We've all been there

 Hey, we've all been there.  You think, "Just a little.  It won't hurt."

But you're wrong.  It seems harmless.  You give in, just that little bit.  But it doesn't stop there, does it?  It feels good.  Just that little bit feels soooo good.  But then, you can't stop.  You think, "Just a little bit more will be alright."  But that's not the end.

Every little bit of ground you give weakens your resolve more.  The pleasure, the high, it's almost sexual.  You surrender more and more ground.

Pretty soon, you're avoiding the public eye, looking for ways to make it feel better, all the while, deep inside, just wishing you could stop.

Because you know that, at some point, it won't feel good.  You know that when you reach rock bottom, it's no longer about pursuing pleasure, but avoiding pain.  And you know that it's only going to get worse.

But there is hope.  Sometimes, you need medical intervention.  Sometimes, just some willpower is enough.

But sometimes, all you need is a friend.  A family member.  Someone who understands.  Someone who has been where you are now, and knows what it's like.  Someone who can give you the emotional support you need to make it through the night.

Someone to say, "Stop scratching!"

Let's Talk About Progress

 I hear some of you talking about the "good ol' days".  You want things to go back to the way they were, before they turned "bad".  You want to return to a simpler time, with ye olde values and morals

I hear you.  And I agree.  Let's do that.

And let's start with you.

How far back should we go?  To the 50's?  Native Americans weren't considered US citizens, still, but you "good ol' days" people don't care about that.  Why would you?  You weren't affected.  

How about the crime rate?  You complain about the increase in crime, so let's turn back the clock.  In the 50's, lead pipes were commonplace, and weren't properly treated.  Everyone's taps basically served lead dissolved in muddy water.  The result?  Mental deterioration leading to violence.  Diminished intellectual capacity.  Shortened life spans.  Forget that the violent crime rate has been steadily declining since the 70's, when the governments started taking environmental lead levels seriously.

Or maybe you want to go a bit further back.  Jim Crow isn't enough for you, you like the antebellum days.  Okay, let's see what we have...

Are you a woman?  You can't vote.  You can't have a bank account without your husband's permission.  No husband?  Then you can't have a bank account at all.  And don't you dare get caught wearing pants.

Are you a man?  Great!  You'll love the life you have, dominating the world because of an accident of birth.  Granted, you have no access to air conditioning, you smell like a wet dog, and you're going to die before you reach 40 (if you're lucky).  Sure, instead of taking your car to a mechanic four times a year, you have to spend two hours a day tending to your horse, but these are the "good ol' days", right?  Before modern medicine, before television, of course if you need to send an emergency message to family across the country, perhaps telling them that your child died of typhoid fever, since vaccines haven't been invented yet, you can always walk to the nearest town and pay to send a telegraph, assuming you're lucky enough to live where one is available.  Just be careful if you can't afford shoes, antibiotics haven't been discovered yet, so if you have to lose your leg to a bone saw while you're wide awake, you'll be using a peg leg.

Perhaps you just feel that we should keep the benefits of the very technology that the clergy forbade, and just return to the religious values.  After all, people knew right from wrong, because they all went to church and learned from a good, wholesome preacher (or to temple and learned from a rabbi, etc.).  Great!  Nothing could go wrong.  And it's a good thing that man is honest, right?  Because since so many people couldn't read, they had to take his word on what the book in question said.

Are you left handed?  Too bad, you must be possessed.  You will be burned at the stake.

Are you reading this post on a computer?  Communing with spirits.  You will be burned at the stake.

Epilepsy? Possessed.  Too dumb?  Possessed.  Too smart?  Possessed.  Eyes an unusual color?  Born with a club foot?  Your canine teeth came in before your others?  Lazy eye?

You get the picture.  But that's alright.  None of those apply to you.  Of course, when you're accused by the person who wants to marry your spouse and wants you out of the way, you'll need to prove your innocence.  Simple enough.  We can tie you up and toss you in the river.  If you sink to the bottom and die, you're innocent.  If you float, you're guilty and must be burned.

I hear some of you talking about the "good ol' days".  You want things to go back to the way they were, before they turned "bad".  You want to return to a simpler time, with ye olde values and morals.

You're wrong.  This year (2020) notwithstanding, we're living in the best time to be alive.  The poorest people in most countries have a higher standard of living than royalty did in the past.  We have longer lifespans, lower crime rates.  We can cure diseases, grow food crops in warehouses.  We've been to the moon.  We have robots exploring Mars.  More information is available to more people than ever before.

It's called "progress".  But progress includes racial justice.  It includes gender equality.  It includes gay people being allowed to marry, and trans people being allowed to use public restrooms.

Yes, we have a long way to go, but the way might not be in the direction you expect.  If you're one of the people I was talking about earlier, then you think the way to go is backward.  Back to the filth, the war, the ignorance.  But you're wrong.  The way to go is forward.

That's what progress is.

July the Fourth be with You

Today, large groups of humans are gathered together to celebrate... whatever. It doesn't matter. (I know what it is, it just isn't relevant to this point.)  Today, I was invited to join the writhing masses. I chose not to. I used my studies as an excuse, and it's a valid one, but still...

When I'm surrounded by large groups of humans, I feel as though I don't belong. I feel like an intruder. An impostor, if you will. I feel that they can all relate to each other, and I shouldn't be there, and if anyone noticed me, things would turn nasty. So I avoid such events. I could stand being surrounded by those closest to me, those with whom I feel that I belong, but those days are gone. So alone on the holidays is what's best.

Now, if those kids would stop pounding on my window, life would get better.

Lots about Parking

AND another thing....

When you see a handicapped parking space, do you have the urge to park there, just because no one is pointing a gun at your head, telling you not to? Is it like the urge to pee? Like, you know you don't want too, but you can't stop yourself?

Are you the guy in this first photo? Parking in the only handicapped parking spot with nary a placard to be found?

Or are you the guy in the second photo? You think to yourself, "That crosshatch looks so pretty. It's next to a handicapped spot, but it's not marked as a handicapped spot, so it must be alright to park there."

Wrong, Dumb*ss. The crosshatch is there to mark an area to be left clear for the purpose of loading and unloading mobility devices, or persons in wheelchairs who require loading ramps or lifts. When you park in the crosshatch, you're impeding a disabled person from doing about his, her, or their daily business the same that anyone else would.

To the other guy... I don't care if you ARE just making a delivery (although this time you were there for hours). Those spots are sometimes closer to the relevant buildings. Other times they provide the extra space for the aforementioned loading and unloading.

Handicapped spaces aren't just handed out willy-nilly. A doctor determines the need of the patient and writes a letter to the DMV, and the DMV (or tax office) provides placards and/or license plates. The world is built to allow able-bodied people to get around and do stuff. Accommodations such as special parking are something we do to balance the scales a bit and make life easier for people who basically start off with a significant disadvantage. No one is asking you to smile or be polite or even show the same courtesy you show the teenagers you're creeping on at the mall (you know who you are). All I'm asking is that you KEEP YOUR SORRY *SS OUT OF THE PARKING SPOT TO WHICH YOU AREN'T ENTITLED. It's that simple. And it's the law.

And, for the record, from now on, I'll be doing what I should have been doing all along. From now on, I WILL contact the police when I see this. That is the correct/recommended response, and I'm tired of just sitting idly by.

Putting the TV in LGBT

So, I know someone who's having trouble finding shows to watch. Every time he comes to the part where someone kisses someone of the same sex, he turns off the show and says he's "tired of them shoving [homosexuality] in [his] face". He then has to find a different movie or television show.

So far, I've been polite enough not to speak up, for my own reasons, but I keep wanting to grab him by his big ears and shout, "Shove it in your face? By that, do you mean, existing? This show's not about them, they just happen to be there. Can they exist without you having kittens?"

I think this attitude is part of the overall problem. Someone sees that someone in the LGBTQIA community exists (or, for that matter, someone Autistic or even just a nerd) and they flip their sh*t about it. Look, Just because someone exists within your awareness doesn't mean they're imposing on you. If they're in your house, stealing your cat, yes, they must suffer your righteous wrath, but if they're in a side plot, donning hybrid ballistic armor and preparing for battle against overwhelming odds, even if they take that moment to express physical affection toward a team mate who shares a similar genital alignment, don't worry about it. Just grab your extra armor cartridges and make sure your radio works. If someone who's female-presenting walks into a women's restroom and you have doubts about that person's chromosomal configuration, consider the fact that there are at least five known configurations of the common sex chromosomes, plus conditions that make those not work properly, plus other things, plus even if none of that is the case and you ask for the woman's birth certificate she's well within her rights beat you until you like it, no matter what that birth certificate says.

And if all of this is happening on television, get over yourself. Remember the old Amos and Andy show? White actors. African Americans had to go through decades of struggle (and about three different group names) to get proper representation. Remember The Lone Ranger? From 2013? Johnny Depp as Tonto? Native Americans still have to fight for representation, sometimes. So, if LGBTQIA persons constitute (I think) between 10 and 11 percent of the population, why can't they occasionally appear in movies without someone having to go punch a llama?

Veteranary Tolerance

I received a notification from the VA that I have an appointment Thursday morning.  I thought I was finished missing work (after today).  I tried to check online, but the website has been down all day.

So, since I was here, at the VA, missing work, I asked the information desk.  The guy there said, "I don't know about Thursday.  All I see is something for the 20th."

I was about to walk away, when I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him across the desk, and asked very pointedly, "The 20th?"

"Y-yes."  He sounded frightened for some reason.

"Thursday, the 20th?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"That's the day I'm looking for.  What is it about?  Where is it?"

"All I can see is it's in The Clinic."

"Just, 'The Clinic'?"

" Yes, Ma'am."

I let him go so he could change pants and proceeded to travel to every clinic in this gosh-awful place until I found one that could look it up.  "It's in the Women's Clinic."

"Are they still open?"

"Yes, until 4:30."

I walked 12 miles to the women's clinic, and found the doors locked.  It was 1615 (4:15 PM, for those of you who neither served nor learned to fake it while telling time).  So I walked outside and traveled 8 miles to the outside doors.  Also locked.

I tried the phone number, which has never worked as long as I've been able to dial a phone.  I called the main number, chose the option for "Primary Care" and was routed back to the main number, as always.  I selected the option to speak with a humanoid, and was routed to the main number, as always.

I briefly considered setting myself on fire in the lobby as a warning to others, but decided that would hurt.  Also, I didn't have any matches.  Now, I have to decide... do I come in Thursday morning and miss work and not even know why I'm coming in?  Or do I ignore it and pretend that I care as much about them as they do about veterans?

If it's actually important, they'll call me to reschedule, right?

Mission: Incredulous

My mission: Infiltrate a government office. Connect an encrypted laptop to the network. Print my travel form. Egress without being seen.

First, I would don black pants, black boots, a black turtleneck, and a balaclava. Then, I would procede to the government building on Polk Street. I would park in the back parking lot, start playing the Mission Impossible theme song on my phone, and climb the stairs to the third floor. From there, I would take a freight elevator to the basement, sneak into the IT office, connect to the network, print and sign my paperwork, place it in the manager's inbox, and be gone without a trace, obtaining a milkshake on the way home.

At midnight, I started donning the clothes to be used for the mission.
OK, so I realized I don't own boots. Nor a black turtleneck. Nor black pants. Nor a balaclava. OK, so I just went with the clothes I already had on.
Then, I drove to the office. Well, I ran into some difficulty, as the road was closed for construction. I took a detour, but the detour was closed for construction. So I took a back route not on the maps.

I arrived at the office and placed the encrypted laptop into an innocuous messenger bag. I put on my headphones and started playing the Mission Impossible theme song.

I found the back stairwell locked, and it would not respond to my key card. I tried the back elevator, but it would not respond to my key card. I went around to the side entrance, but it would not respond to my key card. Giving up on stealth, I walked to the front entrance. The doors were locked and the security guards were absent, so no one could let me in.

Hanging my head in shame, I stopped the music. I had not earned the Mission Impossible theme song this night. I walked back to my car and headed home.

On the way home, I forgot to stop for a milkshake. It's just as well... I had not earned a milkshake this night.