Fratboy Flaks

Does anyone else wonder why major news organizations constantly quote spokesmen whenever politicians get into spats? I'm not talking about background information from campaigns, which no doubt is invaluable. I'm also not talking about substantive points from aides. I'm talking about the stupid, predictable "sound bite" quotes that come from PR people.

An example from the AP, quoting a Romney flak: "While we'd all like to be able to join Mr. Edwards and laugh off $400 haircuts, Mitt Romney believes that working families should be able to keep more of their money," Craig Stevens said.

That's like Swift Boat Lite. It allows the candidate to appear "presidential" while his people take jabs at opponents. Had Romney brought up Edwards' haircuts -- something that would never happen -- it would be newsworthy. To quote the aide is idiotic.

I know the rationale: Reporters can't always reach candidates, so they take what they can get from PR people. Even in my role as a sports editor at a college-town paper in Virginia, I understand how difficult it can be to get a hold of, say, a university president. But I would never quote his spokesman taking a cheap shot at somebody -- and not because of some holier-than-thou attitude. I just think it's dumb. The quotes add nothing to the public discourse and nothing to our understanding of the candidates (if only because they all do it). They just give one side a giggle and piss off the other side, like frat boys playing pranks on each other.

Hot Streets

For some reason I love this street scene from NYC. Yeah, yeah. I know. The guy is sexy as shit. But beyond that, it captures the city's feel on a sizzling summer day, I think. I took it in mid-July on the West Side. (You need to click onto the image to get the full effect.)

Yum July 27: Fresh Summer Pasta

This only works if you have fresh summer tomatoes -- like out of your garden or from the farmers market. It's a raw "sauce" that gets heated a little by the cooked pasta. A very summery flavor.

1) Chop some fresh summer tomatoes into a bowl (mix in some heirlooms, if you have them).
2) Chop in some fresh basil.
3) Mince a few garlic cloves and throw them in the bowl.
4) Add a splash of balsamic vinegar.
5) Drizzle generously with good olive oil.
7) Add salt and black pepper (I use sea salt and freshly ground pepper).
7) Add some pine nuts if you choose.
8) Mix everything together and let is sit while you boil water and cook penne pasta.
9) Drain the pasta and add it to the bowl.
10) Top with reg-parm (I use the cheaper, less-aged wedges).\
11) Mix it all together.

Quick and good.

The Sexist Billboard Ever

Armani Exchange has this billboard up all over NYC (top). It absolutely oozes sexuality, I think. Of course, the gay world's favorite shop doesn't ignore the homoerotic, either, as the ad below shows.

Yum 3

Here's a really good summer dish I concocted -- it's especially good if you have access to home-grown vegetables:

1) In olive oil, saute a small leek, a few cloves of garlic, two-thirds of a diced jalapeno pepper and about half a sweet bell pepper (red, orange or yellow) for a few minutes.
2) Add thinly sliced zucchini and yellow squash (a couple of medium ones, or four small ones). Sprinkle with salt and lots of freshly ground black pepper. Let it fry until you have to scrape the skillet.
3) Add a few fresh tomatoes, fresh parsley, a little fresh basil and some tomato juice (like from a can of diced tomatoes) and one-third to one-half a can of cannellini beans.
4) Add a few shakes of low-sodium soy sauce.
5) Cook on medium-high heat for a while, stirring occasionally to keep it from sticking (though the tomato juice also does that).

When it's done, serve over rice (which, of course, you should have started cooking before the main dish). I've used brown (tastier and more nutritious) or white (quicker). Top with shavings of parm-reg cheese.

For a salad, I sliced some strips of not-quite-ripe avocado, some strips of ripe papaya and a couple handfuls of mesclun lettuce sprinkled with salt and pepper. The dressing: the juice of two limes, a slurp of olive oil and a slurp of maple syrup.

Why Gay.com?

Guys have three reasons for logging onto gay.com: 1) they're horny, 2) they're lonely, or 3) they're socializing. Each is a perfectly good excuse for clicking onto a Web site that has both taken the toilets out of cruising and become the 21st century gay man's version of a town square.

Clearly, the cruising role is fundamental, but it isn't necessarily primary. Yes, gay.com is sex driven. Hang out in a big-city chat room for a few minutes and you're virtually guaranteed a quick hook-up -- assuming you want one. And lots of guys DO want one. But plenty of others are there just to chat, either because they're lonely or because they like the company. I've made lots of cyber friends and a handful of flesh-and-blood friends thanks to gay.com, and they're always mega-interesting people.

Of course, you do have to pick and choose. For me, a "way left" under the politics portion of the profile is a huge turn-on. So is a cute wit and sense of humor. Turn-offs are multiple, too. Among them:

1) A picture of your dick. You know, certain things should remain a mystery. I guess some guys get insta-chubbies when they see a penis staring at them. For me, it's just a total yawn. Not to mention classless.

2) A butt spread out like a filleted chicken breast. Again, not my cup of tea. I mean, a little butt is fine, but I can do without the visual anatomy lesson. If you insist on displaying your butt, please be under 30. A kid's butt is inherently cute; an older guy's butt is borderline gross. (And, for the record, I'm 20 years over the limit.)

3) Screen names of guys in their 30s or 40s that include "boy" or "kid." Um, here's a little piece of intelligence fresh from Bush's covert NSA spy program: You're NOT a kid anymore. Now, let me stress that I like guys who retain a young demeanor, be they 30 or 50 or 70. Too many "adults" become boring, closed-minded and humorless. BUT that doesn't mean you're a "boy" or "kid," so stop the subterfuge, please.

4) Guys whose first question is: "What do you like to do?" Answer: "I like to X you off my screen."

5) People who don't have enough balls to post a picture of themselves. These guys may be great folks, but you've gotta have some guts. I assume they're staying anonymous for one of two reasons: 1) they're unsightly, or 2) they don't want people to know they're gay. I do have sympathy for Reason No. 1. If a guy is fat or thinks he's unattractive for another reason, the only way he might be able to chat with people is by hiding his appearance. His goal, I suppose, is to get his foot in the door -- to get to know a guy, mesh personality-wise and then hope that looks don't matter. (Yeah, right. This is GAY.com, remember?) Reason No. 2 is just stupid. I mean, first of all, if you're on a gay site that requires you to register, your straight boss or straight brother or straight arch-enemy isn't likely to find your profile. And, second, nobody wants to chat with a blank face. Grow a set of balls and post your picture.

6) Guys who talk about nothing but sex. Usually, these are older people, like 40 and over. Why I don't know. Maybe because they're jaded and don't want to "waste their time" making friends with someone. Maybe because they've been cruising so long they've lost all sense of romance. Sad really.

Anyway, gay.com is cool. You just have to know why you're there and why the guy you're chatting with is there.

Random Thoughts on a Friday Night

1) I was startled to see a Virginia license plate here this week that read: "NOMOMEX." Offensive? Unless I'm reading it completely wrong, I think so. But, then, I also for the first time saw a Sons of the Confederacy plate with a tiny Rebel flag affixed to it. For a minute, I thought I'd been flushed into Mississippi. I wonder if Virginia would allow the Human Rights Campaign or PETA or NORML or a pro-abortion group to have special plates. I know, I know. The Sons of the Confederacy represents part of the state's heritage. So does a noose. Doesn't mean I want it on license plates.

2) Queen Anne's Lace might be my favorite weedy flower. It's no tulip, but there's something wonderfully egalitarian about this plain-jane white flower. It seems to grow anywhere. I've seen it in the high mountains of West Virginia, and I've read that it's also common in Sicily -- meaning its habitat includes both northern and Mediterranean climates. Today, driving through Harrisonburg, I saw a clump of them growing out of a mound of dirt at a construction site. Cool, I thought. Even its fragrance is down-to-earth -- a very faint sweetness if you put your nose directly on the flower. Ironically, the English -- supposedly so frilly compared to Americans -- have a different name for Queen Anne's Lace: wild carrot. How perfectly egalitarian.

The Gong Show -- American Democracy At Work

American presidential elections jumped the shark in 1988. Remember Michael Dukakis in the tank, looking like a Tonka Toy puttering around the yard? Or Willie Horton, a Massachusetts criminal whom the Republicans twisted into a symbol of Dukakis' supposedly squishy soft record on crime? Or the clinical answer Dukakis gave when asked during a debate what he would do if his wife were brutalized and raped? Or Lloyd Bentson eviscerating Dan Quayle?

Such is how we select the leader of the free world.

Ensuing elections weren't quite so comically idiotic, mostly because they got slicker. Bill Clinton stands up and walks toward the audience during a debate, and the people cheer. George The First glances at his wristwatch during a debate, and the people scowl. An uncommonly bright man, Al Gore, is ridiculed, while an uncommonly dumb man, George The Second, follows his handlers' script straight to the White House. John Kerry, a decorated war veteran, is trashed for his service, while a chicken-hawk, George The Second again, is portrayed as a man of courage and vision.

Out of this come the candidates who, presumably, possess the intellectual firepower and intellectual honesty to deal with Islamic terrorism, dwindling oil resources, China's emergence as a superpower, global warming, the potential of a society-crippling flu pandemic, the changing face of America and a cruel megalomaniac in a nuclear-armed North Korea. Not to mention health care and the environment and social issues like abortion and gay rights.

The platform we've chosen to test these men and women adds insult to injury: two rural, white states that reflect American society as accurately as a carnival mirror.

Having said all of that, I'm utterly addicted to the entire stupid charade. I'm glued to CSPAN this time of year, watching the candidates' antics at diners, parades, businesses and rallies throughout Iowa and New Hampshire.

With that in mind, here's my thumbnail views on the men and women who would lead us:

DEMOCRATS

Hillary Clinton: I respect her command of issues and her experience. I think she was wrong on Iraq for way too long, but I also don't think she would have launched a "preemptive" strike. I also think she would do almost anything to become president, which isn't necessarily a deal-killer. And, hey, we'd get Billy Boy back.

Barack Obama: I really like his brain-power and his thoughtfulness. I really don't like his lack of fire. Overall, though, he's my man. Being black and multi-cultural is a huge plus, simply because it brings a mindset that whites rarely can match. He was right on Iraq from the beginning, though I'd like to see him be more radical in his exit plan.

John Edwards: Man, that youtube video of him preening is devastating. He looks so fake. But I think that's just because he's been a lawyer and politician his whole life, meaning a degree of subterfuge is ingrained in him. I do believe his views on two Americas -- rich and poor -- are sincere and correct. And I respect his forthright acknowledgement that he was wrong to vote for the Iraq invasion. I'd enthusiastically vote for him, either for prez or veep.

Bill Richardson: The man should have more gravitas than he's given credit for. Nobel Peace Prize nominee, cabinet member, governor. He's got credentials. But ... he lacks "it."

Joe Biden: OK, he is gabby, but articulately so. He's extremely reasonable -- if that's possible. But he seems like yesterday's news.

Dennis Kucinich: Gotta love Dennis The Menace. Not only is he dead-right on almost every issue, but he's also a vegetarian. Sadly, he looks like Alfred E. Neuman (the Mad magazine guy) and is totally unelectable.

Chris Dodd: The former party animal is a very likeable candidate. But he completely lacks presidential presence.

Mike Gravel: A gruffer Kocinich. Plus, he looks like a libertarian.

Al Gore: Not a candidate. Not a chance.


REPUBLICANS

Rudy Giuliani: How weak are the Republicans? Look who's leading the polls. My god. This guy's personality would kill him before Labor Day. Yes, he was a profile in courage during 9/11. No, that doesn't qualify him to be president.

Mitt Romney: It's become politically incorrect to mention that Romney is a Mormon. But he is, and a devout one. That's a legitimate political issue, just as Joe Lieberman's extremely conservative Judaism was in 2000. Why? Simply because both men have made a point of wearing their religion on their sleeves. And, it should be noted, the question isn't one of faith; it's how closely Romney would adhere to Mormon doctrine on social issues.

John McCain: I have no doubt McCain would melt down under the glare of a national campaign. Give him credit for standing tall on issues he really believes in -- immigration reform and campaign finance reform, both anathema to the right wing -- but I question his stability. And he's delusional on Iraq. (Remember the infamous stroll through the market in Baghdad?) Plus, he looks like 100 rather than 70.

Fred Thompson: He was a lousy senator and he'd be a lousy president. He's definitely positioning himself on the rabid right. Earlier, I thought he was the biggest threat to Democrats. I still think he has the charm and acting ability to fool America and get into the White House. But I'm hoping his extremely conservative views will eventually sour the public on him.

Tommy Thompson: I've seen way too much of this clown on CSPAN. He's the most awkward, annoying campaigner in history. Zero chance.

Sam Brownback: I respect Brownback. I think he's genuine, and I was impressed that he spoke at one of the memorial services for -- I think -- Coretta Scott King. He's a thoughtul guy who's just too damn religious. Hence, he's wrong on every issue.

Jim Gilmore: Please, get this nobody off TV. He has the charisma of a doorknob, and his legacy in life will be cutting the car tax as governor of Virginia. Yay. And doesn't America really need a former party chairman as its leader?

Tom Tancredo: The good thing about him is he's helping ensure that the Democratic Party will get the lion's share of Latino votes for decades to come. His anti-immigrant rhetoric is disgusting.

Ron Paul: OK, I love his views on Iraq. But he's a libertarian, so there's the wacko factor.

In short, I don't think there's a winner in the Republican field.

Yum 2

This is vegetarian version of Brazilian stew. I checked out various recipes, using one in Vegetarian Times as a rough base. But instead of tempeh or potatoes, I used mushrooms to give it a hearty taste. It ain't bad.

1) In a skillet with onions and olive oil, saute a box of sliced mushrooms (I used baby portabellos). Sprinkle them with salt, pepper and low-sodium soy sauce. Toss in some freshly chopped parsley.

2) In a deep skillet, saute a red onion, three-quarters of a jalapeno pepper and a sliced celery stalk in olive oil and the juice of one lime.

3) After the onions have cooked for a few minutes, add 1 cup of vegetable broth, a can of black beans (or, if you have the patience, uncanned black beans), some fresh chopped tomatoes, a couple cloves of minced garlic, a half of a minced chipotle chile in adobo sauce (weird little things), the previously sauteed mushrooms, some dried italian herbs, a few minced basil leaves, a dash of Saigon cinnamon, a small slurp of maple syrup, the juice of another lime, salt and pepper. At the end, stir in some freshly chopped parsley.

4) Simmer for 20-30 minutes, covered (or uncovered if you want it to be crispier).

5) Serve one of two ways: a) as a soup that you can dip crusty bread into (I used a walnut-raisin bread), or b) as a stew on top of rice (delish). Toss in some cheese chunks if you choose (anything from cheddar to mozz).

Thoughts on a Summer Night

Random thoughts on a Saturday night:

1) I think I have a new favorite Edward Hopper painting. I still love "Nighthawks," the stark, lonely diner in Greenwich Village. But I think I like "Gas" even better. It reminds me of my visits as a kid to my grandmother's house in the mountains of West Virginia.

2) Nothing -- nothing -- smells worse that rotten tomatoes. Unless it's rotten bananas.

3) After five decades, it's official: my two favorite fruits (shut up) are cherries (especially Rainier) and watermelon. I eat them non-stop from June to August.

4) I continue to think Obama would make a fab prez. But he isn't catching fire, I think, because of his low-key rhetoric and because of his extreme caution. His cat-and-mouse game with Hillary on the Iraq vote a few weeks ago was disgusting. It was a great opportunity for him to demonstrate leadership, regardless of the fallout. Instead, he played crass politics.

5) A friend showed me a study by a University of Virginia prof on how most straight guys have a visceral repulsion toward gays. The reason: Gay sex disgusts them. No duh.

6) If you had any doubt that Dick Cheney is an evil puppet-master, read the Washington Post series on how he helped steer America into the Iraq war, how he made sure the U.S. was allowed to torture prisoners and hold them indefinitely without charges, and how he helped circumvent environmental safeguards. That is one son of a bitch.

7) Do your brain a favor and read "Looming Tower" by Stephen Wright. It's a fascinating account of the rise of Islamic extremism. Regardless of your political beliefs, you'll come away with a far better understanding of Osama and his crowd.

8) I played Gay Gumshoe the other day. (It seems, by the way, that nobody under 40 knows what a "gumshoe" is; it's a private eye.) A straight friend asked me to check out his 18-year-old cousin's myspace page to see if I could detect his sexuality. The reason: the kid had asked somebody else about ways people commit suicide, and my friend was worried about him. After 20 minutes or so, I concluded, with near certainty, that he was gay -- newly minted, though, and worried about the consequences of his orientation. I asked a college-age friend in Houston to check it out, too. It took him maybe 25 seconds. Verdict: gay. Anyway, I passed on the info to my pal. I hope he talks to him. Soon.

Um, Yeah, He's Sexy

Ronaldinho

(AP Photo -- click for hi-res)

Funny, But ...

Being gay, I hate religion. I don't think there's an alternative. That doesn't mean I hate the idea of a god. On the contrary, it would be great it there were one, if there were an afterlife, if we were reunited with our loved ones in bliss. But religion and god aren't synonymous. Far from it.

I've never understood why rational men and women subjugate their minds to the Bible or the Quron or other holy books. I can see using them as a resource, just as you would use another philosophical tract. But to take it as gospel baffles me.

Anyway, I got to thinking about this again when I stumbled across a Muslim comedian named Baba Ali. His stuff is on youtube under ummahfilms. It's very funny and sometimes thought-provoking, especially his explanation of why he converted to Islam.




Did you watch it? Funny, no? But also sincere.

As a gay person, of course, Islam is abhorrent to me. While Christians consider us sinners and abominable, most don't want to execute us. I believe the same could be said of most Muslims. BUT there are theocracies -- Iran and Saudia Arabia come to mind -- where gays have been killed for being gay. Sometimes beheaded. Sometimes hanged. All in the name of Allah. Want proof? These hideous photos from the Iranian Student News Service, published worldwide two years ago, show two gay teenagers -- one 18, the other 16 or 17 -- being executed. Gay rights advocates said it was simply for having gay sex; Iran said they "raped" a third boy. Because the third boy was 13, it was considered rape whether or not he consented.




Photos of gay teens' hanging in 2005 by ISNA



Obviously, there are tolerant Muslims and intolerant Muslims, although I'd use "tolerant" carefully. The tolerant ones might throw gays in jail rather than hang them. The Quran, after all, makes it clear that homosexuality is evil. Even Iran, according to one activist there, doesn't aggressively pursue gays for punishment. But it happens. Legally. Because of religion.

I'd love for a converted Muslim to explain to me the appeal of his new religion.

Dick Naked

Koji looked like he had just seen Dick Cheney naked.

His face twisted ever so slightly, eyes narrowing, lips struggling to smile.

Apparently, I wasn't his type.

"Hi. How are you?" I said, emerging from the tiny foyer at the Chelsea Savoy Hotel on 23rd and 7th.

"Good, good. And you?" he replied, his stricken gaze still on my face.

Oh god, I thought. Keep the meter running.

Koji and I had made arrangements to meet after talking on-line and on the phone for hours over several weeks. He was 34 and reviewed Broadway plays for a publication back home in Japan. I was a 49-year-old sports editor from Virginia. Somehow, we clicked.

It was a gay.com success story. Or so I thought until that cold April night when we met at the appointed hour for dinner.

"Hangawi OK?" I asked, thinking he might suddenly develop bronchitis and beg off.

"Yes. Should we take a cab?" he said.

A cab? Good grief, no. He could stare at me all the way to Midtown.

"Let's walk," I suggested, wondering if my salt-and-pepper hair looked more black or silver under the neon lights.

By this time, Koji was politely masking the biggest disappointment of his dating life. We had a nice chat as we walked briskly to Hangawi, a soothing Korean vegetarian restaurant on 32nd Street. Dinner went smoothly too, and he even took me to a theater district joint for strawberry shortcake afterward. We parted with a generic peck on the cheek outside of his subway stop at about 11 -- four hours after the date began.

Obviously, Koji's good manners had taken over. But, just as obviously, it was the last time we would see each other. I think we chatted on-line twice afterward -- briefly -- and then he and his gay.com nickname disappeared forever.

It's the nature of cyberspace. Hope fading into reality. Budding friendships dying like too-early crocuses in the back yard.

Koji was an extreme example, simply because we actually met face to face. Other friendships on platforms such as gay.com vanish with less trauma, less personal capital spent.

I still wonder what happened to the Vietnamese-American from the East Village with the Ivy League degree and quick wit, to the Hell's Kitchen Filipino who was almost an icon on gay.com until he too faded, to the Indian dorm-keeper at a New England college, to the Latino in Queens with the keen social consciousness, to the black kid from U.Va. who was trying to make it as a software developer on Long Island, to the Russian economics grad from Columbia, to the 40-year-old from Brooklyn with the taut body who still danced professionally, to the Virginia boy transplanted to South Beach, to ... well, the list is endless.

But another list, a shorter list, exists, too, a list of cool guys who were fun to hang out with, fun to meet face to face. That's what makes cyberspace, specifically gay.com, a lifesaver for gay men. It's a safe, energetic place to meet guys, and not primarily for sex, although -- clearly -- gay.com is sex-driven.

Why Koji and I didn't mesh is anybody's guess. No doubt, he pictured me as far better-looking than I am -- pictures do sometimes dissolve into fantasy -- and found the skin-and-bones version repulsive.

Oddly, though, the incident didn't enter my mind when I dated other guys afterward, guys who never looked like they had just seen Dick Cheney naked.

MySpace Tombstones

People go to MySpace to flirt, to chat, to check out pictures, to catch up with friends.

More and more, they also go there to mourn.

Many American soldiers have MySpace profiles, a comforting reminder of home, of normalcy, of sanity. And when those soldiers die in Iraq, their sites stay active, unspeakably sad ghost pages in cyber space. Usually, there's a picture of the soldier, sometimes trying to look tough, sometimes trying to look cool, sometimes abandoning all pretense and simply smiling a kid's disarming smile.

Friends migrate to the dead soldier's page to say how much they loved him, to thank him for his heroism. To say goodbye.

If virtual tears exist, these pages are soaked.

It's difficult to look at the ghost pages, and I've done so rarely, in part because I wonder if I'm violating a dead kid's privacy by doing so, in part because they shatter my heart. But, sometimes, you need a reality check. You need to shake your head and forget about a delusionally evil president and his handlers. You need to forget about the politics. You need to forget about the big picture and zoom in on the people, the hundreds of thousands of Iraqis and the 3,454 Americans whose lives have been -- as the now justly marginalized and ridiculed John McCain said in an unguarded moment -- wasted.

So today I typed in the name of an 18-year-old soldier from Montana -- Matthew -- who was killed by friendly fire a week after arriving in Iraq. His mentor, another young soldier, died with him -- on perhaps his final day of combat duty. Time magazine reported that the Montana kid had been rushed into combat with inadequate training.

For those who knew and loved Matthew, of course, politics means nothing.

Their messages on his MySpace page are heartbreaking. One example:

OMG, MATT, IM SOR SORRY i GET TO SAY GOODBYE IM REally sorry, you'll be really miss now more than ever,since theres no goona be more chances for us to see each othere again I'll miss you budy, RIP,

In his boy-next-door profile on MySpace, Matthew wrote in the "Interests" section: "A happy life at my home and hopfully i can have children soon." He described himself -- with a smile, I'm sure -- as a "swinger." He was 5-foot-8 and "slim/slender." His education level: "High school." His occupation: "Army."

I'm reluctant -- out of respect for his privacy -- to put his picture here and to post more of his friends' anguished goodbyes. But, obviously, this was as typical a kid as you're going to find in the Army. A kid who no doubt believed his country would never spend his life recklessly. It's important to see his face and his heart.

Skin

Nothing is more sensual for me than when I first catch a glimpse of a sexy guy's skin, be it his side, his back, his belly. To pull up his shirt and lay my hands on his bare skin is electrifying.

Why, I don't know.

Skin, after all, is almost devalued now. Exposed flesh is more common than Big Macs. Girls, especially, have decided they have to show off their guts and backs. Fat chicks -- "It's my body, and I'm proud of it!" -- seem to take special pleasure in unburdening their shirts. Gobs of flesh droop over their pants as they thunder past in low-rise jeans licking ice cream cones. Guys are less obvious about it, opting for one-size-too-small T-shirts that hug the contours of their muscles while also offering peeks of skin here and there. But television makes up for any lack of male flesh in the real world. MTV is a swirl of hips, backs, nipples, belly-buttons, chests, sides and abs. So is every other youth-oriented channel.

Yet, somehow, the heart-pounding mystery of skin persists. Will it be dry or oily, smooth or hairy, darker or lighter? Will it be freckled or flawless, bony or muscled? Will the nipples be flat or pointed? Will the navel be a swirl, a plug, a simple indentation? So many possibilities, so many little surprises when the moment arrives. Unless, of course, you've seen the guy shirtless. Then, the mystery is gone, replaced perhaps by something less romantic -- lust.

Rubber Necking at Walmart

Come gather round, people, wherever you roam -- the times they really are a changing.

I was walking through the main aisle at Walmart -- the one in front of the cash registers with the constantly changing array of merchandise to entice weak-willed shoppers -- when my eyes spied ... are you ready? ... condoms.

Or c-c-c-c-condoms, as Kramer might say.

And not some will-it-be-a-boy-or-a-girl brand straight from China, but honest-to-penis Trojans. In Harrisonburg, Va., of all places. Yes, we're a college town -- metro population: 115,000, I'll have you know -- but we're also Church City, USA. Mennonites, Brethrens and evangelicals are big influences here, and they absofuckinglutely hate sex.

Yet, there they were -- condoms.

Walmart frequently surprises me. For all its flaws, it has been progressive on gay rights among its employees, it's becoming a major force in organic foods and -- in a nod to the environment -- it's now pressuring suppliers to significantly cut back on packaging.

But condoms! Up front! Right where little Melody and Jeremiah can see them! Fuck.

The Fem Boy

A kid walked into the Nepalese restaurant in Harrisonburg this evening. Obviously gay. Mod haircut. A tight shirt revealing the countour of his chest and belly. A peek of skin when he leaned against the counter. A man's purse strapped around his back.

He walked like fem gay kids walk -- fast and scared. His face was blank and tense, almost unnervingly so. No doubt he's been the object of ridicule most of his life, so I assume he's put up an emotional shield.

When he entered the restaurant, he glanced quickly at me -- my table was directly beside the door -- and I smiled. I hope he saw the smile. And I hope he knew the smile was meant to convey love, not scorn.

Even in the gay community, you still see warnings on guys' on-line chat-room profiles: "no fems." In a way, it's our version of the dark-skinned/light-skinned black conflict. The "straight-acting" gays feel superior to the feminine gays.

I find the "no fems" admonition offensive, partly because it tries to marginalize a group of people -- something gays should be familiar with -- and partly because those guys face enough daily trauma in the straight world without being ostracized by their gay brothers.

But to be honest -- and it hurts to be honest -- I sometimes wince when I see "flaming fags." I absofuckinglutely hate having that reaction. But it's there. Why, I don't know -- I assume it's something middle America taught me as I grew up -- and I'm determined to fight it.

So I strip away the pretense and look into the eyes of those fem guys. Try it. You'll see a scared puppy. And you'll see another human being, a human being longing for the same things you want: love, companionship, respect and security.

I hope I see that kid again. I hope he looks at me. I hope he sees me smile. And I hope he smiles back.

(Another post from my other blog, but I think the sentiments are worth repeating now and then.)

10 Things

OK, being old and wise, here are 10 things I've learned in life:

1) Seize the moment. I've mentioned Robert Frost's poem, "Wind and Window Flower," in an earlier entry. It's the one about a winter wind that flirts with a flower in a windowsill. The flower can't decide whether it wants to hook up with the winter wind. By the time it makes up its mind, the winter wind is a hundred miles away. Believe it or not, life's short. We live only 2.5 billion seconds, and they go oh-so-quickly. Don't let life -- and all of its adventures, carnal and otherwise -- slip away.

2) Be generous. Money ain't shit. Spend it on your friends. And never ever ask a friend to pay you back.

3) Don't be coy. Paul McCartney was right: It's a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little bit colder. In other words, be eager. If somebody you like asks you out to dinner, go for it -- enthusiastically. Don't hide your emotions. And don't downplay your love or lust.

4) Read until your eyeballs drop out. I spend much of my life around 20-something guys, so I know that's an alien concept to most people under 40. But if you don't read after you get out of school, you'll stop growing. You'll become one of those old farts whose cultural tastes are frozen in their youth, who grow increasingly narrow-minded as they age, who find new ideas more frightening than exhilarating. Read at least one great newspaper every day -- meaning the New York Times or Washington Post -- to get a quick snapshot of the world each morning, however imperfect that snapshot might be. Read the New Yorker every week to remain culturally literate. Read novels now and then to nourish your soul. Read non-fiction books to give your opinions enough depth to be taken seriously. Do that, and you'll never stagnate.

5) Love people before you love your country. Love an Iraqi kid as much as you love an American kid. Because we're all the same -- we all want love, we all want security, we all want respect. Doesn't matter what color, ethnicity, religion or social class you are.

6) Be extremely skeptical of anything you're taught in school. If they tell you that the American criminal justice system is fair, think of O.J. -- think of how anyone with enough money for a brilliant lawyer can beat a murder rap, and how anyone with a court-appointed attorney is fucked. If they tell you that the high courts are blind to political considerations, think of Gore vs. Bush -- think of how the federal government's Republican Supreme Court tried to secure the 2000 election for George Bush and how the Florida government's Democratic Supreme Court tried to secure the election for Al Gore. If they tell you that American democracy is a beacon for the world, think of that same 2000 election -- think of how the people's will was circumvented in favor of the ruling class' preferred candidate. If they tell you that America is morally superior to other countries, think of atom bombs falling on Japan, think of napalm melting the skin off of Vietnamese peasants, think of the elected leader of Chile being overthrown, think of the Pentagon's glee at "shock and awe" in Baghdad. If they tell you that the American press is completely independent, think of Iraq -- think of how papers fell in line like tin soldiers when Bush was whipping up support for the war, think of how we never see pictures depicting the real horrors of war, think of how papers cozy up to the Washington establishment at things like the Gridiron Dinner. If you're got two oil men running the executive branch and they tell you that oil has nothing to do with a war, think only one thing -- impeach the motherfuckers.

7) When you become a boss, bend over backward to respect your workers. It took me awhile to learn that. But I now understand the importance of listening to them and consulting with them rather than barking orders at them. For one thing, they will be much better employees if they feel they have a direct stake in the everyday product. For another thing, they almost always deserve to be treated kindly and with respect. If I were to yell at one of my guys, he'd be in turmoil at least until he saw me again, probably a day later. That wouldn't be fair. Everybody in the world has an inherent right to be happy. At the same time, you need to push your workers to be the best they can be. But they need to know you're doing so only because you care about both their careers and personal lives. When I criticize one of my writers, I often preface it by saying, "You know I love you like a brown-spotted banana, Javy, but ..."

8) Always remember: You only live once. So if you want a bottle of wine, buy it. If you want a fancy meal, get it. Don't pinch pennies. You might be dead tomorrow.

9) Don't hurt people's feelings. Little white lies aren't sins. I mean, if your mother gives you a pie and it sucks, tell her how much you enjoyed it. She'll feel great, and so will you.

10) Make your body a priority. Whether you're 20 or 60, go to the gym. Keep yourself toned, build up your stamina. Don't put things in your body that will hurt you -- like Hostess Twinkies or cocaine. I shop for a lot of my basic groceries at Wal-mart. Which is good, because Wal-mart has more fat butts and guts per capita than any other location in America -- and all I have to do is look around and any urge I have to buy ice cream or doughnuts will evaporate.

My Cool? Va-po-rized.

So, I'm curious: How long will it take before other guys interest me? You know, what with the love thing. Which I still absofuckinlutely hate, by the way. I mean, it vaporizes your cool in an insta-second. You're bitchy, you're jealous, you're mopey. It's disgusting. I freakin hate myself right now. I'd chop off my dick if I wasn't so attached to it.

Anyway, as I was implying, other guys still don't interest me at all. Cutest guy in the world could wag his butt in my face and I'd yawn. Just because of this love shit. And, as you probably know by now, I have zero chance with the guy I'm ga-ga over. I mean, he's straight, or at least he thinks he is, which at this point is just as bad. And there's a gazillion other reasons why I need to erase the dude from my memory banks -- all of which come down to one bottom line: It's consuming every spare second of my rapidly ticking life.


(I wrote this last year on another personal blog. So far, nobody else has caught my eye. But I'm at least dating again. Baby steps? Yeah, but that's better than nothing, no?)

He Pays WHAT!?!?!

One of my former writers -- a Manhattan native whose father once owned a Times Square restaurant called Hamburger Harry's -- returned to New York City to attend grad school after leaving Harrisonburg. While doing so, he applied for a housing lottery. The lottery was open only to people who met certain criteria, low income among them. He won.

The reward was a loft in the Financial District for, at the time, less than $300 a month. He also had to put down a $16,000 deposit, refundable if he moves out. Sixteen-grand sounds like a lot until you consider that he, essentially, made it back in a year because of the absurdly low rent. Since moving into the loft two or three years ago, he's gotten at job with a Time-Warner magazine and is making more money, so his rent is now just below $500 a month -- still a steal in Manhattan. How much of a steal? Check this out (from the New York Times):

The rents for one-bedroom apartments in Manhattan average $2,567 a month, and two-bedrooms average $3,854 a month, according to data from Citi Habitats, a large rental brokerage company, but rents tend to be far higher in coveted neighborhoods like the Upper West Side and TriBeCa.

Because landlords typically require renters to earn 40 times their monthly rent in annual income, renters of those average apartments would need to earn at least $102,680, individually or combined, to qualify for a one-bedroom and $154,160 to afford a two-bedroom.

I have no moral qualms with any of this. Manhattan is an island. Space is precious. Prices reflect that. Ideally, of course, people of all incomes could afford to live there -- ideally because diversity gives places character. Fortunately, there are enough dumps in the East Village and Lower East Side to keep the place honest for a while longer.

Steve Nash -- Too Sexy For His Shirt? Or Not?

AP photo (click for hi-resolution)