I suddenly remember a phrase.

This phrase was uttered by a friend of mine as we were discussing a non-profit program I felt very strongly about. I got caught up in how important I felt the project was; we could change people's lives. We could do our civic duty.

How grand to be able to actually leave this world a better place than when we arrive!

Knowing he had valuable skills, I turned to him and said, "You know, a program like this could really make a difference. It could really use a marketing perspective. Any advice?"

He stared off into the distance, "I really don't need any more advertising experience on my resume."

Is it strange that I've never forgotten this?

Men And Women

I don't think there is any difference between men and women. Literally.

I know you'll look at that statement and wonder, but think about it for just a moment:

As I've noticed, people try two methods of distinguishing between men and women. The first is based on anatomy and the other is based on genetics. I'm convinced that the rest is simply societal reinforcement of how we should act as a particular sex.

This leads me to create a distinction between gender and sex. Gender is a complex social and psychological state that varies between every individual.

Sex is... well, sex is kind of vague. There's no real definition, and there's a sneaking suspicion that sex was created solely to enforce gender norms. 'How can this be,' you ask.

1. Genitalia doesn't determine sex to me. This would imply that a man with a large penis is more of a man than someone not so well-endowed... which is ridiculous. Not only is this macho-crap, but it excludes many of the alternative genital expressions.

Many people are born with androgynized genitalia, creating a spectrum of 'manhood' and 'womanhood,' which doesn't bode well for having traditional categories of sex.

2. I used to think chromosomes determined sex until I became a geneticist. In the same manner that the complex process of genital development can vary, so can different chromosomal patterns.

Funny enough, the X and Y chromosome are some of the only chromosomes that nature allows us to play with. This spectrum of sex chromosome expression kind of kills the genetic determinism for 'male' and 'female.' Can't have a polar system when more than two conditions exist.

So, rather than aimlessly searching for another excuse to recreate sex, I'm going to abandon it all together. 'Male' and 'Female' are obsolete terms in my opinion.

This runs contrary to quite a few religious and social dogma sets, but they can be flimsy at times. Almost all religions believe that a human is more than just the collected biochemical processes in their body. We have a human spirit that transcends physical form.

However, there are people who quote dogma that love cannot exist between two people having insufficient anatomical differences. Hmmm, this makes me think that these religious people don't believe in the human soul. That, or they equate 'love' with a horizontal thrusting motion. Love is a bond that transcends physical barriers. To bring it down to what is hanging between another person's legs is basal, don't you think?

There is also the Western-religious argument that woman was created from man, therefore they belong together... Fun, but wasn't man created from a being that had no sexual differentiation? Supposedly, humanity was the first to be split into two sexes... IF you read it literally.

A white Adam and Eve obviously ashamed of their archaic sexual identities

So, I guess this means I can't be bisexual anymore... or gay. I'm kinda stuck with just being me, which is alright in my book.

I'm ok with ambiguity.

Weapons Of Less-Lethal Destruction

Dear God, run!
In the Pentagon's need to prove it's ability to create very expensive versions of older technology, we have reached a new level in riot control. Yes, world, our American penis is, indeed, larger than yours. We can prove it, too.

I kid you not. This is in fact a raygun.

The so-called-less-lethal weapon, shown above, is intended to microwave rioting people causing extreme heat and "intolerable pain" within five seconds of activation, according to Reuters.

Microwave. Intolerable Pain.

I ask you, what ever happened to the good old days of billy clubs and water hoses?

'So, what does this mean for ME, your average rioter,' you might ask. Well, for one, State Street on Halloween will probably never be the same. Our sleepy, 'progressive' city has the pleasure of hosting a yearly riot every October 31st. But this year, leave your glasses, contacts, and small metal objects at home. Engineers asked test subjects to remove these items from their person to avoid serious damage during weapons testing.

Cause God knows I always remember to remove these items before getting swept away in political demonstrations!

I just don't know how I feel about microwaving people... and I certainly know how I feel about getting microwaved. I'll have to rethink any of my revolutionary plans to avoid getting a very quick tan.

...and who volunteers to get microwaved, anyway?!?

"Excuse me, sir, but may we microwave you?"
"I don't think that I should..."
"In the name of American Patriotism, of course!"
"Oh, in that case, microwave away, my good man!"

And how will we adjust the pain settings for people of different ethnicity than our own? Too many complicated questions to answer, in my opinion. However, we are once again safe from any rioters that were not susceptible to rubber bullets, tear gas, tasers, high pressure water, and physical barriers. Thanks to a multi-million dollar investment, I can sleep soundly again.

I'll worry about affording universal health care tomorrow.

Even Stranger in a Strange Land

Most of the time, provincialism is just a minor nuisance to me. The Provincials walk around and buzz like insects, spouting ideals they were handed down like some heirloom, never be questioned. Normally, I would say that Conservatives make the worst kind of Provincials...

But I live in Madison, Wisconsin.

The progressives in Madison can be so immature and myopic at times that I could just scream. Usually, I'm a very tolerant person... but they've defiled my car. My car! The most likely case is that some drunk progressive walked down the street and saw my Texas license plates. I can see the liberal thoughts running through his/her head right now:

"oh, look... someone from Texas..."
"Bush comes from Texas, and I hate Bush."

"Therefore, this person must be different than me. I hate things that are different than myself."
"I must assure that this one individual suffers for the actions of his people!"

The person then decides that it's a good idea to bend my plates inward and de-case my side-view mirror. Oh my God, I could murder this person.

I have just a few items to complain about. My highly trained scientific mind has a few problems with his f**ked up logic!

1. I'm not conservative.
2. I didn't vote for Bush.

3. Yes, I'm from Texas. In fact, all my family is from Texas. We've been in Texas since before people came over on boats. It's my Homeland! I can't help but get slight traces of racism from his anti-Texas sentiment. How provincial to see Texas in only a hundred year's light, when American settlers began to invade... whereas my people have been there for millennia.

4. How dare you call yourself progressive and have such hatred of things that are not like yourself. Don't you ever speak to me of 'tolerance' or 'diversity' or 'democracy' or 'peace' again! If you can't help but deface my damn car because you dislike my Homeland, how can you possibly think that we can stop war abroad. You can't even keep your hands off my property.

Ok. *Deep Breath* My brakes also shrill, but that problem was there to begin with. Alright, I feel better now.

So, let's think positive and proactive. Instead of hunting down the person and murdering them, I thought of a more peaceful way to deal with this issue.

I've decided to go out and purchase a gay sticker for my car. Since I'm gay, this seems like a logical choice... except I hate rainbows and cringe at the color pink. No wonder why so many people are afraid to come out. They fear being doused in pink and rainbows. If I would have known, I would have stayed in the closet.

Either way, I'll affix the sticker to my car in a visible spot. This will act as an anti-progressive shield, allowing me to park my car in peace... Until now, it never occurred to me to place gay symbols on my person and property in order to feel safe.

My, how the times change. Welcome to Madison.

Stumble Rocks My Onions

Recently, I have been a big fan of 'StumbleUpon.'
Some of you have probably already heard of this program.

It's available through a variety of browsers, if I'm correct (but I'm an avid fan of Firefox, myself.)
As a side note: If you haven't already downloaded Firefox, you should look into it.

StumbleUpon manifests itself as a short series of buttons on your browser, the most important being the 'Stumble!' button. Once clicked, the button will take you to a random site it assumes you will find interesting. At first, it just throws out random stuff.

Well, almost random.

You select certain interests when you sign up. However, as you respond to sites, the program learns what type of stuff you're more likely to find hip, weird, or groovy. This is where the interesting patterns emerge.

Firstly, you recommend sites to other members, which is cool of it's own nature. However, the fascinating part of this whole ordeal is when the browser begins to learn what you unconsciously think is interesting. It becomes a reflecting pool of sorts, showing you what you think is worthy of attention. The program is useful for any avid wanderer, but it's even more interesting to view someone else's 'random' stumblings.

This reminds me of a story I vaguely remember from a childhood book, 'Sideways Stories from Wayside School.' In the story, a student, Maurice, is given 'Maurice-flavored-icecream.' She doesn't notice any flavor, but when other kids taste it, they think it's awesome. Maurice can't understand why everyone else is so fascinated by a 'her-flavored' icecream when she can't taste anything at all.

Admittedly, my own crazy stumblings are fascinating to observe. I tend to range from intense condensations of the great philosophers to clips of reinterpreted Halloween music, which happens to be the favored part of my favorite Halloday. Great program.

However, the true fascination is looking into someone else's reflecting pool.
Kind of reminds you of all the little ways we unconsciously express ourselves; how much of ourselves we just leave open to air, for others to observe, or more likely, not notice.

I'll have to remember to look for the little things that make people hip, weird, or groovy more often.

Try the program out. At least it'll save you hours of aimless wandering on the internet by instantly thowing you hours of curious things to read instead. Thank God for time saving devices.

It All Starts Here

So, about this blog thing: I remain skeptical.

In my mind, blogs are oddities. They are electronic pulpits. Blogs allow one to connect with other people in an age of distance.

However, after I was given some advice on what not to do on a blog, I have been forced to re-evaluate my reasoning behind them. Apparently, the blog is a powerful tool that must be wielded appropriately.

Well, that's if anybody actually reads it, first off.

But rules are rules... and here they are:

1. I cannot mention people's actual names or write about them unless they are already on the news or such. This is to avoid upsetting someone and having my thoughts bring dire consequences to my person in real life.

Ok, so am I the only one who thinks that your thoughts should affect your life? This brings me back to a bad dream; the one where everybody walks around with a bright smile or apathetic face and hopes that they will never have to suffer the consequences that their own opinions create. But, hey, I can not take responsibility for my person. Right on, one down.

2. I shall not, under any circumstance, say anything too personal in a public blog. There could be crazy people reading your innermost thoughts or you could give away your identity.

I am Superman (TM). Now that you know my identity, you have to promise to keep it a secret.
Honestly, I don't think anybody will read my blog, but I never wanted you to know anything about me anyway. I mean, why would anyone post something on the web about themselves in order to get attention or express oneself?
Plus, I have no illusion to being important enough to hunt down and kill. It would be way too much trouble to find parking around here anyway. Sorry.
One more down.

3. I must keep my writing original and captivating, as to not lose people's interests. Also, grammar and punctuation are a critical part of a blog which you should pay close attention to.

In honor of that last suggestion, I will write my reply in only punctuation:

... ?????, ^^^**/?\% ==!!!!!!, @**:::::. --^^* + ;;~& > = $$$. \\|>>>.

You will eventually become bored of this blog. I understand this and encourage it with time.
However, there is a remote chance that our opinions may challenge eachother... so stick around for a while, and enjoy it while you can, because one day I, too, shall become bored with this blog.

but until then, happy blogging.