Tales from the Swamp

All photos in this post are of the Lake Conestee, SC nature preserve.

~*~

I have not been updating regularly since I have been hanging out in the swamp. Hope you like my photos of Lake Conestee swamps! It is an amazing and beautiful place. (As always, you can click all photos to enlarge.)



I decided my whole motif would be SWAMPS, since I realized, SWAMPS is where its at. As we used to say.

Which swamp should I cover first?

First up, the swamp of the kkk, which has been organizing here in South Carolina. They scheduled a rally for July 25th, so we had a "counter-rally" here in Greenville--although I would have preferred going down to Abbeville, where they are. Scary, but not so bad if we went in a large group. As I have written here before, I have disrupted one kkk rally (where I also got on the History channel) and nearly got killed at the second one (mentioned in passing here), so I appreciate the importance of traveling in a large group.

But the peaceniks organizing the rally didn't want any possibility of violent altercations. This is totally understandable, but... meh. Hey, the kkk invited everyone to come, didn't they? That is accepting an invitation, not starting an altercation. But yes, I guess that's quibbling.

It was a good protest rally, extremely well-behaved, where I saw the wonderful Camille Lewis and we did a selfie together. I was pleased by all the positive vibes, but I was aggravated that anyone believed the kkk would care what we were doing. I would like to MAKE THEM CARE. Like that guy years ago who drove his car into the Redneck Shop (kkk outpost) in Laurens County. Okay, maybe not that extreme, but something to garner serious media attention.

It is interesting that when I posted about the uptick in kkk activity on Tumblr, I was ignored. (I guess the kkk is just too "Mississippi Burning" for their taste? Old school. Not hip-hop enough.) At least they do seem to care about the recent racial unrest in Ferguson, Missouri, which is pretty bad. The police shooting of Michael Brown has ignited days of turmoil and rioting. The National Guard is there now, and it isn't any quieter.

No Justice, No peace.

The conservatives often claim that slogan is a "veiled threat"--but actually, it is simply a naked fact.



One of the pieces I was working on was about the last year I have spent on Tumblr, which is most assuredly one of the major cesspools of the world wide web. My time there is fast winding down, although I still enjoy all the photos of baby goats, weird art and old rock stars. (Not to mention stunning photos of LIZ!)

My consigliere Gregg asked me, live on the radio* even, why I went to a place that drives me crazy, and I answered honestly: because its where all the "social justice warriors" are now, and as a lefty, feminist, vegetarian (etc), I felt that it was my JOB; I needed to keep tabs on the place. And of course, I got sucked right in... swamps can be dangerous, especially when they FLOOD ALL OVER THE PLACE. Yigh!

Some of the arguments I engaged in were fairly predictable, especially after I posted THIS about one of the main Tumblr stars who is likely a cop (or equivalent), and after I figured out who some of the primary shit-stirrers are over there. Lo and behold... this gang includes people from Salon Rose, that old email list I was on. I am not surprised at all, since I could spot some of the same arguments that were first presented on the list, arguments I once decided were far too outlandish to be taken seriously. These arguments are now considered acceptable, i.e. you shouldn't say penises are male, since (some) trans women have them too. This is patently ridiculous. (Some humans don't have legs, so should we not say humans have legs? And there are far more humans missing legs than trans women with penises.) The recent article by Michelle Goldberg in the New Yorker about radical feminism vs trans feminism got everybody all worked up again. Lots of people who didn't know how "bad" the whole feud had become, are now reading this stuff for the first time. Tumblr is the incubator for most of this madness.

I found it well-nigh impossible not to get pulled into the swamp, since due to the email list, I know the colorful (and constantly-rewritten) personal histories of many of the instigating parties. Many are fakes; some are "trans women" not even living as women at all (but that doesn't stop them from knowing absolutely everything about womanhood). They have repeatedly told me they are far more woman than I could ever be. When I ask them what "woman" means, no answers. None will define this thing, WOMAN, that they claim they are. So I guess they ARE more woman than me, since it is apparently whatever they say it is.

In addition, there was the rape of a trans woman that has been covered up, and the rape-apologist squad have acted exactly like any other marauding gang, denying any responsibility towards the mentally ill person who was targeted. This made me furious, and when I mentioned it (and asked why are they covering it up), they accused me of trying to use this person's rape as a weapon to hurt trans women, which infuriated me even more. (The details, including names, links and circumstances, are in comments on this post.) I guess when a trans woman is ACTUALLY harmed, well, that is of no real consequence. Why are cis women supposed to take violence against trans women seriously, when the trans women themselves won't do it? Oh wait, did I mention the perp is another trans woman, a popular, charismatic organizer of conventions? Of course she is. And she has the enthusiastic backing of other trans women, so the violence perpetrated against Elle doesn't really count.

It only counts when they say it counts.

Forgive me if I don't take your bullshit seriously, gals.



But even as I argued with people who are (obviously) far more woman than me, I also argued with people who know feminism better than I do. The self-described "Michael Jordan of radical feminism", Nextyearsgirl, announces (regularly) that anyone who is in favor of rights for sex workers is anti-feminist.

This is like saying whoever is pro-unions cannot also be anti-capitalist; it makes no sense.

I asked her (without a single cuss word and totally respectfully) if she realized that for some women, sex work is a step UP the economic ladder? Is working a grueling and horrific 48-hour work week in a textile mill REALLY better than 3 hours of web-cam work, if you make the same amount of money? I had extensive varicose veins surgery for standing on my feet at work for hours, days, weeks, months, years. Why is that supposed to be ethically superior to a couple of hours dancing in the buff or showing one's body parts on a webcam, anonymously? Both are exploitative occupations--is one really more exploitative than the other? And why? I went from scrubbing toilets to dancing wearing pasties (it was against the law to be totally naked in those days, she said, sounding terribly old) and made 3 times the money. Which work do you think was harder? (Are more hours supposedly more holy or something?)

Of course, nextyearsgirl is an upper-middle-class college girl who has been supported by her parents and has never had to make these kinds of choices. She has no children and no worries, and didn't answer a single one of my questions listed in the above-paragraph, which were asked honestly and in the spirit of feminist debate. She simply made fun of me for even asking. Unbelievably, this is a heavy theory-head too, this is no rude adolescent. I am a feminist activist of over 40+ years standing, one of the people responsible for many of the changes she takes utterly for granted. And yet, she told her followers to unfollow me en masse since my mind was "scrambled by drugs decades ago." (about 20 of her followers obediently took her orders and instantly made me persona non grata--she is obviously a very important Tumblr swamp feminist, which should probably not be confused with real feminism. More about which in due course.)

And by the way, did you catch that?

Yes, nextyearsgirl claims to "care" about the sex workers, but then makes fun of a drug addict who quit 32 years ago. I wonder what she thinks of women who are still suffering from addiction? Wait, she told us, didn't she? They are not to be listened to.

Since it is estimated that drug addiction among sex workers is very, very high (figures range from 75-95%), nextyearsgirl makes it very clear she doesn't think sex workers with addiction issues should be listened to. I mean, *I* don't even qualify as worthy of listening to, and I am a 56-year-old grandma/Second Waver, my drug abuse safely 32 years in the past.

I think we know what she must think of drug addicts in the PRESENT, and by extension, what she thinks of sex workers with these problems: NOT TO BE LISTENED TO. BRAINS SCRAMBLED.

These are the "feminists" who purport to care about sex workers. Scratch the surface, and observe the unbridled contempt bubbling to the surface.

Swamp, I say, swamp.



I was also working on a companion piece titled "How fundamentalist Christianity gave birth to Tumblr's Social Justice Activists"--so I could finally explain the whole thing to Tumblr-skeptics like Gregg, but then decided it wasn't worth it.

Besides, I realized I could say it in a paragraph or two, during my many conversations with South Carolina Boy about the entire phenomenon. (He went to a southern Christian college, so he knows this stuff.)

~*~

As Harold Bloom said in The American Religion, there is a heavily-gnostic strain in American Christianity. The Reformation abolished sacraments (for the most part) as arbiters of belief or religious devotion. No intermediaries between Man and God! The result: A Christian was no longer who the Church said it was, a Christian is whoever claims they are one.

This is how we have arrived at the unfortunate point where we have Christians who are pro-global warming and pro-war. Because Christian is whatever they say it is, they are answerable to no one. If some preacher gives them static, they just move on to another one. And if that preacher wants their money/donations, he will not challenge them when they do unChristian things or offer unChristian politics. He will look the other way.

Fundamentalist Christianity owes no one anything, it is entirely internal. "You ask me how I know He Lives/He Lives within my heart!" goes the Protestant hymn. It is about your state of mind. You can now do whatever you want, short of living openly as gay (although many Christians do, and see no contradiction in doing so) and/or being a pimp or dope dealer (ditto). Divorce, carousing, drinking, gambling, porn, all is fine as long as nobody sees you (and sometimes, even if they do). Your politics can defy Jesus' orders to feed the poor and visit the imprisoned; in fact you can spit all over the poor and KILL the imprisoned, and its all okay, just as long as you call yourself a Baptist.

And now we have the same thing with those magic words, SOCIAL JUSTICE ACTIVIST.

People say they are, so... they are. Poof. No work required. In fact, nothing is required, that I can see.

The actual words though? Social justice? What does that mean? And WHERE (pray tell) is this mythical ACTIVISM? Answer: there isn't any. If you want to shut the kids up on Tumblr, just ask what they have actually DONE in real life. (Some of them reply with really offensive crap such as, "That's ableist to ask what we've done!"-- as if disabled people didn't build one of the most successful social justice activist movements of ALL TIME!!!! Yeesh.)

So we now have a collection of "social justice activists" who have no actual experience in activism. None. Zip. And when you refer to the failures and successes of past social justice activism, they have no clue what you are talking about (this is how I figured out they were mostly posturing fakes). This is why we have someone claiming to "care" about sex workers and yet doesn't hesitate to show their class contempt and open derision for drug addicts... no actual experience on the ground. Or she would KNOW who the sex workers are and she wouldn't say something that makes her look like a society-girl dilettante. Michael Jordan, indeed.

And that's how fundamentalism impacts social justice: you think, therefore you are. You are not required to actually do anything, but think the right thoughts. Use the right language and position yourself the right way. Follow the right people on Tumblr. Reblog the right people. But actually get out in the streets and DO anything?

No. They don't know how. They are resoundingly ignorant of even their own streets and neighborhoods. They can't organize the people on Tumblr who already talk exactly like they do and recognize all of their arcane cultural references, so how do they think they will organize people who don't think like they do and don't understand what they are talking about?

Answer: They don't plan to do any such thing. They simply type their deep thoughts and heavy theory on Tumblr, and hopefully, some grunt will do the job. Is that what they expect to happen?

And after thinking about this awhile, that's when I remembered Shelby Steele.



Author Shelby Steele wrote about his experience as a black teacher who opposed Affirmative Action, which he believes actually harms black kids. His proof was that many (most?) black students drop out of college in their 2nd or 3rd year. He felt these students were not fully ready for academic life, since the poor-to-mediocre public schools they came from were not up to par in the first place. Further, he believes their "failure" in college set them back psychologically, made them feel worse than it would have if they had not been given any extra help. This is the old argument about how charity can be harmful, only this time, he was talking about his own kids and his own observations as a college professor. He also wrote about being raised under Jim Crow, and what it was like to attend segregated schools himself.

So what happened?

Well, after Steele started to label himself a conservative, nice liberal white people refused to sit next to him at upscale dinner parties. (Apparently, the irony of this situation was totally lost on the whites, if not on Steele.) His opinions were beyond the pale, you should pardon expression. White liberal students from places like Beverly Hills and Central Park West started screaming at him during speaking engagements. Whites not allowing a black man to speak, now where have I heard THAT before? But its okay, since this is a conservative black man they are policing.

So we have spoiled brats who have been pampered since they were in utero, screaming "Racist!" at a black man who was raised under Jim Crow. An appalling and sordid spectacle, but it describes Tumblr social justice perfectly. I can think of no better illustration.

How does this situation happen, asked Steele, in his book A Dream Deferred: The Second Betrayal of Black Freedom in America. He has facts and figures suggesting that Affirmative Action is an overall negative and he is ready to debate the subject with whomever is willing. Blacks will, he said, but whites won't. Why not?

Steele says that for white people, being in favor of Affirmative Action is not about what is good for black students. They have no idea what is good for black students; they probably don't even know any. For whites, taking the correct liberal position is about LOOKING GOOD TO OTHERS. If you are white, to declare oneself anti-racist is to be A GOOD PERSON. It doesn't mean actually doing anything or thinking about things in depth, it means having the correct opinions and thereby proving you are on the side of the angels. It means posturing. Because if you argue, you might say the wrong thing, you might give yourself away as not having a clue... since you likely don't. Better to pretend you know everything, repeat the popular boilerplate, and shut up.

And so it is now with the Social Justice crowd on Tumblr. It isn't about honest and well-meaning debate, as I tried to discuss things reasonably with nextyearsgirl. It is about HAVING THE CORRECT OPINIONS. It is about LOOKING GOOD and being A GOOD PERSON. If you actually compromise yourself (as I have, as Shelby Steele has) and DO THINGS, well, you leave yourself open to criticism. You also garner some real experience and make observations, as Steele did over a lifetime of teaching African-American students. Disagree with him all you want, but he is the father of black kids and has taught black kids for eons, and was one himself; he knows his stuff. He speaks out of concern for the educational system and how it impacts African Americans in general. Show respect for his process, if you want respect for yours, and MAKE THE ARGUMENTS.

If you can't, he has won, and you should have the good grace to admit it.

~*~



But this is the swamp. Where they dump dead bodies and stuff. Its muddy, the water isn't clear. Strange noises and gurgles. We can expect more of the swamp as long as fakes and frauds contaminate the internet. At least, we can keep the troublemakers confined to their gurgling, oozing swampy spaces. As long as Reddit and Tumblr exist, perhaps it will keep the lunatics away from the rest of us.

Or does it just emit that nasty swamp gas that covers everything with its stench? Ewwww.

~*~



I have to thank the wonderful HBO series, TRUE DETECTIVE, which also inspired my recent swamp fixation. My spouse and I recently binge-watched the whole first season (Matthew McConaughey is a revelation! Who knew he could do that shit?) and it was terrific. After our binge-watching, I even dreamed about swamps... and the next day, my husband announces that he has located a real one. The rest, as they say, is history. We have spent a lot of time there since.

My apologies for a month-long unannounced blog-break. I will try not to let it happen again. But just look at these photos! Wouldn't YOU get distracted by such a beautiful swamp?

*GOOD NEWS: We are back on WOLI radio! Our show (still called "Occupy the Microphone") is on every Monday at 8-9pm, so we are not doing the daily thing at the present time (which simply exhausted everyone trying to come up with appropriate and timely topics). We don't have a podcast up and running yet, since we are still getting our radio-selves together. In addition, Gregg's mother-in-law passed away at home this weekend after a long illness (see this post for more).

Rest in peace, Martha.

Our best wishes are with Gregg, his spouse and children; as well as Martha's caregivers, Krystine and Josh, both beautiful people. (this being a small town, I once worked with Josh elsewhere too.) I can only hope to be able to depend on such gentle, sweet souls when I am old and frail.

Lou Reed 1942-2013

After hearing the news today, I find I am still not able to rationally discuss the impact of Lou Reed on my life.

I remember someone once remarked that the Velvet Underground only had about 200 fans, "but every one of them, started a band." And so, the legend was born; Lou was a legend to other legends. It is hard to describe the impact his work had on those of us who felt marginalized, those of us on the outside.

In so many ways, you had to be there.

I got a tattoo inspired by Lou. Early in recovery, I decided I did not want to be that heartless junkie in the middle-section of Street Hassle, who declares he won't wear his heart on his sleeve, will not become emotional when faced with the death of a stranger.

I knew that I did want to be that person, and that desire, that hope, is what prompted me to save my own life, to search for something better.

I do want to wear my heart on my sleeve. And so I got tattoo of a heart there, to remind me.

Goodbye dear friend. It hurts so much to lose you.

~*~



Some people got no choice
and they can never find a voice
To talk with, that they can even call their own
So the first thing that they see
That allows them the right to be
Well, they follow it.

You know, its called
Bad luck.



(from Street Hassle by Lou Reed)

~*~

We will be discussing Lou Reed's life and work on the radio show tomorrow.

And I hope to play this:

Rock and Roll - Velvet Underground



You know her life was saved by rock and roll.

~*~

Edit and Correction, from the New York Times, it was Brian Eno who said it, and here is their direct quote:

The composer Brian Eno, in an often-quoted interview from 1982, suggested that if the [The Velvet Underground]’s first record sold only 30,000 records during its first five years — a figure probably lower than the reality — “everyone who bought one of those 30,000 copies started a band.”

~*~

EDIT AGAIN 10/28/2013: I was really surprised to find this on YouTube, because, well, it just defies description. It's an 8-minute (spoken) story, and ... to say more is to ruin it. (Just one thing: if you start listening, please continue to the end.)

However, I don't mind telling you, I know the whole thing by heart and can recite it verbatim from memory: "Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit..."

I have never before admitted that out loud. But there it is.

The Gift - Velvet Underground



PS: Happy Halloween! ;)

The AA ballad of Hugo Schwyzer

My enduring silence on this past summer's Hugo Schwyzer debacle, has been wholly deliberate. For those who need the background, check it out HERE, HERE and HERE. (Warnings out the wazoo, as we say here in the South.)





One of those primary "recovery rules" is that you do not judge another addict, or doubt that they are sober.

Just look at the fallout here when I (correctly) called the cause of Brittany Murphy's death before it was official. I was considered ableist and out of line. (And when I was proven right, none of these people apologized to me either.) I learned from that, and decided I would be more circumspect the next time.

And so initially, I did not plan on saying anything at all about Hugo's now-famous, bizarre meltdown. But since then, folks have pointedly asked me for my opinion, since I mentioned him in my post about my own AA anniversary... and so I have now decided to comment at length.

~*~

At some point, I think after I read the famous jizz piece, I decided feminist-professor Hugo was using and/or drinking again.

The problem was (see Brittany Murphy, Michael Jackson, et al), these were undoubtedly perfectly-legal, professionally-vetted, prescribed meds that he had started abusing again... and this is one reason hard-core Alcoholics Anonymous people like my sponsor were so categorically anti-drug. Prescription drugs are still drugs. Of course there are always "good reasons" for them; I got a million Rxs in my life, with no trouble. Had good reasons for them all. Primary among these reasons: I was an addict, I wanted them, and I knew how to get them.

The onslaught of anti-depressants, sleeping aids and anti-anxiety meds for recovering addicts/alcoholics, has been an unmitigated disaster. Its also an old feud within AA and NA (Narcotics Anonymous), as well as within other recovery circles. The concept is that people were "self-medicating" with alcohol (and so what else is new) and so they just needed the "correct" meds and ... then they somehow magically won't want those naughty "bad" drugs anymore. This is self-serving, narcissistic, addict-apologist bullshit. Always has been. Thing is, those of us who clung to this uncool, supposedly-outmoded view (that it's bullshit), invariably lost the war. Drugs flooded into recovery circles like the proverbial tidal wave. (NOTE: I have been alcohol-free for 32 years, and I refer to the advent of Prozac and similar drugs in the early 90s.)

At one point, I refused to sponsor people who were using prescription drugs to 'cushion their fall' into reality. And I learned (to my alarm) that I could spot them fairly easily. They didn't LEARN anything. They retained many/most of their negative personality-issues and character defects. They didn't "work on themselves"--and I think it's because, frankly, they didn't feel enough pain to find it necessary to change. Pain is instructional. Depression is instructional. Guilt and shame are instructional. When you do not allow yourself to FEEL these emotions/states of mind (self-medicating, the reason you drank in the first place), you do not learn the REASONS for them, which are usually: personality disorders, erroneous views of reality, childhood traumas left to fester and infect the psyche, self-esteem in the toilet, PTSD run amok, a puritanical/punitive world-view, etc. Drugs are a band-aid solution. As soon as I would get close to any of these issues in a sponsoree, they would have a meltdown (much like Hugo's!) and then go robotic; that particular, tell-tale type of robotic-reaction that is made possible by the psychological BUFFER OF CHEMICALS that is DRUGS.

No work could get done.

"I think I have PTSD," says the recovering person.

"Let's work on it," I'd say.

(((HYSTERIA))) followed by the robotic, predictably drugged-up countenance.

Like clockwork.

I would finally cut them loose, and I'd say, get another sponsor or come back to me when you cut out the drugs. I don't care if Sigmund fucking Freud himself gave them to you, NO. I will not work with people who are buffering the world with drugs. WON'T DO IT. And most of these people would hang around awhile, then leave. This has become known as the "revolving door of recovery"--because it just happens over and over and these people never learn to DO WITHOUT SUBSTANCES. TOTALLY.

At this point, readers are thinking/saying, "You are not a professional! Danger, Will Robinson, danger!" And they are right. I am not. That is how AA works, and how it worked for me. I do not go to professionals, I do not BELIEVE in bullshit elitist, over-educated professionals, who have over-prescribed drugs to the point that we now have multiple-epidemics of junkies on the level we have never before had in history. PROFESSIONALS ARE PART OF THE FUCKING PROBLEM. I believe in peers, I believe in equality, I believe in people who have been through what I have been through, I believe in the power of regular human beings connecting with each other. That is what worked for me, and I still believe in it. Professionals pretty much destroyed AA, as did the courts forcing people to attend meetings after being arrested for drunken driving or drug possession (in direct violation of the 11th Tradition, which originally stated that AA membership should be based on "attraction rather than promotion"). The overarching resentment of these court-ordered maybe-alcoholics just smoldered, and their anger was palpable in many meetings, destroying the cozy family-atmosphere we once enjoyed. Meanwhile, the professionals brought in all kinds of psychobabble and Dr Feelgood jargon, correcting the scruffy street-people and (ever so politely!) reinterpreting their experience for them with big words and medical concepts, alienating them even further.

As I said, unmitigated disaster.

In short, old style AA might have helped Hugo. The moment I learned he was still "on meds" (which I'm sure were duly prescribed by one of the all-holy and infallible professionals) --I knew the implosion was just a matter of time. I just waited for it, wincing, because I figured it would be a flame-out of Biblical proportions. (I have also been waiting for something like this from Glenn Beck, and he has disappointed me so far, unless he has been able to keep it out of the media.) I have seen countless of these in AA. It usually manifests in these kinds of people (Hugo and Glenn Beck), who make "recovery" part of their identity. It's okay to do this for awhile, even necessary at first. (e.g. I once saw myself as party animal, so it was necessary at first to see myself as recovery animal; I had to put something IN ITS PLACE as a substitution.) But eventually, the idea should be that we MOVE ON. (I have not been to an AA meeting in about a dozen years now.) After a decent length of time has passed, we should even be able to figure out if indeed a certain drug might be helpful and/or good for us. I am old, and my joints are falling apart; there ARE good drugs, and I fully understand that now. Similarly, a toke at the bluegrass concert, did not hurt me. I have learned the MIDDLE PATH at long last, but only because I made learning that a priority. I did not want to be dependent on AA (or drugs) my whole life. I know the important thing: my drug of choice, alcohol, and highly addictive drugs (Valium, sleeping pills, Oxys, opiates, meth, questionable "appetite suppressants" such as the now-disgraced Preludin, which I ate like candy) are totally off limits for me. I avoid them like the plague. I do not take any psych meds daily, since I believe they interfere with my judgement and make it more likely that I will forget this personal boundary and break this rule. I have managed to maintain my sobriety, although sometimes tenuous, through remembering my triggers: bad temper, familial stress (and attendant co-dependency; trying to run other people's lives to my specifications), feelings of inadequacy, hypochondria... and more importantly, I know where all of these traits came from and how they originated in my life (meaning: I no longer hate myself for them).

I DID THE WORK, SO I KNOW THESE THINGS.

Hugo didn't. So he doesn't.

One of his triggers: WOMEN. He should have been forbidden from any and all relationships for a period of time, until his sponsor told him it was safe, and then the sponsor should have properly vetted the relationship. No sex; celibacy until you figure out what sex is doing to your life and why you compulsively seek it out. (This is true for MEN AND WOMEN regarding what is called "sex addiction" --which often goes hand-in-hand with other addictions, just as co-dependency and eating disorders do.) I know, this sounds cultish, but THAT IS WHAT I MEAN: Hugo went to the new, improved (snark), Rxs-for-everybody AA, not the cold-showers-and-root-canal version I went to in 1982. When I entered AA, NOT cooperating was really not an option if you wanted to hang around for an extended length of time. The Alcoholics Anonymous I went to was categorical: No serious decisions for a year. This rule includes jobs (if you are employed, do not change jobs or quit your job; if unemployed, try to stretch this out as long as you can), relationships (no changing them, no divorces, no "falling in love", no fucking around), and living arrangements, unless you are in an emergency situation (and many addicts are). Every stress-making decision was talked over carefully first, in meetings or with your sponsor. Everything you did and thought was thoroughly interrogated and examined, first by yourself, and if you still weren't sure, you brought it to "group conscience." [When I was faced with attending my grandmother's wake in Indiana, after only six slim months of sobriety, I fully realized this would be a rowdy and hyper-emotional occasion in MY hard-drinking family. The group counseled me, en masse, do not stay with a family member, stay in a motel instead. Wow, I said, isn't that RUDE? Someone replied, "Is getting howling drunk and fucking everything up rude?" Hmm, good point. I stayed in the motel. I managed. It was okay. I got through it, and the group's collective wisdom was the reason why.]

It was a hard-ass approach, but it is the one I think is necessary, because ADDICTS LIE TO THEMSELVES EVEN MORE THAN THEY DO TO EVERYONE ELSE.

And that way of life now seems extinct. I mourn its loss. It might have saved Hugo.

This is why I did not initially comment on Hugo's flame-out, because I knew I would have to say all of this. I think recovery itself FAILED HUGO, because it got soft.

In fact, let me be clear: the new and improved (snark again) recovery was TAILOR MADE for attention-whores like him. He then could use the fact of recovery to become a star and pump up his self-importance and toxic ego even more. For some of us, particularly down here in the working classes, addiction and alcoholism are still stigmatized; even admitting it is in your past, is still stigmatized. I often do not tell people, unless they finally ask me if there is a reason I never drink.

We don't have "stars" in the working classes (who do not eventually become recovery professionals themselves)... you have to be an academic or writer or media-figure to be a "recovery star"--and Hugo was. He used this fact about himself to boost his star-appeal, which tells me that he still hadn't worked on one of his major personality defects: attention-whoredom.

This has been difficult to write. In AA circles, what I have just done is called "taking Hugo's inventory" and is considered really bad form. I apologize, but felt it was necessary after I was asked the 6th or 7th time, and by people I deeply respect. I "defended" Hugo the last time (actually I just said he needed to be able to write honestly about what had happened--although interestingly, I don't). After his most recent flip-out, a couple of people got nasty with me and asked me if I had rescinded that post. No, I haven't--but then, I was writing it about someone I thought was actually recovering. (Notably: I had not seen the infamous jizz piece at that time.)

I would issue a warning, just in general: If you see people leave AA and then take up with some hard-core religion? Warning. DANGER. This person needs rules and boundaries, and they feel they are not getting them. So, they/we go where there are rules, lots and lots of rules. I did, my sponsor did, Glenn Beck did, and I notice, Hugo did. It is NEVER a good sign. It can work for some of us, as a sort of "transition out" of AA, a halfway-house into the regular world. But for others, it just means CARTE BLANCHE and gives them a whole new playground to play in. Aha, they think, I just needed GOD! I was never an alcoholic, I just needed JEEZUS! (And since we know that now, why not have a drink to celebrate?)

Watch out. As the Grateful Dead song said, trouble ahead, trouble behind. Hugo easily found the trouble, and took a nice long bath in it.

If AA had stayed true to itself, the revolving door of recovery would not exist, and the revolving door into the Church/Synagogue/Mosque/Ashram wouldn't either. As it is, we have all been betrayed, and Big Pharm bears a lot of the blame. But we have also lost our way, we have also declined the rougher, more unpleasant aspects of recovery, such as taking a big, bold look at ourselves as we really and truly are, putting all those pesky psychic-dramas under the microscope for close inspection. We have not wanted to look at the damage we have done--at least I never did. This means people like Hugo can write dramatic accounts of almost-murder/suicides and make them sound like Movies-of-the-Week, instead of the horrific, desperate acts they actually are (if his dramatic tale is true at all, of course. I have come to doubt it, or at least, wonder what parts of the story were edited/left out/trumped up, etc.)

I hope this is a satisfactory reply to the people who have asked me to comment on Hugo. I did not mean it to be so long... but then again, that is why I didn't want to write about him in the first place. I do see Hugo as a casualty of his own hubris... but the difference is, in the old days, he couldn't have used recovery as an excuse to GET WORSE. And now, it seems to be a rather common phenomenon.

I weep for those of us who will never recover. I hope Hugo can. But first, he needs to shut up, and for a good long time, too. Attention is his enemy. Although for some, it is a balm, since they were often totally ignored and relegated to the back of the room. That's the thing: One size does not fit all.

And once upon a time, AA knew that and counseled us accordingly.

I miss those days.

Monday linkage, with Joe Pye weed

Some random linkage, starting (of course!) with my own radio show: Thursday, Friday and today.

We were a bit off our game today, since Gregg and I had to soldier on without Double A. Next week, I am going to Texas, and they will have to soldier on without ME... so I am not complaining.

I just get nervous when we change anything.

~*~

Just back from Atlanta, where I caught a very personal story in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution (unfortunately, behind a pesky paywall, or I would link it) about the former Miss Georgia, beautiful Leighton Jordan. In the AJC account, Jordan's eating disorder is presented in stark, primary colors. It was harrowing; the unending treadmill of ballet, pageants and thinness seemed less like the life of a princess (the fairy tale we all hear about) and more like being caught in a trap.

In her work as Miss Georgia, Jordan describes a personal appearance wherein she spies a 13-year-old girl, very thin and obviously "jittery" as she is confronted with a table full of food. Jordan takes the girl aside and tells her that she needs to hear her story.

It was an amazing moment of sisterhood, self-sacrifice and love.

I promise never again to be mean to the pageant-participants. Jordan has redeemed you all.

Namaste.

~*~

At left: Joe Pye weed, from Linky Stone park. Ain't it just so purty?!?

I used this photo as the background for my new Tumblr, which you should all check out.


~*~





Other stuff--

6th big cat dies at Texas animal sanctuary (USA Today) -- I did not know that big cats caught feline distemper, as domestic cats do. :(

~*~

Also covered on our show today, CNN doctor-on-call Sanjay Gupta reversed himself on the weed. And yes, we are now waiting on the rest of you 'experts' who have said stupid things in the past; you too may be regarded as respectable once again! SAVE YOUR REPUTATIONS NOW! FREE THE WEED!

~*~

[Attorney General Eric] Holder seeks to avert mandatory minimum sentences for some low-level drug offenders (Washington Post) Better late than never.

~*~

Speaking of marijuana (doing radio has taught me the importance of a good segue!), Erin Tatum's feminist review of "We're the Millers" at Bitch Flicks accurately articulates my concerns about the movie, which I haven't yet seen (but I have been subjected to oodles of trailers):

Really, you are lying to yourself if you thought the powers that be would waste any opportunity to showcase Jennifer Aniston's legs. The ensuing montage is pure wet, slow-motion fan service. The dance ends with Rose releasing a steam valve, disorienting their captors enough to let their "family" escape. I'm torn about this scene because although it's trying almost too hard to show that strippers can be smart and intuitive, Rose’s most valuable asset is still her body and her ability to be objectified. I take issue not so much the objectification itself so much as the fact that the definitive aspect of Rose’s character seems to be “LOL WHAT 40+ and still hot?!?”. Certainly Aniston's boldness and athleticism are praiseworthy, but given the amount that the actors talk about it in interviews, you would think the strip routine was her sole appearance.

~*~

I am greatly looking forward to Elysium, a new film containing one of my very favorite scifi plots ever: Earth evacuated by the rich as a festering shithole, while only the poor, sick and unlucky are left behind. This was a favorite theme of my beloved Philip K Dick, as in his great masterpiece Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, which became the film Blade Runner. (It is also the scenario in The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch, a novel of obsessive importance to your humble narrator.) Elysium was directed by Neill Blomkamp, the director of DISTRICT 9.

Unfortunately, Elysium is getting rather mixed reviews, even though it easily won the weekend box office. I still intend to see it, so stay tuned.

The Conjuring got on my nerves, because I really wanted to like it.

~*~

And for you musically oriented folks: I finally "cleaned up" my infamous three-year-old instrumentals post... I profusely apologize to the people who Googled "instrumentals" (which are notoriously VERY HARD to find, since there are no lyrics to look up) and came upon my post with so many songs missing. I blame YouTube! (Again, time to plug the invaluable YouTomb, a fascinating website that chronicles the whys and wherefores of various videos getting the plug pulled.)

I especially got a chock full of searches after MAD MEN used "Love is Blue" over their closing credits in one of this past year's shows.

And so, here it is.

Love is blue (L'amour est bleu) - Paul Mauriat (1968)

Our banner week on Occupy the Microphone!

Occupy the Microphone is on every day, LIVE AT FIVE! In the upstate, you can hear us at 105.7 FM and/or 910 AM, or you can listen to the livestream HERE. You can also download the show at our website, at Spreaker or at Talk Shoe. We are also circulated by the Black Talk Radio Network.



We got a lot of hits on our Memorial Day show, which featured a half hour of excellent antiwar music, followed by a half hour of interviews with veterans who are now peace activists and veteran-advocates, including Wade Hampton Fulmer (of Veterans for Peace), and Kevin Alexander Gray.



Thursday's show highlighted the Detroit Police Special Response Team's murder of 7-year-old Aiyana Stanley-Jones in May 2010, during a home invasion, which was being filmed for A&E network's reality show, "The First 48". The jury was seated this week in the trial of Officer Joseph Weekley, who has been charged with the murder.
(This is an ongoing, harrowing tale that we will undoubtedly be revisiting many times.)

Victim-advocate Amelia Pena talked about domestic violence issues with co-host Double A (both in photo above).



Friday's show featured local activists Eric Wood and Traci Young Fant. (above, co-host Gregg Jocoy with Eric Wood, Traci Young Fant and Double A.)

Traci discussed several upcoming local events, including OUT OF BONDAGE, which will be held at the Empowerment Zone, 775 Woodruff Rd, Greenville, SC, this Saturday, June 8th at 6pm.

Amelia Pena (mentioned above) will be one of the speakers, along with Winn Freeman, former addict and founder of Wisdom In Living Life Ministry. Also sharing their stories and testimonies will be Torah Speech, Sharon Totherow, Tabatha Duck, Laura Calhoun, Taurice Bussey and Maurice Walker, with a special musical performance by Jeff Redmond.



This free, life-changing community event is dedicated to the memory of Natasha Kerns and Kacy Roberson. For further information, call Traci at 864-235-3592.



Also coming up is the 2nd Annual Multicultural Festival, which will be at McAlister Square in Greenville. (also the home of WOLI studios, where we broadcast Occupy the Microphone). Another free event scheduled for Thursday, June 27th at 3pm. Volunteers, vendors, sponsors and displays are still needed. Sponsorship packets start at $25, while vendor-tables run for $45.

Again, if you are interested, get in touch with Traci, the human dynamo, 864-235-3592. (Traci, it was such a pleasure to have you on the show!)

Tune in tomorrow!

Political Animals

I was really disappointed in Political Animals on the USA network. I had been looking forward to it, and then... pfffft. Awful. Did someone fall asleep while writing the script or what? (How do you get hired to write that stuff, anyway? Maybe I should send them a resume; apparently, they are hiring entry-level screenwriters at USA.) Sigourney Weaver, usually very good at sarcasm and power-tripping games, was a tremendous letdown. She seems to have phoned in her lines. I could do as well, and so could you.

The story is a juicy one. It's all about an ambitious, take-no-prisoners, ex-president's wife named Elaine Barrish, who is now the Secretary of State.

Gee, wonder who that's about?

And maybe that was the problem. They didn't know whether to "evoke" Hillary (see above link, wherein Weaver equivocates on the subject matter) or just "recreate" a Hillaryesque character. Is she a good witch or a bad witch? They don't seem to be able to make up their minds, and the screenplay veers indecisively back and forth. As a result, they can't really take any meaningful stand. It therefore turns into just another soap opera, this one set in Washington, D.C.

At one point, Weaver/Hillary/Elaine delivered what I think was supposed to be a heartfelt monologue about her convictions, and it just rang false. This savvy, cutthroat politician who craves power, suddenly cares all about the little people? Well, maybe so--that is the very definition of "complex"--isn't it? But Weaver failed to deliver on this emotional complexity and seemed to be reciting hackneyed lines that had just been given to her five minutes previously. Awful. Avoid, avoid. Do not be taken in by the commercials, which are pretty good. (In fact, whoever made the bang-up commercials should be assigned the overhaul of the whole series, but I doubt that will happen.)

Besides Weaver phoning it in, they have Ciarán Hinds, an Irish actor, playing the character based on Bill Clinton (here named Bud Hammond). They couldn't find a SINGLE SOUTHERN ACTOR? Because Hinds' southern accent is one of the worst I have heard since Jane Fonda in Otto Preminger's feverish Hurry Sundown. Are they kidding with that? It was atrocious, insulting and utterly cringe-inducing. Where exactly in the south is he supposed to be from? (Answer: North Carolina) More like Nowhere-in-the-Real-South, USA.

And it's also notable they turned Bud into Elaine's EX husband. Why? So she could make sardonic little jokes about his legendary "other women" without any moral discomfort from the audience. And then Bud and Elaine can meet each other in a motel room, post-divorce (as Secret Service agents wink knowingly at each other and at us) and it really isn't considered wrong. Or something. The fact is, the Clintons are NOT divorced, and showing reality the way it really is, would have been far more honest (and less like hedging your bets).

Further, the "scandal" of one of Elaine's sons being a suicidal druggie (borrowing from the Kennedys now) would be regarded as a scandal for a good feminist reason: one explosive, nasty charge often leveled against ambitious women (across the political and occupational spectrum) is that they are lousy/absent mothers. THIS is why such a story might be covered up by Hillary's people, as well as the stigma surrounding addicts and addiction in general. And yet, neither of these reasons was seriously addressed by the show--that would get too (haha) POLITICAL, and soap opera is obviously where they are going with this.

Too bad. They missed a great opportunity. I will stay with the series, just to see what happens (I like soaps as much as the next person), but I hope Weaver is given the script a whole week in advance next time and/or stops reading cue cards. And please, better scripts? Please? Witty banter and snappy comebacks doesn't seem like a lot to ask from writers accustomed to making six figures.

Or maybe its always risky to try to dramatize politics. SOMEBODY might get offended and networks seek as many viewers as possible. Again, that's too bad. Offending people means you have made an impact and actually matter.

Nobody can be too offended by a soap opera.

Tuesday Tunes

Turn it up!

Somebody argued with me that Blondie wasn't a punk band, so this is for them. Yes, I know they made pop hits to pay the rent, but this song totally burns the place down.

And I hereby rest my case!

Detroit 442 - Blondie



It also helps that Debbie looks fabulous.

~*~

It has been pointed out to me that Tom Petty was ON "King of the Hill" (well, his animated image was, in any event!) --but this lovely tune was recorded in 1991 and the cartoon started in 1997... I wonder if the song was an inspiration for the title?

It's easy to figure out who wrote what parts of the song: the verses sound like Petty/Heartbreakers, but the chorus is pure McGuinn/Byrds... beautiful!

King of the Hill - Tom Petty and Roger McGuinn



~*~

Too amazing for mere words:

Here But I'm Gone - Curtis Mayfield



May his soul rest in peace.

Getting to know you

Its been awhile since I participated in a fun meme, and so here we go! These are "Getting to Know You" Questions from the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.

1. What is the most daring thing you've done?

Hitchhiking to New York City from Ohio, twice. And back! Also hitchhiked out of Candlestick Park after the Rolling Stones concert, and considering the acidheads who picked me up, that was rather daring, as well.

Speaking of which, I've also done my fair share of LSD, and probably your share, too.

2. What is your favourite article of clothing?

I love my vintage 'Doris Day coats' from the 50s, lovingly salvaged from estate sales, attics and such, but of course, I rarely get a chance to wear them. One is far too fragile to wear (although I did wear it for one season); the stitching holding the lining together has nearly turned to dust, and it really does need to be properly restored... the other is bright red and doesn't go with anything, but it's nice during the holidays.

But it is rarely cold enough in SC to wear these kinds of old-style heavy coats.

3. What is your favourite monster?

I love all the vampires in THE HUNGER (David Bowie, Catherine Deneuve and Susan Sarandon), and Jeff Goldblum in THE FLY.

4. If you had to dress up as your favourite literary character, who would it be?

Hmm, not sure. I guess I could be one of the women from JG Ballard's COCAINE NIGHTS, but who could afford those designer-duds? I'll 'dress' as one of those characters after they become addicted to morphine, and just be naked in the back of a limo, perpetually confused.

5. What is your favourite fairy tale, urban legend or nursery rhyme:

I am terribly fond of all GREAT conspiracy theories, particularly the most outrageous and ridiculous of our time. I like the 911-truthers a lot, that is some highly-entertaining stuff, and there appears to be no end to it, regardless of the dedicated-debunkers.

Of course, as an ex-Yippie, I know all the JFK-assassination theories by heart, and I like to concentrate on Jack Ruby's role, as regular readers know. I also believe Roman Polanski was tipped off before Charlie's girls dropped by for a visit... that sudden trip to France has always been suspect to me. (I believe the worst of Polanski, always, and he has never disappointed.)

My favorite conspiracy theory these days is CHEMTRAILS: those "tracks" in the sky that are rendering us sterile. I urge you to study and learn and read all about it! I used to hear this story every day (for about 3 yrs) when I sold supplements, and then the overall popularity of the theory seemed to fade a bit. But I am still all about the CHEMTRAILS and I love hearing people talk seriously about them.

I also love Wilhelm Reich's ORGONE theory... not a conspiracy theory, but amazing and wonderful and certainly worth mentioning here.

6. What is a cause near and dear to your heart?

I am a lifelong activist, so there are many... right now, I want to continue the work Occupy Wall Street (and Occupy movements throughout the country) have started, particularly the strengthening of local networks (especially here in conservative SC) and progressive communities. Occupy and its various accompanying social networks have given us the tools, and we must stay connected and involved. KEEPING PEOPLE'S SPIRITS UP (in the face of unbridled right-wing attacks) is crucial right now, and that is something I am concentrating on too.

When people are in jeopardy, I tend to put animal rights on the back-burner, but animal rights ARE near and dear to my heart, also.

7. What is the strangest item you've used as a bookmark?

I famously destroyed a book by using a leaky-pen as a bookmark! YIGH!

8. Do you have any nicknames? What are they and how did you earn them?

Daisy IS my nickname, which I took from my late grandmother.

9. Name one habit you want to change in yourself?

Various food addictions that wax and wane. When I tackle them, I veer off into ORTHOREXIA, and when I don't, I can easily chow down on Reese's Easter eggs, one right after the other. No healthy and sane in-between seems possible for me in the area of food. I am usually in one mode or another (or on my way to one or the other). I chalk this up to a lifetime of evilll dieting, as well as having gone without food (unwillingly) for long periods as a child.

"Feast or famine" is something I have deeply internalized, unfortunately. (sigh)

10. Tell us something interesting or shocking about yourself.

Is there anything I haven't fessed up to on this blog? If I haven't, rest assured, I HAVE fessed up somewhere and I expect somebody will re-print it one of these days. ;)

I once dressed up as the antichrist for Halloween, with a bright "666" etched on my forehead in red-and-black paint, with upside-down crosses on both cheeks; swathed in black, with a black shawl. People took my photo at various parties, all night long, and if I ever run for office or get famous as a talk-radio maven, I expect to see these dreaded antichrist photos re-surface and posted coast-to-coast. (I guess I will have to plead drug abuse, which is true enough.)


Thanks to my beloved Deadhead friend Jojo, for this meme. THANKS JOJO!

Dead Air Church: 30 Years

It is my official AA anniversary, folks! Today marks my 30th year without alcohol. (gasp) I can hardly believe it myself. At left: an image from one of the late-60s AA comic books, titled "It happened to Alice."

I am no longer a member of Alcoholics Anonymous, for a variety of reasons. (I touched on some of my issues with AA here and here.) But I still credit the organization with saving my life. Nothing else would have worked for me. The very aspects of AA that are so harshly criticized now, such as the pseudo-cultish environment, are the very things I most needed. My ongoing druggie-party-atmosphere had always provided me with 'friends'--and consequently, when I cleaned up, I needed "new playmates and playgrounds" to take their place... or I was going to run into big trouble. Immediately. The social environment of AA was crucial.

I remember once having the vivid sensation of having jumped from a window on a very, very high floor... and inexplicably, soft, loving hands, dozens of hands, caught me and brought me safely to earth. Often, when I think of AA, I have this sensation, this vision, that I will never forget, of all the hands reaching out to catch me.

Sometimes it makes me cry, because I did not deserve it. Not at all.

It was amazing that this should happen to me, that these loving, kind hands should catch me after all I had done. This is what Christians call Grace. I deserved to crash through the concrete, and yet... I was spared.

It is impossible to come through such an experience unchanged and unscathed. My spiritual curiosity began then, generously mixed with survivor's guilt: Why have I been spared, when other good people were not? As I would hear (ever more often, it seemed) of famous and nonfamous addicts dying (page down here, for my musings about John Belushi, the first famous addict to die after I became sober), I would experience almost dizzying gratitude (and accompanying relief) that I had stopped when I did.

The gratitude has never abated. Perhaps that is key.

~*~

Recently in Feminist Blogdonia, there was a huge uproar over a controversial, confessional post, written by a popular male feminist, about violence against women he had committed while still using. This didn't surprise me, but it surprised, shocked, and horrified many others. And from their shock, I learned an important lesson: I had intended to write a longer piece for my 30-Year anniversary. I wanted to tell a harrowing story, since it underscores my gratitude; it makes it very clear that I was in crisis, and how far I have come.

And yes, I have a few I could tell.

I now know that such stories, stories of pain and addiction, stories of insanity, stories of possible death, near death and death itself, need to be kept secret and/or only shared with people we know well and deeply trust. Online is not the place, as Hugo discovered. And that's too bad, isn't it? But I am glad Hugo went their first. As a result, I certainly won't.

And so, I shall leave it to your imagination ... with the help of a few movies.

Warning: these video clips tell the truth.


And a very happy anniversary to me! :)

~*~

In this clip from Trainspotting, Ewan MacGregor is in drug withdrawal, hallucinating and haunted by various dead friends, including the baby that died in his apartment (because they were too high to feed her).

Here we learn the important lesson that guilt can become actual monsters that follow you around.



At the end of Clean and Sober--Michael Keaton realizes what the film audience already knows:



From Spike Lee's Jungle Fever, here is Samuel L Jackson as "Gator", with the late Ossie Davis and the incomparable Ruby Dee:



And we end with two trailers from Requiem for a Dream, the best and most honest movie ever made about addiction:

Betty Ford 1918-2011

I was 24 years old when I walked into my first AA meeting. Too young?

Certainly, I already looked like I belonged there, swathed in discarded old scarves like some pitiful hippie-ragamuffin. Although it was dark, icy and cold--January in Ohio--I had walked to the meeting at St Aloysius on West Broad Street. That fact seemed to impress the people at the meeting more than anything I had actually said, which was likely a jumble of drug-addled gibberish that made no sense.

I held onto the one hope I had: too young? Am I too young?

And then, she just sort of settled into my mind. Her presence. It was like she was with me.

The president's wife, you nitwit. It could be anyone. Anyone.
A-N-Y-O-N-E. Any age, any sex, anywhere; there is no membership requirement except the desire to stop drinking.

But... but...

Shut UP, said my conscience, eager to win one for a change. Shut UP. The president's fucking wife.

Anyone.

And she remained there, a presence in my consciousness, a presence occupying my head without my full realization... until now. And she is gone.

Betty Ford was crucial to me, to us. She was so important, possibly the most important person in the American recovery movement save for the founders of Alcoholics Anonymous. Because she was Anyone. She was the respectable person who passed out at a dinner given in her honor. She was a rich man's wife who started to drink to deal with social pressures. And she wasn't Dick Van Dyke or Robert Downey Jr, either, she was a WOMAN. A lady. She had been, after all, the First Lady.

If it could happen to her, it could happen to you. (And do you know how many times I have heard that phrase, in meetings, in monologues, in phone conversations? I have said it myself, and it has been said to me.) Why do you think it couldn't? Who do you think you are? Of course it could. Luck, goodness, intelligence, class, decency, none of that means squat: you can't handle it, leave it alone. Even she had to. It could be anyone.

Anyone.

And how many lives were saved, all because we could point to her and confidently announce, ANYONE? Her presence, her life, became an object lesson for millions... certainly, it was very important to me, to know that she was in our ranks. See? I'm not the only girl! (In 1982, it often felt like I was.)

My deep affection and love for this woman is hard to convey. Her simple honesty and her life lessons, helped so many of us. Just her presence, in our minds, meant so much.

Her legacy overshadows her husband's easily.

Rest in peace.

Charlie Sheen: Hero of the hour?

As you have undoubtedly heard, Charlie Sheen's live shows didn't go over so well over the weekend. Practicing alcoholics are never as funny as they think they are, in the long haul. With editing, yes. For a whole show, no. From ABC:

After all but getting booed off stage at the Detroit, Mich. debut of his live show, "My Violent Torpedo of Truth/Defeat Is Not an Option," it's unclear if or how Sheen's month-long tour will proceed.

Anticipation ran high for the event. Ticket holders milled about the Fox Theater in downtown Detroit before the 8 p.m. start time, sometimes yelling Sheen catchphrases like "tiger blood" and "winning" to rev up fellow attendees. As of Saturday afternoon, all 4,700 seats at the theater had been sold.

...

Sheen managed to up the crowd's enthusiasm for the start of his act. Before his official debut, he played a montage of video clips including scenes from "Apocalypse Now," the film starring Sheen's father that Sheen claims to be obsessed with. He then strutted on stage with his "goddesses," Bree Olsen and Natalie Kenly, who proceeded to engage in a passionate kiss, much to the delight of the crowd.

They then went backstage to burn a bowling shirt similar to the one Sheen wore on "Two and a Half Men." While footage of the shirt on fire in a garbage can played on the big screen behind him, Sheen urged the crowd to hold up their lighters, asking, "Doesn't anyone smoke cigarettes anymore?"

The spectacle mirrored the ranting and raving Sheen's done online and in interviews over the past few weeks. But after that, things took a turn for the weird.

Sheen stood at a podium in front of a pseudo-presidential looking seal saying "Warlock States of Sheen" and launched into a nonsensical speech seemingly directed at his critics.

He started, "Tonight I am delivered by cyber cloud, with the stomp and glisten of heaven's produce section." He then talked about burning something "down from the mount of olive" and "gasoline rainbows." He frequently damned "trolls" -- presumably, "Two and a Half Men" creator Chuck Lorre and his former bosses at CBS and Warner Brothers. He called Sarah Palin a "whore" for no apparent reason.

No apparent reason? Of course there is an apparent reason, that you media-swine refuse to take seriously: He's a misogynist pig.

The fact that so many people find his woman-hating amusing and worth celebrating, lets us know exactly how far we have to go.

Anna Holmes' piece in the New York Times, linked above, details all the woman-pounding Charlie has humorously engaged in over the years. And as a rich, privileged white man, he gets by with all of it (paging Chris Brown! Chris Brown, call your office)... and of course, since so many of the women getting pounded are mere actresses, models and sex workers, they 'deserve' it:

A woman’s active embrace of the fame monster or participation in the sex industry, we seem to say, means that she compromises her right not to be assaulted, let alone humiliated, insulted or degraded; it’s part of the deal. The promise of a modern Cinderella ending — attention, fame, the love and savings account of a rich man — is always the assumed goal.

Objectification and abuse, it follows, is not only an accepted occupational hazard for certain women, but something that men like Mr. Sheen have earned the right to indulge in. (Mr. Sheen reportedly once said that he didn’t pay prostitutes for the sex; he paid them “to leave.”)

Haha, ain't that funny? Is he serious or joking?--go the predictable onlooker-comments... ohhh, he's just being funny. Actually, I think he means everything he says, and he has repeatedly proven that he is willing to back it up with a nice right to the jaw, if any nearby female should argue.

Indeed, it’s difficult for many to discern any difference between Mr. Sheen’s real-life, round-the-clock, recorded outbursts and the sexist narratives devised by reality television producers, in which women are routinely portrayed as backstabbing floozies, and dreadful behavior by males is explained away as a side effect of unbridled passion or too much pilsner.

And so, a pricey live show-tour by a woman-hater, or should I say ANOTHER woman-hater (there are oodles of rock stars and hip-hop stars and country-and-western stars who have gotten plenty rich off of women-hating... paging Eminem! paging Ted Nugent! etc) ... and then I see Phyllis Schlafly (barfs for emphasis) on C-Span over the weekend, telling us that feminism is over with and no longer necessary, and what are these harridans and harpies still so pissed off about?

One wonders if she has flipped her channels lately, over to ABC (live video of Charlie at above link) or to the millions of other outlets that have advertised Charlie's zealously-sexist antics over recent months. Hello? What planet is Schlafly on?

They deserve each other, most assuredly.