Calamity

This is what is going on in America.

9 #BreloTrial cops file federal lawsuit, saying they are victims of racial discrimination http://t.co/guAdR9Hlm5 pic.twitter.com/pX5OaptgU3

— deray mckesson (@deray) May 24, 2015

That comfortability with white supremacy is a privilege, and silence about the violence and injustice of white supremacy is complicity.

— Ryan Dalton (@capetownbrown) May 24, 2015

Black women challenge new ordinance for evening curfew in Oakland with peaceful protest at 7p https://t.co/6vr7hekUTL pic.twitter.com/k42gnCxUJ8

— Dave Id (@DaveId) May 23, 2015

We don't do hands up in #CLE. We won't surrender. It's #fistupfightback pic.twitter.com/A0hhFtALhR

— Rachelle Smith (@rachology216) May 23, 2015

Obama's First Week On Twitter Meets A Racist Welcome Wagon http://t.co/oDsRQZWZyQ pic.twitter.com/tqqzRHEXi3

— Blavity (@Blavity) May 23, 2015

Maybe its just me- There is a difference between protest and riots- and its not based on color as the media thinks #BlackLivesMatter

— Marie (@GaryMillrat) May 23, 2015

Josh Duggar was a "minor" when he molested his sisters but Tamir Rice and Travyon Martin were "men" shot dead for holding candy and toy guns

— Terrell J. Starr (@Russian_Starr) May 22, 2015

#EmmaSulkowicz *waits for angry men to come in my mentions* pic.twitter.com/DX3I4GoQGs

— Zain (@theparkyeol) May 22, 2015

Soldier dies in police custody screaming: I'm choking on my blood http://t.co/yyhkpYaUoM Warning: Video hard to watch pic.twitter.com/L1vONoBS4d

— Jake Tapper (@jaketapper) May 18, 2015

I'm sick over #HeatherHironimus being forced to "consent" to her son's #genitalmutilation. http://t.co/vYpFipDdCI

— Sarai Lillie (@wicked_roses) May 22, 2015

On #TamirRice and the "potential charges" http://t.co/fZNdL8ZsnP pic.twitter.com/5ik3Q5N4tV

— deray mckesson (@deray) May 22, 2015

They Love Our Bodies but Not Us: Powerful Images From #SayHerName Demonstrations http://t.co/Q805x1oSAL pic.twitter.com/ArNkC0O458

— Blavity (@Blavity) May 22, 2015

White bikers riot in #TwinPeaksShooting. Kill 9. 1000 guns. Arrests. Black men suspected of stealing. Skateboards. Shots. #OlympiaShooting

— Crystal L. Cochren (@CrystalCochren) May 21, 2015

“@_NeverFell_Off: Rest In Power. #SayHerName #BlackWomenMatter pic.twitter.com/jXGmXn4MC0”@IndyFeminists

— Marie (@GaryMillrat) May 21, 2015

Two female inmates filed suit stating Rikers guards repeatedly & openly raped them & others: http://t.co/rznxR3tkQk pic.twitter.com/HAxxvGWO2K

— Keegan Stephan (@KeeganNYC) May 20, 2015

“Nobody is more dangerous than he who imagines himself pure in heart; for his purity, by definition, is unassailable.” - James Baldwin

— Ryan Dalton (@capetownbrown) May 21, 2015

Dear white people https://t.co/8TsXwb2q9T

— Afrikan (@Homesterkid) May 21, 2015

Black men in 6 cities are more likely to be killed by police than in a car accident. (via http://t.co/f0GwfHMHQH) pic.twitter.com/j57WDVZgWD

— deray mckesson (@deray) May 21, 2015

“I never have been in despair about the world. I’m enraged by it. I can’t afford despair.”-James Baldwin

— zellie (@zellieimani) May 18, 2015

Minnesota's first hijab wearing police woman http://t.co/sV6kQNAi1H #mvslim pic.twitter.com/UZqqfweJyT

— Khaled Bey (@KhaledBeydoun) May 17, 2015

The violence in Baltimore the media won't show you http://t.co/EMWc3taTJU #baltimoreuprising #staywoke pic.twitter.com/pXt5DZa0BK

— Blavity (@Blavity) May 17, 2015

"I Can't Breathe."

I am at a loss for words.

Normally I can't hold back from ranting about things. Especially like this. Especially like now.

I don't know what to say. Every time I try to speak, I just can't.

"I can't breathe."

"Atticus--" said Jemm bleakly. He turned in the doorway.

"What, son?"
"How could they do it? How could they?"
"I don't know but they did it. They've done it before and they did it tonight and they'll do it again and when they do it--seems that only children weep."

- Harper Lee, "To Kill a Mockingbird"

(Photo belongs to "Humans of New York")

50 Years.

50 years ago, today, John Fitzgerald Kennedy was assassinated. The culprit, Lee Harvey Oswald (though his guilt is fiercely debated in certain circles), was later murdered in prison.

It was a death that rocked the Nation. Not just because it was the death of a president. But because it was the death of the youngest president, one of the most popular presidents of our time, because he was the president who put us on the moon.



"If by a 'Liberal' they mean someone who looks ahead and not behind, someone who welcomes new ideas without rigid reactions, someone who cares about the welfare of the people-their health, their housing, their schools, their jobs, their civil rights and their civil liberties--someone who believes we can break through the stalemate and suspicions that grip us in our policies abroad, if that is what they mean by a 'Liberal,' then I'm proud to say I'm a 'Liberal.'"



He fought hard during the Civil Rights movement, he worked to make living conditions better for the Native Indians, he put us on our Moon Landing path. He was a fan of Hemingway, he wrote a Pulitzer Prize winning book, he served his country in the Navy.

He was far from perfect (he had numerous affairs, one of which was with Marilyn Monroe). He made mistakes. He was human. He made this country better. Let's not waste the progress he made in his short time as the 35th president.



"Today and in the decades to come, let us carry his legacy forward." —President Obama on the Day of Remembrance for President John F. Kennedy (I couldn't have said it better myself.)

The past has teeth

The best line, as far as I am concerned, in this piece is:
"Hate is a strong word, but it is the only strength I have left. How am I to forgive the men that severed the trunk of my family tree and used its timber in the fireplaces of their own homes?"

And the cries of the children were silenced.

I was going to hold off on writing about George Zimmerman and the conviction he should've received for the death of Trayvon Martin, but I can't.

I can't help but believe that Trayvon has become our modern day Emmett Till. And I'm not the only one who believes this. (Look up Emmett Till and you'll see what I'm talking about.)

From day one people tried to tear down Trayvon's image. Who cares if he wasn't perfect? Does that make it okay to kill someone? Does that suddenly mean that George Zimmerman is a hero rather than a criminal?

If Trayvon had been a white boy and George Zimmerman a black man, would he still be walking away scott free?

Ashes to Ashes

This is one of the most beautiful poems I've ever heard. And so true of our times.

Homosexuality, Bisexuality, Transgendered, Heterosexuality, these are WORDS. They do not define us. They separate only if you build your walls with them. If you say them like a curse, they may burn, but they don't have the staying power to set the world on fire.

If you let others define you, with their words and their hates, you never learn of the beauty that can be found in the ashes. Don't let the smoldering bones of those who have fought, clawed, raged and died be for nothing.

You are beautiful, even though you come from ashes. Your name isn't a forbidden word. Say it loud. Speak, scream, shout, be HEARD. Don't let them silence you. Don't let them steal your voice. Don't let the words destroy you.

Let the words slip over you, like water off of a duck's feathers. Use only beautiful words to build. And build bridges instead of walls.

Today in Boston

Today in Boston there were several explosions. I don't know all the details yet. What I do know is that there was one at the finish line of the Boston Marathon and that 2 people have been killed. There are stories going around saying that some of the marathoners continued to run all the way to the hospital so that they could immediately begin giving blood to the victims.

Cell phone service had been shut down. I don't know if it is up again.

A lot of people are saying this is a terrorist attack. I am unsure if that is true, or just the sensationalist media we have here. It is a tragedy nonetheless. And my thoughts are with those injured, dead and so on.

Will update as I know what is happening.

Never Ceasing.

Human stupidity and arrogance never ceases to amaze (and annoy) me.

We are all human. Therefore, when we say "We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal..." shouldn't that mean EVERYONE? Since, "all men" is the equivalent of "mankind" which means EVERYONE.

Am I the only one who thinks that makes sense? Am I the only one who thinks about how we escaped from England because there was no separation of church and state? How often Religion blinds us, because we never follow it the way it is supposed to be followed?

I'm sorry, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe when Jesus said to "love thy neighbor as thyself" he was talking about killing people for being different and denying them the right to marry and denying them food and healthcare. I'm sorry, I missed that part of that verse.

I must've misinterpreted the portions where Jesus spoke of feeding the hungry and clothing the naked. And treating "the least of these." I thought Jesus fed people, with no payment. I thought Jesus healed people, without payment.

I thought God was supposed to be loving. Did I miss something? Are we living in an Old Testament scenario? God in the Old Testament; Jealous, cruel, homophobic, racist (Racism is funny coming from God, because God is the one who created us...), etc. Do we really want to worship someone who orders small children and women to be enslaved or murdered?

I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be offensive, but it irritates me.

And I keep hearing Simon and Garfunkel in my head singing about Freedom Riders, and thinking about Civil Rights and how we just keep killing because we don't know how to love and we don't know how to accept.

I keep hearing my marriage vows and wondering why some are denied the right while others abuse it.

Pro-Life and Pro-Birth don't mean the same thing

Today I was browsing my Facebook (which I do often, I admit) and came across this article as posted by my friend Kami. It's about a young woman who died because she was denied an abortion.

Take a second to read the article at the following link:

http://www.michaelnugent.com/2012/11/14/tragedy-shame-and-outrage-as-pregnant-savita-dies-in-irish-hospital-because-of-catholic-dogma-and-political-cowardice/

 Now, maybe you are like me and you are reading that article and saying to yourself "That's awful! Why would anyone let that happen?" Maybe you aren't. Maybe you believe that young woman deserved to die for trying to save her own life, knowing that there was absolutely no way to save that of her child.

 I hope you don't believe that way. I hope you don't believe that one life is so much more important than another that they should both be lost to be fair.

I think that the worst part is the fact that these men and women call themselves Doctors and their first vow is to do no harm. This woman was viciously harmed, in agony and dying because she was carrying a nonviable fetus that was in the process of miscarriage as was. It makes me sick, thinking about this poor woman.

It is baffling how backwards the priorities of the Church are. We can't save the child, so we won't save the woman because it would be "murder" of the nonviable fetus that is already in the process of miscarriage? How is that holy? How is that Godly? How is that in anyway "pro-life?" Doesn't that mean life for EVERYONE? 

Roulette

I
"It's a game." he said. "You'll love it."

"What kind of game?" she asked, eager to be accepted by this new boyfriend. She knew he didn't mean Monopoly. She knew that she should be wary. He was different, dangerously so.

His slightly pointed teeth glimmered in the light of a naked bulb. They were slightly pointed like a vampire's. He always wore colored contacts, she had never seen his real eyes. Tonight he was wearing a gory shade of red. They glinted in an evil, almost demonic, way as he produced a gun. His dangerous beauty and the silver etched pistol both frightened and aroused her.

"Have you ever played Russian Roulette?" he purred. Looking into his eyes it was easy to believe he was a demon, a modern Mephistopheles, come to seduce and murder her.

"Isn't that illegal?" she whispered, her voice quivering and her stomach turning to jelly.

"Of course. All the best things are." he said. "But for your first time we won't play with a real bullet."

He opened the chamber and slid the bullet into place. He spun it before snapping it closed. The snapping echoed in the heavy silence. She shivered, not sure if she should trust him. What if it was a real bullet? What if he had the chamber rigged? He smiled again, revealing his shiny white teeth, and she imagined him laughing over her still body.

He took a few steps back, his wicked grin never leaving his face. She smiled nervously as he put the muzzle to his temple. She braced for an impact that she wouldn't feel. His smile never wavered, turning manic as he positioned himself. He pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. Just a click. He laughed at the terror on her face, cajoling her with his eyes.

"Not afraid, are you, love?"

She straightened, stiffly, telling herself it was just a game and she wasn't a coward. But her stomach twisted and her bowels cramped as he handed her the gun.

"Cock it back like this," he said, showing her what to do. "when you are ready, pull the trigger. You can close your eyes if that'll help."

It was a little heavier than she had expected and she could feel her muscles bunch and strain to keep her hand from shaking.

"Don't be afraid." he said, nibbling on her earlobe. She tried to swallow, but her throat had closed. She felt her heart beat triple in speed. It pounded in her ears so that she could barely hear. He guided the muzzle to her temple, caressing her as he positioned her. He kissed her, a slow kiss that made her frantic. He pulled away before she could get a full grip on his leather jacket and positioned himself across from her.

Under the dimming bulb, she imagined that the bullet was real, that this would be the end of her. The end of everything. She gulped for air, feeling like her heart would burst through her chest. This was the moment. She would prove she was brave. She just had to make it through this test. That was all it was, a test.

"Pull the trigger, darling." he cooed, gently. She closed her eyes, bracing for an impact of some sort, and squeezed. The hammer clicked, but nothing happened. Her legs felt like water suddenly released from a dam and she collapsed with a rush of adrenaline and relief.

He was beside her in a moment, lifting her back up.

"It's quite the rush isn't it?" he asked, prying the gun from her stiff fingers.

"Yes. A real... rush." she murmured weakly.

"Let's play a variation," he said, his smile eerily painted across his face. "instead of holding the gun to your own head, aim it at me."

"Variation?" she gulped.

"Of course." he said. "All games have variations. Even this one. When I tell you to, pull the trigger. And this round we'll have a real bullet."

He opened the chamber, slipped out the false bullet and replaced it with a real one. He spun it, as before, and snapped it into the chamber. He smiled as he handed it to her.

He positioned himself about three feet away and winked at her.

"Pull the trigger."

II
The rush of a bullet wasn't enough. The rush of sex and death were no longer drug enough. She played Russian Roulette alone in the darkness of her apartment in front of a mirror. She sat in the darkness, every click like a shot of heroin into her blood. Sometimes she would masturbate, watching her reflection achieve orgasm to the click of the hammer.

It hadn't taken long for that boyfriend to end up dead from their little "game" and the police didn't need much convincing. All it took was a pretty young woman in a blood spattered white dress. She cried, genuinely, for that dangerously handsome idiot. Not because she loved him, but because she would have to find a new partner to play with.

She hadn't even waited for his body to cool before she seduced one of the officers at the scene. She begged him to point his loaded Centerfire Compact at her head during and she climaxed remembering her previous boyfriend's final words.

It hadn't taken long to become addicted to the rush. The heady mix of life and death, intertwined with lust and sex, was enough to pull her in and keep her. It hadn't taken long to discover that she could no longer enjoy life without a click inside her head.

It hadn't taken long for the clicks to no longer be enough. She couldn't sit in her room alone forever, waiting to lose to herself. She needed the rush with someone else. Another body to hit the floor. Another blood spattered dress.

She found him outside of a club.

"Want to play a game?" she asked, looking up through her lashes, luridly.

"What kind of game?" he asked, already succumbing to the 'come fuck me' look in her eyes.

And she showed him. She taught him how to play. She taught him how to die. He didn't like the variation she had been taught, too vanilla for that. They played the traditional way and she didn't even blink an eye when the bullet zipped through his temple and out the other side of his skull.

She had been very lucky so far. Every night she would kiss the bullet, placing it in the gun that had originally belonged to that dead boyfriend.

For her luck she praised Bes. She would plead with Shai that this next day she would continue to breathe. She called out to the Norns that they continue to weave her fate with that of luck. She praised Gefion for continuing to shine on her. She laughed when she blessed the name of Fortuna and cried when she asked the Moirai not to cut her threads. Luck and fate became her religion, the click of the hammer representing favors from the gods and every sexual encounter an addictive gift.

The latest pawn in this game kissed her breathless before he taught her another variation. He filled the chamber with four bullets. She kissed each one before he placed them. She agreed to sleep with him if they both survived the game.

That first time, with that first game, they had practically torn each other's clothes off; the need to feel alive overwhelming any other sense. She had cried then, as he slid into her and kissed her into a frenzy. It was the best she had ever had and she had wondered, as he followed her lead, at what cost? Now she didn't even think.

The need to feel that chemical rush was an animal waiting to tear out of her body. There was no thought, no feeling except the adrenaline and the climax.

She survived that variation. Her teacher was kind enough to die quietly in the basement of an abandoned warehouse. She kissed his lips before taking the gun and disappearing into the darkness of the night. She always played with the same gun.

The next pawn was a young woman, about her age, so naive and innocent. She taught her everything and let her walk away. The game didn't always have to end immediately after beginning. Sometimes it continued through the loose connections made. That other woman was not as lucky, they found her dead a week or so later, another unlucky victim of the game.

It really all came down to that moment, she would tell herself. The moment when she stood before the mirror and watched her face; imagining it imploding on itself.

"Pull the trigger."

III
"It's a game." she said. "You'll love it."

"What kind of game?" he asked, intrigued by the strangeness of her.

Her lips were dark red in the dim light of the alley. They reminded him of a mouthful of blood and they turned him on. It was cold outside, snow hanging on the edges of the clouds. Just glistening gray, waiting to fall. Her look was full of lust, when she produced a silver etched pistol. Her eyes glittered in the light of the street lamps. Her eerie smile and the pistol, both, frightened and aroused him.

Her smile widened, revealing shiny white teeth, slightly pointed like a vampire's. Just one bullet was no longer enough. There were so many variations to explore, so many rushes to be had. This would be the last variation. There would be no coming back from this one. No greater rush than this, knowing that her life stood precariously on a hidden ledge. This would be the last round, all the chambers filled but one. The very last rush with someone's life about to end in the darkness.

"Have you ever played Russian Roulette?"

Hiding the Body

Kid: Who wants to help me hide a body?

Me: Whose body?

Kid: No questions, yes or no only.

Me: I can't help you. It's against my fiscal sensibilities.

Kid: You cannot help because you are afraid that it will hurt you in the money department in the future? What kind of help are you?

Me: I didn't say I was afraid it would hurt me in the money department later. I just mean that I have no money, therefore it offends my fiscal sensibilities. I'm hinting that you should pay...

Kid: I will give you a dollar.

Me: Not enough to risk jail time, I'm afraid.

Kid: Don't be a baby, I would help you if your ever fell into the situation.

Me: Well, when you put it that way... I guess I can help... But you have to buy me a White Chocolate Mocha from Starbuck's.

The Horror of Red Mist

I am on a Horror/Scary kick right now, courtesy of my friend Joe. Last night I happened to go to Joe's group on Facebook, which I belong to. He had been posting creepy articles and stories, some of which I read and watched. Okay, I read all of the articles (and a few extras). I only watched parts of the videos, because they ended up being too disturbing for me.

One video in particular from an article titled "Red Mist" having to do with a "lost" episode of my favorite cartoon "SpongeBob SquarePants." The episode is titled "Squidward's Suicide" and, alternatively, "Red Mist." The article itself was disturbing enough, but the videos sent fresh chills down my spine. Particularly one of the Red Mist videos.

In fact, it scared me so badly that I ripped the headphones off of my head at one part and quickly closed out of the page before leaping to my bed. Which is where I remained for several minutes until Donnie checked under the bed for anything that might grab me. I'm serious, it freaked me out that bad. And all it was was a picture of Squidward with creepy bloody eyes staring. In the background you could hear what sound like screaming mingled with what was perpetuated to be a bagpipe and a clarinet. It got loud all of a sudden and I flipped. I didn't finish that video.

Now, I've been reading articles online and wishing I knew what it was I wanted to look for. Also wishing I had an encyclopedia set so I could just read through them, like I did as a child. (Don't look at me like that, it is perfectly normal for a child to pick up an encyclopedia and read through the whole thing.)

If you are interested in checking it out yourself here is the link: http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/Red_Mist

It is a companion article to "Squidward's Suicide." so you may want to read that first if you want the full story. Don't read this at night in the dark. At least, if you get freaked out like I do.

I am now watching "The Bathtub Mystery" on Dateline MSNBC's website. About a young woman, named Sarah (I'm serious bad shit ALWAYS happens to Sarahs.), who supposedly drowned in her bathtub. Luckily for me it is 2:18pm in the afternoon so I have nothing to be worried about. Right?

A Romeo and Juliet Complex

What is so romantic about Romeo and Juliet? I mean, seriously, why do we think of that as being the epitome of tragic romance? Romeo and Juliet's love is so pure, so innocent, so perfectly tragic.

Is it because they die to be together? Is that something we should strive for? Dying together? It adds a new dimension to "'til death do us part", I suppose. However, that brings me to another question.

Is love worth dying for?
Not that I'm knocking love, because it is great to be in love. I love my husband with everything I have inside of me. And I would die for him. If it came down to his life or mine, I'd gladly give mine up. Because I love him.

But that is a little different than killing yourself for someone, I think.

If Donnie died, I would be devastated. Would I kill myself? Would life be completely and totally without meaning after he was gone from it? I'd like to believe that I would continue living, if only because I know that he would want me to. I know that he wouldn't want me to end my life, just because he was gone. Besides that, it is such a waste of life.

Suicide in general, is such a waste of life. I'm not saying that to be harsh. I understand, better than most, the thoughts and the terrible anguish that can often drive one to committing what the Catholics call "the unforgivable sin." But suicide is selfish as well, even if you think you are doing it for the "right reason" (not that there are any 'right reasons' for killing yourself).

And speaking of selfishness, is it selfish to continue living when the person you were madly and truly in love with passes on? Is it selfish to want to continue to live when that person is gone?

Shakespeare was a genius, I will give him that. He created the perfect story, one that still has power after so many years. But the power is more in that we misinterpret it.

Yes, Romeo and Juliet were in love. Yes, they killed themselves to be together.

But Romeo was just "in love" with another girl. Rosalind. And Juliet is thirteen, what the hell does she know about love? I guess, even though it is one of my favorite plays, Romeo and Juliet are really just two teenagers who have an instant attraction to one another. So much so that they decide to get married. Which is really stupid, considering that Juliet is engaged. And not to Romeo.

Then, because Romeo kills Juliet's cousin (which, I don't know about you, but that would kill any romance for me. If Donnie killed one of my cousins I'd be damn upset!) he gets banished. This is where Juliet should've come clean. She doesn't, pretends to be dead and then ends up really dead after Romeo thinks she's dead and offs himself.

To be fair though, Juliet's dying monologue is beautifully written and one of my favorite passages from the play.

"What's here? A cup closed in my true love's hand?
Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end.
O churl! Drunk all, and left no friendly drop to help me after? I will kiss thy lips.
Haply some posion yet doth hang on them to make me die with a restorative.
Thy lips are warm!
Yea, noise?
Then I'll be brief.
O happy dagger!
This is thy sheath; there rust, and let me die."

It is a beautiful and tragic play. Teenaged love, murder, suicide, secret weddings and ridiculous family feuds.

I have rambled enough, I think. I never did actually answer my own question... Why do we think that Romeo and Juliet is romantic? I don't know.

Because we think that it is true love? Because we think there is nothing purer than the love two star-crossed lovers (aka: stupid teenagers) have for each other? Something to think about, I guess.

The Christianity/Islam Dichotomy.

I had an interesting conversation with a co-worker today. A co-worker I admire, I might add. Our conversation involved religion. Always a testy conversation to have, even with close friends and family members.

But today I saw the beauty of someone who actually follows their religion and embraces others of differing faiths. As well as this astounding revelation:

Islam and Christianity are the same religion.
Well, two of sides of the same coin, anyway. The differences are few, actually. Having read the Qur'an and the Bible, I can assure you that the differences are few. Both have violence. Both have verses implying that women are not equal to men. Both have love and patience and rules. Both encourage the following of the One True God.

God is Allah. Allah is God. I even had a Muslim (said co-worker) tell me that Christians are believers, because they follow the one true God. They just have a different prophet of God. I had a friend in high school who was Muslim and she said the same thing to me once.

Jesus is a prophet of God. A servant and great man. I remember how I was stunned by her belief that Jesus and Mohammed were both great prophets of God/Allah.

"Christians," she said, were to be respected. "They came from Abraham's other son Isaac. We come from Ishmael." We are all children of Abraham. All children of God. All sons and daughters of Allah. The Bible is also a holy book, one to be respected and treated as the Qur'an. They are to be held to one's heart, never one's side. Never to touch the floor or to be set in a place below one's waist.

So when the ignorant tell me that Islam restrains women, forces them to be subservient, I point out verses from the Bible where they do the same thing. When they talk of bombings and ji-had, I point out the Christians bombing abortion clinics. I point out all the times we have murdered and butchered in the name of God. Every religion has their radicals (excepting Buddhism, but that is because its is based on peace and acceptance).

I would also like to point out that I have never been disrespected by a Muslim man. In fact, I have only ever been treated with respect and kindness, where as I've been called a whore and practically spat upon by a Christian man. That the Muslim women I've met are proud to wear the burqa, the naqib, the hijab, etc. They truly believe in their religion and being modest, keeping themselves pure and set apart for Allah and their husband. Which is what we, as Christians, are supposed to be doing. Do we do this? Nope.

Of course, as you will in any situation, there are rebellious people. People who lose their faith and change their minds. People who no longer fit into the mold of the religion they "belong" to. Does this apply to every religion? YES!

Are there Muslims who will disagree with everything I just said? Absolutely.

Are there Christians who will disagree with everything I just said? I would be disappointed if they didn't.

To quote myself (from a post on my facebook):
"We preach Islam as being intolerant, but really we need to take a look in the mirror. When a Muslim man tells me that, as a Christian, I am a follower of the one true God and I am to be blessed, I know that everyone else is just being intolerant."

And in my mind, that is all there is to be said.

Kill Her

Today's song is by a Hong Kong rock group called Ping Pung. The song is called "Kill Her." Not sure why, as I haven't read the lyrics. I just like the music and it always makes me think of ghosts or murder (wonder why?).

Great song though, as introduced to me by Pomegranate. ^_^

Kill Her - Ping Pung


Feel free to check out some of Ping Pung's other music. They are actually really good. Often transitioning between heavier stuff and some soft, almost lilting, music. I really like them!

Jezebel

Everywhere you looked there was lice and disease, hunger and pain. Starvation was a constant bedfellow. Some had turned to cannibalism. They murdered their children, and abandoned babes, and consumed them. Some cut down the executed, some dug out fresh corpses. All to stave off the ever-present hunger.

The lice, and diseases they brought, drove men to madness. Some stood on the corners, or sides of the road, cupping their hands to receive water that never came. They preached the end of the world and often killed themselves in a public display of self-loathing. By the next day they were nothing but glistening bones and dust.

Long had we been forced to live in these conditions while the king and queen drank clean water and ate to their fill. We stood in the recesses of the castle at night as the king made love to his queen on golden fabrics and lice-free beds.

Even though their people starved and went mad all around them, they seemed oblivious to everything, but themselves. That night we took our places in history, rebellious revolutionaries demanding our dance with fate.

~

On that night, I caressed the queen's quivering form. She did not glare at me in hate, her only expression was that of confusion. She must have wondered who I was. I kissed her passionately as the gilded blade slid inside of her. It has been said that there is no lover as beautiful as death and her knife. Her eyes fluttered only a moment before they closed. A true patriot, I had saved her.

The king did not die so easily. One thousand black crows decided his fate. Each one hungrier than the next for their morsel of tender flesh. Judged and found wanting, they pronounced a punishment fit for a man called tyrant. They tore him apart, piece by piece, until all that remained was his shattered skull. He had been eaten alive by a crowd that had once worshiped him.

~

Then Israel stood up, his eyes bright in the birth of a new dawn and a new nation. His white dreadlocks created a halo around his dark face so that we saw him as he was. Our saviour.

"My people," he cried. "this night we have wrested freedom from the hands of tyranny. We have labored through the birth of a new day. We have given life to the revolution and paid the prices due. Now is the dawn of our new age, given with blood and tears. Celebrate your new freedom!"

The crowd roared with consent, a deafening ocean of voices rising as one to his ears. They had died, killed and shed many a tear for this new era. Now their new found god, their new tyrant, called them to dance and make love and drink in the halls of a murdered king.

And they did so with relish.

~

I stood beside him as he spoke, the blood of my beautiful queen staining my lips and hands. He kissed those bloody lips when he was done. He gave my new name to the hungry crows, as they reveled in the filth they had created, a name to eclipse any other. I have been called many things.

"This is my queen. My Jezebel." He spoke my new name as a caress, said it with pride and fear. He had crowned us king and queen, undisputed before the crowd. With those perfect lips, and a poisonous tongue, he pronounced our doom.

I stood with him the day our names were called. There was a price to be paid and we must pay it. We stood on the scaffold, as a king had before us. Israel, unbelieving, stared out at the same hungry crows that had devoured the previous saviour. They called for his blood as they had for the tyrant before. They meant to have it.

They tore at my dress and my short hair, declaring me a witch and a pixie. The nakedness only served to frenzy them. Israel cried out, "Save me, save me!" In the end he was just as weak as any other man of flesh and blood.

And, just as the Jezebel before me, I was devoured by the wild dogs.

The Holocaust Memorial Museum

At the Gates of Auschwitz
What is to become of us if no one reads our names or counts the shoes we left behind?
What is to become of us if no one dares remember the torture or the anguish?
What is to become of those who died before us? Those that died with us?
What is to become of us when young women and young men forget the meaning of bravery?
What is to become of us when little girls and little boys grow up not knowing the truth?

I saw her face in the tower of pictures. Her face was almost mine. Few subtle differences and we could've been sisters. A gypsy's face in a sea of faces, all lost to ignorance and blind hatred. All lost in a sea of broken humanity. My fate could've been her's if we were to switch places. And that knowledge is like a punch in the throat. I can't breathe when I look at her. I can't think anything except that she could've been me.

Standing at the gates of Auschwitz, I hesitate. I don't want to feel what I am feeling. This place is full of ghosts. Not the ghosts of stories or movies, the intangible that frighten us with their intangibility. These are real people pressing against me, real faces staring blankly at me. These are real people whose genitals have been sewn shut and whose brains are exposed to high pressure winds. These are real people who are tortured and gassed and tattooed like cattle. These are real children that are starved and mutilated in the name of science, in the name of Aryan science.

These are the faces of the Holocaust. The Jews, the Gypsys, the Homosexuals, the Catholic priests and nuns, the disabled and mentally handicapped. Those who believed differently, those who believed in equality and fought for the lives of others. These are the faces of those who stood up while the whole world held its breath and twiddled its thumbs. These faces could have been mine or yours.

If no one smells the death and the fear, if no one reads the names, if no one stands up when everyone else is sitting down, what becomes of them? What becomes of us? Could we be as brave? Could we face those who were murdered for our silence?

If there is no one left to remember, what becomes of us?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This was inspired by my walk through the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington DC.

While in DC I took my notebook everywhere, so I could remember everything to blog it later. I took a lot of pictures and videos too, to keep track, to remember.

I am proud that I still have the ability to feel. Even remembering what I saw and heard, what I read and witnessed, second hand, makes my stomach churn and my eyes fill with tears.

If we all turn blind eyes to atrocities and prejudices what becomes of us?

Some of the things I wrote in my notebook while walking the museum:
* The museum is full of ghosts, but not the kind you find in stories or movies. These ghosts have a heavy presence because of the photos. Their faces stay, even after the photos are gone.
* Standing at the gates of Auschwitz while listening to recordings of the dead and their stories. (They weren't actual gates, they were doors to one of the many buildings in Auschwitz, but my feeling was that of standing before Auschwitz in winter, feeling chilled and horrified)
* Could I ever be so brave?
* What happens if no one reads the names or counts the shoes?

The thing that inspired me most was this exhibit that was nothing but shoes. This exhibit was on loan from a Poland museum. It was one of the most horrifyingly devastatingly real exhibits I've ever experienced. You could smell the death, the fear, the sweat and blood. It made everything so horrifyingly real. I don't think I've ever felt something punch me so hard in the stomach and the heart.

Sometimes we become so desensitized to violence and gore because of the books, music and movies that we have now-a-days. Things become so surreal to us at that point. We don't believe it is real, even though we know it is. And that was so real to me. Seeing those shoes, those empty shoes. Smelling them. Being so close I could've reached out and touched them. Little children wore those shoes. Pregnant women and old men wore those shoes. Before they were brutally killed or tortured or experimented on.

The other thing that inspired me was the small poem that was above the shoes. It is by Moishe Shulstein, a Yiddish poet. It is titled "I Saw a Mountain."

"We are the shoes, we are the last witnesses.
We are shoes from grandchildren and grandfathers,
From Prague, Paris and Amsterdam,
And because we are only made of fabric and leather
And not of blood and flesh, each one of us avoided the hellfire."

The most frightening thing that I learned, aside from the experimentation on prisoners (which I knew a good portion of), was the fact that Germany (and consequently Hitler) was emulating the racist policies in the United States. Especially the Jim Crow laws. They began to mark benches and fountains to separate Jews from Aryans.

Other frightening things were the forced sterilizations and euthanasia of people, most of them weren't even Jewish or disabled. Most of them were regular Germans. Even though the program was originally created to prevent the population of Jews and mentally challenged people.

The last thing I would like to post here (I will probably blog about this more on a future date) is a little poem by Yevgeny Yevtushenko, a Russian poet.

"The wild grasses rustle over Babi Yar.
The trees look ominous,
like judges.
Here all things scream silently,
and, baring my head,
slowly I feel myself
turning gray.
And I myself
am one massive, soundless scream
above the thousand thousand buried here."

Sick Nurses

Pretty much everything I'm going to say about this movie is a spoiler, therefore, if you have any interest in watching this Thai horror film you might refrain from reading about it. Unless you really want to see it after reading about it.

This movie was hilarious. Fucked up, but hilarious.
We begin with a not quite thoroughly explained premise. That being that the nurses and doctor are making their living from selling dead bodies on the black market. We only get a hint in that the main character is murdered shortly after threatening to tell the police how they "make their living" from dead bodies.

Each nurse has a vice of some sort. And each vice is used against them in the end.

First we have the murdered girl herself, Tahwaan, who is actually *SPOILER* a homosexual man who fell in love with Doctor Tar (the only other man in this whole film) and had a sex change to be with him. *END SPOILER*

Then we have the murdered girl's sister, Nook, who is *SPOILER* pregnant with the doctor's baby after a sexual rendezvous in a place full of corpses that her brother/sister watched because she was going to surprise the doctor.*END SPOILER*

Next we have Am and Orn who are twins in love with each other. They even have a lamp that has Narcissus written on it. Narcissus is a character from Greek Mythology who fell in love with his own reflection and wasted away because he couldn't bear to leave it. The incestuous feelings the sisters have for each other is very apparent in their scene on a bed.

Next is Yim who is determined to have a perfect Vitruvian based body. She has a projector that she turns on and then uses a marker to mark what needs to be fixed on her body. She is constantly working out trying to be perfect.

Then there is Jo who is bulimic and constantly eating because of it. There is one scene where she is brushing her teeth and there is a half eaten donut on her counter. She can't resist it, so she eats it with all the toothpaste foaming in her mouth. Of course it doesn't matter, she'll throw it up and then weigh it later. Bulimia is terrifying enough without weighing your own vomit to see how much you threw up compared to how much you ate.

Lastly there is Aeh. Ah, Aeh. She is obsessed with beautiful material goods. So much so that one of her punishments is having her beautiful handbag sewn to her head and neck.

Oh and how could I forget good Doctor Tar? The master of mayhem in this movie all because he didn't keep his promise to Tahwaan and slept with every single nurse. Feeding their various addictions and obsessions. Well, and in the case of Jo, literally feeding her.

Best Scene
Nook is standing on a long square spiral staircase and suddenly all these faceless people with gas masks made of hair flood the stair case on either side so that she can't escape. And what does she do? What does our brave heroine do to escape this clearly inescapable situation?

She whips out a used pregnancy test and starts kicking ass.
That's right ladies and gentleman, she whips out that pregnancy test and begins fighting off this horde with it like its a fucking knife. Seriously, I've never seen such a hilarious scene in a movie, my entire life! Who uses a fucking pregnancy test (a USED pregnancy test no less) to defend against a zombie like horde?

Second Best Scene
Am and Orn's arms are being controlled by Tahwaan so that they are sawing off all of Orn's limbs in a lovely tub filling with blood. The look on Orn's face is as if she had just won a trip to DisneyLand. And right after I made that joke we all noticed that Am was wearing sparkly Mickey Mouse earrings.

And that look doesn't leave Orn's face until she is completely dismembered and drowning in a pool of her own blood.

Third Best Scene
Aeh getting beheaded by her purse. I'm not saying anymore than that.

Worst Scene
Where Jo makes her slop that she uses to make herself vomit (because she is bulimic) and she then throws up in a bag and WEIGHS IT! Not to mention she is starving her cat as well.

Second Worst Scene
Jo's demise. Seriously, aborted babies in formaldehyde flying into the gaping and bloody maw of a jawless woman and kittens eating tongues is the stuff of nightmares. Not mine, of course, but somebody's somewhere.

Ah, dismemberment

In a story fit for a psychotic fairy tale comes this little gem called "Attached" a five minute horror film from Lindsay Penn and Mary K. Fetter.

Enjoy!

It Gets Better

In April (the 13th to be specific), I posted a blog called "September's Children" (you can link to it here: http://saraicrazyblog.blogspot.com/2011/04/septembers-children.html?zx=7d1cbeb70cf8bf40) about young adults and children who killed themselves because of being tormented by their peers for being homosexual/bisexual/transgendered/etc. I also posted a song by a group called Rise Against called "Make it Stop (September's Children)". At the time there was no official video for the song, but I wanted to post it anyway because of the powerful message of the song itself.

Today I was on Facebook (a terrible addiction, by the way) and saw that Fergie (I "like" her on Facebook) had posted a link to the video, because Rise Against is her label-mate. Obviously I had to go and watch it. Unfortunately my computer is slow as hell some days (especially in the afternoon because it is a community connection through our apartment complex), so I settled for downloading it and then watching. And I was blown away.

The song is powerful all on its own. The lyrics pack a proverbial punch without any added imagery, really. For example, the line: "What God would damn a heart? What God drove us apart?" For me, the impact of these statements are staggering. Growing up in church, I was taught that Homosexuality was wrong. As a young woman, I finally admitted to my own tendencies toward Bisexuality. My attraction to women has been around for quite some time, if I admit it to myself. I have always been curious and I've always known in a way. I just never admitted it to myself. Or anyone else for that matter.

Then I saw the video and what I thought couldn't be a more powerful message astounded me by being even more powerful when packed with visual imagery, rather than mental imagery.

I started thinking about all the injustices committed against those who choose to love someone. It's like Love is a dirty word. Love isn't about "Love", it is about what looks good. Its about what makes other people happy. Its about not offending someone. It offends someone's grandmother that a beautiful boy is kissing another beautiful boy, rather than a beautiful girl. It offends some "pastor" that a young black (Asian, Arab, Indian, etc.) man wants to marry a young white girl. It gets under someone's skin that a young woman loves an older man. All the terrible names, all the murders, the suicides, all the hate, because two people can't possibly love each other. What a sin! Heaven forbid that we LOVE one another. Heaven forbid that we actually follow what the Bible says.

That is something I hate more than anything, too. Christians (and Muslims, Hindus and any other religious group) are good at picking what they agree with in the Bible (or whatever religious tome) and ignoring everything else. People like Pat Robertson (I bitch about him a lot, I know, but he gets under my skin SO MUCH) claim the verse "Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination." (King James Version; Leviticus chapter 18, verse 22). They also follow that verse with this one (also found in Leviticus 18, verse 29) "For whosoever shall commit any of these abominations, even the souls that commit them shall be cut off from among their people." There are also many verses in Deuteronomy that suggest stonings and the such for people who don't follow the laws of the Lord.

Now here is where things get a little sticky. Jesus said, "A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another. By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another." (John 13:34-35)

He also said, "And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." (Matthew 22:39)

Jesus and God are the same person. Ask almost any Christian and you will be told that God is God, Jesus is God and the Holy Spirit is God. God the father, God the son and God the Holy Ghost. So, if Jesus is God and He said to "Love thy Neighbour", we should be following that right? Something my mother used to always say to me was "Love the sinner, hate the sin." Which I think sums up what Jesus was trying to say. Except one problem, God said that those who disobey Him are to be punished with death, exile, etc. So which do we follow? Well obviously we SAY that we should love our neighbours. Of course, if they are gay, black, Muslim, et cetera, then forget that.

Another thing, and this isn't a religious based question, isn't America supposed to be the land of the free? ("One Nation Under God, I feel its love like a cattle prod" That is another line from the song that comes to mind.)Isn't America supposed to be Equal? All Human Beings were made equal in the Eyes of God. Isn't that what America stands for? We are Equal, we are United. Unless, of course, you are African-American, Muslim, Homosexual, Asian, Catholic, Jewish, Women or we just don't like your face. In which case, we are NOT equal or united. United we could stand, Divided we will fall.

I spit in my brother's face because he is different and he spits in mine, is that equality? Is that what men like Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr. died for? Is that what the men and women serving in Iraq have died for? Are we only free when we are white and boring? Seriously? Who wants to be a clone? Who wants everyone to be the same? Our differences are what makes us US! Who are we if not ourselves?

I am proud to be a Young, Deist, Bisexual, Varied Woman! I am proud to be who I am, in spite of what everyone says I should be. I am proud to Love whoever I choose to love, in spite of who everyone says I should. I am proud to say and do whatever I want to, not what I am told I should and should not say and do.

In that spirit, I now present the official video for "Make it Stop (September's Children)" by Rise Against. Thanks for reading my rant (or at least for watching the video, since I know that was a wall of text).