Scary

THE X-FILES: I WANT TO BELIEVE

Generally, I enjoy the X-Files. I am not cult-ish about it but I think, if you have read my blog more than twice, you know that I like very weird metaphors, odd stories and finding any hint of light in complete darkness.

It’s just how I roll.

This movie was really an episode that went too long. It was like the script was made for television’s 41 minutes (a usual hour show has around 20 minutes of commercials … so I hear.) I am saying that because at one point I was thinking, “this is the longest hour and 40 minutes ever!” Then I thought, “Just think of it as an episode, not comparing it to the last major film.”

Then I was cool. I actually got into it. Then it …

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Sao Paulo Gay pride parade drew record attendance. The following is from gay activist Chris Crain’s blog and written by Kevin:

“… what is most remarkable about São Paulo pride is its utter failure to articulate even the most basic message. Beyond a few pronouncements and a banner or a website, a coherent message of any kind fails to reach anyone in the street. Instead, the Parada is a sea of drunken recklessness, criminal violence and disturbing overcrowding which has begun to actually drive the resident gay population of the city away from it. The organizers are very competent in breaking world attendance records, but are hopelessly inept at finding some way to truly organize the attendees around any sense of mission or purpose beyond getting loaded, and getting laid.”

[From Citizen Crain: Pride?]

Seems like nothing has changed since I went to these types of events back in the day… well except our events didn’t have millions of people. His article goes on to describe robbery, murder and what appears to be a tragic accidental death of a young man partying at a local hotel. For those who don’t know, June is a big gay “pride” month. These parades happen around this time of year.

She might be dead but I see her everywhere …

Last fall I bought my first home. The structure itself isn’t very old but the lady who owned it before me was quite elderly. Her name was Dot and she is dead.

I hate to be so blunt but I never met her. I am not trying to be disrespectful either. That is pretty much all I know about her. All of my neighborhood loved her. They speak very highly of her and my one neighbor originally from Boston exclaimed with fingers lightly at the edge of her mouth, “Oh, that Dot… she was a GEM … a gem of a woman!”

I bought the home from her heirs so, I don’t even know what Dot looks like.

Anyway, Dot left me a lot of gifts. Dot collected paper products, picnic-ware and bleach (four bottles in the washer/dryer area). I just now, months later, had to start buying my own paper towels and still have a kitchen drawer full of plastic forks, spoons and knives. I found two false gods (Mayan?) made out of concrete in the outside storage, two hurricane lamps, a concrete head of a Chinese woman, a potty chair (clean… thank goodness), a large American flag, lots of scotch tape around the corners of the front door window (I don’t understand), a lamp that is hideous (yes… I am using it in my bedroom), a chair that attacks you (nail sticking out at the foot.) But the funnest, not funniest, of all the leftovers Dot left behind … we will get to that in a minute.

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After three years in Mexico, the last two lived between 7 p.m. and 3 a.m. in Mexico City’s clubs and concert venues covering music, I learned this much: no se metan con la juventud y su musica (don’t mess with the youth and their music).

Fandom is on whole ‘nother level there. For me, this was most apparent at concerts. At one memorable Rage Againt The Machine show, the energy was almost palpable and with the exception of U2, it was probably the most electrifying show I’ve ever attended.

When this energy is directed toward something positive, it’s a beautiful thing. When it’s not, well, you get this:

“The trio of long-haired teenagers grasped the plaza wall to shield their bodies as hundreds of youths kicked and punched them while filming the beating on cell phone cameras. “Kill the emos,” shouted the assailants, who had organized over the Internet to launch the attack in Mexico’s central city of Queretaro. After police eventually [emphasis mine] steamed in and made arrests, the bloody victims lay sobbing on the concrete waiting for ambulances while the mob ran through the nearby streets laughing and cheering.”

The ugly scene, which was aired on TV news bulletins, is part of a new wave of violence against this urban tribe that has sprung up in Mexico in the last decade. The emo subculture probably existed in your high school before the term even bloomed, the latest movement on a continuum represented by goths in the ’80s and alternative rockers in the ’90s. In yearbooks, they’re the kids who wear exaggerated haircuts and immerse themselves in moody music. In short: the kids jocks have been beating up for decades.

When I first read this I thought, seriously, punks? Beating up the emo kids because you don’t like their music? What kind of desmadre (mess) is this? One youth worker, however, suggests the attacks had nothing to do with music:

“At the core of this is the homophobic issue. The other arguments are just window dressing for that,” said Victor Mendoza, a youth worker in Mexico City. “This is not a battle between music styles at all. It is the conservative side of Mexican society fighting against something different.”

Well, that’s the real story. Hopefully there’ll be a follow-up. In any case, it’s just plain wrong, and stupid.

One of my facebook friends sent me an “app” to help determine how evil I am.  I have a better test … just ask:

So, Randy, how evil are you?

I am not exactly sure but I bet if you try to take my ice cream away, we’d find out pretty quick.

BOO!