With the holidays, it seems NYC turns out the best of its panhandlers. Not a night goes by that there’s not someone playing xmas songs on their sax or actually crooning in my subway car – last nite, it was a doo wop quartet. Before that, it was a clarinet cover of “Little Drummer Boy.” And tho it’s technically illegal, panhandling is still very much the norm in the subways.

Watching people react to panhandlers is always fun. I love when kids come thru with music and start bouncing around the train, doing backflips in the aisles. They’re swinging around poles, barely missing peoples’ feet. The commuters just clear their throats and rearrange their newspapers.

Most people I know have pretty hard and fast rules when it comes to panhandlers: some people I know will not give money out to someone who’s just begging – they want a song or a dance or something for their change. Other people will only give to women. Others, only to older people (thinking that a young person should go get a job). And still others will give only to the *really* needy, the hard-luck stories: “I’m a Vet, I have AIDS, my apt burned down last week”). You have to have no legs to get any money out of people like that.

I knew a guy from the streets who used to panhandle on the trains. One night, I’m coming home from somewhere, and I see Blackie. He’s got a big ass sign around his neck: “I am deaf and mute. Please Help.”

Heh. I gave him some change and a couple of cigarettes. Just for originality. Well, that and the laughs.

I tend to be pretty egalitarian when doling out the money – if you look needy and I have some change, boom! there ya go. I don’t need a song or a dance, although I’m probably not giving you any money if you’re under the age of 30 (get a fucking job is right).

The infamous squatters of the LES back in the 90s – the kids who took over Tompkins Sq. Park and a bldg on 13th Street – were mostly rich white kids from Long Island. They were out there playing homeless for a summer, and it pissed me off to no end. Now, not all of them were like that, but enough.

Last nite, I was walking down Broadway in the rain and I saw a chick huddled in the doorway of some expensive shop. She was young, cold, alone, and she looked like shit. I stopped and gave her $5. My sister, who’d kept walking when I stopped, started in with her whole “I just can’t in good conscience give them any money,” bullshit.

Course, my sister’s never spent a night out on the street. She’s never gone without money in her pocket. She’s never been hungry or lonely or desperate on a holiday.

“I know it’s sounds cliché,” she said, “but a lot of them do use drugs and alcohol.”

“You know what?” I said. “You’re absolutely right. And if I was out here alone on a night like this, I hope I’d be wasted out of my fucking mind. Make me *numb*.“

So, if you’re homeless in NYC, living on the streets and eating food out of dumpsters, please – take my money and go get high. Whatever brings you a few hours of peace or quiet or whatever you need. In fact, I hope you cop the best shit you can with the little bit of money I gave you. Go find somewhere warm, dry, quiet, and ENJOY.


.

--
Edited by bklyngrrl at 12/26/2006 11:53 AM

Back when it was first announced that Mary Cheney was pregnant, a thread was created on RT (naturally). I posted that I’d like to see a nativity scene featuring the lesbian Cheney and partner Poe (not here in NY, but perhaps in the Midwest or the bible belt).

Apparently, I’ve gotten my wish, as there is now such a scene in Austin, TX (btw, I went back to the original thread where I posted, but it looks like the mods deleted it – I *may* have used some unwholesome language, as I’m sometimes wont to do, and we all know how the mods feel about that). So I’m posting my update to gaytivity scenes here.

In Austin, TX, a gaytivity scene now graces the streets. Bemoaning the fall-off in festive lights and Christmas decorations in the town, the Austin Chronicle notes that “[w]hat the display lacks in shimmer, it has recently made up for in shock – with the weekend debut of a nativity scene featuring Mary Cheney – the vice president's pregnant lesbian daughter – and her partner, Heather Poe, as Christ's parents, along with Dick Cheney and Rummy as wise men and an angelic floating Condi Rice overhead.”

http://www.austinchronicle.com/gyrobase/Issue/story?oid=oid%3A431134

Most notable about this article, however, is that there’s no mention of WHO made this gaytivity scene.

It’s a *little* hard to tell by the picture tho, if the gaytivity is a slam at Mary and Heather (although I’m fairly sure it is). Dick Vader himself is there, with a shotgun propped up in front of him, but Rummy and Condi are not visible in the pic (hell, just having Rummy there can’t be a good thing).

But, the whole scene could be meant to be completely ironic, a statement of this administration’s - and Mary’s - hypocrisy towards gays, and their general insanity and incompetence. Oh, and Dick’s poor marksmanship skills…

Btw, it’s easy to tell where the Chronicle stands on this, since their caption under the pic snarks: “On 37th Street, Vice President Dick Cheney honors the product of his daughter’s immaculate conception.”

My question is: how much is prejudice in the eye of the beholder?

This reminds me a little of the uproar caused by the couple in CA that put white crosses up on their property, in honor of our fallen soldiers. The crosses were clearly visible from the highway, but if that memorial had been made by war happy neocons, I don’t think anyone would have cared. But because the woman and her husband were against the Iraqi war, people tried to get the crosses taken down (btw, the woman’s husband is a WWII vet).

So is the Mary Cheney gaytivity scene a cheap shot at gays everywhere, or is it a pro-homo display? Or does it depend on who made it? if this scene was made by gay rights groups (HRC, GLAAD, or the Lesbian Avengers), would you see it gay friendly? What if it was made by Focus on the Family or the Christian Coalition? The gaytivity scene is still the same – so how much of how we interpret this depends on what we know about its creators??

.

When I left the office tonite, I was tired (from lack of sleep) and cranky (from a busy day). I got to the subway only to find the platform crammed with people because of a problem on 14th Street. Apparently lots of train lines were screwed up tonite.

So I pull out some paper and a pen and just start RANTING, I was so fucking aggie. I wrote and wrote and wrote until I got to Brooklyn.

When I got off the train, I headed for the supermarket. Standing outside, panhandling for change, is Gabriel, a guy I know from the neighborhood.

I’d seen Gabriel around for years – I’ve only lived here about 7 yrs, but my mom’s been here since the late 80s, so I’d seen him around. It wasn’t until after 9/11 that I started talking to him, though.

Like lots of other New Yorkers, I got laid off after 9/11. and like lots of other New Yorkers, I remained unemployed for about a year and a half – ironic, considering I’ve been working since I was 16, and always had a job.

I first met Gabriel on a particularly bad day - I was doing some freelance work, but not enough to pay the bills and I was majorly depressed. He came up to me and asked, “miss, do you have some change, please? I’m really hungry and I don’t have any money.”

Well, I didn’t have any money either, and apologized for it. But I did have some food from a magazine I was working at, so I fished out a Powerbar and gave it to him. He was *so* grateful, I couldn’t believe it. He told me that he’s lived in the same apt for some 30-odd years and that his landlord’s was trying to kick him out – it’s a large 6 room apt in a prime location downtown.

What’s more, he’s an artist who can’t paint any longer because he has Parkinson’s. I remember opening my mouth to say something and the next thing I knew, I was telling him my 9/11 story – something I’ve only talked about with a couple of people. I finished with telling him just how many months I was behind on my rent. And then I started crying.

This poor man was a bit taken back, but he patted me on the shoulder and mumbled something that I guess was comforting.

I just waved and walked away. And sobbed the whole way home.

It was a few months later when I ran into him again – by then, I was working full-time again and was heading home from the subway. I was walking up the block, he was walking down, and we stopped when we met in the middle. He burst out with, “I remember you! You gave me the Powerbar!”

“yes, I did,” I said. “How are you?”

“That was a shame,” he shook his head. “I couldn’t eat it because I’ve got bad teeth. It was too hard.”

We talked for a little while, but it had gotten really cold and I was way underdressed for the weather. That time, before I left, I introduced myself to Gabriel.

Now I see him around pretty often. I don’t know why, but I’m always amazed that he remembers my name. Lately, he’s taken up regular hours outside the supermarket, begging for change.

Tonite, as I was walking towards the market, I saw him from a block away. Sometimes he gets to talking so much, it’s hard to get away, and all I could think tonite was, “oh, fuck – not now.” But I needed some food, so on I forged. And as soon as he saw me, a huge grin lit up his face. So immediately, I felt like shit.

We talked for awhile – he’s a funny, funny man. I know some of his paintings are on consignment in a store near my house, but I haven’t had a chance yet to go look at them. He wants to give me a painting, and although I told him it wasn’t necessary, he insisted. So I suggested we meet sometime over the long weekend, and asked if he drank wine or beer. I figured if we were gonna get together, we may as well have a good time. Turns out he only wants hot tea.

After I bought my food, I went back outside, gave him a few bucks and bought him a cup of tea.

Then I went home and threw away the angry rant I wrote on the train. It’s hard to stay pissy after seeing Gabriel. Hell, I’m not hungry, I’ve got money in the bank, I don’t owe my landlord, and I’ve got my health. So what if I had a bad night’s sleep? Most nights I sleep poorly. So what if I had a bad day at work? At least I have a job.

I can’t imagine a more fucked up disease for a painter to get - Parkinson’s. What a particularly cruel twist of irony. The man’s mind is sharp as a knife and he can’t do the one thing he loves. Hell, he’d be better off with Alzheimer’s – at least he wouldn’t know what was happening half the time.


.

It’s 2:40am here in NY. I have to be up in 3 ½ hrs but I can’t fall asleep.

My sleeping habits have been fucked for years – either I can’t fall asleep (like tonite), or I can’t stay asleep for more than a few hours.

And I know there are all kinds of nightcrawlers, lurking insomnolents on these boards at night, so I put it to all of you:

How do you handle insomnia?

I’m interested in any responses: chemical/pharmaceutical, herbal, homeopathic, whatever.


but no “good Christian living” comments



-

In case you haven’t passed a newsstand yet, or surfed enough of the web in the last few days, Time Magazine wants you to know that YOU are their Person of the Year. That’s right, you, me, and everyone who uses the internet.

Says Lev Grossman, if you look at 2006, “it's a story about community and collaboration on a scale never seen before. It's about the cosmic compendium of knowledge Wikipedia and the million-channel people's network YouTube and the online metropolis MySpace. It's about the many wresting power from the few and helping one another for nothing and how that will not only change the world, but also change the way the world changes.”

Has Mr. Grossman looked at youtube or myspace lately? Has he seen the inane, banal, and trite drivel that’s posted there on a daily basis? What about myspace? Or facebook?

Now far be it for me to diss the entire online community – it’s clear that the internet has changed, in historic proportions, the way we socialize, politicize, and interact with one another. Business and “old” media have hitched their wagons to this new technology, changing the way they operate in very fundamental ways. The global village gets a little smaller everyday, as we watch videos from the other side of the world, mere hours after they’re filmed.

But are you and I – the faceless people who surf the web daily – really worthy of such an honor? You and me?? Every pimply-faced teenager with a laptop and a facebook account? Every college student with drunken pics of their frat house party on myspace? Every troll that occupies space on HBOs boards, sucking energy and attention from everyone else?

If anything, I’d argue it should’ve gone to “bloggers” in general, not just “me” or “you” or any asshole making youtube videos. The increase in the past 2 years of blogs and web sites (by non MSM folks) has been nothing short of incredible. The impact blogs have had – politically and socially - is unrivaled in modern times.

So what happened at Time Magazine this year?

Turns out that if YOU didn’t get the honor in 2006, Richard Stengel (Time’s new managing editor) tells us that it probably would’ve gone to Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.

According to Stengel, other short list candidates included Kim Jong Il, Pope Benedict XVI, and the troika of President Bush, Vice President Dick Cheney and former Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld.

Are you kidding me? Seriously – are you fucking kidding me??

"If you choose an individual, you have to justify how that person affected millions of people," said Richard Stengel, who took over as Time's managing editor earlier this year. "But if you choose millions of people, you don't have to justify it to anyone."

Way to take the easy way out, Time – and no, choosing millions does not excuse you from justifying your lame ass decision.

--
Edited by bklyngrrl at 12/18/2006 9:04 AM

Decisions, decisions – do I go see my family for the first nite of Hanukkah or go to the 3rd Annual Porn Week in Williamsburg?

Well, Porn Week won out, so I was left struggling to come up with a decent, plausible excuse.

I call my family.

Me: “look, it’s been an exhausting few weeks at work and I really need to stay late at the office, so I can’t make it tonite.”

My mother and sister: “but we’ve got dinner here! We told your nephew you’re coming – he’s waiting for you to read ‘The Festival of Lights!’

Me: “what the fuck are the ‘Festival of Lights?!’ I don’t even remember the damn story – something about oil and a really long walk in the desert?” (WRONG, btw, as I later found out).

My sister: “He’s got his pirate’s hat on and he’s waiting for you.”

Me: (cough, cough) “I think I’m getting sick.”

My mother: “you know, they may not be here in the city forever. You’ll feel bad when they move away and you don’t see your nephew as much. Besides, they catered dinner tonite.”

Ah, New York City Judaism – a magical blend of guilt and food. Did the Jews guilt-trip each other, too, back in the day?

Judah (walking thru the ruins, holding the lamp w/oil): “Come on, Rachel! Pick up the pace there! You’re slowing all of us down.”

Rachel: “Dammit, Judah – I’m tired! And now I’ve got sand in my ass from when we sat and rested.”

Judah: “Well, if Antiochus catches us, it’ll be all your fault.”

Rachel: “I’m hungry.”

Judah: “Ooh, good idea! Let’s eat.”


So, to make a long story short, I ended up at my sister’s house observing a most bizarre Hanukkah ritual that included Scooby Doo and Pirates of the Caribbean. I imagine Judah and the rest of the Maccabees rolling over in their respective graves.

Here’s a Hanukkah sequel to my Thanksgiving day tale – for those of you that missed my original, riveting post, I am reprinting an excerpt here:

“A Thankgiving Day Tale”

My mother meets me outside my apt so we can go to the subway together. As soon as I get outside, she starts bitching about...something. my mother's just not happy unless she's bitching, so I tune it out as I've learned to do. It's chilly and raining and my mom's got a cold, so I offer to grab a cab. She says no, doesn't want to spend the $. I tell her I'll pay for it, no biggie, but she insists on walking (and complaining about her cold).

After a few blocks, she suddenly stops and starts tearing this flyer off a lamp post. I ask her what she's doing, and she explains that she sees this same flyer all over the neighborhood, and it "offends" her.

I look at the flyer: "Man with a Van - Moving Jobs - $20/hr."

"Mom, what are you doing? This guy's looking for work."

"I don't care. He puts this up on every tree, every telephone pole, and every lamp post. It offends me."

"It offends you? how does this possibly offend you? He's trying to make a living!"

"He should put it up in the laundromat or the supermarket where they have bulletin boards for these things. It's illegal to put them up on lamp posts, you know."

I'm looking at my mother like she's truly and finally lost her fucking mind.

"What do you care where he puts the flyers?"

"It's my neighborhood. I don't want to see them every 5 feet."

"What about all the other flyers - the ones for Stoop Sales or Missing Cats?" I ask.

"Those are ok," she says. "Besides, they take them down after."

Now I have never once seen someone take down flyers after their stoop sale or after their pet has been found, but no matter to my mother.

"You know," I say, "you'd be pissy with this guy if he were trying to collect welfare, but here he is, looking for honest work, and you're taking the food out of his family's mouth?"

"He's not licensed," she says, "he's probably ripping people off. And if he does, these people have no recourse. They don't know where this guy lives. He doesn't have an office, just this cell #. He's taking customers away from legitimate small businesses, from people who pay taxes."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I say. "Do you know this man?"

"No."

"Then how do you know he rips people off? Or doesn't pay taxes? Or isn't licensed?"

"I don't care. It offends me."

"Who are you, the self-appointed morality queen of the neighborhood?"

"Yes," she says.

Now we're just standing on the sidewalk in the pouring rain. I'm staring at her, horrified, like I just caught her eating food out of a garbage can.

"You are out of your fucking mind," I tell her. "Leave the signs now, let's go."

"Ok, but I'll just take more of them down tomorrow. I take scissors with me, you know, when I'm out with the dog so I can cut the tape off his signs."

"You know what?" I tell her. "I'm gonna start putting his signs right back up after you take them down."

"Go ahead," she says. "I'm out at 6am every morning with the dog. I'll just take them down then."

"well, I'm out at 7am every morning," I counter. "I'll just put them back up."

"Ok," she shrugs. "I'm still gonna take them down."

"And I'm still gonna put them back up."

I look at her and see the completely illogical, thoroughly stubborn, and wholly demented woman that is my mother. I start to laugh, she starts to laugh, and the next thing I know, we're in hysterics on the sidewalk. 2 crazy women cackling in the rain.



Present Day:

After dinner last nite, my sister and I are cleaning up and putting out dessert. When I bring my mother her coffee, I realize she’s talking to my brother-in-law about the same moving man signs.

My mother: “…so the dog and I have been out very early in the mornings, like 4:30 am, since I’m not sleeping well. And I just carry the scissors with me and cut the signs down.”

Me: “are you still harassing the moving man?”

“Yep. Every night, I lay out the leash for the dog, the scissors, and my house keys. And every morning, Rover and I walk the streets cutting down his signs.”

“Nice, Mom. Real nice.”

“Well, you never know whose out at that hour, so it’s good to have the scissors with me anyway. There could be a rapist out there.”

(Long pause while I struggle to stop from either laughing or vomiting).

“I didn’t tell you,” she says, “but he’s cut his prices. Now it’s only $15.99/hr.”

“Well, sure. Because you’ve LOST him a lot of business. That’s nice, Ma. It’s Christmas time and you’re taking the food right out of his baby’s mouth.”

“Oh, please. No one around here is hiring him anyway. I was going to leave his signs up on ______ Street, you know, where the poor people live, but I thought, ‘well, they’re entitled to have clean, uncluttered poles too’, so I take them down over there as well.”

“Your beneficence knows no boundaries.”

“I know.”

“But you’re still leaving all the other signs up, right?”

“No,” she declares, “they all come down now.”

“Even the lost kitty signs?”

“Yes. Even the kitty signs.”

I look at her again.

“Well, no,” she admits, “I can’t take down the lost kitty signs.”

“That’s what I thought. But you can rob a man of an honest living?”

“Those signs make my neighborhood look tacky. I’m doing my civic duty by taking them down. I know what I’m doing is right.”

“And I know what you’re doing is wrong.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “I’m right.”

“No,” I say, “you’re wrong.”

“I’m *right*.”

“You’re *wrong*.”

“Well,” she sighs, “it’s a lot of work, you know. Lately he’s been wrapping this heavy clear tape around the signs. All that adhesive is gumming up my scissors. I think I should buy an exacto knife.”

By then, I had surreptitiously chewed a half a xanax and excused myself to have a cigarette. As I stood outside smoking, I mulled over all the other excuses I should’ve come up with so that I could’ve caught the end of the Festival of Porn.

My mother, waging a faceless war with some anonymous moving man who puts up flyers in the neighborhood; walking the streets at 4:30 am with her deaf, lame dog and a pair of gummed up scissors.

I have no doubt that early one morning, a slow-moving van will pull up alongside my mother and her dog and disappear them both. I just hope that by then, my mother has bought a new, sharp exacto knife.

Yeah, yeah, I know, “Stand Up and Be Counted” – I do get to that, at the bottom of this page, but due to the crappy blog-format here, it’s hard to post 2 separate thoughts on the same blog without having them appear as separate threads, so if you wanna vote for Censure or Impeachment, you have to wend your way through today’s rant (or, just scroll past my bitchings to get to the politics):

But since I haven’t bitched about my commute in awhile, I will take this opportunity to trash the Lexington Ave line.

Number 4 and 5 trains: you make my life a living hell!

Standing dolefully with several hundred other commuters on the platform at Fulton Street this morning, we watched as 1, then 2, then 3 trains came and went through the station, so packed that no one could board. Regular commuters familiar with the hell that is the green line in Manhattan know what it’s like to squeeze yourself into the subway car when it’s crowded like that, only to then have someone fling themselves in behind you, on top of you, like it’s a fucking mosh pit.

Since I’ve regularly cursed such riders, I didn’t feel that I could so belligerently shove my way onto the train like that this morning. Instead, I figured I’d try something different: this morning, I stood at the doors of the subway car and pleaded with my fellow riders – “on the count of 3, would everyone please take a deep breath?”

Much to my amazement, the entire car inhaled simultaneously and, like Moses parting the Red Sea, there appeared before me a space about a foot in diameter! Smiling to my fellow riders, I stepped inside, leaving those several hundred other doleful commuters still on the platform.

Who said New Yorkers aren’t helpful?

Btw, by 8:30 this morning, I had done several good deeds for my fellow citizens (I felt like that commercial for the army – “we do more by 8am than most people do all day,” or some shit like that. Except I’m not actually killing people, just helping them).

I am so fucking selfless, it’s unbelievable.

First, I helped an elderly woman hail a cab. No big deal, I know. I’m guessing most people in NY have done that at one time or another (unless they’re just real nasty fucks, ala Paris Hilton or Russell Crowe or my stepmother).

Second, I helped a blind man get to an ATM in the bank.

Third, I gave CPR to a man who collapsed on the sidewalk, and kept him ‘breathing’ until the ambulance could get to us.

Ok, not really the 3rd one. But I did help the old woman and the blind man.

I challenge you, nay, I DARE you, to find someone out there who’s more selfless than me, who loves their fellow citizens more than I.

So speaking of civic responsibility (I know, nice segue, right?), I put it to you, the people (or some of them anyway): Impeach or Censure? Thanks to the conveniently provided links, you actually can vote one way or the other.


Sadly, I don’t have enough time today at work to lay out a real persuasive argument for one or the other, complete with informative links (I know you’re as upset about that as I am).

A few weeks ago, I was screaming, ‘Impeachment!’ having downloaded and read Rep. John Conyers (D, MI) 300+ page report to the House Justice Committee (if you wanna read it yourself, click):

http://www.house.gov/judiciary_democrats/iraqrept122005/iraqreptweb.htm

I know it’s a long read, but well worth it. Lots of information.

But then I started thinking, ‘what are the chances the Dems are gonna grow a communal spine overnight and come together to take a strong stand on this (or anything for that matter)? And even if they did, they have absolutely no chance of passing it in the Repug-controlled House and Senate.’

And yes, I actually do think in parentheses.

By then, some sort of punitive measures for Dubya was being talked about more on the web and there were reminders of how the movement to impeach Clinton backfired on the Repugs. Quotes began popping up from shifty right-wingnuts about how this is all the Dems want, and how, if they gain seats in Congress they’ll push for impeachment (with Faux News Brit Hume being the most recent ‘pundit’ to level this charge).

With the country going down the tubes, literally, a little more each passing day, maybe most Americans just want something done, about the war, the economy, and aren’t interested in what could be seen as “political maneuvering”.

The fit hit the shan when Russ Feingold, currently in possession of apparently the one set of balls owned by the Dems (passed on to him by Jack Murtha), spoke up for Censure. At that point, he could’ve spoken up for self-genital mutilation, I didn’t care – I was over the moon that a Democrat simply took some initiative and SPOKE HIS MIND, irrespective of what his colleagues or the polls said. If Feingold had said, “kill all cats,” I would’ve gone home to strangle mine.

I started thinking, ‘hmmm….the American public might not go for impeachment, especially in time of war, but I think most people know Dubya lied and would support even a small bitch-slap, like censure, for this slimy excuse of a president'.

Just a few minutes ago, I found this link which reports that a poll conducted on March 15, 2006 by the American Research Group found 46% of voters favor censure (44% oppose it) while 43% actually prefer impeachment (opposed by 50%).

I really am sorry I don’t have enough time now to research this poll a little bit more (I’d like to know how many voters they surveyed, what method they used, etc.) but perhaps one of the more intrepid posters out there will do some homework and let us know about the methodology:

http://www.uruknet.info/?p=m21620&l=i&size=1&hd=0

Which brings us all now to the moment of truth – I’ve included 2 links below. I neither work for nor advocate on behalf of either organization. I’m simply offering what I’ve found on the web: one site is for censure of the president, the other is for impeachment.

For Censure:

http://political.moveon.org/censure/?id=7043-6697303-LX8B70fIBE_AozsYBbWHGQ&t=1


For Impeachment:

https://secure2.convio.net/pepib/site/Advocacy?JServSessionIdr010=9qw1ol3th3.app13a&cmd=display&page=UserAction&id=107


So, pick your poison, folks. Hell, pick both for all I care. But please pick something.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Today is one of those rare days where drinking before noon on a weekday is not only allowed, but encouraged, so CHEERS, everyone! The first round is on me.

And if your boss has a problem with your drinking at work, tell him/her that you’re celebrating one of the church’s most revered saints – scream that he/she is part of the growing “backlash” against religion (you know, the same bastards who have been trying the take the “Christ” out of “Christmas”). Threaten to sue. Better yet, threaten to call Focus on the Family or James Dobson on their ass. Stand up for your right to drink at work before noon!

The St. Patrick’s Day Parade in NYC has become synonymous with gay rights, as Irish gays and lesbians will be protesting their exclusion from the parade for the 16th ‘straight’ year. Anyone interested in joining the protest, HURRY UP! They’re meeting in half an hour (at 10:30am), on the east side of 5th Ave. at 57th Street.

What’s that? More information you say? Go here:

http://www.irishqueers.org/

So c’mon! Erin Go Bragh, baby! (unless she’s a lesbian, apparently). Calling all civil liberty lovers, slackers, people on the dole, PFLAG’ers, open-minded Irish/non-Irish folk, fag hags, animal lovers, fashionistas, geeks, bloggers, nerds and tourists! Tap your inner revolutionary and support your gay Irish brothers and sisters. Exercise your constitutional right to peaceful protest (and your First Amendment Right to let the despicable Ancient Order of Hibernians know what hypocritical, sleazy, bigoted fucks they are).

Nothing like a little civil disobedience to get you going in the morning.

If you're still reading this, GET OFF YOUR ASS! You're going to be late! For anyone who really wants to get to the protest and is worried they'll be late, grab a cab - if you get a receipt, I'll reimburse you. Really.

Irish gays and lesbians have been marching in Ireland’s St. Patty’s Day Parade for years now – it’s only in New York, the diversity capital of the world – that gays can’t march under a banner. (Oh yeah – if you don’t want to get arrested, stay on the sidewalk)!

And finally, a shout out to JFM – year after year, you still rock 5th Ave. Go, you fierce child of God!

Here we go, boys and girls – a late afternoon hypothethical question for all of you. Close your eyes. Imagine yourself in some kind of community setting, say, an internet chatroom. In this chatroom, are people from various backgrounds, differing ages, genders, colors, orientations (you get the picture). The forum is for discussion about 2 gay male characters on a cable tv show.

Poster A is someone who like to post disparaging comments about gays, blacks, Puerto Ricans, women (anyone who isn’t a conservative white male).

Posters B and C are regular posters in this forum, posters who have professed their heterosexuality and undying love for the actors who play the 2 gay characters. Posters B and C, due their “history” with Poster A, are not bothered or disturbed by his racist, homophobic rants, nor do they bother trying to defend any “newbies” or other fans of the 2 gays characters when Poster A bullies them.

Poster D makes reference, in another forum, to the “fag hags” in the forum for the 2 gay characters.

Posters B and C are “shocked,” “appalled,” and “outraged” to be referred to as (gasp!) “fag hags!”*

Question, dear readers: is it hypocritical to shit your pants when called a “fag hag” if you yourself regularly ignore others who make derogatory references, in your presence, to gays, blacks, other minorities?

I eagerly await your responses with bated breath.


* Editor’s Note – fag hags is not necessarily a derogatory term in NYC, certainly not compared to the slurs of the kind enjoyed by Poster A.

I went outside to smoke a cigarette a little while ago. Even though there's nowhere left on the fucking planet for a person to smoke a cancer stick in peace, there are office buildings that discreetly plant ashtrays around the doorways.

So I'm puffing away, absorbing some sunshine, a little nicotine, some toxic bus fumes, and I notice a group of 3 people also on a cigarette break. Despite the ashtray being a mere 2 feet away from them, the 2 smokers dropped their butts on the ground, mashed them around, then walked away.

I hate people who litter. I know it's NYC and it's dirty and all that, but there's just no fucking excuse to throw trash anywhere but in a proper receptacle. As I'm pondering the rude assholes who were too lazy to take a step to their left, I see Larry, the maintenance guy in my building. He's walking around, sweeping up shit from lazy, disgusting litterbugs.

So I said, "hey, Larry. Lemme ask you something. Does it bug you that there are ashtrays everwhere in front of this building, yet some of these fuckers are too lazy to use them?!"

He shook his head and told me, 'No. Because if it wasn't for them, I wouldn't have a job.'

Ah, good answer, oh wise one (I was tempted to point out that even if those lazy shits used the ashtray, he'd still have plenty of work to do around the building, but I didn't want to spoil the whole zen moment). He was happy, so, really, why should I care?

Of course the next time I see those people, I might be tempted to explain the functional use of said ashtrays.

You should see me on the subway.

What’s Pissing Me off This Morning

The Pharmaceutical Companies continued steamroll over the American public. God help you if you have cancer or lymphoma and need certain drugs – according to this article, 2 major drug manufacturers (Ovation and Genetech) are increasing the amounts of their respective treatments, with one drug increasing more than tenfold:

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/03/12/business/12price.html?_r=1&pagewanted=all&oref=slogin

Let’s not forget, one of the pharma companies’ biggest bitches in Congress is that walking mannequin, Bill Frist. According to reports, the little bastard has been shepherded around the country by such giants as Abbott, Pfizer, and Schering-Plough. Not only does he get to travel cheaply (hey, it’s hard to be a senator on the street), it affords all those lobbyists the chance to get up close and personal:

http://tennessean.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060309/NEWS02/603090417

This is the same Mr. Frist, who upon hearing of Russ Feingold’s call to censure Dubya, responded with, “I hope our enemies aren’t listening because of the terrible signal it sends.”

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2006/03/12/frist-on-call-for-censure_n_17183.html

(Shhh…cuz ya know our “enemies” don’t already know all about our bumbling, bungling administration and their 5 year pattern of failure after failure. What with the internet and this global village we all live in, I’m sure they haven’t heard about [insert your favorite BushCo disaster] yet).

Oops, sorry Senator Frist – if there are any Al-Quaeda operatives reading this, I’m just kidding. George W. is the bestest, most competent president EVER!


The Latest on Rolling Back Reproductive Rights: We’ve just seen South Dakota, in all its southern glory, enact the most restrictive abortion rights in recent history. Now, in Missouri, turns out they stopped providing money for family planning and women’s health issues back in 2003, when the repugs took control of the state senate. They’ve just voted to pull all funding for contraception since they’re anti-abortion (which is clever: if they really wanted to cut down on unwanted pregnancies, doncha think they’d try to give away as much fucking contraception as possible)?! None of that fuzzy liberal northerner logic for them, no sirree!!

http://www.kansascity.com/mld/kansascity/news/local/14098907.htm

So, sorry, if you’re a poor woman in Missouri, no sex for you! You’ll have to go here instead:

http://www.edenfantasys.com/


Washington State pharmacists want the right to “deny” providing medication that they are “morally” opposed to (right now, that’s supposedly the “morning after pill”, but who knows what other prescriptions they’ll oppose if they’re granted this outrageous request).

http://www.komotv.com/stories/42362.htm

It’s clear the momentum is really starting now in the US, maybe now that both of Dubya’s nominees are sitting on the Supreme Court. First, South Dakota. Now, Missouri. And pharmacists in Washington want to deny you birth control! The message is loud and clear: the repugs DON’T LIKE WOMEN WHO LIKE SEX. The states are starting to embrace the national platform to enact punative measures for women who are too damn uppity for their own good.

So, if you’re a woman in Washington (yep, even a heterosexual married woman) and you want to get the pill? TOUGH SHIT!! Better hope your local pharmacist isn’t some bible-thumping wingnut.

For all you women in Washington, here’s to you:

http://www.edenfantasys.com/


The word of the day, boys and girls? Onanism, baby! It’s all about self-love! Write your favorite Repugnican Congressman and thank him for showing you the way.


That’s my bitchfest for the moment.

Aw. Don't be sad - the day is still young. And I get pissed off real easily. Check back later - I may rant some more.