Thursday, June 21, 2012

Arrested Development

Last time I encountered BuzzFeed I had the impression it was a hardcore Lefty site. Back in Oh 4 someone was using it as his source re Abu Ghraib intel. I recall calling the site ButtFish, among other distortions. It just seemed appropriated, to distort. I doubt that it has straightened up in the ensuing years.

In any case, someone emailed me this link, as Interesting. Lots of pics, some moving, some risible. As below:
Typical Lefty bigotry. And no, I'm sure everyone made their own signs -- they just all have the same sort of girly penmanship ... penpersonship. But consider the sign that says "I USED TO BE A BIBLE-BANGING HOMOPHOBE":
Looks like the sign should read, "I am currently a Homo-Banging Biblephobe." To the immediate Left of the Nearly-nude (a diagnosis in the DSM 4R), I think we may espy Chaz Bono. Keepin' it real, Chastity -- you go girl! Ain't gonna let no extra X chromosome get you down! Frankly, they all look like they belong on the near-side of the barrier. Mr Obama, tear down this wall!

Incidentally, this spellcheck does not recognize "homophobe". More homophobia. They won't let us marry, they won't spellcheck the greatest evil human history has ever known ... it just makes me so mad!

Some months ago on my advise my mother declined an offer from my father to have her garage painted. Prior to my input, she'd let her house be pained; it is colored stucco, which never needs painting -- up until now, that is. Diminished the value of the property, and I didn't see the need in furthering the damage. Clean, don't paint. So the other day I heard about my father's reaction to the thwarting of his will. He repeatedly called up my mother and ordered her to allow the stucco to be painted. He said the painter was terrified of me (I had very mildly told him that she didn't want the job done), and that he was going to call the police and have me arrested. "For what?" asked my mother, baffled. "For abusing you! He can't stop me from painting my own property!" Maybe he misspoke? Maybe he's a tad delusional, and thinks my mother's house belongs to him? Surreal.

I spend a fair bit of time each day trying to keep people happy. Well, there is much to be said for something like that. It's a good thing. I'm not a flatterer, or a small-talker, or very friendly. But I keep my eyes open and attempt to fill needs that need filling. That's how I see it. It's like being a parent. My problem is that I don't have any sustaining personal pleasures, not a lot of meaningful ways to unwind. No social life, which, I'm told, helps people recharge.

This past week I've been tired and sore and under-performing in terms of my own goals. I joke about it, but this week, for the first time really, I'm feeling old. I realized that my capacity for recovery is diminished. Doesn't mean it's down hill. But it's slower, uphill. I should join the Y again and use the hot tub. I could use the treadmills there. But everything is so hard.

Outside of theory, I am losing my grasp on the meaning of life.


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