They're taking down the lights and cardboard snowflakes
They're boxing up the angels and the stars
They're stripping the trees naked and dumping them on curbs
Like drunks falling asleep outside of bars
You say this year things are gonna be different
You know they're probably gonna be the same
You think of somebody you love but cannot have
And once again your heart is filled with shame
You remember those cold nights of years gone by
Braving through the fury and the storm
On your way to make love to someone special
Your body heat the only thing keeping you warm
It's been three years ago this winter
You haven't been with anyone since then
One fine day she called you up and broke your heart
But you'd do anything to have her back again
Outside your window snow is piling up
You look outside and see it falling fast
You tell yourself you won't waste another year
You tell yourself this one will be the last
You tell yourself tomorrow will be different
As you walk to the fridge and get another beer
Someday everything is gonna be just perfect
Maybe next week
Maybe next year
Wednesday, January 11, 2017
Friday, December 30, 2016
2016: The Year in Review
It was the worst of times, it was...well, there's really no other way to end that sentence.
History will remember 2016 as one of the most embarassing years in recent memory. It began with a bunch of armed lunatics holding up a bird sanctuary in Oregon in order to protest...something (Obama?) and ended with the most horrifying two words in the English language: "President-Elect Trump". A gorilla was shot by the staff of the Cincinnati Zoo and everybody on your Facebook feed turned into a fucking expert on both parenting and animal behavior. Everywhere we went, society crumbled all around us, but we were too busy with our noses in our phones playing Pokemon Go to notice. The "Bernie or Bust" and pro-Hillary crowd were too busy fighting with each other instead of coming together to unite against the real threat, which is why we now have a presidential cabinet that resembles a rogue's gallery of supervillains that would put the Suicide Squad to shame. In retrospect, it's probably a good thing that the revival of The X-Files fizzled out when it did. After all, what government conspiracies could Mulder and Scully uncover that would be more sinister than anything that President-Elect Dumkopf has in mind? When it comes to pure horror, an orange-hued narcissist in the Oval Office trumps any monster that Chris Carter and his writing staff could come up with. (Pun definitely intended in this case.)
Death was a selfish bastard, too. While we lost several wonderful celebrities this year --David Bowie, Prince, Leonard Cohen, Alan Rickman, Carrie Fisher, Debbie Reynolds, Muhhamed Ali, John Glenn, Garry Shandling, George Michael, and Arnold Palmer, among many others-- the ones that hit the hardest were the people that we knew personally. Seems like everybody I know suffered a personal loss this year. At least two broke my heart. I lost a close friend and co-worker earlier this March, and my workplace feels like an entirely different place, almost like a ghost town. I like everyone else well enough (one of my best friends even works there now), but it just isn't quite the same. A friend of mine also recently lost her little sister, who was the best friend of my niece, and it affected my family greatly too. It was a harsh reminder of how precious and fleeting life is, and to always appreciate the ones you love. Death does not always announce itself. Sometimes it just shows up uninvited when you least expect it.
My heart continued to play tricks on me and tried steering me toward disaster yet again. I won't go into full detail, but I will say that I suffered a severe emotional conflict (and near-breakdown) this past year brought on by a bad romantic situation that could easily have been avoided if I had not given in to feelings that I knew were a mistake. Sometimes your heart say yes while your brain is saying no. Listen to your brain. It knows what's good for you. "Your heart wants what it wants" goes the saying. Maybe that true, but sometimes your heart can't always get what it wants. And in many cases, it shouldn't.
This was the year that the Dover Players closed their doors at the Old Town Hall in North Olmsted. Whether we'll continue in a new location remains to be seen, but we seem to be on hiatus for now. It was a bittersweet farewell to a wonderful group of friends and creative individuals, all of whom made the past near-decade of my life fun and memorable. I don't exaggerate when I say that some of closest friendships and happiest memories were made within that group. I will still continue to act and perform in some capacity and will still see my friends from there on a semi-regular basis. To quote the Decemberists, "I was made for the stage". You can't keep a performer down.
2016 did have some good things going for it. The Cavs won the NBA playoffs and brough a championship to this city for the first time in 52 years. My parents celebrated their 50th anniversary with a fun family camping trip at Lake Hope in southern Ohio. One of my best friends now works alongside me at Half Price Books and she seems to be loving it. (A sweet romance has also blossomed between her another co-worker.) All in all, there have been a few roses growing up through the manure patch that was this past year. Success and happiness still elude me (and Miss Right is nowhere to be found for the time being), but I remain optimistic. I'm working on steadily improving myself and taking more risks. I recently played guitar and sang at an open-mic night and had a great time. I'm making Er-Bear great again. I look forward to seeing what 2017 has in store and if we survive past January 20th, I think we'll be all right.
History will remember 2016 as one of the most embarassing years in recent memory. It began with a bunch of armed lunatics holding up a bird sanctuary in Oregon in order to protest...something (Obama?) and ended with the most horrifying two words in the English language: "President-Elect Trump". A gorilla was shot by the staff of the Cincinnati Zoo and everybody on your Facebook feed turned into a fucking expert on both parenting and animal behavior. Everywhere we went, society crumbled all around us, but we were too busy with our noses in our phones playing Pokemon Go to notice. The "Bernie or Bust" and pro-Hillary crowd were too busy fighting with each other instead of coming together to unite against the real threat, which is why we now have a presidential cabinet that resembles a rogue's gallery of supervillains that would put the Suicide Squad to shame. In retrospect, it's probably a good thing that the revival of The X-Files fizzled out when it did. After all, what government conspiracies could Mulder and Scully uncover that would be more sinister than anything that President-Elect Dumkopf has in mind? When it comes to pure horror, an orange-hued narcissist in the Oval Office trumps any monster that Chris Carter and his writing staff could come up with. (Pun definitely intended in this case.)
Death was a selfish bastard, too. While we lost several wonderful celebrities this year --David Bowie, Prince, Leonard Cohen, Alan Rickman, Carrie Fisher, Debbie Reynolds, Muhhamed Ali, John Glenn, Garry Shandling, George Michael, and Arnold Palmer, among many others-- the ones that hit the hardest were the people that we knew personally. Seems like everybody I know suffered a personal loss this year. At least two broke my heart. I lost a close friend and co-worker earlier this March, and my workplace feels like an entirely different place, almost like a ghost town. I like everyone else well enough (one of my best friends even works there now), but it just isn't quite the same. A friend of mine also recently lost her little sister, who was the best friend of my niece, and it affected my family greatly too. It was a harsh reminder of how precious and fleeting life is, and to always appreciate the ones you love. Death does not always announce itself. Sometimes it just shows up uninvited when you least expect it.
My heart continued to play tricks on me and tried steering me toward disaster yet again. I won't go into full detail, but I will say that I suffered a severe emotional conflict (and near-breakdown) this past year brought on by a bad romantic situation that could easily have been avoided if I had not given in to feelings that I knew were a mistake. Sometimes your heart say yes while your brain is saying no. Listen to your brain. It knows what's good for you. "Your heart wants what it wants" goes the saying. Maybe that true, but sometimes your heart can't always get what it wants. And in many cases, it shouldn't.
This was the year that the Dover Players closed their doors at the Old Town Hall in North Olmsted. Whether we'll continue in a new location remains to be seen, but we seem to be on hiatus for now. It was a bittersweet farewell to a wonderful group of friends and creative individuals, all of whom made the past near-decade of my life fun and memorable. I don't exaggerate when I say that some of closest friendships and happiest memories were made within that group. I will still continue to act and perform in some capacity and will still see my friends from there on a semi-regular basis. To quote the Decemberists, "I was made for the stage". You can't keep a performer down.
2016 did have some good things going for it. The Cavs won the NBA playoffs and brough a championship to this city for the first time in 52 years. My parents celebrated their 50th anniversary with a fun family camping trip at Lake Hope in southern Ohio. One of my best friends now works alongside me at Half Price Books and she seems to be loving it. (A sweet romance has also blossomed between her another co-worker.) All in all, there have been a few roses growing up through the manure patch that was this past year. Success and happiness still elude me (and Miss Right is nowhere to be found for the time being), but I remain optimistic. I'm working on steadily improving myself and taking more risks. I recently played guitar and sang at an open-mic night and had a great time. I'm making Er-Bear great again. I look forward to seeing what 2017 has in store and if we survive past January 20th, I think we'll be all right.
Monday, November 21, 2016
Bully-In-Chief
They called me retard.
They called me fat boy.
They called me faggot.
They broke my school supplies, tripped me in the hallways, pinned me down and farted on me, gave me headlocks and Indian burns. They made fun of me for my weight, my shyness, my lack of interest in sports or anything they cared about. They found out my phone number and tortured me with prank phone calls. They goaded me into fights, knowing that I was weaker than they were and would easily kick my ass. They sent me home in tears, making me feel like something less than human. I hated them and often fantasized about killing them. After I got off the bus, I would get the BB gun that I had gotten for Christmas a few years before and shoot at plastic two-liter pop bottles in my backyard, pretending they were my classmates. To this day, I am grateful that I did not have access to real firearms.
I carried that anger and humilation with me for years, plotting revenge fantasies that I knew probably weren't ever going to happen. It's no exaggeration to say that being bullied as a kid has shaped me into who I am as an adult. I still suffer from severe depression and anxiety issues. I am frequently concerned about what others think of me and am always nervous about being confronted. My sense of humor and happy exterior are sometimes the armor that I need to wear for when the pain becomes too great. Behind this goofy, sarcastic front lies a heart that's breakable and nerves that fray far too easily. Though I'm relatively happy these days, there are times when I'm on the verge of tears and it's all I can do to keep from breaking down. Medication helps, as does support from family and friends, as well as exercise and keeping busy. Anything to take my mind away from the darkness that I've carried with me since I was a boy, when one of my classmates randomly beat the shit out of me on the playground for no apparent reason. I was hurt and angry, but mostly, I was confused. Why had he singled me out for abuse? I had done nothing to hurt him. I continued to be a target of his abuse for years afterward, to the extent that I had to switch schools. I later learned that he lived a life of poverty and came from a broken home, but at that point, I didn't care anymore. Fuck him. He didn't have any right to take it out on me, no matter how bad his upbringing was. He later went to prison for burglary, and I didn't have one lick of sympathy for him. I hoped he was getting his ass kicked every single day by hardened criminals, the way that he had done to me years before. It served him right.
I was reminded of that bully and all of the other ones who harrassed me as a child this past year, when I saw Donald Trump campaigning to be President. In Trump, I saw all of the traits of those assholes all over again: mean-spiritedness, narcissism, arrogance, pettiness, and a lack of empathy toward anybody that they viewed to be inferior. I was reminded of them when he mocked a reporter with a physical disablility. I was reminded of them when he bragged that he could shoot anyone on the streets of New York City and not get arrested. I was reminded of them when he talked about grabbing women by their "pussies" and all of the other disgusting misogynistic comments that spew out of his landfill mouth. I'm reminded of them when I hear horror stories of his supporters spraying anti-Semitic graffiti in public parks or stealing hijabs from the heads of Muslim women. I think of them when I hear stories of him appointing Steve Bannon, an admitted White Nationalist, into a position of power in the White House.
Trump's America is a place for bullies. His election is a triumph for every racist, bigoted, xenophobic, homophobic, Islamophobic, anti-Semitic, misogynistic, ableist cretin who feels that they have the right to feel superior to any other human being on the planet. It empowers every lowlife who carries prejudice and hatred for others in his heart and makes them feel better to make someone else feels worse. And like all bullies, Trump is a thin-skinned coward at heart. This is a man who has the nerve to offend everyone in his path, but can't handle a little ribbing from Saturday Night Live or a heartfelt message of optimism from the cast of Hamilton. Anyone who can't handle criticism is not qualified for the office of the Presidency. How is he going to handle threats from ISIS if being spoofed by Alec Baldwin throws him into a rage?
Nevertheless, I haven't given up hope that maybe Trump will change for the better. People can change. Earlier this year, I received a message on Facebook from one of my former bullies. He was very apologetic for what he had done, and seemed genuinely remorseful for the way he had treated me over twenty years ago. I did something I thought I would never do: I forgave him. I did so because I was tired of letting anger and resentment consume me. What he and his friends did was not OK and it did shape my life in negative ways, but I was tired of hating him and planning unlikely revenges. It was obviously difficult for him to reach out to me, knowing the shame and guilt he carried inside. And plus, his father had recently passed away, so I wasn't going to add a "fuck you" on top of that as well. We'll probably never be friends, but at least we're no longer enemies.
Who knows? Maybe Trump will learn the error of his ways and change his tune, making America safe for the poor and the downtrodden, and every persecuted minority in the nation will no longer have to feel angry or afraid. Sure, the guy is seventy years old, but it's never too late to change. Maybe when he's in his nineties, he's finally have his act together.
They called me fat boy.
They called me faggot.
They broke my school supplies, tripped me in the hallways, pinned me down and farted on me, gave me headlocks and Indian burns. They made fun of me for my weight, my shyness, my lack of interest in sports or anything they cared about. They found out my phone number and tortured me with prank phone calls. They goaded me into fights, knowing that I was weaker than they were and would easily kick my ass. They sent me home in tears, making me feel like something less than human. I hated them and often fantasized about killing them. After I got off the bus, I would get the BB gun that I had gotten for Christmas a few years before and shoot at plastic two-liter pop bottles in my backyard, pretending they were my classmates. To this day, I am grateful that I did not have access to real firearms.
I carried that anger and humilation with me for years, plotting revenge fantasies that I knew probably weren't ever going to happen. It's no exaggeration to say that being bullied as a kid has shaped me into who I am as an adult. I still suffer from severe depression and anxiety issues. I am frequently concerned about what others think of me and am always nervous about being confronted. My sense of humor and happy exterior are sometimes the armor that I need to wear for when the pain becomes too great. Behind this goofy, sarcastic front lies a heart that's breakable and nerves that fray far too easily. Though I'm relatively happy these days, there are times when I'm on the verge of tears and it's all I can do to keep from breaking down. Medication helps, as does support from family and friends, as well as exercise and keeping busy. Anything to take my mind away from the darkness that I've carried with me since I was a boy, when one of my classmates randomly beat the shit out of me on the playground for no apparent reason. I was hurt and angry, but mostly, I was confused. Why had he singled me out for abuse? I had done nothing to hurt him. I continued to be a target of his abuse for years afterward, to the extent that I had to switch schools. I later learned that he lived a life of poverty and came from a broken home, but at that point, I didn't care anymore. Fuck him. He didn't have any right to take it out on me, no matter how bad his upbringing was. He later went to prison for burglary, and I didn't have one lick of sympathy for him. I hoped he was getting his ass kicked every single day by hardened criminals, the way that he had done to me years before. It served him right.
I was reminded of that bully and all of the other ones who harrassed me as a child this past year, when I saw Donald Trump campaigning to be President. In Trump, I saw all of the traits of those assholes all over again: mean-spiritedness, narcissism, arrogance, pettiness, and a lack of empathy toward anybody that they viewed to be inferior. I was reminded of them when he mocked a reporter with a physical disablility. I was reminded of them when he bragged that he could shoot anyone on the streets of New York City and not get arrested. I was reminded of them when he talked about grabbing women by their "pussies" and all of the other disgusting misogynistic comments that spew out of his landfill mouth. I'm reminded of them when I hear horror stories of his supporters spraying anti-Semitic graffiti in public parks or stealing hijabs from the heads of Muslim women. I think of them when I hear stories of him appointing Steve Bannon, an admitted White Nationalist, into a position of power in the White House.
Trump's America is a place for bullies. His election is a triumph for every racist, bigoted, xenophobic, homophobic, Islamophobic, anti-Semitic, misogynistic, ableist cretin who feels that they have the right to feel superior to any other human being on the planet. It empowers every lowlife who carries prejudice and hatred for others in his heart and makes them feel better to make someone else feels worse. And like all bullies, Trump is a thin-skinned coward at heart. This is a man who has the nerve to offend everyone in his path, but can't handle a little ribbing from Saturday Night Live or a heartfelt message of optimism from the cast of Hamilton. Anyone who can't handle criticism is not qualified for the office of the Presidency. How is he going to handle threats from ISIS if being spoofed by Alec Baldwin throws him into a rage?
Nevertheless, I haven't given up hope that maybe Trump will change for the better. People can change. Earlier this year, I received a message on Facebook from one of my former bullies. He was very apologetic for what he had done, and seemed genuinely remorseful for the way he had treated me over twenty years ago. I did something I thought I would never do: I forgave him. I did so because I was tired of letting anger and resentment consume me. What he and his friends did was not OK and it did shape my life in negative ways, but I was tired of hating him and planning unlikely revenges. It was obviously difficult for him to reach out to me, knowing the shame and guilt he carried inside. And plus, his father had recently passed away, so I wasn't going to add a "fuck you" on top of that as well. We'll probably never be friends, but at least we're no longer enemies.
Who knows? Maybe Trump will learn the error of his ways and change his tune, making America safe for the poor and the downtrodden, and every persecuted minority in the nation will no longer have to feel angry or afraid. Sure, the guy is seventy years old, but it's never too late to change. Maybe when he's in his nineties, he's finally have his act together.
Wednesday, November 16, 2016
Listening to the Aliens
It has now been exactly one week since we received the news of President-Elect Baby Hands' win and I'm not feeling any better than I did before. The election of our tax-dodging, pussy-grabbing, Klan-approved sex offender of a new world leader coupled with the death of one of my heroes, the wonderful Leonard Cohen, has made this past week a pretty difficult one. For someone who suffers from severe depression and anxiety disorder, every day can be a struggle, and these next four years will be even more of an uphill battle. Not even Kate McKinnon's stirring performance of "Hallelujah" on last weekend's SNL can kill these blues. But I'm trying to remain positive and as long as my heart still beats, I'm not going to give up hope that we can fight to make things better.
Everybody has a moment when they hit rock bottom. Waking up in a strange place is a good indication that you have a drinking problem and those chest pains you're feeling might be telling you that it's a good idea to lose some weight. Perhaps that's what's going on with the country right now. We've reached our moment of clarity. Maybe the election of a sleazy fascist billionaire is the kick in the ass that we need to wake us up from our complacency and ask us how it got this far. It's no secret that there's a severe divide in this country between the progressive left and the working-class right, but how can we make things better? Trump's victory is the culmination of eight years of resentment from angry white men, enraged that "their" country was being changed in ways they didn't approve of during the Obama years, which in turn, were a reaction by progressive voters to the failures of the George W. Bush administration. "Well, at least it can't possibly get any worse than Bush," we lefties thought back in 2008. Boy, were we wrong. As disastrous a President as he was, I cannot recall a single thing he ever said or did that filled me with as much horror or revulsion as the bile that spews forth from President-Elect Joffrey's mouth on a daily basis. That may be Trump's greatest achievement of all: making W. look classy in comparison.
Trump's election looks to be one of the symptoms of a disease that's been plaguing this nation all this time: a lack of compassion and understanding of our fellow humans. Maybe instead of fighting with each other, we should try to communicate with one another. Earlier this week, I went to see the movie Arrival, in which Amy Adams plays a linguistics professor assigned to communicate with a group of aliens who have mysteriously come to Earth. Toward the end of the film, the Chinese government misunderstands a message from the aliens as a threat and begins to make plans to attack them. It's up to Adams to convince them otherwise, that they need to listen to what the aliens are actually saying in order to avoid conflict. That's a lesson that we all need. To be more empathetic and caring to each other instead of jumping to violence and hatred as an automatic reaction. Maybe that's what we need to learn in order to prevent another Trump administration from ever happening again.
And if not, then maybe the aliens will let us hitch a ride with them to their home planet. We could all use a change of scene.
Everybody has a moment when they hit rock bottom. Waking up in a strange place is a good indication that you have a drinking problem and those chest pains you're feeling might be telling you that it's a good idea to lose some weight. Perhaps that's what's going on with the country right now. We've reached our moment of clarity. Maybe the election of a sleazy fascist billionaire is the kick in the ass that we need to wake us up from our complacency and ask us how it got this far. It's no secret that there's a severe divide in this country between the progressive left and the working-class right, but how can we make things better? Trump's victory is the culmination of eight years of resentment from angry white men, enraged that "their" country was being changed in ways they didn't approve of during the Obama years, which in turn, were a reaction by progressive voters to the failures of the George W. Bush administration. "Well, at least it can't possibly get any worse than Bush," we lefties thought back in 2008. Boy, were we wrong. As disastrous a President as he was, I cannot recall a single thing he ever said or did that filled me with as much horror or revulsion as the bile that spews forth from President-Elect Joffrey's mouth on a daily basis. That may be Trump's greatest achievement of all: making W. look classy in comparison.
Trump's election looks to be one of the symptoms of a disease that's been plaguing this nation all this time: a lack of compassion and understanding of our fellow humans. Maybe instead of fighting with each other, we should try to communicate with one another. Earlier this week, I went to see the movie Arrival, in which Amy Adams plays a linguistics professor assigned to communicate with a group of aliens who have mysteriously come to Earth. Toward the end of the film, the Chinese government misunderstands a message from the aliens as a threat and begins to make plans to attack them. It's up to Adams to convince them otherwise, that they need to listen to what the aliens are actually saying in order to avoid conflict. That's a lesson that we all need. To be more empathetic and caring to each other instead of jumping to violence and hatred as an automatic reaction. Maybe that's what we need to learn in order to prevent another Trump administration from ever happening again.
And if not, then maybe the aliens will let us hitch a ride with them to their home planet. We could all use a change of scene.
Monday, November 14, 2016
Mourning In America
"I've seen the future, brother. It is murder" -Leonard Cohen.
America has spoken. Or maybe it was 'merica. Donald Trump has been elected 45th President of the United States.
I woke up on the morning of Wednesday, November 9th with an intense feeling of anxiety and nausea, the way I usually feel when I have a hangover, only I hadn't been drinking the night before. I had stayed up until midnight to view the results of the election and things weren't looking pretty. Trump had been beating Hillary Clinton significantly in most states and things seemed to be at a stalemate. I popped in a DVD of The Walking Dead and when I finished it at 2 am, the results still hadn't changed. I went to bed depressed but optimistic. Surely, the American public would not elect a candidate who had never been endorsed by a major U.S. newspaper (but did recieve the endorsement of the official newspaper of the Ku Klux Klan). Clearly, they wouldn't select a man who had never received an endorsement from any of the five living former (and soon-to-be former) U.S. Presidents. Clearly, the American public would not entrust the highest political office in the land to a huckster, a buffoon, a vulgarian, a carny, a con artist with a bad haircut and contempt for everyone around him, especially the ones foolish enough to vote for him.
Maybe I wasn't cynical enough. Maybe I have too much faith in humanity or the voting public. Maybe I just see the good in everyone too much, because I thought we were better than that. I thought we were better than hate, racism, misogyny, homophobia, and rape culture. But I guess I was wrong, because when I turned on my TV first thing in the morning, the words "President-Elect Trump" flashed on my screen, making me angrier and sadder than I've been in a long time. Because I am legitimately frightened for the future of my country. Donald Fucking Trump is the new President. "President Trump". Ugh. That might be funny if it wasn't so scary. I will never refer to him as that. He is not my President.
My hatred of Trump has nothing to do with politics, either. There have been several conservative and Republican candidates whose views I have disagreed with, but I still respected them as human beings. The thought of someone like John McCain or Mitt Romney in the White House didn't fill me with anxiety and dread, in the same way that an unhinged lunatic like Trump does. (Although the idea of Caribou Barbie ascending to the throne should anything happen to poor McCain while in office certainly did.) Because this is not about politics. It's not about left or right, liberal or conservative. It's about simple human decency. As a former bullied child, I cannot support any man who says the kind of hateful crap that spews out of his overflowing toilet of a mouth and who has the maturity and temperament of a spoiled 13-year-old boy. This is a man who has displayed time after time a pathological need to humiliate and abuse others, as viewers of his loathesome TV series The Apprentice can attest. And like all bullies, Trump can dish it out, but he can't take it. He'll talk trash about anyone and everyone who displeases him, but has a hissy fit on Twitter if Alec Baldwin makes fun of him a few too many times on Saturday Night Live. If a silly sketch comedy show can get under his skin, how is he going to be able to handle threats from our nation's enemies? This is not the temperament of a man that we want in the White House with the nuclear access codes when Russia starts playing hardball.
By electing a man like Trump, we have to ask ourselves what kind of example we're setting for future generations. How can we expect our children to have compassion for those who are different from them when their President is a man who has mocked a physically handicapped reporter? How can we expect them to be honest and play by the rules when Trump brags about not paying his taxes for 20 years? How can we teach our sons to respect women and our daughters that they're worthy of respect if they follow the example of a man who calls women he finds unattractive "fat pigs" and brags about being able to grab them by their genitals?
To my religious friends and family members who voted for Trump solely on the "pro-life" platform, because they can't vote for a "baby-killer" like Hillary, let me ask this: How can you possibly consider it more of a mortal sin to elect a candidate who is pro-choice than casting your vote for a man who is facing trial for raping a 13-year-old girl? I'm also curious to find out what traits of Trump's you think Jesus Christ would approve of. His greed and obscene wealth? Your copy of the Bible must be missing that whole part about "Render unto Caesar" and the passage where Christ drives the money lenders out of his temple. Maybe his philandering and multiple affairs? That would seem to contradict those commandments against committing adultery and coveting your neighbors' wives. And it's hard to expect him to "turn the other cheek" when he routinely flies off the handle and reaches for his Twitter feed at the slightest hint of dissent or criticism of him. If Trump were any Biblical character, he'd be the innkeeper who tells Joseph and Mary to keep right on moving. Ain't gonna be no freeloaders staying at the Trump Tower, even if they are expecting the son of God to arrive any minute now.
To my gun enthusiast friends who voted for him because he says he'll protect their Second Amendment rights, let me ask: How do you feel about him violating the First Amendment? This is a man who has repeatedly threatened to punish and imprison those who criticize him. If you support the Constitution, then you have to support every bit of it, not just the amendments that you agree with. You'll still be allowed to keep your guns. In fact, you'll probably need them when President Trump starts World War Three and North Korea comes knocking at your door. You might also need to use your AK-47 to hunt squirrels and rabbits to survive on when your food stamps and Medicare get cut off. The lower middle-class voters who put Trump into office are going to be in for a big surprise when they learn that a billionaire who declared bankruptcy four times doesn't give two shits about their interests.
Some people I know and love voted for Trump. I'm not angry or upset with them so much as I'm just disappointed. Because they couldn't see past religion and politics to the man within. Because they're white, heterosexual, middle-class, cisgender, Christian American citizens and aren't really going to be affected much by Trump and his policies. Having a viciously anti-gay governor like Mike Pence as Vice President or an admitted white supremacist like Steve Bannon as a political advisor won't hurt them, because they're not the ones who are going to be suffering. Their votes weren't cast in hatred so much as in indifference and apathy. I doubt that any of them really harbor any particular hatred for minorities, immigrants, and LGBT people. It's just that they don't seem to care that much. People can change, though. Even my very conservative mother is disgusted by Trump and couldn't bring herself to vote for him, opting instead for a write-in vote for John McCain. It might not have helped very much, but at least she doesn't have President-Elect Bozo's victory on her conscience.
I don't know if I'll ever have kids. But if I do, I will teach them to be kind and selfless, to put others before themselves, to have compassion to those who are different, and to do everything they can to make the world a better place--which is the complete opposite of everything that Trump and his ilk stand for. All the wealth and power in the world can't buy human deceny or a soul. I began this post with a quote from one of my heroes and I'll end it with a quote from another one.
"God damn it, my babies. You've got to be kind" - Kurt Vonnegut
America has spoken. Or maybe it was 'merica. Donald Trump has been elected 45th President of the United States.
I woke up on the morning of Wednesday, November 9th with an intense feeling of anxiety and nausea, the way I usually feel when I have a hangover, only I hadn't been drinking the night before. I had stayed up until midnight to view the results of the election and things weren't looking pretty. Trump had been beating Hillary Clinton significantly in most states and things seemed to be at a stalemate. I popped in a DVD of The Walking Dead and when I finished it at 2 am, the results still hadn't changed. I went to bed depressed but optimistic. Surely, the American public would not elect a candidate who had never been endorsed by a major U.S. newspaper (but did recieve the endorsement of the official newspaper of the Ku Klux Klan). Clearly, they wouldn't select a man who had never received an endorsement from any of the five living former (and soon-to-be former) U.S. Presidents. Clearly, the American public would not entrust the highest political office in the land to a huckster, a buffoon, a vulgarian, a carny, a con artist with a bad haircut and contempt for everyone around him, especially the ones foolish enough to vote for him.
Maybe I wasn't cynical enough. Maybe I have too much faith in humanity or the voting public. Maybe I just see the good in everyone too much, because I thought we were better than that. I thought we were better than hate, racism, misogyny, homophobia, and rape culture. But I guess I was wrong, because when I turned on my TV first thing in the morning, the words "President-Elect Trump" flashed on my screen, making me angrier and sadder than I've been in a long time. Because I am legitimately frightened for the future of my country. Donald Fucking Trump is the new President. "President Trump". Ugh. That might be funny if it wasn't so scary. I will never refer to him as that. He is not my President.
My hatred of Trump has nothing to do with politics, either. There have been several conservative and Republican candidates whose views I have disagreed with, but I still respected them as human beings. The thought of someone like John McCain or Mitt Romney in the White House didn't fill me with anxiety and dread, in the same way that an unhinged lunatic like Trump does. (Although the idea of Caribou Barbie ascending to the throne should anything happen to poor McCain while in office certainly did.) Because this is not about politics. It's not about left or right, liberal or conservative. It's about simple human decency. As a former bullied child, I cannot support any man who says the kind of hateful crap that spews out of his overflowing toilet of a mouth and who has the maturity and temperament of a spoiled 13-year-old boy. This is a man who has displayed time after time a pathological need to humiliate and abuse others, as viewers of his loathesome TV series The Apprentice can attest. And like all bullies, Trump can dish it out, but he can't take it. He'll talk trash about anyone and everyone who displeases him, but has a hissy fit on Twitter if Alec Baldwin makes fun of him a few too many times on Saturday Night Live. If a silly sketch comedy show can get under his skin, how is he going to be able to handle threats from our nation's enemies? This is not the temperament of a man that we want in the White House with the nuclear access codes when Russia starts playing hardball.
By electing a man like Trump, we have to ask ourselves what kind of example we're setting for future generations. How can we expect our children to have compassion for those who are different from them when their President is a man who has mocked a physically handicapped reporter? How can we expect them to be honest and play by the rules when Trump brags about not paying his taxes for 20 years? How can we teach our sons to respect women and our daughters that they're worthy of respect if they follow the example of a man who calls women he finds unattractive "fat pigs" and brags about being able to grab them by their genitals?
To my religious friends and family members who voted for Trump solely on the "pro-life" platform, because they can't vote for a "baby-killer" like Hillary, let me ask this: How can you possibly consider it more of a mortal sin to elect a candidate who is pro-choice than casting your vote for a man who is facing trial for raping a 13-year-old girl? I'm also curious to find out what traits of Trump's you think Jesus Christ would approve of. His greed and obscene wealth? Your copy of the Bible must be missing that whole part about "Render unto Caesar" and the passage where Christ drives the money lenders out of his temple. Maybe his philandering and multiple affairs? That would seem to contradict those commandments against committing adultery and coveting your neighbors' wives. And it's hard to expect him to "turn the other cheek" when he routinely flies off the handle and reaches for his Twitter feed at the slightest hint of dissent or criticism of him. If Trump were any Biblical character, he'd be the innkeeper who tells Joseph and Mary to keep right on moving. Ain't gonna be no freeloaders staying at the Trump Tower, even if they are expecting the son of God to arrive any minute now.
To my gun enthusiast friends who voted for him because he says he'll protect their Second Amendment rights, let me ask: How do you feel about him violating the First Amendment? This is a man who has repeatedly threatened to punish and imprison those who criticize him. If you support the Constitution, then you have to support every bit of it, not just the amendments that you agree with. You'll still be allowed to keep your guns. In fact, you'll probably need them when President Trump starts World War Three and North Korea comes knocking at your door. You might also need to use your AK-47 to hunt squirrels and rabbits to survive on when your food stamps and Medicare get cut off. The lower middle-class voters who put Trump into office are going to be in for a big surprise when they learn that a billionaire who declared bankruptcy four times doesn't give two shits about their interests.
Some people I know and love voted for Trump. I'm not angry or upset with them so much as I'm just disappointed. Because they couldn't see past religion and politics to the man within. Because they're white, heterosexual, middle-class, cisgender, Christian American citizens and aren't really going to be affected much by Trump and his policies. Having a viciously anti-gay governor like Mike Pence as Vice President or an admitted white supremacist like Steve Bannon as a political advisor won't hurt them, because they're not the ones who are going to be suffering. Their votes weren't cast in hatred so much as in indifference and apathy. I doubt that any of them really harbor any particular hatred for minorities, immigrants, and LGBT people. It's just that they don't seem to care that much. People can change, though. Even my very conservative mother is disgusted by Trump and couldn't bring herself to vote for him, opting instead for a write-in vote for John McCain. It might not have helped very much, but at least she doesn't have President-Elect Bozo's victory on her conscience.
I don't know if I'll ever have kids. But if I do, I will teach them to be kind and selfless, to put others before themselves, to have compassion to those who are different, and to do everything they can to make the world a better place--which is the complete opposite of everything that Trump and his ilk stand for. All the wealth and power in the world can't buy human deceny or a soul. I began this post with a quote from one of my heroes and I'll end it with a quote from another one.
"God damn it, my babies. You've got to be kind" - Kurt Vonnegut
Tuesday, May 31, 2016
Heard Ya Missed Me. Well, I'm Back.
Folks, I apologize for the long gaps between posts. When I began this blog earlier in the year, I thought I'd be able to add one new post every few days. I was feeling pretty confident and ambituious. But to quote John Lennon, "life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans." I thought for certain that I'd be able to keep exercising the noggin and cranking out new material on a regular basis, but it's pretty tough to do when you've got a full-time job, play rehearsals, and other commitments taking up your time. Depression and anxiety are huge factors as well and have kept me complacent and apathetic for far too long. This year, another negative feeling reared its ugly head: grief. The sudden and unexpected loss of a close friend this past March hit me like a ton a bricks and led me further down the depression spiral. Suddenly, my thoughts on the new episodes of The X-Files and my feud with a bigoted cartoonist didn't seem as important.
I'm hoping to break out of this rut sometime soon. I promise new posts are coming. I'm sorry it's taken so long for the clouds to lift, but the sunlight will breaking through again one of these days. Stay posted, and I'll be ready to join you again with new book and film reviews, pithy thoughts, and angry rants shortly. Oh, and if any you go to see the movie Vaxxed, I will hunt you down and knock some sense into you with a Wiffleball bat. Take care.
Thursday, March 3, 2016
Correspondence with a Cretin or: The World's Worst Editorial Cartoonist
A few weeks ago, there was an incident at my workplace in which, having to relieve myself but finding the men's room occupied, I used the women's room instead. I didn't think much of it at the time, since our restrooms are essentially unisex, with your basic toilet/sink/changing table combo and the only differences between the two being the artwork on the walls. There is nothing about the two restrooms that characterize either of them as being necessarily "male" or "female". So my fellows employees and I (and some of our customers) generally think nothing about using either one interchangably. Thinking nothing of it, I entered the women's room, did my business, and was leaving when I saw an elderly woman glaring at me and muttering under her breath. "The sign says women's room...he just used the women's room...gross...disgusting." She continued to stare at me and I could overhear her talking to her husband under her breath about how they should tell somebody. I was tempted to say, "Oh, for fuck's sake, lady. Grow the fuck up," but managed to restrain myself. After several tense minutes, the woman and her husband finally left the store, but not before saying to one of my co-workers that I shouldn't work at a bookstore, since I obviously don't know how to read. The joke's on her, though. We're hanging up the "unisex" bathroom signs this week!
Thinking about the incident, I wondered if she was a supporter of the South Dakota potty police and other degenerates who seem to have an unhealthy obsession with the bathroom habits of people that they've never even met. She might almost certainly be a fan of A.F. Branco, my candidate for the worst editorial cartoonist of all time. Actually, I don't know if he's the worst, but he's certainly the most disgusting. His type of humor is the kind you would find scrawled on the restroom walls of white supremacist rallies, the kind of hateful drivel that appeals only to those with the maturity and sophistication of sub-literate third-graders. He's the perfect cartoonist for the Donald Trump crowd: mean-spirited, peurile, bigoted, and unburdened by unpleasant concepts like "shame" and "human empathy". He's Archie Bunker with a box of Crayolas and Big Chief tablets, only even more vile and offensive, if that's humanly possible.
Until this past Saturday, one of my favorite websites was the site for the American Association of Editorial Cartoonists, or AAEC, for short. (www.editorialcartoonists.com). The site is a mixed bag of cartoonists: some funny and insightful, others not as much. As with any collection of different cartoonists, there's going to a wide variety of issues and opinions that are contrary to the ones that you believe. That goes with the territory. It's no secret that I'm a more left-leaning kind of person, so cartoons with a conservative slant are going to annoy me. And I have no problem with that. Everyone is entitled to his or her own personal beliefs and opinions and they have the right to express them as such. Fair enough. But when those views cross the line into bigotry and hate speech, that's when I draw the line (no pun intended). On Saturday, I had just gotten off an eight-hour shift at work and was exhausted. I was in the mood to surf the web a little bit before taking a nap and went over the AAEC page. The first few were all fairly benign and then I got to Branco's: a nasty, bigoted piece of work that implied that transgender people were all sexual predators who wanted to molest children in public restrooms. I refuse to sully my page with this ugly cartoon, but you can see in the Saturday archives of the link that I've provided. Feel free to find a nice fluffy pillow to punch or scream into first, because if you have any sense of decency, you will not be in a good mood after seeing it.
Naturally, I was disgusted by this horrible cartoon. I had seen Branco's work before and it was the usual conservative blathering: Obama is the antichrist, Hillary and Bernie are Commies, blah, blah, blah. This went beyond the pale. This was the degradation and slandering of an entire group of people for a cheap laugh. I couldn't believe that the usually-respectable AAEC would allow such kind of hate speech on their site, especially toward a group of people who have enough difficulties to deal with in life without being further stigmatized by an unfunny hack. When LGBT teens are committing suicide at an alarming rate, this kind of humor stops being funny very quickly. I contacted the president of AAEC and asked him to drop Branco from their webpage. I got no response, so I contacted Branco himself. I told him that his cartoon was disgusting and unfunny, and that it promoted hateful stereotypes that could result in violence toward trans people and felt that he owed the LGBT community and apology. This was his response:
"Sorry, but your diseased leftist warped way way (sic) of thinking has created more victims of opportunity and is infringing on peoples (sic) basic privacy. If you have a vagina, use the women's room, if you have a penis use the Men's room - it's that simple. I don't buy your self- righteous garbled selective compassion, that you allow for only those who fall into your agenda driven lunacy. "
It was exactly the type of response I would expect from someone who makes a living by dehumanizing people they don't know. Apparently, compassion and empathy for your fellow man are examples of "agenda driven lunacy". Also, I was quite annoyed to be called a "diseased leftist", as I had just had a check-up and had gotten a clean bill of health from my doctor. This was my reply:
"Your reaction is hilarious, and about as civil and mature as I expect from a hack who tears others down for a cheap joke. I would rather be a "diseased leftist" with compassion for oppressed minorities than a hateful bully who relies on cheap stereotypes and generalizations to hurt others. Trans people have to deal with enough bullshit on a daily basis without further stigmatization from unfunny cartoonists who will never win a Pulitzer Prize."
I went on a little further, but you get the point. His only response to that one was a smiley-face emoji, which I actually thought was kind of funny. That doesn't change the fact that I think he's a loathesome asshole whose cartoons are the artistic equivalent of toxic waste. Art can and should be used to enlighten, entertain, and enrich people's lives instead of destroying it. I'm not saying that art shouldn't be offensive or that it shouldn't challenge our beliefs, but I am saying that there's a big difference between taking down powerful people and organizations and picking on the powerless. Art can be a powerful weapon, but like other weapons, it should be used carefully and responsibly, and not to harm innocent people. Taking cheap shots at those who are already stigmatized on a daily basis is the complete opposite of courage. It's a cowardly act that diminishes both artist and subject. It says "I am no better than this. I am not a mature adult, but an obnoxious, petty child. I am limited in my heart and in my imagination." Fuck A.F. Branco and anyone else who thinks like him. Fuck bullies in general. Maybe I should've said nothing and let it go, but dammit all, sometimes you've got to do something. Sometimes, instead of ignoring something wrong, you've got to say something, even if it seems like it won't matter in the long run. Just one stand against hatred, ignorance, bigotry, and stupidity makes all the difference. The best artists are the ones who use their powers for good instead of evil. Their work will last forever, long after the art of the A.F. Brancos of the world have rotted away in a landfill for all eternity.
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