Why do I do it

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Image Credit: Gerrit Dou, Geleede die zijn pen snijdt, WikiCommons.

I disappeared from the internet for several weeks and no one sent me a message saying, are you okay.  Did you get kidnapped by the CIA.  Did you fall of a cliff in a hiking misadventure.  Did you get bit by a skanky cougar’s denture.  Thanks a lot, everyone.  I hope your poofy koi turn into megalodons and gnaw through your vas deferens.

So anyway, I clambered up the crumbling embankment and garrotted the agent (is that alpha? cos they have lady ones now) and I’m back in the cockpit, doing whatever it is that I do.

What is it?  This blog has no particular focus or purpose, or audience.  I sit down with a head full of shit and type away until I’ve put some of it in your head instead, then I feel better.  Like after going to the toilet.  This is a toilet blog.  Remember 1998 and that guy who uploaded a Read More

In the Closet

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1972.  Les has a wife called Chris.  He often talks about her at work.  ‘Oh, Chris and I had a picnic at Silvan Reservoir’, he says when asked about his weekend.  Yet each time the office Christmas barbecue comes around, Chris is unavailable.  She is unwell.  She is visiting family.  She had to help a friend.  Everyone smiles and nods.  Oh, that’s too bad.  Maybe next time.  We were really looking forward to meeting her.

Of course, Les has no wife.  There may be a Chris, and there was probably a picnic, but Chris is a bloke and everyone who’s figured it out politely pretends not to know.

2016.  Les strolls in to work wearing a repulsively skimpy frock.  After a quick visit to the ladies’ room he proudly flounces into the office and regales his colleagues with tales of his debauched weekend adventures.  It was this big, he says.  This big!  He gestures more vigorously in the face of the man who is trying to ignore him.  This big!  And full of veins!  Look at me, goddamn you.  Hate crime!

But our culture is certainly not one of anything goes.  While some lifestyle choices are now fawningly celebrated, other choices have become objectionable.  And I am beginning to realize that I am making one of those socially unacceptable choices, and that I need to keep it in the closet.

You see, I am Read More