Tuesday, August 01, 2017

If I Ever Was With A Woman And She Ended Up Being Like Lil Duval, I'd . . .


by Dick Mac

I'd feel really sorry for her, because Lil Duval is a sad little person.

Women are never little pussies like Lil Duvall.  I mean, this guy is a total pussy.  He is so insecure he has to prop up his sad little ego by pretending he would even know how to kill someone.

Used without permission
The sad little Duval was on some tacky broadcast show ("Breakfast Club") when asked what he would do if he was attracted to a person, was having sex with them, and then learned it was a transperson.  You know what this little pussy said?

“This might sound messed up, but I don’t care, she dying.”

He would actually kill this person.

Well, that's what he says.  He doesn't seem like anyone capable of murder, because most little pussies are so afraid of everything they can't ever really enjoy themselves, never mind do something as extreme as commit a murder.

Such a sad little man.

If he is attracted to someone enough to have sex with them, and he is enjoying himself, he would have to kill that person if he learned they were a transperson.

What a sad little man.

He can't even let himself enjoy something he's already enjoying.  Pathetic little creature.  So sad.

Lil Duval is everything that is wrong with the fragile male psyche:  "I like this, this feels good, I dig this person, I am having a great time!  Oh no, what will somebody think if they find out?  I have to kill this person."

Lil Duval, you are a sorry little piece of shit who should grow a backbone.  If you like something, and nobody is being hurt, then why does your shitty little ego get all bent out of shape because of what some other little shitty bigot might think of you?

You little bitch.

Washington Post: ‘I don’t care, she dying’: Comedian Lil Duval says he would kill a sexual partner if he learned she was a transgender woman

PS:  When people became outraged, he asked why we were all "fake caring"?

Saturday, July 15, 2017

Three of My Last Ten Facebook Posts were "Political" and That Makes Me a Racist Cop-Hater


by Dick Mac

The past couple of days I've spent more time on Facebook than usual. I've been un-following a bunch of pages that are click-bait disguised as cultural and political sites. Generally, I post pictures on Facebook, offer comments to things people have posted, and make note of events I am attending.

As a consequence of paying more attention to the site and phone app the past few days, I've made more posts than usual.  This prompted a Facebook Messenger message from someone I've known for decades (yes, a person I actually know, and he is a friend or a relative but I won't tell you which) telling me that they are sick and tired of all my political rants.

I wrote back saying I didn't think I posted that many political rants, and they explained that I've been posting like crazy the past day and they are sick of my rants.

In the past, I have been blocked by actual friends because I posted too much.  I went through a phase of over-posting music videos from the Golden Age of Pop Music, over-posting political stuff, and sometimes revealing too much about my personal life.  I like to think I've reined-in most of that; and recently I've posted much less than I used to, so I was surprised to hear about "all my political rants."

I looked at my last ten posts that covered the previous 27 hours, and this is what I found in order of the oldest posting first:

  1. A status update making a joke about alcohol and drugs.
  2. A video of The Jam performing on the Marc Bolan show, in 1977.
  3. A screen print of an iTunes playlist sorted by Number of Plays.
  4. An article about a black girl who was beaten up by the police.
  5. A video of a six-year-old girl running an obstacle course.
  6. A video of Larry Graham and Prince performing "Thank You" at BB King's.
  7. A video of the Florida State Attorney being pulled over by a cop.
  8. A funny picture from Boing Boing of "conference call bingo."
  9. A lesbian comedian offering hilarious romantic advice to heterosexual men.
  10. A video of African-American parents talking to their children about law enforcement.

A cursory examination of the list shows that the only remotely political posts I made were about police harassing or brutalizing African-American taxpayers and children, which is a cultural, medical, economic, and political problem in the United States.

My friend was never a "conservative" but he is a reactionary and a populist.  He jumps on bandwagons, he doesn't have original thoughts about political or cultural issues. I know he voted for Reagan the second time, Clinton the first time, Obama the second time, and Trump.  I've thought about our conversations in the past and wondered why he hasn't complained and I realize he is upset because all three of my "political" posts are about police harassing black people.

And it dawns on me:  this guy is a racist!  I made ten posts, mostly about the entertainment industry, and all he sees are my "rants" about police harassing black people.

So, I wrote back with this list and asked if he thought the issue of race was in play here.  He was angry that I "called him a racist," which I hadn't done at that time, and he said that I was a racist who hated the police.  He insisted that I have always hated the police and always taken the side of black people during political disputes.  Although he intended this as an attack, I was very happy that he'd noticed, and I am proud of my political analyses and positions.

I do not hate the police, but I do hate people who are bad at their jobs, people who abuse their power, and liars.  The internet has shown us that the banking and technology industries are not the only industries with these problems:  law enforcement also has problems with these types of people.

In most industries, when someone is really bad at his job, those around them work to get rid of the guy.  In law enforcement, when someone is really bad at his job, those around them form a wall to protect them.  This exacerbates the problem and prevents us from making necessary changes as quickly as they should have already happened.

I responded in the message thread that I do not hate the police, and tried to lighten the tone by explaining that "some of my friends are cops."  He said that remark was proof that I was a cop-hating racist.

At that point I realized I should just withdraw, so I did not respond, and fortunately he has removed me as a friend.  Whew!

I'm glad that's over!


Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Dear David Bowie


by Dick Mac

I still have the clock-radio I received for Christmas in 1980. One morning, in Roxbury, Massachusetts, it woke me with news radio station WEEI-AM announcing that my friends Kitty and Peter had been arrested in Maine while smuggling 24 tons of marijuana.  That startled me into the morning and I was wide awake.

On this day, last year, it woke me as it has done for most of the last 35+ years: with news.  On this particular day it was in Brooklyn, New York, and the NPR station, WNYC-AM, was airing Morning Edition.  The announcer’s voice stated clearly, concisely, and without even a touch of emotion that “rock star David Bowie died overnight, he was 69.”

I remembered hearing my phone beep and jingle much earlier, but I’d ignored it because nobody actually called. I assumed they were alerts from social media, or my broker, or a creditor. When I looked, however, they were mostly text messages from people in Europe (mostly England).

You were dead! David Bowie was dead.

I couldn’t recall the last time I’d heard you were dead. I think it was NEVER. This was a first. Again. And I had no idea you were setting yet another trend by departing this mortal coil. The weeks and months that followed saw scores of culturally significant humans also die. Always ahead of the curve, you are. They were just copying you!

I was numb. I called nobody, I responded to no messages, I don’t know what I did. When 7:00 AM passed, the phone started ringing and the text messages poured in.

I don’t know whom I spoke to first: Liz, my sister, my daughter . . . it’s a bit of a blur. It wasn’t you, that’s for sure. You were dead.

I’m not sure what happens when you die, so I don’t know if you’ve seen what a great time we’ve had since your passing. All kinds of tribute shows and parties. My goodness! You left quite a legacy and everyone wants to jump in and enjoy it. Did you see Perry Farrell sing “Rebel Rebel”? Wow!

There’s a tribute show at Terminal 5 tonight. A great line-up (basically your band). Tons of tickets available because it’s such a crap venue. You can skip this one. I am. If you know anyone who needs a ticket, send them my way: I have plenty!

Anyway, I wrote you a letter that day (January 11, 2016), but you never responded. That’s not like you, so I guess you really are dead.

Last year I said my life would be slightly less amusing without you. That has proven to be true; but I got a little frame . . . something cheap . . . for you.

Dear David Bowie 2016



Sunday, January 08, 2017

Happy Birthday!


by Dick Mac

SEVENTY!

It's an impressive age: 70 years old.

I do not know many people who lived so long. Neither of my parents lived to seventy.  My father died at 51 and my mother was 65.  None of my grandparents made it to seventy: my maternal grandmother was 42, my maternal grandfather 47, my paternal grandmother 57, and my paternal grandfather was 62.  Some aunts made it to 70, but not many of my uncles did.

Throughout my life, young people I knew died of drug overdoses or violence. As a young man, the vast majority of my friends and acquaintances died of AIDS.  It's really only be recently that I've known people who died of age-related illness.

Me?  I will be 59 soon, so I have over a decade to go before I enjoy the beginning of my 8th decade.

At my 35th birthday party, a sibling (or two) remarked that they never thought I'd live so long.

At my 40th birthday party, I was a couple of years sober and dating the woman who would become my ex-wife.

At my 45th birthday, I received a snow globe collection from friends and acquaintances all over the world.

At my 50th birthday party, I was the father of a toddler and my home was filled with people.

I haven't really had a party since then.  Fifty-five just didn't seems like an anniversary to celebrate.  I have no plans to have a party for my 59th birthday.

Maybe I'll celebrate my 60th birthday in 2018.  Maybe not.  I guess my birthday parties have really been celebrations made by other people.  So, I probably won't be the person who decides if I do or that and that is OK with me.

Today, however, I will celebrate the 70th anniversary of David Bowie's birth.

I have two distinct memories of celebrating David Bowie's birthday in the past: In 1997, I attended the 50th Birthday Bash at Madison Square Garden. Last year, in 2016, I joined Tony Visconti and the Holy Holy audience at Highline Ballroom to sing Happy Birthday to him over Visconti's iPhone.  None of us knew that 69th birthday would be our last opportunity to sing to him:



Happy birthday, sailor!