I am self-educated from genre books.

The black bird cocked its head to one side, and then said, in a voice like stones being struck, 'You shadow man.'
'I'm Shadow,' said Shadow. The bird hopped up onto the fawn's rump, raised its head, ruffled its crown and neck feathers. It was enormous and its eyes were black beads. There was something intimidating about a bird that size, this close.
'Says he will see you in Kay-ro.' tokked the raven. Shadow wondered which of Odin's ravens this was: Huginn or Munnin, Memory or Thought.
'Kay-ro?' he asked.
'In Egypt.'
'How am I going to go to Egypt?'
'Follow Mississippi. Go south. Find Jackal.'
'Look,' said Shadow, 'I don't want to seem like I'm-- Jesus, look...' he paused. Regrouped. He was cold, standing in a wood, talking to a big black bird who was currently brunching on Bambi. 'Okay. What I'm trying to say is I don't want mysteries.'
'Mysteries,' agreed the bird helpfully.
'What I want is explanations. Jackal in Kay-ro. This does not help me. It's a line from a bad spy thriller.

Gay rights is just one of the social issues I'm interested in. I think that people might be less tense about it if we would all accept the fact that not everyone is wired the same way.

My bullshit meter is reading that as 'false'.

Eric moved the broom experimentally and made an attempt to sweep the glass into the pan while it lay in the middle of the floor. Of course, the pan slid away. Eric scowled.
I'd finally found something Eric did poorly.

This letter is written on the skin of one of the water sprites who drowned your parents.'
'Ick!' I cried, and dropped the letter on the kitchen table.