2005-03-07— Posted by: allegra
Saw this, thought of you.
Pic is of Flotilla Debarge, a well known NY trans-entertainer who is being sued by Star Jones for, like, parodying her. Anybody who knows anything about Star Jones would be of the considered opinion that you cannot parody someone like her. As far as I know it is not possible to bring the administration of Star Jones into disrepute by doing anything, as she’s already got that in a major headlock. My question to you is, could you mistake this entertainer for Star Jones? Please feel free to google Star Jones’ image and compare for yourself. Then, pretend you just had a full body-on with a Dementor and eat some chocolate. Or, you can just skip the whole thing and say “I’m allergic to chocolate, ya silly cow – and why should I care about this anyway?”
2005-03-07— Posted by: allegra
A fly has emerged from my oinkment. Okay, that was a bit obscure, even for me. I was just wanting to make a philosophical comment about how one can be in the finest mood which ever issued from the cerebral cortex of any human creature, and still something will come along and … you know … not be optimal. And you have to stop and deal with it, and next thing you know, your mood, always a variable commodity, has up and split and left you as you were, a screeching crone with breath that could knock a vulture off an outhouse. Or a pile of corpses. I certainly don’t think of myself in those bad crone like terms. Nope, I remember those pictures I have, and I am frozen in time. As I have commented in previous blogs (here I am being recursive), I had artistic black and white pictures of myself taken (nude… but fairly figleafed) when I was 22. I have to tell you, of all of the impulsive, and on the face of it, dopey, things I’ve done in my life, that doesn’t even make the list.
Yeah, I was right to delete this next line. No way to make it salubrious, even when it was no longer libellous.
You see, I can look at those pictures, and the compelling weight of damned near a quarter century comes a-peeling off. The girl in those pictures – and she does look like a girl to me – felt things more or less the same way I do. She certainly had the same enthusiasms, without the finesse. I don’t feel much different from her. My responsibilities, and my responses to things, are different. I have a much more respectful sense of my own best interests than I did then (what’s that line, about good judgement coming from bad decisions?) and I’m much more respectful of the feelings of others than I used to be, mostly because I now actually believe that other people do have feelings. Took a very long time to get there. Paul might argue (although he’d wake up in hospital) that I’m still not there. On the other hand these days he’s being somewhat more appreciative of me, and demonstrating it in a fashion I find difficult to dislike.
I will deal with this latest hull breach with the same verve and skill I brought to the last one, and hope that as I apply my rear end to the hole, in the effort to prevent the vacuum of space from destroying my life, that my tender heinie will not have been sacrificed in vain.
The short version: I am feeling insecure. My personal info is all over the internet. I am experiencing nausea, annoyance and waves of panic. And I asked for it, or so I believe, so I cannot complain, except in the most lameassed way. I can only thank a merciful Providence that those goddamned pictures haven’t excaped. Frankly, they aren’t that good…. they’re just imbued with a sentiment which would be damaged by commerce.
I wanted to blog about those 4 RCMP who were killed, but I will limit myself to making three points:
There are times when you call in a tactical squad. We spend a lot of money, as taxpayers, training and arming folks in tactical squads.
There will be an investigation, and there will be a coverup. The incompetence of the investigation will be no match for the incompetence of the coverup, and we will probably find out more than we want to about how the next level in the chain of command ignored common sense in the hurry to get the boys some real action.
Whether or not the Mounties take a suitable profit from this carnage will be debatable, but if I was a Mountie myself I’d be going Holy Crap and reading everything I could get my hands on about dealing with gunfire in confined spaces, since it’s obvious my boss will be too busy fielding pointed telephone calls from various media to actually be of any assistance when the trigger is pulled. Maybe, just maybe, somebody will develop a checklist, like they have in aviation, that tells you that when you’re dealing with a known cop-hater gun nut ex-felon with a pack of slavering Dobermans who’s chased a bailiff off his property so recently that the death threats are still ringing in his ears, that you take along body armor, at least ten guys, and something punchier than a 12 gauge. Or maybe that’s just me, and I was reading the description wrong. I will be very interested to talk to the gun toting men of my acquaintance about this tragedy, as they are wise and wily, and their counsel is always worth hearing.