strange headfellows

So here's a pretty pickle.

Some Republican nazi-humper who failed to win a nomination in the red, red state of Indiana was mentioned over at You Are Dumb the other day. In search of a larf I went over to his forum to see what infiltrations were there to be macked. Instead the guy posts, "Call me at my law offices sometime and I'll set you up with admin privileges!"

Which was rather clever of him, between caller ID and the ability of most lawyers to ferret truth out of merehumescum in casual conversation. I could outmatch him verbally and call him from a payphone...but is it worth it? The selfpic on his website gives me the jibblies. And he believes a conspiracy of evil Jews (as opposed to nice ones--whom, he protests far too loudly, really do exist) in control of the porn industry constitute a fulfillment of some of the end times prophecies in the book of Revelations. Being able to spew that kind of rhetoric in a texty box is one thing; adlibbing it hunched over a payphone is quite another.

It comes back to a question I've been pondering recently. Which, among the values I currently espouse, is of an excellence great enough to merit real action?

My commitment to Operation Mindfuck has been existent but weak ever since my teenagerhood. I think all teenagers yearn to be part of OM, or some form of it, wherever they find themselves. I do better at instigating creative order, a skill more prized by people likely to pay me money than admired by fellow worshippers of chaos. I became a Discordian because I need it, not the other way around. Which is why I've no intention of inviting others into a Cabal which principally exists to prevent me from going the boring, evil kind of crazy.

Besides which, I've got other projects that need doing.

Learning to play stringy thing for one. I wonder if I can ask Mom if she has a spare bass she's willing to part with. I hear bass lines in my head more easily than guitar chord sequences. (Granted, I should practice guitar anyway to make my fingers smarter. I couldn't find the tabs I'd written out for [where home is] last night, which annoyed me!) But just some instrument I can carry in my hands and manage to play while singing. My songs have been getting technically more interesting, which means more difficult to play, and I have got to catch up at some point.

Working on Anatomy of Trust for another. I have enough now to build a skeleton. A real, honest-to-dog skeleton of a book. With things in their proper logical order and everything. I could institute a new notebook and put it all together in one place. Such a notebook 2.0 would be the ideal prep for a program of research to fit my theory in with the limping sprawl of modern psychosocial science.

Giving good crits to Roberta for a third. Having a real human being who gives me reams of her poetry and seems sane and willing to listen to good notes could be a rush beyond compare. If I could just get off my sweet malingering ass and actually write the damnthings up.

Then there are the things which are not projects, but have sacredness for different reasons. Being an awesome girlfriend to Dave, a good sister to Fey and Meg, a patient and supportive daughter to Dad, an employee who is an asset to a hopefully non-dying restaurant.

Sigh. At least this list of things I care about will come in handy come birthday time, when persons of all sorts love to re-evaluate themselves. In my case with an only slightly higher level of insane scrutiny than is the norm. Hang on to the stick for dear life, stack the stack of spinny, loudly argumentative plates on top, and see if it balances. What everybody does in choosing the paths they will follow.