SHAFTWAXER

“We are a nation of minorities. And in a nation of minorities, it is important that you don’t cherry-pick rights. A right is a right, and that is what this vote tonight is all about.”
–Canadian Prime Minister Paul Martin

I get the distinct feeling that 30 or 40 years from now, we are going to look back at this flagrant abuse of civil rights against same-sex marriages the way we look now at racial segregation and “separate but equal”. While it was a close vote, it did indeed pass. The law allowing same-sex marriage now needs to be affirmed by the Canadian senate, something that is essentially a mere formality.

Some people speculate that this will send a clear message to the United States. Unfortunately, knowing the ass holes we have in power, they are going to try and build a very tall Berlin wall along the border to make sure none of that extra gay disease crosses the border. Still, a victory for civil rights anywhere is something that needs to be acknowledge, embraced, and celebrated.

But let’s be very clear about one thing: most of the people that hate gay marriage don’t hate the marriage part. They hate the gay part. Some people say that gay marriage threatens to destroy heterosexual marriage. I’m here to tell you. That’s a flaming pile of horse shit. I’ve been around gay people for most of my professional life. I know a number of extremely happy, committed gay couples. I assure you, being around them has in no way made me want to ditch my girlfriend so I can shag as many men as humanly possible. Sorry to disappoint you, boys.

The REAL threat to traditional marriage isn’t gay marriage, it’s fucking DIVORCE. Divorce threatens marriage. How can these self righteous shitheads scream about the sanctity of marriage when they are on their 2nd, 3rd, and 4th marriages? Until death do us part… or until I get sick of your nagging shit and start fucking the secretary… whichever comes first. Sorry, I think Al Franken has it right. There should be a “3 strikes and you’re out” rule. I can see getting one divorce if the other person suddenly becomes a crazy batshit insane nutjob and you fear for your life and/or sanity. A second divorce is really pushing it. But if you go through your third wife, sorry. You were not meant for marriage. You were probably not meant for respiration either.

Still, Canada has its own stash of crazy conservatives. Conservative party leader Stephen Harper says if his party forms the next government, the law will be revisited.

Oh Stephen… That’s so gay…

Hello. My name is Earl Bagina, and I’m a drug user. DO YOU HEAR THAT TOM FUCKING CRUISE?!? I USE DRUGS, YOU CHROME PLATED ASS HOLE!!!

When last we left our antihero, he was trying desperately to not come down with the sickness, disease, and pestilence his fearless girlfriend gave to him via direct cootie injection. As per the usual, I started my regiment of excessive orange juice by IV. A 96oz bottle and a half later, for the most part, aside from some bonus aches, a few extra sneezes, and a slightly sore throat, I had managed to win the battle over who controls my body… Almost. I’m pretty convinced the headache was sinus related. To combat this, our good friends Benedryl and Sudefed came through in a pinch. Sure, I slept through the afternoon and was somewhat disoriented for the evening, but it sure beats wandering around with a pride of lions clawing from the inside out through your skull.

Now sure, these are not the kind of drugs that Tommy Cruise is talking about in his latest diatribe over medication. He’s talking about psychiatric medication. I will be the first to agree that there is a certain degree of (for lack of a better word) weakness among the general population when it comes to drugs for mental health. Taking a pill doesn’t fix everything. Taking a pill is just a tool, one of MANY TOOLS, designed to fix an imbalance in your brain chemistry. I use the analogy of a crutch. A crutch can be used to help you while something is healing, relying on it only when necessary. Others only rely on it and never fully recover or heal. If you are taking those kinds of drugs, you should probably also be working with a therapist or counselor to help get you on track as well.

You don’t just pop a pill and have shit magically get better and be OK. THAT’S where the weakness is. People are afraid to do the real work, to look inward and face the demons. The drugs will help you along, they will not kill your demons. They will just give you a bigger sword to work with.

So when Tommy Boy comes on and starts talking shit about things he really doesn’t know about, it’s insulting. Fortunately, I would imagine that people are looking at him and wondering what the fuck has gotten into him. I’m annoyed enough with him that I really would not be upset if I were to never see another one of his films. As a public figure, he gains access to people, and with that access comes responsibility.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. He says that he has done the research. I doubt it. He quotes studies that never have taken place, he quotes statistics that are entirely misguided or flat out wrong. And what’s best is when he discounts the personal experience of others, insinuating that he knows better. Just because it didn’t work for Tom, I guess it doesn’t work for anybody.

Sorry, Tom. You’re an ass hole.

My head is pounding.

I have no idea why, but damn, I’ve got the mother of all headaches right now. It also comes at a decidedly inconvenient time, I would much rather be working with a clear head instead of one filled with asbestos.

This whole mess started last night sometime. I didn’t get much done, so I figured I just might as well go to bed and start fresh the next day. Did a little reading… which turned into a LOT of reading. I got to a part of the book that was just damn good, and what was supposed to be a couple of pages turned into a little over an hour. Oops. While this was going on, however, I was noticing that the tiny little headache that I had when I first got in bed was slowly getting bigger, expanding exponentially like some recursive virus. By the time I decided to call it quits for the night, it had gotten pretty bad.

Partway through the night, while listening to The Al Franken Show, I fall asleep, but only for about 10 minutes. I wake up to the sound of my cat crying. A lot. Loudly. Repeatedly. My head hurts more. I fall back asleep.

I wake up 5 hours later, and it’s worse yet. Lots of pain and pressure above my right eye. It’s one of those things where you just want to curl up on the couch (in front of the fan) and just die.

My head is still pounding.

John Hostettler, Republican Representative for Indiana’s 8th district (the same guy who wants to change Interstate 69 to something else more “moral” because clearly things like education, poverty, homelessness, health care, the national debt, the war in Iraq, civil liberties, corruption, and government fraud are merely secondary issues) decided to toss out this little nugget of kindness, tolerance, and understanding on the floor of the House Monday:

“The long war on Christianity in America continues today on the floor of the United States House of Representatives. It continues unabated with aid and comfort to those who would eradicate any vestige of our Christian heritage being supplied by the usual suspects, the Democrats. Like a moth to a flame, Democrats can’t help themselves when it comes to denigrating and demonizing Christians.”

Oh yes… The poor oppressed Christians and the LONG WAR they have endured… If only a day would come when they could worship freely. If only they could even go as far as to wear a symbol of their faith on a bracelet or even around their neck without fear of being arrested or physically assaulted. Maybe one day, we could even have a President who could freely admit he was a Christian… One can only dream…

Fuck you, John. Seriously. Fuck you.

I had a strange urge to post something here, but now that I’m looking at the screen, it’s just not working.

Had a very active weekend. Spent Friday night at the first Interplay audition camp and doing Father’s Day shit. Saturday was spent with the woman and her parents, her brother, and his wife. Did the food thing, the parental grocery shopping thing, and the “renting” movie thing. Sunday, after a whopping 4 hours of sleep (not to be outdone by the 4 hours of sleep the night before) was breakfast at IHOP. This didn’t sit well with me for some reason, but I didn’t let that stop me from driving out to Chicago to visit my friends and see a community theater production of “The Taming of the Shrew”. My friend who was playing the lead easily pounded the hell out of everybody else with his acting chops. I had forgotten how good he was. When it was all said and done, I drove home, wandering in my door at 4am. Suffice it to say, the sleep was magnificent.

When you are driving across state lines late at night, aside from the music, you have a lot of time to think. As I was mentioning to my friend Greg earlier in the day, I had made an interesting realization, the kind you don’t really see until you have had some time from it and have had some distance to see it for what it was.

A few months ago, I was a somewhat unhappy person who was (I can only imagine) rather difficult to deal with and be around. My fuse was short, my patience was even shorter, and I would allow shit to get to me WAY more easily than recommended by 4 out of 5 dentists. I didn’t like that person. I didn’t like how I would become. That’s not who I wanted to be. I had not been that person in a long time, and I really didn’t want to return to that shit.

That is how the Drama Reduction Act of 2005 was passed.

When you make the choice to cut shit out of your life, inevitably it’s a significant change. Some things, while you know that it is in the end for the best, are losses. Losses need to be mourned. You must allow yourself that time, otherwise you are screwing yourself over and preventing yourself from getting on with your life.

Now that I’ve had a little time away, I realized that I have not been that person in quite some time. It’s so much better now. Sure, it was difficult at first, but the things that really matter often require a little work. I’m much happier with where I am and where I see things going. I’m optimistic again. Instead of looking at the now and wondering how to just get through it, I’m looking ahead.

Things are good.

I firmly believe that people have a certain level of control over what happens in their life.

While a certain level of bad luck can’t be avoided in life, I think you do have more of a solid grip on your destiny, your experiences, and most importantly, your outcomes. Have you ever met somebody who just seems to chronically ALWAYS have bad luck? No matter what, somehow, there is bird shit on their windshield.

I’m sorry, but I just don’t buy that shit. Not at all. While I will acknowledge that bad shit occasionally happens to everybody, if you find yourself to be a complete magnet for it, maybe you need to start looking at yourself, your actions, and the people around you. Maybe instead of being a victim all the time, maybe you should start taking ownership for the things that you do.

I’m sorry, but I passed the Drama Reduction Act of 2005 at the beginning of the year for a reason. I just don’t want to deal with that kind of juvenile shit anymore. There is a difference between being a concerned, understand friend and being a doormat for every stupid thing that you do.

It’s always something. ALWAYS. Something is screwy at your job. Something is screwy with your family. Something is screwy with your bank. Something is screwy with your car. Something is screwy with where you live. You’re pissed off that somebody broke into your home while you were out of the state? Maybe you need to reconsider your policy of NEVER LOCKING YOUR FUCKING DOOR. More importantly, why is it necessary for you to call me to see if I remember which DVDs you used to own before they were stolen?

If it were just one thing, that would be different. Hell, if it were the 5th or the 6th, I would be just fine with it. We all need somebody to lean on every now and then. But I am not your crutch. I fucked up by allowing myself to be that person for so long. I’m taking ownership for that.

Now it’s your turn. Go away. Grow the fuck up. Maybe we can talk then.

But not now.