from someone I don't know - a friend's old Marine buddy from 'Nam
Warning! This is my longest post ever. It deals with very important issues from my history which have formed my personal, social and political beliefs. If you don't have 5 or more minutes, keep scrolling through your newsfeed to look at pets and clever memes. If you don't care for brutal talk, don't read this. If explicit language offends you, it would be a good idea to fuck off right now. That being said, let me begin... This month marks an anniversary for me. It made me who I am. Wait, let me go back a bit more... My parents split up when I was 3 or so. Most of my earliest memories involve my great-granny, my mom and her little brother, my Uncle Al. We lived in lower class shit, but I was happy. My great-granny, my "mo-mo", spoiled me rotten as well as she could, as did my Uncle Al. He'd let me, a shy boy, talk on his CB radio for hours, earning me the handle "Bucketmouth". He once won me a teddy bear taller than me at the Citrus Festival. My favorite moments were when he played vinyl for me. He gave me all of his Monkees records, because he'd taken up disco. Somehow, a few Chipmonks and Disney records made their way into my collection. The day I remember most, however, is the day that he was crying in his bedroom. I asked Uncle Al if he'd play me the Disney soundtrack that I loved so much. He was in bad shape, dropped the needle and made it scratch. I remember getting mad. I remember leaving the room. I remember him finding me to say he was sorry. I'll always remember that I wish I'd acted better, because that was the last day I saw him alive. The next time I saw him was at his viewing, after he ended his own life at the age of 22. I remember thinking it was a prank. I kissed him on the cheek in his casket really hard, hoping he would smile and let everyone know was a joke and that they could stop crying. My 8 year old mind didn't really comprehend death. It didn't work. It only made me start thinking, and I haven't stopped since. I remember more from my early years than most are supposed to. I remember potty training. I remember my dad's motorcycle, as well as his truck. I remember the blizzard of '78 when we rode sleds off the roof of our trailer. I remember my mom working at the hospital on Christmas...she brought home Christmas tree cookies. I remember my granny Lawhorn calling me Ralphie, yet my other granny called me Tater, and that's what stuck. I shouldn't be able to remember this far back, yet I do. (Yeah, my nickname up until my teens was Tater. Shut up.) I remember asking what happened to Uncle Al. Nobody ever wanted to talk about him. He was the thing we didn't speak of. Years later, I found out he was gay. I wanted to know what ended his life, but couldn't find out. It took me decades to find out a FEW details about what had gone on, but I've spent my entire life wondering what kind of pain and torment he'd gone through...so much that it was enough to bring an end to himself. My dad has opened up about it in the past few years, but at this point in the game, I don't wanna know, it's too late. I'm formed. I can't imagine what it must've been like to be a gay teen in the 70's, but I can remember what the times were like... 7 years before I was born, interracial marriage was illegal in 17 states. I remember the older grown ups still grumbling about it. I remember the first time a black man held a white woman's hand on the front page of the Winter Haven News Chief, and all the remarks the grown ups made about what they'd like to do to him, and to her for being a "nigger lover". I remember sitting in front of the tv at the age of 9 and turning on the Jeffersons. My mom's boyfriend at the time sat down next to me, popped his beer and said, "I don't like nigger shows, but that guy's funny." It's a damn miracle that I didn't grow up racist. I often pat myself on the back when I remember that at the age of 13, my first show was RUN-DMC opening for the Beastie Boys. (One of the benefits of being a child of divorce...mom took me to the show my dad refused to take me to.) I spent the next few years watching as... The movie "Jungle Fever" came out. It WAS a big deal. The old bigots got their panties in a wad...I didn't see what the big deal was. I officially became a bigot against bigots. I classified them into 3 types. Number 1...the ones who are just pissed because they were born. They hate everyone and everything that isn't like them, and always will. You can't touch them with logic or reason. They have a religion and a gun. (The funny thing is...they don't understand the terrorists they hate are just like them, but born a few thousand miles away.) Number 2...just plain flat-faced dumb. Small heads and all, you can't reason with a man who is thinking about having sex with his aunt. Number 3...the people raised in an environment of hate. They're not necessarily dumb, they CAN be smart, but it's all they've known. When "Jungle Fever" came out, they were pissed. But soon after, they were buying rap cds as quick as they were released. I believe that this is the majority of the bigots, and they CAN be reached. I don't believe them dumb...just too busy within their own little circles to see the big picture. They look to pundits and easy resources to get "facts" instead of actually taking the time to get facts. I don't think they understood how many people they were hurting when they fought against interracial marriage, just like the bigots of this generation who don't understand how many people they are hurting by opposing same sex marriage. I've watched the wheel of civil rights turn. Nowadays, nobody really gives a shit about an interracial couple, unless they cut in front of them at Applebees. It turns still, but now, it's about same sex couples. As a straight white man, I could easily sit on the sidelines and enjoy what has been handed down to me, as far as rights go. But as I look around and see what's going on...I say fuck that. I'll fight until we're ALL equally miserable. How will I fight though? I have no money, or platform, to speak of. I have a voice...and a social network or two. I've been told I'm mildly popular? THAT might help, a little. I've been told I'm funny. Shit, I've even been accused of being smart! If I were to apply such logic, I would jest... 'The first amendment of our Consitution guarantees the freedom of religion. The fight against same-sex marriage is a battle fought by Christians. Marriage was not created by Christians. The definitions of marriage are not applied between religions, and therefore are not applied to the government's definition, as the government acknowledges all religion, including atheism. If you oppose same-sex marriage because of Christianity, you oppose the first amendment. Suck eggs.' If you're a die-hard Christian, let me ask you a question. Will God destroy this country over gay marriage? What happened after we decimated the Native Americans...was that a free pass? How about us enslaving, chaining, beating, raping and killing hundreds of thousands of blacks...did He let that one slide? How about that time that we dropped some bombs on Japan, killing well over 200,000 innocent men, women and children...was there a "Get Out of Apocalypse" card I didn't hear about? Yeah, right. I'm sure God will be PISSED when we let Helen and Gretchen get married, after 20+ years of a monogamous relationship that involves no violence... The tide of civil rights is turning again, and I'm proud to be alive to see it. I'm writing this because this month marks 30 years since my Uncle Al took his own life, almost to the day. Holy fuck, I wish he were here to see how much progress we've made. Then again, he might be as pissed as me to see how many fucktards are out in the streets waving chicken sandwiches around as a symbol of ignorance. (Plus, I'd likely be a snappier dresser with better personal hygiene.) But... I must give some shout outs before I wrap up, it seems fitting. Mitt Romney! You've stated clearly that a marriage is between a man and a woman. If my Uncle Al were alive, you'd say he has NO rights. Fuck you. I've seen you tell a Vietnam combat veteran that his husband has no rights to his military benefits. You were riding a bike around France while he was knee deep in shit and blood, protecting the freedoms that YOU don't want him to have? Fuck you. Corporations are NOT people, my "friend". I've never dated a corporation. You are a well spoken leech. And Tagg Romney, you said you'd like to take a swing on Obama for calling your dad a liar? I'd like to see a yacht club pussy like you take a swing on a black guy from Chicago. I DARE you. Paul Ryan...you're eye candy for conservative soccer moms who aren't "satisfied" and don't have the fucking time, or ability, to read 50 Shades. Stick your vouchers, I'm sorry..."opportunities", up your ass and get a job at FOXNews, you zombie-eyed sociopath. And Eric Cantor of VA, Connie Mack of FL, and anyone else who voted against the Ledbetter Act and fought against Planned Parenthood...let me go to the 'FUCK YOU' store and stock up, you each deserve your own. I know you can't share, you call it socialism. There are 3 women in my life who have survived cancer directly from Planned Parenthood. One of them is my mother. Fuck you for standing on your platforms, waving a bible you've never opened, regurgitating your unit's talking points, and injecting fear and malice into a susceptible audience because that's all you know. You're smart enough to do better, and make this a better place, but you won't. I was told growing up that this country was founded by people who wanted to escape religious persecution. If they were here today, they'd be ashamed of you, because YOU are the masters of persecution. You are NOT patriots. You're worthless puppets, but I wish you a long life. I have a fantasy, in my mind, of your trembling old fingers grasping and dropping the tv remote, forcing you to watch the first Democratic woman being sworn in as president. I'll be smiling. The smile will be bigger if she's not white. Boing. Well, I feel better. Whatever happens on election day, will happen. I'll sleep fine. I'll know that I voted for Obama, because another party vote, or a non-vote, is one for Romney. I'll know that I spoke my mind, lost a few friends along the way, but am glad to know that this social media has hurried the process of me losing a few douchebag "friends" I would've lost eventually. Most importantly, I'll know that if my Uncle Al were alive today, he'd likely be proud of the man I've become. Later, Tater -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "StrataList-OT" group. To post to this group, send email to [email protected]. To unsubscribe from this group, send email to [email protected]. For more options, visit this group at http://groups.google.com/group/stratalist-ot?hl=en.
