He Did What?!
Hello, all. I hope you've been well during my too-long absence. Or maybe you don't think it's been too long at all, in which case I suppose you've been feeling fine. Whatever.
Jeff Gannon/Guckert - already well up in the running for Political Skank of the Year - has somehow got himself a regular column in gay publications. He recently wrote a column suggesting that people who agitate for GLBT rights actually work against their own cause by bringing upon themselves resistance that would not have appeared if they'd just shut up and stayed home.
Civil Rights Swap Meet
Collect ‘em, trade ‘em, maybe even use ‘em!
I have a friend (No, really. He’ll even admit it.) with a talent for unthinkingly blurting out hilariously blunt truisms. Recently, someone was raving about marriage rights and Bill (See, he even has a name!) said, “Please. Why would I want more rights?
A Very Long Engagement
Some things just can’t be rushed into
I’ve been considering marriage lately. Not for myself, goodness knows, but in a more clinical, analytical way. This may be akin to dissecting a frog rather than being one, but we did get a better understanding of how a frog works, back in ninth grade bio, than the frog himself ever had. Here, splayed out and pinned down for easy (or uneasy) viewing, are the results.
There are two breeds, if you will, of marriage – the religious and the civil. The religious, of course, involves the church ceremony and all that.
And aren't you relieved!
Man-eating Luggage Source May Save Human Race
I sort of like spam (the email, not the meat-like substance), for several reasons. Sometimes it’s just the oddness of it, like all the ads I get for Christian Singles (Are they as tasty as Kraft Singles?), Christian Debt Relief and, most recently, Christian Dish TV.
A Thing You Already Know
(Well, Somebody’s Got to Tell You)
There’s an old folk tale, but as I’m sure there are no old folks reading this, I’ll tell the whole thing as quickly as possible:
A frog was sitting by the side of a stream when a scorpion accosted him and said, “Mr. Frog, would you please let me ride on your back to the other side of the stream?”
“Sorry, no,” said the frog, “You’d sting me and I’d die. That’s what scorpions do.”
“Please,” said the scorpion, “I really need to get across, and I promise not to sting you.
My Pride piece down here in li'l ol' Joe-ja:
An Army of You
We’re a community, not communists
Ah, Atlanta. The City Too Bitchy To - Hmm? “Busy,” you say? “Too Busy To Hate?” Lordy, who coined that one, and had he ever been here? “Too Bitchy To Love” is more like it, and you need only listen to the chatter in the bars or read our own dear Bitch Session to witness – just in time for Pride – the full glorious panoply of our proud community. Ethnic v. White. Sissy v. Butch. *** v. Dyke. Poz v. Neg. Slim v. Large v. Muscle. Hairy v. Smooth. Beauties v.
My Name Up In Ink
“Dear Dad, here is a shrink-wrapped copy of my first fiction publication. Please do not open it. If you do open it, please don’t read it. If you do read it, please remember that it’s fiction. Most of it.”
I’m still tinkering with this announcement that I’m now a published fiction author, by way of a book called “Skin & Ink,” an anthology of erotic stories about tattoos. This is not the porn I was talking about a few weeks back.
Long Distance Runaround
Well that, it appears, is that. I went to Spring Gathering at the Radical Faerie commune in Tennessee – my favorite Happy Place – only to have my heart broken, thereby finally learning the precise meaning of “irony” (Webster’s, definition #3). I am no longer loved by the man I love.
I may have missed some previous clues, what with us living in different cities and all. There had been a few long lapses in communication on his part, but always followed by assurances that all was well, he loved me, missed me, couldn’t wait, etc.
Horrid of me to deprive you all of me for so long, and your stoic silence in the agonizing interim has been admirable. But here I am again, so you can go back to being silent about my presence, instead of my absence. The latest:
Well, here we finally go. My blood numbers look at least as drastic as my money numbers (the former dangerously high, the latter sadly low), so it’s back to the pharmacy at last. My doctor tried to ease the financial side effects by prescribing a three-in-one combo drug, but it contained AZT, which I can’t take.
Jeff Gannon, Reporter
Now we know how Brenda Starr pays for that fabulous wardrobe
So we have this “reporter” who doesn’t even work for a legitimate news organization, who’s given daily access to the West Wing despite having no proper credentials and using a blatantly assumed name. Meanwhile, respected, legitimate reporters with years of White House experience are denied access.