Allright bitches. It’s been a week. Unless you are planning a coup (and if you are, I ask, please don’t) it’s time to move on. We’ve all been through the stages of grief now: anger, denial, bargaining. whatever the other one is, and now it’s time for acceptance.
Unless of course, you are Secret Agent Fred, in which case the stages are Valium, cheap beer, Vicodin, cheap beer, and cheap beer. Also, Fred has used his art as therapy to “work through his issues.” Personally, I don’t think Fred could get through all his issues with a GPS and a machete, but, you go, girl.
President Trump. Snap out of it. But also, here, just to make us all feel a little better on this cold gray day
I love Mark Sanford. He is a hero and role model to tall, skinny homely guys everywhere. Not terribly cute or smart and yet scoring the hot love action! I say yes!
Still, I would recommend to him that during these press conferences expressing contrition over said hot love action, he refrain from gestures such as the one above. Unless of course he’s actually describing voluptuous South American buttocks, in which case, I’d like the audio included.
OK. OK. OK. No more whinging, no more glum woeful posts. I refuse to allow a bunch of mormon funded, oh-what-about-the-children shrieking harridans make me miserable. Wouldn’t that just be handing them an even greater victory? The days are too beautiful to waste and will not last, R Man’s birthday is Monday so we’re making a four day weekend out of this to celebrate, we had tasty, tasty udon for dinner and besides, I’m not good at being downcast for long. It could be my sunny disposition, it could be my tiny little short attention span; whatever. I am hereby moving on.
Plus Ernesto Garimundus, the houseboy in charge of our Laundry and Wiccan Centre, says I am bumming him out and that I should stop.So what could I do?
I didn’t expect to be so disappointed if Proposition 8 passed. Prop 8 is the California amendment which eliminated same-sex couples’ right to marry, and it’s passing right now by a tiny, tiny margin, but tiny, tiny margins are all it takes in a democracy. I thought that I had a hard-headed view about how very unlikely it was that the gays would achieve something so thrilling as this minor bit of equality, but I seem to have been swept up by my wedding and the general optimism. Living a life as an out gay man in San Francisco, I suppose I’ve gotten a skewed perspective that things have changed, that things are better. On one hand I know they are better: I have a sweet happy life with a wonderful man I love that I could not have imagined being mine when I first struggled out of the closet 25 years ago, and yet…. And yet, this reminds me that the morons who plagued me as a sissy in elementary school have not gone away. I suppose they never will.
Much better than a shot of Joe Biden, don’t you think?
Several stories I’ve read this week quote McCain sources, or their apologists, discounting the polls showing Obama pulling ahead of the the troglodyte. Their logic? People lie to pollsters when asked if they would vote for a black candidate (or for that matter vote to remove the right of gays to marry.) So they’re basing their hopes on the cowardly lies bigots tell to complete strangers in order to hide their shame. Fabulous. That’s the kind of democracy that needs to be protected from the likes of, oh, say, Me. And ronda. And Miss Janey. And Thombeau. And Elizabeth. And jason (or jehsean) and TJB and Muscato and all the Michaels and everyone else who thinks.
I’m mrpeenee and I approved this rant.