National Heinous Day

It seems like it was just National Heinous Day last week. You know what? I think it was just last week.

Leave it to the heinous to be so heinous they can't even contain their heinosity to a single day but force it upon us whenever the mood strikes. A single day I could handle. This is like having Valentine's Day every week.

Partly it's because I'm looking for work, and nothing eats a soul like job hunting. I also didn't sleep well last night, which never makes Daddy happy, and on top of it all about 9 pm it occurred to me that all I had to eat today was a can of root beer. Every other terrible thing that happened today can be traced to any one of these causes.

The silver lining is that the day after Heinous Day is usually pretty good, mainly because it's no longer Heinous Day. I think the next time it's Heinous Day I'll just live in hope of the better day to come. Oh yeah, and not leave the house.
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Falling In Love Again

A couple of weeks ago I was walking past Chapters, doing my level best not to go in and spend all of my rent money, when a familiar face beckoned to me from a shelf inside. It was the face above, a face known to a few of you no doubt, which was at one time one of the most familiar faces in the world, and for a good reason.

The fact that the large, lush book it accompanied was remaindered at $14.99 made the sale even before I'd gotten to the front door. Retail therapy, even to the extent I practice it, is still cheaper than psychiatry. At least, that's what I usually tell myself as I find myself in a queue clutching some new treasure. I doubt there's any collection of ephemera anywhere as loved as the one held here at the Pop Culture Institute.

When I was a young homo I was drawn irrevocably to the movies, to the gods and goddesses the medium created back in the day before telephoto lenses could show us every zit on their asses, when the movie studios enforced their oligarchy with liberal helpings of mythmaking and the stars themselves played along, because when you get right down to it, it's nice to be admired.

The book, published in England, is lavish and contains glimpses into Marlene Dietrich's life which were unfamiliar even to me. I kept it beside my bed, and so every day for a week this is how I dragged myself into full consciousness. A couple of evenings that week I took out one of her movies and was then lulled back into unconsciousness by the voice and the face that made her a legend.

In the relentless pursuit of the new, there's something very gratifying about rediscovering something (or someone) I'd once spent countless hours studying. Besides which, what a smart rebuke it was to my own arrogance; I, who thought I knew all there was to know about her, brought up short by the unknowable enigma of the immortal Dietrich.
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Happy 400th Post!

It scarcely seems possible, but the accelerated pace at which I've been posting means there's another one of these milestones every couple of weeks or so.

The greatest challenge in these posts is finding a suitable image to accompany it. Too obscure and I run the risk of alienating readers, too obvious and I run the risk of being myself. I love the obscure, though I tend to be the obvious; which is just another one of those adorable contradictions that comprises me, I guess.

I ran across this charming piece of grafitti in the course of my day job, took it's picture knowing that my 400th post was fast approaching, but never thought of it in those terms until this afternoon when I went in search of something, anything suitable to depict 400 posts.

Today's lesson, then, is: Seek and ye shall find.

300th post (10 MAR 07)

200th post (23 FEB 07)

100th post (03 FEB 07)
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Maude: The Drinking Game

I don't as a rule drink, and anyone who's ever seen me drunk will tell you why. But that's no reason why you boozers out there shouldn't enjoy the hilarious antics of Tuckahoe's pre-eminent liberal loudmouth for yourself.

To that end I have invented Maude: The Drinking Game. The rules are very simple. Whenever Maude threatens someone's heart (I'll cut your heart out Walter!) take a shot of your favourite libation. Whenever she disses a Republican (Do you know what it's like to spend an hour under the hairdryer reading about Henry Kissinger's love life?) take a shot. And whenever she says "God'll get you for that!" chug from the bottle until the laughter stops.

I dare you to walk away from a single episode.
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Shocking Report: Lesbians Play Sports

Penn State women's basketball coach Rene Portland (shown here demonstrating the size of her cojones) has resigned her post amid allegations that she discriminated against lesbians in sports.

Right now I can't think of anything to say about this story that isn't some derivation of "Is she retarded?", so I'd better leave the commentary to the experts.

[AfterEllen]
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Now Showing - "Pretty Brown" by David Campbell

It's always cool when a friend has something for me to feature on here. David is a wonderfully warm and funny poet-songwriter, whom I've had the pleasure to see and hear many times. Whenever I see him he's always so wonderfully supportive of me, so I thought I'd take the opportunity to return the favour.
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What The Hell?

Sorry to get all Kelly on you, but... Rick Mercer's gay!?!

I've been spending so much time in my tinfoil hat behind a Ouija board trying to make Jake Gyllenhaal pounce on Andy Samberg that I somehow missed the coming out of one of Canada's funniest, most influential men.

Plus, he's from Newfoundland, and he's H-O-T-T. (Or is that redundant?)

It's Friday, I'm ten posts away from #400, and now I find out this total hunk of funny likes cock. If this day gets any better I may...

I don't know what I'll do. The last time I had a day this good I was eight. I don't think I can remember that far back.
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Blog Fodder: Comment Te Dire Bonjour

Yesterday, I left a comment on Joe.My.God. in response to a post entitled "The Junior Voguer", of a little kid dancing his heart out. The video had garnered some pretty typically hateful comments on YouTube, which seemed to leave a few of Joe's readers stymied. (What is this 'homo-phobia' of which you speak?) It read, in part:

Welcome to YouTube and the Fred Phelps Nation. Set one foot outside of Chelsea and it's "Welcome to the rest of the world".

My comment received the following response from a fellow reader:

Michael Sean: If that sentence expresses your worldview, I agree it's probably an excellent idea for all concerned that you never step one foot outside of Chelsea.

Interesting.

As usual I blame myself. All I'm trying to do through my work is foster a greater understanding of the world and of my place in it. Obviously, I failed to do that in this case. I visited his blog, and he seems like a pretty nice guy. A bit naive for his age, but if naivete is the greater part of idealism, and he's managed to keep a scrap, I say good for him. I'd had mine beaten out of me by the time I was 10, and, alas, it's a non-renewable resource.

Of course, had he bothered to visit my blog he'd have seen that I've never even set one foot into Chelsea, and that if I tried to go there I'd probably be chased away by a roving band of twinks, simply for being a troll. Still, I'd like to thank him for the opportunity to post something here that isn't about a) foreign royalty, b) hot guys, or c) a bunch of other people I'll never meet.

And Joe, if you ever read this, thanks you for not banning me from your Comments section (at least not yet). You and I don't always see eye-to-eye (I mean, why would we? Why would we want to?) It seems to me that differences of opinion are what make us interesting to each other, and I'm honoured that you allow me to keep throwing in my two cents' worth.

[Instant Update: The original post I wrote just disappeared into cyberspace. This one has been re-created from memory; I haven't had lunch yet, so I wasn't altogether successful. It's just as well, as the original contained intemperance, a quality within myself I am constantly striving to overcome. It was also wordy, which is another burden I must learn to eschew. Plus so many layered references it was like a strudel made by Dennis Miller. It was pretty cool though, I'll have to admit. Whomever is responsible for such things (ie The Internet Fairy) was obviously on my side this afternoon.]
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I (Heart) Lily Tomlin

When I first saw Lily Tomlin in David O. Russell's "Flirting With Disaster" I was blown away that someone would cast her as a burned out old hippie in New Mexico married to Alan Alda and running a meth lab in the basement. I mean, it's so surreal, how could you not love that?

I have yet to see "I (Heart) Hucakabees", but only because it's not ten years old yet. That's about how long it takes me to get around to seeing these things. I think, though, I'll go out on payday and pick it up. If only because news of tension on the set has suddenly exploded all over the Internet, and at YouTube especially, and because I wanted to see it anyway, and now I have a reason. These two scenes are suddenly fraught with subtext, which may be what the director was going for all along.

I've always loved Lily Tomlin, mainly because she seems to be so commonsensical and calm, in a world ruled by temperament. David O. Russell, on the other hand, comes off as an asshat. In the old days, news of tension on this set and that set were transmitted by whispers. So and so knows the cousin of the hairdresser, and told me... Like that. Nowadays, everyone has a Panaflex built into their Blackberry, and as a result we are all of us expected to be ready for our closeup at a moment's notice; except that none of these people is exactly Cecil B. deMille.

I know well the effects of bullying, and they show in Miss Tomlin's behaviour, especially in the scene in the car. A person can only take so much before they lash out, and here Lily has had enough. I won't embed them here, because I don't condone this kind of behaviour (even - or especially - when it's me), but I will link to them, for as long as they're up.

In the first one (and I don't know if this scene came earlier than the other - it's just my guess) Lily is still quite calm. In the second is where she really loses it. I mean, she's lashing out at Dustin Hoffman, which is a bit like kicking a puppy: you don't do it unless you're really pissed off, and maybe not even then.

The comments at YouTube are pretty predictable. "The fucking Jew hag had it coming to her" is typical for the troglodytes who frequent the comments section. Apparently, a grown man shouting "Act like a grownup" while having a temper tantrum is alright, though. Still, I gotta love the 'Tube, and I still (heart) Lily Tomlin.
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MAUDE: The Story Thus Far

Oh my Gawd, how much do I love Maude?

So much, in fact, that I'm rationing it. 2-4 episodes a day is all I'm watching.

Not just because of Bea Arthur either, although she is pretty awesome. Bill Macy, who plays Walter, is a surprisingly nimble actor. He frequently underplays, so it's easy to miss him in the general hullabaloo. Plus, the show isn't called "Walter". But whenever he shouts "Maude!" it's enough to shut even her up.

Conrad Bain, as well. In many ways he's better known for playing Philip Drummond on "Diff-rent Strokes", as an affable, avuncular type. But in "Maude" he's an exquisite Republican foil to the mouthy liberal matron, and when they fight it's classic.

Of course, the appeal of watching Season One of anything is watching the actors inhabit their characters. Maude, though, is pitch perfect from the first minute of the first show.

I used to watch the show all the time, but it's been little seen in syndication lately, so I'd forgotten more than I've remembered. Like all the one-liners; one after another, zing zing zing, each one perfectly delivered.

I just wish there was a commentary track. I'd love to get Bea's impressions on the themes, references, and those eye-popping jaw-dropping early 70s clothes.
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RIP Calvert DeForest

The actor, probably best known as Larry 'Bud' Melman, has uttered his last 'So long suckers!' He died in hospital after a long illness.

[S O U R C E]
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Queen To Visit Jamestown

Buckingham Palace has made it official; Her Majesty The Queen and HRH the Duke of Edinburgh will visit Jamestown, Virginia, as part of that city's 400th anniversary May 3rd and 4th. She also attended the 350th anniversary.

During her week-long visit to the United States the Queen will also attend the Kentucky Derby and visit the White House.

[S O U R C E]
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Happy Birthday Rosie O'Donnell

Rosie, seen here looking slightly at a loss for words now that there's a gag order on her feud with The Donald, turns 45 today.

I've always loved Rosie, and I saw her first on "Star Search". At the time I can remember thinking "Look at the big dyke" and "What a loudmouth". Fortunately, I love loudmouthed dykes and the rest, as they say, is pop culture.

And good on you for coming out (yet again), this time with depression. Mary Poppins she ain't, but given her army of loyal fans (in which I am a Major) and given the help she offers, it'll take more than a philandering plutocrat to Trump this ace.
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Vancouver Police Department In Action...

...in this case, laying the smackdown on an apparently sober firefighter.

I say, kudos to the photographer. I've gotten the evil eye from cops just for taking pictures of grafitti. Anytime a cop comes within twenty paces of me I stop what I'm doing and stare at the sidewalk until they've passed. It seems that any movement enrages them.

[Amazing!]
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Thatcher: The Movie

Yes, that's right. A film is being made about the former Prime Minister and the events surrounding the Falklands War.

No word yet if the film will be made by venerable horror producer Hammer, or if it will star Peter Cushing as the Iron Lady.
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Patriarchy In The UK

I first blogged about this issue on 2 January, and it seems that it's all coming to fruition tomorrow. Further to the last post, this is what we're up against. Maybe the bullies no longer smash our faces into the lockers or call us "faggot" in front of the teachers and get away with it anymore, but such behaviour is right beneath the surface of many so-called professional people, some of whom might be your coworkers and are likely your elected officials.

I'll be interested to see what the protest is like, and what (if any) the counter protest will be.

Stay tuned...
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Larry: The Other Kramer

I don't know where Larry Kramer goes for those decade-long stretches when he's out of the public eye, but I'd like to go there myself. Because whenever he comes back he comes out swinging, armed to the teeth with bitchery, and hits his intended target dead on. In the early 80s it was gay men, whom he excoriated with his novel "Faggots".

I've always regretted that gay men haven't had their own Malcolm X. As much as I admire our Dr. Kings, after literally decades of activism we are scarcely further on from where we were in the 70s. Oh sure, we have hate crimes protection (which police refuse to enforce) and human rights protection, which is similarly imperilled every time the electorate votes. More often than not, constitutions are being amended to exclude us.

No one has benefited from the generosity and tolerance of heterosexuals like me, since I cannot now nor have I ever been able to count on anything like community from my own kind. Forced into a missionary position, er, role among the straights I do what I can, not to blather on about why I deserve to be treated as an equal but by demonstrating same again and again.

"Who taught you to hate yourself?" These are the immortal words of Malcolm X; they were incendiary enough in the 60s when Malcolm X spoke them to blacks. But their brilliance is that they are infinitely relatable. In the case of gay men we know well enough, and it's time fingers were pointed.

[S O U R C E]
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Right On Maude!

It's 12:01 AM and I'm standing at the half-empty New Release shelf when two HMV employees emerge from whatever's behind those doors marked 'Employees Only'.

"Can I help you?" the female one asks.

"Maude." It's the only word I can get out. Having said it I try another one. "Please."

She turns to her coworker, who's so gay I wouldn't dream of talking to him myself. She says: "They're at the bottom of this stuff. Could you go grab him one off the shelf back there?" He nods but says nothing, so I thank her.

We make small talk for something like 78.32 seconds, when her coworker returns and hands me my prize. "Thank you," I say, smiling and looking him straight in the eye. Nothing.

But I'm so excited I don't even care. I rush to the till, then rush out of the store, slowing only when I pass the security guard at the door, lest he think I'm making some kind of mad dash. I am, of course, but don't care to have it interrupted by a flying tackle.

I think HMV's policy of staying open until 1 AM on New Release day (Tuesday) rocks, and I will kiss their ass for it, as much as I will for their selection (vast), prices (competitive), and female/straight guy staff (friendly and knowledgeable). While waiting for "Maude" I was browsing their British TV section and suddenly I knew where all my spare money for the rest of the year was going.

But not until I've watched 22 digitally remastered episodes from Season One of... (drumroll)... Maude!
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A Message From Her Majesty The Queen

Today’s Commonwealth is home to nearly a third of the world’s population. Its almost two billion citizens come from so many faiths, races, cultures and traditions.

I think that one of the reasons for the success of this organisation is that it draws not only on certain shared values, but also from the principles and practices of everyday life, which can be observed day after day in the cities, towns and villages of our 53 member countries.

Over thousands of years, the very basis of community life has been the pooling together by individuals of their resources and skills. Rather than having to be good at everything, people were able to practise their own skill or craft. The lesson of community life is that to flourish we must help each other. To do this, there has to be a sense of fairness, a real understanding of others’ needs and aspirations, and a willingness to contribute.

Despite its size and scale, the Commonwealth to me is still at heart a collection of villages. In close-knit communities like these, there are beliefs and values that we share and cherish. We know that helping others will lead to greater security and prosperity for ourselves.

Because we feel this way, our governments and peoples aim to work even more closely together. And as individuals, we find that taking part in Commonwealth activities can be inspirational and personally rewarding.

In today’s difficult and sometimes divided world, I believe that it is more important than ever to keep trying to respect and understand each other better. Each and every one of us has hopes, needs, and priorities. Each of us is an individual, with ties of emotion and bonds of obligation – to culture, religion, community, country and beyond. In short, each of us is special.

The more we see others in this way, the more we can understand them and their points of view. In what we think and say and do, let us as individuals actively seek out the views of others; let us make the best use of what our beliefs and history teach us; let us have open minds and hearts; and let us, like the Commonwealth, find our diversity a cause for celebration and a source of strength and unity.

This is a thought worth bearing in mind as we gather on Commonwealth Day: we are a thriving community; we value our past; we make the most of our present; and we are working together to build our future. By respecting difference and promoting understanding, that future will be a better one for us all.
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Overheard At Sandhurst

("Promise me you'll kick it before Gran does.")
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