Dung, Bitches, Nouveau Princesses

"this far, and no farther,"--Peter Falk

No one of us, whatever the nexus of our identity we shed to be American, is a monolithic block, and in my eruptions on this account about so called activists, that can be seen in the lack of unity between us. I cannot tell you exactly what the rift between Erik & Jimmi and Josie Byzek was, but it was a rift over how "extreme" Pennsylvania ADAPT should or shouldn't be, and Erik, when the hermaphroditic freak was more lucid, removed Fern Markowitz as Liberty's executive director. Josie and Erik and Jimmi and Fern are all part of the LBGTQ block. There is no love lost between them, and Fern Markowitz, in addition, is a Jewish lesbian, just as Linda Dezenski is a Jewish princess, on the lower end of the scale. Where I entered into it, regardless of my fatal attempt to be close to my overly esteemed peer, is Linda used me in a power struggle to get Fern to violate Pennsylvania state hiring guidelines to hire Jimmi for a job Linda offered me which, after my logistics combat at Matrix, would have been next to impossible for me to do. Linda won the battle but lost the war. Jimmi quit, Erik had who knows how many strokes and cardiovascular issues, and I grew too angry to care, and this is the end product of all that, but I was incredibly naive, to lick my wounds by then grafting onto a Christian lesbian who'd humiliate me in public, bouncing online from one failed disability project after another.
It is of only mild curiosity that Josie's twitter account under her own identity seems null and void. I hesitate to attribute it to my rancor. I haven't harassed her on social media, as, whatever my challenge to her role as caretaker extraordinaire, New Mobility is an undeniably progressive platform whose contributors say the same thing over and over with iterative nausea. Perhaps it has something to do with her run for the school board, but you'll notice, whatever her prominence as a champion for the marginalized, neither she nor partner Virginia foster disabled children. If I were Singh Lion, which I'm certainly not, I'd wonder about this curious trifecta of two women with a significant background in case management rearing Asian children of third world ethnicity, particularly when Josie is so impaired by MS. For the being of the welfare class, Josie is fairly solicitous of those in her care. I will not go so far as to impugn her nurturing impulses. My quarrel with her is commiseration doesn't resolve resource distribution, but she never applies herself to that, like the cost of battling over PVS cases, like Schiavo and Bobby Brown, and how this ties in with my ambivalence toward Roth's barrier breaking exposes is somewhat complex. FYI, I've read a number of Jewish novelists, like Chaim Potok, some Saul Bellow, and I've dipped into a little of everything (so how could I have drifted so rightward?) But however cemented his legacy may be, and I do recognize it, Philip Roth is an egotistical prick. I know the movies better than the novels, and concessions to some of his starkest feints have to be granted, but Goodbye Columbus succeeded in making me antagonistic to all of its character types, Ali MacGraw in particular, portrays her coming of age as an expression of masochistic coitus. I am a great deal like Richard Benjamin on screen. This is why he stays with me despite the blithe inattentiveness to his interpretations of Roth in my past, but even as a pursuer progressive of almost 50 years ago, Neil Klugman is a contraction in terms, as are Roth's vigorous sexual expositions. It never occurs to Roth not to allow his men to be vulnerable to sexual entrapment, not to be afraid of knocking up daddy's little girl by not chasing her in daddy's house, like a hound dog. He is vacuous himself, but wants a monogamous commitment, to which Brenda, the perpetual, debutante, seems incapable. The film had its moments, and our urban life used to feel relatively secure where a boy could look up a girl and then show up, talk her home, but there is nothing here to celebrate in Roth's own hypocrisy, a surreptitious man cave, with its lack of respect, leaving me without even the proverbial suitcase to lug back to the depot in the era without stroll carts.