Despite what biblical-misinterpreting Pentecostal whites have to say about "pride goeth before new home construction" or something, the station house is of a mind that pride is a healthy thing. Pride in a job well done. Pride in a home and family well tended. Pride in a committed union of conditional love. All are things to be, yes, proud of. Pride in your homeland, mixed race or transparent gender. Pride in one's church community, parochial school or university of two years (prior to a forced exiting for repeated, drunken exhibitionings on game days.) Pride in one's physicality? Why bloody not, if yours is a body of desirable tonality that you enjoy photographing in the mirror of the downstairs lav, unbeknownst to your mister or missus, a body that has the Tinderers® swiping and construction crews hooting, howling and falling off high beams paralyzing them from the neck down? Pride in the gifts bestowed upon you by a hemp-sandaled, long-haired Lorde? Pride in you eyes as blue as the sky blue-hued vodka you carry in your napsack? Pride in fulsome head of wavy grey hair at fifty? Pride, which is to Grey Pride? Pride! As we think of it, if you elect to carry yourself in one of the many Grey Pride™ Parades dotting the landscape on either side of the pond this last day of June, loud and proud in a crowd with other prideful, Dago-T-shirted, grey-haired blokes and birds, one hopes you've do so with pride! As something of a closeted grey, Yours Truly Dooley™ stands alongside you, arm-in-age-spotted arm, helmeted, yes, but with grey hair undercover, parted on the left. Methinks pride goeth down like a flask of warm, buttered rum and bowel-relieving Smooth Move® tea. Share some with your parading friends, but keep an eye trained for the portable toileting stations along the route. #Pride!Tuesday, June 30
Grey Pride
Despite what biblical-misinterpreting Pentecostal whites have to say about "pride goeth before new home construction" or something, the station house is of a mind that pride is a healthy thing. Pride in a job well done. Pride in a home and family well tended. Pride in a committed union of conditional love. All are things to be, yes, proud of. Pride in your homeland, mixed race or transparent gender. Pride in one's church community, parochial school or university of two years (prior to a forced exiting for repeated, drunken exhibitionings on game days.) Pride in one's physicality? Why bloody not, if yours is a body of desirable tonality that you enjoy photographing in the mirror of the downstairs lav, unbeknownst to your mister or missus, a body that has the Tinderers® swiping and construction crews hooting, howling and falling off high beams paralyzing them from the neck down? Pride in the gifts bestowed upon you by a hemp-sandaled, long-haired Lorde? Pride in you eyes as blue as the sky blue-hued vodka you carry in your napsack? Pride in fulsome head of wavy grey hair at fifty? Pride, which is to Grey Pride? Pride! As we think of it, if you elect to carry yourself in one of the many Grey Pride™ Parades dotting the landscape on either side of the pond this last day of June, loud and proud in a crowd with other prideful, Dago-T-shirted, grey-haired blokes and birds, one hopes you've do so with pride! As something of a closeted grey, Yours Truly Dooley™ stands alongside you, arm-in-age-spotted arm, helmeted, yes, but with grey hair undercover, parted on the left. Methinks pride goeth down like a flask of warm, buttered rum and bowel-relieving Smooth Move® tea. Share some with your parading friends, but keep an eye trained for the portable toileting stations along the route. #Pride!