I had a boyfriend who was bashed, before I knew him. He was beaten with a bat and left for dead in a Dumpster. His skull was fractured in the attack, his jaw and teeth were badly damaged, and he lost a testicle. He was found and taken to an ER. A few more hours and he would have been scooped up into a garbage truck and crushed to death under tons of refuse.*
In relative terms he was lucky. He survived. Many others do not.
Interesting how sanctity of life means protecting a fetus — but has no meaning at all where gays, bisexuals or transsexuals are concerned; interesting how some Christian religious groups are even willing to show support for men who have murdered other human beings.
Despite that, I don’t own a firearm; nor do I have any kind of blade beyond kitchen and utility knives. I own no daggers, and I gave away my swords. I have a four-foot fighting staff and a pair of tonfa, but I believe anything more drastic would be a capitulation to a kind of paranoia that I don’t want to have. My home is peaceful and I want to keep it that way. I recognize the need for self-defense, but I do not want to harbor weapons that make bloodletting easy or casual.
Interesting, too, how thou shalt not kill seems to go by the wayside when we’re talking about different people in different lands.
In the 80s, it was a scandal — of sorts — that Nancy Reagan consulted an astrologer regularly. There was more than a little concern that the woman who was closest to the president used little more than tea-leaves and dowsing sticks to judge the future.
Today, we have a “president” who says his greatest inspiration is Jesus Christ. How convenient that he combines an interjection with a reference.
To me, the idea of a president kneeling and asking a phantom for guidance, ignoring the seasoned advice of military and civilian professionals who have lived through virtually every aggressive or diplomatic détente imaginable — going instead with his “gut” — is terrifying.
I know there’s no such thing as The Button. Nevertheless, Bush’s finger is on it.
Here’s part two of Reality Check?, continuing the first installment.
* His body was lithe and trim and lovely, his skin smooth and warm, and his penis was large and delightful to taste and enjoy.
Fuck you, homophobes.
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