Alright, so I completely forgot that I have a blog.  I haven’t posted since LAST YEAR.  Yeah, it was December, tail end of the year, but still.  Last year.  It’s mid-April now.  I haven’t touched this site in more than five months.

That’s just sad.

Life just kinda does this shit to you, you know?  Where you get busy and there’s priorities and you have to let some things go in order to remain sane?  Do you know what I’m saying?  The good side is that I’m sane.  The bad side is that I had to let this space go for a while.

Anyway, I have a story to share with you all.  Whoever is still out there who hasn’t cleaned house on their RSS feeds, anyway.

Earlier, I stopped at the grocery store.  I’ve got almost no edible food in my kitchen, and I’m thinking–it would probably be a good idea to pick up some stuff.  I don’t even have anything to drink aside from some skunky beer, vodka, and french-vanilla creamer.  Coffee and tea, yeah.  But that requires effort and a wait.  That’s the way things have been around here lately.

Anyhoo, I’m in the tiny liquor section of our grocery store, coming out of the big-ole walk-in refrigerator with an 18-pack of Bud Light, and a woman and her young son were making their way around my cart, which I’d left outside the entrance to the fridge.  She muttered “Sorry,” as if she really needed to apologize for moving my cart, which I’d left, selfishly, in a spot completely inconvenient to anyone else wanting to make their way around the little liquor section.

I flopped the beer into my cart and took a quick look at her and her child.

Quickly, the thought flashed through my mind, though not in these words, just more of an impression:  “They don’t belong here.”

I pushed my cart down the little aisle and I considered turning right to the next, where the vodka is located, to see if Ketel One was on sale.  But something stopped me.  The thought was very clear in my mind–

“The woman who moved my cart to get by, and her child, are in the vodka aisle, and she doesn’t want me to see what she’s doing.”

As I turned left, I thought, “She’s going to try to steal a bunch of booze,” only again, it wasn’t in words, it was a feeling.

By the time I’d made it to the check-out, she’d apparently been accosted by the manager and had run out the door and to her car, with her young son.  The manager was near the customer service desk, asking her to call 911, and his hand rested on the handle of a cart filled with bottles of Absolut.

And one, lone, little-boy’s hiking boot.

I overheard phrases–”She was shoving the bottles in his jacket.”  “What kind of example is that for a child?”  “She should be ashamed.”

You think she’s not?  You think that woman doesn’t walk in shame every moment of her life?  She’s so desperate for whatever it is she’s desperate for that she has to try to steal booze from a grocery store and use her five-year-old son as an accomplice?

This level of desperation is easy to hide from in my little town.  But it’s coming, isn’t it?

I’ve felt, for several years now, a sense of foreboding; shaky footing; desperation in this country.  And it just keeps growing.

A large part of me, the vocal part of me, is terrified.

But there’s a part of me that’s somewhat excited.  I know, that sounds weird.  But I’m a little excited to see the parts of this country which have been, historically, untouched by everyday desperation, feel the effects.  See desperation.  Feel desperation.

I’m excited to see the eventual outcome.  Maybe I won’t survive it…maybe it’ll take so long to see what’s happening right now with any sense of distance or relativity that it’ll be my grandchildren talking about it in history class.  Or my great-grandchildren.

I just don’t know what’s going to happen in the future.  And for the first time in my life, I’m absolutely giddy about it.

Yep!

I will be appearing live on msnbc tomorrow, sometime between 11 a.m. and noon CST, talking about the response on Newsvine.com to the Democratic Debate happening this evening.

Live. On television.

Hopefully, there will be a link available to video of my appearance, and if so, I will post it here. But I fully expect you all (all three of you) to be watching.

Could this happen to your child? Your brother?  Your friend?

Genarlow Wilson sits in prison despite being a good son, a good athlete and high school student with a 3.2 GPA. He never had any criminal trouble.  On the day he was to sit for the SAT, at seventeen years old, his life changed forever.  He was arrested.  In Douglas County he was accused of inappropriate sexual acts at a News Year’s Eve party.  A jury acquitted him of the allegation of Rape but convicted him of Aggravated Child Molestation for a voluntary act of oral sex with another teenager.  He was 17, and she was 15.

Along with the label “child molester” which will require him throughout his life to be on a sexual offender registry, Genarlow received a sentence of eleven years — a mandatory 10 years in prison and 1 year on probation.

On July 1st, the new Romeo and Juliet law went into effect in Georgia for any other teen that engages in consensual sexual acts. That change in the law means that no teen prosecuted for consensual oral sex could receive more than a 12 months sentence or be required to register as a sex offender.

Had this law been in effect when Genarlow Wilson was arrested, or had been done after the Marcus Dixon case, Genarlow would not now be in jail.

Genarlow and his mother are overjoyed that no one else in Georgia will have to know their pain. In the meantime, however, the legal fight goes on for Genarlow Wilson.

Genarlow has been incarcerated since February 25, 2005.

This case is fucked up.  Go check out the official site. And there’s a Newsvine group dedicated to assembling information about it:  http://wilsonpetition.newsvine.com/.  You may have to join Newsvine to access it.  I don’t know if invites are still required.  If so, let me know, I’ll give you one.

The synopsis?  This kid was convicted based on faulty law, law which has since been changed.

December 18, 2006
The Georgia Supreme Court rejected Genarlow Wilson’s Motion to Reconsider

In the opinion Justice Hunstein wrote for the Supreme Court:  “….while I am very sympathetic to Wilson’s argument regarding the injustice of sentencing this promising young man with good grades and no criminal history to ten years in prison without parole and a lifetime registration as a sexual offender because he engaged in consensual oral sex with a 15 year old victim only two years his junior, this Court is bound by the Legislature’s determination that young persons in Wilson’s situation are not entitled to the misdemeanor treatment now accorded to identical behavior under OCGA 16-6-4”  Chief Justice Sears dissented from the opinion.

Totally absurd.  Take a moment and sign the petition.  Write up a little blog post about it.  You all know I REALLY hate child molesters.  This kid is not a child molester.

Again.

This has happened before, but never for this long of a stretch. I’ve lost my funny and I don’t know how the hell to get it back or where the hell it went or why or what I did to make it go away. And it’s really pissing me off.

I’ve also lost (but am slowly but surely recapturing) the desire to write anything at all. However, recently I’ve gone on a writing binge (in my journal, obviously not here).

I’ve noticed today that I’ve missed two things here at VikiBabbles. One, my 500th post went by without notice. I’m on post 524, if you can believe that. Or maybe it’s 525. I’m not sure and I don’t feel like going back to check.

I have also allowed my two-year blogoversary (that’s a stupid, geeky way of referring to my blog’s anniversary, just in case you weren’t able to figure it out) to pass by without so much as a Yippee! or a Yeah! or a Can you fucking believe I’ve actually bothered to maintain this shit for two years?

However, writing those words seems familiar, so maybe I did remark upon it and just don’t remember. Or maybe I’m just remembering what I said last year, on my one year blogoversary. I don’t fucking know. Nor do I care. Suffice it to say that as of July 30, 2006, I have officially been blogging for two years. Two years (and a couple of weeks) ago, I got bored whilst surfing the internet and signed up for a blogspot blog, and the rest is history. Well, kinda.

In lieu of writing an actual post, I thought I’d take you on a trip through my archives. Then I remembered that I’ve done that a few times in recent months, because I had nothing of actual substance to say, so I won’t bore you with it again.

I used to find things on this here internet, newsy things, things that bothered me and whatnot, and I’d post them to my blog with a handy dandy link (back in the day when I was first figuring out how to do all this, and it thrilled me just to figure out how to operate the link button on blogger. Now, of course, I am a genuine html novice!). I don’t do that anymore. For one thing, no one cared to hear my opinion on whatever matter it might have been that got me all riled up. For another thing, I’ve found other places where I can do that, like Newsvine, (let me know if you want an invite, I’ll give you one, and you too can become ridiculously absorbed with what other people say who are far stupider than you are, and also become depressed because there are so many other people who are so much smarter than you are). And for still another thing, I don’t even give a shit about anything anymore. I don’t care about world events. I don’t give a crap about Iraq. I could care less about Israel and Hezbollah and all that shit. Global warming? Is the world going to end before I die? No? Then I don’t care. 9/11 conspiracies? Whatev. George W. Bush? Does the world seriously need another blogger ranting and raving about what a moron he is? Religion? Abortion rights? WHO THE FUCK CARES? Not me. I really don’t. Give me a nice big-ass bottle of Ketel One (on sale at Dominick’s this week for $40! And yes, that’s more expensive than gasoline, but it gets me WAY FURTHER) in my freezer, a fresh supply of diet Schweppes tonic water, a couple of limes, a fresh pack of Winston Lights and a working lighter, and this whole fucking planet could implode and I wouldn’t even notice. I’d just be sitting here, writing boring shit in my journal, making lists of what I have to do today and what I have to get at the grocery store, minding my own fucking business. Seriously. There’s just way too much to get pissed off about, and not enough time in the fucking day. Excuse me. I need to make a fresh drink.

Perhaps what has happened here is that the apathy I have developed in regards to current events has somehow infected my ability to write, or my need to write, or my desire to write. At any rate, I am currently going to great lengths to reignite myself. Okay, maybe not great lengths. I bought a new journal notebook different from the Moleskine’s I’ve been using for the last several years, hoping that it would inspire me to write more. It did. I now have a new, pretty notebook (Clairefontaine paper-have you ever in your life felt such a thing rubbing against your wrist as you write? It’s like satin, for crissakes) nearly filled with some of the most boring, mundane crap you’d ever have the displeasure of reading in your entire life. But what’s also in there are several references to the Magical Idea Fairy, who has, somehow, found me again. Perhaps she is, like a monarch, migrating. Which means she will only be here for a short time. Or, perhaps, she has returned to stay. Maybe she had to go to the hospital for treatment of some disorder caused by second hand smoke. Or maybe she had to go to rehab because she’s been inhaling the surely alcohol-laden breath expelled from my body every few seconds.

Wait. What the hell am I talking about here? I have NO IDEA!!!

Does it matter?

I think what I was trying to say is that I am trying, very hard, to drag myself out of this little hole I’ve been hiding in. I am putting pen to paper and fingertips to keyboard and I am writing, and while it may appear that what is coming out is of very little consequence, it’s just practice. It’s like someone who was injured in an accident, or had a stroke or something, and they have to learn to walk again, and when they first try, they look like a complete retard (yes, I am well aware of the utter lack of sensitivity in that comment. But, like I tried to make clear above, I DON’T CARE). But after a while, they figure it out again, and they’re walking around like a pro in no time. That’ll be me. While what you are reading right now may appear to be the ravings of a retarded, drunk homeless person, what it actually is is my first, tentative steps back onto the path of the written word.

See how nice I said that? Sure, I could have left out all that crap about retards and being retarded and all, and while I sure do hope I didn’t offend anybody, that’s just the way it’s going to have to be for now. I officially apologize to all retarded people out there, and most especially to all retarded, drunk homeless people. And drunk people. And homeless people. But, especially, to the drunks. I didn’t mean to call you retarded.

I really hope the embedding of this video doesn’t mess with my look. Because that would annoy me. But it wouldn’t annoy me as much as Congress and the big telcom companies fucking with my internet!

Watch it, and then call Congress. Go on. You don’t have anything better to do right now. I mean, hell, you’re surfing blogs, for chrissakes!
Nevermind.  It messed everything up and I HATE that.  Click on this link to watch a funny video featuring Moby about protecting Net Neutrality.

Save the Internet!  Protect Net Neutrality! 

Update (4/24): I had to take out the embedded player to see if it was truly what was messing up the font on my entire site. Here is a direct link to YouTube, where you can watch it yourself, get the link, grab the code for the embedded player so you can put it on your own site if you wish, whatever. YouTube – Pink – Dear Mr President – Live

Damnit. Apparently, if it was what messed up my font, it did it permanently. I’m going to have to mess with code now, and things could get ugly.

Well, looky here. I’m a magician! It’s all better now!

Also, this post has certainly raised some hackles, whatever that means. It sounds right, though, no? Anyway, join the discussion if you wish, and I will continue it. However, all this Bush-bashing vs. Bush-”respecting” back-and-forth gets old quick. Somebody say something new.

UPDATE:

I’ve had a few cocktails. Take all that follows with the grain of salt. You know, if you are a regular reader, that might be necessary from time to time.

That said…

I’m going to go smoke a cigarette outside and try to piece out what I want to say in response to some of the comments I have received as a result of merely posting a video of the performance of this song. I’ll be back in a flash.

I’m angry. You want to claim that this woman’s lyrics are bullshit? Our president, George W. Bush, Mr. President, if you please, is destroying our country. He is destroying what you know and love.

Blogofshit? Hello? Yes, I’m listening to the lyrics of this song in a serious way. You have a daughter now, dear. Her rights are as good as gone. And while you, as a father, might wish that she will never have to be in the position to have to take advantage of or wish she had those rights, the fact of the matter is that it should be available to her to decide. Don’t you fucking dare ever look me in the eye and tell me that a woman should choose one thing over the other. A woman should have the right to make the CHOICE. You force a woman into having to do one thing over the other, because choosing the “wrong” thing, the “illegal” thing, might kill her? You have no idea what being forced into a decision will do to her. It is a death sentence. Let me choose, goddamnit. At least the weight of the decision will be on me, not on the laws of my country or the edicts of my religion. Make me live a life in which every day I must wonder if I was ALLOWED to choose the other thing? Shoot me now. I can hardly make it through a day as it is. I can hardly look myself in the mirror as it is.

I have a son. He is the light of my life. And I fear every day, along with every other ridiculous and petty thing I fear in a day, that he will be forced to serve in a war that began when he was in kindergarten. Are you seriously so, fuck. Are you all so seriously blinded and brainwashed to believe my son will not have to give up college to serve in a war that began when all he wanted in the world was a fucking fruit snack, a juice box, a playground, and an hug from his mother?

This “President,” has failed us. He fails us every day that he wakes up. He is incapable of speaking clearly. The President of our country, the goddamn, motherfucking UNITED STATES OF AMERICA is a moron. You sit in your pretty houses, or your dorm rooms, or your whatever, and you have the idiocy to say, to think, something as stupid as “He got to be President, he can’t be that bad.”

Wake the fuck up. This is not about a song that some woman who calls herself Pink and dyes her hair that color has written. Thi is about the future of this country.

Here are the lyrics that you, Blogofshit and Somebody’s Son, are calling bullshit on:

“Dear Mr. President”
(feat. Indigo Girls)

Dear Mr. President
Come take a walk with me
Let’s pretend we’re just two people and
You’re not better than me
I’d like to ask you some questions if we can speak honestly

What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street
Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep
What do you feel when you look in the mirror
Are you proud

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye
How do you walk with your head held high
Can you even look me in the eye
And tell me why

Dear Mr. President
Were you a lonely boy
Are you a lonely boy
Are you a lonely boy
How can you say
No child is left behind
We’re not dumb and we’re not blind
They’re all sitting in your cells
While you pay the road to hell

What kind of father would take his own daughter’s rights away
And what kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay
I can only imagine what the first lady has to say
You’ve come a long way from whiskey and cocaine

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye
How do you walk with your head held high
Can you even look me in the eye

Let me tell you bout hard work
Minimum wage with a baby on the way
Let me tell you bout hard work
Rebuilding your house after the bombs took them away
Let me tell you bout hard work
Building a bed out of a cardboard box
Let me tell you bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
You don’t know nothing bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
Oh

How do you sleep at night
How do you walk with your head held high
Dear Mr. President
You’d never take a walk with me
Would you

There is a serious problem, among many, in this country, and it is why we have come to the point we have. We are not alone on this planet. But we, for some bizarre reason, believe that we are the best, the brightest, and the most righteous. We are wrong about that.

We’re backwards and retarded. And we are selfish and ethnocentric and stupid. I have, sometimes, these silly little fantasies. And while you might think my little fantasies might be sexual, they’re not. I have a silly little fantasy that brings me face to face with George W. Bush.

And much of what this woman says in her song are things I would say if I were brought face to face with him. I cannot understand, Somebody’s Son, how anyone can, with all seriousness, be so stupid as to think that just because this man was “elected” President, he should be automatically given my respect and admiration. You want to sit back and think: Well, he was elected President, he’s got a hard job, and we should all cut him some slack and let him do what he obviously knows better than us what needs to be done.

Bullshit.

Somebody’s Son? I appreciate your sarcasm. But this fuckwad is not kept awake at night by anything. If he were, something would have changed in the last six years. Yeah, sure, he’s doing the best he can. If he is? That’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard in my life. This? What our country and our world is headed for? THIS? Is the best he can do? And he is the leader of the supposed most powerful nation on the planet?

That’s fucking pathetic.

Our world, and what I mean by that is the tiny little construct we’ve built around ourselves, is going to disappear. It is being taken away from us bit by bit, actually, fucking hell, chunk by chunk. And we are letting it happen. And there are those of us who think it’s A-fucking OK.

Maybe it will be okay with you if our right to free speech is taken away, because you’re talking the party line anyway, and they’ll let you talk.

Maybe it will be okay with you if your daughters do not have the right to make decisions about their own health care, because ou don’t want them having abortions anyway.

But do you understand, truly, what it means when a government takes away the right of any citizen, male or female, to make specific decisions about their own bodies? Do you? I don’t think you do. This does not just have to do with whether or not you believe that abortions are morally wrong or right.

I’m very angry about where my country is going. This is not what I wanted. This is not what I expected. This is not what I was told I would be in for. If I got on a plane and traveled abroad tomorrow, I would be embarrassed to admit I was from the United States. I would be ashamed.

I have chosen the life that I live. What I do, what and who I love? I have chosen it. I may not be happy with those decisions every day, but I’ve learned to live with them. And the most important thing to me is that I was able to make those decisions. But these things that I have chosen? These options that I have had? They will not be available to my children, if this country continues on this path.

Damnit, people. Wake the fuck up.

Let’s just, for a moment, look at the whole “No Child Left Behind” debacle. It’s bullshit. There are children in the Chicago Public School system who are chosen, yes CHOSEN to fail, because if the grades are too good, the schools won’t get enough money from the school system, the city, the state. Yet, those same children must be brought enough up to speed to perform well enough on standardized tests so that the school will not fail the standards put forth by the No Child Left Behind Bullshit Stupid-Ass act. But every child in these classrooms is destined to fail. Some of them, many of them, are bright and promising. But they do not have a chance in hell.

Fucking hell. You want to take exception to the lyrics of this song? Be my guest. But I have a lot more fight in me on this subject. I’m not done.

Discuss It » Tripping for God

New article by your’s truly up at Discuss It! (Click link to go read it, and please comment. I love comments.)

I would appreciate it if you would all head on over to Discuss It! and read my first post as a contributor there. I would also appreciate your comments, whether you agree with me or not.

I will be joining some heavy hitters at Discuss It!, writing some (hopefully) thought-provoking posts. I’ll be sure to let you know when I’ve posted there, and I would certainly hope (okay, I’m actually demanding) that you will wander over there, read my posts as well as the posts of the other contributors, and join in on the discussion.

I’m very excited about this, and quite honored. Even if I did beg and plead to be included. And there may have been some bribery. I’m not admitting, however, to any blackmail that may have occured.

Plus, I must know: IS there anything better on the planet than chocolate covered pretzels? I think not.