[#wellduh]
What, really, is anyone to do with a lede like we get from Mandy Mayfield for the Washington Examiner?
The Jewish attorney who Roy Moore’s wife touted employing in an attempt to fight off claims of anti-Semitism is actually a longtime friend and supporter of Senator-elect Doug Jones, who defeated Moore last month.
When we shrug and say, “Of course he did!” what, really, does that mean?
[#nevermind]
![Did you Know? In 2009, Eminem tweeted proof that he scored 465,800 in Donkey Kong, making him one of the highest scorers in the world. [via Salon.com, 11 November 2017]](https://bdthisis.files.wordpress.com/2017/11/salon-20171110-eminem2009donkeykong-detail-bw.png?w=620)
The Internet—(no, I do not like Capitalizing the Word)—sees fit to inform me that—
In 2009, Eminem tweeted proof that he scored 465,800 in Donkey Kong, making him one of the highest scorers in the world.
(via Salon.com; #nevermind)
—and no, it is true I did not know this before; nor is it clear how I should feel about this information. No, seriously, other than the fact that some editor somewhere saw fit to include a trivial widget to tell me stuff like this, I had precisely no reason to care.
Meanwhile, something, something, and now for something completely different.
Hey, how about this: If I blame Tom Clancy, how fucking smart are you?
So, I’ve got this dumb thing going on in my head, a filked auto dealer slogan echoing over and over and over again: “Bug Martini! Bug Martini! Bug Martini! (dng! dng!)”
It’s hard to explain that last sound; I think it’s supposed to be some sort of xylophone or marimba or something. No, really, damn thing has haunted me most of my life; it’s an earworm from Hell.
Still, though, that has exactly nothing to do with Adam.
____________________
Image note: Detail of Bug Martini by Adam Huber, 2 November 2016.
In a strange way, the caricatures driving rebellion in metal-laden explorations of conscience do not seem so exaggerated today. Once upon a time, we argued about listening to the music. And it feels both strange and familiar, perhaps the one for the other. That is to say, the shape of these arguments going on today, about boys wearing skirts and girls having babies really does feel like nothing more than the heavy metal wars all over again, and this time for higher stakes. It isn’t fair, I don’t think, to say that we got it, understood the mere fact of caricaturization, but they didn’t. Still, that’s how it feels. We built monstrous, shadowy legends to represent the hatred we feared. They really do seem to be dressing up in it. Or, at least, that’s how it feels.
Regression! Progressive downfall! Grabbing what’s there and still wanting it all! On words they fall. Obsession! Religioius belief! Worshipped on Sunday, forgotten all week! One foot in Hell. Taking the truth from “The Book” and then twisting it, feeling they’re touched by the Lord. Loving their neighbor, yet tasting the flavor of sin but seeing no wrong. Cramming the wisdom that righteously flows in them, walking the crooked straight line. Closing of minds to these innocent crimes, now they’re deaf, dumb, and blind! One foot in Hell! Wretches! This pitiful man, preaching and teaching with Cross in hand. On words he falls. Into his final mistake; this fool was fooled, it was all give and take. One foot in hell. I look to the Heavens and call the Lord’s name. Praying on my knees, with much faith, and little doubt. I have a yearning for the answers to my calling in life. Am I wasting away on spirits of myth? Am I questioning the Lord’s prayer? Is this unholy temptation or my final realization? Please, God, if you’re there for me, give me wisdom for faith. Help me, Lord! God help me! Show me the way; point to the light. Is there a Heaven after I die? What is a truth, where does it lie? Give me the answer! Bare my soul, naked and cold! End confusion, shed my last tear! Take me, Lord! Open your Gates! End my deep sorrow! One foot in Hell. Who’s answering the bell?
―Forbidden, “One Foot in Hell” (1990)
‡
You know, we could almost consider this one a Valentine’s Day joke, too, but you’d have to click the link to figure out why.
And, hey, would that be a trick up the sleeve or an ace in the hole?
(Detail of Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal, by Zach Weiner, 13 February 2015.)
“I am disgusted. A great and dear friend’s mom went to the funeral today. It was not closed casket. They cut her hair, suit on. How can they bury her as Geoff when she legally changed her name. So very sad. Jen you will be missed and people who know you know that you are at peace.”
Sometimes it bears reminding that funerals are rituals performed for the sake of the living.
James Nichols reports:
In a depressing reminder of the times in which we live and how far we still have to go to reach equality for everyone in the LGBT community, a Twin Falls, Idaho, transgender woman was presented as male in an open-casket funeral service this week.
Jennifer Gable, 32, reportedly died suddenly of a brain aneurysm while working at Wells Fargo Bank on Oct. 9. At her funeral, Gable, who legally changed her name in 2007, was reportedly not referred to as Jennifer once.
Additionally, the late Gable’s family cut her hair short and presented her wearing a suit and her obituary reportedly skipped the decade of her life she spent transitioning to live authentically as Jennifer.
There is no question, even from afar, that the proposition of refusing one’s own child’s identity in order to present them after death as something and someone other than who they really were is cruel beyond measure. It is selfish and hateful and ultimately stupid.
But it is also, such as things are, what funerals are for.
Not hatred and stupid, selfish cruelty per se, but the dead are either with God and thus otherwise preoccupied, suffering eternal punishment and thus otherwise preoccupied, or simply dead in a fucking box in the ground, in which case how their families abuse them at the memorial service just flat doesn’t matter to them.
Funerals and memorials are for the living.
That Jennifer Gable’s family apparently chose to celebrate their own desperate hatred? That is what it is. Call it what you want. But it is what they chose to celebrate, and such rituals and ceremonies are not for the dead. They are for the living.
In which case the best advice is to simply remember your friends for who they were, so that at least someone in this world still loves them.
____________________
Nichols, James. “Jennifer Gable, Transgender Woman, Presented As Man At Her Funeral”. The Huffington Post. 24 November 2014.
Well, now. Where to begin?
Okay, how about with an update from Winston-Salem, North Carolina:
A young demonstrator took aim at North Carolina’s Green Street United Methodist Church after its recent pledge to stop performing weddings until same-sex marriage is legalized.
As Good As You blogger Jeremy Hooper first reported, the boy—who is not identified—stood in front of the Winston-Salem church on Easter Sunday with a placard that read, “Jesus Must Be Your Lord Or He Will Not Be Your Savior.”
“The Bible talks about the homosexuals—they’re worthy of death,” the boy proclaims, as seen in video footage of the protest which was also posted on Hooper’s site. “They’re worthy of death, and you people approve of them! That’s why you’re going to Hell without Jesus Christ. You can turn from your sin!”
He adds, “It’s time to stop sinning and follow the lord Jesus Christ!”
This is one of those good news, bad news situations. That is to say: Good news! An eleven year-old boy has awoken to his political conscience and is expressing himself! And, of course: Bad news! An eleven year-old boy has demonstrated the heritability of bigotry!
This Is 