Sour Pride

I waited until after the weekend to talk about this here, even though I did mention it over on Facebook.

Have we come a long way since that mythic night in 1969, when the Queens fought back against a routine Vice-Squad raid of a Mafia-run gay bar on Christopher Street in Greenwich Village? Yes. Undoubtedly.

Background check of my bona fides:

I'd turned 21 the week before. I was in the Navy and had just reported for duty after a year of boot camp and electronics schools, to the Naval Air Test Center in Maryland. It was weeks before even a hint of the events in New York managed to filter down to where I was. And where I was was alone and lonely inside my own skin, absolutely convinced that I was doomed to a lifetime of secrecy about who, and what, I really was. I remember being thrilled to hear that there had been a "queer uprising" of some sort in New York City. It gave me a teensy bit of hope that maybe the future might be okay for me, after all.

Long story short, I got out of the service and came flying out of the closet, got very involved in gay lib on a grassroots level at the University of Delaware, got burnt by same, swore off gay lib and gay politics -- moved to Seattle -- moved to New York, attended a few early Pride Parades and most importantly... I saw where it was all going.

It was all going to a party.

The early parades were rag-tag events, scheduled mostly by word of mouth in those pre-internet, pre-email days. Mouth and pamphlets and underground newspapers.

They didn't need no stinkin' permits to march. Everybody just "showed up" on Central Park West and started organizing themselves behind banners. There were no "floats" or flatbed trucks full of scantily-clad party boyz and blaring disco music, tossing Mardi Gras beads to the gawkers along Fifth.

The cops didn't interfere because, to be honest, there were about a quarter of a million of us and about 10,000 of them.

But then, and rather quickly, the marches got sold out. To corporate interests and the aforementioned flat-bed trucks loaded with Party-Boyz.

And Pride stopped being political.

Look, I like a party as much as anyone else. But there is a time and a place for it. And Pride Parades are NOT it. NOT yet. When we have achieved our political goals of full, unbridled, equality before the law ... then, and only then ... can we "reward" ourselves with a parade with floats sponsored by Bud Lite and American Express.

Until then, there is work to be done. Political work. Hard work. In your fucking-face work.

Our lives are at stake here. And a once-a-year, blow off some steam, Disco-on-Fifth, is not a fit way to demonstrate against discrimination and in favor of civil rights for LGBT peoples from coast to coast. All it is is just a fucking bone thrown to us by an establishment with a vested interest in keeping us "uppity faggots" in our place.

A minor annoyance to the majority and a battered-wife reliable cashcow to the Democratic Party.

And if that don't piss you off, then just what will it take?

==============================================

I seem to have struck a nerve with a few people with my post, both above and over on Facebook. My friend Robin posted something remarkably similar on her website. You can jump directly to her post, here. I've also added her to my list of Daily Reads under "Here's What I Don't Get." Check it out. Eclectic, feminist and po'd at the status quo. Like me!

Best Snappy Comeback This Political Season (so far)

Susan Sarandon:

"Jesus was a community organizer.... and Pontius Pilate was a governor."

So, what's new?

I'm back. Yeah, I know, whoop-di-goddamned-do.

I forgot to send my gut pix to the office, where I'm currently goofing off instead of working. So you'll have to wait for those.

The surgery didn't go horribly awry, although there were "complications." Enough complications for them to have shot me up with 4 units of blood, kept me in the hospital for two additional days, and to have filled me with bag after bag of saline solution.

When I was discharged on Friday August 15th I spent the first week at home just trying to void myself through whatever outlet was handy of the gallons of salt water they'd inflated me with.

I remember watching Michael Phelps (endlessly) while I was in the hospital. Every time I came out of yet another coma there he was, slithering through the water like a water snake. Swimmers have the oddest bodies.

Then, after I'd had a week to adjust to reality, the conventions started. Initially I was kind of surprised by Barack's choice of Joe Biden (from my home state of Delaware). But upon reflection he seemed the best choice if Senator Obama hoped to deflect Republican criticism of his LACK OF EXPERIENCE IN FOREIGN AFFAIRS, which seemed likely given the fact that the GOP had been doing just that for months.

Then, of course, the Gay Old Party turned right around and picked the most unqualified person, male or female, to have run for the vice presidency since Spiro Agnew (another state governor who eventually wound up in prison -- which, with any luck, started a trend.)

And that brings us up to date on external affairs.

Now, as to the surgery.

I have lost nearly 40 pounds in 4 weeks. I've had to have additional holes punched in some belts, and to have some inches of webbing removed from others. I'm not quite down to the next size in pants (although all my workmakes insist that I am). I can eat (if you call "drinking" "eating") about 4 ounces at a clip. For a real treat I've started having 2.5 ounces of tuna at lunch (1 6 oz. can of tuna packed in water mixed with 2 heaping tablespoons of low-fat mayo) this week.

I can button the collar buttons on my shirts again. The weight loss began, as it always does, with the face and the ass. While not exactly gaunt, my face is decidedly less "jolly" than it had been. My formerly well-padded behind no longer exists. It's actually painful to sit in the same position for any length of time. Our office ops manager is ordering a pillow for me to sit on.

My first day back at work was Monday of this week. By Tuesday morning my feet were killing me. I hadn't worn dress shoes in a month, only deck shoes. The streets of New York didn't help matters.

Despite the initial complications (and week of hourly trips to the can), I have no regrets. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Oh, and finally there's this.

My diabetes is resolved. I've been off all medicines since the day before my surgery. My blood sugar (which I continue to monitor daily) has dropped completely back to the "normal" range of 90-110.

I feel wonderful.

Thursday Melange

FYI, I stopped at Staples on my way home last night and bought their housebrand model "M-3" shredder which is a desktop model. Granted, I have to empty the container far more regularly than I did with the old Xerox model, but (and this is the real selling point for this particular machine) you can feed it unopened sales envelopes and it'll chomp right through 'em, even if they have one of those ersatz "credit cards" glued to one of the pages inside.

I even got it for the web-page price, $59.99, instead of the store price of $79.99. All in all, I'm very pleased with it. It's black plastic with sort of brushed aluminum accents. It looks nice on my kitchen countertop, in between the toaster and the microwave, both of which it matches. TOTALLY important for a gay man!

Now, about today. All of my personal problems are pretty high-class today (Gucci Problems), so I'm just going to pass along some headlines (and the webpages they are ripped from) for today.

Let's start with show-biz.

Gayken is Preggers. Yes, Clay Aiken is allegedly having a baby with some record producer (via artificial insemination, of course). It's only a matter of time before he buys Wonderland Ranch and starts having his skin bleached. Read about it

Here.

Then be sure to check out these photos of the Decider Guy in Chief, or whatever the fuck he calls himself these days (I call him Dipshit!), bumping pussies with an Air Force Academy Graduate and soon to be useless cannon-fodder in a pointless and unwinnable war:

Here.

Finally, if you haven't had enough yuks for the day, be sure to check out the New York Times editorial staff's opinion of Scott McClellan's new inside-the-White-House "if you sleep with the Devil be prepared to be royally fucked" tell-all,

Here.

Maybe I'll have something to yak about tomorrow.

Bush, Hillary, Dynasties & War

There's no avoiding it. We are a warlike people. Three-quarters of the country couldn't wait to jump on the Iraq bandwagon when it became pretty clear, pretty early, that we were not going to find Osama bin Laden anytime soon. We sure as hell knew where Saddam hid out. In one of his pleasure palaces, which you could easily see from one of our expensive war satellites in outer space.

We were pissed. We wanted to punish SOMEBODY, ANYBODY, for the events of 9/11. And we couldn't punish the idiots who wanted to go home to Allah. They'd already gone home to Allah. Or someplace. They weren't here anymore, that was for sure.

Saddam was handy and perfect. We still had a grudge against him ever since Shrub's daddy, King Wimp the First, failed to order Stormin' Norman to take Baghdad using the same scorched earth policy which General Sherman had once, thoroughly, used against the South. We like scorched earth policy. Most of us secretly wonder, sometimes, why we can't just nuke the entire Middle East back to the Stone Age.

And so we went to war.

However, there was a problem with this. Other than a bloodthirsty electorate (and a cash-starved defense establishment which the Bush family owed plenty), we didn't really have anything to recommend actually going to war.

But dynasties like war. War perpetuates patriotic fervor. And patriotic fervor forgives and adores dictatorship (see: "Nazi Germany - 1932 - 1945"). And patriotic fervor, here in the USofA, loves (or loved) George W. Bush. He is smarmy. He has a rich daddy. He avoided dying during war himself by having his rich daddy arrange it.

In short, he is everything that most Americans want, jealously, to be. An arrogant, booze-swilling, drunken-frat boy at an Ivy League School, without a $$$$ care in the world, and a dad who can "fix" everything because he has really cool rich friends who'd do anything for him.

Right?

So Dubya's on the one hand. On the other we have Billary. I have nothing against her, except that she's married to Douchebag and to be honest I've never seen bigger politicians in my life, in the nastiest sense of the word. They'd tell anybody anything in order to get elected. And have. (I did not inhale. I did not have sex with that woman. Who are you going to believe, me or your lying eyes?)

It still smarts to remember exactly how they threw their gay constituency under the bus way back when.

The Bushs' suck but then, so do the Clintons.

So I don't like politicians because they'll start wars just for the fun of it (and to make their rich friends even richer), say anything, toss their friends aside at the drop of a hat and live to see their closest relatives inherit their jobs.

I want Bush out.

I want Hillary out.

I want Barack Obama for President.

Blathering Thursday

Oh the heartbreak of being Star Jones.

Read about her upcoming de-nuptializing here:

http://defamer.com/383093/no-reason-yet-given-in-star-joness-divorce-from-gay-husband

Or, catch up with the antics of President Bush's favorite military lapdog, David H. Betrayus Petraeus as he gets rewarded (and kicked upstairs) for being a good boy making the dipshit in the White House look better than he deserves, in The Huffington Post here:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/04/23/david-petraeus-central-co_n_98185.html

Jenna Bush hasn't made up her mind yet who she's voting for in November, Bud or Bud-Lite.

http://politicalticker.blogs.cnn.com/

And now that you're thoroughly demoralized, perk yourselves up by singing the French portion of one of my favorite oldies from the Electric Light Orchestra, "Hold on Tight (to your dreams"):

Accroches-toi a ton reve
Accroches-toi a ton reve
Quand tu vois ton bateau partir
Quand tu sents -- ton coeur se briser
Accroches-toi a ton reve

p.s. the insurance company has finally approved my procedure to get my droopy eyelid fixed. I'm having the surgery a week from tomorrow. Wish me bon chance!

Throw the Old Bastards Out!

Okay, I'm a big kid now and I understand that the Republican's stole the 2000 election for GWB in Florida partly in retaliation for the Democrats having stolen the 1960 election for JFK in Illinois. Payback in politics, can be a real bitch. We hated Nixon. They hated Gore (well actually they hated Clinton, but they couldn't get even with him directly, so Gore had to do).

Today I read that Karl Rove had the nerve to refer to Barack Obama as "arrogant." Barack? Arrogant? The Pillsbury Doughboy actually had the nerve to say that? About anyone? If there's anybody who served in the White House in the last 8 years who has less right to call anybody "arrogant" it's Rove.

Worse, it's that time of the political cycle where PLMs (people like me) get thrown under the bus for political gain (again). It was on the ticker this morning that Teddy K. (D-MA) is tossing some of us in front of mass transit by threatening to introduce the tranny-excluding ENDA bill to the Senate.

Sigh.

Both sides of the aisle piss me off. Neither side of the aisle ever wholeheartedly represents my wants and aspirations.

I am the Alienated American.

I do not believe that the United States of America is a "Force for Good" in the world. I do believe that it is merely "a force" and, like all forces, it needs to be carefully watched. I agree with Winston Churchill's observation that "America can always be relied upon to do the right thing.... having exhausted every other possibility."

Which is not to say that we are utterly without charm. We have many redeeming qualities (industriousness, creativity, compassion, just to name a few). But the one quality I admire the most is our ability to finally get thoroughly fed up.

Once upon a time we Americans sat idly on our hands while a far-away power imposed it's will and it's armies upon us. It taxed us without representing us. It took and took and took and gave us nothing in return except it's overbearing arrogance and a common mother-tongue. This sorry state of affairs went on for decades until we, the people, finally said, "FTS (f*ck this sh*t)ENOUGH IS ENOUGH."

The crowd that occupies the acreage inside the Beltway these days would do well to remember what happened when the American People in those days finally got fed up with the pricks with the guns. We threw the bastards out.

Here's my current deal.

We've had as president, since the year I was born (1948), the following (initials, party, term(s))

HST (D-1), DDE (R-2), JFK (D-3/4), LBJ (D-1 1/4), RMN (R-1 1/2), GAF (R- 1/2), JEC (D-1), RR (R-2), GHWB (R-1), WJC (D-2), GWB (R-2).

That's six terms for the Democrats (24 years) and nine terms for the Republicans (36 years).

As far as I'm concerned we've had way too many Republican presidents in my lifetime and REALLY way too many Bush's and Clintons.

Barack's my Main Man from here on out.

How British Politicians Handle It!

No blabbage today. Just two clips from the BBC series "Little Britain" in which a local politician puts a helluva lot of spin on his sexual dalliances. Note the reactions from the long-suffering spouse. Both are courtesy of YouTube (and how did we ever live without that?)



and this one:

Meet the New Governor of New York State

That gentleman to the right is the new governor of New York State. His name is David Paterson. Click here to read his Wiki entry. He sort of got the job by default. His predecessor resigned because he violated a whole bunch of laws and ethics by transporting money, via the banking system, in order to solicit a prostitute (violates: The Mann Act), not to mention just being an all-around sleaze-ball, hypocrite, just like all the Republican and Christian assholes who've gotten caught with their hands in the sexual cookie jar over the past few years.

So, the "Steamroller" is gone and now New York has it's first African-American, visually impaired (i.e., legally blind), governor.

I personally like Governor Paterson. He likes LGBT people. He's been pro-marriage for us since the early 90's. He, his wife and kids, live in Harlem, a district he has represented for decades. His father was important in both New York and National Democratic politics (vice-chair of the national party organization).

Governor Paterson has also staunchly defended stem-cell research.

Now Spitzer is gone. It's time to move on.

The King is dead. Long live the King.

CaCa-Cau-Cau

Some nice folks in Iowa are going to get together tonight, football permitting, and stand around a bunch of signs, trying to decide which candidates suck less.

I have zero interest in our political system anymore since it clearly consists, on both sides of the aisle, of a bunch of sellouts, ass-kissers, people-pleasers and outright pandering liars who will say anything (and do nothing) in order to get elected (and re-elected and re-elected and re-elected).

My rather meager set of minority creds has gotten me thrown under the bus more times than I'd care to mention over the last 4 decades.

I've been promised the sun, the moon and the stars. I've gotten shit, more shit and piled higher and deeper shit.

I wouldn't believe a politician if he (or she) was standing in a witness box with their hand on a stack of Guttenberg bibles 10 feet tall, swearing to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

The "truth" is that most politicans wouldn't know the "truth" if it came up and bit them on the ass.

I am a tradeable commodity, like baseball cards. My party, the Democrats, happily trades my security and happiness, time and again, in order to get some other sweetheart deal from the mortal enemy, the Republicans. If the Republicans are willing to cut a deal on some pork barrel project that'll guarantee the Democrat re-election, watch how fast they sell out Trannies (this years fashionable focus of political disdain).

And they wonder why people like me don't give a rat's ass about America anymore.

I'm not saying that I haven't gotten a lot out of living here. But I will say that it's cost me plenty in terms of self-esteem and feelings of self-worth.

Just sayin'.

Poly-Ticks

For all you non-Paultards out there, that's Ron Paul over there on the right. He's a Texas Libertarian who's really caught on with a certain segment of the population.

That segment would be the segment I call "I'm crazy as fucking hell and I'm not going to take it anymore." You know the type. Real Howard Beale's (for more information look up the movie "Network" -- then rent the damn thing and watch it, you illiterate couch-potatoes).

Some folks are getting real scared because Ron is raising so much money on the internets. Carloads of cash, so I hear. Mountains of moolah!

I have a theory about that. I think that the people sending him bushels full of money know perfectly well he hasn't got a snowball's chance in hell of winning. But he DOES have a snowball's chance in hell of scaring the shit out of the mainstream politicians --- enough so that they might actually start taking one or two "real" stands on the issues, as opposed to focus-group approved positions regarding the price of pablum in Paducah. Or whatever is politically safe to espouse these days.

Ron Paul believes we should arm six year olds. He also believes that gay people should be able to get married. He's a refreshing blast of left, right and everything in between.

More will be revealed regarding him, as we say in the recovery racket.

Over on the right-side of LaLaLand we have Mike Huckabee. Isn't he enough to make you move to Canada? Jeebus-freak, anti-abortion, anti-queer preacher man and physician (sort of). Every evangelical Christian Republicans dream candidate.

Unfortunately, he's not the dream candidate of all the saggy-assed, neo-con, right-winged, rich white guys who currently call the shots at the head of the Gay Old Party, like Dubya and Chainy. The one's who routinely pander to the same rabid, gun-totin', string up the niggras, Jews and queers (say "AMEN, JEEBUS!") base that Huckster might actually be a part of! God forbid! (If we actually did what we promised to do then who would bring us cocktails at the country club ... or arrange our loans, or decorate our homes or take our wives out to lunch and listen to their mouths for hours on end?)

And suddenly all those years of pandering to the crazies on the right is starting to look like it was a really bad idea, thank you Karl Rove.

So we are now nearing the time when we must start separating the wheat from the chaff, the extremists from the statespeople and the people who might actually get "something" done from the maniacs who'd just go to DC and piss everybody off.

I don't have any dream candidates yet. To be honest, I think they all suck.

But at least I know who I won't bother voting for.

If They Held a Gun to My Head....

as I was standing in the voting booth and they said "vote for a Republican" I have to admit that I'd probably pull the trigger, er, lever in favor of Rudy Guiliani.

I'm no fan of Rudy's. As far as I'm concerned he ripped out the heart of New York City when he cleaned up 42nd Street, got rid of the video arcades, street whores and crack dealers (and their plainclothes counterparts) and turned the whole thing into friggin' DisneyWorld-North.

I'm also no fan of how he cleaned up the rest of the city under the campaign slogan of "Cracking Down on Quality-of-Life Crimes" (i.e. spitting, drinking, playing your guitar on a streetcorner, urinating on police cars, etc.)

And I'm REALLY no fan of how he single-handedly saved New York City on 9/11. Most New Yorkers I know feel exactly the same way. He makes it sound like everybody else was out of town that day.

This past Sunday, on some talking-head yakfest on tv, somebody asked him about the Queer Issue (like I'm an "issue" to somebody... which also pisses the fuck out of me) and he got all flustered (keep in mind that a gay couple sheltered him when his wife threw him out one time) and he started hemming and hawing about the difference between "being" something and actually "doing" something. He skated dangerously close to the old "love the sinner, not the sin" bullshit.

So, naturally, I had to go in search of some photo evidence of Rudy "doing" something.

Like drag.

More than once.

In fact he seemed to really dig the shit out of dressing up in women's clothes and makeup.

A lot.

Just sayin'.

He's a New York Style Politician. And when push comes to shove, if it simply MUST be a Republican, then I'd rather have a New York Style Politician in the White House than an Arkansas or Arizona kind.

Because they all look like shit in drag (can you imagine Huckabee or Cain in full regalia?)

But Rudy looks pretty good. For a Republican.

Oh No I di'nt.

No, I didn't finish HP and the DH last night. But I did read the entire chapter entitled "The Battle for Hogwarts." It's a ripping good yarn. Somebody else died. I'll read another chapter tonight.

I got an e-mail today from my newly favorite New Jersey Assemblywoman with an attached list of grievances against Academy Bus Lines. She asked me if I had anything I'd like to add. She must be kidding. She also advised me of the next "town hall" meeting that she's scheduled in order to have a public bitch-fest against the Poor Little Besieged Bus Company (cue the violins). I plan to attend, of course. Especially after she pointed out that over the last six years bus fares have risen 50%. I knew it was a lot, but not that much. Correspondingly, service has gotten at least twice as shitty in the same period of time.

And it seems that people on the other side of the state (towards the shore, along the Garden State Parkway route) have the same problems with Academy that those of us over on the NJ Turnpike route have.

At this point I'm urging a public boycott of Academy Bus lines.

Hump-Day. I could use a good hump right about now. Or at least a good long ... nap. At my age sleep is just as good as sex (to the best of my recollection).

I ran into an old drinking buddy of mine over at Joe.My.God yesterday. We reconnected, swapped some e-mails, and we're gonna do lunch some day next week. It'll be good to see World Famous Author Rob again.

TTFN & AMF

Star-Spangled Sobriety!

This is a photo of me in boot camp. Those were the days of 3-masted schooners and whaling dinghies and leaving Bedford, Mass on year-long cruises...

Oh, alright, it was 1968 and pre-dentistry. I was 20 and skinny as a rail (well, I was 6'5" and weighed about 175 pounds). I've gained a few pounds and gotten the teeth fixed since then.

Notice the "farmer's tan" on the face. They've removed my spectacl... er, eyeglasses, which had served to shield my eyes from the harsh San Diego sun from July to September through grueling days of hour upon hour of physical drill on the "grinder" at the Recruit Training Center. The rest of my face is burnt to a crisp. I had a matching tan on the backs of my hands. The rest of me looked like the underside of a freshly caught fluke.

I was not a gung-ho American. Had I been I would've been finishing up Army bootcamp and eagerly anticipating being shipped out to 'Nam, where I could've killed gooks and eaten dead, burnt, babies.

When the draft notice arrived in the mail, just after the 1st of the year in 1968, I upheld a fine old family tradition of cowardice and followed in my daddy and granddaddy's footsteps and enlisted in the Navy instead.

Like I said, I was not a "gung-ho" American and, in fact, harbored deep anti-war feelings regarding the fiasco in Viet Nam. In my few, short years in the service I came across many men and women who felt as I did. They loved their country and hated the war. It was there, then, that I realized that:

I could support the troops without supporting the policies of the government or the President.

I saw lifers (career people) happily join me and other 1-termers in anti-war demonstrations in Washington, DC many, many times. I also saw them being torn apart coming to terms with the implications of that sentence I stated above. That it WAS possible to love one's country, to support it's military, and YET have zero respect and support for the civilian government and it's insane policies.

I had no such problem then. I still don't. I never once disobeyed a direct order from a superior officer, nor did I ever shy away from constitutionally protected expression of my beliefs.

Today more than ever it is evident that the current Administration mocks the law, spits on the Constitution and has nothing but contempt for the electorate.

Now is the time for true patriots to speak out loudly and clearly in defiance of the Executive Branch and to do everything we can to light a fire under the Legislative to bring the gang of thugs running the White House to heel and to justice.

Let us not be afraid to yell "TREASON" when we see it.

Happy July 4th, everyone!

Professional Queers

In the early days of my fully-fledged gayness (1807... okay, 1972), not long after I shed the last of my closetyness, I found myself, often, in the company of what I started to term, only to myself, "Professional Queers."

I have to admit that I was sort of judgemental towards PQ's. These were people who had become so outraged at the treatment of America towards it's LGBT's that they divested themselves of any semblance of "normal lives" and instead devoted themselves to ... well, overturning the status quo through various, mostly subversive, political activities.

There were people like John Francis Hunter (a beautiful man who used a lot of facial moisturizers, as I recall), Barbara Gittings and her partner, Kay (Barbara was a marvel. I adored her.) and Frank Kameny, who had been a government astronomer until the government found out about him.

I guess they were afraid he was going to divulge state secrets regarding Orion's Belt to the Commies, or something.

Anyway, surrounded as I was by all this American League Queerness, I started to see myself becoming so embroiled in the movement, as many others had, that I feared that in no time at all I, too, would become a PQ.

I decided that I didn't not want to be a PQ. Hell, I was far too interested in partying to get too worked up over my rights. Yeah, yeah, I wanted 'em alright, and I was sure putting more effort into getting them than 90% of the rest of the gay population was, but I liked having some "down time" now and then. Down time when I could engage in a little Down Low which, to my way of thinking, involved booze, drugs and handsome men.

In time I walked away from all that involvement in the movement. It was easy enough to do. Especially in my last year at the UofD, when politics got way out of hand and a faculty friend of mine wound up in Federal Court fighting the University over his right of free speech for being gay. That experience left a lot of us with a bitter taste in our mouths. I was thoroughly disillusioned by it, even though it hadn't happened to me.

I took two hostages and moved to Seattle. There I began my life as a voluptuary (good-time Charlie). I forgot about politics and focused, instead, on the message of hedonism that had been born out of the movement. I wanted to drink, dance and get laid. And so I did.

I've let other people do all the work for many decades now. But now, I think it might be time to get back into the fray.

I've started taking baby steps. I regularly e-mail my two (liberal) Senators from New Jersey about LGBT issues both in NJ and the US. Senator Lautenberg (or one of his staff) actually composes e-mail responses that don't sound like they were generated by a machine.

But I need to do more. I'm obliged to do more. I have talents, now, that could be of use to the movement. ORGANIZATIONal skills. CONFRONTATIONal skills. More than just a hot-head full of piss and vinegar, someone who can actually make a difference.

Maybe it's time to rejoin the cause and become a Professional Queer.

The Clear Disgrace of Washington D.C.

Sergeant Kokesh (USMC) has had his honorable discharge reduced to a General Discharge. This was the Marine Corps way of backpedaling. They originally wanted to give him a dishonorable discharge. This was because he was "disrespectful" to some jive-ass brass hat (an officer of some non-discernible rank) and to the uniform, presumably because he wore a stripped-down version of his combat camo gear during some protests.

During my stay in the United States Navy I, myself, participated in MANY anti-war activities (and this was on ACTIVE duty, not the inactive reserve, like Sergeant Kokesh). I cannot say with any certainty that I didn't wear some portion of my uniform during these activities. In fact, I'm pretty sure I DID wear some piece of my uniform while marching down Pennsylvania Avenue from behind the White House to Capitol Hill.

I was wearing my Navy issue skivvies underneath my civilian clothes. I'm absolutely certain of it.

And, by the logic of this military kangaroo court which has attempted to strip Sergeant Kokesh of his honor (they failed, by the way... they've created a martyr, instead), that makes me guilty of bringing dishonor to the uniform of the service.

So come and lock me up, assholes. I'm waiting.

Meanwhile, President Shitforbrains has nominated some faith-based Snake Oil Salesman to be the #1 doctor in the United States. This so-called physician thinks that us 'mos are defective and that we need to "give up" our "evil lifestyle" and "choose" the other "right" one, instead.

The various logic-defying leaps and bounds in that sort of thinking is nothing short of breathtaking!

Where DOES President Bush find these people? Under rocks???!!!

I cling to the hope that someone will come along to rescue this nation from the clutches of the evil clans who sit on both sides of the aisles.

I hope and pray that someone will point out to the Red States and their small-minded minions that the United States of America was invented here, in the Blue States, and not out there in "Jesusland".

Memorial Day - 2007

You probably all know that today, Memorial Day, started out life as Decoration Day, a day on which the widows and children of our glorious Civil War dead would traipse out to graveyards to clean the places up and to place some flowers on the countless tombs therein.

I know that there are times when I seem like a knee-jerk anti-war leftwing queer. And, for the most part, I am. But I also know the necessity of fighting the good fight when necessary. And I'm the first to say that we should, immediately, reinstate National Service for all able-bodied youths for a year or two.

But no less a personage than General George C. Marshall, Chief of Staff of the United States Army from 1939 to 1945 and architect of the postwar Marshall Plan, had personal serious doubts about the American public's willingness to support WWII, if it were to continue on into 1946. That was why he was such a forceful proponent of the use of the atomic bomb against Japan. He did not believe that a democracy would support all out war for longer than 4 years. Neither, frankly, do I.

When I'm being rational (arguably, rarely) I know that public mood is a fickle mistress and probably a piss-poor way to try to plan long-term public policy. The day after September 11, 2001, most of us would've (probably) happily handed a blank check to any warmonger who promised us retribution on a grand scale.

Unfortunately for us, and our armed forces, that warmonger turned out to be George W. Bush, probably the most incompetent, pig-headed, fool we could've found for the job, even if we'd deliberately set out to find one.

Six years later, and still no sign of Osama bin Laden (remember him?), but we have managed to thoroughly trash Iraq and, worse, probably the entire balance of power in the Middle East... and NOT to our advantage, either.

I suspect that there might be a few men and women in our national cemetaries who, if asked today, if Viet Nam or Iraq had been worth dying for, would have serious doubts that their lives had been sacrificed "for a worthy cause."

Nevertheless, today is not about calling into question the value of their missions but, rather, the mere fact that they were willing to perform them simply because they had been asked. That speaks volumes about their valour and patriotism.

And it is that valour and patriotism that we remember today, and their's are the souls whom we should remember in our prayers tonight.

It's the Foreign Policy, Stupid

Okay, I'm only going to say this once.

All of our woes, foreign and domestic, can be traced back to one thing and one thing only.

It is the fault of a foreign policy that, for centuries, has emphasized American hegemony overseas. A policy that said that WE ARE ENTITLED to export whatever we define as democracy, at the point of a gun if necessary. A foreign policy that has drained the national treasury time and again to pay for our interventionist excursions, often to the point of starving the poorest of our poor and throwing away their children in the process.

A foreign policy that has enabled us to install and prop up dictators from Central and South America to the Caribbean and the Middle East.

WE owned the Shah of Iran. He was "our boy." WE owned (and we can't run away from this one) Francisco Franco in fascist Spain. WE owned the overthrow of the King of Greece and the installation of a military junta there and President Allende of Chile, (we were very big on supporting military juntas and tossing out Presidents we don't like... we did it in VietNam, too).

The fact is that we rarely, if ever, supported "real" democracy in countries that we "liberated."

What we really supported were people who would look out for OUR strategic interests in THEIR countries.

The Soviet Union may have been OUR evil empire but rest assured, we were theirs.

So when you see some neocon congressman crying his eyes out on tv, he isn't crying because American kids are dying. He's crying because we're not shoving it up the asses of the rest of the world with as much vigor as he'd like us to have.

That's what he's really crying about. His pet theories are being shot to hell, along with a lot of totally innocent Americans and Iraqis.

WE created this fucking mess. Generations of policy wonks in Washington and in so-called think tanks all around the US have, on our behalf and with our permission, cooked all this shit up.

And it is time for all of us who care about these things to pick up the phones or log into our e-mail systems, and to let our elected reps in DC know that this situation is no longer tolerable.

I don't know about you, but I'm becoming extremely libertarian in my views. The "job" of the government in Washington is to:

DEFEND THE FUCKING BORDERS

and

DELIVER THE FUCKING MAIL

and with all that leftover money that we no longer waste on foreign wars and propping up dictators and destabilizing others, we should:

Cure Diseases
Offer Universal Healthcare
Hand out Free Education (and not just colleges, trade schools too for those so inclined)

And Elizabitch Hasselhoff, or whatever the hell her name is, can suck me off, and so can the House Minority leader, Bill Kristol, Doug Feith, AG Gonzalez, Dick Cheney (and that self-loathing dyke daughter of his), Rummy, the entire Bush Family and every employee of Halliburton above the rank of peon.

May they ALL rot in hell for what they've done. Or thought about doing.

Have a lovely weekend, everyone. I'm off to the wilds of NYC to spend some quality time with another recovering drunk. Hopefully I'll be able to log in tomorrow!

Peace.

News of the Day

Congress Passes “Sacrifice The Troops” Bill

$120bb Supplemental Funding Passes Both Houses

Minority Leader Boehner Boo-Hoos the Killing of More American Kids (but approves it anyway)

Read about it here.

Meanwhile

God Rains Shit Upon GWB

Read about it here.

This Memorial Day weekend, when we revere the nation’s war dead, let us not forget all the living men and women who, every day, march, sail or fly into “harm’s way” to defend us from our enemies.

And let us also remember just who it is that is currently ordering them into “harm’s way”, "The Commander Guy" aka "ShitForBrains."

And then let us all resolve to do something about it. Okay?

Meanwhile, have a look at how supportive Mitt Romney is of all his gay friends:

Read about it here.

But above all, do yourselves one little favor... try to find some time this weekend to loosen up a little and to not take yourselves so damn seriously (which I know I'm guilty of).

After all, God doesn't take any of this seriously at all.

God Only Knows

Don't you just love the TeleTubbies? I do. They're so sweet. They send important messages to our toddlers and preschoolers. Messages of love and cooperation and friendship.

Not to mention the message that Gay is Good and you really ought to try it sometime!

Well, at least that's what some people think.

I overheard some people talking this morning about the fires in the pine barrens in south Jersey, which sounded important.

They also mentioned the death of some televangelist, which isn't important. At least not to me.

I should be charitable and add that I then prayed, sincerely, that said televangelist would be delivered into exactly the sort of Heaven he always dreamed about and that he will get to spend eternity in the company of people exactly the way HE likes 'em. White. Male. Conservative. Heterosexist. And exactly just like himself.

And I meant it. Eternity. Forever and ever. Without hope of change.

Dave Barry, the columnist, once wrote that he was pretty certain that when God chose to speak to him that it "wouldn't be through some guy in a cheap suit with a bad haircut on cable tv at 6 o'clock on a Sunday morning." I'd add to that that God doesn't need cash, or tithing or anything else of a material nature, including buildings, limos or airplanes.

Men (or mostly men) need tithing, cash and buildings and so on. They need cars and big-assed universities and all kinds of things "for the greater glory of God" not to mention the greater glory of themselves. For no matter how much they gussy up their so-called good intentions, the fact of the matter is, God does not need a place to live. Not an Ark. Not a Temple. Not a Church. Not a Cathedral. Not a Basilica. "God" doesn't need anything from US. And it is insane vanity to think that we have anything at all to offer God, except our obedience and gratitude and love. All the rest is gold-plated, 100%, bullshit.

The United States of America has a long-standing tradition of producing snake oil salesmen, charlatans, humbugs and Elmer Gantry's who come along in a nearly endless procession and brandish new and innovative ways to bullshit us into believing their "pie-in-the-sky-by-and-by" brand of Salvation, for just one thin dime, a measly one-tenth of a dollar, yessir Ladies and Gentlemen, step right up and SEE what God has in store for YOU! Say Hallelujah!!!

And many of us do it. Not for the love of God. But because of some craving bordering on a character defect deep inside of us to belong to something. To anything. Not trusting at all in our own inate bond with the Almighty. Thinking that we "need" some middleman with the Creator in order to guarantee that we'll be forgiven for all the shit we've done and that we'll pass through the Pearly Gates unscathed and unscarred.

Was the decedent one of those sorts of men? I don't know. It's not for me to judge.

But I do know this. His personal beliefs cost a lot of people a lot of personal grief. He may even be responsible for the deaths of many people. A lot of people think so. I don't know for sure.

But God does.