which was then modified for an old blog post:
recycled for THE KEVIN SERIES.
which was then modified for an old blog post:
recycled for THE KEVIN SERIES.
This is part of a new series I have only just realized I have been working on for days and which I shall post here as both intellectual fluff and bloggerly filler, as I slowly find my way past the crushing pain (I live with NINE herniated disks/sheer pain, daily) and back to the habitualities of blogging regularly.
This blog has been untended for some time yet I realize that with this sort of Spy vs. Spy relationship I have going on Facebook with my pal Kevin, I have created a series of artwork which should be shared with all, for Kevin says and does the craziest things.
After a grueling day spent posting about politics (which hurts my head, even to simply post that which I have observed, for posteriority) my brain needed an exorcism of sorts and so I made ART. I have a new muse, Kevin who, much like Dwight Shrute, is a farmer. Kevin is my muse. Kevin pretends to me angry about this, he rants, he raves, he threatens, and yet if I miss a day he starts baiting me which I smartishly recognize as begging for more.
And so, I present the new and ongoing series (until I become apathetic), Photoshopping Kevin. It begins with random photos stumbled upon in the interwebs and takes on a life of it’s own. So each opus shall include the before image.
I call this one, Dissecting the Projectile Photoshopping Opus Of My Muse, Kevin, With Identities Blurred.
..and exposes true bullying, in the case of Phoebe Price, it is a case of Mean Girls, Mean Boys, and jealousy. In the case of Clay Greene, it is a case in which a whole SLEW of adults acted in such a horrifically insensitive manner as to make one think of that Phoebe Price case:
I am trying to find some sort of contact information to send support to Clay Green, either by way of money (we can all afford a dollar perhaps) or letters of love and support. As soon as I find anything, I will post it here.
Photo borrowed from this site, which includes the actual complaint filed on Clay Greene’s behalf.
By GERRY SHIH
Clay M. Greene’s story, as recounted in his recent lawsuit against Sonoma County, is a tale of loss, doubled and redoubled. For gay men and lesbians, the series of events outlined in the complaint hits very close to home.Mr. Greene, a 78-year-old gay man from Sebastopol, has filed a lawsuit against Sonoma County after saying he sustained a spate of indignities at the hands of officials during a bizarre estate battle that took place when his partner, who was 88, fell and became hospitalized in 2008.News of Mr. Greene’s complaint came as President Obama was making headlines for his order extending hospital visitation rights and decision-making authority to same-sex partners.
The detailed complaint was filed on March 22, but news of it began ricocheting around the Internet, beginning on gay and lesbian sites Sunday and reaching venues like Daily Kos by Monday.Mr. Greene’s troubles began when Harold Scull, his partner for more than 20 years, fell down the steps of their home in April 2008. At the time, the complaint said, Mr. Scull was showing signs of mental impairment.County officials successfully petitioned the court to gain some powers of conservatorship. Then they “sold, kept, converted to their own use, and otherwise disposed of” almost $500,000 worth of belongings from the home shared by the two men — including furniture, art objects, memorabilia from the years Mr. Scull spent working in Hollywood, as well as a truck and two cats, the lawsuit alleges.
Mr. Greene said that he and Mr. Scull had previously specified each other as executors in case either became incapacitated, but the county ignored the legal documents and the history of their relationship, and at one point referred to Mr. Greene as Mr. Scull’s “roommate.”
Citing the state of Mr. Greene’s mental health, county officials then moved him against his will into a nursing home and sold the rest of his belongings, the suit charged. He was not allowed to visit Mr. Scull, who died several months later, in August 2008.
The nursing home, Agua Caliente Villa of Sonoma, is named as a defendant in the case. So is the auction company that sold the couple’s belongings.
The National Center for Lesbian Rights has joined the lawsuit, calling the situation an example of why “same-sex couples need full equality.”
Gay and lesbian elderly individuals, in particular, are vulnerable because “they are often estranged from their family and don’t have a legally recognized relative,” said Shannon P. Minter, the legal director for the National Center for Lesbian Rights. “Even here, where they had filled out legal documents, because their relationship is so thoroughly invisible and disrespected, it didn’t protect them.”
Mr. Minter said Mr. Greene’s situation was far less likely to happen to the surviving spouse of a heterosexual marriage.
Messages left at the office of Sonoma County’s legal counsel seeking comment were not returned. A message seeking comment left at the office of Anne Dennis, Mr. Greene’s lawyer, was not returned. Mr. Minter said Mr. Greene was unavailable for comment because he was in a “fragile” psychological state.
Embedded in the legalese of the complaint were stark anecdotal nuggets. At one point, as county officials moved through the couple’s home, the complaint alleged, they commented on the “quality” and “desirability” of the furnishings. They also mocked Mr. Greene, he said, calling him a “crazy old man,” said he had “dementia” and was a lost cause, laughed at him, and told him to “shut up and go to your room.”
On another instance, Mr. Greene claimed that employees acting as the county’s Deputy Public Guardians rolled their eyes and said in his presence, “you know how those gay boys are” and later expressed “displeasure at dealing with expressions of grief by a gay man who had lost his longtime partner.”
The case will go to trial on July 16, Mr. Minter said.
For more information about this case visit NCLR’s Elder Law Project.
SIGN THE PETITION NOW, IF YOU CARE. PLEASE.
Now here’s a topic that gets heated on the comments section of related articles… I even found a google discussion group called, “FU people who don’t clean the snow from their cars”. And now, a collection of comments from around that interwebby thing:
—LOL! in New England, these are referred to as “mobile igloos.”
—My brother was killed by a chunk of ice that came from the top of a car.
–and, by the way, legislating “common sense” to avoid harm to others is fine by me.
–I’m going to put that on my ‘to do’ list for this summer.
–Oh, the people who don’t clean their cars off drive me crazy. Ticketing them would be awesome, except, this law has the exact same problem the one about putting on your headlights in the rain has — cops don’t get out of their cars in lousy weather.
–Dang, I thought this was already the law! So I’ve been cleaning the top of my car for nuthin’ all these years!?
–Love it! Pass it now! Nothing like having a huge chunk of ice hit your car when you’re rolling down the highway. Continue reading
ALL IMAGES HAVE BEEN SCANNED WITHOUT PERMISSION BY MY ANONYMOUS MONKEY ASSISTANT AND FOR WHOM I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE, AND HAVE NEVER MET.
As published in NEST, A Quarterly of Interiors, Spring 2003
What with the weather and all that, it seems like the perfect time for an underground house. While snow or tornados and other extreme weathers swirl above, you could be comfy swimming in your non-chlorinated pool (for algae does not grow underground) and having a cookout while the smoke is funneled out through the pipe that runs up through the fake hollowed out ‘tree’ behind it.
Imagine calling up your friends and saying, “Come on over for the weekend and stay till they plow us out above. We have a well-stocked fridge and a new recipe for shish-ke-bob that will amaze you! Bring the scrabble, grab your bathing suits…”. And yes. there isn’t often snow in Vegas but this year they did have snow and, as things go, that snow stayed in Vegas.
This all may or may not be what Gerald Henderson was thinking back in the late 60s when he began construction on his underground home, which is accessed by an elevator that takes one 25 feet underground via an old mineshaft. Above ground all one can see is a wrought iron fence and a rock garden and then one enters a small ‘house’, which (it is not exactly clear from the article) appears to be mainly an above-ground door and hallway, leading to the elevator.
Gerald Henderson was a longtime board member of Avon, and “a pioneer in the nascent Cold War-era discipline of subterranean architecture.” He was a bit paranoid, did not much like people and feared radioactive fallout. He built two other such homes in Switzerland and Colorado which are reportedly no longer standing. There is no mention of why those other two are no longer standing however, and I wonder at that why behind dismantling such an architectural feat, particularly since there are times when being underground seems such a great idea.
Anyway, according to the article, algae does not grow underground and so no chlorine is needed for the pool. The walls are murals painted to resemble Gerald’s childhood home in New Jersey as well as his sheep ranch in New Zealand. The muralist, Jewel Smith from Plainview, Texas, lived in a cottage in Continue reading
The heroine (?@!) of the tale, Gem Irony – a possibly self-negating, anagramatic, and typically foolish moniker with too many descriptive comma-ish annotations (with each annotation requiring its own sub-annotation) – is pondering Halloweens past and present, but never the future. Such self-negations make her wonder if she even exists, and, as such, if things are in fact, negative, or, negated. She rarely ponders the future, finding it to be a seemingly insurmountable and progress-hampering task, preferring a Scarlet O’Hara-ish avoidance approach. She is thinking about poseury, plumery, costumery and Continue reading