On Monday I attended a vigil for Arthur Folasa Ah Loo, the man who was shot at the No Kings protest in Salt Lake City. I didn't know him and hadn't heard of him, though he was famous in the world of fashion, but I felt like I should go because I heard the shots and saw him lying in the street. He wasn't dead at the time, though. He died hours later in the hospital. That's the kind of thing that scares me more than death itself. I can't help but wonder, if I'd been the one shot - as I could have been - what would my vigil look like? A bunch of people who didn't know me trying to think of something I contributed to the world? 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. African Head Charge - Drums of DefianceIncidentally, this track came out in 1998, and though I've never seen it cited as an influence, it must have inspired the Beach Chant from the 2001 Mata Nui Online Game, which was my childhood. Beach Chant - Original Lofi VersionBeach Chant - High Quality RemakeAnyway, 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.
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The very public breakup of the two narcissists who were trying to be co-presidents of the US is so, so delicious. The anti-Gestapo protesters in Los Angeles will be remembered as heroes for generations. Trump is shitting his diaper and trying to sound like the strong dictator he desperately wishes he was. Don't forget to join one of the many, many protests scheduled for Saturday the 14th when he throws a very expensive military parade for himself like dictators do. Remember that he literally does not have the resources to suppress that many protests. I recently spent some time with extended family for a few days and thought it was sad how when the two families got together, most of their conversations revolved around Mormonism. There's so much more to the world than Mormonism. My two oldest cousins on that side have just graduated from high school and are going on Mormon missions soon. I've only been out of Mormonism for three years, so I shouldn't be surprised that some young people still unironically believe in it, but I kind of am. I donated my temple clothes to my cousin because I'm cool like that. My uncle, the only believing family member who ever asked me why I left, said to let him know if I ever want them back. I just said, "Sure." It's unwise to think you know how your life will go, but I'm certain I have a better chance of being killed by a falling piece of the International Space Station than returning to Mormonism. I'm even losing interest in it as a critic at this point. I can't bring myself to watch another two-hour podcast episode about why the Book of Mormon isn't true. In Idaho, of course, I had different options on Bumble. I don't remember swiping on this one, but apparently I did, and she, unlike most, messaged me. I hesitated because I thought she would be a nutcase and object to anything I said about my passion for social justice. Then I scolded myself for assuming she was a nutcase just because she identified as a Christian and said she was passionate about spreading the kingdom of God, and I reminded myself that I can be friends with people who have different beliefs than me. I just made sure to tread carefully by not using the f-word that rhymes with lemonism. And then: Ah yes, then I remembered the first lesson I learned in college: most stereotypes exist because they're true. I left her alone after that because there's not much point in talking to someone who thinks she knows everything in the universe. I, too, have spiritual beliefs that I'm passionate about sharing with the world, but I bend over backward to say here's my evidence, here's my thought process, and these are just my opinions, and if you're not convinced, oh well. You know what what she made me realize? I've never given a rat's ass about "being a man." I'm only one person with individual interests and personality traits, and that person happens to grow facial hair and pee standing up, and I have no strong feelings about that one way or another. I don't lose any sleep over the roles that society or religion wants to force on me just because I was born. I'm sure she hates Pride Month too. A lot of people seem very disappointed that Pride Month wasn't cancelled just because their cult leader got elected, but news flash, it didn't start by asking permission from the government. I also love their new trend of calling it Veterans Month even though they would know that's November if they were really concerned about veterans and not just being bigots. It was always obvious that they didn't, but now it's irrefutable. Queer people aren't going away and will still be here when the last bigot has died. I went to the Pride rally, the Pride parade, and the Pride festival in Salt Lake this weekend. The highlight was David Archuleta's performance at the festival this afternoon. His apostasy was a very public black eye to Mormonism, and today he made it even better by performing his song "Glorious," originally from the film "Meet the Mormons," now repurposed as a queer pride song, for which it works beautifully. Now when he sings, It's like a symphony 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.
I don't feel like writing much about this because I've made my political views well known and written about the experience of protest and futilely encouraged other people to protest several times. I just want to say that, again, but for real this time, my pictures don't do the scale justice. At least 10,000 people were there. Not bad for the same weekend as the Mormons' General Conference, which I'm pleased to say I heard and cared very little about. The next nationwide protests are April 19th. Join them, for Christ's sake. Trump voters getting what they deserve is one of the things that keeps me going. Some of them have already had their lives ruined by the things he said he was going to do before they voted for him, and they're distraught because they voted for him thinking he would only ruin other people's lives. They thought they were special. They thought the universe revolved around them. For example: "You were only supposed to fire all the other government employees, not me. There must be some mistake." And this self-absorbed moron (whose name I wouldn't have censored if I had gotten the screenshot myself) continuing to kiss Trump's ass and think he gives a shit about them is one of the most pathetic things I've ever seen. Wah, wah, wah, go pull yourself up by your bootstraps, numb nuts. I haven't felt less sorry for someone since that CEO got shot. Speaking of political stupidity, a couple of people told me the other day that I'm part of the problem for failing to recognize that both sides are equally bad. Those people won't read this, but I want to set the record straight for my own satisfaction. I'm not a Democrat. I defy you to find a single instance of me gushing about how great the Democrat Party is. It's not even left-wing by the standards of everywhere else in the world. Nonetheless, it is light-years better than the party that embraces literal fucking Nazis and does everything in its power to make life worse for everyone who's not a billionaire. The Republicunt Party is in its own special league of awful. It's a cancer. Even the Democrats' stance on Gaza, a major stain on their record that dissuaded some left-wingers from voting for Harris, is light-years better than Trump's final solution. Both sides are bad, but thinking that they're equally bad is delusional. Speaking of bad people, this is literally me. I love people. Because I love people, I don't love people who hate people. It's not complicated. It's not hypocritical. There's no contradiction between me simultaneously preaching love and encouraging transphobes to kill themselves. The obsessive and senseless persecution of transgender people is a huge reason why the Republicunt Party is light-years worse than the Democrat Party, by the way. And get this, the last transphobe I told to jump in front of a truck (about an hour ago) was a bisexual woman who inexplicably thinks that her alternative lifestyle is entitled to respect while she bullies other people for being different than her. The Republicunts will eventually come for her too. No great loss, but I hope things don't get to that point.
There's another series of nationwide protests tomorrow, Not My President's Day, sponsored by a group called Refuse Fascism. See their website for more information and show up if you can. This group has the slogan, "In the Name of Humanity, We Refuse to Accept a Fascist America." It's one of the least catchy slogans i've ever heard, but I don't disagree with it. My proximity to the Capitol and my self-determined work schedule make attending protests very convenient. I believe now that this is why the universe put me here. It's very important to protest and not just hunker down and accept the stream of shit coming out of Washington. This regime isn't nearly as strong as it's trying to make you think. It will break, hopefully before it destroys civilization. The other day I saw my brother-in-law on Instagram gloating about the richest man in the world illegally cutting off funds for millions of people in poverty. That was the moment I realized I officially hate most of my family. The cherry on top, of course, is that today he went to church and pretended to worship Jesus. I'm glad my church doesn't make sociopaths feel comfortable. This realization hurt like hell, but I got high and got over it by the next day. It's not like I had real relationships with most of my family in the first place. I currently feel closer to the great-grandmother I saw for a couple of hours every other year before she died in 2010 than I ever have to my parents. And it's not like I'm the first person who's experienced this. The civil war tore lots of families apart. I know my dad would have supported the confederacy because he's obsessed with states' rights and doesn't let marginalized people's suffering bother him. On a more positive note, this past week I got to participate in two protests against everything most of my family stands for. Thanks to my self-determined work schedule and proximity to the Capitol, I can go to protests whenever I want. Here I am on Wednesday with my "White Dudes for Harris" cap. I had to get more use out of it somehow. Of course, not everyone there voted for Harris. Not everyone there was in perfect agreement on everything, I'm sure. But we all agreed that fascism, oligarchy, and bigotry are bad things, which should be the bare minimum for decent human beings in 2025 but for some reason is an impossibly high bar for millions of Americans and most of my family. So this crowd felt like a real family. Chanting "FUCK DONALD TRUMP!" and "FUCK ELON MUSK!" in harmony with them made my day. We chanted lots of other things, of course, but those were my favorites. There was some unfortunate division after the protest had officially ended and most people had left. A transgender person got up and complained about all the American flags they'd seen, and they said they thought the only reason to bring American flags to a protest was to burn them, and they said we shouldn't be proud to be Americans, and they said the US has committed genocide against transgender people, and they chanted "FUCK AMERICA!" Two girls with American flags were still there, standing in the back, and they looked at each other awkwardly and soon left. I regret not talking to them to assuage any embarrassment they may have felt, and I hope they haven't been alienated from activism for good. I won't say the speaker was wrong to feel the way they did about the US. I understand. My faith in its fundamental goodness died on November 5. But my feeling is that this country exists, it will probably continue to exist for the foreseeable future in one form or another, and it will either get better or worse. Chanting "FUCK AMERICA!" won't make it better but will alienate people who would otherwise love to help make it better. Countries suck, all right? That's just how they are. Oh yeah, and this picture went kind of viral. In case anyone is wondering, it's chalk, and it got washed off. As soon as it was discovered, the event organizer chewed us all out and said that vandalism is unacceptable and makes us look bad. It made for a badass picture, though. And the Venn diagram of people who will be outraged by this and people who think the January 6 rioters did nothing wrong is almost a perfect circle. In case it's not obvious, the main reason protests usually take place on weekdays is that's when the legislature is in session. But I estimated that the crowd on Saturday was ten times bigger, which kind of deflates the right-wing assertion that none of us have jobs. ("I don't see many work boots," one dumbass commented on some pictures from Wednesday's protest where nobody's feet were visible.) The pictures I took from the back don't adequately convey the size because you can't even see the steps of the Capitol building itself. After a couple of hours there, we marched through the city to Washington Square Park. Again, my pictures don't do it justice. Try a video clip where you can see the motion and hear the chants. The legislature might not have noticed, but the city sure did. As I left the Capitol, I passed by like five counterprotestors, two of whom were filming us. I'm sure the footage of me and others flipping them off is now on Twitter with the caption "sO mUcH fOr ThE tOlErAnT lEfT." I don't care. They're owning themselves by showing the size of the anti-Trump movement in one of the reddest states in the US. I also knew as I marched that there was a non-zero chance of a MAGAt plowing his truck into us. That didn't happen, but at one point I saw someone drive really close and heard a thunk and a "That's what you get." I thought the driver had run over someone's foot, but apparently what actually happened is that someone punched his mirror off. My old college friend Cece was there too. I hadn't seen her in... ten years? I don't remember. Many of us returned to the Capitol afterward. I got a picture of my second-favorite sign. My first, which I regrettably didn't get, was "Super Callous Fragile Racist Sexist Nazi POTUS." So yeah, that was pretty great. Solidarity is how we'll survive the foreseeable future. (I want to say "the next four years," but that may be too optimistic.) We won't obey in advance. We won't be silenced. Nothing short of death will stop me from proesting again on March 1. Also, to get there and back, I rode the city train for the first time, and that was fun. I feel blessed to be able to ride a train.
On an unrelated note, this piece of shit came at me on Facebook the other day with "Democrats don't even know what a woman is" etc. etc. I contacted his fianceé and his employer. This is North Carolina, so probably neither of them care, but fingers crossed. |
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- Amelia Whitlock "I don't know how well you know Christopher Randall Nicholson, but... he's trolling. You should read his blog. It's delightful." - David Young About the AuthorC. Randall Nicholson is a white cisgender Christian male, so you can hate him without guilt, but he's also autistic and asexual, so you can't, unless you're an anti-vaxxer, in which case the feeling is mutual. This blog is where he periodically rants about life, the universe, and/or everything. Archives
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