Thursday, December 29, 2005

Farris Hassan's Day Off

Parents, do you know where your teenager is? Making out with his girlfriend in the back of your SUV? In his room downloading porn? Smoking weed behind the football field bleachers? Trying to score a plate of dolma outside an international hotel in Baghdad?

AP reported today on a 16-year-old Floridian who approached reporters at a Baghdad Hotel after traveling to Iraq alone, without his parents’ permission, after damn near getting himself beat up, kidnapped or killed. Attempting to experience “immersion journalism” in response to a class assignment, the boy’s resourcefulness, naiveté and idealism could have ended tragically.

And you were worried your kid was sneaking off to an unsupervised party with a pony keg of Budweiser. Next time he gets caught, his line will be, “Cut me some slack. At least I didn’t sneak off to Iraq!”

Who knew that parents needed to stash their kids’ passports in a safe deposit box?

Monday, December 26, 2005

Holiday lessons

Holiday gatherings are not just an opportunity to spend cherished time with family. They are also a learning experience if you keep your eyes and ears open. Here’s what I picked up at our family Christmas gathering:

1. Amazon and UPS do not yet have a system to alert you to the fact that your dad ordered the exact same Westinghouse SweepEze Vacuuming Dustpan you ordered for your mother.
2. A wine glass is incapable of surviving a fall of three feet onto a ceramic tile floor.
3. The fact that a wine glass belonged to your deceased grandmother affords it no protective properties.
4. Shards of glass on a ceramic tile floor can be invisible to the naked eye.
5. The Westinghouse SweepEze Vacuuming Dustpan, while quite effective, emits a shrill noise similar to that of a jet engine.
6. The “live” in “live Christmas tree” refers to more than just the evergreen.
7. In less than a week, a colony of ants is quite capable of spreading more than 30 feet from its starting point, even across carpet.
8. It is not possible for an 80-pound dog to fit through a cat door.
9. A two-year-old child has an unhealthy fascination with open wounds on a dog’s neck.
10. A Henckels knife is a mediocre imitation of the true Cadillac of kitchen knives, the Wüsthof-Trident.
11. It’s best to refrain from denigrating any product or service until all the Christmas gifts have been opened.
12. Correction to #10: Henckels knives are of superb quality and a proud addition to any gourmet kitchen.
13. You can get a slow, comfortable screw up against the wall for about five bucks at the Yreka Elks Lodge, provided you are an Elk.
14. Apparently, a Slow Comfortable Screw Up Against The Wall is a drink made up of equal parts sloe gin, Southern Comfort, Vodka and Galliano, mixed with orange juice.
15. The average toilet seat has fewer germs than the average kitchen sink.
16. Studies have shown that a pick-up with the tailgate up gets better mileage than one with the tailgate down.
17. Grenache is a grape variety, not a region of France.
18. DISH TV remote controls were not made with 80-year-olds in mind.
19. Had Green Bay beat Chicago on Christmas Day, New Orleans would have had a better first-round draft pick, giving them a shot at USC quarterback, Matt Leinart, which would have helped the Saints overcome the inconsistency of Aaron Brooks.
20. OK, I had to look that last one up. I only really grasped one thing from that conversation with second-cousin-in-law Chris: New Orleans still has a football team.
21. Two-year-olds, due to growth spurts, have poor balance.
22. The seat of an armchair is approximately the same height as a two-year-old child’s cheekbone.
23. The scream of a two-year-old child has about the same frequency and amplitude as a Westinghouse SweepEze Vacuuming Dustpan.

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

My Brokeback Mountain Review (and my rewrite of that awful sex scene)

A few days have passed and I'm ready to share some impressions of Brokeback Mountain. I needed this gap in time to put the movie into some perspective. Had I written about it on Friday night, I would have dwelt on the awkward first sexual encounter, the overzealous attempts to place the characters into the 1970s through exaggerated beehives, sideburns and the colors of the 70s Tupperware palette, or the failed attempt to age characters 20 years--Jake Gyllenhaal at 40 reminded me of a mustachioed Peter Brady trying to pass as an older guy to go on a double date with Greg.

I had high hopes. I expected to be torn to pieces. I was ready and willing to have my heart wrenched at the sad ending I knew was coming.

There were moments when I was touched, a couple of times when tears welled up, but for the most part, I couldn't relate to Ennis or Jack. Paradoxically, I think this movie is more for straight men than for openly gay men. And by "straight" men, I mean men who live their public lives as straight. This is a movie for those that took a different path than me, those that could not, for a variety of reasons, come to terms with their true love for someone of the same gender. For the vast, and I mean VAST numbers of men and women who make a decision in life to live a straight life despite homosexual passions, this movie is really hitting them in the gut. You can read many of their stories at the film's official website.

Take Wesley from West Chester, PA:

By the end of the film, I could not move. Soaked in tears, stomach tied in knots. I sat in the theater for as long as I could before the lights came on and I could make my way out with as few noticing the mess I was in as possible. I made it to the car across the way in Society Hill and then totally fell apart, until there were no more tears, and a numbness set in.

It was a close to my life story as it can get. Setting is different but the choices and the sacrifices and the pain -- the failed suicide attempts, the all-persavive loneliness worsened by the haunting memories of a failed marriage and the guilt. It has been rushing back onto me in the hours since leaving the theater. All my life I have tried to suppress all of this with every once of my being. In the name of normalcy.

What does it all mean? What would have been the better choice?
I hate this film. I love this film.


These are the men and women that the gay community often forgets, the throngs of closeted folks all around the world who live on the other side of liberation. Some, like this man from Denver, may never escape:
I am an ex -FL football player. I watched the premier of Brokeback Mountain last nite in a theater in Denver. I was drawn to this movie from the local press releases because I have longed for a male to male relationship for as long as I can remember. I came home aferward and wept for hours. What can it be like to be absolutely in love with another human being. I'm not talking just male to male... I'm talking about making that connection with ANY other human being. I probably will never act out my feelings and for that I am regretful. But, if you are young and am able to "come out" please do so, so hopefully the next generation will fell more comfortable with their true inner hopes and desires.
Upon further reflection, I began to remember that I could have been an Ennis or a Jack. For six months in college, I had an "Alma" and very well might have married her. And like Ennis and Jack, I would have been a lousy husband. Either I'd be cheating on the side, or I would have been a miserable, emotionally absent turd. Lucky for me (and for her), I came of age in an era and in an area where I could realize, before it was too late, that marrying a woman would be a selfish, destructive mistake. Unlike a 60s-era Wyoming cowboy, I had options.

As scenes from the movie kept playing back in my mind, I began to remember what it was like before I took the greatest leap of my life to come out and begin living an authentic life for the first time. I can relate to the heartache Ennis felt when Jack drove off after their first summer together ended. Ennis fell to the ground, puking at the side of the road. When my first love, John, walked out the door and moved away and I thought I'd never see him again, I bawled for days, listening to Barry Manilow records. That was 7th grade. I never told John how I really felt about him, but I know he knew. And I believe he loved me too. More than likely, John, a pastor's son, has chosen the other path. He's probably married with kids now, batting down his true desires.

I do not buy the idea that many teenagers go through an experimentation phase that they'll one day grow out of. The stories I read at BrokebackMountain.com convince me that those feelings never go away--they're just squelched.

Still, I don't think the movie was meant for me; the roughness, the wrestling, and the punching turn me off. One reviewer captured the mood: "In their first encounter in the tent, with all the spastic pushing, slap-punching, violent face-butting and pants-ripping, Ledger and Gyllenhaal display the intimacy of a pair of drunken paraplegics fighting over the last belt buckle at a Western Wear closing sale."

I prefer sweet, tender love, and I don't mean Ang Lee should have made them effeminate sissies. Even manly men have got to show their soft, affectionate side. There were flashes of tenderness such as when Jack recalled the summer at Brokeback when Ennis approached him from behind and cradled his chest. To really feel the love between the two, I longed to see more of that kind of affection.

Instead, Ennis and Jack, even after 20 years of fishing trips, often didn't seem to relate to each other as lovers. By then, they should be finishing each other's sentences. They should have cutesy voices they use only when they're alone together. In their last rendezvous, Ennis and Jack argued about the future of their relationship with the same tone and sentimentality one would expect in a dispute about what to do with a busted transmission.

People ought to stop calling it the "gay cowboy" movie and calling Ledger and Gyllenhaal brave for playing gay characters. Though gay actors have been convincingly playing straight characters since the early days of Hollywood, casting straight actors for these parts was really the only way to go. A Rupert Everett or a Sean Hayes would have been a disaster. These guys are more Clint Eastwood than Carson Kressley. There's nothing fabulous about them. As Ennis insists, he's "not no queer." This is the story of two men who shared a deep and enduring love for one another, but to call them gay assigns them a cultural label that is grossly misplaced.

All of that said, I'm still stuck on that first intimate encounter. I can't get over how Ennis exhibited the sexual instincts of a Colt Studio film star as he flipped Jack over like a rag doll, hocked some spit onto his hand and effortlessly found his target in the dark. I guess you can't expect the female author to know any better.

Here's how Annie Proulx wrote the scene:
"Jesus Christ, quit hammerin and get over here. Bedroll's big enough," said Jack in an irritable sleep-clogged voice. It was big enough, warm enough, and in a little while they deepened their intimacy considerably. Ennis ran full-throttle on all roads whether fence mending or money spending, and he wanted none of it when Jack seized his left hand and brought it to his erect cock. Ennis jerked his hand away as though he'd touched fire, got to his knees, unbuckled his belt, shoved his pants down, hauled Jack onto all fours and, with the help of the clear slick and a little spit, entered him, nothing he'd done before but no instruction manual needed. They went at it in silence except for a few sharp intakes of breath and Jack's choked "gun's goin off," then out, down, and asleep.


I think this moment needed a little more tenderness and a little more naiveté about sexual mechanics. I think it should have gone down a little more like this:

"Jesus Christ, quit hammerin and get over here. Bedroll's big enough," said Jack in an irritable sleep-clogged voice. It was big enough, warm enough, and in a little while they deepened their intimacy considerably. Ennis lumbered into the tent and plopped on the bedroll and finally dozed off, grateful for the warmth emanating from Jack's body. Unable to find a fitful sleep with Ennis lying so close to him, Jack was groggily aware that Ennis's leg had entwined between his own. With sleepiness and the haze of whiskey still clouding his judgment, Jack seized Ennis's hand and brought it to his erect cock. Ennis jerked his hand away as though he'd touched fire and pulled his leg out from between Jack's calves. Jack, fully awake now, fretted silently that he'd committed an unforgivable trespass that would ruin everything. But the fire in Ennis's own loin had been ignited. Moments passed, and Ennis, shaking with nerves, took Jack's hand to the bulge in his jeans. Jack held his hand still there, astonished to sense Ennis fumbling with his own belt buckle and pulling his pants down. Freed from the terror that his earlier overture had been unwelcome, Jack worked Ennis like he'd done to himself many a night up on the mountainside alone, peering down at Ennis's campfire below. Ennis reciprocated, albeit in a frantic manner, as if in a rush to finish the deed before he could come to his senses. They went at it in silence except for a few sharp gasps, then out, asleep.
You see, Ennis was not one who would have fantasized about this moment--he would never have let himself play this out in his mind, despite a growing emotional bond toward Jack. Indeed, he really would have needed an instruction manual to maneuver Jack into a doggy-style sex romp, even exhibiting the resourcefulness to use his own spit to ease the way. And Jack, despite his deep desire for Ennis, would be unlikely, I think, to, er, open himself up so freely in this first encounter.

But, I could be wrong. The movie seems to be resonating perfectly with the men who have been to their own Brokeback Mountain. When I read their stories, I am reminded that these are the folks that those of us on the other side must keep fighting for.

I am a 50-year-old gay man, and I saw this film yesterday. I was almost afraid to see it, because I knew it would open old wounds. I was raised in the Midwest, in a town of less than 4000 - everyone knew everyone. I didn’t even know what being “gay” meant. I only knew what “queer” and “homo” meant, and the hate they percolated. I matured into a masculine outdoorsman – a man’s man - but with a “secret.” I’d had a couple of experimental encounters with boys when I was in my early teens, but I swept those memories away as kid stuff, and got on with marrying and raising a family – all the while hoping this “secret” would go away. When I met my current partner, we were both married. We belonged to the same internet club. We met for a beer, and to introduce ourselves. When I gazed into his steel-blue eyes for the first time, the room literally disappeared. After sneaking around for a period seeing each other clandestinely, we both knew we were putting our marriages in peril – we ultimately had to make the most difficult decisions of our lives. I won’t bore you with the pain, anguish, terror, embarrassment, horror, and self-hatred I endured – thanks to my upbringing in a completely gay-void environment. I won’t mention the suicide thoughts for being a “fag” and a “queer.” I won’t try to describe the pain I felt, knowing I should walk away from the only person I had ever truly loved heart-and-soul, in order to avoid burning in hell for all eternity. Brokeback Mountain is about that kind of love….love so painful to consummate that many men (and women) cannot bring themselves to pay the price. I did, and I’m glad – it was worth it in the long run. This movie honestly depicts the consequences of never accepting your “secret,” but rather succumbing to societal fears of severe repercussions for “coming out.” Brokeback is a HUGE triumph. It displays gay men as some of us are: masculine, quiet, and CAREFUL. I can only hope that it will save many people from suffering, as they realize how much better it is to accept yourself for what you are, and rid yourself of that “secret.” Love is truly a force of nature.


To all of you with a Brokeback story, I truly hope that this movie gives you the courage to be true to yourselves. It's never too late.

Saturday, December 17, 2005

Potluck etiquette

Tonight we're going to our third potluck of the holiday season with two more to go. I haven't decided what to cook. My family has a broccoli casserole recipe that is a staple for holiday dinners. It's become something of a hit at potlucks, but I'm reluctant to become that guy who always brings the broccoli dish. People like it--it gives the illusion of adding something healthy to their plate, to balance out fattening meats and mounds of mashed potatoes erupting with gravy.

But, any semblance of healthiness is just an illusion. The broccoli is merely a filler to cloak a full cube of butter, a roll of Ritz crackers and a half-pound of cheese. And that's the other thing--the tasty broccoli casserole is to a gourmet cook as finger painting is to an artist. There's nothing gourmet or sophisticated about it. I'm almost embarrassed to distribute the recipe and reveal that I use Velveeta. This dish is pure Americana, and I'm more of a California fusion cuisine kind of guy.

I do enjoy a good potluck, but it is a quirky experience for the gourmand. By definition, you never know exactly what you're going to get. If your pot has some luck, you won't end up with 15 potato salads and one liter of Pepsi. Smarter potluck hosts take a little luck out of the equation by assigning courses to attendees.

But just assigning people a course still results in a hodgepodge of selections that may not mix well. On Thursday, we had a potluck at work and I had barbecue sauce running into my chicken enchiladas and green goddess dressing dripping onto my egg roll. I love a variety of ethnic foods but not necessarily all mixed on the same plate. Chefs give a lot of thought to how foods go together. There's a reason you can't order sashimi at Olive Garden and you can't get pepperoni pizza with your udon noodles.

I can get over that, but as the potluck season continues in full gear, we should all heed the following rules of potluck etiquette:

1. Bring your own serving utensils. Nothing is worse than stalling a potluck buffet line while guests have to serve their own soup with a plastic teaspoon because you didn't bring a ladle. Don't expect that the host will have one for you.

2. Your dish should be ready to serve. At a potluck I attended this week, someone brought a bone-in ham but offered no assistance in divvying it up. Without a knife and a serving fork, it sat at the buffet table untouched, like a centerpiece to give homage to carnivorous living without actually facilitating its occurrence.

3. If you don't cook, you have two choices: (1) Don't come to the party, or (2) offer to handle other non-edible necessities like cups, napkins and plates. And one or two guests who are particularly kitchen-phobic get to bring the beverages. Bringing a bag of potato chips is not an option. At a potluck buffet, I regard store-bought items as if they were parsley sprigs--pretty adornments that are not actually meant for eating. Thanks for adding some color to the table.

4. If you are going to be a little late, bring a dessert. If you're going to be really late, don't bother coming. On Thursday, some poor sap showed up after everyone had already been through the buffet line once or twice. Everything would have been fine if he had brought in a homemade cheesecake, but he brought an appetizer. And as an added infraction, the appetizer was a cheese and cracker plate from the grocery store. As he was tearing open a plastic packet of cheddar cheese blocks, I wondered if he really expected everyone to jump up and come back to the buffet table for another round.

5. Avoid poisoning other guests--it's very uncouth. Use proper hygiene when preparing food, especially with meat. Keep hot foods hot and cold foods cold. Bring your own Crock Pot, chafing dish or other warmer. Use ice to keep cold dishes cold. True, with the multitude of dishes, it's not likely that you will be fingered as the culprit, but don't push your luck.

And here, for your enjoyment, is our family broccoli recipe. Just let me know if we're going to the same potluck.

BROCCOLI AND CHEESE CASSEROLE

2 pkg. (10 oz.) frozen or same volume of fresh chopped broccoli
1 (8 oz.) pkg. Velveeta cheese, diced or for snobs, use Kraft "Old English" cheese
1 sleeve Ritz crackers (or cheaper, healthier alternative crackers)
1 cube of butter or margarine

Cook broccoli as directed on package or steam fresh broccoli until tender. Crush crackers and the melted butter. Add the diced cheese and half the cracker mixture to the broccoli. Mix over low heat until cheese is melted. Pour into a 1 1/2 or 2 quart casserole and cover with the remainder of the cracker mixture. Bake at 375 degrees for 30 minutes or until top is slightly browned. This recipe is easy to double and you'll want to have some leftovers anyway.


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Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Ford loves me, Ford loves me not, Ford loves me...

All of you folks who just sent off angry letters calling Ford a dirty, rotten, cheating scoundrel for getting into bed with AFA's Donald Wildmon had better go to Ford's on-line form and say something nice now that the company is, apparently, again our friend.

Come on, now. Ford has something to say to you:

"Hi, gay."

"Yes, I'm listening."

"Yeah, about that little thing with Donald Wildmon. Really, nothing happened. We were just talking, you know? Fully clothed. Both feet on the ground the whole time, I swear. He means nothing to me. And I was thinking of you the whole time."

"Why were you even talking to that jerk?"

"Oh gosh, I don't know. I was just...well, you've been working late a lot, and I just...just got lonely. Donald kept calling. Said he wanted to talk. I didn't see any harm in just talking. So we talked. That's all. Then, he got all, like, crazy on me and threatened to call all his friends and tell them I'm a big slut and I got scared. So scared. Here, look what I got you--a bunch of new ads for the Advocate and Out Magazine."

"Oh, Ford, you big lug, they're beautiful. Come here. I'll give you another chance. You've been good to me. But this is it. I swear, if I see that little weasel around here again, it is over."

"I promise."

The letter Ford wrote to the leaders of several gay groups is even addressed to "Friends" so it looks like we're back on speaking terms. Corporate ads touting all of Ford's brands will be placed in gay publications, and our leaders seem convinced Ford's corporate contributions are down merely because things aren't looking so good for Ford overall.

So, go write your letter, and Honey, if you're reading this, you can go ahead and get me that new Jag for Christmas after all. I know you've been talking about getting me a "bike," but you and I both know that by "bike" you really meant "2006 Jaguar X Type VDP Edition." Don't worry. I'll act surprised.


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Monday, December 12, 2005

High Hopes for Brokeback Mountain

The Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation has high hopes for Brokeback Mountain. Hailing the release as "a historic moment in film history," the organization sees the movie's "potential to change hearts and minds." On opening night, GLAAD told ABC World News that Brokeback Mountain "might actually transform mainstream audiences."

I have been equally optimistic. Just look at Hollywood's impressive track record at making movies that dramatically change social attitudes.

Ever sense Guess Whose Coming to Dinner, interracial relationships are happily embraced throughout the land.

And remember before the movie version of The Grapes of Wrath when America didn't take care of its poor? Thank goodness that movie gave us the will to win that war on poverty.

Movies do change the world. If it weren't for Dr. Strangelove's nuclear wakeup call, the Cold War might have lasted well into the 1980s.

And in another landmark gay film, Philadelphia touched our hearts with the injustice of AIDS discrimination, and now, of course, people can disclose their HIV status at work without any fear of recriminations or stigma. AIDS stigma? Oh, that's so 1992.

When Jamie Foxx portrayed Stan Tookie Williams in Redemption in 2004, Governor Schwarzenegger was moved and insisted that this man should not be executed under his watch.

What a better world we live in now that transgender people don’t have to fear getting shot and stabbed to death since all the would-be hate criminals were, ironically, brought to tears by Boys Don’t Cry.

And where would we be today if American hadn't squashed the Bush-Cheney like a junebug in 2004 after seeing Fahrenheit 9/11?

Hey Mr. Snarkypants, you say, aren't you the guy who just called for girlfriends to drag their boyfriends to see Brokeback Mountain with the hope that a straight men's era of enlightenment will ensue?

Oh yeah, that was me. It's true that all of the movies above did change attitudes, but perhaps GLAAD and I ought to temper our great expectations that a cowboy love story, even a good one, can change the world.


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Saturday, December 10, 2005

All I Want for Christmas is Coronary Artery Disease

My Christmas Wish List
1. Bunny slippers
2. New Madonna CD
3. McDonald's Arch Card
4. Lemon zester

Wait, back up. McDonald's Arch Card? Nobody has that on their Christmas list. Or if they do, it's time to stage a family intervention.

McDonald's, apparently tired of sitting on the sidelines during the seasonal height of consumerist fury, is attempting to nose its way into the frenzy with the new Arch Card. Gift cards are big business these days. They're a delightful way to say, "I have no idea what your really want, but at least I've given it enough thought to narrow it down to this store."

Launched in November, McDonalds is making a big marketing push to get Santa to pop an Arch Card into the kids' stockings, next to the new toothbrush, the penlight, and the orange-apple-tangerine combo in the toe. Santa, if you love the little children, you will do no such thing.

The concept is nothing new. McDonald's has been selling books of gift certificates as the perfect little stocking stuffers for many years. But that was before we realized we Americans were choking our arteries with special sauce and padding our asses with Big Macs, super sized fries and sugary Cokes.

But McDonald's is healthy now, you rationalize. Yes, it's possible to eat healthy at McDonalds, and I suppose you could score some green tea in a crack house if you asked nicely, but that's probably not why you went in there.

As a rule, I don't go into McDonalds since seeing the movie "Super Size Me," but if I did, I doubt I'd see many kids ordering the healthy Fruit and Walnut Salad. There's no two ways about it--the kid is getting a Happy Meal. And I'd bet they're not selling very many of the "Apple Dippers" (sliced apples and caramel sauce), but they get some credit for trying. No, more than likely, the kid will get a cheeseburger, small fries and child-sized Coke which packs 650 calories and 23 grams of fat. Force a kid to eat a salad at McDonald's and you've got a kid who might just start calling you "Mommie Dearest." It would be like bringing a child to Disneyland and making him sit on a bench all day, watching other kids ride Thunder Mountain Railroad. You might have a social worker knocking on your door to investigate allegations of emotional abuse.

These Arch Cards come in denominations from $1 to $50. So, if you really love a person, would you give them the $50 or the $1 version? The $1 card will get them a double cheeseburger from the Dollar Menu. That's 460 calories, 23 grams of fat (11 grams of saturated fat), 80 mg of cholesterol and a whopping 1140 mg of sodium. That means 45% of the calories are coming from fat, way more than the 25 to 35% the U.S. government recommends for adults, and they've just scarfed down almost half of their recommended daily sodium intake for the day--and they're probably still hungry. Quite possibly, this is the cheapest way in America to get fat, short of eating Crisco straight from the can.

But, give a person $50 worth of McDonald's slop and they're likely to ingest about 10 meal deals. If their penchant is for a Big Mac, large fries and a large coke, that means 14,000 calories, 550 grams of fat (150 grams of saturated fat), 800 grams of cholesterol, 13,600 grams of sodium and virtually no nutritional value. A $50 Arch Card is a cruel gesture--It'd be like giving my grandmother a skateboard.

If your spouse gives you a $50 McDonald's gift certificate this Christmas, the next thing you might hear is, "Hey, hon, what say we just go ahead and bump up that life insurance policy to $2 million. How 'bout it, sweetie pie?"

Going to McDonald's is something you should do only when you're terribly desperate, when nothing else is open, when no one is looking, or to placate a child who has been hopelessly brainwashed to believe that she can't live another minute until she has all six Power Rangers action figures. You don't need your friends and family to enable such activity by giving you McPlastic.

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Thursday, December 08, 2005

Happy Holidays -- From the Fox News Channel

I'm tempted to camp outside of Bill O'Reilly's studio so I can flash a smile and greet him with "Happy Holidays." But I'm afraid he'd stab me in the heart with a crucifix.

In light of O'Reilly's success at drawing attention to this phony "War on Christmas," it'll be interesting to see how Fox News celebrates the holidays this year. In 2004, the network produced an amazingly inclusive montage of Fox employees wishing the world Happy Holidays, Seasons Greetings, Happy Hannukah, and a Prosperous New Year, alongside Merry Christmas messages.

If O'Reilly is so offended at attempts to be inclusive of those who worship someone other than Jesus, why does he choose to accuse George Soros and liberals of bashing Christmas instead of his own colleagues at Fox?

Sean Hannity may be regretting that the News Hounds documented his wishes from on Dec. 26, 2004: "From all of us here at Hannity & Colmes, Happy Holidays." Alan Colmes added, "And we wish you a wonderful New Year."

And O'Reilly himself seems to have expressed some sense of inclusivity in 2003 while pimping his web store: "Also, we'd like to invite everybody to go to billoreilly.com where no-spin elves are standing by in our all-inclusive Christmas/Hanukkah/Holiday/Anything You Want Store. Get a jump on holiday gift giving."

The Fox News Shop was caught selling The O'Reilly Factor "Holiday" Ornaments up until a few days ago. After various bloggers pointed out hypocrisy, Fox now calls them "Christmas" ornaments. The website Conservative Thinking calls that progress.

Oddly, Fox has kept the heading "
Christmas and Chanukah Collection," yet none of the items has anything to do with Chanukah (or even Hanukkah for that matter).

Personally, I take no offense whatsoever if someone wishes me a Merry Christmas, but Happy Holidays works for me too. For me, Christmas is not a religious holiday; it's a family tradition. For me, it's a season of giving, caring for others, pretty lights, wrapped-up surprises, family, charity for those less fortunate, sentimental music, and schmaltzy TV specials. It's a time of wonder for children, for Santa and reindeer and Nat King Cole and talking snowmen and one-horse open sleighs.
Jesus ought to be the reason for the season for practicing Christians, but that doesn't mean it's not a meaningful holiday for the rest of us.


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Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Chalk one up for intolerance

It looks like we're going to see a lot fewer rainbow stickers on the bumpers of Jaguars and Land Rovers in the coming years. They'll be replaced by fish emblems and bumper stickers with slogans like "Caution: In case of rapture, this car will be unmanned." That's because Ford Motor Company has just capitulated to the far-right American Family Association's demands that the company stop being so nice to gay people.

AFA had threatened a boycott more than six months ago, but suspended it when Ford agreed to meet with them to discuss their concerns. This week, AFA dropped its boycott threat after Ford agreed to pull its Jaguar and Land Rover advertising in the gay media. "They've heard our concerns; they are acting on our concerns. We are pleased with where we are," said AFA chairman Donald Wildmon.

Why would the AFA and its phalanx of fundamentalist followers care that Ford tries to sell cars to gays and lesbians? It's just business, right?

A recent Volvo ad in HRC's Equality Magazine showed two men with a baby, and a woman embracing her pregnant partner.

"Whether you're starting a family, or creating one as you go... Whoever makes up your family, think about making Volvo a part of it." Surely, this is the kind of ad that works Wildmon's Fruit of the Looms into a wad.

Until last week, Ford was considered one of the most gay-friendly Fortune 500 companies. The HRC website still lists Ford in its Equality Buyers Guide, but clearly, Ford's commitment to the LGBT community isn't as strong as we believed.

Ford has insisted that this is strictly a "business decision." If Ford really just decided to pull the ads because they weren't effective, then why is Donald Wildmon so smugly declaring victory?

This "business decision" is the crux of the problem. We've been making great headway in Corporate America by arguing the "business case" for diversity. Offering domestic partnership benefits doesn't cost much, but attracts highly talented employees, we've argued successfully. Promoting respect and inclusion increases productivity, we attest, because employees who are respected do better work. We don't bother to argue that it's simply the right thing to do.

HRC, which rates companies on a 100-point Corporate Equality Index, explains that corporations are becoming more gay friendly because "fairness is good for business."

But that makes for a dangerous equation. If the AFA folks buy more Fords than we do, we lose. Justice cannot be denied just because it doesn't make money. It may be that Ford has concluded that an Equality Index score of 100 isn't the right mark to aim for. They may decide to go for a sweet spot where the fundamentalists leave them alone; maybe an 82 or a 76.

The bottom line is, indeed, the bottom line. Ford is a corporation that exists to make money. As long as "shareholder value" is the only value that matters in Corporate America, Donald Wildmon will continue to carve notches into his belt.

Until we hold corporations accountable for more than their profits, this is what we can continue to expect. Ultimately, LGBT equality in the workplace will be a house of cards until society holds corporations accountable for more than making a buck.

When that day comes, maybe this will be the next ad for Mastercard (which scores a respectable 86 on the Equality Index):

Diversity training: $200,000

Equal benefits: $800,000

Doing the right thing regardless of the impact on the bottom line: Priceless

Friday, December 02, 2005

Weight just a second!

I went to see my new doctor today, but before I did, I had to go through the usual routine of filling out forms, getting my temperature and blood pressure checked, and . . . the dreaded weigh-in.

The nurses aide had me on the scale before I could even set down my sunglasses. Don't they teach these people the proper way to weigh a person? I was wearing heavy shoes, a thick belt, slacks, a shirt, underwear and not one, but two socks. Hanging from my belt was a hefty Blackberry, and in my pockets, I had my wallet (overstuffed, notably), my keys, a pager and 55 cents in change (and not two quarters and a nickel--it was two nickels, four dimes and five pennies!).

The aide scrawled down a horrific number that I have never seen appear on my scale at home. This was not me! No subtraction for everything I was packing. No consideration that Thanksgiving was just a week ago.

Not to mention the fact that I had just come from lunch and had lots of sushi and miso soup and a glass of ice water (that's 12 ounces right there) and several cups of green tea, which is good for you, for Pete's sake. I was late, so I hadn't gone to the bathroom. Plus, I haven't had a haircut in more than six weeks.

This was exactly opposite of the proper way to weigh oneself. At home, I don't step on the scale except on an empty stomach, in the morning, before I shower (wet hair is heavy hair), after I use the toilet, stark naked.

Then the aide asked how tall I am and ran her finger across a chart. Her finger passed over the white boxes, beyond the gray boxes and into the black boxes and stopped. "Your Body Mass Index is 30," she huffed. Now my Kaiser chart officially says that I am, yes, obese. OBESE!

Well, I never. There's no allowance for all the deep knee bends I do while I'm brushing my teeth--that's got to be worth five or ten pounds of lean muscle mass. Muscle is heavier than fat, you know. No consideration for push-ups and shoulder presses and bicep curls.

The BMI chart says my normal weight should be 173 or less. Listen, if I weighed 173 pounds, I would look like I had just spent 39 days on Vanuatu going to tribal councils and eating a fistful of rice a day. I could be mistaken for an Olsen twin.

I just weighed everything I had on and it amounted to five pounds. Just those five pounds would have pulled me into the "overweight" category. That I can live with. I could afford to lose 10 or maybe 15 pounds. But the federal governments says I should lose twice that, even considering my true, empty stomach and bladder, naked weight.

This BMI stuff just not working for me. It's messing with my mind. I like my method for assessing my weight--if I can get into the denim Hard Rock Cafe shorts I've had in my closet for more than 10 years, then I know I'm doing OK.

The next time I go into that clinic, even if I've got a case of avian flu, I will have fasted for 12 hours whether they need to do blood work or not. I'll be wearing nothing but shorts, a tank top and flip-flops. And, my nails will be clipped and my eyebrows will be plucked.

Monday, November 28, 2005

Boycotts of America

Fifty years after Rosa Parks ignited the civil rights movement in Montgomery, the governor of Alabama has called for another boycott. Not of Microsoft or Wal-Mart, but of a much smaller, feckless entity, the island of Aruba, because of its government's lack of action in the Natalee Holloway case.

While boycotts still can pack a punch, the Aruba boycott hasn't hurt tourism there, even though Bill O'Reilly has also boycotted the island. But his boycott list is so long, even the website Boycott Watch can't keep up. He's recently called for boycotts of Abercrombie & Fitch, Pepsi, Canada and anything from France, which apparently isn't an easy commitment to make. More than a year into it and Boycott Watch still hasn't figured out if Louis Vuitton is a French company.

No matter. The knock-offs you can actually afford are made in China anyway. Oh, but wait! We've got to boycott those too because terrorists make money on counterfeit goods. Drat. I guess we'll have to find some other reason to visit Bangkok.

I think you can tell a lot about a person by what they are boycotting. When I was single, I always thought that a Match.com profile should include a question about it. Imagine how many first dates end before they start because someone shows up wearing a fur or innocently orders a Coors.

I could screen a lot of people out based on what's on, or not on, their list. I think I could date someone who shops at Wal-Mart--I'm pretty sure my partner, Robert, does when I'm not looking--but I don't think I could look past a guy who pulled into an Exxon station. If he isn't bothered that the company doesn't offer domestic partnership benefits, he should at least be concerned about a company that thinks that the only problem with global warming is that people will need less heating oil.

If, on the other hand, someone refused to sleep on a Tempur-Pedic bed because the company sponsors Bill O'Reilly's radio show, they may be a little too politically correct for me. Ditto for someone who leaves his airplane pretzels uneaten because Eagle Brand is owned by Anheuser Busch, which also owns Sea World, which displays kidnapped dolphins for entertainment.

I probably have a longer list than most, but I'm hardly militant about it. I haven't knowingly eaten a Domino's pizza since I lived in a dormitory, but honestly, I have lost track of why. Something about political contributions to pro-war fetuses.

Did I neglect to see "War of the Worlds" because I thought Tom Cruise had become such a nut or were we just too busy to get to the theater? While I haven't seen a Mel Gibson movie since he made homophobic comments to a Spanish newspaper in 1992, I wouldn't cross you off my Christmas list if you still like the guy.

Some groups force me to boycott because I'm restricted from using their services anyway. Include on that list eHarmony (which doesn't do same-sex match ups), Westboro Baptist Church and the Boy Scouts of America. Hey, you can't ban me. I ban you!

I don't really miss any of the products I'm boycotting. Some of them certainly don't miss me either. I never spent any money at Abercrombie and Fitch, but after they were sued for discriminating against Asian employees and printing up racially insensitive T-shirts, I deliberately don't spend money there.

Does it count as a boycott if I never purchased their products in the first place? For the record, I'm also boycotting African diamonds, crack cocaine and anti-ballistic missiles systems.

While my boycotts are mostly for my own sense of good karma, big corporations are keenly aware of how a large-scale boycott can affect the bottom line. Wal-Mart reacted quickly after the Catholic League called for a boycott a couple of weeks ago. They were offended by the response from a customer service representative who tried to explain the reason why the store greets shoppers with "Happy Holidays" rather than "Merry Christmas." Within a day of the boycott announcement, the representative was summarily canned.

No doubt there's a PR intern at Wal-Mart headquarters whose job it is every morning to google the words "boycott" and "Wal-Mart." Nothing to see here, newbie. Move on to the next hit. Go on. Shoo!

You don't have to worry about me. I can't even keep Robert from shopping in your lousy store.

Saturday, November 26, 2005

Weekend Update 11-26-05

The fake news:

Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey have finally confirmed they are breaking up. The couple released a joint statement that "This is the mutual decision of two people with an enormous amount of respect and admiration for each other." However, the amicable tone has already begun to break down. The two cannot agree on what to call their new MTV reality show that will follow their divorce proceedings. Apparently Lachey objected to Simpson's choice: "Nick's Career is Over."

Privately, Nick told friends that the last straw was when Jessica refused to allow Nick's vegan Aunt Silvia to bring a tofurkey to Thanksgiving dinner unless she could demonstrate that it was killed humanely.



________________________

This week former FEMA director Michael Brown announced his plan to start his own disaster preparedness consulting firm. His first client is a company destined for disaster: the Michael Brown Consulting Firm.



_____________________
Pilots diverted a United Airlines flight traveling from Orlando, Florida, to Washington, DC, this evening, after a passenger lit a cigarette and urinated in the aisle. Federal authorities apprehended the traveler upon landing, proving that Karl Rove is not above the law after all.

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

A lot to be thankful for

Coast redwoods, wisteria, job stability, CalPERS, Lasik, Madonna’s new album, TiVo, affordable California wine, Jon Stewart, Canada, Spain, Massachusetts, Gavin Newsom, grilled salmon, Thai food, Brokeback Mountain, Jimmy Carter, Molly Ivins, California’s LGBT Democratic Caucus, Unitarians, my Blackberry, lilac, digital photography, Lean Cuisine spa cuisine classics, Trader Joe’s, Mediterranean climates, Prairie Home Companion, Wait! Wait! Don’t Tell Me!, bubble tea, yoga, people who read my blog, people who link to my blog, towel service at the gym, parking spaces in San Francisco, Senate Rule 21, soy milk, queso manchego, Gay-Straight Alliances, PFLAG, clean air, clean water, Vancouver, epicurious.com, coral reefs, Anderson Cooper, LOGO television, bamboo flooring, and presidential term limits.

And for reals: Robert (my partner), my family, my cat, my friends, my health.

Monday, November 21, 2005

Take your man to see Brokeback Mountain!

Your husband, boyfriend or Match.com date needs to see Brokeback Mountain. You must insist that he see this movie. Beg. Plead. Withhold sex. Do whatever you need to do. Watching two cowboys get it on will do him good.

If he resists, drop this line on him: “I’d wonder about the sexuality of a man who isn’t secure enough to watch a gay-themed movie.” In a world where straight men have evolved to be cool with pedicures, moisturizer and plucking their eyebrows, they can certainly get over their issues with a little same sex nookie on the big screen.

Yeah, sure, he laughs at Will & Grace, but his queasiness with male affection is why Will has had about as much on-screen romance as Jessica Fletcher. We’ll never have a truly open society until straight men get over their visceral reactions to seeing two men kissing.

Most people, especially men, are still way too hung up over man-on-man action. Heath Ledger, who plays the role of Ennis, knows why some men are uncomfortable with the movie. “I suspect it’s a fear that they are going to enjoy it,” he told Newsweek. “They don’t understand that you are not going to become sexually attracted to men by recognizing the beauty of a love story between two men.” Ladies, give your man permission to shed his macho veneer for two hours. And bring enough tissue for both of you.

The buzz is that this is a universal story of love that anyone can appreciate. You don’t have to be gay to relate to a gay love story any more than you have to be straight to cry at the end of Titanic. I didn’t watch As Good As It Gets just to see Greg Kinnear play the prototypical gay neighbor. I’m gay, but I could relate when Harry met Sally. Jerry Maguire had me at hello too.

In Details magazine, Jake Gyllenhaal, who plays Jack, observes that the movie would have made just as much sense if his character had been a woman. Yes, but I’ve seen that movie—about a thousand times. It’s our turn.

I’m so excited about this movie, I can hardly see straight. Yes, I want to see some hot, steamy love scenes, but even more than that, I want to see your boyfriend cry.

Sunday, November 20, 2005

Weekend Update

The fake news:

Former Mousketeer, Christina Aguilera, has married music executive Jordan Bratman in a Saturday evening ceremony in Napa Valley. Security was extremely tight, on the mistaken assumption that anyone cared.












___________________________

President Bush visited Mongolia on Sunday to thank the country for its vital role in the broad U.S.-led coalition in Iraq. Bush praised the 131 Mongolian troops in Iraq for successfully fulfilling their mission: goat herding duty.









_____________________________

On Friday, Senate Republicans refused to take a vote on a proposed resolution honoring the musical career of Bruce Springsteen and the 30th anniversary of his blockbuster album "Born to Run." The snub is apparently due to Springsteen's support of the Kerry/Edwards campaign in 2004. "We don't have time for these kinds of resolutions. We have serious work to do," said Majority Leader Bill Frist. In other news, the Senate passed a resolution today naming John Ashcroft "World's Best Singer Ever."



Friday, November 18, 2005

Could this be the dawn of a new day?

Today Mark Morford tempted readers to flirt with the notion that maybe, just maybe, the tide is beginning to turn. Democrats in Congress have finally grown a pair. Senators are using obscure rules to demand accountability and shouting on the Senate floor. John Edwards admits he was wrong to vote for the war and Jimmy Carter is pointing out how un-Christian our country has become. Most Americans are beginning to see the light that the rest of the world has always seen. Bush's approval rating continues to drop like an IED hucked into a hotel compound in Baghdad.

For a moment, I imagined we were in The Lion King and that scene is just starting where rain begins to fall on the parched barren earth, sprouts of green grass emerge. Animals and birds come out from the shadows as the glowing sun begins to rise. It's a new day! Cue the hopeful, glorious music and the joyful chorus of renewal. The evil imposter king has been dethroned. Simba has brought peace and prosperity back to the Serengheti.

Hold on there, Rafiki. We're not there yet. Our "Scar" is still in the White House and he and his band of hyenas are far from defeated.

It was a nice moment, but we can't bust out with a "Hakuna Matata" chorus just yet.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

What Would Jimmy Do?

A book called Our Endangered Values: America’s Moral Crisis and written by an avowed evangelical Christian is an unlikely addition to my nightstand. But after hearing President Jimmy Carter eviscerate the Bush Administration for taking American down a path of moral destruction, I decided I needed to buy his newest book, if only as a gesture of thanks.

Even if the book were crap, I reasoned, at least a few bucks might go towards a 2-by-4 for Habitat for Humanity. I’m confident Carter isn’t socking away book profits to buy a big yacht or a Major League baseball team.

Given Carter’s reputation for thoughtful reflection and industriousness, I was expecting an excruciatingly researched Michener-sized tome, but instead found a small book, barely cracking 200 pages with unusually large type, oversized margins, and not one endnote. I guess some people are beyond listing their sources—ex-presidents and bloggers.

My childhood memories of Carter are vivid: peanuts and bright smiles, then over time, gas shortages, inflation and hostages. No more smiles. Just an ashen, spent, broken man.

When I saw images of him on the roofs of Habitat for Humanity houses, I thought he literally took up carpentry. After such a dismal presidency, it seemed he just wanted to skulk away to Georgia and do something low key and safe. Safe is good after such a humbling defeat. I imagine that Michael Brown is studying up to be a barista right about now.

But in fact, Carter has been a tireless promoter of human rights, public health, democracy and justice all over the world, winning a Nobel Peace Prize along the way. That’s all well and good, but this may be the crusade of his life. As a former president and a Christian himself, Carter is in a plum position to point out the utter immorality of the fundamentalist and neoconservative agenda that has destroyed our standing in the world.

It’s good to know that at least some of my core values are shared by an evangelical Christian. Among other things, Carter is outraged that America gives so little to impoverished countries (16 cents of every $100 in gross national income), refuses to join the rest of the industrial world to reduce carbon dioxide emissions, has turned its back on anti-nuclear proliferation agreements, engaged in torture of detainees and adopted an immoral policy of preemptive strike.

I still can’t go along with Carter on many issues; he still opposes federal funding for reproductive service, which simply means reproductive freedom is denied to the poor. And you’ll never make it to my short list of true heroes as long as you profess that same-sex behavior is sinful, no matter what the circumstances. “Love the sinner, hate the sin” is a huge step over stoning us to death, but it’s still dehumanizing and condescending.

But as far as public policy goes, Carter supports civil unions. He wonders why the fundamentalists are so concerned about homosexuality but have little to say about divorce, another big biblical no-no. An authentic reading of the Bible would point toward the need for a constitutional amendment banning divorce rather than gay marriage. On both issues, Carter is a pragmatist—most Americans condone divorce and the right for same sex couples to live their lives without governmental intrusion, so we best just leave the constitution alone.

When an evangelical Christian exposes the immorality of the fundamentalism that has led our country astray, it helps restore my faith in faith.



Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Product Placement for the Classics

Ever since E.T. collected a fistful of Reese's Pieces, corporations have been foisting their products on us at the movies. They've become far more obvious and shameless. Marketers particularly love Tom Hanks, I've noticed. The full title should have been Cast Away, brought to you by Wilson and FedEx. In The Terminal, the Borders Bookstore logo filled the screen for half the movie, and Burger King was credited for keeping the poor exile from starving to death.

We already pay 12 bucks to get in and we sit through 10 minutes of commercials before the movie. This is not good for the art of cinema. Here's my vision of what some of the classics might look like if they were made today:


Monday, November 14, 2005

I'm a Believer!

I heard Pat Robertson say today on the 700 Club that the nation should stop worrying about the rights of a small minority of agnostics and atheists who, after all, don’t believe anything.

Actually, Pat, I believe in a lot.

  • I believe in truth, justice, humility, service, and compassion.
  • I believe evading nuclear arms control agreements is immoral.
  • I believe giving only 0.17 percent of our GDP for assistance to developing countries is immoral.
  • I believe stopping condom education and distribution campaigns in Africa is immoral.
  • I believe doing nothing about global warming is immoral.
  • I believe detaining people for months, and now years, without charging them with a crime is immoral.
  • I believe torturing prisoners at Abu Ghraib, Guatánamo and who knows where else is immoral.
  • I believe detaining and torturing Pakistani children is immoral.
  • I believe sending prisoners to countries where we know they will be brutally tortured is immoral.
  • I believe assassinating Joseph Wilson’s character is immoral.
  • I believe outing his wife as a CIA operative is immoral.
  • I believe engaging in a campaign to debunk evidence you know is actually true is immoral.
  • I believe manupulating and withholding evidence to convince Americans to support a preemptive attack on another country is immoral.
  • I believe invading a sovereign nation that poses no immediate threat to our nation is immoral.

These are my morals, and I didn't need an organized religion to form them. These are my values. And I believe that most Americans share these values, not those of Pat Robertson and the right wing fundamentalists who are running our country into the ground.

Sunday, November 13, 2005

At what price, abstinence?

Cervical cancer, which afflicts about 10,000 American women a year and kills nearly 4000, could soon become history. Scientists are testing a vaccine that, so far, is highly effective in preventing infection with the virus that causes most cervical cancer. As Ellen Goodman discovered, this is not welcome news for those who have been using the disease to promote their religious agenda for sexual “purity.”

For the abstinence-only camp, preserving virginity until a proper, traditional marriage is far more important than preventing a deadly disease. Leslie Unruh of the National Abstinence Clearinghouse remarked, “I personally object to vaccinating children against a disease that is 100 percent preventable with proper sexual behavior.” And they'll define what's "proper," thank you very much. The group’s mission is “to promote the appreciation for and practice of sexual abstinence (purity) until marriage through the distribution of age appropriate, factual and medically-referenced materials.” Public health? Disease prevention? Preventing death? Not so much.

Needless to say, these folks are not talking about waiting until same-sex marriage. To qualify for the millions of dollars Bush has funneled to abstinence-only programs, curricula must emphasize that “a mutually faithful and monogamous married relationship is the standard for sexual activity.” These curricula have nothing to offer gay youth except to say, “Don’t be gay.” Well, that’s not going to happen, so the gay youth, who are at high risk for HIV, are left without the life-saving skills that greatly reduce the risk of infection.

The wait-until-marriage crowd always claims that abstinence is the only 100 percent effective protection against sexually transmitted disease. But, as the Alan Guttmacher Institute points out, abstinence is an effective method, but only when it’s used perfectly. In real life, people slip, or deliberately abandon pledges of abstinence. For those that have been taught that condoms are ungodly and ineffective, the abstinence message ultimately results in more unsafe sex, not less.

But proselytizing to American teens is not enough to satisfy the neo-puritans. They’ve taken their message of chastity on the road—to Africa. Continuing to prove he’s the best ex-president ever, President Jimmy Carter is laying into the Bush Administration and a conservative Congress for reversing public health successes in countries like Uganda. It’s a little surreal to hear the famously Baptist Carter talk about promoting condoms—but here’s one old fellow who realizes that his own religious beliefs should not interfere with public health.

In the 90s, Uganda addressed its exploding AIDS epidemic with a program preaching “Abstinence, Be faithful, and Condoms.” According to Carter, the highly successful campaign reduced the rates of HIV infection from 13 percent of the adult population down to 6 percent. But the Bush Administration and the social conservatives in the Congress came along with abstinence-until-marriage campaigns, ignoring the fact that many married men carry the virus. The result is that the rate of infection has again increased to 9 percent.

Abstinence-only programs, at best, can claim to delay sexual activity among a few people in the margin, and only for a few months, on average. But the people far from the margin, those who don’t respond to the abstinence message, those who are sexually active, do not deserve death when we have the ability to prevent it. It’s time to leave public health to those who actually care about public health.

Saturday, November 12, 2005

Weekend Update

Here is some more fake news for you:
_______________________________

On Friday, President Bush struck back at critics who claim he misled the country into war, asserting that “more than 100 Democrats in the House and the Senate voted to support removing Saddam Hussein from power. We all had access to the same intelligence that my administration fabricated.”

_______________________________

Saturday Night Live, in its 31st season, continues to draw praise for its ethnically diverse cast. Commented Executive Producer Lorne Michaels, “Our show is richer and appeals to a wider audience with multicultural performers. That’s what I’ve always believed…and that Asians aren’t funny.”

When reminded that former cast member Rob Schneider is half Filipino and half Jewish, he remarked, “Yeah, well, I think we can all agree that I hired the Jewish half.”

_______________________________

The cardboard box was inducted into The National Toy Hall of Fame on Friday because the cardboard box ignites the imagination like no other toy. Snubbed again this year—mashed potatoes and boogers.

_______________________________

In spite of all the obesity warnings, fast food is making a comeback in America. KFC is doing so well, the company is considering bringing back its original name, Kentucky Fried Chicken. Following suit, Burger King is pondering a name change to The Lard Hut and McDonalds may become McFatAss.



_______________________________

Author Nicole Ritchie acknowledged on the Today Show that the main character in her new
novel, Chloe Parker, is loosely based on her own life. Like Nicole, Parker is privileged party girl who cannot write worth a damn.




_______________________________

California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger decided to end his year-long fight with the state's nursing union, but only after having his well chiseled ass handed to him on a platter on Tuesday. Said an unusually contrite governor to the nurses, "C'mon now. I didn't mean to hurt you. It won't happen again. It's just I was under a lot of stress. And you made me mad. You know I love you."


Friday, November 11, 2005

All My Ex's Can't Live in Texas

Oh, Texas. Just when I thought y’all were so hospitable and welcoming after Hurricane Katrina, you roll up the welcome mat for gays and lesbians.

As if I needed another reason to stay away from Texas, this week voters there overwhelmingly passed a constitutional amendment to deny same sex couples the right to marry. Not that they needed to. Texas already passed its “Defense of Marriage Act” in 2003. So why the amendment? Because the folks behind these marriage amendments—now passed in 19 states—are hell-bent to bar any legal recognition of same sex couples. That means no civil unions, no “marriage-lite,” no domestic partnership recognitions.

It’s too bad prominent Texans who support a state’s right to establish civil unions were silent on the proposition:

“I don't think we should deny people rights to a civil union, a legal arrangement, if that's what a state chooses to do so…I view the definition of marriage different from legal arrangements that enable people to have rights…States ought to be able to have the right to pass laws that enable people to be able to have rights like others.”

Who said that? Ann Richards? Molly Ivins? No, ‘twas none other than President George W. Bush, in an interview on ABC before the 2004 election, but I don’t recall seeing any “No on Prop. 2” signs on the lawn of the White House.

I think Bush has probably forgotten about this stand as he sucks up to the religious right like never before (ahem, flip-flopper). The anti-gay movement will most certainly use this win to push for a measure to ban gay Texans from being foster parents, to strip public workers in Dallas and Travis County of domestic partnership rights and to re-ignite the push for an federal constitutional amendment banning marriage equality forever.

Next stop? California. Not one, but two anti-gay initiatives will soon be circulating for signatures in California. Both groups are clear in their intentions to roll back domestic partnership rights, not just prevent same sex marriages. The two efforts are in a battle with each other over which initiative strikes the larger blow to state recognition of same sex partnerships. The ProtectMarriage.com people state that their constitutional amendment “would prevent any law from recognizing, or giving rights on the basis of, other personal relationships that attempt to imitate marriage, such as homosexual ‘domestic partnerships’ or ‘civil unions.’” The other group, VoteYesMarriage.com, has written an initiative that explicitly eliminates all domestic partnership recognition, from any governmental body in the state. That is, even San Francisco couldn’t give DP rights to their municipal workers.

If either one of these initiatives makes it to the ballot, I expect the arguments listed on their websites to disappear and be replaced with deceptive spin. Most Californians support DP recognition and are split evenly on legalizing gay marriage. Rather than stating their honest intentions, they’ll do what they did in 2000 for Proposition 22. They will lie.

Here’s what the Prop. 22 proponents were saying during the 2000 campaign:

" ‘We have run a positive, respectful, tolerant campaign that does not take away anyone's rights," said Robert Glazier, communications director for Yes On 22. ‘We believe there is a loophole in California law that needs to be closed.’

That loophole, Glazier said Friday, might allow ‘activist judges’ in other states to affect the social fabric of California.

‘If we're going to redefine marriage in this state, that's fine. But it should be done in California, by Californians.’”

Precinct walkers, sent by the Mormon Church, spoke from the same talking points: “[Prop. 22 is necessary] so that California will not be forced to recognize same-sex marriages performed in other states. Californians will be the only ones who will determine California law about marriage.”

The "Yes on 22" campaign argued that its simple 14-word initiative was merely intended to ensure that California isn’t forced to recognize same-sex marriages performed in other states. The official ballot statements in favor of the initiative led Californians to believe that supporters had no beef with domestic partnership recognitions, hollering ”THE TRUTH IS, PROPOSITION 22 DOESN’T TAKE AWAY ANYONE’S RIGHTS.”

Yet, since the passage of Prop. 22, the same folks have been working feverishly to oppose all domestic partnership legislation in California. Randy Thomassan of Campaign for Children and Families (the heterosexual kind), can’t stop arguing that Californians really wanted to deny any rights gay couples when they voted for Prop. 22.

Six years later, Californians, by and large, are more supportive of equal right, not less. If you see any signature gatherers in front of Albertson's, remind them they're not in Texas.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

IRS says peace sermon is political activity

The Internal Revenue Service has warned the All Saints Episcopal Church in Pasadena that it could lose its tax-exempt status because of an anti-war sermon given two days before the 2004 presidential election.

The guest preacher, fully aware of IRS rules prohibiting non-profits from endorsing candidates, was careful not to take a stand for Kerry or Bush, but did preach on the immorality of the Iraq war.

``Our obligation is to enforce the law, which prohibits all charities from engaging in political activities,'' IRS Commissioner Mark W. Everson has said.

Thus, pacifism is considered political activity, not religious conviction. How far will this go? Perhaps, Catholics ought to cease greeting each other with “Peace be with you” lest they risk steep fines. Churches who indulge in dove imagery are also skating on thin ice. Buddhists and Unitarians? Just forget it. Hire a CPA. Your tax-free days are numbered.

Meanwhile, rightwing Christian behemoth, the Christian Broadcasting Network, maintains its tax-exempt status despite Pat Robertson’s daily political diatribes on his 700 Club television broadcast. When he’s not claiming to heal people on his TV show (Terri, I’m receiving a word of knowledge right now that there’s someone with some sort of intestinal problem that’s causing horrendous flatulence. God is healing that right now. Hallelujah!), Robertson is calling for the U.S. to assassinate the Venezuelan president, advocating for ultra-conservative Supreme Court nominees, attacking gay rights, and defending Bush’s war in Iraq.

Incredibly, Focus on the Family is also tax exempt, despite James Dobson’s status as one of the most influential political figures in the nation. In October, rather than going on CNN, he used his tax-exempt radio program to reveal his conversations with Karl Rove about Harriet Miers. Political activity? Um, yes.

Preachers, talk about Jesus all you want, especially if you have the inside scoop on what he would have thought about gay marriage or Judge Alito. Just don’t call him the Prince of Peace.

Monday, November 07, 2005

The Not-So-Naked Guy

Alongside news of California’s special election, a deadly tornado in Indiana and riots in Paris, the L.A. Times had plenty of space to feature Jacob Authier, a Chapman college junior who has made a habit of puttering around campus—gasp!—topless. Gee, a male student in college goes to class in sunny SoCal without a shirt. Alert the media. Wait. Someone did. And the media bit. AP picked up the story and it’s now all over the country.

Why, in my day, you’d have to walk around campus buck naked to draw anyone’s attention. Whatever happened to Berkeley student Andrew Martinez, a bona fide nudist with a smokin' body, who bared all on campus for several months in the early 1990s? Back then, we had “The Naked Guy.” Now, we have “The Fellow Without a Shirt.” What has the world come to?

A few years ago, you couldn’t turn on the television without getting mooned by Dennis Franz. In a post-wardrobe-malfunction world, it won’t be long before TV networks have to pixilate the crotches of Olympic divers.

Just when I was lamenting the untimely death of public nudity, along came “Breasts Not Bombs” to the rescue. Today, in Sacramento, the anti-war group pulled a publicity stunt on the steps of the California capitol, stripping off their tops to show their disdain for Governor Schwarzenegger’s ballot initiatives. They were women, which meant, of course, that the California Highway Patrol had to arrest them for indecent exposure and disorderly conduct.

A CHP officer explained that they were told to arrest the protesters if there was—I think I heard this right—any exposure of “nipples and areola.”

I just don’t get why the nipple and areola are considered so darn offensive. I saw a show on breast augmentation surgery on Discovery Health. The bleeding incision was shown in all its gore, but someone felt the need to blur out the poor, maligned areola.

A nubby protrusion with a colored circle around it. No big deal, is it? I’ve got pretty much the same equipment and no one has ever forced me to wear a pastie in public.

Where are they going to draw the line? What if a protester’s gender was not obvious? Did the CHP ask the women for biological evidence that they were indeed women? What about all those men who have boobs? Shouldn’t they be arrested too?

Jacob Authier, your daring act of self-expression has earned you 15 minutes of fame. Enjoy it—and use a good sunscreen.

Sunday, November 06, 2005

Weekend Update

Since SNL is on a break this week, here's a little fake news:


During the Summit of the Americas, a reporter asked the president how he would react if he crossed paths with Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez, who has been highly critical of the Bush Administration. “Well, I will, of course, be polite,” the president responded. “That's what the American people expect their President to do, is to be a polite person. And I will -- if I run across him, I will do just that.” An embarrassed Karl Rove later admonished aides to stop the practice of routing talking points to the president's mother.

Bush's pledge of politeness was shortlived. Throughout that afternoon's proceedings, he was observed slouching in his chair and listening to his iPod.



________________________

President Bush’s approval rating dropped to 37 percent this week, the lowest of his presidency. When a reporter asked Bush for comment, the president pointed in the air and yelled, “Look! Over there! Bird flu!” and fled to his waiting helicopter.








________________________

Famiglia Cristiana, a popular Catholic magazine in Italy, is drawing protests from its readers over an advertisement that shows a naked woman’s bottom through a shower door. The U.S. Federal Communications Commission is investigating the incident.






________________________
To pay for Hurricane Katrina recovery efforts, Republicans in Congress and the president are proposing major cuts to domestic programs such as Medicare, Medicaid and food stamps. When asked what poor Americans who will be cut off from the federal programs will do, Bush responded, “Hey, join the army. We'll give you free healthcare and plenty of food. It’s a great program.”

Saturday, November 05, 2005

Me Blog Pretty One Day

I have a confession to make. Until I started this blog, I was—and still am—embarrassingly new to the blogosphere. I am but a young Padwan, and I have much to learn.

Launching a blog without any knowledge of the "masters" now seems akin to composing your first opera before you've heard of Verdi.

Though I had come across a few blogs previously, I now must come clean. My first time reading the Daily Kos was yesterday. Kos, I learned, gets 20 million visits a month, in the top five according to Kos himself. He is a guy, right?

A little piece of advice from His Blogness revealed that I've already started wrong, all wrong. "Get away from Blogspot," he says. But I just got on it! I take it that having a blog on Blogspot is akin to sporting an AOL email address. You just won't be taken seriously. Or maybe it’s a case of blogsnobbery.

I also read somewhere that the average blogger spends more than three hours a day working on blog stuff while at work. Well, now that's starting to sound like a problem, a nasty habit. If that happens to me I hope my friends and family stage an intervention.

A couple of days ago, my dear friend, Amy, may not have realized that she had just clued me in to the concept of blogrolls. I played it off like Michael Keaton in Mr. Mom when he claims he's going to re-wire the house and Martin Mull says, "Oh, so are you doing it all in 220?"

"Yeah, 220, 221, whatever it takes."

I think I'll probably have a little party the first time someone links to me. It'll be like having a secret admirer. A little ego trip.

But I hope it's not about egos. Kos and the cabal of progressive bloggers I'm just beginning to discover are changing the political landscape. Congress is debating whether blogs should be subject to campaign finance restrictions. Candidates for office are placing paid ads on popular blog sites. This is a big deal, but you knew that.

Bear with me as I learn and experiment and discover where this little blog wants to go. I’m reminded of Amy’s first garden, the subject of her delightful first book, From the Ground Up. She was a mere novice when she first sunk a spade into the rich soil in the backyard of her Santa Cruz bungalow. As she learned from trial and error and sage advice from experienced gardeners, numerous planting beds were moved, replanted, and ripped out. Many plants struggled. Many experiments failed. Others flourished. I’m sure she now laughs at some of the rookie mistakes she made early on. The important thing is she started. Her garden is now a masterpiece—and so is her blog.

Even if it is on Blogspot.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Doctor No Way

I had a close call today picking a new primary health physician. I wanted to find a gay-friendly doctor, but my health care provider, which shall remain nameless (rhymes with geyser spermanente), doesn’t provide any guidance. I searched the online directory and was about to choose one of the few doctors available nearby, but a little red flag went up when I read in his bio that he is associated with a “faith-based” clinic.

A Google search revealed that this doctor pays annual dues to associate himself with an organization called the Christian Medical Association, 17,000 doctors strong. Their mission statement says they exist “to glorify God by influencing their families, colleagues, and patients toward a right relationship with Jesus Christ.” And when these folks talk about a “mission,” they know of what they speak.

Might I humbly suggest that you go to their search engine to determine whether your physician has chosen to associate with this group?

If a doctor whose ulterior motive is to get you saved isn’t enough, check out their stunningly sanctimonious issue statements.

I am not going to turn my head and cough for someone who believes that “homosexual behavior is destructive to the structures necessary for healthy marriages, families and society.”

This isn’t just Evangelical boilerplate language. They’ve really spent a lot of time developing these intolerant positions. To justify their statements of belief, they even have compiled an annotated reference list, with a list of Bible verses and the usual list of bogus science that attempts to make the case that homosexuality can and should be suppressed. Call me crazy, but if I want to ask my doctor if Cialis is right for me, I prefer that he look to the Physician's Desk Reference, not the New Testament, for guidance.

What this stuff has to do with providing sound medical care is beyond me. Why do these Christian doctors find it necessary to pronounce that “Christians should oppose legislative attempts to grant special rights based on sexual behavior or to equate homosexual relationships with heterosexual marriages."

Why does it matter if my doctor shares a pew with the Dobson and Robertson crowd? It’s important because I need to be able to trust that my doctor isn’t going to vomit during a discussion of sexual history.

These doctors thumb their noses at the American Medical Association, which believes that “the physician's nonjudgmental recognition of sexual orientation and behavior enhances the ability to render optimal patient care in health as well as in illness.”

Instead, the CMA “opposes the practice of homosexual acts on biblical, medical, and social grounds.” With doctors like these, it’s no wonder one-third of gays and lesbians do not disclose their sexual orientation. The Gay and Lesbian Medical Association is finding that this impacts patient health outcomes in a variety of ways.

So until my provider offers a directory of gay-affirming doctors I can choose from, I guess I’ll just go with the German guy who likes hiking and travel to exotic places.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Separated at birth?



OK, I wouldn't mistake John Roberts and Sam Alito for twins, but they both sure look particularly white and male today.

I wonder if Laura is speaking to George. She, like Justice O'Connor and scores of others, urged Bush to nominate a woman to fill the vacancy on the Supreme Court.

"But Laura," he'll say, "I did nominate a woman. You never said you wanted me to get one actually confirmed."

I remain ambivalent about the prospect of Democratic-led filibusters and such. As much as I abhor where the president's picks are likely to take the Supreme Court, these are the spoils of the 2004 election. Bush won. Humanity lost.

Instead of TV campaigns that urge the Senate to pose tough questions to Bush's nominee, the progressive movement should spend money to remind people why it is so important to elect a president that represents the values they hold. That's where we can and should make a difference.

And, a third of the Senate will be up for election in 2006. That's our next chance to stop Bush from continuing to fill the courts with far right wing conservatives. It's only by taking back the Senate that Bush will be forced to nominate people acceptable to Democrats.

Dental anguish

What’s the deal with the pockets in my gums (he asks in a Seinfeld-nasal voice)? My dentist has been haranguing me about the depth of these pockets between my gums and back teeth. Before he started digging in there a couple of years ago, I had never heard of such a thing.

I have pretty good teeth. In fact, the hygienist was so gaga over them in my last visit, she made me blush. She was smitten with my smile. If I had to be put under, I would not want to be left alone in the same room with this woman.

Though it was just a little creepy, I was feeling really good. Then the dentist came in.

He’s the kind of guy that would advise Picasso that “Guernica” looks pretty good, but maybe he ought to touch up some of those errant brush strokes and add some color.

But he hasn’t broken my spirit yet, and I really do like him. He gives me a delicate balance of guilt trip and fear—enough to encourage a “fight,” not a “flight” response. Somehow, he’s inspired me to floss like never before and, at his suggestion, I go through two cycles on my Oral-B toothbrush every morning and night. By doing deep knee-bends at the same time, I pass the time and get in a four-minute power work out.

A few years ago, if a dentist pressed me on how often I floss, I wouldn’t even bother lying about it. “Remember two years ago, the last time I was in your office?” I’d say. “Yeah, that was last day I flossed.” Their scare tactics had no effect on me. So, I have to give my new doctor credit.

He’s just so hard to please. Is he just really anal or are my teeth actually about to start falling out? I checked into it. It turns out the reason I had never experienced the joys of pocket probing was that periodontitis doesn’t pop up for most people until they’re in their thirties. Alas, I've been hit with my first age-driven health problem.

When they first started poking me with their measuring probe and calling out numbers, “4-5-3-4-2-4-3” and on and on, I had no idea what they were doing. Now, I understand that a 2 puts me on the honor roll, a 3 means I’ve been a good boy, a 4 means I’m just not applying myself, and a 5 means I’m a no-good lout.

With stigmatization like this, it may be high time for a rubber bracelet for gum disease awareness.

Monday, October 31, 2005

It's a small world

Has anyone seen my extra digital camera battery? I’m that desperate.

I am not adapting well to this world where valuable electronics are growing smaller every year. Everything about my camera is precarious.

Instead of a closet full of bulky photo albums which are difficult to lose (or in my case, stacks of photos stuffed in shoe boxes), the visual montage of my life over the last five years is sitting on a perfectly fallible hard disk on my laptop. None of the backup options work for me.

I was thinking about backing up all my photos on CDs, but with CDs strewn randomly around the house and in the car, I’m worried that my irreplaceable pictures from Penang and Santo Domingo will be discarded along with pile of AOL trial disks or misplaced in some Los Lobos CD case forever.

Those memory sticks are trouble too. Anything smaller than a pack of gum is bound to end up lost beneath the sofa cushions.

And, I’m constantly looking for that sleek little cord I need to transfer photos from the camera. I need a camera cord that’s 30-feet long and Day-Glo orange so I can hang it from a hook in the garage.

I usually find the cord in a little zippered pouch where I also keep a spare memory card that’s about the size of a Cheez-It. But, I feel the need to put the pouch into a larger pouch so I don’t lose it. So, what’s the point of being compact, if I have to store these gizmos in something large to keep track of them?

I’m not used to having tiny, valuable things. If I lose a Tic-Tac package, I can cope, but my new MP3 player of the same size is worth a hundred bucks. People with expensive jewelry are used to keeping track of small things, so maybe I need a jewelry case to keep all my electronics.

Anything that is small enough for my pants pocket is living on borrowed time. I learned that several years ago when a $90 pair of sunglasses went through the washer’s spin cycle—unsuccessfully. Since then, I consider sunglasses a disposable product and never spend more than $12 a pair.

That’s why I’ve been clinging to my clunky old mobile phone, a five-year-old Nokia, the size of a kosher dill. I’ve been rebuffing Cingular’s offers for a “free” upgrade phone until they offer one that can survive a few washings.

I even misplace my laptop sometimes. This was not a problem 40 years ago. I hearken back to a time when computers, though slow and feeble, couldn’t be misplaced without the aid of a forklift.

So seriously, if you see a Canon camera battery lying around, it’s mine.

Saturday, October 29, 2005

What not to name your baby

If I were in charge of ordering personalized magnets and bicycle license plates at a souvenir shop, I’d go ahead and cut back on the inventory of “Scooter” and “Harriet” items. “Karl” with a “K” is sure to be on the outs soon too. Expecting parents considering these names should go back the drawing board. “Ashley” sounds nice. “Joshua” is a safe bet.

The Social Security Administration keeps a list of the 1000 most popular baby names for every year since 1879. In 1945, the year Harriet Miers was born, “Harriet” ranked 175th. Since 1971, “Harriet” hasn’t made it to the top 1000, so the Disney store is surely out of “Harriet” mouse ears. It’s been decades since anyone has uttered, “Harriet, we don’t put Legos up our nose.”

It’s beyond me how an adult man never outgrew the nickname “Scooter.” But then, for a president who likes to give the people around him infantile pet names, Mr. Libby fit right in. But if you’re calling your kid “Scooter,” now would be a good time to stop, for his sake.

I heard a news report of girls named “Katrina” getting a lot of flack on the playground. “Katrina” is in the top 200 for 2004, but in a few years, we may need to find new landfills to accommodate all the unsold “Katrina” key chains and mugs.

“Monica” was the 43rd most popular girl’s name in 1973, the year that woman, Ms. Lewinsky, was born. Its popularity, not surprisingly, began dropping in 1998, but still sits at 226.

While notorious figures can ruin a perfectly good name—don’t bother looking for any “Adolfs” in the phone book these days—an admired figure can boost the popularity of a name. The biggest year in the 20th century for my given name, “Martin,” was 1963, the year of Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech at the March on Washington.

It’s a mystery why some names fall out of favor. Once trendy names now just sound old. “Mildred” was a top 10 name in 1925. That name dropped out of the top 1000 in the mid-80s.

Other names are so common, one jerk can’t ruin it, no matter what he does. While I’d consider a surname change if I was a “Fuhrman,” no one has shied away from naming a baby “Mark.” In the 1970s, “Richard” hardly took a hit, Nixon notwithstanding.

For the record, “Osama” has never been in the top 1000 and “Paris” dropped off the top 1000 list five years ago.