MNR: TEFLON LUNGS
So I’m perusing the greatest daily on planet Earth (NY Daily News, provided daily by Mr. Leary) today when I read that now Mr. Trump (or #45, mama told me to show respeckkk no matter what) and his kindred team of certified monkeys in the White House are considering rescinding transgender rights. These rights include being able to use the public restroom of the gender one most identifies with and being able to check a gender box other than M or F on a form. It also includes a formal ban on transgender folk from being able to enlist in the Armed Forces. (Sighs) I’m not quite certain where to begin. I guess I’ll start with reminding you that these laws are Obama-era initiatives. And we all know how #45 feels about anything with Obama’s stamp and legacy attached. To be thorough, I will add that the article spoke on gender in the eyes of Trump-minded folk as solely being based on already proven scientific data as well as the gender given on one’s birth certificate. And if you put it that way, most folk from the far right to damn near the middle of the road would probably find little or no objection with this BS. If #45 and The Get Fresh Crew have their way, the only way a transgender person would be recognized by the government is if specific and individual scientific research were to affirm the gender that particular person identifies as. These folk fought long and hard to get to this point in history. They still face harsh ridicule and the threat of violence from factions varying from all-out hate groups to Baptist churches. I have no problem with a person being able to identify himself or herself as he or she pleases. I have no idea what’s going on inside their bodies or anyone else’s for that matter. Therefore, I don’t feel I have a political right to tell transgender folk how to identify. It’s sorta the same reason why I don’t feel I have the political right to tell a woman what to do with her body. The article said there’s 1.4M Americans who identify as transgender. They deserve to be treated with much more respect than pariahs or some twisted fad. A person is a person. Doesn’t matter whether it’s he or she. This is really sad. No, I’m not #45 or one of his cronies. Essentially, my political voice is mute on the topic. But I am a fair and compassionate man. Old Trumpie is coming for everything not labeled far-right, big money pilgrim. But I wonder if his team of Caesar and the rest of the ape squad realize that if you shit on every group other than yours, the vote will be tipped mega overwhelmingly in the direction of the left. I hope you all reading this remember on 11.6.18. If you don’t know that that’s Election Day, your diploma or degree may be under investigation.
If you don’t watch American Horror Story, you really are missing out on one of the greatest shows in American television history. It airs on FX, meaning they can basically do whatever the fuck they want to do, including use the word fuck on TV (profanity is an art form when used properly). For those who are not in the know, AHS is an anthology series. An anthology series is a radio, television or book series that presents a different story and a different set of characters in each episode or season. In the case of AHS, many of the actors remain from season to season but the storyline changes. Of course, horror is in full abundance. Sometimes it’s the good old conventional blood and gore (often), other times it’s the modern psychological approach to horror. These days, psychological horror seems to be as if not even more effective than the good old blood fest of most horror movies/shows. Jessica Lange (first 5 seasons; my boo), Evan Peters, Sarah Paulson, and Academy Award Winner Kathy Bates are AHS staples, and other big timers like Cuba Gooding, Jr. (boooo), Lady Gaga, Angela Bassett (my other boo), and even the icon Stevie Nix have been cast members. If you think you know twisted, tune in to have your brains blown to bits. I’m not gonna reveal too much of the particulars. I want you to see for yourself. Catch it on Netflix for past seasons or on FX at 10 bells on Wednesday nights for the current season. Better hurry. Word is this may in fact be the final season, though no formal announcement has been made thus far. WARNING: if you do partake, go on ‘head and clear your weekend agenda. Cop that good seven, hit the supermarket, and prepare to binge.
In Search of Serendipity: The Possibility of Love’s Rebirth is due out any minute on the streets. Get at me for a copy of that butter. I got your fix. Love y’all. Smoke suntin’ witcha kinfolk. I’m a catch you on the come-up. See you when I see you unless you see me first. -30-