This Post May Be Crap

This post may be crap. Every post here may be crap. Maybe every once in a while I get to be the millionth monkey and write something not crap. But I know this for sure: every single thing I decide to not write is definitely crap. So, I am going to side-swipe the little hater, the self censor, and work on the assumption that crap happens, that crap happens to me, and it is better to get it out and get one post closer to something good. Right now I am in flare management mode, so what the hell!

PatientC, a middle aged white women with silver/blond hair taking a rare bathroom selfie before a feared massive hair loss that did not occur.

Right after killing sprees and mass shootings may be the hot iron for gun control and gun abolition activists but it is the worst time to try to convince someone that they should give up what they see as their personal defense against such things. These folks sometimes lack the ability to use basic empathy as much as the NRA does (almost all the time). I use the phrase gun abolitionists to simply indicate activists with the goal of eliminating civilian gun ownership, no baggage. I think that control activists would do well to separate themselves from the abolitionists folks if they want to get more done. My heart aches for these folks, today in Oklahoma and who knows where tomorrow - so I want something right, something real, that will help. There is a lot we can do to make the 2nd Amendment a secure right that also respects the rights of others to live without them. But the secessionists, the militia/"states rights" folks, the NRA, the gun abolitionists - they are all going to have to sit at the kiddie table of ideas until they show they can do better.

The Fault in Our Stars is a great movie, you should go see it. You should read the book too. I got into some hot water trying to address the crip face/crip drag issue - but as I said then, if that was all I noticed I would never get to like anything. It is daring to put crippled and dying folks out there, to treat those stories as even worth the telling. Particularly telling tales with disabled/dying kids - we like to pretend they do not even exist. Also please note that Indianapolis is not as white or straight as the movie makers seem to think it is. Overall it is really good and worth the time and almost as brave as the book.

I am over 100 days cigarette free, thanks to vaping eCigs. Which is good, because they found antiphospholipid syndrome and have added that to my list of crap I fight every day. I am glad they found it, it can cause blood clots and kill people, so I would definitely rather know. There is just kind of a shell shocked reaction now a days that comes with new bad news.

(I am trying an app called If That Then This, please pardon duplicate announcements while I get used to it. It could be really useful!)

The Fault In Our Stars

I am able to do some odds and ends around the house today, so I give to you my Goodreads review of #TFioS as a meager offering. It feels good to post more often, and I am doing my best to do just that as I can. I want to delve further into this book regarding disability, chronic pain and other issues here soon. Right now we are still passing it around at home and starting some really good discussions together.


The Fault in Our Stars by John Green
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Thank you, John Green for a great book, and a piece that my daughters and my menfolk and I could all share. Thank you for the community and other efforts you and your's maintain and nurture.

As I was reading TFiOS, I could have sworn that a Spoonie wrote it. I could have sworn that the author must have personally experienced certain health events to have written them so well. Some of the specifics of being chronically ill, of disability, of unrelenting physical suffering are very well described - along with the emotional, familial, and social baggage it can bring. Unlike most works that deal with these issues, this is not made the center of the universe of the characters, which is a welcome uniqueness.

I recommend The Fault in Our Stars highly, but to enumerate why would be to take apart something you should be able to enjoy whole first.

So far, half of the Family here has read it and we all are very taken with it. It has sparked ongoing talks about exactly what constitutes Young Adult fiction - in a content sense, not in a subject sense. What happens to the characters in here happens to kids, and it is handled in what feels like a very real, honest way.

We will discuss this book here at home for a long time, I think, and that is a great thing.

Note: this was written on a brain fog day. Please pardon the irony of a review that is itself so poorly written for a book that is so well formed.


View all my reviews

SmartAss Commentary: Cripple Queers Stay Home

Note: I never thought that I would write a somewhat positive take on a gun show and a very negative experience at a Pride event, well, ever. But here I am.

So, IndyPride was the weekend of June 11th, 2011. My family and I were excited to attend. We have friends all over the LGBT, Intersex and Queer spectrum. I am bisexual, and my girls – much to my own parental pride – feel free to decide who and what they are in their own time. So my husband, my boyfriend, my girls, and I loaded up to head downtown for the Indianapolis Pride festival.

Saturday was beautiful, but hot. There was no natural protection from the sun, but we were prepared.

Parking was a nightmare – many of the downtown spots were blocked off for the event, so we found zero available handicapped parking anywhere near the festival. So D dropped us off a couple of blocks away from the singular entrance. A grassy field needed to be crossed to reach the gate – there was no smoothed path, let alone paved walkway – to use to get in. Fortunately, the folks canvassing for a fund for college to help LGBT youth were at the gate, and I donated, still fairly optimistic about the upcoming experience.

The southern end of the park has a lot of paved walk ways, but few booths. Being near the fountain provided a cool breeze for the few moments it took to pass it. Our first nightmare began as we tried to cross the dividing street (blocked from auto traffic for the event). The people running Circle City Pride apparently decided that giving the bar tents 3 extra, mostly unused feet of space was more important than allowing people to use the city’s curb cuts. They blocked off all of them on all four corners at the ends of the street. One was left on the middle of the north side. I had a complete sense-of-humor failure as I rolled between blocked off curb cuts and eventually had enough, hit my hand breaks, and had a good cry behind my sunglasses (noticed only, I think, by my family).

The north end of the park is completely inaccessible. This made me angry not only for me and the other people at the event, but in general. This is the damn Veteran’s Memorial Plaza, dammit – how on earth are disabled veterans going to navigate this hill and stair infested park?


The festival did block off the far northern paved cross-over, making those of us trying to navigate the tents and booths travel over 4-6 times more ground to get around than the TAB attendees. I spent some time parked at the north east corner, and watched other people using wheelchairs along with parents with children in wagons or strollers curse their luck as they realized they were stuck.

Many of the displays were up small curbs and arranged on dirt paths. Again, this was almost entirely inaccessible unless you have an ATV chair. We eventually were able to find our way to the one booth run by a friend where we knew we could park and rest. Without that, we would have left almost immediately.

While I sat parked, mulling over the supposed message of inclusion of Pride Day and the associated events, my husband and youngest daughter were directed by the one friendly staff member we saw to talk to an organizer. The organizer had no care at all about the issue they brought to her and directed them to speak to a nearby city cop. This… officer, and yes, I have his name, found it appropriate to tell them to suck it up or talk to the military officer in charge of the park. The fucking hell?!?  He was rude, discriminatory, and dismissive. Thanks, Officer Friendly, for destroying my children’s first impression of dealing directly with a law enforcement representative. You are now their idea of what cops are like, in general. Ass.

Navigating in general was difficult, as most staff and patrons never bothered to look lower than eye level while traveling from place to place. Eventually I had no issue poking people with my cane while yelling “EXCUSE ME!” and running over the occasional toe. Maybe you will look for people shorter than your eye level next time, jerk.

So Indy Pride or Circle City Pride was a damn nightmare. Indy Pride was not inclusive. If you are a queer cripple, apparently you should stay in your closet. High on the Hill rocks, though, and was accommodating both at the booth and in their store. So, there was a positive note. That was,well, the only positive note.

SmartAss Commentary: Liberal Crip Goes to the Gun Show

The Indy 1500 has a terrible web page – there is very little you can do there but find out the dates of upcoming shows, sign up for a mailing list and $1 off $10 admission, and see some photos of previous shows. However, it is a decent show as far as I can tell. I had a decent time there. I want to talk about my own gun history, some of the social issues at the gun show, and the accessibility for people with disabilities.

I should probably spell a few things out here before we get started. I am a Second Amendment liberal. I believe in both state protection via police and sheriff departments and self defense. I find the arguments about the intent of the Second Amendment to be more semantic than practical. When the Bill of Rights was created, the gun was simply a tool of survival in early American culture, as in many others. Small, unfunded local defense militias depended on each member to have their own arms. They did, both for hunting and defense. So I find that if a person has a solid answer to the separation of militia and culture – that answer may well be their opinion on the matter rather than a historical fact.

I grew up around gun folks. My mom’s first husband (my adoptive dad or ADad*), her father and several of her brothers all served in the military. The first gun stories I heard were from ADad as he explained the AK scar he acquired in Vietnam. He was shot in the shoulder by a [enemy combatant – I will not use the word he used] and he returned fire, killing the man. My mother was very anti-gun. My grandfather and multiple uncles were enlisted military men. My husband was a military kid, and very comfortable with guns. My boyfriend grew up in a rural social network that was also very easy with firearms – his father was a police officer and is now a correctional officer.

I am intimidated by guns. I am also proficient in their use. I am not a pleasure shooter – you know, the folks that can relax by going to the range for an hour. I cannot get away from their purpose. When aiming at a target, all that is on my mind is why I would be doing this for real – to end the life of another living being. The moral weight and sadness of that is always on my mind if a gun is around. There is no pleasure for me in being able to put six forty-four caliber bullets in a three inch diameter circle.  I can, and do, shoot very well. I hope to never actually need to do so. I do have fun with AirSoft weapons, though – they shoot soft BB-type ammunition powered by gas or springs or batteries.

Now that you know some of my gun history, time for the gun show! (Do I kiss my wimpy biceps here? Probably not…)

Admission was $10, you received a $1 off coupon if you were on their mailing list. Security appeared heavy, but was actually very light. Police were all over the place, as security and patrons. Loaded weapons were not permitted, although we were simply asked if we had any. D had a pistol that needed the sights repaired, and he was directed by the ticket takers to a booth where his pistol was strategically fitted with plastic zip strips to prevent it from being useable. If a patron was found to be carrying a firearm without this treatment, the penalty was immediate ejection from the premises.

Recording devices were not allowed. Although that made writing this piece much more difficult, I followed the rule. Honestly, other than catching someone in the act and ejecting them, there seemed to be no other way of enforcing that rule in this day and age of cell phone cameras, PDAs, and micro cameras.

The building itself (a part of the Indiana State Fairgrounds) was perfectly accessible. Accessibility issues included florescent lights, no scent policy, lots of random noise (no, no gunfire, except on the soundtracks of some videos being shown), and no quiet areas. While some of the table-made aisles are more narrow than others they are still passable in my manual wheelchair… except when some jerk vendor decided they need to set out yet more product, and pushed out over the ends of their tables, or shoved their long gun cases 6-12 inches out into the walk way, or put up spinning displays that eat half of the available aisle space. Arg! 

TL;DR: the building and the planning covered some accessibility basics, but some of the vendors were terrible about it!

There were several areas where one could buy snacks and drinks. Two were permanent booths, and one was more of an open café - larger with displays and seating.

Not every person at the gun show is straight off of People of WalMart. Most folks are dressed in casual middle class or rural attire. The clear majority of attendants were white males. Attendants that appeared to be African American or women were not the majority, but were numerous enough to not be surprising - which may surprise some of you. Obviously disabled folks like me were numerous in chairs or scooters, and there were a comforting amount of cane-users.  A lot of families were in attendance. The vendors were overwhelmingly male, around middle-aged and white.

I have never been to a gun show that did not have some vendors peddling hate. I have spent entire gun shows feeling like I would get shot if I talked about my politics. I was really surprised at the small amount of hate on sale at this gun show. While one pro Nazi booth is too many, there was only one at the show. I saw maybe three booths with small collections of Nazi memorabilia. I sat and stared at the Nazi booth for a while, dumbfounded. This booth was shoved into a corner where it was easily avoided, we almost missed it. They had mouse pads, t-shirts, bumper stickers, jewelry and accessories.

There was a lot less First Nations appropriation than I expected from my previous experience. The generalized, white washed “Native American Aesthetic” is very popular among the survivalist, hunter, preparedness, and gun cultures. There was one booth that was using a dream catcher motif to raise money for disabled children to enjoy outdoor sports and experiences, I think.

Of course, there was a Tea Party presence, but far less than I had feared. One vendor had walls of vitriolic bumper stickers accusing President Obama of just about every thing you can imagine. Someone had passed around flyers I saw at several booths with showed a picture of the President and the First Lady saying “I’m with stupid.” There was one booth selling anti-UN pins, copies of the national and state constitutions with wild interpretations of them. I have copies of them, and may write about those booklets specifically at some point.

 

You have not really thought this stance through, have you?

(Picture description:  a small, round lapel pin or button showing the blue UN emblem, surrounded with a red circle and divided by a red line from upper right to lower left. The intended message is clearly "NO UN.")

As a liberal, all the hate, appropriation and ignorance made me feel threatened, angry, sad, and deeply uncomfortable. Parts of it were like walking back into the Bush administration, were disagreement was equated with treason and only violent, blind patriotism was an acceptable response to any slight at all. But it was much, much better than my previous experiences at gun shows. I do not think that some improvement is enough, to be sure. It does make me happy to see improvement though, and I want to encourage that improvement.

I did not patronize the hate-booths, and still felt fairly free to shop. I picked some targets for AirSoft practice, some great medical stuff (a brass mortar and pestle, glass bottles and tubes, and first aid supplies), two really well priced pieces of luggage, and some camping supplies. I did pick up some of the materials, including the more fantastic stuff to share with you. This included a flyer for an organization that is fighting for you to keep your right to .50 cartridges, an application for the Sons of Confederate Veterans (yes that is exactly what you think it is), the Indiana Citizens Volunteer Militia, advertisements for NRA courses and retreats, flyers for militaria shows, Indiana Gun Owners pamphlets, and material on the Oath Keepers…

*I have a total of three dads: my biological father, or BDad; my mother’s first husband who adopted me when I was five, ADad, and my mother’s second husband (now divorced), ExSDad (ex-step-dad). Also, my mother’s first husband remarried, so I also have a step-mom out there, SMom. Of the five, ExSDad and I have the best relationship, and he is the one I would call in an emergency.