American Queer Life: Worries

It’s been a tough year with a lot of worries.

QUIRKS

I worry I won’t get my spring cleaning finished until September … 2022.

That I never write my novel, but if I do it’s a flop, but if it’s successful then I don’t sell the movie rights, but if I do sell them, Matt Bomer refuses to play me, and Danny Devito doesn’t.

That my teeth rot and fall out from eating so many sweets, preventing me from eating solid food. But that might take care of weight gained since quitting smoking.

I worry I will start smoking again.

That my laptop crashes and I will be forced to go for a walk … outside … in a park … breathing fresh air … in sunshine.

I worry about money. That’s it. All inclusive, like a honeymoon resort.

POLITICS

I worry that the idiots who bitch about socialism won’t get it when they accept their $1,400 checks, the munificent largesse from their new president, who should have signed them.

I worry that Ted Cruz/Josh Hawley win the 2024 election.

Or worse: the Lauren Boebert/Marjorie Taylor Greene ticket wins the 2024 election.

I worry there’s more testosterone in a dickless nunnery than when both houses of Congress are in session.

I worry when republicans enter the Capitol they leave behind (along with their guns) their brains, spines, and testicles … well, the men. Not sure what else the women leave.

I worry Mar-a-lago will become like Vatican City, with its own pope, stamps, currency, border wall, nuclear weapons, and am pissed our tax money will pay for it.

That democrats will continue to ignore white working people, the oil and gas industries, farmers, and agriculture to its detriment.

That the above statement will get me stoned with Antifa rocks, but if Antifa is a fake conspiracy theory, I have no worry.

I worry conspiracy theories are true.

And I really worry history will repeat itself: Trump is re-elected resulting in the second Big Bang. 

KARMA

I worry karma doesn’t exist.

And that those who voted to overturn the 2020 election results will go unpunished and will be re-elected and rewarded. 

And that Trump, Rudy Giuliani, Sidney Powell, Fox Fake News, and the pillow guy get away with the accusations they made about election fraud.

I worry the insurrectionists get away with treason and are viewed as patriots.

That the January 6 takeover of the Capitol augurs America’s future.

I worry my born-again-Christian, asshole, hypocrite, bigoted, racist, cheating, thieving, adulterer brother will get away with not paying me back the money he stole from me.

I worry karma does exist, and mine is going to suck big time.

I worry I won’t get my PowerPoint show of photos ready in time for my funeral.

And that there really isn’t a big disco in the afterlife where I as deejay play all my favorite disco tunes with flawless mixes to a ginormous, cheering crowd of heavenly, gay men.

QUEER THINGS

I worry the Equality Act will not be ratified and languish for decades like the Equal Rights Amendment.

I worry that my queer eBay treasures will languish in boxes, and I never reap the vast fortune upon which I planned to augment my retirement.

That the acronym LGBTQIA+ is getting out of hand. 

That thinking the above, I’ll be canceled.

I worry I’m not worried about being canceled. 

I worry I have zero-interest in the Oscars this year because Glenn Close will lose for the eighth time, and there won’t be any glitz or glamour due to that pandemic thing.

THAT PANDEMIC THING

I worry grocery stores run out of baking chocolate. Last summer, I had to make due with Hostess Suzy Q’s (not to be confused with Suzy Quatro).

I worry grocery stores run out of Hostess Suzy Q’s.

I’ve had both vaccine shots, but I worry how safe is safe enough.

That 80 percent of republicans are refusing the vaccine. 

And why health and human services haven’t produced public announcements showing Trump getting shot so his minions would get shot …with vaccines.

ALL OF WHICH MAKES ME WONDER

If my first-world worries are meaningless.

What I would do if I heard gunshots while grocery shopping.

If life really is a reality show that can be cancelled any second. 

That if I live in the Looniverse, there’s no way out except by dying. (I need to get cracking on my PowerPoint show.)

And I worry the new normal becomes the same old shit, so I’ll bake a pie, and as long as that’s part of the new normal, I’ll be OK. I’ll be OK.