

Shouldn’t that be “So are we”?
Shouldn’t that be “So are we”?
To be fair, when the poem was written we were getting our asses kicked and survival was not assured.
If you look at the events of the moment, the significant part is the “not getting killed” part.
If things had gone differently, we could all be speaking English today!
I could ask her. She might go for it.
Shit.
Me sitting here still working a day job with my ancient, born-in-1970, worn-out self. Sounds like I should be retired already, if not dead.
They aren’t wrong though. Find yourself an old person. We just want to sit, eat, watch a little TV, and be in bed by 9.
Bonus: some of us know how to fix the shit that falls apart, and many of us even own a house.
Before you get all excited, I’m already taken. Some young thing already got me hitched (she was born in 1971).
They cosplay as tough guys.
No. That wouldn’t happen in a gun store.
You’d have to go to a gun show.
Edit: a gun show is like comic con, only for guns.
Aren’t we all?
Yep. I attended a Quaker wedding a while back. There is no officiant. For the wedding everyone just sits there staring at the bride and groom, and you’re supposed to just stand up and talk if the spirit moves you. It felt very odd for us non-quakers in attendance. I don’t remember how they decided it was over. I know there was a long period of total quiet that had me starting to think I should stand up and say something, but thankfully someone broke the silence.
My grandfather was a Quaker. He wouldn’t beat my father, which is a shame because my father really needed some good beatings. My grandmother wasn’t a Quaker, and she would break yardsticks over his ass often enough that she bought boxes of them. However, it clearly didn’t have enough impact.
I also live near a Friend’s Meeting House, and there are a bunch of well-established Quaker Schools in the area. If you can afford to pay for a private education for your children, they are supposed to be excellent.
Thank you.
We will survive. It’s what we do.
Funny you should ask.
I’ve been almost completely ignoring the hellscape that my country is turning into because last week starting just before the inauguration was one of the worst years in my life, and it’s still happening this week as well.
Over the past 26 years, I’ve often thought that parenting is not a job for the weak. I keep thinking I know what that means. Now I realize that I will never know how bad it can get. Anytime you think you’re past the worst, you get the universe’s boot up your ass again.
I’ve earned a couple serious breakdowns in the last week, but I’ve got to put them off because I just can’t do it yet. I don’t have time.
Did you at least lay him out?
Not me, but my wife.
She trained and worked as an optometrist. She absolutely loved it, but she started having health problems and after about 10-15 years in practice she had to give it up.
It’s been very slow in developing, but it’s starting to look like a progressive neurological disorder. She can’t work, and she can’t drive anywhere. She can still walk around the house, or down to the corner, but the more she does the more pain she feels, and if she does too much, then she won’t be able to move.
Medical appointments are almost the only thing she leaves the house for, and it’s starting to affect her memory and ability to communicate (difficulty coming up with words).
She’s feels disconnected from the world. After our last child moved out for college, we got a could guinea pigs and she takes care of them for the most part.
She also feels guilty since she can’t earn money. She had private disability insurance which covers her until 65, and she gets social security, but it all amounts to a fraction of what she could be making as an eye doctor.
She also has trouble staying involved in conversations, and I think she’s more sensitive to that than she used to be.
Sorry, PA. Philly suburbs.
$6.99 for 18 Eggland’s Best at Wegmans today.
Less is more.
I knew a guy who was gay, but closeted at work, or at least, he thought he was closeted at work.
He came out to a friend of mine at work, and she took me into confidence, nervous about revealing his secret. I had to tell her everybody knew. I suggested that she let him know that he could be out to the rest of us and it wouldn’t make a difference (partly because no one cared and partly because everyone knew).
When one of the guys was getting married, the gay guy was the one that insisted we had to have a bachelor’s party at a strip club for him. We all went to a strip club because we weren’t supposed to know he was gay and we couldn’t just say, “Dude, you’re gay. Straight, adult guys don’t really do this. Can we just go to a restaurant and get dinner or something?”
Straight =/= misogynistic. In fact, I would argue misogynistic would usually mean some kind of confusion or anxiety about sexual identity anyway.
Straight people aren’t all the same any more than LGBTQ+ people are the same. I’m a straight, CIS male. I don’t like sports at all. I don’t drink beer. I like deep, emotional movies. I like show tunes and musicals. I sew. I also like trucks. I like the outdoors, but I would never want to go hunting because I don’t want to kill anything.
There’s a guy from my high school who everyone thought was gay. He’s not gay, but there’s have probably always been people who thought he is. He has a kind of flamboyant persona. He’s married to my wife’s best friend from high school and they have two grown kids.
My advice, just be who you are. If you can’t be out, don’t be out, but you don’t have to put on an act. The closer you stay to the truth the easier it is.
Well, not acceptable doesn’t necessarily mean it isn’t acceptance.
If he’s a misogynist on the spectrum, then he might have just completely and fully accepted the news that he has a trans daughter and immediately just started treating her the way he would treat any daughter.
Sort of like if they told their boss they were trans and their boss immediately cut their salary by 30%.
It’s unacceptable acceptance.
I’m not sure if this is going to be an unpopular take or not, but at this point in your son’s life, it’s not your job to judge him or the people in his life.
Your son may be making a mistake, but now you’re just supposed to be there to help if that turns out to be true.
You had 18 years to raise him. Now you have to trust the job you did.
Hang out with King, get to know them. Make sure your son knows you’re there no matter what.
I’d like to be able to raise my children again. I think I could do better.
I understand that, but was it made clear what about those examples made them suitable?
Your friend might be a Nazi.