Stonewall

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stonewall50

Here is some information about the Stonewall Inn, and the riots that broke out there 50 years ago today.

Stonewall is the best remembered response to police raids and violence against the LGBT community, but it was not the first. Many other places saw patrons of LGBT-friendly establishments, both bars and other venues (even a donut shop in L.A.!), fight back against police harassment. We remember Stonewall because it inspired Pride Parades and festivals that have become traditional around the world in June.

 

Image: The Center on Colfax, Denver

Yeah, I think he *is* loaded

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trump_doofusYeah, I think he’s loaded, all right.

First he said we were “cocked and loaded” (that’s not how that phrase goes, Donnie, unless you’re referring to the XXX gay video by that name) about Iran, now he’s pulled back from ICE’s plans to conduct sweeps starting Sunday.

This is not how you’re supposed to run the government of the world’s only superpower. Hair Furor must have found a way to make money off the current immigration status, so he’s put a stop to the planned raids.

Or he’s just insane. Either way, we’re screwed.

Hair Trigger Backs Down – Why?

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The bombs were ready to fly. Hair Trigger (Trump) had already given the orders to attack. Iran had taken the bait by shooting down a United States drone, and Trump was ready to start his war. Suddenly he pulled back. Why?

Probably because Vlad said:

Putin-NYET
Putin talks (no more Russian Mob money), Donnie obeys. The war hawks in the United States are going to have to work that much harder to make Hair Furor ignore Vlad’s plans for Iran. I’m sure they’re already plotting how to get around Putin.

Keep your wits about you, it’s only going to get worse.

Hey, NANCY PELOSI! ITMFA! What are you waiting for?

The GOP’s Bestest, Brightest, most stable genius

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mars-moon

See the celestial object on the left? That’s Mars. See the one on the right? That’s the Moon. They are not part of each other. The President of the United States in 2019 does not know this.

Trump_Moon_Mars_06072019

The Republican Party in the 21st century has given us George Bush and Donald Trump. While I always thought Bush was not the brightest bulb in his family’s chandelier, I always assumed he had a basic knowledge of how things were. With Trump, one wonders if he ever learned anything over his lifetime other than how to get rich cheating contractors, the government, and banks.

trump-dunce-cartoon

Donald J. Trump. The best the GOP has to offer. Putin approved, protected by McConnell.

Hey, Donnie? Going to Mars *IS* rocket science, so lets leave it up to the rocket scientists to figure out the best way to get there. It’s clear they’ve decided the Moon is an important waypoint in that journey, so we go there first.

Oh, and in case you missed it, the Moon is 238,000 miles away, and Mars is 34 million (at it’s closest approach). The Moon is not part of Mars. And it’s not made of green cheese. Just thought you’d like to know.

Straight Pride Parade? Really? I get a visit.

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straightpride

Last month, if you’ll remember, I wrote about setting up a conference call with the gods, pleading for good weather at PrideVisalia 2019. Despite weather forecasts predicting rain, it was sunny and warm that day. The gods were disposed to grant my request, and held the downpour until the next day. Man, did it rain then! My eternal thanks to all of them for cooperating.

I had thought that would be the end of that, at least until next year, but this morning I learned an important lesson.

Once you become known as a contact point for a group, you’re stuck with it, for better or worse.

This morning, just before dawn, in that in-between time when stories have the spirits at their most active, I got dragged up from a pleasant dream to find I was not alone in my bedroom.

In fact, there was quite the crowd. They were standing around the bed, and they did not look pleased. Normally, this kind of thing would elicit a panicked response on my part, but for some reason I felt fairly calm. I must have been thinking “this is a new dream. Dang, that other one was more fun”, because I just kind of sat there, wondering why these folks were in my bedroom.

One of them, a woman, spoke up. “Jimmie, what in the hell is this thing about a straight pride parade in Boston?” I squinted at her in the dim morning light, trying to figure out who she was. “We were happy to hold the rain off for PrideVisalia, good job on that, by the way, I popped down and visited incognito, had a wonderful time, the Mom Hugs were a fantastic idea. Now we’re hearing that Boston is holding a straight pride? What the hell??” she said.

As the sleep was fading from my brain, I recognized the voice from the conference call.

“Tempestas, so nice to meet you in person,” I said. I thought I heard a thunderclap and rumble off in the distance. I remember thinking, “there’s no storms predicted for Visalia today…”

Another one of them spoke up, “Hey, answer the question! What’s up with this straight pride nonsense?!” I recognized that voice, too. “Ishkur, boy, that graphic artist got you spot on!”

The thunder got a bit louder, and I realized it was not coming from outside.

“uh, guys…  don’t sweat it,” I said. “A group of lonely straight guys, who apparently can’t get laid, have decided they need a pride parade to prove they’re just as cool as the gays. They’ll probably have a few dozen people show up, they’ll have some really lousy music, someone will give a speech that will be roundly ridiculed on social media, and it will be a lot of smoke and noise, and nothing else.”

Tempestas was still glaring at me, and said “I’m thinking of sending a hurricane to Boston that day. They haven’t had one since 1991, and I think they’re due for another, if they let this nonsense go on!”  The rest of the crowd murmured in agreement, and I knew I had to do something, quick. (that god time thing, again. For them, August 31, the planned day of the “parade” might as well be right now)

I asked them not to ruin Boston’s day just for a few nutcases, even if they are jerks.

“Is that Fryer back there?” I asked. “My thanks to you and Odin, and all the others, for granting my request for PrideVisalia. We really had a wonderful time.” The figure standing back in the growing light just nodded, and waved his hand at Tempestas and Ishkur, who had apparently been appointed to speak for the group. I turned my attention back to them.

“Really, please. It’s no big deal. They’ve been laughed at since the news broke that they were applying for a parade permit. Boston, as you all know, is about as progressive a place as there is in the United States, and they really can’t say no to this application, no matter how idiotic it may be. Let them have their straight pride parade, (there’s that rumble again, it’s getting louder… where is it coming from?) and we can forevermore hold it up to those who scream ‘why is there no straight pride!?!?’, and say there you go, you got one. After all, we’ve always told them if they felt they needed a parade, to organize one, and it looks like they finally took our advice.”

Tempestas was still glaring, and Ishkur had little lightning bolts flickering between his fingers as I spoke, and I remember a stray thought that I hoped those sparks wouldn’t damage my phone, sitting on the night stand next to where he was standing. Several others still grouped around the foot of my bed were looking a bit more calm, though, so I was hoping things were looking up. I really didn’t want to feel responsible if Boston got clobbered by a storm that day. Was that Indra standing next to my dresser?

Ishkur snapped his fingers, and the room was briefly brighter than I ever remember anything being, and he pointed at Tempestas. “Pay attention!” he thundered.

“Really,” I said, “don’t worry about it. This will be a one-time thing, and it won’t be all that much at that. Everyone will see this for what it is, another cheap slap at the LGBT community by incels that really feel powerless in their own lives. They’ll make a bit of noise, snarl traffic, and generate more hostility towards their ‘movement’. The difference between their little ‘parade’ and Boston’s Pride parade couldn’t be more stark, and they’ll do more damage to their cause than a hurricane would do to the region. Please, just let it go.”

By this time, the room had cleared out, it was just me, Tempestas and Ishkur remaining. From that I presumed that the other gods were willing to go along with ignoring straight pride, and all I had to do was seal the deal with those two.

“So, are we good?” I asked. “Boston is a really nice place, I hope to visit it one day, and these morons are just background noise. Let it pass, and let them fade into the obscurity they deserve.” I was crossing my fingers behind my back.

Ishkur looked at Tempestas, who appeared to be deep in thought.

“OK,” she said. “I can’t guarantee that there won’t be rain, or even a hurricane on that day, these things generally run on autopilot with very little input or notice by me. What I won’t do is deliberately “rain on their parade”, so to speak.” A small grin appeared, she clearly thought her pun was clever. I was not inclined to disagree, or give any sign of my internal groan.

“Thank you,” I said, as I bowed slightly, still sitting in bed. “You are a most gracious and kind goddess.” I was going to say more, but I got the distinct impression she wouldn’t have appreciated further groveling, and I thought I heard a rumble from Ishkur that implied I should stop while I was ahead. A wink from him as he faded from sight encouraged that idea.

Tempestas winked too, and was gone. I sat there for a bit, and thought to myself “that’s the last time I have chocolate chip mint ice cream right before bed.”  My next thought was as I was waking up several hours later, “what a wild dream. That’ll make a great blog post! What’s that rumbling noise?…”

 

 

 

 

Trump denies ordering USS John S. McCain fiasco

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05292019_trump_denies

So Trump says he didn’t know the Navy was ordered to cover up the insignia of the USS John S. McCain, berthed in sight of his activities on other Naval ships, while he was in Japan. News reports are saying the White House told the Navy to cover up anything that said “John McCain” on it. Sailors were told they couldn’t wear their Navy caps that included the ship’s name. Anything that could remind Trump of McCain was ordered covered up.

That begs some serious questions.

Who in the White House, *not in the chain of command*, can order the Navy around?

How far down the White House hierarchy does this capability go?

Why did the Navy comply?

Is this common practice for the Department of Defense?

Can the Vice-President order the Pentagon around?

Can the Speaker of the House, or the Senate Majority Leader?

Really, the Joint Chiefs need to explain how this happens.

The President is the Commander-in-Chief, but White House minions are not. If Trump didn’t order something, how can someone not in the military, and not in the chain of command, give an order in his name?

This will cycle out of the news quickly, but it’s an important issue. I hope it’s not swept under the rug and ignored.

P.S.

The covering of asses has begun:

05292019_trump_denies_2

‘Till the cows come home

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devin_nunes_twitter_cow_parody

Washington, D.C. does something to people. Especially government people. I don’t know when it happened to Devin Nunes, but somewhere along the line, possibly about the time Barack Obama was elected President, Nunes dove into the deep end, and he’s not yet come up for air.

From the bottom of the sump pond that is Washington politics, nastier than any
dairy lagoon, he’s now suing a fake cow, and a honey bee. He’s up to 400 million dollars, claiming that his reputation has been impugned. He asserts that Twitter has “shadow banned” him (which Twitter denies*), and that a few parody accounts, which didn’t have much of a following until *after* his lawsuits were filed, tweeted mean things about him. He’s also suing The Fresno Beeclaiming they lied about him (they did not), and knew the things they were printing were lies (but he never responded to The Bee’s repeated attempts to contact him for rebuttal or comment).

So, that’s $250 million against Twitter, a fake cow, and a fake Nunes’ mom account. That action by Nunes generated endless parody accounts, and now we have everything from Devin Nunes’ Gay Cow, to his cat, his cow’s attorney, his “dad“, his “grandma“, the drag queen, and his skin (still thin, according to the one Tweet). Another $150 million against McClatchy and the Bee. For reporting about a drug-and-prostitute fueled party boat in the San Joaquin Delta, hosted by a winery in which Nunes owns stock. One can argue whether the story was worth pursuing, but The Bee reported factually, and Nunes refused to comment on it when the paper tried to contact him about it. His go-to, now, is the same as Trump’s: “FAKE NEWS!!”

While Nunes occupies his time suing a fake cow and his local newspaper, his district still has serious water issues, high unemployment numbers, high poverty levels, pollution, bad roads, and gang problems. Maybe he should devote some of his time to serving his constituents, and leave the bees and the cows alone.

*it’s amazing how many people in the top spots of government have no clue how things like Twitter work, and why people might not see a posting. Algorithms are apparently much too complex a concept for them to grasp.  

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