Five by Five, R. Five by Five.

Today is Ryan’s birthday. Let the well wishes commence!

Ryan and I met online before he moved to St. Louis. My reference to Buffy the Vampire Slayer in one of my online profiles caught his eye as he surveyed the landscape of fellas that would await him once he moved here. The Scooby Gang extends to all corners of the world and one knows that an allegiance with a fellow Buffy devotee is a must when moving into a new city. It is especially true for St. Louis, a town that (at times) makes Sunnydale look like a cake walk.

I was, at first, flattered that a cute boy was chatting me up. But then again, I’m always flattered when a cute boy chats me up. But Ryan was different than most of the cute boys online. He had a soul.

With time, that initial feeling of giddy cute boy flattery changed as I learned more about him, his life and his various trials and tribulations. A strange sort of kinship developed as I realized that this wasn’t some typical gay online cat-n-mouse kinda game. It was a friendship that wasn’t wrapped up in the emotional goo of does-he-like-like-me or does he just like me? It was, indeed a first for me – and I suppose it was a little baby step towards a more mature understanding of gay male friendship.

While Ryan is the latest addition to my particular Scooby Gang of beleaguered optimists, I suspect that he doesn’t know that when I think of him, he’s much more Buffy-like to me than anyone I know.

While his ability to verbally eviscerate the inane and the ignorant is as formidable as a mid-season ex-demon who fears only bunnies, he possesses a strength of character that is much more Slayer worthy.

While he entered my little narrative well into its 33rd season, he still impresses me with his thoughtfulness and his principles, which are as fully developed, well reasoned and sensible as anyone I’ve ever known. And while I’ve been a shit-pot stinker to him on a number of occasions, he has never failed me as a friend.

If he doesn’t slay you with his pretty blue eyes, he’ll definitely slay you with his loyalty and generosity. I know that when it comes time to fight the good fight, he's on my side and I feel very lucky and very honored to call him my friend.

Happy Birthday, doll!

UPDATE: Readership Doubles to 16

Oh...the sweet sense of contentment knowing that there's now eight more of you reading this shit. Or have at least read this shit once. Hey, if the New York Post can inflate their numbers....

Here's a shout out to some fun folks who're blogging away:

Brick City
A fellow blogger and biker who lives far too close to Ted Drewes

Radical Russ
Welcome to the Radical writ!

Jewish Iguana Girl
I'm not interesting, I'm not witty and all together, I'm not too deep or philosophical

My Fascinating Life
I work for a repossession company - so if your car is missing I just might have it!

Outlaw Fish
A fellow St. Louisan who is witty and wise!

Hurts so good...
A hand full of ASPD, a tbsp of unipolar, a dash of schizophrenia, a pinch of BPD, mixed with a little OCD gets you...ME!

Whateva Sista!
Boy Band Worship. Occassional Cocks. Hilarity. Wisdom. Now with 60% more ass!

Toni Dunlap
She sings! She cooks! She knits!

And if I didn't believe that the Department of Homeland Security was watching my ass (I know my phone's tapped -- all that clicking and bloopity-beeps)....I've heard from these folks, too:

Chicago Revolutionary Writers & Artists Collective
The CRWAC is a group of young revolutionary-minded writers and artists, proud to follow the wildly liberating communist vision of Bob Avakian.

It's a No Go on the Dub, Yo!

Light up another clove cigarette and get ready for more anti-establishment grousing: MTV and Nine Inch Nails are squabbling, too!

NIN will not be performing on the MTV Movie Awards show, which as we all know, is the bastion of critical, cultural commentary.

"We were set to perform 'The Hand That Feeds' with an unmolested, straightforward image of George W. Bush as the backdrop. Apparently, the image of our president is as offensive to MTV as it is to me," Nine Inch Nails' leader Trent Reznor said in a statement posted on the band's Web site.

MTV said in a statement: "While we respect Nine Inch Nails' point of view, we were uncomfortable with their performance being built around a partisan political statement. When we discussed our discomfort with the band, their choice was to unfortunately pull out of the Movie Awards."

May I ask a question after reading all these "statements": does anybody believe that "discomfort" was ever "discussed"? Don't you think it went like this:

MTV: It's a no go on the Dub, yo.....

Trent: ******[UNINTELLIGIBLE SCREECHING FOR 4 MINUTES]********

As we wrap up this Memorial Day weekend, let's take a moment to reflect on the courage of MTV executives who, though "discomforted" by "political statements", do take a stand on what's right in America with shows like:

I Want a Famous Face
...follow the transformations of twelve young people who have chosen to use plastic surgery to look like their celebrity idols

Laguna Beach
It's one of the wealthiest beach communities in the world and MTV has unlimited access to the tight-knit power clique of eight rich, beautiful teens who live there.

Newlyweds
America's favorite couple is back for a new season. Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey has stolen the hearts of audiences everywhere and the success of the show has left people cheering for another season of Newlyweds.

Meet The Barkers
The mohawked drummer of blink-182 has found true love with a former Miss USA turned TV actress, and they've invited the whole world to watch as they begin their hectic lives together.

I guess MTV doesn't believe that they're making any sort of political statement by creating programming centered around rich, beautiful, thin white people who live near a beach or are in a rock group or have been Miss U.S. of A.

And God bless you MTV for providing a haven of self-expression for those folks who will allow surgeons to hack off body parts until they look like MTV superstars who are incapable of not only expressing a political view, but in some cases, a complete sentence.

Thanks, MTV, for protecting us from free thought and individual expression.

Thanks, so....so....much.

Read the press release with the Reuter's byline here...

Goth Fight! Goth Fight!

Oh, the Goth Girl drama -- played out on the internets, no less!

Bitchy, firey missives being sent back and forth across the digital divide, even though Robert Smith, much like Tom Cruise, is not gay.

The smell of clove cigarettes lingers in the air, as chucks of black hair get pushed back from the furrowed brows of black eyelined faces - black fingernail polish clicking on black keys. Black. Black. Black.

TORONTO (Billboard) - Two veteran members of the Cure have exited the U.K. rock act, which has long featured a revolving door of musicians backing leader Robert Smith.

Keyboardist Roger O'Donnell and guitarist Perry Bamonte are out, leaving singer/guitarist Smith, bassist Simon Gallup and drummer Jason Cooper in the fold, according to the Cure's Web site.

"As of Tuesday this week I am no longer a member of the Cure," O'Donnell wrote on his Web site. "It was sad to find out after nearly 20 years the way I did but then I should have expected no less or more."

He goes on to say:

...I wish The Cure all the success they deserve.

Oh the bitterness and passive aggressive melodrama! The 80's are back!

One Last Thing...

I'm getting ready to shut this puppy down and another e-mail, rich with subtext, pops up.

It's titled Swapping Saliva.

Considering last night involved none of that and the BBQ I'm off to is peppered with fellas:
1. That I've already done that with
or
2. Whose girlfriends would totally kick my ass if I tried...

This little e-mail from Derik Donovan offered promise.

As soon as the stewardess serves the coffee, the airline encounters turbulence.

I shot in there(sic) mouths and then they swapped it back in forth [porn website redacted] i couldn't believe they did it

All I want is a warm bed, a kind word and unlimited power.

Me, too, Derik. Me, too.

So....you single?

Oh, Oliver!

Wrapping up today's So Blogged Life* coverage, we're going from Oliver Stone to Oil & Leather to Oliver Wendell Douglas.

Eddie Albert will forever be known to most of the world as the man who drug Eva Gabor off to a Hollywood sound stage to play haus frau to a pig and collection of Hee Haw homeboys.

It was a dreadful show. And of course I own it on DVD.

I stayed home last night and rewatched some of my favorite episodes of Green Acres. It was, to be exact, the most lovely Saturday evening I've had in ages. No drama. No intrigue. No mischief. No MEN!!! And while I usually proceed half coldcocked or totally half-cocked when it's a S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y Night, I left my roller boogie shoes in the closet and curled up with my kitty and ate a Klondike bar. Or four.

Well....that's not exactly true. I went to birthday parties for this one and this one, after which, this one delighted us with French & Saunders DVDs.

But I was home by midnight, totally clear headed and cogent and loving me some Green Acres until I went to sleep....eww....naturally. For a Saturday night, that is, indeed, a first.

I had to have one evening of thoughtful introspection this Memorial Day weekend. It's funny how these moments always revolve around a farm. It's leitmotiv or something...

Rest In Peace, Eddie.

*Thanks for the inspiration, Brian

So Downright Wrong

I had no sooner posted my previous entry, which alluded to hot nasty leather sex with Colin Farrell, when I was greeted with the dulcet bleep-blop-bleep of a new e-mail message.

I've been waiting for this message for weeks. I've checked my e-mail first thing in the morning and last thing at night...waiting for a message from the object of my obsession.

I knew he was up to something.

And every day, I wondered if this would be the day when I got some news? Would I find out what's going on with him? What's he doing?

And yay!

My favorite porn star, Arpad Miklos, is in a new movie!

I met him last year in New York and I've been following his career with even more...um...fervor since then.

And the e-mail that arrived at that moment told me that I could pre-order his new film right now! And it's a movie about hot nasty leather sex -- but not with Colin Farrell, of course.

He, like Tom Cruise, is not gay.

I will warn you that this is not porn for the faint of heart and it is by no means suitable for work -- even for those of you who work from home. If porn were coffee, even you Fill It to the Rim with Brim drinkers might not like this blend of nasty hardcore.

I'm really not so sure it's my thing, either. My feeble attempts at hardcore lately have ended with blood poisoning and embarrassment. And in all seriousness, a date at Starbucks followed some heavy petting will get my attention and probably my affection. I can never get caffeine or sweet kisses. The trouble with me is that I have the emotional depth of a rain puddle and even then I can drown in my own sentimentality.

Sometimes I just like to pretend that I can totally detach myself from my emotions. I like to pretend that I'm still not vexed and bewildered by men, by dating, by sex. I like to pretend that there's not a guy that I'd rather hear from -- and all I get are promotional messages from a porn star.

But that's my nasty imagination, for ya.

And its nasty way of playing tricks on me.

Oliver Stone: Cut Up & Cut Out

Oliver Stone was arrested in Beverly Hills the other day on suspicion of drug possession and driving drunk as a skunk. Speaking of stank, he’s edited out most of the gay references in the Special Edition Director’s Cut DVD of Alexander which is soon to be released.

According to director Oliver Stone, the new version is shorter by an estimated eight minutes, minus, in large part, references to Alexander’s bisexuality to make the film “more accessible” to viewers.

Normally I could give a rat’s ass what Oliver Stone was cutting, whether it was lines of coke or footage from his shitty films. But I've been paying attention to how the media have been covering this shitty film. It's a Colin Farrell thing for me, okay?

Earlier this year, Ollie blamed homophobia, fundamentalism and cultural ignorance for Alexander's failure at the box office:

"Americans don't read about ancient history like the Europeans. And in America there is a raging fundamentalism and morality. From day one the Bible Belt people did not show up because there was one phrase throughout the media and that was 'Alex the gay.' So you can bet your [bleep] the Americans aren't going to see a war hero who in their heads has something wrong with him. But I don't regret what I have made here for a minute. It's the epic of my life."

Seems to me, Ollie, the only thing of epic proportions you’ll find now is the attorney’s fees you’ll have to pay to get yourself outta trouble. And once you do get your license back, oh visionary and arbiter of truth in film, there’s a highway of hypocritical regrets for you to be driving. It’s littered with the gay footage you cut in a lame attempt to sell your boring as [bleep] piece of [bleep]ing [bleep] film.

Usually, I would be the first person to say it’s not nice to kick a man when he’s down (it’s just as satisfying to maliciously gossip about him), but I’ve strapped on my black patent-leather steel-toed 7 inch platform-heeled boots especially for the occasion.

From what I can tell, Colin likes is kinda rough.

Don't Saab for Me Argentina

The Tony's, that awards show that Joan Rivers won't even take off her oxygen mask to attend, has a new sponsor for their June 5th snoozefest: Saab!

In fact Saab is BUYING the Pre-Show.

The unusual aspect of this integrated deal -- in which the new Saab 9-7X SUV will have a starring role next to the red carpet and stars will pose for interviews on a platform adorned with Saab’s logo -- is that the sponsor brought the buy to the network.

Richy Glassberg, senior VP for ad sales at TV Guide Channel says:

"...that’s not enough today because the brand has to break through the clutter. Now Saab will be in every print picture of the red carpet and they’ll be on TV Guide the whole time we’re broadcasting. This is Saab surrounding themselves with their target audience -- great marketing in a fragmented world.”

Yes, Richy, the world is fragmented and I am sure the pissy homosexuals who give a crap about the Tony's, sporty Saabs, and strategic logo placement in People Magazine's photo coverage will be thrilled with this news.

And while I'm about a pissy as pissy can be, I think I'll be enjoying a night of live theatre instead of more soul destroying corporate propaganda purchased by General Motors.

But what am I gonna wear?

Happy Belated Birthday!

Jim was celebrating his birthday the other day when I was stressing out over busted water pipes and janky I.P. addresses, and I plumb forget about it. Happy belated birthday, Jim!

Here is is with the Queen of Carpets at last year's Art Prom.

Star Quality by Brick City

After yesterday’s call for entries, I’ve received one from this fine fella entitled Star Quality. I love the mysterious figure lurking in the lower right corner -- and after another hellish day cleaning, moving and more computer bullshit, I wish I had this superpower to conjure me up that penthouse suite at the Adam’s Mark.

I’d love to get away this weekend, soak in a hot tub and order room service.

Submitted by Brick City with my thanks!!!!!

Force Field of Dreams or Bitch in a Bubble

Hey, kids!

Let’s play a game I like to call “The Imagine Game.”

I’m gonna present a scenario and you have to imagine what you would do. Okay?

Imagine this: it’s the day you’re supposed to move into your brand new office! Yay! New office! You and your co-workers, including one Angry Black Bitch, pack up all your computers and printers and equipment and trek off to set up your new workplace. You pop a couple of Sudafed, gulp down your second Café Americano (with an extra shot) and light up whatever it is you’re smoking these days. You’ve got work to do.

Imagine that, okay?

Now...imagine what you might do if you walked into your brand new office and found that a busted hot water pipe had sent chunks of ceiling flying down on top of your new desks! Desks that would have had your computers on them if you’d set them up last night instead of today. And water is everywhere and is gushing on your newly re-sanded and re-stained hardwood floors! Imagine the FUN of that!!!

It’s even more fun to imagine what you might do after you cleaned up the chunks of wet plaster and ooey-gooey wood only to discover that your business’ server had for some reason mysteriously died, one of your co-workers hard drives had crashed and the wireless network on two of your other computers had mysteriously stopped working. Imagine what a great first day at your brand new office that would be!

Well…you can only imagine what a certain Angry Black Bitch and the resident computer geek (that’s...um...me) did.

We played a game I like to call “The Force Field Game.”

Imagine this (it’s two games in one now...so keep up!): you’ve got a good buzz going (Sudafed, caffeine, nicotine, booze, whatever) and WHAM! here comes some bullshit and aggravation, here comes some trifling queen to wreck your night, here comes some nappy headed children to sit on your car and curse at you….. what ARE you going to do?

You throw up a force field to repel, repulse and repugn any or all of the previously mentioned assaults on your good time or your cheap buzz. The occasion or situation is flexible, but there are times when you need a force field that is not.

ABB was up first to strut her stuff as she demonstrated her force field tactics.

She begins by pointing to her expertly pedicured toes, shod in the cutest of shoes, of course:

She then raises her finger higher, drawing up her force field. The anticipation is exciting. You worry if she points that finger at you if you will be decimated by the energy she’s conjuring around her:

And the camera angle swoops up, a bitch snaps her fingers, flips her wrist and clenches her fist in defiance, cause now, honey, you’ve got:

A Bitch in A Bubble

This is no ordinary sucking-helium Glenda-the-dumb-bitch floating-around wasting-time on some cheap-shoes bubble, either. With a “shoddy-sha” an Angry Black Bitch will float away from your tore-up ass, not thinking about what bullshit brought you around to interfere with her good time. This bubble is also terribly offensive (however you choose to pronounce it). She will roll up over your ass, left-to-right, side-to-side, front-to-back and the damage inflicted is irreversible, irrevocable and irreconcilable. You are done, honey. Go home and heal.

Imagine which strategy she employs most often?

Well, I felt like a rank amateur after a demonstration like that. Granted, I have some fair-to-middlin’ force field powers, but nothing to that scale. When asked to demonstrate my own abilities I decided to take an alternate route.

Rather than quality, I’d choose quantity.

The Two Fister

My first force field is much more offensive than defensive. Clutching my fists and protecting my eyes, nose and mouth, a radiant beam of maliciously hostile insincerity issues forth, rippling through time and space, repelling all who would attempt to gain my favor, waste my time or kill my buzz. It’s not the best tactic, but it does work.

There are also other situations in which two fists come in quite handy: compulsive alcoholic consumption and aggressively nasty mansex. Imagine which one I prefer? You’re right: both!!!!!

The one drawback to the double fisted approach is that it essentially hides my face. And while you may have already gathered that I’m a drunken slut -- I am, essentially, a vain, drunken slut. In those situations when I don’t mind a little attention, but it’s still nice to keep a little distance, I employ:

Glitter Shield!

Glitter Shield! is the best! Its pastel tones warm my just-this-side-of-Wednesday-Addams-complexion and adds a bit of stardust to every occasion. One could say that such an outlandish display is simply a demonstration of an individual with a shocking lack of self esteem and deep emotional problems...but I’m all glittery, so who cares? Do you care? Please tell me you care. Please!!!!!!!!!!

Um...

Hi!

So that’s what we did to blow off some steam after a day of mess and gaum. Oh! And all the computers are working, except for the server – and the computer man is coming early tomorrow morning to fix that. So, I’m off to bed early, with fists unclenched by the way, after a long bike ride.

I imagined that it was better to chase after the sunset than chase after some trouble.

OH!!!! If you want to waste valuable hours when you could be working or teaching children to read and stuff, just to take gratuitous photos of yourself and then test your PhotoShop mettle, please do so!

You can send your images to gadfly@robthurman.com. Tell me about your force field power and I’ll post them lickety-split. That is, if the computers are still working.

Life on Mars

Driving home tonight from Star Wars - Episode Whatever, I got a little misty eyed. To counterbalance the sentimentality of the moment, I was also internally grousing about Amidala and Anakin, chain smoking and trying to mentally compose this post. And for those of you who haven’t seen the movie, there’s no spoilers here, per se. There is, however, vapid fashion commentary and a Facts of Life allusion.

Let’s start with the future Darth Vader. Anakin Skywalker really fucked everything up for himself, his wife, his kids, democracy, the universe, dreamy Ewan McGregor (I mean Obi Wan) and especially Yoda. Trouble is, he wasn’t really all that likable as the wunderkind and even when he grew up into a young man with really great pecs, his mealy-mouthed behavior didn’t quite match what we’d expect from “the one” who was supposed to bring order to the Force.

I dunno if it’s George Lucas’ writing that makes Anakin fall short for me or if Hayden Christensen didn’t have the chops to pull off the role. The moment came in the film when Anakin made the choice that we all knew he was gonna make and…um…that’s it? What a let down!

Listen, I know I can go on and on about how getting an extra shot of carb-free Orange Fanta at Quik-Trip reminds me of a cute boy and I’ll blubber and blather on about it…but you’re not paying for this shit. I shelled out $12 for a ticket and a Diet Coke – I wanted some REAL drama, honey.

Instead, it was kinda like, oh…whoops…guess I’m all evil and dark and am now your liege, Oh Great Master of Darkness. The characters on 7th fucking Heaven have more complex emotional journeys. Tootie had a bigger emotional journey giving up her roller skates and that was done off camera!

Amidala is on my shit list, too. With the exception of the one scene where she has great hair and then confesses that’s she’s knocked up – she spends the rest of the movie all doe-eyed with all this curly weave that looks like it just taken out of the Silky-Jumbo bag and pinned on her head. Her negligee – tired! Even her space girl maternity outfit was boring. What happened to the head pieces, Queen? You saved your fucking planet at age 14 and had five costume changes while doing it and you’re about to give birth to Carrie Fisher and you can’t even really jazz it up once?

Speaking of Leia and Luke, for that matter, I started considering how much I liked them as characters and how little I cared for Anakin and Amidala. Princess Leia was a freedom fighter, a smart ass and an off-camera pill popper. Luke was stuck on some dead-end desert farm and wanted to fly spaceships. I understood where they were from on so many levels. Even at age seven.

Despite the very lame, tired and uninspired actions of their parents, these kids rocked. They took out Jabba the Hut, got busy with Han Solo (at least Leia did, although one does wonder about Luke) and saved the universe three times. Yay! Heroes! Something to believe in.

Their parents, on the other hand, started out strong, or at least with great potential and made a slow steady, slide into darkness and death. Maybe that’s the point? Children redeem the mistakes of their parents? Parents want their kids to have better lives, even when one’s been a queen and the other one is reportedly one?

When I start thinking about my folks, I can’t help but get a little verklempt. I’ve had my own little moments of sliding into darkness and I fundamentally know that’s not what my mom wants for me or what my father would have wanted for me. When I was chatting with her recently over being sad my mom told me, “Robbie – your days are numbered, anyway. Don’t spend them sad.” That’s Southern for seize the day in case you don’t understand.

As for understanding, George Lucas did wrap it all up for me tonight: Power corrupts. Loving someone isn’t always about getting what you want. Selflessness and thinking of others is a nobler cause. The dark side will lead to a lot of pain. And Ewan McGregor is the dreamiest boy ever!

Oh. And why I got all misty-eyed?

I was wishing that I had Jedi superpowers so I could make my dad materialize as I zipped down the highway alone.

Wondering what he’d tell me about life in the stars.

Whatcha Reading These Days?

The FBI wants to know.

The FBI on Tuesday asked the U.S. Congress for sweeping new powers to seize business or private records, ranging from medical information to book purchases, to investigate terrorism without first securing approval from a judge.

Read all about it here, while ya still can!

The Ann Franklin Story!

I have firmly decided that the current state of American culture is shit. Therefore, I feel that is necessary to remove myself from this horrible mess of a place. Trouble is, I need money. I’m thinking of pitching an idea for a hot, new movie so that I can raise a gaziilion dollars and go live someplace else. Hard work and determination be damned! I wanna quick fix, just like everyone else.

But what to do? What to do?

Well, I’m mulling over a few ideas and will test them out here.

The first is a tale of discrimination, bias and hatred. Families torn apart by prejudice. Starring international superstar Tom Cruise (who is not gay). And robots (of course). We need to appeal to the young girls out there, too. Hmmm... Young girl... Role Model...

How about:

Anne Frank Reloaded

Picture it: we'd update it to today. Young freedom fighter with Kung Fu super powers fighting Al Jazeera.

No....no that won't do.

We cannot have American kids running around wanting to be Jewish, for Chrissakes. Wait! That's it! We'll make Anne Frank not Jewish....

She'll be Ann Franklin! Great-and-then-some-Granddaughter of Benjamin Franklin. He's a totally famous American! He's on money and discovered lightning and stuff.

Oh! This'll be good:

The Ann Franklin Story!

Ann Franklin is a lovely little girl, played by Dakota Fanning who’s trying very hard to keep a secret. Her parents, played by Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes are Baptist Creationists living in Boston, Massachusetts.

Poor little Ann. Every day on her way to school the stem-cell-enhanced artificially-inseminated children of lesbian couples pick on her for having morals and being the union of a “mixed” marriage: men and women. If they knew she was a Christian, too -- it could mean death! After all, we're talking about Massachusetts: home of wiccas, homosexuals and Kennedys.

One day after school, Ann is on her way home when she remembers she left her precious Bible in her locker. If the evil, genetically-modified spawn of lesbians find her precious Bible! Oh, no!!!!!

She returns to school only to overhear a conversation with one of her teachers and a “liberal” person from Social Services. SS is, of course, an evil gay, played by someone who isn’t. Evil, liberal, gay SS man has had his eye on Tom Cruise’s chiseled, yet not-gay body for some time now. They were friends in college and the gay once made a move on Tom and of course, Tom refused. Tom Cruise is not gay.

The evil forces are secretly planning to remove Ann from her home for uncertain, dastardly reasons. True to form, it’s not quite clear why these liberals are “evil.” They just are. Don’t question the narrative.

Ann drops her Bible in fear, which triggers a swarm of evil SS robots to chase her. She eludes them and finds herself in a part of town she’s never been in before. It’s pretty and there are flowers and ponies and butterflies. Naturally, this sort of Eden implies that this is where the Christians live. They have those little fish symbols in their window, that’s how she knows.

Using her Cingular Blackberry, Ann is able to relay a message to her parents that there is a safe place for them, too. Both mom and dad have harrowing escapes after members of the SS conspire with liberal, activist judges to issue warrants for their arrests. Their individual escapes are split screened for dramatic effect (just like on 24) and are so awesome! There are 4,872 product placements in this ten minute segment.

Ann, Katie and Tom are forced to hide out among the good Christians of Boston. By accident, Ann’s Cingular Blackberry sends a message that allows the forces of evil to track her location. The evil robots are about to bust in, but Tom Hanks Michael Clarke Duncan, one of the liberal activist judges, shows up, rescues the family with Matrix-like superpowers granted by God.

See…he had a change of heart about Christians.

Jesus called on the new slim-line camera phone by Cingular and Tom Hanks Michael Clarke Duncan answered. Note: get Beyonce to sing a ballad.

There is an awesome montage featuring images of Jesus, puppies, the American Flag, Terri Schiavo, ponies, kittens and The Cross upon which you place your trust as an American . You will cry. MCD takes off his “liberal judge” robes of and unveils a form-fitting tee shirt exposing his chiseled, yet not-gay body, with the image of an Eagle, Ole Glory and Jesus. Jesus looks like he’s from the O.C. The shirts will be available for purchase at Wal-Mart.

They move to Texas where life is much better, of course.

The final scene, setting up the sequel...Ann is blogging and she sees through her trailer window a lesbian couple moving in next door!

Beyond Propoganda

Hey, kids!

Do stories about Arctic drilling, ineffective energy policies and outrageous oil prices bum you out?

Well...don't worry!

BP, that little oil company with first quarter earnings of $79.81 billion has issued a little edict to newspaper and magazine publisher demanding that "ad-accepting publications inform BP in advance of any news text or visuals they plan to publish that directly mention the company, a competitor or the oil-and-energy industry."

In other words, any story that reflects negatively on the oil and energy business could garner a retraction of the $21.7 million BP spends in print advertising.

How does that make you feel?

NEW YORK (AdAge.com) -- Days after financial services giant Morgan Stanley informed print publications that its ads must be automatically pulled from any edition containing "objectionable editorial coverage," global energy giant BP has adopted a similar press strategy.

According to a copy of a memo on the letterhead of BP's media-buying agency, WPP Group's MindShare, the global marketer has adopted a zero-tolerance policy toward negative editorial coverage.

Isn't that great news?

I, actually, am kinda relieved to hear that.

No more investigative stories that would make me mad and angry and discontent -- I bet there will be more happy stories about blissful white people driving Hummers in the well-lit cities of the future. They live in comfortable, stylish lofts during the week and jet off to exotic locales every weekend. Just like you and me!

As soon as take my bath in BP Gasoline and Dawn Dishwashing Detergent and wash away the residue left behind by some pesky, unreported oil slick, I'll get on living my Jesus-Loving Saving It All for Marriage American Life.

Gays with Guns

I'm sitting here waiting to re-watch Guerilla - The Taking of Patty Hearst and the funniest little e-mail floats in.

Gays with Guns?

Pink Pistols?

Don't worry. I'm not packing heat now...or even later. Words are my weapons.

But Good Lord! Queens running around PrideFest armed to the gills? I'm looking for something fashionable in Kevlar right now.

- - - - -

DESPITE BAN, GAYS WITH GUNS TO ATTEND PRIDE EVENTS
www.StonewallShootingSportsUtah.org

SALT LAKE CITY -- With an expected attendance of almost 30,000 people, the state's annual gay- and lesbian-pride events planned for June 8 through 12 will continue to be one of the largest outdoor events organized in the capitol city. But, the leader of a group whose members own and use legally concealed firearms, and attend the events said that an events rule which would ban "weapons of any kind" is too broad, unenforceable and shouldn't discourage the members from attending the events with their firearms if they choose to do so.

Stonewall Shooting Sports of Utah founder and owner David Nelson said that the rule, which was published in May is a departure from the 2003 and 2004 pride events when their organizers agreed that people with legally concealed firearms could not be denied admission to the events and adopted no such rules. Nelson said that his requests to the organizers to revise the new rule remain unanswered.

"Previous organizers understood that people with Utah Concealed Firearm Permits have met every federal and state legal requirement to choose carrying legally concealed firearms, and welcomed us," Nelson said. "There were no complaints at the 2003 and 2004 events. The previous organizers didn't confuse the difference of legal and illegal firearms."

"New organizers announced their plan to search all attendees and their personal property, but I suspect their 30,000 searches would quickly become impractical and a public-relations disaster," Nelson said. "The organizers might discover some people with weapons -- weapons which would be legal except when they're improperly concealed -- but the organizers may do little more than invite law-enforcement officers to intervene legally, which they're not obligated to do. The organizers may not, however, deny admission to those people with legally concealed firearms or confiscate the firearms."

Previous organizers invited Nelson in 2003 to debate transgender University of Utah Professor Barbara Nash, who also serves as the founder of Gun Violence Prevention Campaign-Center of Utah, about the idea of firearms for self defense.

"Both Professor Nash and I have been issued state concealed-firearm permits," Nelson said. "While I don't know if she carried her legally concealed firearm when we debated, I suspect she'd agree with me that no one who has met every legal requirement including daily FBI criminal-history investigations should be arbitrarily denied the legal, responsible and safe exercise of our human right to defend ourselves if we choose and need to do so."

Seven of the eight announced pride events are planned for the Salt Lake City Public Library, Library and Washington squares, and the surrounding city streets and sidewalks -- all government properties. Because only one of the events is planned for church property, Nelson described most of the events as public accommodations on public properties where legally concealed firearms are permitted.

"State laws are very clear about who, what, when, where, why and how legally concealed firearms may be prohibited," Nelson said. "In almost every instance, the organizers fail the legal requirements that would let them ban our firearms. Law- enforcement officers are, in fact, prohibited from enforcing those local laws and rules that are inconsistent with state firearms laws. If our hard-earned state permits don't protect our Second Amendment rights in the public square -- this city public square, they do no good."

A similar weapons ban was attempted in 2003 by pride-events organizers in Columbus, Ohio. Law-enforcement officers who responded to the call for assistance from events organizers instead protected the right of 12 attendees with legally carried firearms and warned the organizers that their attempts to confiscate the firearms could be considered a federal felony theft of firearms.

"As we did in 2003 and 2004, our members wish simply to attend and enjoy one of the state's big events without complaint and without leaving one of our constitutional rights at the festival gates," Nelson said. "It's ironic that the celebration of a day which is set aside to renew the call for equal rights is threatened with one of them being denied. Banning legally concealed firearms isn't yet the easiest thing to do, but I wonder if those who wish to do so would also assume the legal and financial guarantee to protect everyone."

SSSU is a group of gender- and sexual-minority firearms advocates and owners in the state, and supporters of the Pink Pistols idea that was described nationally in 2000 by writer Jonathan Rauch for the legal, responsible and safe use of firearms for their self defense and shooting-sport competition and recreation, including those who are gay and lesbian, and that of their families and friends. With hundreds of members, they're also the largest such group worldwide.

CONTACT: David Nelson
Stonewall Shooting Sports of Utah
David Nelson Communications
Post Office Box 521721
Salt Lake City, Utah 84152-1721
(734)661-0667 Facsimile
owner@stonewallshootingsportsutah.org

Queen of the Queers

If you stay up near Shaw, you would have heard some hollering last night. Independently of each other, that Angry Black Bitch and I were each screaming at our televisions over an Ed Bradley report detailing Dubya's Federally Funded Save Your Pussy for Marriage Program Coz Jesus Told Me So.

The thought is this: teach teenagers that condoms don't work and that your spunk must not be spilt until you get married. Having sex will make you "all crazy and depressed" and sex is bad and un-Christian!!! Which is, afterall, the basis for all public policy. What would Jesus do with unfettered control of your tax dollars?

Leading the charge for men not having sex with women is a man that I don't believe has had sex with a woman, either. His name is Claude Allen. He's a cross-eyed lisper, an anti-abortionist and for a (supposed) straight man, he thinks about hot man-on-man action a little too much. Oh...and he's black and worked for Jesse Helms.

Allen's history as a gay-baiter goes back to his days as a top aide to the notorious homophobe Senator Jesse Helms. In 1984, Allen accused Helms' Democratic challenger, then-Governor James Hunt, of having links to "queers," "radical feminists," socialists and unions.

Sounds charming, huh?

Don't get me wrong. I love gay black men. I was loving on one (or two) the other night....but they were out of the closet! Hell. I dunno if they're outta the closet or not. They were in my bed and like my mother told me if it looks like a duck and acts like a duck.

I guess I'd get sued or thrown up in some Homeland Security Office for Reprogramming for saying I think he's a mo....so let me quote someone who went to high school with him:

I happen to have gone to high school with both Claude and his brother and upon reading the words he uttered concerning "queers" I find this very odd when in high school he was the "Queen of the Queers" and it is very easy to verify. I'll bet like most republicans, he is a closet homosexual and his family is just for show.

Rabid anti-gay folks being secret closet cases?

Hah!!!!

How preposterous. That's like saying a racist Republican would sleep with his black maid and secretly hide his love child for years. That's crazy talk.

Listen. I could give a fuck who Claude Allen fucks. But this asshole is shaping public health policy that is flawed and dangerous. When these Saving All My Spunk For You teens have sex (which they eventually do), studies are showing they are not protecting themselves from sexually transmitted diseases!!!!!!

I dunno anymore. I dunno what's going on in this country. I'm angry when I find out about it and I'm angrier that most folks don't seem to give a shit what's going on anymore.

Desperate Lines in Desperate Times

Choire Sicha's review of Desperate Housewives has the best sentence of the day:

It put women back on television -- even if, in this case, one of them is a baby-coveting murderer and the other is a junkie mess.

Never a Bride - Always a Florist

One of the few things that I know that I do well is make pretty flower arrangements.

It was the first job I had after graduating from art school (besides being a club kid, which wasn't as much as a vocation as an intervention-waiting-to-happen).

Every weekend for five years, I designed and/or coordinated weddings from the very simple to the very elaborate.

The last wedding I was involved with had a flower bill that was almost twice my annual salary.

That's when I gave up the biz.

It's brutal, beautiful work, but it's emotionally draining and stressful.

And I wanted more from my life than constant stress and aggravation.

Friday, I poked some posies for a dear friend of mine who was responsible for hiring me at my first "office job."

She's a talented woman who orchestrated and organized one of the best weddings I have ever attended.

You do the math: take a couple of weddings a week at 52 weeks a year, times five years...It was a party and a half.

We worked together to create some really nice touches:

There were handcrafted, Mission Style pedestals with floating candles and huge sprays of Stargazer Lilies and Roses.

The mothers had delicate nosegays of creamy spray roses.

A simple color palette of reds and whites offset the black of the girl's dresses and the contemporary art gallery that hosted the wedding and the reception.

So many things about Friday night linger in my memory.

The woman who officiated the service was wise and thoughtful and presented the bride and groom with a beautiful heart-shaped glass vessel during the ceremony.

There was a chocolate fountain. And strawberries the size of golf balls to dip.

A friend of mine was surprised to see a fella there that he knew...um...well and even more surprised to meet this fella's wife.

The lovely lady next to me at dinner was a character and had me rolling in stitches the whole night.

The night flowed beautifully from one component to the next.

The food was outstanding.

The conversation lively and the music was first rate.

I will admit that I left before they played The Chicken Dance.

Why ruin a good night?

So...here's to love and happiness and all that other stuff that brings passion to life!

Here's to you, Kelly and the life you and your husband have chosen to make together.

I can rant and bitch like a mo-fo on here, but there's one thing I know for sure:

The greatest thing you'll ever learn, it just to love, and be loved in return.

And I'll get back to bitching in just a bit...

Hey, Big Spender!

All these jokers, how I hate them With their groping, grabbing, clutching, clinching, Strangling, handling, bumbling, pinching
There's gotta be some life cleaner than this.

There's Gotta Be Something Better Than This
- Sweet Charity, 1966

If news that Donald Trump - The Musical didn't sour your dreams of hoofing it on The Great White Way, news that Neil Simon is rewriting Sweet Charity to accommodate a corporate sponsor & advertiser should come as no surprise, either. Consider this, as well: for the current revival, he re-wrote his bittersweet, cynical 1966 ending. The original version ended with a message of insincere, artistically-void corporate manipulation.

NEW YORK (Adage.com) -- As part of a product placement campaign in Broadway's Sweet Charity, playwright Neil Simon approved a script change to promote Gran Centenario tequila, according to the deal makers.

In addition to having the Gran Centenario mention written into the script, the tequila’s logos are integrated into the show’s set in one scene, and the product has been the drink of choice at Gran Centenario-sponsored parties thrown during the pre-Broadway shows as well as its New York opening, all attended by the cast, their friends and a select group of invitees. Specialty cocktails featuring Gran Centenario created by well-known bartender Dale deGroff are featured at those fests as well as in the Al Hirschfeld Theatre where Sweet Charity plays and at nearby bars.

Let's Hear It for the Rainbow Tour

We weren't quite sure...and we had a few doubts...and when Matt Drudge pointed to this story, we were worried:
Protesters Mob Laura Bush in Jerusalem

Strangely enough, the same damn story has a different headline here:
Protesters Heckle Laura Bush in Jerusalem

CNN makes it sound like the poor dear was in danger:
Protesters surround Laura Bush at Jerusalem mosque
First lady whisked away as emotions grow tense

Our friends in Scotsmanland tell it this way:
Protesters Besiege Laura Bush During Jerusalem Visit

And MSNBC almost makes it sound like she sat down with them for some tea and cookies:
Protesters meet Laura Bush at Jerusalem sites

Aljazeera, of all folks, softened the blow a bit...
Laura Bush greeted with Muslim and Jewish protests

But not quite like this from Fox:
First Lady Visits Israel

Elz Bells!

Got a press release and a photo from the folks over at Magic Smoking Monkey Theatre that I'm just gonna slap up here.

Good Lord! Those kids have been at this for ten years now! I was at that first show back in the day and will no-doubt be back this year, too!

Plus one of my favoritest-actress-ladies-that-I-don't-know-but-always-wink-at-coz-she-makes-me-giggle is in the show.

Yay Amy Elz!

Hell - yay for everybody! It'll be good times.

MAGIC SMOKING MONKEY THEATRE
CELEBRATES 10TH SEASON WITH REVIVAL OF
ED WOOD’S GLEN OR GLENDA:LIVE!

Magic Smoking Monkey Theatre presents its 10th anniversary production, Ed Wood’s GLEN OR GLENDA: LIVE!, June 3 – 18, 2005 at the Regional Arts Commission, 6128 Delmar in University City. Performances are Friday and Saturday at 8:00pm and 10:30pm; tickets are $15 general admission, $10 for students 18 and under. Tickets are available through MetroTix at (314) 534-1111 or at the theatre box office one hour prior to showtime. For reservations or information, call (314) 361-5664 or e-mail info@stlshakespeare.org.

The most legendary B-movie director of all time, Ed Wood, assaulted audiences worldwide with a string of bizarre, no-budget fusions of horror, science fiction, noir and comedy. The first – and worst – of Wood’s films, GLEN OR GLENDA, is brought to life in glorious black and white onstage at the Regional Arts Commission.

After the apparent suicide of a transvestite, Inspector Warren pays a visit to notable psychiatrist Dr. Alton to try to make sense of why some men like to wear women's clothes. Dr. Alton relates the strange case of Glen, engaged to be married to Barbara, who is unaware of Glen’s secret life as Glenda. Will she understand and accept him? Will she try to work through it with him? Will she let him wear her angora sweater? David Wassilak portrays Glen, a transvestite struggling with his addiction to angora, while Bela Lugosi offers inscrutable narration. Stock footage, stampeding buffalo and pseudo hermaphrodites are just a few of the surprises awaiting audiences. Featured actors include David Wassilak, Diane Hartke, Drew Bell, Jim Ousley and David Cooperstein. With Tyson Blanquart, Mike Bowdern, Ian Carlson, Amy Elz, Julie Layton, Benjamin Ritchie, Jill Ritter and Patti Ulrich.

Magic Smoking Monkey Theatre – an offshoot of St. Louis Shakespeare – is the only local theatre dedicated to presenting original parodies of film and television pop culture classics. MSMT is a favorite with St. Louis audiences looking for an evening of unpredictable laughs. “…stylish, silly, late-night comedy,” “…an hilarious evening of off-the-wall, bizarre theatre,” and “…over-the-top, utterly unpretentious fun,” are just some of the comments from local reviewers. MSMT sprang to life in 1996 with its production of Ed Wood’s Glen or Glenda or I Changed My Sex, a huge critical and audience success. The Company went on to produce such “B” movie classics as Valley of the Dolls, Elvis Presley’s Girl Happy and Ed Wood’s opus, Plan 9 From Outer Space, (generally considered to be the worst movie of all time) and The One-Hour Star Wars Trilogy, and is dedicated to presenting parodies of the best of the worst that popular culture has to offer. MSMT’s appeal has cut across the societal spectrum – audiences come from all over the bi-state area (even from out-of-state), and include students, young adults and families - anyone who loves offbeat, fast-paced, campy comedy.

For information, contact Donna Northcott at (314) 361-6703 or info@stlshakespeare.org.

Demagaguery

Oh, honey.....this one's open letter to the Democratic leadership had me throwing my fists to the heavens and hollering, "Hell, yes!"

I am positively gagging on his accuracy.

Some of my favorite quotes are below:

...your party should be abandoned by the U.S. working class, by U.S. women, by oppressed nationalities in the United States, and by anyone who professes to be a progressive or a leftist.

Since there seems to be a great dark space in the middle of your heads where the notion of opposition should be – a void filled by parliamentary molasses and the pusillanimous inabilty to tell simple truths...

...if you would stop chasing your creepy little careers through the caviar and chicken-salad circuits of duck-and-cover American political double-speak, then not only would people like me not be calling for all to abandon the Democratic Party and take their fight to the streets like good Bolivians… not only that, but you’d have won the last election.

You don’t deserve anyone’s support, not even as a tactical matter any longer, because you end up doing ritual verbal combat then giving the “cornpone Nazis” of the Republcan Party any goddamn thing they want.

Tell the Democratic Leadership Council to eat shit and die. Stop working, stop obeying, block the streets and highways, shut down the capital, and watch them choke on their own sewage. If Americans weren’t so bewildered by television, so addled and soft from junk food and cars and electronic appliances, and so addicted to their own cultural superficiality, they might begin organizing general strikes: women’s strikes, workers strikes (without union bureaucrats to calm them down), Black people strikes, Brown people strikes, info-tech strikes, eco-strikes, all working our way up to One Big Strike.

Ivana Dance with Somebody...

As if we needed another sign that the cultural apocalypse has begun -- this story, gives the first horseman a name.

Listen, I know that I am prone to hysterical outbreaks. I am likely to say things that I will regret later on. I will declare my stance on any number of issues, change my mind and then back-peddle to my original conclusions.

But Donald Trump - The Musical?

Give me one Goddamned minute to slice off my ears, poke out my eyes, rip out my tongue and plunge a stake into my heart.

Has there ever been a more useless, puerile, woefully-arrogant, self-aggrandizing, totally unimportant, chauvinist asshole who doesn't need to have his greedy, hateful, trivial, bankrupt and replete-of-meaning life played out on the Great White Way?

Mediocrity is one thing, folks. That's everywhere nowadays. But this...this...should be a clarion call to y'all. We're fucked. By an asshole in a cheap toupee, no less. And when Katie Couric interviews his ass Monday, my television is going out the window.

Producers Barry and Fran Weissler and Mark Burnett, with an assist from real-estate mogul Donald Trump, are developing a musical based on "The Apprentice," Trump's hit NBC television series.

"Donald Trump is a larger-than-life character, and the Broadway musical stage may be the only medium large enough for him," Weissler, producer of the current revivals of "Chicago" and "Sweet Charity," said Friday in a statement.

Save the Republic, We Must

From those crazy kids over at MoveOn...

Today, Star Wars III: Revenge of the Sith opens at theaters nation-wide. And weirdly enough, the plot of what will undoubtedly be one of the biggest films in movie history revolves around a scheming senator who, seduced by visions of absolute power, transforms a democratic republic into an empire.

We've put together a new TV ad, based on the same theme, that we're launching today. It's our first (and only) political ad to feature both a space battle and an army of judge robots.

You can check it out here.

Beast Blender

The Minnesota Association of Rogue Taxidermists invites you to create a being that has never existed. Blend part of one animal with part of another. And another. The eyes of a deer may see best on the head of an ape. The legs of a cat may move a fish, too. Scale parts to match, not match or rotate parts in different directions.

A head doesn't always have to be up front. A tail, not always behind. Experiment all you want.

It's the artistic turn of form, or the future turn of science.

Play God or Frankenstein here.

Straighten Up!

I am a really typical str8 acting/looking guy that just happens to be attracted to the same.

Guess Who Here?!?

Oh! And just for fun - here's mine.

Post-Op from the Edge

Princess Leia will be born today. I think.

Well, she should! I hope.

It's all over, then? I guess.

Live long and prosper, doll. Wrong movie, right substance.

Riddle Me This

The first fella that I can remember having a crush on has died.

As a wee, little lad, whenever Frank Gorshin appeared as the Riddler on Batman, I felt a little tingle of extra interest. I didn't know what it was then, and I'm not all that I'm sure what it was now. He wasn't dreamy in the traditional Hollywood manner, but he had a quality about him: a sly, crafty, highly-energetic, dynamic, give-it-til-it-hurts-and-then-some charisma. I couldn't take my eyes off him. I was just talking about how hot he was just the other day.

Maybe I just have a thing for criminals in skin-tight green body suits with maniacal laughs. And I'd always harbored a fantasy of hooking up with some guy dressed as the Riddler, but now the thought of that just creeps me out.

And after reading that his wife of 48 years was with him when he died yesterday, I feel like a covetous creep.

Speaking of that, it's funny how stars can creep into your consciousness. I bawled the day Lucille Ball died. I threw a fit when Bette Davis flipped us the final bird. Gregory Peck's death bummed me out for weeks.

I'm off to bed now to contemplate a time when men were a riddle that I wanted to investigate rather than a riddle I'd rather forget. I'm going to be mulling that one for a while, too.

Rest in Peace, Frank Gorshin.

His other TV credits included roles on "General Hospital, "The Edge of Night" and "The Munsters" as well as guest appearances on "Donny & Marie," "The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson," "Late Night with Conan O'Brien," "Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman," "Murder, She Wrote," "The Fall Guy," "Buck Rogers in the 25th Century," "Wonder Woman," "Charlie's Angels" and "Police Woman."

Frank Gorshin's Obituary

Photoshop of Horrors

Can anyone explain why Photoshop 7.0, which has worked perfectly until now on my P.C., will load and open images, but will lock up when I try to use any menu bar functions? I cannot create new images or change image sizes, etc.

I don't even get an error message - it just stalls. Nada. Zippo. Zilch. Ugh.

I s'pose I could reinstall it - but that just seems DUMB!

Blue Balls, Blow Jobs & Blue Lips

Note: Given the recent scandal involving Newsweek, I feel that it is incumbent upon on me to let y’all know that some of the details in this post have been changed to protect the identities of the persons involved and the places mentioned. By no means was this done to deny the sluttiness of certain fella’s actions or the licentious activities that one can find in this metro area. I just keep my tricks anonymous and where I get busy top secret. After all, this is Missouri and I don’t wanna run into your ass or the cops when I decide to get my freak on.

- - - - - -

I’ve lived in St. Louis for a total of 15 years. In that time, I have made some great friends, had a few boyfriends and gotten laid more times that I can remember. As of late, I have forgone a great deal of sluttiness because it’s not as easy to have rampant, anonymous sex in St. Louis as certain right-wingers would like you to believe.

Since I’ve graduated from college, I’ve been fairly social and had jobs that provide me a lot of contact with the gay community. It is very rare when I go out that I don’t know most of the folks who are out, slept with a few of them, or have at my disposal a gaggle of friends who can provide the salacious details of so-and-so’s kinkiness in the bedroom. In addition to being gossips, I am proud that most of my friends are sluts, too.

This past Monday rolled around and I was in a mood.

I really wanted to get laid.

Before the three of you get all riled up and start hollering, “T.M.I….T.M.I!” – don’t worry. This isn’t my foray into pornography. As Ryan once again asserted the other day, “Your life resists all things normal.” Apparently that now includes anonymous sex.

Blue Balls

It began sluttily enough Monday morning when I arranged for a quickie before work. It sounded so hot. I’d be dressed in my busy-executive-on-the-go striped shirt, pinstripe pants and power tie, waiting for Mr. Rise-n-Shine. Cum and go, so to speak. Trouble is, he wasn’t so anonymous, after all. We laughed about that when he arrived and he asked me to not “breathe a word about this to anyone.” I couldn’t really say that I don’t kiss and tell, since I wasn’t sure if blogging counted…I just nodded. Things were about to get started when he realized he’d locked his keys in his car. Talk about an immediate…um… let-down. Calls had to be made, excuses and such issued forth. Whatever. It got me riled up for a Monday morning and I trudged off to work looking cute, but sexually frustrated as hell.

Blow Jobs

I hate to break it to any of you who think that men are faithful. They’re not. Go to any book store, strip club, hotel lobby bathroom, Target, or local Shop-n-Save and you’ll usually find a fella willing to administer, accept or trade blow jobs. I hate to keep it so real for any of you married ladies out there who worry if your husband will stray with cute little Stacie in marketing. In St. Louis, it’s more likely that he’s been blowing Larry in accounting. For years.

Since my morning started badly, I’d hoped that an afternoon delight would be feasible. I knew where I could do to find some daytime dalliance. I arrived at my destination, which was sadly empty, except for one cute fella who immediately asked me upon arrival if I wanted a blow job. “Gimme a second to look around...” I said, “...and get back to me.” I winked at him and proceeded.

I walked around the den of sin and found that it was pretty-much just the two of us so I went up to him.

“Damn…it sure is quiet here…” I said as dark-n-surly as I could manage.

“Oh...my God…Rob?”

“Yeah…do I know you? You look familiar…”

“Yeah…it’s [blah-blah]. I dated [blah-blah].”

Suddenly memories flooded in of an ex-friend who’d dated this cutie. Cutie’s ex is one of those fellas that drops you when he gets a new guy. We haven’t chatted for years, and it’s been at least five since he and Mister Blowjob broke up.

MB replied, “You look good….you’ve lost weight.”

“Yeah….I didn’t recognize you. You look…younger!” I said.

“Yeah…the years have been kind….” ****awkward pause**** “Well, listen...I gotta go.”

And he split. Just like that. And then I remembered that he may have had some “issues” in the past and maybe he felt guilty and ashamed. Fuck...who doesn’t have issues? I spat out my Double Bubble and lit a cigarette. I could’ve give a fuck about kissing-fresh-breath or somebody else’s tortured psyche. Mine’s tortured enough.

Blue Lips

Fortunately enough for me, I know some fellas that if you’re horny and they’re horny and you agree to some mutually agreeable terms, you can be in and out and happy within a certain amount of time.

After getting home from work, I got to work and managed to arrange a rendezvous with a fella that I’ve hooked up with off and off for more than a decade. Finally!

Things transpired and I’ll spare the details, except for these two: when you spend a lot of time in a sling and you’re with a guy who’s really into poppers, you can develop short term methemoglobinemia, which in some cases, is deadly. Basically, my red blood cells stopped processing oxygen! My lips turned blue, as did my fingertips, I turned shockingly pale and passed out!

While the epidemiology of my condition was being assessed, it also was brought to my attention that products containing lidocaine can also trigger a methemoglobinemia incident. And I’ve been slathering lidocaine on twice daily since I was diagnosed with eczema back in January. Yay me!

Bah Humbug!

This sad, sordid tale, sadly lacking in sordidness has been brought to you by my fucked up life. I’m not particularly bitter about it all. Well, that is a lie. But I am mostly annoyed. Annoyed with my friends who happily fuck around all the time. Annoyed with my friends who are single and loving it. Annoyed with the happy, cute couples in the park. I’m probably annoyed at you.

I’ve been in a blue mood for the past month. In one day, I’ve been blue balled, blown off and blood poisoned. The only solution I can see is to slink off to my Fortress of Slutitude to think about my current man-loving-man situation. Once I feel that it’s safe to venture out into the dating-world without being emotionally devastated or into the fucking-world without being physically assaulted, I’m sure I’ll be back, bells ringing.

My blue mood seems to be chronic, so I think I think I’ll just stick to biking. While it’s a bitch on the balls, it’s better for my brain and blood. And better blood is much more desirable than the bitter blood I seem to have too much of at the moment.

Corporation for Public Boredom

I just spat out my Spicy Hilton Hamburger when I heard the news that the Corporation for Public Broadcasting has plans to shift funding away from National Public Radio's news programming. Those patriots in D.C. think your tax dollars are more wisely spent on pretty music instead of news reporting and junk like that.

In one of several points of conflict in recent months, the chairman of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, which allocates federal funds for public radio and television, is considering a plan to monitor Middle East coverage on NPR news programs for evidence of bias, a corporation spokesman said on Friday.

Last month, the corporation's board, which is dominated by Republicans named by President Bush, told the staff at a meeting that it should prepare to redirect the relatively modest number of grants available for radio programs away from national news, officials at the corporation and NPR said.

News Flash: Something or Other....

I spent the past three days volunteering at a national media reform conference with 2,500 folks who are actively trying to protect our right to free speech, booze and cheese. I have a ton of photos and stories to recount, but I was distracted this morning by the news that over one in five Americans thinks the government should be allowed to censor this press.

Ya know, that is really a telling reminder that the struggle for media reform begins with.....

Stop the presses...we just got word that Paris Hilton is gonna be in a Hardee's commercial...critical news junk and thought provoking editorial be damned!

See you at noon, five and six....and probably ten! This Paris thing is HUGE!

A survey to be released Monday reveals a wide gap on many media issues between a group of journalists and the general public. In one finding, 43% of the public says the press has too much freedom, while only 3% of journalists agree. And just 14% of the public can name "freedom of the press" as a guarantee in the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, in the major poll conducted by the University of Connecticut Department of Public Policy.

Six in ten among the public feel the media show bias in reporting the news, and 22% say the government should be allowed to censor the press.

Happy Birthday!

My darling Pretend Internet Boyfriend, who scribes this very clever and oh-so wicked blog, Nervous Breakdown is celebrating his birthday today, this weekend, last week...oh, I dunno...sometime soon.

We're close, but he insists on maintaining his distance and anonymity, for very good reasons.

Bookmark him, blogroll him, say hello. Birthdays are best when shared with random strangers.

Photo ripped from here.

The Siren Called and I Answered

There are times when I think I have the sense God gave a goose.

After stopping at Walgreens to pick up some BluBlockeresque sunglasses, I came home and attempted to take a nap. Well, I simply couldn't sleep... I had new eyeware to model. I jumped on my bike and had a great ride. They are ugly as shit - but I seemed to have better depth perception wearing them.

Anyway, I came home feeling all full of spunk and stuff and made a quick dash downtown to the KDHX Midwest Mayhem party at the City Museum to hear Hot House Sessions. There were at least 2,000 folks down there. DJ Alexis is way-so preggers and looked awesome in her flowery halter dress. I will totally admit the hug-hug-kiss-kiss moment we shared made my day a helluva lot better. Umm...I'm with the DJ.

After that, I made a quick jaunt over to AMP to pick up "Waiting for the Sirens' Call," at the New Order CD release party they were having. It's on the iTunes right now.

* * * hyper-critical moment of blog evaluation * * *

This is the most boring-ass post ever!

I have no pix from tonight, since my camera met its demise in West Hollywood and since my eyes kinda hurt, I'm not fiddling with hyperlinks or photos of crazy old ladies wearing my new sunglasses. I have no great insight or conclusions to draw, either. Not that I ever do, but shouldn't there at least be some grist for the mill or some outrageous photo?

I guess a nice night out alone, with few worries, fantastic house music and free shit will simply have to be enough.

It was for me.

Outta Sight

While it may seem that my life is an open book on this blog, there are a few matters that I don’t discuss. Some things that happen in my life simply aren’t interesting, some things are other people’s business and a few matters I keep to myself -- knowing that the four of you out there would be disappointed in me if I shared it with you. I don’t mind embarrassing myself, but there’s no sense incriminating myself, ya know?

For the past year or so, every now and then...especially in the morning when I first wake up, I see spots. Well, they’re kinda like floaters. They look like close-ups of viruses, kinda chunky glowey transparent masses that eventually disappear. I’ve also had problems at night judging distances with car lights – but I figured that’s just due to getting older.

Things took a strange turn Sunday when I felt like I really needed to wear my sunglasses to drive. The light outside seemed especially bright. No big deal, I thought, I know lots of folks who have to wear sunglasses during the day.

And then things got weird Tuesday morning. Not only did I wake up to some floaters, but everything looked different. The LED displays on my alarm clock, my coffee maker, my answering machine had changed color. What used to be red looked orange. What was green was yellow green. Driving to work, I noticed that looking at white cars, especially when illuminated by sunshine lost their sense of shape. They just became white glowing masses. And stop lights are no longer red. They’re orangey and kinda glowey, too. Same kinda thing last night when I was out for my bike ride. Lights look weird and I cannot perceive depth in darker, low lit areas.

The thing that flipped me out the most was looking at the white house next door to our office. The white aluminum siding on the side of the house no longer has any sense of depth. I couldn’t see the faint shadow that used to be there when the sunlight hit the siding. It was just all white. The same goes for my computer screens. Sitting here, I’m having trouble seeing the bottom of the screen. The back of my head hurts, my eyes start getting watery and I have to turn away from time to time to rub my eyes. There’s also flashes when I look at the screen too long.

So...I’m off to see the eye doctor, but no one is available until next week. In the meantime, I have convinced myself that I have Rapid Onset Glaucoma or some terrible brain disorder. Everything I know about life, I learned from television, so I’m doing my best to not go all Alison or Mary.

Added to that, this story:

Poor Vision May Speed Mental Decline

isn’t helping my mood.

I am the first one to admit that I cry wolf at the first sight of fur. But now that the fur is kinda gloopey looking, I’m kicking myself, wondering if I shouldn’t have hollered sooner.

I'm gonna do some preventative things though. I don't think I should be driving at night. Biking home last night was kinda hard. I'm gonna limit my time on here - because if it's just simple eye strain, staring at this damn screen is not helping matters. I guess i could have forgone the pictures for this post -- but c'mon...do you really expect me not to have pictures?

Maybe my body is just telling me to take a break the only way it knows how. I've been in hyperdrive for a while now and maybe what is best for me is just to sit and stare into space, or close my eyes and rest.

CHARO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This press release just crossed my desk and I'm pea green with envy. I used to have a reader in California. Maybe there's another? I'm sure by August, the lithium will be working, I'll at least have arms of steel, or my credit card will be paid off. Two out of three, anyone?

Kung Pao Kosher Comedy Presents... CHARO AND HER LAS VEGAS SHOW
(for the 1st time in San Francisco in 10 years!)

SATURDAY, AUGUST 6, 2005 @ 7:00PM

*** ONE NIGHT ONLY ***

The Herbst Theatre, 401 Van Ness Ave., San Francisco

Tickets: $35, $50, & $75 ­ City Box Office

Charo will take to the stage and play solo flamenco guitar for one part of the show and will be accompanied by a 3-piece back-up band and 4 Las Vegas dancers for a high energy glitzy revue for the other half.

While You Were Sleeping

"Standard Bearers"

Bryan Stevenson A lovely little bigot who co-sponsored HB328 which aims to prohibits public institutions that receive state funds from adopting a discrimination policy that exceeds current federal protections against discrimination. In other words, if your city, college, school or organization has an anti-discrimination policy -- they'd get none of your tax dollars.

Brad Roark He's also sponsored some lovely Jesus-loving bills including: HB452 which aims to establishes an alternative to a traditional marriage called a covenant marriage.

Too Scared to Take a Stand

Robin Wright-Jones No stranger to this blog.

GSA Defenders

Michael Daus Just tell him thanks!

Rick Johnson Him, too!

This was taken directly from the PROMO press release. In this day and age, it's hard to tell whether this was done strictly out of hateful bigotry or calculated political gain.

Either way, it's a sick, sad example of how politics in the state of Missouri is about backwoods fear-mongering instead of progressive reform. This should come as no surprise to me, but on a day when two little girls are dead, presumably at the hands of one girl's father, I really fucking wanna know who the hell is watching out for the kids?

I am more than pissed that my state rep (who is the Minority Caucus Chairwoman) didn't take a stand. I guess as long as homos keep renovating her district, we're alright - but those of us getting the shit kicked out of us at school are disposable? And I'm telling her so, too!

------

While you were sound asleep last night, the Missouri General Assembly was attacking LGBT youth.

At 2:00 a.m., the debate over public school funding got sidetracked to a discussion over homosexuality.

Representatives Stevenson and Roark proposed an amendment to SB 287 that would prohibit public schools from having policies or activities that advocate or support homosexuality.

They wanted to ban Gay/Straight Alliances!

"I don't think a majority of Missourians approve of that type of lifestyle," Roark said "There are certain standards when there are state tax dollars involved."

Several Representatives who support LGBT youth rose to our defense.

Rep. Mike Daus grilled Rep. Roark about his comments and stressed the importance of support groups for LGBT youth.

Rep. Rick Johnson said, "Students who are gay are subjected to discrimination and ridicule and violence and death. To say these students should not be supported...in some way is the absolute wrong way to go."

The amendment passed 81 - 47. However, under procedural rules, the amendment was not included in the funding bill and is, therefore, no longer a part of the legislation.

This was a malicious attempt to put pro-LGBT equality legislators on the hot seat and force them to make a public stance in our favor in hopes to use this against them in the next election.

The extreme right wing in our legislature was counting on the fact that you were asleep last night...and they are counting on the fact that you will remain asleep today and in the future so that they can continue to discriminate, ridicule and bash the youth of our community.

The time is now – we must wake up!

Below you will find a list of how the legislators voted. Please email or call your legislator and either thank him/her or demand to know why they voted to attack the youth of our state. You can find contact information by going to www.house.mo.gov.

Also, no matter where you live in the state, take a moment to tell Representatives Daus and Johnson just how much you appreciate their support and attentiveness to our issues at such a late hour of the night.

"Yes" - Supported the amendment to eliminate Gay/Straight Alliances from public schools.
"No" - Opposed the amendment to eliminate Gay/Straight Alliances from public schools.
"Present" - Signifies that the Representative was present but unwilling to take a stand either way on the issue.
"Absent" - Signifies that the Representative was not present and therefore no record exists as to how he/she felt about the issue.

"Yes"
Avery, Baker (123), Bearden, Behnen, Bivins, Black, Bringer, Brown (30), Bruns, Byrd, Casey, Chinn, Cooper (120), Cooper (158), Cunningham (145), Cunningham (86), Davis, Day, Dethrow, Dusenberg, Emery, Ervin, Faith, Fisher, Flook, Franz, Guest, Hobbs, Hunter, Icet, Jones, Kelly, Kingery, Kraus, Lager, Lembke, Lipke, Loehner, May, McGhee, Munzlinger, Muschany, Nance, Nieves, Nolte, Parker, Parson, Phillips, Pollock, Pratt, Quinn, Rector, Roark, Robb, Ruestman, Rupp, Salva, Sander, Sater, Schaaf, Schad, Selby, Self, Shoemyer, Silvey, Skaggs, Smith (118), Stefanick, Stevenson, St. Onge, Sutherland, Swinger, Tilley, Wagner, Wallace, Wells, Wislon (130), Witte, Wright (137), Yates, Speaker Jetton.

"No"
Aull, Baker (25), Bland, Bowman, Brooks, Brown (50), Burnett, Chappelle-Nadal, Corcoran, Curls, Darrough, Daus, Donnelly, Dougherty, Fares, Fraser, Harris (23), Harris (110), Haywood, Henke, Hoskins, Hubbard, Hughes, Johnson (47), Johnson (90), Jolly, Kratky, Lampe, LeVota, Liese, Low (39), Lowe (44), Meiners, Moore, Oxford, Page, Schlottach, Storch, Villa, Vogt, Walsh, Walton, Weter, Wildberger, Yaeger, Young, Zweifel.

"Present"
Dempsey, El-Amin, George, Johnson (61), Kuessner, Marsh, Pearce, Robinson, Schneider, Smith (14), Spreng, Threlkeld, Viebrock, Whorton, Wilson (119), Wood, Wright-Jones.

"Absent"
Bean, Boykins, Cooper (155), Deeken, Densison, Dixon, Goodman, Jackson, Meadows, Myers, Portwood, Richard, Roorda, Rucker, Schoemehl, Wasson, Wright (159)

Don't Look, Ethel!

I'm so self-conscious, I hate showering nekkid, but this made me chuckle.

World Naked Bike Ride - June 11, 2005

The Antidote

I was thinking about Morcheeba on my way into work this morning. I compose entries when I'm riding my bike, driving my car, getting uninspired head - ya know, those activities where letting your mind wonder can have really disastrous results.

Anyway, Morcheeba was on my mind because I was thinking about how often-times, when I pre-compose theses little ditties, I feel all Carrie Bradshaw, sitting around in her pink tank top and boxer shorts.

Now, my tank tops aren't pink, they're more likely to be coffee stained and I since No Pants Day has passed, I am sitting here dressed. I am also at work, on break of course, so being dressed is kinda mandatory.

But when I write, I often hear the music of Morcheeba in the background while the internal mental camera pans right, the thoughtful Darren Star or Michael Patrick King utterance issues forth and...ahhhh.....release. It's a lot more satisfying than the uninspired head or the daily commute into work. Biking and blogging are still symbiotic rather than adversarial....thank goodness!

So, I get into work this morning to see that my pal Kelly sent me an e-mail informing me that this import album from Morcheeba was released yesterday and that Mz. Skye is flying solo.

I am so grateful Kelly is my friend for any number of reasons. Top of the list is the psychic tune in we've developed over the past thirteen years. Oh, and his killer music collection. To his credit, his verbal skills could decimate legions of gays with just a few keystrokes, but he doesn't blog. He sends me fun shit to post on here and has put up with more of my irrational behavior than anyone other than my mother. He was my roommate for almost 8 years and this past year on my own without him has been very difficult for me.

I'm not gonna go all Oprah even though I'm teetering on the brink. But I'd much rather embarrass myself than him at this moment. He'd never forgive me. And I wouldn't run the risk of that for anything. There's no antidote for that.

Dreams

Have you ever had a persistent dream?

It may not come to you every night, week or month.

It may not come to you every year.

But it resurfaces when you need it most -- somehow.

I just woke from that dream. It's a story that's been building and growing in my mind for quite a while. A number of the scenes have been playing themselves out in my dreams over and over for well over a decade, but I didn't understand who all the characters were. It's a tale of growth and challenge and lipstick and murder and glitter. Lots of glitter. Not Mariah Carey glitter. I want my story to be interesting.

On the surface it's not so unusual. People have sex, eat pickles and get their hair did for a special night out at the club. It's a story of normal, everyday fabulous people and a cavalcade of special guest star appearances.

You were there. And you were there, And even you were there.

It's my story of adventure and love.

I'm not sure if my prose is as powerful as the images that my mind conjures up for me, so I think it will work best once it's adapted to the screen. Yeah. I'm dreaming big. But it's....it's...a project. It's an original idea. Or at least I think so.

We've all been told we have a book or story or movie inside of us. I've always believed that...well...at least about me. I just needed to adjust my thinking. Or my mind needed to readjust it for me. I've been trying to write myself into other people's dreams for far too fucking long and even though I just woke up from one - I'm tired and need to get some sleep.

I've got a book to start writing tomorrow.

Hoop In The Hay and A Hope Sha-Na!

Finally! Some good news before the pills kick in.

The curtains go up [tomorrow] at the Royal Opera in Stockholm for the world premiere of Pippi Longstocking -- The Ballet. She will whirl across the stage in her trademark oversized shoes with her pigtails flying.

Naturally, Pippi refuses to stay within the strict rules of classical ballet. While straight-laced, respectable citizens around her dance en pointe, Pippi alternates between street dance, folk dance and jitterbug.

Gold Teefs

The last time that I went to PrideFest (when I didn't have to because of employment responsibilities) my friends and I giddily traipsed off one hot June afternoon to go see headliner Joan Jett.

I was way-wicked tickled. See, I Love Rock and Roll was the first 45 I remember buying with my own money. For the younger set, I guess I should explain that 45's were like CD singles and for the much younger set (leave immediately after this condescension) 45's were like an iTune, except that you got two songs per purchase.

Anyway, Joan Jett fucking rocked!

That's why the news today that International Recording Artist Ari Gold will be performing at this year's event left me feeling a little.....um.....how should I say this.....underwhelmed. Listen, Ari has great pit hair, and shows a lot of it in his publicity photos, but his music reminds me too much of when David tried winning Donna back by breaking out the slow jamz junior year.

For those of you who didn't understand that reference (what are they teaching the children?), David, is also known as actor, rapper, and has-been Brian Austin Green. Following his success on 90210, he produced some compelling work of his own.

I've been sitting here tonight listening to Ari's album (while admiring his pit hair) and the pits just don't make up for the lack of hits.*

I'll leave it to you to draw your own conclusions, I just need to find someone to draw an interested look on my face come June.

Brian Austin Green - Homey
Ari Gold - Homo

*Sorry - I couldn't help myself.

re: Nobody know what this is fake.

I love trying to find meaning from the volume of spam I get. Hell, I try to derive meaning from a good fart.

While I was at volunteer training for the National Media Reform Conference tonight, I got 77 pieces of spam commentary for this blog.

This one really stood out.

A short absence is the safest. Woman absent is woman dead. I love acting. It is so much more real than life.

Any real man must have real watches.

There is something that is much more scarce, something rarer than ability. It is the ability to recognize ability. [spammy URL redacted] Self-denial is the shining sore on the leprous body of Christianity. The achievements which society rewards are won at the cost of diminution of personality

People with great gifts are easy to find, but symmetrical and balanced ones never.

Hmmm.....

Any real man must have real watches.

Life altering. I think I want that on a tee. And my business card.

Bike Rides. Chain Saws. Trailer Parks.

The world is just fucked.

ZION, Ill. (AP) - Investigators looking for clues in the stabbing deaths of two little girls who disappeared on a bike ride questioned the father of one of the youngsters Tuesday and took clothes and a computer from the family home, relatives said.

Police had been holding Jerry Hobbs, the father of 8-year-old Laura Hobbs, since he found the girl's body with that of her best friend, 9-year-old Krystal Tobias, in a park early Monday, family members said.

Hobbs has an extensive criminal history dating back to 1990 in Texas, according to Texas Department of Public Safety records.

He was convicted of aggravated assault after arguing with Laura's mother, Sheila Hollabaugh, in 2001, then grabbing a chainsaw and chasing other residents around the trailer park where they lived, according to Rick Mahler, a prosecutor in Wichita County, Texas. Someone eventually subdued Hobbs by hitting him in the back with a shovel.

"Jerry just got out of prison for aggravated assault and I think they're holding that against him," said Laura's grandfather, Arthur Hollabaugh. "I don't think he did it."

The Whole Sordid Mess....

The 48 Hour Film Project - 2005

Ripped from the KDHX Newsletter:

If you think you have the talent to produce films with the best of them then get ready, the 48 Hour Film Project is returning to St. Louis. The competition begins on June 10th when teams will have 48 hours to produce a 4-8 minute film. The project requires creativity, talent, nerves of steel and a yen to work behind the lens.

Here's what you need to know:

You can download an entry form at www.48hourfilm.com now. Only 30 teams will be selected to participate. The first 10 teams who sign up are automatically accepted. After that, a lottery will decide the remaining teams. The deadline for applications is May 15, 2005.

The screening of the films will be held on Wednesday, June 15th at The Pageant. A "Best of" screening will be held on June 17th, also at The Pageant and will include an awards ceremony.

Details here!

Who's The Boss

Yesterday's plea to Judith Light was answered with this link from Joyce: Tony Danza's Go-Kart Flips During Show Taping.

Girls Gone Wild

Last night the phone rang while I was staring up at the ceiling thinking about how stupid I've been the past few weeks. Beating myself up for getting all crushed out on a fella clear across the country. I'm brutal on myself when I'm alone -- my pity party for one has clearly taken on extended cruise status.

Anyway...the phone rang...and a Los Angeles area code popped up on the Caller ID Display.

It was HIS area code - but I'm really bad at remembering phone numbers. I'd deleted his number from the phone last week in my latest salvo to get over my heartache and get on with life.

I freaked the fuck out, going from maudlin to manic in the space of one ring of the phone, since I don't know anyone else there. In the three seconds it took me to answer it the following thoughts raced through my mind:

Is it him?
It's gotta be him!
Why is he calling?
Why the fuck is he calling?
Maybe he wants to see how I'm doing?
What the fuck does he care how I'm doing?
This has gotta be him, right?
It is him!
God!
HE'S CALLING!!!!

I am very grateful that I spent five years developing a retail phone sales voice that's always chipper and that I've spent a decade developing a phone sex voice that's down-right nasty. I answered the phone sounding calm, with sultry, butch undertones.

Hello?