Sick of the Gay Thing

All we can control is our own behavior. Even the parents of very young children can only try and then hope that their stern words and actions will cause bad behaviors to change -- forget about it when the kids are grown. And yet the world is full of people who think they know what's best, and spend their time insisting, cajoling and imploring others to do as they do and think as they think. In many cases they resort to lying in order to make their case.

The woke Democrats do this in spades. The current brouhaha over Florida's Parental Rights Act is a perfect example. Calling it the "Don't Say Gay" bill when the word "gay" does not appear even one time in the seven-page piece of legislation is intentionally misleading. Now some dodos who run FOLX Health, a digital queer and trans telepathy provider, are peppering the landscape with billboards in cities across the South with the message, "Say Gay." What's next -- lawn signs saying "Gay Lives Matter"? (I guess black lives stopped mattering since you hardly see those signs anymore.)

And speaking of dodos, the three female hosts of the recent televised Academy Awards ceremony incorporated that same sentiment in their childish monolog, gleefully singing, "Gay, gay, gay, gay, gay, gay!" in front of an appreciative audience of insanely wealthy gays, drunks and likely a few druggies. 

Well, I'm not gay and I don't care if you are. It means nothing to me, or to anyone else except maybe your mommy and daddy. The fact that men like to play with other men's genitals and women enjoy doing the same to other women impacts my life not at all. So why has it become so important in our society to recognize the people doing those things? And not only recognize them, but congratulate them for their bravery? And what the heck are they so proud of -- is engaging in gay sex some sort of worthy accomplishment?

Despite having several very close gay friends and a few relatives (who thankfully keep their bedroom activities out of my life), I have grown tired of gays and the other sexual mavericks who go by the letters L, B, Q, A and T. Someone should tell them there is more to life than who you fuck, or don't fuck in the case of the ones who feel it necessary to broadcast their asexuality. Like, what do you do for a living? In what way do you contribute to society? What are your interests? Do you have any hobbies? Is there more to you than your genitalia? Let's hear about that for a change.

Florida Passes "Don't Say Straight" Bill

 TV heterosexuals Ward and June Cleaver, with kids. 

Heterosexual teachers in Florida are up in arms over the recent signing by Governor DeSantis of what is being called in some circles the "Don't Say Straight" bill. The controversial legislation restricts conversations about gender and sexual orientation in kindergarten through third grade public school classes.

"It's not fair!" said one Orlando kindergarten teacher who asked to remain anonymous. "I like to be able to talk to the children about what my husband and I did over the weekend, and now I can't!" Other teachers echoed her complaint, saying it kept them from describing many common home activities like putting up drywall, laying brick paths, adding a room over the garage and other renovations so important for young kids to know about at an early age.

Another complaint came from male teachers who wished they could describe how sexy their wives look when they come to bed wearing sheer negligees. "These kids are missing out on some important stuff," said one third grade teacher. "How are young boys going to learn what it takes to please a woman, like how they need candy on Valentine's Day and flowers on their birthday?"

It's true that these days straight people get the short end of the stick when it comes to communicating the details of their alternative lifestyles. Kids will have to watch reruns of old TV shows like "MASH,""Leave It to Beaver," "I Love Lucy" and "The Brady Bunch" to understand relationships between men and women. Hopefully their parents will provide these educational tools and have these discussions with them at home.

Film Review: 15 MINUTES OF SHAME

This lively HBOMax documentary produced by Monica Lewinsky, an expert in the subject of being cancelled by the world for little reason, will convince you to never again engage with anyone on the Internet. Presenting shocking stories of people whose lives were completely ruined after their behavior was considered to be abominable by thousands of strangers, it will leave you shaken to your core.

Lewinsky was just 22 when her life became Twitter fodder for fat, ugly basement-dwellers with no lives of their own. Happily, at the age of 48, she has found her calling as a filmmaker and created something positive from her horrendous experience. Along with stories of everyday folks who became Internet pariahs through mistaken interpretations of their actions, there are face-to-face interviews with many experts in the fields of online crime, human psychology and Facebook's evil, inhumane policies.

The scariest part of the film is the history of public shaming dating back centuries, told through an appealing and amusing mix of animated illustrations and old photographs. Apparently hating someone you've never met for reasons or opinions you may know little about is nothing new. However, the facelessness of the Internet makes the merciless haranguing of a stranger much easier and far more damaging.

Watch it and beware.

The "Don't Say Gay" Bill Doesn't

If you wonder why I have often labeled liberals, progressives and Democrats a bunch of dummies, here's why. They all refer to the piece of legislation causing all the ruckus and just signed by Governor DeSantis as the "Don't Say Gay" bill. Here's what it actually says, verbatim:

“Classroom instruction by school personnel or third parties on sexual orientation or gender identity may not occur in kindergarten through grade 3 or in a manner that is not age appropriate or developmentally appropriate for students in accordance with state standards.”

Waddy know? The "Don't Say Gay" bill don't even say gay.

Will Smith Makes Me Sick

Taking a page from Scarlett O'Hara's playbook.

I read this morning that actor Will Smith slapped comedian Chris Rock during the televised Oscar ceremony for making a joke about Smith's bald wife, like that's such a big deal. At least Rock didn't mention Smith's conspiracy theorist son who wears dresses and high-heels. The bald wife is nothing compared to him/her/whatever.

I missed the slap because I did not watch the Oscars. I would have only I had to do the dinner dishes and vacuum all the rugs and change the litter boxes and clean the garage.

Modern Politics for Dinner

DeMillo's On the Water, a bad restaurant inside an old boat.

Last night my husband and I attended a fundraising dinner for a congressional candidate here in Maine. The man, running as a Republican, does not stand a chance against the incumbent millionaire Democrat who, although she sucks, will surely retain her title even after seven terms (14 years).

The cost of the dinner for two was $500. Yikes -- that's enough to feed a family of four for a month! Oh well, said Mitch, anything for the cause, adding that at that price the food will be super. But the food was not super. It was abysmal, as one could expect since the event was held at a huge, tourist-trap restaurant that is actually a giant boat, once a car ferry and now permanently anchored in the Portland Harbor (see photo). So naturally there were water views, which is really no big deal here in Maine since there's water everywhere. 

Served buffet-style, everything that should have been hot was cold and everything that should have been cold was room temperature. You could eat all you wanted of many high-fat choices including cheesy mashed potatoes, shrimp and cheesy grits, cheesy lobster rigatoni, chicken pieces smothered in Havarti cheese, limp broccoli swimming in butter and scallops downright drowned in cheese sauce. The salad option was a gigantic bowl of lettuce with a smaller bowl next to it of crumbled feta cheese and another of Mandarin orange sections. Dessert was a selection of tiny, cheesy cannolis, some with chocolate chips on top. And coffee, thank God. Despite the high price of entry to the event there was a cash bar with beer for $10 and liquor drinks costing more.

The candidate spoke for about half an hour and said absolutely nothing of value, injecting phrases like "We can do this!" and "Now is the time!" repeatedly. He urged all of us -- now officially his "team" -- to get out there and knock on doors. During the question-answer period I asked him a question which he did not answer, not even a little, alerting me to the fact that he would fit right in with most of the other politicians in Congress. (Too bad he won't get the chance.)

Driving home I chewed two Pepto-Bismol tablets and felt sorry for the guy, and for myself.

Fat People Trump Ketanji

In my own little blogosphere, titles mean everything. I have come to the conclusion that people click on the title that is most compelling, and for all I know they don't even bother to read the post. Since 2007 this blog has appeared under one name or another, and I have been able to analyze the reading habits of a small group of people. My sampling makes it clear: if the word "fat" it in the title, it gets the most attention. 

After that, any mention of Donald Trump gets readers. And much to my surprise, almost nobody cared about my recent post concerning Ketanji Brown Jackson, the African American woman (whatever that means) currently up for a SCOTUS appointment.

Just a small but telling look at what Americans care about: being fat, getting fat, and getting fatter. I guess if I wrote a title implying that Donald Trump got really fat I'd score a lot of readers. Maybe next time.

Poor Ketanji Brown

The current person under scrutiny for the next appointment to the Supreme Court is a woman named Ketanji Brown. It is noteworthy that she would be the first African American woman to sit on the bench.

Others of her gender have served and are currently serving on the Court. Sandra Day O'Connor was the first woman to hold the prestigious position. And of course there was Saint Ginsberg, a woman, who passed away not long ago. Currently there are three women on the Court.

The funny thing is, I can tell immediately a woman from a man even if they are both fully clothed and I only can see their heads, and I am not a jurist, I am not a biologist, I am an artist and artists are known to be zany, nutty and sometimes hearing voices. Yet Ketanji Brown, a woman herself, cannot give a definition of a woman, the reason being that she lacks a degree in science. 

The poor girl needs our help. Hey Ketanji, here's a hint: Study the illustration shown above, then strip down, grab a mirror and look between your legs.

Waiting for the Wabanaki

This morning my son, who sadly is knee-deep in such things as this, alerted me to something I find to be quite disturbing, very alarming, and a huge crock of bullshit. It's called the Landback Movement. It supposedly has a long legacy (even though I never heard of it before today) of "organizing and sacrifice to get indigenous lands back into indigenous hands."

My husband and I moved to Maine 13 years ago this month. We bought a house on three acres of land, or maybe it's two -- I'm not sure since most of it is covered with woods and giant boulders, so it's not like we're actually using the entire property. 

We purchased the house from a couple named Mr. and Mrs. Tate and hired an agent of Keller-Williams Realty to facilitate the deal. Not once did anyone say we were colonizers! Nevertheless I learned just today that we suck because we have usurped land that once belonged to the Wabanaki Indians, or people like them. (There is some dispute as to which particular tribe actually owned our neighborhood.) 

According to the Landback people, the right thing to do is to return our land back and go back to whence we came. All I can say about this is "Fat chance!" We moved here from Washington, D.C. but I think they mean we should go back to our ancestral home, which for Mitch and me would be Poland and Russia. 

Seriously, I am not going to Poland or Russia at this time -- can you blame me? And honestly, you couldn't pay me to spend even an afternoon in D.C. these days. So I guess if any of those Wabanakis want my land they'll have to come and get it. I'll be in my studio, painting.

Ron DeSantis, Mensch

Ron DeSantis, the Governor of Florida, is unique in many ways for a politician. First and most obvious, he tells the truth and speaks his mind, not soaring gibberish written by speechwriters like Obama loved to spout.  His recent declaration making the female swimmer who came in second after the transgender male walked off with the NCAA trophy and all the glory the true winner is commendable.

That very act likely pisses off the Democrats, who despise DeSantis for his honest and down to earth qualities. Soaring rhetoric, a.k.a.bullshit, is very popular with the Dems. 

Do me a favor. Just listen to Ron the next time he speaks somewhere. You'll see what I mean.

Come and Get Us, China

When I graduated from New York University in 1969, I felt proud. I also felt smarter, having studied hard and learned so much about a wide variety of subjects. Although I was a fine arts major with an emphasis on painting, I still was required to take many non-art courses to earn my degree. I had to read all the works of Shakespeare. I studied World Wars I and II. And I was forced to choose what was then called an elective: either physics or chemistry.

NYU has changed a lot since then, as has the student body. Now a popular class offered is called "Taylor Swift." It's hard to get into it since just about every student goes for it. Participants of the weekly two and a half hour class study not only the young singer's music but also her personal life. Like her feud with rapper Kanye West (who knew?) and who was the mystery man in her song about a scarf he had given her, or maybe it was her scarf that he kept or some such rot, I don't know her music or her dating history. (It's rumored to be Jake Gyllenhaal, but if I had taken that class I would know for sure and have a lot more self-confidence.)

Similar classes at NYU focus on Aretha Franklin, James Brown and Nirvana. I weep every day for the citizens of Ukraine. But I also weep for our perpetually misguided and deeply dumb  younger generations who emerge from their coddled four (or five or six)-year educations knowing little more than they did when they started. The Chinese should just come and get us right now -- we're easy pickins.