Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am

This one's about the rodeo and PC-ness.

"I'm glad everyone is enjoying their time at the lodge; we will be leaving here on Monday morning so if you have laundry, mail to catch up, or shopping to finish... plus it may be helpful if you mail your things home so you don't have to lug them around. We are lucking out tonight, 55 degrees... should be a great night outside to watch the rodeo. Have you ever seen a rodeo? Who gets the worse deal the horse or the rider in your opinion?

Have you ever imagined what a blade of grass feels like on a hot day? What kind of things would the grass be thinking about and why? What if torrential rain started; how would the grass feel and why? Let's see your creativity with this one. We will be wildlife viewing today on a guided tour with a ranger, another great camera op in the morning; the afternoon will be yours until we get together for dinner and then the rodeo.

There are more people hurt by bison than by bears each year in Yellowstone. Park regulations state that visitors must stay at least 25 yards away from bison or elk and 100 yards away from bears."

What's up campers? No better way to pass the time than a blog entry before dinner and a rodeo, right? After we get the little things outta the way, of course. Little things, like a blade of grass...that we so often take for granted. How does it feel on a hot day? If it's in the solitude amidst peers, I'd say it's doin' alright. It tans and browns like most of the rest of us. Earnin' its keep from the soil and whatnot. Unless it's festival grass...then god bless it. That's like the suicide bomber of the grass world. "Hi, we're here just to promote our green living concepts until we get trampled on by the party crowd!" And there isn't much that can be done about that. But as a blade of grass, don't you kind of know your fate based on the surroundings you were born into? You could end up with the life on someone's lawn, getting yourself hewn all the time by someone else who wishes for your conformity within the community of like blades...or you could get to sprout free amongst the illest patches yearlong, save for that one time millions of people trod upon you and your soulmates in the name of human concert-going.

My preference would be to be free and take my chances. The blade the lawnmower refuses to cut. The untrimmed edge. That blade. The one that flaps in the summer wind, uncouth and uncut. So I die once a year the hard way, at the feet of the music lovers. I'll still get to come back to where I feel loved the most, and not forced into the crew-cut patio-outlining lifestyle. I'm not your regular greenery, dammit!

But hot damn! Ok, back to me, and not my grassblade persona. I'm not one for rodeos...unless it's a Burger King Rodeo Cheeseburger (are those still a thing? It was just a cheeseburger with some onion rings and barbecue sauce; a dollar menu gem.). Like, IDGAF. Cowboys and giant sides of animated beef. I've been domesticated to see past that, I guess. Another display of Americana pagentry...where eventually we roast and devour the losers? I dunno. Does that happen? You can tell me if I'm wrong. I'm all against cannibalism, so why wouldn't it be fair if...never mind; I'm losing my train of thought. How is this fun? Oh gawds, so many things going on, and I don't wanna tell anyone who's right and who's wrong.

Luckily, we have Lyn's a Witchy Woman and ANN Counselor, Lesbian & Happy along with us to tell us what's right and expected of us...so before I can even contemplate what a side of bronco ribs slathered in bbq sauce looks and tastes like, Charlie ~ and I have been led out from the grandstands. I don't even think either of us has been properly lubricated enough mentally to understand what's about to go down. There used to be a bar/nite club in my area growing up that had "Country Night" every Thursday, but Wednesdays and Fridays were "Teen Night" and "Alternative Night", which meant my sister and her friends could dance, and drive me and my friends so we could get shitfaced...and ride the mechanical bull. Which, sober or no matter how many dollar pints of Labatt Blue are in ya, is a lot harder than it looks. I will fuck with anyone regarding their love of country music, but if you can ride that on teen night in a bar where too many people are wanting to show off in front of their friends and aren't used to looking stupid, well, bless their hearts.

But I've been there, and I've fallen off fast. I'm willing to engage my crowd at the expense of my lack of buckin' ability. I'll put on a good show for three seconds...long enough to wave my cap in the air like I'm actually a-ridin' this dinner like whatshisname- that John Wayne guy. Fuck him, and fuck this beast! I'm in it to wi----

Nope. I buckled when the animal bucked. Ass over horns did I go. I guess I'm thankful enough to have rolled out of the way the way I did, because I could've been trampled. Why do we tease these animals? I could've been Norbmeat for a god damn family of rodeo animals! And then what? I'm not endangered, so it ain't like anyone would be all Cecil the lion   about me...just another stupid human gored by animals and their instincts.

I made it back into the grandstand and was greeted with jeers from my fellow campers...so I lashed out. "How many of you would've been willing to do that?" Shut them up pretty quick. I got a heroic backrub from Princess Megan Rose 22 Years , and soon all was forgotten.

"Do you think our society has gotten too politically correct? Is there even such a thing as being too politically correct? Share your opinions on this topic."

I guess I should preface this by saying that I never set out with the intention of offending anyone. That's not in my heart; it's not my nature. I understand that people from all walks of life will see this, and most won't have the benefit of walking a mile in my shoes. Deep down, I wanna love everyone...can't we all just get along?  

But we can't. I know this. Because despite one's best efforts at inclusion, there are gonna be some people out there who no matter what are gonna get pissed for one reason or another. You can't please everyone. You can't make everyone happy. The best you can do is work on yourself, and do your best to warn others...but even then, not everyone gets the memo or, worse, thinks it "won't happen to them" (and that's dangerous territory...sometimes, the people who claim they don't get offended by anything are the first to raise holy hell at the first sniff of subversive content).

Personally, I don't give a fuck about anything (for the most part). And I know better than to think most of you feel the same way. I have lines, sure...but most of 'em are drawn farther away from yours. On the header of this blog I have not one, but two warnings for the uninitiated:

I'd be a fool to think that those are heeded with the same urgency I think they should...just like I'd be if I thought everyone else understood things the same way I did. It's a fact of life that sometimes what we intend isn't the same as what it's interpreted as. It's a hard lesson to learn. Especially when it's repeatedly taught upon you.

All that said, look...I can only do so much. And I'm fully aware that we've all been brought up with different values. We like what we like, and that's a big part of the mix that makes us individuals. Some of us were just born with higher doses of fuck-all than the others. And that's ok. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna hide from who I am just so it doesn't upset your pretty little sensibilities. It's the classic American trait...Why should I change when you're the one that needs changin'? What a piss fight that is, don't ya think?

We're so hellbent on coagulating around similar interests and hating on things that aren't like us that we fail to see the real beauty in the expressionism itself. The reasons behind why people do or say the things they do or say. We're so wrapped up in creating our own little worlds that not only can't we appreciate the other worlds of anyone else, but we also take that to mean that they're making war on ours. And let me tell you, friends...that's some bullshit.

I live on one simple tenet: Live, and let live. That's it. No more, no less. Everyone has value, everyone has opinions, and they also have the right to express them, whether you agree or don't. That doesn't make them lesser than you. That doesn't invoke some right to discriminate. Fucking deal with it, like you were taught to in, I dunno, kindergarten? And truthfully, interpersonal relationships don't start at the elementary age...it happens at home, before school.

It's hard to understand now, in the age of participation trophies and whatnot. That wall has been broken, by one butthurt mom who couldn't take her sucky kid's crying at not being good enough at not sucking. And that's ruined it for the rest of us...who were worth being distinguished by our actions with a little trophy. Now everyone gets one, and maybe one kid gets a bigger one, but the rich kid pissed and moaned that he didn't get as big of one, and where does it fucking end??

In WDC parlance, I always feel a little sketched-out whenever I enter something that offers a prize for participating. Like, I show up, drop my words off in a parking lot, pick them up afterwards, and at the end of the month or whenever there's a "Thanks for playin'!" sticker on 'em just for doing what I pretty much would've done one way or another anyway. Maybe it's a bad example, because some folks are genuinely happy to have people play along in their whatevers, but I'd rather just be told I suck and go home and never bother.

This is where I think I'm maybe getting off the point, so I'll wrap it up. If you're worried about pissing people off, think about what you're doing/saying that'll piss people off. And if you're easily offended by whatever, then either reevaluate your thinking as to why you were in such a position and stick to needlepoint or Puritan artisan crafts, or grow a pair and understand that whatever it is you're doing is available to all sorts of people who might not hold the same beliefs as you. "Politically correct" was a great thing at one time, helping people who were singled out and/or disadvantaged. Now it's become a rallying cry for everyone who doesn't get their way. Truth shocker: no one wins. There isn't a master plan tilted to benefit one segment of the population over another. And every subsect within any division is filled with advantages and disadvantages. When the final tally is taken, is it really gonna matter? You'll be too dead to notice. Just don't be too much of a dick in the here and now, and you'll be alright.

Who do I speak to at the rodeo about not riding on the proper animal?

"When the hell did one goddamn thing go right in my life but you?
You said you weren't sure. You said you were scared.
Well, guess what? I was scared too."
Lyrics.  

*stargray* To sort of accentuate my point from up above about "political correctness", while understanding that it's neither here nor there necessarily in the actual topic, fuck politics. When you and I both understand that neither political party in America truly has the common person's interests in mind when they want to run for the highest office, then we'll agree. I have a lot of Conservative friends who love to use hyperbole when voicing their opinions, and think that by resorting to name-calling us Liberals we'll just "see the errors of our ways". "You idiot Liberals! You must be stupid..." etc. How does that win me in your favor? I'm disaffected by whole process already, but that really doesn't help. When your party needs umpteen candidates to hold a debate televised on the network that constantly pumps your tires, and the one dude that sticks out slashes them, you're in trouble. The last time I checked, voting was done behind a closed curtain. It was between you and your deity of choice, I guess. If you're prepared to vote in public, be prepared to defend your choice...and not with something like "There was blood coming out of her wherever."  

If you're judging me, I'm not voting for you.

I don't know if I'm allowed to campaign for this yet or not, or if campaigning is even allowed, but it's almost 8pm my (and WDC) time, and at midnight the first questions drop at "Invalid Item" . Gift points are a thing needed, and I think my team will need them. Not saying my team's not smart enough to win on its own merits, but you might wanna help us out. I looked at my team's forum, and I'm already sorta facepalmin'. One week, lord...one week...then I can go back to WDC infamy ignorance.

Ok, I'm kinda done with this for tonight ...I'll hide my feelings just out of spite so I don't upset anyone who hates people with feelings that need to be felt. Eat a plastic bag of dicks, unless you're allergic to them; in that case, use canvas. Peace, our hands bond, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!