Ron DeSantis and the battle of trans rights

 

Recently I went to my old job to attend a retirement buffet for my old boss. At some point I had to answer nature's call. I mentioned it and got giggles. I was warned that the bathrooms were all cross gender. I.E., there were no men's rooms or women's rooms. There were only rooms. Upon entering, I noticed that there was no difference in the facility since I worked there. Of course, the sign on the door was different. It said, "all gender restroom." I wonder how women navigate the urinals? 

It is this type of politically correct activism that the governor of Florida wants to save us from. He would not allow such travesties in Florida or the USA. Ron DeSantis has discovered the weakness in political correctness that he can exploit. In the old days he could fight against gay marriage. Unfortunately, gay marriage has entered the mainstream even in red states. Of course, there is women's rights. Again, equality for working women is now generally accepted. Cash poor states are allowing legal marijuana. That issue again waning. interracial marriage? Again, becoming mainstream.                 

The next frontier of liberalism that might scare the behooves out of suburban housewives?  Trans sexualism. He reads about a school in Philadelphia that has a drag queen story hour for kids. Trans gender rights. Here is a topic that is entering the political conversation. And one that people are ambivalent about. Most people never thought about this topic until recently, but Ron has instilled the fear in parents of girls who will have to compete in sports with boys who have sex change operations. There goes that scholarship. 

One of the great arts in politics is teaching the public to fear things that they never thought about before. It should be an interesting two years. 

He was brought down by a woman

 

"History repeats itself, first as a tragedy then as a farce" Karl Marx

We are now entering the farce stage of the Trump saga. Brought down by a woman, Donald Trump will forever be linked in history to

Stormy Daniels. The next stage is beginning. I predicted riots on this day. I think I will be wrong. There will be some excitement, staged for the television cameras, but I suspect the Donald like the Harry is starting to wear on the short attention span of Americans. People are getting tired of the soap opera of Donald and Stormy like they are tiring of Harry and Meghan. 

Cock fighting

One of the well-worn stories I've told at parties is the time I was taken to a cock fight as a kid. Looking back, it was an opportunity to experience a bit of Americana, now lost to the passage of time. It was also something most people from the Northeast haven't experienced, at least in this country. 

As a kid (I was about 12) my mother flew us to visit her kinfolk in Texas. Her people lived in rural Texas and at least some of them were entrepreneurs. Aunt Willy owned a dairy farm left by her late husband and a washateria where local women came to wash their clothes. 

Up the street was Harold &^*&*, Aunt Bug's husband. He owned an insurance company in a small city in East Texas and would later be known as the man who brought liquor to the county. At that time him and his son were persuing fighting chickens as a hobby. I remember walking by the pens full of roosters who were getting primed for the big day. On Saturday, a chosen few were put on a truck and hauled to Oklahoma where cockfighting was legal. 

They had to ask my mother if I could go. She said okay, even though she worried that a sensitive boy like myself might get upset at the gruesome antics I was going to witness. Saturday came, and after breakfast of a sausage on a biscuit and some sweet milk I was in the truck with my cousin and his dad. 

I remember this small but round building that had the meets. Inside there was seating for maybe 200 people and in the ring were two proud chickens. They had spurs attached to their legs. The chickens would fight, and men would yell bets. "I'll take a dollar on old blue".  Some of the fights were ferocious. They could rise up several feet in the air at times. 

Walking around the arena I saw "loosies" for sale, cokes and hot dogs. Finally, the formal program ended and the men had impromptu contests. Some of the chickens died.  I was told the meat was tough but could be turned into a passable chicken with dumplings.  

Later my mother told me she was disappointed with my enjoyment of the day. I turned out to be just as cruel as the rest of them. 

Oh wow, UFOs

We've all been so excited. Aliens from outer space have been flying over Alaska and Canada. Different than the movies, though, they have been shot down before they could land. No scenes like when the alien comes out of the spaceship in The Day the Earth Stood Still. At least not yet. Biden claims they are neither Chinese spy vehicles nor aliens from outer space.     Quien sabe. 

Happy Valentine's Day

 Happy Valentine's Day. 

Our treasured videocassettes

 

What do librarians do when they retire? They index their living rooms. Media in various formats are now all indexed in files based on which box they are in. At some point I realized I would have to view the old videocassettes to see what is on them. My old descriptions on the boxes had things like 90s tv or Nixon. I decided to view each one individually, looking for treasures and help put details on the listings.

Unfortunately I had not played the video player in a few years. What with Netflix and Hulu and all I rarely play DVDs, not to mention old videocassettes. The machine would not turn on. I dusted it, moved it to another plug and no luck. Finally I bought another videocassette player on EBay. When I got it a few days later it seemd to be in good shape. 1992, Sony, good reviews. Unfortunately it would not take my video RCA plug. I went to You Tube and found a video on my model and looked for answers. One guy recommended I buy a BNC to RCA plug converter. I went to Amazon and bought that and a two RCA plug to one RCA plug converter since the machine only had one audio output jack. 

I got the converter jacks and lo and behold, they worked, and I could watch my old videos. Oops. Many of the videos are in poor shape. Many will have a black picture for minutes at a time before suddenly turning to a passable image. The audio seems to have held up better. A word to the wise. If you have 1990s era videos of families or First Communions on video make sure to look at them and then convert them to DVD or digital as soon as you can. 

It is fun to look at old homemade videos. We wonder why our younger selves decided to push record and stop when they did. Some of the choices are interesting, if not all. So far I have seen the opening of the library handicapped elevator covered on local cable in 1992. I saw the Rodney King incident and followed the event, riot and speech by George Bush I. Football games, kids singing Christmas songs. Bill Clinton visiting a kindergarten. Interviews with Nixon, Jerry Brown, John and Yoko. The history of MacSorleys is on one video. Michael Palen in Peru. Of course my family at Thanksgiving is fun. I never realized I had such a loud family. 

I don't have the ugliness gene

 

I remember when I was a sophomore in college and I was chatting with a young lady at the dorm. "My father dropped me off from home this morning and he told me that these dorms are so ugly that it literally makes him sick." 

Until that second I thought Livingston College dorms were swell looking. I thought for a moment and said, "Oh yes modern government student housing has no sense of the ascetic.  It's all cheaply and shoddily made."  Of course I was trying to impress the lady with my perspicacity. 

In a job I had I was setting up computer terminals with the power supply by the side. I was scolded because what I was creating was an eyesore. It was then I realized that I did not have an ugliness gene. Apparently, I have always been perfectly happy with a functional but ugly apartment, car, or workplace. I love paint stains on concrete and ugly flowered wallpaper.  I love crappy bathrooms in ethnic restaurants. Someone might see the interior of my car and think, "How can he keep that crap in the backseat. Ugh." 

Last week I went to a condominium meeting and this woman was complaining about a truck with a picture of a cow that is parked on the premises. "That's an eyesore!" she exclaimed. I had always thought the truck with the picture of the cow made the place look homey.  It all comes down to the fact that I don't have an ugliness gene.