TTDT -- The Final Day of the 30-day Angst Loss Challenge
Monday, August 6, 2007

Yes, my compatriots, it's been 30 days, and I have one last Portly Thing to Do Today for you -- check the list below, and see if one of your House or Senate Representatives is on it -- if they are, send them one ass-whupping letter about how pissed off you are about their gutless betrayal of the Constitution.

I'm going to go on a bit before I give you the list, just to give you a reminder of how completely possible it was for Congress not to pass the "Protect America Act". In the Senate, it needed a 3/5 vote to pass, and if the 30%!!! of elected Democratic senators who voted "yea" for this bill had remembered their constitutional oath and voted "nay", it would not have passed. Do you get that? But since such liberal luminaries as Feinstein and Inouye said "Fine Mr. President, have whatever you want", we now live in a country where warrantless wire-tapping of citizens is not only legal, but part of a plan to "protect" us.

If 17% of elected Democratic House Reps hadn't copped out, it wouldn't have passed in the House, either.

I think I explained a couple of weeks ago about why I don't give a lot of head-space to "politics" -- today only validated, for me, that this is a wise choice. Still, since the Congressional debacle has occupied so much space in my head for the past two days, I am going to be as good as my word and DO something. I'm going to write Patty Murray (one of my senators) and ask her why the fuck she didn't even bother to vote on this bill (the same question could be put to John Kerry and Barbara Boxer, by the way).

So, here's the list (by state)-- check and see if any of your representatives are now members of the "Bend Over, Citizen" Club. If they are, send them a diatribe (or three, or five).

"Democrats" in the House who voted Yea to "protect" America

Cramer (D - AL)
Davis (D-AL)
Ross (D- AR)
Snyder (D-AR)
Mitchell (D- AZ)
Costa (D-CA)
Salazar (D-CO)
Boyd (D-FL)
Barrow (D- GA)
Marshall (D-GA)
Boswell (D-IA)
Bean (D-IL)
Lipinski (D-IL)
Donnelly (D- IN)
Ellsworth (D-IN)
Hill (D-IN)
Chandler (D-KY)
Melancon (D-LA)
Peterson (D-MN)
Walz (D-MN)
Taylor (D-MS)
Etheridge (D-NC)
McIntyre (D-NC)
Shuler (D-NC)
Pomeroy (D-ND)
Higgins(D-NY)
Space (D-OH)
Wilson (D-OH)
Boren (D-OK)
Altmire (D-PA)
Carney (D-PA)
Herseth (D-SD)
Cooper (D-TN)
Davis (D-TN)
Gordon (D-TN)
Tanner (D-TN)
Cuellar (D-TX)
Edwards (D-TX)
Lampson (D-TX)
Rodriguez (D-TX)
Matheson (D-UT)

"Democrats" who voted Yea in the Senate to "protect" America

Lincoln (D-AR)
Pryor (D-AR)
Feinstein (D-CA)
Salazar (D-CO)
Carper (D-DE)
Nelson (D-FL)
Inouye (D-HI)
Bayh (D-IN)
Landrieu (D-LA)
Mikulski (D-MD)
Klobuchar (D-MN)
McCaskill (D-MO)
Conrad (D-ND)
Nelson (D-NE)
Casey (D-PA)
Webb (D-VA)

For more information on the voting record, including those who just couldn't find the time to vote on this bill (cause it's so trivial and all) -- see HERE.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 11:30 PM 4 comments  

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I Do Everything I'm Not S'posed To Do

On purpose, even.

I smoke. I drink. I'm "fat" (from now on, I'm going to be using quotes around that word, because I think it's penultimately subjective, but according to the Holy BMI, I am F.A.T.). I don't "exercise" (likewise, "exercise" will be in quotes hereinafter, because I don't consider gardening, teaching, the ability to lift heavy objects, or sex as "exercise" -- even though these activities, for me, frequently involve heavy lifting, pushing, sweating, panting, pushing, groaning, grinding, thrusting . . . oh, you get the picture).

I curse. I blaspheme. I lose my temper. I whine.

I am a big old homo. I have consumed nearly every illegal drug that exists at one time or another.

I choose not to send birthday and christmas cards to my family of origin.

I let my leg hair and armpit hair grow without harvesting it.

I allowed my kids to watch TV, and play video games when they were growing up. I watch TV and play video games myself to this very day.

Clearly, I must be a menace to society.

I am a statistical anomaly -- according to "conventional wisdom", I should be, at the very least, rampantly unhealthy and unhappy, and at the most, dead -- but I'm none of these.

So much of status quo media and advertising seems to be concentrated on nailing down some formula for "health" (completely subjective), or some bomb-proof prescription for "happiness" (completely subjective), or the demarkation of some standard of "normalcy" (not even subjective -- non-existant -- normal never existed, and never will!) -- that it seems to me that many people that I know spend a great deal of time trying to figure out where they are on some farcical (and ever-shifting) scale of healthy/happy/normal, rather than spending much, if any, time figuring out where they actually are.

I was born in the 50's, an era which had its happy/healthy/normal prescription pretty much sewed up -- all you had to do was a) graduate from high school and possibly college, b) marry someone of the opposite gender, c) squirt out a couple of babies (if you were female) or get a job (if you were a male), d) buy a house, e) sell your soul to your employer for 40 years or so, then f) retire and prepare for your ultimate fate (nursing home, followed by Death).

Easy, right? And Oh-So-Satisfying!

Except it wasn't. Not for anyone that I have ever known, even amongst the biggest dispensers of this prescription -- my parents' generation.

For me, the prescription broke down when I realized that I was queer, and that Step B was going to be a bit tricky for me. Once I figured out that I hadn't, and probably never would attain Step B, and I was still healthy and happy, while my sister, who had followed the prescription to a "T" seemed both unhealthy and unhappy, I really started taking a second look at that prescription. That was back in the 70's.

What is shocking to me is how many smart, educated young people these days seem convinced that the 1950's protocol of School, Mate, Babies/Job, House, Retirement is actually viable. Even though it didn't really work for their parents, or their grand-parents. I'm struck by how many young parents I hear repeating the same old cants of "Well, you don't know how hard it is to stay home with the kids all day!/Well you don't know how hard it is to go out and work all day!" -- I mean, hasn't this been done to death, already?

I'm struck by how many parents who are my age or slightly younger, who snuck out to smoke pot, drop acid, and/or drink alcohol as teenagers are absolutely shocked and outraged when their now-teen-aged children do the same thing. ('Cuz, like, their own parents shock and outrage was such an effective antidote, and kept them from doing these things, right?)

It's just weird to me.

That's why I no longer follow the prescription that Mr. Socio-Cultural Wizard handed me in 1956, and I'm pretty wary any time I see some new prescription that guarantees health, happiness, and normalcy.

In the 1960's, everyone knew that margarine was "healthier" for you than butter. Except now it's not, because trans-fats will KILL you, and everyone knows that. In the 1960's, everyone knew that you needed to eat meat every day to get all your protein needs met. Except now you don't, because meat will KILL you, and everyone knows that. Except the Atkins people, who know that meat will not kill you, but Carbohydrates will KILL you. In the 1960's everyone knew that drinking 3 glasses of milk every day was an important part of the "nutrition pyramid". Except now, it isn't, because milk has fat, which will KILL you. Or maybe it is, because it has calcium, which will help keep you from being KILLED. Or maybe it isn't, because you're allergic to bovine dairy products, and your gut will swell up, which will KILL you.

One of the wonderful things about getting a bit older is this: You get to watch a lot of "science" tell you a lot of things about what will KILL you, and you get to look around for yourself and notice who's actually dead, and who is actually not dead.

Personally, I think the number one thing that will KILL you is being dead while you're still alive -- paying so much attention to crap that doesn't really fucking matter that you have no attention left for the things that do matter, or plastering your consciousness-windows with so much bullshit "science" (which in most cases is funded by food and drug companies with something to sell) that you can no longer see clearly into the world that you inhabit.

Facts: I'm a "fat", healthy, dyke, who enjoys tobacco, alcohol, red meat, video games, and television. I also read voraciously, breathe and get around just fine, thank you, have work that I enjoy and that people are happy to pay me to perform, and most importantly, am vibrantly alive, and "happier" than probably 90% of the people that I know or know of. Like I said, I'm a statistical anomaly.

I credit this to the moment I stopped paying attention to that man behind the curtain -- you know -- the one who was supposed to make everything all better?

That is all.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 1:24 AM 4 comments  

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Camp Girl
Friday, August 3, 2007




I'm a pretty shitty photographer -- be warned about that -- but basically, words defy where I spent the last two days, so I'll just post the snaps and elaborate later. I was with the tree angels. For the really good images, I'll wait for my dad-in-laws photos -- in the meantime -- these are a few of the things I saw:



Posted byPortlyDyke at 11:38 PM 3 comments  

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Privilege -- Your Own Silent Super-Hero
Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Privilege.

If you're reading this on the internet, chances are you have it, in some respect.

Your privilege may be based on your (perceived) skin color, sexual orientation, class-status, gender, wealth, nationality, or a myriad of other factors. Your privilege may be based on your actual race, creed, or color -- or on your gender, cultural placement, or the happy "accident" of your country of birth.

The problem is that, until you actually interact with people who don't share your privilege-basis, any privileged status you may hold may be completely invisible to you.

Think of it as your own stealthy, invisible super-hero. By virtue of something you don't even notice, you may possess powers that other humans lust after, work for, attempt to purchase, or cannot even imagine.

Today I was reading a post at Shakespeare's Sister. Melissa McEwan closed the post with the line: "That's the difference between being a man and a woman. That's privilege."

I was amazed to find, in some of the comments to the post, that commenters that I usually find astute, aware, and intelligent actually seemed surprised by the findings cited in the study that spurred the post (yes, yes -- the post was about women and sexual harassment/assault -- one of "my" issues -- but lest you think I'm just being all whack-a-doodle feminista here, please try to stay focused -- my subject is "Privilege"). I was very disheartened that some of them seemed shocked to find that they possessed privilege that other people did not share.

I possess privilege. I'm white. I live in the USA. I am a university graduate.

And -- it took me a long time to understand that my foot-steps were constantly dogged by my unacknowledged privilege.

I was down-trodden, dontcha know! -- I was, after all, a lesbian, a woman, raised working-class -- there was always someone "above and beyond" me who was keeping me down. It was easy to focus on "Them" -- those privileged, lucky bastards/bitches -- rather than take a look at the ways in which I, simply by the seeming serendipity of my skin color or nationality, might also be unconsciously utilizing my privilege, or filtering experience through it -- and, consequently, playing deaf, dumb, and blind to the fact that my privilege exists, and that I rely on it every day to pave a smoother way for me in life.

There it is (my privilege) in that last sentence -- see? -- I can say "deaf, dumb, and blind" and pretend that this is just "an accepted phrase", and that everyone, including people who are actually deaf/hard-of-hearing, or dumb/speech-impeded, or blind/sight-impaired will "get" what I'm saying, and that I mean no offense. In truth, I mean no offense -- but this does not erase my privilege as a person who still possesses "normal" hearing in both ears, "normal" speech abilities, and "normal" sight.

So it is that one of my staunchest male allies might not have any idea that I deal with misogyny every day, --that, portly and dyke-ly as I may be at this point (which ostensibly would make me "unattractive" and "sexually undesirable"), I still board a bus with a sense of being "prepared" for possible harassment in a way that my ally does not.

So it is that I, a confirmed liberal, civil-rights advocate, and activist, might not have any real idea of what my liberal/advocate/activist sister or brother (whose skin color doesn't qualify them as "white") face as they do something as mundane as shopping in the grocery store of a small, mostly-white rural town (or a suburban "Whole Foods", for that matter).

This post was not just stimulated by a single read-of-the-day for me. It was augmented by reports that there is now a "dress-code" for White House touring groups, which prohibits, amongst other things, dreaded "sneakers", tank-tops, and mini-skirts (which we all know are a danger to our nation, right?), that anti-abortion activist haven't actually thought about what would happen to the women who have abortions if abortion were illegal, and that a huge number of politicians seem to think that they do not have to maintain any ethical standards, so we need to spend time and money legislating on that.

All of these reports, to me, reek of privilege, privilege, and more privilege. I'm going to stay with these "little" stories -- at this point, I don't even want to begin to touch on the effects of privilege on the incredibly dissociative and destructive wars that our privileged nation is carrying out or facilitating around the world.

I'll take what I think is the most mundane example: The White House Dress Code.

I honestly think that many people in my country -- the good old USofA -- land of opportunity -- could easily dismiss the dress code story as something insignificant. I think that many would simply say: "Well, big deal -- so you can't wear jeans to the White House? So, just dress up! Everyone has a pair of dress shoes and a pair of pants that aren't jeans."

Well, actually -- No.

There are real people in this country who own one pair of shoes. Many of them are poor children of poor working parents. When your choice at the thrift-store is between tough sneakers or jeans that are going to be daily wear until your kids outgrow them or dress shoes and pants that they're going to wear just in case they get invited to the White House, what do you think you would choose?

Yet being faced with this kind of choice is something that many, many, many people in our culture can't even imagine.

That's privilege.

It's the "can't even imagine" part that gives the hushed hero of privilege so much energy.

I can't imagine the oppression that I don't face. I can only ask people who endure that oppression about their experiences, and listen to their answers. Which means that I have to get up close with them, and open my fucking ears, rather than argue with them, or compare their situation with mine, or the situation of someone I know, or expound on some thesis or theory that makes me feel better as a person of privilege.

It's not always been easy for me -- because I wasn't able to see that damnable transparent crusader until someone pointed it out to me, and even then, I kicked and screamed and flailed and thrashed -- because I WAS AN ALLY, DAMMIT!

A long time ago, I asked a black friend what she thought was the best way for me to deal with my inculturated racism. She said: "This isn't just about racism. It's about everything-ism -- invite people who are different from you into your life -- not just invite them to dinner, or a party -- have them in your life, and be in their lives. If you want to deal with your racism, hon, there's one real quick way to do that -- hang around in real time with people of color often enough that you get called "n-lover" at least three times in public. You're going to see that your white privilege can be stripped from you mighty quick if you really involve yourself with people who are not white."

She then laughed and said: "When I started hanging out with you long enough that someone accused me of being a dyke, I knew I was starting to work some shit out."

IMO, there's only one way to fire your silent super-hero -- move into places and spaces where he shows up for you -- so that you can turn to that slippery mother-fucker, and say: "Look -- I realize you've protected me, and helped me down the line sometimes, but I really don't want your help anymore."

Of course, you can't fire someone you can't see. So start looking.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 1:00 AM 6 comments  

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Told Ya I'd Answer
Tuesday, July 31, 2007

For those brave souls who dared to "ask a question" -- here are my answers:

To Phydeaux, in response to: "Just how long does it take to create a label for Portly Dyke Brewing's "Beard-Stroke Stout", anyway?:

Apparently, about this long:

Personally, I was working for a little more "bling", but you can't rush genius -- I still haven't settled on a background color, or cleaned up text positioning.

Patience, Phydeaux, patience.

Oh, fer fuck's sake -- Blogger won't animate my gif. You'll have to go HERE to see what, if any, the bling is about. (If you're using Firefox, you may need to right-click and use "open in new window" to see the animation part).

And to NameChanged: I think you will have a boy. At the very least, a very "yang" being (regardless of chromosomal gender) -- don't mistake me -- I don't mean that you will bear a dyke if it's a chromosomal female -- I know a lot of "yin" dykes. But you probably know already, with all that shoving and pushing, that there's a whole-lotta-yang going on "down there". I think your mom agrees with me.

Tomorrow morning, very early, I plan to put up a "pithy" post, and a couple of entrancing link-posts, so that you will all be entertained for the next two days. I am leaving in the morning for a much-deserved camping/fishing trip, and I'll be back Friday night. Short vacation, it's true, but I will relish it.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 11:20 PM 3 comments  

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Not Blogging Tonight (Again)
Monday, July 30, 2007

I'm in the midst of processing some various posts. I just can't seem to bring myself to "toss off" something here. There are certain topics that I want to think about and roll around in before I post about them. Some posts seem to fly off my fingers. Others do not.

So, if you want something to read today, ask me a question. Any question. I'd welcome a brisk, direct query from a commenter. I think it would clear my head and I will actually answer, even if it's a difficult question.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 11:45 PM 2 comments  

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New Post Post-Haste -- Cogitation Time Required
Saturday, July 28, 2007

Once again, I ask your indulgence while I prepare a post.

In the meantime, go identify your personal DNA:
(Here's ME)

Free-Wheeling Inventor

(h/t to the inimitable Phydeaux)

Posted byPortlyDyke at 8:59 PM 0 comments  

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Empathy for the Cultural Ulcer
Thursday, July 26, 2007

Today, a friend was was talking to me about how completely Alberto Gonzalez was screwing up, and I had the actual experience of feeling physically sick to my stomach.

Sure, I've felt sick to my stomach (a lot) when I read about/watched Gonzo's exploits. Or W's exploits, or Cheney's, or Rove's, or Snow's, or, or, or . . . . . . but today, it was a different kind of sick.

I actually had this moment of empathy. I remembered what it was like to work for a psychotic fucking boss who told you to do things that were obviously and clearly wrong/illegal/unethical/wrong/wrong/wrong, but from whose reality it seemed impossible to disengage, even while knowing that eventually, the shit was going to hit the fan.

I really don't want to feel empathy for any of them -- not a one of them -- as far as I'm concerned (rationally), they've made their beds and can lie in them. (Luckily for me, my spiritual beliefs are such that I am certain that they will actually lie in those beds, eventually, in this life or the next.)

But I did have this moment -- just a moment, mind you -- when I remembered that sick, hopeless feeling of knowing that I had become embroiled in an absolutely corrupt system. That time when I walked around in a permanent state of adrenal-shock and angst.

Here's a personal story: When I was 21, I worked as a gas-station attendant. It was one of the several jobs I did then, to "make ends meet" (what ends? meet where? as Eddie Izzard would say). My "boss" went from station to station that she managed (she was a "dyke", so I trusted her -- ha! ha! stupid me!), and was dipping from the till at every station she managed. She would tell me to short-change and over-charge customers to make up the difference. It drove me nuts. I actually put money out of my own pocket into the till to cover the difference at times, before I passed it on to the next co-worker.

I lasted about 4 months before I "turned her in" to the regional manager. I was fired. She stayed on.

Here's what prompted my empathy tonight: In those four months, I experienced a huge amount of internal conflict, physical and emotional suffering, perpetual angst, and "red-alert" adrenal states (constantly being on the verge of being "found out" can really fuck with your adrenalin quotient).

And that was a gas-station in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, that probably did, at best, maybe $500.00 worth of business every day (remember, gas was $.59/gallon in those days).

I was trying, tonight, to imagine what it must be like to know that you're lying, and that your boss is lying, and your boss' bosses are lying, and that what is at stake is not $500/day in gas-station receipts, but billions of dollars/day and thousands of lives/day -- and I thought: You would either have to be completely disassociated from any human/sensing part of yourself (a distinct possibility, and, if true, very, very sad), or in a complete state of ongoing panic and terror (a distinct possibility, and if true, very,very sad).

Please don't mistake my empathy for excusing these people from their actions and choices. I do not excuse them, any more than I excuse myself for participating in a corrupt system for 4 months, even though I thought I "had to" in order to survive.

I want to develop my ideal of compassionate accountability -- to hold myself and others accountable for their choices, while never forgetting that we are human beings (and by this, I don't mean simply discounting "bad"behavior as "human nature", but understanding that we are animals distinctly focused on survival, and simultaneously capable of sublime transcendence from a state of mere survival).

It's very difficult for me to imagine the "humans" behind the masks that I see presented at senate and house hearings, at press conferences, campaign stops, and pundit-fests, but I think that it is essential that I continue to attempt to do so -- not so that I can be a "good" person, but from a very selfish point of view -- so that I am not scared shitless.

When I was 14, a friend's mother (who was known in our little town as a "loose woman" because her children's father was not around, and a "drunk" because she actually didn't hide her drinking) gave me some very good advice: "Hon, if you're ever afraid of anyone, just think about them sitting on the pot, taking a shit."

Posted byPortlyDyke at 11:12 PM 3 comments  

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Honoring Butt-Pirates Everywhere
Wednesday, July 25, 2007

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 1:46 PM 3 comments  

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The Lesbian Grand Council FAQ
Monday, July 23, 2007

Well, I've commented on behalf of the Lesbian Grand Council [tm] a few times now, and I think it's time that we come out of the closet.

Lesbian Grand Council (LGC) FAQ:

Question: What is the Lesbian Grand Council?

Answer: The Lesbian Grand Council is a galaxy-wide coalition of lesbians and lesbian-sympathizers. At its meta-level, the LGC governs every aspect of life as a lesbian (see "The Lesbian Rules" at the end of this post), which is far too detailed and complex to explain fully in this post (or this lifetime). Do not attempt to understand the LGC in its entirety. This will lead you to the Cliffs of Insanity.

Question: Do I have to be a lesbian in order to be authorized to post/comment on behalf of the LGC?

Answer: No. But you do have to be willing to be identified as a lesbian, which includes, for legal purposes, being labeled, in print or electronic media, with any or all of the following words, and in any combination thereof: lesbian, dyke, lesbo, queer, homo, gay, cunt, man-hating, castrating, dick-slicing, ball-cutting, bull-dagger, unnatural, freak, freak-of-nature, abomination, sodomite, pervert, perv, muff-diver, clam-licker, flange-fister (or, when you are lingering with the "intelligentsia" -- Homophile, or Invert) -- and also, even though you would think it didn't really apply to lesbians: faggot, fag, fairy, fruit, cock-sucker, and "some-phrase-I-haven't-thought-of-yet-
but-I'm-sure-They-will". (I welcome your submissions if I've omitted a common epithet that you feel should be included in this section of the FAQ.)

This section implies, but does not detail, further phrases and combinations of abusive language that you are likely to encounter if you post or comment as a representative of the LGC, such as "can't get a man", "just need a real man", or "fat, ugly hole". We will refrain from detailing other, more violent, abusive phrases that you may be the recipient of, as we do not want to show up in certain Google searches.

Question: Do I have to be bitter to post/comment on behalf of the LGC?

Answer: Not necessarily, but it may help. The human tongue is capable of tracking five basic tastes: Salty (Ooooo -- Pussy!), Sweet (Ooooo again -- Pussy!), Savouriness (aka Umame -- OOOOO -- Pussy again!!), Sour (sometimes, pussy, also) and Bitter (Also sometimes pussy, unfortunately) -- however, -- evolutionary biologists have suggested that a distaste for bitter substances may have evolved as a defense mechanism against accidental poisoning, so developing your bitterness-receptors may actually help you to determine when you have encountered something that is potentially poisonous -- such as a right-wing troll, rape-apologist, progressive wanna-be, or queer-basher. Don't hesitate to develop your "Bitter" receptors -- you may need them, in the long run.

Question: Does the LGC have any rules about posting/commenting on behalf of the organization?

Answer: Emphatically, YES. Here are the LGC posting/commenting guidelines, in a nutshell:

  • When posting on behalf of the LGC, do not call anyone names that you, yourself, would not want, or be willing, to be called.
  • In all instances, be "up-beat" and congratulatory in your posts/comments! Example: "Great job [right-wing nut-case]! Thanks for helping the LGC in its continuing mission to raise the awareness of all humanity about the reality and prevalence of real oppression, simply by being who you are, and saying what you say! I couldn't have made a better case against hypocrisy and hate if I had banged away on my keyboard all day!"
  • Remember that extremely hateful people can be testy at times. If they nip or bark at you, remain calm and keep your sense of humor.
  • Try to really "give" something to those you are posting/commenting to . . . An award, certificate, or decorative wall-hanging can go a long, long way! Be creative! Yes, you can always fall back on LGC standard awards: the "Honorary Inadvertent Blue-Ally Creator" lapel-pin, or the "Thanks for Pushing that Gay-Curious Gal Off the Fence Cuz You're Being Such an Asshole" Certificate of Merit, but the LGC encourages innovative thought and action, and we welcome your suggestions for new honors and awards.
Question: How do I become an authorized poster/commenter for the LGC?

Answer: You must apply to ME, Portly Dyke, at this blog -- Nowhere Else! As LGC Internet Chairwomyn/Chairwombwyn/Chairwomin (oh, fuck it,whatever) -- I, and I alone, have the power to invest you as an authorized LGC poster/commenter.

To apply for authorization, make a comment to this post, detailing the gifts and commitment that you bring as a potential LGC poster/commenter, and I will consider your application.

Of course, there are some intricacies involved with being a Lesbian, or even with being associated with Lesbianism. If I could figure out how to embed this sound file into my blog, I'd do it, but for now -- you're just going to have to bear with a link to . . . .
The Lesbian Rules

If you're serious about applying, I suggest you listen to that.

Signing Off,
Portly Dyke

[This post is dedicated to Fred Phelps, who, through his courageous stretching of the hate-envelope, managed to transform my straight, Lutheran, midwest mother into a LGBT activist.]

Posted byPortlyDyke at 7:57 PM 7 comments  

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