Religious Tolerance

On the morning news, I hear that an old man was beaten and robbed outside his church on Christmas Eve. Reporters interview the church-goers and the Father and this is what they have to say:

"I think the man who did this needs the most healing. So I hope something good comes to him."

"Love thy enemy. Sometimes it's hard. But I feel like we are doing a good job."

Religious people drive me crazy. The tolerance some of them impart is so selective that they'd rather forgive criminals than accept gay people who have never hurt anybody. So let me get this straight, if I beat an elderly man with a baseball bat, I should receive "something good" (ooh pray for an iPhone). But if I make out with a boy, I should die of a terminal illness (and then rot in hell).

I was watching 17 Kids and Counting, the terrifying show about the Duggar family that, as of Dec 18, 2008, consists of 18 kids. They also insist on having all their kids' names start with the letter J. This causes a great deal of confusion, I imagine. Especially since one of their daughters is named JoyAnna and another is named Johannah.

But on top of being regular crazy, they are also religious crazy (two occurrences which I am sure are related). In one episode, they take their kids to a biblical museum where they learn that the Earth is 6,000 years old. Please. Barbara Walters is at least twice that age. When asked about their beliefs, they just giggle and give nonsensical answers about the bible saying this and that.

It's like they suspend logic so they can live their lives based on the vague teachings of a book, which I personally believe to be a collection of short stories. How can they have so much trust and so much faith in something that they can only see with their hearts? They may live in blissful ignorance but it's an insult to human intelligence to not make any attempt at seeking the truth.


I guess I'm just bitter about all of this. Even a cold-hearted person who commits a crime outside a church can elicit warm-hearted sympathy. But if a gay person were to try to get married inside a church, well, God hates fags.

Merry Christmas

Obamanation, Part 2

The slow and steady decline of DCCised is taking place. I feel like Rome. I feel like the British monarchy. I feel like the United Colors of Benetton. Or perhaps the United States of America. You know, the downward-spiraling country that can only be saved by our beloved President, Barack Obama.

No other American president-elect has been received with so much gusto and entrusted with so much faith before. It's exciting that you can buy Barack Obama wine, Barack Obama chapstick, and my personal favorite, Barack Obama novelty cash. You can join the growing crowd of people rallying to get his face carved into Mt. Rushmore. You can tattoo his name on your ass. And by exciting, I mean ridiculous. Question: Why is everyone singing his praises already, before he's actually done anything.

More importantly, Question: Why are gays so supportive of him when he is basically the lesser of two evils. Many gay people I've talked to (and Melissa Etheridge) have had the same response, "It was SO great that Obama was elected but it was SO disappointing that Proposition 8 passed." Has it ever occurred to anybody that the two occurrences may have been related. In fact, I did some research and found that the minority votes that Barack Obama attracted in California ended up being detrimental for gays because the minorities mostly voted for Proposition 8. Isn't that ironic.

Obama kept quiet when it came to Proposition 8 because he didn't want to lose votes. And the gays let that slide because they thought that having him in office was the main goal and he would make things better once he was in. But it seems like we shouldn't have let that slide because now that Obama is in and he doesn't need gay support anymore, he has impassively thrown us under the Eminem tour bus.

In my opinion, Obama put getting himself into office before the gay agenda. Which doesn't surprise me, nor does it make me mad. But it is frustrating to see how foolish some gay people are in thinking that Obama is unequivocally on our side. He is not, as evidenced by the selection of Rick Warren to deliver the invocation at his inauguration. Good luck writing letters asking Obama to take Rick Warren off inaugural extravaganza; it's not going to happen.


So maybe we should stop supporting Barack until he starts supporting us. Because if Obama can put himself first, perhaps gays should do the same.

Home, It's Cold Here

This week, my short temper and jittery nerves can be attributed to the fact that I got a fucking B in fucking Architecture History. I try to rationalize my B by telling myself that the class was lame and the professor was awful. But an idiot I know got an A- and it makes me feel like I've been impaled by an impala. My GPA sucks balls and I'm never going to get into grad school and I'm never going to get a job and I'm never going to lure attractive men into my bed with bundles of money hidden in the sheets. But one girl, who I thought was really smart, who I thought was going to be my competition for getting into the studio sequence, who I thought would surely do well, got a D. Her failure makes me feel a little better about myself. I am horrible.

But now school is over and I am at home. Hence, a new set of problems arises. First, mommy and daddy can't go 15 minutes without asking me how finals went. Really, they want to know what grades I got and if it's going to affect my GPA/future expendable income, which they want 30% of. But they don't need to worry because gays have most expendable income of any group. Second, mommy and daddy are hell bent on me getting a job over break. The fact that they want me to get a job isn't the issue but they want me to work at our family friend's table tennis merchandise outlet or perhaps tutor a Japanese immigrant. That's not exactly what I had in mind. I kinda wanted to work as a go-go dancer at Apex or perhaps at Panera. And the trend is that all my problems can be traced back to my parents. And that doesn't surprise me. During finals week I always cry and beg for mommy. But it's just because I forget how frustrating she is, which I am reminded of about 1 hour after being home. Almost makes me want to go back to school.

Actually, no.

Do I Look Frat To You?

After completely bombing my organic chemistry exam, the only things that give me solace are:
The fact that I'm done with exams this semester.
The fact that I'm done with orgo forever.
The sound of Kristin Chenoweth singing Birdhouse In Your Soul. Girlfriend's got it going on.

And on Raven Simone's Disney Channel character's little brother's spinoff show, there is this band called, get this, "DC3." This name sounds suspiciously similar to DC Cised. How dare the Disney Channel do this to me? No, I will not go gently into the night. They will be hearing from me, and the former members of Destiny's Child, very soon.


Figure 1: The newest fratboy from SeanCody

So a couple of people have told me about some frats that they think I should pledge next semester. And I have to admit that I get excited about the idea of living in a house with tons of hot white guys who walk around naked all day. But this might be another one of those fantasies that seems great in my head but would actually never work out in real life. What are the odds that the sweatpant-wearing, football-loving, diamond-earringed, slang-talking, dick-swinging, skirt chasing, frat boys would get along with a guy like me, a lover of all things Kristin Chenoweth.

But I have to admit, sexual motivations aside, it would be great to be part of a brotherhood. The bonds frat brothers form with each other are supposed to be the strongest bonds guys ever form. I really am looking for that kind of friendship. But once again, I want to be realistic. And I do not want to be lynched.

Saving All My Luck For You

"Caroline, the 32-year-old niece, who is agoraphobic and rarely leaves the house, quickly ran up $1,268 in charges on the Tribute card, shopping online for Christmas and birthday gifts. Of her newest [credit] card, Rose says: "I regret this one. Truly, I do."

Buried amidst ungodly lengthy marketing readings about unethical credit lending practices, this story puts a smile on my face. I want to direct a movie centered around this one powerful scene. I would cast Lindsay Lohan as Caroline and Sissy Spacek as Rose. This is yet another distraction keeping me from studying for my 7 exams.

And for this week, my mood is at a constant low. I do not get accepted for the RA job which would have guaranteed me free housing and free food. In essence, the school would be paying me $3000 to attend because there would be nothing for my scholarships to cover. I could've used that money to finance the movie. But that dream is dead. I decide to make an inventory of all the dreams that were shot dead in their tracks - post high school.

Biology research position - no
Genetics TA position - no
Admissions office position - no
Business school scholarship - no
Newspaper columnist position - no
GEMS100 teaching position - no
GEMS102 teaching position - no
Restaurant job - no
RA job - no

I'm applying to the architecture program in February. My entire college life so far has led up to this one moment. If they turn me down, I don't think I'll have any faith left in myself. But I have this theory that these consecutive rejections and this "bad-luck" just means I'm getting it out of my system. All of my good luck will come at once in a massive wave of acceptances, cash, and muscular men.

So my advice to myself, and perhaps Rose too, is to give things time. Everything tends to work out in the end. And if it doesn't, I'll just throw myself into the Anacostia.

Archuleta, A Love Professed

I really wanted to hate him. I really did. But I just can't. I'm not strong enough. I'm in love with him.

I love you, David Archuleta.

He is the cutest little mouse that American Idol has ever seen. If there were a competition for mouse-y looking boys, him and Josh Groban and Haley Joel Osment (circa 1999) and Mccauley Culkin (to this day) would all be contestants. This show would be called America's Next Top Mouse. And David Archuleta would win because he is the cutest little mouse that America, no, this world has ever seen.


Figure 1: David Archuleta. Notice the face that has been photoshop-ed to oblivion. Also note conspicuous nipples.


Figure 2: Please serenade me with your silky voice and then rub your hairless face on my hairless chest.

And this obsession with him is justified because me and him being together forever isn't a very ridiculous idea. Move aside pre-pubescent girls, you had no chance anyway. David Archuleta is gayer than Christmas. Ryan Seacrest banged David Archuleta. Helen Keller can tell that David Archuleta is gay. David Archuleta poos rainbows. David Archuleta goes to the gym. And that explains why he made it all the way to the finals, just like Justin Guarini, Clay Aiken, and Blake Lewis did. Which only goes to show that Americans really do love gays. As long as they lose in the end.