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| ARCHIVES: November, 2004 |
The Agenda:Testing the Premise: Are Gays a Threat to Our Children? What the "Dutch Study" Really Says About Gay Couples Federal Hate Crime Statistics: Why The Numbers Don't Add Up Favorites:
Photo Essays:The Anasazi Ruins of Chaco Canyon, New Mexico Now Showing / Reflection on Hayden, Arizona
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Punk'd
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Race |
Sexual Orientation |
Religion |
Ethic Origin |
|
Total (Including other violent and nonviolent crimes) |
4,574 |
1,430 |
1,426 |
1,236 |
Murder/Manslaughter |
5 |
6 |
0 |
2 |
Aggravated Assault |
548 |
162 |
26 |
180 |
Simple Assault |
982 |
446 |
83 |
285 |
These figures represent only a minimum. Many crimes go unclassified as hate crimes. It may only take a stolen wallet for police to classify a crime as an ordinary robbery and assault rather than a gay bashing, regardless of the threats and epithets. Communities are loathe to become associated with hate crimes. Believe it or not, the states of Alabama and Mississippi only reported a single hate crime each in 2003. Meanwhile North Dakota, the least populous state with the nation's lowest crime rate – a quarter of Alabama's and Mississippi's crime rate – managed to come up with 18.
While the likelihood of any one of us being assaulted is small, we are clearly a targeted group. We've all read the stories in our local newspapers. We know it's not something that happens "somewhere else", it can – and does – happen here, wherever here happens to be.
"A 20-year-old University of Arizona student was stabbed in the back in February 2000 as he stood outside a cafe that caters to gays and lesbians. A 24-year-old gay man was found beaten near East Fifth Street and North Hoff Avenue in June 2002. He died at University Medical Center. A 37-year-old man suffered a broken arm when he was lured out of a gay bar and jumped by several men in September 2003. A 24-year-old man was beaten after leaving a gay bar on North Fourth Avenue in January of this year. All four were investigated as hate crimes by Tucson Police Department, according to Star archives."
– Arizona Daily Star, Nov 29, 2004.
Not only does gay-bashing occur in our communities, but there probably isn't a single one of us who cannot tell of an experience, if not our own, then of someone we know.
A colleague of mine in Dallas was beaten and stabbed in the chest as he and his boyfriend were leaving an Oak Lawn Restaurant. It was a bunch of high school kids in a red pickup truck from Mesquite. It was quite a popular sport among Mesquite teenagers at the time, to go into town and beat up the queers. He was in intensive care for a week. The police never found who did it.
There's the argument that all crimes are "hate crimes" and I agree with that statement. There's quite a lot of validity to that argument. When you compare the Hate Crime Statistics to the overall U.S. crime rate, "hate crimes" are just a drop in bucket. So why are "hate crimes" so special?
I've always argued that the term "hate crime" is an extremely poor description of what is happening. It just doesn't get to the heart of the matter. It only describes the motivation on the criminal, not the distinguishing effect of the crime itself. A better description would be "crime of mass intimidation".
The Chinese general Sun-tzu in 350 B.C. famously said, "Kill one, frighten ten thousand.” Hate crimes are insidious not because of the damage inflicted on the individual, but the fear inflicted on the wider community. We can do this to you too. As improbable as a gay-bashing may be in the individual experience, we all have felt it in the collective. It's rather similar to terrorism that way, at least as a tactic.
So yes, despite my reservations, I and many others pretty much bought last week's hoax. It's like some sort of collective Post-Tramautic Stress Syndrome flashback: you take a deep breath, grit your teeth and say, "Okay, here we go again." It pushed all of my buttons. I suspended my disbelief (are blogs the new theater?) and passed the information on. And now that the hoax is revealed, I'm left with several lessons: don't believe everything you read unless you can obtain independent verification (well, duh!). Don't rush to sound the alarm without convincing evidence that what you read is true (no shit, Sherlock!). Hold back before lending comfort and support.
But are these the lessons that will better serve the community?
I ask this because the next time someone calls out in a time of need, I may be a bit slow to offer aid and condolences. Given the large number of bloggers who also got caught up in this hoax, I'm probably not alone in feeling this way. And that is the real tragedy because in times like these with all that confronts us, the charitable impulse is the last one we need suppressed.
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We just got back home from our Thanksgiving trip to Abilene, Texas. We had a great time visiting with Chris's parents and brother. I also got to take a peak into their photo albums, with pictures of Chris when he was growing up in Fort Stockton, Texas. He also showed me around his old home town.
What a revelation that was! Let's just say that I understand much more about him than I ever did before. It all makes so much more sense now!
And just wait until I scan some of his old pictures and post them for you. You'll know more about him than you ever wanted to know too!
I must do this because it's not fair for me to carry this burden alone.
Fortunately, the delicious meal accompanied by the local color that is only available at Sarah's cafe offered the best reassurance that all is right with the world after all. There's something about relaxing at dinner at a legendary establishment on the wrong side of the tracks that has been in business since 1929 to put everything back into perspective.
Sarah's Cafe, Fort Stockton, Texas
On this trip, we decided to stay off of the Interstate highways
as much as possible. Yes, it took a little longer to get there, but the traffic was
extremely light (especially compared to the few stretches of Interstate we were
forced to take), the pace was much more relaxing, and we saw much more of
the beautiful countryside and interesting towns along the way. We've decided that if you have to go by car, the back roads are
the best way to go. Otherwise, what's the point in driving?
On Texas Highway 166, between Valentine and Ft. Davis, Texas
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When we passed through some of the towns along I-10 and I-20, it was very sad to see how the highways devastated their character. It literally sucked the life right out of them. I don't think that as a nation we have come to terms with the horrible damage done to our towns by the Interstate Highway System.
But move away from the highway and you will see an indescribably beauty that can only be appreciated one mile at a time. In many ways, the farther you get from the Interstates, the more intact the towns seemed to be, barring the ups and downs of other economic influences, of which there are many in west Texas. They just seemed to have more integrity to them, especially those which have not yet been decimated by the life-sucking tentacles of Wal-Mart, Home Depot and Chili's.
Jeff Davis County Courthouse, Ft. Davis, Texas
 The ghost town of Shafter, Texas |
Modern highways aren't the only enemies of small town dreams. Boom and bust cycles are common in the west, and when you travel by the slower pace of a two-lane highway, you have a chance to see some of these ruins which would otherwise speed past you in a blur of traffic and billboards.
Sure, the trip took longer by two-lane road, but that's because we kept stopping to see the sights. It's so much easier to do when your options aren't limited by carefully placed freeway exits. But more importantly, it's easier to fall in love with America again when you take the time to savor the flavors and smells which are unspoiled by diesel fumes and harried drivers, all of them in an incredible hurry to just get there! – wherever "there" is.
Getting there. It seems as though it's all we want to do, and the Interstates are exceptionally efficient at doing that. The freeway is the perfect metaphor for America. The Interstate only knows about destinations, but it has a way of obliterating the journey. Yes, it took us longer to get to Abilene and back, but if life is really all about the the journey rather than the destination, the back roads are the only way to get there.
Chris and I are doing the "Waltz Across Texas", well halfway across anyway, to spend Thanksgiving with his parents in Abilene. Abilene, now there's a rather strange town. There's only one gay bar here, and I think its probably called, I dunno, "Rumors" or "Whispers" or "Innuendo" or something like that.
But for Thanksgiving, I think we have many things to be thankful for this year, and to all of those gifts and graces, let me add a note of gratitude that Sebastian of Holding The Man has woken from his coma. He is unable to speak, and the doctors haven't ruled out that this may be a result of brain damage. But he can write short sentences and his humor is intact. He apparently knows who ran him down, so hopefully justice can be done.
Aaron,
at
1000 Words was sweet enough to create this icon for all of those who wish
Sebastian a speedy and complete recovery. Feel free to download it and add
it to your website as well.
And go to Holding the Man and leave a message of encouragement. He's a pretty lucky man to have such a dedicated boyfriend taking care of him, and he's lucky to have so many people all over the world praying for him and offering encouragement. Add your voice to the many.
And Happy Thanksgiving.
I had something silly and irreverent all ready to post, but something considerably more important has come up. Sebastian, of Holding the Man, has been critically injured when he was run down by a hit-and-run driver at his home in Drawin, Australia. It may have been a hate-crime. The police apparently have not ruled out the possibility.
His boyfriend reports that he is in intensive care, with numerous broken bones and internal organ damage.
Sebastian is one of the better writers on the web. In his young life, he has probed the Greater Questions of life and death, having confronted his own mortality in his recent battle with cancer. He writes with a strength, wisdom and maturity that is rare for one his age – or any age.
These are ugly times we live in, and they will probably get worse before they get better. But now, through the modern miracle of the internet, he has friends all over the world. Go there now. Don't do anything else. Leave a message of encouragement. Let Sebastian know you are thinking about him and praying for his complete recovery.
And fight, fight harder for justice.
I slowly woke up in the guest room at my mother's house on Christmas morning. Mom was a little annoyed with me because I slept in. She had a lot of work for me to do to get the house ready before everyone else arrived for dinner.
She was annoyed, but not too badly. Besides I knew just how to cheer her up. I reached into my briefcase to pull out a newspaper clipping, an Ann Landers column that begins, "Not too long ago, homosexual activist James Burroway wrote..."
What? You? A homosexual activist? ...
Yeah, right. Little old me. I knew that would get a laugh out of her.
You know, I don't think she had much reason to get annoyed with me for getting up late. I've always been like that: late to bed, late to rise. And besides, I was up late the night before visiting with Laurie Anderson.
It's been a long time since we last hung out. We used to go out partying back in the day, but lately we've both settled down as we've gotten older. Last night it was just the two of us and a reporter who asking her a bunch of questions. I guess I was there to help provide a little bit of color commentary to her narrative.
Yes, we used to hang out a lot, but like I said, we've both settled down and neither of us gets out much anymore. In fact, it had been so long since we've seen each other I was almost beginning to think she forgot all about me.
But there we were, reminiscing about the old days. About how she used to call me up and say, "Hey, what are you doing later? There's something you just have to see..." And off we'd go on some other crazy adventure.
We laughed about how perfect strangers used to walk up to her on the sidewalk, saying, "I wanted you; I was looking for you, but I couldn't find you." And they'd point at her and break out laughing, and she'd just stand there with an embarrassed look on her face, rolling her eyes.
We reminisced about all of the parties she used to throw, with her fabulous friends and all of the strange stories she used to tell. She was always the center of attention at a party. She just couldn't help it. It's as if she was some sort of performing dynamo; she was always "on". She used to have such manic energy. Sometimes when she was feeling particularly sassy, she'd walk around modeling her strange eclectic collection of leather jackets, making up whole characters as she went along. That was always the highlight of the evening.
Yes, those were the days. But you know, it was refreshing to just hang out this time, just the two of us and the reporter in her Chelsea apartment reminiscing about the old days. It was nice being there without all the hangers-on and their expectations for her to launch extemporaneously into one of those performances of hers. As she says, she doesn't always remember the words to "O Superman" because after all, that was so 1980. An awful lot has happened since Big Science.
Besides, all of that attention sometimes made Lou Reed jealous. And a jealous Lou Reed is not a pleasant Lou Reed. Whenever that happened, we'd make him sit over in the corner with William S. Burroughs, who'd just be sitting there watching it all, a joint perched precariously in the same hand that was holding a glass of scotch (always neat), just sitting in the easy chair taking in the entire scene as he took another drag, his face registering that odd mix of contempt and contentment that only he could pull off.
Yes, its official – bronchitis. It's been going on now for a week and a half, and need I describe how damn tired of it I am?
Gloom, despair, and agony on me!
Deep dark depression, excessive misery!
If it weren't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all.
Gloom, despair, and agony on me!
That's right! I'm quoting Hee Haw!
Whatever happened to that show? Grandpa Jones, Lulu, String Bean, Junior Samples (Samples Sales, call us at BR-549...). Every Sunday evening that show would come on. I'd feign disdain for it, but now that I'm prepared to offer my deathbed confession, I must confess that Hee Haw was, and shall ever remain, my secret guilty pleasure.
Junior was my favorite on the show. He reminded me somewhat of my grandmother's younger brother. We called him Junior also, because his name was the same as my great-grandfather. Poor guy... a fifty-year-old man forever known as "Junior".
Maybe I should get the DVD...
Listless. Dull. Bored.
The French call it ennui. Apparently, the French identified the need to invent a word that never occurred to the Anglophones of the world. Maybe it's because the French expect more. Good for them.
But as grateful as I am to the French for the word, I think it's still not quite right.
No, the feeling is "Cut off." That's it. I feel cut off.
I haven't been feeling well lately. Actually, I'm feeling perfectly fine except for this persistent cough in my chest that won't go away. But what's so annoying about it is that there is nothing else the matter with me. I feel fine, my temperature is a perfect 98.6° and there's nothing at all wrong with me except for this raucous cough that sounds like I've spent a lifetime in the coalmines, or contracted some strange tropical parasite that makes its home in my lungs.
Damn annoying cough, as if I were dying of consumption like What's-her-name in Moulin Rouge.
So I haven't felt sociable since last weekend, and yet I'm dying to, I dunno, hang out. You know, with people and everything. A movie would have been nice. Or dinner somewhere. Or even karaoke, which we haven't gone to in ages.
But it's hard to be sociable when you have a chest-rattling cough that never ends. People look at you funny, like the nice elderly lady who was at the table next to us at P.F. Chang's for lunch yesterday. She never said anything of course, but you know – you could just tell.
Okay, I'm exaggerating a little. I don't cough all the time. Only whenever I talk or laugh or after eating. Kinda kills the social thing, dontcha think?
Oh, and apparently I cough uncontrollably when I type. Excuse me while I pop another cough drop.
Here's a tip: buy stock in whoever it is that makes Robitussin. They're doing well these days.
Anyway, I know that if you are in the company of someone who sounds the way I do right now, you would be thinking to yourself, "Get away from me. Go home. Whatever you have, I'm not buying." That's what the lady at P.F. Chang's was thinking. I know this because I think the same thing whenever a poor unfortunate cretin hacks and wheezes in my vicinity on Fourth Avenue. You never can be too careful.
In fact, you're probably thinking the same thing yourself, even though you're sitting there safely on the other side of your browser. For Pete's sake, get away from me, you vermin-invested human petri-dish! Keep your cooties to yourself!
Okay. Fine. That's what I'll do. I'll just stay home, and maybe try again tomorrow. Meanwhile, I'd make sure your anti-virus definitions are up to date if I were you.
The media and internet is full of acrimony over the outcome of the recent elections, even now more than a week later. Republicans vow to stick it to the Democrats, and fundamentalist Christians vow to stick it to pretty much everyone. Mandate has never sounded more threatening. And those of us on the receiving end are left to wonder at the crudity of it all.
But this is nothing new. Ralph Waldo Emerson observed the same thing in 1857:
Because our education is defective, because we are superficial & ill-read, we were forced to make the most of that position, of ignorance; to idealize ignorance. Hence America is a vast Know-Nothing party, & we disparage books, & cry up intuition. With a few clever men we have made a reputable thing of that, & denouncing libraries & severe culture, & magnifying the motherwit swagger of bright boys from the country colleges, we have even come so far as to deceive every body, except ourselves, into an admiration of unlearning and inspiration forsooth.
Some things never change. And the prescription for this condition remains the same as well: buck up, keep the faith, and keep on dreaming and believing:
It is greatest to believe & to hope well of the world, because he who does so, quits the world of experience, & makes the world he lives in.
So we dust ourselves off, pick ourselves up, recoup, regroup, recover. That's what I'll do, but like many folks around here, I'll probably take a little time to consider exactly where to go from here.
So we dust ourselves off, pick ourselves up, recoup, regroup, recover. That's what I'll do, but like many folks around here, I'll probably take a little time to consider exactly where to go from here.
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In this season that is as it should be. Autumn is a time of retreat and slowing down. The days are shorter, the air is crisp and the nights are cooler. Our instincts tell us to hunker down and prepare ourselves against the storms of winter. High School football gives way to Thanksgiving, followed by the momentary frenzy of Christmas. But after the new year, serious winter settles in at the very moment of our exhaustion.
Laying fallow is not a such bad idea this time of year. If ever there was a time to slow down and rest, this is it. This is a time to pause and reflect. Consider options and directions.
When the time comes for action I'll be ready, because what he said is true: it is greatest to believe and to hope well of the world.
The Denver Post last Sunday carried an article describing a rise of vandalism against gay businesses over the past year. Windows were shot out on six separate occasions at the offices of the Rocky Mountain Pink Pages. Another gay-owned store was forced out of business because their windows were shot out so much the owners were no longer able to afford their replacement.
The city of Tucson will be installing streetlights near a local gay bar on 4th Avenue, near where two gay bashings have occurred in the past two years. One man died in 2002.
But not all of the news is bad. Cincinnati, Ohio gives us a rare ray of hope.
About ten years ago after a very acrimonious campaign, Cincinnati voters approved a charter amendment which prohibited the city council from enacting any employment or housing protections based on sexual orientation. This year, as the state of Ohio was passing their anti-marriage amendment to the state constitution, the good people of Cincinnati voted to repeal their discriminatory clause in the city charter.
I hope you appreciate what an accomplishment that is. Cincinnati is one of the most conservative larger cities in the country. This is where Larry Flynt was brought up on obscenity charges and the Mapplethorpe exhibit was temporarily suspended. The city does not have a very large or well organized gay community. (The Cincinnati Pride website is down, and it appears there is nobody to organize Pride events there for the time being.) So the fact that this proposition passed this year is all the more remarkable.
Much of the repeal’s success can be attributed to
Proctor & Gamble, which is headquartered in Cincinnati. P&G strongly
supported and contributed towards the repeal efforts, and was a major force
in publicly advocating for repeal of Article XII. (Amazingly, even
Cincinnati’s Roman Catholic Archbishop reluctantly lent
his grudging and limited
support for repeal!)
But now P&G finds themselves the target of a boycott from Christian conservatives across the country. One fundamentalist website which supports the boycott was nice enough to provide a convenient list of P&G products that they want their followers to avoid. I’ve copied it here for your benefit. This boycott presents us with an opportunity to use our economic power to stand by those who stand with us.
So all you homos out there, now is the time to play to your strengths and do the thing that you do best – go shopping!
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There is a recurring theme going around the web and in our living rooms and coffee shops lately: it's going to get much uglier for us before it gets any better. The President has set the tone pretty clearly: he has a mandate, and by God he's going to use it.
His supporters are taking a cue from his campaign, and they are making themselves heard loud and clear. Conservative gay columnist Andrew Sullivan posted some particularly disturbing E-mails he received the day after the election, including this one from a Bush supporter:
"I wonder if you noticed that yesterday all eleven states that considered the question of gay marriage voted to ban it. ALL ELEVEN. I think this sends a very clear message -- true Americans do not like your kind of homosexual deviants in our country, and we will not tolerate your radical pro-gay agenda trying to force our children to adopt your homosexual lifestyle. You should be EXTREMELY GRATEFUL that we even let you write a very public and influential blog, instead of suppressing your treasonous views (as I would prefer). But I'm sure someone like yourself would consider me just an "extremist" that you don't need to worry about. Well you are wrong -- I'm not just an extremist, I am a real American, and you should be worried because eleven states yesterday proved that there are millions more just like me who will not let you impose your radical agenda on our country."
And this one from a gay teenager after the election:
"I realized the situation I'm faced with everyday in school - the American people have just shown my classmates that it's perfectly fine to discriminate. A direct quote from a 'friend' at school today: 'It's so cool that all these states just told all the faggots to eat shit and get the hell out...' "
And even gay Republican blogger Boifromtroy hasn't been immune. His website has received some ugly messages posted in his comments section, including these three:
Add the Democratic party to the list of those regretting their alliance with gays:
1. The American Red Cross. (Edwards sued them for HIV contaminated blood, to mention nothing of the thousands of victims of HIV from blood transfusions ,like Arthur Ashe.)
2. The Catholic Church.
Is it just me, or is there is something about a group of people who insist on their right to spread a lethal infectious disease, while having fun, which makes them an unreliable partner?□■□■□
While you may not believe in God, and that is your free choice, many others of your nieghbors and fellow citizens do. For them an assault of Traditional Marriage is also direct attack on God ... and I think you know this but DO NOT CARE.
□■□■□
Dream on. The "Gay Marriage" debate involves a lot more issues than marriage. America is waking up to how diseased the homo agenda is, which uses a marriage banner to try to legitimize every form of dysfunctional and violent sexual attitude and behavior. from The Gay and Lesbian Medical Association :
["Domestic violence is a hugely ignored health issue in the LGBT communities, affecting one in three LGBT relationships," said Susan Holt, an expert on LGBT domestic violence prevention.]
GBLTs are quite diseased and violent, and the above just speaks about internal violence, doesn't even mention violence to other people.
Now who is more diseased, the GBLTs or their supporters who are fanatically blind to the above?
How much do you need to lie to yourself about how dysfunctional homosexuals are in order to ignore such a serious issue? 1 in 3? that is a lot of violence and homo supporters have a very bigotted mind not to face it. Why don't these violent GLBT´s appear on Will and Grace, BTW?
Maybe because just shouting Hate everytime someone opposes homosexuality is a sign of a very small mind.
I love reposting these comments without fixing their grammar or spelling, but that will be mighty small consolation in the next few years. This is a small taste of what we're in for.
Several gay people I've talked to have talked about moving to Canada. In fact, the Canadian Foreign Ministry has reported a sharp increase in inquiries from Americans wanting to move to Canada. As enticing as the idea sounds, I think that's taking the coward's way out. Nothing against Canada, mind you – Canada is perfectly lovely but I'd much prefer England or New Zealand myself – but if you're moving because you're afraid to stay, then good riddance. This is a time to stay and fight. It is a time for action, not for ourselves but for those who don't know who or where we are and need to know us for their own survival, for those of us who are isolated and alone.
I'm talking about me when I was growing up.
When I was a teenager, as far as I knew there were only a few thousand gay people in New York, a few more thousand in San Francisco, and a small handful spread around the rest of the country, mostly in prison, dying of AIDS or abusing small boys. The amount of misinformation was incredibly pervasive and it was impossible to know anything different. When you grow up in a small town, it is easy to feel utterly alone when everyone else around you expresses hatred and revulsion at every turn. How can you not internalize it?
We have been ostracized, and in response we have ostracized ourselves. We are foreigners in our own homes. Filthy, disgusting, unsanitary foreigners of questionable loyalty, un-American values, uncertain emotional stability and strange customs. As gay people, we don't have a human face in our culture and we need to figure out how to break out of the ghetto we have created for ourselves. We say we're everywhere, but really we're not. Not in the ways that count. Nobody was around when I was a terrified teenager to show me a homosexual with a human face.
Until we reveal ourselves as the real people that we are instead of caricatures from television and gay pride parades, we are just letting Queer as Folk and The Family Research Institute define us for society at large (and most tragically, to those of us who are isolated), and neither of them are doing anybody any favors.
Queer Eye For The Straight Guy, it was fun, but it's time to change society, not hairstyles or living room furniture. Will & Grace, move over. I'm not in the mood for jokes and I kiss my boyfriend square on the mouth. I also pay taxes and a mortgage, I put off yard work as long as possible, and I believe in God. He's not their exclusive commodity to use as they wish.
It's time to lose our fear of saying all of this and more, and to take back for ourselves our true dignity: as citizens, as human beings, and as children of God. This atmosphere we find ourselves in calls for a level-headed, even-keeled, respectful response (it's not the time to panic or lash out), but it also calls for a vigorous and bold response as well.
That is what I want to do, either here or in another website. I'm not sure the best way to do it, but the human face is what it is all about. Chris described this task as an airlift of sorts, providing life-saving supplies to those who are surrounded by hostile forces.
Expect more on this, much more in the months to come. And if you want to help out or collaborate in some way, or if you have any ideas on how to engage this problem constructively let me know. I'm interested.
Hey! I think I'm becoming an activist!
This post is a few days late. I guess the run-up to the election distracted me from what I wanted to say. This past November 2 was not only Election Day in the United States, it was also All Souls Day on the Catholic calendar. It is preceded by All Saints Day the day before. Mexico celebrates All Saints Day in combination with All Souls Day with an Aztec-inspired celebration they call Día de los Muertos, during which the dead mingle happily and joyfully with the living.
Day of the Dead is a great national holiday in Mexico, rivaling Christmas and Easter. It is a holiday that is also increasingly embraced in the southwestern United States. It is a day to go home and spend time with family – both the living and the dead. The living join the dead in a great feast in the cemetery that lasts long into the night, and everyone reminisces and talks to their long-departed relatives, generally catching up on things since the last time they met. In that way it’s a lot like the Thanksgiving holiday we know so well in the United States, but a thanksgiving that transcends the artificial boundary between time and eternity.
|
Dime querido amigo, |
Tell me dear friend, |
|
Grácias Pepé.
Los santos nos sonrieron |
Thank you Pepé.
The saints smile upon us |
–
Mark Griffin, a.k.a. MC 900 Ft Jesus, “Grácias
Pepé,”
from his album One Step Ahead of the Spider
I’m never in town during the Day of the Dead celebrations because my own annual family reunion takes place at about the same time. But I have long memories of attending Mass for All Saints Day and All Souls Day, the only consecutive holidays outside of the Easter Triduum. These holidays have inspired many great composers through the centuries, and a few weeks ago I rediscovered the hauntingly beautiful Requiem by Gabrielle Fauré.
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Pie Jesu Domine,
Dona eis requiem, |
Merciful Lord Jesus,
Grant them rest, |
|
In Paradisum deducant angeli; |
May the angels receive you in Paradise; at your coming may the martyrs receive you, and bring you into the Holy City Jerusalem. |
Ajax reminds me that despite some very deep-seated differences I have with the Catholic Church, one very important corner of my heart will probably always be Catholic.
You certainly meant well and all, and we know you tried really really hard. We don't mean to sound ungrateful or anything, but next time, what do you say we let someone else choose first for a change. Mmkay? Hmmmm?
Love ya – mean it!
Jim
I don't know about you, but all of the spin of election-year politics
has left me feeling just a little woozy...
No, it's not really moving... Optical Illusion from
www.ritsumei.ac.jp/~akitaoka/saishin-e.html.
Yes, the downright pornographic orgy of lies and cynical platitudes are now about to come to an end,
sort of.
Anyway it at least comes down to this clear choice: between decency and deceit; the
level-headed and half-witted; clear-thinking and the wishful-thinking; the uniter and the divider; the reality-based and the faith-based.
Between one who volunteered, and one who cheered from the sidelines.
 AP |
 www.celebrity-pics.net/dp/2-22.htm |
Between one who answered the call to duty, and one who pretended.
 AP |
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 Jim Bourg / Reuters |
You know what to do. Everyone, get out there and vote to wipe that ridiculous smirk off of his goddamm face.
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