Hell Froze Over

Falwell speaks out for “basic” gay rights:

Falwell, who in the immediate aftermath of Sept. 11, 2001, blamed the terrorist attacks on “the pagans, the abortionists, and the feminists and the gays and lesbians,” and who describes himself as “very conservative,” told Carlson that if he were a lawyer, he too would argue for civil rights for gays.

“I may not agree with the lifestyle,” Falwell said. “But that has nothing to do with the civil rights of that… part of our constituency…

“Civil rights for all Americans, black, white, red, yellow, the rich, poor, young, old, gay, straight, et cetera, is not a liberal or conservative value,” Falwell went on to say. “It’s an American value that I would think that we pretty much all agree on.”

Joe Solmonese, president of the Human Rights Campaign, said his group welcomed the apparent softening of Falwell’s position on at least some gay rights. “Like most Americans, it seems Rev. Falwell has reached the conclusion that everyone deserves basic rights,” said Solmonese. “I hope he also supports legislation that would deliver on these values.”

via Lynn

Posted in GLBTQ, Politics | Tagged , , | 7 Comments

Laughing Gas

I have a rather low-grade sense of humor. I laugh at the most tasteless, immature stuff without too much shame. I have a habit of making rude comments at truly inappropriate times. One of the most common statements that newbies and strangers make in my presence is, “I can’t tell whether or not you’re kidding.” Neither can I. Second most common statement: “Man, you’re fucking weird.”

One of the silliest quirks I have, and there are plenty, is the ability to go from laughing to crying in a matter of moments, usually if the laughing and/or crying sounds and feels too much like the other. If you’ve ever been under severe stress you might know what I’m talking about. Additionally, if something just happens to hit the funny bone, especially if no one else knows what the hell I’m laughing about, I absolutely cannot stop. The embarassment makes it that much worse, giggling, turning red, eyes watering, trying to wave onlookers away from my insanity.

I thought about crying yesterday when the gas light lit up in the Jeep. I have barely driven anywhere in the last two weeks unless absolutely necessary, in part to save some money and in part to save some gas. I decided to park the car for the rest of the evening. But when evening rolled around, Ethan complaining about the lack of air conditioning because of Mama’s obsessive energy-saving, I decided we should run out to the gas station and get some gas and a slushie to avail his irritation.

I drove to the gas station a few blocks away but it was full, spilling a long line into the four-lane highway. Because I knew I was running on fumes, we decided to hit up another gas station a mile or two up the road. Regular unleaded was just above three dollars, which wasn’t too much of a difference than before the hurricane crisis, so I filled up the tank full well knowing I’d be paying more but not paying too much attention to the price.

I went inside and got a couple of large slushies and went up to the cashier to pay. “Pump eight and these,” I said, clunking the drinks onto the counter.

“That’ll be $59.88,” he said.

I tittered. “Are you kidding?”

The kid behind the counter, with the band shirt and lip ring trying way to hard at punk rock, smiled right along with me. “Nope.”

I slid him the gas card as another laugh-yelp slipped out of me. And then another. The man in line behind me chortled nervously. I covered my eyes in embarassment knowing what was about to happen. My shoulders were shaking, eyes watering, and I was desperately, unsuccessfully, holding back my laughter.

The cashier looked at me with a gaze that crossed amusement with a sniggering nervousness. “Most people that come in here get pissed off.”

“Fuck it. Not even worth it,” I snorted.

I grabbed the drinks and walked back to the car, still cracking up, wiping the tears running down my face with the back of my hand as fellow gas-buyers curiously gazed my way. I got into the car and had to blow my nose.

Moooo-om,” Ethan said, “why are you crying?”

“Here, I got you a slushie.”

Posted in Politics, Vanity | Tagged | 11 Comments

Cat Question

The boyfriend requests some assistance: You have two cats in a 600 sq. ft. apartment. They poop a lot. What kinds of food and litter would you use to reduce the smell of excretia?

Posted in General | Tagged | 26 Comments

Finding, Looting, Theft or Heroism?

Thousands of refugees of Hurricane Katrina were transported to the Astrodome in Houston this week. In an extreme act of looting, one group actually stole a bus to escape ravaged areas in Louisiana. About 100 people packed into the stolen bus. They were the first to enter the Houston Astrodome, but they weren’t exactly welcomed. The big yellow school bus wasn’t expected or approved to pass through the stadium’s gates. Randy Nathan, who was on the bus, said they were desperate to get out of town.

“If it werent for him right there,” he said, “we’d still be in New Orleans underwater. He got the bus for us.”

Eighteen-year-old Jabbor Gibson jumped aboard the bus as it sat abandoned on a street in New Orleans and took control. “I just took the bus and drove all the way here…seven hours straight,’ Gibson admitted. “I hadn’t ever drove a bus.” The teen packed it full of complete strangers and drove to Houston. He beat thousands of evacuees slated to arrive there.

“I t’s better than being in New Orleans,” said fellow passenger Albert McClaud, “we want to be somewhere where we’re safe.”

…Authorities eventually allowed the renegade passengers inside the dome. But the 18-year-old who ensured their safety could find himself in a world of trouble for stealing the school bus.

“I dont care if I get blamed for it ,” Gibson said, “as long as I saved my people.”

Sixty legally chartered buses were expected to arrive in Houston throughout the night. Thousands of people will be calling the Astrodome “home,” at least for now.

One woman’s thief is another woman’s savior. I’m going with “finding” and “heroism” on this round, Alex.

Via Mac, more at the News Blog.

In other news, Bush reports his umbrella is working “just fine.”

Posted in Politics | Tagged , | 8 Comments

Imagine It With Me

What would it look like if Halliburton was in charge of the NOLA clean-up project?

UPDATE: Oh my god, I was kidding.

Posted in Business, Politics | Tagged | 11 Comments

Hard Donation Items

I have some old toys of Ethan’s sitting around that I was planning on selling this weekend, in addition to clothes that probably can’t be sold to a consignment store. I emailed the Houston Bar Association, one organization that is accepting hard items for the new American diaspora, with offers to send kids clothing and toys. This is the shipping address they gave me.

Houston Bar Association Office
1001 Fannin
Suite 1300
Houston, TX 77002

I’m going to have Ethan join me tonight in arranging the packages and use this as a particularly teachable moment.

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Real Evil, In Case You Missed It

Sure, they need charity, but we don’t want them to have your charity, sinners.”

If this is America, America is pathologically insane.

See also the burning desire of Laura Bush.

Posted in Feminism | Tagged , , | 16 Comments

More Footage

More footage for those of you, like me, who don’t have access to 24/7 news coverage.

Posted in Recommended | Tagged | 1 Comment

Culture of Life: Katrina

Why am I so angry? Obsessed? Read this post:

They would move heaven and earth to save the life of one White Woman in Florida to combat the very idea of euthanasia (which technically it was not). A woman that a decade earlier had lost her ability to so much as ask for help, much less have coherent thoughts about the quality of her own life.

And they would sit on their ass and watch as tens of thousands of poor men, women, children, babies, and elderly bake in the New Orleans heat surrounded by water, sewage, gasoline and an abandoned city, now devoid of anyone with the means to have escaped ahead of the storm.

This is the culture of life. The culture of life wants to save brain dead white women and unborn children. The culture of life wants you to watch endless non-news about the disappearance of one white teenager in Aruba. The culture of life wants you to support your nation as it kills tens of thousands of Iraqi civilians in its Quixotic quest against a non-threat. The culture of life wants a zero-tolerance for looters policy to sound authoritative as babies die of dehydration. The culture of life expects you to take care of yourself, and if you can’t, then it is your own fault for getting into that situation in the first place. Fuck off. You had your shot. Station in life, where you hang your hat, and whether you have the $40 at the end of the month to pay for the overpriced gasoline to get out of that home in time is all up to you.

…But none seem to support American Culture. New Orleans, as much as any city, represents distinctly American Culture. A melting-pot of language, music and revelry unlike any other. But it is desperately poor. Over 50% of the children in the state live below the poverty level. But no matter. Mostly black folk down there. They shouldn’t have lived there in the first place. They should have gotten out while they had the chance. It’s their own fault.

Michael Chertoff was interviewed on NPR this afternoon. He was asked if he had heard of thousands of people at the Convention Center in New Orleans, without water or food or sanitation. Elderly dying. Little girls being raped. Mr. Chertoff was eloquent in his cluelessness. Completely unaware of what had been on the television all day long on both MSNBC and CNN. Unaware that he, at the top of the agency charged with bringing relief to the affected areas, had not been informed of something every American with a remote already knew. That the situation there was desperate. That people needed help. And that noone seemed to be providing it. The man in charge was not in charge at all, folks. It took the Bush Administration 4 years since 9/11… 4 years of chasing ghosts and old demons in Iraq to not do a fucking thing about stateside preparedness. To gut the national guard’s responsiveness by sending so many of them overseas. To cut funding for the levee system that allowed Lake Ponchartrain to roll into the city. To put someone in charge of Homeland Security and FEMA that is eloquent, but so impossibly incompetent that he is incapable of establishing a staff capable of letting him know the worst of a situation so large.

Mr. Chertoff said, that he had not heard of such things. That you couldn’t believe every rumor from the streets of the area. That he wasn’t in a position to argue about what the NPR Reporters had witnessed.

Get the people to our staging areas, he stated, and they can get water there.

Donate and bully your family and friends to give some money too.

via Jim

Posted in Politics | Tagged , | 16 Comments

FRT – A Reluctant Edition

I don’t even want to do this this week but something remotely fun-esque is in order. Elsewhere, Norbizness proves that the South is home to some of our finest music with his Friday Non-Random Music List: Pelican State Edition
Continue reading

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Let Them Eat Cake?

Seeing the faces of children that remind me so much of my own, I bit the bullet tonight and made a small donation. It wasn’t much but it is something.

A bit of hope-making fun: you can go to this site and hit refresh and watch the numbers increase by tens and hundreds of dollars in a matter of seconds.

Put your money where your mouth is and please spread the word.

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Trying to Be Strong

I saw the first moving footage of the aftermath tonight. I had imagined a horrible image of what it must look like.

The reality is worse.

I am so goddamned infuriated at our government, among the richest countries in the world, being unable, unwilling, or fearful to help our own refugees in a timely and responsible manner.

Look at these children.

“The first bus that arrived at the Astrodome was primarily made up of child travelers. Children taking care of children. This girl looked like she was trying to have the strength of an adult, but she’s not an adult. Her eyes tell the story.”

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