Go skew a survey

http://www.silencingchristians.com/

Pause the video.
Give them a fake e-mail and if you don't want to use your zipcode, use 64078, Peculiar Mo.

And go tell them homosexuals deserve "special rights just like African Americans and other minorities!" (direct quote from the poll)

Hard run

The south wind was fierce. I watched roadsigns twist on their poles and saw a few that had been blown off.

I fel the gusts hit my trailer broadside, a palpable blow that made me clutch the wheel tighter and hold the course even more steady. I didn't want to blow into the next lane.

My shoulders ache from four hours of this.

Contest needs entries!

Details:
http://valarltd.livejournal.com/2009/02/01/

You can win one of three copies of Glad Hands coming Feb 25.


Blurb:
Chuck rolls his rig across the no-longer-United States, from Montana to Arkansas. He expects a fast run with no complications. What he doesn’t expect is Seven, a pretty blue-eyed drifter who turns not only his head but makes his blood sizzle.

His gayness tattooed into his very skin, Seven needs Chuck’s help to escape the very limited life Heartland forces upon him. And when the even more repressive Confederated States take an interest, Chuck and Seven are in for the ride of their lives.

Excerpt:
“You're thinking too much there, kiddo. I just don't want you worrying.”

Seven finished the food packet and drank more juice. “It's kinda what I do.”

Chuck traced the worry-line between his eyebrows. “I can tell.”

The touch of the big driver made Seven tingle all over. He wet his lips, staring at Chuck’s mouth. Chuck saw and checked the magnetic seal of the the curtains in the cab, making sure they would block unwanted eyes.

"Either stop teasing or make a move, blue-eyes,” Chuck said softly. Seven looked at the floor, embarrassed. Chuck kissed Seven instead.

Seven startled. He’d never been kissed like this by anyone, man or woman. Even Bruce-- He stopped the thought and paid attention to the kiss. Chuck’s soft mouth moved very slowly over his. He opened for Chuck’s tongue, letting it play over his teeth and palate. He sucked at it a little, liking the way Chuck tasted and smelled.

"Wow,” he said when Chuck moved away. “Nobody ever--“

"What a shame.” Chuck kissed him again. “It’s flattering to be your first. And, kiddo, I don't fuck. I don't believe in turning something sacred into a violent, cheap commodity.”

Seven only stared. Very slowly, he reached up and stroked Chuck’s hair, which he’d wanted to do from the moment Chuck had taken his hat off. “This can’t be real. Nobody would be so good. You’re too gorgeous. This is all going to vanish when I wake up. If I wake up and haven’t frozen to death and gone to heaven.”

Chuck laughed softly. “Not sure your heaven would let an old heathen like me in, even if I can't pass up a stray in trouble. I thought my folks taught me your god frowned on men who love men.”

"He does. Maybe I’m in Hell.”

"Or maybe we’re still in Iowa. I mean, I can see where you’d confuse them.”

Seven laughed at that, then leaned in to kiss Chuck. He liked being kissed. It felt different, right. He’d never bought the happily-ever-after romances all the girls in his school read. He knew men weren’t like that. He knew that happily-ever-afters quickly died under too much work, too many babies and never enough money. Hard to hear violins over children screeching and the jam boiling over and the cow breaking into the vegetable patch. But just once, maybe...