The Old Double-Standard; or Denial Through Penis Envy

          It's funny how a thought just strikes a person like a bolt of lightning, bringing insight where only doubt and confusion once reigned. A good example of this is Franklin's adage, "A stitch in time saves nine." Up until about two years ago I lived my life wondering, "Nine WHAT?" Then one day it hit me: nine stitches. The comment was about preventative maintenance, how easy it is to keep something maintained instead of allowing it to fall into disrepair and then spending more time and money attempting to refurbish. Verbose as I admit to being, this does set up the true intent of this post.
          I am puzzled by lesbians. It is not that they choose to pursue same-gender relationships, nor is it that they prefer sex with a woman over a man. What puzzles me is that a lesbian will say that she does not need a penis, and yet every lesbian I have made the acquaintance of has admitted to employing the use of a dildo in her sexual practices, be it solo--masturbation--or with their partner, which, when all is said and done, is still masturbation.
          Another point to be made is penis size. Although there truly are women in this world who care not for the size of the boat but the motion of the ocean, most women do have a preconceived notion as to what constitutes normality. Can the same be said of a lesbian, when making reference to her own or another's clitoris? I believe that, initially, so little emphasis is put on clitoris size--you never hear of a woman wishing she had a few extra inches down there like men are wont to do--but that is not to say that the sentiment does not exist. In fact--again, staying with those lesbians with whom I have been acquainted--all have stated that they prefer a large clitoris; some have said an inch is nice, while others have said, "The larger, the better."
          My point to all this is that I do not understand how a lesbian can use a phallic symbol to achieve orgasm and dream of some monstrously large clitoris while denouncing a man's penis; when all is said and done, one is looking at approximately the same thing.

Freedom of Expression

It has been a while since I last posted anything, and as with all other contributions this entry is not meant to illicit bad feelings or cram my views down others' throat, but more to promote logic, understanding, and tolerance amongst those who read my words. If you should find offense then I suggest the fault lies not in what I have written, but the truths these words may invoke. That being said...
“Everyone is in favor of free speech. Hardly a day passes without its being extolled, but some people's idea of it is that they are free to say what they like, but if anyone else says anything back, that is an outrage.” This quote by Winston Churchill speaks a truth we all adhere to in one fashion or another, and it is safe to say that there are many who do not welcome responses to the comments they make simply because they do not like to be told their way of thinking is flawed, or at the very least not indicative of the all-inclusivity we should consider when taking a stand for one thing or against another. Then again, we are dealing with opinions so I suppose logic and rationale are subject to take a back seat to passion (although this in and of itself is not good policy). Another (viewed) problem is not so much the response made, but the person from whom the response originates. Let us say a person who promotes gay marriage speaks out against the wholesale slaughter of animals so we humans can enjoy wearing their fur. The fur industry may not agree with gay marriage, so they rebuke the person even though this person's ideologies bring awareness to the plight. Should this occur?
Churchill also said, "Your freedom of expression ends where my nose begins." We definitely do not have to be careful of what we say, but we have to keep in mind that there is a time and place for everything, and if we do not adhere to certain precepts that govern society--in short, if our way of thinking is "I-I-I, Me-Me-Me, My-My-My" with no consideration given to the fallout this may cause--then we might as well paint a bullseye on our butts because karma will always be waiting in the wings to take a big bite out of us.
Did something happen recently to warrant me blogging about this? Am I, in my usual fashion, providing examples in the hope of bringing better understanding before hitting upon the real heart of the matter? The answer to both is a resounding yes.
Yesterday my daughter made a post saying she should not have to "like" and "share" someone else's post to prove she loved and believed in the Judeo-Christian God. I responded that I believed as she did, but my reason for NOT saying the same is that because I am an atheist people would take what I said the wrong way. Well, by simple virtue of the fact that I "publically" announced my atheism, she took offense to me agreeing with her. Barely two weeks ago I made a similar observation to a post my brother made. My brother had liked and shared a picture that asked all fathers who loved their sons to like and share the post. I commented that one does not have to like and share something such as that in order for it to remain true. He never made a comment to my comment, so I don't know if he agreed or if he took offense to me stating as much. Beyond that, I am inundated with shares and comments all my Facebook "friends" contribute asking me as well as their other "friends" to like and share if I know a cancer survivor, believe in equal rights, support Obama or Romney, like Dunkin' Doughnuts, believe the South will rise again...you get the idea. They all are sharing opinions, informing us of the philosophies that govern their lives. If I like any of these, I will express my like--or dislike--for it. If I choose to share, then I will do so. I should not have to be told to do something as simple as use common sense. The bottom line is this, though: Whenever something is posted on Facebook we all are given the choices of "like," "comment," and "share." We certainly do not have to do any of the three, but if we choose to do so, especially in the case of "comment," should the provider of the original quote or share not respect our opinions as much as they wish theirs to be respected? I will be the first to admit that I wonder why people sit in front of their computer and spend 45 minutes sharing 50 things i could care less about, but I respect the fact that they care enough to share these things. I do not have to like or share them simply because they come from a "friend," but if I choose to comment, then all I ask is that you respect me enough to allow the comment to stand, and that goes out not only to my daughter, but to the scores of people who have deleted my comments over the years simply because I did not agree with them, or worse yet, because they did not agree with me. One cannot expect to make a post and receive no differing opinion. If you do not want your post commented on, then do not post it in the first place; or is expressing your opinion--right or wrong as it may be--and seeing your words on the screen more important than that?

Not Censorship, Just Civility

I was channel-surfing the other night and came across a program on Comedy Central. I was curious as to what it was--and desperate for something good to watch--so I held off turning further until I could discern what it was I was watching. So there I was, looking at a man trying to convince his girlfriend/wife/whatever to not break up with him and just then 4 men came out of the closet. I immediately knew I was watching Workaholics as I recognized three of the four men. I never really had interest in the show, and after lqaying witness to what happened next, I'm sure I won't ever. The first man says to his woman, "What, is this what you want from me? You want me to blow these guys? Cuz I'll do it." He then turned to face the guys, got on his knees and said, "Come on, all of you. Pull your dicks out and put them in my mouth." I wouldn't be so upset over this if it wasn't for the fact that Cameron was sitting right there, witnessing this whole thing. The fact that we both saw it was, when all is said and done, an accident and nothing more as we were not familiar with the show because we do not watch the show, thus the arguement that "All you have to do is turn the channel if you don't want to watch it" was lost on us. I am against censorship, but I think television has a responsibility to its viewers. Leave it to Beaver, Dobie Gillis, The Brady Bunch, Family Ties...These shows did not have toi be crude to be enjoyable. Jackass is another prime example. When it first aired, it was just stupidity at its finest, but with every new movie that comes out it is less on what is funny and more on what is sick. I mean, the onje where Preston goes into the Porta-Potty and Wee-Man comes out was funny, but a Poo Volcano most certainly is not. This is nowhere the quality of a post as I would like, but I am still recuperating and my patience grows weary.

HRT ATK

I vividly recall the conversation; it was one of those things where one believes he is gaining great insight and understanding, but finds out that the outcome is as nothing he has imagined. Such was the case back in early 1999 when I was talking with a fellow employee on the topic of heart attacks. He had asked me if I  had ever had one, and when I answered no he said, "Believe me, it brings on a pain you will never forget." I did not know then that by the waning months of that same year that he and I would share a common frame of reference; I had had my heart attack, and more importantly I had experienced the most unique, hurtful pain in my jaws than any other pain I had ever experienced--broken bones and surgery included. Four stents and thirteen years later the memory of the heart attack has endured, yes, but the pain in my joints, especially my jaws, never left me, which is why--on April 17 2012, at approximately 10:00 p.m.--I knew I was having a heart attack. My wrists and elbows had been hurting since around 6:00 p.m., and my chest felt fiery, painful, and to some extent numb. I had my mother take me to the hospital where, after extensive testing, it had been determined that I been symptomatic of a heart attack, so I was kept overnight for observation. At around 6:00 a.m. Wednesday morning I had had another, and a heart cath determined that I had five blocked arteries. I was told I would be kept in the hospital until the 23rd, at which point I would undergo quintuple bypass surgery. I came out of the surgery okay for the most part--just sore from having my chest cut open. I took part in what little rehab was offered at Cardiac ICU, and I excelled. I was determined to get better and leave that hospital, which I did yearerday, April 29. So here I am now, at home and blogging about this experience. I have had a few people try to convert me to Christianity because of this, but as Dennis pointed out on my FB page "well my friend I wont waste any time prayin as I know you," and he is right. I have no newfound need for that in which I did not believe prior to this happening, no new insight into my spiritual needs, no ephipanies...nothing. The only thing I know is that I have to do away with butter, mayonnaise, and pork cracklins (all bad foods), I must exercise more, and I need to quit smoking. Being in the hospital for two weeks forced me to jump-start this, so continuing to adhere to it now that I am out will be the big thing. I am 46 years old; it looks like I would have understood this enough back in 1999 when I had my first heart attack, or 2008 when I had my second stent put in, or 2010 when I had my 3rd and 4th stents put in, but I suppose I held onto that belief that I would live forever. A quintuple bypass is the last option, and it does force me to realize that if I do not do this for myself, then I should do it for my children, all of whom acted like there was just a little too much going on in their lives these past two weeks to really give a damn if Daddy pulled through or not.

Respect Respect

I have always attempted to be respectful of others, even they who show no amount of respect for those around them. What makes me successful at this is my ability to assess, analyze, and reach a logical conclusion before offering commentary. I can easily sum this up by saying I am driven less by emotion and more by intellect. This is not to say I am without passion; on the contrary. My intellect is... driven by passion. Be patient; this is going somewhere. It ticks me off when I see someone wearing a shirt with an advertisement of one kind or another boldly emblazoned upon it for all to see, but the person feigns knowledge by stating, "Oh, I just picked something up and put it on," or "Oh, it's my (brother's/friend's/cousin's) shirt." There are people who wear Che Guevara shirts simply because their friends wear them, and once they are told the guy was a Marxist who murdered innocent civilians they (once again) feign ignorance, feign revulsion, or just come right out and say they do not care, as in "I don't care about all that, it's just a cool shirt to me." People are walking billboards, and whether it is something such as this or a shirt that reads "All bitches is hoes and all hoes is bitches" or something with racial overtones--or blatant racial slurs for that matter--people seem to believe they should not be held accountable for the beliefs they publicize on a daily basis. Over the past few years we have seen this trend move from the T-shirt to the home-or-profile page, and yes, especially here on Facebook it has become a disease, dark, prevalent, unrelenting. I have always attempted to explain to any who would listen that a public forum such as this is not the place to air one's dirty laundry; as far as that goes it is really not the place for sharing EVERY aspect of one's life. My reasoning behind this is that while everyone has the freedom to express themselves however they wish, it must be understood that the same freedom of expression works in the opposite direction: The RESPONSE to the Post. One person's opinion of Che Guevara may be that he was a great revolutionary. My opinion is that he didn't die quick enough. Who is wrong here? More importantly, how can one person get pissed off at another voicing his or her opinion? I opened this dialogue with, "I have always attempted to be respectful of others," and I shall continue to do so. I have sometimes defined that as not responding to a post I have seen, but henceforth that shall no longer be the case. If I feel the need to comment, please respect the fact that I am simply exercising the same right as you. I mean no malice nor ill will; I just wish to offer an opposing view. I shall always remain respectful, so please respect the respect I give you. Thank you. DUNCAN

What's in a Name?

Cracker. Hillbillie. Hick. Redneck. Light-bread. Mayonnaise. Honky. Peckerwood.
Nigger. Spear-chucker. Mud Duck. Burr-head. Spook. Porch Monkey. Kaffer.
Spic. Wetback. Beaner. Greaser. Berry-Picker. Wetican. Po' Wiki.
Heeb. Kike. Jap. Nip. Chink. Gook. Camel Jockey. Towel Head. Hadji. Dago. Mick. Geronimo. Injun. Redskin. Kraut. Tea Bag. Frog.
Fag. Dyke.

Instead of finding ways to separate ourselves through hate, let's bring ourselves closer together through love and tolerance.

If you don't want the truth then don't read this.

I am just returning from Atlanta where I took part in the SkillsUSA competition; my area of expertise was extemporaneous speaking. Quite a bit happened over these past three days, and I will do my best to present the chronology of these events in a clear, lucid manner. Of course I cannot name names, so please understand that even though I may be disgruntled to some degree, this in no way keeps me from showing tact and respect to those who, at times, may not have deserved such.

It was made abundantly clear that someone in a position of authority is--by their own actions and comments--a racist. I suppose I should be used to it by now, but it still stings every time someone reveals their true nature.

The hackneyed shenanigans of the SkillsUSA officers was undone only by the blatant buffoonery of the participants. We are supposed to be a group of professionals, yet our opening ceremony resembled nothing more than immature high school antics. I was very disappointed in the officers. I was asked to be a delegate in the voting for the next set of officers (2012-2013), a station I accepted with much pride and alacrity. Prior to the new candidates' speeches I spoke with most, and as I heard their formal speeches I made my decisions based on how effectively they communicated their beliefs/desires/etc. When the speeches were over I, along with the host of other delegates, made my way to the front of the room to cast my vote. I was stopped by an advisor who held a piece of paper toward me and said, "This is who they want you to vote for." I assured this advisor that I was more than capable of making that choice on my own--was this not why I was asked to be a delegate?--and would do so accordingly. I further stated that once I turned in my ballot, I would then look at the list and inform as to who did and did not make the cut. Well, only two of the four people who were on the list found their way onto my ballot, and for that I am not sorry. As an FYI, of the five people I cast my vote for, four were elected. The fifth, some jackass who apparently studied Buffoonery 101, was the only candidate whom I did not vote for. I was really pissed with this whole voting thing because it seemed that advisors did not want the best person for the job, but the person representing their school. I have nothing to apologize for; I did what I felt was best.

I made mistakes in my speech. Mistake #1 was apparently looking at the topic and being so prepoared that I was ready to give my speech immediately after reviewing the topic. I have always been better at delivering from the hip than taking time and planning an outline, and what tripped me uip was that even though I was ready, the judges were not; I was made to wait three and a half minutes while they wrote their critique of the previous speaker (we were to take five minutes preparing a speech, but I felt I did not need this time). So as I was standing in the middle of the room waiting, my mind began to wander on what I should talk about instead of just allowing it to naturally pour from me. Big mistake. It would end up being my deathknell. I should have elaborated on the three I's, and I should have closed with a summary--both of which I would have done if I did not begin formulating that speech in the three and a half minutes of downtime. But as the signals for "3 minutes, four minutes, and five minutes" were flashed I began to race toward my conclusion. Bottom line is that I know where I messed up, and realize it cost me the gold or silver medal. I won the bronze--third place--for which I am truly grateful, because I had already decided that if I had won the gold there was no way in hell I would go to the nationals, not after the few days I had already had.

I awoke this morning around 6 a.m., packed my bags, got dressed, went downstairs and smoked a cig, and returned to my room to find my roommate had exited in my absence. I also found my watch was missing. I looked under the bed, behind the dresser, then took everything from my bags and carefully looked through them, but to no avail. I informed my instructor of this, and she in turn informed the (Wiregrass) event organizer. I was told they "would get to the bottom of it." I went to have breakfast, but cut things short because I really did not feel right about accusing my roommate; I had allowed for that one percent chance that I had overlooked something. So I returned to my room and while I was searching my roommate came in and informed me that he and I had the same watch--he showed me "his" and sure enough it was an exact replica of mine. He told me the organizer had mine, so I immediately returned downstairs to have "my" watch returned to me. I put it on and knew right away it was not mine. I took it off and looked under it to see rust and grime, which confirmed it was not mine. I turned to tell the organizer but she was nowhere in sight. I entered the hotel lobby, found my roommate, and told him to take off the watch he had on. He handed it to me, I looked under it and noticed no rust or grime, then thrust his filthy watch toward him and said, "This one is yours!" He said nothing, slowly took the watch, at which point I walked away from him. It is my contention that he had planned this all along in a feeble attempt to swap his old, grungy watch for my newer, shinier watch. I kept my effects on the corner of the dresser across from my bed. He stated he thought the watch was his, but he never could explain how "his" watch got mixed in with my pen, lighter, cigarettes, room cardkey, change, comb...you get the point. What pissed me off even more was the fact that everyone was buying into his "innocent mistake" fable. The god-damned bastard tried to steal my watch and replace it with a piece of shit. Period. He is in another department at my school, but I will be thrice-damned if I ever acknowledge his existance again.

It was not a completely awful experience. I did have perhaps the best prime rib I have ever eaten last night. Definitely well worth the $32 pricetag. Aside from that, Momocon was going on these past few days, and let me tell you that these kids put a lot into their costumes. I was able to get my picture taken with Lady Yuna and Auron, Link and Dark Link, Nightcrawler and Mystique, SS3 Goku and Broly, Harley Quinn, V (for Vendetta), Sora and Ansem, Cloud, and a ferw others I can't remember at the moment. These young adults were very polite, respectful, and accomodated everyone's request for pictures. Freaks and Geeks? Nah. They were more professional than most of my colleagues.