Lions, Tigers, and Bears. Oh My! The Shiz is Giving Me A Semi.

We are off to see the Wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz! I personally would rather visit Oz the prison and watch some inmate shank a dude with a filed toothbrush but, hey, being twisted away to a land with flying monkeys to hang out with some animated inanimate objects and a man in a lion suit is probably just as good. It satisfies the furry in me...

Nope, still a close second. I blame the little dog. The urge to punt the yapper hurts so good like a 14-year-old boy’s deathgrip on his initial discovery of masturbation.

Before we continue on our journey down the yellow brick road, I am going to say outright that I bear no resemblance to Dorothy or Judy Garland. Wearing women’s clothes…that is for another day. Let’s bring our focus to the compadres on this little journey of self-discovery.

Oh, Scarecrow, you lost little honeybee, looking for a brain. It’s funny because no one can blame you for missing a brain. You just don’t have one. Like many people, who don’t believe in global warming or AIDS, you are on a similar sinking boat. News for you: perhaps the fact that polar ice caps are melting and that people take copious amounts of drugs to counter their flailing T-cell count is too unfamiliar for you to make any kind of rational connection. Let’s try smaller things. Peanuts and potatoes (the things you eat, how’s that for close to home?) are slowly but surely trucking along towards extinction due to climate shifts and, you got it, global warming, Who knew? In the years to come the prices of your favorite peanut butter and French fries could sky rocket like the gasoline for your giant fuel-inefficient sports utility vehicle. That will directly affect your “civilized” life. How you like dem apples? So wave your bio-diversity flag proudly and do the world a favor – learn a little.

Oh, Cowardly man in a lion suit, you are so maligned in this cruel, cruel world. People like to assume that you are so brave and noble when all you want to do is curl up like a pussycat and purr the afternoon away. That is why you readily jump in on some coital activity all suited up - just as you are. You are so steeped in preconceived notions. A story comes to mind. This anonymous person painted a sign at Wesleyan University to say “Picture yourself a Lesbyan.“ My first thought was to laugh. And I did. Then I thought: “That was a cowardly and wholly unoriginal move.” If you are going to do it, make it count. I also thought, Wesleyan, you are also trapped in a long standing notion that girls’ schools harbor lesbians like a kindhearted coastguard with a ship full of Cuban refugees. Townies threatened by and in fear of contamination make constant passive remarks to make your inhabitants feel little and unwelcome. (Guys, you can’t catch it, no matter how much you try. Although the more you resist, the more it might be a sign that you caught the homo fever. Ba-bum-BUM!) However, true to form, like Frankenstein, monsters usually end up squashing your townie heads. So back the fuck off. (I do have to admit that liberal arts students are frightening. They make me vomit a little in my mouth.)

And Tin man, you wayward cloud looking for a heart. You are the saddest of them all. Your story brings me back to this – a man who pulled on the heartstrings of underage girls like a schizophrenic harpist by pretending to be a dying cancer patient. He didn’t think he was doing any harm. To an underage child. Exposing herself on the internet. To what she thought was a terminal cancer patient. Where, on this journey through his magical wonderland that I guess you can call his brain, was his heart? Where did those redeeming qualities go? Are they scrunched up under his bed next to the impressive pile of cum rags? And how did this love/sex connection come about for these girls? Is it true that girls are just more receptive to pity? And how does transference from feeling sorry for someone lead to love and lust? Is it a [gender programmed, overly generalized, evil, evil] chick thing? Where does the heart roam in a world based in illusion?

Amidst all the hubbub, the lies and the deceit that populate this disintegrating world, we journey on with hope on our minds and our companions in tow, no matter how flawed everything is. The real hope is that we don’t get to the end only to discover some fucktard projecting holograms of big green faces on the haze spewing forth from a shoddy smoke machine.

Fingers crossed!

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Get On the Bus and Head to the Back with the Boozers and Smokers, Soldier

Let's toast.

Now, I know you don't know me all that well, if at all, but I'm making a discernable effort to start on a positive note so just raise your damn glass.

Today's theme involves exhuming previous notions and casting them aside as misconceptions, although even in doing so, these new developments (un)surprisingly still lead us nowhere.

So in an attempt to follow current trends (of which I am not adept), I will smile a little retail clerk smile while I report. You know the smile. The one where they ask if you need help, judge your hair, and scoff quietly while they get you a larger size? Smarmy bastards.

Fun fact: That smile is, in fact, classified as the "Pan-American", known primarily for its use of only the Zygomaticus Major muscle and giving a look of insincerity. Pan-American…Insincere…Pan-American…Insincere. Funny that.

Moving forward! In the news:



NewScientist.com is reporting that cigarettes and coffee, contrary to popular belief, might actually be bad for you! For a long time (decades!), studies on Parkinson's disease [PD] have shown that double fisting a pack of Camels and a tumbler of Joe have an inverse correlation with the disease. However, a recent study shows that: 1. Indulging in either does appear to have an inverse association with PD. 2. The two probably do not have a direct cause and effect relationship. And, therefore: 3. The onset of Parkinson's is attributed to varying causes…

They close the study with this remark: "…relative to lung disease and heart disease, Parkinson's disease is far less common."

To that end I present you with a throwback to the early 90s: No shit, Sherlock. Eat red meat. Booze it up. Eat fiber. Drink urine. Die anyway.

Trudging along, according to Guardian Unlimited Breaking! International! News!, Turner County High School in Ashburn, Georgia (population: 4000) has decided to break tradition. So unbelievably forward thinking and progressive! I cannot bestow enough accolades upon their awesomeness. This year, for the first time, high school students will have an integrated prom!

This year. 2007 AD. For the first time, Turner County High will have a prom where students of all races are invited…All races. 2007.

Is this news breaking the fact that the United States is constantly backpedaling? Wasn't there that march in DC that one time? And wasn't there some emanci-procla-something-or-other signed 100 years before that? And didn't we learn anything from Mean Girls? C'mon! L. Lo at her finest hour! (Which is equivalent to feeling a sense of achievement from managing not to step in dog shit for once.)
Now, you might wonder why all this mumbo-jumbo has anything to do with gender at all. I could say that the intention behind shunning the discussion directly applies the notion that gender is so interconnected in society that there is no escape, much like one’s sexual history. (Impossible.) By deliberately denying face time to gender implications I am propelling the concept of society being wholly supersaturated in gender goop. I could say that. But then I would be lying. I had a mild brain fart and now I’m backpedaling in honor of my “land-of-the-free.”

My fascination with this Promenade article can be explained in simple terms: I got thinking. The prom at Turner County, like all proms, is engendered with feminine qualities. From the theme “Breakaway” a la Kelly Clarkson to the palm tree/waterfall decorations, we are clearly in straight girl paradise. Even your rabid event planning, interior decorator closet case is dreading the idea of going to prom with hag #1 in tow. Prom has and always will be considered the pinnacle of high school for the girls. So why is that? What in your gender makeup makes you want to put on a dress, break a heel on the dance floor and lose your virginity in a motel, drunk off one too many PBRs and then vomit in a toilet through mascara tears while your girlfriend holds your disheveled hair back? And, so, why has this article failed to address the girl perspective - the most passionate advocates for the largest, most lavish prom ever? Why are you interviewing your run of the mill guy who would prefer a tailgate party at a Limp Bizkit concert? Nary a quote or statement from the masterminds themselves! When did prom typify gender segregation in the years of adolescent development?

That is the news.

With that, I continue to smile and ponder in my gown, staring wide-eyed from the back of the bus. It might be a neurological disease, but who can say?

My mouth is starting to hurt.

Returning to a positive note though, a New Zealand octopus, Octi, has learned to open twist-cap soda bottles. She also likes to play by squirting liquids in her keeper's face. Speaking from experience, some people don't find that quite as amusing.

Bottoms up!

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