Pop HazMat RANT: We Interrupt Our Regularly Scheduled Programming. Hell yeah. With some John Lennon Thrown-In.

Mr. Kieran is in a Funk Today ... and Ginger Ale Isn't Gonna "Cut It."

Mr. Kieran is in a Funk Today … and Ginger Ale Isn’t Gonna “Cut It.”

POP HAZMAT IRREGULARITY

A rather arrogant goddess wants to skin the face off the most adorable warlock you could ever imagine. YOU can save him for only $0.99. Click HERE.

AT ISSUE: Margaret Thatcher’s DEATH

REASON FOR RANT: Filthy disgusting inhumanity that — wait for it — is all-too-human.

RANT: I’m tired of it. I’m shaking because I am so freaking tired of it. You know, I can handle apocalyptic shit: that has been part of Western and Eastern “civilization” since the first monkeys came down from the trees and learned to scribble crap-that-happened-to-them on a palm leaf. I get it.

What disgusts me is this utterly irrational and needless divisiveness amongst humans who ought to know better.

You know what: label me in the marketplace, label me in the public sphere, label me as you see fit when I’m working a job or bringing something to the community of human beings who are purposefully bringing their sh&t out in order to have it judged and labeled and packaged and pondered and what-not.

I am fine with that. That’s the world, kids, and that’s the way the world does indeed go ’round without humans butchering each other at a whim, without anarchy.

Fine.

Do NOT, however, judge my soul. Do not label OUR souls.

I am not a liberal. I am not a conservative. I am not a freaking centrist, either. Take a good look at the middle finger I hold up to intolerant people. I am ME. I have views about life and about the world that could indeed fall under all of those aforementioned categories/labels, like MOST people. But I shun the labeled garbage. I am shunning it hard, babes. The “mob-mentality divisiveness” of our society is strangling the world far more effectively than our poor environmental choices could ever HOPE to strangle it.

Honey, Mother nature can cough-up a massive volcanic eruption and send us into a Dark Age, toute de suite, rendering all of our little labels and niches and complaints moot. An asteroid could sneak through while some astrophysicist is texting/sexting his or her significant other. That’s fine. That’s the world. That happens. I like the idea of freedom and the idea that what spins on the globe comes ’round on the globe. It’s natural. It’s not “bad” and it’s not “good” –speaking intrinsically– but that is the way it IS, baby.

But there is so much garbage that we can prevent simply by being REAL.

I have friends who describe themselves (till the cows come home) as “LIBERAL” and friends who describe themselves (till the roosters crow at dawn) as “CONSERVATIVE” and you know what? They all drive me nuts, but I love them, and I do not judge their integrity. If they puke loads of nonsense out of their pie-holes (which both liberals and conservatives can do with equal ease) I say: “Well, thank you for sharing that. I think it’s a load of nonsense you just puked out of your pie-hole, but I heard you, I processed your words, I filed them away, and I respect your passion. Now, let’s go get a margarita and flirt harmlessly with the bartender for a few minutes.”

Yeah.

Babes, we need to make actual human brain-efforts at finding common ground while remaining passionate about our different opinions. That’s another thing.

People who think they’re bright often yammer-on to me that extremists are “bad.”

SCREW THEM!

I am here to tell you (as unqualified as I am and as utterly qualified as I am) that EXTREME points of view are not “BAAADDDDDDDD.” Notice that I said “points of view” — this is where we get into the notion of passion.

One of the only things that keeps me going in life is the passion that humans exhibit for … whatever they’re passionate about. I may not agree with the subject or object of anyone’s given “passion” but you will damn not ever catch me disagreeing with a person’s right to express a passionate point of view. In fact, if I am drawn to anything in this mortal coil, it is to those who are brave (or even stupid) enough to bark bark bark their passionate point of view. Typically, as I am certain anyone reading this knows, passionate points of view have to be thrown-out pretty bravely, no matter where you’re coming from. You don’t just sneak them ’round the edges. You don’t slide passionate opinions timidly across a grungy coffee-table. You DECLARE.

I like people who declare — even if I disagree with their declaration, be it “conservative” or “liberal” or “SUCK ON THIS LABEL”.

THAT is being human, that is “being graced” with our world and making it better. Holy Hell, I do not want to pontificate, but I am so OVER THE BULLSH&T that I cannot refrain.

LISTEN to people with an opinion far removed from your own. No, really … LISTEN. Screw the dogmatic crap that says: “Judge not” — that’s appallingly naïve. There are levels and hierarchies of judgment. Do not categorically “judge” or denounce the humanity of another person based upon their opinion. Challenge that opinion, if you disagree! Engage that person who, frankly, you think is perhaps merely misguided or, at worst, nuts! But do not categorically reject them!

UNITY is a big “answer,” friends. We have lost our perspective, in that little freaking category. It’s disturbing.

I have a good friend who is a generation (or so) older than am I, and a self-classified hippy-freak, and I love her like my own soul. If she needed something I would not even think twice about getting the plane tickets and doing whatever I could to fix ANYTHING. That’s how much this woman means to me.

I disagree with her on a few issues and agree wholeheartedly with her on others, but one of the differences between us is that she accepts and enjoys labeling herself for purposes of communal identification, even though we both know that it is just … a label. A social tool. I would trust this woman with my life.

I have friends who boisterously label themselves as “conservatives” and I agree with maybe a few of their ideas and disagree with a lot more.

But we don’t engage in “hate-by-classification.” I have been fortunate enough to choose some friends who appreciate reason and considered thought — people of all levels of education. Overeducated, undereducated, hardly educated, etc. Doesn’t freakin’ matter.

The most fun (or one of the most fun things) that is to be had in the world is to have a great debate with someone who ascribes to a viewpoint considerably different than your own … and then sit and have a glass of wine with them and ask them how their kids are doing, how many people are really pi$$ing them off at the workplace, what was the funniest thing that happened to them this week, etc.

I don’t CARE if someone has an EXTREME opinion in this world! Damn it, LISTEN to somebody’s extreme opinion and say that you respect it, even if you absolutely don’t agree with it! If you sense that that person has no redeeming qualities whatsoever (very occasionally, this does occur) then get away, but otherwise … SAVOR THE CHANCE TO BE YOURSELF AND STILL BE A VOICE OF REASON.

Not a good day, here, for me. Issues of disunity and useless bitterness in the world are weighing heavily. I’m no fool and certainly give every new person I meet a glance up one side and down the other, but I never, ever, ever, EVER reject or categorically disparage a fellow human being based upon their opinions, thoughts, or personality. The people who are whining about Margaret Thatcher’s politics on the day of her death are abso-FREAKIN’-lutely entitled to their opinions, but here is where the act of “judgment” comes in handy, good friends.

Judge ourselves, first. Should I say “this” at this time? Or “that”?

No matter what happens, our society turns on a few basic standards. In full celebration of the Joy of Philosophical/Political/Existential/Theological Disagreement, I say … “Come together, right now, over me.”

I apologize for the rant. If you were sitting next to me, right now, you would probably empathize with the state that occasioned my passionate opinion. You may or may not agree with my opinion … but we’d go out for brunch after and have one heck of a time at the Running Iron.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

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One witty 2,800 year-old warlock. A suspicious storm that hurls him to earth near London. A goddess who wants to destroy the world. The catch? She needs Rowan’s face. REMOVED.

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