Friday, April 28, 2006

Saloon Mystic

Must be lazy, unstructured
to work this way.
I cannot summon the energy
to be who I was
yesterday.

Thursday, April 27, 2006

Dear Louisiana Legislature, et al:

Please stop embarrassing us.
Things are bad enough without this .

In your sick, twisted minds, a woman's vagina is fair game for rapists and crude sicko male relatives.

A woman's vagina is fair game.

My vagina feels compelled to step up and say you are childish chess-players mechanizing one step closer in preparation for the big rapture. You kill the notion of any Christ every day, and are too dumb to realize how much the baby Jesus wants to crap on you.

This better blow the argument that Democrats are any better than Republicans, or that any of us should trust any of them. People will say this is " just politics" and "it'll never happen" - the Democrats' justifying lines as they looked the other way, turned the other cheek - but people are notoriously denial-ridden. For the first time, given, too, the new composure of the Supreme Court, I can feel what it would be like to live in a world with no reproductive rights. Because it's not just abortion, which by now should be beyond obvious and if it's not, please sign up for some electroshock, please, it's birth control: that's next on their hit list. Just look at all the faux-conscientious objectors polluting our pharmacies, alleged medical professionals seemingly unaware that the pill is also prescribed for health reasons. Banning that and then condoms, wa la: it's the 1800s; my uncle's daddy's granddaddy can rape me regularly, force me to bear his child, and control my life forever.

The government can drag ass on fixing levees so we don't all die - dying is more gifting, also remember, yet the "terrorists" who advocate death are the crazy ones - but isn't too busy to work on devolving us back to a time when sewing one's vagina shut seems a sensible line of defense.

That there's no exception for rape or incest...well, I'm not naive - or is it jaded? - enough to not be stunned and disgusted by that. The naked hatred of it. And, again, people will say things like, "They're sick; didn't you know?" or "They're trying to distract from the real issues" - no. They're declaring war.

And, guys, what if it were your penises being legislated? Because, in a sense, it is - that pesky premarital sex: too risky, 1950! - and, with this crew, I wouldn't be surprised if caps on semen were also institutionalized.

Given the population explosion, this also doesn't make any sense - that every woman who fucks a man has no way to guard against pregnancy - especially when one factors in global warming and the way it's shrinking down our viable living spaces because not only is very little being done about it by this administration, this administration has rolled back so many environmental protections that we are headed to disasters everywhere - that rapture mentality again.

Well, guess what, Louisiana Legislature, G.W. administration, Supreme Court, zealots and passive whores to denial: If the rapture entails starving, swimming through polluted, snake- and ant-infested flood waters, drowning, dehydrating, dying - all in the service of your loving savior - congratu-fucking-lations, you've really fixed us good now.

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Insensitivity Training II

"'Homicides are like bananas: They come in bunches,' [Deputy Chief] Williams said of the spate of murders [in West Jefferson Parish]."

And robberies: raspberries.
Yum?

Saturday, April 22, 2006

In your face, honkie-chiles!

C. Ray for Life.

Saturday, April 15, 2006

What would Louis do?

I am continually underwhelmed by airport service in America.

In my haste at the Louis Armstrong International Airport this morning - and let me just say how reassuring it is to live in a city that names its airport after Louis rather than the Gipper - I managed to lock my keys, purse, cell phone and cat in the car. With little over an hour to go before my scheduled takeoff to JFK.

After congratulating myself on the above schmuckery, I went over to the Courtesy Phone and mulled my options - "fire," no; "emergency?" hmm potential pet suffocation- yes.

"Hi. I've just locked my keys, cat, purse and cell phone in my car - I'm in the short-term parking lot - and was hoping the airport police could come out and help me."

Something mumbled and

Click.

Take two.

"Excuse me - first, someone just hung up on me."

"I didn't hang up on you - I was getting you off the emergency line," the same now-hostile operator snaps.

American Air Travel Tip: Do not assert yourself - in disbelief in this particular case; as an air traveler, you have no rights.

"Yes, you did get me off the emergency line - by hanging up on me."

I.e., when the line goes dead, we are no longer connected.

Contrary to the Courtesy label and flying in the face of the supposedly wide array of security agents, devices, cops, experts and officials at any international American airport, the only way to pry open an ajar car door for a paying customer with a defenseless creature trapped inside, even an infant because I asked if these rules extended to babies, too - "Wait. You're telling me I could have a child locked inside and the airport police wouldn't come help me?" "We can't do anything for that situation." - is to tell them to call Pop-a-Lock, which can cost upward of $100.

The next step in the Courtesy Procedure is to stonewall the caller to the point where their only recourse is to say "Well, thank you; I'm glad you've gone out of your way to be unhelpful" and hang up, annoyed that she now has to write yet another series of letters and then, in the more immediate future, that she cannot, in fact, dial out for help on a Courtesy Phone. Meanwhile, the Courtesy Provider's thoughts run more along the lines of, "Maybe the person needing help will just, you know, go away."

Hey, works for FEMA.
Must be in the federal handbook: if someone needs something, let the line go dead, deny it later.

Despite the reality that it requires more energy to give someone in tears by now a hard time, well, it's just, like, so inconvenient to extend assistance, let alone - ugh - compassion.

I ended up having to wait for Triple A to arrive at a facility rife with cops, "security" iniatives, officials, and procedures because:

Searching and patting you down to the point of molestation?
Yes.

Slim jim?
No.