That She Is Mad 'Tis True; 'Tis True, 'Tis Pity; And Pity 'Tis 'Tis True

Today, we are going to talk about a very troublesome issue that is plaguing the world today: discrimination. Discrimination is wrong. I know this because of the countless public service announcements I was forced to watch by the U.S. government while growing up.

See, I grew up as an Army brat, in Germany, and we didn't have real TV over there. Some kids were lucky and their parents sprang for satellite TV from England, but my parents were cheapskates, so the only TV I ever got to watch was the military channel, AFN (Armed Forces Network...get it?). In case you've never had the pleasure of being brainwashed by the government, let me tell you, that is some whacked shit. There was only the one channel, and they tried to appeal to everyone, so there was usually nothing good on, and when there was a good show, it was like two years behind what was being shown in the States. When I moved back here from Germany, I had no idea what was going on in my favorite shows, because I had lost several seasons, just by crossing the Atlantic. It was horrible. I missed the last two seasons of Star Trek: The Next Generation! Damn you, AFN!

But that's not even the worst. AFN didn't show commercials. Now, when you've seen the fourth commercial in a row where those idiots are shouting about how great their cars are, or one of those "As Seen On TV" products that always look so cool but never seem to work as advertised, you may not think that is a bad thing. Let me assure you, it is. Because to replace the commercials, AFN showed public service announcements. All the time. And they weren't just any public service announcements, like the ones you might see here, about not smoking, or not drinking and driving, or using drugs. No, they had PSA's about everything, from how to not attract terrorist attention (get a license plate issued by your host country, instead of an American one) to what kind of flowers you should take your hostess if you are invited to dinner by a native of whatever country you are currently in (Definitely don't take roses in Turkey. That means you love her! Take daisies instead). PSA's that are still stuck in my head, 15 years later, some including full songs, include:

• a jazz song about not smoking, sung by a woman in a slinky red dress, that goes "It makes your teeth turn yellow, it makes your lungs turn black! A pack-a-day habit only makes you cough and hack! Smoking...makes a fool out of...you!"
• how to ride a motorcycle double (by leaning with the driver, and taking extra time to stop!)
• snippets of poetry by Edgar Allan Poe (don't ask me why)
• the Military Code of Conduct and how if you are captured by the enemy, don't give anything but your name, rank, service number, and date of birth
• a great many bits of American history, which were part of a series called "Shaping America." When each one of those started, a map of the U.S. made out of stone or something would appear on the screen, and a man's hand with a chisel would come and chip away a bit of the stone and there would be a sonorous donging sound, like the map was a giant bell

(And people wonder why I'm warped. Well, this explains it. And if you don't believe me, please do a search on YouTube for AFN commercials. You'll see.)

Well, many of these PSA's were also about things like sexual harassment, or racism. Which (if you still remember my original point) is how I learned that discrimination is wrong. I bring this up today because I often feel discriminated against, due to a medical condition.

The medical condition is called Bovine spongiform encephalopathy, also known as mad cow diease. And no, I do not have mad cow disease. But because I used to live in Europe, I may have been exposed to it, and so I am not allowed to donate blood. Not that I really want to donate blood (I really like my blood inside my body, not dripping down a tube into a bag) but I kind of feel obligated to do so. But the one time I actually made it into the Bloodmobile, as soon as they took my history, they kicked me out. I didn't even get a juice and cookie! Those Red Cross bastards.

And so, ever since then, every time I see a Bloodmobile or a PSA (damn those PSA's!) about donating blood, I feel discrimated against. Why can't I be a hero in a red cape? I would make a good hero! I would fly around blowing bad guys up and flourishing my cape, and everyone would be happy. I think if I was going to develop mad cow, it would have happened already. (And yes, plenty of my friends would say that I am already a mad cow. They would also say that I am a crazy bitch, but that is not my point.)

So today I am depressed, due to my mad cow tendencies. If you happen to see me on the street, please come over and give me a smile, a hug, a friendly pat on the back. Just, please, whatever you do, don't give me roses. At least not in Turkey.