Met Loretta Nall (for guvner), Steve Gordon (from Hammer of Truth), and Blue Gal (eponymous) for lunch yesterday after all, and a jolly good time it was. We managed to solve the problems of drugs, prison overcrowding, theocratic pseudo-democracy, and public education, all while curing cancer and fighting terrorism, so everyone can just relax and go home now. Whew. Glad that's over with. We're a few days away from cracking the "why does toast always land buttered-side-down problem", and once that's done, welcome to Utopia, baby. It was hard for me to get my head in the game at first, having come straight from a two-hour bitch session about "drugs are bad.....m'kay" to being amidst a group of intelligent, articulate people who actually believe that ordinary people have a stake in bettering their society by speaking out and doing something. Having for years been one of the "Oh yeah? Don't make me whine about it!" people, I felt very out of my element, but the three of them were so friendly and open that they drew me out of my shell and though I felt as though I were swimming in political waters that were way over my pointy little head, the water was comfortably warm.
It was the first time I've ever met anyone I first contacted over teh intraweb (except for that one transsexual escort: much love to Kellee!!! Thanks for the hepatitis!) and I have to say that I had a great time and it was well worth missing my usual Wednesday afternoon pre-work nap. God, how lame is that? Plus, we drank coffee like it was about to become illegal, and by the time we dispersed, I was vibrating like a tuning fork.
I didn't get a chance to ask Loretta the hard questions that I'd intended to ask. No, that's not right. I had the chance, but I didn't ask, because she was completely charming and frank and real, and every time I started angling to ask a question our server popped up with coffee refills and anecdotes about stolen pit bulls.
Evidently she and her boyfriend have been raising show-quality (she says) pit bulls, and a few weeks ago their home was burglarized and their pit bulls were stolen. Yeah, I know. How much PCP do you have to smoke to think, "I know! Let's go steal some pit bulls!" And how wussy are these dogs anyway if they allow themselves to be stolen? These aren't chihuahuas, they're fucking PIT BULLS. That waitress should have gotten home and discovered a scene of bloody carnage and called 911 instead of whatever ineffectual Shelby County law enforcement agency she was copmplaining about (she told us, but I wasn't listening: I was in nod and smile mode, where I frantically try to maintain a conversational thread for future deployment after being derailed by unexpected irrelevance). If your pit bull bitch doesn't defend her pups, she wasn't worth owning.
Pit bulls are great dogs, for people who respect the breed and take the time to raise them right. They are fearless, loyal, and tenacious. I read somewhere (too lazy to google it) that the reason they make such great therapy dogs is the same reason they can be dangerous; they genuinely don't fear anything, and so people who look and smell and act differently than other people are not a problem for these dogs. Which makes me wonder: is courage hereditary?
A good writer would now spend a paragraph or so tying this theme of courage into the original topic of blogging and political activism. I am not a good writer, so fuck you.
Oh, an aside to Blue Gal. You said on your blog, "Bitter Old Punk seems none of the three in person." Well, thanks for the first two, but I am Punk As Fuck!