Friday, January 20, 2012
Maybe it was the hairy areolas …
The other day, our big columnist at the paper, who has an equally big fb presence, threw out to the wolvesmasses a letter he’d gotten chastising him for giving money that readers donated to him to distribute to needy folks. In it, the person (who actually identified herself later downthread out of ... guilt, I guess?) had this to say about one of the recipients:
Dear Jerry, why would you help a single mother of four who’s pregnant with her fifth child? She’s just a breeder who’s milking the system, I’ll bet. Why don’t you help someone who could really use the money?
I, naturally, couldn’t resist:
Well, maybe she’ll use the money for an abortion, then. Christ.
To which I was promptly told my comment was “disgusting” and “totally inappropriate,” which I then said was my point because who the hell would deny a struggling mom first of all, but second, it was Jerry’s money to do with as he saw fit. But really, my point—and I did explain this as well—was that here’s a woman who’s chosen to have five children like
And—AND!—if I may continue on this soapbox for a moment, if anyone ever thought leaving charity solely to churches and people’s “voluntary kindness” without any sort of government safety net is the way it should happen, this is exACTly why it can’t: Individuals cannot be relied upon to neither not judge nor be consistent with meeting the needs of so many people, and anyone who says they’d rather be able to help on their own terms rather than ponying up and letting the government make the choice is delusional, at best. A guy with whom I went to high school, for example, was all stiff because he either donated to his church or gave to a needy family over the holidays or some shit, and he’d posted on fb about what a wonderful feeling it gave him to be able to give and “that’s how it should be.”
Well sure, that’s great, Richie, you helped out a family for a day or maybe even a week if you were extra-generous—now how ‘bout the other 51 weeks or 364 days? Who’s going to help then? And what about the other millions of people who need help? Based on the hard-on you got from how nice it felt to give, are you prepared to sustain that level of giving/ecstasy!? Because from what I understand, NO ONE can without benefit of really good drugs, and THEN you end up getting raw and hurty from the exertion, anyway. (Don’t do drugs, kids!) ANYway, I continue to be mystified by this idea many people have that those with money are the answer to everything, because they aren’t, at least not to any degree that eradicates even a little the suffering of the human condition. Let the government take its chunk and deliver it to as many as it feasibly can, and be done with it.
So things have gone on in the what, year and a half that I haven’t been here? Among them are these:
-- The little Gray Ghost passed a month after I last posted, in what had to be the worst way a person who’d never previously put down an animal could’ve experienced. (Stupid vile, hateful local 24-7 clinic I hope spontaneously combusts with every employee in it.) But we now have Hurricane Carol, who’s been a wonderfully kooky addition to the resort.
-- Rube, meanwhile, has been having tummy trouble again and could possibly have lymphoma, but the vet isn’t quite convinced of that, so we’re treating him for IBD first. And that’s what I’m sticking to.
-- Had some great stories, especially the last couple months of 2011. Besides the RCPM gig, there’s been the first gay National Guardsman to reenlist (big ol’ scoop, that one was), the private inauguration of Gary’s first black woman mayor (there was a public one the week after, but I muscled my way in to the first one when the press wasn’t supposed to be there) and the rescue and aftermath of two little boys whose mom was burned to death in a housefire, which wasn’t a scoop but I got some really good angles out of it. We have new overlords at the paper aGAIN, so who knows exactly what that means, but we ALSO have direct deposit finally, so I’ve been a straight-up ballah, what with not overdrawing my account and all. Like, one day I went to get $20 out of my account and discovered I had close to $1,700 left, and I really didn’t know how that happened! It was amazing!
-- After three-plus years of celibacy, sex even happened quite a bit, but let me ask y’all something: When was someone going to tell me that sex with someone with whom you can barely have a cogent conversation is SO MUCH FUN!?? Damn, yo! Now, I pulled some shit in my 20s, but the Summer of Slut/Autumn of Ass had me hearing, “You did NOT!” quite often by the crew. Well yes, yes I did, and with very little regret.
Because it’s me, however, there was someone with whom I’d hoped to see where things went—completely against my better judgment because also remember, it IS me and I’m nothing if not entirely too optimistic for my own good. (True fact: If someone says to you they aren’t with anyone because they haven’t found someone worthy of them yet (emphasis mine), have a hearty, derisive laugh with your friends about it, by all means, but then take it as the warning it inevitably is.) But it happened and, after a long, emotional (also: DRUNK) email exchange at least on my part, it’s done. Of course, as I’m sitting here achy and hoping like fuck I’m not coming down with death, I’m kinda feeling his not being around—the person I’d hoped he was, at any rate. Who he turned out to be? Not so much, and I REALLY hate the disappointment of that.
I’m sure the heifers will remind of whatever I’m forgetting, but for now, Ima take me a Tylenol with codeine and hope I don’t die between now and my shift tomorrow.
