Vampires have gone soft, I tell ya.

Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

Frank Herbert’s Dune was science fiction, sure, but it also included quite a bit of good philosophy.

All the best sci-fi does.

If ambition is not for you, swell. Live your life how you please.

You don’t need anyone’s consent; just don’t expect anyone to stay there on that ladder rung with you.

Approval is a different matter altogether.

STAY HOME.

The chest-resonating coughs I heard in public yesterday made me want to wear a face mask. I’m even rethinking my Halloween costume to incorporate one.

Parents: If you absolutely HAVE to send your little bugger(s) off to school because you a) can’t afford day care and/or b) will lose your job, perhaps it’s maybe time to consider lowering your standard of living … ? The rest of us - who were responsible enough to know we could not afford children or otherwise did not want them - would prefer not to contract H1N1 or pink eye because YOU didn’t plan your own life out very well.

You don’t need the second car if one of you stays home.

I hate The Mouse. You know the one.

I have had an abhorrence for everything Disney-related since I was a kid. Maybe it was growing up near Disneyland and the related days spent there. Maybe it was the fact Looney Tunes were always waaaaay funnier than Mickey and Minnie and the gang. Maybe it was that every girl I knew growing up - and the occasional boy - who was into anything Disney was a mental midget. Maybe it was the cloying, sugary-syrupy-sweetness of Disney cartoons themselves, with their endless optimism and happy endings. Maybe it’s as simple as I really have been goth my entire life.

So of course the universe, in its infinite jest, has created a situation in which the non-husband and I have to travel to Orlando - the Mecca of all things Mouse - once a year for a business convention. Worse, at least one of the off-site parties where we mingle and gain business is held on the Disney grounds. Once we arrive at the event, I have no problem, but on the way I can’t stand that we pay to help line their pockets further … it essentially means I support mediocrity.

This year’s convention (last week) was just like any other, really, except attendance was low and no one was wasting a ton of money on lavish parties at Jizzney. So far, so good. I got to spend a lovely day with an even lovelier man who’s known me since I was 5 or 6 years old - yes, Virginia, such a person exists - and visit with my favorite couple in the world. Then one of the latter, who works at Disney, suggested the four of us go to Epcot for the wine and food festival.

Pros: Epcot is the Mouse, but it has less Mouse; admission: free; parking: free; we could get food and wine from all over the world, or at least what Jizzney considers “all over the world;” and most importantly, I’d get to spend more time with my two favorite people in Orlando (if you live in Kissimmee/Poinciana, I don’t mean you).

Cons: More money for The Mouse.

The pros won, of course. So off we went to have what turned out to be one of the wildest, most fun nights in recent memory. We spotted the inverted pentagram on the Epcot ball upon entrance, and that set the tone for the evening. We imbibed very little food and a whole LOT of alcohol. My man bonded with his man (finally and after all these years), then all of us bonded more at their house.

As I get older, I am learning that I have surrounded myself with some of the most amazing individuals, quite by accident. Wait, not by accident; what I mean is, the design, the perfection of knowing them, isn’t revealed to me until POW! it appears in a moment of clarity unlike any I’ve shared with them before.

I know how fantastic my friends are. That’s why they’re my friends. But I have no earthly idea just how truly magical they are until it manifests.

No details about Orlando (discretion above all, darling), but as I write this, it occurs to me this particular epiphany has happened quite a bit this year, with people I’ve known sometimes for decades. The skeptic in me thinks that as we all get older, we figure there’s no loss in sharing ourselves completely with the folks we trust most; the wild witch in me sees a portent. A BIG one. All I’m sure of, genuinely, is all these people need to be in one room at one time. Our house, maybe in the Spring, maybe sooner.

And this because I let go of my hatred, however briefly, for That Mouse.

Old dogs can learn new tricks.

With the help of Captain Jack, most of the cleaning and organization I wanted to get done before the end of the month will be accomplished before we go out-of-town on business tomorrow. I absolutely abhor laundry and cleaning floors, so it’s been nice to have my love volunteer to do the former and the good Captain to do the latter.

The Halloween decorations are waiting in the foyer to be distributed through the house. I had no idea how much of it we had until I cleaned out and re-organized our storage closets over the weekend. I found an entire box of costuming paraphernalia, too, so friends who need stuff should get in touch - we probably have it on hand.

The only task left upstairs is to get the guest room in complete order and cleaned (my love is responsible for his own office). The library/wine cellar downstairs is nearly complete, which means my office will FINALLY get cleaned up and organized, after a year of living here.

What got all this started? The non-husband cleaned out his side of the closet. No kidding - he did it all on his own, there are three giant boxes in the downstairs hallway to go to Goodwill, AND he replaced all his hangars with new, velvet-covered ones. Now my side of the closet looks like an absolute mess by comparison, but he didn’t stop there … he also cleaned out the garage last Saturday.

Yeah, I’m thinking the same thing: Who are you and what have you done with my love?

Meh. I shouldn’t question it, just enjoy it.

But let’s see how long it lasts.

Yes, guys, that is how we women sometimes see you. Not all the time, but we have to consider it, especially when we are approached by men we don’t know.

I can’t explain it very well. Here, let the originator of the term describe it in her article, subtitled A Guy’s Guide to Approaching Strange Women Without Being Maced.

Also, check out How Not to Be an Asshole: A Guide for Men (pretty self-explanatory) and Stuff What Boys Can Do, shared stories of men who stand up against misogynistic behavior.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T, found out what it means to me!

Homosexuality was not removed from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) until 1974. Before then, being gay or lesbian meant you could be committed to an institution - by relatives, a spouse, or the state - without recourse.

The current DSM definitions for BDSM, fetishes, and crossdressing still subject people with such interests to bias and perhaps outright discrimination. This means that a father who crossdresses in the privacy of his own bedroom could lose his kids; it also means a woman who enjoys spanking as foreplay could be told by a psychiatric professional that her happy, fun-filled sex life is detrimental to her health.

Of course, if someone’s practices are detrimental to their (or other’s) health, well-being, relationships, and/or ability to work or maintain their every day lives, they obviously have a disorder and should be treated as such. However, those adults who enjoy a safe, sane, and consensual lifestyle that sits just a bit on the kinky side are NOT clinical, nor should they be treated as if they are.

The good folks who publish the DSM - the American Psychiatric Association (APA) - are gearing up to publish updates, which they do periodically. There is a DSM Revision Petition online which encourages the APA to base their findings on good science rather than what society-at-large defines as a disorder. To whit:

We, the undersigned, support the American Psychiatric Association’s (APA) own goal of making its Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM) a scientific document, based on empirical research and devoid of cultural bias. A diagnosis of a mental disorder can have a severe adverse impact on employment opportunities, child custody determinations, an individual’s well-being, and other areas of functioning. Therefore we urge the APA to remove all diagnoses that are not based upon peer-reviewed, empirical research, demonstrating distress or dysfunction, from the DSM. The APA specifically should not promote current social norms or values as a basis for clinical judgments.

Though not specific to fetishes, BDSM, or crossdressing, the National Coalition for Sexual Freedom (NCSF) is on board for this petition and has published this press release on it. Why? Because “kinky” is NOT a diagnosis and, no matter what your opinion of someone’s private life, no one’s civil liberties should be removed because society-at-large disapproves of their behavior.

After all, those of us who’ve summarily refused to get married / have kids - or who do not believe in God - could be considered quite insane by society’s standards.

Science is not belief. Science is fact.

Season 4 of one of the funniest animated series in history starts tomorrow night on Adult Swim. You know it’s good because we fans wait immeasurable amounts of time between seasons to get our Venture fix.

If you’re already a fan, check out this top ten list of their best one-off characters of the first three seasons.

We also get to their panel at Dragon*Con every year.

Really, you should consider getting to Atlanta next Labor Day weekend … except that all the host hotels but the Sheraton are already SOLD OUT. However, I know of a certain couple who has reservations for two rooms. Just sayin’.

It’s not what you know, it’s who you know.

Subject to the three-fold yoke of ignorance, tyranny, and vice, the American people have been unable to acquire knowledge, power, or [civic] virtue. The lessons we received and the models we studied, as pupils of such pernicious teachers, were most destructive. We have been ruled more by deceit than by force, and we have been degraded more by vice than by superstition … An ignorant people is a blind instrument of its own destruction. Ambition and intrigue abuse the credulity and experience of men lacking all political, economic, and civic knowledge; they adopt pure illusion as reality; they take license for liberty, treachery for patriotism, and vengeance for justice. - Simon Bolivar, 1819

In other words, get an education.