Jail and Bail

I knew I didn't like Kansas, even before driving back through it before returning from Colorado. But I went anyway and this is what transpired:

On may way I did something absolutely unthinkable (besides signing to the Mama Mia! soundrack)--I was speeding. On the interstate. Monstrous, I know. Through an act of divine intervention, flashing lights appeared behind my car and I pulled over and rolled down my window while the cop shouted at me to get out of my car, hands over my head. And then, in his divine sense of justice put me in handcuffs. I think he was too busy being an asshole to give me my Miranda Rights, which was disappointing because I was wondering what they were. He tells me that because of the downpour (which wasn't enough for my windshield wipers to even be on) that I was 'driving recklessly' by speeding. So he gave me two tickets: One for speeding and one for speeding in the rain. I was told that I could be bonded out with 500 bucks. What. The. Hell. Surely he's not allowed to do that--taking my Mama Mia! sountrack away from me has to be covered under the 'Cruel and Unusual Punishment' clause. From his car I could see the reason I was being put behind bars: a squigley rainbow sticker on the back of my car.

I made sure to try and introduce myself to everyone at the police station and offer my hand or shaking at anytime they weren't handcuffed, which wasn't often. But that's okay, whenever I did so the people woud just look at me and walk away anyway. Not a particularly friendly crowd. After smiling big for my picture it was time for paperwork. My booking officer wasn't happy when I signed my documents as 'Lord Master Jason the Amazing'. It's okay though, he was even less happy when I pulled out my 'Get Out of Jail Free' card that I keep stored in my wallet for just such an emergency. Still though, he refused to take it, at which time I told him to pretend that I was yelling and throwing a fit, though I actually didn't because I try to not do that sort of thing. Then they cut off a bike chain I wore around my wrist, saying that I can cause some damage if I hit someone with it. 'More damage than if I kicked them in the nuts with my shoe?' I asked curiously. They took away my shoes. Good thing I didn't use biting as my example......

Instead of placing me in a three-man cell like they had been planning, they shuffled people around so I could have my own--they thought I was going to get myself killed if I came in contact with a real person. Once I was in with my stunning orange jumpsuit that complimented my hair nicely, they gave me my effects. A towel, bed sheets, and a cup with a toothbrush, some shampoo, a bar of soap and Maximum Security Toothpaste. I suppose that they don't want the toothpaste to escape the tube... When I used the bathroom, I had to use a toilet that was in sight of the guards, to remove any shred of dignity I might have left. So, in spite, I peed with all the dignity I could muster! I think the guard just thought I was weird.

That's when my montage began. It was like in the movies, you know, when they show all of the heroic little clips of personal growth and such. I alternately watched cable TV, exercized, read a book and paced my cell. Only instead of taking place all in about 20 seconds, it was hour after hour after hour. And there was no music during my extended extended montage sequence, since they had taken my Mama Mia! soundtrack (I was not a Dancing Queen.). Fortunately, I still had my own voice and an endless repitoire of camp songs. Very, very annoying camp songs. And so I sang them. All of them. To be fair, I was respectful to all officers, I addressed them with respect and politely did whatever I was asked. They just never had the sense to ask me to shut the hell up.

Word of my imprisonment got around and a particularly generous relative of mine spent $700 to spring me from my cell. But they made me wait in the lobby for several hours before I got a ride to my car in the impound lot and finally got back to my Mama Mia!soundtrack. While I was waiting I looked at a huge wall poster detailing crimes and punishments in Kansas. I figured I should share my favorites with you, to be sure that you can keep yourself out of my position:

1. Damaging Something by Throwing it Off a Bridge: I just thought this one was funny.

2. Healing Acts: What the hell?

3. Aiding a Child in an Act of Misconduct: Good thing I was never caught helping my bother color on the walls.

4. Eavesdropping: Punishable with a fine of up to $2,500 or 1 year in prison. Seriously.

5. Fossil Hunting: This would be another 'What the hell?'

6. Illegal Bingo: This was my favorite. I can just imagine the SWAT tem busting in on fourty old ladies with their little cards arresting them all. Oddly though, it had the same punishment as sexual battery and a hit-and-run that involves a death. I guess they don't like Bingo in Kansas....that's okay, neither do I.

I had demanded a lot of changes during my stay with them, from uniforms to room service. I think they'll bend to my will, though I don't plan on going back to any place that desn't take 'Get Out of Jail Free' cards. So I guess that the moral I'm really trying to get at is this: Don't Drive Gay.

Quote of the Day: "If I were a walking brillo pad, I'd be the pink one."

So-Called "Role Models"

Well folks, I've been working for the Boy Scouts for the past couple months, teaching all of them about animals and nature. I generally begin by informing them that I don't like animals OR nature. I take a unique approach with teaching: Honesty. Which is why I also tell the scouts that I don't like them. Besides, I figure that they should learn early that nobody really cares about them. Just like the Ethiopians. Well, look at where the information is coming from, I've been kicked out of my troop and out of the house--I blame the economy. Could be worse though, I could be a grungy door-to-door used shoe salesman. Or a lawyer. Or gay. Wait......

Looking back now, it's no wonder that I turned out to be such a rapscallion. I mean, look at the cartoon "role models" I had to watch for eighteen years. At the top of the list is Smokey Bear with his overquoted mantra, "Only YOU can prevent forest fires." Seriously man, get off your lazy ass and start preventing fires yourself, maybe then you won't be so blasted fat. And speaking of bears, what's up with Yogi? "It's okay to steal things from people as long as you smile and frustrate the law while doing it!" What the hell kind of lesson is that to be teaching kids?!? And then there's Mr. Kool-Aid, always partying with his red "punch" and destroying houses and everything else. Let me tell you, when a party ends in rampant destruction then it's not kool-aid that people are drinking. Then there's Super-Man showing off (Why walk around when I can LEAP THE BUILDING IN A SINGLE BOUND?). Don't let me even get started on that harlot Betty-Boop and Hello Kitty (have you ever seen her working? Of course not, she's always standing around on a street corner in a pink dress...not much mystery why.)

And then there's that racist prick The Grinch. And don't give me that "his heart swelled up three times" nonsense, I know a sleeper agent when I see one. I just know he's going to hide razorblades the the who-kid's candy on Halloween. Racist son-of-a-pheasant. And on a separate note, I don't like the smurfs either, stupid blue theives. Never trust someone with blue skin unless you're choking them. It'd be more helpful if Smokey started telling kids that for a change.

Quote of the Day:  "Your mom's face is your mom's face....or......whatever."

Rejection

Okay, so broken hearts really do hurt more than being stabbed with a thousand tiny shards of glass and then bathing in refreshingly ripe lemon juice.  I'm assuming.  I've never actually done all that...but my heart has been broken.  Just tonight.

A bride and groom came through my line today at work, still dressed up and all.  My first thought was that maybe they simultaneously left each other at the altar to run away with each other, but then I realized that that made no sense--they must have been done with the whole altar part all together.  And being the helpful advice-giver I am, I let them know that as nice as it may be, Target is not the best possible honeymoon destination.  They would probably more enjoy Academy Sports&Outdoors or IKEA or Barbados.  But not France.  They told me that they were on their way to their actual honeymoon location, but they had been given a gift card to Target and were just using it as a pitstop.  And that got me thinking....I want people to give me things.

At Target, we have people frequently register for gifts on the occasions of babies and marriages.  Seeing as though it would be quite difficult to impregnate myself (not to mention painful), I decided to get married.  And then I looked over to a delightful Mexican coworker and I asked her to marry me.  And I even smiled while I did it to maybe persuade her decision just a little bit.

And she said no.  Rejected.  It had been my dream for over twenty seconds...she said it was because I'm gay.  Why do people have to discriminate against me?  The world would be better if we could just all get along and marry one another for financial gain.  It's something I'll fix when I'm President.

So then I explained to her that I wanted lots of free things.  and then there's the honeymoon to an exotic location (like Barbados or Academy Sports&Outdoors)--and I was sure to let her know that she didn't even have to go if she didn't want to.  This, of course, flattered her greatly.  Then I added that we could just get divorced--nobody would think much of it.  People do it all the time.  Sometimes twice a week.  But I was sure to add that if we did get divorced, we'd have to make sure everyone knew that it was me who broke up with her face--I don't want to lose face in front of the people who'd have given me free stuff for getting married in the first place.  She still said no.

So I told her that it would even get her American citizenship.  Then she hit me.  And that kinda hurt more than being rejected.  So I suppose that rejection doesn't hurt more than being stabbed with a thousand tiny shards of glass and then bathing in refreshingly ripe lemon juice after all.

Quote of the Day:  "Would it turn you on if I threw you off the stairs?"

In Memoriam: Jason Dean Brantley

I first stumbled across Jason while he was in jail for the third year.  We became penpals and fast friends.  He had lived a very extravagant life—as well as a very dangerous one.  He lived a life of dark alleys and drugs.  Expensive cars and fancy labels.  He lived just as he had meant to.  As the law caught up to him, he did his time.  That's when I began to know him.  He told me about his plans to change his life, get a job and a home of his own.  Legitimately.  Legally.  He wanted to return as a productive member of society.

He was released this summer and we became very close friends.  We learned a lot from each other.  One of the things I learned was a phrase he and another friend of his used a lot, I tried to understand it in context but that proved impossible.  I couldn't tell if the words "going through" meant becoming drunk, engaging in general merriment or fighting.  As it turns out, it's all of them.  He taught me that it's following one's actions and one's convictions to the fullest extent; it's going through to the end.

Through his recovery from a number of serious drugs, he was gripped by alcohol.  He considered it an innocent strand of his former life.  He was also in a lot of pain, and it helped him to cope.  I don't agree with it.

In fact, I differed from him in a number of aspects and even though I didn't agree with him, I understood him.  I understood his motivations, his desires.  His dreams.  And in that way, I loved him as I love myself—for I found that they were the same as my own.  He and I followed different paths to the same end.

However, Jason's end came to an early and tragic halt.  It was a car accident at night.  It was something that could have happened to anyone.  I regret that this sudden end came a mere 6 months after his release for I know that he would lament the impact this has on his mother, but for himself he would not weep because he felt that he had a life worth living. He lived exactly as he had meant to.

This is my memorial to Jason Brantley, someone who went through as he lived.

In Memoriam: Misty

When I was in kindergarten, my aunt saved a little black labrador puppy and gave her to my family and me--we named her Misty. Misty and I were inseperable for some time, both incredibly energetic. I used to make little books about Misty, the Wonder Dog. They were lacking in plot, but they more than made up for it in love. She was more than just another one of my friends. One day, I was curious about the variance in the life expectancy of different species, so I asked my stepmother how long she would live. She replied, "Misty will live to see you graduate high school." To a kindergartener, that's lifetimes away.

And here I am, lifetimes later. I graduated last year, and since then we've pretty much been counting down the days, not taking any more for granted. Even I've shown her the love I've always had for her even though I haven't shown it like I used to...

It finally happened while I was at work.  My parents called the vet to come to our house, Misty doesn't like traveling to the vet and we couldn't let those be her last moments.  My parents then took her to my grandparents' property in Leonard and buried her there facing towards the pond so that she'll always know which direction the water is in case she feels like playing in it—just like she loved to do before she started to hurt.  She was gone when I came home that night.  Though we lost someone very important to us, we know that she's gained something in return:  Peace.
Though we'll miss her, we take solace in the fact that she's not struggling anymore--she's no longer in pain. She's free again.
Misty the Wonder Dog, always our hero.

World Domination

There comes a time in every megalomaniac's life where he or she must attempt to take over the world.  For me, that time is now.  I'm tired of not ruling the world with an iron fist.  But I'm going to do it right.  If you look at those historical figures who attempted such a feat in the past, their failures were obvious.  Ghengis Khan, Alexander the Great, Pinky and the Brain.  Stopped by death, their own hubris, or the fact that they were laboratory mice, those conquerers have paved the road for me, with unsurpassed bravado, to complete my hostile takeover of the world.  This is a three-step process.

Phase One:  I would create two kinds of hats: purple jester hats and red/yellow top hats.  Then I'd advertise them by showing lonely ugly people without the hats, then when they put on the hat, they become sexy, wealthy and surrounded by beautiful people.

Phase Two:  When everyone got either a jester hat or a top hat, I'd set them against each other, to create a deep hatred between them: People with purple jester hats and people with red/yellow top hats.  I'd spread nasty rumors...(Hey, did you hear that the people with purple jester hats said that the mothers of people with red/yellow top hats are all fat?  And ugly?)  Eventually, this would lead to an all-out war between the jester-hatted people and the top-hatted people as tensions rose to a boiling climax!

Phase Three:  I'd use an invention I make to teleport all of the hats so that everyone that was wearing a purple jester hat will suddenly be wearing a re/yellow top hat and everyone with a top hat will suddenly find themselves with a jester hat.  This will lead to a self-loathing mass suicide of everyone, save me because I'll be wearing my red ball cap.  Being the last person on the planet, I'll claim it in name of Jason!  And I'll rename it "Funkyland"...

Quote of the Day:  "Why is there toast on the orange?"