New poll: Bush's Job Approval at All-Time Low

Cheney only slightly more popular than bird flu

We thought it couldn't happen. We thought Bush could count on 37 percent of Americans supporting him no matter how miserably he performed. But with the UAE port deal and more bad news coming out of Iraq, even conservatives are turning on the president. This week, his approval rating slipped to 34 percent.

The CBS headline writers' biggest challenge is finding a new way to announce that Bush's ratings are continuing to sink.

Today: "Bush Ratings At All-Time Low"
Jan 26, 2006: "Poll: Bush's Approval Remains Low"
Nov. 3, 2005: "Bush's Job Approval Hits New Low"
Oct. 6, 2005: "Poll: Bush Ratings Hit New Low
June 16, 2005: "Bush's Approval Ratings Stay Low"
April 18, 2005: "Poor Marks For Bush, Congress"
May 24, 2004: "Worst Poll Numbers Ever For Bush"
May 12, 2004: "Bush Ratings Fall Amid Iraq Woes"
Jan, 17, 2004: "Poll: Bush's Approval Sinking"
Oct. 2, 2003: "Poll: Bush Ratings Fall Further"
Sept. 17, 2003: "Poll: Bush Iraq Rating At New Low"

Bush's only consolation is that only 18 percent of Americans have a favorable opinion of his sidekick, Dick Cheney. I figured the vice president would enjoy 20 percent support no matter what he did, short of getting drunk and shooting Republican septuagenarian lawyers.

For some perspective on how miserable those ratings are, consider that 17 percent of blacks had a favorable opinion of Michael "heckuva job" Brown a week after Katrina hit. And when President Richard Nixon resigned, his approval rating stood at 24 percent.

Let me repeat that: Nixon was more popular when he resigned than Dick Cheney is today.

It's raining cats and blogs

Trevor Butterworth in the Financial Times:

The vast wasteland of verbiage produced by the relentless nature of blogging is the single greatest impediment to its seriousness as a medium. . . It renders the word even more evanescent than journalism; yoked, as bloggers are, to the unending cycle of news and the need to post four or five times a day, five days a week, 50 weeks of the year, blogging is the closest literary culture has come to instant obsolescence. . . a virtual tomb for a billion posts.

Ouch. That dude is NOT going on my blogroll.

A happy birthday greeting from eHarmony

Date:	Sun, 26 Feb 2006 09:08:30 -0800 (PST)
From:	"marty grimes"
Subject:	Re: Birthday Greeting from eHarmony.com
To:	usersupport@eHarmony.com

Dear Dr. Warren,

Thank you for the birthday greeting. However, I
question the sincerity of your sentiment given that
you do not offer your matching services to gay and
lesbian people.

But that's OK. You have every right to exclude people
seeking a same sex relationship. After I read that you
have had strong ties to James Dobson and Focus on the
Family, I shudder to think how you would mangle the
lives of any gay or lesbian single that did sign up
for your service.

Though I doubt that you care, I do have love and
companionship to celebrate, no thanks to you.

Truly,

Marty

--- userservices@eharmony.com wrote:

> Dear Marty,
>
> All of us at eHarmony want to wish you a HAPPY
> BIRTHDAY!  We think it is important, on your special
> day, to reach out and tell you how proud we are to
> be involved with you.  It's exciting to contemplate
> the strong likelihood that in the coming months
> you'll have even more love and companionship to
> celebrate.
>
> Thanks for being a part of eHarmony and for taking
> so many positive steps toward finding your soul
> mate.  If you have any questions or comments, please
> contact us at usersupport@eHarmony.com.
>
> In the meantime, I hope this birthday is your best
> one yet.
>
> Neil Clark Warren
> eHarmony Founder

In Search for an Analogy for Iraq's Pending Civil War

When I try to make sense of the world I often turn to analogies. Law, psychology, science and the blogosphere all rely heavily on the use of analogy. I'm constantly grasping for an good visual analogy to illustrate a point. For example, to help illustrate his character, I liken Karl Rove to the nearly indestructible, evil Agent Smith in the Matrix films.

So, I naturally look for an analogy to grasp the continuing debacle in Iraq. Now that Sunnis are blowing up sacred Shi'ite shrines and Shi'ites are responding by blowing up Sunni shrines, I think this might just be a really good time to call it a day and go home. The country is on the brink of civil war, and it's rarely a good move to get caught in the middle of somebody else's civil war. The analogy is this: It's like when you go to a couple's house for dinner, and before you can even hand over your bottle of merlot, you sense that they were fighting before you got there.

At first you notice the somber moods and then some icy stares between the two. They start saying snide things to each other over dinner. You compliment the new leather sofa and one of them says, "Thank you. I'm glad somebody likes it." And the other one says, "Well, somebody forgot that we have a cat so enjoy the couch now because within the week, it'll look like it'd been on a quail hunting trip with Dick Cheney." (Note the bonus analogy within an analogy.)

Then after awhile, things go from bad to worse. "Fred" explodes and screams that "Alice" can go to Hell. Alice responds by throwing her wine glass across the table, pegging Fred in the cheekbone and splattering your shirt with merlot.

What do you do? You stand up, stretch your arms, look at your watch and exclaim, "Gee, it's getting awfully late. We better get going. Thanks so much for having us." And you're out the door.

Iraq is just like that. OK, maybe not exactly like that.

We weren't exactly invited guests to Iraq. Despite continuing violence and unrest, most Iraqis are eager for the U.S. military to go away: Almost a quarter of Shi'ites want the U.S. military out in six months, another half want a gradual withdrawal over the next two years. A whopping 83% of Sunnis favor withdrawal within six months. Adjusting my analogy, Shi'ite Fred protests little when you announce it's time to go. Sunni Alice has been standing by the door holding up your coats for you since before the bruschetta was served.

To further alter my analogy, Fred and Alice might be arguing, but they are united in their disdain for you. Among Shi'ites, 41% approve of attacks on U.S.-led forces on Iraq. Almost nine of every 10 Sunnis support such attacks. Alice may chuck a wine glass at Fred, but she's got a hefty bucket full of wine glass shards by her side with your name on them.

But, who are we kidding? Fred and Alice aren't married. They despise each other and always have. They are like Richard Dreyfuss and Marsha Mason in The Goodbye Girl. (I know it's an obscure old movie, but my TiVo just recorded it for me over the weekend, so work with me.) Elliot and Paula are forced to live together in New York City after Paula's boyfriend dumps her and sublets the apartment to Elliot without her knowledge.

So the Sunnis and Shi'ites are like Elliot and Paula. If you found yourself in their midst during one of their shouting matches, and if Paula were to stomp a hole into Elliot's guitar, your instinct would be to leave post haste, but you might also try to help restore peace by offering to pay for Elliot to get a new guitar, especially if you were responsible for much of their woes. In all-too-rare positive gesture, this is, in effect, what the U.S. has done in offering to help restore the holy sites.

But unlike the predictable ending to The Goodbye Girl, these two will never break down and fall in love. Ultimately, that analogy blows.

OK, I've got it. The Shi'ites and the Sunnis are like bitter prison cell mates, forced to live within inches of one another in squalid quarters. Their tempers are short and if the other so much as sneezes the wrong way, fists will fly. And this is no Kiss of the Spider Woman prison story where the two end up falling in love.

When the inevitable battle ensues, the last place you want to be is in the cell with them. You might stand outside the cell and intervene if things get really ugly, provided you can do so without getting yourself maimed in the process. That's the Congressman John Murtha strategy--get out of Iraq now and stage a small force in Kuwait.

Alas, my analogy is still far-fetched, disregarding the fact that the ill-conceived U.S. invasion is responsible for most of the chaos. Instead, I think I'll go with Murtha's, as he laid it out on 60 Minutes in January:

"That election of course is being trumpeted as being so important to democracy. When I came back from Vietnam in 1967, they had an election. It was supposed to set the stage. It was supposed to legitimize the government, if you remember. And we lost 38,000 people after that. Now, I don't say that this has the same intensity and that we'’re gonna lose 38,000 people. But I'm just saying there'’s a lot more things have to be done if you'’re going to have a democratic government," says Murtha.

Vietnam is not a perfect analogy, but as we find ourselves in the middle of a potential civil war, it seems more relevant, and cautionary, than ever.

Sarah Vowell's pessimism deficit

Now, I've got to figure the New York Times is serious about getting people to pay to read the excellent writing of Sarah Vowell, since it's locked up in a section of their website dubbed TimesSelect. I'm not one to scoff at copyright laws, so I couldn't bring myself to reprint it here without permission.

Fortunately, fbihop op-eds holds no such scruples. Enjoy.

Let's Make a Deal or No Deal!

NBC has a new hit with the game show "Deal or No Deal" with host Howie Mandel. When it returns on Feb. 27, the show will air five days a week.

Modeled after "Let's Make a Deal" without any goofy costumes and purse scavenger hunts, "Deal or No Deal" distills the game show format to the core attraction, pure chance.

Contestants choose one of 26 briefcases. As each round progresses, the contestants choose whether to stick with their suitcase, which contains a hidden amount of money, or a cash prize offered by the "bank."

"There's no skill," Mandel said. "You can be a rock and move into another cash bracket."

Contestants are encouraged to ask friends or family in the audience for advice as they play. I suppose the dialogue goes like this:

Contestant: Howie, I'd like to consult my Aunt Ramona.

Howie (in a little kid's voice): OK, Aunt Ramona, what say you?

Aunt Ramona: Billy, I think you should choose briefcase number 12. I feel really strongly that that's the one with the million dollars.

Contestant: How sure are you, Aunt Ramona?

Aunt Ramona: I'm 85 percent sure that it's briefcase number 12.

No more tedious trivia questions, pricing games or word puzzles. Finally, a game show that gives prizes as randomly as a slot machine. Add in a comic who used to be funny and 26 female models holding briefcases and America is sold! Honey, pop us some corn, cancel the gym membership--we've got us some Must See TV.

Emboldened by the show's success, NBC has cleared away queued up mid-season replacement shows for a new slate of intriguing game shows.

On Tuesdays, watch for the debut of "Flip A Coin" with host Joe Piscopo.

Wednesdays at 9, don't miss Suzanne Somers hosting "Eenie Meanie Miney Moe."

On Thursdays, ER has been abruptly cancelled to make room for an exciting new show with Daisy Fuentes called "Pick a hand."

Finally, your Friday nights won't be complete without an hour of "Win, Lose, or Draw a Straw" with your host, Nick Lachey.

John Kerry's Greatest Asset: Millions of E-mail Addresses

Every few weeks, an e-mail from John Kerry pops up in my inbox. They're always the same. He rants about the Bush Administration and touts his own initiatives in the Senate. Every letter ends with a handy "Make a Contribution" button. I haven't hit that button since the 2004 election.

Sure, I donated to the Kerry campaign in 2004 and spent the last four days of the campaign in Vegas helping to get out the vote. But that was then. Kerry does a lot of things I like, but he wasn't my first choice. He was what we were stuck with, and I would have campaigned for a lawn chair, if that was the only chance we had to beat Bush/Cheney.

After the 2000 election, Al Gore wisely took a long vacation, grew a scraggly beard, gorged on Haagen Dazs, and sank into relative oblivion for a few years. As he emerged from whatever banyan tree he'd been sitting under, Gore found his voice, ripping into the Bush Administration on MLK Day, to broad acclaim.

Kerry hardly took a nap before he started campaigning for 2008. He's now far from my first choice, and I don't want to do anything to encourage the guy. The sad thing is he still thinks we're buddies.

So this morning, he IM'd me, and I finally laid it all out for him.

kerry2008: you there?
etnaboy: Yeah, what's up?
kerry2008: have you been getting my e-mails?
etnaboy: Sure have.
kerry2008: you've never responded.
etnaboy: Well, it's not like they're just to me.
kerry2008: i know! i've got 3 million email addresses. isn't that great?
etnaboy: Yes, John, that's super.
kerry2008: how come you never donate? we used to be so close.
etnaboy: Yeah, about that.
kerry2008: whatever happened to us?
etnaboy: Remember Million Dollar Baby?
kerry2008: yeah.
etnaboy: Remember how Clint Eastwood was all excited about training a promising boxer until the boxer dumped him? And Clint was left with no one to train? And then Hilary Swank came along, and begrudgingly, Clint eventually agrees to train her and gives her his all?
kerry2008: yeah?
etnaboy: Well, you and I are like that. Except that Hilary Swank actually won some fights.
kerry2008: and that promising boxer, was that Howard Dean?
etnaboy: Bingo.
kerry2008: but then she got smacked up and Clint had to help her end her life.
etnaboy: You've got it.
kerry2008: so you're saying i should just pull the plug on this campaign?
etnaboy: I do support euthanasia.
kerry2008: oh, ic.
kerry2008: can't you just give me one more chance.
etnaboy: Dude, I've gotta go.
kerry2008: Pleeeeeze???
etnaboy: John, don't beg. It's pathetic.

-kerry2008 has logged off.-


Tags: John Kerry, Democrats, 2008 election.

Welcome "Best Gay Blogs" readers

Best Gay Blogs linked to here today, so while you're here, let me point you to some older posts you might like better than some of the drivel I've written lately.

I'm a bit obsessed with Brokeback Mountain, but I'm not alone in this:

A Brokeback moment at 35,000 feet

Y'all might appreciate how I would have changed Ennis and Jack's awkward sex scene (my one and only attempt at erotica):

"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 should know, I'm not a size queen, but small things bug me.

And finally, something about my insecurities:

Weight just a second!

Trigger Happy Cheney's Friendly Fire Incident

Vice President Dick Cheney accidently shot and wounded a companion, Harry Wittington, during a quail hunting trip in Texas Saturday. The owner of the ranch hosting the quail shoot reported that Cheney was not aware his companion was approaching when he swung around to take a shot at a quail.

"The vice president didn't see him," said Katherine Armstrong, an owner of the property, in an interview. "The covey flushed and the vice president picked out a bird and was following it and shot. And by god, Harry was in the line of fire and got peppered pretty good."

The White House said nothing about the incident until Sunday, after it was reported by the local newspaper, leaving the spin duties to an appropriately distanced, but clearly prepped, Katherine Armstrong (interview video) whose talking points included the following (counter points in parentheses):

1. It's not Cheney's fault. Mr. Whittington approached Cheney from behind without announcing himself. (Anyone who has been through a hunter safety course knows that the guy shooting is responsible for making sure there's nothing in the way--I don't recall hearing that it's OK to swing around to shoot something that has flown behind you.)
   
2. Mr. Whittington is doing fine. 'Tis but a scratch. Just a flesh wound. (Then why was he in intensive care and is still in the hospital?)
   
3. This kind of thing happens all the time. Armstrong herself says she's been "pretty well peppered" herself. (The Houston Chronicle reports that there were only 24 hunting related accidents in Texas in 2004. "Peppering" sounds so innocuous and innocent. Peppering is what you do to a mound of potatoes. You won't hear anyone under the White House's spell refer to this as a "shotgun blast into the chest and face.")
   
4. The vice president is a safe, conscientious hunter. (Apparently, not so much.)
5. Turn on the folksy. Preferred interjections: Gee Willikers. Gosh Whiz. Oopsy daisy. By God.
   

Since I have a totally inexplicable bonus holiday today and you are at work, I thought the least I could do was compile the funniest observations so far:

From Almost Infamous: "“It broke the skin," she said of the shotgun pellets. "“It knocked him silly. But he was fine. He was talking. His eyes were open. It didn'’t get in his eyes or anything like that." WTF, lady??? it'’s a shotgun blast, not a medicated shampoo.

From Gislebertus: You know, Dick Cheney is the first sitting Vice President to shoot another person since Aaron Burr shot Alexander Hamilton. Harry Whittington is in pretty good company, but I doubt he's going to make the ten dollar bill.

The Apiary came to Cheney's defense: Pump one elderly man with a chestful of lead and suddenly everyone's on your case. Lay off, America!

Dania Audix has a top ten excuse list for why Cheney shot that guy. I like number 9: Warrantless domestic spying revealed he was getting phone calls from al Qaeda.

MovieDan82 says: Vice President Dick Cheney almost killed a man on Saturday when he sprayed an elderly hunting partner in the face with birdshot. I'’m telling you, Cheney is a loped out gangsta set trippin'’ banger, and his homies is down so don'’t arouse his anger...fool.

Another top ten list includes: 4. Was trying to impress Jodie Foster.

No More Mr. Nice Blog managed five additional reasons including: 2. Documents published in an Italian newspaper claimed that Whittington had once attempted to obtain edible seeds from Niger.

Tags: Dick Cheney, shotgun, Armstrong, quail

Prospects for the next gay blockbuster movie

Now that mainstream movie audiences have finally begun to acquire a taste for intriguing gay love stories, what will be the next film to ride the coattails of Brokeback Mountain? We can look forward to a future of decent gay themed films--not like some of those crappy low-budget art house films that I used to feel obligated to see just because they were gay themed.

Unfortunately, it's going to take awhile before any make it to the local megaplex. Few, if any, gay-themed movies are currently in the pipeline.

As Brokeback Mountain approaches the $100 million mark in worldwide box office returns, screenplays long sitting on the shelf now have a chance of getting produced.

The best prospect seems to be Peter Lefcourt's The Dreyfus Affair, a story of two major league baseball players who fall in love and the scandal that ensues when their affair is discovered. The Advocate optimistically reported--way back in 1998--that the popular novel was bound to become a feature film. Now the project may actually get the long-awaited green light.

Thanks to the fact that attitudes in pro sports have hardly progressed, the story is just as plausible today as it was more than a decade ago when the novel was written. Lefcourt's website offers the following synopsis:

Very loosely based on "The Dreyfus Affair" in France, this is the story of the love affair between the star shortstop and second baseman of a major league baseball team and how organized baseball deals with this public relations Chernobyl.

Randy Dreyfus is a blond, blue eyed, six-foot-four-inch future Hall of Famer with The Los Angeles Valley Vikings, an expansion team in, at the time the book was written, the near future. He is married to a former Miss California, Susie Dreyfus, has two twin-eight-year old daughters, a hyperactive Dalmatian named Calvin, whom he puts a contract out on in a fit of madness, and a 5600 square foot house in the San Fernando Valley.

Everything is wonderful in Randy's life until he falls in love with his second baseman, D.J. Pickett, an African American gay man, who has spent his life in the closet. Randy does his best to deny his feelings, secretly consulting an Egyptian psychiatrist, who counsels him to just go with the pitch. Eventually he does, and manages to live a dangerous life trying to hide his affair with D.J. while staying married to Susie and hit over 300.

Randy and D.J. eventually get caught by a hidden surveillance camera kissing in a Neiman-Marcus changing booth in Dallas. When this picture is made public, America is shaken with a scandal that rivals the real Dreyfus Affair a hundred years ago in France.

The affair is the biggest story in America -- cluttering the tabloids and the talk shows. Its worst nightmare come true, Organized Baseball goes into extreme damage control mode by trying to explain Randy and D.J.'s love affair as a substance abuse problem. The media circus continues, reaching its climax when a hard-boiled reporter named Milt Zola, smelling a hoax, exposes baseball by writing the present day version of Emile Zola's J'Accuse!.

While this sounds like a great story, the close parallels to Brokeback Mountain might brand the project as simply a copycat. But rather than a heartbreaking story, this would be a romantic comedy. I'll pick up the book soon and promise to post a review.

My early casting choices are Brad Pitt (since he's suddenly apparently itching to play gay, though he'll need to wear elevator cleats) opposite Taye Diggs. You heard it here first.

Don't look at this filthy smut! Right here. Don't look!

Donald Wildmon and his American Family Association are so disgusted at a stripper scene on NBC's show, Las Vegas, that they urge followers to file complaints with the FCC.

And then they helpfully offer a direct link to see the highly offensive smut. I wonder how many times Wildmon had to watch the loop to become sufficiently offended.

NBC Does It Again! Vulgar, Tasteless, Indecent Scene Part Of Network Program

We Urge You To File A Formal Complaint With The FCC

The February 6 episode of NBC's Las Vegas contained a scene inside a strip club. The content of that scene was extremely graphic. We have provided a video of the scene below.

NBC aired this scene during prime-time hours when they knew millions of children would likely be watching. But NBC didn't care if they exposed children to this kind of material. Please take action below and help us help our children.

The FCC has several new commissioners who have spoken out about the content of some television programs. They have invited the public to send them their complaints.

Rather than trying to describe it to you, I would rather you watch it yourself. After watching the video, please follow the instructions to file your official complaint with the FCC. It will only take a couple of minutes to file the complaint. Do it for your children and grandchildren. After you file your complaint, please forward this to friends and family.

WARNING: This scene taken from the NBC program Las Vegas is highly offensive.

Click here to watch the scene.

Click Here To File Your Complaint Now!

If you think our efforts are worthy of support, would you make a small contribution to AFA by clicking here .

Thanks for caring enough to get involved.

Sincerely,
Don

Donald E. Wildmon, Founder and Chairman
American Family Association

More good times in Kauai

This is the view of Waimea Canyon, the "Grand Canyon of the Pacific." Can you tell we were regretting that we forgot our windbreakers? It's 3,500 feet above sea level here.











If you've seen a Kauai wall calendar, you've seen this view of the Na Pali coast from the Kalalau Lookout.













We saw no one else along the poorly maintained Honopu Trail, but saw and heard helicopters all day. We almost got lost for a bit there. We could have used some additional clothing too.











The view of the Na Pali Coast from the end of the Honopu Trail, a 3,000 foot drop to the Honopu Beach below:














Yesterday, we took a boating trip that was supposed to go around the Na Pali Coast. Unfortuantely, the ocean was too rough, but the captain had a great time putting the sails up in the catamaran and sailing us almost to Ni'ihau, the forbidden island. We saw plenty of humpback whales, bottlenosed dolphins, spinner dolphins, sea turtles and seasick passengers (Thankfully, I took Dramamine).














Today we went Kayaking on the Wailua River:














And hiked about a mile up (those leaves are really almost as big as Robert)...














...to the Secret Falls.

Aloha from Kauai

Here we are at the bottom of Opeaka'a Falls. We'd never have tried it without the guidance of the Ultimate Kauai Guidebook. We were alone there the whole time.

Today we snorkeled at Po'ipu Beach and we're off to the Beach House Restaurant for dinner.

It's Robert's birthday.



On our first full day, we hiked the Na Pali Coast from Ke'e Beach four miles up and down to Hanakapi'ai Falls. Though it was a great hike, I think Robert may have already had his fill of long hikes.












We saw many of these wild orchids along the way.

A Brokeback moment at 35,000 feet

I am writing this 35,000 feet above the Pacific, listening to my new Brokeback Mountain soundtrack with my POG (Passionfruit-Orange-Guava juice). Those striking guitar chords slay me, but I'm disappointed they left out "Quizás," the song playing when Jack goes to Juárez for a quickie.

Two rows ahead of us is a gay couple, one black, one white. I pegged them as gay when they stuffed their matching blue backpacks in the overhead compartment. Both are pushing 275 pounds. I see that the black guy has flung his meaty arm around his partner's shoulder, a somewhat startling public display of affection in such a mixed crowd. But no one is going to mess with these two guys. Besides, it's unlikely that anyone has smuggled a tire iron on board.

I don't know where I've been, but since when is same-sex affection so acceptable in public? It's the third time in a week I've seen it in the most mainstream of places. On Saturday, as I was entering Oakridge Mall on my way to see Brokeback Mountain with two straight women who hadn't seen it yet (my third time), I saw two young women confidently holding hands. And last week, I saw two guys at Santana Row, one with his hand in the back pocket of the other. That's something I often see in the gay ghetto, but not in San Jose.

I wonder if Brokeback Mountain is behind all of this or have I just been oblivious. Feeling the lifelong anguish of Ennis Del Mar, one leaves the theater determined to never let societal bigotries strip one of the ability to love and be loved. Tracy and Shirley were both sniffing throughout the movie, regretting that they only had the with harsh napkins from the concession stand to dab their tears with. Both came out of the theater saying they were choking back the urge to bawl out loud. Tracy said she hadn't cried like that since Beaches. She couldn't imagine what life would be like if she couldn't be with her husband, Rock.

Looking back at my first review of BBM, I have half a mind to delete it. I missed so much. Now I get it. For someone who was bored with The English Patient and thought the best thing about Titanic was the digital graphics, not the love story, it takes me awhile. Ennis's love for Jack seems more tender now. The wrenching pain Jack feels when he can't be with Ennis now hits home. It's gone from a one- to a four-tissue movie.

As Ang Lee collected another big trophy from the directors guild (and again, neglected to thank his long-time fishing buddy), and newspapers report that the big story about the SAG awards is that BBM didn't win it all, I am feeling we're in the vortex of a significant, beautiful, revolutionary cultural shift. "I wish I knew how to quit you" it's been said, is the "You had me at hello" phrase of the decade.

Straight women, as I admonished them, are struggling to drag their boyfriends and husbands to see the movie. Small town newspaper critics are reviewing the movie, and from what I can tell, most of them like it, even in the red states. Are we, as a culture, beginning to grow up? Before the movie came out, I lowered my expectations that a movie could change the world. Over the last few weeks, my optimism has crept up again. With so many interesting stories to tell, many more good movies are bound to be made after this.

Each time I've seen the movie, I've been encouraged by audience reactions. During the intimate moments with Ennis and Jack, the theater has been silent, not a groan--not like the squirming I remember when Tom Hanks danced with Antonio Banderas in Philadelphia, and none of the fidgeting and guffawing when Tom Selleck kissed Kevin Kline in In and Out.

I can't count how many times I've held back, even subconsciously, in expressing affection for Robert. It's programmed into my psyche. I've been coming out for 14 years now, but I still act as though my love still needs to be hidden, even in the progressive San Francisco Bay Area. From a colleague's wedding where we danced together, but were quick to wander off for a drink during any slow songs, afraid we'd make a scene, to the uneasiness I still feel when going to the chekcout counter with a "To the Man I Love" Valentine's Day card, I realize there's still a little Ennis left in me.

Well, this trip is Robert's first in Hawaii. He's been waiting for the right person to go with. Finally, it is the right time, and damn, if were not going to walk hand-in-hand along the beach and watch some sunsets together.

I swear.

Ancient Chinese Secret

My mom is here tonight with some of her nursing colleagues. They're going to a training tomorrow here in town. Right now they're talking about some patient's anus and something about a colostomy. I'm trying desperately to tune it out.

We went out to PF Chang's for dinner. When the group said they wanted Chinese food, I figured they would all prefer one that serves Chinese food intended for the non-Chinese gourmand. We've got plenty of authentic Chinese restaurants around here. Although the Americanized version really does appeal to my non-Chinese palate, I tend to choose restaurants that have specials scrawled in Chinese on pink paper taped to the walls and actual Chinese diners.

Last night, Robert and I went to another "Chinese" restaurant, the Mandarin Gourmet. We craved Chinese food and weren't in a part of town where we could actually get some of the real stuff. I've eaten there before with work colleagues, and warned Robert, who is Filipino, that patrons might mistake him for a waiter since I rarely see any Asians eating there. I doubt you could find a chicken claw or a baby bok choi anywhere in that building outside of some waiter's own lunch bag.

But the non-Asian folks eat it up. The lobby has several awards from mainstream newspapers hanging from the wall in the foyer. Readers of the San Jose Mercury News voted it the best Chinese Restaurant in Silicon Valley in 2002.

This kind of award usually scares me off. That people voted for this restaurant more than any other only means that a majority of Merc readers like Americanized, sugary, deep-fried quasi-Chinese food. I'm sure this readers' poll also chose the Olive Garden for best Italian food and Chevy's for the best Mexican food.

It's the same kind of mass appeal that gave us the likes of John Kerry: safe, but as bland as plain yogurt. I look out for more of a "Dennis Kucinich" type of restaurant, a joint that appeals only to a select, discerning few.

I wonder how many Mandarin Gourmet patrons think they're oh-so-cosmopolitan and hip to enjoy this authentic Chinese experience and can even pick up a honey walnut prawn with chopsticks, not realizing that it's all a toned-down show, like an Epcot Center re-creation, designed for people who probably would turn their nose at what Chinese folks actually eat.

Mandarin Gourmet carries the charade so far as to include the Chinese characters next to each menu item. Or at least, that's what they'd like us to think. I have a feeling these characters are actually secret messages for the few Chinese folks who wander in unaware. The characters next to "Sweet and Sour Pork" probably mean "Avoid this Sticky, Gooey Mess" and the translation for "Cashew Chicken" is "If your non-Chinese friends brought you here to show how eclectic they are, just try to choke this dish down smile. It'll be over soon." I hear they can get a lot into those little characters.

Mom brought birthday gifts for Robert and me. Robert got his very own Westinghouse SweepEze Vacuuming Dustpan. I'm thrilled.

Note: I probably won't be updating the blog this week. Robert and I are heading for Kauai on Monday. And then later in February, there's a good chance I'll be spending three weeks in New Orleans to provide communications assistance for a coalition of several California water agencies that will help the local water agency restore service.

Transbahrain?

Michael Jackson was spotted in Bahrain, kids in tow, wearing a veil and the black robe traditionally worn by women in the Persian Gulf. We're all weary of Michael Jackson's strangeness, but before you judge, consider that Jackson might be taking healthy steps to complete his transition to womanhood. Was it just a convenient disguise or has he finally come to terms with the fact that his gender identity does not match the body he was born with?

Most of us have known Jackson is transgender for years. Back when he made that video statement where he talked about the humiliation of the police taking photos of his penis, I think we all had the same reaction--Jackson has a penis? And if he does, it just doesn't seem that it belongs there. Despite the permanent makeup, the feminine hairdos, the frilly wardrobe and extensive "Make me look like Janet" surgeries, it seems like he is the last person to figure this out.

Before undergoing a sex change, I understand that a person has to live full time in their new gender for a year or more. I would think Bahrain would be one of the least accepting places for a man would to live as a woman. But when you're also the world's most famous pedophiles, your options are limited.

Many will roll their eyes that Jackson has once again managed to surprise us with his weirdness. But, I think living authentically in his true gender identity is one of the healthiest things he could do to put his life back together.

Gay actor stars in End of the Spear

Sure, gay actors can play straight, but can they play Christian?

A new movie that came out last weekend, End of the Spear, co-stars Chad Allen who used to be a cute kid on the TV show Our House with Wilford Brimley and Diedre Hall in the 1980s. Now he's all grown up and openly gay. And that has some Christians withholding their support of the film, which chronicles the true story of Mincayani, a Waorani tribesman from Ecuador and what happens after five Christian missionaries are speared to death.

From the San Francisco Chronicle:

The Rev. Jason Janz, an assistant pastor with Red Rocks Baptist Church in Colorado, is circulating an online petition expressing "deep disappointment" in Allen's casting and saying, "We have been asked over the last several months to aggressively promote this film to our congregations; however, we cannot do so because of this issue."

[Producer Mart] Green said he hadn't known Allen was gay before casting him but doesn't think any backlash "is affecting the box office in any significant way. I'm sure some people are staying home, but I don't think it's that many."

Really? Green didn't know Allen was gay? Is he serious? He didn't think to Google "Chad Allen" before casting him? He didn't catch the October 2001 cover story in the Advocate? He missed Allen in the VH-1 special "Totally Gay!"? Someone needs to recalibrate his gaydar.

But the Reverand Janz documented that the filmmakers and the real-life family portrayed in the film were well aware of Allen's sexual orientation and advocacy for gay equality. Janz is simply outraged that they didn't choose to discriminate against him. I imagine Janz professes to believe in the Bible, so it would seem he would be aware of the whole "let he who is without sin cast the first stone" lesson. But clearly, these folks believe it is their role to judge and that all sins are not created equal.

I hear that one of the key grips smokes weed, the second assistant director uses the "F" word, and Chad wasn't the only homo on the set--that wardrobe guy has a very limp handshake. All the more reason to stay away.

One thing is certain. This little controversy is only having the effect of drawing more attention to this little indie movie. I certainly never would have heard of it otherwise. In fact, it looks like an interesting story, and I may even go see it. Nah, I think I'll go see Brokeback Mountain for a third time instead.

A Gay, Gay, Gay Golden Globes

"I'm no queer," insists Ennis Del Mar. "But the 63rd Annual Golden Globes sure were."

Indeed, these were the queerest Golden Globes in recent memory, despite the lack of elaborate production numbers and the fact that no actual gay people (by my count) actually held any trophies on stage. But let's review the queer moments:

• Catherine Deneuve enters the stage, mutters something I can't recall, and leaves.
  
• Desperate Housewives wins, but gay creator Marc Cherry leaves the thanking and trophy-clutching to some other guy.
• The Will & Grace cast explains that to make a great sitcom, you need gay people. Sean Hayes does his best to not look like a flaming queen--he'll be looking for work next year.
• Leonardo diCaprio announces the winner for best actress in a drama. OK, he's not gay, but he's played gay, and he's still dreamy.
• Felicity Huffman wins for playing a transexual in Transamerica.
• Philip Seymour Hoffman wins for playing the gay author, Truman Capote, in Capote.
• Brokeback Mountain wins four awards, including the big prize. Dennis Quaid bombs with his quip that this is a movie that can be described as somethign that rhymes with "chick flick."

Earlier in the day, I made my Golden Globe guesses for the movie categories. I picked 8 of 13. Not bad.

Here are some other awards that I'd like to give:

The "Most Embarrassing Omission in an Acceptance Speech" goes to Ang Lee. Not for forgetting Randy Quaid who was in the room. No, Lee remembered to thank his wife, but neglected to acknowledge his long-time fishing buddy, Wei-Tung.









The "So Tell Me Again Why She Gets to Present an Award" award goes to Pamela Anderson. And whose baby is that she's swaddling in her top?



















The award for "The Acceptance Speech that Best Proves that the Hollywood Foreign Press Made the Right Pick" goes to Steve Carell and his wife. If you aren't watching The Office, you're missing out.


The runner up to the "So Tell Me Again Why She Gets to Present an Award" award goes to Drew Barrymore.

And I can't find a photo of her. They must have mercifully whisked her in and out before the cameras could get a shot of that atrocity she was wearing. She is undoubtedly regretting her decision to allow the contestants from Project Runway to dress her for the evening. Sure, they're creative, but the restriction that they use nothing but the upholstery from the couch they last sat on was just too much of a challenge, even for winner Santino, who regrettably had last sat on a couch in the Very Green Room.

Hey, I'm gay. I have a license to be catty about fashion.

Lip Sync

The Golden Globe Awards doesn't yet include a Best Internet Short Film Lip Sync category, so I had to pick my own. And the nominees are:

Something about the Backstreet Boys invites lip syncs:

Not to be outdone:

Suddenly Seymour:

This could have been me if there were webcams back when I was this age:

My Golden Globe Guesses

Just for fun, here are the nominees and my guesses for tonight's 63rd annual Golden Globe Awards in the motion picture categories:

Picture, Drama: "Brokeback Mountain," "The Constant Gardener," "Good Night, and Good Luck," "A History of Violence," "Match Point."

My Guess: "Brokeback Mountain"

Actress, Drama: Maria Bello, "A History of Violence"; Felicity Huffman, "Transamerica"; Gwyneth Paltrow, "Proof"; Charlize Theron, "North Country"; Ziyi Zhang, "Memoirs of a Geisha."

My Guess: Felicity Huffman, "Transamerica"

Actor, Drama: Russell Crowe, "Cinderella Man"; Philip Seymour Hoffman, "Capote"; Terrence Howard, "Hustle & Flow"; Heath Ledger, "Brokeback Mountain"; David Strathairn, "Good Night, and Good Luck."

My Guess: Philip Seymour Hoffman, "Capote"

Picture, Musical or Comedy: "Mrs. Henderson Presents," "Pride & Prejudice," "The Producers," "The Squid and the Whale," "Walk the Line."

My Guess: Walk the Line

Actress, Musical or Comedy: Judi Dench, "Mrs. Henderson Presents"; Keira Knightley, "Pride & Prejudice"; Laura Linney, "The Squid and the Whale"; Sarah Jessica Parker, "The Family Stone"; Reese Witherspoon, "Walk the Line."

My Guess: Reese Witherspoon, "Walk the Line"

Actor, Musical or Comedy: Pierce Brosnan, "The Matador"; Jeff Daniels, "The Squid and the Whale"; Johnny Depp, "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory"; Nathan Lane, "The Producers"; Cillian Murphy, "Breakfast on Pluto"; Joaquin Phoenix, "Walk the Line."

My Guess: Joaquin Phoenix, "Walk the Line"

Supporting Actress: Scarlett Johansson, "Match Point"; Shirley MacLaine, "In Her Shoes"; Frances McDormand, "North Country"; Rachel Weisz, "The Constant Gardener"; Michelle Williams, "Brokeback Mountain."

My Guess: Michelle Williams, "Brokeback Mountain"

Supporting Actor: George Clooney, "Syriana"; Matt Dillon, "Crash"; Will Ferrell, "The Producers"; Paul Giamatti, "Cinderella Man"; Bob Hoskins, "Mrs. Henderson Presents."

My Guess: Matt Dillon, "Crash"

Director: Woody Allen, "Match Point"; George Clooney, "Good Night, and Good Luck"; Peter Jackson, "King Kong"; Ang Lee, "Brokeback Mountain"; Fernando Meirelles, "The Constant Gardener"; Steven Spielberg, "Munich."

My Guess: Ang Lee, "Brokeback Mountain"

Screenplay: Woody Allen, "Match Point"; George Clooney and Grant Heslov, "Good Night, and Good Luck"; Paul Haggis and Bobby Moresco, "Crash"; Tony Kushner and Eric Roth, "Munich"; Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana, "Brokeback Mountain."

My Guess: George Clooney and Grant Heslov, "Good Night and Good Luck"

Foreign Language: "Kung Fu Hustle," China; "Master of the Crimson Armor aka The Promise," China; "Merry Christmas (Joyeux Noel)," France; "Paradise Now," Palestinian territories; "Tsotsi," South Africa.

My (totally randome) Guess: "Tsotsi"

Original Score: Alexandre Desplat, "Syriana"; James Newton Howard, "King Kong"; Gustavo Santaolalla, "Brokeback Mountain"; Harry Gregson-Williams, "The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe"; John Williams, "Memoirs of a Geisha";

My Guess: Gustavo Santaolalla, "Brokeback Mountain"

Original Song: "A Love That Will Never Grow Old" from "Brokeback Mountain"; "Christmas in Love" from "Christmas in Love"; "There's Nothing Like a Show on Broadway" from "The Producers"; "Travelin' Thru" from "Transamerica"; "Wunderkind" from "The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe."

My Guess: "A Love That Will Never Grow Old" from "Brokeback Mountain"

So, there are my guesses. They certainly aren't my "picks" since I've only seen three of the movies mentioned above. I'll try to be more informed for the Oscars.

Beware of this sign!

I showed this self-referential warning sign to Robert, and he immediately understood its purpose. Maybe because he grew up in Manila, where this sign resided at Greenbelt Mall in Makati until recently, he saw the logic rather than the paradox.

Still wondering why this sign was made? Here's why.

Stop! BANG! Or I'll Shoot!

I caught the last piece of testimony in the Alito hearings today. The last witness of the day was U.C. Berkeley law professor Goodwin Liu.

Side note: Though I didn't know him personally, Goodwin graduated from Stanford the same year I did, which is humbling. Next year is our 15 year reunion. I can hear it now: What did you do this year, Goodwin? I testified before the Senate Judiciary Committee to point out that Judge Alito's record indicates a tendency to defer to government power. How about you, Marty? I made broccoli casserole a lot, and I flossed regularly.

But that's Goodwin. He was Big Man On Campus and certainly would have been voted Most Likely to Testify Against A Conservative Nominee to the Supreme Court if we had ever voted for such a thing.

Goodwin (I feel like I should still be able to call him that) talked about a case on police use of force:

The first is a memo he wrote in 1984 as assistant to the solicitor general, analyzing a case where police saw a burglary suspect running across a backyard. The suspect reached a fence, and an officer called out: "Police! Halt!" When the suspect tried to climb the fence, the officer shot him in the back of the head, killing him. The suspect, Edward Garner, was an eighth grader with a stolen purse and $10 on his body. He was not armed, and the officer did not think he was. The sole reason for his killing was to prevent his escape.

Judge Alito's memo, speaking for no one but himself, said, "I think the shooting can be justified as reasonable within the meaning of the Fourth Amendment." In a remarkable passage, he argued that using deadly force to stop a fleeing suspect rests on, and I quote, "the general principle that the state is justified in using whatever force is necessary to enforce its laws." In 1985, the Supreme Court rejected this view.

As a kid, I remember playing cops and robbers and indeed, that was the rule: "Stop, or I'll shoot!" But we were just kids. Our sense of morality evolved. Now the idea seems ludicrous. Our society is not prepared to give a police officer the authority to act as judge, jury and executioner right on the spot. The sentence for running from the police should not be immediate death.

Since Alito's view was rightly rejected by the Supreme Court in 1985, I wonder if kids today yell "Stop, or I'll post an APB and we'll pick you up later tonight at your girlfriend's apartment where you'll inevitably be wearing no shirt!"


Tags: Alito, Goodwin Liu, Supreme Court

Robertson apologizes for saying what he believes out loud

Pat Robertson apologized today to the Sharon family, for implying that the Israeli prime minister's stroke was an act of God.

"My zeal, my love of Israel and my concern for the future safety of your nation led me to make remarks which I can now view in retrospect as inappropriate and insensitive in light of a national grief experienced because of your father's illness."

Of course, he did not exactly retract his statement. It's sort of the "I'm sorry...that your were offended" apology. He still believes God smote Sharon, but he realized it was bad timing to say it out loud while Sharon was in a coma. This apology was as hollow as his apology for calling for the U.S. to assassinate Hugo Chavez, which he immediately followed by comparing Chavez to Adolf Hitler. And this apology came just a day after Israel pulled support of a planned Christian theme park for Galilee--a project Robertson is leading.

But an apology is better than nothing. His apology letters to the gay and lesbian community have apparently been lost in the mail.

Schwarzenegger is not ready for his close-up, Mr. DeMille.

Before Le Male Tout Beau:




Oh, that looks awful! Whoever waxed his eyebrows should be fired.

No makeup. Doctor's orders.














After Le Male Tout Beau:

Don't kill your television!

I don't know how I got mixed up with these people, these people who insist they don't watch television. I thought I knew my friends fairly well, but a few of them have sprung this on me recently. Suddenly, they seem distant and odd-balled, as if they just divulged that they joined the Church of Scientology or have a fetish for previously worn dress socks.

We're pretty far from Amish country, so I'm not sure what their problem is.

At a recent gathering, my friend Greg announced he and his partner have a small television, but they don't have cable or satellite, like that's something to be proud of. This is akin to owning a refrigerator, but not actually plugging it in. (Granted, a Sub-Zero refrigerator would make a lovely storage closet.) No cable means no Daily Show, and no Daily Show means you're completely out of touch with world events. What are you going to do for news, read the paper? Oh, that's adorable.

Greg went on to deride people who keep their TV on whenever they're home for "background noise." Hey, I am that guy. While the others laughed, I sat silent, not out of embarrassment, but out of pity. The poor dears.

These are kind of people that you need to remember to call if there's ever a major disaster, but then that assumes they have telephones. Maybe all the people who were left in New Orleans after everyone else had evacuated just didn't know what was going on because they don't watch TV. Now I understand the report of people carrying off TV's in the midst of the flooding--if they'd had one in the first place, they'd have known to get out.

All the juicy stuff happens on TV and you never know exactly when. Just last week, Pat Robertson implied that God smote Ariel Sharon, and David Letterman told Bill O'Reilly that 60% of what comes out of his mouth is crap. Nightline's new Koppel-less crew, starring Martin Bashir, failed spectacularly to confirm rumors that 12 coal miners had survived before broadcasting the story across the universe. And on The Today Show, Ann Coulter justified the legality of the president's warrant-free wiretapping by comparing it to the internment of Japanese Americans during WWII. (See, Mom? Two wrongs do make a right.)

Sure, if you spend 12 hours a day watching The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air re-runs, you're probably looking in the mirror at an ignorant fatso with pasty skin. But if your 12 hours are spent watching the History Channel, well then, you're looking at a well-informed fatso with pasty skin—one who can kick ass in Jeopardy!.

If you're among those eschewing TV, I guess the rest of us will have to update you. Just in the last 24 hours, here's what you missed. Vice presidential candidate Leo McGarry in a televised debate eerily explained that the first warning sign of heart disease is often death. (Some claim that McGarry and the rest of The West Wing crew are just part of a TV show, but I prefer to believe that Bush and Cheney are fictional and Jed Bartlet is the real president.) American teenager Farris Hassan, who traveled to Iraq without his parents' permission, reported to NBC that he finally left Baghdad only because the media had reported what hotel he was staying in. You also missed two gay teens sweetly kissing right on the lips on Desperate Housewives without any noticeable protest from Donald Wildmon's hopelessly wadded-up underpants.

See? How can you call yourself an informed world citizen if you missed all that?

You choose this for yourself, but don’t impose this deviant lifestyle on the children. A couple I know have an adorable, charming three-year-old who hardly notices the television sitting in the corner of their living room on a shelf, as inanimate as a flower vase. I'm sure his play is as creative as his parents say and he can recite the days of the week, but I worry about a child who will go to Kindergarten without a healthy awareness of the difference between a Wiggle and a Teletubby. How are the other kids going to treat an imaginative boy with an unnaturally long attention span who can't pick Dora the Explorer out of a line-up?

Gather the kids around and watch your TV. It's for your own good. Now, if you'll excuse me, my TiVo has recorded a Will & Grace re-run from 2000.


Tags: television, TV, Desperate Housewives, Farris Hassan, West Wing

Ay, there's the rub!

We knew there'd be a catch. Of course, there would be a catch. A free trip to Hawaii just for enduring a two-hour timeshare presentation was, indeed, too good to be true.

Last June, a guy in a booth at the San Jose Gay Pride Festival caught our attention with a pitch for a three-day Hawaiian vacation as a reward for attending a Shell Vacation Club timeshare presentation. The vacation included round trip airfare from San Francisco, with lots of black-out dates, and two nights at an economy hotel. He told us we could extend the three days to however long we wanted and just pay to change the ticket--about $100 each. With healthy skepticism, we read all the fine print before signing up for the presentation in Fisherman's Wharf. At the very least, we'd get a free lunch, we reasoned, and we were planning to be in San Francisco the following Saturday anyway.

I'd been through this before. I have zero interest in actually buying a timeshare. I already knew buying a timeshare from a developer, even if you want one, is the worst way to buy. I already knew that you could buy just about any timeshare on the resale market for about 60 percent of the developer's price. I'm aware that the maintenance fees are extraordinarily high and that you'll never get to stay the week that you request.

But I've had pretty good luck taking advantage of the incentives all these timeshare companies provide just for sitting in on their presentation. In Cancun, I got a blanket, a bottle of cheap coffee liqueur and a daytrip to Chichen Itza. In Kauai, the whole family got a great boat excursion on the Na Pali Coast. A couple of years ago, Robert and I got two nights at Harrah's Lake Tahoe and $200 cash. I've been pretty smug about my ability to withstand so many wily plastic-smiled, scaly salesmen and leave with pretty decent rewards.

Of course, not everything is as advertised. That Tahoe incentive also included $40 for gas, but they cleverly put enough restrictions and unnecessary hoops to jump through that I gave up--just as they had planned. The $40 was actually a certificate for four $10 rebates for gas purchased within a narrow range of dates. I was instructed to send the original gas receipts in separate envelopes no less then ten days apart or some damn thing, and I think I was supposed to streak naked all the way from the Sigma Chi house to the quad at midnight--whatever.

And I nearly didn't get the $200. As they were leading me out the door with a goodbye, thanks for coming, enjoy the slopes and all that, I smartly asked about the money. Only then did the woman behind the reception desk pause and call someone on the intercom informing them that Mr. Grimes was asking about the $200 cash. Then she hung up, opened up her desk drawer and pulled out two Franklins and handed them over. I signed no receipt, so I deduced that they bank on most people assuming they'd be getting their $200 in the mail. Once they're out the door, the chance of ever seeing their $200 is about the same as hitting a royal flush at the poker slots downstairs.

The presentation at Fisherman's Wharf was exactly as expected. We were led into a room filled with activity, small tables with a sales rep for each couple, balloons, and upbeat music. Every few minutes, we'd be startled by a balloon popping which announced that another sucker had just been screwed.

The mood was just like that of a presentation a (now-former) friend once dragged me to in a hotel ballroom for a multi-level marketing scheme, creepy and cultish. I began to suspect that we might be the only real people in the place and all the others were planted there to make us feel like "everyone is doing it."

Our "lunch" turned out to be cheap deli sandwiches. We were matched with a cute, sweet-talking, flirtacious young sales rep who did her best to be chummy. To bond with us, she managed to mention that her dad is gay. For all we know, she loaths him for it, or maybe it's not even true. She pulled the "Oh, I'm not supposed to tell you this" ruse. She looked around and in a hushed voice told us that you can actually make money by renting your week to someone else if you don't want to use it one year. Later, she was exposed when the bad-cop supervisor came over and openly gave us the same pitch.

Two hours later, after they'd given their best shot, and we were adamant that we were not buying it, our pretty new friend turned as cold as ice and we were dismissed without fanfare, holding our two vacation certificates. The sweetheart that seemed ready to invite us to her two dads' guest house for the weekend was giving us one of those Glenn Close looks that made us fear we'd find our cat simmering in a pot when we got home.

We knew that this Hawaiian vacation may never materialize. We've been telling people we're planning to go to Hawaii this year, Robert's first trip there, but we'll believe it when we actually land in Honolulu. Perhaps the roundtrip flight was to Bakersfield and "Hawaiian" just referred to the decor. We saw that the flight would leave on a Tuesday morning, but that didn't concern us. Certainly the hotel, we figured, would be one of the cheapest, outdated monstrocities in Waikiki. We figured we could endure that for two nights and then arrange our own lodging for the rest of the trip. The contrast in lodging would allow us to appreciate the latter part of the trip even more.

The guy in San Jose also threw in a two-night stay in Lake Tahoe. We only had to pay $25 for taxes. The incentive programs are run through a different outfit called Holiday Travel of America--already a misnomer because with the date restrictions, the only "holiday" you might be travelling on is "National Administrative Assistant's Day." On their website, they pitch their travel products as a great incentive with "high perceived value." Uh-oh.

Of course, they make you send in a request form with your choices of dates. A few weeks later, we got a notice that we'd be staying at such-and-such cheap motel--no surprise. The fine print never said we'd be staying at Caesar's. A few weeks after that, we got a notice that we'd be staying at the Knights Inn since the one we were going to be in had closed down.

Uh-oh. Another bad sign. I googled the new motel, Knights Inn, and reviewers caution that this motel is a major dump. It's only redeeming qualities are that it's close to gambling and the Heavenly Valley gondola, it's dirt cheap, and it's got indoor plumbing. So, we've already made plans to stay in a condo with a bunch of friends and we'll just use the Knight's Inn to store our wet skis and boots.

So, with all of that, it was absolutely no surprise to find out yesterday that we could extend our Hawaiian vacation from three days to seven--for a fee of merely $250 per person. I asked why no one mentioned this amount previously and why the guy in San Jose said it would only cost $100 a ticket. Even as the words were leaving my mouth, I heard how stupid they sounded. The answer, of course, was that the San Jose guy has no affiliation with Holiday Travel of America and they can't be held accountable for his lies.

I said that this $250 fee is unacceptable since I was expecting a free Hawaiian vacation, she retorted with a challenge: "I'd like to see you try to find a flight for that price" in the same tone I remember from grade school: "I could lick ya!" "I'd like to see you try!" I held my tongue, refusing to allow the conversation resort to "Make me." "I don't make garbage. I burn it."

Well, I can find a flight for about $350 and we can go when we want and stay where we want, and we won't have to wonder if the return flight includes an 8-hour stopover in Wichita. We've given up--just like they planned. But, hey, at least we got a cup of cheap coffee and a deli sandwich.

Tags: timeshare, rewards, Hawaii

Program gives booze to homeless alcoholics

The headline on CNN.com blares “Study: Free booze benefits homeless alcoholics.” Well, that sounds intriguing, but before you go out and actually take beer to the homeless guy with the cardboard sign scrawled with “Who am I kidding? I need a drink!” you’d better take a closer look at this study. Poking holes in the media’s latest groundbreaking scientific discovery is a fun sport. Join me, won’t you?

A well-meaning bunch in Toronto tried out a harm-reduction approach for a small group of chronically homeless alcoholics. The reported results were encouraging. While they were in the program, participants had fewer emergency room visits and run-ins with the police and 10 of the participants reported they drank less during the program despite the fact that the shelter provided participants with up to 15 glasses of wine or sherry a day, an amount one author laughingly described as “a small amount.”

To read the Reuters story carried by CNN.com, you’d conclude that the key to helping homeless alcoholics is giving them free wine all day long. But, the positive health outcomes and reduction in police encounters may have nothing to do with free wine. It may have everything to do with the fact that the program offered free room and board, aid with activities of daily living (maid service?), and help getting enrolled into benefits programs. An aide took them to medical appointments and dispensed medications, and medical care was provided on site by nurses and two doctors. I don’t think it was the booze that helped them out. And all of that medical supervision only reduced trips to the emergency room by half.

Offering free room and board isn’t enough to attract this population, the authors would counter. Free booze draws them into an environment where preventative medical care can be provided. But without a control group, the impact of the open bar is just speculation. Perhaps the key component wasn’t actually providing the liquor—it was the fact that, unlike most shelter programs, participants don’t have to go cold turkey to participate.

But what about the reduction in alcohol use? Bogus. First problem: only 10 of the 17 participants are included in that analysis--three refused to answer the questions and three died (!)--and you have to wonder if these participants were fudging their reported drinking to these fine folks who were trying to help them. Finally, in a tiny footnote in the published study, we find out that anything they drank off the premises was not included in the comparison. Do you think maybe some of them may have snuck out back from time to time to supplement their boxed Chablis with a little Thunderbird?

Kudos to the authors who are trying to help a population that seems beyond hope, but they’ve taken harm reduction over the line into enabling. Giving shelter, food, medical care and social services to alcoholics who won’t jump on the wagon may create the same positive outcomes. Despite what the CNN's headline implies, putting up a free martini bar next to every methadone clinic is not the answer.

Prohibido Fumar

In Spain, the New Year comes with a revolutionary new law. No, not gay marriage. Smoking is now banned in workplaces and restricted in bars and restaurants.

If you’re not familiar with how fond the Spanish are of their smoking—and particularly their smoking in pubs and restaurants—it would be something akin to New York City banning taxi cabs, L.A. banning cosmetic surgery or Texas banning the contraction “y’all.” It’s just hard to imagine.

In Europe, only the Greeks smoke more than the Spanish. Today, the average Spaniard smokes about 2,300 cigarettes a year. Bars and smoking and drinking and chatting and eating, and smoking while eating, and drinking while smoking and smoking some more are all a major part of daily life for nearly everyone I knew in every part of Spain I visited in 1990. In my dormitory cafeteria, my fellow students smoked and flicked ashes onto the tile floor during meals and thought it very odd that I didn’t. Whenever Real Madrid would have a match, the toxic smog was so thick in the TV lounge that you literally couldn’t see the screen from the back of the room.

Apparently, bars larger than 100 square meters are allowed to have a separated smoking area like those glassed-in smoking lounges in airports that look like a steam room at the gym. The Spanish must be flipping out over this. Perhaps there has been an evolution, but in 1990, the concept of a non-smoking section did not exist. My Spanish friends would get indignant when I asked them not to smoke in my own dorm room.

Smaller bars can decide whether to go totally non-smoking or totally smoking. Interesting concession. My guess is that many Spanish bars will shrink to less than 100 square meters to avoid the restrictions. Perhaps larger bars will subdivide into two or more businesses, each with less than 100 square meters of floor space. So far, 90 percent of the smaller bars have opted to allow smoking.

The scourge of cigarette smoking in Spain was one of the things that cemented my allegiance to the United States of America, even while I became aware of how screwed up our country is in many other ways. Actually, I should be pledging my allegiance to California, a state with hard-hitting anti-tobacco campaigns, high cigarette taxes and a long-standing ban on smoking in public places—all of which have produced tremendous successes in reducing cigarette smoking.

Given that Columbus and the Spanish conquistadors nearly wiped out the entire population of indigenous Americans with influenza, measles, smallpox, slavery and outright genocide, it’s just a bit of poetic justice, a smidgen of karmic retribution that it was Columbus who introduced tobacco to Spain in the 16th century. The country has been chain-smoking ever since.

Let's all try to be understanding if Spain seems a little moody and jittery in 2006. If they get through this, we'll be better able to enjoy our sangria and tapas next time we make a trip to the madre patria. To that, I raise my copa and say "¡Salud!"

Tags: Spain, smoking, ban, tobacco