Pity

I almost got tickets to see a show tonight. And I didn't, because I live in a mean, nasty, repressive Republican town. I'm not even making that up. Okay, so maybe it's not the Republicans fault that I'm not seeing a show tonight, but this is a predominately Conservative area, and I'm god-damned sick of it. One of my Facebook friends is one of the terrifying militaristic uber-conservatives that think Obama is the anti-Christ. I'm not even kidding. He actually thinks that, and he's told me I better switch parties soon or risk getting pitched into the fiery lake of hell. I think I'll take my chances. So here's what I think - yeah, I do get a little overzealous when it comes to demonizing the Republicans. Truth: My own dear mamma is a Republican, and I love her to death. I am fully capable of having elephantine friends. Look, folks, I'm not saying we Democrats are a perfect party. Jesus, we've got Fred Phelps. I mean, look at this. God hates fags? Really? You're sure? I mean, 'cause it sorta looks to me like you're the one doing the hating. When I die, I'm going to specifically request for whatever's left of the Westboro Baptish Church to come and picket my funeral. Because they just look like such a fun bunch of folks. Seriously, friends. Sometimes I think the fact that these people live right in the middle of Tornado Alley is just natural selection at its finest.

This week, I attended my very first opera. Lenora and I were stuck way, way up in the second (or possibly third?) balcony of the Metropolitan Opera House. Either way, trust me: we were really damn high up. Thankfully, I had my mother's priceless opera glasses, and when I used them I could almost see facial expressions. Still, Turandot was lovely. Very lavish and visual. Like Wicked, except this didn't suck.