samedi, avril 14, 2007

A New Orientation

Scrolling through the archives, the realization came that an important socio-medical issue has not been addressed.

We know about Hetero, Homo, and Bi. These are the sexuals as they currently stand. One might also include the -philes: the Zoo, the Necro, and (try as you might to stop them) the Pedo. These have an established academic value.
(Before getting to the point, let us quickly dismiss the thousand and one kinks as subcategories too small for relevance. We won't presume to tell you to stop smelling belly lint or to desist all relations with imaginary 100-foot-tall women. We simply relegate you for the moment to the statistically undifferentiated file.)

But we hereby propose a new, instantly vital, and heretofore marginalized sexual orientation: The Ultrasexual.

What is an Ultra?
In a nutshell, Ultras are a subgroup of both orientations, consisting of people who, quite simply, experience a stronger biochemical sexual response than others. For a combination of emotional and physical reasons, their desire for, preoccupation with, and enjoyment of sex is greater than their peers. These individuals are not necessarily dirty, or even Drrrty, but having that initial jolt of attraction multiplied by a factor of 10 or more (and sustained past the point where most people simply get over it) often sets them up for behavior and commentary that might appear crude to average hetero or homo sexuals. It must here be stressed that we are not talking about hormone addled frat boys or the macho posturing of construction workers--though there may be closeted ultrasexuals in both categories. Neither do we here refer to the common nymphomaniac who is trying to get back at Daddy by giving herself to the football team. No, we speak of a biological reality that exists from birth. Exhibitionism and crudity are not necessarily indicators.

Are you Ultra?
There is currently no clinically definitive way to determine your status. Initial surveys were considered flawed because questions like "Have you ever said no to sex?" ended up putting horndogs, girls with low self esteem, and people who have never been asked in the same category. None of these, strictly speaking, are Ultrasexual. Early stage focus groups were equally ineffective, as suspected Ultrasexuals often paired up and took off during the first coffee break, leaving people who were simply lonely or deprived to stay and either giggle and titter, or complain.
In general however, studies do confirm that unconfused Bisexuals are predominantly Ultra, as are rock stars, pouty secretaries, the cloistered writers of shows like Friends and Grey's Anatomy, Hawkeye Pierce, James Bond, and upper echelon right wing religious and political leaders.
Interestingly, several individuals and groups have been confidently excluded from Ultra status. For example, it turns out that pizza delivery boys are simply zen like, go-with-the-flow types who could really take it or leave it. Researchers were most surprised when the data indicated that Bill Clinton, who they thought would be the poster child of Ultrasexuality, was a simple charismatic horndog with a craving for power and a multitude of reasons to get away from his wife.

Further research will have to determine the social implications of Ultrasexuality, and what legislation should be considered to protect Ultras from discrimination by "normals," (the derisive term they use to designate the non-ultra majority).

Above all, the public is urged to remember that Ultrasexuality is not a problem in and of itself. It is hoped that acceptance and understanding will increase with awareness.

Ultrasexuals are people too.

vendredi, avril 13, 2007

A Concerted Effort

There are a number of words and word combinations you have to stop using. Too many to name here. I'm willing to be patient with most of them, but the following must be stopped immediately.

1) "But yet . . . "
Don't you see? You can either say "but," or "yet." You can even say "And yet . . ." But when you put but and yet together it makes no sense whatsoever.

2) "Again . . ."
Many of the people people using this at the beginning of every other sentence, are not realizing that they aren't actually repeating an idea. In the event that you ARE using it correctly, I'd actually rather you just shut it down if you are just going to restate a previously elucidated idea for the third or fourth time.

3) "Concerted Effort"
You'll just have to look this one up to realize how ridiculous it is to say anything resembling "I am going to make a concerted effort." Or just apply this helpful hint: ONLY use it when you can replace the I with WE.

4) "The Bomb," "My bad," "It's all good," ETC.
Please understand: Your need to sound like an outdated Budweiser commercial is superseded by my need to never hear these phrases again.

5) "Touch base" (or bases)
(repeat the tag from number four, replacing "outdated Budweiser commercial" with "vaguely businesslike")

6) "Global Warming"
Yes, cumbersome as it is, because of exploitative erroneous connotations, you must now replace this "global warming" with the completely and undeniably more accurate: "Sadly Exacerbated but nevertheless inevitable and natural cyclical processes of climate change." P.S. the day I hear a group of passionate protesters, rhythmically chanting "Stop sadly exacerbated but nevertheless inevitable and natural cyclical processes of climate change!" will quite possibly be the greatest day of my life.

Thank you for your cooperation.

lundi, avril 09, 2007

Quoth the Ringo

Spring where I live is perfection. So I felt a little sheepish feeling inexplicably down on such a delightful day. Lunch with friends in the park seemed like the perfect antidote. My friends are an earnest priviledge to know. They're smart, sexy, and fun. I love them. They are, frankly, better people than I am.

The subject of names came up. I mentioned that some people I knew had named their daughter Liberty. My open minded friends assumed I was poking fun and proceeded to deride and stereotype. Later I'll tell them that Liberty's parents are friends of mine who will probably be the ones bringing them sandwiches and toiletries when the President orders a hurricane in their area. I don't know if I'll tell them that their mockery made them sound like my curmudgeonly father when I told him about my hippy friends naming their daughter Sequoia. To be fair, I don't think my lunch mates knew they were doing it. Most people are not knowingly dismissive, are they?

Later that picturesque spring afternoon, one of them brought up a conversation we'd had about a certain annoying radio and TV personality. I had given him an hour of my time, and found him, at least for that one hour, saying things that they themselves might have said, making their bitter hatred somewhat of a mystery. I had also found out that he gave all the profits from sales of his promotional "gear" to charity--inner city youths, college scholarships, etc. They proceeded to deride and stereotype, making assumptions that made them sound like the Religious Right, running from the facts lest they have to accept that there might be tires on the other side of the car that might be worth inflating. (Luckily, the personality in question isn't a personal friend. Had I given a crap when the subject came up, the uselessness of the conversation might have felt more egregious.) To be fair, my friends are loyal viewers of the people who make a career making fun of people like him, and who am I to say the opposition isn't the best source of information? Serves me right, right?

As the breeze danced in the giant oaks, a certain springtime holiday came up, and one or two good people at the table went out of their way to belittle what are for others deeply held religious convictions based on either thousands of years of tradition, or recent spiritual epiphanies, or both. It was all very enlightened and progressive. And the breath left my lungs with the warning of how futile all the test responses sounded. I had faded into the corner and realized how they must talk when I'm not around.

The food was good. The weather was perfect. The conversation was otherwise charming. It was a day to be relished. Truly.

I get by with a little help from my friends.

lundi, avril 02, 2007

The Latest Greatest Best Band Ever

Read the archives and you'll know: in this space, every attempt is made to avoid being divisive. If anything, we promote healing though finding the sane middle ground between the extremes.

But every once in a while, one has to make a stand and healing be damned.

Let us therefore make the following proclamation:

If you have never listened to The Decemberists, you suck.

Furthermore, if you have listened to them and you think they suck, then your brain has been eaten, and you have joined the zombie hoards that have besieged humanity since Industrialization. You should be spurned as one might spurn a rabid dog.

So listen to them, will you? All this spurning is making me tired.