Jesse Hajicek

AND WE ARE NOT ALL VIOLENT ALCOHOLICS.
IT'S JUST ME.
I SWEAR.

Allcu for the win.

Oh, and the post he was responding to the posting of (/grammarsoup):

Only Chinese Canadians are allowed to dress up like ninjas! Cultural exchange is bad, yo. Because some people don't fully understand the cultures they enjoy. Liking sushi without taking a degree in Asian Studies (Asian, not Japanese, because certain Chinese Canadians want to be included) is a form of racism.

Uh-huh. All the obvious things about leprechauns and Nanjing have already been said, so I'll just leave it at that.

You know, once upon a time, some friends and I had a thing called the Mutt Club. We met weekly at the New Horizons restaurant in Minneapolis, which was ostensibly Chinese but had things on the menu like hash browns and, I seem to recall, tacos, which made it the perfect venue. The original point of the Mutt Club was to form a group that could oppose racism without perpetrating it. We had observed that the only approaches we'd ever seen were, on one hand, the "My group is oppressed because white people are evil oppressors! Down with Whitey!" and, on the other, "I'm a proud member of the White Race, you mudbloods! Pheer my confederate flag!" (I am, of course, exaggerating for effect.)

We were probably drunk when we came to the realization that there is no such thing as a 'white race', nor, for the most part, any 'racially pure' individuals at all. Race is a continuum, not a binary. And that this meant we should get together at New Ho and eat eggs and shoot the shit until they kicked us out. I can say with certainty that I wasn't stoned, because I'm allergic; I can't speak for anyone else.

Anyway, we never really achieved anything but talk, and most of that was off topic. We engaged in no activism whatsoever. We weren't activist types. It seems to me that those who really excel at activism prefer to see things in terms of Good vs. Evil, Us vs. Them, which polarization was precisely the opposite of what we meant to demonstrate. But I still kinda wish we'd staged a march or something. We could've marched down Lake, holding steaming mugs of coffee and nonsensical signs, chattering merrily. Just to Lyndale and back. They'd have held our tab open that long.

Twas recently pointed out to me that HSFC (Have Some Fucking Class) is quite a handy potential internet acronym. I can think of a number of places where it would be even more expressive than STFU. Or, naturally, the heinous TL;DR, which says more about the commenter than the post.

I went out with Spider. I am full of sushi. I wanted to be asleep hours ago, but I made myself stay up to take my meds at what I want to be my regular meds-taking hour. Now I zonk.

Here's the skinny on that 'email tax' panic that's been floating around. Clue courtesy of seebs.

Misinformation memes do us all a disservice by wasting our time and attention, sapping our emotional energy, and ultimately training us to be apathetic. If you ever feel a cause is important enough to spread the word about, be sure to include links to reputable, informed sources so people can check out the background on it themselves. And if you're going to be calling for some action, such as petitions, be sure that action is correctly targeted and effective. For instance, I've seen people urging their friends to petition AOL; AOL is a for-profit corporation, folks. Those don't respond to petitions. There is absolutely no point in petitioning them. Use some common sense.

1. Setting up a soapbox in someone else's journal is impolite.

2. When your rant is off topic or tangential, that's upgraded to rude.

3. When your rant is based on a complete misreading of the original post, that's rude and stupid.

4. When you Godwin in the first comment, that's rude, stupid, and funny.

5. And when you do all of the above in lukadia's journal, it's plain suicidal.

I'd have mentioned this to the commenter in question, but he was already reduced to a fine red mist when I got there. Fare thee well, total stranger who didn't pull his head out of his ass in time to see the orbital strike come down, we hardly knew ye.

So you know the cat that keeps getting stuck in my ceiling? Seebs may have solved the problem. No, we didn't skin the cat and eat him. Seebs is a hacker, his solution was bound to be more elegant than that.

See, the problem is that my bedroom is only about half the attic, and the rest of the attic is unfinished. The end that has my bed in it has only fabric for walls, stapled to bare beams. And there's one spot where Maya (the kitty what is mine and nobody else's) insists on making herself a little door into the unfinished back part of the attic. Every time I re-stapled or pinned that spot, she'd pick at it until she got it open again. While I didn't like the draft blowing through the hole, I recognized she'd won the argument, and usually just propped a pillow over it whenever I noticed it was open.

Then Hermes (the kitty what is Rah's) discovered it. He both fears and idolizes Maya. He runs away whenever she gets too close, but he likes to do whatever he sees her doing. So he'd go back into the raw attic-space behind my fabric wall, and presumably found some way to climb up on top of the finished part, between insulated ceiling and peak. I know Maya has done that; I also know she can get down. But he never could. Apparently he didn't trust the squishy fiberglass insulation he was standing on, and wouldn't jump down or cooperate in any way. At least, that's Seebs's theory: he was skittish because he didn't trust his footing.

So Seebs removed the insulation from the alcove I keep my TV in, and now Hermes will happily jump down from there. No more cat-in-ceiling. No more piteous yowling at 6 am. No more wincing while Rah climbs up there to fetch him down and my ceiling creaks and showers plaster on me.

Naturally, Hermes, being a cat of naughtiness, could not let us get complacent. So he found an entire container of catnip and scattered it all over the bathroom and rolled in it until he was coated from whiskers to tail in the stuff. He was very popular with the other cats until I caught him and brushed him. *rolleyes* Cats are such attention whores.

EDIT: I just read Poppy Z Brite's journal, and maybe I'm being an asshole, but: Christ, lighten the fuck up already! You know that old saying, "You have to either laugh or cry"? LAUGHING IS BETTER. And for fuck's sake, being angry at the rest of us for not 'understanding' is plain retarded. I do not need to understand how unpleasant New Orleans is right now, because my understanding will have no effect whatsoever. You want to have a 'my pain is worse than yours' competition? You WIN already, now STOP. Before someone from some African country that just had a machine-gun genocide decides to step up to your Katrina wreckage and raise you some mass graves.

Seebs got me 'Masters of American Comics'. It's a wonderful book. Also, in my current state, a bit depressing. Just when I thought I'd come to terms with the fact that I'll never be Art Spiegelman... oh well. I think I'll just read the section on George Herriman over and over until I feel better. ;p

I'm deleting my previous post, and thus the shitstorm of comments that followed. I apologize to anyone who feels their time in commenting was thust wasted. I just don't think that kind of nexus of negativity is doing any good. I brought it, so it's my job to get rid of it.

That means you can't go see the anonymous comment where someone said I'm a sociopath and implied that I invent mental illnesses to avoid responsibility. I know who it is. He commented anonymously because he's banned. He's a master of projection and a kindergartener at logic, so I'm not real stung by it. Christ, wouldn't that be nice, though? If my headbugs were fictions created to make my life easier? Then they might actually, you know, make my life easier.

Dunno about the sociopath thing. Maybe a little. Not much of an insult, anyway.

I think I'd better not make hopeful posts about manic phases and upswings anymore. I seem to jinx myself thereby. The suicidal thing came back last night and it's still here. For all I know it'll stay until April. Hopefully it'll let me up for air a few times in between. Anyway, don't worry, if you're prone to worrying about people. I'm way too stubborn and way too used to this to actually do anything dumb. I'm seeking out things that bring me out of it, like low-stress social time with people I trust, and exercise, and vanilla tea, and movies with car chases and explosions. Even if I fall right back into it the moment the distraction is over, being of it long enough to suck in a lungful of sweet air will keep me from drowning.

And that, I think, is the last of the talking-about-depression I'm going to do for a while. Some folks have advised me not to bottle things up, but to express them, that this will make me feel better. But it doesn't really. It feels like a bad indulgence, like picking scabs. It makes me feel unsafe, vulnerable to the people who wish me ill -- and I believe I've had excellent evidence recently that such people exist. Egh, that sounds paranoid. I don't mean they're out to get me -- nobody has that kind of attention span. ;p I just mean there are folks who don't like me, some of them have pretty good reasons for it, and while I find it pretty normal -- I don't really go out of my way to be everybody's best friend -- I also don't think I need to be passing them the ammunition.

So here's thanks and big hugs to everyone who paid attention, cared, put in the time to discuss it. I really, truly appreciate it. I don't want to dis your contribution at all. I just don't think it's productive for me to talk about it anymore. I think it's far more productive for me to think of other things to talk about.

Like... Krazy Kat! Gawd I love Krazy Kat. I gotta draw a minicomic with Zan as Krazy, Star as Ignatz, and Jane as Offisa Pup.

A while back I saw some folks doing a meme where you make a doll of yourself, then marysue it all to hell. I'm bored and depressed, so I figured playing with that might cheer me up.

( I marysued me and Seebs, and it turned out to be quite amusing. )

I'm sure I could've Sued them up even more if I'd been drawing them instead of using the doll maker. For one thing, Demon Me needs a ridiculous shitpile of weapons, and Angel Seebs needs a halo and a katana. And of course they must be kept apart by ludicrously unlikely misunderstandings and angst for three quarters of the fic, and then spend the rest having missionary-style anal without lube and avowing their undying love, thus being cured of all emotional disorders.

You know, I think I might be missing out on some fun by trying to write realistic relationships... :D :D :D

I need a haircut.