Tag: Trust Me: The False Prophet

Step by Step

How on earth is it Pay-the-Bills Wednesday again already? As my grandmother used to day, “lord, have mercy” (it sounded like lawd-a-mersuh) But the week has gone rather well thus far, so no complaints on that score. I did feel a bit tired yesterday afternoon at work, but I just keep my head down and keep plugging away. I was very organized and efficient at work yesterday, too, and I have some catching up to do this morning but that shouldn’t be much of a problem. We’re aren’t terribly busy today, either, which is nice. We also started watching a new series on Netflix, Unchosen, which is about a British cult (fictional), but it’s incredibly well done and chilling–and like Trust Me: The False Prophet, focuses on a woman victim of the cult who is starting to think the cult may not be what it’s presented to be. (Watch Trust Me–you literally can trust me on this.) I’ve always had a mild interest in cults; I remember when they found the corpses at Jonestown when I was in high school. There was also a cult in the county seat where we lived in Kansas. They had purchased the campus of a defunct religious college and taken it over as a “religious college”–but only the religion was their cult. Those people were creepy as fuck, and it was even scarier the way they would corner people to proselytize; it happened a few times to me at places as varied as McDonalds, a gas station, and the grocery store. I looked the cult up a few years ago, when I remembered how weird that was–for a religious, deeply conservative Midwestern state, a lot of weird fucking shit goes on there–and they’re declining. The campus was sold to a local land-grant university, and I even found a book by someone who had left the cult. that I ordered but haven’t read yet.

There are still so many Kansas stories I want to tell.

I was also thinking about the hypocrisy of the entire “tradwife” thing. For one thing, traditional farm wives who baked their own bread and churned their own butter generally didn’t have running water in the house or electricity; so these grifters trying to sell this brand shouldn’t be using what the women they are emulating would have called witchcraft. Just a thought. And isn’t it interesting that conservative women are trying to sell women on the notion that it’s better to be so fucking busy in the kitchen and the daily chores to think about what they actually want from life. There’s a harrowing passage in Robert Caro’s first volume of the LBJ biographies he’s writing about what a day in the life of a rural farm wife was like, and I’ve never forgotten how awful and hopeless their lives were when they had to boil clothes and run them on a washboard to clean them–and having to cart the water from the well, which took multiple trips, not to mention trying to keep the house clean and the larder stocked and cook and take care of the children. (Loretta Lynn remembers those hard times with love and through rose-colored glasses in her song “Coal Miner’s Daughter.”)

It’s so patriarchical, isn’t it? “Keep your woman busy so she won’t have the energy to think about how much inequity exists in her life. She’ll be happier.1“

Remember when I was talking about how some show business people decided to turn Colton Underwood into THEE GAY of the moment, and gave us a reality show where Gus Kenworthy tried to show him how to be gay? I think it was called Coming Out Colton. I didn’t watch, and kind of thought it wasn’t very well thought out–“oh, look, an NFL player and former Bachelor has come out, and is a beautiful blonde blue-eyed young man, let’s give the gays a star”–but may watch it someday2. ANyway, the other example of not knowing what the queers want (her reality show revealed how horrible she was), Caitlyn Jenner, was interviewed by the unspeakably vile Tomi Lahren the other day and was whining about her passport being renewed with an M gender marking–entirely due to the policies she actually voted for.3 And of course, being a true piece of confused moronic trash, she “still loves Trump.” Yeah, he ain’t helping you with the passport thing. You’re no use to him anymore. I’d say maybe she’d wake up and pull her head out of her ass, but she’s been in that horrific Kardashian universe for so long it’s undoubtedly broken her brain.

I also did some chores last night; I thought I had turned the dishwasher on before I went up to bed last night, but apparently I didn’t; so I’ll have to empty and reload again when I get home tonight. I also think I’m going to do a load of laundry, too–or maybe that should wait until tomorrow night after work, so I can get another day’s worth of dirty clothes in there and only have the bedding to do on Friday.

I didn’t write anything fictional yesterday; I’m trying to figure out the best way to get the information I need my main character to get in this chapter. I’ll probably go over the nearly two thousand words I’ve already done to edit and revise and add some layers to, which should get me back into the story. It was a struggle yesterday, so I gave up and worked on some essays instead. (I started to say write anything, but caught myself and remembered–nonfiction counts. Rather proud of myself.)

The MAGA civil war continues to entertain. The Candace Owens/Laura Loomer war is hilarious; they are both monsters, but it’s lovely seeing them using their vitriol on each other instead of others. I love that The Onion bought Infowars and Alex Jones is financially ruined, which isn’t everything he deserves but is a good start. He and his followers are clearly heartless and soulless ghouls. I cannot imagine telling parents grieving their murdered children they are liars, or defiling the children’s tombstones. And I am not buying into any MAGA regrets or apology tours either, that take no responsibility or accountability, and then think we owe them forgiveness? I’m more likely to forgive and financially support Westboro Baptist than forgive them without atonement because they are still awful and are just trying to get ahead of the inevitable eventual collapse.

The ebook of Sinclair Lewis’ It Can’t Happen Here was on sale yesterday for $1.99, so I snapped it up because I was thinking about rereading it again. I originally read it during the second Bush term because I could see it coming then. The rise of Rush Limbaugh and Fox News in the early 1990s was the canary in a coal mine, and I saw the signs of this current situation already starting to fall into place. I don’t think our current situation is going to end up in the Turd Reich–we are perilously close right now–because it’s all blowing up, and I don’t think a Fascist takeover with all the reins in the small hands of an insane tyrant whose cognitive dissonance must inevitably cause a complete mental collapse, and I have a lot more confidence now that we can somehow come back from the brink. But there’s so much work to be done after, to even get back to where we were before, let alone make things better.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will check back in with you again tomorrow.

The beautiful Antinous, lover of Roman Emperor Hadrian, depicted as the Egyptian God Osiris
  1. Paul asked me, as we watched the show last night, “why do these cults exist” and I replied, “as a means of controlling and subjugating women. All cults seem to have that in common.” ↩︎
  2. Since I love reality television, I’ve been thinking about doing an essay on gay reality shows, and another on queer people on mainstream reality shows. ↩︎
  3. I was also rather interested to hear her mention her driver’s license–didn’t she kill someone in a vehicular homicide? How does she still have one? ↩︎

Rhinestone Cowboy

Tuesday morning and all is well this morning in the Lost Apartment. I slept well and feel pretty good this morning–thus far, at any rate. Yesterday was Injection Day, and the distress I’d been experiencing for the last week gastronomically is now over, which is terrific; you always wonder if the medication will stop working at some point. I even wrote a little bit of fiction yesterday–not much, but every little bit gets me further from the starting place and closer to being finished. Every little bit definitely helps, you know?

We finished watching the FLDS documentary, Trust Me: The False Prophet, which was actually chilling. These documentaries inevitably focus on the crimes of the cult leader, but what I loved about this one was it actually focused more on the victims, and how the documentary filmmakers just really happened to be in the right place at the right time to earn his trust and his endorsement of filming everything. It was absolutely fascinating, and it was interesting to see that one of the victims realized what was going on was wrong (“the path to hell”) and became an informant for the FBI. How fucking brave was she, and then the other women, having to wake up from what was going on and wonder how they were so easily fooled–but the lesson here is how easy it is to convince true believers in false doctrine, which is a very singularly important lesson for these times, right?

Likewise, these social media posts from people choosing The Filth over their lifelong Catholicism just make me shake my head1. There are none so blind as those who will not see. The MAGA regrets we are seeing everywhere aren’t deep or meaningful–no, they just think The Filth lied to them and deceived them, not that the evil policies being enacted and enforced are wrong; they’ll vote red happily and proudly over and over again, even as it is clear to anyone not wearing blinders that the policies they voted for are what they hate–but it’s easier to blame someone else for our failings rather than take accountability, true repentance, and behavior change. No, they aren’t sorry about ICE’s abuses and the racism and the misogyny or any of their horrible positions; they’re mad because the price of gas is going up, and nothing else. “He lied to me” is much easier than “wow, what I believed and voted for are actually wrong and pretty fucking awful in practice” and it has the added bonus of absolving the person of any responsibility for their conduct.

Frankly, their vote is one thing. Being MAGA is entirely different. I also love that they are also trying to police how we receive their regrets…which makes me question their actual regrets as they try to again paint themselves as helpless victims who “didn’t know any better.” It would be one thing had they been polite about differing views from the get-go, but they were all pretty fucking awful. MAGA parents whose children have gone no-contact also love to paint themselves as victims, too–“but we’re family!” falls on deaf ears when you haven’t been acting like family. MAGA is usually the last straw, to be honest–and if it’s not, then you must have been pretty fucking awful to your kids about politics. Were you being racist, homophobic, misogynistic, or transphobic? IMAGINE how awful the things you said must have been…and then to come on-line to engage for sympathy? “How could my kids DO this?” Well, if that’s the question you’re asking, they are going to keep doing it for a very long time, and I hope not seeing your grandchildren was worth being MAGA.2

When someone goes no-contact with me, I figure I must have done something to trigger that response, or that person has simply decided I’m too “extra”–that’s happened a lot during my life; maybe not that word, but basically that’s what it was–and sure, it bothers me and makes me wonder a bit–but I also respect their wishes and don’t try to fix it.

I was actually thinking last night that I’m feeling much better than I have in a long time. The corrective shoes have eliminated leg fatigue and aching joints. I’m sleeping well and feeling rested. Getting up in the morning to the alarm, which I would still prefer not to do, hasn’t been an issue, and Sparky isn’t as pushy about me getting up in the mornings as he has been–now he’s more purring and cuddling and mewing softly rather than attacking my feet and smacking me in the face. I may relapse again back into aches and pains and fatigue–one never knows–but right now I feel pretty good, and we’re going to leave it at being happy and feeling good on a day-to-day basis. Baby steps, y’all!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Tuesday, everyone, and I’ll be back tomorrow on Pay-the-Bills Wednesday (again???).

How come I never come across a gorgeous man in his underwear hanging out nonchalantly around columns?
  1. It also tells me how deep and real their faith was. You’re giving up your religion because the Pope criticized your mad God-Emperor? I’ll leave that to God, no need for me to comment. ↩︎
  2. As for me, I side-eye these folks. If people want to let bygones be bygones, so be it–but not me. I will go to my grave resenting and hating these people. I’ll never trust them. ↩︎

The Sweetest Thing

Y’all, I wrote fiction yesterday. I know, right? Needless to say, I was thrilled and delighted, and I definitely am still feeling euphoric this morning about it.

It was only a thousand or so new words on the new first chapter of Chlorine, but y’all–I didn’t have to force it and it flowed out of me the way that it used to. His voice was loud and clear in my head and I was there, in that zone, and Mary Mother of God1, when I tell you I can’t even describe how good it felt to be doing this work, setting up the story, sharing who the main character is, seeing it all through his eyes…marvelous. What precisely was I so afraid of, again? Oh yes, that it wouldn’t come back, and who could blame it? We live in interesting times, I’ve gotten much older, and I am still not 100% completely healthy in mind and spirit…but my spirit is centered and where it needs to be, and motherfuckers, I wrote fiction yesterday. I still can do it. I still have whatever it is in my brain that channels this through my fingers and onto the page, and it’s glorious. It may come and go, as it is wont to do sometimes, but this is the first time I’ve written fiction in a long time–and it’s also the first time in a long time that it actually felt good to do it.

Apparently there are youngsters who don’t know who THE Madonna is? Shame on you all! Madonna is a fucking legend, bitches–put some goddamned respect on her name! ESPECIALLY YOU YOUNG QUEERS. Know your history, know your icons and why they are icons, and be better. MADONNA stood up for the queer community during HIV/AIDS before most celebrities and she has always been a huge ally for us. I suppose next they’re not going to know who Elizabeth Taylor was…I saw a theory on-line yesterday about how these things are now possible, while we knew the music and stars of previous generations because we all didn’t have personal phones, and there were only three channels on the television, and we were exposed to the art of previous generations that way (and listening to the communal car radio on drives) and now…everyone has their own phones and playlists and so forth, so such cross-generational sharing of art no longer happens. It was an interesting theory, and it’s been echoing in my brain since I first saw it. My father loved 1950’s music and country; Mom was more mellow and loved Lawrence Welk and the kind of music she played on the piano growing up. My childhood was filled with the music of Patsy Cline, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, George Jones, and that entire generation of country legends, and even the lesser known ones. I’m also glad this kind of exposure broadened my own musical tastes and aesthetics, and damn it, every young queer should know who Madonna and Elizabeth Taylor are/were. It’s queer history. There are many others, too, that you should know. Always remember, queer history isn’t as well-documented as it should be, nor is it reported on properly, so passing the knowledge down by word of mouth has always been important. Maybe the young, with their phones and ear buds and all the information of the world at their fingertips, don’t think they need to know about those who came before? I do remember explaining who Sylvester was to some young co-workers, and even playing the video for “You Make Me Feel Mighty Real” for them.

Yes, kids, we’ve always had bops.

I had a good day yesterday, although I could tell my injection is due today. Nothing major, but heartburn and gas and a mild discomfort, and a little dehydration to go with it. Like I said, I actually wrote fiction, read a chapter of Listen for the Whisperer, and as mentioned earlier, I worked on my own fiction writing, which was terrific and as I mentioned already, am still a bit euphoric. The Bold Strokes Book-a-thon was a lot of fun and reminded me that yes, Greg, you are a writer even if you never write anything else ever again, and of course, I write this every day (even though I only count fiction). My supervisor is in London for two weeks for a very well-deserved vacation, so I have more duties and responsibilities while she’s gone (hurray), but I’m hoping it won’t be a stressful, tiring week, and of course at the end of next week I am off to Alabama/Florida for Decoration Day and to see my recently widowed aunt. This month has really been nuts, hasn’t it? And next month is all about the doctors appointments, and blood work. Onward and upward, as I always say.

We started watching a creepy documentary about FLDS, called Trust Me: The False Prophet, which is about the aftermath of the arrest and conviction of their former child molesting prophet, Warren Jeffs (we’ve watched several documentaries about that pedophile already) and someone who stepped in and claimed Jeffs had “claimed and named” him as the new prophet so he could accumulate wealth (he was kind of a loser) and wives–including underage ones. I had never really thought about it before, but of course those women are groomed and conditioned to accept whatever their Prophet tells them is the Lord’s will. It really is fascinating to see how easy people can be conditioned to follow a man (or men in general) who is stealing their lives, their skills and abilities, and who they actually should have grown up to be. I do hope Sarah Weinman takes this on at some point.

I’m feeling a little bit more connected to myself these days, too–maybe I should have started all this introspective naval-gazing sooner? No, probably not. There was a reason for me to not examine myself and my life more deeply and objectively, and I needed to get older (and medicated) in order to do this work on myself. I’m trying very hard to get rid of the last vestiges of trying to please that is still wired into my brain.

I also started working on my next newsletter, which may even go out on Wednesday like it’s supposed to. Consistency, that’s me. The on-line rape academy report recently published by CNN (which came under attack almost immediately, because we must not ever talk bad about the menfolk! Their fragile egos and incredibly weak senses of self must be protected at all costs!!!) was disgusting but also my way in to talk about another reason I felt isolated from other boys (later, men), namely, that I never held girls/women in contempt the same way my male peers did?

Here’s hoping I hit that Wednesday target.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. The temperature dropped yesterday when the rain finally concluded, but I am sure will be sweltering by the time I get off work. Until tomorrow, Constant Reader, and have a good one!

The temple at Edfu, Egypt
  1. Shout out to Pope Leo! ↩︎