Robust McManlyPants on Average Display

So, Vermont. Wow. Honestly, I’m surprised a state legislature made it happen this quickly. I had figured it would be several years. It was a squeaker, and it’s in the state that’s had some form of legal recognition for by far the longest, but wow. I am so very pleasantly surprised.

On the other hand, there’s this, currently running in Iowa:

Yeah. With our evil gay weather-control machines we have blocked a Massachusetts’ mother’s right to tell her kid she believes differently. Where the hell were these gay-friendly schools when I was a kid? Jeez!

The one that really chaps me, though, is the doctor. Here’s the thing: if you don’t want to work with the public, don’t put yourself in a position where you invite the public to come to your work and ask for your services. The same thing pisses me off about anti-birth-control pharmacists. If you don’t want to fill prescriptions, don’t go to fucking pharmacy school. How hard is that? What next, a Mormon bartender who’s really annoyed at all the alcohol he has to serve?

In my current position I have to do a lot of things I don’t like. I have to block people’s access to queer-related websites, as a matter of fact, when the client asks for it. Does it make me feel great? No. But you know what? It’s not my firewall, my network, my user or my business. I find workplace internet censorship filtering an offensive and condescending concept in general, to be honest, but it’s what pays the bills. I used to have a real problem with the idea of file-sharing on which I’ve since mellowed a great deal, even though I don’t participate in it myself (I do cling to the belief that if I like a work of art and entertainment that I should reward the artist/entertainer) but in my new job I’m probably going to be busting people for it. Oh well! If I weren’t willing to do the job asked of me, why show up? That’s part of why I left Ma Bell when I did and part of why I’m leaving This Company now. Showing up for work is, itself, a compromise for most of us; if it weren’t, they wouldn’t have to pay us to be there.

Well, whatever. It’s a losing battle they’re fighting and they know it. They are watching society welcome and assimilate yet another class of persons they found useful as targets for their bullying. I have to wonder where they’ll go next. What minority can they find to blame for everything? My guess is the immigrant community. Lou Dobbs is already over there swinging his bat and the moneycons won’t balk as long as the immigrants they target are poor and can’t read the sale papers. It must be hard, though, to be a conservative these days. It must be hard to have so much poison and hate pent up inside and to have fewer and fewer targets on whom to vent it. It must be hard to get up in the morning thinking storm clouds have to gather for the sun to shine on anyone else.

I confess that I am pleasantly surprised by the results. I’m even more surprised by the comments section being fairly interesting. For the internet, and especially for an internet discussion of gay marriage, it’s remarkably light on trolls.

Of course, I find their presentation of the follow-up question and its results a little odd. The poll shows 49% supporting some form of legal recognition of same-sex couples, but the article’s phrasing suggests that it was overwhelmingly opposed.

Equality NC has been getting the word out online about the new anti-equality amendment being touted by the right-wing minority in NC’s legislature. Things I didn’t know until Equality NC pointed them out include:

• NC is the only Southern state without an anti-gay amendment
• Fundie state legislators are trying to gin up a fake “grassroots” movement by coercing local governments into passing statements calling for an amendment and encouraging fundamentalist ministers to speak favorably – from the pulpit – of the anti-gay amendment

Equality NC’s Kay Flamino makes an excellent point in her post about this: passing an anti-gay amendment would cost the state $3,000,000. What else could they do with that money?

The thing that freaks me out about this is that I’ve always, to be absolutely honest, kind of blithely assumed this sort of amendment would never happen in NC. Such things have been killed in the state legislature so many times that I just figured it would never stand a chance of happening here. NC is the only place I’ve ever lived and, in all honesty, the only place I’ve ever wanted to live. I really do not want to find out that my state doesn’t return that affection. I really do not want to find out that prejudice outweighs all the things The Boyf and I contribute to our community. I really do not want to find out that when I pay my taxes that I am picking up the tab for my own persecution.

After seeing Milk I said that I needed to get involved in activism again. Is this my issue? If so, what do I do?

I’m going to make a prediction, hangover be damned: NC will be certified blue in a matter of days. The 40,000 to 50,000 provisional ballots outstanding simply will not be so overwhelmingly in favor of McCain that they erase Obama’s 11,000 vote lead. Having worked a few elections now, I can tell you who winds up voting a provisional: college students and new voters. Neither of those are likely McCain voters.

Why college students, one might ask? That’s easy: they don’t know they aren’t registered or they don’t have the ability to vote in their “normal” precinct so on election day, between classes, they walk into the nearest polling place and wind up voting a provisional. It is entirely likely that hundreds of Durham County’s provisional ballots from yesterday fall into this category as students walked in who (a) thought they had registered but hadn’t or whose registrations had failed to make it into the books or (b) lived off-campus and had someplace else in town as their “real” polling place walked into the one next to campus thinking they could just vote wherever.

Why new voters? Because they don’t know where to go and so they go to the polling place they see on their way to/from work or the one that’s nearby when they get a break.

There are exceptions and there are theories that some measure of provisionals are from recently-moved retirees and from retirement homes but they don’t hold water. Recently relocated retirees are always on top of their voting registration and retirement home residents don’t show up in person and wind up voting a provisional. Anyone who votes a provisional walks in the door and has the stamina to fill out a bunch of paperwork. Both of these favor Obama. That’s a pretty harsh thing to say, but it’s true.

Now I’m scared to post this for fear of jinxing my state turning blue.

This weekend I drove from Durham to Asheville and back. Along the way, counting only cars with NC tags and not counting my own, Obama cars were winning 8 (four sedans, two mini-vans and two pickups) to 4 (two sedans and two mini-vans). Counting cars with in-state and out-of-state tags, Obama was winning 8 to 6 (two ginormous RVs towing SUVs behind them, both with Texas plates).

So, apparently the Tardis made an appearance in Durham this morning as there were fundamentalist protesters at the film festival, fresh out of 1996. (KJ recollected that was the last NC Pride at which she recalled seeing an organized protest.) Mostly they were of the quiet and dour disposition but one was really bothersomely loud, shouting a sermon from out on the sidewalk by the street. Early in the afternoon a counter-protest arrived and consisted mainly of a woman in an extremely elaborate outfit consisting of pink feathery things and a headdress. I described her to KJ as “double drag,” as she was a woman dressed like a man dressed like a woman. She was loud(er) and enthusiastic and could sing and was very engaging and drew immediate applause and crowd interaction.

Whoever you are, lady in the pink feathers, you rule.

There were several things that occurred to me during the course of the spectacle of that dim shadow of past protests:

1) I have not grown up. I commented to Pants Wilder that on my way out the protesters had better be gone or I was going to have to tell them to go fuck themselves. Happily, they left pretty shortly after they were thoroughly and wonderfully upstaged by the counter-protest. It did remind me of those feelings that used to bubble up when I would volunteer to work as a “peacekeeper” during NC Pride and some tiny, shadow self deep down in my gut would cross its fingers and hope for the chance to beat up a redneck. Not that I would actually do it, I mean, jeez, I’m not an idiot or a bully, but that desire is still there to see the shoe on the other foot for once. (Also, I’m pretty sure my boyfriend would rightly dump me.)

2) My, how times have changed. There were three cops there when the protesters were there and they made me feel… protected. That was gratifying.

3) There were kids – well, 19- or 20-year-olds, college-aged – at this festival who have probably never been to a gay event that was picketed by religious fundamentalists. That hadn’t really occurred to me until I saw a half-dozen Abercrombied young men standing in an arc doing The Masculine Pose – weight on left hip, one foot forward, hands in pockets, sunglasses down – and gaping at the protesters. They have probably never had a bunch of people holding big signs expressing a strong desire to obsess at them about their afterlives and trying to convince them not to do something. They have never seen an organized protest against their own existence. As weird as it is, I am really, really glad those kids had that experience because it doesn’t happen much anymore but it’s a strong reminder of why things like the film festival need to happen in the first place.

4) Somewhat surprisingly, protesters – even young, prematurely soured ones with constipated expressions – will pose for thin-lipped photos with bald old queens and Subaru lesbians. Gods love ‘em, I watched a couple of suburbanite dykes make bunny ears behind one’s head, arms around shoulders, and it brought a tear to my eye.

It was a funny experience that way. Of the five protesters, only one was loud and he was quickly shut down by a double-drag queen. One was having a conversation with someone attending the festival but it was just that: a conversation, a quiet, apparently respectful exchange of views. Two were young, visibly uncomfortable being there and posing for photos with one arm around a queen and the other holding their apparently unironic condemnatory pickets. That one loud guy was having to do, to be frank, a piece of work to keep the hate going.

In the end, I think I’m really glad they were there. We all had a lot of fun, some of it at their expense and some not, and some of us had valuable experiences of what it used to be like pretty much anytime the queer community tried to make a space for itself for a day. So, uh, yeah, protesters. Thanks for coming out. Zing!

It’s about damn time, isn’t it?

I worked the last day of early voting on Saturday. Over 800 people voted at my location, many of them first-time voters. By the end of the day the line ran out the door, up a couple of ramps, across the parking lot, down a driveway to the street and up the block. The last person in line at 1pm voted at 2:45. These folks had to stand in line for a long, long time all day.

The thing that amazed me and made me love Durham even more: everyone was nice. Every single person who talked to me was nice, all day.

Seriously, is there anyone in the world who honestly believes Castro is still alive? If he is, he’s living on one of L. Ron Hubbard’s boats.

We had Fair day today; the assembled attendees consisted of me, The Boyf, Bascha, Pants Wilder, Anna, Katastrophes, Mr. Pink Eyes, Vonscratch and Jen. We ate Fair food (gods I can’t even list what I ate, but it did include the surprisingly fantastic Cheerwine fudge), we rode rides, we tromped around the Village of Yesteryear where I once again bought things for my altar.

There’s something about buying ritual tools from the person who actually made them and getting to, you know, chat with them for a few minutes and look over their stock and talk about where they’re from and what they do. The woman from whom I bought the kaleidescope (hellooooooo meditative abstracts) commented that I “must be a collector” because the one I bought is somehow unusual but I assured her that no, I am not. I’d bet a nickel she says that to everyone but it was charming nonetheless.

I put up a few random phone pics from the Fair. Yes, these are iPhone pictures. The iPhone: no better a camera than any other phone out there. Still, good enough that I didn’t want to lug a real camera anywhere.

Also, deep fried PB&J was kind of underwhelming, just as an FYI.

One final State Fair note: I saw only two or three stickers for Republican candidates or the Republican Party but I saw lots and lots of folks with stickers from the Democratic Party booth. In fact, as I took the picture of the prize-winning pumpkin a guy waited patiently and then asked where I’d gotten my “I’m the Decider: Dems in ’08″ sticker because he, as he put it, “just [had] to have one.” Fingers crossed that I see that reflected again next year.

Great news from Iowa – a state judge has struck down the state’s version of DOMA. He issued a stay of his own ruling shortly after, pending review by the state’s Supreme Court, but there it is, another legal victory for marriage equality.

It saddens me to know the wingnuts of Iowa will undoubtedly get up in arms over this. What they don’t seem to realize is that political railroading and bullying as a tactic of religious and political control isn’t something they just invented for themselves; it’s a proud tradition that must be protected at all costs, preserved for future generations. We don’t need to sit back and take it when they try to stop us this time. If we don’t rise up and do something now, future generations may not have the inspiration required to act in their own best interests.

As such, a modest proposal: whereas it makes me sick to know that activist preachers are going to abuse their unelected positions to legislate from the pulpit, making demands and imposing their will on the progressive people of Iowa, I hereby call on all liberty-loving Iowans to act quickly and amend the Bible. Iowa is one short ballot measure from striking back at these power-grabbing, anti-democratic Family Values types. Isn’t it time the Freedom Values Coalition stepped forward to push back?

Today I stepped into the break room to grab a soda and one of my colleagues from another team sighed in frustration at the spouse she was trying to reach on his cell. “Are you married?” she asked.

“Effectively,” I replied.

“What does that mean?” And to be fair, I was being slightly evasive. I am not at all concerned about being out of the closet at work – the first thing I told my boss and his boss at my interview was that I had to know they did same-sex partner benefits in order to bother with the interview at all – but I do tend to place a high premium on personal privacy. That said, the bluntness of her question earned a blunt response.

“It means we’re gay so we can’t get married.”

“Oh!” She looked mildly confused for a moment. “I didn’t know that!” I took this to mean she didn’t know that I am gay, not that we are second-class citizens when it comes to any number of legal rights, but then she went on: “I thought they’d legalized that.”

(When I told that to The Boyf his response was, “Oh, that’s sweet… in a way.”)

“Well,” I said, “Let me be more specific. We don’t live in Massachusetts, so we can’t get married.”

“But I thought you could get married in San Francisco or something.”

“The mayor of San Francisco started issuing marriage licenses for a few weeks, a few years ago, but the state government and state supreme court halted it and revoked the licenses. Regardless, it’s not legal in North Carolina and if we got married somewhere else and came back here state law specifically forbids the recognition of those rights.”

“Well,” she said after a long pause, “You’re living together and that’s the important thing.”

(Again, we agreed: sweet, in a way.)

I said, “It’d be nice to have the legal protections, though.”

“Oh, what do you mean?”

“Well, if I got hit by a bus tomorrow and my family decided to be dicks about it…” and on I went into the usual spiel. She countered with a familiar horror story she knew from a female friend whose unmarried male partner died and the family got everything, etc. It’s a story we all know because it happens more than you’d think. If you don’t know someone whose family swooped in like vultures the moment they died, well, you’re in the minority. It’s not something that happens to gay people or straight people, it’s something that happens to people because some families are simply, as I say, dicks.

I kind of wanted to hug the colleague, after, and I kind of wanted to scream in anguish. Didn’t they legalize that? Girlfriend, I wish. That there are people who just assume that’s all been dealt with is a positive sign of the way society overall has changed but it’s also the reason why it hasn’t been dealt with; people are easily distracted away from problems that affect them directly. We, as a society, are shitty at follow-through.

I don’t even really know what to say about Falwell dying except that one of my first reactions was to think, “Well, finally.”

I felt a nugget of guilt trailing around behind the overwhelming glee. I asked bascha what she thought of that and got this bit of wisdom: “I don’t think our religion believes in ThoughtCrime(tm).”

I mentioned it to The Boyf and he produced this shining truth: “Imagine that we – all the gay men, the lesbians, the bisexuals, the feminists, everyone he hated – had all dropped dead today. What do you think he would be saying about us?”

So yeah. Good riddance to bad rubbish. As I’ve seen noted in more than one place, Virginia just became a slightly nicer, smarter place on average. I fail to see the downside. I had two pieces of cake yesterday to celebrate. It beats drinking in some respects, anyway.

To compound yesterday’s joys, the new Rufus Wainwright album Release the Stars came out which meant iTunes prompted me to go ahead and download it (I’d pre-ordered). I downloaded it and noticed with excitement that it came with the video for one of the songs on it, Going to a Town. I fired that puppy up and… well…

Wow.

It’s so good.

I know not all my friends like Rufus, and I guess I can comprehend that intellectually in the same way I can comprehend someone not liking, I dunno, Reese’s cups. Regardless, it’s pretty amazing. Going to a Town is a break-up song, but not in the way you’d expect. It’s about breaking up with the United States. That’s a long row hoed by the guy who sang California with such enthusiastic abandon. It’s a fantastic example of one of Wainwright’s greatest gifts: expressing the global experienced as the personal.

It left me vaguely breathless at the end, the first time I watched it.

Kasparov? Seriously, could the Russian government be more stupid? He’s a chess champion, he knows how to play games of strategy and he counted on being photographed and videotaped getting arrested and going off to jail healthy. The Russian media is almost entirely state-controlled or effectively so (an enormous percentage of it is owned by oligarchy Putin-loyalists); yes the story there is undoubtedly spun as That Troublemaker Kasparov or perhaps What Happened To Kasparov That He’d Do This but either way they do have to report it. There’s no way they can just be silent about it. With one protest he managed to force the Russian media to talk about the government cracking down on a protest against government crackdowns, force the media to talk about Kasparov being arrested in the street for speaking, personally demonstrated to any on-lookers what he was saying the government was doing and gotten headlines worldwide.

What’s funny to me about this is how some of the Russian media is couching it all in “well, they gave him a permit to protest, he just didn’t get the square he wanted so he took over a different one!” Um, yeah, about that? He applied to hold an Other Russia protest in Pushkin Square. Pushkin Square is, as the linked article notes, the busiest square in Moscow. Everyone would have known about that protest because practically everyone would have seen it. The place where the authorities told him he could have it, Turgenev Square? Well, let’s discuss it this way: if you look at a map of Moscow, the central part of the city is a rough circle about 5 or 6km across. The Kremlin is more or less in the center. The White House – the parliament building – is at 10 if you look at the map as a clock face. Pushkin Square is at 10:30 or 11:00. Turgenevskaya is at 1:00 1:30. It’s not just a different square, it’s roughly 60 degrees around the arc described by the road that encircles downtown.

Oh, and Turgenevskaya is not noted for how busy it is. It’s noted for its metro stop and a statue of a dog.

Interestingly, on the other hand, the dog in question is from a story by Turgenev; the dog is the faithful companion and only friend of a deaf, mute peasant. Eventually the peasant drowns the dog on the orders of a heartless member of the gentry who has been mildly annoyed by its barking. I can’t help but think that whereas in America we quietly acquiesce to orders to hold protests in “Free Speech Zones” miles from the objects of those protests, Kasparov looked at the assigned location for his protest and thought, “No, not this dog, thanks.”

I just watched the UCLA tasering video in its entirety so that I could reply to a friend’s email with my thoughts on it.

This would be less than an hour after I’ve finished watching The Weather Underground.

Now I want to light something on fire just to watch it burn.  Instead, I’m going to go to bed so I can drive to Asheville for the big family Thanksgiving dinner.  These could not possibly be more opposite one another, as actions go.