The Daily Diatribe
Okay, so I'm listening to the radio. I listen to the radio alot because I spend hours a day in my car. And this news story comes on about the increase of harrassment against gay teens. Say it with me now, everybody! "DUH!"
This is news? Have these geniuses who sponsored the study (I think it was the council on Mental Health) ever heard of the LAW OF AVERAGES? When I started HS (25 years ago...) NOBODY admitted they were gay. We're talking huge closet. Because gays have a much bigger presence in society today and are enjoying more visibility and acceptance, teens are coming out of the closet in greater numbers. ERGO, since more teens come out of the closet, there is more harassment.
Everyone knows that suicide is the NUMBER ONE cause of death among gay teens. Kids have always called each other "fag" or "homo" when they want to insult each other, even when insulting a non-gay kid, because being called a "fag" is the worst insult. Kids will use these epithets forever, regardless of someone's orientation or how accepted gays may become in the future.
Next time, for the price of a few pizzas and six-packs, these idiots can spend an evening talking to gay people. We'll save the taxpayers a few million bucks by telling them what we already know. We don't need no stinkin' studies.
Thursday, December 12, 2002
Don't Read This!
I am on a fucking tear, so don't read this, because it's negative and bitchy and I'm just ranting and you'll think less of me, but I must SPEW!
I can't find a fucking phone number I need to call these dickheads who owe me money, from delivering MF phonebooks in the blizzardy weather, so now I'm going to have to DRIVE to the place to beg for the check when I asked them to mail it to me to save myself the goddamn trip! Now I have to make that trip anyway and the check is probably lost and WASTE my goddamn time because I LOST THE NUMBER BECAUSE I CAN'T REMEMBER DICK ANYMORE!
Then I was serving papers today during the day and I fucking hate it. It's such easy money serving businesses and municipal agencies,but I have no patience to waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait in line, then get ATTITUDE from everybody! So then I get totally aggravated and if someone so much as beeps their friggin horn at me, I wish them a horrible death by wrapping their car around a tree, and it's not a nice thought, BUT I CAN'T HELP IT!
On top of that my CAT has some urinary issue going on and I wonder how much this is gonna cost me now? Last year she cost me $3000.00 to save her bad-liver ass. I love her so much I tattooed her beautiful face on my left bosom, and I would spend any amount of money to save her, but she's gonna drive me to THE POOR HOUSE!
Dear Lord: CAN YOU CUT ME SOME SLACK?
Don't anybody even look cockeyed at me today, I swear you'll regret it. My razor sharp tongue cuts deep and hard.
I am on a fucking tear, so don't read this, because it's negative and bitchy and I'm just ranting and you'll think less of me, but I must SPEW!
I can't find a fucking phone number I need to call these dickheads who owe me money, from delivering MF phonebooks in the blizzardy weather, so now I'm going to have to DRIVE to the place to beg for the check when I asked them to mail it to me to save myself the goddamn trip! Now I have to make that trip anyway and the check is probably lost and WASTE my goddamn time because I LOST THE NUMBER BECAUSE I CAN'T REMEMBER DICK ANYMORE!
Then I was serving papers today during the day and I fucking hate it. It's such easy money serving businesses and municipal agencies,but I have no patience to waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait in line, then get ATTITUDE from everybody! So then I get totally aggravated and if someone so much as beeps their friggin horn at me, I wish them a horrible death by wrapping their car around a tree, and it's not a nice thought, BUT I CAN'T HELP IT!
On top of that my CAT has some urinary issue going on and I wonder how much this is gonna cost me now? Last year she cost me $3000.00 to save her bad-liver ass. I love her so much I tattooed her beautiful face on my left bosom, and I would spend any amount of money to save her, but she's gonna drive me to THE POOR HOUSE!
Dear Lord: CAN YOU CUT ME SOME SLACK?
Don't anybody even look cockeyed at me today, I swear you'll regret it. My razor sharp tongue cuts deep and hard.
Wednesday, December 11, 2002
The Mystery of the Utility Knife
It's really weird. I can't remember shit anymore. I'll have my keys in my hand and wonder where they are and hunt for them. I'll put the milk back in the cupboard the the cereal box in the fridge. I'll have something in my hand, put it down, and seconds later not be able to find it anywhere at all. So why do I always know where the utility knife is? I can leave it at any location in the basement, and I'll always remember where I left it: on the cluttered desk, on the stool way in the back corner, under piles of crap on desk #2, sitting on the litter box. I always remember where I left it.
So what's so special about his knife, and why can't I remember where anything else is? What is the secret? How do I transfer this ability to the rest of my life. What, praytell, is the mystery?
It's really weird. I can't remember shit anymore. I'll have my keys in my hand and wonder where they are and hunt for them. I'll put the milk back in the cupboard the the cereal box in the fridge. I'll have something in my hand, put it down, and seconds later not be able to find it anywhere at all. So why do I always know where the utility knife is? I can leave it at any location in the basement, and I'll always remember where I left it: on the cluttered desk, on the stool way in the back corner, under piles of crap on desk #2, sitting on the litter box. I always remember where I left it.
So what's so special about his knife, and why can't I remember where anything else is? What is the secret? How do I transfer this ability to the rest of my life. What, praytell, is the mystery?
Can Jesse Jackson go away now?
Okay, so Trent Lott says what he thinks is an innocuous, sycophantic compliment to an outgoing, ancient Senator, and Jesse Jackson jumps all over it. Lott said that Senator (Strom) Thurmond would have made a great president, all pandering and weepy as the centenarian Senator prepares to (finally) leave congress. But since Thurmond ran for prez in 1948 as a segregationist, Jackson leaps to the conclusion that Lott must have meant that the he should have won, then segregation would have prevailed, and blacks would have stayed in their place.
Jesse, is this the hill you want to die on? Whenever the opportunity arises that you can get face time in every media venue, you grab your “race of spades” card and play it, and whip this country into a fury of racial tension and hatred, and we don’t need it. You really want to do something to help the black community, Jesse? Spewing vitriol ain’t the way. Here are my suggestions for you to really help black Americans and to make a difference to the America at large:
1) Re-read MLK’s “I have a dream” speech, especially the part about being judged by the “Content Of One’s Character”. Then realize that to be judged so, one must actually have character. Good character. Then begin by fixing your own shit, starting with your adultery, moving along to your illegitimate child, and admitting your own failure as a man and as a supposed man of God.
2) Thank the Lord that Jews are a practical people who, by virtue of living through the Holocaust, have the perspective that there are just some things not worth suffering for, which is why they didn’t tear you to shreds for your “Hymie-town” comment, and why they don’t even bring it up today, although they certainly could. Then get your ass to every major temple in NYC (without your press posse), apologize, then shut up and stay for worship, Reverend.
3) Get your privileged butt out of your California mansion and actually venture into the ghetto, not to stand up for high school hoodlums, but to use your religion and faith to inspire and empower the community to do for themselves and each other. Get the community back to church/god. Preach the importance of education, even though the public school system totally sucks. That means you have to work harder. Tough. Teach the community that the way to succeed in America is to work your ass off, really fucking hard, and do whatever you do better than the next guy. Remind them that in capitalistic America it’s every man for himself and nobody is going to help them, so they have to do it themselves and they need to help each other. Teach them that the entitlement mentality will only keep them down. Don’t wait for the cops to stop the violence, because they can’t. Understand that there will never be Utopia, and that there will always be bigoted assholes. Show them that women and gays have used this philosophy to bring their communities to great heights. And they did it themselves, not by bitching and inciting hatred, but by struggling and working twice as hard as anyone else.
Then tell the local community so-called leaders to do the same thing on a grass roots level. Tell them to develop their own neighborhood programs that give kids something to do so they’re not idle: programs that keep kids away from drugs, programs that will help curb the high percentage of teenage pregnancy. Throw parties and festivals and celebrations, and foster a sense of “community” in the true sense of the word. Instill some pride, Jesse.
Or is that too much work for even you, Rev? Don’t want to get your Armani suits dirty? Why should you mingle with the great unwashed, when you can just spew shit from your ivory tower, knowing that the media will grab it, throw it into the fan, shooting it into the faces of guilty white liberals who will then donate money to your Rainbow Coalition, affording you those Bruno Magli shoes. This is why you will never actually do anything productive. Because if you do, your cash cow will tip over and won’t be able to get up again.
Okay, so Trent Lott says what he thinks is an innocuous, sycophantic compliment to an outgoing, ancient Senator, and Jesse Jackson jumps all over it. Lott said that Senator (Strom) Thurmond would have made a great president, all pandering and weepy as the centenarian Senator prepares to (finally) leave congress. But since Thurmond ran for prez in 1948 as a segregationist, Jackson leaps to the conclusion that Lott must have meant that the he should have won, then segregation would have prevailed, and blacks would have stayed in their place.
Jesse, is this the hill you want to die on? Whenever the opportunity arises that you can get face time in every media venue, you grab your “race of spades” card and play it, and whip this country into a fury of racial tension and hatred, and we don’t need it. You really want to do something to help the black community, Jesse? Spewing vitriol ain’t the way. Here are my suggestions for you to really help black Americans and to make a difference to the America at large:
1) Re-read MLK’s “I have a dream” speech, especially the part about being judged by the “Content Of One’s Character”. Then realize that to be judged so, one must actually have character. Good character. Then begin by fixing your own shit, starting with your adultery, moving along to your illegitimate child, and admitting your own failure as a man and as a supposed man of God.
2) Thank the Lord that Jews are a practical people who, by virtue of living through the Holocaust, have the perspective that there are just some things not worth suffering for, which is why they didn’t tear you to shreds for your “Hymie-town” comment, and why they don’t even bring it up today, although they certainly could. Then get your ass to every major temple in NYC (without your press posse), apologize, then shut up and stay for worship, Reverend.
3) Get your privileged butt out of your California mansion and actually venture into the ghetto, not to stand up for high school hoodlums, but to use your religion and faith to inspire and empower the community to do for themselves and each other. Get the community back to church/god. Preach the importance of education, even though the public school system totally sucks. That means you have to work harder. Tough. Teach the community that the way to succeed in America is to work your ass off, really fucking hard, and do whatever you do better than the next guy. Remind them that in capitalistic America it’s every man for himself and nobody is going to help them, so they have to do it themselves and they need to help each other. Teach them that the entitlement mentality will only keep them down. Don’t wait for the cops to stop the violence, because they can’t. Understand that there will never be Utopia, and that there will always be bigoted assholes. Show them that women and gays have used this philosophy to bring their communities to great heights. And they did it themselves, not by bitching and inciting hatred, but by struggling and working twice as hard as anyone else.
Then tell the local community so-called leaders to do the same thing on a grass roots level. Tell them to develop their own neighborhood programs that give kids something to do so they’re not idle: programs that keep kids away from drugs, programs that will help curb the high percentage of teenage pregnancy. Throw parties and festivals and celebrations, and foster a sense of “community” in the true sense of the word. Instill some pride, Jesse.
Or is that too much work for even you, Rev? Don’t want to get your Armani suits dirty? Why should you mingle with the great unwashed, when you can just spew shit from your ivory tower, knowing that the media will grab it, throw it into the fan, shooting it into the faces of guilty white liberals who will then donate money to your Rainbow Coalition, affording you those Bruno Magli shoes. This is why you will never actually do anything productive. Because if you do, your cash cow will tip over and won’t be able to get up again.
Tuesday, December 10, 2002
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Well, I didn't expect the previous posting to generate such commentary, but it made me laugh, especially the one about the food! Someone after my own heart. Hell, if you feed me, I'll sit through a 4-hour lecture on the insects found in a Cambodian knitting factory. Just keep the food coming. And the booze.
Speaking of booze, let's just face that facts that I am too old to play drinking games! So, I went to this baby shower, of all wretched things, last night. I've been to two baby showers in my life. One for my sissy, and one was in high school for a classmate. (Nice catholic girls...). I hate the things. No offense to anyone, but it's just all too hetero-cutesy-girly to me. I'd rather go hang with the guys and watch the game and swill beer and smoke cigars. But as it stands, we didn't do too many stupid baby shower games, there really wasn't all this "oooh-ahhh-awwwww" shit, and once the cake was eaten, we were playing "Asshole", a drinking card game. Now I never play drinking games. Even in college. But this was a game that causes you to drink like you would drink a normal beer. Not the kind that makes you pound til you puke (not that I puke, anyway, ever). In fact, during a regular poker game, I would have had more beer that I did playing this game. Truth be told, I was cheating anyway! Half the time when I had to pass my turn and drink, nobody was paying attention. I picked up my beer, said "Salud!" and put it back down. Nobody noticed. Sometimes I put the beer to my mouth and pretended I was drinking without sucking anything down. So, for the whole time we were playing (about 2 hours), I had two beers to everyone else's 4. Isn't that crazy, drinking that much? Thankfully, nobody was driving, because those who didn't already live at the house live within walking distance. I was the only driver, and I'd only had a few beers all night.
But still, even just a few beers these days makes me wake up feeling all foggy. Not hungover or sick, just cloudy. But still, we had a blast! It's a silly game and we just laughed our asses off more than anything, which is always good for the heart and soul. It's good to get me out of the house, otherwise I'd be a hermit, sitting in front of my computer or writing dark, depressing songs, or watching X-Files videos all day long with my cats on my lap, like some crazy old cat-lady spinster, eating snicker bars by the bagful.
Okay, gotta go and sign up for the liver transplant list.
Speaking of booze, let's just face that facts that I am too old to play drinking games! So, I went to this baby shower, of all wretched things, last night. I've been to two baby showers in my life. One for my sissy, and one was in high school for a classmate. (Nice catholic girls...). I hate the things. No offense to anyone, but it's just all too hetero-cutesy-girly to me. I'd rather go hang with the guys and watch the game and swill beer and smoke cigars. But as it stands, we didn't do too many stupid baby shower games, there really wasn't all this "oooh-ahhh-awwwww" shit, and once the cake was eaten, we were playing "Asshole", a drinking card game. Now I never play drinking games. Even in college. But this was a game that causes you to drink like you would drink a normal beer. Not the kind that makes you pound til you puke (not that I puke, anyway, ever). In fact, during a regular poker game, I would have had more beer that I did playing this game. Truth be told, I was cheating anyway! Half the time when I had to pass my turn and drink, nobody was paying attention. I picked up my beer, said "Salud!" and put it back down. Nobody noticed. Sometimes I put the beer to my mouth and pretended I was drinking without sucking anything down. So, for the whole time we were playing (about 2 hours), I had two beers to everyone else's 4. Isn't that crazy, drinking that much? Thankfully, nobody was driving, because those who didn't already live at the house live within walking distance. I was the only driver, and I'd only had a few beers all night.
But still, even just a few beers these days makes me wake up feeling all foggy. Not hungover or sick, just cloudy. But still, we had a blast! It's a silly game and we just laughed our asses off more than anything, which is always good for the heart and soul. It's good to get me out of the house, otherwise I'd be a hermit, sitting in front of my computer or writing dark, depressing songs, or watching X-Files videos all day long with my cats on my lap, like some crazy old cat-lady spinster, eating snicker bars by the bagful.
Okay, gotta go and sign up for the liver transplant list.
Monday, December 09, 2002
Alright, it's official. The Sopranos was totally lame this season. Probably the most boring season finale of any kind I've ever seen. A Mafia series, and the most salient issue is the sudden separation of Tony and Carmella. The only issue. I'm sorry, it was all just too clean.
But I gotta tell ya, that first scene when T and C fought....holy shit, what a great acting job Edie Falcao did. Then they kept fighting through the show and it kept pushing my buttons the uglier it got. My life was passing before my eyes. Or more accurately, my past was living before my eyes. It transported me back to my own "divorce" and the horrible ugly fights and screaming, the vitriol, the hurtful, hateful words. I could feel each word as a knife that pierced my own heart and I wanted to crawl out of my skin. It's amazing how deeply trauma embeds itself into our cells, because this was over two years ago, and I haven't given that time of my life a thought in a long time. But some external event (like this scene) can just take us back there and put us smack-dab into the moment and evoke such a visceral response. It's amazing about the body. We often work on our heads, get therapy, get through the shit, work towards being emotionally okay with a trauma, but we forget that our body has to work out the trauma as well. So here was an interesting reminder that I still have some crap about this sitting in my cells. So what to do? Exercise. Get a massage. BREATHE. Remember. Weep.
But I gotta tell ya, that first scene when T and C fought....holy shit, what a great acting job Edie Falcao did. Then they kept fighting through the show and it kept pushing my buttons the uglier it got. My life was passing before my eyes. Or more accurately, my past was living before my eyes. It transported me back to my own "divorce" and the horrible ugly fights and screaming, the vitriol, the hurtful, hateful words. I could feel each word as a knife that pierced my own heart and I wanted to crawl out of my skin. It's amazing how deeply trauma embeds itself into our cells, because this was over two years ago, and I haven't given that time of my life a thought in a long time. But some external event (like this scene) can just take us back there and put us smack-dab into the moment and evoke such a visceral response. It's amazing about the body. We often work on our heads, get therapy, get through the shit, work towards being emotionally okay with a trauma, but we forget that our body has to work out the trauma as well. So here was an interesting reminder that I still have some crap about this sitting in my cells. So what to do? Exercise. Get a massage. BREATHE. Remember. Weep.
Sunday, December 08, 2002
Wow, what a great weekend to lift my sluggish spirits. I had two gigs, both of which went FABULOUSLY, hung out with my buds Maria and Jessica who were, as always, great help to me, selling and modeling merch and generally talking up my shit. I need 3500 fans in every city like them. A good argument for cloning. Met Julia at the Jamestown gig, who is a doll. And in the small world category, I knew TWO people she knew. Fun gig there, and sold a good number of CD's. But the gig last night was awesome. For once the forces were with me and I got to play a much longer set than the other acts, AND at a prime time, with the largest audience. My agent showed up, too. I won a facial. And I sold something like 15 CD's. This much good luck never happens to me. I'm surprised I didn't implode.
So today is the first Sunday I've had off in a long time. It's 5:00 pm and I'm still in my pajamas. And I intend on staying in them. Watched the lam-o Bills game with beer in hand and kitty on lap (life is good).
Tonight, the season finale of the Sopranos, which has been incredibly boring and dull this season. Where's the whacking, I ask? The gratuitous sex? The scandal? Beating up Ralphie... zzzzzzzzzzzzz. Surely, he deserved a much more violent and intriguing death. Not this beating to accidental death. God, everyone wanted Ralphie dead, and he would have deserved whatever he got. Then this sexual tension between Furio and Carmella. They build and build and build...........and he leaves town {yawn}. What a story that would have been to have had a key wiseguy banging the first lady. The possibilities! But, no. Then, Paulie suffocating an old lady? What the shit it that? Killing an old lady? Do I wanna see that? Does anyone? I wanna see AJ bust his cherry. Or start running his own little scams on the side, in a 16 y.o. kindofway, just like his daddy. I want to see Meadow having passionate sex and getting her heart broken, not making dinner for her snooty roommates like some housemarm. BORING! And I want Bobby to smack the shit out of Janice, because she is an evil, manipulative bitch. Not that I'm advocating violence against women, mind you, but she must be stopped. I can't stand her anymore. And the trial??? There is a trial, right? I miss Tony's mother. What a great character she was. Reminded me of my own evil, bitter grandmother, who is no doubt paying back some serious Karmic debt in the spirit plane right now.
So today is the first Sunday I've had off in a long time. It's 5:00 pm and I'm still in my pajamas. And I intend on staying in them. Watched the lam-o Bills game with beer in hand and kitty on lap (life is good).
Tonight, the season finale of the Sopranos, which has been incredibly boring and dull this season. Where's the whacking, I ask? The gratuitous sex? The scandal? Beating up Ralphie... zzzzzzzzzzzzz. Surely, he deserved a much more violent and intriguing death. Not this beating to accidental death. God, everyone wanted Ralphie dead, and he would have deserved whatever he got. Then this sexual tension between Furio and Carmella. They build and build and build...........and he leaves town {yawn}. What a story that would have been to have had a key wiseguy banging the first lady. The possibilities! But, no. Then, Paulie suffocating an old lady? What the shit it that? Killing an old lady? Do I wanna see that? Does anyone? I wanna see AJ bust his cherry. Or start running his own little scams on the side, in a 16 y.o. kindofway, just like his daddy. I want to see Meadow having passionate sex and getting her heart broken, not making dinner for her snooty roommates like some housemarm. BORING! And I want Bobby to smack the shit out of Janice, because she is an evil, manipulative bitch. Not that I'm advocating violence against women, mind you, but she must be stopped. I can't stand her anymore. And the trial??? There is a trial, right? I miss Tony's mother. What a great character she was. Reminded me of my own evil, bitter grandmother, who is no doubt paying back some serious Karmic debt in the spirit plane right now.
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