muffy bolding

From :

1. Stop talking about politics for a moment or two.

2. Post a reasonably-sized picture in your LJ, NOT under a cut tag, of something pleasant, such as an adorable kitten, or a fluffy white cloud, or a bottle of booze. Something that has NOTHING TO DO WITH POLITICS. Something that makes you happy.

3. Include these instructions, and share the love.

4. Fuck off, lady. I’ve never been very good at following instructions. Here are five pictures of things that fill me with happiness and rapture every day of my life.

Gregory

Beastie

The Baby Goat

Otis

My bestest friend, Satania

As we wait for the close of the polls this evening, hopefully bringing with it the news of a victory for all that is right and good and true in this country, it is time to reflect on the many small gestures that are happening all around us now…the small globes of light that will show us the way back to who and what we were as a nation, and what we will be once again. We have forgotten who and what we are.

The eighty-something African-American woman who, last week, with tears in her eyes and trembling hands, was helped by her great-grandson into a voting booth in North Carolina so that she could vote for the very first time in her life.

The everyday citizens holding massive, organized neighborhood bake-a-thons and setting up tables with free homemade cookies, cupcakes, and hot coffee for all the hundreds of people waiting in line for hours in the bitter cold to cast their votes in this historic election. Just because.

The countless volunteers who have given so much of their time and passion to ensuring that people are able to participate in a free, fair, and just election.

Another such moment happened September 19th, 2007 in the city of San Diego. Jerry Sanders, the Republican mayor of that fair city by the sea, held a press conference to announce that, after much soul-searching, not only had he reversed his long-held public opposition to same-sex marriage, but that he would immediately be signing a City Council resolution in support of the rights of gays and lesbians to marry in the state of California. He has also recently announced that he officially opposes Proposition 8.

Sander’s statement and decision was unprecedented: a prominent Republican mayor of a major metropolitan American city has now officially and publicly thrown his full support in opposition to Proposition 8 — a proposition of hatred, intolerance, and discrimination whose sole purpose is to change the California constitution to eliminate the right of same-sex couples to marry.

Sanders, with his wife, Rana, standing by his side, stepped up to the podium and delivered a poignant and emotional speech that not only went against everything his party and quite sizable (and moneyed) political constituency stands for (surprisingly enough, despite being a laid back beach community, San Diego is a well-known Republican stronghold), the Republican mayor of the sixth largest city in the country did what is perhaps the bravest, most amazing thing I have ever witnessed a politician do:

Because of his love for his openly gay, 25 year old daughter, Lisa, and his profound hope that she be afforded the same rights, privileges, and responsibilities of marriage should she so choose, he set aside his own personal and political interests, and at great cost to himself, voted with his heart:

“I have close family members and friends who are a member of the gay and lesbian community. Those folks include my daughter Lisa, as well as members of my personal staff.

And I want their relationships to be protected equally under the law. In the end, I couldn’t look any of them in the face and tell them that their relationship—their very lives—were any less meaningful than the marriage I share with my wife Rana.”

So shines a good deed in a weary world.

By the way, if you can get through that video unmoved, please take a moment out of your busy schedule to unfriend me now, as you and I got nothin’ further to talk about, baby.

Also, please join me in contacting the office of Mayor Jerry Sanders to thank him for his courage and to let him know that, despite the great personal and professional cost to himself, he made the correct choice by taking a stand on behalf of equality and social justice.

He needs to be told that even if we lose this battle, we have not lost the war. The fight for equality for all Americans, regardless of their sexual preference or orientation, will go on.

And most importantly, he needs to be told that in the future, when the sort of hate, intolerance, and discrimination put forth by this proposition and all who support it, is, alongside slavery and racism, but a sad, shameful footnote in the great story of America, that he will be judged by history to have been a good and decent man who, for the love of his daughter and all those like her, risked much to do the right thing.

The Office of the Mayor of San Diego:

JerrySanders@sandiego.gov
(619) 236-6330

Guess whose wicked fatass will be sauntering about in Minnesota on family bidness all this week?

Yeah. Minne-fucking-sota, baby.

And believe you me, it’s certainly not my family’s bidness to which I shall be dutifully attending. Minnesota is far too…umm, help me out here — what’s the word I’m looking for? Oh, yes…too white for anybody related to my trashy brown Fresno ass to have arisen hence.

When someone in my family gets sick, do we fly out to Mayo Clinic to seek the best medical care on the planet? Oh, hell, no. We heal ourselves, goddamnit: we get a new tattoo of the Tasmanian Devil giving the finger, gamble rent money at the Indian casino, squander food stamps on pork rinds and Little Debbie cakes, snort trucker speed off a hooker’s ass, work overtime on the midway, fuck a cousin…you know, the usual homeopathic curatives of the working class.

While I am out there — aside from providing affection and care for said family member — I hope to take in a little of the local color (which, by all current chilly meteorological accounts, is apparently snow white), get some much-needed writing done, and, weather permitting, maybe even do a little canvassing for my man, Barack. Any of you Gophers got any activity or sightseeing suggestions for an old West Coast hooker?

And you just know I’m a tried and true So Cal tart because I’m excited beyond belief simply by the fact that I actually get to pull my old black witch coat out of the back of my closet and cloak myself in her lovely, cozy embrace for a time. She gets so lonely out here on the coast. Hurray for the blustery weather!

It is 91 degrees in Los Angeles as I write this.

I think that writer David Sedaris said it best when he recently opined that being an undecided voter in an election such as this one — with the shall we say interesting choice of candidates being offered — is pretty much like when you’re on a plane and the flight attendant approaches your row during the dinner hour and inquires:

“Excuse me, sir. Could I interest you in the chicken? Or, would you prefer the platter of human shit…with broken glass in it?”

It’s the undecided voter who asks, “Umm…how is the chicken cooked?”

This questionnaire was originated by French television personality Bernard Pivot, and made famous by the ever unctuous and orange James Lipton on Inside the Actor’s Studio

1. What is your favorite word?

Butch.

2. What is your least favorite word?

Lice.

3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?

Really interesting people. And endless belly laughter. If you’re not interesting and you can’t (or worse, won’t) belly laugh with me, you’re out, motherfucker.

4. What turns you off creatively, spiritually or emotionally?

People who are ungenerous with their praise. Creative people who are made small and threatened by the talent of other creative people. People who don’t get that there is more than room enough at the table for all those who have the talent, drive, and desire to be there.

5. What sound or noise do you love?

My sweet son’s voice whispering, “Miff?”, as he wakes me up in the morning with a gently laid hand on my arm.

6. What sound or noise do you hate?

Cupboards, drawers, dishes, and pots and pans being slammed and clanged around in passive-aggressive silence. Fuck that and fuck you.

7. What is your favorite curse word?

Motherfucker.

.
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

The kneesock and be-liederhosened hostess on the Storybook Land Canal Boats at Disneyland.

9. What profession would you not like to do?

Clean-up crew in Gaza.

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

Where you been, motherfucker? The fridge is stocked with icy cold Diet Coke, and Paul Newman and Ted Hughes are both shaved down and waiting for you in your room. Get back on it!

I have been online for 14 years, and I have seen it all, baby. But this?

This is the single greatest thing I have ever seen in my entire life. In fact, I would go so far as to say that now…this is my life.

And while you’re mesmerized by its brilliance, just in case there is any doubt as to my claim — trust me…oh, it is.

My new most favorite joke of all time:

A husband and wife were sitting and watching TV
when the man turned to his wife and said…

“Honey, tell me something that will make me
both happy and sad, all at the same time.”

She thought about it for a minute and then answered,
“You have the biggest dick of all your friends.”

I absolutely love this. So simple, so clear, so logical.

How To Tell People They Sound Racist

young conservatives always seem to become old

conservatives.

it’s a kind of lifelong mental vapor-lock.

but when a young radical ends up an

old radical

the critics

and the conservatives

treat him as if he escaped from a mental

institution.

such is our politics and you can have it

all.

keep it.

sail it up your

ass.

— Charles Bukowski, “having the flu and with nothing else to do”

A few months ago, Gregory and I spent the day at The Del Mar Fair, which is a posh little seaside alcove just outside of San Diego. As always, we had a blast. I’m from Fresno; me and the fair — any fair — get along just swimmingly. I feel right at home on the Midway: mustard, meth, and mayhem!

At one point, I felt a little parched and wandered over to some snack stand to get a Diet Coke. When I looked up at the kid waiting on me from behind the counter, I just started OPENLY BELLY LAUGHING in his gottdamned face. I said, “I would like a medium Diet Coke, honey, but before we get to the commerce portion of our program, I am going to get out my camera and take a picture of you. And further, I am not even going to tell you why I am taking a picture of you because I’m just going to assume that’s it’s pretty obvious.”

And I did.

You gotta be fucking kidding me with this.

“Aloha, Mr. Hand!”