I wish being the prince of a royal family was a job you could apply for. Think of all the benefits: the title, the money (& the beer you could buy with it!), the girls!

If someone came up to me and said, “Would you like this job?” I would say “Yes!”

They would say, “You’re going to have to deal with the paparazzi!”

“Bring ‘em on!” I’d say, brandishing my fist like a club.

“No,” They’d say. “Don’t hit them. Bad for the family, y’know. One more thing.”

“Yes?” I would inquire.

“Don’t dress like a Nazi.”

I’ve been trying to post a reply to an article by Linda over at Broadstreet. For some reason, it isn’t showing up, so I’m going to repost it here. Go read Linda’s post, then come back here (maybe mine will have shown up there by now).

Well, to answer your question, probably never.

We have an odd fascination with putting people on pedestals just so that when we can eventually tear them to shreds. Politicians, entertainers, it doesn’t really matter, what’s important isn’t so much the truth as it is the judgement that they, despite their wealth or power or fame, are actually bad/horrible/disgusting human beings. People tuned into the OJ trial not because they wanted Nicole to be at peace, but because they wanted to be able to say to themselves, “Hey, I might just be a (blue/white)-collar (guy/gal) working at a (construction site/cubicle/restaraunt) but at least I’m better than OJ.”

At the same time, however, I don’t think history’s judgement of Abe Lincoln will be any different by the revelation that he may have been gay. It may not be percieved as the most flattering historical revelation about the man, but the people who hate Lincoln already have amble reason for their cause.

So then the question becomes “Why tell people that Lincoln was gay?” Or that Eleanor was a lesbian (was she?)? I think because its important to understand the totality of a person’s character, and also to serve as a reminder that the past was not so simple as some would like to believe.

Hey - excited about Episode III? Click here.

Tonight - er, well, yesterday night as today is actually the early early morning - was a very odd night. Some good, some bad, but here are some shout-outs:

First - to the jackass in the white VM Jetta who was trying to go seventy miles an hour on Paper Mill Road last night after 11pm, fuck you. Fuck you for following me five inches off my bumper, fuck you for not turning off your high beams, fuck you for keeping your hand on the horn for five fucking minutes. Especially fuck you for sticking to my ass after I slammed on my brakes in my attempt to communicate with you the following message: “Please stay at least six inches off my ass so that if I have to slam on my brakes to avoid a deer, you won’t kill yourself and all your passengers rear-ending me at warp fucking seven.” Most especially, after you tore past me and almost hit that car coming the other way, I was very dissapointed to not come around a corner to find your car smashed into a tree. So fuck you for not killing yourself.

Second - to the bitch up on Cool Woods, fuck you for the ten cent tip. You may not be aware of this, but its a twenty-five minute round trip to your house. I may be too professional to spit in your food, but I’m not too professional to shake the hell out of your two-liter or sign you up for a visit from the Mormons. Beware the pizza guy.

Third - to the wonderful woman in Jacksonville who gave me a ten dollar tip on a ten dollar pizza, you made my day. If you need anything from me - take your trash out, a foot massage, sexual favors, whatever - don’t hesitate to ask.

Disclaimer: despite the title of this post, this story is not in any way about my (lack of a) sex life.

The gas would have made enemy soldiers sexually irresistible to each other. The weapon’s developers said homosexual behaviour among troops would deal a “distasteful but completely non-lethal” blow to morale.

Uh. Somehow I doubt that this would have only affected soldiers, or for that matter, only men. I mean, talk about a field day for rapists in whatever local populations might be affected - “I didn’t rape her! Well, I did, but it was because of the American’s sex bomb!”

Yeah, I know, the thing was only a concept, never a reality, but c’mon, did anyone else hear this story and say, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You can say thanks to Rachel for this, which will be sure to waste many hours of your day.