignored or patted on the head condescendingly and told I don’t understand or am being terribly overdramatic. Well, too many of you didn’t listen and here we are.

But I am not going to talk about the fraud perpetrated on this country recently by six illegitimate and corrupt justices on the Supreme Court. This is the date designated as the nation’s birthday, and it’s a day of celebration as well as contemplation.

Despite its flaws and faults; its checkered history and immoral lapses in policy; and the current turmoil of bigotry and hatred and divisiveness, I still love my country. Despite the slanders and slurs hurled against people like me, I am a citizen just like anyone else in this country. I pay taxes like everyone else. There is nothing in the Constitution prohibiting my existence or my life or my reality; yet religious zealots, over and over again throughout our history, keep trying to seize control of the government in order to legislate their version of morality, theoretically based in their religion. I was raised in that religion, read the Bible and went to worship and prayed and Sunday school and all of that–as a child and without my consent. I know the Bible. I’ve read it, many times. I’ve studied it, read religious philosophy and religious studies. I’ve studied and read up on the history of Western civilization, which is forever yoked to the history of the rise of Christianity. I know when doctrine was decided as legitimate and what was heresy; what texts were left out of the Christian Bible and why; as well as the relationship of the New Testament and law to the Old. I’ve read up on the basic messages of many religions, from Islam to Hinduism to what most would call “voodoo” to the mythologies of ancient civilizations. The conclusion that I came to, from my reading and studying and so forth, was that the modern religions I considered all have, at their core, the same fundamental principle: be kind, be helpful, have empathy and compassion for others, and most importantly, do not judge. Judgment is reserved for God, however you choose to see him, and He is very jealous of that privilege. None of us are perfect and we are all sinners–but our sins are between us and God and are none of your fucking business.

Winston Churchill once said about the United States, “You can always count on Americans to do the right thing–once they’ve exhausted every other possibility.” It’s true. In his farewell address George Washington warned of our nation being dragged into “the broils of Europe” (which would make a great title), and that was the cornerstone of our foreign policy for generations. American soldiers did not fight a war in Europe until the first World War–and even then we only came in during the third year of the conflict. Likewise, we stayed out of the second World War, as the world erupted into flames, until we ourselves we attacked two years into the war, and the European allies of Japan also declared war on us. We have been participating in the broils of Europe ever since.

Those are realities. But our entrance into each war changed its course, and enabled the Allies to emerge triumphant. Defeating the Nazis is something we can be proud of, even as we essentially had an apartheid system of our own at home. Defeating the Japanese and putting an end to their war crimes is something we can also take pride in–even though there was a very strong element of revenge to the war–but using nuclear weapons on civilians to bring a close to the war is still morally and ethically questionable. (The horrific racism against the Japanese during the war was also abominable, and that’s doesn’t even take into consideration the horror of the unconstitutional incarceration of thousands of Japanese-Americans, while also robbing them of their belongings and destroying their businesses.)

But the ideals on which this country was founded–freedoms essentially from the potential tyranny of the Federal government–are very high-minded and noble. We have not lived up to those ideals too many times, and the fact that people who are straight, white, and cisgender have always been given priority over everyone who doesn’t fit into that demographic isn’t something we should be proud of–our system is flawed because human beings are flawed. Loving your country doesn’t mean turning a blind eye to its faults and problems, and critiquing and discussing moral, legal and ethical failures in our history, in my mind, is further proof that you do love the country and want it to live up to its ideals of equality and justice for everyone regardless of any adjectives that can be placed in front of the word American. My country has disappointed me, never more so than recently with a renegade Supreme Court discarding precedent, accepted law, and essentially pissing on the very idea of equality while pursuing what can be best be called a completely unAmerican agenda to undermine the basic principles of justice and liberty for all. Patriotism doesn’t require blind obedience and loyalty; which is why the Founding Fathers tried very hard to protect dissent.

I seriously doubt Benjamin Franklin or John Adams would ever agree that corporations are people, entitled to all legal protections of the individual while also not being held accountable legally than the individual; therefore the “citizenship” of corporations is also higher class than that of the individual.

But how can you not love and admire and respect the ideals the country strives to achieve? We haven’t always lived up to those ideals; many times we have failed, horribly.

I have always believed that the arc of justice always bends towards justice, and that we as a country can and should always be looking for ways to make things better, pass legislation to correct flaws and defects in the system, and always keep a wary eye out for corruption. The Founding Fathers also could not conceive of anyone making a career out of politics, either, which is why they established no term limits, which was a huge mistake. We have a presidential term limit now, but none for either house of Congress or the Supreme Court, or any federal bench for that matter. That was a major flaw and oversight in the drafting of our remarkable Constitution, with the end result we have a corrupt system where our politicians are often up for sale, and aren’t even ashamed. How does someone middle class or from a poor background go into politics and retire wealthy?

But, like Churchill, I have faith that my fellow Americans will always, inevitably, do the right thing–once every other possibility is explored and exhausted.

May you have a fabulous fourth of July, Constant Reader. I’ll probably make several posts today; who knows?

Sorry

And we have cycled around once again to work-at-home Friday. Huzzah? Huzzah.

I will be taking a short break from my work-at-home duties today to interview Margot Douaihy today for S&S’ Pride Month extravaganza. Ah, the terror of not sounding stupid when interviewing someone really smart and talented. Heavy heaving sigh. I will of course post a link to it when it goes live, so you can hear how smart she is and how much I fumble in interviews. Her Scorched Grace is probably the best debut novel you’re going to read this year, and I highly recommend it. It’s not too late to get a copy, either. (You can order it https://bookshop.org/p/books/scorched-grace-a-sister-holiday-mystery-margot-douaihy/18283014?ean=9781638930242–I don’t understand why this stupid site won’t let me do short hyperlinks like it used to, but it’s fucking annoying. Anyway, buy the book. It’s terrific.)

And it’s a three day weekend! Huzzah! I am looking forward to getting some rest, getting a lot of editing and revising done, and hopefully some cleaning and reading.

I was terribly tired yesterday, the way I inevitably am on Thursdays, and really didn’t want to run errands when I got off work, but I put on my big boy pants and did it anyway. I decided my brain was too mushy to work on the book–I went ahead and read the next few chapters I’ll be editing after work today, so I did do something, at any rate–while relaxing with a purring cat in my lap after I did some chores. I had to unload the dishwasher and reload it, plus fold the clothes in the dryer before moving the load in the washer (I started this on Wednesday night but completely forgot once I was in the clutches of Vanderpump Rules), and tried to do some things to straighten up the kitchen before the energy flagged and I was forced back to the easy chair by mental and physical fatigue. There are, after all, worse things. But I can get a lot of revising done this weekend, which is terrific. It would be great if I can get the whole thing finished by next weekend, wouldn’t that be marvelous? I slept deeply and well last night, too–and managed to sleep in all the way until seven thirty, which is when I usually get to the office. I was exhausted last night when I crawled up the stairs to bed, but as Paul noted, “it’s not that you’re old, you just get up really early every morning now” which is true. Funny how I managed to go almost my entire life without having a 9 to 5 job for very long, and now my body clock is adjusting to it at this late stage of my life. My body is now used to it; I just have to retrain my brain to stop thinking in terms of losing time by going to bed earlier since I get up earlier and thus have more time during the day.

We started watching Platonic these last few nights, a new Apple Plus show starring Rose Byrne and Seth Rogan. I do like Seth Rogan and think he’s funny, and of course love Rose Byrne since her days on Damages, which I feel doesn’t get nearly enough credit for how fucking good of a show it was, and its amazing cast, led by GLENN CLOSE, who was phenomenal as Patty Hewes, super attorney and all around horrible person. Platonic is quite funny, and the chemistry between the two as platonic former best friends who come together again after Rogan’s character gets divorced (the Byrne character didn’t like the woman he married) like no time has passed. Luke McFarlane is beautiful as always as her gorgeous husband, essentially the Ricky to her Lucy. I do recommend it, it’s clever and funny and well written, and, like all Apple shows, very high production values.

I also managed to proof my short story “Solace in a Dying Hour,” forthcoming in an Australian anthology titled This Fresh Hell yesterday, as well as reviewed a book contract for signing–and emailed the corrections necessary to the contract in order for me to sign it. I also spent some time doing research for this afternoon’s interview; I’ll spend some time reviewing the research and coming up with great questions for her, or at least ones that won’t embarrass me by being too stupid and the kind of thing she’s been asked a million times. We also started watching the Hillsong documentary, which is interesting because I really don’t know much of anything about that church; but it’s a megachurch which probably means the heresy of the prosperity gospel, and yes, it’s a heresy. Jesus was not about “believe in Me and you’ll get earthly treasures”; the promise was supposed to be about a wonderful afterlife. (It always has amused and saddened me that so many people miss that Christianity isn’t about life but death and the afterlife; the point is to be the best possible person in your human life to earn a good afterlife, so yes, the prosperity gospel is heresy–“it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to get into heaven”–does that ring any bells? At some point I am going to have to talk about religion and how it’s been perverted from a guide to life to so many things that it isn’t supposed to be…)

I also rewatched the first part of the Vanderpump Rules reunion in its longer, no commercials version on Peacock, and that version is by far the best of the two. It flows better, is edited better, and the extra seventeen minutes of public shaming for the Toms (Sandoval and Schwartz) was worth every second. I really need to spend some time on that blog entry about reality television I started after the wrap of the last season of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills; because those two shows are entwined; Rules was initially a spin-off of Beverly Hills, with Lisa Vanderpump going back and forth between the two shows (until she quit Housewives). So much has already been written about the Scandoval that what new or interesting thing can I find to say about it, or the layers to levels of cheating and adultery being laid out on the show by its cast? I am sure none of the players involved in this had the slightest idea how explosively this would go viral, turning the three players (Sandoval, his mistress, his enabling best friend) into pariahs. Not even Camille Grammer in her legendarily villainous first season on Beverly Hills got this kind of publicity or exposure–she did get the cover of People magazine–and of course, the legal troubles of Erica Girardi/Beverly Hills cast drama got some coverage in major papers because of the massive frauds perpetrated by her husband (and get the fuck out of here with the “she didn’t know” bullshit), but still–nothing in reality television prepared anyone, let alone Bravo, with how this affair within the cast would explode and become a worldwide fascination…while Andy Cohen and the network count their cash as the money keeps rolling in. The reunion episode got over two million viewers, which is huge for a reality show. The question is, do I finish my entry about reality shows and their appeal before the reunion episodes finish airing, or can I go ahead and do it now?

Always the question, really.

And on that note, I am going to make another cup of coffee and head into the spice mines. Have a lovely morning, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back with you again tomorrow.

Jump

Well, I managed to survive not only getting up at five yesterday morning to be at Superior Honda (they simply ARE superior; I love my car dealership) but the almost six hundred dollars it cost me to visit. But I got my new tire, got new windshield wipers, and had the brakes flushed (it was one of this things marked “will need on next visit” the last time I had my car serviced) but overall, it could have been so much worse than it was. I’m grateful that I not only had the ability to absorb the cost, but without really having to plan it out or dip into savings. It was nice to authorize the work and not have to freak about the cost, or whether I had enough credit available, or needed to get cash out–all those things. It was kind of nice to have a financial situation that wasn’t a crisis of some sort (other than the flat tire, of course), and to just handle it. I guess that’s what other people do, I suppose. Is this what being an adult feels like? At almost sixty-two I finally know? I also got an email from Social Security yesterday, letting me know I’d completed all my requirements to qualify for both it and Medicare, along with a statement breaking down what I can expect from them monthly depending on what age I decide to retire.

Hmmm. That kind of just puts it right there in your face, doesn’t it?

But despite getting up early and despite the annoyance of the expense–both of which made the day kind of feel off-balance, slightly skewed on its axis– I wasn’t terribly tired after work. I made groceries, picked up the mail, came home and did a load of laundry and a load of dishes before sitting down to revise…and yes, doing it the way I usually do it does work better. Revisiting the openings of several of the later books helped as well–helped me plug into his voice, which is so crucial; Scotty’s voice is what makes these books work–and it went well. I feel confident again in my writing, which is a lovely feeling, and I feel like I am back in Scotty’s headspace, which is always a very pleasant and positive place to be. Life never gives you anything you can’t handle, it’s how you handle it that matters. I really wish I could be more like him in my real life as opposed to what I put onto the page. Ah, well.

We also watched the Donna Summer documentary on HBO; Love To Love You, Donna Summer, which was entertaining enough. The music was the most interesting thing about it, of course, and I don’t think it really had anything new to say about fame, or the public persona vs. the private person, but it was interesting enough. She was very intelligent, particularly when it came to what she was doing as opposed to who the real person actually was; the quote was something like “everything’s choices, not limitations” i.e. she was doing what she was doing musically because that was what she was choosing to do at that time, and she wasn’t limited to that type or style of music or singing. She certainly recorded some amazing dance music, and given what I have always thought were some of the stupidest lyrics ever written, she made “MacArthur Park” actually work. (“I Feel Love” is also one of the greatest recordings of all time, without question.) So, that was a fun and pleasant way to spend the evening as I wound down to go to bed.

I checked in on social media–the unpleasant doom scroll before bed–and saw that the Dodgers had apologized, and made amends with promises to learn and do better in the future. This brought out the usual ‘phobes everywhere, foaming at the mouth and swearing eternal hatred for the Dodgers, baseball, and of course, queer people–because our existence ruins everything for these people. I actually enjoy that aspect of homophobia, quite frankly. I don’t know these people, I’ve never met these people, and I don’t ever want to know these people. But the fact that they just hate me, want me outlawed if not outright publicly executed, for the crime of existing instead makes me relish the fact that my existence enrages them and spoils everything they in which they might find joy (Bud Lite, baseball) in their pitiful, meaningless, empty and sad little lives. I mean, imagine how miserable you have to be, in every aspect of your life, that you spend so much time and expend so much energy on hating people you don’t even know, letting them ruin the few pleasures you have (including, many times by now, your childhood), instead of focusing that energy on actually making your own life better for you and your family? I used to pity them, for their narrow-minded and heretical interpretation of Christianity and perversion of the actual teachings of the man they claim is their Lord and Savior. I am not a practicing Christian, but I was raised as one and I still remember what the message actually was. In fact, the reason I do not consider myself to be a Christian is because it is impossible to love Christ while having hate in your heart, and I carry hate in my heart.

For the people who laughed while my community suffered and died. For the people who think people like me don’t deserve a right to be happy, to work and live and embrace everything life and the world have to offer. Who think my relationship with Paul isn’t a real relationship, despite being together for going on twenty-eight years in July. Who don’t think I deserve equal rights under the law like every other American, simply because of who I love…which really isn’t anyone’s business but my own. For the people who don’t think I have a right to be happy and flourish. For the people who think they somehow have the right to say horrific, insulting shit to me, about me, and my community; vile despicable slanders that are nothing new but just the same recycled talking points and slurs and dehumanizations, lather rinse repeat, over and over and over again.

But thank you, Dodgers, for not bowing to the people with braces on their brains and blinders on their hearts, recognizing slander for what it was despite all of its hideous, pseudo-religious pearl-clutching dressing.

Overall, not a bad day yesterday. I hope that today follows suit. I am slowly but surely digging out from under the piles of everything around my desk here at home, the emails in my inbox, direct messages everywhere that are unreplied to, and of course I am so behind on my reading! But this is a three-day weekend coming up, which is a pleasant surprise I’d forgotten, and that should make book writing that much easier, which is a very lovely thing. I should also be able to get some good rest over the course of the weekend, and I am not going to beat myself up if my ambitions for said weekend aren’t met or matched by performance. I do want to finish reading my book this weekend–I’ve really got to get back into that reading for an hour to unwind after writing thing I was doing, that worked nicely–but in some ways I am still getting past everything. I feel good this morning, too–like my brain isn’t foggy, and I am alive and awake and rested and alert, which is a very pleasant change from the way things have been for months–so I feel like maybe, just maybe, I am going to have a good day today.

One can hope, at any rate. Hope you do the same, Constant Reader!

American Life

Friday Eve! Or Thursday, in actuality. But we’ve made it this far, with just today and tomorrow to get through before sleeping in on the weekend! Huzzah! I slept decently last night–not deeply, not that wonderful “I’ve turned into a log” coma-type sleep, but it was good enough that I don’t feel tired this morning, and I actually was awake before the alarm. It’s ridiculous how much more awake I feel when I don’t get up to an alarm–and how much less resentful I feel.

I also woke up to an email that the Nancy Drew action figure I pledged to support through Kickstarter reached it’s funding goal. I got the one from the cover of The Secret of the Old Clock, where she is wearing a green outfit, is holding a screwdriver, and looks (according to That Bitch Ford) about forty years old. Given that Nancy will be a hundred this decade, forty’s not a bad look on her.

Yesterday was a pretty good day. I got home, worked for a few hours, and then repaired to the chair to rewatch this week’s Ted Lasso (which was marvelous) and then we finished off Shrinking, which is one of the funniest shows to come along in a long while. I talked about this the other day, and the quality and high level of writing and acting continue through the final episode, which was also one of the greatest (and most unexpected) literal cliff-hangers I’ve seen in a long while.

I have been watching, with growing alarm and disgust, the recent right-wing war on anything non-Christian (which is hysterical, because nothing they believe is Christianity: you shall know them by their acts) and especially everything not straight and not white. Who knew straight white people were so fucking fragile? (Everyone non-white and non-straight) They also have incredibly weak faith in their Lord and Savior; because anything that might challenge that belief has to be eradicated, made not available, and swept under the rug and hidden from view because it makes them uncomfortable. What I would like to say to all of these people is mind your own fucking business. The hypocrisy of beating the drums and warning people about how they’re aren’t haters “just worried about the children! Won’t someone think of the children?” (Yet they are also the same people who believe everyone should be armed to the teeth and that school shootings are A-Okay with them because you know, ‘slippery slope’ and all that. Of course, they use the First Amendment for toilet paper but hey, newsflash! The Founding Fathers considered everything in the first more important than the second, otherwise GUNS would have been the First Fucking Amendment, wouldn’t it? No, they deliberately made it the second because the rights and privileges granted in the first were more important.)

The other day, a friend in the Queer Crime Writers’ group I belong to posted a screenshot of the age restriction requirement on the home page of a small but highly regarded lesbian press, where you actually had to plug in your birthdate in order to gain access. This was done to reduce potential liability in such states as Texas and Florida that have been passing unconstitutional, flagrantly Fascistic laws–laws that are deeply unpopular, but merely designed to advance the presidential aspirations of their deeply unlikable governor, who has the charisma of Ted Cruz and the charm of Matt Gaetz; nothing turns out the bigots like a fear that other people might be as equal in the eyes of the law as they are. This was horrific–but small queer presses don’t have the money or resources to fight these draconian, restrictive laws; one complaint from some skeevy parent in Florida whose pastor is probably molesting their children but oh no queer books! is what they see as the real problem. The demonization of trans people–directly tied into their stupid notion that transwomen and drag queens are the same thing (repeat after me: not all transwomen do drag–is the exact same thing as the crusades against gays and lesbians (not that far back), and is the same song, different verse. And why not go back to the scare tactics that have always worked? The piece of shit “libs of TikTok” woman is nothing more than a more modern, less talented Anita Bryant (she was a bigoted bitch, but I will give her credit for her singing talent; she actually had a successful career as a singer and spokesperson for the Florida Orange Growers–Florida again; it’s always Florida–until her bigotry destroyed her career. I have no sympathy for her, so don’t even try it. She deserved worse than divorce, bankruptcy, and public scorn.); the insidiousness of straight white women leading homophobic movements (see Maggie Gallagher) is predicated on motherhood; they are just mothers worried for their children! Won’t someone think of the children? (Unless it’s school shootings and legislation that might make a difference–doing nothing clearly isn’t working–in which case, who fucking cares about the kids? GUNS! MAH FREEDUM!)

These are indeed scary times, in which the complacent Left has allowed the rise of Fascism on the right, and even now isn’t doing enough to fight back against it; when small presses that have been doing the heavy lifting for queer books when we are not in fashion at the big houses could be fined and/or punished by a state for the crime of selling books on their website. (The irony of this happening to Bywater Books–who later took it down–whose DNA goes back to Naiad Press which was based in fucking Florida, is something you couldn’t put into a book. (In times like these, I miss Barbara Grier. Barbara would have ripped off deSantis’ head and shit down his neck.) This brings up several legal questions–which should be left to the lawyers–but it seems to me these laws and restrictions are not only censorship but also violate interstate commerce laws as well as the full faith and credit article in the Constitution.

It’s so tiring to be constantly having to explain to people why you deserve to be treated like a human being.

It occurred to me last night before I went to bed that I need to use this little platform better than I have been. I am sure anyone who reads my blog probably is on the same page as me politically; I can’t imagine this being a safe space for a bigot. But I’ve not been talking much about politics here, not in a long time at any rate, because I’ve always been of the mindset that it would just be preaching to the choir. Anyone who knows anything about me, or has read my books, should know where I stand politically. That I oppose bigotry and prejudice of any kind. That I believe that all Americans should be equal in the eyes of the law; that it’s the government’s job to intervene when something in the public sphere reaches crisis stage–whether it’s recovery from a weather event, health care, or violence. In a capitalist system, the government has to step in when the system fails to correct it.

But now we have a Supreme Court that seems determined to roll back the clock to the “good ole days” when non-white non-straight non-cisgender people were invisible–and it was socially acceptable to mistreat them if they weren’t.

For the record, your freedom ends before it infringes on mine.

Age restrictions and requiring adult permission to check out books dealing with queer or racial issues in this country essentially renders all that work–regardless of its intended audience–as pornography.

Queer characters are automatically pornography, because that’s all the “christians” think about when they think about queer people–dicks in asses, tongues in vaginas–which is frankly kind of creepy and revolting. I don’t look at straight people and wonder, does she like to do reverse cowgirl? Does he like it when she pegs him? because it’s none of my fucking business. I’m sorry you people are so frightened by sexuality and the mere thought of sex–but maybe try not thinking about it for a minute or two? My sex life is none of your business just as yours is none of mine. There is nothing more invasive that government intervention into your sex life.

Talk about slippery slopes*! Straight people also do oral and anal. Straight people are also into kink, threeways, orgies, leather, BDSM, you name it. And if we the people allow the government to legislate our sex lives…don’t you think it’s entirely possible they’ll come for yours someday? Why not outlaw oral and anal sex (sodomy laws are still on the books in some states, including Louisiana…those laws are never enforced on straight people, quelle surprise). Why not virginity laws? Or a virginity tax you only have to pay once you’ve had sex? If this sounds insane or crazy to you, please bear in mind that this is precisely what Florida, Texas, and Tennessee, among umpteen others, are trying to do.

It was nice, though, actually feeling like a full-fledged American citizen there for a few years. I should have known it would be a fleeting feeling.

*Of course, the only slippery slope the right cares about has to do with the Second Amendment, or as I like to call it, the Eleventh Commandment.