As you probably know, not only is today Friday the 13th, but there’s also a full moon (well, technically speaking, there was a full moon last night at 12:11, but it should be pretty darn full again tonight). There won’t be another full moon on a Friday the 13th for 35 years (August 13, 2049 in fact), which most likely means this is the last one I’ll ever see (assuming it stops raining long enough to see anything). But if I’m still around, by golly, I’ll be sure and mention it. It’ll be eight days after my brother’s 102nd birthday, so we’ll probably just roll it all into one big party.

Texas Guv Rick Perry went to San Francisco of all places yesterday, and proclaimed that being gay is kinda like being an alcoholic (and therefore “fixable”).

I may have the genetic coding that I’m inclined to be an alcoholic, but I have the desire not to do that, and I look at the homosexual issue the same way.”

So now I guess we know what’s on Rick’s mind after a few shots of bourbon. He oughtta hook up with Santorum for a good old Rick-roll in the hay.

Speaking of “the gays,” what’s up with all these insulting restaurant receipts? Is this real actual shit, or is it bullshit?

A transgender woman who says she received an offensive receipt after a night out at a hookah bar in Washington, D.C., has filed a complaint against the restaurant.

In August 2013, Amira Gray visited Bistro 18 with eight friends, including four women and two gay men, according to legal documents posted on Lambda Legal, an LBGT legal nonprofit organization. In the complaint, Gray says she and her friends were ignored by the waitstaff the entire night (except for when an employee brought over a hookah machine) and had to go to the bar to place their orders.

When they received their bill at the end of the night, the slur “Gay Bitches” was written on the receipt, the document notes.

I mean, isn’t it kind of stupid to put on the receipt you’re giving to the patrons? Especially since it says “Please Come Back!” at the bottom.

I mean, when people are visiting your establishment and paying $40 for a couple of hookahs, you shouldn’t be pissing them off (has the wait staff never heard of the Internets?). Not to mention they charge $12 for a bottle of Deer Park water – a buck more than a shot of Jameson, which I personally find offensive because there’s no way a bottle of crappy Maryland tap water is worth more than a shot of Irish Whiskey.

And paying $22 for a “Golden” Margarita is just plain nuts (though not as nuts as paying $20 to smoke flavored tobacco out of a water pipe – sorry, I just don’t get that particular fad).

Anyhow, no matter what your feelings (and, hey, maybe they were a really annoying group of people, who knows?), it’s pretty darn stupid to insult your customers on a printed receipt and then hand them said receipt.

One thing I learned in my years in the service industry is to make sure you wait until the customers are out of earshot before you insult them – and never, ever, put it in writing. Especially these days, when everybody carries a camera with a phone attached to it.

Speaking of which, I finally bought a new wallet last week. I’ve had the old one for more years than I can remember – so long, in fact, that it came with the plastic insert thingie (long since worn out, replaced, and worn out again) designed to hold photos of your kids or your dogs or whatever.

Anyhow, it occurs to me that wallets no longer come with these things (at least none of the ones I looked at did), and I realized it’s because we all keep our precious photos (movies, even) on our phones these days. I remember meeting up my sister and brother and their respective spouses and/or children a couple years back, and everybody was passing their phones around – flashing out pocket-sized teevee screens around the way we used to pass photographs back and forth.

The world has certainly changed since I was a kid. I wonder what things will be like on the next Friday the 13th with a full moon? I hope I get to see it.