Daily Archives: March 10, 2011

16 posts

Comparing Battle Scars

I was thinking about how strange it is that people seem to struggle both with wanting to fit in yet trying to be unique. Common parlance seems to be that unique-ness is a stretch at best in our world of 7 billion odd no matter what you create or tattoo on your flesh. Face it, we are disorganized ants.

One thing thing that we can see on the outside that tends to be truly unique, our own, is our scars. Rarely acquired purposely in modern cultures (yes, there are exceptions as with anything), each has a story usually involving pain and/or blood, seared flesh, surgery or having done something stupid.

I thought I’d share a couple of mine and see what you all had as well. Everyone has a good scar story!

 

 

 

The one above my eye is from a dart board. A friend and I were fighting and he tossed me into the board at our local pub. It didn’t bleed at all but you could see my bone or skull really I suppose.

The one on my arm is from a surgery I had to remove an out-of-control birthmark. It was burly. Looked like a huge mole & was possibly cancerous so snip! Helps me know my right from left now. I know. I’m brilliant.

How about you?

The King Hearings – Hypocrisy In Action

Ten term Congressional Representative Peter King (R-NY) became the House Chairman Homeland Security Committee in December 2010. He brought to that position his fear and distrust of all things not white and Christian. Under the guise of finding the root cause of, and eradicating, extremism among American Muslims, King is holding hearings this week on “The Radicalization of Muslim Americans”. House Majority Leader Eric Cantor (R-VA), has King’s back, “The purpose [of the hearing] is, if you ask Chairman King, to try and assess how we can better work with the Muslim community in America to stop the spread of radical Islam”

Representative King has a history of painting Islamic-Americans with broad strokes of a very unfriendly brush. In an interview broadcast on February 9, 2004 on Sean Hannity’s radio show, he claimed that “no American Muslim leaders are cooperating in the war on terror,” and further claimed that up to 85% of American Mosques are “ruled by the extremists”. More recent statements leading up to the hearings seem to indicate that his opinion has not mellowed in the last seven years. When asked if he would consider broadening the inquiry to all extremism leading to domestic terrorism by American citizens, Rep. King stated, “It would diffuse and water down the hearings”. He added, “The hearings are aimed at protecting Muslims from being pressured to commit terrorist acts.”

Besides his zeal being a moderating influence on our Muslim brothers, Patriotic American Peter King is well known for his very public support for the Irish Republican Army. When recently asked to justify this, he coyly dodged by saying, “The fact is, the IRA never attacked the United States. And my loyalty is to the United States,” A pretty weak defense as the IRA is known to have killed at least one American citizen in a terrorist attack. His statement becomes even more absurd when you remember who was donating weapons to the IRA in the 1970’s; none other than Muammar Gaddafi, Muslim Extremist and Dictator Extraordinaire. If Peter King wants to see what a supporter of terrorism looks like, he should look in a mirror.

My thoughts are that I believe we could improve Islamic relations in the U.S. by letting folks build community centers and not burning down their places of worship. If they weren’t spending all the community’s time defending themselves, both rhetorically and physically, Muslim-Americans could direct their energies to engaging with the public and answering questions, and, ideally, be freed of the stigma of  “Otherness”. If the extreme right in the U.S. was more inclined to allow Muslim-Americans their right to be seen and heard freely, without constantly being required to account for themselves, King might not have to ask why Muslims don’t speak up or speak out against violence.

 

(via: AP, Bloomberg, Washington Post – PostPartisan, Voices – Washington Post, White House Image)

Your Facebook News Feed Is About to Get Angry

Hello, my name is Dogs of War and I’m an addict.  I’ve been addicted to Angry Birds for what seems like a millennium and I’m powerless against those egg stealing pigs.

There is one thing I will not do though, and that is to play Angry Birds on Facebook.  I have my phone with me at all times and that is about as much as I can handle.  But tens of millions of you will be playing Angry Birds on Facebook and publisher Rovio hopes to make some serious scratch.

The mobile version is bird focused and has no social interaction outside of wanting to get a higher score than your friends.  However, the Facebook version will give the pigs more time in the spotlight and like all successful Facebook games will feature social interaction.  So, get ready to use that “hide” button to save yourself from constant updates about your mother and high school friends getting 3 stars and saving the eggs.

Picture and source: El Reg.

Crass Fiction: Old Lovers, New Tricks

Melody crawled out of bed just before the alarm clock could rudely awaken her. She was alone, but the other side of the bed was still warm from her lover, who had just arisen and left for work. She had spent the evening and night with one of her dearest friends, a hopelessly handsome writer and educator named Jason who was, as far as she had known for twenty years, gay.Needless to say, the experience had been a re-awakening for them both.

He had been her English professor, and the last time they’d had sex was when she was in college, immediately prior to his public coming out. She had always known him to be actively bisexual, so it wasn’t a surprise, but his admission that he was gay did nothing to dampen her attraction to him. Their friendship was so strong, she knew not to take it personally, and she encouraged him in his new identity, even though it no longer included the erotic romps she’d come to adore.

Surprisingly, the prior night didn’t involve alcohol or other influential substances, even though back in college they’d both enjoyed getting stoned before making love.  Last night, they had gone to dinner at a delectable Thai restaurant to celebrate Melody’s 41st birthday and Jason’s 54th, which fell three days after hers. Although Jason was newly single, Melody was immersed in a long-term harmonious marriage, so the conversation was largely celebratory. At some point, their talk turned to a reminiscence of their college fling, and they laughed at the magnitude of their folly, both because of the inappropriateness of their teacher-student romance and the inevitability of his obvious preferable attraction to men.

As the night progressed, though, Melody noticed Jason’s choice of words grew progressively more complimentary of her. They had been lovers for a year in college, so each had an intimate remembrance of the other, erotically speaking. While time had surely altered their bodies, they were both still quite attractive, and the chemistry of their powerful and profound friendship was strong.

“Have you ever considered being with someone else besides Dave?”, Jason had inquired provocatively.

“I haven’t been with anyone else but Dave since the last time I slept with you, Jason. So, no, I haven’t.” She assumed that was the end of it.

“First of all, I find that impossible to believe. Secondly, would you consider fucking me again? Tonight?”

Stunned, Melody replied, “Jason, since when do you have sex with women?”

“Not since the last time I had sex with you.”

“So what exactly is this? Are you telling me you’re bisexual again?”

Emphatically, he replied, “Not at all. I just really want to fuck you tonight.”

“Why tonight?” Melody asked, and the lingering question she didn’t ask was, ‘Why did you have to stop twenty years ago?’

“Why not?” he coyly replied.

Melody decided not to question his rationale, because she was already incredibly aroused and intrigued by his proposition.  After all, even though it had been decades since last they’d been lovers, she was consistently aroused by Jason’s intellect, spirit, humor and heart. Plus the obvious fact that she had never stopped appreciating how sexy she was, even though it was admiration from afar. Strong guilt feelings surfaced at the prospect of betraying her husband, but since Dave was away on a business trip, she knew that she could forestall dealing with her guilt and the logistics of her actions until afterwards.

They returned to Jason’s apartment, where Melody allowed her once-and-future lover to take the reins of their sexual reunion. She was unsurprised that he mostly wanted to fuck her from behind (old habits die hard, she’d guessed), but she was nearly stunned by how intensely he made her come. This was the kind of sex that you would gladly walk across broken glass to get to. She knew that by virtue of being a woman, she wasn’t giving him all he needed, but he didn’t seem to care; he was glad to please her to the ends of her tether.

Now, the morning after their unexpected and exceptional eroticism, her body ached but she was too ensconced in the afterglow to notice. Later, as she showered and dressed and made her way back into the world, she began to ponder how her friendship and her marriage would survive. She considered the hard truth: that this was almost certainly a one-time thing with Jason, but she now found herself even more drawn to him than before. Returning to her husband’s bed would require forgiveness on his part, and surrender on hers. Would either of them find the balance that was required? Melody knew that she was motivated to do so, as the alternative – unrequited lust for a gay man – had come full circle, and there was obviously nowhere else to go with that scenario.

As if in direct response to her line of thought, as she was heading towards the door to leave, her cell phone rang. It was Jason, wishing her good morning and then saying something that set her mind reeling again.

“Bisexuality in men is uncommon, but it’s also highly underrated.” He paused briefly before continuing, “I might be coerced into doing it again, but only with you.”

Melody was silent, mentally spinning through the possibilities. Her silence went on a bit too long, and Jason spoke again.

“Unless you don’t want to; you know we can still be friends.  Or else, I can meet you back at my place for lunch.”

Replying immediately this time, Melody asked incredulously, “Lunch?”

Just then, another call came in. It was her husband.

She knew that she wasn’t ready to answer that call… not just yet.