Can a man get some fucking peace? In an era where beer has rifling and you can piss on your phone to find out if you have an STD, there is usually no respite from the loudmouthed, drunk, diseased jackasses of the world. One would think, though that a library or computer lab would be a healthy, safe place you don't have to worry about getting the fear. Not at CCAC, and it's probably overly optimistic to hope that Pitt will be like that when I start taking the 54c in the opposite direction in the fall. Before i start to sound like that old cantankerous fool at the end of 60 minutes though, let me tell you what I would to be done to these morons an inch away from second base next to me:
The male should have a railroad spike pushed up one of his nostrils ever so slowly while someone kneels on his chest, and then, while being forced to watch his ass-ugly girlfriend's tits being cut off the spike should be yanked out at a sharp angle, but not before his eyelids are glued open so wincing is not even an option.
Downstairs in the entry to the library building they're handing out rubbers like sars masks during a pandemic. This is a good thing I suppose, but there was no need for them to assault me on my way in the door. I've got my headphones on for a reason, and its not just to listen to music.
There was one welcome guest in my morning though, my old anthropology teacher in the hall staring disdainfully at a massive poster for "Crossseekers," some kind of evangelical bible study group. He said to me "What is this bullshit?"
"The Office of Student Life told me they basically can't say no to anything anymore."
"CrossSEEKERS though? What does that even mean?"
"They haven't found it yet," I said. "They're still looking"
May those obnoxious bastards seek forever and never find, staying the hell out of my way.

Bicycle Adventure in the Strip!!!

Pittsburgh Valentine

fuck off DADT

War blows. I can't speak from personal experience but i have it on good authority that it sucks too. Wars are stupid mean ways of hurting other people. Sometimes they're for a good cause, but the cost is never worth it. More often than not, willing or unwilling, the underprivileged masses end up fighting for the interests of the elite few.

Battle can however be a glorious thing. Many cultures hold that the highest form of heaven is reserved for the warriors, that it is the most honorable way to die. The fact that this means pain and suffering for at least one person makes it no less valid. Someone had to destroy Hitler's war machine whatever that meant, and the courage it takes to voluntarily put your body in the path of metal slugs traveling in excess of 700 feet per second is astounding. The idea of putting your life in danger for your country-which is never just a piece of land but also a set of principles-is admirable, even if misguided. Soldiers might not automatically be heroes but they certainly deserve a hell of a lot of respect.

This is not to say I agree with American foreign policy. Like the wars it continues waging, it blows. What this IS to say, is don't hate the warrior, hate the war. Don't hate the player, hate the game. Protests, direct action and dissent in general are an integral part of liberty and AMERICAN character. But people who spit on soldiers returning from Vietnam or Iraq or Afghanistan are evil putrid scum, just like the dicks who get us into these messes in the first place.

On this day, though, we can celebrate a long overdue justice for a particularly brave group of our warriors: the repeal of the military's don't ask don't tell policy. For decades gay men and women of our armed services have proudly defended our country, on the principle of liberty and personal freedom, while simultaneously being discriminated against and forced to hide their true selves.

These folks volunteered to work in a team that necessitates unity KNOWING that they would be made to feel an odd one out. They sign up knowing that if found out as homosexual they could be treated with hostility, in addition to losing their livelihood. In short, thousands of men and women fought for rights they were themselves being denied.

So before this becomes protocol and we forget how much shit these fine folk had to go through to serve their country, make sure to raise a glass to them. Thank you to all our fine service men and women, at home or abroad, gay or straight, black or white, and all those other cliche, meaningless distinctions.

Love and Respect

the lolrat

There is no Ham

There is a god, and he hogs his pork. No pun. i was all set for my bagel today man, the obligatory fuel after my stomach's gone kaputnik from too much beer and not enough self-hatred (i get queezy when my self esteem rises). Woke up, drank a beer, watched the daily show, farted on a houseguest, got on the bus to school for a test and on the way i realize i would make today different.

Today's bagel would be glorious, carmelized onions, perfectly fried ham-maybe i'd bake it with some sugar-no it needs the pan; cream cheese, tomato, a fresh baked bagel from the market district. I dreamt about it the whole way to school, it creeped into my skull while i was trying to think about the federal government's relationship with the press. Even the 8's on the ID number of the bus home, the "witamy dO" sign on the way through polish hill reminded me of fucking bagels. The bagel wasnt the important part though. The ham-the ham was important. Not any honey or brown sugar glazed pressed shiite but fresh ham off the bone, thin cut, perfect for a bagel.

So i get home, put a movie about boticelli on my giant television and get to work. Onions, sugar, butter in the pan, bagel in the toaster ready to be slid down into the abyss, and then, then, the fridge seems bare. Certainly not bare of beer, or condiments (still have to pick up a new bottle of sriracha) but of swine! No dead pig! blasphemy! There's always gotta be some in there-sometimes i go for the bacon but its usually ham-its key to my protein intake and i usually just have some garbage off brand chipped stuff from the shittastic shur save down the street but i had to have had more than a half a pound of nice off the bone ham from the market district. All gone.

This is what i get for seeing how much yuengling i can drink how fast. It certainly didnt help that i discovered one of the best ways to get beer from the atmosphere into your tank is with the corner of a rectangular pyrex conatiner. Even all the episodes of rocko's modern life are no substitute for booze as comfort when you keep the sort of company i do. Not to shit on my friends, but they can be a heavy cerebral load to bear.

I found the deli bag in the trash. It was floating by a styrofoam takeout container and some four pack rings. Beautifully, though, was how i instantly found i had eaten it all was what was outside the bag. that awesome thin brown deli paper they put between the scale and the meat when they weigh it out for you, probably created in the same 3 factories for every grocery store in the world, just to keep your meat clean. Awesome. There will be more ham soon, and more thin brown paper.

hungry,

lolrat