There’s never been a time when I’ve brought in a Red Hot newcomer, and they’ve walked away feeling unwelcome. That feeling is largely due to the employees. Little Chris, aka “Fuzzy”, is a prime example of the typical Red Hot employee. As he points out the porcelain throne that I am admittedly very familiar with already, I relish his smile and relax with ease.  He is all-accepting, and pretty much open to talk about anything. I take mental note, but at the same time my thoughts wander to a corner of my brain where I hold anger, sadness, and frustration towards those who are not as open-minded as Chris. 

I won’t name names. This way I can deny I was talking about them.  It’s kind-of the pussy way to vent, but it’s the safest way when it comes to family. Not that they read this stuff anyway, because let’s face it - they think they’re above reading anything from an alternative weekly. I know, you feel that way too – but the Weekly Volcano is your guilty pleasure - kind of like Legally Blonde 2.  Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.

The reason they feel “above” it all is pure ignorance. It’s stupidity at its core. They have no idea what ideals the paper holds, the meaning of its content, and the audience it reaches.  One family member was so afraid to face me with her opinion (and rightfully so because I’d defend this paper to the end), that they told another family member, knowing that the person they told would tell me.  Apparently some people in their 60’s still act like they’re in high school.  

The family member stated that she was worried about me and the content of my writing. How completely idiotic. Yes, I’ll admit, sometimes I’m blatantly crass.  But I feel as though I am true to myself, and I’ve found a venue in which I’m allowed to be that person. The people I care about the most support me, and the rest can go to hell. Isn’t that all that matters? Oh, and just so you know – the column of mine she read? Trouble with DeRosa with Sarah Nicks at Stadium Thriftway. The banana-innuendo offended her. I find comedy in that fact itself.

So I don’t say anything, and as I’ve done a million times before, I write off anything her whole crowd has to say as “ignorance.” Pure narrow-minded and judgmental ignorance.

Then there’s another member of the family – one that has pretty much never stepped outside of the South. She’ll even admit her ignorance, and outright confess she knows only what she grew up learning down in deep, southern Texas.  

For almost my entire trip to Houston a couple of weekends ago I had to hear, “I just don’t get it. Why would anyone want to have a tattoo?” or “I just don’t get it.  Why would anyone not drink our tap water?” or “I just don’t get it. Why would anyone not believe in God?”  

I wanted to take my dad’s shotgun and shoot myself in the head. I’m so glad I got out of that town and its biased mentality when I did. I finally asked her, “You don’t ‘get’ a whole lot, do you?”  

Yep, it’s ignorance.

It makes me sad to hear these family members, or anyone in my life, pass judgment on someone they’re supposed to love and support. What’s even worse is that these people are parts of larger groups who are just as narrow-minded. That’s some scary shit right there.

So there you go. You can bash my lifestyle, you can bash my paper, and you can bash my writing – but you’ll never be able to take away my happiness. Well, my happiness and my birthday. I’ll always have my birthday.