The Ridiculousness of the Righteous, with Translations

Thursday, August 22, 2019

Last Sunday, the Smart Man, Sister Stacey and me went to our first Parasol Patrol event. For those who aren't familiar, here is their mission:
The "Parasol Patrol" was formed out of a need to protect our children's senses from the onslaught of hateful speech from protesters. We provide hearing protection to muffle the vitriolic taunts and use our umbrellas to shield them from the vulgar signs and angry faces. Without rising to the bait of these misguided protesters, we walk between them and the kids/guests, buffering the children from those who would do them harm. Parasol Patrol is comprised of community volunteers and are not a security force or vocal anti-protesters. We do what we can in the spirit of peace and love so that the youngest can have a safe places in which to share their talents and creativity.
The event we attended was "Dragutante," at the Bluebird Theater. The purpose of the event is to allow young people the opportunity to participate in a drag event in a safe space, with the encouragement of their families and the guidance and mentorship of adult drag queens who volunteer their time to this non-profit.

So it brings out the crazies, because of course it does. Nothing stirs up the self-righteous bigots like things they don't understand.

Enter the Parasol Patrol.

This was taken prior to the arrival of the crazies. The lovely couple to my left is Ruthie and Lowell, who have been friends of my birth family for many, many years.


One of the founders of the group, a lovely man named Eli, told us that the protesters had announced they were "coming out in force" for this event. Apparently "in force" means about seven people. The Parasol Patrol volunteers numbered about 70.

We stood on the private property owned by the Bluebird. Bluebird's security occupied the neutral zone between us and sidewalk where the protesters chose to display their signs and use their bull-horns.

When I first volunteered for this event, I was really concerned about my ability to keep my temper and not get emotionally hooked by the rhetoric of the protesters. But you know what? I need not have worried. These people were just so utterly ridiculous, it was hard to take them seriously.

The first item of note is that about half the crazies chose to wear masks. I guess because nothing says "I'm a righteous paragon of virtue crusading against moral turpitude" like refusing to show your face. Bonus dumbassery: They stupidly chose to wear Guy Fawkes masks from V for Vendetta. Yeah. I've seen that movie, and its point is exactly the opposite of controlling people and their choices because you don't agree with them. The ignorance is strong in this one.

Then there were their so-called "messages," which basically consisted of ancient tropes and personal attacks that have nothing to do with the modern world and the current state of sociological and psychological science concerning the LGBTQ community in general and non-gender conforming people specifically.

And because we like to perform public service here at Hot Chicks Dig Smart Men, I am going to helpfully provide translations of their signs and chants. You're welcome!

PROTESTER: The LGBTQ community is just like NAMBLA!
TRANSLATION: The gayz are icky.

PROTESTER: All the men who support this are gay!*
TRANSLATION: I cannot accept that human sexuality is a spectrum, and not a binary categorization. I can't accept this because the idea of a spectrum makes me uncomfortable with my own sexuality, and I'm a manly, man's man, and I can't have that.

PROTESTER: This is sexual exploitation!
TRANSLATION: This sort of self expression makes me very uncomfortable. You can tell that's how I feel because I never show up for beauty contests for little, little kids, just this.

PROTESTER: This is child abuse!
TRANSLATION: It never occurs to me that teaching my own kids to hate others for no reason is far more abusive than allowing free self-expression.

PROTESTER: You're not welcome here!
TRANSLATION: You're ignoring my CIS, male, white privilege and doing what you want rather than doing what I want you to do. Simultaneously, I am ignoring that I am outnumbered at this event ten to one.

PROTESTER: You're infringing on my rights!
TRANSLATION: Those would be my rights to force people into the roles and places I find acceptable. Everyone knows freedom and the First Amendment are only for CIS, white, males.

PROTESTER: You're only here because seeing boys dressed as women is how you get your rocks off!
TRANSLATION: I'm very uncomfortable with modern sexuality, so I don't understand how normal sexual expression and actual criminal behavior are different. Also, I probably have a tiny penis.

PROTESTER: Perverts!
TRANSLATION: My definition of "normal" is very narrow and only includes my own, provincial experience.

There was only one protester there (who arrived late) who I considered to be anything other than the last, pathetic gasp of toxic masculinity. This guy just SHOUTED white nationalist/white supremacist/Neo-nazi, and made sure his demeanor was as threatening as possible. The Smart Man noticed the Denver Police (who had two officers there to ensure things didn't get out of control) were watching him pretty closely. I noticed that the loudest of the protestors knew Nazi-boy personally, and kept telling him how very glad he was to see him. I suspect the overlap between white supremacists and anti-LGBTQ protesters is non-trivial, but I have no data to back that up, so take it for what it's worth - a private opinion I pulled out of my ass.

Our next event is Drag for All Ages at Mile High Comics. This one's a recurring event, and longtime members of the Parasol Patrol told us Sunday that the vitriol, nastiness, and vulgarity at this event is even worse. So of course we'll be there.

I guess nothing says I'm a righteous man like spouting hateful language at minor children. So, so ridiculous. History will not judge them kindly, and neither will I.
________

*The Smart Man noted later that this particular taunt really hurt his feelings. So, so much. 🙄 How insecure in their own identities are these knuckleheads that they think calling someone "gay" is a deadly insult? RIDICULOUS.

Why my Library is Better than Your Library

Wednesday, August 21, 2019

Remember how I left my brief foray into local politics as the President of our Library Board because Douglas County Commissioners are duplicitous, lying pieces of shit and so are the ignorant shills they chose to put on the Board? Yeah, I may still be a bit bitter about that. That's what happens when work of the heart is ruined by political ambitions and self-aggrandizing personalities who don't really care about the work at hand, but only about their own power base and ego.

But I digress.

Recently, however, I realized that the fact that I haven't checked out any material in the last year or so was just stupid. I still love the library. Moe loved the library. The library staff still provides a valuable, life-changing service to my community, regardless of local political shenanigans. So why wasn't I using it? Because I let me emotions get the better of me, that's why. Stupid emotions.

So back to the website I went, looking for audio books in the series I'm working on, and discovered a new feature! My library has deployed Prospector, which is a large database of many other public libraries that allows you to order inter-library loans without manual interventions by librarians, and without you having to put in ISBN information. Works like a treat, and I'm currently in possession of three audio books lent to me by the Denver Public Library, the Pitkin County Library, and the Aurora Pubic Library, all titles my local facilities don't own.

I vaguely remember this service from the last budget meeting I attended, but I'm happy to see it deployed and in use.

Go, libraries, and go, librarians!

In Case of Emergency...

Monday, August 19, 2019

I was in Baltimore last week for a conference. This is not unusual - I travel on business once or twice a month. What was unusual was that I chose to fly back on the last day of the conference, rather than spending another night and flying home the following day. I did this for a couple of reasons having to do with my fiduciary responsibility to my company and a desire to get home a day early. But now I remember why flying home the next day is my custom.

By the time my plane landed I was exhausted. And by the time I got to my car to drive home I realized I had lost my phone somewhere between the plane and the car.

Well, that sucks balls, I thought. I'm sure I'll never see it again, and tomorrow will now include a visit to the Verizon store to replace it with $1,000 that is NOT in the budget for this month.

But then a strange thing happened.

While I was driving home, someone at the airport found my phone, used the emergency contact function of the iPhone to get Terry's number, and texted him to let him know they had found my phone and then brought it to security. They even sent a photograph of the location of the office for our reference. The next morning, the lost and found staff contacted my emergency contacts again, letting them know the airport had my phone. We picked the phone up on Friday, no harm, no foul.

The woman at the lost and found mentioned to us, however, that in her role, she has to try and find the owners of lost phones every day, and that people who put emergency contacts in their devices have a much higher rate of return than those who don't. Seems obvious, yes? I only put in emergency contacts because of my medication allergies, but enjoyed the unexpected consequence of not having to buy a new phone.

Once I got my phone back I texted the person who turned it in and thanked them for their kindness and effort.

Achievement unlocked: Faith in humanity, restored. At least for a while.


And so it begins

Wednesday, August 7, 2019

It's official. I'm old.

I went to my GP today because I've been experiencing a limited range of motion in my left hip, plus it hurts when I stand for a long time, or am too active.

Yeah. I have osteoarthritis in my hip.

So far it's not that bad. It only hurts when I sit cross-legged, when I overdo the physical activity, or when I have to stand for hours on end (hello, trade shows!). Sister Amy suggested that I get it looked at the last time I was in San Diego, so that I could start Physical Therapy, which was wise of her. She had one of her own hips replaced at a very young age, so she knows whereof she speaks.

So I'll be doing PT, as well as taking some anti-inflammatory medications to keep things under control.

But the real issue is, when the hell did I get old enough to develop arthritis in my damn hip? I already need bifocals and a hearing aid, for Christ's sake. What's next? Incontinence? Glaucoma? Cataracts? Osteoporosis? It feels like just yesterday that my body was strong, pain-free, and basically did whatever I asked of it without a lot of fuss. Fucking aging, man. Shit.