How About A Day Of Keeping Your Hands Off The Altar Boys?
As usual, the upcoming Day Of Silence isn’t getting a warm reception everywhere. Like the California Catholic Daily for instance…
Keep your children home Pro-family groups urge parents to keep kids out of school on ‘Day of Silence’ (Editor’s Note: Some schools observe the “Day of Silence” on dates earlier or later than April 16. Parents should check with a particular school to determine if and when the observance is held there.)
TINLEY PARK, Ill. /Christian Newswire/ — On Friday, April 16, thousands of public schools around the country will permit students and teachers to refuse to speak during class during a political event sponsored by the Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network (GLSEN) called the Day of Silence, which is intended to increase society’s affirmation of homosexuality and Gender Identity Disorder. A national coalition of pro-family organizations is asking parents to call their children out of school on the Day of Silence if their school permits students and/or teachers to remain silent during class.
Under the guise of anti-bullying, GLSEN’s goal is to have all children come to believe that moral disapproval of homosexual acts constitutes bullying and hatred and to make it socially unacceptable to express their beliefs that homosexual acts are immoral and dangerous.
GLSEN is using publicly funded schools to promote its agenda.
Worried about the children are you?
Bullying gay kids, whether it’s done by other kids or by adults, is a form of child sexual abuse, and I can understand completely why that isn’t regarded as such a big deal in Ratzinger’s house. Every day is a day of silence for children who’ve been sexually abused in Ratzinger’s house…
I think part of the reason Glenn Beck’s 912 Project opts for the term “values” rather than “virtues” is because virtues take work. They require practice to acquire as habits.
This is not what the 912 Project is for. It is not a group or “movement” of people who have chosen to practice these 12 virtues in order to acquire them as habits. It is not a group that seeks to learn or to embody those virtues at all.
Look at that list again: Honesty, reverence, hope, thrift, humility, charity, sincerity, moderation, hard work, courage, personal responsibility, gratitude.
Does any of that characterize the agenda or the practice or the visible habit of Beck’s tea partying mobs? Were any of these virtues on display in the town-hall disruptions, in the angry marches or the signs carried under Beck’s “912” banner? Was there even a hint that these gatherings were composed of people even slightly interested in such virtues?
This is why Beck’s list of “12 values” can’t withstand comparison to the first similar-seeming list that comes to mind, the Boy Scout Law. The Boy Scouts of America isn’t my favorite organization as I’m not a fan of either homophobia nor vacuous civil religion, but I am a big fan of that Scout Law:
A Scout is: Trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent.
Against such there is no law.
The 12 virtues listed there are at first glance quite similar to Beck’s, but the differences are telling. The Scout Law begins “A Scout is“…
Is verses waving them around like a damn flag. This is the single most telling thing about the culture warriors. They yap, yap, yap about Values…but they don’t ever act like they have any. And there’s a reason for that. Values are to them as weapons to wield against the Faceless Other…not things that actually sustain and guide. Values aren’t a part of your bedrock, they’re rhetorical tools to use as needed and discard like a Kleenex afterward.
Women who went to university consume more alcohol than their less-highly-educated counterparts, a major study has found.
You don’t say…
I have often wondered about the relationship of intelligence to recreational drug use…and let’s be serious here, alcohol and tobacco are merely legal ones. Sherlock Holmes did cocaine because his mind couldn’t stand being without a problem to solve. I’ll go down to my household bar and humidor whenever Mr. Logical…
…this guy, if you’ve been reading A Coming Out Story, becomes too much to deal with.
The only cocktail I know how to reliably mix is the “Blue Glow-tini” I first had at the Disney World Hollywood Studios 50s Prime Time Cafe’. I loved it so much I googled the recipe the instant I got home. On thing I love about watching Rachel Maddow is her occasional Cocktail spot. One of these days it’s going to motivate me into fixing up the art room bar a little nicer. Add a bar sink and under the bar fridge and ice machine. The disadvantage of having a brain is the world makes you want to drink, but at least having a brain lets you do it decently.
So I went to Key West a few weeks ago, for a little vacation with some friends. I love Key West. I absolutely love the climate (at least the winter climate…I hear the summer swelter is a bit much…). Even more, I love its laid back live and let live attitude. It’s a place where people go, creative people, intelligent people, non-conformists, go to live lives away from the mainland mainstream. The t-shirts on sale everywhere there celebrate sex, drinking, cigars, smuggling, toking, Harleys, growing old and not giving a damn, being poor and not giving a damn, drinking, drinking, and sex. Levittown it ain’t. It’s San Francisco and New Orleans but more laid back. It’s Taos but instead of mountains it’s surrounded by a beautiful turquoise tropical sea and never gets below freezing.
The old town part of the island shelters dozens of historical landmarks and structures with history going back to the first Americans, embracing pirates, salvagers, smugglers, shipwrecked settlers, writers, artists, actors and presidents. Hemingway, Truman, Hunter S. Thompson, Tennessee Williams, Robert Frost and Thomas Edison called it home at one point or another. The locals call themselves Conchs and call their island home a nice little drinking place with a tourist problem.
In 1982 the U.S. Border Patrol put up a roadblock between Miami and Key West, and vehicles were searched for narcotics and illegals. The roadblock put a huge dent in tourism. The city council complained to the Feds and got nowhere. So Key West declared itself The Conch Republic, seceded from the Union, declared war on the United States (by way of the mayor breaking a loaf of stale Cuban bread over the head of someone dressed in a military uniform…), then immediately surrendered and asked for a billion dollars in foreign aid and war relief.
Well they didn’t get their billion, but the roadblock came down.
I love Key West. Ever since my first visit, I’ve thought often about moving there someday. I love its laid back, away from the mainland mainstream attitude. And it is a party town, at least around Duval Street. You practically can’t spit in any direction without hitting a bar, at least one of which, The Garden of Eden, is clothing optional. There are strip clubs, gay and straight and the dancers will walk over to customers to negotiate commerce, barely legal and possibly otherwise as well. A blind eye is turned to a lot of things as long as no one causes any trouble. For all its open sexuality and drinking, there is actually very little rowdiness.
You have to love a place where all this can be going on and yet it stays laid back about it all. I could love to live in a place like that. The ironic thing is, this trip to Key West really emphasized it for me that I am not that.
I have this love/hate relationship with my Baptist upbringing. Sometimes I feel like it made me grow up entirely too inhibited. Sometimes I am deeply grateful for it. There are values, moral values, I still hold to, and find ever more vital as I grow older, and see more and more of what a world without them looks like. Honesty. Prudence in ones financial matters. Earning your keep, and the trust of others. A regard for social justice, tempered by a little humility every now and then, when the urge to thump your pulpit strikes. But for every positive, I can find a negative.
I was never allowed to think of myself as beautiful or desirable. That was vanity and it was a deadly sin. Once when I was in my middle teens, mom, grandma, and a few other family members were at the beach. I had decided to wear the new swim suit I’d bought, which I knew might raise some eyebrows but I thought I’d dare it. It wasn’t terribly sexy by today’s standards, but it was colorful and showed my body off at a time when I definitely had one to show. I strolled out onto the beach with it feeling beautiful for one of the rare times in my life, and just loud enough for me to hear some of the folks made a few off color cracks about it…precisely aimed to embarrass the hell out of me. I must have blushed fifty shades of red and went back to the hotel. I never wore it again.
I’ve had trouble my entire life with being sexually inhibited, and it isn’t just the beating my psyche took being a gay adolescent. But there is inhibited, and there is reserved and it’s taken me the better part of adulthood to discover that my sexual reticence isn’t all the result of having the bible beaten over my head all throughout my childhood. It’s been like carving out a hunk of marble to find the shape within that is really me, and not the stone cast around me from an early age. I think I’m about down to it now, and swear I’d have thought the inner uninhibited me was a tad more footloose and fancy free then this. But…no.
My friends stayed in “Big Ruby’s”…a gay “clothing optional” bed and breakfast. I stayed at the Coco Palm, just around the corner. Let me tell you about that. Two of the guys I went down with are a couple. The other is a party kind of guy, and not to put too fine a point on it, he went down there for the sex. So this guy makes some arrangements for rooms at Big Ruby’s and the night before, he sends me an email asking if I wanted to share a room with him. I had a pretty good idea what he was going to be getting into down there and I didn’t want to be sharing a room with him if he was going to be bringing guys back to it. So I made a polite excuse…told him I’m an “only child” who always had his own room and I like my privacy…blah, blah, blah… The next day I learn he’d made arrangements for himself and my two friends at Big Ruby’s, but not me. So I guess “yes” was the right answer. But…NO.
In retrospect I’m glad I didn’t stay there. My two friends got themselves a nice apartment room with a kitchen that we all used as a headquarters. We used the kitchen for making lunch and sometimes dinner too, and we all relaxed around the pool during Big Ruby’s happy hour. Since I wasn’t a guest there I couldn’t drink their booze, but the landlord was fine with my bringing my own liquor and sharing with the others. And as I walked in and out of Big Ruby’s, I got an eyeful of the stuff going on there and sometimes it was embarrassing. They had a hot tub… Walking past it was a real challenge. Part of me would be deeply embarrassed while that damn logical/analytical part of my brain was absolutely fascinated, full of questions. Don’t they have lovers…???
I watched several naked guys rise from the hot tub at full attention and I was not only unaroused, but actually turned off by the whole thing, and I swear the thought crossed my mind right at that moment that maybe I’m not gay after all. Later I tried to think of a situation where I would be aroused. Immediately one came to mind, but it involved not a group of guys but one…one special one…just him and me in the tub all by ourselves. The plus side of having the high intensity imagination I do is I can make myself all hot and bothered pretty easily.
Yeah, I’m gay all right. Just not the kind of gay guy who goes for casual hooking up in the hot tub with a bunch of strangers regardless of how gorgeous they are. While reading John Steinbeck’s Travels With Charley I came across this saying: Cold Feet, Warm Heart. At the age I read it I kinda thought I knew what it meant, but it took years of growing up and passing through adolescence to really understand it. Yeah. That’s me. Cold feet, warm heart.
So I wandered for a time amongst the party crowd at Key West, enjoying myself very much, but coming to an understanding, finally, that I am not that. I am a quiet little romantic, who feels suffocated wherever people have to stifle themselves in order to survive. I’m a shy little homebody looking for his soulmate, who despises people who impose particular gender and sexual roles on others. I’m a gay man who understands intimately well how conformity kills the soul. I’ve watched it happen. I will not willingly live in that world. Even if I could pass for normal in that environment…I couldn’t. But I am not that.
Tales Of The Snowpocalypse: How We All Just Try To Get Along And Get Through It…
I’m walking home from work…my first working day after last week’s torrential snow storms. The neighborhood looks mostly like this…
A lot of painstakingly shoveled out parking spots sprinkled between friggin’ huge piles where the snow got shoveled into. You can appreciate that people are a tad defensive of the spots they’ve cleared out.
So anyway…I’m walking back home through my little Baltimore rowhouse neighborhood. I come upon a big pickup truck parked in the middle of the street. There is an equally large linebacker type of a guy walking around a ratty old pickup truck parked in a spot next to it. He looks a tad…angry…
Me: Someone take your space?
He: Yeah…
Me: I think I’ve seen that truck around here before…
He: GODDAMN SONOFABITCH LIVES OVER THERE AND HE’S MOVING IT RIGHT NOW OR HE ISN’T GOING TO BE DRIVING IT ANYWHERE FOR A LONG, LONG TIME !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Me: Uh…well…good luck…
(Bruce continues walking down the street…)
Hopefully it was settled without any gunfire. I am Not moving my car until the last snowpile has melted. I’m just not.
The Third Annual Casa del Garrett Valentine’s Day Poster Contest…(Part 3!)
Well it’s almost time to wrap up this year’s contest! And I have to say, this year’s batch of embarrassingly sincere losers was the best ever. A sentiment that probably makes our year one and year two losers feel even more left in the dust. Every Valentine’s Day is a little more special then the last one, for that very reason.
But we have one last batch of also-rans to celebrate here…
Let’s all give this year’s losers a drink and some helpful advice about getting out more often and meeting people!
Coming next…the Winner! You might want to look away…
The Third Annual Casa del Garrett Valentine’s Day Poster Contest…(Part 2!)
Here’s another batch of worthy hopefuls whose dream of winning the big prize were torn to bits by cruel reality. What would Valentine’s Day be without that? Lots and lots of it in fact…
We have a couple more worthy contestants to keep twisting slowly, slowly in the wind a little while longer. But isn’t that desperately remote, almost laughable chance of success worth it? Who knows…maybe…just maybe…
Hahahaha… No. But like lemmings to a cliff they will try. And what would Valentine’s Day be without them?
The Third Annual Casa del Garrett Valentine’s Day Poster Contest…(Part 1!)
Well right off the bat we have four very worthy entries for our contest! These entries would have easily won top honors hadn’t there been others that completely dashed their hopes of glory and left them mere broken shells of their former selves. But isn’t that what Valentine’s Day is all about?
Let’s all give these hopeful loosers a friendly pat on the back and a very brief but sincere look of understanding…
More hopeful dreams will be dashed on the rocky shore of cold reality tomorrow…but we’ll keep them on the hook for a while longer, tossing and turning all night long hoping…hoping…knowing how futile their quest ultimately is, yet unable to completely let go of that little sliver of ridiculously wishful thinking. There is simply no other holiday in the calendar that speaks more about the human heart then Valentine’s Day. Unless it’s National Cut Off The Gas And Electricity To The Unemployed When The Temperature Is 20 Below Day.
And then…the winner gets the Valentine’s Day heart!
The Third Annual Casa del Garrett Valentine’s Day Poster Contest…
I was seriously considering skipping this year’s contest, on the basis that unfulfilled expectations are part of the fun too. Then a friend sent this extremely helpful link along…
What would Valentine’s Day be without an opportunity to mention the three-letter word that gets everyone so riled up? Yes, you guessed it–I’m talking about at a little S-E-X. So, let’s chat, shall we? Beyond being just one-heck-of-good-time, medical studies report that an active sex life contributes to a longer and more fulfilling life…
Well who needs a longer and more fulfilling life when you can join in the fun of The Third Annual Casa del Garrett Valentine’s Day Poster Contest!!!
Er…except you can’t. See…the deadline for new entries has already passed. Sorry. But that feeling of being left out of all the fun is actually Part Of The FUN!
Let’s start the fun by reviewing some worthy entries from past contests. These contestants gave it their all…which makes their failure to win the Big Prize its own very special Valentine’s Day win!
Here’s a couple fabulous losers from our First Annual Poster Contest…
And here’s some wonderful losers from the Second Annual Contest…
These exceptionally worthy contestants all received our very special Sorry But Your Best Is Not Good Enough consolation prize which can be redeemed at last call in any bar on Valentine’s Day for a pat on the back and an understanding look.
Our winners though, like the Ghost Of Christmas Yet To Come, were truly one with the spirit of the holiday. Here’s our First Annual first place Winner!
Our Second Annual Contest resulted in a tie. Here’s one of the lucky winners…
This year’s crop of entries is clearly going to have to work hard to achieve glory. They are going to have to give it everything they’ve got and then some…only to fail miserably after having come oh-so-close. How many dazzlingly inevitable crashes and burns will we enjoy this year? I swear, this is better then watching democrats trying to pass a health care bill. So tomorrow…let the bleeding begin!
Willa Sibert Cather said “There are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before.” So I’m reading a story in Today’s Deutsche Welle which, after another round of Vatican pronouncements on how defending marriage from same-sex couples is the moral equivalent of protecting the environment, and weeks of reading about American fundamentalism’s disturbing, sickening willingness to incite anti-gay violence in Africa, that reminds me how the more time change the more they stay the same…
For years, a tight lid has been kept on the activities of Germany’s Catholic and Protestant churches during the Holocaust. But now, historians have shown that many clergy actively contributed to the persecution of Jews.
The article gives me a piece of the puzzle I hadn’t fully understood before: that at the beginning Nazi rule, Churches in Germany performed a service for the fascists that nobody else could: identify who had Jewish blood in them.
Platte County School District 1 trustees voted 4-3 to keep the Anti-Defamation League’s “No Place for Hate” banners down at Wheatland High and West Elementary.
The schools were two of 25 in Colorado and Wyoming taking part in the program.
One of the sponsors listed on the banner is the Gay and Lesbian Fund for Colorado. Wheatland board members and parents took issue with that, according to the district.
Un…
Joe Fabian, [another] board member, said he believes the Anti-Defamation League is pushing an “agenda that is pro-gay marriage”…
Deux…
…and that the community of Wheatland is not supportive of that.
Trois…
“They wouldn’t want the organization, the Anti-Defamation League, dictating to their children that an alternate lifestyle is a normal lifestyle,” he said.
Quatre…
He implied students who were not supportive of the banner suffered discrimination.
Cinq…
He spoke of a “moral attitude by the community” and indoctrination of students.
Six…
“I don’t believe (homosexuality) is a normal lifestyle…
Sept…
…but I don’t have anything against them,” he said.
For nearly all of my life I’ve been an apartment dweller. I grew up, and grew into young adulthood with neighbors above me, neighbors below me, neighbors to my right and left. The daily rustlings and occasional arguments heard through the walls were part of my normal experience. Mind you, we lived in reasonably nice apartments. You didn’t hear every little thing. The walls were solid and the floors firm. But you always knew you had neighbors living all around you. You heard the sound of water moving through the building pipes when they turned on the tap water, heard their toilets flushing through the sewer drains. Sometimes, you heard a door slam, or something drop. I suppose my friends who grew up in their family’s own homes would think they had ghosts.
One routine of my apartment life was scouting the building washing machine room on the morning of laundry day to see if there was anything free. If the machines were all in use I would try to judge from the cycle how much longer before one was free. But this was an iffy prospect because some neighbors wouldn’t go fetch their laundry from the washer for hours, which would make me furious. To this day I have a built-in mental self timer for how long it takes a wash load to run. Also, on my dresser, a box which I put my spare change into every night: a habit born of necessity where you were always needing coins for the weekend laundry. When people ask me what I like best about home ownership, or what motivated me to take the leap and buy a house of my own, I tell them instantly: my own washer and dryer.
It wasn’t until I moved to Baltimore that I discovered that some apartment complexes offer washers and dryers right in the apartment. In Cockeysville, the Baltimore suburb I moved to from Rockville, my first apartment (my First apartment!) had the usual communal laundry room. But my second, the the best apartment complexes I ever lived in, had full size washers and dryers right there in the apartment. I thought I had reached the very pinnacle of luxury.
When I got the job at Space Telescope, and decided to relocate to within walking distance of the office, I had one absolutely firm no-compromise specification for my new apartment: it had to have its own laundry closet. Alas none of them within walking distance did. Also, being so close to the campus, their rents were a tad outrageous anyway. A good fifty percent more then the rent I was paying then in Cockeysville, for apartments nearly half as big.
And so, with great trepidation since I knew nothing of how to go about buying a home, I started looking at the little rowhouses clustered around the campus. I’d actually given it some thought a few years previously, when I discovered how affordable homes were in the Baltimore area, compared to Rockville and the Washington suburbs. But knowing nothing at all about buying a home, and getting tied up with seller’s agent instead of a buyer’s agent, I quickly gave it up. It just seemed out of my reach. But at Space Telescope some co-workers put me in touch with a reliable buyer’s agent and after one false start, I got the hang of it and…well…now I am a home owner.
With my very own washer and dryer! Conveyed. They Conveyed! I got to add a new sense of the word ‘conveyed’ to my vocabulary. Also, Service Contract…
So I had a Service Contract on the furnace and hot water heater, but not the washer and dryer because I reckoned the ones that Conveyed were old enough that I’d want to replace them anyway when they started going bad. The dryer is a pretty simple machine and all it has needed over the years I’ve been here was one repair to replace the igniter element. The washer though, started having transmission problems last year. The repairman I called in gave me a quote of about 4-500 dollars to repair it. Well…that’s the cost of a new one just about, so I decided to just keep that one running until it failed.
Failure came a week ago Friday. Well…not so much failed, as became not at all well. It still washes, but to get the spin dry cycle going I have to open the lid, defeat the interlock, reach in and yank the tub around to get it going. When it stops after the cycle is over, I can hear the bearings grinding.
So I get my trusty back issues of Consumer Reports out, and the annual Buyer’s Guide, and start investigating. I wanted a nice front loader, since those are more water and energy efficient, and it’s a proven design. I got my tape measure out and jotted down not only the dimensions of the space around the washer I had, but the doorways and stairwells the old and new machine would have to navigate on the way down to the basement utility room. Then I started looking around the net for complaints. Well…I got an eyeful.
It was the same problem I ran into when I needed to replace the old fridge. Every make out there, even the ones Consumer Reports said were less likely to need repairs then the others, had problems. Reading over the complaints, you get a sense of which ones were outliers, and which were endemic. Mold was a persistent issue with the front loaders…all of them. Some had vibration problems and would try to walk all over the laundry rooms whenever the spin cycle started. Some had persistent problems with gasket tearing and leaking. The new electronic control boards were a constant source of problems for all models. When they weren’t failing altogether, they were causing problems with correct water amounts and temperatures. An appalling number of people were saying to stay away from anything with an electronic control board. Just get a cheap all-mechanical one instead, was the advice.
It was going around to the stores and looking over the models first-hand that I discovered the problem that forced me to give up a front loader. I have two possible paths of entry into the basement…the front door or the back kitchen door and then down the basement stairs, and through the door to the utility room in the back of the basement…OR…through the back basement door and right into the utility room. The catch is: 1) the door to the utility room has only 25-1/2 inches of width, and while the back basement door has 27 inches there is a deck the previous owner built over the back basement doorway and I only have a three foot crawlspace there for someone to carefully wheel something into or out of the basement.
I know that can be done…Casa del Garrett once had two full-size fridges (they Conveyed!): the second one being located in the utility room where it was used by the previous owner for storing ice and cold drinks for the club room he’d made of the front of the basement, and which I am now using as an art room. I gave the second fridge away and some friends wheeled it carefully out the back basement door on a hand truck, tipped it on its side and slid it out under the deck. But that path only has 27 inches at it’s narrow point, which is the back basement doorway. And the deck only gives you three feet of clearance to wheel something out from under it. You had to figure in the size of a hand truck, plus the size of the washer.
So as it turned out, the only front loaders I could get into my house were the smallest of the small ones…something you’d buy for a condo with a tiny laundry closet maybe. It would only be able to do small loads of clothes but not large towels or the sheets and mattress cover on my queen size bed. For those I’d either be back to doing the communal laundry room thing again or just dropping them off at the cleaners. I figured if I was paying several hundred bucks for a washing machine the only time I should need to take anything to the cleaners was if I needed something dry cleaned.
So with regret I started looking at the top loaders. Even the largest of those could get down the basement steps and through the utility room door. Once again I saw the same complaints about machines that were mainly controlled by electronic motherboards. I also saw a number of complaints that the new high efficiency top-loaders didn’t actually get clothes clean. I suspect those were mostly from folks who were shocked to see how little water is used by the new machines, and don’t understand how detergents work. I looked over some YouTubes of these machines in action and…yeah…they don’t look like they’re using nearly enough water. But no washing machine is a scrubbing machine. Really bad dirt always requires attention by hand scrubbing and cleaning it first. It’s the same with dishes and dish washers.
I settled on a GE High Efficiency model that Consumer Reports recommended. It’s supposedly going to be delivered tomorrow. In the meantime I had a whole ‘nother gallon of Costco liquid laundry detergent I hadn’t even opened yet that I gave to a neighbor, because the new machine requires the new High Efficiency detergents. I noted when I went to Costco for some, that the regular Kirkland brand liquid detergent isn’t even being sold anymore…just the High Efficiency stuff now. I guess that’s where it’s all going now. But if it cuts down on the amount of detergent going down the drains every day that’s for the better.
I have to say I’ve never seen a top loader with nothing but a little impeller device at the bottom of the tub. It makes the tub seem huge. Supposedly the machine will determine the correct amount of water itself, and before it goes into spin cycle, do a little self-balancing act. I am told though, that once I fill it with clothes and turn it on, opening the the lid and adding something I missed like a stray sock is problematic because it confuses auto water level system. I can theoretically override the auto water level, but I would need to do that before I start it up. I’m also told to expect it will be substantially quieter then the old machine, so I can’t just listen to it from upstairs to get a sense of what it’s up to. I’ll likely have to reprogram my internal sense of how long a wash load takes because these machines take a bit longer on the wash. That may take some doing as my mental model of the laundry room work flow is about fifty years old.
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