The 'B' Word. You know, Blog.

Tonight’s offering will be mostly a random blathering of garbage, mostly. Just fair warning.

First, news from one of my Seattle friend’s facebook pages. I’m not sure if he took the picture there or found it elsewhere. This photo shows a sign posted in the subway station. It reads: GANG RAPE IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED—VIDEO CAMERA IN USE. First of all, why wasn’t I told about this subway before it was prohibited? Two, they seem to be sending mixed messages. Why video tape if they are telling people to NOT rape. What a boring tape that would be. La, la, la, look at all the people sitting around, not raping anyone. No thanks! Might as well watch Jerry Falwell reruns!

Second, there is, apparently, an outcry against Menthol cigarettes for targeting African-American people in their advertising. They are being accused of attempting genocide—not making this up. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. They’d be in trouble if they didn’t mark their product to them—they’d be racist. Dumbest shit ever. Well, not ever, but close. By that logic, Marlboro has attempted genocide against hot and sexy cowboys for decades! Thank God they have yet to succeed! BTW, I hear that African-American is no longer politically correct or appropriate, it seems ‘Black’ is correct again. It’s all very confusing. Just like the gay people continuing to add letters to my population. At first I was part of the GL community, then the GLBT community. They have now added two or three more letters, and switched the L and G so the lesbians could be first. Selfish Lesbian. It’s really messing with my sense of self. You know, I pretty much knew who I was when people yelled ‘Faggot’ down the hall in high school. I didn’t need all those fancy letters. Poor little fags today who get yelled at! They have to try to figure out word the people are spelling as they get called names and beat up.

The person reporting on that news story was more outraged by the fight against cigarettes than the stupidity around the imaginary race issue. He was saying it was a fight against freedom, against the American way of life, akin to socialism. Again, not making this up. Personally, I think it should be totally fine for people to smoke and not pay a higher percentage of taxes for their purchase. However, it should be in their homes or designated areas, as I choose to not breath in cancer on purpose, they (or their insurance) also need to be responsible for their own doctor bills as they are dying. This same person, however, is drastically against the legalization of Pot. I’ve never done pot, nor do I want to, but I believe cigarettes and alcohol are much more damaging than pot. He also is against me getting married. Actually, just got glad he uses his American right to smoke. Maybe I should send him a few more packs to he can continue to use his freedom for a shorter amount of time instead of suffocating mine.

Third, while we are on the subject of African-American (Black?) topics, I also found out that the newest printing of Huckleberry Finn will be edited from it’s original. The word Nigger will now be replaced with substitutes, like slave and such. Yes, I typed Nigger. I hate hinting at things. I don’t say the ‘The F-word’ like it’s gonna kill someone—in regards to fuck or faggot. (Actually, I’m afraid people will think I’m referring to the word ‘Flapjack,’ and that could be confusing. I might get strange looks and get asked, “Why’d you just as if I wanted to Flapjack you?”) Because if I say ‘The N-word,’ you’re not gonna have the word flash through your mind so loudly you miss the next three words I say? (If you find this tirade racist, please reference the following paragraph.) Seriously? We’re editing Mark Twain? Really? Let’s edit Hitler’s writing and make it more friendly. People are morons. In addition, what is the big deal with these books? I loved the story when I was seven, I wanted to be Becky Thatcher. No idea why, actually. Maybe to run away with Tom, I bet his arms were hot from starting to paint that fence. But, really, (and maybe I’ve just been exposed to the stories too many times) those books are soooooooo dull. If anything, they should edited for that! Throw in a few vampire slaves, a couple mermaids around Huck and Jim’s raft, some werewolf gypsies, a gay orgy happening in the casket at the funeral when Tom fakes his death. (Yes, I know Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn are two separate books.) Again, morons!

Finally, in the only segment that might not be complete garbage, lately, I’ve heard a lot about a book/author that I discovered during one of my many, many hours in books stores in Seattle. Not only have I heard about her on some of my Gay News sights in the past couple weeks, but even in People magazine. My Princess Boy: A Mom's Story about a Young Boy Who Love to Dress Up by Cheryl Kilodavis. I didn’t pay any attention to the author when I saw the book in Seattle. It is a picture book for kids, showing an African-American (Black?) boy who likes to dress in sparkly, pretty things. (Come on, really. . . who doesn’t?) I read the entire book as I sat on the floor. (You like I how I made that sound all impressive? I read an ENTIRE book while sitting on the bookshop floor! Let’s not talk about how it normally takes me to read a picture book…) While I thought it was kinda cute and I kinda like that more gay kids out there would have books for them, I also figured it was written by some old queen who liked to do drag and needed to vent. If so, that’s okay. I’m not too far from being an old, bitchy queen myself. (Keep your comments to yourself.) For some reason, this lowered my estimation of the book—which is a sad thing for an aspiring gay author to think. I also was irritated at myself for thinking what I said before and catching myself. Boys wearing dresses and boys being gay are not the same thing and are not mutually exclusive. I don’t cross dress, nor do I want to at all. In fact, I avoid it, even at Halloween. However, I did want to when I was a kid. And I actually know [of] straight men who like to wear women’s underwear and such. All that being said, the book took on whole to meaning when I realized two things. 1. The book was written by a young boy’s mother in effort to make the world safer for him. That comes from such an authentic and genuine place, I have no choice but to have deep respect for it. 2. That it was written by an African-American (Black?) family, or at least with the entire family’s support—a heterosexual family. Warning—following statement may be perceived as racist. If you choose to perceive me that way, feel free and go fuck yourself. (Actually, I’ve never understood that… why wish that on someone who you want to insult. If I had to choose between the ability to do that or a winning lotto ticket, I gotta say, not really sure which one I’d choose…) From what I’ve read/learned/heard/etc. the African-American (Black?) community is even more homophobic (per capita) than even my heritage—and that’s impressive! That fact that a rather good-looking, very masculine man’s man in appearance (saw him in People) who is Black (African-American? [look at me switching the pattern on ya. Yeah, I’m tough to pin down]) not only is supportive of his son and who he is, but is alright with his family being the poster family for such an issue… Well, as a thank you, if you’re wife’s cool with it, come on over for a thank-you dinner, honey, and plan to stay for dessert! Very, very cool, dude! While this kid is probably gonna have a rough go of it socially, he’s got a great family to hold him up and walk through those lonely and terrifying years with him!