Gay, gay, gay

I don’t MEAN to always talk about gay things, but you know what they say, write what you know.

The Supreme Court has just declined, without comment, to review a challenge to gay marriages currently taking place in Massachusetts.

So, I don’t want to be overly optimistic. On the bright side, it could mean that Karl Rove gave a quick call to the court this morning, telling them it was hands off, which means that the Republican party is abandoning the religious right now that they won Bush the election. (Which the Republicans will do, I’m just not sure if it will be this soon or not.)

It could also mean that the court realizes that, absent religious feelings, there is no compelling reason, constitutional or otherwise, to prevent gay people from marrying. And by sidestepping the issue this time, they’re just delaying the awful truth from the rest of us, until such time as a couple wed in Massachusetts inevitably sues for recognition from another state.

On the dark side, it could mean that, by keeping the issue out of the courts (where it could only be good for gay people), the Republicans are gearing up to actually push for that Constitutional Amendment nonsense they’ve been yapping about. Which I don’t think would pass muster, but….well, I didn’t think Bush would win again, either. I guess we’ll just see.

Did everyone have a swell Thanksgiving? Jet and I hosted the ever-entertaining 23Skidoo and her husband for Thursday dinner, then watched our new Harry Potter DVD. Friday, we laid around on the floor and watched rented movies all day, then tidied up the house and hosted Jet’s new boss, Reverend ___ , who is gay but isn’t allowed to tell. See, he’s filling an interim position at Jet’s church, and when he came to town he told the diocese he wanted a job where he could be out, and they, essentially, laughed in his face.

Jet has heard from the grapevine that Reverend ____ was NOT the first choice for the job, but that at least one other was not chosen…for being GAY. Ha ha, isn’t the irony delicious! We were afraid this would all come as news to Reverend ____, but he seemed painfully aware of the political tenuousness of his appointment. (Incidentally, the only reason he isn’t out at the Church, apparently, is because “no one’s asked”.)

From the sublime to the ridiculous…LSBB has sent me this story, about how gay activists are trying to overturn conventional models of king- and queen-dom at homecoming celebrations.

I submit for you inspection a member of Vanderbilt’s homecoming court. (LSBB's comment: "It puts the lotion in the basket...or it gets the Homecoming Crown again."

Ummmm.....memo to all fledgling gay activists on college campuses nationwide: STOP IT. If you’re a male, you’re a king. If you’re a female, you’re a queen. The end.

Jesus, it’s no wonder the Fundamentalists hate us.

The empire is in decline, and the Colosseum is open for business

I hate the insipid Today Show, as you probably know if you’re a longtime reader, yet I cannot turn away. I will admit a certain fondness for Ann Curry – certainly linked to my affection for secondary characters in literature and film – but she’s so marginalized these days that it hardly makes a difference.

Anyway, “America’s First Family” continues to give me good reason to ridicule them. Witness this morning’s broadcast: is there so little going on in the world that we can justify devoting the first twenty-five minutes of the Today Show to an interview with barely-intelligible barbarian Ron Artest (who at least had the good sense to turn the unwarranted attention he’s getting for beating up a sports spectator into a plug for his forthcoming rap cd)?

Twenty-five minutes.

If I ever see Katie Couric in real life I'm going to smack her in the head.

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I’m a bit behind the times, but yesterday faithful reader 23Skidoo alerted me to a new scandal soon to embroil Both Sides Magazine, a hate-and-fear-based “Christian” publication whose editorial aim seems to be to drive a wedge between religious African-Americans and gay people.

The centerpiece of the magazine is a “Q&A” with well-known Fundamentalist rabble-rouser James Dobson of Focus on the Family (which, by the way, is of the devil) in which he quotes a “scientific” article by fellow kook Paul Cameron, claiming that non-HIV infected gay men have a life span of 42. (Gulp! I’ve only got four years left! I’d better hurry up with that uninhibited drug use and unprotected sex with multiple partners that the homosexual movement has been pressuring me to try!)

Cameron’s "research" consisted of comparing obituaries printed in gay newspapers in and around San Francisco, with obituaries from “normal” newspapers nationwide.

I’ll let you ponder that for a moment.

Suffice it to say that Cameron’s methodology and results were debunked, oh, about twenty years ago, and he has since been disowned by any professional scientific organization you would care to name. Yet this article continues to be quoted by the religious right as “proof” that gays are unhealthy.

The magazine also does its darnedest to disassociate gay rights and civil rights, claiming that Martin Luther King, Jr. would be aghast at the comparison (although his widow begs to differ).

23Skidoo has cancelled her subscription to the Post, as has 23Skiddo’s sister and her nice Irish husband. Their argument, and it is a sound one, is that the Post would never include an “advertisement” that, say, denied the Holocaust or proposed that blacks are less intelligent than whites.

I must admit to being of a mixed mind on the matter. Another friend (a gay one) points out that the Post regularly exhibits fair reportage on gay issues. Certainly, they are a business, and do rely on advertising revenue to pay the power bill, as well as keep their subscription rates reasonable. And just as certainly, this is America, where every view (no matter how reprehensible) has the right to be aired and/or printed. Where I’m wavering is, does it have the right to be read and/or heard?

It reminds me, as most things in life do, of a comic book. In this particular comic, Supergirl was called to a college campus where a Ku Klux Klan-esque group was staging a demonstration.

Also on the scene was Steel, an African-American super-hero (whom you may remember was the title character in a dreadful Shaquille O’Neal theatrical vehicle a few years back).
Steel advocated swinging his big metal hammer and knocking the hate group through the Hostess Twinkies ad and into next month’s issue. Supergirl stopped him mid-swing and argued that, this being America, they had the right to air their views, as long as they were not breaking the law in doing so.

I forget how it ends, but I seem to remember coming down on the side of Supergirl. But then again, the hate group she was defending wasn’t anti-gay, were they? (Sometime I’ll tell you about Supergirl’s boyfriend, Comet the Superhorse….a horse that could turn into a man with backwards legs, whose secret identity was a lesbian. All in color for a dime, folks!)

So where is the line between defending free speech and airing a differing viewpoint? How do I defend my right to say, for instance, that James Dobson is of the devil, without also defending James Dobson’s right to say that HIV negative gay men have a life expectancy of 42? To be perfectly honest, if not for the Post insert, I would not have know that Dobson was spreading lies and would not have had the opportunity to rebut them.

I certainly am not arguing that anyone who wants to cancel their Post subscriptions shouldn’t do so. That is the beauty of capitalism. But where is the point that I must, as a defender of my own ideals, deny myself something that I otherwise enjoy because one aspect of it is distasteful? Is simply registering my distaste enough? I mean, I would guess that my political views are about as different from Charlton Heston’s as they could possibly be, but I love me some Planet of the Apes and Ben Hur. Should I, in protest to Heston’s political views, refuse to support his artistic endeavors (and yes, I realize it may be a stretch to use the word “artistic”…..)

Peter David, author of the aforementioned Supergirl story, says “Once you take action to hurt someone simply because you disagree with them, you forfeit any claim to the axiom, ‘I disagree with all you have to say, but will defend to the death your right to say it.’ “ So is deciding to cancel a Post subscription taking action to hurt someone?

Would I be nearly as outraged if the Post had included an ad that said, say, James Dobson is of the devil? Is there really anybody that was equally outraged by the treatment of the Dixie Chicks AND Dr. Laura Schlesinger?

I don’t know. I’m just throwin’ it out there.

"If you cannot defend what - to you - is unpalatable, then you do not believe in free speech. You only believe in the free speech of those who agree with you."

- Salman Rushdie in "Dirty Pictures" (2000)

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Enough thinking. Little friend has found the best website ever. Pictures of celebrities looking trashy. Go. Laugh. Revel in our intellectual superiority.

And she had REALLY hairy legs, too

Another day, and the hypocrisy of America, for some reason, continues to astound me. People are up in arms about this Desperate Housewives-NFL business, yet the bikini-girl beer commercials and Livitra promos and cheerleaders dancing around like whores don’t raise an eyebrow? Not to mention the fact that football is an idiotic pastime anyway. There’s only one explanation for the uproar, RACISM, and I shan’t be convinced otherwise.

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So I’m at the comic book store yesterday, and I walk in, and there’s a group of grown men standing around arguing, and since the place sells all sorts of kooky subversive political tracts in addition to comics, I figure it’s a political discussion. So I ease my way up to eavesdrop, and I SWEAR TO GOD this is what I hear:

“If the Borg have a chance to establish themselves, the Empire doesn’t stand a chance.”

Yes, folks, they were arguing about who would win a fight between the Star Trek Borg and the Star Wars Empire. These things NEVER happen when Jet or someone is WITH me in the comic store, so I could share my glee. I suppose I should be thankful. The same thing used to happen in reverse when I lived in Miami, and I would go to the comic store alone, or even with Jet, and everything would be quiet and peaceful, but on the exactly TWO occasions when I was accompanied by my little friend Looper, the comic book man all of a sudden knew my name and was eager to show me a picture of a woman with hairy legs wearing a bikini. Honest, I don’t make this crap up.

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We live in a neighborhood with a couple of group homes for the developmentally disabled, and as far as I can tell they are harmless (and yes, when I say “harmless” I am including the young man who, when spotting Dino and I walking one fine evening, stood at his front door and barked at us until we were out of sight.) But I have to wonder how much close supervision they are given. For instance, one fellow, who is African American, about 6’3”, and cannot speak but can grunt and drool, is apparently free to walk around the neighborhood unaccompanied.

And let me tell you, try as I might to be open-minded, when you come upon a big drooling black kid on a dark street, it’s tough to not be scared.

I just wonder if it’s the wisest choice on the part of those in charge to let him do so – I mean, what if someone calls the police and he ends up in jail, and since he can’t talk they think he’s on drugs or something? I’m just sayin’.

Mom, meet Classy

Well, Sears and K-Mart are merged at last. Does this mean that Sears will start leaving their stock lying around in the aisles so you can’t navigate the store, and hire only one cashier per shift, who is illiterate and surly?

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Speaking of ill-advised matches, Star Jones, apparently the only woman ever to get married, wed banker Al Reynolds last weekend, and like most blushing brides, squeezed herself into a too-small dress (and undoubtedly a dainty pair of Payless shoes to match).

She also, in a showcase of tastelessness that surpassed anything anyone could have expected, even from Star Jones;

- Sent out “rule books” to all the guests instructing them how to dress and act.

- Employed a team of “hostesses” to turn away female guests who looked better than the bride(I am forced to assume, then, that there were no women present).

- Yelled at The View co-host Joy Behar, on the air, because she brought a camera. To a WEDDING.

- Didn’t pay for anything at her wedding, because she traded on-air mentions for free crap.

You go, girl.

Now, it’s too late for me to advise Star on what she should do, but I’m going to offer a word or two to any single ladies who may be reading.

If your fiancé…

1) has shared a home with other men on fire island
2) has stated, in the press, that you are “okay with” his past
3) attended, two weeks before your wedding, a gay-only Halloween party dressed as a male stripper
4) organized his own bachelor party, with a “Roman Baths” theme, and instructed all the guests (men only!) that they were to take off their clothes for the duration of the party and sign a confidentiality agreement...

…then he is GAY. You should NOT be marrying him. You should FORCE him to confront the truth about himself, because he’s only marrying you in a desperate attempt to “fix” himself, and it won’t work, and before you know it there will be children involved, and it will all be a big mess. And don't feed me the bullcrap about how he's bi. I guarantee he didn't sneak out on his boyfirend to sleep with you.

I might add that Star and Al were both raised in the Southern Baptist Church, which is a hotbed of gay men trying to pretend they’re straight and marrying women. I’m just sayin’.

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Thinking of Sears made me think of Lazarus, the now-defunct downtown department store in Columbus, Ohio, founded in 1851 by Columbus’ first ordained Rabbi, Simon Lazarus, and closing last year after years of decline. The Christmas that I was finally old enough to ride the bus, downtown, by myself, and go Christmas shopping at Lazarus was a happy day indeed. Never mind that I was tall for my age, my voice hadn’t changed yet, I was wearing Mother Rubble’s overcoat because I didn’t have one, my hair was long, and everyone thought I was a woman. Honest. I was called “ma’am” twice by salespeople and got three perfume samples.

Lazarus had a lighted Christmas tree on top of the store that could be seen citywide, signaling the start of the Christmas season. Every year, the store filled its display windows with a themed animatronics display, and there was a little walkway set up around the perimeter so that children could get up nice and close and press their grimy noses against the glass, and watch the robotic elves filling stockings, and Mrs. Claus knitting, and the like. Inside, the entire sixth floor was transformed into Santa’s Wonderland, the centerpiece of which was the Magic Talking Tree, who would tell jokes and stories and, for some reason, had a giant Jabba the Hutt-like red tongue that would pop out at inappropriate times.

Lazarus invented the Secret Gift Shop, introduced in 1957 and copied by stores across the country. There young children could shop alone—no adults were allowed except for the staff members designated to work the area—and peruse the shelves full of plastic Faberge Eggs and polyester print ties and tiny bottles of “French” perfume, to delight their harried parents with on Christmas morning!

Lazarus also invented the extended holiday shopping season. Thanksgiving used to fall on the last Thursday of November, no matter how many Thursdays there were. In 1939, Thanksgiving fell on Nov. 30, leaving only a paltry 24 shopping days til Christmas. Fred Lazarus, Jr. proposed that the consumer economy could be helped, in most years, if Thanksgiving occurred on the fourth Thursday in November instead of the last Thursday. When President Franklin D. Roosevelt learned of the suggestion, he was enthusiastic about such a change, and in 1941 the change was accepted by most States across the nation. Thank you, Mr. Lazarus!

We’ll close today with a poem, author unknown, written in 1919 to celebrate the installation of central Ohio’s first escalator, installed – where else – in that bastion of innovation, Lazarus:

What's the crowd a pushin' and a shovin' over there?
Land! It's folks a ridin' up the escalator stair!
Ma's brought all the family in to take a little ride,
Cause they're simply goin' dippy
Bout that Escalator Glide!

Short and Sweet

After I posted a story about Aunty last week, I was let in on some late-breaking gossip regarding same. Mother Rubble has forbidden the full story to be aired for the world…suffice it to say the phrase “drunker than a monkey” was involved.

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Much is being made in the online community about a photo of Vice War Criminal Dick Cheney inadvertently showing off his, errr, “assets”. Fuel was added to the fire when the original source, The Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, refused requests for reprints.

Well, Industrial Waste Bin has found the photo. After careful examination, I can assure you that anyone who thinks there’s any “substance” to it hasn’t spent any time around fat old men.

Trust me, it’s all balls. Take it from a fat old man.

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No draft? Ummm….okay, if you say so.

...and the Witchita lineman, is still on the liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine...

I can hardly think straight today. My new co-worker, sitting behind me, talks all day on her cell phone, in Spanish, and in between talking listens to some retarded radio station whose playlist includes both “Witchita Lineman” AND “Hello Dolly”.

More encouragement in the “taking-back-moral-values” front, today from NYT columnist Frank Rich.

Oh good. Now they’re playing Judy Garland.

My other co-worker just returned from being stuck in the elevator, and so now I’m afraid to leave, which I have to do early, because I have to go to the National Cathedral and record a CD of patriotic and spiritual tunes. Recording. Three hours. With children. Don’t envy me. Plus, the Cathedral Choir Men Yahoo Group has been having a running argument all morning about whether or not its ungrateful to point out that the Cathedral provides us with food, but no time to eat it, and why they don’t provide low fat options for those with “special dietary needs”. Frankly, I think those girls need something else to think about.

I’ve been listening to conservative talk radio all morning, and the conservatives are up in arms that ABC is planning to show Saving Private Ryan tonight, unedited. From the uproar, you’d think they were showing Shaving Ryan’s Privates. Apparently, the problem is not the unrelenting blood and gore of the first twenty minutes, but the eighty-seven instances of the word “fuck”.

Hey, morons: TURN OFF YOUR FUCKING TV. If you’re afraid your children might accidentally hear a dirty word, then pay some fucking attention to what your children are doing and make them do something else for three hours. Or pick up a fucking book. Or go watch your fucking FOX News Channel (though I hasten to add, FOX is responsible for such highbrow, moral fare as “The Simple Life” and “Trading Spouses”. Enjoy.)

Jeez, you’d think people didn’t have a brain at all.

“You Light Up My Life” now. Help me!

I feel like I’m surrounded by crazy people all the day, because it's not just at work that I'm beset, but at home in the hood as well. Our neighbor, whom shall remain nameless (suffice it to say she’s at least fifty, lives with her parents, and is never seen outside unless she’s wearing a man’s t-shirt and sweat shorts), puts cat food in the sewers. FOR THE RACCOONS. We can hear her late at night calling out names like “Cletus” and “Mumaw”, and we’re not entirely sure if she’s calling cats or raccoons. In the morning, if she happens to spy Jet walking Dino, she will talk baby talk (not to Jet, apparently, or to Dino…perhaps to the ‘coons?) until Jet manages to get around the corner and out of her sight. I’m CERTAIN her house is filled with years’ and years’ worth of newspapers.

Speaking of crazy old women with cats, LSBB is desperate for me to write about Aunty, a relative of ours who is not REALLY our Aunt, but is Mother Rubble’s second cousin once removed, or something. Lifelong spinster, lived with the same woman for forty years…but that’s never spoken of. You get the picture. Mother Rubble has the biggest heart in the world, apparently, and still sees Aunty with some regularity, even though Aunty lives in the same town and didn’t speak to or call Mother Rubble for THREE YEARS, while Big Ray was passing from the earth and she really could have used the help and support, and has never offered ANY explanation for her odd behavior. This, after she decided one day to stop acknowledging Jet’s existence, which she demonstrated by bringing a friend to Thanksgiving Dinner and pointedly introducing her friend to every one in the room EXCEPT Jet.

No one, perhaps, has faced Aunty’s wrath more than LSBB, who at the tender age of six, when she was as precious as any angel, was sitting in an easy chair with her dainty child feet curled up around her, and Aunty screamed “Get your GODDAMMED FEET off the furniture”. I will re-emphasize, she was SIX. This was around Christmas time, and was the first time any of us had ever laid eyes on her. That was followed by Big Sister BB getting in an argument with Aunty and throwing a hairbrush at Aunty, hopefully with all her might, and Aunty setting about changing her airline tickets so she could leave right away. LSBB, bless her little heart, overheard the call to the airlines and went to tattle, so that Aunty could be talked out of leaving and Christmas wouldn’t be ruined.

Oh, she was talked out of it, all right. Whereupon Aunty cornered LSBB and hissed “Next time mind your own GODDAMNED Business”. SIX.

That day, my Mama socked it to the Harper Valley PTA

Okay, I KNOW I should be letting this election business go, but something in me has taken over – probably the insinuation (maybe imagined?) that because I’m gay and Democrat and live in a blue state that I’m not moral and don’t have values. Hmmmph.

So…Keith Olberman on MSNBC is slowly-but-surely investigating some voting irregularities in Ohio and Florida, especially in Warren County, Ohio, where officials “locked down” the administration building to prevent anyone from observing the vote count.

The county’s Emergency Services Director, Frank Young, said that he had been advised by the Feds to implement “safety measures”, thus the lock-down. Young claimed that every county had received the advisement (yet Warren was the only Ohio County to not allow its count to be observed).

Warren County, as it happens, was briefly the home of Little Sister Bamm-Bamm, and let me assure you that this chain of events is either the result of arrogant stupidity, or pure evil, and the discovery of either would not surprise me in the least.

Warren’s county seat is historic Lebanon, which you’ll know better as the filming location of the smash theatrical hits, Harper Valley P.T.A. and Wildcats. Every sweet shop and corner store in town has, to this day, a framed photo inside the front door proving that Barbara Eden and Woody Harrelson were there.

But much like Peyton Place, Lebanon harbors dark secrets. LSBB’s ex-in-laws, including her ex-husband, all live in a creepy collection of adjoining properties, and think nothing of barging in on each other’s privacy whenever they please. Ex-Mother-in-Law was particularly egregious on this count, and would often wake poor tired LSBB at an early hour in order that they could go to “Lowls” (Lowes), because all the men in the family “work so hard that we women have to do craffs” (crafts). Crafts, apparently, involve such creative ideas as yanking live ivy, bugs and all, off the chimney for use on the indoor banquet tables at the wedding reception.

Mother-in-Law also exhibits enlightened ideas on homosexuality (“Whatta they do, just lay in bed and shake each other’s things?”); Art and music (“Your brother sings real good, it’s too bad he’s goin’ ta hell”); and fine cuisine (“Have you eat yet?”)

Her children are either simpletons, or evil, or most likely, evil simpletons. Ex-husband, an attorney, is forever attending “political meetings” late at night, and has been caught red-handed in shenanigans such as fiddling with official court documents relating to he and LSBB’s divorce and not living up to arrangements that he agreed to.

His grandfather, whom every other male in the family is named after, was about a hundred and twelve years old when I saw him for the first and only time, and wore a JET BLACK toupee. And thought no one knew (do they ever?).

Anyway, it’s a place where liberal outsiders are NOT welcome, which is why LSBB got out, and anything that lends credence to my irrational hunch that they are evil and not to be trusted is welcome news, indeed.

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Two money quotes from a New York Times piece by Gary Hart, because I refuse to let evangelicals continue to claim Christianity as theirs alone:

Liberals are not against religion. They are against hypocrisy, exclusion andjudgmentalism. They resist the notion that one side or the other possesses "the truth" to the exclusion of others.

If faith now drives our politics, at the very least let's make it a faith of inclusion, genuine compassion, humility, justice and accountability.

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And finally, because I have nothing else today, a Sinclair Lewis quote that a friend/mentor/Canadian was all fired up about last night:

When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying the cross.

Preach on, girlfriend

An astonishing sermon yesterday at Washington National Cathedral, which caused several mid-sermon walkouts, but also produced a standing ovation.

The full text can be found here.

Highlights (emphases mine):

"It is, therefore, a self-serving and cynical ploy to remain ignorant of the nature of sexual attraction. Same-sex love is neither a lifestyle, nor an option, nor a perversion, but a gift as irresistible as any person’s gift of hope and desire. Desire for a member of the same sex is no more a choice than desire for a member of the opposite sex. In both cases the longing for the other arises from depths that do not yield to, but determine, human will. Attraction testifies to the urgency with which we want to be made whole, to find flesh of our flesh facing us, since even God knows that it is not good for human beings to be alone. The crucial point here is to understand that God intends to sanctify, not overthrow, what God has made. It is blasphemous to cut off faithful witnesses to God’s power and grace to reconcile all things.

As I come to know myself, what I discover about how I am made is the natural category that I inhabit. Natural categories cannot be condemned; only behaviors can be condemned. While love cannot be chosen, it must be guided. How to discipline desire into virtue is a challenge as old as philosophy; the solution has never been to deny and condemn. Permission to be but not to act is pernicious; it is a counsel of despair. Sexual behaviors can be reprehensible and abusive and self-destructive in either heterosexual or homosexual forms, but desire that longs to express itself as tenderness and nurture and delight and union is, to that extent, like God’s longing for us. The Church ought to consider itself obligated to provide guidance for virtuous and godly living that allows all its members to grow into the full stature of Christ—but it cannot do that by telling an entire population that any and all expression of its affection is condemned. That not only puts God to the test, casting doubt on God’s redemptive power, it also abjures the Holy Spirit, given to the Church to guide it into all truth and to discern what makes for the building up of the entire Body of Christ into an edifice of praise to God."

And....

"The Church has no more persuasive witness to the unalterable and unequivocal power of God’s redemptive love than the testimony of Lesbian and Gay Christians who have heard, in spite of the contempt and double-dealing and evasion and bigotry indistinguishable in the Church from the same in the surrounding culture, that in spite of that, God’s promise is sure, God’s forgiveness pervasive, God’s love enduring, and God’s life unending, in all of which we participate, not through any merit of our own, but by the same grace received by all the saints in ages past. "

Looks like common sense is rearing its head in the wake of the elections. Stay tuned.....

In a lighter vein, Jet and I insist you race to the new release shelf at Blockbuster, tonight, and rent Girls will be Girls. So funny, that Jet insists it be bought. Hurry!

Zookeeper Blues

Little Friend has written to inform us that Ohio, although they ratified homophobia, in the same stroke passed a tax levy to benefit the Columbus Zoo. Meaning they care more about animals than their gay friends and neighbors.

Well, fine then. Since this is war, I’m now forced to divulge a piece of celebrity gossip in return.

Anyone who watches David Letterman will undoubtedly know of “Jungle” Jack Hanna, “America’s Favorite Zookeeper”. I will admit he did a lot to turn the Columbus Zoo around when he became its director in 1978.

I share an alma mater with Jack, though rumor had it he never officially graduated, but the college claimed him as an alumnus once he became famous. They did the same with John Glenn. And Agnes Moorehead, though she actually did graduate by all accounts.

So there Jack was, running the Columbus Zoo, and hosting an insipid local television show with his teenage daughter Kathy, who wore too-tight sweaters and had high teased bangs and had that raspy cheerleader voice that makes girls sound dirty. And along came Mona Scott.

Mona Scott was part of the ultra-popular Mona Scott-Doug Adair news team on Channel 4, having come from a successful run in Cleveland. She and Doug presented the image of a perfect married couple and handled all the fluff stories that serious reporters disdained.

Well, one day, Mona Scott disappeared. Just wasn’t there anymore, leaving the pathetic Doug to carry the torch alone. The papers reported that she had gone to Florida to be with her sisters, and rumors flew about a possible nervous breakdown.

And in fact, when I moved to Florida years later, she popped up briefly on the morning show on Orlando's Channel 9.

But now the real story can be told. According to my sources, Mona Scott and Jungle Jack were embroiled in a torrid affair. They had agreed that they would leave their respective spouses and run off together.

So Mona told Doug she was leaving.

And Jack backed out.

And that’s the story of Jack and Mona. I’m only telling you what I heard.

Mona, apparently, lived happily ever after and now writes a grammar column for a local newspaper.

Jack, of course, is Jack.

More later. If you're bored and your computer has Quicktime, go watch this music video. It does this whenever it is told.

An activist is born

The dark pall hanging over Democratic-leaning DC has affected me at last, I’m officially depressed. Generally depressed because of the election, naturally, but specifically depressed about how Bush’s victory is being credited to “moral values”, whatever the hell that means. To be even more specific, moral values relating to abortion and homosexuality.

Now, I’ve never had an abortion, and will never face the choice to have one, but it IS a choice, and it SHOULD be, and being pro-choice DOES NOT MEAN YOU ARE PRO-ABORTION. It is, I would think, and agonizing decision. People don’t just wake up in the morning, jot down their grocery list, and then trot off to the clinic to have an abortion before their morning tennis game. If you really believe there are people like that, then you are a moron, and if there ARE really people like that, then THEY are morons.

Now about the gay thing – well, I just don’t know what to think. I KNOW not all Republicans are Evangelical Christians – in fact, Jet’s father is an atheist, and Mother Rubble is a Lutheran, the most liberal denomination this side of reform Judaism. I know the vast majority of Christians in America would find little in common with the fundamentalist right. But Jesus Christ, what’s going on with these State amendments?

I can understand the touchiness about the word marriage, I really can. I don’t need to have a document that says “marriage” on it. Were that the only issue on the table, I could probably even contentedly go quietly about my life and not bother about it. But these state measures that passed this week are really frightening, from a gay person’s perspective. Most of them not only prevent gay marriage, but prevent civil unions as well (which, remember, President Bush has now come out in favor of). The most strident measures would prevent any two non-related people of the same sex from entering into any legal agreement that, say, dealt with inheritance of property. The people that voted these measures through not only want to keep us from marrying, they want us not to exist, and they want a Biblically-based legal system, whether you cotton to their version of the Bible or not. Ironically, these are the same people who see nothing wrong in toppling theocracies in other parts of the world. Start shakin’, Iran!

Am I being alarmist? Here’s a letter written to the level-headed Andrew Sullivan:

“I wonder if you noticed that yesterday all eleven states that considered the question of gay marriage voted to ban it. ALL ELEVEN. I think this sends a very clear message -- true Americans do not like your kind of homosexual deviants in our country, and we will not tolerate your radical pro-gay agenda trying to force our children to adopt your homosexual lifestyle. You should be EXTREMELY GRATEFUL that we even let you write a very public and influential blog, instead of suppressing your treasonous views (as I would prefer). But I'm sure someone like yourself would consider me just an "extremist" that you don't need to worry about. Well you are wrong -- I'm not just an extremist, I am a real American, and you should be worried because eleven states yesterday proved that there are millions more just like me who will not let you impose your radical agenda on our country."

What the fuck?

The calm, reasoned response: What did gay people ever do to you? Here’s my “agenda” for today, if you want to label it “radical” and “gay”, go right ahead:

6:30: Wake up
6:45: Iron clothes for work
7:20: Shower
7:50 Leave
8:30-4:15 – Work at first job
4:15 – leave for second job (which I need to have in order to pay all my bills)
8:00 – arrive home, walk dog
8:30 – make and eat dinner
9:00-10:30 – watch TV (because I have no disposable income to go out and do something fun, and I’m too tired anyway)
10:30 – greet Jet as he comes home from HIS second job, give him a peck on the cheek before he going to sleep to start over again tomorrow

Radical, isn’t it? It’s true, I am eager to impose my agenda on the whole country, the whole world, in fact. I want to force children everywhere to live my swinging lifestyle of WORKING TWO JOBS AND HAVING NOTHING TO SHOW FOR IT.

The angry, radical response: Listen up, fundamentalists. I am gay. I am a Christian. I have taught your children, and will continue to do so. I have been employed in churches of any denomination you could name. I was not the only gay employee, I was not even the only openly gay employee, and guess what? The church leadership doesn’t care. They will allow you to believe they care, so they can have your attendance and money, but once you work your way up the church hierarchy homosexuality loses it’s importance, as it should, since it has abso-fucking-lutely nothing to do with how we do our jobs. We are in every segment of society, every branch of the military, every firehouse and police station and restaurant and school and Wal-Mart and guess what? We are invisible. You’ll never know when we might accidentally brush up against you, or serve you dinner, or sell you a car, or (*gasp*) look at your ass when you’re jogging through the park. And whether you say so or not, I am married in the eyes of God, to someone of the same sex, and there’s nothing you can do about it. And my marriage is built on respect and love and commitment, not on societal support or tax breaks. And guess what else – Karl Rove and the neo-cons are going to cut you loose the second you cease to be useful, which would be about NOW, since Bush has won the election (and, I repeat for emphasis, come out in support of gay civil unions). So keep pushing for that theocracy, won’t you? The last time an Imperial Superpower decided to become a Christian Nation, we called it the Dark Ages. Enjoy.

The rest of you? When you go and vote for these sorts of things, read them VERY CAREFULLY. If you earnestly, in your heart, have a problem with two men being together and calling themselves married, and the semantics is your only bone of contention, then I can meet you halfway. If, however, you care so much about what I do in my own home that you would enact legislation to prevent me from doing whatever it is you imagine I'm doing, then I think we might have a problem.

And those of you who are sensible and fair minded, apparently we've seen that being sensible and fair-minded isn't enough, maybe. When you hear hatred spewed, whether against you or your neighbor, stand against it in thought, word and deed.

Well, there, that wasn’t as hateful as I thought it would be.

Now, a couple of cogent points from our loyal readers.

Debritaconsuela (a native Buckeye, as am I): All this scuttle about how Bush won because of "moral values" just has me stymied. You can run, you can hide, but you cannot escape the hillbillies. What is a nation to do? How does a nation with such great freedom ever get to a point where great thinkers are able to exhibit high mindedness, and cultural promotion? How can the greatest nation on earth evolve if voters do not allow higher thinking to be exhibited in our campaigns? I left my tiny rural town in Southeastern Ohio many years ago to escape the ridiculous rhetoric of uneducated, bigoted, small-minded people. And now over 50% of our people are happy to be led by the King of Small Mindedness. Ugh. Europe anyone?

Europe doesn't want us, sorry to say. Go take a gander at the BBC News Message Boards.

23Skidoo relays a message from her brother, a Southern Progressive Christian: We have got to start showing that it is not the Christian thing to do to say, "it's my money not the govenrment's." According to the Bible, we are given everything by God. It's God's money, that's why you Tithe and that's why you share it. I really think we let Christians off by letting them claim the moral high road. Democrats need to do a better job of educating. There's nobody getting the actual message of the democratic party out in the South. It's the recycled crap you hear on crossfire. I mean the actual stuff verbatim.

Hear, hear. Mobilize, brother, mobilize. I echo Skidoo’s summation that "we can win the morality debate if we engage in it."

And finally, a nice wrap-up from Little Friend of LSBB: Ohioans are insane. Right on, girlfriend!

Hoist up your britches

A special message of hope for LSBB's Little Friend, who had such an unfortunate polling place encounter which, unfortunately, lent credence to my theory that many Republicans are moral hypocrites: If there's a bright side, Bush has four more years to foul things up, and will be increasingly unable to avoid accountability for his administration's policies. If we don't devolve into a cultural Civil War, I predict a Democratic Renaissance in the next four years, and to be blunt, this loss may be just what the party needed to kick itself into high gear once and for all.

In the meantime, we will have to endure more bloodshed in Iraq, more fiscal irresponsibility, and possibly a pseudo-theocracy. But we will endure. I still believe that people are good at heart, and so should you all.

. . . .

Sigh.

Election trauma stories!

This, from a little friend of LSBB's.....

"It took me 2 hours and 10 minutes to vote. I was called a bitch by a man who appeared well to do in his 50's or 60's because I wouldn't let him cut in line.Then he said I must be a democrat.I said "Of course. Because only a Republican would call a stranger a bitch and try and ditch her after she's been waiting for more than an hour in line."

From the swing state of Ohio. Stay tuned!

Election Day Distractions

Jet and I went to vote bright and early, and of course it all turned into a big misadventure. My address change, which was supposed to happen automatically when I renewed my driver’s license in AUGUST, had never been processed by the board of elections, even though I called a month ago to ENSURE that it would be processed by election day and was told that it would be. So after standing in line for an hour in my lovely, quiet, tree-lined neighborhood polling place, I had to drive to my old neighborhood and stand in line there for an hour and a half, and was given a different-colored card from everyone else so that the poll attendants would be alerted that there was something “funny” about me. But, I got to see lots of people from my old apartment building that Jet and I didn’t really know but made up imaginary lives for, like Old Mrs. Creeps, and Eek the Neighbor, and Pretty Indian Girl, and Melting-Hair-Pomade Man.

So, there it is, I’ve cast my votes. Let’s hope it’s all settled by tomorrow, but I’ve a nagging feeling in my stomach that it won’t be.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A young reader alerted me to the fact that this past Sunday saw the publication of the worst Family Circus comic EVER.

And I missed it.

But I found this one, drawn by 7-year old Billy while he was running around the neighborhood with black dashes trailing behind him. Enjoy.


“Jeffy, you dumbass! I’m gonna tell Dead Grampa on you!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

CONTEST! The first one to send me a clever interpretation of my dream wins a prize. Here it is:

I went to a baseball game with Jet, Jet’s boss Mr. Dithers, Little Sister Bamm-Bamm, and LSBB’s boyfriend Kid Mickey. Jet was mad at his boss; LSBB was mad at her boyfirend. I was mad at no one. We sat in the bleachers, and the bleachers suddenly rose up to the top of a high platform (similar to Disney/MGM’s Twilight Zone Tower of Terror) where there was a Mexican Cantina, so we could all enjoy margheritas and fresh salsa and didn’t have to watch the stupid baseball game. Thoughts?

Down the Hatch!

Happy October surprise!

I’m writing from the comfort of my luxurious new desk chair, bestowed upon me unexpectedly by the major scientific society where I work, which is like sitting on a little piece of heaven itself. This is in addition to my raise of two weeks ago, and another review with possibility of another raise in four months. Guess they haven’t noticed that I spend the majority of my time writing things and surfing the internet.

Despite the frantic spin underway by the Republicans and their minions, it’s beyond me how anyone could see the Osama bin Laden video and NOT be reminded that not only has he NOT been brought to justice by the current administration, but in fact has apparently built an in-house production studio, complete with news-desk set, blue-screen backdrop and scrolling sub-titles.

And it doesn’t seem to have made one whit of difference in the polls in any case. More and here.

I dream of the day when I’ll have lots of pithy political insight to share, but today’s not that day, as I’m sore and cranky and hopped up on Benadryl. But tomorrow, I’ll be attending an election-watching party with lots of Capitol Hill ex-staffers, and hope to glean enough interesting tidbits to make it worth your while.

CELEBRITY DIRT: Little Sister Bamm-Bamm, whom you’ll recall recently took a phone order from former pop idol Richard Marx, today spoke with another notable Richard, Richard Hatch. At first, she thought it might be Survivor-Winner, Give-all-gay-men-a-bad-name, Should-know-better-than-to-parade-around-naked Richard Hatch, but then she discovered it was actually Richard “Apollo” Hatch, of TV’s Battlestar Galactica.

Now, I’m a Battletstar Galactica fan from way back, and in fact have been slowly making my way through the series on DVD. Even Big Sister Bamm-Bamm has mentioned her fondness for Mr. Hatch’s Richard Chamberlin-like allure.

But oh, how the mighty have fallen...

His credit card was declined.

For ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY NINE DOLLARS.

I mean, there are probably a million different explanations, so I don’t want to start any unfounded rumors. LSBB has his home number, and she’s to call and find out what’s what. And I’ll report back as soon as I know. But heavens, I imagine even I could cough up a hundred and fifty bucks if I had to.

In the meantime, have a sniff around his website. He talks about how he never really liked fame and fortune, and willingly left Hollywood.

Then he proceeds to talk about the SEVEN Battlestar Galactica novels he’s written, his continuing efforts to get someone to produce BattlestarGalactica: The Next Generation, and signs his name “Richard Capt Apollo Hatch”.

Cut the cord, Rich. And pay your credit card bill.