Guns and Gays

The conventional wisdom in Tennessee at the moment is that Democrats need to somehow stop letting Republicans make every piece of legislation a referendum on God, Guns, and Gays. We, so the thought goes, should focus on jobs and education and healthcare, things that are very popular with Tennesseans and which Democrats are good on.

Of course, this makes sense, so it will never happen.

So, tonight, it occurred to me that I’m going to find some pro-gay piece of legislation and talk the sponsor into sticking some kind of guns-rights clause into it. I don’t know what the legislation will be. It really doesn’t matter. But the guns part could be as simple as just reaffirming that gay people can carry guns anywhere straight people are allowed to. I mean, Campfield all the time proposes legislation that does the same damn thing as legislation we already have, so the precedent is set.

If we want to pass progressive legislation, we just have to find a way to make it a gun rights issue.


Oh fuck me. I’ve already proposed this, haven’t I? I’m not even going to bother to look because I will be so disappointed, but the more I type, the more my deja vu grows.

I think I recommened arming children so that they could get pre-K funding, if I’m remembering right.


Still, it’s a good idea.

Oh Lunch, Where’s My Lunch?

I have been trying to think of what to get the nephews for Christmas. I’ve decided to go with Newscoma’s idea of getting them tool sets. I checked with Dad and he thinks this is a great idea. I also discovered that he’s debating whether to drive to North Carolina and get the youngest nephew for Christmas, you know, to make it easier on my brother.

So, I’m debating whether to drive down to Georgia this afternoon to put a foot on my brother’s ass. There is just no way “I have to drive twelve hours, but I don’t want to get up at the crack of dawn to do it so I’ll wait to get started until ten or later” is a worse alternative than, “I’ll guilt my parents into driving 24 hours from Illinois to Nashville via North Carolina.”

People, use birth control. If you don’t want kids, don’t have them. If you do have kids, just step the fuck up. Seriously.

I was debating whether I should go get him, but that’s a 16-hour round trip for me, which is still more than the trip from Georgia to North Carolina. And that’s 16 hours when 40 is open, which it is still not.

And here’s the thing that pisses me off. My dad knows this is completely ridiculous.  But rather than get a handle on the ridiculousness, he’ll just make some equally ridiculous gesture to the rest of us. I, he announced, am getting a new mattress and box springs. I told him that’s completely ridiculous, but he’s not hearing it. He’s done so much for the boys, he says.

But who fucking cares? Give the boys a million dollars each if he wants. Just don’t give them his life.

And that’s my fear, which I pray every day is irrational.


Anyway, the Butcher just called to say that he is bringing lunch. So I was going to tell you all about the little song I was singing about my lunch but it’s not really necessary.

I’ve done no Christmas shopping. The Butcher and I have agreed not to exchange gifts, since we spent so much money on the cat. But I still have to pick up a little something for everyone else. Tools for the boys, and a kick in the seat for the rest of them.

Woo hoo! Shopping done!