Not Saying A Word

Farrow-weinstein-In-Story

You know what? I love being a man. Every aspect. And I have many healthy friendships with men. I’ve written a play about men. So. I know men.

And you can take my word for it – Harvey Weinstein’s  buddies knew. I know which of my buddies have traveling dicks. I know which of my buddies treat their wives like shit.

I know which of my buddies embarrass themselves to waitresses. I know which of my buddies do the cock walk. I know which of my buddies have dick envy. And I know which of my buddies keeps it zipped.

Weinstein wasn’t doing it with kids or boys. So he talked. He didn’t say he forced it. But he boasted the number and flaunted the advantage. He felt his intelligence entitled him.

And his buddies knew. They knew when he didn’t say what he’d been up to. They knew by all the things he didn’t say.

Fuck them. They knew.

(Photo courtesy of The New Yorker)

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Apart

Apart

Perhaps I’ve wasted my life trying to crawl above the adjective unique. Maybe unique is my legacy. Maybe unique is my apart. Maybe unique is my remembered.

(Photo courtesy of fhbcgr.org)

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Amid

middle-manMidlife: the captive of couldn’t. Boundaries: physical boundaries. Cautionary lines drawn by consequence. Medical care: continuation and not cure.

Midlife: the midst of people – surrounded by the people who’ve been chosen to matter.

Midlife: centered. The centerpiece. Emotionally, familially, and responsibly the center of care. Careful. Caretakers. Caregivers.

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Statues of Limitations

virginia-protests-statuesOkay surf my wave. Look let me help you out here. You can’t have it all. So. Think about it. Walk away from the cat pics. Close the porn sites and zip. Take your hands off the “share” button of your favorite pundit’s blurts. And just think about it. You can’t have it all. Things are right or they’re wrong. Something is either true or it’s false. And people who deny boundaries want permission to wander and wane.

You can’t have it all.

Pulling down statues. It’s literally a monumental problem. Hell there’s a rich history of that in the world. Hebrews pulled down false figurines. Christians pulled down indigenous idols. Protestants pulled down Roman Catholic pageantry. Germans pulled down the divisional wall. The Taliban is pulling down antithetical antiquities. Out of sight – out of mine: beliefs, symbols, expressions, words, statuaries, and ethics that differ from “mine” must be destroyed. Apparently that’s where we’re going here. You either think symbols and artifacts that represent a belief/conviction should be on public display or you don’t. You don’t get middle ground. It’s either right or wrong.

If you want a monument to The Ten Commandments at the public courthouse – then I get to have a statue of The Blessed Virgin Mary Mother of God there too. And we’re going to erect a statue of Stalin there and the satanists get a statue, and apparently we need an impression of Kim Kardashian’s ass because there are people who think she’s worth emulating. One group doesn’t get to decide the sacred, the venerable, the idol, or the one worthy of remembrance that all citizens must genuflect before.  All or none baby.

Look. The artifacts of the Confederacy should be eliminated – not to erase history or not to pander to the politically correct – they should be eliminated because they lost. Get that? The moment they lost – they became treasonous. The Confederacy lost. They declared war on the Republic and they lost. I’m curious. Should all those who’ve declared war on our Republic get public symbols? Are Hitler statues next? Are we erecting Hideki Tojo heads and putting them on school library shelves to hold up the books? Mussolini mugs sold in souvenir shops? They lost. Traitors. Treasonous. I’ve never once viewed a trophy case and saw tributes to the losers of the games. The confederacy declared war on the United States of America – committed treasonous acts – became enemies of the state – and lost. Honoring what?

Now – White supremacists are in schism with God. Yeah. I said it. Yeah I’ll defend it. Why are they working against the Holy and the Good? Because Racism bears false witness against God. It denies His paternity. It denies His artistic ability. It denies His creativity. It limits His image. God places a soul in each of His aspirants. Racism judges whether God has placed a soul and where He has not and it decides that only white souls are the sole heirs of God. Racism asserts God’s preferences and puts words in His mouth and monochromism in His eyes. God made a rainbow, why assume He rationed all but one color from mankind? Racism is a reaction. The action is creation. It is neither a cultural nor a societal reaction. It’s a theological rejection. As man is created in God’s likeness and image, imagine His anger if we deem His child as less His reflection and more a defection. White supremacists are evil and work against God.

And Mark R. Trost just said so.

(Photo courtesy of nydailynews)

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A Matter of Trust

crossed-fingers-behind-backOkay look. If you lie to someone – you exploit their vulnerability. The aspect our bullying society forgets: we’re all vulnerable adults. Vulnerability is all about degrees. Some people have a higher tolerance for your pain.

So listen up: you don’t get to decide which commandments are your easiest. Probity has no degrees. You’re either honest & decent or you’re not.

Liars exploit others dignity, vulnerability, and generosity.

Predators exploit emotionally, sexually, or financially.

Predators exploit; liars exploit.  Pure & simple. 

Fucking someone’s sense of trust for your own gain is prostitution. 

(Photo courtesy of fukuleaks.org)

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Faithfilled Leap

020_xiao_guohui-002I stable myself at the top of the ladder as I gather the guts to aloft. I hope my heart can endure the spirit of the spring. If not flight, may I have the faith to foot the foundation.

Fail I can tolerate; falling without grace, I cannot.

 

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Road Trip

20170722_203546My thoughts:

  • Gnawing beef jerky while driving has lost the thrill.
  • Olive, my new best friend from Omaha, makes the best old fashioned I’ve ever had. Worth the drive. She’s a bartender at The Broiler Room.
  • Henry – a young man (attends college majoring in theatrical lighting / marketing) is passionate about theater. He overheard my conversation about my play, commented on his hatred of theater of the absurd (I didn’t ask him,) spent numerous minutes telling me the vitality and necessity of theater, and offered to “let you buy me a drink” once my buddy and Henry’s mother had left the bar. Personally I wanted Henry to leave the bar. His mother was damn good looking and frankly I wanted to buy her the drinks with a shared bed being at the end of this rainbow. Henry depressed the hell out of me. Not because he mistook me as gay. Middle aged ringless man sipping cocktails at a hotel bar who’s talking theater. It’s not a illogically leap. But he’s so willing to slide onto his back for an opportunity to maybe network with someone he hopes has connections. Nothing makes a man feel as antiquated as being cast in a creased paperbacked cliché by Jacqueline Susann. I wasn’t flattered. I felt like I needed to wash my hands. I left Henry at the bar and climbed into my bed – alone – and sighed my disappointment in mankind.
  • I loved getting up this morning and attending the earliest Mass and feeling the unity of like-minded communicants.

A good weekend.

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