Tag: misogyny

Cool, Cool Considerate Men

We are taking a break from our regularly scheduled blog to talk about US History and current affairs, which is something I don’t do very often here. But since it’s the 4th of July, how can we not reflect on our most imperfect union and the journey to where we are now?

Today’s title is from the musical 1776, which doesn’t get near enough attention. I was thinking about using something from Hamilton, but…I don’t think Lin-Manuel will mind, do you? I saw the film version of 1776 when I was in junior high school (I think it was; we used to go see movies periodically; which is how I saw both Fiddler on the Roof and Jesus Christ Superstar1). But 1776 seems to have been largely forgotten.

It’s hard to imagine, really, how courageous the American rebels actually were. They were farmers and lawyers and doctors; yet they believed in their cause enough to defy and stand up to, and take on, the mightiest Empire the world has ever seen. 2They were imperfect humans, as we all are; the attempt by the Right to frame them as infallible gods, guided in their work by the Christian god, is offensive and insulting. The greatest of humans are still human, and all humans have frailties and flaws, and enshrining any human as an infallible instrument of God is, at the very least, blasphemy. The Founding Fathers were both racists (more than a few enslaved people) and misogynists (where are the rights for women?), which made them….fallible. They weren’t gods, they were men.

I grew up in the 1960s and 1970s, and my education was tailored to the times. We were in a Cold War with the “evil” Soviet Union, when the possibility of nuclear annihilation was always in the back of our heads. Communists were the enemy, and they were evil; so…we all had to be brainwashed into the mentality of American exceptionalism. The right of white Europeans to the continents of the Americas, despite the fact people already lived there, was never to be questioned…the ends justifying the means, I suppose. The true horrors of enslavement weren’t taught; it was just something that happened, we fought a civil war to end it, and then it was over…we weren’t taught about the racism baked into the country and society from colonial days that continues to the present day.

And a lot of the failures of the Constitution were primarily due to the Founding Fathers being unable conceive of things that are just taken for granted by us today–politics as a profession; primaries and elections as a multi-billion dollar industry, and the levels of corruption in our political class, as well as the failures of the news media to hold the government accountable.

The passage of yesterday’s foul and evil legislation was the final betrayal of the Founders, and I think people are finally waking up to the clear and present danger in Washington. Funny that the people always screaming about their freedom and their liberties are too blind to see how their freedom and liberties are being taken from them–and how happy they are to give them up so long as they think other people will suffer. I see a lot of social media posts since yesterday talking about the new authoritarianism, yet have never noticed how the Right has been building to this point for decades. The police state’s foundational legislation was the PATRIOT Act–which has never been repealed and has been reauthorized by Congress several times.

I don’t see a great future for us over the next ten years, frankly. I do not see a way out of this situation we’re in without it becoming really ugly. MAGA isn’t going to go down in any electoral defeat because, as we have seen, they will not accept the results and are more than willing to use violence to get their way. That will get ugly, don’t you think? And let’s face it, our current situation isn’t much different than the one the country was in during the 1850s–when enslavers controlled the Supreme Court, Congress, and the White House. Losing that control led to the Civil War, because enslavers weren’t willing to give up the power they’d enjoyed for so long because they feared losing their slaves.

How long before the people in the prison camps are contracted to work in the fields and doing the grunt work we’ve pushed off onto immigrants for decades?

I always suspected our system was collapsing, rotting from the inside and spreading the foul disease across the nation. I always hoped I was wrong, but the logical side of me couldn’t deny the evidence of the decay.

My one hope was that if I was correct, I wouldn’t live long enough to see the collapse. Ah, well. That ship has sailed, hasn’t it?

Yeah, not up for celebrating seventeen million people losing their health insurance, or the many millions of children who will go hungry.

But there’s always hope, no matter how bleak it seems. As Winston Churchill once said, “You can always count on Americans to the do the right thing–after they’ve exhausted every other possibility.”

I also believe this will not end well for corporations and billionaires–as it did not for the French and Russian aristocracies.

And in case you’ve forgotten (or never knew) the text:

When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume, among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That, to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. That, whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles, and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness.

Prudence, indeed, will dictate that governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and, accordingly, all experience has shown, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed.

But, when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object, evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their future security. Such has been the patient sufferance of these colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former systems of government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute tyranny over these states. To prove this, let facts be submitted to a candid world.

He has refused his assent to laws the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.

He has forbidden his governors to pass laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.

He has refused to pass other laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of representation in the legislature; a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.

He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.

He has dissolved representative houses repeatedly, for opposing, with manly firmness, his invasions on the rights of the people.

He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected; whereby the legislative powers, incapable of annihilation, have returned to the people at large for their exercise; the state remaining in the meantime exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.

He has endeavored to prevent the population of these states; for that purpose obstructing the laws for naturalization of foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new appropriations of lands.

He has obstructed the administration of justice, by refusing his assent to laws for establishing judiciary powers.

He has made judges dependent on his will alone, for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.

He has erected a multitude of new offices, and sent hither swarms of officers to harass our people, and eat out their substance.

He has kept among us, in times of peace, standing armies, without the consent of our legislatures.

He has affected to render the military independent of and superior to the civil power.

He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his assent to their acts of pretended legislation:

For quartering large bodies of armed troops among us;

For protecting them, by a mock trial, from punishment for any murders which they should commit on the inhabitants of these states;

For cutting off our trade with all parts of the world;

For imposing taxes on us without our consent;

For depriving us, in many cases, of the benefits of trial by jury;

For transporting us beyond seas to be tried for pretended offenses;

For abolishing the free system of English laws in a neighboring province, establishing therein an arbitrary government, and enlarging its boundaries, so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these colonies;

For taking away our charters, abolishing our most valuable laws, and altering fundamentally the forms of our governments;

For suspending our own legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.

He has abdicated government here, by declaring us out of his protection, and waging war against us.

He has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.

He is at this time transporting large armies of foreign mercenaries to complete the works of death, desolation, and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of cruelty and perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the head of a civilized nation.

He has constrained our fellow citizens, taken captive on the high seas, to bear arms against their country, to become the executioners of their friends and brethren, or to fall themselves by their hands.

He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavored to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian savages, whose known rule of warfare is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes, and conditions.

In every stage of these oppressions, we have petitioned for redress, in the most humble terms. Our repeated petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Nor have we been wanting in attentions to our British brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred, to disavow these usurpations, which would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, enemies in war, in peace friends.

We, therefore, the representatives of the United States of America, in General Congress assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the name, and by authority of the good people of these colonies, solemnly publish and declare, that these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be free and independent states; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the state of Great Britain is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that, as free and independent states, they have full power to levy war, conclude peace, contract alliances, establish commerce, and to do all other acts and things which independent states may of right do. And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor.

Funny how some of their indictments of George III also apply today…

  1. I still can’t believe we saw Jesus Christ Superstar and no parents complained. That wouldn’t happen today. The show and movie and music were highly offensive to Christians back in the day, but they don’t complain much about it anymore. ↩︎
  2. I’m always amazed at how the people screaming the loudest that they are the REAL American patriots…would never put themselves at risk for their values and beliefs. For the record, conservatives in 1776 were called…Tories. ↩︎

Red Roses for a Blue Lady

Here we are on a cold Sunday morning and I hope everyone is doing as well as they can this morning. I went to bed early and slept well–I really do think adding another to the pile of blankets, and its additional weight, is making a difference. Today I have to do some reading and some writing, go to the gym and make groceries. I feel rested and awake this morning, so as I slurp down my coffee and wake up while Sparky wants my lap in the easy chair I have to admit I feel pretty good this morning. Maybe I shouldn’t let myself sleep so late on Saturdays? I don’t know, but the coffee is hitting the spot and I do feel more rested than I did yesterday, so your guess is as good as mine. It’s kind of gray outside this morning, and it’s forty degrees–yikes–but it’ll get warmer later once the sun is higher in the sky.

We watched LSU Gymnastics compete against three of the best teams in the country yesterday, and with half of their usual competitors out with an injury, they only came in second by three tenths of a point; and Haleigh Bryant can make that difference up all by herself, not to mention the other two powerhouses who sat this meet out–which bodes well for the rest of the season. It’s so cool knowing they are the defending national champions! We also watched some of the Australian Open last night, and I went to bed early. I also managed to get some chores done around here, and overall, it was a pretty good day. I don’t think I even went outside yesterday, to be honest–which is always a good day for me.

I spent some time yesterday morning with Ode to Billy Joe, and while Raucher is a very good writer, he doesn’t really know how to write for teenagers, I think. Just because the story is set in the early 1950s and people were more innocent (?) back then in theory, it’s almost like reading something from a past civilization, and in some ways it kind of is. Raucher tries very hard not to condescend to rural Southerners, but there is a touch of that “zoo animal” thing to the story, if that makes any sense? It doesn’t quite seem real, and Bobbie Lee, the female lead, seems so child-like it’s hard to believe she’s supposed to be fourteen, and “receiving callers”–did Southern girls still say that in the 1950’s? It’s like something from The Glass Menagerie, and I don’t know if that archaic social phrase was in use, if at all. But there’s definitely more depth to the book than there was to the movie, and I think I’m going to end up enjoying the book more than I did the movie–despite the beautiful presence of Robby Benson and his amazing blue eyes and surprisingly deep voice.

Thinking of Ode to Billy Joe being a historical now made me realize that my own 70s book is kind of an artifact of another time, too. Researching and remembering things from that time of my life is always a bit of a surprise; things that had been locked away in a corner of my brain coming back to the front of the memory banks. Television shows and commercials, the looming Bicentennial (which was, at the time, shockingly commercialized; although the Tricentennial–which I won’t make it to, but hopefully the country will–will be even worse), the gas shortages and economic fears, the ever-present threat of nuclear war and annihilation, the never-ending conflicts in the Middle East, and the massive clean-up of the country’s air, water and litter. Top Forty radio was a weird mishmash of all kinds of music, from the bubblegum of the Osmonds to the Rolling Stones, Queen, and the Who to horrible novelty songs that were incredibly popular and were overplayed to death to the point I never want to hear any of them ever again, and everyone watched American Bandstand on Saturdays to hear music and see the latest dance moves. I am really looking forward to writing it. I also have two short stories to complete sooner rather than later, and of course as always I have too much to do in too little time–but I can make it work.

I’ve also, since the election, been thinking about how to resist the new regime and the inherent hatreds, cruelties, and horrors that are coming with them. Our only hope as a country depends on the Republican-controlled Senate (well, Republicans plus the bootlicking traitor John Fetterman) actually standing up for the Constitution, and looking for a spine on the Right is as fruitless as a snipe hunt. I am not getting involved with the Democratic Party, because it feels like I’ve been throwing my time, money and energy on them while they just roll over and play dead since the 1990s; and nowadays seems to be no different. Here’s the thing about our system; the only difference between the two parties since World War II has primarily been on domestic and interior policy; the foreign policy has always been the same, and a lot of bad things have been done by our government in the name of “national security” and our endless thirst for oil. This changed a bit under the MAGA monarchy the last time around–turning our backs on traditional allies while cozying up to Russia, North Korea, and China (Ivanka needs her trademarks!). I also love how the MAGAts are so quick to whine and complain against the forever wars they fully supported, and does anyone else remember their toxic patriotism on the eves of the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq? How questioning the invasion decisions was basically treason and not supporting the military and pissing on the graves of the 9/11 dead? Because I sure the fuck do, and I also remember how the Right created cancel culture for the Dixie Chicks, as country music began to swing from being about the working class and resisting the rich? It’s also amusing to me that they complain about “forever wars” without remembering that the same people they are supporting today are the exact same people who lied to them and whipped them up into a disgusting “patriotic” frenzy?

I spent some time this weekend thinking about writing as activism, and that it used to be just that; my very existence and my career are made political by evangelicals and others of their ilk, and I had no say in that at all. Would I prefer to be left alone to live my life and make my own decisions without government interference? Absolutely. Is that ever going to happen? Not as long as trash and liars and false prophets continue to abuse the faith and the faithful for money, power, and control. How can anyone actually be a Christian and believe that the Prosperity Gospel of wolves in sheep’s clothing like Joel Osteen and other con artists of his ilk? Sinclair Lewis exposed all of this horror with Elmer Gantry, which is still as current as it was when first published in the early 20th century. Maybe Elmer Gantry, along with All the King’s Men, should be required reading in high school–but high schoolers won’t care anymore now than they did when I was one. (Also, back to the 1970s–there wasn’t an expectation that everyone would go to college, either. Only five kids from my graduating class went to college, I think, I could be off by one or two, out of forty-eight.) I’ve not thought of my writing as a way to make political statements–or at least I haven’t in a long time, at any rate, but someone pointed out to me several years ago (or longer, who knows anymore?) that my work was a lot more important than I’ve ever thought or believed; I did document what gay life was like in New Orleans before Hurricane Katrina changed everything. I also documented life in New Orleans in general, before , during and after a hurricane. I’ve written about gay con artists and corrupt hateful politicians and the far right and evangelicals and race and homophobia and misogyny. I often explore something that I find interesting in my books so I can learn more about the topic I am writing about as well as process my own complicated feelings about sensitive subjects. I even wrote a throuple into the Scotty series long before that ever became a subject for conversation in the community. It’s weird to think that my first two novels were released before Lawrence overturned sodomy laws nationally. My sex-life was against the law until I was forty-two. Forty fucking two.

I was filling out the pre-production form for Hurricane Season Hustle Friday, and I went to Amazon to look at the page for Mississippi River Mischief to see if information I needed was there–it wasn’t–but I also noticed I have forty-seven reviews and an average ranking of four and a half stars, which was kind of a surprise, albeit a pleasant one. That meant that overall there had to be more five star reviews than any other kind, else the average wouldn’t be over four, you know? This was a very pleasant surprise, in all honesty; I never look at Amazon pages for my books and especially never at the reviews; likewise, I will never go wading in the fetid swamp that is Goodreads. Who needs that aggravation? But as I said, it was a pleasant surprise, one that almost tempted me to look at the others, but I resisted the urge. I am more emotionally stable now than I’ve ever been in my life before, but why borrow trouble? And sure, it could be another ego boost but it could also be a blow.

And the last thing I need right now is something to rock my already shaky foundations.

California continues to burn, and people continue to expose how dark and twisted their souls and psyches are. It’s beginning to sound like most of these fires were started as arson–which would definitely count as a terrorist attack on Los Angeles, in my opinion; if Luigi shooting that fucking piece of shit counts as terrorism, burning down billions of dollars of property and destroying people’s lives as well as killing some of them definitely is an act if terror. Please don’t be a dick about the fires on-line, people. I’ve lived through a different kind of “act of God” that basically destroyed my city and generational wealth with it. Angelenos are still in shock and are going to be for a long time. This is a serious trauma, and believe me when I say a lot of Angelenos are going to be medicated for years to come. I’m still not entirely sure I’ve gotten over Katrina, in all honesty. So, for God’s sake, show some empathy and compassion for their suffering. Playing the blame game or bringing politics into this is fucking bullshit, so can you not do that? There’s no place in this country that is safe from an unexpected natural disaster.

And trust me, when it happens to you–you will hate those people. I’ve never forgiven any of them, including Chicago Bears fans. I had hoped that disgusting child rapist Dennis Hastert would die in prison, but he remains proof that only the good die young. Henry Kissinger and Anita Bryant is more evidence of that as well.

So, think before you post or comment. I hate Florida and Texas and their politics, but I also worry about them and try to do what I can whenever a hurricane devastates them.

And if you’re feeling smug and judgy–I’m looking at you in particular, Louisiana MAGA racists, remember that when a hurricane comes crashing through your home town.

And on that note, I am going to my chair to read my book for a bit before I get to work. I worked on the book yesterday and it went very well; I am feeling good about writing again and think I am going to be able to hit my stride again sometime soon. Huzzah! Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll talk to you again later at some point.

Oh, those wacky ballerinos!

The ‘In’ Crowd

The last few days…let’s just start with saying that there is a lot of garbage on social media. The Katrina anniversary is always a bit hard for me, but has gotten easier over the years. I’ve even gotten to the point where I don’t even think about it until the anniversary posts and photos of the disaster start showing up on my social media feeds. I am also writing a book set during hurricane season and opens during a tropical storm/Category 1. So seeing people troll people’s posts about it is, frankly, disgusting. There was one particular bitch from Bryan, Texas, who took it upon herself to reply to everyone’s comments on a particular thread posted by one of our local television stations, memorializing those who died. Almost all the response comments on said post were from people who lived through it, commiserating and remembering their experiences and how terrible it was. This bitch responded to every one mockingly, saying things like if that was the worst thing I went through I’d consider myself lucky or Tell me why you’re not still over this minor interruption and so on. She had MAGA written all over her profile and personal feed, of course, because the cruelty is what they love about their movement.

And of course, another Southern white woman writer (not in the mystery community, but part of Louisiana’s) who has always been lovely to me1 in the past posted one of those “don’t lose friends over two politicians who don’t even know your names!” which always pisses me off, because the only people who ever say that don’t want to be judged for being horrible human beings. That is a red flag for me, always–no one who ever truly cared about anyone other than white people would never tell marginalized people to overlook the fact that people think we are subhuman.2 I basically said something similar on her post, basically “tell me you’re okay with racism and homophobia and misogyny” and unfriended her. Then one of her “friends” responded to me with some seriously despicable homophobia. Horrible stuff, on her wall…and she responded to other people after the homophobe came for me, but didn’t say anything to the homophobe, which…she’s perfectly okay with homophobic attacks and language from people she knows…which makes her human fecal sewage.

It shouldn’t bother me at sixty-three, but I don’t need to know anyone who is okay with homophobia. So, local Louisiana author, let me say this to you: you’re a disgusting piece of shit, a Klanwife who is perfectly okay with bigotry and hatred while pretending to not be one of those people, and I should have known you were a homophobe because of the hideously ugly wigs, the trailer trash eyebrows, and the Ross Dress for Less fashions you buy in sizes too small. And I’ve noticed you always slightly smell of urine.

I did post something on Facebook–not that I was angry about it, but I was more disappointed than anything else, not only in her but in myself, and of course I got a lot of sympathy and friends who want to ride at dawn, which is lovely but completely unnecessary because, my friends, most of you have never even heard of this woman. In fact, I met her through people who are my friends, or at least nice to me. I doubt I will ever see her again (see footnote about TWFest), but I will stick to my usual “I don’t even acknowledge trash humans” if we ever are in the same place. And I’m not hurt or upset or anything about it. It’s not the first or last time a Southern white woman I’ve known has turned out to be a Klanwife.3 They’re just better than their men at hiding it in polite company.

It rained all day yesterday and we were in a flood alert, which was lovely. I didn’t leave the house other than taking out the garbage. I spent the day doing my work-at-home duties and some chores. This morning I have an appointment to get my COVID booster and need to pick up a few things here and there around town before coming home for a day of football. Huzzah! I did write some yesterday, but not much, but any progress is progress, and I also started thinking about how to make the book better and more of a challenge to write for me, which is very cool.

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up to get my day rolling. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and will most likely not be here again today, most likely. You know how much I love college football! GEAUX TIGERS TOMORROW!

  1. Surprisingly enough, I’ve gotten to the point where I forget writers are nice to me because they want to be a part of the TWFest and for no other reason. Guess who will never be on a panel now? ↩︎
  2. And that’s the language I’m using from now on–because that’s the core of white supremacy; everyone who isn’t white or Christian is subhuman. Tell me you’d happily enslave people without saying the words. ↩︎
  3. There’s also this whole thing where people to excuse conservative women for their horrendous beliefs (similar to sympathies for Melania Trump or Usha Vance, but I will tell you this, from years of experience: conservative women are not controlled by their husbands, and are often much worse than their husbands–which was the real lesson to be taken from Gone with the Wind, frankly. Melanie and Mrs. Merriwether and Mrs. Meade and Mrs. Elsing and all those women would be MAGA today. ↩︎

Valleri

And here we are on a Thursday morning. I kept getting confused yesterday about what day it was (all day) but that’s disorientation caused by working a full week in the office for the first time since maybe June? I don’t know, it just seems like I’ve had more time off over the last month or so than I usually do. Of course, I could just be a chowderhead who doesn’t remember anything anymore, but let’s hope this is not the case. I felt tired yesterday when I got off work, and had thought about heading uptown to run errands, but by the end of the shift I just decided to head home and do all of that tomorrow1. I am feeling tired this morning, and am waking up slower, which seems more normal than how I always feel tired at the beginning of the week and feel more energized as the week goes on. We’ll see how the coffee works this morning.

Ironically, I already feel more awake this morning since typing that sentence, which is very cool. I think we’re going to be slow today so I can get caught up on a lot of my paperwork and Admin duties.

We had a downpour last night–no thunder that I heard at any rate–and we caught this week’s Presumed Innocent, which was the finale. Spoiler–they did change the ending, despite the fact that the original book and movie are so old I doubt anyone has read or seen it, and those who did have forgotten, but I did wonder why they were redoing this if they were going to use the same big twist. I was on Youtube catching up on the news and also watching analysis from Generation Z political pundits–I really enjoy seeing young people so interested and so involved, and I see them getting really involved now, which is awesome. I have a very good feeling about this year’s youth turnout…and the kids are mostly not conservatives. I didn’t write last night because I was tired, which is shameful…but like I said, I was tired and Sparky was feeling playful. I should have known that once I get wrapped up in Sparky-time I wasn’t going to get anything done. I didn’t even do the chores I needed to do last night, and will have to do tonight instead. I also have to run those errands tonight after work, too. Heavy heaving sigh. I also need to make a to-do list for the weekend. I am doing pretty well with getting things crossed off the one I made for this week; which just goes to show how important making a list is for me. (The coffee is working, but I am fatigued and will be exhausted by the time I get home. DAMN YOU YESTERDAY GREG!)

I also plan to watch the President’s address to the nation last night at some point over the next few days.

I have to say I’ve been delighting in social media lately, which is a very odd feeling. Since Sunday night, my social media feeds have been absolutely delightful. Someone said they were joy-scrolling now instead of doom scrolling, and I have a feeling this is going to be very different this year. The Left is energized, and the MAGAts ain’t got nothing besides name mispronunciations, calling her a whore, and a “DEI hire.” Um, you claim she slept her way to the top–does that mean she fucked the over seven million voters who voted for her in the Senate election? And the mobilization of the HCBU’s and the Pan-Hellenic council? I think the American public–the majority of it at any rate–hates the ugliness and the smears and the slanders. For the MAGAts, nastiness and jeering mockery is the appeal. They feel like they’ve been overlooked and mocked and by gum, them libtards are going to pay! Engaging in a battle of wits and scorn with them is a complete waste of both our times, really; I’ll always go lower but smarter. On my way home from work yesterday I saw one of those Viagra trucks–you know, the ones that start at $70k and are basically luxury cars with a bed instead of a trunk, and cost about $100 to fill the tank weekly? His back window had a massive TRUMP decal across the top, with Make Liberals Cry Again. Usually I just roll my eyes and pity the women in his life; or get super irritated. Yesterday I laughed at his impotence. The truck at least had mud spattered all over it, so it actually is a utility vehicle for him rather than cowboy cosplay (which is what it usually is). Yesterday it just made me laugh, as I pictured him out in his yard with a razor scraper taking that off in November, red-faced and furious and thinking the country is doomed. GOOD.

Make liberals cry again. Like MAGA is the fucking adult in the room rather than a toddler throwing a tantrum blaming everyone else for their problems. It wasn’t liberals who took an electoral loss so badly they stormed and vandalized our nation’s capital, but sure, we’re the crybaby sore losers. Sorry you all are incapable of rational or logical thought, and are so narcissistic and self-absorbed that you vote against your own best interests as long as you think you’re screwing a minority. You really want no more social security or Medicare?

There’s no guarantee, of course, but there are just over a hundred days for them to smear the Vice-President. They don’t have thirty years of baked-in smears and lies like they did with Hillary Clinton. All they have is racism and misogyny and insults…no policy except the vague, broad descriptions of how beautiful and perfect everything will be, as corporations and oligarchs get even more tax breaks, with the full burden of taxes falling on the working and middle classes. Foreign countries didn’t fear and respect him, no matter how many times Sean Hannity trots out that sad, pathetic and tired trope. He was, and is forever, Putin’s bitch, and there’s a Russian thread through their entire party. They cozy up to Putin and Russians (Look at Moscow Marge 6B’s, proudly spouting Russian talking points), and how is that in our best interests? Would Ronald Reagan buddy up to Putin?

Not in a million fucking years. I can only imagine Nancy Reagan, rebranded as a high-brow sophisticated society matron from the lot-whore she was in Hollywood in the 1950s, sitting down to dinner with the Trump family. (Best potential SNL sketch ever–wait, no. Second best, because the best would be the dedication of the Trump Presidential Library.)

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Thursday. I may be back later, but you never can be sure.

Save a horse, ride a cowboy.

  1. And yes, this morning’s Greg is really annoyed at yesterday afternoon’s Greg. ↩︎

I Want to Break Free

I have, after a long internal debate with myself that’s been going on since before my surgery, finally decided not to attend Bouchercon in Nashville. There were still a few things on the plus side for me to go–the proximity to Dad and the ability to visit him on the same trip; seeing friends that I usually only see at Bouchercon–but over the past two weeks the negative side of going has really been brought home to me.

I also realized this weekend that I can just go see Dad anyway, and the truth is that this Bouchercon is already spoiled for me. I just can’t get excited about booking the trip, scheduling how to pay for it, and everything else involved with planning the trip; this year just thinking about it felt like an odious chore that I kept putting off. I keep getting surprise medical bills, too, which also played a part in my decision. I kept pushing back making the decision and figuring out the costs because I didn’t know what else I was going to have to budget for in the meantime.

I want to be clear that not one single negative was enough to break the camel’s back with me, but the accumulation of so many negatives and missteps by this event ultimately was just too much for me. Tennessee’s ban on women’s freedoms and its archaic, hateful anti-trans legislation had already made me wondering about my own safety there1; the recent murder of Nex Benedict2 in a ruby-red state with these exact same kind of laws on the books, along with the very same accompanying dehumanizing rhetoric, was the last straw for me. I just can’t.

It might also be different if the local host committee didn’t make an incredibly egregious error in scheduling a Lifetime Achievement3 winner whose conduct and behavior doesn’t hold up under a closer scrutiny, and his insistence that a deeply problematic person interview him–bound to cause an uproar from the very start–may have been an oversight or something the host committee didn’t think would be a big deal…

NARRATOR VOICE: It was, in fact, a big deal.

I am not going to go into further detail here, nor am I going to mention names–they’re well known enough, and the kerfuffle was kerfuffly enough, for most people to know who I am talking about in the first place.

It also didn’t help matters much that they published the list of categories for this year’s Anthony Awards and ditched the cozy-friendly Best Humorous category, which essentially guarantees most authors who write funny aren’t going to have a chance to be nominated this year. After San Diego created the category last year (and yes, I was a finalist), I had hoped that future local committees would commit to keeping it, making the awards more inclusive and admitting that humor isn’t taken as seriously as darker, heavier books. 4

Just another disappointment to pile onto the others over the years.

NARRATOR VOICE: Humor is seen as lesser because it’s more “frivolous.” But if humor is somehow easier to write, why do so many writers avoid it? If you think writing funny is easy, try doing it some time.

There is a valid point to be made that the only way to effect change you want to see is to get involved and help make that change. It’s why I joined the national board before realizing it would never go anywhere and there wasn’t anyone really vested in change–there are board members now I know are fighting the good fight, but there are also some still mired in the 1980s who think “all change is bad!” No, fixing problems as well as anticipating others is not a bad thing. It never is, and those who are resistant to it should remember that stubborn adherence to antiquated rules, policies and ways of doing things results in stagnation, and the cracks such stagnation creates will soon be too apparent to miss when they start appearing.

NARRATOR VOICE: Change can be scary, but it’s a necessary part of life. This is also true for businesses, non-profits, and events. Not changing and adapting means no room for further growth. I am not the same writer I was twenty years ago, for example. I’ve never wanted my art to stagnate.

There’s also an email circulating containing screen-caps of questionable tweets by other people in the crime fiction community–misogynistic, borderline racist and definitely homophobic–and all the guys posting are people I know and consider friends. It was disheartening, as it always is to see proof of what straight guys will say when they don’t think any gays or women are around. It’s why I can never entirely trust straight people, to be honest. I know that white people will be racist if they think everyone around them is white–and those present who aren’t racist never call them out, just kind of smile uncomfortably. The difference between outright homophobes and those who are just there by defaulting to it is that I appreciate the honesty of the actual outright homophobes more than those who smile in your face and then make horrific gay jokes when I’m not around. This was also a bit disheartening, but while it’s disappointing its a needed reminder of why queer people generally can’t trust the straight ones.

NARRATOR VOICE: Only making homophobic jokes when no queer people are around doesn’t make you an ally–so don’t be surprised when queer people have issues trusting you.

I’ve been around publishing for a lot longer than I like to remember, if I’m being completely honest. I’ve seen a lot, experienced a lot, and all of this sort of bullshit makes me tired. RWA seems to think it’s a great idea to promote using AI to its members. There was another issue with the Hugo Awards that recently, horribly, blew up (John Scalzi did a great write up about the recent Hugo controversy here.). And of course, there’s these latest disappointments from Bouchercon, too.

So, it’s easier for me to bow out entirely and not participate this year. And finally making up my mind one way or the other was such an enormous relief…no regret at all, just relief.

And that’s saying something about how tarnished the brand’s Nashville franchise has become. (A local in Nashville went on a thread about this year’s controversy stating that if queer people don’t feel safe or welcome they should start their own event–which told me exactly what we’d be dealing with should we go. Bouchercon deleted the homophobic trash’s posts, but they were screen-capped, of course.)

I’m not calling for a boycott–that’s not for me to decide, and besides, there are some very valid points about going and establishing a presence at the event. But I am not going, and this is why I decided not to spend my money there.

  1. “But you live in Louisiana and its laws aren’t much better” isn’t the “gotcha” you might think it is, so don’t bother. I am sixty two years old and can’t just uproot myself and Paul to move to a blue state at this point in our lives, without jobs or significant resources to fall back on. I am not encouraging anyone to move here, nor do I tell people to come here, either. Bouchercon is here next year, so I will go for sure, but that doesn’t mean I am okay spending money or time in a state where me or my friends might not feel safe, nor would I presume to tell them it’s okay to come here. ↩︎
  2. You can claim the ME report said their death had nothing to do with their injuries from the beating they received, but I don’t trust anyone in law enforcement or anyone employed by that hate state. Until there’s an independent autopsy, I will not accept the ME’s report, period. ↩︎
  3. He is anti-cancel culture–only dresses it all up in prettier language and what appears to be more nuanced thought. But I’ve never seen any “free speech advocate” who doesn’t also think that racists, misogynists, and homophobes shouldn’t get any pushback or consequence for using hate speech–so that tells me all I needed to know about this person. ↩︎
  4. And don’t @me about how hard it is to run such an event. I know exactly how hard it is to run and plan such an event. It is what my partner does for a living, I’ve been on Bouchercon’s local committee before, I served on the national board, and I helped write the program for Dallas. I also chaired World Horror Con in New Orleans. ↩︎

New World Man

I am up earlier than I have been since before the surgery (no, I don’t want a cookie–never been a cookie fan, even as a kid), and feel pretty good this morning. Yesterday was a pretty good day, over all. I didn’t really leave the house at all, but I worked on getting things more under-control around here–the kitchen has been a mess since the ceiling collapse, and the cabinets and drawers need some serious organizing–and also spent most of the day doing other chores around here, while thinking about getting back to work writing. The brace is still awkward to work around, but it feels like I’m getting more used to working with it on–and having a cleared and cleaned off desk surface also helps with that as well. I am going to run some errands this afternoon, but there’s not college football today to distract me or send me to the easy chair for the day, so I have little choice about blowing the day off, methinks, which is not a bad thing. I also did laundry and more dishes yesterday, and I have some other things I need to do here in the kitchen/office today as well. I also spent some time reading the second book in Raquel V. Reyes’ delightful Caribbean kitchen cozy series (Calypso, Cooking and Corpses), which is just as delightful as the first, and then…well, I fell down a Youtube/Twitter wormhole that was eye-opening and shocking before Paul got home from the gym and we watched this week’s Fellow Travelers, which, interestingly enough, kind of tied into the wormhole in some ways; as you may recall, just the other day I was talking about how these stories (Fellow Travelers), while sad and depressing, were necessary to remind people of how awful the past was for queer people not that long ago; we don’t have much of a societal memory for things that happened as recently as twenty years ago. There’s a large gap in our community that was created by the HIV/AIDS pandemic, so the oral traditions within the community of passing along our history was horrifically interrupted and many younger queers–and those that aren’t that young–have no way of connecting to the past, and don’t even know where to start looking.

During the shutdown I spent a lot of time in my easy chair making condom packs for the day job to justify getting paid for being at home–there were other job duties I could do at home, but mostly I made a shit ton of condom packs–and so I spent a lot of time looking through streaming apps on my Apple TV for things to watch while my hands worked. This was how I discovered the endless wormholes of Youtube video essays and documentaries; and of course, algorithms started suggesting other videos and channels of “influencers” similar to the videos I had watched and was finding on my own. Discovering Matt Baume’s delightful channel about queer rep in popular culture was a joy for me; he named sources for his information, was very clear about what was fact, what was unknowable, and what was his opinion–and since most of it was stuff that aired or happened while I was alive, it was a lovely trip down memory lane for me, reminding me of the few things that resonated with me growing up as a lonely queer kid and what shaped my views on what it was like to be a gay man in America. (Also, once I discovered there was such a thing as queer books and queer publishing, spent most of the 1990’s reading mostly queer stuff…and I’ve always been a voracious reader.) Anyway, watching Matt’s videos and subscribing to his channel shifted the algorithms, and I started getting other videos and channels suggested to me….and one of those belonged to a queer video essayist named James Somerton, and one of them–called Evil Queens and having to do with Disney–I don’t remember the actual name of the video, and he has since scrubbed his entire Youtube channel (more on that drama later)–and thought, interesting–a long time ago I read and reviewed a book called Tinker Belles and Evil Queens by Sean Griffin, but you can’t copyright a title and can you talk about queer coding and such in Disney and not use the words “evil queens”? Disney has always fascinated me, since I turned into a Disney queen after The Little Mermaid (I was never a big Disney kid; that waited until my adulthood and coming out, oddly enough), and Griffin’s book was so astonishing and good and insightful that I never forgot it. I watched Somerton’s video, and it all seemed incredibly familiar to me–and I did note he said some things that were wrong; mainly Gay Days/Gay Nights at Disneyworld were never official, Disney-sponsored events…which I know because I lived in Florida and used to go for Gay Day. I also thought it was odd that he left out how the Southern Baptists tried to boycott Disney to stop Gay Days…and were ground completely into the dust by the Mouse. But it didn’t fit the narrative of the video essay–how Disney queer baits us for money then betrays us by not giving us rep in their films1. I also thought it was weird that the book–which so much of the video’s content was dependent on for its facts; the stuff that was wrong I assumed was from Somerton himself–wasn’t credited for anything, or even mentioned as a companion reading piece to the video itself. Periodically, after that, Youtube would suggest other videos to me from him, and I’d watch them, mainly out of curiosity…and began noticing things.

Like how his entire video about queer coding in Hollywood film seemed incredibly familiar–like I’d read it all already in the uncredited The Celluloid Closet by Vito Russo, which had already been made into a documentary in 1996…so much so that I bought an e-book of it to see and yes, it was used almost word for word with no attribution. And some of his other videos…were not only offensive but just bald-faced lies, things he’d made up, or okay, let’s be fair–conclusions he drew were from cherry-picked facts and broad speculations made from those facts; it seemed, in his video on gay body image issues, that he took the old 1990’s term for gym and body culture (the “you have to be a ripped muscle god to have any sexual currency”), which was “body fascism”, and somehow extrapolated from there the bizarre notion that Nazis created body culture and American GI’s brought it back from Europe after the war…and even weirder, somehow we didn’t get it from the Soviets because they were so “bundled up” we couldn’t see their bodies. (Maybe he should have read Michelangelo Signorile’s Life Outside, which explored how body culture morphed into something even bigger after the advent of AIDS because a strong, muscular, defined body was the antithesis of the wasting most people dying from AIDS experienced at the time; fit body= not infected; seriously, dude.) He was also horribly misogynistic at times–he didn’t like lesbians, and he hated straight women, and was also borderline transphobic at times despite trying to champion transpeople? It was all very weird, but I would periodically put on one of his videos that sounded interesting, even as he made claims that didn’t make sense or was simply restating things I’d already read somewhere. I didn’t think much of it, but I was idly curious–the way I often am; periodically I think about influencers and how to write a crime novel around one, and Youtube influencers seemed like the way to go if I were going to do that, and so I always chalked it up to research…and sometimes, the wrong things he said would send me off in search of the actual facts, so it was kind of educational by reminding me of things I’d forgotten about.

Turns out, he plagiarized almost all of his videos, never credited or named sources unless called out for it (he took down the videos about Disney and queer coding and put them back up as “based upon” the books he literally was quoting verbatim); the scandal dropped this week–I only found out yesterday–with two other Youtube influencers making really long videos about the plagiarism and the harmful lies he was spreading, as well as the self-loathing, misogyny, and transphobia. I went down that wormhole yesterday, watching both videos–which were long as the crimes were plentiful–and now his Youtube channel is gone, completely. As I said, I didn’t put a lot of thought into it–but he had a Patreon, and his Youtube channel was monetized, which meant he was profiting from the work of other queer creators that he was plagiarizing and stealing, then playing victim when caught…until he was literally destroyed by these other two Youtubers this week. He was apparently making a shit ton of money–and you know, there’s the plot for an influencer crime novel.

It was very eye-opening.

But it extrapolates further to what I’ve been thinking about since starting to watch Fellow Travelers–dark and sad and depressing as these stories are, they are important because our history is always erased; how are queer kids supposed to feel pride and understand where we’ve come from and what we’ve fought for, if they never hear about it, can’t find it, and are never told? The kids I work with (with an age range from early thirties to early twenties) don’t remember how horrible HIV/AIDS was because they hadn’t been born yet or weren’t old enough to really pay attention before the cocktail and the new meds changed it from a fatal disease to a chronic one (with treatment). There’s SO MUCH bad information out there about sexually transmitted infections, and so little education, that it frightens me on an almost daily basis as I work with my clients.

Obviously, this is what I’ve been wrestling with lately, with myself and my own artistic work (yes, I am starting to think of myself as an artist, which I should have done all along); what responsibility do we have to the younger people who don’t know our history, the history I lived through? It’s part of the reason I started writing “Never Kiss a Stranger”, and set it in 1994; I wanted to show what gay life in New Orleans was like during the time when HIV/AIDS was still a death sentence, and the city was also crumbling and dying itself before the wave of renewal and gentrification that started before Katrina and kicked into high gear; who is going to write that story if I don’t?

And what responsibility do I have to current and future generations of queer people as an artist? Do I have any? Or is my only responsibility as an artist to myself?

Something to think about, at any rate.

And on that somber note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably be back later; I can never stay away for long.

  1. Uh, I guess he never saw the Disney documentary about Howard Ashman, who was partly responsible for the Disney animation renaissance and who died of AIDS before the release of the last film he completed, Beauty and the Beast; to date the only animated film to be Oscar nominated for Best Picture, and won three other Oscars, including two for Ashman? ↩︎

Looking Good, Feeling Gorgeous

As I was saying in my other blatant self-promotional post of today (for Mississippi River Mischief) I rather jokingly mentioned that perhaps my childhood fandom of celebrities like Cher, Bette Midler, Liza Minnelli, Katharine Hepburn, Bette Davis, Joan Crawford and Barbara Stanwyck was an early sign of my destiny as a gay man; and yes, I know that’s a stereotype but as I always say, “stereotypes have to start somewhere“–there’s occasionally some kernel of truth in a gay stereotype. (Example: Jack on Will & Grace got some grief for being a stereotype–but I’ve known any number of gay men who were very similar to Jack; imagine being told you’re a stereotype.)

RuPaul’s genius idea to kind of create a Project Runway and American Idol hybrid reality show started out very slow–it was on Logo, I believe, and the budget was incredibly bare bones that first season or two or three; part of the fun of the show was how much it looked like a cable-access do-it-yourself reality show. And as usual with any art form created by gay men, it was popular with gay men and straight women; the show slowly started building an audience and then WHAM! One day it seemed like drag had taken over the world.

Katya from RuPaul’s Drag Race, whom I find hilarious–and beautiful.

Paul and I lost interest in the show after the Bianca-Courtney-Adore season, because that season was so good we both felt that anything after that would be anti-climactic. I know there have been other good seasons and incredibly fierce queens since then, but we came back for All Stars Season 2 (when I became a fan of Katya, actually) and were bitterly disappointed at how scripted, staged, and unfair the entire season was to everyone who wasn’t Alaska, Detox, or Roxxy. And just like with Project Runway, once we saw a season that was clearly predetermined from the start, we stopped watching.

I have zero interest in watching a “competition” with a predetermined winner, which is kind of why I don’t watch WWE much anymore. (it’s also very cartoonish, but that’s a subject for another time.)

I know there are cisgender women who have issues with drag, and I know there are transwomen who do as well; I think the transwomen’s issues primarily have to do with the conflation between the two–which was clearly prescient, given the rise of the raw sewage known as LibsofTikTok and “Moms4Liberty” (how’d that election go for you on Tuesday, you miserable soulless contemptible bigoted shrews? CRY MORE BITCHES, your tears are like Mimosas to us gays), who see no difference (because the harpies are as ignorant and uneducated as they are bitter, soulless, and unChristian). I’ve never seen a lot of criticism for drag from the straight cisgender women as a general rule, but I know there are concerns and critiques from the feminist community, which I do not dismiss or take lightly.

But since the primary straight cisgender woman who used to scream at me about the “misogyny of drag” also has turned out to be a sociopathic TERF who is dead to me (shocker, I know; a feminist who hates drag is a bigoted disgusting piece of shit TERF? Who could have seen that coming?), I don’t necessarily take those feminist critiques as seriously as I used to. If your feminism is about cisgender white women only, go fuck yourself. (This is the same woman who claimed to be a gay ally because she loved going to gay bars where gay men made much of her…the irony that it was primarily because she acted like an over-the-top drag queen completely escaped her–but then, drag queens competed with her for attention in gay bars, and I’ve also come to recognize that the poor bitch is so fucking thirsty for attention that she probably needs intense therapy for at least a decade.)

I’ve always seen drag as a critique of the societal notions of what a woman is supposed to be; drag is that expectation taken over the top to the nth degree. This is why they have the exaggerated everything–from wigs to shoes to gowns to make-up to hip padding and fake boobs. (I also think that the reason drag kings never attained the same level of popularity and mainstreaming as the queens is because it’s harder to over-exaggerate masculinity; it’s not as easy to create the illusion of a thickly muscled body, a super-deep baritone voice, and thick body hair–and besides, who wants to watch women performing toxic masculinity? And as a general rule, men don’t wear make-up when they are cosplaying masculinity.) They’re also loud, funny, and crude–all the things women aren’t supposed to be in proper society–and when they are hyper-sexualized, it’s to make a point about the hyper-sexualizing of women by the dominant culture. Women aren’t supposed to have control of their bodies and sexuality; they aren’t supposed to be crude and crass and vulgar. They aren’t parodying women; they are parodying the cultural expectations (that still exist) for women by over-exaggerating everything and reflecting back to the overall societal culture about how we limit and control women.

I tried explaining this several times to my former friend, but she was also sociopathic in her narcissistic belief that she was never wrong. She was exhausting, frankly, and when I cut her out of my life like the cancerous tumor she was, it was amazing how much better I felt knowing I would never see any of her ignorant bigotry anywhere on my social media ever again, and sorry–you come for transpeople, you’re coming for all of us.

Keep your conditional allyship, bitch.

It’s called intersectionality, use the Google.

And yes, there are misogynistic gay men and drag queens. Some of the common language of drag is misogynist; “fishy” and so forth are questionable–but again, it plays into that critique of societal feminine archetypes; women would never talk about themselves that way and would be furious if a straight man did; so why is it okay for gay men and drag queens to do so? It’s not really; but if you’re going to come for drag with honest concerns about misogynist anti-woman language, that’s one thing; when you come for the entire community because of it, fuck you with a cheese grater.

So, part of the reason I wrote Death Drop was for the same reasons I write y/a about rape culture and homophobia and racism; to put a human face on an issue that might help the reader develop more empathy about the subject than they may have felt before reading my book. Death Drop is not going to convince drag-haters or TERFs that their beliefs and values are trash and they need to rethink and reevaluate; but maybe, just maybe, someone who doesn’t know much about the subject and the issues around it might learn something.

That may be hubris, but you can’t be a writer without some level of hubris in your personality.

So, feel free to click on this link and order several copies! They make great gifts for homophobes, and Christmas is coming!

Suckling the Mender

Work-at-home Friday! Woo-hoo! It’s almost the weekend! I felt funky yesterday; more than just my usual end-of-the-getting-up-at-six-every-day tireds. My stomach started bothering me on Wednesday night, and I chose to eat breakfast and lunch yesterday with soft foods–yogurt, cereal, mozzarella salad–as I had the day before and that didn’t seem to be much help, as my stomach ached all afternoon. This continued throughout the evening, and I also was terribly tired when I left the office. I felt so bad–the combination of the exhaustion and the stomach issue–that I did something I never do; I laid down on the couch. I floated for about three hours in the in-between sleep and awake state of consciousness, which was where I was when Paul came home. I ate a little bit and felt better, but it’s still odd. I think it’s not eating enough, maybe? This was how I felt on Sunday after getting home from the trip–so I must eat solids and more regularly. My bad eating habits catching up to me at long last, and I really need to focus on eating regularly and more healthy. (I lost twelve pounds in Kentucky.) It’s also achy and sore this morning, too, but not nearly as bad as it was yesterday. I’ll try to eat more today than I have the last few days.

I have some errands to run after work-at-home duties are completed today, which will probably suck the life right out of me. Running errands in New Orleans in the summertime is always a draining chore, but if I can get all of that done today I won’t have to leave the house at all until Monday morning when I go back to work. It doesn’t look too bad out there this morning, but a quick check of my phone tells me it’s 82, which is practically a cold spell for July down here.

We finished watching Red Rose last night, and what a ride that was. Intense suspense, wild out of nowhere plot twists, and all the young British actors were very appealing and good in their roles. I do recommend it; it’s a new trope for horror (maybe it’s already tired, I don’t know, but it’s my first experience of it) by using apps and your phone to terrorize you. It was also a terrifying commentary on how careless we all can be about our online security. Now, of course we have to start watching something new–often a challenge to decide–

I kept waking up a lot last night–pretty much every hour on the hour–and of course, was wide awake at six. I fed and watered Scooter, since he expects it at that time every day now, and went back to bed for a little while longer. I don’t know whether iI actually slept any more, but I don’t feel spacy-tired or loopy-tired this morning, so that’s something, I suppose. Hopefully it will turn out to be a most productive day for me. I do have laundry and lots of dishes and cleaning and straightening up around here to get done, too.

I joined Threads, the new Instagram version of Twitter, last night and I have to say, I like it so far. It was nice that your followers and who you follow from Instagram transferred over, and if any of those folks aren’t there, it will automatically follow them when they join and if they follow me, it will follow them automatically, too. That was kind of cool, and it was also kind of cool to go onto social media and not have bigotry and hatred shoved into my face every time I turn around. It also made me think about something else–Pride is more than just June, and why should I only write about my experiences as a gay male and as a gay male writer during that month? Firing off snarky tweets in response to bigotry is a nice little dopamine rush, but I also feel like I’m not doing enough to counter the rise of the Fascists; what better way for a writer to do that than write about it? There is an element of “preaching to the choir” to blogging about homophobia and bigotry, but if it changes one mind…then it was all worth it, was it not? I know there are people who think of me as one of the “good ones”–if you don’t know what that means, congratulations on your privilege–because I am, in person, usually very conciliatory and understanding (conflict-averse, and a trained counselor, remember) and because I generally don’t go on my old Julia Sugarbaker rants much anymore, if at all. That doesn’t mean that I don’t have them in my head anymore; barely a day passes without me seeing something, either on social media or in the news or both, that raises my blood pressure and makes me want to strangle someone. So, I am going to try to channel that anger and rage into something productive; blog posts. I don’t worry about offending potential readers of my books because all anyone ever has to do is look at my social media or even this blog to get a sense of my politics. I probably should have developed a public persona who is just charming and funny and apolitical, but that really just opens you up to more homophobia when you’re a gay man.

I can never decide if its worse for someone to be homophobic to me because it is so ingrained in them that they don’t ever realize it, or if it’s deliberate. I guess it depends on how you call out the homophobia and how they react to it. I do, however, generally always default to “doesn’t know any better” and correct them; I also don’t ever say someone is a homophobe unless I am 100% certain it was deliberate. I just say, “that’s a homophobic thing to say” or “that’s a homophobic comment” rather than saying “you’re a homophobe”–but if you continue to not do better, well, then you’re a homophobe. The thing that I never understand is how people react to things they don’t understand automatically with dislike bordering on hatred; it’s actually okay to not understand. I don’t completely understand every experience in the world, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be sympathetic, empathetic, and respectful. One of the wonderful side effects of my day job is that training and experience as a counselor, and recognizing that experiences should be met with respect and sympathy and empathy instead of judgment. Who am I to judge anyone? The only people I don’t respect and I will judge are racists, sexists, homophobes or transphobes; anyone who uses lies, deceptions, and stereotypes to categorize any one group as lesser and less worthy. I will judge you for judging others–and I will judge very harshly.

This weekend will be about tying up loose odds and ends, working on my page proofs, and trying to straighten up around here. I want to prune the books some more, and maybe even take another box down from the attic to go through. I also want to look through that box of clippings and other Greg memorabilia from my past career to see what can be kept, what can be scanned, and what can be tossed. I really want to get that attic cleaned out this year.

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

I Want to Break Free

The don’t say gay laws a rash of frightened sheep in red state legislatures have been passing, or trying to pass, lately are absurd on their face. “We don’t want our children learning about queer people! They’re too young to learn that!” This argument, of course, begs the question, how old is old enough to learn about alternate sexualities?

I say it’s when kids are old enough to start using slurs in a bullying way on their schoolmates.

For the record, I was only eight years old the first time I was called a gay slur, and I didn’t understand anything about it, let alone the word itself meant.

Why, my eight-year-old mind wondered, is he calling me a ferry? That doesn’t make any sense.

But what the older brother of the girl who lived down the street actually meant was ‘fairy,’ and now it amuses me to remember how naïve I was at age eight, how I had no idea what this older boy, who seemed so enormous and grown-up to my younger self (he was in high school) meant. Somehow, I knew he was insulting me, but eight-year-old me didn’t know what he meant.

But I did know, was very aware, that whatever he meant, it was a bad thing.

I already knew I wasn’t like the other kids on the block or in my grade at school. I was a boy who liked to read, who preferred to go off in my own mind on flights of imagination where I was writing stories and creating fictions, inventing characters and how they related to each other. I much preferred that to playing catch or catching bugs or any of the other, more traditionally masculine things little boys were supposed to be doing in their spare time. I liked to sit on our back porch in the shade of the big tree and read my library books or my recent Scholastic Book Club paperback treasures.

I was in the seventh grade when I first heard the word fag hissed at me contemptuously in the hallways of my junior high school, and even then, I still wasn’t sure what it meant, I could tell by the tone used that it wasn’t meant as a compliment, especially when followed by cruel laughter. That was the first time, but it was by no means the last—even now, in these more enlightened times, I doubt that I will go the rest of my life without someone saying it to me another time, because there’s always another time.

I don’t remember when I finally learned what they meant when they called me fairy or fag or faggot, but I do remember this: it was true, and it was something unusual, not normal, something I should be ashamed about. I did my best to change my camouflage, like a good chameleon, to hide it so no one else would know my shameful secret, what I had to disguise from the world: that I was, in fact, a homosexual. A fag. A fairy. A Mary. Faggot. Queen. Homo. Nelly. Pansy. Sissy.

I was ashamed of who I was, because I was taught by the world around me that my sexuality was suspect, wrong, bad.

So, when I see the words politically correct (or more commonly now, woke) used in a sneering way, as a methodology of trying to shut down honest conversation and derail discussion about the realities of what non-white, non-straight, non-cisgender, and non-male Americans experience every day, I get angry. Because none of those people, for one example, who sneered “well, this is just political correctness out of control” about the American Library Association’s decision to change the name of the Laura Ingalls Wilder Award several years ago due to concerns about problematic racial overtones in her work were ever called a fairy when they were eight years old, or had the word fag hissed at them in the halls of their junior high school; were ever called any slur used for non-white people, or non-western European lineage, or been told to go back where they came from, or been called the n-word (which I can’t even bring myself to type out, even for a column about slurs).

Frankly, people who argue against “political correctness” are people I assume want to be able to use slurs with impunity–they aren’t arguing about freedom of speech as an abstract legal principle, but because they want to use slurs and not suffer consequences.

Merriam-Webster.com defines “politically correct” as the following: conforming to a belief that language and practices which could offend political sensibilities (as in matters of sex or race) should be eliminated. Wikipedia goes still further: The term political correctness (adjectivally: politically correct; commonly abbreviated to PC or P.C.) is used to describe language, policies, or measures that are intended to avoid offense or disadvantage to members of particular groups in society. Since the late 1980s, the term has come to refer to avoiding language or behavior that can be seen as excluding, marginalizing, or insulting groups of people considered disadvantaged or discriminated against, especially groups defined by sex or race. In public discourse and the media, it is generally used as a pejorative, implying that these policies are excessive.

So, the next time you want to sneer something about “political correctness being out of control”, here’s what I want you to stop and think about before you say it: an eight year old boy being called a fairy by a high school kid, or a ten year old tomboy being called a dyke, or a seven year old kid told to go back where he came from, or a nine-year-old Native American reading a book where Native Americans are dismissed as “not people, just Indians”—and ask yourself, would I want something like that said about or to me?

I feel pretty confident that the vast majority would say no.

Words have power, and no one should know that better than a writer.

Don’t Knock My Love

I turned the edits in yesterday and let out a huge sigh of relief. I think I fixed everything that needed fixing, and I think the book is much better now than it was when I actually turned it in (editors are so worth their weight in gold; good ones, anyway).

I feel more confident now about my writing than I have in a long time, to be honest. I feel more confident about life in general, for that matter. I’m not sure what happened, or what caused the change…but I know once I got over being tired from the Kentucky trip, I’ve felt better on every level–emotionally, physically, and mentally. And I hope it lasts.

I also didn’t realize how much stress that turning that revised manuscript in would release from my shoulders. Deadlines are stressful, especially when you have a horrible habit of missing them, and the last couple of months haven’t been the easiest for me on multiple fronts. But when I started working on the edits more deeply this past weekend, I became much calmer than I’ve been in a long time, relaxed, even, which really felt strange. The weekend overall was a pretty good one, to be honest. I didn’t sleep as well last night as I would have liked, either, but this morning feel rested, at the very least. It also feels like I’ve not been into the office in a very long time, which is strange–I mean, I was just there on Friday–but it’s still weird. But even so, this past week was a lot less stressful and tense than I’ve felt in a long time. I am not sure what that’s all about, but I am going to take it as a win.

We watched more of The Boys and Obi-wan Kenobi last night, and are now all caught up on both shows. (I didn’t know Amazon Prime was doing the same, release one episode per week, streaming thing; I don’t remember having to watch The Boys by the week in previous seasons, but my mind has literally become a sieve these days and it’s entirely possible. The ability to binge has seriously affected my memory and how I watch television; it seems completely alien now to have to wait a week to watch another episode of something…let alone having to watch everything that way. How on earth did we used to do that all the time? It’s amazing how easy it is to retrain your mind after a lifetime of doing things one way.) I am really enjoying both shows. I like that The Boys will go places Marvel and DC won’t with their take on super-heroes, and I am really loving Obi-wan Kenobi. I don’t know what the whiners on social media are complaining and/or bitching about, other than it being the usual misogyny and racism. “Oh, no, we have a Sith who is a black female!” Get over your fucking self. Sorry you can accept alien creatures without qualm but get your tiny little nut-sack in a froth over a black woman. The horror of it all! You must have really hated the adaptation of Foundation.

I also wrote nearly three thousand new words of “Never Kiss a Stranger” last night; I decided working on it would be a nice palate-cleanse between finishing the last book and starting the new Scotty. I’m still not sure I am writing it the correct way–novellas are a whole new thing for me, and the structuring is also a new concept for me. But I like what I am doing with it thus far, and while it doesn’t have to be anything, it could just as easily be something I just tinker with from time to time when I feel like it, I am also enjoying it a lot. It’s set in the summer of 1994, and my main character has just retired from the military after twenty years and moved to New Orleans. He’s a gay man who has spent twenty years hiding who he is, and now he has the ability to live his life the way he pleases–so writing about unshackling oneself from the enforced bondage of the military closet is, in some ways, like just coming out of the closet. He doesn’t regret his time in the army, not in the least; he would have stayed in had he not learned he was on a purge list before “don’t ask don’t tell” goes into effect. But I like the idea of exploring how experiencing that freedom for the first time in his life, at almost forty, feels…because in many ways his socialization as a gay man is somewhat stunted; it had to be, because of the military. It’s nice to bring up these things–as well as HIV/AIDS–in a historical piece (sad that 1994 was almost thirty years ago at this point and counts as a historical. This is also my sly way of working some politics into the story, as well. When Peter interviewed me for the Three Rooms Press website as the “featured author of the month,” one of the things he asked about was politics…the truth is my existence is political through no choice of my own, as I told Peter, and I would like nothing more than to just be left alone so I can focus on my writing. I’ve not been active politically for a while–I still vote, and make the occasional donation to a candidate I believe in–but as a gay man in the United States in 2022, the right wing likes to use me and my community to whip up their base of Christofascists, and this year it is particularly ugly.

I also think my work kind of stands as political statements on their own. Let’s look at my last two books, shall we? Bury Me in Shadows examined the generational damage caused by institutionalized racism and homophobia; #shedeservedit was an examination of how toxic masculinity and systemic misogyny damages our young people. Yes, they were crime stories, and yes, I like to think they were entertaining reads–but each had a point that I was trying to make through the story and the characters and what they were facing. I started doing an entry this weekend about the Scotty series, from beginning to its most recent (since I am about to embark on writing a new one)–mainly because there was a song on the list I am using for post titles called “Watching Scotty Grow” and really, was there ever a better title for a post looking back through the years at the Scotty series, its ups and downs and journey from an idea I had one afternoon to getting a contract to write it and going from one publisher to another…and yet Scotty continues to endure.

Well, that’s enough for a Tuesday morning. Have a lovely morning, Constant Reader, and I am heading into the spice mines.