Firstly, there was amusement when I stopped to get gas on the way home yesterday. My chosen method for getting gas is generally to use a credit card, pick up nozzle, select options, insert nozzle into car and begin fuelling. Unfortunately, selecting options is what actually activates the gas pressure, which I discovered when getting gas that afternoon. Sure enough, the previous filler had thumbed the little "fully automatic gas flow" switch on the thing and forgot to take it off when replacing the pump (it's possible to do this because of the backflow sensors or whatever that automatically shut off the pump when your tank gets full). Predictably, this left me holding a nozzle fountaining gas, as I'd pressed the start button in the blithe assurance that the nozzle wouldn't start dispensing until I wanted it to. Now, I was not completely oblivious, of course. It was just that my noticing the little switch jammed in was an observation that came too late to stop the pressing of the button. So other people were treated to the sight of me cursing like a sailor and wrestling with the nozzle to try and shut off the gas, as unleaded stained the pavement an interesting shade of green for a moment. Being polite, of course, nobody said anything.
Later that evening, things took an upwards turn, as I got access to a ticket to a play due to the previous holder (my father) having to take some potential post-docs out on an interview at a fancy restaurant. Your tax dollars at work, folks. The play in question was Lucky Stiff in which a mild-mannered British shoe salesman is made to take his deceased uncle on a vacation in Monte Carlo in order to claim an inheritance of six million dollars. If he fails to adhere to the instructions for this vacation, the money will go to the Universal Dog Home of Brooklyn, so he's determined to follow through regardless. Much hijinkage predictably ensues.
So, yesterday I learned two valuable lessons. First, the gas nozzle goes IN the car before any pushing of buttons takes place. Second, never, ever go vacationing in Monte Carlo with a dead man.
Now it's time to get philosophical for a moment. Yes, it's time to do a little detouring into the wonderful morass of political thought. Those of you who don't like this sort of thing may feel free to run screaming. So that you're not forever scarred by such things, here's a completely irrelevant bit of filler to pad things out.
[We join our operetta already in progress, as Our Hero battles almost boredly against a horde of faceless storm-trooperesque minions]
MINION LEADER: (suddenly) Wait, fool! 'ere you procede with this destruction
like some craz-ed neo-anarchist
Bear in mind that we are merely minions,
and our leader is a surly villainess!
HERO: (pausing) Perhaps I should rethink wether to go through with this
If these minions are led by a truly really surly villainess...
MInIONS: Yes, yes! She IS a surly villainess!
[Said surly villainess, Admiral Morgan, has quietly entered from the back.]
MORGAN: Yes, yes! I AM a surly villainess!
HERO: Egads! She IS a surly villainess!
(this continues for a while)
MORGAN: I am the very model of a science fiction villainess
True example of a surly spa-ce-noid supremacist!
I raid the voids of hyper-space (Or whatever it's called today -
Not that the name's particularly topical now anyway!)
I shake the gates of Heaven with my reputation terrible
Not that you've the brains to be even slightly scare-able
My character's designed to tug and play at your dumb sympathies
So that you won't interrupt my evil Shiva-esque proclivities!
ALL: So that we won't interrupt her evil Shiva-esque proclivities!
So that we won't interrupt her evil Shiva-esque proclivities!
So that we won't interrupt her evil Shiva-esque proclivi-ivities!
MORGAN: My uniforms and costumes can be really quite embarassing
But with my legendary moods there's no attempt at harassing
My gunnery is flawless and my bust extremely generous
For I am the very model of a science fiction villainess!
ALL: Her gunnery is flawless and her bust extremely generous
She is the very model of a science fiction villainess!
(...etc...)
Okay, that's enough filler. We should be safe now.
Anyway, today I was reading the journal of the surly John Scalzi, where he talks about an interview of Orson Scott "Ender's Game" Card by a Salon reviewer type. Hijinks were clearly going to ensue. Orson Scott Card is apparently a devout Mormon, with all that implies, and while Salon isn't a hot-bed of Communist dogma, they would probably be that if they weren't so darn slack. But the thing that Scalzi (who has a link on the Other Loonies page which I'm too lazy to reproduce here) mentioned, among other things, was that the reviewer's twitching retreat into a mental corner upon realizing that Orson Scott Card really did believe all the Mormon dogma, including (what really set her off) the bit about homosexuality being a rather naughty thing, was something to see. Quite frankly, we see too much of it. When people in all seriousness retreat to squealing "homophobe" at the least little disagreement, well, somethin' ain't right. I'm not sure wether I dislike bigots or idiots more, but it's a pretty near thing in any case.
My personal philosophy on all that? Don't really care, myself. This seemed to startle people when I was in college, for I radiated the sort of naive, baffled white-bread nature that tends to break out into squeals of outrage at the least bit of oddity, when really I could quite frankly care less. The only time I can recall the least bit of annoyance at someone merely because of their interesting proclivities was when, during a pool game which included a lesbian couple, they wouldn't stop making out often enough to keep the game going at a proper pace. Some people. Whatever happened to getting a room? But this was college.
However, when it comes to politics on the matter, I have, as is my wont, chosen a position guaranteed to annoy both sides. While the fact that I think anti-discrimination laws are a good and happy thing is likely to annoy most religious extremists, the fact that I think "hate crime" laws in general (with some specific exceptions) are a national embarassment and that all this homosexual marriage stuff is rather misguided is not going to endear me to the other side. Now, while the whole hate crime thing can be debated long into the night, I can only regard the little bibbles about homosexual marraige to be silly. Damn. Typo. Too lagged to go fix it. Deal. Ahem.
It's my general position that society ought to a) reward things which benefit society, b) discourage things which are clearly detrimental to society, and c) leave the rest of human activity the hell alone. Various naughty activities are fitted firmly in category "c". Bugger the religious point of marriage. The legal point is because, at some point, intentionally or not, there are probably going to be children involved, do to all those wacky things that married people tend to do. Damn. Do instead of due. Damn lag. I blame it on the people sending gigs of stuff to try and crash e-trade today but that's another story. Anyway. Society ought not to reward things with official legal status or whatever when there's no compelling reason to do so except to try and shut all these complaining pikers up.
But, of course, you're welcome to disagree with me. This is, of course, entirely the point. We need to have disagreements, because I don't feel comfortable unless I'm surrounded by people who are wrong. Wait, that's not it. Ahem. Disagreements are good, because it leads to more consideration about opinions and policies, and why those opinions and policies are had in the first place. And this is the foundation of our democracy. Or something like that. At this point, I guess democracy has degenerated into shouting things at each other without hope of compromise, anyway, so feel free to do that, too.
Join us next week for a detailed discussion on the politics of jello.
Rant 'o the day contains no additives, preservatives or alien spores of any kind. Use only as directed. Do not expose to direct sunlight. Do not fold, spindle, multilate or remove identifying tags. Handle with care. Contains less than 3% milk fat by weight, not by volume. Certified 'Syndicate Approved'. Squeeze the lemon. Remember, kids, only users lose drugs.
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