Fantastic Justin Bieber Tweets on Twitter

girls of london...please dont bang on the windows of the car when we're moving. u can get hurt. no need for that. i got love for all of u :)

and his newest post:

Wish I could have come out from the performance at the mayfair but security wouldn't let me. For those girls who cursed me out for it...

(continues)

...I'm sorry but sometimes I need to listen to security so no one gets hurt. But I like your attitude. The UK goes hard

Republicans

Democrats

Time is tickin' hearts are skippin'

So I'm not 100% sure how anyone's supposed to feel about Chris Crocker, but I thought I'd shared how I feel for whoever eventually finds out I have a blog and scrolls down far enough to find this. Basically, I think he's still trying to find out he is and in the process is trying to get as much attention as possible. I think he's definitely confused as to if he's transgender or not. He's obviously a transvestite but he's stated in a Youtube video that he doesn't know if he'd ever get surgery.

Anyway, whatever he is -- he sure makes a pretty girl. Just thought I'd share for who ever finds this to know it's okay to think trans people are pretty.

Breaking News: Some Bullshit Happening Somewhere

What is self-importance?

From "How Can I Help?"

I catch myself in self-importance ten times a day -- check that, five -- well maybe once. It's appalling anyway. A little flashbulb goes off and I'm exposed... like Jimmy Olsen catching Superman change clothes in the phone booth.

Westboro Baptist Church

Out of everything they've done, out of every protest at gay rights marches or Lady Gaga concerts or even Obama's daughter's elementary school -- it was sick and wrong, but it's the Westboro Baptist Church -- what are you gonna do about it? This is an entirely different story....

This was in 2007. The dad won the case. Now in 2010 it's at the US Supreme Court, where no one is really sure who will win. Do they have the 1st amendment on their side?

Start at around the 3:50 mark

How Can I Help>

So, I'm reading this book for my Social Justice class entitled: "How Can I Help?: Stories and Reflections on Service" By Ram Dass and Paul Gorman, and although I haven't finished the book yet, this is probably my favorite story. I simply like the story, it's fair to say there's a "deeper message" but to me it just is a good story. So here it goes:

"I'll give you a day in the life.

I work in this program with juvenile offenders, ex-drug addicts mostly. And I'm with this very tough, smart kid who tells me, 'I got no time for programs, man. I seen programs' And I feel like saying, 'Me neither. I'm not so crazy about programs myself.' But here they are and there we were.

'Whadda you know?' he says. 'You're just a social worker. Social workers are nowhere. Social workers don't understand shit.' And he's saying that a little angry and provocative. But it's a little wry, too. He was playing. And I was liking him at that moment, liking his style.

So I go, 'Yeah, all right. But that's all you think I am, a social worker? You don't see anybody here but a social worker?' I was up for playing too.'Well, you got a degree, right? They teach you about other people's troubles, right? That's how you got this job. You the Fixer, right?'

'Sure I got a diploma. I got a wife too. And I got a TV. And I'm into the Boston Celtics. If I'm just a social worker, maybe you're just an ex-junkie. Is that all that's happening here?'

Well, he sort of paused, and he heard it. And there was this moment where I felt something was about to get off the ground, like we were going to get past all this. It sort of hung there, one of those moments when you can feel possibility; maybe we can make it after all. And then...it was like we just missed. You could feel it get close and then pass by. And I swear he sensed that too.

He said, 'You got no idea where I am, man.' And I said, 'Well, you got no idea where I am.' He was being straight. I was being straight. Maybe we'd make it another time. Maybe we needed that honesty. But it was frustrating, because it got so close. I really liked this kid. Like, if we could have talked basketball...

So...bad day, or at least a frustrating one. Anyhow, I come home, lay back, and my wife comes in and tells me she's thinking about quitting her job at the hospital. I sort of half groan and half laugh. I'd been hoping she'd be the one who'd have it together that evening. We take turns being the one who has it together.

'Okay, what's the matter?'

'It's like prison. You've either got an ID badge and a stethoscope or you're flat on your back helpless. It's Us and Them, the sick and the healthy. The patients get bugged, we get bugged, everybody gets bugged. I can't stand the roles and the distances. It's not a hospital -- it's a prison!' And she's laughing a little, but it's a strong feeling. And then she gives me this classic, exasperated line, again laughing, "I don't want to be a nurse, I just want to help!'

So I say, 'Poor kid...' and give her a hug, because it's obviously been one of those days. And I say something like, 'Well, I don't want to be a social worker either. Social workers don't understand shit. But what are we going to do? Who's going to feed the cat? How do we get out of jail?'

We laughed, and had chicken, and talked, and made love. And afterward she said, 'I'm still a little bit at the hospital.' And I said, 'I know, I'm still a little bit with that kid.'