Either that or I am completely deluding myself.

According to their fancy algorithms, bullshit, whatever, the guys who tend to have the highest match percentage with me are bisexual dudes.

I can’t say that I know any bisexual guys or may have been intimate with a bisexual guy. Perhaps I have. It’s not like I ask everyone I sleep with whether or not they’re gay or not.

But I find it odd that a website that purports itself as a dating/relationship sort of site would think I would be able to cohabit with someone bisexual. I don’t know.

It’s almost as puzzling as those heterosexual guys whose heterosexuality surprises me. Maybe my gaydar is malfunctioning. Or maybe I’m just not giving a shit anymore?

I don’t know.

You combine that with Vin Scully’s press conference, to which I was curiously not invited to, it’s a bit of a clusterfuck in the Dodger press box. I don’t mind the clusterfuck too much, really. I’ve gotten a bit used to it. All that I care about is that I have a seat.

Maybe it’s because the Boston media is in town, and I am in such close proximity to them, but I’ve been angry all afternoon long. Actually I know the reason, but I won’t be expand on that now. Just know that my blood is boiling and whatever.

The brave Pedro Moura is back after his girlfriend tried to kill him. They’re still together. It’s sweet ain’t it?

The question now is what is the over/under on fights in the stands. Because we all know what amiable folk Bostonians are, right? Especially those pizza-tossing Red Sox fans.

This cunt is a San Antonio City Councilwoman who thinks I’m disgusting because I am gay. She doesn’t think I should be able to adopt because I like things going up my butt. Don’t worry bitch. I don’t want kids anyway, but still.

This dickhead is the junior US Senator from Texas. It turns out he has dual citizenship in Canada. So while he wants to build fences around the US/Mexico border, while he wants to legislate me out of existence for again liking things up my butt, it turns out I’m more American than him.

These dickheads, rapists, cunts, bitches and all the like are okay in and of themselves. Not everyone in the world is going to agree with me and be genuinely nice. Not everyone is going to use some common logic or have empathy towards their fellow man and woman.

But the fact that people like this decide what laws will become codified sickens me. The fact that there are people who like the fact that these sorts of people are elected sickens me.

This is why I’m so disillusioned.

Recently when the Rays played the Dodgers they promoted relief pitcher Josh Lueke to the squad. Lueke back in 2008 raped a girl. He denied it, but when Kern County sheriffs said that DNA tests proved his spermy wormies in on her jeans, tank top and anal canal, he pleaded to a lesser charge “false imprisonment with violence” and was given 42 days in jail, time already served.

I tweeted about this, and each time he made an appearance in the game I called him “The Rapist”. Being disillusioned I expected many responses to be “well he already paid for his crimes,” or even worse “she was asking for it.”

Instead many of the retweets came from men showing their disgust of Lueke. I was afraid I was being a little over the top. Thankfully I wasn’t.

One thing did bother me a little. Many other media folks came up to me to ask me more about the story. They seemed just as appalled as I was over it. I don’t know whether it was their outlet’s social media rules or what not, but they didn’t mention it at all.

So there you see why I remain a jaded son of a bitch.

First of all, let this not be an all-encompassing endorsement of Time Warner, its cable division and its practices. I find it hard to sympathize with a multi-billion dollar conglomerate that profits by preying on the people. They are a shithole company.

Now CBS wants Time Warner to pay more to retransmit its signal on the coaxial wires so that we cable customers are able to watch it seamlessly. Never mind that we already get to watch that shit for free over the air.

CBS and Time Warner can’t agree to the retransmission fee, so Time Warner pulls the plug. What have I missed?

* I have missed a bunch of shows I never watched. I don’t care about “Big Brother”, “NCIS: Your Basement”, “Two Broke Girls”.

* I have missed the KCAL9 news. With the exception of 3:30-4 p.m. and 7-8 p.m., there is a local news broadcast on live between 5 am and 11:30 p.m. during weekdays here in Los Angeles. KCAL provides the bulk of that programming. But that’s fine. Twitter exists so we don’t have to be so dependent.

* I have missed one Dodger game. Well, I could have missed one Dodger game, but thanks to technology I was able to watch last night’s game that was exclusively on KCAL. An even bigger benefit was that I watched the Fox Sports Midwest broadcast so I could avoid Eric Collins.

* I have missed Showtime, but I never got that channel to begin with. If there was a show that intrigued me, there are other ways of watching them even in a legal manner.

So I’m fine with this blackout. It really hasn’t affected my life, and if things get really desperate I could buy an HD antenna thingee.

I went to Porky’s BBQ for lunch today and order their blackened catfish poboy, red beans and rice and strawberry soda. It was very fucking good, but there was a slight glitch.

I asked, as I do whenever I patronize any establishment with a Southern bent, “Do y’all have sweet tea?” You see, no one does sweet tea like we do in the South. No one. Sure, all it is is iced tea and shit tons of sugar, but Southerners tend to have gotten the ratio of sugar to tea down perfect.

“No we don’t,” the clerk said. “We used to, but no body ordered it.”

?????

“Fucking Yankees,” I harumphed. He laughed.

I get that here in California people tend to want to make better eating decisions. But when you go into an establishment that serves fried chicken, fried catfish, greens, sticky slobbery ribs and the like, what difference does sweet tea make to your health?

The correct answer is, “None.”

Fucking Yanks.

On this date in 1776 the Continental Congress approved of the text of the Declaration of Independence, and thus began the birth of a country.

Sure it’s not perfect. Sure there is a cloying desperation to legislate against a woman’s body. Sure there are furtive movements to curtail our liberties in favor of security.

But the fact I can get away with a post titled “Fuck the NSA” without being detained and sent to a labor camp still makes this one of the best countries out there.

For months I’ve been meaning to watch the documentary How To Survive a Plague, and I finally got around to it last night. It was incredible to watch this recounting of the ACT UP movement in the late 80s.

I remember as a kid in elementary school reading about AIDS, watching the struggles of those stricken by the disease and the incredible courage of Ryan White. It fucking scared me.

Even before I knew I was gay, I knew that I never wanted to get AIDS. I didn’t have to know how you got AIDS. Seeing people wither away into nothing as Kaposi sarcoma sores festered all over their bodies was indelible.

Eventually by 1991, I put two and two together. You got AIDS by fucking, and the two best ways to help prevent getting it was by using a condom or not having sex at all. No glove, no love.

Then all of a sudden, Magic Johnson had that news conference. He was a dead man.

It was really fucking scary.

Then in 1996 a cocktail of protease inhibitors worked its magic, and although it didn’t eliminate AIDS or HIV if you were privileged enough you got to make your viral load undetectable.

On Saturday I was chatting up with a 27-year old from a hookup site. He got my dick hard saying all of the right things, how he wanted to flip fuck, how he loved giving and taking a pounding. What can I say? I’m a romantic.

We exchanged numbers, various pictures, HIV statuses. Just as we were getting ready to make the all-important date, he wrote, “Do you like it bare?”

“Nope, I keep it covered,” I replied. I knew where this was headed and my outtie was turning into an innie as I like to say.

“aw, I like it bare :/”

Our conversation dwindled into the ether. That’s not going to happen.

I remember what it was like being fucking scared of this disease. I remember what a death sentence it was. I’ve been in the doctor’s office with others who got the diagnosis and saw what a death blow it still is.

In 2002 I fucked bare. I took AIDS tests twice six months apart petrified that I was going to be positive. The second test was worst than the first. I was lucky. I was negative, and I made sure to never let that happen again.

Sure there are protease inhibitors, but if you’re uninsured how do you pay for it? What if the government pulls it subsidies out because of budget cuts, do the poor just die out?

There are no guarantees, and if I can prevent myself from getting it in the first place I don’t have to worry about it.

So sorry. I don’t fuck bare. Anything organic that goes into my poop chute has to be covered. That’s how I survive.

Thanks to a discussion on Govinda’s Facebook page about prog rock, here’s a list of things I hate hate hate about songs played at sports events.

1. Rush. If you take a look at the Spotify list of the Kings’ in-game music you’ll see there is Rush. Of all the music that plays, that song is the one that brings me to attention to everything that is going on. Geddy Lee’s vocals makes my eardrums want to file a complaint with the UN citing the Geneva Convention.

The talk about prog rock made me think of this. Being a complete pretentious fuck, my mind gets polluted by shit music all of the time. So here’s my list of complaints.

2. Red Hot Chili Peppers. Flea is a Lakers season ticket holder. Clayton Kershaw’s walk-up music is “Snow (Hey Oh)” which I initially confused as a Tracy Chapman song. I’m sorry. The Red Hot Chili Peppers made a career on playing live with socks on their dicks once, the same funk bass lines, Anthony Keidis running shirtless in slo-mo and what is essentially the same song recycled over and over and over and over again.

3. LFMAO/Black Eyed Peas. These two groups are combined because they make the same songs essentially. Tonight is not a going to be a good good night, and you are not sexy and I know it. There will be no boom boom powing tonight because hopefully you’ve been potty trained.

4. Bro-step. Wikka wikka briudfnhfgidjgoijhrgafg. Thanks to Skrillex and others of his ilk, testerone-overdosed rapist assholes now can get into electronic music. It’s aggressive. It’s jarring. It’s manly. Pee-yuke.

5. Kings warmup selections. During pregame warmups on the ice, the Kings players select the songs that are played. I have likened it to dropping the soap at a gay bath house. It’s pure Euro techno trance, and even dosed with tons of E I would have trouble digesting it. By the way, here’s Dustin Penner writing about his life in EDM.

6. DJ Khaled – “All I Do Is Win”. No No No no no no NONOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! No! I’d much rather listen to Jock Jams than this.

One of these days, I need to get my hands onto the controls at these arenas and stadiums.

The other day someone post this link of the 15 best Pixies Songs. They said the best Pixies song is “Debaser”. There were notable songs absent on that list.

So I will rebut with my top 15 list since it’s not subjective or anything. Yeah.

15. “Alec Eiffel” – Trompe Le Monde.

Let’s face it. Trompe Le Monde was a shit album. The band was falling apart at the seams, and you could hear it in this album. This was one of their last gasps, and oddly enough it didn’t fall in line with their soft-loud-soft motif. “Alec Eiffel” is loud and filled with Black Francis’ cryptic lyrics.

But at least we get the payoff of Kim Deal’s saccharine vocals at the outro along with that keyboard riff that I can’t get enough of.

14. “Nimrod’s Son” – Come on Pilgrim.

“You are the son of a motherfucker.” Before Bugs Bunny redefined the term “nimrod” to be an idiot, it used to mean a tyrant. In the Jewish and Muslim traditions, there was a battle between Abraham and Nimrod, a battle between monotheism and polytheism. You can read about all of that here.

The Pixies were the best at reinterpreting the subversive and relatively esoteric biblical in a pop context, usually all in the same song. Here we have Nimrod, a dying man’s thoughts, charges of incest. All of this wrapped in a country-western saga.

13. “Stormy Weather” – Bossanova.

Embedded in an album filled with surf tunes and UFO references comes this hidden gem. The lyrics are simple. “It is time. It is time for stormy weather.” The music sounds simple, just a couple of couple of power chords.

But listen closely you hear dueling guitar parts fighting to make themselves heard. Instead it melds into one Spector-ian wall of sound that makes you want to dance outside during a summer storm.

In my junior year of high school, I loved driving around with this song blaring from my stereo at night. It was an escape, a liberation, a giddiness that we all dream of during adolescence.