Political Rants · Uncategorized

No, I don’t have to love you.

Love your neighbor who doesn't: look like you, think like you, love like you, speak like you, pray like you, vote like you. Love your neighbor. No exceptions.Today I saw a sign being shared that was originally from an Episcopal church. People commented on it about how great it was, how it was all about love, and how this is what Jesus meant.

I call bullshit.

A massive, steaming pile of fresh, fly-attracting bullshit.

A field full of massive, steaming piles of fresh, fly-attracting bullshit.

Because, no.

I don’t love you.

I don’t have to love you.

Love is like respect.

You try to love and respect people when you meet them.

You try to assume the best in them.

You try to believe that the love and respect will be reciprocated, that there is a level of parity that is reached, and that there will be a mutual response.

When that doesn’t happen – when that person makes it clear that they want to oppress you, deny you your rights, imprison you, and, yes, even kill you simply because of who you are at your fundamental core…

Then, no.

I do not have to love that person.

You do not have to love that person.

Loving that person is allowing them to continue with their messages of hatred.

Loving that person is being complicit in their hate and anger and behavior.

Loving that person is agreeing that it is okay to discriminate

They do not desire your love.

They do not respect your love.

They will use your love against you.

Do not love that person.


To judge or not to judge?

9790750 Legal background with wooden gavelI’m all about not being judgmental. If you read my blog about my son (Not So Simple Simon), then you know that I’m always telling people not to judge others.


Sometimes…sometimes I feel the need to judge, and I can’t stop myself.

Like Sunday.

I went to a tattoo parlor with a friend. She was getting a tattoo on her arm, and we went in, chatted with the tattoo artist, figured out a price, and he prepped everything.

I had just gotten a tattoo, and while I wanted a nose piercing, I decided against it because I learned the heal time was two to four weeks, and I couldn’t go into the ocean before it healed. Since we’re going to the beach on vacation in two weeks, I decided not to chance it and instead pierce my nose once we were back.

Instead of getting anything done myself, I sat and watched her get a tattoo. Always fun.

More chatting with the artist, more chatting with her, afternoon progressed nicely.

I considered using him for some new work and cover-up work I wanted on my ankle.

Then it happened.

I looked at his hand.

The exact spot where the black glove gave way to flesh (with lots and lots of tattoos) had a lovely swastika. And, of course, I’m being completely sarcastic when I say “lovely.” What I really mean is that I had a bit of a mental stumble as I realized that there was no way in hell I would use him to get any work done.

The problem, of course, was how to break it to the person on the table getting the tattoo that the artist was likely anti-Semitic. Which made it ironic (and a bit creepy) because she’s Jewish.

I considered some of the easy ways. Like when she said that her mother disapproved, for a moment I thought about asking if it was because she would be unable to be buried in a Jewish cemetery with the tattoos.

I didn’t.

Mostly because I could imagine a moment or two of awkward going on when that came out, and, really, who wants to get a fucked up tattoo?

So I kept quiet, totally judged him, and waited for her tattoo to finish.

Afterwards, I told her, and she decided not to go back there either.

But…how do you not judge? Or, in situations like that, is judging okay?

Because, yeah. I had to judge, and there was no way I could or would stop myself.