When I think of Republicans running this country, I nearly romney myself.

Even if I were the type to vote for Romney, this story alone would be enough to make me vote for someone else. It just boggles the mind. Rachel Maddow played a clip of an interview when this story broke the first time during his last run for President. His response? He laughed and said, "The crate was completely air tight. He loved riding up there. He got up there all by himself." A quick aside: Have you ever noticed how everything is a joke to him?

1. Air tight? Really? You didn't even poke holes in the top so Seamus could breath? Nice save. NOT.
2. Diarrhea is a sign of distress. It doesn't have to be the stomach flu. Dogs, and even people, will develop gastrointestinal distress during times of high anxiety.
3. Most dog breeds are all about pleasing their owners. Irish setters are farther along the "What can I do to make you happy?" scale than others. How do you know Seamus "enjoyed" it up there? How do you know he wasn't just doing what was expected...since this obviously wasn't the first time.
4. Even granting Ronmey's assertion that Seamus liked riding on top of the car, did Romney really think a twelve-hour drive was the same as a jaunt to the park? I like riding roller coasters, but I think it would cease to be fun long before twelve hours had past.
5. I like what the reporter who wrote the original story for the Boston Globe four years ago had to say (as quoted by Rachel). He thinks people are missing the boat. The story isn't that Romney put the dog on top of the car. The story is that even after irrefutable evidence that Seamus was in distress, Romney just hosed Seamus off and put him back on top of the car. Don't you think most people would probably have relented and let the dog cram in with the rest of the family?

Think about it people. What does this say about how Romney treats those he deems beneath him? And if you think Romney doesn't look down on everyone who isn't in his immediate family…you're not paying attention.

The opening hymn was "How Great Thou Art," one of my past favorites. I realized as I sang along I didn't feel nearly as connected to that song as I used to. I also realized the reason I don't is because I don't feel dependent on the mercy of a Savior to rescue my soul from oblivion. I'm not sure I can adequately describe what that song meant to me back then. In a nutshell, I believed the only reason my consumption of oxygen in this life was tolerated was because there was a Savior who loved me, understood me and would intervene on my behalf to shield me from the vengeance of a Just God.

In my mind, Jesus was the only person who understood what it was like to live inside my skin. He was the only person who loved me without reservation, because surely my family would, at best, pity me if the things in my mind ever found voice. Pierced ears: sin. Fashion conscious: sin. Rock and roll: sin. Kissing anyone, never mind boys: sin. Sin. SIN.

As I sat there and listened to one speaker drone on and on (OMG, that guy loved the sound of his own voice) about the hope that is offered in The Gospel of Jesus Christ™, I couldn't help but think, "Yes, but in order for the kind of hope you are talking about to have any power or even meaning, there has to be some part of you that feels hopeless." I'm sorry, I just can't believe in or worship a god who sets up creation such that—even on the tiniest level—his creations must live in terror of his wrath.

Do I feel hopeless now? No. Have I moved beyond that frame of mind where fear holds sway? Also, no. There is still a part of me that fears the Wrath of God, that is metaphorically looking over his shoulder for the Avenging Angel. As I went through school and got my MSW, it was rather disturbing to realize that a lot of my inner processes and emotional responses mirror those who have been subject to abuse. Disturbing mostly because I have no memory of any kind of abuse that I feel would qualify. And yet as I write, the parallels between my past relationship to God and the relationship of an abuse victim to their abuser seem somewhat less than subtle. Is that where it comes from? Some kind of fucked up PTSD because I lived so long in fear putting one toe out of line and being subject to Divine Retribution?

I didn't know my cousin's husband very well. I had only met "Bob" on a few occasions. My cousin and I had the best of intentions to reconnect and spend more time together, but life has a way of getting in the way, especially when everyone is struggling just to make ends meet. Bob's death was an accident, and not even an I-was-doing-something-crazy-that-I-loved accident. It didn't have to happen. And yet, based on the glimpse I had into his family and his life (from his long-time friend who delivered a touching eulogy that was actually about Bob), it makes me wonder what fears Bob wrestled with and wonder also if maybe we might have had more in common than either of us knew.

Rest in peace, Bob.

Something about "show choir" just appeals to me. I shouldn't be surprised much. I'm sure I've mentioned before that as a child the person I wanted to grow up to be was Dick Van Dyke. I loved the production numbers in Mary Poppins and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. I distinctly remember watching "Me 'Ol Bamboo" and "Step In Time" and thinking, "I want to do that."

I'm not really sure where I got off track. Probably when we moved when I was in Jr. High and went from a place where it was no big deal if a guy was in the choir to a place where it was about as uncool and you could get. In my new school, I was the male in a choir of at least 50. And I was harassed for it, like Kurt in Glee. I didn't have to wear anything "fabulous." It was enough that I was in the choir. Unlike Kurt, I learned very quickly to keep a low profile and not draw attention to myself.

I tend to think it wasn't just the harassment that derailed my aspirations. I think there were a lot of factors at play, not the least of which is my Mormon upbringing where conformity is the sine qua non of existence and where I was taught to doubt my own inner voice in favor of the dictates of old men in dark suits. It certainly began a pattern of laying low and not drawing attention to myself.

Recently Facebook has reconnected me to some of the guys I danced with while at BYU. I had joined the folk dance team and even made it onto the touring team. Turns out one of the guys I thought didn't like me—always having been stand-offish and distant—had a huge crush on me. One of the first things he said to me was, "You were so quiet!" "I was scared," was my reply. "I was afraid if I said too much people would figure it out." Dancing with the folk dancers was bitter sweet. I loved being on stage and dancing, but there was always a part of me that felt guilty for doing something that served no purpose beyond making me happy. I danced for a few years before I quit the team to get married and get on with my "purpose in life" of starting a family and fathering children.

Playing the "What might have been?" game is generally not very useful. The past is done. We don't get do-overs. You end up stuck, wishing for things that cannot ever happen. There are no guarantees your life would have played out how you imagine, even if you did get your wish. Dick Van Dyke certainly hasn't life a fairy tale life.

So what to do then? If I had a client struggling with these kinds of things, I would probably challenge him or her to find ways to pursue that dream now. For now, that means I've stopped listening to NPR on the drive home and have begun singing along with show tunes again...something I haven't done in years. I usually end up getting home in a better mood now as well. Go figure.

Okay, I don't usually post political mumbo-jumbo, but this is, well you decide!
I thought we lived in America--land of the free, home of the brave, life-liberty and the pursuit of happiness, etc.
=from MSN news today=
"The court ruled that Congress had the power to pass the requirement to ensure that all Americans can have health care coverage, even if it infringes on individual liberty."

My comment to said friend:

The individual liberty argument is a red herring. Of course Congress has the power. Congress limits individual liberty all the time. No one is getting their panties in a knot about Congress deciding who can marry and who cannot. There are plenty who would be happy to have Congress limit the individual liberty of women to obtain an abortion--most of them the same ones who whine about being required to have health insurance. The question is does the state have a vested interest in requiring everyone have some kind of insurance (note: not a specific kind of insurance, just some kind of insurance.) The answer is arguably yes, which is why that question is never the one raised. And really, how many people do you know who opt to have no health insurance? Most people I know worry about not having health insurance.

Birds of a Feather

I've recently started following BeggarsCanBeChoosers, an articulate, progressive writer in … wait for it … Texas. Recently he posed the question How Can a Moron Like Herman Cain Be Considered A Candidate for President in the First Place? I would respond with a question of my own: "Have you seen the company he keeps?" There's Mitt "I'm good-looking and rich so I don't need principles" Romney, Rick "Jus' doin' God's will" Perry, Michelle "Paul Revere was anti-slavery crusader" Bachmann, Ron "Living in the 18th Century" Paul, Newt "I still don't see that I'm a buffoon" Gingrinch, Rick "I'm obsessed with gay sex" Santorum, and John "The other Mormon" Huntsman. I mean, really. It just boggles the mind that the mind that the Republican nomination race is actually taken seriously.

Propaganda Parrots

Sen. Mitch McConnell was again quoted whining about raising taxes on "those who we are depending on to create jobs." So first of all the verb tense implies a future event. What the hell are the "job creators" waiting for? Republicans will starting talking about regulation and taxation uncertainties, but that's crap. That's always a consideration when doing business. Not just now. Not just when a Democrat is in the White House. Second, taxes on "job creators" are at their lowest in decades. And they still can't afford to create jobs? Bullshit. Finally, all the talk I've heard is about raising income taxes. Mitch doesn't pay his staffers out of his own pocket, right? So theoretically income taxes don't impact his or any other employer's ability to pay his employees. Not to mention the tax increase is miniscule. The last number I remember hearing was less than 1%. That's probably not even going to force McConnell to start shopping at Penny's. Oh, and have we forgotten that most of the very wealthy make their money in capital gains and not anything even subject to income tax?

I'm not sure what gets up my nose more; that Republicans keep repeating the same rubbish—all the while criticizing Obama for not bringing anything new to the table—or that the American public doesn't seem to have the brain power to think critically about these claims. Instead we have a bevvy of conservative parrots commenting on every forum in the web. "Job creators! Squawk! Job creators!"

Hunting the rich

That's the headline on an "Economist" sitting out in the front office. I'm really tired of this as well. People aren't mad at the rich as much as they are mad at the corrupt. Some people are always going to have more money than others. That's just a fact of life. People are mostly okay with that, if you ask me. The real problem is the man behind the curtain has been revealed: not an all-knowing wizard, but a fraud. Everything conservatives have spewed as economic policy for the last 30 years has finally come home to roost. People haven't cared much about the income gap until those at the top who are controlling the economy drove it into a ditch then turned to the middle class and said, "You there. Pull that out of the ditch." Republicans preached trickle down economics as if those at the top of the economic food chain were rain makers, actually creating more wealth for all. Turns out they're just dam builders and now that we're in an economic drought they are whining about increasing the flow of cash downstream.

Billy Cosby comes to mind. "Mine! Mine!"

Here's another blast from the past. I used to listen to this one over and over. It was cathartic. It helped me feel like someone out there could relate. It's interesting how the human mind filters and applies various contexts on the fly. For example,

No one heard
No one came
No angel of mercy
Appears to know her name

This piece of the song I took quite literally. No one seemed to hear my prayers. No one came. There was no angel of mercy coming to "rescue" me from my attractions. On the other hand:

And she sees her future falling
Til it finds the ocean floor
Oh life, she cries
There must be more

I knew this was probably talking about suicide, but while I often wished my life was over acting on that wish was never really in the picture for me. Still, something about the imagery of a future lost in darkness and oblivion spoke to me. It was just a metaphor.

On the dock her soul is sinking
But her spirit longs to soar
Oh life, she cries
There must be more

Another part I related to personally and more literally.

Sometimes, it's nice to be able to listen to a song and know that you don't feel that way anymore.

It may even have been this song that started my long slide to leaving the church and coming out. It articulated how I was feeling so perfectly. It almost felt like someone was trying to tell me something. If that song started it, this one cinched it.

(Try and get past the awful music video. I'm making a serious point here.) Footloose was originally released in 1984. Being completely clueless, I hadn't figured out I was gay at the time, even though I totally related to that song and felt that yearning for a prince charming come to rescue me. I did say I was completely clueless.

Fast forward to 1999. For the 15 year anniversary of Footloose's release, the soundtrack was remastered and released. Having always had an emotional connection to that soundtrack, I bought the CD. I got it home, popped it into my computer and gave it a listen. Bonnie Tyler's song came on and I suddenly felt like I had been put into a time machine and transported back to 1984. It was like I was 17 again. Nothing about how I felt about that song had changed. I knew then that if nothing in the intervening 15 years had done anything to alter the way that song made me feel, nothing ever would.

So today I was tinkering with a plugin to add Google ads to the side bar of the blog. Here's what I got.

Click for full size image.

And no, I didn't Photoshop it.

Interesting, isn't it, how many euphemisms we have for death: "passed away", "passed on", "in a better place", "no longer with us." Maybe it's because "is dead" sounds so blunt, so heartless, so final. Then there's suicide. I don't understand how suicide got to be a moral issue. I mean, religion is largely about control right? Keep the elite in power. Create the illusion of eternal rewards for the masses if they endure "their lot in life" now. So far, I just can't see the angle on suicide. Maybe it was simply that life was hard and mortality around every corner a few centuries ago. Death was common enough without people going there on purpose.

I don't know which upsets me more: that he is gone or that he was hurting that much. Hindsight is 20/20 and there are things that he did that now seem like they should have been a red flag. But then as a therapist, you have to be careful about where you focus that attention. Ethical issues of therapizing friends, family and co-workers aside, you'd go bonkers if you didn't. Maybe that wasn't it at all. Maybe he was just tired of dealing with all his medical issues. I don't think anyone really knows, or if they do it hasn't come back to me.

The jury's still out on whether he's in a better place or not. One thing is for sure, whatever pain he was in he's not anymore. Rest in peace, J.

Imagine my chagrin when this song came on the radio this morning in the car and I realized this is where that line comes from, especially since I really like P!nk and that's hardly the first time I've heard the song...

I'm sure many of you are thinking, "Well, duh, Sean." I know. I'm a little slow sometimes.

Since this song just came up on my playlist, let's just make it a musical f-bomb day.

I've never seen the official music video before. I like this one better (even though the whole song isn't there.)