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MAGA?

How about doing this instead of hocking your goddamn red hats during a natural disaster?

Build new infrastructure to ameliorate the effects of huge storms and repair the rest of the existing, crumbling national infrastructure (transport, water, power), invest enormously in renewable energies and local power, move quickly beyond the targets set in the Paris accord, reduce military spending, institute a single-payer healthcare system, perhaps a move to universal basic income, provide 5 weeks annual paid leave as mandatory, provide free universal antenatal care and contraceptive advice for all women, provide cheap public transport, paid maternal and paternal leave…just a few ideas to help MAGA. Easily affordable—just up the taxes on the mega rich a bit, close a few loopholes, introduce the 0.01% financial transaction tax and regulate the fucking banking industry. There you are, fixed it and actually made America great again.

Sigh. A boy can dream—and take some solace in knowing these things are probably already happening in a parallel universe somewhere…

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Fun Animal Observations from a Zoo Docent

1. There are several ways to classify the large cats, one of the more useful ones is into the roaring cats (tigers, lions) and the purring cats (bobcats, lynxes). The puma (also known as the mountain lion) is the largest cat that purrs. I’ve heard it up close, it’s amazing. A cheetah’s purr sounds like an idling motorcycle engine.

2. Kangaroos cannot move their legs independently of each other, they have to move them in sync – when they’re on land. When they’re swimming, they can move them separately. Hopping is their most efficient way to move – a walking kangaroo is awkward as hell. They swing both legs forward using their tail as a third leg to prop up while their legs swing.

3. People often think that flamingoes’ knees bend the wrong way. They don’t – the joint you’re seeing in the middle of their leg isn’t their knee, it’s their ankle. Their knee is up by their body, and it bends the same way ours does.

4. Giraffes only sleep 1-2 hours a day.

5. Bald eagles’ vocalizations are not what you expect. When you see a flying bald eagle in the movies and hear that majestic caw sound? That isn’t an eagle, it’s been dubbed over with another bird, usually a red-tailed hawk. Bald eagles actually sound…not majestic. Kind of like if a kitten could be a bird.

6. Elephants are one of only a handful of animals that can pass the mirror test – in other words, they can recognize their own reflection (and not think it’s another animal, as dogs and cats usually do). They tested this by placing a chalk mark on an elephant’s forehead and then showing it a mirror. The elephant investigated the mark on its own forehead, indicating it knew that it was looking at itself. The only animals that pass this test are the higher primates, the higher cetaceans (orcas, dolphines), elephants, and weirdly, magpies.

7. One-fifth of all the known mammal species are bats.

8. A kangaroo mother can have three joeys simultaneously at different stages of development: an embryo in her womb (kangaroos can do what’s called embryonic diapause which means sort of putting the development on pause until she’s ready for it to develop further), a joey in her pouch attached to one nipple, and a joey out of the pouch on the ground who nurses from the other one. The amazing thing? Each of her nipples make different formulations of milk for each joey’s different nutritional needs.

9. Bonobos, our closest genetic relative (they are more closely related to us than they are to either chimps or gorillas) are almost entirely non-aggressive, matriarchal, and use sex to solve all their problems. They engage in both same and opposite sex interactions, non-penetrative sex (oral, rubbing, manual) and with any age. That’s an interesting area to work in, lemme tell you.

10. Tortoises have super loud sex. Like, really loud.

11. All grizzlies are brown bears, but not all brown bears are grizzlies (grizzlies are a sub-categorization of the brown bear).

12. Reindeer are the only deer species where both males and females grow antlers. The males shed theirs the beginning of December, the females shed theirs in the spring. So all of Santa’s reindeer are girls, heh. I love telling little kids that.

13. If a rhinoceros knocks off its horn, it grows back faster than you’d expect. One of ours, Rosie, has knocked hers off twice.

14. Gorillas get crushes on each other. And on the humans that take care of them. Male gorillas also masturbate. I don’t know if the females do, I’ve never seen it. Sometimes it’s like a soap opera up in there.

15. Langur monkeys are silvery-gray in color – their babies are bright orange. Like Cheeto orange, I do not exaggerate.

16. Polar bear fur is not white, it’s transparent, like fiber optics. Also, their skin is black.

Source.

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Dreaming of Snow

The other night I dreamt it started snowing and it was wonderful. I know, strange statement coming from a guy who had come to detest the white stuff by the time we left Denver. But this dream was…different. I wasn’t in Denver; I was in Phoenix. Now, snow in Phoenix isn’t unheard of, but it’s extremely rare and seldom lasts more than a few hours after dusting the ground. It’s so rare in fact, that I had a very hard time finding any decent photos to illustrate it.

In this dream I was coming out of a Trader Joe’s…or a Sprouts…or a Whole Foods…or some other hipster-addled grocery store where people buy ready-to-eat artisanal, cruelty-free organically-grown, non-GMO gluten-free potstickers and during the time I’d been in the store (picking the last of the good orange cherry tomatoes individually out of a bin), the skies had clouded over and temperature had dropped precipitously. It felt like snow weather. The clouds were hanging—to quote a line from Rocky Horror—dark and pendulous. The ground was already turning white as the flakes began falling.

I wasn’t concerned. I knew it wouldn’t be like a Denver storm where I might have trouble getting home, and the sheer joy I felt at the cold temperature made me realize on some level I actually missed that kind of weather.

We’re now in our third summer back in Phoenix; a milestone that I’ve always marked as being fully acclimated to a climate—especially one as brutal as Phoenix. It’s marks the point that you can relax and take solace in knowing the ridiculously hot days won’t last forever; that in just a few short months cold water will actually start coming out of the cold water tap again and you might even have to wear a hoodie when you go out.

Come to think of it, the whole thing might just have been fever-induced as I was coming down sick—something akin to a (reverse) plot line from that old Twilight Zone episode The Midnight Sun…

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Not Everything Is Lost

Via Wil Wheaton:

After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.

Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.

I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?

The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.

She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,

Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.

She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.

Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.

Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.

She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.

To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.

And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.

And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,

With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.

Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.

They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.

Not everything is lost.

~Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.”

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The Disruption of Orange Caligula

Despite the fact that he has failed at pretty much every endeavor he’s set his tiny hands to, the current illegitimate occupant of the White House has succeeded spectacularly at one thing: absolutely monopolizing the entire “fake news” cycle—that he so loathes—24/7.

Even yesterday, as nature was putting on one of the most awe-inspiring spectacles imaginable, the shitgibbon still managed—through his own blatantly willful stupidity (as I predicted), made it all about him.

I mean seriously. If someone in a lab coat told the idiot not to touch a hot stove, I’m sure he’d think, “No one can tell me what to do…especially some scientist.”

And we saw that yesterday.

And now he’s flying into Phoenix to hold a “rally.” I guess widdle Donny’s ego needs to be stroked after the last couple weeks. Oh hell, after the last eight months. Is it possible that it’s finally pushing through his thick, malignantly narcissistic skull that except for his knuckle-dragging, basement-dwelling base, everyone is coming to hate him?

All I know is that this Phoenix trip is going to be a shit show. Both sides are planning on infiltrating the other to cause trouble. Supposedly the anti-Trumpers are buying up tickets and will be staging a mass walk-out the moment the tiny-fisted ferret-wearing shitgibbon starts blathering incoherently. In other words, the moment he starts speaking.

Meanwhile, the Trumpanzees are openly advertising for actors (preferably of color) to pose as anti-Trump protestors (at $10/hour) to cause trouble so Dear Leader can claim with his trademark smirk, “See, both sides are violent!”

My employer has taken note of this gathering tsunami of stupid about to descent upon the city. I work about two blocks from the state capitol building, and yesterday we received a call and email from our supervisor:

As a follow-up to this morning’s Deputy Director’s meeting, here is guidance regarding tomorrow for our employees specifically in the Capitol Complex/Campus, and Phoenix Metro areas. For employee safety, we are making the following options available for Division Directors to use based on your discretion and individual business needs:

If employees are non-essential (as deemed per individual Division Directors) and have the ability to telecommute, the recommendation is to have them do so. Employees are not required to physically come to the Capitol Complex/Campus/Phoenix Metro if they are not needed. However, if they do, then we’d like them to leave the area no later than 1 p.m. as there are reports of large protests, not to mention traffic congestion in preparation for the arrival and event.

Additionally, all facilities in the area locked down at 1 p.m. to preclude any general public entry and for the safety of our employees.

Only the senior tech at my facility will be on site; myself and my other colleague were requested to telecommute. One of the perks of being a contract employee, however, is that I’m not trusted with the keys to the remote access kingdom. Asked what to do about this, my supervisor replied, “Put down 8 hours on your time sheet and enjoy your day off.”

This actually works out well, because I was already planning on calling out today anyway. Two weeks into the new school year, Ben has already brought home—and shared—the first incident of the upper respiratory creeping crud. He started exhibiting symptoms last Friday, and I knew I’d be feeling it within 48 hours. Sure enough, it started to hit shortly after I got finished putting the new bed frame together (another story for another time) on Sunday. By the time I left work yesterday my throat was on fire, and this morning—after a horrible night’s sleep—I can tell it’s already moving down into my chest. I’m hoping to ward off full-blown bronchitis by hitting it hard with Mucinex to keep the sludge flowing, but I know how this typically goes, and I will undoubtedly be making an appointment with my Primary Care doctor by week’s end.

And now I’m going back to bed.

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Shower Thoughts

Washing machines should have a reservoir tank where I can pour in a whole jug of detergent and have it automatically dispense the correct amount for every load—and then automatically flush the whole system of old detergent if it’s below a certain level in the tank when it does a self-clean cycle.

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“I don’t understand any of it. I never did.”

In my mind, that is probably the most memorable quote from the 1970 film, Boys in the Band. It was spoken by the character Michael as he was relating his dying father’s last words.

I first saw the film during my senior year in high school. I went with my then-“girlfriend,” Jean. Not really having any media representations of gay life at the time, Boys in the Band—as bleak and depressing as it was—did offer a glimpse into at least some aspect of the life I was taking my first, tentative steps into—if only as a warning of what not to become. (I returned for a second screening on my own a week later, and Jean’s response was, “Why?!”)

But I digress.

As I’ve grown older, those words have rung more true with each passing year.

When I was in my 20s and 30s, I thought had it all figured out. I knew how life worked—even if it didn’t always work out the way I intended. The cracks started appearing in that belief as I entered my 40s, and when cancer came out of nowhere and hit me up the side of the head mid-decade, I realized I didn’t know shit.

When you’re twenty-one, life is a roadmap. It’s only when you get to be twenty-five or so that you begin to suspect you’ve been looking at the map upside down, and not until you’re forty are you entirely sure. By the time you’re sixty, take it from me, you’re…lost.” ~ Stephen King

Guess I’m not the only one…

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#Truth

White dudes: I don’t know who’s worse: Hillary or Trump.

LGBTQ people: Trump is.

Black people: Trump is.

Undocumented immigrants: Trump.

Muslims: It’s Trump.

Women: Trump, duh!

White dudes: (shoving their heads deeper into their asses) I just…don’t…know…

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Because ‘murika!

A large portion of the population is about to have permanent eye damage.

If the last two years have taught me anything, it’s that a huge portion of the United States population is dumber than a box of rocks, and will do something contrary to what they’re told, especially if the person telling them is actually someone who knows what they’re talking about.

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