In yet another effort to seek out an "undiscovered" area of DC and transform it into the "hip" part of town (thereby interesting investors, driving out the locals with higher property taxes, and building obscene condos), H street NE has had an amazing face-lift -- one that would rival even Cher -- over the past few years. Cute little bars that serve risottos and delicious sweet potato fries are drawing white bohemian-esque persons from all over the District (they mostly arrive via taxi ... the 1200 block of H Street looks like a hornet's nest of yellow, black, and orange vehicles spinning about to shuttle bus-shy people to and from Union Station).
The Palace of Wonders is a recent addition to what is now being referred to as the "Atlas District" (nice ring to it, right? Well, Atlas struggled, didn't he? Just like the locals who won't be able to keep up with the Jones' once businesses realize the potential of this region ... it's actually really sad).
This palatial bar is a trendy mix between a circus, Moulin Rouge, and Ripley's Believe it or Not. Last Friday, after using my feminine wiles to convince the bouncer-lady to give me a discount on the cover (score ... wish I were equally convincing in other arenas), I was treated to a fire-eating-dancing burning-sword-swinging fire-hula-hooping extravaganza. Quite unlike anything I've ever seen at JR's or Cobalt (although both featuring "flaming" individuals).
It was quite refreshing to watch a talent show - albeit a somewhat odd and unexpected show - on a Friday night with mixed company and mixed drinks. There is a small stage on the ground floor, barely visible through a sea of heads that usually sport spiked haircuts and braidings of uncertain origins. The second floor has display cases showing the various anomalies of the human species (for 2 seconds I SWEAR I saw Richard Simmons) and other mythical creatures of the world (a date-able gay man, for example).
All in all, it was very trendy and quirky and fun ... which basically means that once this place is discovered by the NW inhabitants (and if they are strong enough to brave the mysteries of H Street and/or the X2 bus), the Palace of Wonders will be packed to the brim, line stretching down the block, and appeal entirely lost due to the lack of spunk from its former attendees.
Odd ... quite like the fire-dancers, I too must be wearing some sort of flame-deterrent oil. Come on baby light my fire ... *poof* ...
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Thursday, January 10, 2008
New neighbors
First impressions are important- getting off on the right foot is essential to effective relationship-building. Yeah- this bitch has two left feet, apparently. And my first social encounter with my new neighbors was about as awkward as two strangers at a middle school dance.
When I first came to the house to move in, my new roommate cleverly hid my set of keys in an inconspicuous location where no thief would ever dare look - under the flower pot off the front porch (clever, like a wallet in the toe of your shoe at the beach). So after receiving my instructions to retrieve the keys from this amazingly confidential spot, I pulled up to the house and had my first look at my new home (yes, I signed a lease site-unseen ... I've lived with enough psychos that I'm sure I've exhausted the mentally-insane population by now).
I began the hunt for my hidden keys. What my roommate forgot to tell me, however, was WHICH flower pot I should look under- there were about 6 altogether. So I went up on the porch and tried the first on the right ... and nothing. Then the one in front of the porch- again, nothing. I lifted each flower pot, and then again a second time, frantic and concerned that our secret exchange had been compromised.
Until the front door slowly opened, and a middle-aged woman suspiciously cocked her head out of the door, and sternly inquired- "Excuse me! Can I help you?!?"
*ahem* "Um ... yes ma'am, I'm your new neighbor, and I happen to be looking for my keys on the wrong porch."
"Mmhmm." *door slams*
Well, screw first impressions. It's like the first time you have sex- you think it's allllll important and everything, but after a few awkward motions and avoided eye contact you realize it wasn't enjoyable for either party.
Round 2, only this time it was with her son. Yesterday I was enjoying a PB&J on the front porch (neighbors comment- "Hey look! White bred eating white bread! The irony!"), when the same front door swung open and an 8-year-old boy meandered out on to the porch. He was dressed in his pajamas, and I believe he is mentally retarded or developmentally delayed in some capacity.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm enjoying a pleasant peanut butter and jelly sandwich on this fine day, dear neighbor. And how about yourself?"
"Get the fuck inside the house."
Silence.
"Um ... I'm sorry?"
"You heard me, get the fuck inside the house!"
More silence. "Well, um ... no, actually, I'm eating my lunch and I intend to finish it."
"Do you have a bike?"
(this conversation was like chimpanzees playing ping pong) "Nope, don't have a bike. Do you?"
"Mine's broke. Do you have a bike?"
"Nope, I sure don't."
"Get the fuck inside the house!" *door slams*
Sigh ... Well, it's not Mister Roger's Neighborhood, but at least it's home. And honestly, I wouldn't feel comfortable unless I had some amount of insanity living nearby.
OMG ... I just realized how gay Mister Roger's was. The clothes, the spotlessness, the singing and cheery disposition ... however the difference between Mr. R and myself is that if I went parading down the street singing "Won't you be my neighbor?", I'm liable to get shot.
But hey, even Mr. R liked a good pistol-whipping every now and then.
When I first came to the house to move in, my new roommate cleverly hid my set of keys in an inconspicuous location where no thief would ever dare look - under the flower pot off the front porch (clever, like a wallet in the toe of your shoe at the beach). So after receiving my instructions to retrieve the keys from this amazingly confidential spot, I pulled up to the house and had my first look at my new home (yes, I signed a lease site-unseen ... I've lived with enough psychos that I'm sure I've exhausted the mentally-insane population by now).
I began the hunt for my hidden keys. What my roommate forgot to tell me, however, was WHICH flower pot I should look under- there were about 6 altogether. So I went up on the porch and tried the first on the right ... and nothing. Then the one in front of the porch- again, nothing. I lifted each flower pot, and then again a second time, frantic and concerned that our secret exchange had been compromised.
Until the front door slowly opened, and a middle-aged woman suspiciously cocked her head out of the door, and sternly inquired- "Excuse me! Can I help you?!?"
*ahem* "Um ... yes ma'am, I'm your new neighbor, and I happen to be looking for my keys on the wrong porch."
"Mmhmm." *door slams*
Well, screw first impressions. It's like the first time you have sex- you think it's allllll important and everything, but after a few awkward motions and avoided eye contact you realize it wasn't enjoyable for either party.
Round 2, only this time it was with her son. Yesterday I was enjoying a PB&J on the front porch (neighbors comment- "Hey look! White bred eating white bread! The irony!"), when the same front door swung open and an 8-year-old boy meandered out on to the porch. He was dressed in his pajamas, and I believe he is mentally retarded or developmentally delayed in some capacity.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm enjoying a pleasant peanut butter and jelly sandwich on this fine day, dear neighbor. And how about yourself?"
"Get the fuck inside the house."
Silence.
"Um ... I'm sorry?"
"You heard me, get the fuck inside the house!"
More silence. "Well, um ... no, actually, I'm eating my lunch and I intend to finish it."
"Do you have a bike?"
(this conversation was like chimpanzees playing ping pong) "Nope, don't have a bike. Do you?"
"Mine's broke. Do you have a bike?"
"Nope, I sure don't."
"Get the fuck inside the house!" *door slams*
Sigh ... Well, it's not Mister Roger's Neighborhood, but at least it's home. And honestly, I wouldn't feel comfortable unless I had some amount of insanity living nearby.
OMG ... I just realized how gay Mister Roger's was. The clothes, the spotlessness, the singing and cheery disposition ... however the difference between Mr. R and myself is that if I went parading down the street singing "Won't you be my neighbor?", I'm liable to get shot.
But hey, even Mr. R liked a good pistol-whipping every now and then.
Conversations on sex, dating, and nothing in between
This morning I took a minute to sit down and really think about the conversations I've had in the past few days- alarmingly, there seems to be an obviously recurring theme in all of them. Different friends, different scenarios, different settings- one pervasive issue ... relationships. I turn on the radio- it's there. I pull up my favorite movie- hmm, there also. Every phone conversation, every dinner and mingling and chat at a bar. Relationships are the Starbucks of our discourse.
Which makes me have to wonder about our society-- what the hell is wrong with us?
"Small people talk about other people. Average people talk about things. Great people talk about ideas."
Hmfph. Well, I suppose this snotty quote isn't all that far off the beaten track. In fact, most of the discussions on relationships and dating involve the search for the unobtainable- an idea, if you will - for that "thing" we seek as a companion. I am surprised by how many truly amazing single people I know, who are usually not single by choice.
If we're all talking about it, and we all want it- then why can't we get it together, people?!?
These aren't joyous discussions about seeking a partner, either-- they are filled with scary dates (I recently heard one about being held hostage, in a oh-no-I'm-not-really-in-to-S-&-M-but-thank-you kind of way), heart-wrenching break ups, complaining, whining, yearning, hallucinating, dreaming the impossible ...
We are a complex synthesis of emotions and biology- one dictating what we need, another concluding what we want, and all of the drama that ensues when these collide.
Now talk amongst yourselves ...
Which makes me have to wonder about our society-- what the hell is wrong with us?
"Small people talk about other people. Average people talk about things. Great people talk about ideas."
Hmfph. Well, I suppose this snotty quote isn't all that far off the beaten track. In fact, most of the discussions on relationships and dating involve the search for the unobtainable- an idea, if you will - for that "thing" we seek as a companion. I am surprised by how many truly amazing single people I know, who are usually not single by choice.
If we're all talking about it, and we all want it- then why can't we get it together, people?!?
These aren't joyous discussions about seeking a partner, either-- they are filled with scary dates (I recently heard one about being held hostage, in a oh-no-I'm-not-really-in-to-S-&-M-but-thank-you kind of way), heart-wrenching break ups, complaining, whining, yearning, hallucinating, dreaming the impossible ...
We are a complex synthesis of emotions and biology- one dictating what we need, another concluding what we want, and all of the drama that ensues when these collide.
Now talk amongst yourselves ...
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
2007 ... and DreamGirls (huh?)
Last January I was fully inducted into gaydom (or queendom?) with what would immediately become a personal obsession that rivaled previous affairs with great Broadway productions like Evita, Annie, or even the tireless Wicked. Three smooth, strong, black voices in chorus together, bright lights and shimmering costumes that hung closely to swiveling hips as performers extravagantly peacocked their way around the stage -- heaven on the silver screen, my dream Girls, indeed.
And even though iTunes hasn't invented a digit high enough to count the number of times this soundtrack has poured itself soothingly into my life, the obsession brings itself full circle to another January- another year. Personally, this music brings with it a surprising amount of emotion interlaced in the fabric of eloquently crafted and performed songs that represent the very essence of what it is to be human- or, at least, what it is or felt like to be me in 2007.
Some excerpts, in no particular order:
"move right out of my life": a boy, a department, an ex-bestfriend, and a landlord (sounds like the Real World, although I would have to re-name it the Real Shit World)
"putting all my trust in you, cuz you ... you'll always be true": for a very special guy, although my heart just wasn't in it :-(
"you've got the charm, you simply disarm me every time": a silly 3-month ordeal of buckling knees and cowardice, which eventually gave way to friendship and quite a bit of confusion
"What about what I need? What about what's best for me? What about how I feel?": my pleas to a department intent to cast aside any request that proved to be in my interest- FYI ... if you leave a person out in the cold, they do get frostbitten...
"Heavy heavy, you got so heavy baby ...": OK OKAY, yes, an extra pound or two wiggled its way on to my sensitive muffin-top waist. Fortunately the metal zipper that securely binds my jeans together is stronger than my resistance to cookie temptation ...
"I don't wanna be free ...": You know that feeling of quasi-relief when you break up with someone you weren't really into, and you suddenly find more of yourself in your free time and friendships? Yeah, the opposite of that.
"Stop all the rivers, push- strike- and kill ...": That feeling when you've been burned unfairly, or judged unscrupulously, and nothing you can say or do can make it right. Even though those persons were there to teach, instruct, and guide.
"Patience - it's gonna take some time": Finding hope and inspiration in unlikely places/persons, and trusting in the ultimate power of the human spirit that refused to wither.
"All those years of darkness could make a person blind ... but now I can see": Like a benefactor of Jesus' miracles (he was a skilled optometrist ... "Read that eye chart over there, mortal human" ... "W ..... W ..... J ...... D ....."), I remember feeling a huge change coming on about September as I began to prove my potential not only to my department, but to myself.
"finding myself, and getting a hold of the anger in me": Well ... learning it was there in the first place, and then trying to get a hold of it -- like unbridled horses who have had too much Starbucks.
"the only trouble is you really don't have the time": Ahh, yes ... if there was one thing in this universe I would like to give to others and myself, it is more time. But I assume we'd waste it on shoe shopping, reality TV, and fretting about tomorrow- instead of what's right in front of us (carpe diem, in a breathy voice).
"I'm not at home in my own home": Well, honestly, who would feel at home when their roommate said "If you died, I'd be relieved" ... and you lock your door and blockade it with a chair every night (insert Psycho music now). And then if at another residence you were badgered by a non-tenant "tenant" who lied about you to your landlord, resulting in the loss of $500. Sigh :-)
"Listen to the song here in my heart": A simple but honest tune put out there that remains unheard-- perhaps I should pluck my heart-strings harder? And as the echo comes back to me without a harmony or "fine", I have to wonder- why do I find myself playing for the wrong audience? *no applause, please*
And, quite like Effie singing "And I am telling you, I'm not going", yes--- obviously I, too, can be a melodramatic diva.
And even though iTunes hasn't invented a digit high enough to count the number of times this soundtrack has poured itself soothingly into my life, the obsession brings itself full circle to another January- another year. Personally, this music brings with it a surprising amount of emotion interlaced in the fabric of eloquently crafted and performed songs that represent the very essence of what it is to be human- or, at least, what it is or felt like to be me in 2007.
Some excerpts, in no particular order:
"move right out of my life": a boy, a department, an ex-bestfriend, and a landlord (sounds like the Real World, although I would have to re-name it the Real Shit World)
"putting all my trust in you, cuz you ... you'll always be true": for a very special guy, although my heart just wasn't in it :-(
"you've got the charm, you simply disarm me every time": a silly 3-month ordeal of buckling knees and cowardice, which eventually gave way to friendship and quite a bit of confusion
"What about what I need? What about what's best for me? What about how I feel?": my pleas to a department intent to cast aside any request that proved to be in my interest- FYI ... if you leave a person out in the cold, they do get frostbitten...
"Heavy heavy, you got so heavy baby ...": OK OKAY, yes, an extra pound or two wiggled its way on to my sensitive muffin-top waist. Fortunately the metal zipper that securely binds my jeans together is stronger than my resistance to cookie temptation ...
"I don't wanna be free ...": You know that feeling of quasi-relief when you break up with someone you weren't really into, and you suddenly find more of yourself in your free time and friendships? Yeah, the opposite of that.
"Stop all the rivers, push- strike- and kill ...": That feeling when you've been burned unfairly, or judged unscrupulously, and nothing you can say or do can make it right. Even though those persons were there to teach, instruct, and guide.
"Patience - it's gonna take some time": Finding hope and inspiration in unlikely places/persons, and trusting in the ultimate power of the human spirit that refused to wither.
"All those years of darkness could make a person blind ... but now I can see": Like a benefactor of Jesus' miracles (he was a skilled optometrist ... "Read that eye chart over there, mortal human" ... "W ..... W ..... J ...... D ....."), I remember feeling a huge change coming on about September as I began to prove my potential not only to my department, but to myself.
"finding myself, and getting a hold of the anger in me": Well ... learning it was there in the first place, and then trying to get a hold of it -- like unbridled horses who have had too much Starbucks.
"the only trouble is you really don't have the time": Ahh, yes ... if there was one thing in this universe I would like to give to others and myself, it is more time. But I assume we'd waste it on shoe shopping, reality TV, and fretting about tomorrow- instead of what's right in front of us (carpe diem, in a breathy voice).
"I'm not at home in my own home": Well, honestly, who would feel at home when their roommate said "If you died, I'd be relieved" ... and you lock your door and blockade it with a chair every night (insert Psycho music now). And then if at another residence you were badgered by a non-tenant "tenant" who lied about you to your landlord, resulting in the loss of $500. Sigh :-)
"Listen to the song here in my heart": A simple but honest tune put out there that remains unheard-- perhaps I should pluck my heart-strings harder? And as the echo comes back to me without a harmony or "fine", I have to wonder- why do I find myself playing for the wrong audience? *no applause, please*
And, quite like Effie singing "And I am telling you, I'm not going", yes--- obviously I, too, can be a melodramatic diva.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Returning home ...
Two days ago I loaded up an SUV with my entire tangible life- clothes, bread machine, miscellaneous stuffed animals (and yes, I am secure enough in my mascu-femininity that I can sleep with a stuffed turtle named Henry should the mood strike me- he’s warm and comes accessorized with a bathrobe and boxers!).
My arrival in DC marks the beginning of another chapter in this tireless novel- I’m on the precipice of a ginormous cavern filled with millions of question marks, swirling about like an ensemble of bubbles caught in a breeze. It’s dizzying; each answer leads to more questions, like a clue-ridden DaVinci Code movie that never ends. It is life unfolding to its fullest- a shining new day, illuminated by an infinite number of colors and pigments that are forever growing and changing.
Basically, I’m scared to death …
As Philadelphia faded into the distance of my rearview mirror, I was still dabbing at puffy eyes after saying goodbye to my roommate, Tanya. Well … she was much more than a roommate. A colleague, a mentor, a confidant, an advisor, a role-model, and a friend. It’s her I’ll miss the most-- our chats in the kitchen over wine glasses that refused to stay empty, our sprinting across the school parking lot to avoid missing the sign-in sheet for staff members, our engaging discussions on Harry Potter and the sexuality of Dumbledore ... It’s all gone.
As I sat in the food court at the Pentagon City mall, I stared at the post-holiday crowds rushing about to return gifts and take advantage of the latest sales. There could have been at least 500 people there- probably a lot more. And, surprisingly and disturbingly, I felt so completely alone. Returning “home” had never felt so strange.
And so, as any gay man would do, I consoled myself with a lavish shopping spree at Bed Bath & Beyond. Homo-therapy, ahhh …
I’m sitting here amongst a micro-city of boxes and storage bins, wishing I could Mary Poppins everything into its proper niche. I wish I could fast-forward through the next few days- hell, through all of the ambiguity that awaits me in the upcoming weeks. But missing the journey devalues the destination, as evasive as this destination seems to be. I’ll close my eyes, leap into the cavern, and hope the question marks are sensible enough to break my fall.
Sleep tight, Henry.
My arrival in DC marks the beginning of another chapter in this tireless novel- I’m on the precipice of a ginormous cavern filled with millions of question marks, swirling about like an ensemble of bubbles caught in a breeze. It’s dizzying; each answer leads to more questions, like a clue-ridden DaVinci Code movie that never ends. It is life unfolding to its fullest- a shining new day, illuminated by an infinite number of colors and pigments that are forever growing and changing.
Basically, I’m scared to death …
As Philadelphia faded into the distance of my rearview mirror, I was still dabbing at puffy eyes after saying goodbye to my roommate, Tanya. Well … she was much more than a roommate. A colleague, a mentor, a confidant, an advisor, a role-model, and a friend. It’s her I’ll miss the most-- our chats in the kitchen over wine glasses that refused to stay empty, our sprinting across the school parking lot to avoid missing the sign-in sheet for staff members, our engaging discussions on Harry Potter and the sexuality of Dumbledore ... It’s all gone.
As I sat in the food court at the Pentagon City mall, I stared at the post-holiday crowds rushing about to return gifts and take advantage of the latest sales. There could have been at least 500 people there- probably a lot more. And, surprisingly and disturbingly, I felt so completely alone. Returning “home” had never felt so strange.
And so, as any gay man would do, I consoled myself with a lavish shopping spree at Bed Bath & Beyond. Homo-therapy, ahhh …
I’m sitting here amongst a micro-city of boxes and storage bins, wishing I could Mary Poppins everything into its proper niche. I wish I could fast-forward through the next few days- hell, through all of the ambiguity that awaits me in the upcoming weeks. But missing the journey devalues the destination, as evasive as this destination seems to be. I’ll close my eyes, leap into the cavern, and hope the question marks are sensible enough to break my fall.
Sleep tight, Henry.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
A Japanese Christmas
They say that to really appreciate your own culture and customs, you must first step out of your box (ladies please don't be concerned - I mean your "comfort zone") and see the world from a different perspective -- like standing on a desk in Dead Poets Society ... and being able to stare down at crotches in the classroom from an aerial view instead of sideways glances in the shower. AHEM - woah, derailed there for a second.
Another way to shake up your paradigm (ladies, keep calm) is to have someone else come into your box and take a look around (OBGYNs are cultural pros!). In the metaphorical sense, having my Japanese friend in Lakeland, Florida, for 2 days during the Christmas holidays was a unique opportunity to take a good, hard look at my own box.
Here are Makoto's observations of an America VERY different from the Washington, DC he has become accustomed to:
-We put trees in houses and decorate them. It's like a bonsai that has decided to take over the house.
-There is an over-abundance of religious institutes, particularly those with schools conjoined.
-There is a shocking over-abundance of old people clogging traffic as they purposefully try to lower the nation's speed limit to approximately 25 mph.
-We spend a surprisingly large amount of money on gifts and exchange them, and then hug! Why do we hug each other?!? What's the point???
-Lights on houses are simply spellbinding. It's like a small scale Tokyo.
-Every meal is to be photographed from multiple angles.
-Gay bars must be photographed inside and out (lots of flashing *wink*)
I think my favorite part of the evening was when Makoto was completely surrounded by Americans hanging on his every word (sign), asking all kinds of questions about his home and heritage. And when asked by a little child "Do you like girls???", he turned the darkest red I've ever seen.
Gay, deaf, and Japanese? He's a one-stop shop, filling the diversity quota for any American gathering.
And in case you're wondering- no, he did not have any business to do in any literal boxes.
Another way to shake up your paradigm (ladies, keep calm) is to have someone else come into your box and take a look around (OBGYNs are cultural pros!). In the metaphorical sense, having my Japanese friend in Lakeland, Florida, for 2 days during the Christmas holidays was a unique opportunity to take a good, hard look at my own box.
Here are Makoto's observations of an America VERY different from the Washington, DC he has become accustomed to:
-We put trees in houses and decorate them. It's like a bonsai that has decided to take over the house.
-There is an over-abundance of religious institutes, particularly those with schools conjoined.
-There is a shocking over-abundance of old people clogging traffic as they purposefully try to lower the nation's speed limit to approximately 25 mph.
-We spend a surprisingly large amount of money on gifts and exchange them, and then hug! Why do we hug each other?!? What's the point???
-Lights on houses are simply spellbinding. It's like a small scale Tokyo.
-Every meal is to be photographed from multiple angles.
-Gay bars must be photographed inside and out (lots of flashing *wink*)
I think my favorite part of the evening was when Makoto was completely surrounded by Americans hanging on his every word (sign), asking all kinds of questions about his home and heritage. And when asked by a little child "Do you like girls???", he turned the darkest red I've ever seen.
Gay, deaf, and Japanese? He's a one-stop shop, filling the diversity quota for any American gathering.
And in case you're wondering- no, he did not have any business to do in any literal boxes.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Do you reuse your shopping bags?
Every Christmas I have the ultimate pleasure of perusing The Lakeland Ledger, the ultimate comprehensive guide to national news and the local to-do-s of Polk County.
Everyday The Ledger poses a question to the general public in their special segment called "Polk Pulse" (please note that The Pulse is the most frequented gay bar in Lakeland -- coincidence?). Yesterday's question was: "Do you reuse your shopping bags?"
I pray, pray, PRAY on bended knee that this person's response was really a satirical spoof, cleverly poking fun at conservatives. If this is a real person, may god have mercy on our souls.
I quote: "No, I don't reuse my shopping bags. I love it the way it upsets liberal idiots that think that 'Oh, you're going to save the trees, you got to reuse your plastic bags because our resources aren't infinite.' Actually, they are. I don't reuse my bags. I think anybody that says you should ought to be shot."
I find myself, probably for the first time in my entire life, completely speechless.
I'm imagining a world where everyone wanders around assuming that natural resources are automatically replaced once tapped, and that people who care about the earth we live on should no longer have the privilege of existence.
Peace on earth, but screw the earth itself. Huh???
Everyday The Ledger poses a question to the general public in their special segment called "Polk Pulse" (please note that The Pulse is the most frequented gay bar in Lakeland -- coincidence?). Yesterday's question was: "Do you reuse your shopping bags?"
I pray, pray, PRAY on bended knee that this person's response was really a satirical spoof, cleverly poking fun at conservatives. If this is a real person, may god have mercy on our souls.
I quote: "No, I don't reuse my shopping bags. I love it the way it upsets liberal idiots that think that 'Oh, you're going to save the trees, you got to reuse your plastic bags because our resources aren't infinite.' Actually, they are. I don't reuse my bags. I think anybody that says you should ought to be shot."
I find myself, probably for the first time in my entire life, completely speechless.
I'm imagining a world where everyone wanders around assuming that natural resources are automatically replaced once tapped, and that people who care about the earth we live on should no longer have the privilege of existence.
Peace on earth, but screw the earth itself. Huh???
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