Lloyd Mullins's Blog, page 5

Writing X-rays

“Words can be like X-rays, if you use them properly–they’ll go through anything.” Aldous Huxley, Brave New World.

I’m a writer (or at least I flatter myself that I am), so words are kind of my thing. Every once in a while, I’ll run across something that seriously changes my outlook, or how I think, or even my world. A few days ago, I was reading Huxley’s Brave New World, and I came across the line that starts this post. I read that, and my brain just kind of melted.

Over the years, I’ve had thoughts similar to that, but Huxley actually articulated what I’ve always thought, far better than I ever did, and actually put my ambition into words: I want to write X-rays. I want to write words in a way that cuts through to the heart of the matter, whatever the matter happens to be. Words that illuminate the hidden problems and that help to solve them. Words that make people think. Words that make people think, “That’s what I’ve been thinking!” Words that make people think, “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Ever since I was a kid, certain phrases or sayings have stuck with me that either changed my life or formed the way I thought. Phrases like “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it,” which I always thought was said by Patrick Henry, but was apparently originally written by Evelyn Beatrice Hall in her book The Friends of Voltaire, published in 1906. That saying, to my young mind, represented the entire idea of Free Speech, and much of what it meant to be an American. I remember a time when Americans were proud to quote that phrase.

Patrick Henry’s famous “Give me liberty, or give me death!” is another phrase that formed the way I saw the world. To this day, I resent anything I see as an intrusion of my liberty. Of course, I’ve come to understand that there is no such thing as absolute liberty. In any society, there are necessarily going to be limits to what members of that society are at liberty to do. I think the closest we can get to absolute liberty is a society where every member is actually treated equally, regardless of sex, race, religion, or financial status.

It’s funny how so much of my identity as a person is tied to my identity as an American. I really believe the words “All men are created equal” but it troubles me that, as a country, we still have trouble accepting it. I don’t think that any objective observer looking at our country would really believe that it is, or ever has been, a central tenet of our national consciousness. That bothers me, both as a person, and as an American. In our defense, I will say that we are closer than we were at the beginning, and I do think that we’re continually making progress in that direction, but clearly, we’ve got a long way to go.

Perhaps all the kerfuffle over Columbus Day has brought another phrase that has haunted me, and informed how I see the world, to the forefront of my mind. I first read The Lord of the Rings when I was 10 or 11 years old. In his forward to The Lord of the Rings, Peter S. Beagle wrote, “We are raised to honor all the wrong explorers and discoverers–thieves planting flags, murderers carrying crosses.”

Even though I was too young to understand what he meant, I knew that what he was saying was important, and more importantly, right. As I got older and began to study history, and especially as I began to study history outside of history class, I came to see how right he was. Columbus’ “discovery” of America began centuries of genocide and exploitation so vile that it makes the Nazis look like pikers. Much of it was carried out under the guise of Christian Evangelism and Manifest Destiny, and, in a thousand little ways, in a thousand little places out of the way enough that we don’t notice, it continues to this day, but under the guise of economic pragmatism.

Don’t believe me? Just go to Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in S. Dakota, or the Navajo or Apache reservations in Arizona, or the inner city of, well, pretty much any city in America, or the coal country of Appalachia, or the factory towns of the rust belt. The machine doesn’t care about your race, or your color; it just cares about being fed and moving on.

Another saying that really puzzled me as a kid was “Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel.” Samuel Johnson said that back in 1775. As a kid in love with the America I learned about in school and by watching John Wayne defeat not only the Indians, but the Japanese, and thrilling to the hyper-patriotic fervor of the Bicentennial, it just didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense, but it just wouldn’t let me go, either. Once again, as I grew, and studied, I came to see what he meant, and to realize that he was right. Or almost right. Patriotism isn’t the “last refuge” any more (if it ever was).

It isn’t the scoundrel’s Alamo, where they make their last stand; these days it’s their launching pad, from which the flag-pin wearing bastards use the flag-draped caskets of dead soldiers to justify stripping away our rights, to brand those who protest injustice as unAmerican, to present themselves as the only ones who can save us from all of the “evils” that they have worked so hard to make us afraid of.

I want to write words like that. Words and phrases that cut through the constant 24-7 barrage of bullshit that we’re all dealing with. Of course, if you’ve read to this point, you’re probably thinking, “Well, you’re not there yet,” and you’re right, my writing (and my thinking) is still a work in progress. Hopefully though, I’m getting there. Hopefully, at this point, I’m at least making you think.

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Pine Ridge Indian Reservation: Link to Mission Report

For those of you who are interested in the mission trip that a group of friends and I make annually to Pine Ridge Indian reservation in S. Dakota, I’m posting a link to the Nape Na Si (pronounced Naw-pay Naw See, and means “Hands and Feet” in the Lakota dialect) Ministries website here. The link will take you to a report on our doings and activities out there. I hope you enjoy it.

If by chance, you’ve already read it, it’s been updated since its original publication–as usual, right after I hit “publish”, I thought of a bunch of stuff that I forgot to say.’

Anyway, enjoy!

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Some Days It Just Doesn’t Pay to Get Out of Bed.

Some days, you just know going in, that it’s going to be a shitty day. Take the other day for example; I woke up when the alarm went off – my least favorite way to wake up, or at least least favorite normal way to wake up (waking up to being swallowed alive by a giant anaconda for example, would be worse, but extremely abnormal). Anyway, I get up, stagger through the canine obstacle course that is our bedroom, and head to the bathroom to find the lid on the toilet down (almost always a harbinger of impending doom).

“Huh,” I thought, with my cloudy, morning-brain, “I wonder why Jess put that down?” I figured it was to keep the dogs from drinking out of the toilet.

It wasn’t.

It turned out that my wife, the lovely-but-tragically-digestively-challenged Jess was running late for work when the previous night’s meatloaf hit her. I blame myself of course, after all, it was me who made it, and me who got careless with the garlic powder (I like garlic, sometimes a little too much). It was a new container, and instead of opening the shaker side of the lid, I accidentally opened the spoon side of the lid and gave it a hearty shake. I estimate that I dumped at least a quarter to half-cup of garlic powder into the meatloaf, hence the ensuing (and ongoing) digestive tragedy.

At any rate, not to be too indelicate, our pipes were apparently not up to the challenge, and since the diligent, and extremely time-conscious Jess was (conveniently?) running late, she simply had no choice but to leave me a fabulous parting gift. It was a disappointing and unpleasant start to the day.

Well, I got that taken care of, as well as my own ablutions (oh, don’t act so grossed out, you do the same thing), and got all the dogs outside to do their thing, had my morning smoke, got all the dogs back inside, managed to survive the three-ring-circus that is feeding time at Casa del Moon, and headed for the den to do some writing. My entry to the den was blocked, however, by the dog gate (Molly the old Golden Retriever sleeps loose in the den, and Mattie the young, crazy Jack Russel/Beagle mix sleeps in a kennel in there). Normally, the gate is only shut at night, to keep Molly from wandering.

“Huh,” I thought, “I wonder why Jess latched that gate?” I figured it was just an accident, one of those things you just do without thinking, because you’re busy thinking about other things.

It wasn’t.

It turned out that Molly had experienced a tragic digestive crisis of her own overnight. Three times (apparently what the lovely and resourceful Jess was thinking about was how glad she was that she was running late for work). For more info on why Jess latched the gate, see my post, My Dog Eats Poo: A Disgusting Allegorical Tale. ‘Nuff said on that.

So, my morning was pretty much eaten up by cleaning . . . well, let’s just leave it at that.

To top it all off, I had to go to work.

I don’t like going to work. I’ve been doing it all my life, and I’ve never liked it. That’s why I want to be a writer-it’s so much more fun. Sadly-so far at least-it’s also far less lucrative, so I get the dogs all squared away, saddle up, and head to work.

Now don’t get me wrong, I like this job better than any other job I’ve ever had. I like helping people to improve their writing skills, especially when they really want to improve. Unfortunately, this particular day’s students didn’t really seem to want to improve, they just wanted me to tell them what to write so they could pass their classes. This always puts me in a bad mood.

Then a kid comes in. While one of my colleagues is reading his paper, this kid is blathering on about one of his classes which focused (in part) on the Civil War, and he didn’t feel that the other side (the side he identified with) was fairly represented. Then, he made the mistake of asking me what I thought.

I knew where he was coming from: when I was a kid, most of my heroes were Confederates (my family also has southern roots). Let’s face it-the South had all the cool guys: Robert E. Lee, J.E.B. Stuart, Stonewall Jackson, Mosby’s Rangers, etc. What did the Union have? A bunch of incompetents, an alcoholic, and a couple of deeply devoted arsonists. But then, I told him, I read some books, a whole bunch of books, in fact, and had come to the conclusion that better men never fought and/or died for worse cause, i.e. the right to own another human being as property.

He seemed to take offense to that, pointing out that the Civil War wasn’t about slavery, it was about state’s rights.

I pointed out to him that the only state’s right the South was specifically interested in, the only one that couldn’t have been settled peaceably was the right to own slaves. If you doubt me, and I’m sure some of you do, here’s a link to the Declarations of Secession of Virginia, Texas, Georgia, Mississippi, and South Carolina. As far as I can tell, the other nine states never really mentioned any specific reasons (other than hating Lincoln, and/or perceived unfair treatment) for seceding. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.

He, of course, countered with that old chestnut, “But most confederates didn’t even own slaves!” True enough, but, those guys were talked into war by the guys who did own slaves.

He then asked if I thought all people who fly the Confederate Flag now are racists. I told him no, I didn’t think that, but, I asked him, what would you think of me if I was flying a Nazi flag over my house, not because I was a racist, but because I was proud of my German heritage and had ancestors that fought for Germany? He didn’t seem to have an answer for this.

All this time, I was getting more and more aggravated. I have a pretty low tolerance for stupidity, and virtually no tolerance at all for willful stupidity, and this kid was pretty much the poster child for it.

It got quiet for a while, and then he asked me what I thought about the cool kids club. I didn’t know what that was, until he said it’s spelled with all K’s. I told him I wasn’t a fan.

He didn’t say anything, so I waited. And waited. And waited some more. Finally, I asked him what he thought about the KKK. He was really quick to point out that he wasn’t in favor of hurting anybody, and he really liked black people, in fact, he had a lot of black friends, but there were some things that he did like about the KKK. I asked him what those were, and he hemmed and hawed around for quite a while, just um-ing, and well-ing, etc.

I finally asked him if he was having trouble thinking of something good to say about them that wouldn’t make him sound like a racist, and he just laughed, and said something about racism being pretty much over in the good ol’ USA.

By this time, my head was about to explode, and of course, my mouth started moving faster than my brain. I told him that, of course, he could say that, he was safe. He asked me what I meant by that.

It’s important to understand, at this point, that we were not alone. There were several others present, all young white men, including one gay kid.

I said, “I mean you’re safe. I’m the safest person in this room. I’m white, middle-aged, at least marginally middle-class, and married. At this point, I am pretty much my only natural predator. You guys are less safe than me, because you’re younger, and more likely to get yourself into stupid, potentially life-threatening situations, a stage I’ve already survived. You guys are safer than Xxxxx.”

Xxxxx asked why they were safer than him, and I said, “Because you’re gay.”

This came as a complete surprise to Xxxxx, who pointed out that no, as a matter of fact, he was not gay.

Talk about derailing your own argument. Here I was, trying to point out that there are segments of our society that live their lives at considerably more risk than others, and that for those who are at virtually no risk to deny the evils of racism, xenophobia, homophobia, sexism, etc., that plague large portions of our society is, quite simply, deluded and disingenuous bullshit, and instead of making my point, I merely succeeded in making myself look (or at least feel) like the biggest asshole in the room.

Xxxxx wanted to know why I thought he was gay, and all I could think of was that I just thought he was. I had of course launched into that compulsively and diarrheatically vocal apology mode which usually only makes things worse, and makes you look like an even bigger asshole than if you’d just said, “I’m sorry” and shut the hell up.

I make no defense for myself. Xxxxx is a really nice kid. He’s very soft- and well-spoken, and speaks proper english, is always neatly and tidily dressed, doesn’t curse, doesn’t talk about women, and has good posture. Apparently, to my hunched, slouching, profane, vulgar, only conditionally showered, torn-T-shirt and worn-out jeans and shoes-wearing mind, that all adds up to gay. I made assumptions about him, based on purely circumstantial evidence, and, in a twisted kind of way, I supposed I proved my point, just not the way I expected to.

Hell, for all I know, that other kid, the stupid one, probably does have a lot of black friends.

All I know for sure is that I should have stayed in bed.

And, of course, that I, and most likely most of you too, have a lot farther to go on a personal level toward fixing the problems our society faces.

The post Some Days It Just Doesn’t Pay to Get Out of Bed. appeared first on moonsthoughts.

What I Think: About Participation Trophies

Disclaimer:

Sorry folks, but this one probably isn’t going to be very funny either: For the sake of expediency in future posts, lets just agree that, when you see the title begins with “What I Think:”, you should just skip right on by if you’re just looking for a laugh. Hopefully I’ll find something to laugh at soon (after all, I do stupid stuff on a pretty regular basis). That said, if you proceed, you have no one to blame but yourself.

I hope you do read on, and I hope it makes you think (even if it just makes you think I’m a jackass.) Enjoy!

What I Think: About Participation Trophies:

A lot of people out there seem to think that one of the problems with America, one of the primary reasons our society seems to be circling the drain, one of the liberal travesties inflicted upon us by political correctness that has caused the manhood of our nation to whither, is participation trophies, and, as much as I hate to say it; I have to agree.

I’ve received my fair share of participation trophies; we all have. I was a kid in Little League before the advent of these horrific, priority-twisting, manhood-cheapening, touchy-feely symbols of the liberal mommy-state, but I’ve done the “fun runs” (talk about two words that should never be used together), and the charity events where everybody gets a t-shirt, and sometimes even a cheap medal) just for participating. You don’t have to win, or even place. You just have to get to the finish line before the organizers get bored with waiting and go home. Sometimes they even pass them out beforehand.

I’ve gone to college, where they give you free stuff all the time, just for being a student. There’s no GPA requirement, no minimum class position, hell, most of the time, you don’t really even have to be a student; you just have to be willing to stand in line to get whatever crap they’re giving away! Thanks for playing!!!

I was in the Air Force for 20 years, and trust me, the military is the gold standard for participation trophies – they just call ’em medals. Now I want to be perfectly clear here, not all military medals are mere participation trophies; the combat medals, Purple Heart, Bronze and Silver Stars, Congressional Medal of Honor, and many more are the real deal, and I have nothing but respect for the brave men and women who sacrificed so much on our behalf.

No, what I’m talking about are the Good Conduct Medals, the Longevity Ribbons, and the others that you get for basically showing up and not screwing up (too badly anyway), and that includes some of the important-sounding ones, like the USAF Global War On Terror Service Medal. Here is the criteria for that one, direct from the AF Personnel Center website.

Not only does the criteria specifically say, “Individuals must have participated in or served in support of the Global War on Terrorism-specified operations . . .” but read the last paragraph of the criteria; you don’t even have to have left the country, or faced any danger to qualify. You simply have to have participated somehow.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not belittling those medals either; I’m the recipient of several of them. The people who got them earned them doing vital jobs. It doesn’t change the fact that it is still basically a participation medal.

Today, when I got up, there was an email from the school, telling me I had been selected as the “Outstanding Student in English” for 2017 (I know, this is a long way to go for a little cheap self-congratulation, huh?). I skimmed it, and went on with my day. No big deal. I figured there were probably at least 10 of us who’d been selected.

I didn’t realize it was a big deal (and I’ll grant you that “big deal” is really subjective), until I got to work at the Writing Center, and my boss told me “Congratulations!”

I asked her, “For what?”

She was kind enough to explain to me that it really was a big deal (at least in the world of Richmond, Indiana academia – like I said, importance is subjective). I didn’t really know how to respond. Still don’t really. I don’t know how to accept accolades – I’ve never really had one.

The closest I’ve ever really come to being singled out for distinction (at least in a good way) was, ironically enough, in Little League. One of the coaches bought, every year, and out of his own pocket, two trophies (and these were the big, cool ones, not the tiny ones); one for his team’s MVP, and one for the player with the best batting average (or some similar accomplishment). The year I was on his team, he bought three trophies; I didn’t get the MVP trophy, nor was I eligible for the Batting Trophy.

Nope, my performance on his team had inspired him to purchase and award to me the Sportsmanship Trophy! He said he’d never seen a kid who was such a good sport, and that I had really impressed him. Yay me!

Now, I don’t want to downplay that trophy, it was really nice of him to recognize me like that, but trust me, as a 10- or 12-year old kid who worshiped Pete Rose, I didn’t want to be a good sport, I wanted to be a good baseball player. Well, you can’t always get what you want. At any rate, you get the idea, my entire life, including a career in the military distinguished only by it’s utter lack of distinction, has left me completely unprepared to accept any genuine recognition of excellence.

The numerous free t-shirts and various other “participant” awards, ribbons, and medals I’ve received over the years meant exactly that to me – just a nice reminder that I was a part of something bigger for a while.

I suppose it could be argued that the problem isn’t with the participation trophies – after all, 95% of all the kids who get them know their significance immediately, or quickly figure it out, and, if the remaining 5% need that sort of validation at that tender age, then it’s good that they get it – but that the problem lies with those who so vehemently oppose the idea of them; the people who think that because of their own, or their child’s, special skill with a stick or a ball, that their trophy’s significance is decreased by the participation trophies. That it makes them, or their kid, less special, less deserving of respect, recognition, or special treatment.

Because that’s what a trophy really comes down to isn’t it? Trophies should only go to stars. We all want to be stars, but if everyone is a star, then no one is. And we need stars, don’t we? If there were no stars with trophies or awards for “excellence” in sports, or music, or acting, or war, then who would all those masses of losers look up to?

It could also be argued that an equally fair solution to the problem would be to get rid of all the trophies; after all, which is more pitiful – the 10-year-old with a participation trophy, or the adult, clinging to his or her Little League/High School/College glory days with his or her trophy collection on the mantle? It could be argued that without all those loser “participants” then the stars wouldn’t have anything to compare their own excellence to, so how would they (and everyone else) know how special they are?

It could even be argued that really, it’s just a manufactured issue; an overly simple judas goat, meant to distract people from recognizing the very real, actual sources of the myriad problems with our modern society (and yes, I know that Wikipedia is not considered a reliable source. I’m the IU East 2017 Outstanding Student in English, for Pete’s sake!).

Nah, it’s probably just those damned participation trophies. We get rid of them, everything’ll be right as rain.

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What I Think: About LGBT&Q Rights and Marriage Equality

Disclaimer:

You (yes, you) should only read the following post if you are actually interested is finding out what I think about LGBT&Q rights and Marriage Equality. I’m going to warn you right off the bat – this is probably not going to be very funny (of course, on the other hand, it may be; I’m a pretty funny guy). If you’re just looking for a laugh, or you don’t care what I think, then just move right along. It’s okay, I won’t be hurt.

Why I’m Writing This:

More and more, lately, I find myself being questioned about why I believe many of the things I do. Frequently, it is by people who are already convinced that I’ve gone completely off the rails, and are less interested in what I think, and why, than they are in seeing how far away from the tracks they think I should be on I’ve gotten (these people, of course, generally believe I should be on the same tracks as them).

I’m not writing this for them because frankly, I think that they’re mostly just looking for a fight, not a discussion. I’m writing this for the others, those few friends I have who, although they may believe I’m wrong, still have enough respect for me to genuinely want to know why I believe all the crazy stuff that I believe, and those who don’t actually know me, but may want to know what I think.

I’m also not writing this to try to convince, or convert, anybody to my way of thinking. I’m just putting it out there in hopes that it will make people think. This will be the first of a series in which I address some of the common sources of division in our society, in hopes of, not only making you think, but of clearly and rationally stating my own position on these issues (sometimes it’s hard to make a case for something on the fly; that kind of conversation usually devolves into issues of “feelings”, without the availability of sources to back up a position or line of reasoning).

I figured I’d start with a fairly easy one; LGBT&Q Rights and Marriage Equality (gay marriage); not that it’s particularly easy, but it (to me anyway) is a little less emotionally charged.

To start with, I’m in favor of not only LGBT&Q rights (and for the sake of expediency, from here on out I’m just gonna call ’em gay rights, which I freely acknowledge is probably insensitive and politically incorrect, but I’m a lazy typist, and it’s my blog. I apologize for any hurt feelings this may cause), I’m in favor of equal rights for all. I believe in liberty.

For Reasons of Liberty:

Now, there are a lot of people, much smarter than I, who have done a lot of thinking about this stuff. Sadly, a lot of them (at least the ones I know of) are also a lot deader than I am, so I’ll just take this opportunity to share some of their thoughts with you:

John Stuart Mill, in On Liberty, said this (among other liberty-related stuff):

“the sole end for which mankind are warranted, individually or collectively in interfering with the liberty of action of any of their number, is self-protection. That the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others . . . Over himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign.”

In other words, no harm, no foul – if it doesn’t hurt anybody else, it’s none of your business. Mill goes on to state expressly that this applies only to people, “in the maturity of their faculties,” i.e. adults who are capable of taking care of themselves. (it is a great book, full of a lot of pretty important thoughts on liberty, and what it means. I highly recommend it. You can probably find it online for free).

The preamble to the U.S. Constitution states:

“We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.”

The parts about establishing justice, securing the blessings of Liberty, and providing for the common defense can be applied directly to this issue.

Justice

Being LGBT or Q is not illegal. It follows then, that in the interests of justice, they are entitled to the same civil rights as I am. Instead, states and the federal government are introducing more and more legislation designed to specifically allow discrimination against them, mostly under the guise of protecting my religious freedom which frankly, needs no defense. The Constitution is all the protection I need.

Honestly, I really feel that if your relationship with God is so tenuous that it can be irreparably harmed by baking a wedding cake or arranging some flowers for two dudes’ wedding, then you’ve probably got bigger issues that you should be working on.

Here are a couple of articles for your consideration: Washington Post and LA Times. I want to point out that the LA Times piece is from the Opinion section, and should be considered as opinion, not fact, but it is still worthy of consideration.

Liberty

It seems to me that to encroach on any citizen’s or demographic’s liberties opens the door to encroaching on the liberty of all. After all, if we can deny rights and protection to LGBT&Q folks, then that just creates a road map for how to deny them to my group or yours should they ever become unpopular.

Defence

I believe that to deny gay folks (or anyone else, for that matter) their liberty harms not only them, but our country. A few years back, when they made it legal for gay folks to serve in the military, there were a lot of people who were convinced that it would destroy our war-fighting ability. Clearly, it hasn’t. Back in my day, of course, it was illegal for gay people to serve, and then we were subjected to the namby-pamby hypocrisy of Bill Clinton’s “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy, which basically said that gays could serve, as long as nobody knew they were gay.

The reasoning behind all that was that they were a security risk; if enemy agents found someone gay in the military, they could use that information to blackmail the gay service member into betraying classified information, or other treasonous acts. Not until 2010 did we face the fact that, if we removed the ban, we also removed the possibility of our enemies using that as leverage. By removing that ban, we actually made our country safer.

Of course, I can already hear the cries of “think of the children! We’ve got to protect the children!” I agree, we need to protect children; just not from gay folks. We need to protect them from pedophiles – there’s a difference, and here’s a link to a very informative paper on the subject: Facts About Homosexuality and Child Molestation. In case you didn’t take the time to read it, it basically cites a whole lot of studies which found no link between homosexuality and molesting children. The overwhelming majority of child molesters are just that – child molesters, with no sexual interest in adults of either sex.

For Reasons of Humanity:

To deny gay folks equal rights is to deny them their humanity; it tells them that they are less than fully human. Think about the damage that does to a person. To be told that your life is worth less than others, every day, in hundreds, if not thousands, of ways, both direct and indirect. That’s what happens every time a gay person’s partner is denied access to their hospital room because they’re “not family.” When they are rejected by society, by their own family. when they’re openly mocked, and all too frequently humiliated, beaten, and even killed. In fact, gay folks are way more likely to be the victims of hate crimes. Here’s a very informative NY Times article with links to FBI and Justice Departments stats and reports.

When they’re denied the right to marry, they are denied the same rights as straight folks, which seems even more ridiculous in these days of disposable marriages.

I had a good friend, who disagrees with me on a lot of these issues, ask me, “Why do they have to call it marriage?” The answer is simple; for the same reason that “Separate but Equal” didn’t work out for black folks.

I’ve never understood the idea that the existence of gay marriage somehow invalidates my own; the only people who can invalidate my marriage are me, and my wife, the long-suffering and wonderfully forgiving Jess. Two dudes or two chicks being married has no more effect on my marriage than two Muslims, or two Hindus, or two Catholics, or two Atheists, for that matter.

That same friend, who is a much better Christian, and human being, than me, brought up the biblical “marriage is between one man and one woman” argument. I countered that marriage in the bible often is one man and one woman, but it is also one man and two women (Jacob, Leah, & Rachel), one man and many women (Solomon), and apparently allowances were made for one man and one woman + one didn’t-have-any-choice-in-the-matter slave girl (Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar), just to name a few popular biblical variations on marriage. For that matter, were Adam and Eve even technically married?

I also don’t buy that whole “pastors will be forced to perform gay marriages against their will!” argument. Neither does Travis Weber, Director of the Center for Religious Liberty, a part of the Family Research Council, as conservative a bunch as you’re likely to find. He explains it much better than I could in this article, going into a lot of detail on the Constitutional protections for the clergy. He does, of course, only say that it’s not likely, and that it will probably be challenged in the courts, but what isn’t?

For Reasons of Religion:

I am a Christian. Now I know that there’s a lot of stuff in there that pretty clearly says don’t do gay stuff (at least as far as men are concerned. Oddly enough, women seem to have received a pass on this, perhaps to make up for all the other stuff they weren’t allowed to do), especially in Leviticus. However, there’s a lot of stuff in Leviticus that we no longer worry about. Things like: eating shellfish (Lev. 11:10-12), eating pork (Lev. 11:7,8), eating rabbit (Lev. 11:6), a whole chapter on female purification after childbirth (Lev. 12), and mistreating aliens (Lev. 19:33, 34) (of course, that’s a whole other post – bet you can’t wait), and a whole bunch of other stuff.

Now, I’m not being facetious (at least not too facetious), and I don’t want to turn this into a whole religious argument. Anyone who’s read any of my stuff can tell you that I’m not much of a theologian.

What I think, as a Christian, is that it is our duty to spread the word to everyone that God loves them, and spread the good news of his Grace and forgiveness. Jesus said that the greatest commandment was to love God, and that the second greatest was to love one another. I’m pretty sure he meant that to be pretty much all-inclusive.

As far as is it possible for gay folks to be Christian, I believe it is. I know that in my little country church, there is gluttony, gossip, trouble-making, foul-mouthed taking-of-the-Lord’s-name-in-vain, pridefulness, lack of forgiveness, pettiness, anger, sloth, smoking, and drinking, pretty much the whole gamut of sin, and that’s just me. If the body is supposed to be a temple, then mine is the temple of doom. That’s why I’m there; I need Jesus. They might too, and, if I behave toward them, or treat them, in a way that pushes them farther from Jesus, then I’m gonna have to answer for that, and I’ve already got enough to answer for.

Anyway, that’s what I think, and I also think I’ve beaten this dead horse enough for now. I welcome your opinions and comments on this, even if you don’t agree with me. Like I said, I don’t expect you to.

Thanks for reading anyway!

The post What I Think: About LGBT&Q Rights and Marriage Equality appeared first on moonsthoughts.

Just When You Think You’ve Stuck the Landing: Life Happens

Life is weird, uncertain, and, more often than not, annoying. We all expect a certain amount of troubles, trials, and travails, but we generally expect to get through them and, we also expect a certain amount of calm after the storm ends. Not a lot, but at least enough time to catch our breath. Sometimes (usually) though, the universe and powers that be have other plans.

Take Tucker for example: Tucker is the name we’ve given to the newest addition to our apparently-endlessly-growing furry family. He’s a little beagle who turned up at our house last week; rail-thin from hunger, with claws so long they’d turned sideways, and with a pretty unbearable stench. He’d clearly been on his own for a while, and was equally clearly not good at it.

Now, both I and my wife, the lovely and compassionate Jess, both immediately realized, and verbally agreed that the last thing we needed was another dog. We’ve already got four dogs, five if you count Ralph the compound dog, and two of them were strays who were dumped. We’ve done our bit for the homeless dog population of Wayne county.

We both stated this emphatically, and with great conviction, and then I opened the gate and let him in, and Jess took him downstairs and gave him a bath and clipped his nails, and I fixed him a bowl of food. What can I say? We’re both soft touches when it comes to sad strays (I’m not complaining, that’s actually how I got Jess to take me in).

We both agreed however, that we weren’t keeping him. I got on the computer to put an ad in the paper, something that the local paper used to do for free. Guess what? Not any more! So, we called the animal shelter to see if anyone had called about a missing beagle.

Finally, we found a guy willing to take Tucker, and after a couple days with us, Tucker went to his new home. At the new home, he wasn’t allowed in the house, and was on a chain, which, apparently, he didn’t care for. This last Saturday, Tucker returned to us, just as smelly as before, but with a serious case of the runs added on.

Since the guy who had taken him never came looking for him, we figured he probably wasn’t all that attached to Tucker anyway, so we’ve sort of adopted Tucker (theoretically temporarily) while we look for a better permanent home for him.

Tucker was thrilled. He’s a timid little guy, and spent most of the first couple of days he was with us crying and panicking anytime Jess or I got up and moved around. Fortunately, Jess and I lead a fairly sedentary lifestyle, so he settled in pretty well. He learned the hard way to stay away from Elsie when she’s eating (his nose is healing nicely, by the way), and was actually starting to want to play with Mattie and Dude (who are kind of over-enthusiastic and scared the crap out of Tucker initially).

Yep, Tucker really thought he’d landed on his feet. The storm had passed, and he was safe. He’d found people to take care of him, other kids to play with, plenty of food, and a comfortable, warm home. Life was looking up. It was going to be nothing but kibble and fun forever!

Until yesterday. Yesterday, Tucker got no breakfast, new dad took him for a ride in the truck and left him with new friends. He wasn’t really thrilled about all this, and his trepidation proved to be justified when his new friends stuck him with a needle and he dozed off to wake up with no balls!

Talk about the universe yanking the rug out from under you. Actually it wouldn’t have been so bad if it had only been a rug. Then, to add insult to injury, new dad brought him home, and put this stupid cone on him so he couldn’t even kiss his own boo-boo (although frankly, “boo-boo” doesn’t really suit that sort of soul-crushing injury, does it? It’s not a skinned knee, or even a nipped nose).

Tucker is clearly less than thrilled with life’s current vicissitudes.

He spent most of yesterday afternoon just standing in one place for a while, looking sad. Then, he’d walk around a little bit, until the cone hit something, and he’d just stand there for a while. He spent about 30 minutes with his cone pressed up against my leg.

He seemed to think that the cone was a punishment for something. Think about that. He’s already had his balls cut off – through no fault of his own – and now he has to wear this embarrassing thing. He is one bummed little guy. The final blow came last night. He fell asleep standing up and fell over, which apparently brought an instant, and painful reminder of just how bad his day had been.

Does this cone make me look stupid? This was Tucker’s main activity yesterday.

He seems to be doing a little better today. His tail is wagging a little bit, but he’s clearly still not digging the cone.

Which brings me back to us (you and me, that is). We’ve all had similar experiences, when things are terrible, everything is going wrong, and there’s just no way things can get any worse. Then, just when we think we see a light at the end of the tunnel, it turns out to be an oncoming train. It’s sometimes even worse, when we think we’ve made it, and turn around to assess the past, to try to glean some meaning from our suffering, so we never even see the train coming.

I got some bad news from a friend of mine today, and I didn’t know what to tell him, other than I was sorry to hear it, and some lame comment about how I’ve found life to be largely just an ongoing source of failures, embarrassments, and humiliations, punctuated sporadically by minor personal triumphs, whiskey, and sex (which actually counts as a personal triumph in my book), and that sometimes the best you can do is to learn to embrace the awkward stupidity that is life (this may be why very few people ever ask me for advice, counsel, or comfort).

I know that usually, in my experience anyway, that feeling that I’ve stuck the landing on something is almost immediately followed by a usually very public faceplant. It just seems inevitable. However, I take comfort in the fact that, just like (no matter how much he fails to understand it, for very understandable reasons)Tucker has the extremely humane and compassionate Jess (and also me) looking out for him, I myself have, not only Jess, but an even more infinitely compassionate owner (not to get all spiritually/religiousy on you, but it’s what I believe)looking out for me.

No matter who you are, life is going to throw a lot of crap at you. Some of it happens for a reason, and some of it’s just bad luck. The trick, I think, is to learn to laugh at it (as much as possible), to be grateful for the good things, and to remember that, no matter how bad it gets, at least you’ve still got your balls (hey, listen, if you haven’t learned by now that you shouldn’t look to me for life-advice or general wisdom/philosophy of any kind, then it’s high time you did).

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