In which I write an open letter... and probably need to wash my mouth out with soap. Repeatedly.

Alright, well, this post might get me in a little bit of trouble with some people (although the people with whom this might get me in trouble are probably the least likely to read my blog, so whatever)... and what's life without causing a little ruckus now and again, right?

So recently, I was speaking with an individual about volunteering with an LGBT rights organization. This person, a gay man (for the sake of anonymity, let's just refer to him as NPD), told me, in no uncertain terms, that he had no interest whatsoever in doing such a thing. In fact, I believe that the following phrase (or something extraordinarily close) was used: "I don't do organized faggotry." This implies the following things to me:

a) He feels that LGBT rights work is beneath him

b) I'm an idiot for even bringing up such a suggestion

c) In his mind, the pecking order of life goes something like this:

Cher > NPD > Lots o' People > Rush Limbaugh > Me > I don't know... cockroaches? Nobody likes a cockroach, right?

In fairness, though I may pick on NPD a bit, he is not the only gay man (and yes, I'm centering this post around gay men and, more specifically, a certain type of gay man) I've encountered who has had this way of looking at things. In fact, I've been constantly shocked by how vehemently some gay men are against being "political"... and by how much I can be looked down upon because I am a tad involved in the LGBT movement. Sometimes I argue with the person making such comments, sometimes I don't. But I was thinking (with a little prodding from the Frankle) that it might just be easier to have kind of a stock reply that I could direct a person to. Maybe I'll even have cards printed up with the website listed. So please consider this an open letter to NPD and scores of self-involved, LGBT rights movement-hating gay men everywhere. Enjoy!

Dear Jackass:

Wait. I probably shouldn't start off with something that's immediately going to put the reader on the defensive. Let's try again.

Dear Friend:

You are a gigantic asshole. Shall we discuss why?

When did "political" or "activist" become dirty words? I can't tell you how many times gay men like you have uttered those words to me pejoratively. And I never quite understand why. Is it a bad thing to care that I have very little protection under the law? Is it a bad thing to feel empathy for people who have things quite a bit worse than me, and try and make the world a little bit of a better place for them?

Well, evidently so. Because if I'm not hitting the clubs, trolling Craigslist for random sex, discussing the pros and cons of Britney's new boy toy, and actually care about other humans, well... that must make me a "political gay." And thus, the enemy.

Let me ask you something. Where do you see yourself in 10 years? How about 20? Do you have a job? A place to live? Are you married? Or have you been fired from your job because your boss hates queers, denied housing because your landlord doesn't want to aid and abet a felony (and yes, sodomy laws are still on the books, my friend), and refused entrance to your partner's hospital room because your relationship has no legal standing?

Oh, I know, I know. Here goes the "activist," talking about all the "problems" that are never going to affect you.

And you may be right. Maybe none of those things will happen to you. But if they don't, do you know why? Two reasons:

1) Because you're a privileged jerkoff, and you're too self-absorbed to recognize that fact. You live in a place where people like the gays? Your boss is totally down with the 'mos? Good for you! You do realize that not everyone lives in those places, right? Chapel Hill is not a microcosm of the world. In fact, I'd argue that it's a fucking aberration. LGBT individuals in many, many, many places are too scared to come out, because they don't live in towns like Chapel Hill. LGBT people are fired from jobs all the time because of their sexual orientation/gender identity. Attacked. Killed. How does that not bother you? There must have been some time in your life when you struggled, either with your sexuality or something else. Has no one ever helped you in your life? Do you feel no sense of connection with others who are like you... just much, much worse off? Or are you too caught up in your world of pop culture and gossip to notice and/or care? Do you only look for a connection if it can get you some ass? If this is the case, I invite you to re-read the first sentence of this paragraph.

2) Because people like me will have killed themselves to make the world a better place for your selfish ass. Yeah, there are people who are devoting time, energy, and sanity to making sure you can have equal rights. To make sure you can get married one day. To make sure that a 12-year-old in Bumfuck, USA won't be fag-bashed because he seems a little effeminate. To make sure that fringe religious organizations don't indoctrinate LGBT people into believing that they're worthless sinners who should put themselves out of their misery. When you get married, are you going to thank the people who fought for that? When you want to adopt a kid, are you going to think about the people who made that possible? Or are you going to just believe that you're getting what's owed to you, because the sole fact of your existence is impressive enough to create change in this world? Here's a secret fantasy of mine: Every time someone says "activist" to me like it's a dirty word, I think to myself: I'm going to keep fighting for equal rights. Except for you. If I had the power, I'd write you out of any rights we're able to attain. Everyone can get married. Except you, NPD. No one can be fired. Except for you, NPD. In fact, I hope you get fired, you thoughtless fuck.

Alright. Let me take a step back here, because I think my anger has gotten the best of me a bit.

Here's the thing.

In case you hadn't noticed, we're in the middle of a movement for civil rights. But one reason why the movement is stuck in a "one step forward, one step back" mess is that people like you just don't care. If everyone LGBT-identified person actually gave a shit, and did something, anything, we'd make some real progress. It doesn't have to be difficult. You don't have to personally argue your case with a senator and you don't have to write policy and you don't have to be like me, a self-described masochist who spends his free time hanging out on right-wing message boards to see what hate-filled nonsense the 'phobes are spewing now (in fact, I would actively argue against being like me). Just do SOMETHING. Here's a couple of easy steps for you:

1) Realize that LGBT people in this world, country, state, and town have things a lot worse off than you. They don't have the ability to be out, to joke with friends, to use words like "faggot" in an ironic sense. (Because words like "faggot" are always funny if used ironically.)

2) Understand that as much as you feel accepted in your present surroundings, that could change in an instant. Moving to a new town for a job, meeting your new brother-in-law's family, a car breaking down in the middle of rural NC, etc. Are you ready for that?

3) Appreciate that people are working to change such things... and that's not a bad, weird, or socially unacceptable thing.

4) Take baby steps in doing something to actually help your fellow humans. Talk with friends and family members about LGBT rights, get them to support pro-LGBT policy, and help improve polling numbers. Send an email to a legislator. And don't alienate the people who are trying to help you and your goddamn friends, asshole.

Look. In forty or fifty years, when your grandkids (made possible by those sons and daughters you were able to adopt, thanks to people like me) say to you: "Wow Grandpa. You were young during the last great civil rights movement... what did you do during it?" Do you want to only be able to say that you clubbed and drank your way through it? Or will you realize that people other than you actually do exist in this world, you condescending-ass motherfucker?

Thanks for your time.

All the best,

Seth

In which I take on lesbians on the Supreme Court, school a right-winger on sodomy, and further explain (and expand) my Zombie Invasion Dream Team

So there's been a lot of speculation over whom Obama is going to pick to replace Justice Souter on the Supreme Court. Some have even speculated that Obama may name a lesbian to the bench.

As one might imagine, the prospect of a lesbian on the Supreme Court does not sit well with a certain segment of the U.S. population. This article, from the website Renew America (an organization that, on its About Us page, strenuously refers to itself as both nonpartisan and nondenominational... and then, four sentences later, mentions its mission of preserving biblical principles in America... and three sentences after that, refers to itself as a Christian website that promotes "moral conservatism"... so, they're either full of shit or having an identity crisis. I'll let you pick), is entitled "Virtually impossible for open lesbian to make a good Supreme Court justice."

How much damage can one lesbian do? Glad you asked. Evidently, an LGBT Supreme Court nominee (and the fact that some conservatives, like Sen. Jeff Sessions, have indicated that a person's sexual orientation maybe shouldn't be an automatic reason for disqualification from consideration) "likely would bring to an abrupt end any hope that the United States can continue to have laws based on moral standards and concepts."

Wow. That's... horrific, right? The U.S. will fall into complete anarchy should Obama choose to even nominate (not get confirmed... just nominate) a gay. Evidently, any and all morality will "abruptly" disappear, laws will be rendered meaningless, and wild packs of homosexuals will roam the streets, intent on sodomizing each other in front of as many small children as possible.

Speaking of sodomy, here's more, from the same article: "An open lesbian has obviously resolved the ethical questions about sexuality in favor of the legitimacy of aberrant sexual behavior, in favor of what historically has been known in U.S. law as an "infamous crime against nature."" A couple of things here. First, it seems awfully hypocritical to chastise someone for resolving the "ethical questions about sexuality," and then, in your next breath, call gay lovin' "aberrant sexual behavior"... as that would seem to indicate that you, as well, have resolved such questions, though in a slightly more bigoted way. Second, in re: the implication that lesbianism has historically been known as a crime against nature...

Actually, for much of their history, sodomy laws (which originated in England and were transported to the colonies by the Puritans), only referred to two acts: anal intercourse (in both hetero and homo forms) and bestiality. Sex acts between two women? Nope! Why is that? Well, from the good people at sodomylaws.org: "Sex between women was viewed as an oxymoron. In a case from Scotland, dating to 1811, the House of Lords decided, regarding a charge of cunnilingus between two women, "the crime here alleged has no existence.""

Plus, there was existing legal precedent in the U.S. that "without a penis, there could be no sodomy." It wasn't until the 1920's and 30's that U.S. sodomy laws were expanded to include sex acts between two women. Which doesn't exactly strike me as a "historical" basis (especially considering the first English sodomy laws were enacted in 1533, under Henry VIII... so in the 471 years of sodomy laws (I'm ending it in 2004, because of the Lawrence decision) under 15% of that time included girl-on-girl action). The moral of the story? Don't come at with me with sodomy laws, jackass, cause you're gonna lose.

***

So, as I mentioned, I'm attempting to make some improvements on the blog now that I'm done with school. One such improvement is an attempt by me to not solely write about depressing gay stuff. With that in mind, I once again turn my attention to zombies (I know, but they've been popping up a lot in my life recently). On the Facebook, I recently had to (well, "had to" might be a bit misleading, but we'll go with it) come up with a dream team to combat a zombie invasion with me. I thought I would take this opportunity to further expound on my reasons for choosing the members of my army. (Plus here, I don't have a limit on the number of people I can choose, so I've added someone extra at the end.)

Zombie Invasion Dream Team Member #1: Bruce Campbell

Campbell has tons of experience fighting the zombie menace. Especially if the zombies were summoned by use of the Necronomicon. He's also willing, should he have to chop off his own hand for survival, to replace said hand with a frakking chainsaw! Check it out:



If you were a zombie, would you fuck with this guy? I think not.

(Note: You may think that I really want the character of Ash from the Evil Dead movies, not Bruce Campbell. You would be wrong. Please remember that Campbell also had to fight an evil mummy whilst portraying Elvis Presley. Campbell alone might be able to ward off a zombie attack, but just to be safe, I have reinforcements.)

Zombie Invasion Dream Team Member #2: Homer Simpson

Sure, Homer may be fat, out-of-shape, stupid, and lazy. But, as I said on the Facebook, he's the kind of guy to shoot first and ask questions later, which is incredibly important when attempting to quell hordes of the ravenous undead. Like Campbell, he's had experience with zombies. And he's not scared of a little collateral damage.

Witness the following exchange, from Treehouse of Horror III, after Bart has unwittingly caused a zombie uprising:

Zombie Flanders: Hey Simpson! I'm feeling a mite peckish. Mind if I chew your ear?
(Homer shoots Ned and the others gasp.)
Bart: Dad, you killed the Zombie Flanders!
Homer: (Surprised) He was a zombie!?

Zombie Invasion Dream Team #3: Benjamin Linus

Ben Linus is perhaps a risky choice... it's unclear where his loyalties actually lie, and he's not above double-crossing close friends and allies... nor strangling individuals mere seconds after talking them out of killing themselves (I would have to hope that the zombies don't make Ben a better offer, because he'd probably take it). But he's a master planner, always thinking four or five steps ahead of everyone else, a needed asset, since many other team members are "doers," not "thinkers." Would make a good chess opponent during long nights spent in an underground bunker. And since, for all we know, Lost may be about a bunch of zombies, he may have experience in this area as well.

Zombie Invasion Dream Team Member #4: GOB Bluth

GOB is, without a doubt, the most controversial of choices. He is a magician (albeit a rather poor one), and could conceivably distract the zombies with doves and fire flashes. But, as I intimated to Ms. Siska, when she questioned me on this choice, GOB serves a larger purpose.

You see, it is rather unlikely that all members of the Dream Team will survive the zombiepocalypse. One member must be seen as expendable, should weapons become scarce or should a team member have to be left behind. Without GOB, I will admit that I am, undoubtedly, the weakest member of the team. GOB, therefore, helps to ensure my survival. And, sad as it may seem, in a zombiepocalypse, one has to think of one's own interests first.

Zombie Invasion Dream Team Member #5: Me

Take a good look at me.

Really.

Look closely. I'll wait.










See why I need GOB now?

Zombie Invasion Dream Team Member #6: Iggy Pop

Honestly, Iggy Pop may actually be a zombie already. I mean, look at him.

But if he is, he's at least a remarkably well-tempered one, and could therefore infiltrate the zombie hordes and help to take them down from the inside. Plus, since all the crap he's done to himself hasn't killed him yet, I'm somewhat confident that he may be immortal, a definite advantage in fighting zombies.

Also, Iggy could compose a punk rock anthem to play while we fight the zombies, just like in the movies. GOB can carry around the portable music playing device.

Zombie Invasion Dream Team Member #7: Elijah Wood

Because after we survive the zombiepocalypse, Elijah and I have to do our part and help repopulate the Earth.

I know what you're thinking.

But after a zombiepocalypse, anything is possible, my friends.

(And we'd have adorable-ass babies.)


Cheers.

In which I pause to reflect on withstanding another year.

Alright, so I’m a tad late in posting this, but I thought I would take a moment to reflect on the past year before I abandon it in a trash bin and move on with my life. What follows is a brief synopsis of the lessons/important points I’m going to take away from 2008. These are in no particular order, but I will say that I do think Number 1 is a particularly keen insight.

1) If you have a panic attack while driving on I-40, it’s best to pull off the road.
2) I’m a sucker for a man with a guitar, a nasal singing voice, and ridiculous amounts of tape hiss. (On the off chance he ever stumbles across this, I’d like to take a moment to formally offer my hand in marriage to John Darnielle. Just let me know John! I’ll be waiting!)
3) The fact that I had to actually utter the phrase “I’m not saying I’m against the restorative power of song” in one of my classes was probably the final nail in the coffin of what was left of my respect for social work.
4) More people came over to my house in the first two months that I had a Wii than in the entire year before the purchase. Yet another indication of where I place in the hierarchy of fun things to do. (And no, I don’t mean that in a sexual way. Mostly.)
5) If you make your Facebook status updates long enough, and update them often enough, they’ll eventually amass a following.
6) As evidenced by Obama’s win, real change can happen. As evidenced as by his selection of Rick Warren, it’s never as much change as I’d like.
7) Every single year (and 2008 was no exception), my ability to engage other human beings in a conversation drops dramatically. At the rate I’m going, by the time I’m 30 I’ll be communicating solely in non sequitors and saliva bubbles.
8) Certain members of the LGBT community need a real swift, hard kick in the ass… and I’m doubtful that Prop 8 is going to be enough for any real, sustained change in attitude.
9) If enough people bother me about something (i.e. not cutting my hair, starting a blog, etc), I’m apt to do it. Evidently, I’m remarkably susceptible to peer pressure.
10) I’m an old, sad, hopeless nerd. (Though I kind of knew this already, it was constantly reinforced to me throughout the year, so I think it’s valid to include it.)

Well, 2008 certainly was action-packed, wasn’t it? (Note to self: must find way to denote bone-dry sarcasm in blog form.)

As for 2009, I’m not really one for resolutions, as mine generally stay the same every year (which should indicate how much progress I make on them). However, I do think I’m going to try to take the advice of one of my professors. After the class I referenced in Lesson #3, she pulled me aside and told me that despite the fact that she was not my mother, she felt like she needed to tell me to “lighten up.”

So we’ll see how that goes. Anyone willing to guess how long it’ll last?

A brief interruption before we move on...

So while I’m positive that this blog is sure to become a veritable clearinghouse for everything depressing and gay, something happened to me today that I feel compelled to share first.

I think I may have watched an elderly man pass away at the Harris Teeter. And I’m going to be horribly insensitive and talk about how this is affecting me for a moment.

It was so weird to see, not least of which because it’s not the kind of thing one expects when one goes grocery shopping. I was just standing at the U-Scan, u-scanning, and there was this elderly man sitting on a chair next to a shopping cart at the front of the store. He starting falling over in his chair, and a cashier and a customer went over to help him. Over the course of several minutes, the man went from being responsive and talking to... well... not. At the end, the customer who was helping was saying he couldn’t feel a pulse (and checking both the man's neck and wrist) and the manager was calling the paramedics. And then I left.

I felt bad about leaving, but, in all honesty, there’s not much I could have done. I don’t know first aid, they had already called an ambulance, the customer who was helping seemed to know what he was doing... I also didn’t think that having a bunch of people standing around gawking was helpful to the situation. So I left.

So I walked out to my car, feeling overwhelmingly odd, and as I drove home, I started to get sad, for lack of a better word. That poor man… who came to Harris Teeter to do some grocery shopping… and it ended up being the last thing he’ll ever do. And how depressing it seems to endure your final moments in a busy supermarket, surrounded by strangers. It just seems like such a lonely, impersonal way to go.

I’m projecting here, of course. It would be sad for me, not necessarily for him. Maybe it wasn’t lonely for him.

For all I know, for that matter, maybe the paramedics arrived and were able to revive him. Maybe the customer checking his pulse didn’t really know how, and was feeling in the wrong spot(s). What I do know is how it looked when I left, which was not good… and how he looked as the whole thing was happening.

I don’t know if I’ve ever actually witnessed someone pass away. I’m not saying that so that anyone feels bad for me, because that’s entirely not the point. But I can still see the whole chain of events clearly in my head. And I think they’re going to stay with me for a while.

Anyway, I hope he’s ok… though, to be honest, I’m not optimistic. And I hope that, wherever he is (and I’m not about to start that particular debate), if it was as lonely for him as it would have been (would be) for me, at least he knows that someone is remembering him and thinking about him.

That’s all. Back to the usual misanthropy.

Cheers

Hello.

And welcome to my blog.

So I thought that the proper thing to do would be to introduce myself a bit.

This, of course, presupposes that someone might read this who doesn’t know me… which is (let’s face it) a pipe dream… but one that I’ll indulge in for at least a few sentences.

If pressed, I usually describe myself as an amalgam of awkwardness, misplaced anger, and social anxiety. I’m a misanthrope, yet am one semester away from being a social worker (hence the title of the blog). I’d consider myself to be both in the middle of the LGBT rights movement and an outlier in the community. I identify as gay, but am thinking of switching to queer, mostly because it’s a much more fun word to say. I’m a tad pretentious. Maybe a bit more than a tad, but it’s nice to pretend otherwise.

And, as you may have noticed, I can talk for a while about myself without actually revealing anything of any substance.

So why am I doing this? Well, a few reasons. I guess that I’m choosing to look at this as a collection of everything that's consuming my life right now... which I will no doubt look back on in 5 or 10 years (or 6 months, for all I know) with a combination of embarrassment and shame… but that fits in nicely with my masochistic streak, so it's a win-win.

I habitually post a lot of things to Facebook, but find my comments are often hampered by character space limits. As you’ll undoubtedly become aware, I tend to be wordy, so having space unencumbered by said limits appeals to me.

Plus, I like to rant, complain about things, and just generally bring down the collective moods of all who surround me. What better way is there to do that on a large scale than a public forum such as a blog, right?

And finally, at the end of the day, probably the biggest reason why I’m doing this is because a few friends think I’d be good at it, and I want them to quit bugging me.

So what can you, the reader, expect from this blog? If I had to guess, I'd say it will feature an extraordinary amount of depressing gay stuff, coupled with an odd assortment of other topics that happen to catch my eye. Additionally, I'm planning on using this space as an outlet for some of the theories and ideas that have been kicking around my head. If anything I write moves you to comment, please feel free. I'll try to respond to every comment in a timely manner. (And honestly, I'm not expecting anyone to actually read this, so I figure one comment every six months or so should be something I can handle.)

I will confess that I’m a little worried about how often I’ll be able to update this without it becoming yet another timesuck in my life… but what the hell?

That’s the spirit, right?