Prostateless in Hightstown!

I'm back. And missing a part. But what I've lost in pleasure centers, I've gained in incontinence.

Look, the cancer is mostly gone and that's what really matters. Right? Right. The surgery was a success, by any standards and I've got about a month off to sooth my ruffled feathers and to tighten up my boy-pussy so I won't piss myself every time I sneeze.

More to follow on my escapades in hospital (with a special, surprise guest -- my EX, who showed up unannounced, unbidden and mostly unwelcome, at my bedside), but for now suffice it to say I am well, I am happy and life goes on.

With time to kill I, naturally, spend hours every day surfing the nether-regions of the internets. Today I want to share with you my new, absolutely favorite, sleazy website, Awkward Family Photos dot.com [click HERE to visit the site]

And here's my selection from that site for today. Notice how prepared Jennifer is for Christmas. Only problem? It's October!

Off-Line

Tomorrow I'm having my prostate removed by a robot. Okay, it's got help in the form of a surgeon, Dr. David Samadi at Mount Sinai Hospital here in New York City.

I have to be there at 10:00 a.m. Surgery is scheduled for noon. I expect to be discharged on Thursday. I'll be living with friends in Queens for about a week, until they remove the catheter. Then I can go home to New Jersey. I'll be out of the office for anywhere from 3 to 6 weeks.

I'll post when I can over the next week, but I doubt if it'll be regularly.

If anybody out there is the praying sort, I'd appreciate it if you'd shoot a prayer towards whatever Higher Power you believe in to smile favorably in my direction over the next couple of weeks.

Take care and hug somebody you love and tell them that you love them. Don't put it off. Do it right now.

Gay Lib - 2.0 or It Don't Take a Weatherman

I lived to see it with my own eyes. I refer, of course, to the re-boot of gay lib this past Sunday.

I got involved with gay lib along about version 1.00 (1971-1976). Version .75 was Stonewall itself and it's immediate aftermath (1969-1971). Prior to that, in the late 50's, early 60's there were the Daughters of Bilitis and the Mattachine Society (versions .25 and .50).

Version 1.00 was when the movement went "viral" (a term we didn't have in those days) and spread like wildfire on college campuses up and down the east coast and on the other side of flyover country, in California. "Out of the Closets and Into the Streets" was our mantra in those days. Those were the times when we blended liberation with anarchy. Yearly "Pride" marches started, first in NY, then in other cities.

But I burned out on it. And I'll tell you why. I saw a future in which I had two choices. Either I could become a "professional homosexual" like Frank Kameny or Barbara Gittings (and before you pelt me, I loved those people -- and still do), or I could succumb to my baser instincts and have a 9-5 job with a big paycheck. I opted for the latter.

And I was always mildly discomforted by some professional homsexuals. There was an air of bitterness to a few of them that I didn't like.

Today we have other professional homosexuals. Like Andrew Sullivan, Joe Solomnese and Barney Frank. Luckily for Barney he has a day job as Congresscritter.

I'm not questioning the motives of any of them. Do they serve a purpose? You betcha (to quote a former Alaskan governor).

But here's my problem with them. What would happen to their livelihoods if, magically, we got everything we were seeking in terms of equal rights -- tomorrow?

And, knowing that they would be instantly unemployed if that happened, who's to say that their actions and politicking aren't somehow or other flavored or colored by that certainty. Are they somehow or other just slightly less eager to have my total best interests at heart... if that would mean not having their total best interests at heart?

There's a reason, I believe, why the Founders never envisioned a professional class of politician in our republic. It's the same reason why I inherently distrust professional homosexuals.

What's that got to do with what happened this weekend? Plenty.

While the HRC was breaking bread with the President, as he mouthed the same old political stump speech he made a year ago, motels and campers and buses all over town were being camped out in by college kids and bloggers and their friends and families because they were there to make a difference, and not to have a rubber-chicken dinner with the Status Quo.

The Professional Homosexuals have every reason to fear what's about to happen, because in very short order they are going to be unemployed.

And if the President and his flunkies don't get off the fucking dime and start delivering some of the shit they've been promising, they too are going to quickly find themselves out of office.

It don't take a Weatherman to know which way the wind is blowing.

Hatred Comes to Blue Jersey

I live in New Jersey. Despite the fact that I have a douchebag US Representative (Republican Chris Smith who, only yesterday, voted AGAINST the Matthew Shepherd Hate Crimes Bill), it's a largely "blue" state in terms of it's overall politics.

However, red has reared it's ugly head.

Bill Marriott, of the hotel chain, talks about his and his company's separation of religious views from business conduct:

http://www.blogs.marriott.com/default.asp?item=2284808

and yet, the virulently anti-gay New Jersey Family Policy Council is tossing a soiree featuring Carrie Prejean at a Marriott Hotel in Whippany.

http://www.njfpc.org/html/defenders-of-family.asp

You might want to call the hotel and let them know your feelings about this … and while you have them on the line, mention Bill Marriott’s publicly stated position.

Return to Anesthesia

It's on.

Tomorrow I have a nuclear stress test at 7:00 a.m. (to satisfy my absolutely useless cardiologist, whom I've come to hate) and a go-see with my internist (whom I still like) at 3:45 p.m. It is my HOPE that both of them will immediately sign off on my upcoming surgery.

If, God willing, they do then a week from tomorrow I'll arrive at Mt. Sinai hospital here in Manhattan at 10:00 a.m. for a radical prostectomy performed by Dr. David Samadi, using the da Vinci surgical robot.



I can't think of anyone, among my male friends, better suited to this than me. Sex has become nothing but a bitter memory of how I routinely sold myself short over the years.

God has actually done me a big favor.