Post thumbnail

Let them eat cake…

I skimmed this => http://qz.com/1015011/supreme-court-cases-if-the-court-decides-cake-baking-is-free-speech-it-will-affect-far-more-than-same-sex-weddings/ <= article from Quartz. And ugh.

The long title is “If the US Supreme Court decides cake baking is free speech, it will affect more than gay weddings” – and the article is all about how the US Supreme Court is hearing the case of  Masterpiece Cakeshop vs. the Colorado Civil Rights Commission.

Which sounds like a fight you might be behind — “Fuck the Colorado Civil Rights Commission. Small businesses forever!” — except the cake shop is owned by assholes and I hope they lose. Plus, civil rights are a big deal and everyone should 100% support them.

Because the cake shop says that while they SELL cakes and cookies to LGBTQ customers as they are required to by law, they should not have to bake specialty cakes for them, ESPECIALLY wedding cakes.

Which, you know, whatever. A wedding is a recent legal construct crafted so men can keep women as chattel. That or it’s a beautiful lifetime event that one cake shop should not be allowed to ruin, so fuck them, take your business elsewhere, and leave them a review mentioning the lack of service.

“I went to Crappy Anti-Humanity Cakeshop and they gave me a cake covered in frosting dicks” should never happen.

Neither should “I went to Crappy Anti-Humanity Cakeshop and they went on-and-on-and-on about how my lifestyle choices are against God. So I told them to suck a dick and went to Dairy Queen.”

You know why? Because if you have a business and you want to sell to the public, you should put on your Customer Satisfaction hat, not your hateful Dangerously Unbalanced Religious Zealot hat.

Otherwise, shut down your storefront. Lock your doors. Cover your head with a purple blanket. And wait for the moon men to come take you away.

It is almost 2020. You don’t want hindsight to show that your business failed not because of a lack on the customers’ part but because of a moral failing on your own.

Out of all the people that PROUDLY protested the desegregation of schools… how many of them are seen as heroes now? And how many are viewed with the contempt of our modern society?

Something to think on.

~Pax

Hogfather at Amazon

Post thumbnail

I met with a therapist, and he was a very nice person. He suggested that I submit a manuscript even if I’M not ready.

So I’ve been thinking, and I’m releasing a book–“Paradigm Shift: Gregor”.

It is not the completed version of “Paradigm Shift” that I imagine in my head, and there will be a follow-up “Paradigm Shift: Dylan” at some point, but I feel that I have to get it out there. Otherwise there will never be a version of “Paradigm Shift” in a store, abridged or otherwise.

*

If you’ve read any part of “Paradigm Shift”, you know that it’s set on a post-zombie apocalypse Earth where the cure created a Third childbearing gender via gamete mutation(?1). A hundred years later, Thirds rise to prominence and importance when a pandemic renders every living female sterile. Yet female Thirds are still able to impregnate women and male Thirds are still able to bear children, resulting in strict procreation laws.

The story focuses on Gregor Tierney, a Third that has been hiding his sexual organs and controlling his hormones with suppressants. Caught in a mandatory medical sweep, Gregor finds himself offered to the Duadenora Family as the mother of their next generation.

No non-con, though Gregor goes through some serious angst and his biology gets the best of him. He’s also very self-sufficient, which results in times where he might not seem very likable–especially in the face of Dylan Park’s awkward charm.

(?1. I’m not completely sure if this is the route I wanna take. I don’t know if I want to tie the mutation to sex chromosomes or anything like that. I’ve left it a bit open-ended for now. Though eventually I’m going to have to come up with some explanations. Which seems really painful.)

*

I think I’m currently having an epiphany.

“Paradigm Shift” is NOT the start of a new series. It’s just another standalone novel in an expanding universe.

I mean, I’ve got this scene in my head of scientists switching on their gate machine, and being sucked through to the other side. Where they are made to face the consequences of their actions and the devastation they’ve wreaked on this alternate reality.

Yeah. Basically every story I’ve written has somehow become part of one sprawling multiverse.

And Melissa Kim is chasing Damien Prince while alternate versions of herself and Variants of Vereint are ruthlessly murdered.

The Way of the Househusband 01 at Amazon

There’s something about the science fiction movie “Sunshine” that makes me watch it every time it comes on TV.

I own a copy of the DVD.

It’s just such a great science fiction movie that I can’t resist the allure of watching it when it appears.

You have to see it from the beginning, so you can understand the story and be sucked into the madness.

Let's Make Dumplings at Amazon

Today was a bad day and I’m having a hard time pretending that it wasn’t.

Everyone seemed much happier and more relaxed once I left the living room and went upstairs.

I guess the problem was me. It usually is.

*

I haven’t been posting a whole lot because I don’t want to bring everybody down. In my depressed moments, there’s a gaping well of blackness inside me, a bottomless drop ready to pull in anyone that’s not ready for it. Then things cycle, and while the complaint still lingers on my lips I’m laughing about something and I forget all the reasons why I was so angry and upset.

Realizing that you’re spiraling doesn’t help. Especially when everyone around you is picking you apart at every moment.

It’s exhausting.

*

Everybody’s so unhappy. It’s like the house is full of poison.

No matter what direction I turn, there’s only frowning faces. And being me, I can’t help switching to Appeasement Mode, which means receiving tons of abuse and not having the emotional wherewithal to deal with it.

There’s a lot of anxiety involved when you’re driven to make unhappy people happy. Especially when they don’t want to be happy.

Because even knowing that it’s all fake–that none of the anxiety, the dread, or the overwhelming sense of despair are real–they feel real.

And if you live something deep enough, long enough, doesn’t it become real?

Maybe I’m projecting my unhappiness to some degree, but not completely. It’s a fact: I am not the only unhappy person in my family.

I’m just the only one willing to admit it.