Well, kids, my
attempt at vegetarianism is a blazing failure. I was doing just fine until the
National Western Stock Show (NWSS) came ‘round and, well, there aren’t a ton of vegetarian options when you’re hanging out with cowboys and ranchers.
Okay, that’s a cop out. I could have had corn on the cob and funnel cakes repeatedly but the intoxicating aroma of Bubba’s BBQ and my ultimate weakness – the pulled pork sandwich – overcame me and, well … I walked away, day after day, with brick red BBQ sauce under my finger nails and not near enough guilt to overcome my sensual pleasure. What can I say? I have the willpower of a spoiled house cat.
When discussing my attempts at this leafy green lifestyle, I tried to be respectful around those who make their living raising cattle. I stated that my attempt at v-ism was for “health reasons” which is only 50% true. (Check out
“Fast Food Nation” – scariest fucking book you’ll ever read.) Truth is, I love animals and would like to be a better friend to them.
I truly admire full-time vegetarians and vegans but try to avoid the type that passes judgment while eating their salads with an air of supremacy. If you are going to give up eating meat because you are humbled by animals then, for god’s sake, stay humble all the way through the meal, is how I feel about it. Zealotry – no matter what your mission – is not an ideal conversion tool.
Of course, I have my V-heroes like
Susan Voisin (a vegan in the Deep South!),
Dr. Trillwing, my pal, Jamie Lee, who does great work for
PAWS and finally, a semi-famous actor I’ve never met. His name is
Peter Dinklage (“Station Agent”, “Nip/Tuck”, “Death at a Funeral”, etc.), a dwarf who happens to be super talented and very sexy. When someone asked him why he was a vegetarian, he responded simply: “I like animals, all animals. I wouldn't hurt a cat or a dog - or a chicken or a cow. And I wouldn't ask someone else to hurt them for me.”
The simplicity of Peter’s personal philosophy was the catalyst that pushed me into this inner-debate. Especially that last part about having other people do it for you - seems kind of cowardly and shady from that angle.
It was similar to the epiphany I had on the death penalty. I’d been carrying along my pro capital punishment-stance for so many years, I hadn’t bothered to update it until one day I asked myself a hard question:
“Holy shit. So, I agree with George W. Bush on this issue and disagree with Johnny Cash???? Is that who I am? Really?”
It caused me to investigate the issue (shocker: it actually costs more to keep an inmate on death row than it does to keep them for life due to repeated appeals) and I officially reversed my stance, I’m against the Death Penalty. I’d rather save tax money and let some sorry sicko rot than give them the peace of death.
Then, three incidents at NWSS gave me further pause:
A young man handed out leaflets entitled:
“From a Philosophical Perspective: Common Questions About Animal Cruelty.” No organization was named on this sheet but it didn’t feel like PETA – too calm and ponderous – but perhaps
Friends of Animals. The flyer posed questions such as,
“Can animals truly feel pain?”,
“So, am I morally obligated to prevent all other beings from feeling pain?” and
“As a Christian, I believe that God put me in charge of all other animals. Doesn’t that give me the right to do with them what I please?” The first question was a no-brainer to me – why
wouldn’t an animal feel pain? All living organisms feel pain; it is a natural part of self-preservation. The second one is a bit tougher but I personally feel that one should try to avoid inflicting pain on other beings – be they animal or human, hence my struggle here. The last question doesn’t even work for me as I am not a Christian and do not believe God put us in charge of anything. If so, than it was a bad managerial decision ‘cause we’re fucking the place up like The Who at the Hyatt.
The flyer closed by inferring that since equestrian sports, the circus, rodeos and, yes, the NWSS aren’t really necessary for our well being, we should give them up seeing how God would not support them and Nature does not benefit from them. To be honest, I was pretty grateful for the flyer (I still have it) as it is helping me keep this inner dialogue alive.
Then came the January 26 Denver Post headline
“NWSS: Prod prompts complaint” about a behind-the-scenes video that showed cowboys using shock tasers to jolt the horses just prior to bronc riding. I watched it and felt sickened; the men’s shady body language and shifty eyes said it all – they were doing something they were not supposed to. Also, at the time the video was being shot, I was working just a few feet away, behind the chutes. Was I okay being a part of all this? The debate was getting louder in my head.
Finally, a third incident: I loved hanging out in the livestock area – cows, chickens, goats, sheep – everybody from your favorite childhood story books was there. I was visiting the sheep and, as sheep do, they kept to their tight flock, shrinking away from unnecessary human contact. Sheep are not especially bright or known for their affection so no surprise there.
But there was an exception. One big sheep hung out near her gate, away from her flock; we made eye contact. I approached, expecting her to cower in the corner with the others but she stayed. I scratched her head, stroked her soft face and if she could have purred, she would have. Her eyelids drooped just like mine do when I’m getting my hair washed at the salon. I was entranced and soon realized nearly 30 minutes had passed. People walked by and commented how odd it was that a sheep – especially in such a raucous environment – seemed so calm.
Finally, I had to use the restroom so I left her, reluctantly. I felt a little tingly from the experience and once finished with my biz, headed straight back to her only to find another woman in my place, doing the exact same thing. The woman turned to me, smiled and said, “Isn’t this amazing?” We immediately began discussing the animal issue and she said a bunch of stuff but the only thing I remember is,
“Well, I’m a vegetarian and this is why.” Ack! The pain of guilt! Why couldn’t I be better at this? To make matters worse, lamb is my favorite meat though the last time it was available to me, I managed to refuse.
Finally, the woman moved on and I took my spot back and spent another 20-30 minutes there, rubbing Sheepy McLovey’s face and head. Before I left, I snuck in a kiss on her forehead and looked into her eyes. She looked back and I mean
looked; her eyes were not empty pools of blackness but eyes that conveyed emotion, specifically, gratitude and a weird sense of understanding. Don’t get me wrong, I believe that animals have emotions as we do but honestly, I wasn’t expecting to emotionally bond with a sheep when I got up that morning.
Honestly, I can still see her face and it made me think about reincarnation which I don’t fully believe in BUT I do believe in recycling. She clearly had a next step lined up for her – perhaps a happy and loved dog, a free roaming lizard, a wise old tree or a super cool human type, like one of those
Doctors Without Borders people. The experience affected me deeply and I will never look at sheep the same way again.
So, I’m an imperfect human with selfish eating habits, I get it. Still, I
am a more mindful eater. I buy free range eggs and rarely include meat (with the exception of fish) in my groceries. However, the other day, I bought 100% natural bison burgers that are ‘range raised’ with no antibiotics or hormones. (Also, the USDA does not even permit the use of hormones in the raising of bison.) Best of all
the company is based in Golden, CO.
Bottom line: I still haven’t sorted through all this – still digesting, so to speak. I read what I can and highly recommend the book,
“When Elephants Weep: The Emotional Lives of Animals” by Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson and Susan McCarthy and the recent National Geographic cover story,
“Inside Animal Minds” where you’ll meet an African Grey Parrot named Alex that will blow your mind, with his mind.
I welcome all suggestions, guidance, hate mail and personal stories on this issue. I do have a dog-eared (ha!) cookbook,
“The Clueless Vegetarian” that is helpful for aspiring types like myself. I’m reading up on tofu, something I have never purchased in a grocery store, and generally trying to match my primitive appetite with my modern-day philosophies.
Well, I guess every day is another chance to try again.
"If I could just say, and I understand that others may not agree, but…I think (and I know this is just me) that, given the various possibilities that exist (and I may not be aware of or have thought of all of those), it may make sense (not that it does, but it might), that one could conclude that, for this one time, Carrow’s might be better for breakfast than Denny’s. But either is ok with me, truly.”
I just returned from my Aspen weekend where I took a BUTTLOAD of photos. But I wanted to post this one before it got buried under scenic shots of streams and mountains. 
I've been lugging this cartoon panel around for years and I never seem to tire of using it once a year. It still cracks me up. 
Whatever your plans are for this fine Pagan/Christian holiday, I do hope it involves lots of chocolate and maybe even some adorable young 'uns looking for eggs ... and finding them before they rot. My parents used to take us out to the desert of Twentynine Palms for Easter and then place eggs in and around the cactii, which seems pretty darn risky when I think about it now ... hey! 
BOING! And just like that, Winter is over. How will I celebrate, you ask? By slogging in the corporate salt mines, visiting the doctor and doing my taxes, what else?
'Twas just five short years ago today that America, for the first time in its history, invaded another country. At the time, the excuse was to locate WMDs that the evil Saddam Hussein was building in, dunno, his garage? The UN asked Bush to wait six more weeks to complete their investigation but Bush ignored them because ... um .... wait, SEPTEMBER 11TH! Yeah, wasn't that awful? Aren't you mad? I am! Let's get 'em! Somebody has to pay! 
I have been enraged so long about this war based on lies that it's simply part of my daily emotional make-up. We've now got the finest men and women of this country giving their lives and limbs for a mess that has no end. Remember that when the first George Bush was asked why he did not invade Iraq during the Gulf War, he said it was because they had no viable exit strategy. Of course, neither did Bush II but there was no time to think about that. The guy who barely showed up for his own military service had a hard-on for war. Now we have lost nearly 4,000 of America's best - not to mention those who have lived but still suffer physically and mentally. 
Good news is that political let-downs have left my subconscious and been replaced by multi-talented transvestite comedians. 
I know what happened. I've been gorging myself on Season 1 of the FX show, "The Riches" that stars Izzard and Minnie Driver as husband and wife Travellers - a real-life culture of grifters that live off the grid. Along with their three kids and an RV, they opt to "steal the American Dream." It's brilliant. 
Back in early November, I visited the family cabin in 29 Palms with the tribe. Before leaving, I mentioned the trip to my pal, Heidi. 
When I mentioned Desert Christ Park to my mother, she rolled her eyes at me. "You don't remember?" she said. "Your grandfather loved that place. You've been there many, many times, though mostly as a child." Evidently, I blocked it out and after my recent visit, I can see why. The place is overwhelmingly creepy. Oh, its heart is definitely in the right place but vandalism and years of weather abuse have left a sad mark on this unique place. 
Audience members of the Sermon on the Mount. 
"He became exhausted and worn by his toils with the many hundreds of tons of concrete that he personally prepared and carried. His devotion to this final project, combine with his frailties, resulted in his illness and subsequent death on December 23, 1961 at the age of 74." 
The pamphlet says that the park is operated and maintained by an all-volunteer staff through the Desert Christ Park, a non-profit foundation. It was created as a "World Peace Shrine" and considering everything that Frank went through in his life, I think that it's pretty damn remarkable. 
To me, this was the saddest photo of all - the mutilated hands of Jesus as he offers a 'Blessing to Mankind.' There's an unsavory statement in there but I try instead to think about Frank, who was bursting with so much faith and love that he just HAD to share. Frank reminds me of another friend who had the same spiritual love. I'm sure not a religious gal but folks like these should not be forgotten in their efforts to lift up all of us. We need it. 
Not so much. Instead, I had this horrible dream where I was escorting my boss through some massive and mostly empty hotel. She wasn’t feeling well. Next thing I knew, she'd had a heart attack and collapsed. At this point, I realize that my boss is Hillary Clinton and she’s now lying at my feet, alone. There are no cell phones in the dream and as I run to get help, I realize that no matter what human I approach for help, they either don’t have a face, don’t have a voice or don’t give a shit. 
So, I'm having an affair and/or intimate friendship with Elliot Ness, played by Kevin Costner, who is really Eliot Spitzer, played convincingly by Eliot Spitzer. There was no sex action but clearly we are close and having a heated discussion. He is sad and out of a job but I got no love for him in the dream and instead am beating him up with words and fists. “I mean, what were you thinking? Who the fuck do you think you are? What are you going to tell your teenage daughters?” On and on and on. He just stands there and looks exasperated. His giant blue eyes (when he’s Eliot and not Kevin) keep welling up and he says very little. 
Amazingly, this image is not an ad for upcoming film directed by Michael Bay or produced by Jerry Bruckheimer, it's a fancy flyer I recently received in the mail last week. I should have tossed it days ago but it keeps hanging around on my desk, entertaining the hell out of me ... so I'm sharing. 
This is the image chosen to represent the idea that "killer nations (are) coming": a seven-headed red dragon ridden by a some Medieval party chick wearing a purple satin dress and a mullet? Hmmmm, is this supposed to invoke Iran? Scotland? Canada? New Jersey? ComicCon? I don't get it. 
Hey, lookie! You can be black! Or white! Or Asian! Or Latino! You can even come in your overalls! Or without your spouse! 
Now THIS is how to kick off a great week! 
My brother, Robert, turns 46 today and he's pretty much the coolest guy you'd ever want to meet. When I'm around him, I really struggle to NOT turn into the same 7-year-old who desperately wanted to follow him around everywhere and do whatever he was doing. 
The San Francisco Chronicle described us as "The Rockettes meets John Waters." Ah, good times!
(Photo Credit: Andy Cross/Denver Post)
Duly noted in the Denver Post headline: "Sun screen Saturday, snow shovels Sunday" 
... towards Obama. 
Well, kids, my attempt at vegetarianism is a blazing failure. I was doing just fine until the National Western Stock Show (NWSS) came ‘round and, well, there aren’t a ton of vegetarian options when you’re hanging out with cowboys and ranchers. 
I truly admire full-time vegetarians and vegans but try to avoid the type that passes judgment while eating their salads with an air of supremacy. If you are going to give up eating meat because you are humbled by animals then, for god’s sake, stay humble all the way through the meal, is how I feel about it. Zealotry – no matter what your mission – is not an ideal conversion tool. 
A young man handed out leaflets entitled: “From a Philosophical Perspective: Common Questions About Animal Cruelty.” No organization was named on this sheet but it didn’t feel like PETA – too calm and ponderous – but perhaps Friends of Animals. The flyer posed questions such as, “Can animals truly feel pain?”, “So, am I morally obligated to prevent all other beings from feeling pain?” and “As a Christian, I believe that God put me in charge of all other animals. Doesn’t that give me the right to do with them what I please?” 
Finally, a third incident: I loved hanging out in the livestock area – cows, chickens, goats, sheep – everybody from your favorite childhood story books was there. I was visiting the sheep and, as sheep do, they kept to their tight flock, shrinking away from unnecessary human contact. Sheep are not especially bright or known for their affection so no surprise there. 
I welcome all suggestions, guidance, hate mail and personal stories on this issue. I do have a dog-eared (ha!) cookbook, “The Clueless Vegetarian” that is helpful for aspiring types like myself. I’m reading up on tofu, something I have never purchased in a grocery store, and generally trying to match my primitive appetite with my modern-day philosophies. 
Last night, HDW and I had us some booze and grub at the Goosetown Tavern on Colfax, right across from a porn shop and the Bluebird Theater. We got ourselves a spot by the window and watched people try to stealthily inch their way into the seedy shop. 
As the story goes, fate brought me to Denver and gave me the cleanest fucking slate I've ever had. Not only did I not know anyone, I didn't even have a map. While this situation can be hard on one's emotional stability, it sure forces you to boil down your needs. 
Last Wednesday, we put on our usual monthly show at the Avenue Theater and I will officially declare that we kicked major ass. We felt it and the audience agreed. Nights like that, I cannot believe how lucky I am to have found these people and, furthermore, that they let me play with them. 
The experience is completely liberating and - when all is going well - the feeling is on par with really great sex. Of course, much like robust intercourse, it can also be painful. 
The Legend that is Mama Iva turns 75 today. Please enjoy this photo of her happily being accosted by that legendary lothario, Mario, at Fang's joyous wedding to Dr. Trillwing. 
I've spent the last few days attacking my mother's closets. These are no ordinary storage spaces; they are the stuff of legend, the key word here being "stuff." 
Not long ago, a stay-at-home neighbor had noted a couple of young punks jumping mom's backyard fence and called the cops. Apparently, there were some bad guys on the loose and mom's house seemed like a good hideout. And so, the LA County Sheriffs showed up, the Long Beach Police and soon my mother's house was surrounded by NINE cop cars. Mom gets a call at work from an officer asking about exits and entries and other helpful information. 
In fact, the entire inventory is focused around entertaining. She has a huge stash of decorations just for her annual Super Bowl Party. The handsome cardboard dude above is propped out on the porch chair to welcome party guests - Mama Iva is the Queen of Hospitality. I can't tell you how many punchbowls, flower vases, snack dishes, board games and other shindig paraphernalia we came across. Half of her garage is taken up by a portable dance floor that she had commissioned. 
I'm back in San Francisco once again, the City That Everyone Loves. The moment I step off the plane, the memories come flooding back and I can hardly believe I was fortunate enough to call this sparkling city my home for nine years. 
I did it! I managed to get through the entire month of January without getting on a plane. 