Now I’m A Racist? – Don’t Get Me Started!

I’ve been called a lot of things by a lot of people; before, during and now that my blog is well over two years old but the one thing I have never been called (until now) is racist. The thing about this is that much like the great song from the Broadway musical, “Avenue Q” (are you surprised that once again I look to Broadway to express myself? If you are surprised, then you haven’t been reading my blogs) I too feel we’re all a little bit racist. That’s America, warts and all in my opinion. I guess the larger shocker is that this comes on one of the most inane blogs I think I ever wrote (awhile ago) which remains a “top read” blog from my over how many hundreds of entries through the years. It was the blog about the faux hawk hairstyle and why I felt (and still feel) it needs to just go away. You can read it here if you’d like - http://hubpages.com/hub/Please_Boys_Tell_Me_We_Are_Done_With_The_Faux_Hawk_Hairstyle and while I have a feeling that the commenter is talking more about my recanting of having my hair done in Beverly Hills where there were a line of Hispanic women shampooing hair instead of my disdain for the very large, “white, white, whiter than white” boy wearing a faux hawk, I have to say the whole thing has left me confused. Now I’m a racist? – Don’t Get Me Started!

From blogging for so long, it’s odd but when a comment is posted on one of my blogs and I get notified via email, I have developed a sense about them that just from the name of the person (or sometimes the anonymity some choose) and the name of the blog, it allows me to immediately know what’s coming my way. I can pretty much tell you that the blog I wrote about American Idol leaving Africa to Oprah always brings in negative criticism. None have brought such scathing hatred though as the one I wrote about people not going sleeveless over forty. And others bring lots of joy to people, like when I wrote about common acts of niceness. (The easiest way to find and read these blogs is at http://www.hubpages.com and type in somelikeitscott) But when I got the email telling me that someone named “Kevin” had commented on the faux hawk blog, I just knew instinctively that this was not going to be good. How or why I don’t know. True, at first I thought that Kevin was probably a bitter queen still wearing a faux hawk and was going to give me “what for” and although it proved not to be that, I knew it wasn’t going to be a rave review.

I could go on a tear about why I’m not racist (as I’ve said many times before, my life mate is a black man for over nineteen years now and I’m a short Jewish boy) but I don’t think that would make Kevin or me feel better about things. I guess what gets me is that I felt like I was reporting the facts about the Hispanic women not judging (for once). So maybe that’s what took me by surprise. I don’t know. And I doubt seriously that Kevin will ever read this or write in again but if it makes him feel any better, it made me reread and think about what I had written. (And decide I’d write it exactly the same way again.)

Yes, I think we’re all a little racist and I am no exception to that rule but my surprise was at my reaction at being called a racist. As I said, I’ve spent a lifetime of being called names but none really took me aback as much as the “racist” moniker. (Okay, maybe the fact I’m constantly called, “Ma’am” even when I’m standing in front of people unshaven takes me aback a bit.) But just maybe in a good way, it means we’re all becoming more conscious of the fact that we’re racist and that it’s really not a good thing to be and it makes us feel shameful. Or I’m just going to hell as the “supposed” Christians keep telling me. Either way, I’m a lot of things but now I’m a racist? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/Now-Im-Racist-Dont-Get-Me-Started

The Plight Of The Bumble Bee? – Don’t Get Me Started!

This morning when I went to Starbucks for my morning caffeine and courtesy (God love them, they’re all always so very sweet to me) I was asking about the latest honey drink they’ve created and my barista (side note: can someone explain to me why my local news reporters can say Nicaragua complete with rolled “Rs” and yet they can’t manage to say barista correctly? They pronounced it, “bar ista” – the way you say “bar mitzvah”) at any rate we were talking about the honey drink when my barista told me the supposed little known fact that honey bees only make about a quarter of a teaspoon of honey during their lifespan. She said it as a negative like, “Can you believe that’s all they make?” When suddenly I was infused with the “glass half full” attitude and said, “Maybe they think that’s a lot?” The plight of the bumble bee? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Now I know that several scientists and Bill Maher go on and on about the fact that the bees are leaving in droves and that we should all be worried because without them and their pollination process, we won’t have fruit, vegetables or ever be able to get the image of John Belushi as a “Killer Bee” on Saturday Night Live out of our minds or something. But those of you who read my blogs regularly know me well enough to know that I won’t be writing some clinical analysis about what bees do, why we need bees and why the world should feel doomed that the bees are leaving or dying off or going to Macy’s for a one day sale or whatever the hell it is that they’re doing.

When the bee conversation continued I took it to its natural conclusion (well, for me anyway). Rather than think of the bees being all depressed over the small amount of honey they produce in their lifetime or that they feel like one of Kathy Lee’s children working in a sweatshop making honey for an annoying queen bee who under appreciates them and makes them work in impossible working conditions of these tiny honeycomb shaped cubicles, I thought what if they think it’s great? What if the bees are all like, “Hey Barney, come over here…oh my God, can you even believe how many drops of honey I just made? Isn’t that awesome?” As Billy looks at Barney (because shouldn’t all bees have names that start with “Bs”?) with a look of satisfaction and contentment, Barney applauds his fellow drone’s efforts then goes back to his own. Not worried about keeping up with Billy or even trying to make more than the next bee, just happy to be doing what he’s doing and proud of himself.  What if bees have great self-esteem? Aren’t we humans the ones who gave the word “drone” a negative connotation?

Sure there may be some disgruntled bees around the hive but I prefer to associate with those that are more like Billy and Barney. And while we may all think we want to be the queen (careful you boys who are gay reading this) maybe we should just be what we are and delighted by the fact we’re making almost a quarter teaspoon of honey in our lifetimes? Can you imagine if contentment was the norm?

For those of you saying that I’m making way more out of this than I should, I agree with you. Because let’s face it, we don’t even know if the bees have thoughts or aspirations at all. All that we know is that honey is great on bread and a new drink at Starbucks. But in my mind I like to think of the bees being just fine with what they have, what they do and what they produce. The plight of the bumble bee? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/The-Plight-Of-The-Bumble-Bee- 

Why I Shouldn’t Be Left Alone With A Girl Scout…Box Of Cookies – Don’t Get Me Started!

First of all, for those of you with your minds in the gutter when you began reading the title of this blog I say, “Try to elevate yourself…well for the moment anyway.” It’s no secret that my kryptonite is also green like Superman’s – well, green tasting that is…I mean I think that’s what we’re supposed to associate with the mint color, right? Well I love me some Thin Mint Girl Scout Cookies (from the freezer – of course) and like any other good Girl Scout cookie addict, I get the shakes around this time of year knowing that cookie season is at hand. I don’t merely like the cookies, I crave them like crack (or what I imagine crack cravings to be like). And this is why I shouldn’t be left alone with a Girl Scout…box of cookies – Don’t Get Me Started!

Two weeks ago at my usual Sunday dinner with the folks my mother produced two boxes of Thin Mint cookies for my enjoyment. (That’s right, my mother is my dealer – doesn’t that sound like a Jerry Springer episode title?) She handed them to me quietly, no fuss. After all, transactions like this happen all the time on the street, don’t they, just not so much in a suburban home in Las Vegas. Okay, I take it all back, deals of drugs and cookies most likely happen in many suburban homes across the country every minute of every day. But I digress.

Fade to my home and my sofa where I sat eating sleeve one of the cookies. I don’t care what the “suggested serving size” is on the side of the box, anyone who has ever eaten these cookies knows that one sleeve is a serving and two sleeves (emptying the box) is a meal. I don’t think the cookies lasted a week in my home before both boxes had been devoured.

The thing about these cookies is that I normally don’t buy them for myself. So in my head it’s okay to indulge beyond reason because after all, it’s a gift and I don’t want to be rude so of course I have to eat all of them. However, when I walked out of the grocery store yesterday, there they were…standing there waving their wares, two young girls with a box in each hand, politely asking everyone who left the store if they wanted to buy some cookies. As I showed some interest they moved me right into their den (or card table) of iniquity. Sitting there behind that fold up table with one of each variety on the table for you to peruse sat the drug lords (the mothers). That’s right, although for years I had avoided them, I was suddenly face to face with the head of the drug/cookie cartel and I was no match for them.

As if America isn’t obese enough, the ploy this year is if you buy six boxes you get one free. Now even me with my unquenchable thirst for these cookies couldn’t convince myself to buy six boxes. (I know, you’d think with me addicted and a Jew that I would have gone for the supersized six box deal but somewhere reason sunk in) And so I walked away with two boxes of Thin Mints, a box of the classic shortbread cookies and a box of the “Lemonades” – the classic shortbread cookie with a lemon glaze on it. So far I’m very excited to say that I have managed to avoid the Thin Mints, they’re sitting in my freezer waiting for that day when I need them, just like an old friend.

I can’t finish this tale without telling you that I’m a little disappointed in my recent experience with the Girl Scouts. Neither of the girls had on their classic green uniform with their sashes of merit. (Much like a Miss America contestant without her sash, it’s just unseemly and shouldn’t be done) I think if they’re going to be selling they should have the costume on, should they not? And as I paid their mothers for the cookies, I couldn’t help but see oh too clearly that the real people selling here were the mothers as they tried to strong arm me into the six box deal. The two mothers (most likely both named Ashley) were the ones living through their kids like stage mothers, desperately trying to beat the pants off the other troupes for top sales this year while the two girls, with their mothers distracted pulled out their cell phones and began texting not bothering to illicit sales from any other passer-bys. Like parents who do their kids’ homework for them and yet can’t figure it out when their kids grow up to be idiots and think the world owes them everything just because they’ve always been given everything. No, I want to see that these girls have done more than just sold cookies. I want to see their merit badges that let me know that they’ve worked hard for their cooking, cleaning, changing oil in a car and other Good Samaritan duty badges. I want to see if I’m giving my money to someone who has three badges or a sash full. And for those of you thinking of telling me that everything changes, that can’t be denied but is it so wrong to wish for some things to stay as they are when it comes to certain institutions? One thing that will never change is that I just can’t be trusted around the Thin Mints. Why I shouldn’t be left alone with a Girl Scout…box of cookies – Don’t Get Me Started!

Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/Why-I-Shouldnt-Be-Left-Alone-With-A-Girl-ScoutBox-Of-Cookies-

Oh Come On Gays, Now Clark Gable Was Gay? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Long have I tried to stay out of this fracas (don’t you just love that word?) but I can’t take anymore. In a recent Advocate magazine article (in the issue all about Vegas in which I did NOT appear – write immediately to the editor at http://www.advocate.com/ and ask for your fave blogger, Scott to be featured in their “Meet The Bloggers” section in an upcoming issue) okay, I digress so back to our story… apparently someone somewhere has written a book stating that movie star Clark Gable slept with both men and women. First of all, I just don’t know that I believe it but second of all, I don’t care. It seems that from time to time (and those times seem to occur too often for my taste) gays feel the need to “out” some dead or alive celebrity. Here’s the deal, it doesn’t make me less or more gay so I really don’t see what is to be achieved by saying, “Dear did you see George Washington’s wig? No doubt he was banging the stable boy!” So now it’s supposedly Clark Gable? Our Rhett Butler from that classic, Gone With The Wind? Well frankly my dears, I don’t give a damn. Oh come on gays, now Clark Gable was gay? – Don’t Get Me Started!

I know the argument oh too well, supposedly if the world learns that someone they loved in the movies or was a huge figure in history was gay then people will think twice about how they treat their gay waiter. But you see in my experience, it just does not work that way. Would it be nice if people in the public eye were more open about being gay to try to get more people to find out just how “normal” (and in many cases boring) we gays are? Sure but come on, digging up old celebs to out them?

I also get that we want the Clark Gables of the world to be gay and do you know why? Because they’re manly men who were revered by both men and women and anything that will distance some gays from the limp-wristed stereotype makes them cream in their Seven jeans. Lest we forget that when ol’ Clark appeared without an undershirt under his shirt in It Happened One Night, the sales for undershirts went so low that we’re lucky they even still make them. He had an impact on the public (and their underwear – in more places than their t-shirts, if you know what I mean, thanks to his ruggedly handsome good looks). And while I’m sure that both men and women were hot for Clark, it doesn’t mean he returned the favor.

But more importantly, why do we still seem to care so much? As the gay community clamors for acceptance on a daily basis, it just feels like little kids on the playground to me. “Oh yeah? You called me faggot? Well, guess what? So is your Dad, he’s doing it with Mr. Stanley the history teacher!” Same thing can be said here, “You don’t like me because I’m gay? Well, you liked Clark Gable and he was gay, so there! You must be a homo too cause you liked his movies.” Shall we all take a recess and grow up now? It would be nice wouldn’t it?

And yet here is this author (and I’m hoping the book talks about more than just this) who is going to sell copies because gays will buy it for validation and people who loved Clark Gable will buy it because who doesn’t love a great movie star biography? I’m not calling for a boycott of the book I’m just left in my usual state of disgust wondering what difference this could make in anyone’s lives or the legend that is Clark Gable? The answer my friends is not blowin’ in the wind, the answer that I think it will do absolutely nothing.

We all crave acceptance but I don’t need some celebrity to come out or someone to out a young contestant on American Idol for me to feel better about being gay. I feel fine with it. I also understand that like it or not gays, there are actually straight men out there who don’t want to sleep with men. If we want them to accept us, shouldn’t we start by accepting them? Isn’t the whole point to be accepted because we feel one way and straight people feel another way but we’re all human beings so we should respect one another for our differences? Maybe I’m in danger of once again being thrown out of the gay membership for these thoughts or maybe, just maybe I’m what we were supposed to be all along, gay and okay with it. Oh come on gays, now Clark Gable was gay? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Comment on this blog at...
http://hubpages.com/hub/Oh-Come-On-Gays--Now-Clark-Gable-Was-Gay-