Drak

Lonely people need to get a grip. I'm looking at you, gay men. Also single women. Looking for love is okay, but trusting strangers on the Internet is not. Let me tell you the first rule about strangers. Everything they say is a lie until verified by ten different pieces of evidence, at which point it can advance from lie to simple exaggeration. Never do human beings utter truth. Truth is elusive, not something that can be spoken. If you are browsing matchmaker-for-gullible-people.com, and the web site shows you a beautiful person, age 18, Christian, romantic, loving, and eager for a first experience, wanting to get it on with someone older, then that's a fantasy. What that means is that a 50 year-old felon wants to come over to your house, beat you unconscious, and steal everything you have. How does that sound? That's reality. Or maybe a cybercriminal from Russia wants to steal every last dollar from your online bank account. Hey, he needs surgery for his sick grandma. Have a heart, give him your bank password. Give him your email password. Help him out just this one time. Come on, be a pal. I have seen such scenarios unfold with otherwise intelligent folks getting victimized by the most transparent criminal schemes. Don't fall victim! Think with your big head, not your little head. Always evaluate people and situations with ice-cold objectivity. Insist upon perceiving reality as it is, not as how you would prefer it to be. Reject delusion! Only then will you be able to remain master of your money and your heart. Stay strong and stay cool, and reserve your love for those that prove worthy of trust, not beautiful strangers that fit into your fantasies of lust. Trust, not lust, is the way of friendship.

I would not permit it on my watch, just because twelve of my peers might not view things the same way a medical professional would. Do I think it's wrong? Yes, if grades were contingent upon spreading legs and accepting probe in front of classmates. That's embarrassing, and very few among H. Sapiens are so liberated as to accept such a thing with a devil-may-care attitude. That said, I wouldn't make the girls millionaires because of it, either. Bottom line is they could have said no, grades or not. So why should they get a free ride?

So what are you learning up there in college, dear? Lubricated transvaginal probes, indeed. That was a lawsuit waiting to happen if there ever was one. However, it is an open secret in medicine that students practice on one another. That includes some touching, grasping, occasional disrobing, listening, feeling, and probing. I still find lubricated transvaginal probes surprising, though. Especially when sexual stimulation is needed to insert them properly. Clever students! They may get a sizable portion of the profits they otherwise might have earned from a lengthy career in medicine. And they can proceed with a career in medicine if they so desire, with ample funds to pay tuition, boarding and living and entertainment expenses. Much more lucrative than, say, being an escort, as one of the defendants suggested. Why put out for a couple hundred, when you can score hundreds of thousands, potentially, just by attending court for a few months? A follow-up question is, how long has this been going on and how many students have already gone through the process? What are the opinions of these graduates of lubricated transvaginal probing? Anything sex-related is a surefire way to score the lawsuit jackpot in America. Sure beats working.

I was touched that the Boston Bomber told a nun no one should suffer like his victims did. Really. I thought to myself, well, here's two eyeballs, two kidneys, two lungs, a heart and a liver to harvest to repair the victims, who can get bumped up the waiting list for a transplant. No need for pain medication, as resources are limited, and our sick and dying have so much need of pain relievers. Restraints are all that is required for Mr. Bomber, restraints and liberal use of a taser. Our great hard-working industrious people deserve 100% free medical care and can be assisted by the donations of such as the Boston Bomber, whose name and identity is of no relevance, as he will not be remembered. When I began this post, I could not remember how to spell his foreign name, but then I thought, what does it matter? He is faceless. Nameless. Formless. Go back to the Void from whence you came--Scum. The nun may shed tears praying over the world's pain. I suggest she spend her time helping worthier souls, for there are many in this world who suffer, many sweet loving souls who never shed innocent blood in all their days, nay, nor caused harm to another. THEY I hold in honor and regard. THEY merit our labor and our words. Not some fiend of fair face and foul spirit.

I live in region where there is little love for Obama. Some people tune in to a ton of FOX News or something to that effect, and their opinions are shaped by different information than the information I absorb from such sources as "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart," MS-NBC, the Washington Post, the Huffington Post, NORML, the BBC, the New York Times, and a liberal education in English literature and upbringing as the son of two college professors. Today I drank beer with a kind, gentle, generous man who told me Obama was a f***-up and wasn't a Christian. At the same time, the man celebrates my marriage to my husband and supports the rights of gays to marry and clearly has no problem with gays at all. What am I to say? I am a liberal Democrat, but I said nothing, and accepted the check that was written to my name for technical support rendered, like the wise man I reckon and hope I am. Each man is entitled to his own opinion, and I have no reason to preach to the unconverted, least of all customers of mine that pay me good coin and treat me well and respect me as a human being. The world would be a better place if we all adopted a "live-and-let-live" attitude. More flies go for honey than vinegar. My dear, dead friend, who I wrote about here, the dear woman, was a Republican and also believed as that man did, that Obama was wrong, but that gays were okay. I am not entirely sure I'm a good judge of a politician. I don't keep up with politics simply because I don't have the time. I work just about all the time. I like Obama because he made nice noises about gay marriage, is for health insurance for the poor, is for higher minimum wage, and recognizes global warming is a threat to human existence. I dislike Obama because he was timid about marijuana, timid about gay rights, and his health policy was too complicated. Look, health care is a great idea. But our system pales before Canada's or England's. I think Obama did a good job with the cards he was dealt, a B+ perhaps. I guess I wish he had something akin to magic, something that would make people like that gentle man I spoke with this evening stand up and take notice. Charisma, but also something more, strategic vision, like Napoleon I guess, a killer instinct so rare in our species. Yet Napoleon, he too failed, did he not, with his silly march on Russia? Where is perfection found? Nowhere. Not even in our beloved Spartacus. We are humans, it seems. We stutter. We forget. We dribble. We don't know everything. Well, at least we're a bit evolved from primates.

Recently, I was given a questionnaire by a student instructed to interview a homosexual. One of the questions was whether I was religious. I put down that I did not belong to a religion. Do I believe in God? I have trouble with the semantics. I think we need to determine what is meant by the word before we go any farther. God means different things to different people, just as Lucifer does. Every divinity seems to fluctuate in popularity and reputation just like a soft drink brand. A lot depends on marketing. A similar question might be, "Do I like to drink beverages?" Well, that depends on the beverage, doesn't it? I refuse to drink moonshine, say, or anything unpleasant. I don't find an intellectual home in any of the major world religions, although Unitarianism seems the most plausible, if only because of its ambiguity. A lot of the things that have been written and said about God seem amusing. Seems like wishful thinking on the part of humans. Delusion, paranoia, attempts to control other people. I like the idea of things or beings that we do not know. I am not sure who they are or whether it is possible to contact them for any form of communication. If they cannot be contacted, then they are irrelevant, like the gold that exists somewhere in the Earth's core that we just cannot reach no matter what. I feel the most spiritual and believing when under the influence of marijuana. I feel a oneness and connection to the whole creation then. Otherwise I feel grounded to the material world. My God is a reflection of my own experience and is positive, reaffirming and helpful. I like to think of God as a female entity, fertile and creative and full of ideas and wisdom.

It seems to me that execution of a killer like B.B. would really clear the air and help the general public move on from that horrible atrocity. Help the public heal the psychic wound and silence any further media reports about an unimportant nonentity. Harvest the organs to help those of the victims that need such assistance.

I'm tired of hearing about murderers in the news. I don't really think their trials are newsworthy. The latest headline concerned the Boston Bomber. Do victims' families want him executed? I guess some journalist took a poll. You know what, who cares? My opinion on the Boston Bomber can be summarized in four words: Take Out The Garbage. Human life is neither precious nor rare enough to nurse a mass-murderer all his days. There are millions in the world dying of various causes, disease, famine, neglect, or war, millions that may even be deserving of life. We should look after them, maybe, or at least think about it, before we keep a mass-murderer alive at our own expense. His case is pretty clear-cut, too, no if's, and's, or but's about it. If he is willing to donate his organs and eyeballs to those who need them, then reward him with a couple weeks of nutritious food or whatever and a pencil and a few sheets of recycled paper to write his last will and testament, but in the end, set up the guillotine. The guillotine. I think that is the most honest form of execution, regardless of its pedigree or history. It is sureproof and fast and low-tech. What's not to like? Separate a human head from a human body, and life is soon ended. What could be more humane? All this nonsense about lethal injections is ridiculous. His victims were dear, good folks. Runners are the salt of the earth. And Boston is one of the nicest cities. Anybody associated with Mr. Bomber needs a one-way ticket out of this country, yesterday. A hundred miles would be the limit that taxpayer money should fly them. They can swim the rest of the way or else enhance nutrition for aquatic life in the Atlantic.

Banana milkshakes and tea help with hydration a lot. I learned one thing, that beer does NOT help, at all ! I had to experiment to find that out.

The mask is a good idea I had not thought of. I wonder how effective it is. No one at my workplace ever wears such things and I've never seen one in action. Anyway, I went ahead and went to work, and no one complained or even asked how I was doing. One person seemed to notice I was ill but was unconcerned about any risk of contagion. I think I am more sensitive to the risk of contagion than other people. I just hate the idea of evil germs spreading from person to person and spreading misery, on and on, a neverending cycle.

Pope Francis was right to name the atrocities committed by the Turks against the Armenians what they are, genocide. The Turkish ambassador to the Vatican flapped his wings and flew away in protest. Hey, if Turkey wants to act like a turkey, so be it. The fact remains that Christian blood has been on Muslim hands for the past hundred-odd years, and no amount of white-washing is going to get that stain off. I like Pope Francis, even though he disagrees with me on a lot of things and even though I'm not Catholic. He at least has the minimal amount of courage required to say things that are not only true but glaringly obvious. I don't really expect that much of him, because he has to play the part of the titular head of a very conservative institution resistant to any and all change. But for a Pope, he's pretty good, about as good as I've seen in all my years.

I are Fubar today, f***ed up beyond all recall, not as a result of substances but rather an anonymous virus, likely a cold virus. I called in sick today for the first time ever, but I probably will trudge in tomorrow just to show the boss, hey I'm not pulling a sickie, I'm sick for real. I like for people to know I'm honest. He is probably okay with me working from home, but I need to pick up a few gadgets from work in order to make that happen. Morally, I hate coming in to work sick, because it means I'm Typhoid Mary, a disease vector working the will of an evil virus. I hate that, being a pawn of an evil virus, but economic necessity and all that... and anyway, staying home, people may naturally think, well, he's not really sick, just hungover or goofing off or whatever. Apparently a lot of people do call in sick when they aren't, which spoils things for those of us who are really sick. Firing on three instead of four cylinders isn't a great idea for productivity and will increase my error rate, but it will give me a chance to see whether anyone notices or cares. I think I caught this stinking virus from a guy sitting next to me that came in to work sick. Well, the cycle continues I guess. I find the situation morally ambiguous, but possibly I am in the wrong to come in to work tomorrow. On the other hand, a lot of people think it is pure laziness to stay home sick, and I wonder whether that is so.

The story of the Bozo that got 18 years for operating UGotPosted.com tickled me. He can now find himself on ugotarrested.com and ugotsentup.com and prison.com. He won't need to pay any web domain fees for the next ten years at least. For a measly $30k, he traumatized women he had never met before who received his nastygrams demanding $300 to remove their compromising photographs. I think his behavior was more the result of woman-hating than motivated by greed. If people would just abide by a simple rule, don't be mean and don't be ugly, then the world would be a better place, and people would also lead happier lives. California crafted a new law specifically to target his web site, but he hit the snooze button on his blaring alarm clock urging him "take down the site, take down the site". Now he wakes up in a courtroom listening to victims tell him what they think of him. Dear Webmaster, instead of me sending you $300, how about you spend the next ten years of your life in prison? Now's a lousy time to be a woman-hater or a gay-hater, because gays and women are empowered like never before, at least in the West. I reckon in Saudi Arabia, his web site would be co-opted by the state and he would receive a state salary, while the female victims would be sentenced to 1,000 lashes.

Ayaan Hirsi is an amazing author recently interviewed on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. As Emperor of the World, I'd appoint Ayaan Hirsi to take care of affairs of state.

In the U.S., police are employed by the government, insofar as their wages are paid by taxpayers. Police powers are checked by the government, both local, state and federal. In cases where cops do something wrong, it is always the unions that are speaking out and taking action on behalf of the accused, but what about the victims? Who stands up for them? Sometimes law enforcement seems too clubby, with prosecutors, judges, cops all on the same side, and unions just tend to aggravate that.

Law enforcement should not have unions. Or actually, anyone who works in government should not belong to a union. Our government is a powerful entity. Its servants should not band together to amplify that power. Whenever I read a statement from the Policeman's Union, I perform a translation. The Union spokesman states, in translation, "The accused is guilty of all charges without reservation. There are no mitigating circumstances. There are many other things that have not yet been brought to light, of which the accused is also guilty." This is what the Union representative always means, in every case, whenever he speaks on behalf of anyone in his Union. Unions of government employees should be disbanded. Government servants have enough power as it is without needing to form a collective organ to defraud and deceive the public that they are supposed to serve.

Ever wondered what Lady Galadriel said to Sauron as she spanked him back to the East in Peter Jackson's "Battle of the Five Armies"? You have no power here, servant of Morgoth! You are nameless, Faceless, Formless! Go back to the Void from whence you came! Morgoth was the mighty evil tyrant of yesteryear, in his origin the most powerful of the angels of Eru and rather similar in many ways to the Adversary of Christian Apocrypha. To learn of Morgoth, the servants of Morgoth, and the Void, read Tolkien's "The Silmarillion, arguably the greatest of his works. As a boy, I despised "The Silmarillion," because it is the least accessible work by Tolkien and the least finished, more an outline in truth than a proper story like "The Lord of the Rings." I found it impenetrable and put it down for twenty years, but when I picked it up again, I perceived it was deeper by far and more meaningful, one might even say a fuller and superior realization of the author's religion. For my part, I find the Silmarillion more satisfying than the Bible. It is a wonderful fusion between the Christian faith and the Pagan. Eru is not some proud, vengeful, ridiculous, demented Old Testament deity, but a fully realized Christian God, loving and kind and mystical and beyond comparison, embodying the philosophy of Jesus, but employing the methods and manners of Paganism, magic and wonder and mystery. What Tolkien gave to us is a revelation. I do not bother with the Bible's Revelations, boring prattle penned by politicking patriarchs, more reflections of the power struggles of their age than the divine or the wise. I like Tolkien's take on religion and I think he improved upon what he inherited from his ancestors.

I mean we are lucky to make it this far. A lot of people don't make it. Some of my friends didn't make it. I don't regret being my age. Instead, it's a gift. All those memories that can't be taken away. All that time. The future's uncertain, and who knows what will happen? We live in the golden age here. Well, yeah. I don't expect to see 80, let alone 99. I'd be happy to make it to 75.

lol I write once every four months or so with a question or comment, nothing too lengthy or time-consuming, sometimes inane but other times about writing or philosophy. Actually I like his blog, but just haven't found quite the right book from his prolific output. He is really smart and a genuinely good person I think. He is the only famous author I know that will actually write back in response to a silly question about rutabagas. I bet every other famous author in the world would flag that for their spam folder. Well, in return I promote his blog on online forums and the like, so maybe it evens out.

My grandmother cooked rutabagas with bacon and butter every time I visited for lunch, and they tasted great. I loved my grandmother. She was the nicest lady in the entire world. She died of leukemia, but lived a long life, and everyone she knew loved her just as I did. In fact, people loved her too much, and she had to hide from some people. That is one of the problems when you are too lovable. You have to hide from the non-lovables. She did the best she could. I remember she used to tell me to keep my voice down when I was in her apartment, lest her neighbors hear me and come a-knocking on the door wanting to visit. I wrote to a world-famous author the other day to ask whether he liked rutabagas. He was only lukewarm on the rutabaga controversy. I'm a rutabaga partisan and was offended. At least he said he eats rutabaga. He demonstrated he does know how to pronounce the word, so that is progess at least. Authors. All they care about is words and grammar and pronunciation. What about the turnip? I think that secretly he detests rutabaga, and is just being polite on the off-chance I might be a fan, but in reality, I have not read any of his books in over thirty years. He did not need to reply to me at all as I am just a time-waster, not a paying customer, but I did not tell him that. I do remember back in the day I used to read him, but then I got tired of him, because all his books seemed the same. Then I bought another book of his second-hand on E-bay and I hated it and threw it in the trash can. This is the sort of thing I did not tell him in my email. Instead, I just discussed the rutabaga. I like rutabaga.

Vanuatu had a bad day and a hellacious hangover. I could not even pronounce Vanuatu until a gentleman from that region of the world corrected me. Vanuatu's predicament reminds of New Orleans after hurricane Katrina. People should be helped out, given money to relocate, temporary housing, food, whatever they need. What I don't like is the idea of rebuilding another offering to Poseidon, who will just wash it all away again. These coastal targets are doomed in our warming climate. Let's be realistic. Are we really going to stop global warming? Unlikely. The political will is not there. So why rebuild? Relocate to higher ground, safer ground, so that future generations won't have to suffer such a fate. Give homeless people options, twenty different locations where they can relocate, areas that have a lot of jobs and not enough people to fill them. There may not be too many of those areas, in today's economy, but they are out there somewhere. Build factories for them, housing, government buildings, whatever is needed. But build safely out of reach of Poseidon's wrath.

As a young man exploring the gay subculture for the first time, twenty-five seemed the outer limit, old age in the youth-centered gay scene I was exploring. Once I reached twenty-five, I decided that was not so bad after all, but everything must be downhill after thirty. After reaching geezerhood at thirty, the time had come to open my mind to a new way of thinking about age. Now that I am, shall we say, older than thirty, I'm happier than I ever was. I'm legally married now, thanks to the blood, sweat and tears of our brave gay and lesbian activists. I'm comfortable if not rich. I have a settled, sensible and orderly life devoid of drama and confusion. None of this was true when I was young, single, poor, and lonely, playing at love with one Mr., Ms., or Mrs. Wrong after the other. Truth be told, I'd rather be old than young. Granted, I am not as pretty as I used to be, but that does not matter very much. I was never so vain about my appearance as to spend much time looking in a mirror. What remains important to me is my inner world, thoughts and ideas, and those are just as poignant now as they were back in my lonely years. Chess, books, television shows, writing, conversation, and walks in the park are just as fun now as they were back then. Young man, envy those of eighty. Do not pity your gray and withered elders, because they have already banked many good and productive years, which can never be taken away from them, not by misfortune and not even by death. Pity the young, such as yourself, because your fate remains unclear, subject to the whims of Destiny. I expressed this thought to a young man at a dinner party, and he retorted, "Why wouldn't a young person make it to old age!" The thought of tragedy seems strange to the young of today, lucky ones who do not attend funerals of those slain by AIDS, war, or shootings. Sheltered ones, who live comfortable lives in loving homes, you are lucky, but destiny has a long reach. Even if death seems remote to you now, It is a good thing to make it to old age, a rare thing, I tell you now. It is fine and splendid to appreciate what Sinatra named "the dregs of life," which can be just as good as the first sips from the cup.

There's a legal case pending for some poor woman on death row. She graduated from a prison theology program in 2011. Now in 2015, she's set for a graduate degree; instead of studying God, she's going to meet Him. Oh, Georgia, you wry old thing. Seems to me only the poor get sentenced to death. The rich get off with murder, rape, theft, or whatever they fancy. If they don't buy the judge, they'll buy the best lawyer, or buy the governor, or buy the prosecutor. Somehow or another, the rich get off, whatever they do. On the other hand, what about the lady's poor husband, mouldering in the ground? Does the victim not deserve justice? These death penalty cases are complicated morally. Sometimes I feel it is hubris, our taking another life. Maybe Gandalf was right when he said, "There are many who deserve life. Can you give it to them? Be not eager to deal out death. Even the wise cannot see all ends." Other times, like in the recent case of Münchausen syndrome by proxy, my gut reaction consists of five words. First-degree murder. The chair. Blame the whole situation on the killers. They are the ones that put us in this accursed moral predicament. It's all their fault. We are absolved, morally, as long as we make the death as swift and painless as can be. I find a swift death rather enviable. Many of us will not die so cleanly, so elegantly, so painlessly. What about the victims? Again and forever we must ask that question. I wonder if her husband died so painlessly? For my part, if the grace left me altogether, and I slew another, then most likely I would not fear death, but accept it as inevitable. I reckon, given her chosen field of study, she has embraced philosophy as well.

A user will stop using Yahoo if he can't find the site he is looking for. After all, why not switch to Google, like everyone else? I'm not sure I buy the spiting-rivals theory. I think gayauthors.org is blocking Yahoo or else is not properly SEO'd.

Yahoo cuts off a hand that feeds Google? Yeah, I can imagine Yahoo doing just that. Reminds me of why I stopped using Yahoo. Too much in the way of smoke and mirrors.