What if we took a page from Life of Brian and actually let the fetus gestate in a box?

I got into a truly bizarre argument about abortion yesterday. At one point this More Fundy Than Thou guy said that it wasn’t about a woman’s right to choose or even about a woman’s body. His issue is that the unborn human being (how dare we “hide” behind the term fetus) is actually not part of the woman’s body. It is, in fact, it’s own entity. In fact, it was precisely because he loved women so much that he felt they should be forced to carry an unwanted pregnancy to term, no matter what.

Mind you, he also tossed around the term “pro-abortionist” like it was a curse. Me, I think it’s an accurate description. Whatever.

So what if we could build a bionic womb, something that could carry a fetus to term thanks to careful usage of unobtainium and handwavium. Let’s also say that this takes the place of the abortion: this is a decision of dire need and, while invasive and uncomfortable, the process of transplanting the fetus is not the work of Mad Science. A phlebotinum powered transporter or something.

As a result, women who are pregnant due to rape or incest are spared the trauma of being forced to care for and live with the tangible reminder of that trauma (because that’ll be a walk in the park) and there’s a new baby to be adopted by a loving couple. Everyone wins, right?

Do you really think the anti-abortion advocates would be happy with this? I’m skeptical. I think the pro-mothering rhetoric would be stepped up, that it’s so important that the woman be a maternal figure and blah blah blah no matter what. It’s not because they’re misogynist or hate women, though...

And this is why I’ve learned that sometimes it’s not worth it to argue with people who claim they want an amiable debate.

fixing a hole...

Election 2016: The Season of the Whale

The fallout from the election has me thinking about whales.

Have you ever listened to Creationists? Or, you know, Creation Scientists? If you ever get in to a debate with one, the argument will usually die here: “If evolution is true, show me proof!”

Here’s the funny thing about evolution. There’s proof. A lot of proof. Whether you’re talking about the finches of the Galapagos or the literal growth of the horse or, hey, domestication of dogs or corn or apples, there’s a lot to point at and say “Hey, look! Proof!” But no, that’s not enough. And it’s not enough because the extant proof is not the proof they want. Like whales. 

Scientists have pretty much roughed out the evolution of whales from the first land based cousin to Shamu so you’d think that would be enough. But in these discussions, creationists are not looking for Ambulocetus; they want the fossil of a blue whale with four horselike appendages. Because that’s the proper missing link and good luck convincing them otherwise.

The more I watch the fallout, the more I feel like this is the debate we are all going through, no matter which side of the election you’re on. If not this precisely, I think we are on the cusp of it if we give in to our frustrations.

The handful of conservatives whose paths I’ve crossed in the interim all want to point out that Trump is in no way racist. If you point out that he started his campaign denigrating Mexican-Americans, you’ll hear that he’s walked back from that (has he?). He’s allied with Bannon and Breitbart? Breitbart’s just a news source (ignoring, like, every headline ever), I had one commenter send me a meme full of publicity shots featuring Trump with the likes of Al Sharpton and Mike Tyson because if he was really racist, would he have those pictures? 

Let me think about that...

I’m starting to think that even if we had video tape of Donald Trump going the full Michael Richards by way of Paula Deen while he was wearing a white robe, we’d hear that, golly, boys will be boys. Or that the hatred is on both sides of the divide and it’s the liberal media’s fault for only bringing up these negative stories instead of...

Which brings me to my own side. I want to believe that Trump is better than he seems, than he’s talked, but it’s really fucking hard the way he’s going about things. So I want to believe his followers are better than he is.

But what proof do I want? So long as he doesn’t actively disavow the racists and fascists who are celebrating in his wake...

But what does that mean? Actively disavow? Would I be satisfied with a “Honestly, I’m really not with them.”? Or would I hold out for an angry dismissal, the kind of righteous indignation of “How DARE these un-American ingrates besmirch our...” Well, ok, I’d really like that, but let’s be realistic.

So what am I waiting for? What will I and others in my place on the political spectrum accept? And from whom? What’s proof? A senator or ten thousand GOP supporters? 

Well, anything would be nice these days. So far everyone in the GOP is working overtime to say that he’s fine, his rhetoric is feisty and not to worry our pretty heads.

So I’ll keep waiting and pushing for resistance on the conservative side. I just hope that I’ll be patient if the proof is a weird kind of hippo-y thing with a long snout and not Shamu on the savannah.

I was bullied as a kid, badly. Bad enough I almost failed classes because I spent so much time crying in the office at lunch that I didn’t make it. Bad enough that I’m still finding how deep some of those scars go decades later. 

When you have a principal tell you that you’re not worth his time because you can’t explain what’s going on, again... yeah well.

The worst part of this election cycle, for me, has been watching the language and the behaviors I survived come to the fore with a vengeance.  Not just him, the people who wish protesters would stop blocking traffic and just, you know, write a letter or go to City Hall? That insist that the latest college athlete rapist couldn’t have done it because, golly, he’s just so nice? Boys will be boys? The administration who believed the bullies all the way back to kindergarten who said we were just “roughhousing”. The friends who said I had it coming to me because I had to be so smart, so weird, so... me.

And then this happened to me today, online. Even as I’m hearing that Trump can’t be THAT bad because he walked back his anti-immigration stance (kind of), his minions are spraying graffiti, groping women, tearing at hijabs...

Look, I’m a straight white man, I can’t complain or compare this to the shit that’s already starting. The rhetoric hasn’t been directly about me and I’m going to be spared the worst. For now.

Because I don’t think he’s going to stop there. Even if he, himself, stops the flow of his hateful rhetoric, his followers won’t. You think the KKK, having endorsed him, is going to fade back into the periphery thinking “mission accomplished”? They’re going to go after anyone who seems weak or other or different or weird or gay or... I dunno, smart? Sensitive? Unmanly?

This is my wake up call. Not that I needed it, really. Like I said, this has been familiar from the start. But it should be noted and heeded. And as I try to get through the panic and freak out I’ve been “enjoying” for the past few days, I’m not going to pretend everything’s going to be rosy after the inauguration.

Me, I’m going to resist.

Overheard at the cafe: "What're you up to today?" "Crying in my bed mostly..."

Jay Smooth talking about the latest FBI “revelation”

Hi there! #candid #streetphotography #streetphoto #father #son #child #seattle #playing #igers_seattle

how much longer?

I’ve been watching the news with ongoing horror waiting for the election to end, one way or another. My girlfriend has been experience high anxiety at the fear that we’re going to wake up on November 9 to either a fascist dictator or armed insurrection.

Me? I’m looking at it with the fatalistic eye because either way, it means we can take a deep breath and say “finally!”. Finally all the hatred and distrust that's been "lurking" for decades and bubbling up this entire campaign will come to a boil and then... well, I don't know what happens then but at least we'll know. To be clear, I voted for Hillary and I don't want Trump to win (it terrifies me)

But it's all feeling like the warnings from geologists that Mount Rainier is overdue to explode or Yellowstone or The Big One in California. Or even waiting for the results of a medical examination or a relative in ICU or...

Something bad could happen and it's out of your control and you're going to live with that potential energy of dread riding your psyche like a demon FOREVER or until whatever happens... happens. And it hurts like a motherfucker or you sigh in relief because you dodged a bullet and either way you can react to a specific SOMETHING. She's dead, she's at peace, time to mourn. The test came back negative, you've learned a lesson (we hope) and you move on with wisdom.

I don't want Trump to win. I don't want this country to fall apart because the bigots and haters who've been shouting for years can't handle Hillary being president.

But either way, I want to know the waiting is over and how I can act and react from there.

Watching Book of Life left me feeling... restless. My godmother, Herminia Cadena, died almost two and a half years ago. And tonight, well... it felt right to make my own Day of the Dead altar out of the tools at hand. She was a devout Catholic, someone who was such a genuinely good and warm person that I hope there's an afterlife for her, but I hope she won't mind too much. I'm not a religious man by any stretch but I felt comforted doing this. My godmother was a first generation Mexican-American illegal immigrant who started in the fields with her husband to raise a family and they worked their way into, yes, that American Dream thing. She was a steady presence in my life, the backbone of so many traditions and rituals that just Happened, y'know? The sort of thing where you realize you've been getting together every year like clockwork for... how long!??!? One year in college, when my parents were out of town for a cruise, they invited me over so they could make me dinner, which turned in to an impromptu lesson on swearing in Spanish. Listening to two sixty somethings correcting me on the correct use of the word cabrón... I haven't laughed so hard. My godfather sang and played guitar in a couple mariachi bands in Saginaw back in the '60s and '70s and still plays to this day. At the funeral service, he sang the song "Sin Tí" (Without You), which I am very sorry I missed and yet strangely grateful I did because I can't imagine listening without my heart breaking even more. I miss you, Minnie. #dayofthedead #diadelosmuertos #altar #lego #mariachi #skeleton

"YOU'RE not Francis!!!!!" #deadpool #lego #legomarvel

"Gotham needs me..."