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Gay couple kicked out of a cab for kissing, driver tells them they're going to hell

gaywrites:

Last weekend in Houston, Andres Orozco and Travis Player hailed a cab home from a bar. When they kissed in the backseat, the driver promptly kicked them out. And because Texas doesn’t protect LGBT people from discrimination in public accommodations, this is totally legal.

"The man just turns back to us and tells us that he doesn’t give gay people rides. And he proceeds to tell us we’re going to hell for being gay," the couple told reporters. “…We were expressing our love for each other and for someone else to jump in and clearly state it’s not right, that really did upset me.”

Yellow Cab seemed shocked by the couple’s allegations. According to Click2Houston, Yellow Cab claimed:

"For over forty years, Yellow Cab has proudly served all communities. We regret that the actions of one of our independent contract drivers took place, and are intently looking into the matter, which was undoubtedly an isolated incident. It is absolutely unacceptable that any passenger ever be denied service because of her or his sexual orientation. Yellow Cab has consistently been a vocal ally of the LGBT community in Houston and does not condone any discrimination whatsoever. No matter who you love, Yellow Cab will be there for you.

SIGH. I am so over this petty snarking. Drive your cab and get over yourself. 

Facebook user Michael Lenhart noted that, since the driver picked them up in front of a gay bar, he most likely knew they were gay before picking them up. Which is worse because that would mean he was trolling for gay prey to terrorize.

The driver was irresponsible also because he dropped them off at an unfamiliar locale, which is dangerous.

It is important to remember that this driver is a private contractor. He is not a Yellow Cab employee. In all my years of riding cabs home from gay clubs, I have never had an issue with any cab, let alone Yellow. As a matter of fact, most cab drivers who wait outside gay clubs want gay business because we’re usually good tippers. — But NO ONE has the right to intimidate you for any reason.

accidentalpassenger:

interstellarspeedster:

felixkins:

witchester:

khaleesisizebed:

blusuedeshoez:

the LGBTQA resource center made a lil typo, i fixed it
*rolls eyes into oblivion*

And DONT erase ally either!

no just erase the ally
erase all the ally
being an ally is not a sexual orientation or a way of life that is discriminated against
so just erase the ally

Being an ally is like being a parent at a sporting event. Like yes great, you know those people on the field and you care about them but you are not playing the game you are not the one who is going to get hurt you have no stakes you personally do not ‘win’ anything so changing the A to ally is like a parent running out onto a field after a big game, ripping the trophy away from the child and being like:
LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME! I WON! I WON THE GAME! ME IT WAS ALL ME YOU GUYS COULDN’T HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT ME!!!!!!
and that is just plain silly.

You know what, no. It’s not like that. It’s not like that at all. Figuring out that I was bisexual was a bitch and a half, and it was just as hard on my sister as it was on me because she was the one to hold my hand while I was doubting myself, she was the one to tell me it was going to be okay and I was fine the way I was, she was the one to reassure me that no matter what happened I was still me and that was all that mattered. My pain was her pain, she stayed by me and she supported me and she sat with me through hours of research and introspection and self-realization, and I could not have sorted it all out without her.
And now, years later, when she’s sitting here confessing in whispers that she thinks she may be asexual, it’s my turn to be here for her, to help her through the research, to hold her hand, because she is terrified of what this could do to her eight-year-long relationship, I’m finally fully appreciating for the first time just how much love and strength it took for her to be my ally when I needed her, back when she thought she was just a hetero-normative female and I was the one in crisis. Because holy fuck, it’s not easy watching someone you love being scared about their whole identity and knowing that there’s no way in hell you can just make it go away. Even if you’ve been in their shoes before it’s actually pretty fucking scary.
So seriously, do not erase the asexuals OR the allies. It’s not easy being either. And I will gladly stand up to anyone who tries to deny EITHER of the A’s… on my sister’s behalf.

How dare you. How fucking dare  you. Do you have any idea how important allys are? You must be so fucking privileged that you have the utmost confidence in yourself that you can face all the hate on your own, that you can come out to whom ever you so desire and not need someone to hold you at night and tell you that everything is okay, you aren’t some monster that should be put down, that you are a person who needs and deserves love. I’m so glad you are so lucky. But I have news for you. Most of us? We don’t have that confidence. For a whole fucking lot of us, without our allies, we wouldn’t be able to accept ourselves. We would hate ourselves and live in fear and confusion.
For me in particular? If I didn’t have my allies, I would be dead. There is no maybe. So don’t you DARE undermine the importance of being an ally and don’t you DARE undermine the dangers that allies face just for being “okay” with someone who isn’t cis-gendered. Nothing about you makes you so special that you are somehow better than the people who accept us for who we are no matter what and keep us alive. Who love us and keep us safe from ourselves and the hurtful words of others. Nothing.
Add Asexuals. They deserve to be represented. But don’t you fucking DARE erase Allies and treat them like they are nothing.

This is the most ridiculous argument I’ve ever seen on the subject. It’s not about being “Better” than anyone else. It’s about making sure sexual minorities are represented. 
The “A” stands for Asexual, not Ally. Allies are not a sexual minority.
Yes, allies are important. But EVERYONE should be an ally. That’s what the LGBTQIA movement is about, promoting acceptance.
By the way, the “I”, which is missing from the LGBTQA resource center, stands for “Intersexed”. — According to isna.org, “Intersex” is a general term used for a variety of conditions in which a person is born with a reproductive or sexual anatomy that doesn’t seem to fit the typical definitions of female or male. It’s common practice to assign a sex to intersex children based on the doctor’s whim, which is very often wrong. As you can imagine, puberty can be a very traumatic experience for intersexed children that were assigned the wrong gender. — Let alone a very difficult adulthood.
It seems to me that more people disregard Asexuals and Intersexed than Allies. Asexuals are more mythical than Bisexuals. And Intersex, though rare, is only now becoming part of the conversation.
In my opinion, the little league comparison is appropriate. Allies are like parents and fans cheering from the stands, which is really important. Without the support of the fans, the players are pointless. But the players are the focus here, not the audience which, like an ally, has the privilege to come and go at will.
True allies, like all good friends, know that they are not the star of the show. They don’t need a gold star for doing the right thing. I will always value our allies. Without allies, the LGBTQIA movement would not have gotten far. We’d still be hiding in the closet. We’d still be sneaking down dark alleys to hidden bars with vice cops waiting to arrest us. Without allies, same-sex marriage would hardly be a dream. Allies are vital to every movement. But we’re not fighting for ally rights. We are fighting for sexual minority rights.
Think of it this way. I consider myself an ally to *POC. But Black folks are better served by me if I stand by their side while they take the podium. It’s not about me. I don’t get a gold star for doing the right thing. 
*Note: I use the term POC (People Of Color) instead of African Americans here because not all non-whites are from Africa.

accidentalpassenger:

interstellarspeedster:

felixkins:

witchester:

khaleesisizebed:

blusuedeshoez:

the LGBTQA resource center made a lil typo, i fixed it

*rolls eyes into oblivion*

And DONT erase ally either!

no just erase the ally

erase all the ally

being an ally is not a sexual orientation or a way of life that is discriminated against

so just erase the ally

Being an ally is like being a parent at a sporting event. Like yes great, you know those people on the field and you care about them but you are not playing the game you are not the one who is going to get hurt you have no stakes you personally do not ‘win’ anything so changing the A to ally is like a parent running out onto a field after a big game, ripping the trophy away from the child and being like:

LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME! I WON! I WON THE GAME! ME IT WAS ALL ME YOU GUYS COULDN’T HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT ME!!!!!!

and that is just plain silly.

You know what, no. It’s not like that. It’s not like that at all. Figuring out that I was bisexual was a bitch and a half, and it was just as hard on my sister as it was on me because she was the one to hold my hand while I was doubting myself, she was the one to tell me it was going to be okay and I was fine the way I was, she was the one to reassure me that no matter what happened I was still me and that was all that mattered. My pain was her pain, she stayed by me and she supported me and she sat with me through hours of research and introspection and self-realization, and I could not have sorted it all out without her.

And now, years later, when she’s sitting here confessing in whispers that she thinks she may be asexual, it’s my turn to be here for her, to help her through the research, to hold her hand, because she is terrified of what this could do to her eight-year-long relationship, I’m finally fully appreciating for the first time just how much love and strength it took for her to be my ally when I needed her, back when she thought she was just a hetero-normative female and I was the one in crisis. Because holy fuck, it’s not easy watching someone you love being scared about their whole identity and knowing that there’s no way in hell you can just make it go away. Even if you’ve been in their shoes before it’s actually pretty fucking scary.

So seriously, do not erase the asexuals OR the allies. It’s not easy being either. And I will gladly stand up to anyone who tries to deny EITHER of the A’s… on my sister’s behalf.

How dare you. How fucking dare you. Do you have any idea how important allys are? You must be so fucking privileged that you have the utmost confidence in yourself that you can face all the hate on your own, that you can come out to whom ever you so desire and not need someone to hold you at night and tell you that everything is okay, you aren’t some monster that should be put down, that you are a person who needs and deserves love. I’m so glad you are so lucky. But I have news for you. Most of us? We don’t have that confidence. For a whole fucking lot of us, without our allies, we wouldn’t be able to accept ourselves. We would hate ourselves and live in fear and confusion.

For me in particular? If I didn’t have my allies, I would be dead. There is no maybe. So don’t you DARE undermine the importance of being an ally and don’t you DARE undermine the dangers that allies face just for being “okay” with someone who isn’t cis-gendered. Nothing about you makes you so special that you are somehow better than the people who accept us for who we are no matter what and keep us alive. Who love us and keep us safe from ourselves and the hurtful words of others. Nothing.

Add Asexuals. They deserve to be represented. But don’t you fucking DARE erase Allies and treat them like they are nothing.

This is the most ridiculous argument I’ve ever seen on the subject. It’s not about being “Better” than anyone else. It’s about making sure sexual minorities are represented.

The “A” stands for Asexual, not Ally. Allies are not a sexual minority.

Yes, allies are important. But EVERYONE should be an ally. That’s what the LGBTQIA movement is about, promoting acceptance.

It seems to me that more people disregard Asexuals and Intersexed than Allies. Asexuals are more mythical than Bisexuals. And Intersex, though rare, is only now becoming part of the conversation.

In my opinion, the little league comparison is appropriate. Allies are like parents and fans cheering from the stands, which is really important. Without the support of the fans, the players are pointless. But the players are the focus here, not the audience which, like an ally, has the privilege to come and go at will.

True allies, like all good friends, know that they are not the star of the show. They don’t need a gold star for doing the right thing. I will always value our allies. Without allies, the LGBTQIA movement would not have gotten far. We’d still be hiding in the closet. We’d still be sneaking down dark alleys to hidden bars with vice cops waiting to arrest us. Without allies, same-sex marriage would hardly be a dream. Allies are vital to every movement. But we’re not fighting for ally rights. We are fighting for sexual minority rights.

Think of it this way. I consider myself an ally to *POC. But Black folks are better served by me if I stand by their side while they take the podium. It’s not about me. I don’t get a gold star for doing the right thing. 

  • *Note: I use the term POC (People Of Color) instead of African Americans here because not all non-whites are from Africa.

(Source: blusuedebonez)

Once [gay] people began to say who they were, you found that it was your next-door neighbor or it could be your child, and we found people we admired,” she said. “That understanding still doesn’t exist with race; you still have separation of neighborhoods, where the races are not mixed. It’s the familiarity with people who are gay that still doesn’t exist for race and will remain that way for a long time as long as where we live remains divided.

Julianne Hing, Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg: Ferguson Highlights ‘Real Racial Problem’ in U.S., Colorlines (Aug. 22, 2014). (via notoriousrbg)

RBG is the best.

(via 4thdecade)

I thought this brilliant observation by a remarkable woman was an appropriate message for National Coming Out Day. A little something to think about.

Out Of The Closet, Into The Fire!

In honor of #NationalComingOutDay, here’s my coming out story. (Originally published 11 October, 2013 on WordPress.com)

I wanted to write something brilliant and inspiring for National Coming Out Day, something that would give future generations hope and pride. Then like most of my “inspiring ideas” I put it off until the last minute. So here I am at 12:15 AM with a head full of thoughts and nothing on paper … er, document file.

My earliest conversation about homosexuality was a curt one. I was maybe six years old. The idea of marrying a person of the opposite sex was alien to me. I knew that’s what people were supposed to do, but It wasn’t something I wanted to do. I didn’t think girls were yucky, or had cooties. It’s just that I knew I didn’t want to spend my life with a girl. So, one day, I casually asked my grandmother if two boys could get married. Well… I will never forget the look in her face. You would have thought I had grown another head. “NO!” she snapped. “It’s illegal.” And just like that, the conversation was over. But I held onto that thought. I filed it away for later use. The acrimony in her answer would become the foundation upon which my closet was built.

As I grew older, I discovered that people did not approve of gays. Many, like the men in my family were downright malicious. My grandfather made racial epithets part of his everyday vernacular and saved a few choice words for gay men. He said the word “faggot” with such vile hatred I used to cringe. My father might not have been as aggressive, but he was his father’s son. — Perhaps being on the receiving end of that hostility helped me to empathize with others.

By the time I was ten years old I was discovering sex. My best friend found discarded Playboy magazines and was eager to share with the gang. We gathered round, gawking and giggling. Everything is giggles with boys that age. — I tried so hard to be interested. I wanted so much to find something appealing in those images. I really did. I wasn’t put off. Women’s bodies don’t repulse me. I just wasn’t interested.

It was about this time that I happened upon a Playgirl magazine. It probably belonged to my stepsister. I took a look. This was the moment. This was the game changer. Suddenly, I knew. – And I was filled with a combination of relief, exhilaration, and dread. The fact that I had finally experienced sexual excitement was such a relief, but that relief was short lived. All of a sudden panic struck. No! This couldn’t possibly be happening! Why me?? Yes. The $64,000 question, “Why me?” I was so distressed by the thought that God felt it necessary to pile such a huge burden on my shoulders. It wasn’t enough that my parents divorced and I don’t know my mother, now God was against me too? My feeling of despair was made worse because I had no one to turn to. — A young person of color goes home to a family of people just like him or her. LGBT youth are most often alone in a family of heterosexuals. They lack representation in their own family, their own home.

I made it my mission to learn all I could about homosexuality. I was already spending lots of time in the library, so I started there. The resources were slim. I searched every dictionary, encyclopedia, and medical book I could find. I uncovered little more than clinical definitions and misguided assumptions, but I never stopped looking. —  To this day, I soak up every bit of LGBT history and culture I can find.

As puberty took hold, I learned to reinforce my closet door. Attitudes towards gays at school were negative at best. Kids can be so cruel. Anti-gay epithets could be heard from students and teachers alike. I was on constant guard. But I also kept an eye open for clues that there might be others just like me. I sought out allies, but was convinced I was the only gay person in my town. — Silly me.

By my fifteenth summer I was swimming at the nearest YMCA, conveniently located a mere ten miles away. After a swim I’d go to a nearby book and magazine shop to pick up something to read on the long trolley ride home. One day, while perusing the periodicals, the words “gay pride” caught my attention. Oh. My. God. Could it be? The clean cut moustachioed man on the cover smiled down at me. I was nervous. How was I going to ask the cashier to sell me this magazine? I looked for something else to buy. There was no way I’d have the nerve to buy this one gay themed magazine alone. Maybe if I asked for a bunch of titles the clerk wouldn’t notice the gay one. — Does that ever work?–  I continued scanning the rack, but my eyes kept returning to the smiling man. In a panic, I mispronounce the name of the magazine. I had to point it out to the clerk. I was nervous and somewhat embarrassed, but I managed to buy a cooking and a gossip magazine to go with that wonderful window into gay life, The Advocate. The minute I got home, I stashed the magazine where every teenage boy thinks no one will look. Say it with me… “under the mattress.”

My first job was at a local convenience store. I was friends with a few of my coworkers and got together with them after work on Saturday nights. It was nothing elaborate. We piled into a friend’s beat up old car and went to a movie, a diner or bowling. Sometimes we would just drive around, carrying on like teenagers do.  It was on one of those nights that everything changed.

My friends dropped me off at home so I could change out of my work clothes. My parents were quietly seated in the living room.  I said hello, and proceeded upstairs to get cleaned up. I was shocked by what greeted me. My bedroom was in shambles. More importantly, the mattress had been tossed aside. They knew! I was convinced my father was going to throw me out of the house. I was crushed.

I gathered all the courage I could and without looking at my folks, calmly left the house. My friends were waiting in the car for me. I must have looked pretty bad because one of my friends asked what was wrong. I told them I might need a place to stay for a while. When asked why, I skirted the issue. Eventually, the truth came out. Surprisingly, my small group of friends was supportive. We talked for more than an hour. The car never made it out of the parking spot. After encouragement from my friends, I reluctantly returned home to face my fate.

My parents were more upset that I didn’t feel comfortable enough to open up to them than they were about the magazines. My dad was disappointed, but not surprised that his son was gay. “Straight boys “ he said. “don’t usually hang around with girls.” The fact that there were boys in my group didn’t matter to him. There were more than three girls in the group, so I was gay. – Sounds logical to me.

My parent’s told me the reason they searched my room was because they suspected drug use. For the record, I was not using any kind of illegal substance. I didn’t even smoke. I was under the misconception that LGBT folks didn’t do drugs. Yes. I was that naive.

After graduating high school, I met my first love. We weren’t really a good match, first loves rarely are. He helped me through the death of my grandfather, but his habit of sending love notes outed me to my grandmother. She opened a birthday card that was addressed to me and didn’t like the romantic nature of the enclosed message. My grandmother took it as a personal affront, like in some bizarre act of rebellion I decided to be gay. She demanded that I find a nice girl and change my ways or she would disown me

Up until that moment, my grandmother and I had always been close. She took care of me for the three years between my father’s divorce and his marriage to my stepmother. I learned a lot about my Italian heritage through her. I learned how to cook from her. So it was especially painful to hear her say that my being gay made her “sick to her stomach”.

A friend of mine told me to…

read more at http://adignorantium.wordpress.com/2013/10/11/out_of_the_closet_and_into_the/

National Coming Out Day: Before You Leave the Closet…

Originally posted 10/11/2013 on Huffington Post  by

Today is National Coming Out Day, and while plenty of people and organizations will encourage you to join the fabulous and come out, it’s not a decision to be taken lightly, nor is it a requirement of you right away. Trust me, I’m in full support of more people coming out of the closet if they’re ready, but if you’re considering coming out, it’s essential to do so after plenty of evaluation and self-reflection.

Coming out is a deeply personal experience, so how and when you do it is your decision alone to make. As you make your plan, consider these five points.

1. Is it safe?

You might be bursting to tell your secret to the world, but the absolute most important thing to ask yourself first is, “Is this safe for me to do?” Much of the answer to this question is built on your support system, which I mention in more detail shortly. The realities of some situations can be harsh, and while I’m in no way attempting to scare or discourage you, it’s important to remember that some people won’t react as positively as others. In fact, some situations can be dangerous at home or in school. That is why it’s important to accept and love yourself first, because that may have to be enough for a while. If your living situation would be unsafe if you came out, then coming out might be better to wait until the circumstances improve, when you have a backup plan and a support system to rely on. Your safety is more important than anything.

2. Have a support system.

A support system can be a teacher, a friend, a co-worker, a sibling, anyone. Anyone who will stand by you and love you unconditionally and listen to you with an open mind is a support system. While it’s great to be optimistic about your family’s reactions to you opening up and being wonderful you, it’s more important that you be prepared should things not turn out the way you want them to. Before coming out to someone whose reaction you might be unsure of, try coming out to someone you’re more certain will have a positive response, and then keep their number handy should you need someone to speak to after such an important conversation. Should you absolutely feel that coming out is your only option and you do not have a reliable support system, you can always call the Trevor Project at 1-800-488-7386. They love you without even meeting you, and they are there waiting to listen 24/7.

3. Make a plan.

There is no one perfect way to come out. You’ll see blog posts and articles all over the Internet with tips like “don’t come out during an argument” or “make sure you’re 100-percent certain of your sexuality or gender identity before you come out.” While some of that can be sound, safe advice, it’s important to remember that nobody but you will understand your situation fully. Plan out what you want to say and the feelings and emotions you want to communicate. Anticipate questions you might be asked on the spot so that you can feel confident and comfortable answering them. Most of all, prepare yourself emotionally for questions or statements that might surprise you. Prepare to be unprepared, if you will, and be ready to have a conversation. You’re beautiful and wonderful, and nobody on Earth can come close to replacing you. Just as you are unique and special, so are your situations with your parents, friends, co-workers, etc., and only you can determine the best course of action for each.

4. Consider the outcome(s).

There are several ways this can turn out. Whoever you’re telling may surprise you with their overwhelming acceptance, or they may respond with disapproval. Many parents build an image for themselves of their children’s lives and futures. They have hopes and dreams for you, and they may have some stigmatized views of LGBT lifestyles. If you think your parents (or whoever else it is you’re coming out to) will respond with religious condemnation, for example, prepare some basic responses and arguments that can set the way for a comprehensive and affirmative conversation down the line. Coming out is very rarely a one-time event. It’s a process that involves helping both sides understand one another’s emotions and struggles. When we speak to each other with open minds, we pave the way for a more accepting and educated society. However, some people never fully accept that their loved one is LGBT, and while we can live full, happy lives with this being the case, it’s an outcome that we must be prepared for.

5. Love yourself.

This is easier for some than for others. In fact, this can be the most difficult of all, and it may take some time, but my hope for your “coming-outcome” is that you look at yourself and say, “That was a brave thing to do, and I’m going to be all right.” Coming out and ultimately accepting yourself for the beautiful human being that you are is one of the bravest things a person can do. With more individuals coming out at an earlier age, we’re getting closer to a society of love and acceptance. You may need your support system to remind you how amazing you are from time to time, and that’s OK. At the end of the day, after the arguments, the laughter, the crying and the hugging, you’re still you. And that’s awesome.

Because October is LGBT History Month, and Saturday (October 11) is National Coming Out Day, I thought I’d share a recent find.
On a recent trip to my favorite Philadelphia used book seller, The Last Word (220 S. 40th St.), I picked up "No Bath But Plenty of Bubbles: an oral history of the Gay Liberation Front 1970-73" by Lisa Power (c)1995
"No Bath But Plenty of Bubbles" features first hand accounts of the GLF, which evolved from other social justice movements of the 1960s, women’s liberation, black panthers, etc.
What makes this such an interesting book is that, while most modern LGBT Historical accounts are Americentric, “No Bath But Plenty of Bubbles” is told primarily from a U.K. perspective. — Yes, there are LGBT people outside of the U.S..
It’s important to know our history. LGBT folks didn’t just appear instantaneously at the Stonewall Inn on a hot summer night in 1969. We’ve been around since the dawn of time.

Because October is LGBT History Month, and Saturday (October 11) is National Coming Out Day, I thought I’d share a recent find.

On a recent trip to my favorite Philadelphia used book seller, The Last Word (220 S. 40th St.), I picked up "No Bath But Plenty of Bubbles: an oral history of the Gay Liberation Front 1970-73" by Lisa Power (c)1995

"No Bath But Plenty of Bubbles" features first hand accounts of the GLF, which evolved from other social justice movements of the 1960s, women’s liberation, black panthers, etc.

What makes this such an interesting book is that, while most modern LGBT Historical accounts are Americentric, “No Bath But Plenty of Bubbles” is told primarily from a U.K. perspective. — Yes, there are LGBT people outside of the U.S..

It’s important to know our history. LGBT folks didn’t just appear instantaneously at the Stonewall Inn on a hot summer night in 1969. We’ve been around since the dawn of time.

ourtimeorg:

Good point.

Last week, TWELVE people attacked a gay couple walking down a #Philly street.
The suspects claim that it was a “mutual fight”. Are we expected to believe that two gay men picked a fight with twelve strangers?
So yeah. A straight couple can dry hump in public, but a gay couple can’t walk down the street without fear of being beat nearly to death!

ourtimeorg:

Good point.

Last week, TWELVE people attacked a gay couple walking down a #Philly street.

The suspects claim that it was a “mutual fight”. Are we expected to believe that two gay men picked a fight with twelve strangers?

So yeah. A straight couple can dry hump in public, but a gay couple can’t walk down the street without fear of being beat nearly to death!

Bubbling Anger, a plea for sanity.

Everyone is angry.

I’m sure you’ve noticed.

Angrier than usual

these days.

We’re all talking.

Loudly.

No one

is listening.

Eyes

glaze over.

The volume increases.

The cacophony fades

like static

into the background

as we scream

and shout

desperately

seeking

to be heard.

But still

no one

is listening.

It’s almost like

we’re living

in some alternate

reality

created by Springer

and populated

almost…

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Old Spice ALS Ice Bucket Challenge

Not to be a buzzkill, but…

Isn’t there still a drought in California and surrounding states? Why are we wasting the water? Seriously, I’m all for raising awareness of ALS, but could we find a way to spread the word that doesn’t waste a few gallons of water every time someone participates?

Gay icon Lady Bunny brings up an interesting point in her Blogger post entitled “A Brand New Challenge”, "…some of the fad-obsessed attention nuts who like to pretend that they are briefly concerned about some disease or missing Nigerian girls they were obsessed with a month ago but haven’t thought of in weeks, celebrities desperate to seem relevant and hip to internet trends who usually forget to actually post the donation information for Lou Gehrig’s disease which has been suddenly re branded as ALS and Californians too ignorant to know that there’s a serious drought that the ice bucket challenge contributes to.”

I hate to say it, but I agree with her. STOP WASTING WATER!

By the way…

If you want to do something about ALS Please, save the water and DONATE HERE.