Sunday, February 18, 2007

Department of Glaring Oversight: Black History Month

Originally I had planned special coverage of Black History Month, entitled "A Month of Sundays", which was to have appeared every Sunday for 30 weeks, each week focussing on contributions made by blacks to the popular culture. Unfortunately, I didn't plan this until 29 January, by which time the research necessary made its appearance impossible.

Fear not! There's always next year. In the meantime white guilt ensures that I will always try to include the entire human family in my coverage, and not just focus on the hot male cousins.
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My Favourite Photos of All Time

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Back in the day, before they were legends, Tom Waits and Bette Midler share a laugh (no doubt over something raunchy).
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Lessons Never Learned

99% of the encounters I've had with other gay men in this city have been unaccountably harsh. In the age of the metrosexual usually the only way I can tell if a guy is straight or not is if he talks to me. Understandably, this makes me very leery of dealing with gay men, which in turn causes me to be terminally celibate.

I've been sworn at and called names by men who've bumped into me, ignored by store clerks and even refused service by waiters - try and explain that one to a hostess. Recently a man I've never seen and who's never spoken to me complained about me to my supervisor. By far, though, the worst are people who walk away from me when I'm talking to them, especially if it's their job to talk to me.

It happened again today.

I was in Chapter's, in their minuscule video department, when I wondered aloud where a certain title might be. To myself, mind you, which is to say, even more softly than usual. He must have been standing right next to me, because the next thing I heard was a rather harsh "What?" I turned and saw a clerk who's never given me anything but awful service.

"Nothing, I was just --"

That got me a full sigh and rolled eyes (which, by the way, doesn't look any better on a man in his 40s than it does on a 10-year-old girl) and the usual walk away. To be honest, the best he deserves is to be ignored the way he ignores me, but I wasn't in the mood to give him what he best deserves.

"For your information," I said, once I'd cornered him by the till, "I would never ask a rude bitch like you for anything."

"There's no need to be like that," he said, smirking.

"I agree," I said, "And I wouldn't be like this either if this was the first time you'd done something like that to me."

The smirk disappeared. "What do you mean?"

I smirked at him, then rolled my eyes and sighed and walked away.

I don't know what inspired me to fight back another person's rudeness. I've always found the best way is to ignore it. But I consider the situation I'm in to be pretty dire, and such circumstances necessarily call for extraordinary measures. I have no problem with people disliking me once they get to know me (in fact, I practically expect it), but to act this way before I've said a word is unconscionable.

I must be physically hideous and unable to see it. What else am I to think? When I smile at a kid, a kid smiles back at me; when I smile at a gay man I get the finger (and not in the good way). If it happened once in awhile I could laugh it off, but it happens all the time, to the point where it's now getting me into trouble at work - only I haven't done anything. It's very likely preventing me from meeting someone because I'm so afraid he'll be rude that it scarcely seems worth the risk.

The essay, like the problem, seems to have no ending. I guess it's time for me to find one.
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MacIsaac/Stokes Nuptials

It seems our research department just grew by one, to three (although, to be honest, Pandora makes a much better presenter than researcher) which makes me happy. Not only does it cut down on the time it takes to find these stories, it gives me the chance to pander to my readers.

I still can't get the taste of Valentine's Day out of my mouth, so I will refrain from commenting on the story. Plus, I had another run-in with one of Vancouver's super friendly gay men today (see above post), so I'm especially bitter. Although, as previously stated, if you care to read about my bitterness you need only ask for it.

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R.I.P. Dermot O'Reilly

Photobucket - Video and Image HostingMusician Dermot O'Reilly died of a heart attack on 17 February in St. John's. He was 63.

Alongside Denis Ryan and Fergus O'Byrne he formed Ryan's Fancy while they were at Memorial University together in 1971. The group disbanded in 1983, though its members remained active in musical communities both in Ireland, where the three were born, and Newfoundland, their adopted home.

Photobucket - Video and Image HostingO'Reilly was a fervent preservationist where Newfoundland music was concerned, with telling results. Songs popularised by Ryan's Fancy have subsequently been covered by The Barra MacNeils and Great Big Sea.

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Gung Hei Fat Choy

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The symbol means fortune. I couldn't find any cool pig images out there, and this is not only apt it's the right size.
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