Thursday, January 24, 2013

Mulch

It was after this failed interview post that I noticed the probtheme link in my traffic sources, (it was also my birthday) and it led me to speculate on what my isp trackers  thought I was capable of. Scalping sweet briar on a spear shaft? I care far too much about my own ego to pelt lesbians with egg shells, and leaving vitriolic imagery with boiling vats aside, the reasons I have drifted rightward from the progressive advocacy Catherine represents in her Barack deification (I know, I have been there, though not, insofar as it concerns the Obamas, with them) is because I have been tortured on the rack of the lie of social equality fifty ways from Sunday.

And my interview, fuck wits, was to campaign for Planned Parenthood. It is incumbent upon me that I did not ask the girl on the phone, whose name was Emily, the right questions before I showed up, and so I gift wrapped my parachute when I realized it would be next to impossible for me to field that degree of inner city travel.

However, my point to the gay marriage girls is exactly the reality check my physical limitations represent: Gay marriage is cosmetic. Including people like me in the real world is not. I might have been able to handle in office clerical duties and was shot down. By what metric my exclusion on the basis of my brain damage is progressive in terms of reasonable accommodation, this eludes me. Perhaps when Catherine lowers her brimming temperature, she'd have a few thoughts in response.

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