Same Sex Pregnancies,....Why Not?

Slowly, but surely we are letting the walls down. State-by-state same sex couples are making headway, and for all intent and purposes, been living in happiness for years anyways.

We all want equal rights. What my opinion is on the whole matter is irrelevant, I want to talk science. We were discussing the human zygote and it's workings in my Biology class, until I stopped my Professor and asked, "If the whole point of fertilizing the zygote is based on giving it both pairs of genes from the parents, wouldn't it be possible for same sex couples to have children?"

Dead silence, and some people in the front row turn and look at me.

My Professor says in her thick Italian accent, "What do you ask?"

Beo - "Couldn't you inject a zygote with the genes of either two men, or two women and it would be possible for the egg to determine what it wants to be from the dormant X or Y genes provided by the couples mothers and fathers. There would have to be a surrogate mother in the case of two men, but the same sex females could actually get to decide who gets to be pregnant with their child, right?

Professor - "No, this would be unethical. And there could be unforeseen chances of XXY, or XYY and other unwanted genetic abnormalities." Meaning hermaphrodites and such.

Beo - "Well that occurs anyways. Who's to say it wouldn't work out?"

Professor, getting aggravated - "No, this would be unethical. We don't do these things."

Beo - "I'm just saying, it's possible right? Then that would tear down the whole religious belief that homosexuality is immoral, because it's not possible to conceive with same sex couples."

Professor, ready to move on - "No, the idea is immoral in it's own right, and anyone who tried to do it should be arrested." The whole class chuckles. So do I.

She moves on to talk about gene discrepancies and deletions that occur naturally and unnaturally, like in the case of Amish communities. I couldn't hold back, and I hit her with my Global Inbreeding Scenario, and said that it has to be an eventuality that we will all be related at some point. She reiterated how the occurrence of chiasma and recombinant DNA stops these things from happening, which I understood, but I asked what about the Amish communities. They have recombinant DNA, and I understood that the group was a lot closer knit than the entire globe, but aren't we all just one big Amish community in a broader sense?

The class is just staring at me. It's not uncomfortable though, because I'm friendly with everyone in the class. I just hope they don't think I'm trying to be cool, and act like I'm deep. I honestly just have questions, and she's a professor.

The professor laughs and points at me, "You are crazy, but you have good thoughts and questions. I don't know what to tell you. In a sense you are right, I guess it could be possible given enough time. But I think we are going to be alright, and we won't have to worry about it."

People are mocking me as we go to walk out of the classroom, and the Professor points at me on the way out and calls me crazy again.

On the way out of the school I joke with fellow student Declum (the guy who stutters). "Hey, maybe by allowing same sex couples to have children we could increase our time before inbreeding occurs. They would add even newer variants of recombinant DNA and the like, right?"

"Yo-You-You're and idiot.", Declum says.

Loving Me, Loving You

Empathy is my closest lover, and enemy.


So intricate, so infinite, so excruciating. It's madness ongoing as you hold love for so many, yet the deep loves last for eternity. The years, they turn their back on us one-by-one. But some years take a glance back, and the ache is immense.

All the while the present is aching your bones to the breaking point. What a blissful pain. There is no place I'd rather be, but it runs from you and I. Through the crisp October air it sits across the field. Sitting upon the grass and staring up at the stars, coming out through a perse sky. I turn, and my eyes fill with you and we kiss, all the while time rots us, and the world around us.

You dance for me and the wind begins to blow, and it quenches me like the first water that touched lips. Your dress flirting with the wind, your shoes dangling from my fingers. And you're giggling, we're giggling and I look away to take it all in. Nothing really matters when you're in love.

But it's an entity now, love. Will you ever come back to me, love? Wholly, and complete I mean. Fall leaves roll across the field. Still hanging onto life even though they've separated from the branch. They dance too, in relativity. Yet there I sit alone looking up at the stars, you're gone now. I looked away for a moment and you floated up into my constellation. Shoes still in hand and a giggle in my ear.

Rotting. Love is your heart. Your face. It changes shape with time and bodies, and the chase seems neverending. The center of the chest, a cage for love.

And love is immense...

Don't call it a Comeback

Sylvester Stallone is signing on to reprise his role as boxer Rocky Balboa in the sixth installment of the long-running film series, which he wrote and will direct.

The film, titled "Rocky Balboa," will be co-produced and co-financed by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Columbia Pictures and Revolution Studios and will be distributed by Columbia Pictures.

Stallone has been trying to make a sixth movie for years and has been reworking a script. The latest version, which sources said is similar to the tone and grit of the first two movies, persuaded the studios to negotiate a deal.

"In many ways, the screenplay really took me back to the original 'Rocky,"' Revolution Studios founder Joe Roth said in a statement. "As a past champion, Rocky Balboa is once again a regular guy who has to find himself and deal with real life. This film brings Rocky's story full circle."

In the new installment, Rocky, lonely and retired in Philadelphia, comes out of retirement, intending to fight a few low-profile local fights. He's approached to fight a match with reigning heavyweight champ Mason "The Line" Dixon, and soon his comeback ignites a media firestorm.

"'Rocky Balboa' is about everybody who feels they want to participate in the race of life, rather than be a bystander," Stallone said in a statement. "You're never too old to climb a mountain, if that's your desire."

Shooting is scheduled to begin in December in Los Angeles and Philadelphia

Stallone received Academy Award nominations for starring in and writing "Rocky," and the 1976 MGM film won an Oscar for best picture, best director (John G. Avildsen) and best editing (Richard Halsey, Scott Conrad). The movie grossed $117.3 million at the domestic boxoffice, making Stallone a film star and creating one of cinema's most famous characters.

It also launched one of the most successful film series of all time. 1979's "Rocky II" grossed $85 million, and 1982's "Rocky III," which featured Mr. T, grossed $120.2 million. "Rocky IV," with Dolph Lundgren' made $125.4 million after its 1985 release. By the decade's close, however, audiences seemed to have tired of the character. "Rocky V," released in 1990, made only $40 million.

"Rocky Balboa" is the first film to be green-lit by MGM since it was acquired by Sony Corp.- By Borys Kit

Boy, I hope the script is good. I don't think you can really make apple pie any better than what it already is. I'll definitely see it though.

Tropic of Cancer

"One's destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things."-Henry Miller 12/26/1891 - 6/7/1980


I am highly excited about my third literature essay due in December. We were given three lists of "Top 100's", and "Most Influential", and my professors "Top Choices" that made up about three-hundred titles of great literary works combined. The best part is that I only recognized a couple, so there is a complete world I haven't even touched. I instantly hung the list up on my refrigerator when I got home, and even "A" got excited because she is constantly reading and always looking for good titles. Look no more.

I was humbled by how little I really now about great literary titles, that is to say I know nothing at all. Yet I have, at one time or another, enjoyed when a book I read gave me a new feeling of awareness and understanding. That, is what the whole sha-banga-bang is about when it comes to literature. So now I have a whole arsenal of good reads dangling from the fridge. I'm so stoked! (I know you think I'm a dork)

I was completely in shock when I saw one book on the long list of choices, was one that I tried to get at my local library last year and didn't, because I was told they would have to order it in for me. "Nah, forget it then," I said to the librarian. Why? Because the lazy habits I've formed for reading in my life has lead to a non-hunger to read. Self awareness can be a wonderful thing. So now, I not only get to redeem myself, but I get to get a good grade for it as well.

The book I was looking for was Henry Miller's "Tropic of Cancer". The supposed pinnacle of his unorthodox style of literature, here is an abstract.

"Autobiographical novel by Henry Miller, published in France in 1934 and, because of censorship, not published in the United States until 1961. Written in the tradition of Walt Whitman and Henry David Thoreau, it is a monologue about Miller's picaresque life as an impoverished expatriate in France in the early 1930s.

The book benefited from favorable early critical response and gained popular notoriety later as a result of obscenity trials. Containing little plot on narrative, Tropic of Cancer is made up of anecdotes, philosophizing, and rambling celebrations of life. Despite his poverty, Miller extols his manner of living, unfettered as it is by moral and social conventions. He lives largely off the resources of his friends. In exuberant and sometimes preposterous passages of unusual sexual frankness, he chronicles numerous encounters with women, including his mysterious wife Mona, as he pursues a fascination with female sexuality. Tropic of Cancer was the first of an autobiographical trilogy, followed by Black Spring (1936) and Tropic of Capricorn (1939)."

I love the fact that he feels that civilization tries to stranglehold the imagination, and creativity of the human being. I personally agree, and this book chronicles the unfettered human spirit. I haven't even read the book yet, and I love it. I found interest with the book earlier from a person who commented on one of my posts in the past. He thought I would find interest in it because of my own personal deviant qualities.

It always seems like people want to set a norm, so that they may feel in control. Yet Miller said, "The world is not to be put in order; the world is order, incarnate. It is for us to harmonize with this order." Whether that be acceptable or unacceptable in your opinion is beside the point. I think I'm going to enjoy this book, and the ones that will come after.














"What holds the world together, as I have learned from bitter experience, is sexual intercourse." - Henry Miller with his wife at left, and her friend right.

Horrid Confessions VII:

I call him the sniffler. Constantly sniffling.


Who is he? What could possibly be wrong with his sinus cavities? There is no possible way that every time I.......

Right,....story. Okay. Well, my confession is the lesser of two evils in this case. We'll get to that a little later. First let's setup the scenario.

On one hand you have me, who constantly walks with all his might like a man on speed after watching a Richard Simons workout video everyday of my life. I don't know what my problem is. I have a tendency to get annoyed with people who seem to have all the time in the world when they are walking somewhere. So that seems to be one of my deals. It annoys my fiance to no end, because I literally will leave her in the dust sometimes. I apologize, time is precious. I'll have plenty of time to slow down in the latter stages of my life.

I walk like this to my college after work, and I get there in a pretty good sweat. I especially love the people who choose to use the escalator up the stairs before they get to the school. I always take the manual stairs, and I derive great pleasure in beating the people walking up the escalator. Like I've tried my best for God. I know, sick.

So, to cool off with the hour to half an hour before class, I enjoy going to the school bathroom and either reading on the toilet, or studying on the toilet. That way I'm completely relaxed and comfortable for class.

There have been some uncomfortable moments along the last couple of years. I had one of the school security guards peering at my stall. I could see his face through the cracks. "Is there a problem," I said. He exclaimed that he was just doing rounds, and nervously left.

But, this past semester and throughout the summer there has been an incident that has happened an impossibly fair amount of times. I get to the bathroom, and I sit down and he is either already in another stall, or he comes in while I'm there. He goes into a bathroom stall and it begins.....*sniff*....*sniff*.....*sniff*.....*sniff*. Over and over, and over. All the while he is pulling toilet paper off the roll. It is maddening, and I've changed the locals of the bathrooms. To no use, it still winds up happening again.

A few times he has been in the stall directly beside me and he wears white sneakers with a blue Converse logo. All the while sniffling away, and pulling off ridiculous amounts of toilet paper off the roll. I imagine him stuffing it into a book bag or something, anything. I don't know! Why are you sniffing so much! What is the deal with the toilet paper! What kind of allergy could possibly cause someone to sniffle that many times. His sinuses must be raw hollow cavities. I've had to stick one of my fingers in my (ear) just to be able to enjoy my secluded public bathroom reading time, because the repetitive sniffing would begin to drive me insane.

I've come so close to screaming in the bathroom, and here is the kicker, he always out waits me. I've never seen him. I'm telling you there have been times where he has come in right after me and I had an hour before class started, and I put myself through the torture of listening to him sniffle and pull the roll of toilet paper to nothing just for the chance to have him come out of the stall first. No use, I had to get to class. He won, and still wins.

Through the times I've imagined Rod Serling type fantasies that maybe this person is someone I'm fatally destined to meet under the worst of circumstances. Maybe it's just my imagination getting away from me. But it does seem odd to a severe degree. You'd have to experience it to appreciate where I'm coming from. I've been wanting to post something about it for a long time, I just hadn't thought of a way to come about it.

Time to Visit the Grave

Feels like normal actually. This year was a mulligan year anyhow. Can you tell I'm in acceptance phase already. And hey, I still have the hope that the Yankees go down too!

Update: Seeing Lost 2:3

Grade: A


Some Observations to Note

1. I'm not digging the others as of now. They are more of an annoyance.

2. I like the placement of Katie Segal as Helen. I knew she was coming on the show, and I didn't think she would fit. But, she does.

3. I think they could've done such a better job on the Dharma film reel.

4. Is there anything Sayid can't fix?

5. Were you afraid as I was that Hurley was going to eat all the food.

6. Hurley definitely met an ex-button pusher (Leonard) in the nut house.

7. That was Shannon's father that died on the table when Jack saved his (ex?)wife.

8. Why can Jin-Soo Kwon now speak perfect english?

Things I Despise

I'd love to meet whoever made the rolling suitcase.


The most lazy, yet understandably helpful thing ever made. People...., we build houses with our bare hands. Great mountains have been scaled, and pyramids built (maybe with help).

Pick up the damn suitcase. Most people using them could use the exercise. Yeah, I said it. I'm sorry but seriously, do you understand what you do when you use the rolling suitcase?

Not only do you begin to drag this thing, with no regard to anything behind you. You have now extended the size of your person by the length of that suitcase. It's like giving yourself a lizards tail. We are not used to walking past, or behind people with tails. And the people that use it don't even care where their tail goes. I especially love those ones with the really long extended necks out the top of the suitcase. Priceless.

I've seen children sideswiped by these things. People being tripped, I've seen them dropped down an escalator because the person forgot what it was like to carry the suitcase. It's disgusting, and I despise them. I either carry a suitcase, or wear a backpack.

The next time one rolls in front of me, and the person decides to stop abruptly which forces me to step onto their suitcase by accident. I'm going to look at them when they look back at me, and I'm going to continue to stomp your bag and then open it up and throw out all the possessions. Then I will apologize, and hopefully make it out of there before I get arrested. Just a warning.

I've Died and Gone to Hell

When did it happen? Was it in the car on the ride into work?


Everything was so merry in the past. Life was simple and sweet, and everything worked magically in its own special way. People laughed and sang, and for the last four years New England brought home a championship to match each year. Three by the Patriots, and one by the Red Sox.

Now, I feel like things are changing. I've been seeing these strange creatures in open park areas, as well as in the shadows of bushes and trees. What are they, and why am I seeing them? Does anyone else see them? I'm to afraid to ask. With each event it becomes more and more clear to me that I must be dead, and I haven't been able to accept it yet.

Tell me what other answer could there be? George Bush appointed his personal lawyer Harriet Miers to the Supreme Court, the Patriots got a rare spanking last week, and the Red Sox are having their expectable collapse a year after winning the World Series. There can be only one answer my friends, a large amount of people have mentally sold their souls to Satan, and now he has taken us, yet we don't get our own respective lava spas. No, our hell is to sit and watch these horrendous things occur.

Now my eyes are open. I mean, Harriet Miers could work out great in the Supreme Court, but who the heck is she? She graduated from a community law school, never been a judge, was the first President of the Texas Bar Association. Finding out more as we go shall be fun, but the one thing that scares me is that she is George W's lawyer. How much more insidious can you get?

The Patriots lost a game.....I don't have to say anything more than that. The Patriots lost a game. Satan is involved.

The Red Sox are now back to being the Red Sox. I can't say I wasn't worried, but you'd like to think that things might have changed now. We were all made aware that things haven't changed last night when Bill Buckn...ah..Tony Graffanino let the ball go through his legs. Now the Red Sox have to beat the ChiSox a la Yankees fashion last year. "Hi Satan, thank you for those four years."

Then, to top it all off, they moved the scheduled programming of Lost to be shown after the Late News telecast on Channel 5 in the Boston area, because they had rights to telecast the Sox vs. Sox game. So, Lost was pushed back to start at 11:35 pm instead of 8 pm. I had to call Channel 5 to find this out. The recording that I reached at Channel 5 had a deep and scratchy voice. Almost demonic, as it told me that the scheduled Lost program would be played later than I can stay up during the work week. Wait, it gets worse. Not only was the game being show in HD on ESPN anyways, Channel 5 ABC was showing it with bars on the sides where the HD should fill. There was absolutely no reason for Channel 5 to show the game. I know it was Satan, I know it.

I am absolutely prepared to go home and find that my DVR recorded nothing but snow during the time slot that Lost was moved to. Will I be surprised? Absolutely not.

Tony, you can't do that in Boston!

The Bio-Stutterer

So, here is a humorous story from last Friday.


As I had mentioned before, I had a Biology lecture and lab after work on Friday. Successfully making me miss, in my mind, the first game of the playoffs with the Red Sox vs. the Yankees. The lecture was excruciating, and the lab wasn't any better. By the end of it, it was 10 p.m. and it was the bottom of the 7th inning.

This guy in front of me hadn't talked yet in my Biology class, yet we've had to work together before in the labs. So, I just figured he had a chip on his shoulder because he seemed intelligent enough.

He's your average white guy, with the bleached blond hair with brown roots pulled back into a hair elastic. Glasses, and he's routinely wearing hospital scrubs.

So, last Fridays class I ask him, "Hey man, what's your name again?" He turns to me and says, "De-de-d-d-Declum." Oh shat, here I am thinking this guy thinks he's to good for everyone, when in reality he has a stuttering problem.

"Did you say Declum?", I asked back. "Ye-yeah, Dec-de-d-Declum.", he repeats. In my mind I'm thinking YIKES! I just dug my own grave here, so I better be the better man and keep asking some questions. Even though you have the fear of God in you that he might have trouble answering the questions, and I don't want to embarrass him.

So I asked him where he was from locally, what he did, and the like? He managed to get through the questions, but remember, this in front of a classroom audience. So, there were a few uncomfortable moments throughout the question and answer session.

But I was glad I did it and I think he was too, as I found out he works in the same hospital as me and already works in the field I want to work in. I asked him if he liked the Red Sox, and he said yeah.

So class comes to an end and Declum turns to me and says, "H-he-hey, it's the bottom of th-th-th-the seventh." So I respond, "Nice, I've got to get out of here and head home quick if I'm going to catch any of the game!"

Declum turns to me and says, "Hey, you wh-wha-wanna go to th-the Nah-Nines and catch the rest of it?" I have to admit that at first, I was a little unsure if I could handle trying to decipher what he was saying for the rest of the night. I wasn't even really sure if I heard the question correctly.

"You want to go the Nines?", I asked if he asked. "Yeah." Declum responded. After another second of thought I thought screw it, and said alright.

We get to the Nines and we get a beer, and I begin to go on about all the happenings in my life. He just sits and laughs, and mostly listens. Only giving short yeah's, and no's along the way. It was really pleasant actually. I'm usually the listener when it comes to conversations, so it was nice to have it the other way around. It was interestingly fun, and then came the hum dinger.

We were nearly at the bottom of our 24 oz. beers when I ask Declum, "Where are you from originally?"

"Ireland, I came over when I was four." Declum said. I noticed he didn't stutter, so I kept asking questions. The only problem, with the last swill of his beer he talked the rest of the night with a thick Irish brogue and absolutely no stutter.

It was absolutely amazing. The funniest part was that for the rest of the evening, I had no idea what the hell he was saying. I understood him better when he talked in stuttered clear English, than in thick Irish un-stuttered brogue. So, we parted ways and said our goodbyes at the end of the night, and that really just blew my mind.

Stuttered English, or perfect uncomprehendable Irish brouge.