J.C.Q.

You know that the plight of mental health is pathetically dire when people who are proudly overt about their homosexuality have, for years and years on end, hidden the fact that they have a mental illness from the rest of the world for fear of being stigmatized. Thanks, Svend, for coming out about this. Thanks for being brave enough to talk about the shame you felt because of it; something that so many of us have also unjustly felt. Thanks for allowing us to ask the question: If you, the one who has always spoken out for those who are ostracized by society, the one that has always embraced who you are no matter what others think, could risk your sanity and career for the sake of hiding your illness, what are other people up to?

Posted by Fishsticks at 08:00 | Permalink | Comments

I now bring you the follow-up to "Dialogue of Dog:" "Dialogue of Goat!"

J.C.Q.: It's eight. Did you turn out the fish light?
B.A.Q.: Yeeeeeeeessss.
J.C.Q.: Did you read the fish a story?
B.A.Q.: YEE-eeeesssss.
J.C.Q.: See, you are not even listening to me!
B.A.Q.: Yes I am. I read them "Oswald the Goat Goes to School"
J.C.Q.: O-kay, then I want to hear it too.
B.A.Q.: O-KAY. There was this goat named Oswald. He went to the book suppository because he liked shoving books up his ass. He was a strange goat. Then he came across a gun. And like all goats, he started bunting it and bunting it and then presided to chew on it. Then he chewed on the trigger and BAM! It went off. He thought that sounded cool so he chewed on it a couple more times. BAM! BAM! BAM! Then, all of a sudden, President Kennedy was Dead! Oswald ran. He ran to the grassy mews to chew on some grass. But ultimately Oswald was a silly goat, because someone assassinated him in return. THE END.
J.C.Q.: But the title is "Oswald the Goat Goes to School"
B.A.Q.: Oh, sorry. I meant "Oswald the Goat Gets Schooled"
J.C.Q.: So the moral of the story for all those other Texan Goats is...?
B.A.Q.: Don't be a bad goat and kill the President. Someone will kill you in return.
J.C.Q.: T. said on her blog that I my blog was clever. That made me happy. But now I think you are really dumbing this thing down.
B.A.Q.: No, I think you're dumb because you don't write enough posts

Posted by Fishsticks at 17:07 | Permalink | Comments

Remember those days before the e-mail when you got this handwritten chain letter that said "copy this letter and give it to four friends and send a postcard to X?" Some kids that had a Commodore 64 got their parents to type it for them, and everyone thought that was soooo cool because the letter looked as professional as the writing in a book?

Well, the great thing about those yesteryears was that no one would harass me if I didn't send out three copies and BROKE THE CHAIN FOREVER and some poor kid in Malawi consequently did not receive a postcard. But now, with the avent of in-your-face-technology, I am only an e-mail away from being harassed by friends if I don't fill out the latest 100 questions survey. I won't mention any names, but The Girls sure like to put on that last inevitable question -- Who is the least likely to respond to this e-mail? -- my name. And then I feel bad.

Now blogs have their own version of chain letters, namely "Tags". Grrr. Who was the Clever Dan that came up with this? The Jurist has tagged me, and I'd feel bad if I didn't respond. So I will, but I refuse to answer the questions from my perspective. Instead, I will write it from B.A.Q.'s point-of-view.

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1. If money were no object, what would you be doing with your life?

J.C.Q. and I would not have to work, and I could therefore devote my life just to her. I would give her rub backs whenever she demanded them, and buy ten genetically-modified Allerca cats.

2. Money is just that - an object, so why aren't you doing it?

I don't know, why do people think that the only way of making a joke is to use sexual inuendos?

3. What's better: horses or cows?

J.C.Q. is better.

4. What do you think the secret to happiness is?

Taking allergy pills so that J.C.Q. can have lots of kitties and quit asking me each day for kitties, which is driving me up the wall. Therefore, I will go to Costco today and buy a bulk box of Allergeeze.

5. When was the last time you had a dream that you either remember well or did not want to awake from? Can you share a bit?

Stupid question. I refuse to answer.

6. When you were a little kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?

Guy that drives that big round thing that makes the pavement even (What can I say, B.A.Q. was a pretty stupid kid).

7. Complete this statement: Love is...

Kitties for J.C.Q.

8. Can you tell a good story? (write one!)

Once upon a time, B.A.Q. took away J.C.Q.'s fish Sammy because she was not taking care of him. J.C.Q. tried to tell B.A.Q. that Sammy liked playing with the algea and that's why she didn't clean his bowl. But B.A.Q. wouldn't listen. Then J.C.Q. got mad and threatened to break up with him unless B.A.Q. bought her two kitties. I'll leave the end to your imagination.

9. Can you remember your last daydream? What was it about?

J.C.Q. was playing happily with some kitties (seven of them in all) in a big lush colourful meadow. Mozart music was playing in the background. She was laughing and jumping and doing cartwheels.

10. If you were to thank someone today, who would you thank?

Levendis, T., and Hgh for getting two kitties so J.C.Q. can live vicariously through you.

Posted by Fishsticks at 14:52 | Permalink | Comments

B.A.Q.: J.C.Q., whenever we drive down this particular part of the highway, I always see the same guy walking his big golden retriever! It's crazy!
J.C.Q.: Maybe he walks the dog 24/7!
B.A.Q.: Perhaps. Maybe I should get a dog and walk it 24/7.
J.C.Q.: No, you should get a kitty and allergy shots. But that's beside the point. If you walked your dog 24 hours a day, you would die B.A.Q.
B.A.Q.: No, the dog would die before me!
J.C.Q.: No it wouldn't!
B.A.Q.: Yes it would!
J.C.Q.: No it wouldn't!
B.A.Q.: Yes it wou...
J.C.Q.: I am going to post this on my blog and see what people think: If B.A.Q. had a dog and walked it 24 hours a day, who would die first? The dog or him?
B.A.Q.: A classic philosophical question, like the tree falling in the forest...
J.C.Q.: No it's not! This is like the dumbest argument we've ever had! Stupidosophical question, that's what it is. (Yes, I am aware that "Stupidosophical" is not very funny and means I am becoming a blogger boy between the ages of eight and thirteen.

Posted by Fishsticks at 18:51 | Permalink | Comments