I love Dan Savage
this week's column
Someone wrote him telling him that they are attracted to children and desperately wish they weren't, and what can they do to get help without getting in trouble? They've never abused a child and don't look at child porn... Anyway, Dan's response is stellar and I love how quickly he can go from caustically cussing out someone who effed his chances at getting another threesome (last week) to being compassionate and offering practical advice to a pedophile. My favourite part is when he points out that no one chooses to be attracted to children, and that to not act on such desires deserves support and credit.
Sauna with Kevin today was so good & then, half an hour later, back up here in anxietyville. My search for a shitty job has not proven fruitful thus far; the only places I am not applying are McDonald's and On Deck. McDonald's because the smell makes me nauseous and On Deck because WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY FUCKING NACHOS? I ORDERED NACHOS TWO HOURS AGO. & by 'ordered', you mean 'put money on a table that my nephew was sitting at', apparently.
This song, written in 1918 by Canadian composer Ernest Seitz, brought joy to the hearts of postwar north americans. There are at least 100 renditions, some with the lyrics written by Gene Lockhart, also Canadian. I'm having trouble finding the Duke Ellington version. Please help, internet detectives!
Someone wrote him telling him that they are attracted to children and desperately wish they weren't, and what can they do to get help without getting in trouble? They've never abused a child and don't look at child porn... Anyway, Dan's response is stellar and I love how quickly he can go from caustically cussing out someone who effed his chances at getting another threesome (last week) to being compassionate and offering practical advice to a pedophile. My favourite part is when he points out that no one chooses to be attracted to children, and that to not act on such desires deserves support and credit.
Sauna with Kevin today was so good & then, half an hour later, back up here in anxietyville. My search for a shitty job has not proven fruitful thus far; the only places I am not applying are McDonald's and On Deck. McDonald's because the smell makes me nauseous and On Deck because WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY FUCKING NACHOS? I ORDERED NACHOS TWO HOURS AGO. & by 'ordered', you mean 'put money on a table that my nephew was sitting at', apparently.
This song, written in 1918 by Canadian composer Ernest Seitz, brought joy to the hearts of postwar north americans. There are at least 100 renditions, some with the lyrics written by Gene Lockhart, also Canadian. I'm having trouble finding the Duke Ellington version. Please help, internet detectives!
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