"Weird Al" Yankovic has been my favorite music artist for over twenty years. I don't remember precisely when a friend introduced me to him, but I was hooked from the first time I heard "The Saga Begins." He's funny, he does many different genres, and people who have met him have only good things to say about him. He's never had a scandal in his 40+ year career. Last fall, I bought tickets to see him in concert for the first time on my birthday, and that was one of the things that kept me going through the past few months. Now that it's over, the things I look forward to the most are the Legend of Zelda movie and Trump's death. It was the best night of my life, or at least it's tied with a couple of times I was high for the best night of my life, and my summary will fail to do it any justice if you weren't there.

The concert opened with special musical guest Puddles Pity Party, a sad clown who mostly sang covers with humorous videos playing on the screen behind him. His opening number was "I'm Always Chasing Rainbows," and the video showed him chasing a guy in a faceless full-body rainbow costume, and then they reconciled and hugged, and he walked away with a "Kick Me" sign on his back, and the rainbow flipped him off. Another highlight was him singing "Crazy Train" with clips of infuriating stuff like slices of cake being cut in different shapes and sizes, a piece of paper being folded unevenly, and Skittles and M&Ms being mixed into the same bowl. Another highlight was him matching the "Gilligan's Island" theme to the intro of "Stairway to Heaven" against a backdrop of footage from the awful cult classic "Waterworld," with extra emphasis on Kevin Costner. By his final number, I'd had enough of Puddles Pity Party, but he was a great choice for Weird Al's opener - also weird comedy, but a totally different style, so he didn't feel redundant.

After a brief intermission, Al's band set up on the stage, and the camera followed him through the outside hallways as he sang "Tacky," his parody of Pharell Williams' "Happy." Puddles Pity Party made a cameo appearance to show that they were homeboys. Then Al came in, and everyone freaked out, and he high-fived the people in the best seats as he made his way to the stage. I'm just going to make a list of funny and cool things he did with no narrative coherence because again, this isn't an experience I can do justice with narrative coherence.

He called for a drum solo, and his drummer hit the drum one time. Everyone applauded. Later, he called for a drum solo reprise, and his drummer hit the drum twice. So stupid, so predictable, so funny.

He lowered his voice - he can have a low and sensual voice when he wants to - and said, "I'm gonna need all you dudes to chill out, because this next song is just for the ladies." Then, as you can guess if you have any culture at all, he sang "One More Minute." He got down off the stage and got right in a lady's face. Then he pulled a pair of boxers out of his pants and threw them at another lady. She can either treasure those forever or sell them on eBay and retire a millionaire.

He explained that the song he wrote for the end credits of his recent biopic made no sense out of context, but he would play it anyway. It made no sense out of context.

He said he wanted to take a request for a change, and of course everyone shouted at once. He said we couldn't have everyone shouting at once, so he'd pick one person to make a request. Everyone put their hands up. He picked Jim, his guitar player. Jim said, "How about some Doobie Brothers?" Al was like, "No, we have to play one of our songs." (Side note: "our songs?" Such humility!) But Jim just started playing "China Grove," so Al went ahead and sang it straight with no lyrical changes. Very expectations, much subverted!

In between many of the numbers, to give him time to change costumes, the screen showed clips from the Al TV interviews where he makes celebrities look stupid and other TV shows and movies that have referenced or featured him. "King of the Hill" got the biggest laughs: "Bobby, Al Yankovich blew his brains out in the late 80s when people stopped buying his records. He's not worth gettin' into trouble over."

Other songs included "Fat," "Amish Paradise," "Stop Forwarding That Crap to Me," "Skipper Dan," "Everything You Know is Wrong," "eBay," "Smells Like Nirvana," "White and Nerdy," the themes from "Captain Underpants" and "Milo Murphy's Law," and "Polkamania!" (his polka medley of hits from the decade since his last album). He sang a very long medley of songs including "Eat It," "Like a Surgeon," "It's All About the Pentiums," and "Word Crimes," and several others that I don't remember at the moment. Singing along with hundreds of other people to songs I know by heart that would elicit blank stares from the average person on the street was surreal and glorious. The kid singing along next to me was probably twelve. There is hope for the rising generation. I realized he must have had a lot of questions about the dated lyrics, like "What's a Polaroid? Who's Jamie Farr?"

Then Al was like, "That's our show for tonight," and he explained that it would be logistically unfeasible to keep going all night. People clamored for another song, and he made a big show of walking a few steps off the stage, then turning back and considering it, then being like, "I just can't!" as someone put a coat on him and helped him along like in the video for "Living With a Hernia." Finally, he and everyone in his band left the stage. Some of the audience actually left as soon as he said the show was over. What the hell? I don't even go to concerts, since I don't like most people enough to pay two hundred dollars to see them, and I knew full well that the show wasn't over. Sure enough, five minutes later, Darth Sidious got on the stage and sat at the piano. He played a funeral march and used the Force to make people cheer. Then Darth Vader, a bunch of stormtroopers, and R2-D2 got on the stage, and Al sang "The Saga Begins." Then he sang "Yoda," but with a long break in the middle where he and the others did a medley of chants from "The Hukilau Song," "Hooked on a Feeling," "Walk the Dinosaur," and other sources I didn't recognize. It was... weird.

I was too busy living in the moment to take pictures during the show, but I took some before and after to prove I was there.

Oh yes, and I got the VIP package, so I met him after the show. The Star Wars people entertained us while we waited in line. I was too awkward to speak up and ask someone to take a picture of Darth Vader choking me. He did act like he was going to choke me and then make a thumbs up instead, which was funny.

And this is my "I just met God" face, apparently. Maybe it's just because I haven't met many stars, but I've never been more starstruck in my life. It was like a middle school crush. Sadly, time did not permit me to become his best friend, but I let him know that he'd made this the best birthday of my life, and I'm sure he loved hearing that because he lives to make people happy.

​Anyway, I'm not sure if I'm okay or if I have repressed trauma from being so close to the incident and thinking an active shooter was on the loose for the next several minutes. I felt pretty bummed out over the waste of life, especially after I learned that it was an accident facilitated by Utah's gun laws (or lack thereof). I coped by taking two Kush Kubes, sitting under a tree in my backyard, and trying to communicate telepathically with it while I listened to this great track I recently discovered by accident because it has the same title as a Smithsonian Folkways compilation of Maroon music from the earliest free Black communities in Jamaica. I got so blissed out that I couldn't feel my body, and I imagined the funkiest monks in the universe escorting me up a snowy yet sunny mountain trail into paradise. 

Anyway, after the shooting last weekend, I wrote, "I would say that maybe the people who brought their kids shouldn't do that next time, but then again, in the United States of America, you expose your kids to a risk of gun violence any time you bring them out in public at all." That very evening, a teenager at a carnival elsewhere in Utah proved me right by shooting four people dead, including a baby the same age and in the same city as my niece. The news didn't identify the baby, so I thought it might be my niece, and I didn't like that, but I didn't hope it wasn't my niece because I didn't hope that someone else's baby got murdered instead. Someone's baby got murdered, and there's no positive version of that, so all I can hope is that the victims' families find peace and the murderer gets raped in prison. This country is sick.

We might be at war with Iran now. I don't like it when Trump does illegal things like bomb other countries without Congressional approval, but it's funny to see more of his supporters turn against him, and I'm not going to lose any sleep over Iran's brutal dictatorship getting what it deserves. It blows my mind to see leftists portraying a regime of virulently bigoted murderers and torturers as innocent victims of Israeli and American aggression. I understand that legally, countries don't have a right to attack each other whenever they want, but morally, the Islamic Republic doesn't have a right to exist. And honestly, the United States is largely responsible for putting this regime in power and erasing decades of social progress overnight in the first place, so helping to exterminate it is arguably a moral obligation, though it should have been approved by Congress. I wish Ayatollah Khamenei a very stressful and short rest of his life. I happen to know that many Iranians, even those who fear for their own lives amidst the turmoil, are stoked.

Sarah McBride was elected as the first openly transgender member of Congress last year, one of the few silver linings in possibly the shittiest election in American history. I haven't heard anything about her since then except that her Republican colleagues intentionally targeted her by making her use the men's bathroom in the Capitol building, and she didn't argue or resist, and that made some trans rights activists angry. In this conversation with Ezra Klein, she explains that fighting it wouldn't have helped anything, but it would have given Republicans the reaction they wanted, and since she didn't give them the reaction they wanted, they've stopped targeting her as much. She didn't spell it out, but of course this is another illustration of how modern Republicans have the mentality of middle school bullies. Stupid, godawful people. Anyway, this conversation is about why the trans rights movement has faced so much backlash and so many setbacks despite a promising start. She says a lot of nuanced and reasonable things. Of course, I have no empathy whatsoever for the hardcore anti-trans bigots who don't understand anything and refuse to learn, but I can understand why ordinary people feel confused and threatened when the oversimplified understanding of the world they've believed in for decades is upended so suddenly. In 2018, when a college professor asked for my pronouns for the first time, I thought it was stupid. I didn't go out of my way to make other people's lives worse as a result, though.

I've had to explain to multiple conservatives this week that, contrary to their very confident assertions, everyone within the borders of the United States is entitled to constitutional rights regardless of their citizenship status. That's how the Constitution is worded, and that's what courts have upheld since 1903. I've also had to explain the very simple and obvious fact that if people who enter the country illegally aren't entitled to due process, the government can deport anyone it accuses of entering the country illegally whether they actually did or not. I also had to explain to one of them what due process actually is. He thought it was amnesty for people who enter the country illegally. JFC, these people vote. Of course, now that the protests against their cult leader have grown too large and numerous for them to laugh off, some conservatives are admitting that they don't think citizens who disagree with them should have constitutional rights either.

I went to a last-minute protest against the Gestapo on Thursday, and then the big one on Saturday. And on both occasions, for the first time, I encountered part of my local friend group. These are people I met in Logan who moved down to the city, and they factored into my decision to move down here as well. I haven't seen them nearly as often as I hoped. Despite not being in school or having kids, they're all insanely busy with some kind of responsible adult crap. None of them like Trump. Two of them were seriously looking at options for leaving the country after his reelection. I broached the subject of protesting, but they felt like it was futile. I see they've changed their minds. I can't tell you how much it warmed my heart. Protesting will be so much more fun now. One friend told me this is totally out of character for him, but he's so mad, and it's lit a fire in him, and he wants to go to every protest, and when he's there, he doesn't want them to end. Glorious.

Here are some pictures from the beginning of the rally on Saturday. I wanted some kind of record even though I never get good pictures that convey the scope of these events.

And one from the march. I don't take a lot of pictures.

At the end of the march, I was with the bulk of the crowd by the federal building when someone shot someone. The details are still coming out, but at least two people had assault weapons, and one person was shot in the head and died today. I heard two of the three gunshots reported in the media, didn't know what they were, heard people yelling about a shooter, and saw the victim lying in the street about twenty feet away from me. Now, I don't exactly expect things like this to happen, but I know in the back of my mind that it's a risk every time I go out in public because I live in the United States of America, where gun rights are more sacred than human life. And every time I march in a protest, I'm aware that a Trump supporter might plow his pickup truck into me. So despite the stress of the situation, my predominating thought as I ran for my life was This was bound to happen to me sooner or later.

I haven't often felt like I was about to die. There were a couple of times when I almost got hit by an idiot Utah driver while using a crosswalk, and a few times when I was high and felt like I would slip out of my body, perhaps permanently, if I relaxed all the way. I didn't really think I would die in this situation either. I knew that with the size of the crowd, the odds were in my favor. But it was possible, and in that moment, I had to draw on the preparation and coming to terms with my mortality that I've done over the last few years, and I had to focus on what was most important and what I wanted to leave behind.

For a minute or two, I crouched behind a concrete wall with some other people, and we noticed a guy filming us from his apartment balcony, and we thought he was a sniper, and we pointed and yelled, "HE'S ON THE BALCONY!" That was the worst part. He couldn't have gotten me if I stayed crouched, but I didn't want him to get someone else because I didn't yell as loud as I could have. We realized he wasn't a sniper because he took too freaking long to aim. So I just made the chaos worse, but I did my best. My friend later said one of the guys with an assault weapon ran toward the wall I was hiding behind before he changed directions and ran into a parking garage. Also, I had a moment of heroism when someone fell out of their wheelchair in the rush to escape. Several people helped them up, and I decided without hesitation to shield them with my body. This is my blog, and I can brag about being a good person if I want to.

The police did good. They swarmed the area in less than a minute and shouted directions. I later found out from viewing the footage that protesters held one of the gunmen for them. I got off that block and just kept walking with other protesters. Near me, a woman was having a panic attack while her friend tried to comfort her, and I wanted to tell her everything would be okay, but that would have been a lie because I didn't know that it would be. I walked until I figured out that we weren't going anywhere in particular, just away, so then I got on a train to go home, but it was delayed by thirty to sixty minutes and just sat at the stop, so I called one of my friends and regrouped with them back at the park where we'd started. Several people were still there, along with a much larger police presence than before. I was glad that we hadn't all been scared off. My friends and I were unanimous that we wouldn't be scared off and wouldn't stop protesting because of this. I hope others felt the same. And I would say that maybe the people who brought their kids shouldn't do that next time, but then again, in the United States of America, you expose your kids to a risk of gun violence any time you bring them out in public at all.

As the sun went down, my friends and I stood by the road with our signs, getting honked at a lot and occasionally fipped off. A woman took pictures of our signs, then asked if we'd heard about the shooting. And I've tried to analyze my motivation in this moment to figure out if I'm an asshole. Maybe I was callously seeking attention when I made sure she knew that I didn't just hear about it, I was there, and I saw the guy lying in the street twenty feet away. I certainly felt like an asshole when she said, "I was there, too," and broke down crying. She sobbed, "What are we doing here? What is this country?" I didn't know how to respond to that, partly because I had nothing positive to say, and partly because, as noted, this sudden disillusionment was very much at odds with my own resigned cynicism toward American gun violence. I reached out and put my hand on her shoulder. That was a very big deal for me. I've never been able to read social cues or know when it's appropriate to touch people. The sexual misconduct prevention training I took in college said to never touch anyone without permission, which is obviously not how neurotypical people live their lives - no less a personage than the freaking university president later touched me without permission - but is the safest advice for me. Still, in this moment I knew it was the right thing to do.

She hugged me and cried on my shoulder for several seconds. I'm very much not accustomed to anyone needing or wanting that kind of support from me. The only thing people ever ask me for is money. Again, I had nothing to say, so all I could do was hold her. Then she got into her car, which was parked right by the curb where we were, and I ran after her yelling, "Do you need anything?" I had to yell it five times because of the noise from protesters and traffic. She said, "I need another hug," and she got out and held me again. I didn't want her to leave and be alone in that state. I said she could just hang out with us for a while if she wanted. She said, "I'm going to, I just want to park somewhere else." Then she didn't come back, and eventually we left. I hope she's okay. I hope she hasn't been scared into silence. I really wish she had hung out with us.

This same day, of course, a MAGAt tried to assassinate two Democratic lawmakers in Minnesota and their spouses, and succeeded in one case. It's weird that the people who have wet dreams about shooting home intruders are so violent. Overall, though, it was a great day for democracy, with some of the largest protests in American history, and Trump's birthday parade turning out so comically pathetic that it looked like satire. (Come to think of it, I had two tickets reserved, and I forgot to go. Whoopsie.) The harder Tangerine Palpatine tries to be a dictator, the more he makes an ass of himself and pisses people off. I'm much more optimistic about the future than I was in November. This country, for all its faults, is not going to put up with his bullshit. And once his cult dies with him and everything he stands for has been rendered unacceptable in polite society, maybe it will finally become a country I can be proud of, a country I would want my little nieces to grow up in.

it means so much more. Thousands of attendees at Pride accepted each other for whoever they are, whatever they are, and whomever they love. They really can play their own parts and their own pieces, not the ones that Mormonism and other queerphobic religions have scripted for them and forced on them. It's so beautiful. I'll admit I think furries are freaking weird, but they've never hurt me, so I feel no compulsion to make their lives worse. Just let people live how they want and don't be a dick. It's not that hard. If your beliefs tell you to do something different, get less shitty beliefs.

Recently I went to a fundraiser for Palestine that happened to be a rave. Due to some BS with the police and a landlord, it was moved from its intended location to a beautiful park with lots of trees, which I think was for the best. It was pretty chill, probably not a "real" rave, but I don't have much basis for comparison. Some parents with a couple of little kids were on the playground when we arrived, and they left when the music started. A middle-aged guy showed up with his daughter or granddaughter to use the playground, and he bought something from the Bakers for Palestine table, and then after using the playground for only a few minutes, the little girl wandered around the proverbial dance floor playing with one of the bubble guns that the DJ let her have. Everyone was real nice and careful not to use drugs in front of her. I loved how she kept a poker face the entire time while her father or grandfather beamed at her.

For a while, I sat on the grass and didn't dance or talk to people. Then I joined a circle of people sitting elsewhere in the grass, and they talked about shrooms and weed, and the woman next to me passed around a vape pen full of weed for anyone who wanted to partake. Yes, the scenario of strangers offering me free drugs that I was promised in elementary school finally came true. Since I'd already eaten several THC edibles with no regrets, I gave it a try. She had to show me how. After that, my self-consciousness disappeared, I danced my heart out without caring if I looked stupid, I socialized with people I recognized from multiple protests but never got to know, and I had a great time. I don't think I've ever had such a great time at a social event surrounded by strangers. Richard Nixon can rot in hell for trying to deny me this experience. (And for many other reasons.) Because I wasn't in bed in the privacy of my room, I didn't get a lot of the usual dissociation and hallucination, but I still got some when I closed my eyes and surrendered to the music.

In the process of enriching every aspect of life, THC also makes me more attracted to women than usual. It's not typical for me to see a woman in person and feel compelled to think "God damn, she's cute," but that night, I did. She was just standing there doing the clone trooper dance.

She caught me looking and smiled. I was just about brave enough to go over and tell her that I couldn't help it because she was beautiful and I was high. And it's not like I was the only high person there by a long shot. But I didn't know if she would find that sort of thing amusing, so out of caution and respect, I didn't.

Then just yesterday, I read a study about a newly discovered correlation between THC and early heart disease. This is important to know about, and I'll be mindful of it in the future, but I'm not terribly concerned. This correlation was found in "people who smoked (not vaped) marijuana three or more times a week for at least a year" and "people who consumed THC edibles at least three times a week for at least a year." I haven't consumed THC edibles nearly that often or had any plans to do so. Recently, I've been doing it once every one to two weeks, and now that I've run out, I'm fine to take a break before I get more. I hope they're perfectly safe in moderation. If not, that's unfortunate, but they've had such tangible benefits for my mental health and spirituality that it was worth it even if my heart wears out faster and cuts short the years of old age where everything would hurt and nobody would visit me. I'd like to die quickly from heart failure anyway, not slowly from cancer or starvation.