Anti-Gay Group Posts Their DOMA & Prop 8 Reactions Before SCOTUS Has Ruled | Pam's House Blend

There’s a bit of humor here. Did you really read this or just guess at what they’re going to say?

I mean, really. 

Peace,

Roo

Anti-Gay Group Posts Their DOMA & Prop 8 Reactions Before SCOTUS Has Ruled | Pam's House Blend

On Death and Dying...

Author's Note: I'm publishing this now, after some consternation. I have many friends who are devout, and I respect that and them so much, I was a bit scared to post this. But, if I am to accept them and their differences of belief, it should also go this way as well--they'll respect my process and thinking. So, after some wait, there y'all go. Penelope is doing much better-if just a bit tired. 

As my dear dog hangs in the balance, yes, I have some deep thoughts I have to attend to. I'm posting this on my main boards, for I feel it is a discussion many have had before me. And, perhaps, long after we have departed. I'm thinking this will end up a discussion about life and death, I'm sad to say, and my views at this very moment. I will say, having now been married, very happily, for so long, my whole concept of life and death has changed. 

And this moment, as my corgi's life hangs before me, I find it might be time to re-evaluate some parts of it.

When I saw the movie The Invention of Lying, it was the first time I understood atheism. The film is about a man who lives in a world without fiction, where no one has the abilty to lie, and he comes to the sad conclusion that his mother is dying. He elects to invent an afterlife at her bedside, to ease the pain of both himself and her. The film is a comedy, if you can believe that, with terrific moments about the need for lying.  For example, a blind date he goes on has his paramour speaking truthfully in front of him--about he wasn't going to get laid any time soon. As the story progress, humor drops a bit as he begins to show the audience that organized religion is a construct of the human imagination. 

Makes sense coming from an atheist. 

I bring this movie up because I've been listening to much about atheism lately. No, I don't plan on accepting the fact that evidence is truly on their side. But the recent screaming by religions about my small, inconsequential, family tells me volumes. The President makes a plan so everyone get money for health care. Churches run hospitals, but are bothered by this.  Churches go to Haiti to give aid by handing out Bibles. Huh? Where's the food? Yes, many churches do give, but, strangely, they seem to decry the weirdiest of things. Churches waddling into the gun debate and personal choice. Churches telling people their kids won't get into heaven unless they date the opposite gender.

The list goes on and on. 

And it made me cold to religion.  

It's why I prefer my Buddhism and my Taoism, to any Christian church, I'm sad to say. And with every protest (a church protesting...can you believe it???), I get a bit more distant.

But I have not joined the ranks of the atheists either.  Perhaps "agnostic" is my term, but I hate that label too. I just like to think of myself as "Roo." Let the chips fall where they may.

I have need of faith when my dog lie dying and I lay on the wooden floor next to her. I was not ready to let her go into that good night. I thought, suddenly, about faith. Like a child, suddenly needing the parents' input when trouble arrived, not when things were going well, perhaps. I thought about the tales of the soul and how the church has actively said that dogs don't have one--so they don't have to picket outside of the Humane Society.  

So, where was my religion now? Was my dog to maybe to head to heaven? She's been good. She's been loved and has loved back.

If there is a heaven, she deserved it. I did not, however, deserve this pain of loving her more than myself. I could not lose her. As I held her in the dark, I wished, so strongly, that the afterlife was real...not for me or my pain. But for her. She deserved all the pleasures that a good dog had earned in being who she was. She deserved to play for infinite seasons, to eat snacks with abandon and to love all how gave her praises. She did not deserve suffering. 

 

Sidenote:  I have heard that dogs and cats stay alive to ease our sufferings, only releasing themselves from mortal bonds when the strain is too much--further the belief that, maybe, just maybe, they have a soul...and we don't.  She should not have stayed for me or my husOtter.

I became that character in the movie, in sense.

But now, as I think about it....no.  I don't buy religion and their trappings.  

I do believe that there is more. 

The need for faith, and a place to direct our vicious hope, is unavoidable. If we are allowed to love, as part of our basal set of emotions, along with crying and fear, then we have to a reason for it. Being in a loving relationship has long been proven to help us live longer, the love of a pet can prolong our life must longer than without. 

Maybe that's faith.

A place to put our hopes, like a thumbtack on a corkboard. 

Such deep thoughts are the result of the possible demise of my little furry friend, Penelope, the crazed corgi. She started having issues about a week ago; it has progressed to the point where she's pooping on herself and is unable to function healthily. We've begun to run low on cash, and, like the national situation with insurance, the decisions are escalting a bit more and more and the resources are milked dry. I am forced to face the fact that I may not be able to change the trajedectory she is currently on. 

The pain is emotional, but my brain is reading it as physical. I cannot function with any kind of producivity. 

So I'll write. The irony is not wasted. 

But since that little movie, I have been questioning my faith. I feel I've perhaps turned my back on certain aspects. I keep wishing to claim this is some kind of cosmic punishment, some kind of creature in the sky is pointing its finger at me and my small family as a divine retribution for not trying hard enough to heal people. 

Or is it my dog is simply sick and too old to solve her issues?

And will either path give me a moment to breathe?

An interesting situation has developed too, between someone I admire and myself. See, well, he's an atheist. A darn loud one to. He decries religion on my many facets. I sometimes engage him; most of the time, I allow him all the comforts of freedom of speech. Here's the tic. 

He asked me to be his reference on several job applications and resumes. Me? Even he has called me and casually mentioned that I'm probably too religious for him, being I meditated daily. Still, he asked me this, this most private and important things? Even when he disses my causality of faith? 

Or maybe, and this is my greatest hope, that there is room for both of us on this plane of existence. 

And, in the end, I hope there is a tiny, small heaven, consisting of all the dogs have passed on to a Rainbow Bridge. Tails waggin'. If such a place exists, then, of course, I want go there.

Peace, 

Roo

Exodus International to Shut Down | Exodus International

Fuckers.

I mean, really. This? Okay, I’m glad they FINALLY closed down and sent those people who really just need to meet me and my friends for lunch out to the hinterlands.

They:

*)  basically created a sin

*)  profited from it

*)  created self-loathing that will stick in the craw of the throat of anyone who attended such things

*)  bought several yachts and used some of the cash their little church earned to buy votes to keep themselves open.

Apologies? Sure. We’ll accept them. I’m fine with that. But where’s the reparations? It’s like making a Jewish ghetto and then saying, “whoops,” and walking away. The government doesn’t do anything to help those poor men and women? No one sues the shit out of them?

And people say we’re not discriminated against.

I mean, seriously.

It’s like these fuckers, who insist that they’re being discriminated against. They have NO IDEA.  And I’m not saying that because I’m queer. No. I’m saying that because my parents are Jewish. I used to sit and chat with my mother’s friend who’d wear long sleeves to hide the tattoo the Nazis placed on her lower arm to mark her as such. I’m saying that because I’ve seen people break into cars at the synagogue to steal and defecate in them during High Holy Days. I work with the Deaf where people have conversations, teasing them, right in front of them.  And myself. I’m still not out at all places I work at because of off handed comments and fear of reprisals. I can still get fired.

But I’ll be dang sure I know every single church of my coworkers here in the Deep South.

This video has to be seen. I believe it’s emphasized for comedy, to be sure, but these people are out there.

Exodus International to Shut Down | Exodus International

Peace,

Roo

Has it been so long?

I did crash and burn, didn’t I?

Sorry about that.

I have a simple sentence. The dog got sick.

And it changed my life. I have an impending post about it (she lived, but something about my little family changed tremendously). 

But I’m slowly getting back into eating, exercising and, yes, authoring. Today’s whining?

This group. They refused a cake to a gay wedding “out of principal” for the Bible. Yet were more than willing to make them for divorce parties (frowned upon in the Good Book), out-of-wedlock infants (frowned upon also), and solstice parties (witches are a big no-no…in their defense, if they’re that stupid to begin with, they might not have understood the meaning of the term “coven.”).

But a buncha idiots. I’m not an atheist yet, but they’re pushing my buttons. Hard.

Thanks for your patience. Peace.

Roo

http://www.wweek.com/portland/article-20698-the_cake_wars.html

J is Jaspar

Jaspar slapped his palm with his fetter, the Hickory. He has used it on the girls, so long ago, but it still felt new. Was that blood on the tip? On the edge there? He realized then, he lost focus and looked back at the men that had been delievered to him. On the new furniture.

Had they NO shame. They didn't scream. Further proof they had no penance. They were so far from God, they couldn't even cry out to Him.

They deserved to die. They were an abomination. The Bible said so.

There was that feeling again. The Son did not turn on those who laid waste to him. So perfect.

Jaspar shook his head. No time for such thoughts. Death was fortold by God. And God was using him as judgement. It's why he was immortal. To kill those.

The Parsonage was his home. He built it; he commanded it. These two young men, kissing, there in the workers' rooms. That was just wrong.

He heard their names in the din. The one was called Mikale. That's a colored name. The other was named Court. No good Christian would call a child that. Even their parents had forsaken them.

It was time for them to be punished.

The one called Mikale reached again for the latchkey and turned it again, with no fear.

Jaspar pulled the Hickory up and slammed it down the boy's head, making contact with his forehead, but the boy just shimmered. Beside his nose, another small cut formed, near where the Hickory axe handle came to a rest.

Reverand Jaspar yelled at them.

They stood up and ignored him, buckled from the little pain he had caused. They ran to the front door.

Jaspar wanted to stop them and found him shifted to the foyer between the stained glass door and the outer door.

He could see the young man struggle with the lock. One of them, blurred by the blown glass, squinted as if he could see Jaspar.

Jaspar had not been seen in years.

He dropped Hickory and bent at the waist to look at the two young men.

They backed up from the door.

I is for Injured Innocents

"I can't believe it was a man, just a guy, standing there!"

"Keith calls him 'Kirkman.' Guess he was the minister that built the place."

Makale shook his head and slouched further down the couch. The movement exposed his stomach as his shirt rolled up the back. Court leaned in and kissed Mikale's stomach and smiled at his face.
Mikale moved his head from side to side and placed his hand under Court's chin, bringing the young man's face to his own. He kissed it briefly. Court moved back to his side of the couch.

"I thought you, you know, wanted to see a ghost. You got you in here."

"I didn't realize it would be that intense. I thought like a flowing white sheet, floating down a distant hallway. 

"A mist. Not an angry dude just standing there in the doorway. It was wild and, I don't know, changed my perspective today."

Court rubbed his chest as if to alleviate heartburn.

"You aren't going straight, are you?"

Mikale laughed as a courtesy. "I think we're safe there. But, well, I hope this doesn't throw you too far back into the closet."

"No, we're good. There's always porn, right?"

"There's always porn, right."

"Do you want me to turn on the television? Or do you want to head out?"

Mikale pondered the comment and smiled. "I'm, well, I'm impressed," he rotated and leaned across Court, lying upon his chest and looking into his close face. "Most guys just want to get it on and get if over. If they didn't see one of the school plays, they'd never see me again. You are willing to risk that? You're willing to risk sending me home and not seeing me again? Just for my own comfort?"

"I did not see anything, but I trust you. I'm here for a week, I gotta watch the dog and the cat. Me? I'd prefer you stay. Heck, maybe I wanted you to crash here overnight, even if its a school night."

Mikale moved upwards.

"No, we don't have to do a thing, I can even sleep on the couch, if you're comfortable. I'd make breakfast. Which is more of a threat, since I'm a shitty cook."

"Whoa. You swimming boys are a worthy group."

"Thanks," Court demurred and looked around the darkening living room as he blushed. "Guess I didn't have it in me."

Mikale moved his hand across Court's midsection.

"Like the ribs or my awesome abs?"

"Neither. Both. There's, it's warm. Here."

"You're leaning on me."

"No, like really warm."

Court had felt it too, but dismissed it with the prize so close.  He moved in for further kissing.

But the pain twinged and pushed harder on his abdomen. 

Mikale looked down and pulled up his mate's shirt. Any other situation, this would have been exciting. 

But the rolled back shirt revealed the culprit. Five cuts, thin, but straight across his chest and stomach. Court pressed his hand down instinctively. 

"Oh fuck."

"Something on my shirt?  I must have cut you, with a button on my shirt or something," Mikale had moved back to the other end of the couch. With a quick tic, he put a hand to his cheek.

Blood came down between his fingers. 

"Let me see!" He peeled Mikale's hand back and looked.

More scratch marks. The lights dimmed slightly and went back to full. 

"Oh shit!"  As he leaned over his friend, he left the sting of another cut forming on his calf, exposed from his shorts.

"We're out of this."

"Let me get the animals."

"On it, I'll get the dog and you find the fucking cat!"

Another stream of blood formed on the back of Mikale's hand as it held his face.

The blood was not profound but in enough amounts to be noticeable n the two victims. Something was hurting them, badly.

Court tried not limp on his now cut calf. The wound was superficial but made him wonder what else the spirits of the house could do to him. He had stayed in the house numerous times prior. Keith never reported a thing of his magnitude. 

"Why is this happening?"

"I don't know, man," he looked out the back window, above the sink. The cat sat coldly, on the crossbeam of the high fence at them. As if the two men were on fire, the creature leaped over the side. The dog was digging nearby, trying to escape the back yard, burrowing to the open forest beyond.

"Fuck the cat, she'll be fine. Let's get the dog!"

They circled to the back door and reached for the deadbolt.

It clicked back into place. Court stopped his hand.

"Did that just lock itself?"

"Yeah. I'm going to go with we're totally screwed here, my fri..." another slight twitch and Court buckled over, but failed to drop.  "Bitch cut me again."

Mikale pressed Court upright and held him and reached for the deadbolt. With a flick, he unlocked it and moved his hand to the doorknob.  

The deadbolt clicked back into place. 

"Aw shit."

"Front door."

They both moved in unison.

H is for Haunted Housesitting....

   

     "That is one seriously big fence."

        "I know," Court responded, "Keith was telling me that the oldest daughter of the preacher who built this place had a tendency to pull all Lady Godiva."

        "Lady Godiva?"

        "We'll wiki it later."

        Mikale pulled the backpack out of the hatchback and slammed the trunk. The clink of the unhindered beer cans made him worry they might be worrying the evening's libations. He felt the bag and informally checked the temperature.

        "You know Keith Tremain? Is that who's house this is? I wondered why his mother was dropping him off every morning at school."

        "Yeah, Mizz Tremain," Court explained, emphasing the 'Z' sound, "didn't want him to change schools in the middle of his senior year, with being on the swim team and all."

        "Ummm. Swim Team."  Mikale rubbed Court's stomach. 

        "Dude, don't, wait until we're inside."        

        "You see people? There's nothing out here." 

        

        The inside of the house had settled some since Court got the grand tour last week.  Keith and his mom had trusted him with taking care of the animals several times before, the two boys were friends since elementary. No one was surprised at all that Court was willing to make the trip all the way out to the new house.

        And Court used the rumor of the house to be haunted to tempt the lead of the school musical for a night out. The ruse was great. Keith had said some weird stuff was happening, but Keith was never any good at texts and emails. If Court wanted more of a story, he had to sit next to Keith.

        Court lacked awareness that Keith suspected that he was dating anyone. The closet Court and Mikale had many layers. Surely, everyone at school knew about the male lead. He was not necessarily flamboyant  a talent one would suspect, but society had opened up to him and he was comfortable enough to be himself in the pressures of high school. 

        The beer was cleaned quickly enough and Court kept the lights low, in part for mood and in part since he was not sure where all the lamp switches were. They were old pieces of work, a press-button system and were just waiting to electrocute the next one.

        Court was not wasted on the details of the house; if this was a haunted place, it had all the trappings. Toile. Thick velvet drapes without pull strings. Furniture built directly into the walls. 

         And a strange attic with some round tower-y thing. 

         It would be fascinating to explore. 

         But Court's life was truly taking a turn for the better. The beer had worked its magic in less than three cans. The two had moved to the upstairs spare bedroom. He respected Keith and his mother enough to stay out of their rooms. The thought was creepy, besides. Boxes piled themselves mostly in this room, the necessities already being emptied out of the others. Here lay those things that held purely sentimental value, that would not be touched until they were remembered that they were needed. 

         Court bowed over Mikale and started to kiss his neck.  They both were new at this, so the pleasure decreased due to a bit of unpreparedness. Mikale but his arms back, supporting himself upright, wondering if they should take off their shirts or something. He wondered if thinking about what to do next was meaning that he was distracted. He wondered if being distracted meant that he was nervous. Was he nervous because they were meeting in secret? Was...

        ...he opened his eyes to glance at his lover's head, now nuzzled into his neck. The soft breath of the both of them was all he could hear and the moment dazzled.

        A man was in the doorway. He wore all black and had high cheekbones, as if he had never eaten any kind of food. He looked beyond the two lovers to something beyond the bed, something the two might have missed in their fumbling ecstasy f the moment. Mikale was taken aback and glanced over his shoulder to see what the stranger was staring at before his brain flipped towards focus. He snapped his head back, simultaneously pressing Court back up.

         "What? Did I do something wrong?"

         "Who the FUCK ARE YOU?"

         Court reeled to an empty doorway. 

         "There's someone in the house!" Mikale stood up and ran for the doorway. Court missed the action and headed out. He thought he heard footsteps and passed Mikale. 

         Mikale reached for Court's sleeve but missed and started to close the door and reach for his phone.

         Court got the nonverbal and looked down the hallway of the upstairs.

         Empty. Shadows. A small table with several shoe boxes. 

         The attic door creaked apart.

         "Aw, fuck. It really is haunted."

         "Get your ass back in here, I'm calling someone."

         "Who?" He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. 

         "Funny," Mikale panted. 

         "Can you even get a signal?"

         Mikale looked down. The battery, three-fourths full prior, was down to one percent. And no signal.

         "What did you see?"

         "Some pervert watching us. It was, not, not, not what I was expecting. I figured they'd wait until sundown. Not when we're getting out game on."

          "It's okay. Just calm down some. We're not alone."

          "Where's the dog barking? Where's the cat?  Aren't you worried about them?"

          "Keith says the cat leaves and the dog?" He walked over to the window. "The dog is, right, ah, there," he pointed, "hiding in the yard."

          "Yeah, ghosts kill romance I guess.  Can we head downstairs for a bit?"

          "Sure," Court opened the door and peeked out. More shadows. He opened it fully and stepped out. 

          Mikale did not follow.  

          "Dude, I'm not a romantic fellow, but I know better than to just leave you there. How about some television?"

          Mikale nodded from the spare bed.

          Court took a deep breath. He had prided himself on not needing the physical necessity of courtship. However, he remembered, others did.

           He put out his hand to hold.

           Mikale was not quite sure what to do with it. 

           Holding hands, they made their way downstairs.