I ought to mention more about my trip to New York than just how awful the traveling part was. Here's what I wrote about it in the rough draft of the book I'm working on:

Soon after I started writing this book, I visited my paternal grandparents for the first time in over a decade. (First I had to realize that I was an adult and I could plan a trip across the country on my own, and then I had to save up the money, which certainly wasn’t going to happen while I worked for Kelly Education and ate from the food pantry.) In addition to the passage of time itself, I’d undergone a faith transition, an existential crisis, and my first drug trip, which all may have influenced my perspective. Almost every item in their house, in their yard, or in their garage flooded me with nostalgia, either because I remembered it or because it represented part of their eighty-plus years of life – or even longer, in the case of items handed down from their long-deceased parents. They aren’t wealthy, but they’ve accumulated more stuff than I can ever dream of owning. Thanks, boomers. (My grandparents are a little older than boomers, so they’re excused.)

My grandfather talked a lot about the past. He talked about his childhood, about the people he worked with at his jobs, about what the neighborhood used to look like and what used to be where. I can only imagine how much the changes he’s seen since 1937 have blown his mind. My grandmother, a bit younger, was a teenage girl in the late 1950s and therefore part of Elvis Presley’s main target demographic, and that blows my mind. I kept looking at their wedding photos on the mantel and marveling that they’d been young once and had complete lives and identities apart from being my grandparents. I didn’t exist yet, at least not in my current form, and they didn’t even imagine me. Does that make sense? It makes sense in my head.

Close quote. I thought I had more than that. Oops.

I was also blown away by how green and full of life it was compared to Utah. I think I mentioned that last week. Frankly, in terms of beauty, it kicks Utah's ass. It rained almost every day, and hailed one day.

I was like, "Who the heck are those kids?" And then I looked at the back.

Whaaat?

I can't believe I didn't recognize my own cousins. Of course, I haven't seen them in over a decade. I don't remember how long it's been since I've seen Emily. At the time this picture was taken, she was my best friend. Now she's cut off contact with this entire side of her family. Ah, life. The past slips away forever.

My first flight back from New York was delayed for over two hours. I waited in line for over an hour to try to rebook, but when I was near the end, they started boarding and said it was too late to rebook. Then they stopped boarding and said they would be delayed another two hours. Then after ten minutes, they boarded the rest of the way. Like every other flight on this trip, my connecting flight was also delayed, so by running as fast as I could - and to the person who said "Excuse you," I would like to respond, "Lady, this is an airport. You should assume that anyone in a hurry has a good reason for being in a hurry" - I made it while they were still boarding. Then my boarding pass didn't work and they made me wait for everyone else to board and then they messed around on a computer for a few minutes while I panicked a little. Then I boarded, and then we sat on the runway for two hours before the flight, along with all other westbound flights out of Philadelphia, was canceled. I've been stuck in Philadelphia, or more precisely Tinicum Township, for two days. Although I'm kind of pissed about having to pay for a hotel room for two nights instead of sleeping in the crappy basement that I already paid $600 for this month, I'm rather stoic about being stuck per se. Hundreds of people got screwed over at the same time I did, and it wasn't the airline's fault. As part of my spirituality, I took this opportunity to remind myself that humans are not the center of the universe and I have no right to resent the weather for not giving a shit about my travel plans. I'm taking a damn train next time, though.

I didn't have time to see the big tourist sites in Philadelphia proper, but I wandered around a little and found Governer Printz Park, site of the first permanent European settlement in Pennsylvania, which was Swedish before the Dutch and then the English took it over. It has seven replica log buildings and informational signs all over. It's cool that the history of European settlement goes back so much farther here than in Utah. You can feel it in the air even though most structures are obviously not that old. Ironically, though, I've seen more Trump and police brutality flags and signs both here and in New York than I do in Utah. Fascism is alive and well in small New England towns. George Washington must be weeping. I had six hours between when I had to check out of the hotel and when I needed to check in at the airport, so I wanted to walk the three miles in between them, but the last mile had no pedestrian access. I took the SEPTA bus, and I didn't know exactly how the fare would work because the bus system I've been accustomed to for the last thirteen years was free, and I didn't have time to explore my options while everyone waited for me to pay so they could get moving, so I paid the $2.50 with a $5 bill, reasonably expecting that the machine, like every other machine I've seen in my entire life that accepts cash, would give me change. It didn't. And of course customer support blamed me for being confused and under pressure instead of acknowledging that their system is needlessly stupid. I hate that neurotypical people are immune to logic.

While on vacation, I spent a few days arguing on Facebook. I know I can't stop people from being bigots, but I refuse to live in a society where bigots can speak their minds in public without getting pushback, and I also really enjoy being able to insult and cuss out bad people without a shred of guilt. I saw a feminist post getting overrun by maggots, so I called the maggots out. Over a thousand women reacted positively to my comment, perhaps a couple dozen personally thanked me, and the maggots got pissed. Most of them had nothing interesting to say. Four of them said "Hope she sees this bro," and others accused me of white knighting, virtue signaling, being an incel, being a rapist, patronizing women, trying to get women to sleep with me, and so on. This, of course, says volumes about the maggots themselves. It says, first of all, that they know their own behavior toward woman is shitty, and they don't care. Secondly, it says that sex is the only thing that could motivate them to stop being shitty. These men are scum and proud of it. So most of their comments don't deserve to be remembered in any form, but here are a few from the "Holy crap, why do people like this exist" category.

This maggot, who's living proof that feminism needs to exist, actually shut up after I said, "You're not challenging my views, you're reinforcing them, because I would rather die than become a pathetic shitstain like you." Dare I hope that caused him to do any soul-searching? I meant it, too. And if I had a son who grew up to be like Adam Davis, I'd smother him in his sleep.

Oops, Jesse Bowman said one of the quiet parts out loud - he doesn't think rape is a big deal. I'm sure most of these maggots would agree. Oddly, he also thinks someone is forcing men to be construction workers.

The staggering intellect of a Trump supporter, ladies and gentlemen. I support Black people existing without getting murdered by cops, and I support democratic nations not being invaded and subjected to war crimes by dictatorships. These are incomprehensible stances to modern Republicans, whose godawful policies and values require them to side with the aggressor and shit on the victim in seemingly every situation, no matter how irrational or incoherent it makes them. Note, too, that this delusional maggot took it upon himself to speak for women despite over a thousand of them in this thread showing that they don't share his views. And I doubt there's even a coherent thought process behind his conclusion that speaking up for women against a sea of misogynists makes me the "pouty and rapey" one. Fascism aside, I can't stand people like John Steele who think they're smart when they're actually dumber than drool. In an ideal world, they wouldn't be allowed to vote.

I will gladly tell men like this to fuck off again and again and again. I will gladly take their abuse and dish it right back out. Standing up for what's right is its own reward, putting maggots in their place is a huge bonus, and the gratitude of the people I'm standing up for is also nice. I suppose that does make me a virtue signaler, and to a bigot, that's the worst thing I could possibly be. Oh well.

I'm on vacation with my grandparents in New York for a couple of weeks, and I'm not going to put much effort into this post. My first flight was delayed by two and a half hours, which would cause me to miss my second flight, so American Airlines' system automatically rebooked me on an overnight flight arriving at 6 a.m. without telling me. The bag check-in lady was able to get me on another delayed flight to Dallas instead of Chicago, and I made to the end of the boarding line with a few minutes to spare. I would like to add my complaint to the many complaints about the Salt Lake airport. I cannot comprehend why I had to walk through empty space for twenty minutes to get to my gate. Why the hell didn't they put the gates in that empty space instead of the empty space? How the hell did this arrangement get designed, approved, and built? I hope everyone involved never works in their respective industries again.

So now I've been to Texas. I have no other reason to want to go to Texas because its governor is a bellend. I had five hours to kill at the airport because my second rescheduled flight was, of course, delayed, and I walked around for a while and I worked on the new book that I just started for a while. I sat with my computer at a charging station by the gate and paid no attention to the pretty young woman seated across from me until a guy across the room yelled at his kids for running around, and I looked over there, and she grinned at me and said, "They're losing their shit!" And I said I couldn't blame them for being bored, and she agreed. And then it occurred to me that I could keep talking to her by asking how long she'd been delayed and stuff, but it also occurred to me that just because a woman spoke to me didn't mean she wanted to have a whole conversation, so I didn't. She went back to her work, and then she went off somewhere.

When it was time to board, I was in the second-to-last group, so I didn't get in line. She returned and also didn't get in line. As I waited, my eyes wandered around and didn't look at her. But then they did look at her, and it seems like she was looking at me before that, because she immediately looked away as an involuntary smile sprouted on her face. I mean, I wasn't in her head and I don't know what the synapses in her brain were doing, but her smile looked involuntary based on my short lifetime of observations and personal experience. I've had the exact same reaction when someone I found attractive looked at me. So this brought me to the realization that, against all odds, she probably found me attractive. Though unusual, this would not be unprecedented. I've been asked to ladies' choice dances. I've been flirted with and realized it years later. That girl in the USU library in 2013 who started a friendly conversation by asking me about a simple point of grammar that she could have taken a few seconds to look up on her computer was probably flirting with me.

I kept waiting for this pretty young woman to get in line, but she kept not getting in line, so I got in line and then she got in line right behind me. And the line moved slowly, and I made a point of pretending not to notice or care about her presence, although sometimes I would turn my head so I could kind of see her and she could see that I could see her and she could talk to me if she wanted. I didn't dare to talk to her. Bad things happen to me when I have that kind of confidence. I imagined her getting on one of the feminist subreddits I frequent and complaining that she can't go out in public without men being attracted to her. Really, I see complaints like that. Apparently some women hate being approached by men in public at all, even if the men don't harass them or refuse to take no for an answer. And they hate it when their guy friends turn out to be attracted to them, even if their guy friends don't harass them or refuse to take no for an answer. Maybe I'm a misogynist for not feeling even a little bit sorry for those women.

As she stood behind me in line and I let her into my peripheral vision, this woman twirled a lock of her hair in an exaggerated manner. This was a less obvious sign of attraction, since I couldn't prove that it had anything to do with me, but nobody else was twirling their hair, and it's such a well-established sign of attraction that it inspired a hilarious Argentinian commercial where a guy has dinner with his girlfriend's family and charms her mother, grandmother, and father so much that they all do it. (Her father has short hair, but he grows a long lock just for that shot.) I became hopeful that since we seemed to be in the same boarding category, we would sit together, and then it wouldn't be weird for me to talk to her. Her seat was several rows up from mine. I decided I would muster my courage during the three-hour flight and talk to her at the baggage claim. She wasn't at the baggage claim. I hate being me.

She probably thinks I wasn't attracted to her and/or failed to pick up on her signals. The first one isn't true, and surprisingly, neither is the second. A third, less likely possibility is that she thinks I'm a weird Republican who refused to flirt back without verification of her chromosomes. I don't want her to think those things. But because I think almost constantly about death and what may await us afterward, it occurred to me almost immediately that maybe when she dies she'll have one of those life reviews that many people describe after they die and come back, and she'll revisit our brief moments together and see my thoughts and feelings and finally know the truth. Maybe she'll know that I thought she was very pretty. Maybe she'll know that her unsolicited vulgar remark gave me a positive impression of her personality. And maybe she'll glimpse the ocean of trauma that made me fear her more than I fear being alone.

I inadvertently shared political misinformation in last week's post. Trump's nickname for Harris isn't "Laughing Kamala," it's "Laffin' Kamala." We know this because he spelled it out to his supporters at a rally, and they laughed and cheered him for it because they have the mental capacity of slugs. I apologize for misrepresenting the pathological liar.

Speaking of morons... oh, my God. Holy crap.

I can't even with this bullshit about the Olympics. I can't tell you how tired I am of weird right-wing maggots spreading flat-out lies about Imane Khelif long after they lost any excuse for not knowing better. I mean, on the one hand, watching conservatives who have spent the last several years being the genital police suddenly swear up and down without a trace of irony or self-awareness that a person born with a vagina is really a man is kind of funny. But then I remember that a. most of these chucklefucks are allowed to vote and b. these chucklefucks are actively making the world a living hell not just for transgender people but for any cisgender woman who might look a little masculine. So yeah, sorry not sorry, but I don't think the world would lose anything of value if they all held their breath for about ten minutes. I'll admit that's a moral failing on my part. Sue me.

Imane Khelif is not a man. She never was a man. Muslim countries like Algeria hate LGBTQ people as much as Republicans do, and the chance that one of them would put a transgender athlete on any of their sports teams is zero. Imane Khelif apparently has some biological advantages, just like all Olympic athletes have biological advantages over the average person and many of them have biological advantages over each other because news flash, life isn't fair and everyone's bodies are not the same. A boxing association that's run by Russians and not affiliated with the Olympics disqualified her partway through a match based on the unspecified results of some sketchy secret test, conveniently allowing the Russian athlete to win. Many lying right-wing bigots (sorry for the redundancy) claim that the IBA statement says she's a man. It doesn't. It says she was "found to have competitive advantages over OTHER FEMALE COMPETITORS." (Emphasis added for the mentally challenged.) Regardless, the constant bitching about "uNfAiR aDvAnTaGe" from people who have never cared about women's boxing, never complained about any other athlete's advantages, and never heard of the IBA until this week is the reason I have no faith in humanity. And isn't it funny, by which I mean disgusting, how conservatives suddenly care about unfair advantages after all the time they've spent denying or justifying the unfair advantages that people have in society because of their race, their sex, and/or their parents' wealth? Where's their outrage over asshole billionaires like Elon Musk doing whatever the hell they want? Imane Khelif has also lost more matches against other women than she's won, including in the last Olympics four years ago when none of these crayon-eating arse ends knew she existed, so you know, fuck off already.

What we're seeing here is conservatives' brains breaking in real time as they're forced to stop pretending that intersex people don't exist. There's actually no proof that Imane Khelif is intersex, and for her sake I hate that the internet has exploded into a debate over what she has in her cells and between her legs, but someone at some point said that she has XY chromosomes and that became an accepted fact. So suddenly genitals don't matter and chromosomes are the sole determining factor of biological sex. There has to be a sole determining factor because bigots are incapable of nuance or science. Their worldview has no room for the complexity of sex and gender that exists in the real world. Intersex people have been known to exist for thousands of years longer than Christians have existed, but they're still scary and dangerous to the conservative ones. And now they've forced themselves into a position where people with vaginas should use men's bathrooms if they have XY chromosomes. Good Lord. Too bad chromosomes are harder for bigots to police. It's a statistical certainty that a non-zero number of women who insist that Imane Khelif is a man have XY chromosomes themselves and don't know it.

Anyway, this whole controversy erupted because Imane Khelif's opponent, who appears to have the same body type as her, had a public meltdown about getting punched too hard in a sport that consists entirely of people punching each other. It wasn't her first public meltdown either. And she also happens to be a police officer, so she probably just wasn't used to attacking a brown person who was allowed to fight back. She has since said, "I want to apologize to her and everyone else. I was angry because my Olympics had gone up in smoke. I don't have anything against Khelif. If I were to meet her again, I would embrace her." This would be a good signal for the troglodytes spreading lies and hate on her behalf to shut the fuck up, but of course instead they said she had nothing to apologize for and doubled down on spreading lies and hate. And that's a perfect illustration of why Donald Trump became president of the United States and why he has a non-zero chance of becoming president of the United States again. God, it makes me ill. Speaking of rapists, a child rapist named Steven van de Velde who only served one year in prison also competed in the Olympics, but conservatives sure were quiet about that. I wonder why.

The good news is that calling these brainless fascist pricks "weird" has turned out to be a surprisingly effective and brilliant strategy. In four minutes, this video explains why.