Breaking news, politics, trends, celebrities and sports

Why RI State Rep. Dan Gordon is a Dummy-Head.

To be honest, I call Rhode Island State Rep. Dan Gordon (Tiverton) a “dummy-head” because homophobe is used too often. This one-man immovable object of dull-thought is trying to stem the evil Gay Agenda from taking over the Tiverton High School via a Gay-Straight Alliance chapter being started there. Because you know, bullying epidemic aside, once you start letting the smallest opportunity for students to develop understanding while at an institution for learning… well, it’ll be Gay Sex in the hallways for jiminy’s sake!

Or so run the fevered nightmares of RI State Rep. Dan Gordon.

Hetero Dan plans to threaten Tiverton High School funding if this group is allowed to exist. Dan Gordon believes the purpose is so teens can “get sexed up” at this salacious hook-up-o-ramas that pass for spaces where teens can talk openly about who and what they are, without fear or bullying. And Dan, notice it’s called the “Gay Straight Alliance”? It’s an open group where kids can come together in a safe space, Dan. Free from bullying. By people like you.

Dan Gordon goes on to speak, with a resource of knowledge that comes from a time when we used whale oil in wick lamps, that there wouldn’t be so much bullying at schools anyway, if these gays didn’t look and act so… well… gay… and bully-able. And soft… and punchable… and so smooth in the harsh light of the school’s florescents… I’m sorry, I got off-track… where on the Kinsey Scale  were we?

Citing that he would bring similar harsh measures against “any sexual meet-up groups” we assume Dan Gordon is already laying out his plans for bringing Prom Night to a crashing halt as well. Can’t have all those boys in tuxes and women in gowns in one sexual meet-up group, you know. Not on school property.

Not on RI State Rep. Dan Gordon‘s watch.

Happy Mardi Gras, or Baby’s Got Fat… Tuesday

We here at Blogosaurus Stampede would like to wish a very happy and joyous Mardi Gras to all of you out there in Interweb Land, and especially to any readers who live, or happen to be, in New Orleans right now. Or as the natives call it, “Naw’lins.” (If you’re a tourist, you might want to avoid saying this out loud. that shirt you’re wearing has already pegged you as an out-of-towner. No sense belaboring the point).

Yes, today is Fat Tuesday, which is the English translation of Mardi Gras, which is French. It marks, for Catholics, the transition from Epiphany to Ash Wednesday, a time in which Catholics can “go wild.” The English also call it Shrove Tuesday, which comes from the word “shrive” or “to confess sins and to ask and be given, absolution.” So France is celebrates the ingredient that gives food its rich and satisfying flavors, and the English are celebrating guilt. Score another one for the French.

The exact Tuesday of Mardi Gras can vary between early February and early March. It depends on when Easter is happening that year. See? Even Mardi Gras does what it wants on Mardi Gras. We love you Jesus, but let the resurrection wait while we dance and frolic a little, Ok?

It is the time in which you’re supposed to get your funky groove on and par-tay, as the young kids are calling it these days. It’s a day for costumes and masks, for drinking and drinking more. If one is an attractive woman, it is a day for liberating their breasts from the cruel oppression of shirts and bras. At least to judge by all the shouts of “Show us your tits!” one can hear in New Orleans, it is. However, you do get cheap beads for your efforts ladies, so that’s fair, right? Between breast-flashing there are also parades, dancing, and men showing what they’ve got as well.

I remember driving down to New Orleans with some friends one year. I know I was there because I can’t remember any of it in anything approaching linear order. I remember a straight-through drive down there, and I remember a lot of food, drink, breasts, alleyways used for a number of purposes, breasts, fine marijuana, some forgiving police officers (one of whom had breasts, but she didn’t show them and I wasn’t going to ask) and a long ride back home with many stops for sleeping. I also remember swearing off whiskey forever. Sazerac, you are a sweet and misleading drink. You told me I could do something in that alley that I’d never regret. You were right, but still.

On the more pleasant side of things, I remember the fried chicken and baked ham, the potato salad and the Packzi, the jambalaya and most of all, the King Cake, which, if I understand it correctly, comes with a little plastic baby Jesus inside its sugar-frosted, brioche-y goodness. That’s not just a chipped tooth, that’s a chipped truth for The Lord. Be sure to tell your dentist that. there are always pancakes for the less adventurous.

In conclusion, while I don’t advocate for drunkenness and semi-public sex, they did work for me quite well, with absolutely no regrets that I can coherently remember. Though, if you are in, or are heading down to, New Orleans for Mardi Gras, bring a camera along. It just might come in handy when you or your lawyer want to reconstruct events later on.

Older Posts »