Gay people advocate acceptance – but only of their views. If you disagree with them, then they want you to be removed from society – blacklisted, so to speak. Smells like McCarthyism to me. Hey, weren’t they against that a while back? I digress.

According to certain gay advocates, if you agree with them, then you are not a hater. If you disagree with any part of the gay agenda, then you are a hater. What do gays want to do to haters? They seek to destroy them.

Don’t believe me? Visit www.anitgayblacklist.com and see for yourslef. Also, check out the video below.

See the video here.

I would venture that most of these activists who seek to squash freedom of speech are also Democrats who profess a freedom of their gay speech. The truth is stranger than fiction.

One of my favorite television shows is “Cheaters” which is a reality tv show home grown in Dallas, Texas. The premise of the show is private detectives following around persons suspected of infidelity, and they help the cheatee confront the cheater. Cheaters shows the surveilance video of the infidelity – sometimes it is quite graphic – to the person being cheated on while on their way to confront the philandering couple. This is what leads to great television.

This is trast tv at it’s best, and I hate to admit that I am fascinated.

The reason I am most fascinated by it is because it is a study in poor human behavior, and watching how the endless parade of human debris behaves when they are caught is quite amusing to me. The best episodes are the ones where gay guys are caught and they decide to settle the issue by engaging in what can only loosely be described as a “fight.”

I don’t really understand why the people who are cheated on decide to assault the other party. A significant amount of the time, the confronter will attempt to beat up the confronted. Now, I understand human emotions. If I found myself in that situation (I have actually), I would want to handle the situation in a much better way. Picking a fight with the philandering duo gives them power, and is not a very smart thing to do.

One of the observations that I have made is that the cheater frequently hooks-up with some loser. This is another aspect of human behavior I do not understand. If I am going to cheat on my significant other, you had better believe that she is going to have a lot to offer. The people the cheaters select may be hot, but they are generally losers. Again, why pick a fight with a loser?

I like the way I handled the infidelity of my girlfriend.

I went to a college party with my girlfriend who I thought would enjoy meeting some of my friends who were still in school. Of course, one of the guys at the frat house took an interest in my girlfriend. I found out about this and decided to act cool about it, but make my position very clear to her.

It was homecoming, and we were staying at a hotel for the weekend. While my girlfriend was making out with the cretin, I returned to the hotel, packed everything up, went to a late night dinner with my friends and returned to the house as if nothing happened.

We left the party, but instead of returning to the hotel, I returned to Dallas to deposit my now ex-girlfriend on her parent’s doorstep. Of course, my girlfriend was shocked. I don’t know if she was more shocked that I found out, that I checked out of the hotel, or that I intended to leave her at her parent’s house at 4:00 AM.

Women are not worth fighting over. They are adults and they can make their own decisions.  If your significant other can’t decide who they want to be with, just let them go. They are not worthy of your time.

Today I wake up at the crack of 2:30 PM to find myself in the following condition. My left knee hurts along with my left elbow and right shoulder. My legs are sore. I have an assortment of bruises and scrapes – some in rather unusual places. My $600 ostrich boots are scuffed. I wonder to myself, “What the hell?” I stroll to get me a DP and see the Mexican porno lying on the floor. Then I get a big, Cheshire Cat grin as I recall the events from the previous evening.

Friday arrives. I am working and get an email on my NerdBerry from my apprentice. He is the first person that the Lodge has assigned to me to mentor. This guy is the ideal candidate.

The email is an invitation to join him at Morton’s for drinks and dinner. His treat. He wants me to meet his fiance. Great! I thought. So, I reply in the affirmative. We will meet for drinks at 6:30 and our dinner reservation is for 7:00.

I have never been to Morton’s. It is a really great place. The food and service is impeccable. Literally. Everything about that place would rival Crystal. (Someday I need to write something about Crystal so that people will understand what I am saying. Let’s just say that it is the world’s only six star cruise line, and there is a HUGE difference between the 5.5 star line and Crystal. I know, because I have been on both.)

Back to the story minus the Morton’s experience.

I arrive in downtown Dallas and find a place to park. As I am paying the meter, a bum walks up to me with a ticket and informs me that I am supposed to pay him. You see where this is going, don’t you? The train has left the station, and I have a one way ticket to hell. I give the guy money effectively getting screwed royally. I watch the events unfold in slow motion. This crackhead bum thinks he is going to make me his bitch.

I call Darth, give him a landmark to find me and tell him to come looking for me if I am not there in 15 minutes as I would either be injured or incarcerated. Little did I know that what would happen would literally take seconds.

The dumbass crackhead bum obviously has never played organized sports and could not comprehend that a slightly overweight white boy completely sober can run a 40 yard dash in five seconds. He is less than 100 feet away and is not sprinting. I get the biggest smile on my face. This is gonna be great.

I tear off as if I am being chased by a gang of street thugs with guns. Surely this guy can hear the thud-skid-thud-skid of my leather soled boots pounding the pavement at a ridiculously fast pace.

The jogging bum looks over his shoulder and sees the 188 lb can of whip ass with the biggest grin he has ever seen gaining on him. Why didn’t he just stop running and give up? I would have stopped, put my arm over his shoulder, laughed my ass of, thanked him for the experience and given him more money for making my day. But, NNNEEEEEEEWWWWW. Dumbass crackhead thinks he is gonna out run this white boy.

By the time I catch up with him, he has covered about 100 yards in 30 seconds compared to my 10 seconds. Let us review the disparity of this situation:

Bum: 5’11″ 160 lbs more or less.
Jay: 6’0″ 188 lbs.
Bum: Runs the equivalent of a 9-10 second 40 after he realizes what is about to happen.
Jay: Runs a 40 in 5 seconds, but I have adrenaline surging.
Bum: Probably drunk.
Jay: Totally sober.
Bum: Thinks drinking and swindling are a sport.
Jay: Played tackle on a state championship football team.

I might have made the best executed open-field tackle of my life. Darren Woodson would be proud. The cracking of the man’s back was a reminder to me that he understood I was the chiropractor from hell as my right shoulder made contact with the lower middle portion of his back.

When we hit the ground, I rolled over his shoulder, onto mine and immediately landed on my feet fully erect with my CrackBerry skidding across the parking lot. I know he has one or more broken ribs, but there isn’t shit you can do about that. I expected the dude to yell or curse or something. There was no noise other than that made by his writhing body scraping the pavement.

Okay, that is a good sign. He is still alive and no serious damage as he has what could be loosely be considered muscle control if not bowel control.

I am laughing my ass off, but wondering why he isn’t screaming because that was a freaking AWESOME hit. Then, I understand that I knocked the wind out of him as he makes the most obnoxious wind sucking sound I have ever heard as he catches his breath. UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

I am standing over him still shouting and pointing at him, “YOU THA MAN! THAT WAS AWESOME! LET’S DO IT AGAIN!” He curls into a fetal position and cries. I feel sorry and pull out a $20 and stuff it in his back pocket of his jeans as I say to him, “That’s gonna hurt for a few weeks.”

As I leave him, I told him, “Dude, you shoulda just stopped and admitted you tried to swindle me. I would not have hurt you. I am really a nice guy.”

Then I move my car so the guy doesn’t decide to get even by using it as the object of his retaliation. I pay yet again for the privilege of parking downtown. Jeez, that is the most expensive and crappy parking spot I have ever had, but worth every penny.

I go into Morton’s sweating, slightly out of breath and explain to Darth what happened.

It is now 7:05 on Friday evening. The night has yet to begin, and it only gets better. Maybe I will explain later how I end up with a Mexican porno flick. That event took place at 11:30 to 11:45. I will cherish it as the trophy to commemorate the third best night of my life.

If you are joining me from myspace, welcome aboard and I hope you like the new features possible on this site.

If you just surfed in, I hope to entertain and enlighten you about things which I consider relevant according to my many varied interests.

Have a great day!