Vorpally Yours

I have my own views on healthcare, and no matter what yours are, I think we can agree this woman is batshit insane:



Glad to see Barney Frank basically come out and say, "You're fucking stupid, I'm not answering that question."

It just does not bode well that Godwin's Law so easily jumps into the public view.

According to my mother, dear old sperm donor is afraid I am going to hack his computer and rip it to shreds.

This assumes a few things: a. I care enough to attempt. b. I know how to hack computers. c. Daniel knows a damn thing about me.

Ah, hilarity.

Why do people always assume my mother or I will destroy their computers? We'd rather spend our time on computers working or playing games, not being jackasses (unless we're being one in the game we're playing).

Also, my nephew can now say a few words in German: eins, nein, geil, and Eis. The last meaning ice cream. He's a man who knows what he wants from life.

In Saul Williams's , said the shotgun to the head. the chapters count down. After the seventh countdown he has a particularly stirring set of words that he's also released as a song on his Not in My Name EP, entitled Bloodletting.

I felt like sharing it:

o my friends,
the greatest americans
have not been born yet
they are waiting patiently
for the past
to die

please
give
blood

those crumbled tablets
were to share a story
with a burning Bush

where is that voice from nowhere
to remind us
that the holy ground
we walk on
purified by native blood
has rooted trees
whose fallen leaves
now color code
a sacred list of demands?

who among us can give translation
of autumn hues to morning news?

the anchor man
thrown overboard
has simply rooted us
in history's repeating cycle

a nation in its saturn years
that won't acknowledge karma

where is that voice
from nowhere?

the one your prophets spoke of?

there are voices from fear
disconnected from their diaphragms
dangling from coffee covered teeth
that spill into our laps
and burn our privates

there are voices
from the sides of necks
some already noosed
dangling participles
pronouns running
for sentence
serving life
in corner offices
and ghetto corners
their voices are the same:
dead to themselves
numb to the possibility
of truth existing beyond
that which they can palm
in the bleeding hole
of their hands,
period.

there are voices of elders
who seem to do no more
than damn us
to our childish ways

for in many households

wisdom
no longer comes with age

so where is that voice from nowhere?
that burning bush?
that passing dove?

I hear voices of generals
calling for ammunition

voices of presidents
calling for arms

voices of women
calling for help

but where is that voice
from nowhere?

that God of abraham?
those crying rocks?

can he be heard over the gunfire
the whizz of passing missiles
the crash of buildings
the cries of children
the crack of bones
the shriek of sirens?

or is that his mighty voice?

your angry god
craving the sacrifice
of a virgin generation's
son degenerate

your holy books:
written in red ink
on burning sands
(...branded into necks, whipped into backs, forced inside of vaginas and anuses, crammed into mouths, rubbed into open sores...)

your prayers
between rounds
do no more
than fasten the fate
of your children
to the hammered truth
of your trigger

a truth that mushrooms
its darkened cloud
over the rest of us
so that we too
bear witness
to the short-lived fate
of a civilization
that worships
a male god

your weapons
are phallic
all of them

the dummy
that sits on your lap
is no longer
a worthwhile spectacle
his shrunken pale face
leaves little room
for imagination
we have spotted
your moving lips
and have pinned the voice
to its proper source

it is a source of madness

a source of hunger for power

a source of weakness

we are exiting your colosseum
and encircling your box office
demanding our families back
our rituals back
our cultures back
our language back
and our gods
so that we may return them
to their proper source
the source of life
the source of creation
the womb of the Great Mother
we will cut through
the barbed wire hangers and chastity belts

we will climb in
and incubate our spirits
through the winter

we will wait through the degenerate course
of your repeated history
we will wait for the past to die

Also, give it a listen (there are some differences):

I finally put up that poster this past week. There isn't much artwork on my wall.

At least, I never feel there is enough, though there likely could be said to be tons.

(Just took a look at my walls and this is what I see: twelve show posters from Wabash, a wind chime of moons, a mask I created in high school, my bowler hat, two prints from when Amy took photos of Sophia and I, a poster from the Crystal Castles/Rock for Kids show at Double Door, a mannequin hand, and a mirror).

Slowly, I think I'll start ordering the prints available at A Softer World in the future.

Today? I ordered this one:

I'm rather glad that I have Patrick Wolf's latest album at a time like this. Entitled The Bachelor, it fits my current mood in a rather precise manner.

Particularly the title track:

'cause I'm not gonna marry in the fall,
and I'm not gonna marry in the spring.
I will never marry--marry at all;
no one will wear my silver ring.

Had an interesting Pride day. Going to think upon it and then report back after work.

Meanwhile, I have at least three upcoming social events I want to plan, on top of engaging in many more. Have I mentioned how delightful Chicago summers really are?

It's been occurring to me lately that while I love Chicago, it may be time to move to a different city come next year.

By that time I'll have been here four years. In many ways, I think a fresh start somewhere, while searching for an actual career, may be beneficial. Or perhaps grad school somewhere other than here.

Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts.

Obama is being particularly daft about this issue, and here's why.

Since when is it the federal government's role to step into the economy and bail out failing car companies? Yet it appears to be doing so.

Also, last I checked, the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) is a federally mandated position. If Obama really does feel that it is not the federal government's role to define marriage, can we get rid of the part that defines it as between one man and one woman? The states that have already passed gay marriage (six now) would then have married couples who could correctly file their federal taxes.

I don't care, Obama is not my ally, nor is he a friend. Right now he is just a person spouting nonsense and separate but (un)equal bullshit.

With all due respect, go shove a dildo up your ass, Mr. President.

I am highly aware that in some portions of this country I would not be popular in mixed company.

Aside from the fact that I don't censor myself around children or people prone to blushing and fainting (this does not speak to cursing, which I use only when I'm comfortable), I speak my mind, which is a very unpopular thing to do. Especially when you can do so with facts, logic, history, anecdotes, reasoning, and many other tools instead of only a... wait for it... Bible!

I get it, people take their faith seriously. If they wish me to respect such, they need to start respecting that I don't care for their mythology and find it boring in comparison of that of the Hindu faith. Or Japanese mythology. Or Greek mythology. What about them Norse folk? German myths? Sure!

Bottom line? Keep your faith out of my laws. Period. I don't follow your book, I refuse to have it dictate my life in any fashion.

For some reason I keep getting roped into same-sex marriage debates. I don't really care, y'know. Not a particular fan of marriage and never having been in a situation where it could even be plausible, it's something for which I fight only because I believe all citizens of a country should have equal rights afforded to them--whether or not I wish to partake in said rights.

I'd much rather fight for easier access to dedicating a particular person as a 'visit me in the hospital if I'm sick' person, or be able to enter tax reductions based on my living arrangements with a person, regardless of marital status. These prospects get me much more interested in a conversation.

Why, oh why, do I then have to stop myself from getting into snarky debates with people on Facebook?

A friend was polling for (what I assume to be a course of his at Northwestern) what our thoughts were on what constitute the rites of marriage.

The first response?

Marriage is between a man and a woman in every country other than the U.S. Sure, some countries allow men to have multiple wives. But the wives aren't married to each other.

My response?

Are Belgium, Canada, Netherlands, Norway, South Africa, Spain, and Sweden no longer countries?

8 out of 190+ countries consider it legal. Thats less than 1%. But yes, they are counties.

I literally slapped my hands from typing another word in response to this chap. My first reply would likely be to correct his math (actually, it's closer to 4%). At that point I had to realize the type of person with whom I was dealing couldn't perform basic mathematical conversion of two numbers into percents (algebra), but wanted to use oh-so-important numbers against me. That's never a good sign, folks. Here's the formula: (8/190)100 = 4.numbers

What I wanted to state? How about the fact that over the course of the last century we saw women gain the right to vote? It's still not true in every country. Hell, back when it started, very few gave that right. Does that mean it should not have been afforded?

The perceived minority of a social issue should not be a reason to ignore or mock it. The fact that he is African American made it all the more imperative that I stop that conversation right then, before I said something I'd regret and have tons of angry people yelling at me about how the black civil rights movement has nothing in common with gay rights.

I don't believe they are directly equatable in any sense, but there are similarities. Only the obtuse will fail to recognize that. Barack Obama is among that number, and he's a constitutional scholar. There are also similarities in the fight for women's rights. Or immigrant's rights. It's all interconnected, people.

No, instead I responded to my friend, as to your question. Since you framed it 'Rites of Marriage,' I'd believe it to be a dedication to another person(s) through some ritual or ceremony decided upon by the persons involved. The ritual of dedication seems to be the key factor.

I cannot fight every battle. Some people are really just not worth my time.

A few phrases that have enlightened my life of late.

The first, courtesy of Stephen: Taint-shooting bastards.

The second, in reading up on Mr. Hands (only click if you're really curious): Equinomorphically browndicked.

From my reading of Crooked Little Vein: Macroherpetophile (among my favorite is this one--it may be because I had a huge crush on Wesley Crusher).

In fact, come to think of it, a pattern emerges of my first crushes: Matthew Broderick as Phillipe "The Mouse" Gaston in Ladyhawke, Wesley Crusher in ST:TNG, and then Ben. Ben was also dark-haired and boyish (considering the crush developed in fifth grade). It is perhaps worth noting that I've never dated this type.

It's been years since I took this test.

Tell me your thoughts: Interactive Johari.

Also, I discovered this video today.

I'm making it the first song I listen to when I wake up every morning.

Inspired by Baudelaire's La Rebelle.

With PJ barking.