The thing is, I'd really love to get back to blogging. I'm just so much more interested in playing princesses and ponies and having adventures to go find the moon.
Ah well. Maybe when she's 13.
Recent developments that have affected my posting:
Divorced
General depression and malaise
RESPA Reform
Return to acting
2 shows back-to-back
I feel a return to normalcy coming and I hope to get back here soon.
I've given up the idea of starting over on a new blog. There's no legal reason to do so, since my ex-wife and I have returned to civil discourse. Getting rid of lawyers helps immensely in that regard. I like the name. And, of course, laziness is a factor.
The New Orleans and atheist blogospheres are doing just fine without me, but, as always, in need of more commas and the occasional shit-stirring.
Hopefully, I'll have something of substance soon.
This post is the ninth part in a series. To start at the beginning, please click here.
I don't know when I fell asleep, but something woke me up. Probably a cat. I can't get back to sleep, the reason for which you'll see in a minute, so I'm back here, trying to make sense of all of this or at least put it down so I can make sense of it later. I just don't know.
I walked out to the kitchen to get some water or juice or something and my mother was in the living room sitting on a chair, not the couches, but a dining room chair. It took me a minute to register what was going on. She had her pajamas on and was parked not two feet from my aunt's giant television. I could see her face in its glow and she was quietly sobbing, her shoulders shaking. The ice in her glass tinkled with every shudder. I walked around behind her, put mu cheek on the top of her head and my arms around her shoulders. "Momma. What are you doing out here?" She didn't answer me.
I looked up at the TV and and there she was in all her glory, the beautiful and terrible Katrina. The volume was muted. We just watched her, this picture from another universe, an impossible picture, as she swept silently toward Louisiana and consumed the coastline, the entire state. And then back out, rolling in again with those beautiful bands and her perfect eye. Creeping in, jumping back out. Over and over again. I have no idea how long we stayed that way. I put my cheek on hers and realized I had started crying, too. "Don't worry, Momma. It will turn. It will. They always do."... "No, baby, I don't think so. Not this time."
After a while, I got up and left her there.
It has to turn. It HAS to. I don't know what I'll do if it doesn't.
Please God, if you're there, if you were ever there, please make it turn away. Please. I'm sorry. Please just forgive me and MAKE IT TURN!
please
fuck
This post is the eighth part in a series. To start at the beginning, please click here.
Some changes... The no names thing is too confusing, so I went back here and added names for clarity.
Such a surreal day. I don't remember much of it except in flashes here and there.
Todd and Nikki rolled in around 10AM. Said there was no traffic at all. Fuckers. I guess we were with all the suckers who left on time. Their dog immediately started humping Charlene's dog and there was a brief bit of drama. They brought our friend Annabelle and her dog, as well, so now the tally is 12 people, 9 dogs, 2 cats.
My parents arrived after noon. There was a brief flurry of emotion when my mother came in. She had apparently been crying the whole way. Tory and I avoided that little squall by going to unload all the stuff my parents had brought with them. Office computers, boxes upon boxes of files, just about everything in my mother's house that was irreplaceable. And the dogs, cages and accoutrement.
I remember the forced way that everyone moved and spoke. No one has been forcing themselves or pretending to be happy. We are all genuinely happy to be here with each other, but every word is coated with dread and fear is in every exhalation, until the the fumes from it all are choking. And I couldn't sneak away for a smoke.
The little bit of levity was provided by Mr. Jack Daniels and the good folks at the Abita brewery. We drank almost all day. Not like Mardi Gras, more like a funeral. With the Weather Channel in the background.
I spent a great part of the day lying in Matthew's bed with the same thoughts running through my head on an endless loop.Are we missing anything important?...Did I do everything I needed to do?...Is the house secure enough?...I wish the dogs would shut the fuck up...Jasper! Leave that alone...Wow this kid has a lot of crap...When can I get a fucking cigarette?...When are they going to come on TV and tell us everything is OK?...I wish Nash Roberts would wake up and say something...Jesus, she packed a lot of clothes...Get off me, Stella... (Poor baby Stella. Not even a year old and on her way to becoming a world traveler.)I'm sorry, come here...I need another drink...
I've tried to stay away from the TV, but it's just hypnotic. The waiting and the waiting and the waiting. The reporters on the ground seem to be just as impatient and anxious as we are. "Just hurry the fuck up, already, you stupid bitch!!!" The same information over and over and over, nothing new, no change, steady course.
I'd get in bed, but I won't be able to sleep. There's no escape from the horror of anticipation.
I'm going outside to smoke. And I need another drink.
This post is the seventh part in a series. To start at the beginning, please click here.
My father just called and asked me if there was anything in our house that we wanted to save or absolutely needed to keep. I didn't know what to tell him. Even if I could think straight in the face of that question, I wouldn't in a million years be able to tell him where anything is.
My mother is hysterical.
Apparently, what was just a possibility last night is suddenly a done deal.
This can't be happening.
This post is the sixth part in a series. To start at the beginning, please click here.
I'm totally exhausted from this horrible day, but I'm still (with two drinks in me) wired from driving, so what the hell - might as well blog.
So we moved the office. Forever. As I predicted, it took a lot longer than it should have. It wasn't helped by the several phone calls from my wife. She was worried, to say the least. I had her packing up to evacuate, but she managed to finish before I thought she would. I got a little angrier with her than I should have, I guess. She kept asking me, "Why do you have to this today?" I finally yelled raised my voice, "Because when this thing turns, I have to be at work on Monday!" That's probably not the case at this point.
Then my father and I boarded up his house. Then he helped me board up our house. I packed my wife, all of our stuff and the cats into the car, drove over to mom and dad's, parked our cars in their garage, transferred our stuff to mom's Explorer, and took off.
It only took us 5 hours this time. So either the State Police learned from their mistakes last year or not as many people are leaving as we thought.
We got to my aunt's around 10, kicked my cousin out of his room and I got the cats and my wife settled. I didn't realize until I was unpacking how much my wife packed. It looks like we're staying for two weeks. My aunt made a remark when I was bringing everything in. "Did you bring the whole house?" she said. Almost.
So here's the tally of evacuees at my aunt and uncle's house. I've added the familial relationships so I don't have to explain too much about our interactions. See if you can keep up.
So far:
Me
My wife
Our two cats (Jasper and Stella, for those who haven't kept up)
My great aunt, Carrie (my mother's father's sister)
Her three dogs (2 toy poodles and a mid-sized mutt)
Coming tomorrow will be:
My mother
My father
Their two dogs (Standard poodles)
My (second) cousin, Todd (my mother's father's sister's (not Carrie) son)
His girlfriend, Nikki
Their dog (Doberman puppy)
Add to that the regular inhabitants:
My aunt, Charlene (my mother's sister)
My uncle, Mark
My two cousins - Kathy, girl, 18 and Michael, boy , 15
Their two dogs (1 expensive rat thing and a "labradoodle", which I call a mutt)
For a total of:
11 people
8 dogs
2 cats
And maybe more on the way.
This is going to be fun.
Tomorrow I'm going to install City of Heroes and the Villains beta to my cousins' computer and pray that it works. If I don't have some respite from all of this family time, I'll probably explode.
Now I'm going to sneak out for a cigarette and go to bed.
*sigh*
Since the latest advisory has Mr. Gustav taking a little jog to the SW and his winds dipping down to 45mph, I've decided to continue.
I have a feeling that this one isn't for us.
I hope that doesn't haunt me like so many things I said three years ago.
And that doesn't mean I haven't started packing, at least mentally.
This post is the fifth part in a series. To start at the beginning, please click here.
So this weekend may not be a total bust after all. I managed, FINALLY, to log on to the City of Villains beta. The lag was horrible and I kept getting kicked out, but I was able to create a character and fool around a little before the cutoff time.
First impression: It looks really cool, but the graphics are killing my computer amd I had to dial it way down.
The playing time is extended tomorrow and Sunday, so I should be able to get some good playing (oops, I mean testing) time in tomorrow.
This is assuming we aren't heading to BR. I wonder if my aunt's computer has a video card that can handle COV. Hmmm...
This post is the fourth part in a series. To start at the beginning, please click here.
So after driving all day in the rain yesterday, today I got to pack up the whole office to move it tomorrow. Movers are coming tomorrow, but it's still a pain in the ass.
Background:
My parents have been running the business out of the second floor of their house, which is just one big room. My brother and I used to share it. For a year, it was just the three of us and the girl down the street who comes in occasionally. Now we have two more employees and six people won't fit in that room comfortably, if at all. So we're moving. Growth is good, right? Like my dad says, too much work is a problem we want to have all the time.
Right now, however, it's a pain in the ass. :)
And then tomorrow (Saturday!) I get to go unpack everything and set it up. Which shouldn't take more than a few hours, but will actually take all day, just like today.
The NHC keeps shifting Katrina's track westward, which is mildly disconcerting. It's a little storm and I really don't want to have to evacuate. My wife is already worried, though, and I guess we'll be making a trip to Baton Rouge (my aunt's house and designated family hurricane retreat). All I can think about is that dreadful Ivan evacuation. It took us almost 10 hours to get to BR. 90 miles in 10 hours. That's an average of 9 mph, for the arithmetically challenged. Incidentally, that's about as fast as the hurricane is moving. :) Katrina, however, is not in a car with an angry cat (not to mention a tired and cranky wife, sorry baby :) ). This year we have two cats, one just 10 months old. I can't fucking WAIT!
I'm sure it's nothing. If they keep moving it west it will end up in Texas or Mexico. That's what usually happens. My dad went through Betsy and he's not that concerned. Good enough for me.
Between this move tomorrow and dealing with my wife's storm anxiety, this weekend is really going to suck.
This post is the third part in a series. To start at the beginning, please click here.
I really love to drive. I've developed a system on the Interstates that serves me pretty well. I set the cruise control at 79 and just cruise. 79 is really the perfect speed. Fast enough to glide past the slow pokes and stay out of the way of the speedsters, yet slow enough that the cops ignore you. It also keeps you from catching up too quickly to those pockets of traffic that form around trucks.
Traffic, though, especially traffic caused by one inconsiderate jackass, really drives me up the fucking wall. Being a weekday and after the start of school, I figured we wouldn't have a lot of traffic. I was right, but driving for ten hours gives you plenty of opportunity to find inconsiderate and/or just stupid drivers, especially in Florida, which seems to be permanently under construction.
A few observations:
If you can't drive 40 mph, then get off the fucking Interstate. Driving with your hazards on does NOT make it ok to endanger everyone on the road. You want to kill yourself, that's fine with me. I understand that unforunate circumstances sometimes require less than optimal conditions. That's still not an excuse to drive farther than the next fucking exit and call a tow truck.
While on the subject of hazard lights: Do NOT drive with the damn hazard lights blinking. It's distracting. If your hazards are also your taillights, I can't tell when you are braking. If they are orange, I have to drive with orange spots in my eyes for as long as I'm stuck behind you. If you are so concerned with visibility conditions that you feel other drivers may not see you, then it's too dangerous for you to be driving. Get off at the next exit. Pussy.
On being a pussy: If the DoT wanted the lane closed RIGHT HERE then they would have closed it RIGHT HERE and not half a mile further up. Don't get mad at ME because you merged half a mile ago and have been sitting still, while I drove up to the merge in the perfectly open and legal lane to your right. Traffic moves faster when all lanes are being used and drivers are considerate enough to alternate into the merged lane. It's not my fault that you are a too scared to merge. Oh, and if anyone out there drives a semi and gets it into their head that they're going to BLOCK the soon-to-be-closed lane, understand full well, that I am just going to drive around you, as I would any obstacle in the road. Once I do that, as so many of you found out today, the cars behind me will overcome their fear of your big bad truck. Fuck you and stay out of the way.
Please, please, please, please, PLEASE, people, learn how to maintain speed on hills. Slowing down on the incline and speeding up on the downslope because you're too stupid to regulate the pressure on your gas pedal is REALLY annoying. If you are driving a heavy vehicle that simply cannot make it's way up a hill without slowing down and cannot be controlled down the hill without burning up the brakes, then get in the RIGHT FUCKING LANE.
On the right lane: The sign reads, "Slower traffic keep right." I understand that you may feel that you are not driving slowly. You may very well actually be driving fast enough. You are, however, still going slower than me. So move over. If you can't, I understand. As soon as you are able, however, get out of the fucking way.
On the same point: If I move to the right to allow you to pass, then FUCKING PASS! Don't meander past me and get me stuck behind slow traffic. I cannot stress this enough.
That's the end of the driving lessons. :)
The beach was great, but I am fucking exhausted. And tomorrow we get to start packing up to move to the new office. It's not going to be a good weekend.
This post is the second part in a series. To start at the beginning, please click here.
My wife and I have been in South Florida for about a week visiting my father-in-law. He's a few blocks away from the beach and the weather's been nice (but hot) so we've been out and about the whole time. Since we're leaving tomorrow, I needed to check the weather to see what we'll be driving through. It's the first time we've turned on the TV since we've been here. :)
So I turn on the television and there's a damn hurricane about to hit Florida! Just showed up out of nowhere! Really freaked me out. They've got it tracking across Miami and then up into the panhandle by the end of the week. My mother-in-law is right in the path of it and her house is surrounded by giant oak trees. There's absolutely no way to evacuate her and my wife is nervous about that, but it's looking like a Category 1 all the way. I'm not really concerned about it. I didn't want to tell her, but there's absolutely NO WAY I'm driving all the way home and then six hours back this weekend. It's nowhere near us, but it's pushing out a lot of rain. That will make for a fun drive.
I should probably sign off and go to bed. I have to drive for 10 hours tomorrow. In the rain. Ugh.
I hate the going home part of vacation.
I didn't have a blog in August 2005. For the next several days I'm going to pretend I did. Aside from a few emails and comments around the web, I haven't really written much about the Thing. The Storm. That Bitch. The Flood. Hurricane Katrina.
You know, I was living in NYC on September 11, 2001. I was a temp at the time, so I could have been working anywhere that day. As it turns out, I was in mid-town and had been for a week or so doing an on-again off-again thing for Cablevision. Before that, though, I was in some fly-by-night "communications" company that sold over-priced international phone cards to immigrants. I don't remember the name of the place. I remember it was just two blocks from the WTC. And I had lunch and went to the bookstore at the WTC all week.
I was terrified that day. And everyday after that for a long time. The first day I woke up, looked out the window and saw that the fire was finally out, I instantly felt better. Still scared, but better.
It took a long time for me to shake that off. Went through all the stages. I didn't go anywhere NEAR Lower Manhattan for over a year. Then, one day, it was gone. I felt fine.
I guess it's different when your it's your home.
Some notes, caveats and liberties:
I promise this isn't just emotional masturbation.
Obviously I won't remember everything exactly. This is especially true of the days preceding the storm. My memory, like most others around here, is now in two separate pieces: Pre-Katrina memory and Post-Katrina memory. Pre-Katrina memory is mixed up to a ridiculous degree. I haven't said it in a while, but I've said quite often in the past that if it happened before August 29, 2005, then I do not remember. It's more important to me to express how crazy and mixed up everything was. If I get some things out of sequence, I'm not going to be too worried about it.
I'm not sure how the timing is going to work, either, so posts may be erratic as I haven't decided yet when and how to actually publish them. Just bear with me.
Comments will be turned off for some entries so I won't be influenced by them while I'm trying to recount all of this.
*Sigh* Three years. I have to get out from under this thing. I have no idea if I'm ready to do this, but I feel like I have to try.
Happy fucking anniversary. A few days early.
I've been having a really crappy couple of days. I know exactly why. I ran out of medicine on Monday and kept forgetting to get it refilled. 2 days with no meds = instant depression. Then I'm really irritable for a couple of days after I get started back up, so today hasn't been really peachy either.
Then I came across this on Penny Arcade:
I would love to know what sick bastard at Kellogs came up with this genius idea. I just spent the first three years of my sons life trying to get him not to eat blocks, and now you're telling him they taste like fucking strawberries. Thanks a lot assholes.
I feel a whole hell of a lot better.
I just discovered Google Analytics. I don't fully understand all of the terms and numbers yet, but apparently a lot of people are actually visiting this site. A lot more than I thought, anyway. I'm sure people are bouncing over here from a comment on one of the real blogs and then disappear, but it's nice to know that stuff is being seen. Even when that stuff is as ridiculous as most of the posts here.
With apologies to the artist: I've altered the mouse-over text to fit this post. It also happens to be true.
To see the original, click the picture.
Here's the deal. I don't want to be serious. I hate being serious. It feels like I've had to be nothing but serious since August 29, 2005*. Like if I wasn't, it would be some kind of betrayal or defection from what's still happening around me. Melodramatic? Maybe, but there it is.
I want to be silly. Comedians are the prophets of our age, but that's not why. I like to laugh, especially (my wife says) at my own brilliance. In the School of Theatre, my friends would anticipate my presence in the audience with either dread or relief but for the same reason. My laugh. I don't just laugh. I have been likened to a hyena on more than one occasion. My brother is embarrassed to sit next to me in a movie. I laugh with my whole body and my whole heart. I have received the scowls of the old matinee ladies and their admonitions: "You should be more respectful of the actors."
A quick aside on the matinee ladies: The Cherry Orchard is a farce. It's fucking hilarious. Americans are just being stupid when they imagine it as post-modern tragedy. Nordic melancholy is dark and tragic; Russian melancholy is fucking funny.
Anyway, my laugh is recognizable in a room filled with 1000 people, all (hopefully) laughing themselves and often when no one else is laughing at all. Nevertheless, "I could hear you out there," whether said with affection or derision, was always said with a smile.
And so I present to you a small piece of farcical brilliance that I recently posted on another blog. The blog is a Christian blog, but not a CHRISTIAN blog. Some setup - and no, I'm not linking you bastards there, he has enough trouble with me - The post is about Genesis and that it truly doesn't matter if it really happened or if Moses made it up or maybe God told Moses to make it up. That last bit got me thinking. Suspend your disbelief for a short time and enter such a world.
In my head with this one, God is appearing to Moses in the form of the guy who played Xerxes in 300 and Moses is more of a Bruce Willis unwilling-but-kick-ass hero type. Die Hard in a robe and a beard. Yeah.
GOD:So you know now what you have to do.
MOSES: I suppose. What if they need proof? What should I tell them about all of this?
GOD:Well, you see, I created matter. Then I compressed all the matter into an infinite space. Then it, um, exploded.
MOSES: What? Why?
GOD: Never mind, just tell them that I what I had left was a bunch of fiery rocks and I picked this one to cool down enough to put some living things on it, then guided those living things through the eons.
MOSES: Fine, but where did WE come from?
GOD: Honestly? I got the idea while I was working on monkeys.
MOSES: Are you fucking kidding me?
GOD: What? I like monkeys. (aside)Should have just quit while I was ahead.
MOSES: That’s never gonna fly. Maybe we should just forget the whole thing.
GOD: Look, if you don’t like it my way, then just make your own story. Whatever, I don’t care. Just get them on board so we can get the hell out of Egypt. I hate it here.
MOSES: sigh You got it. I'll come up with something.
(Moses turns to go down the mountain)
GOD: Hey, Moses.
MOSES: Yes, my Lord?
GOD: Don’t fuck this up.
MOSES: (walking away, to himself) What the fuck is an eon, anyway?
I would totally watch that movie.
/suspension of disbelief
You may resume your lives of despair and nothingness.
Also, this is a work in progress. No stealing. :)
*Except on Thursday nights (City of Heroes night) and just generally whenever I can lie down next to my wife and think about nothing but how silly the cats are. But publicly I'm very serious.
This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:
drugs (8x) death (7x) abortion (4x) fuck (3x)
6/5/09: Obviously most of the following does not reflect the status of the blog in its current state. Hopefully it will again. It still contains some writing I like, so it stays for now.
by bullet
Contact Info
If you have something you'd like to discuss outside of the public forum, you can email me mypantstheatre AT gmail DOT com.
On Anonymity:
If you do happen to know me, please don't address me by name. There may be content here that I wouldn't exactly want the people who allow me to eat and support my family to associate with me. So please, no "Hey XXX, is this you?" Just email me at the above address. If you're really sure and you want to show me how smart you are, you can use [My first name][My last name]@gmail.com :).
My Pants? Really?
See, about ten years ago I worked in a theatre box office. Not going to say where, but they say the neon lights are bright. This theatre was auctioning naming rights to the highest bidder. My colleague and I, being typically burnt-out and cynical transplants to the area, REALLY wanted to name it My Pants. One reason was to have the only interesting name in town, but mostly so we could say to the ever more annoying customers, "Yeah, that's in My Pants." Stupid? Yeah, but still funny. So all of my opinions are now in My Pants.
Is this an atheist blog?
No, it's not. It may seem to be at times because I tend to get REALLY irritated with the actions of the faithful and the intrusion of faith in government. Pockets, though, is a believer. With the ridiculous religious distraction which the Republican candidates have provided us, I'm sure it will appear to be a predominantly atheist blog for the near future. But it's not.
So what exactly is this place all about, then?
It's going to be an E/N blog. But isn't that what they ALL end up being, no matter the pretext? So it's about what I like, dislike, support, oppose, etc. Most of my topics will tend to be the MMO City of Heroes(which I love), politics - local and national (usually don't), rebuilding this fabulous city (depends) and just general rants, observations and probably a lot of driving instructions tips. If you came here from a comment on another site, I think you'll be disappointed by the inanity of my observations. Or validated. Whatever. I don't care.
Are you sure this isn't an atheist blog?
Positive
So who the hell are you anyway?
Just a guy. Generally the smartest person in the room. Unless you happen to be another rocket scientist/theoretical physicist/brain surgeon.
Why should I care what YOU think?
You probably shouldn't. This society has placed far too much emphasis on appearance than substance. Appearing smart, appearing secure, appearing normal. This is not a new concept. We, as a whole, spend far too much time getting the wrong information from unreliable sources and then using it to justify our own selfishness, righteousness, whatever or to bash the shit out of those who disagree. I have ideas and I have questions. Too often in this country we put entirely too much importance on the answers. We have forgotten that it's more important to conceive the question than to be fed the answer. I have been lucky enough (or unlucky, I guess) to have had a wonderful (or not so) diversity of experience and I feel I have something to add to the conversation.
Back to My Pants.
These are guidelines, not rules. However, there are consequences to anything deemed an offense, including editing, warning, deletion and banning. None of this is meant to suggest any high-minded purpose or direction for this blog. It's just what I think and how I would like people to conduct themselves while at my blog. These guidelines are an attempt to facilitate reasonable discussion as well as to avoid unnecessary and irrelevant conflict. All decisions regarding unacceptable behavior are my sole discretion. Rules, guidlines, what's the difference? Isn't that censorship? Alright. So what's unnacceptable? Ok, so what is allowed? What about...? But that's disgusting, obscene, racist, misogynist, homophobic, etc. Okay! Now back to My Pants, where the actual posts and discussion are not at all worthy of the points on this list. If they even exist at all...
I am not a referree and I will not always be able to take action in every case in a timely manner or at all. Certain factors may lead to my decision to tolerate or indulge different posters. I will not always have time or inclination to explain or justify these factors. I may also allow guidelines to be bent if it furthers the discussion. If you can't accept this, don't comment.
No. No one is restricting free and open discourse. Certain things will be deemed as unacceptable to reasonable people. "Reasonable people" in this case is me. No one will stop you from providing a link to your own site where you may express yourself however you please.
If the purpose of your comment is solely to inflame, derail or otherwise distract from the issue, it will be deleted.
We can all recognize a troll. Please do not respond to the trolls, as it simply encourages them. Any comment that is a direct response to the troll, no matter the intention, will be edited or deleted.
I want this to be an open and free discussion. Deliberate ad hominem attacks on other commentors (or me, for that matter) are irrelevant and not part of a rational discussion. These will be edited or deleted. Publishing another party's (not your own) personal information also constitutes abuse and will result in deletion and perhaps a ban.
Let's stay on topic, shall we? I don't want, "Well, what about this?" comments to lead to an entirely different discussion. There are different paths that an argument can take naturally, but please resist forcing it onto another track entirely.
Do not post advertisements for goods, services or websites providing goods or services, regardless of how relevant they may be to the discussion. The only exception to this will be when another commentor specifically requests help or information. If you are the provider of said good or service, I would ask that you exchange information with that commentor and continue the discussion outside this site. This is also subject to its relevance and impact on the post as a whole.
Words are allowed. All words. I will not censor language (unless, of course, it is a direct attack on another poster). This includes the seven words you can't say on televison, as well as others most deem unsuitable for polite conversation. This is by no means meant to be polite dinner conversation. Civility is encouraged, but not enforced. In the absence of personal attacks, all words are acceptable. Realize, however that some words will elicit a stronger response than others and indiscriminate use of epithets will generally brand you as uniformed, ignorant or just a jackass.
This is not a children's website. We are not five. The "s-word," "f-word" and the like are ridiculous and their use discourages discourse. If you want to say "fuck," "cock," "cunt," "queer" or even "nigger," feel free, as long as it's justifiably relevant to the discussion. The "reasonable people" standard applies here.
If you inhibit words you inhibit thought. Currently acceptable words, terms and ideas that were deemed totally unacceptable in the past are commonplace now and vice versa. The only changes have been societal sensibilties and emotional reaction, neither of which are of interest here. Censorship has become a very nebulous term in conventional discussion but when specific words are, in fact, censored, it is usually with the direct intent of suppressing the thoughts and ideas to which they are related. I find that reprehensible.
Posts
All Comments
