It's an epidemic

of undeclared nuts. Yet another recall:

Lucerne Foods today announced the voluntary recall of Oregon Bread’s Western Hazelnut Bread (white bread only) sold at Safeway and WinCo stores in 12 states due to the presence of three undeclared tree nuts — cashews, almonds and Brazil nuts. The recall does NOT include the brand’s whole wheat bread. The UPC product code, found on the bottom of the bag, is 3945500371.

Not my words

Probably much more worth reading than anything I've ever written on the topic of homosexuality. Reposted from JohnShore.com, a comment by FreeFox:

Are you really trying to define love? Trying to claim THIS is love and THAT isn’t? Come on. Love is a big word. It has zillions of meanings. Centuries and centuries and centuries peeps have written about love. You can fill books with what love means. At the lowest level love means intense affection. Everything beyond that depends on the culture, the context, the circumstances, the person who uses the word.

But reading all this made me think. Maybe it ISN’T really about who you fall in love with and who you get your loving from. I mean… fuck… how to say this…

“Loving’s pretty easy. It’s letting someone love you that’s hard.”
- Rita Mae Brown (Riding Shotgun, 1997)

The worst thing about being queer and told that you are an abomination isn’t that you aren’t allowed to be loved by others. That IS bad enough. But the worst is that your aren’t allowed to love yourself!

There is another thing that many think is supposed to go with love, and that is that it is supposed to be unconditional. BUT when you’re queer, it NEVER is unconditional. Yeah, God loves you, BUT he wants you to be different. Your 'rents love you, BUT they want you to be different. If your lover loves you, it really is a perversion. If you love a woman (or a man, for a dyke), you know that some part of your love is a lie, if only a lie of omission. As a queer bloke, even if you like a child, your own, or your baby brother, or your nephew, even then you know that those who know always have this little, held back fear in mind: He’s a perv, so, who knows if his affection for the kiddo is all that innocent.

When you’re queer, you can never be innocent. You can never be accepted. Not the real you. You can never really let go, let yourself fall into the arms of love. You always have to be on the look-out, against yourself, against those around you. A part of you has to fight love all the time. It is SO FUCKING EXHAUSTING. After a while you get so tired you just want it to stop, even when it means you have to stop breathing to get there.

So, all you good “Christians” who think that picking that one prohibition from the Good Book of a Zillion Prohibitions, there really are only three options for queers: Say “screw you all” to you bigots and ignore you and shag whosoever you want and feel good about it, or give up and die, or FIGHT till you are gone and we have won. And when that day is here, and there are queer boys happily snogging on all the school grounds in the world, and you can’t go through a town without having to retch all the time for seeing all those hand-holding dykes and happy faggots, just remember, we didn’t bring that fight to you. You brought it to us. And I hope you choke on it.