George Will doesn't know when men began to hug one another. It was about the President getting touchy-feely with the worst Rethugs going.
Uh-huh. Leaving aside the fact that George Will is the poster boy for constipation, ALWAYS looks like he needs at least a bottle of prune juice if not an enema laced with some cayenne pepper...
What the fuck is this closet case going ON about?
I just so do not GET this... It is not as if it was something 'sexual'. Gawwd forbid... I have been known to hug straight men... Because they said something nice, or did something good... It is more of a fraternal thing. Sort of 'Thank you for listening', and 'I like you in a non-fuzzy heterosexual way...'
But every time I see George Will's dour little face, he drives me crazy. And yes, I know, there are worse people out there in Wingnuttia. Rush Limpballs is always the face of audacity, for instance. And there are many others who do NOT ring my bell...
But looking at Good Will Not Hunting gives me cavities in the brain.
How anal rententive can you GET, hey?
oh. MY!
I had a very nice day today....
I did.
My very favourite ex-colleage came all the way up from her home town to visit me.
I love her to death.
She is the best mother I EVER heard of.
We drank corfees at Chaplin's next door to where I live.
And laughed and laughed...
She always delights me.
And whatever Else is going on I do not want to know,,,
It was a very nice morning and I laughed
muchly...
That is more worth than rubies....
Wow... Good thing I have a father... Because according to the wing nuts, I would be in prison.
For having commited violent crimes....
Right.
Now where the hell did I put that tire iron? Can't remember. You see? Hopeless. Am not gonna commit a violent crime because I have a father. Am so fucking tired of useless lies being told to gullible folks, I could barf.
And hat tip and thanks to the wonderful Pam Spaulding who finds this stuff, because I never want to go there.
But there was a lady who lived in the hotel I worked at for over thirty years. And she could speak and understand Slovenian and other slavic languages, but she never let on that she could, other than a few people who were close to her. Her take? 'You have to understand the language of the enemy.' That crack slayed me at the time, and I just fell apart laughing.
But now? Thank whomever for people like Pam who descend into the depths of wingnuttery, and call them on their bullshit.
Hate is a very ugly thing. So Dad, sorry, but I think I have a misshun. I'm gonna go find that tire iron, and go out and do something violent just so I can prove them wrong and go to jail, oh yes.....
Except..... I do not have a car, never learned to drive other than crash a VW into a cemetery fence after getting stuck on a sidewalk... long story.... so of course I do not own a tire iron. I do have a couple of good kitchen knives... But that would be too messy, hate looking at blood.
It is a dilemma, I tell you. ...
Ok, tongue out of my cheek....
It is the STOOPID that can drive me up the wall. Where do people learn to THINK like that?
Maybe I can rent a chain saw....
It is nice to have 'friends'... I guess...
Even if they want tit for tat....
I have been hysterical lately... which I do not like, fly off the handle, and so on.
It is nice to have friends, but risky if you do not know them all that closely. But even when they come through for you, and help you, they do expect something in return. And if you have little to give, it can be expensive and not what you had wished for.
Have been burned often enough expecting the best of people and getting 'shocked' when they do not live up to expectations. So I have been cautious lately.
You'd think I would be old enough to be that way, but I guess it comes with age.
My friend W. is a case in point. He has his hungarian spit-fire of a girlfriend, and more or less let me be. Except this morning, when he woke me up at 6 am, and said, 'Hey Eule, you awake?' (He calls me owl, not without reason. Am mostly up at night.) Could I come over and translate a couple of letters for him that needed to go out per e-mail. Reason? My German is better than his..... (He is very dialaect.)
And I said, 'hokay...' And went out and got them breakfast, returned the space heater they lent me, as I don't need it any more, and so on.
And when he heard about my dilemma, and everything, he said, 'We are coming over and clean up your place.'
Now how embarrassing IS that?
On a scale of one to ten it was fifteen.
His girlfriend is very funny. Wants to attach me to another 'man' she knows. Uh-huh. Maybe one date, but am really NOT in the mood to think of anything like that right now. But I can make her laugh whole-heartedly.
W. is your typical pedantic Aires person.
He means well. And he knew what he was getting into. Am just one big mess.
But.... day one went ok. And he met Peter, and all, because he wants to move into the appartment when Peter vacates it. Because the former 'Hausmeister' whom Peter calls 'Rudy-Doody' has been terrorising him for the better part of a year. You have NO idea of what that person is capable of.
And his wife looks harmless.... but she can knock your teeth out if you get on the wrong side of her. Tiny bitch....
Yes, I know that is denigrating, but some women CAN be the worst bitches in the world, ornery, mean, revengeful, calculating. So I make a wiiiiiddde circle if I happen to run into her, and just say good day, how are you, and such.
If there has ever been a poisonous couple... it is them.
Whatever, we spent the whole afternoon cleaning my appartment.
And there were jokes going back and forth... well not repeatable.
And W fixed my defective radiators. Turns out that the 'Hausmeister' had fixed two of my four radiators so they wouldn't fucking heat.
After all the trouble, and being 'nice' did.... I would like to throttle him for a little bit, till he turns fucking blue.
As for W. ..... He has come a very long way from when I met him 18 months ago. PTSD, very much so. Homophobic. So anti-American you could get cavities in your teef...
Now?
He loosened up. We can make jokes about things. He mostly lives on red beans, onions and potatoes and gets flatulent, for instance. He said his girlfriend makes him sleep on the floor when that happens. And I said, 'Hey, W. How OFTEN have I told you not to insult me by name, HUH?' A. just fell apart laughing.
Or if we are at the computer, and he needs to get by, he will say, 'why don't you just turn aside?' (Which I do, of course...) And say, 'Oh, you WISH.'
It is amazing to me on a mess of levels. The French Foreign Legion's motto is 'Fraternité, Egalité, Liberté' .
I guess I got the first two all right. And that was no small feat.
Am so glad I am not about to get bashed..... And it is nice to have a 'brother' who accepts who you are....
On Housekeeping....
Quenten Crisp promised me, absolutely PROMISED me that if you don't dust....
'After three months, it doesn't get any worse.'
He wrote 'The Naked Civil Servant', Sting's song 'An Englishman in New York' is about him.
But he was wrong, wrong, wrong....
It is NOT fun to drown in your own depresseion.
No, not at all....
So how bad was it, I hear you ask.
It was so bad... I cooked a chicken soup in January, 2008. And didn't finish it, and it went sour, and I just left it there. I normally do not cook at home. I was afraid to lift the lid and see what cooties were coming out of it.
So I put it off, and put it off, and today, I thought, 'Ok, time to get this bacterial killer out of the house.' And I dared to remove the cover.
I did not throw up. After the fact I had retching problems. The smell was abonimable. And you know what? Everything had liqufied. I have never felt so grossed out in my LIFE, hey.
I threw it into a fifty liter bag, and threw it out.
Depression is a terrible thing.
On the one hand you function as a normal everyday human being. But even the most simple normal things seem insurmountable big tasks. Till you get to the point where you do not know where to start.
And despair muchly.
I still have that stench in my nose.
Gawwd am I dumb....
Oh, it is Maundy Tuesday.... Happy Fasching, everybody!
This is really not my favorite horriday. It sort of forces you to be 'happy' and 'funny', and you dress up like it is Halloween, and it is, well, forced somehow....
But what did I see early this morning? Went to get sammiches for breakfast at the market, and the lovely Claudia was a native American indian princess. I asked her daughter if she was Cher. She said she was a witch.
'Who is Cher?' she asked. Gawwd have I gotten old. She had not one inkling. Not one. So I said 'listen, believe me, witches are traditionally ugly, and Cher is beautiful. So you must be Cher. Go google her.'
And left.... crushed.
And as I was heading over to Peter's to bring him breakfast, there were easily one hundred tykes in their costumes under cold weather jackets and stuff, fully excited, and being taken to a Faschingsfest.
Which is the problem here, you see? The weather is always so miserable, that you can't see how nice the costumes are through the winter coats and all. And it snowed.
There is a parade downtown, but I have a mess of stuff to do, so that is all I got, and it suffices. But Claudia made a good indian....
Roses for everyone....
It being Rose Monday and all... So here are virtual ones, and give all of them to the people I love.
Was up in the middle of the night cleaning, and had the live transmission of the Academy Awards on the tee-vee. I thought Hugh Jackman did a nice job of hosting. I was thrilled that Sean Penn got best actor.
Have been watching this shindig since I was a kid, it is always fun, being a full-fledged movie fan. Am NOT usually a fan of Ben Stiller, but his edgy imitation of Joaquin Phoenix's appearance on David Letterman had me in stitches. Although am not sure if he isn't going to get flak on that.
Everyone else seemed to be on their best behaviour, so that made it all the funnier.
Robert De Niro addressing Sean Penn and wondering how he got all those heterosexual roles before this nomination was such a zinger, I guffawed.
'Milk' only got one other award for best screenplay. The young man who wrote it gave a chilling acceptance speech about his Mormon background, and encouragement to the GLBT community that moved me muchly.
The musical numbers were better than usual.
So I enjoyed myself while dusting and organising junk that has been accumulating and needs to be thrown out.
A word about the Swarovski 'curtain' that framed the stage. Beautiful. I do not even want to think about what that cost. It is an Austrian company, and I have a few Christmas tree ornaments from them, and the cost is shocking, I tell you, shocking. Fiona (the owner) must have been off the charts for overjoyed, getting all that free publicity....
I felt terrible for Jerry Lewis. I had known he has been very ill, but was saddened to see how very badly his illness has diminished his body. He probably held the shortest acceptance speech of any Jeanne Hershell award for humanitarian activities I have ever seen. But it was from the heart and brought me nearly to tears.
Facit: after years of blah broadcasts, this was really one of the better ones. And who knew that Anne Hathaway has a terrific singing voice? When Shirley MacLaine compliments and encourages her, that is praise indeed. And I have seen Shirley MacLaine live, and she is one professional entertainer.
So it was fun and took my mind off of my mindless tasks of tidying up....
Haven't seen most of the nominated films, but enough to know I would have voted differently on a lot of them.
And Penelope Cruz looked delicious and wonderful.
Thirty days....
And all I see is negativism on the internets.
I think that Obama is doing his most to get things going.
And he has done a lot of good stuff in that short time. Aren't enough hours in the day, hey...
What the FUCK happened to giving someone three months to get their policies in place, and getting them up and running?
Fair? Anything but. The attacks and criticisms began on day three.
And yes, we all have our druthers about what we WISH him to rescind from the last eight years, but the guy only has two hands, hey...
Give him a fucking break, and hold your tongues till the 100 days have gone by, and then we will see how his administration is really holding up.
I never thought he was gonna be a miracle worker.
But so far, he exceeded expectaions... We shall see.
And it is so fucking GOOD to hear someone who can put two sentences together and make sense for a change. Gawwd, he sounds like one of my grandfathers, the tone, and I could listen and listen....
Well, another Opera Ball gone by....
I haven't watched in years. This morning, Peter made me watch the repeat on our local station.
Nicolette Sheridan seemed to be having 'fun' at the opening of it. They changed the arrangement of the beginning since I last saw it some years ago. First only part of the debutantes march in and line up on the sides of the room. And they really do turn the Opera into the most beautiful ballroom you have ever seen.
And then they had several numbers with the ballet, and opera stars. The ballet got better overall, and they have a terrific soloist from Albania now. Tall, handsome, and so fluid it made my joints feel arthritic in comparison. And of course the children's ballet. Always a winner. The music was mostly Haydn (200th anniversary of his death) Puccini, and Strauss, of course.
And then they had the polonnaise with the debutantes. You have to imagine a couple of hundred pairs of young people. The girls in sleek white gowns wearing little tiaras, the guys in classic black tuxedoes. And then they do a polonnaise, this time to Strauss, but it is so intricate, and the flashing white and black could cause an epileptic to go into a fit when seen from above. Then they waltz to the secret national anthem, the Blue Danube Waltz, and then the floor is given over to the ball guests. They work really hard to get that right, and it really is wonderful to see... so am not all THAT cynical.
Nicolette Sheridan seemed to like that part, was directing the music per hand out of her loge. She later said it seemed to be like a fairy tale come to life. Well, for EUR 72,000 for one day's work.... yeah, I guess you could think like that.
The rest was a deluge of things you never wanted to know about anyone. A bonfire of the vanities, so to speak. Gawd, you could just throw up.
Actor Alfons Haider---no relation to the late demagogue---has really developed as a moderator for this event. Suave, elegant, doesn't ask dumb questions, and had a couple of surprises up his sleeve. He seemed to charm the First Lady of Santo Domingo, and asked if she had danced yet. She said no. So he asked for a dance, and she gladly accepted. It was cute.
He took Nicolette Sheridan aback with his perfect English, and SHE asked him for a dance, at which point I yelled, 'Oh Edie, what are you thinking? The man is openly GAY, for heaven's sake!'
Interesting that most of the top bankers did not attend. Normally, this event is for the wheelers and dealers to meet and do sneakret things in the background.
Sad was that there were only four protesters out there this year. BUT.... one of them mooned all the hoi polloi and caused them to look for the fainting couches. That was funny, and the police were so surprised, he mooned them loooonnnnnng.
Oh my... funny incident at the tobbaconist's today...
There was a young man before me asking for a sort of sieve for his pipe, and the owner, usually a very funny guy, and an expert when it comes to pipes and fine cigars, was stymied. What in the world would he want a sieve for? Never heard of such a thing....
And THAT was when I got a big wide grin on my face, and had to turn away and pretend to study the magazine rack.
And bite my tongue, hey...
And the owner kept asking where the young man had seen anything like that, because no one had ever offered it in any catalogue he had for tradespeople, and what was it good for anyway. He was so fucking bewildered.
And of course I knew what the kid was after. He finally bullied him into saying, 'Look, I got this pipe from a head shop, and there was a sieve in it.'
Bingo! I was so on target with that. But refrained from guffawing out loud.
The owner said he didn't have that merchandise, and the kid left, and I burst out laughing.
I said I had known right away what the kid was after, having committed a youthful sin or two in the Seventies, and that didn't go down well. But I found it very funny nevertheless.
He went cold, and said he considered that stuff abominable.
Which amused me all the much more. There is a latin saying, 'nomen est omen'. Meaning names are an omen, mean what they say. Well, the owner's family name is Kink. I am not shitting you. (There is even a Kink Street near the square, have no idea why, or who the person was that it got named after, but go into paroxysms of hilarity every time I see the sign. Must have been an important person, for all I know.... Oh, just googled him. He was a knight and did a lot of stuff for the waterworks.)
So all I know now is that I will never address him as 'Mr. Kinky'. If nomen est omen, whatever it is lies outside that scene....
And on that note, will dissipate into hilarity.... Ach, what would we do if there weren't a Quentchen (itty bitty bit) of Schadenfreude in our lives. I ask you.
Tja, on the other hand, I guess you had to be there....
Huh... There is a cold wind a-blowin'
Graffitto out on the square... The words mean, it's drafty.
I was sort of impressed that Dubai, the epitome of wealth, is also in trouble. NY Times link in the title. Thousands fleeing. Maybe that ten-star hotel is going to end up looking like the old defunct two star one in the picture... Interesting that they have debtors prisons there. How very Dickensian.
Yes, have been remiss....
There are some days I have little to say, or just freak out over the fucking Republicans and their fucking audacity, or end up having to run around doing things I do not like to do and get all it a fuss....
So retroactive Happy Valentine's day to all whom I love, you know who you are...
And no... am just extremely depressed for a lot of reasons.
Larry King harping on the Octopussy for days on end depresses me.
If she were in Germany, they would take all of her children away from her per social services, they said so. Shocked, I tell you, shocked.
Depresses me.
My health.... depresses me. The fucking social services and pension people depress me to fucking death.
Having to turn five cents over three times before spending it.... depresses me.
The only nice thing these past few days was having the designated Bishop Wagner ask Ratzi to rescind the nomination and promotion. The ASSHOLE had the nerve to maintain that the victims of Hurricane Katrina got what they deserved, and that was God's punishment for that Sodom and Gommorah of a city. So why didn't 'God' kill David Vitter from that state, who visited whores and liked to play diaper games, but is oh,,,,, SO family values?
And then cries on state tee-vee, because, you see, in the past two weeks since the nomination, the poor guy got attacked per e-mail, and his subjects, and yes, I use the word intentionally, and the 'hate' was so terrible for him, he couldn't sleep. I'll just BET.
Because, you see... what he said wasn't hateful, or unchristian. This guy is a fucking Bill O'Reilly!
Spews hate, and then gets taken aback when there is an uproar? Oh please...
There were massive threats of people leaving the Church officially, and here, you HAVE to pay a tithe, one tenth of your income.
So Ratzi.... accepted his not taking the new post.
So there ya go...
They are being pragmatic, Rome, I mean. Italy just had a sort of Terry Schiavo case, and the bloody Italians did the fucking same thing to that poor family. I thought I was re-living ground-hog day in another language. Fourteen years in a coma? Still 'young?'
Let her go.
Depressing for many reasons. My first neighbor in this house was wonderful. Funny, an artist, and so on. And he was so vibrant, and we sat out on the square so often, and argued about politics, and arts, and so on. Then he was at home down south, fell into a brook and drowned. He was under water twenty minutes, and they fucking revived him into a coma. He got six months of martyrdom. On tubes, tracheotomy, the oxygen being pumped into him, and all that entails. I was allowed to visit three days before he died. If he had come out of it, the brain damage would have been immense. He looked so frail. I stroked his good arm, and whispered, 'What the FUCK do you think you were DOING?'
And I swear, I saw his mouth twitch as if he were trying to smile.
Three days later, he was dead. A 'seizure'.
Uh-huh.
Just like that... you lose a friend.
Devastating.
And no, there wasn't anything else between us. But this wonderful tension, who can do better intellecutally, who can defend what they think better, and gawwd was he good.
(It IS possible to mind-fuck, believe me.)
The good things in my life seem to have left me behind with the Orks, so am on my own.
There are saving moments.
My neighbor brought her two year old up our creaky stairs, and was encouraging her, and I was just going out for snigarettes. And I said, 'Hey, A. you are really doing GOOD.' We have torturous stairs. And the child showed me an egg she just got. A thin chocolate one that has a little toy inside. 'Surprise eggs'. So I said, 'Oh, I wonder what is IN it.' And she looked at me as if I were 'stupid', because she wanted to get into the house, and was thinking of house, and said 'Peter!' as if I were stoopid or something. Her mother's friend....
It made me smile.
But still, am sinking into depression, and that is NOT good.
more Koalas
Poor Sam got her paws burned and the fireman had a reunion with the little guy he saved, and the full video of that was up today.
Oh... my... God! The RC elders just get so fucking weird...
This is the Babel fish translation. Loony as ever, but with some corrections on my part to make it understandable.
Bishop Fischer: " Homosexuality is curable" Homosexuality is for the Feldkircher bishop Elmar Fischer a psychological illness. In many cases homosexuality can be healed however, said the bishop on Wednesday radio Vorarlberg. On Thursday Fischer apologized for his statements. Bishop Fischer, who is a trained psychologist, in a Vorarlberg interview compared homosexuality on Wednesday in the radio with alcoholism or fear neuroses. There are studies, which say that homosexuality is more curable, said the bishop and asked the question, why one was to doubt. Also alcoholism is for example more curable, concern it also a psychological illness. He does not understand, why one must be the opinion that homosexuality is an alternative Sexualform, so Fischer.
That is the crux of the brouhaha.... The apology just made the local tee-vee station news. He hadn't been up on new scientific data, he said....
Wellllll..... considering they rehabilitated Gallileo only a while ago, should this surprise me?
Ummm... noooo....
But he was so wrong on all counts, I would like to know who the fuck made HIM the indian chief, and why the fuck is he so interested in the subject in the first place. And why the hell doesn't he just freaking disappear, or get kid-napped and reprogrammed by the Flying Spaghetti Monster in his school in the sky? Or get a real life...
I am willing to bet 100 Euros that I do not have, that he sets himself up 'meditating' on the Bible with the door open, so that people on retreat can see how DEVOUT he is, and what the people on retreat don't know is that he's stuck in pages of Honcho or Monster Tits into it, and is NOT studying the text.
And don't start rolling your eyes, and think I'm being some sort of paranoid idjit. I KNOW of a case like that. And the guy said, 'I do sin. But before I go to sleep, confess my sins, and God forgives me.' And he woke up with a clean slate every morning and was happy....
So you see? That is one sweet deal he had. So why can't he just assume that someone can have gay sex one evening, wake up in the morning, 'confess' his 'sin' to God, and all would be well? What would be the big deal in their eyes if it were so?
These people are so fucked up in their heads, it really isn't funny any more....
Just sayin'
Update: most of the comments on the ORF article are biting and hilarious in part. One person said Ratzinger has put masturbation down as a serious sin. 'Can that be cured too?' the person wanted to know.... it was meant sarcastically, I can assure you...
Koala bears in need
They normally don't approach humans. And are adorable critters....
MORE KOALAS IN NEED
{Posted in News/Current Events, The Animals on February 11th, 2009 by Scott }BIE reader Andrew from Melbourne in Australialand sent me this heart breaker of pic this morning.
If you want to donate to help rescue and care for these amazing creatures that are being devastated by the record breaking heatwave and the fires sweeping the state of Victoria, NSW go here and give them some love.
I just did.
I mean really now; is it too painful for you to dig in to your pocket a bit and give fifty or twenty five or even ten bucks to help these completely awesome marsupials?
The Australian Koala Foundation does incredible work and with our help they will work to see that Koalas like the little guy being helped by the Aussie fireman in the picture and put at risk by the fires and heatwave will be rescued.
If you won't help they can't help, and if they can't help there won't be any more Koalas.
Keith Olberman got an award from the Human Rights Campaign
And Ms Spaulding got it all.... thank goodness.
The award was from his special commentaries
link here
His commentary was spot on. But even if his speech at the awards ceremony was a bit rambling at first, it was powerful. And could make you really re-think things that have happened in everyone's life.
Both are worth a look.
And no, I still wouldn't want to marry.... but can only wish those who do all the luck in the world.
Oh... too bad...
This guy cracks me up and is outrageous. And so edgy, Comedy Central cut him out.
Even they can be wusses... NSFW.
Have to find out more about him....
Hokay....
After hearing about the westernising of the rest of the world, we get joyous news of something totally 'new'. Link in the title.
Have these people TOTALLY lost their MINDS?
A product that makes your breath smell like (smoked?) ham? Burger King?
Kill me now, please!
Obviously the makers of this shit were never in Graz in the '70's.....
Imagine getting on a tram that is overcroweded, and everyone smells of salami breath, because they didn't brush after breakfast and were in a hurry.
I mean, I KNOW things go in cycles, but hey.... revolting and makes you shudder.
Does this mean that they are going to go back to not using a deoderant again?
gawwwwwd.....
WHY isn't this man on Obama's Cabinet?
Let's forget for a moment that he got last year's Nobel prize for economics. You would think that would be qualification enough.
I spent an hour one evening listening to a lecture he gave, and was impressed, impressed, impressed. Because even I could understand what it was about.
So why isn't he on the team?
Did I 'mention' he got a Nobel prize? Oh yeah, the Village people love them some wankers and don't like people who tell the truth.... Sigh.
oh, Oh, OH! Eva Longaria and Nicolette Sheridan in Vienna!
Just kill me now, and I will go out there and die happy.
If Marsha Cross were to join the party, I WOULD go out with dozens of red roses and kneel at her feet and try to present them to her, but that is another story....
Ok, background....
The Opera Ball in Vienna is THE event of the year. And out there, they have this crazy guy who is in construction, has a mall, and is rich, rich, rich. But the hoi-polloi of Vienna society doesn't really like him. Not really. They have the longest noses they can look down at those whom they don't like... He's a smart businessman, made tons of money.... but doesn't have the 'manners', you know?
So what the guy DOES, is buy one of the most expensive Loges at this event, and hires Hollywood stars to 'walk' and make a news splash. The hired ones have to give autographs at his mall on the afternoon beforehand. And he spends like crazy, just to shine for this one evening, is usually in his cups, and makes an ass of himself.
(A Loge at the Vienna Opera Ball is so astronomical..... you would throw up at the price, believe me. And have been there often for other things, and the prices made me balk.)
So THIS year.... he wanted to hire Eva Longoria, but she got a better offer and is supposedly coming to Vienna. So he hired Nicolette Sheridan. Better known as Gabrielle and Evie on Desperate Housewives.
I hope that they have tons of fun in Vienna. But Nicolette is really in for a schock. The Constructionist is the proletariat, and 'grob'.
She won't love it.
A Milch-Bubi, I Tell You! Act II
So after the first part, time to see to Peter. He had someone from social services coming to see him about going into a home, and the person finally gets there, and WHADDAYA KNOW, hey, they sent a Milch-Bubi! Milch means milk, Bub, means young boy, and Milchbubi means he hasn't grown a beard yet, or had much experience in life.
Ok, ok, am being ageist, was completely off the charts after my 'examination', and so on. But the person arrives and is a KID. To my eyes. Peter needs a middle-aged, kick-ass experienced person who can hang out the Big Daddy and read him from the Book of Leviticus. As we say, 'Die Leviten lesen.' Lay down the law, in other words.
And who shows up? A mere child... I did a jaw dropper and went into the kitchen. And steamed for an hour. Not to mention that he got two sentences out of his mouf, and my gaydar went into the red zone, and I thought, 'oh, no, please! He'll eat him alive, in the sense that he'll 'razzle-dazzle' him. Not good....'
What sort of Big Joker In The Sky plans these things, and what the fuck did I DO to deserve them?
Did I mention I hate Mondays? Now ya know why....
Bloody Hell.... They send him a Milch-bubi!
Mondays aren't usually good days for me.
But this one... will have to get a record for being obnoxious.
First there was the all-important meeting with a doctor who was given the order from the pension people to 'examine' me, and make sure I am completely dotty, and invalid, because I am still too young to get a pension. And not simulating, or something of that sort. (Right, my nerve costume isn't exactly like Coco Chanel at present, and looks more like Emmet Kelly's hobo outfit at the moment. (Young readers won't get that last reference. He was a famous clown, and the suit was full of holes.)
My appointment was at the ungodly hour of eight am, way across town. Two busses, one transfer. Two of the first I needed wouldn't let me on---overcrowded due to all the kids on the way to school.
So I had to hoof it and get my ass to the transfer site, about twenty minutes' walk away. Then keep an eye out for my stop, because am really not so familiar with that part of town. Good thing I gave myself an hour, because I didn't find the offices right away. But I got there at two minutes' to eight. (I have this 'thing' about being punctual... anal retentive, I know...)
And then I had to wait ten minutes to see the doctor, pretty good as far as that goes. It gave me time to check his diplomas. 'American School of Neurology'.
And I thought, 'oh-oh, one of them. Which only means he is probably not going to be gay-friendly, just like the first one, Dr. Klaus, who had lots of 'Jeebus Can Save You' leaflets in his holistic waiting room for mostly cancer patients. I made him so uncomfortble, he passed me on.
Now this made me even more uneasy than I was already.
Whatever, there he was, of a certain age, you know, middle but undefinable... And the first thing out of his mouf was 'Why don't you want to work any more?' Well, at least he was to the bloody point.... And I said, 'I just can't cope any more, especially with stress, I have had too much stress these past few years. '
'Why? When did this begin?'
So began with the stroke Peter had, cut got off... 'I don't want to know about him, I want to know what is bothering you.' (Uh-huh, one of them.) 'Well if I define myself through him after thirty years, it is about me, and listen.' After that it went fairly ok, although there was a lot of sparring, and some very bitchy comments on his part. (Picture the self-hating Harold in The Boys In The Band', and you got it.)
So I guess I was telling truth to power, but he was pissing me off. And I did tell the truth, all of it that you can squeeze into fifty minutes.... And didn't tell one lie. He got me so exasperated, and he comes up with, 'your hands are shaking.' And I said, 'Ive always been a nervous sort of person.' (Thinking, 'only because I want to throttle you till you turn blue in the face, you pompous asshole...')
I was livid inside. And then I played the total truth card. 'Lately, and more and more often, I just keep thinking about just ending it all.' And it is true, I do. 'You think about suicide...' 'Yes.'
And then the killer, because he didn't believe me..... 'How would you do it?'
'Oh, that is easy enough. Just borrow Peter's pen and shoot up enough insulin to do the job.' Nothing better than the truth, hey... and it wouldn't be 'messy'.
That is when he sort of changed his demeanor. And got VERY uncomfortable. Said I need counseling. (righhttt...) If he was uncomfortable before, he was squirming till then. He asked me, I answered, and did't tell even one little lie. Wanker.
And said I would soon hear from the pension people.
Only I have the feeling I am gonna be hearing from some very unpleasant people soon. You know, go to a therapist they assign you, leave you up in the air status-wise, and otherwise fuck around with your life.
Can we say it was 'irritating'?
Will put act two in the next post....
I am so clueless at the momet....
Why the fuck do I get so emotional, huh?
It is not as I PLANNED it, or anything....
But I do...
It is my mother's genes... Whoa! Take off and see if you can hit MARS, bitchez....
Uh-huh.
Somehow... I think I am gonna crash, with no one left living on board.
Ain't life just swell...
Just tired, and going under the bed.
Am still devastated.
Hope your day was better.
But shit, who knows, right?
Anyone wanna 'GUDDLE?'
You wanna talk about nervous breakdowns? I absolutely lost it on the street a few moments ago...
Nobody paid attention to a nearly sixty year old man bursting out into tears on the street... as if that happens often...
Did I mention I had a difficult morning?
You'd better believe it. And then some.
I was more than embarassed, but it happened to be a very emotional morning.
I got woken after being up half the night. And am always the fucking Grinch if I haven't slept enough.
It being Saturday, I had to get enough groceries to last till Monday, and I fucking HATE that.... You'd think I would have learned to be used to it by now, but no, I HATE it.
Monday I have to see a doctor and be your absoloute emotional wreck so that I can retire on a pittance. Was working on it. Except I didn't need to.... Outside circumstances can be stressful to the point of you nearly losing it. (Your composure)
Yeah, there have been people who have designated me a 'drama Queen' and so forth and so on.... Can I help it if I take things to heart? I'd rather be emphatic than some very cold somenabitch.
But that isn't what it was about, Preciousses. You KNOW the rules.... Boys don't cry. Which has created a huge identity problem the past few days. I do not.... except every ten years when everything gets so overwhelming that I break down. He has a date with some Caritas person. It didn't 'bother' me one way or the other, actually.
Today he told me why. He doesn't know what is in or out any more. And wants to go into a home. He has NEVER told me what he was planning to do ahead of time. It was always a fait accompli, and swallow the fucking toad.
On the one hand, I was so relieved. So relieved.....
I SO wanted to have him do that, as pitiful as it is. I am so glad he at least recognises he needs help around the clock, and so mortified that he fucked it all up again.
But on his own this time.
I was so afraid of hurting him. The leaking plumbing, because he couldn't get to the wc fast enough. The smell.
If we go back 32 years... that was the most fastidious person I have EVER met. I was the one who was sorta sloppy, and not that meticulous, and I fell the fuck in-love.
Was lucky. 'In-love' normally lasts a few months. It lasted a couple of decades with me, and yes, there come some crashes, breaches of trust, and so on... people become ill, and that is the test, and you are there for them. And you hold them, and be there for them. Peter never left me one day alone when I was ill and in hospital. He was always there for me. And I never left his side since his stroke. It is what you fucking do.
And those were the things that counted.
The rest is pretty petty, whatever anyone may think....
And yes, we can be petty when we do not get our way, or obstacles seem to be so great that we think we can't overcome them...
But we always did. Till now.
When you realise you can not do it any more.
And THAT is fucking devastiting.
So I fucking cried, ok?
Thirty-two damned years. Sometimes funny, so funny that it hurt to try to stop laughing, sometimes very hurtful, although I do not think it was intentional.
Thirty-two years is a long time. And no, will not leave him alone. Ever. He's my life-partner.
This morning I learned that a former colleague lost her son. He was very sick from birth on. His grandfather is still shaken.
And then Peter''s 'revelation'.
And all this sadness made me cry in public. Anyone want to sign me up to the Mayo Clinic? Yeah, right.... You just gotta get through all the crap.
Please go to Mark of the Beast and see what Terrible posted today
And click on the YouTube he put up.
And then YOU tell me.... Where the fuck is the harm being done?
As to his moniker on the Internets.... Terrible is NOT terrible, although I think he might wish to be....
And very straight.
And has a heart, which is more than I can say for a lot of people.
So what are you hanging around here for? Go read, and look! Jeez....
Jeebus H. Christ... I just had the weirdest dream....
And nope, it wasn't 'adult'....
It was about my great-nieces. And me telling them about their fambly, and where they came from, and mostly about their great-great grandparents, and what they taught me....
So that they would know about their family. My grandparents were very keen on that, knowing where you come from. Not all of them, just two. My paternal grandfather was very proud that his great grandfather came from.... well, Ireland, but he was English. But he fell in-love with an Irish woman in Cork, which is why he had to leave the island, and go to Murka in the first place. He was in direct line to take the title of Earl, which is the lowest branch on the totem pole, but what the hell, my grandfather used to swell with pride telling me that story.
His grandfather rode with the post taking monies up in the Northeast, and got shot by robbers.... but seemingly got away, and never let them get the booty. Gawd, was he proud of that. Unfortunately, the guy died.
Lesson? Never NEVER let anyone fuck you over.
My Grandfather retired just when my father was looking for someone who could be a mother to us, and decided as first project to read the Bible, front to back. It was a very old family Bible, with a lock on it.
He was so outraged over the Old Testament, he did a rant. 'That book of HORRORS!' And decided that no child should ever get to see anything in it, and kept it locked.
Now everyone knows that if you are a curious child, you are gonna wait for the opportunity to check it the fuck out. Ooooo..... )))))forBIDDEN((((. And of course, my inquiring little mind wanted to know. So of course I went looking when it was unlocked. He'd given me some tags to look for that had sent him off the charts for OUTRAGE. 'David and Jonathan' 'The Book of Ruth'. So I was right in there, with my eight year old mind....
And I couldn't figure it out, what was so 'wrong' or horrible about it. I thought the texts were beautiful.
(Bells ringing, anyone? You don't make choices, you just ARE.)
Whatever, my grandfather was very cool. And his thing was instilling a sense of family pride in his grandchildren. That you walk tall, and keep your fucking head up.
My maternal grandmother was also a stickler for 'where we come from'. She could go on for hours, with the pictures to prove it, so to speak. From southern France, via Canada, farming, and then down to NH to work in the mills. She was so religious.... oh well, wtf, she really botched it. My grandfather on that side.... loved him. He didn't give a fuck about heritage, or anything. And found me too serious. So he would come AT me and tickle me, and try to cheer me up and be a child, and yell, 'Hey, you old stick-in-the-mud!' He died of a heart attack way too early, and I loved him muchly.
I threw up at his wake. The beginning of a long disaffection for hypocrisy.
Whatever, I was dreaming. Who the hell is going to tell my great-nieces, huh? Wonderful stories, funny anecdotes, and so on. I really think it would be something good to pass on what you know, where you come from, and so on.
But am not the one to do it. In the dream, I did, just downed the drama for their age. And I have never dreamed about them before. Came out of the blue.
(Shakes himself off) Dreams are totally weird. And yeah, have read Freud.
Update Number TWO: I do not wish to have people get the wrong impression. It was just a fucking dream.... Butcha KNOW.... I do not think it is a BAD thing at all.. To have your folks tell you where the hell you came from, and make you a bit proud about it. A 'bit'. It doesn't matter, really, but it gives you a bit of sense of who you are, you know?
Am really freaking out here.
My family was my family... once upon a time.
Wanna rumble about that? Some assholes have.....
Update Number One: What the Fuck was I thinking about while dreaming? Never sleep on a full stomach. Absolutely weird.
Update number three: If you go OUT into the world, one of the first things people are going to ask you is 'where do you come from?' Guaranteed. And I am SICK and TIRED of people taking me for a Russian, due to my name. I am TIRED, I tell you, TIRED of telling people that it is English. And no relation to the assassinated guy in Russia who was the doctor to the Czar and his family.
So I have to go back to Webster's Dictionary. I stumbled upon my name. It was in the famous 'To Be, or not to be' monologue in Hamlet. I was in the fifth grade, and thought
Oh...
I didn't particularly like the term 'bare' in front of it, but what the hell, it was Shakespeare.
Ok, this is my fifth day with my adopted infant....
No, I do not have a name for it. I do not usually name objects. Lazarus was special, and he EARNED that name, dying all the time, then coming back to life. But the new kid is fast. After a month of Lazarus trudging through the Internets at the not-so-breathtaking speed of 2 kmh, faster than a pony, but not exactly what DSL is supposed to be like, the new kid is a breath of fresh air. Although... suddenly going at 250 kmh on the Internet Autobahnen can be a bit bewildering. (smile). Of course it is taking a while to get all the programms installed that I want, but that is how it is.
But since the 'kid' is new, it should have a name, in case I have to yell at it, and tell it what to do. It is a cross between Fujitsu and Siemens. So for the time being, it is Baby Fu... till it reaveals its' real personality....
Maybe it will become 'Kong Fu', who knows?
We shall see.
Last evening, it let me catch up on all the last Steven Colbert episodes. The Feb 4 episode had me holding my sides with laughter. That man is nothing short of brilliant. And I love John Stewart also, but he can grate on my nerves. Colbert often makes me do a jaw-dropper.
Larry King had the usual suspects on his show yesterday. The Depression that no one wants to call a Depression, and Barack seems to have grown a pair, and isn't up to playing games. Good on him. Caylee Anthony finally seems to have gotten buried. OK. Suze Ormond was being her usual concern troll self, and her voice still grates on my nerves like a fingernail on a chalkboard, and the tapes of flight 1549 which landed in the Hudson were released.
Actually, I was glad I had something other to do and made lunch in the kitchen while listening to the blathering idjits.
Oh well, now off into the void.... have a good day, everyone.
Ok, is it just ME, or is something wrong with these people?
Am curious. Wanna know... And that GUY in the picture, and his left hand?
Let me tell ya. If I would have done that in high school, I would be DEAD now....
Not a joke.
But the Rethug arseholes get away with EVERYTHING!
How fucking nice....
Gay people have something they call 'gaydar', It is something intuitive. You can't smell it, see it, feel it.... butcha just 'know'...
The worst ones just deny. And hurt a lot of people, seemingly..
And they are always the ones who do the most damage.
Fucking cowards.....
Oh boy, it is worse than I could have imagined....
What the hell do parents think when they send their children off into the blue.... Makes me sick.
This YouTube interview is sickening.
I was gonna do a post about this, but got the flu...
And then Pam just dug out all the crap, and it was even worse than seeing that sumenabitch on tee-vee with his 'wife' playing the perfect family, and giving us one full hour of bull-shit on Larry King. And I do NOT feel, and did not feel sorry for that woman for one second. Women KNOW...
And every time I see that sickening mouth of his smiling at the most inappropriate moments, I want to smash a fist into that hypocritical mouf.... Asshole.
Ted Haggard should go to the bottom of the shit pile and never get a voice on national tee-vee ever again. I do not understand the fascination with that hypocrite.
And today we had 'That Serb' on Larry King, Zdravko Blagojevich.... whining. (Oh yes, they call him 'Rod', but it isn't his given name.) So innocent, hey. He has that hair sweep so that you can't see what a neanderthal hair-line he really has. And then an editor from the Chicago Trib, actually says, 'That was par for the course in Illinois politics, but he got caught.' Uh-huh....
I could just throw up. And ask myself, why do I even WATCH this shit?
This post just blew me away, and I stole it....
From Joe.My.God
It is from the last century, about AIDS, and boy howdy, did I ever go through that.... And yes, I know it was a long time ago. But these words and intentions don't just apply to that time. They can apply to everyone. If you have been close to anyone, and really loved them, and they begin to decline, and you can't stop it happening... these are ten things you should take to heart.
It made me cry, and at the moment I cannot stop. Damned internets....
I Will Hold You Ten Times
As longtime readers may know, there are four or five JMG entries that I repost every year. This is one of them. My dear friend Daniel Johnson, who threw the most kickass Groundhog's Day birthday parties for himself, would have been 52 years old today. His was a life that burned brightly and I am illuminated still. Daniel Johnson, 1957-1997.
I Will Hold You Ten Times
1. I will hold you, Daniel
2. The lesions don't bother me. I will hold you.
3. I will pretend nothing is wrong when you want me to pretend and when you want me to hold you, I will hold you.
4. I will make plans with you to go to your favorite places that we both know you can no longer go and I will sit with you and look at your pictures of these places and I will hold you.
5. I will ride with you on the train to your doctor's office and when you get sick in the station, I will hold you.
6. I will see the Post-It notes you put all over the house reminding yourself to do everyday things like "Turn off stove" and "Lock front door", and I'll pretend the disease isn't robbing your mind and when you tell me something for the third time in ten minutes, I won't let you know, I will hold you.
7. I will go to Safeway with you because you need to get out into the world, and when the diarrhea overwhelms you and you shit your pants in the middle of the store, I will call us a cab and in the cab, I will hold you.
8. I will make you mix-tapes of our favorite songs from last summer, just like you asked me to, and when the memories make you sad instead of happy and you throw the tapes in the trash, I won't get angry, I will hold you.
9. I will sit up all night with you because the fevers and night sweats won't let you sleep. In the morning, I'll change your drenched sheets and help your out of the shower and when you weep from the sight of your withered body in the mirror on the bathroom door, I will hold you.
10. I will hold you, Daniel.
(Originally from a journal I was keeping in the 90's. Special thanks to my SF pal Robert for reminding me of today's date.)
Labels: AIDS, friendship, memoriam
Good news, bad news... whatcha gonna do?
I got such a kick out of this graffito. Original title in the ballooon... 'I know what you did last summer...' I found it fun, but I'd call it 'I know what you were doing last month, while I was freezing my arse off, and Lazarus could take up to an hour to load a page let alone allow me to post much of anything....' Oh yes, give me a Uzi!!!!! Please please pretty please! Or a tire iron to threaten the people at the Computer Klinik, or a wood-chipper, anything to make it stop!!!!
But we needn't get into that any more, thank goodness.
So, the good news. Our heating system finally got changed, and was converted from gas to oil. Which means my bill goes from €92,00 per month to €30.00 Now THAT is very good news indeed. And Fuck Putin and the UKIES.....
The bad news? The infant died in the clinic. Only six weeks old, hey. Poor baby. After a month in intensive care. An organ short circuited and they couldn't fix it. So I got offered a new notebook. For €400.00. A Fujitsu. Without a Betriebssystem. So I was supposed to install Windows 98 on it, or whaaa? And did I want Windows XP Pro on it, or Vista, it would cost €100.00 more. Uh. HUH. After they massacred my infant, and can probably harvest it for organ parts? I suddenly recalled my roots, and got my granite face on, and my dangerous eyeball look that says, 'Wha, you tryin' to fuck me over, here, Or What???? ' (I rarely have occasion to do that, but haven't forgotten how.) Whereupon he offered to install Windows XP for me free of charge. It hurt muchly in the financial pocket, but it was pretty stupid of me to place the infant near a top-heavy lamp in the first place. So much for that....
So I got an adopted child.... new, and all. He is space-challenged, only 35 gigas free as opposed to my infant who had 120 and should have been in the Mensa category. And he is a foreigner, but that doesn't matter to me, actually. He just needs coddling, is all.
He crawls so fast through the internets, it takes my breath away, and can hardly keep up....
And being a ferner, he has an odd keyboard, that I have to get used to yet again.
It is a good thing to know a couple of languages.... just sayin'
So.... Good news, bad news... yin and yang.... what the hell... life.
And oh yes.... my neighbor W. He is going to go ape-shit on me when he finds out. He went into foreign legionnaire rage when I told him about the clinic. And demanded I take the infant home and he would resucitate him. Uh-huh. PC's in a coma are like people.... they do not usually wake up again. And die in fits of cramps. Unlike Lazarus. He'll be offended, and offensive, am sure.... But he has a sort of protective attitude toward me. Although I am everything he says he doesn't like...
Am not sure if that is good or bad news.....
It's a conundrum....
So let's see.... the infant died in the year of the rat, a very bad sign. My adoption is born in the year of the ox, which is my sign, and should bring good things.
I guess it is all in how you perceive it...
Well well well.... Ratzi probably IS the Antichrist....
The LAST time a pope orderded or ordained a bishop to a city in Austria, it was in St. Pölten, and the guy was so out of line that the congregation who hated him already they laid down on the entrance to the cathedral, and he had to walk over them to get it.And he did. He had to retire in disgrace, after some scandals involving the misuse of minors. But was so much 'fun', the media had him on the news all the time, and hung on his every word, and broadcast his opinions.
But that was under the last Pope.... Why were there no demos, then?
Ah ja.... The last bishop was just a pedophilic cover-up man who looked liked he belonged in a pig sty. Didn't matter.
He got coddled through it, and I have inner glee that he ended his life with a lot of women tending to him.... washing him, feeding him... it must have been his inner vision of hell. Good on him!
But then... there was THIS today....
It is interesting that the person in question belongs to the order of Pope Pius, you know, the one who betrayed the Jews in WWII... The one with the Harry Potter glasses. And there is an exhibition in Berlin about him who want to put him into a good light so they can create another saint, but the FACT is, he knew, had no balls, and let everyone die to save his nest egg.
And isn't it 'odd', that they put someone like that in Austria once again.
Maybe Michaelangelo Signorile got it right. (I thought it was hysterics when I first read it...
But I loved the drama of it..... Too bad my life took another turn...)
So.....
Things will go as they go.... People will believe what they believe.... but it would be NICE to know for once that they do not hurt OTHERS in what they believe spiritually. After all the horrible things that were seen these past weeks.....
I get left speechless.
I do not believe in any 'Ju-Ju in the Sky', or anything, really. I kind of pity people who do. But it it is about controlling you, doing whatever somene thinks up for the good of a community, and if you aren't with the programme, you aren't 'one of them'....
Most times, it is fine to be with the community. But it can be also good if you think for yourself.
I haven't had an easy day.... so good night...
Update: I'm serposed to go stand in the coldest corner of my room at 11 degrees C and stand there nekkid till my balls climb up into my abdomen, and never come out of it till I say I am sorry for the original typo in the title. No, she didn't say that, but that is what would have come of her anger, have no doubt.... And no, it wasn't a typo. Annti has become hard-wired to the hard drive in my head, that it just came out of my fingertips. And yes, Annti is love. The other is bad. (slaps his double-crossing hands...) Can I come out of the corner now?
