Saying Goodbye To Sammy

It's alright. Sammy's not dead or anything. It's just that my company has moved me from the site I've been at for the last three or four months, so yesterday (my last day) I went around and said good-bye to all the places and creatures on the site that made working there bearable.

Sammy was my favourite of them all. I met her the first day I worked there, and in those days she wouldn't come anywhere near me. It took several weeks of my most wheedling cat voice to get Sammy (who you probably can't tell is a Siamese) to warm up to me at all. In the past two months, though, she agreed to let me pet her and even let me pick her up a few times. Despite her willingness to pose for a few photos, I was unable to capture the blue of her eyes until yesterday.

Naturally, I will miss this cat more than the dozen people I had regular contact with on that site, probably because she let me pick her up and pet her. More likely, it's because I am a misanthrope. To be fair though, there were a few hot men working on that site, and if any of them had let me pick them up and pet them I'd be missing them too right about now.
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My Current Wallpaper: "Dirty Beauty"

I will give away, absolutely free, this lovely image to anyone who emails me. In its full-sized incarnation it's 2.5 MB, making it ideal for your newfangled hi-res LCD screens.
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A Garfield Milestone

Hard to believe, but the cartoon strip Garfield was first published on June 19th, 1978.
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Visit Langston Hughes' Apartment

From Gothamist comes word that an apartment long-occupied by Langston Hughes has now been turned into a museum. Hughes lived in the apartment from the late Forties until his death in 1967, at the age of 65.

The writer was a major figure in the Harlem Renaissance, and throughout his life used his art to agitate in favour of greater civil rights, not just for blacks but for gays as well.

In life he was known as "the Poet Laureate of Harlem".
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In Memoriam: Grand Duchess Anastasia

Whether she died in Ekaterinburg on July 17, 1918, or many decades later, was for years such a mystery that it generated a whole bevy of films, books, and many many column inches. As many as ten women claimed to be the Grand Duchess in the years after the death of the Romanovs, the most famous of whom was Anna Anderson.

Despite the discovery of the Imperial family's mass grave in the early 80s, and its exhumation in 1991, the matter has yet to be sufficiently settled.
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RIP Gianfranco Ferre

Italian fashion designer Gianfranco Ferre has died of a cerebral hemorrhage. He was 62.

His emergence on Italy's fashion scene coincided with Giorgio Armani and Gianni Versace in the late 70s, which itself coincided with the rise of star designers Yves Saint Laurent, Emmanuel Ungaro and Pierre Cardin in France.

Ferre trained as an architect, which fashionistas love to say is what gave his clothes such impeccable "structure". God help us all (and especially the Duchess of Cornwall) if Frank Gehry decides he'd rather be a milliner.

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What Are Your Seven Wonders

The campaign to elect the Seven Wonders of the Modern World draws to a close on July 7th, when the winners will be announced in Lisbon.

In the meantime, I thought I'd post my own seven.

1. MANHATTAN
2. WINDSOR CASTLE
3. TAJ MAHAL
4. GREAT WALL OF CHINA
5. THE VATICAN
6. ANGKOR WAT
7. MACCHU PICCHU

To select your own, leave a comment or, better yet, vote here.
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Now Showing: Trooping the Colour

Every year on the Queen's Official Birthday, troops from around the UK and throughout the Commonwealth are paraded in front of Her Majesty at Horse Guard's Palace in London.

Until 1986 the Queen actually rode in the parade, which made an indelible impression on me at a very young age. I suppose it was the Jubilee Year - 1977 - and thereafter the sight of her there in that red tunic astride Burmese never failed to impress me.

Nowadays, of course, she rides in a carriage. In this clip, from 2004, she appears at the 2:20 mark.
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Queen's Birthday Honours Announced

Cricketer Ian Botham, novelist Salman Rushdie, and Dame Edna Everage creator Barry Humphries were all honoured by the Queen on this, her official birthday, for services rendered in their respective spheres. Botham, already an OBE, today appends the honorific Sir to his name. Same for Rushdie, whose novel The Satanic Verses caused such an uproar in 1988.

Honours were also bestowed upon Michael Eavis, who founded the Glastonbury Festival, Jane Tomlinson, who has advocated for people with cancer, and Peter Sallis, the voice of Wallace of Wallace & Gromit fame. No word yet from the chap who voices Gromit on how he feels about that.

Also in the list: celebrity hairdresser Nicky Clarke.
Not on the list: David Beckham. Aw.

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Happy Official Birthday Your Majesty

Rain fell on today's Trooping the Colour ceremony, in honour of the Queen's official birthday, but didn't dampen the spirits of the crowds at Horse Guards Palace to witness the historic tradition.

Here Her Majesty is joined on the balcony by (from left) Princess Eugenie, Prince William, the Duke of Edinburgh, and the Prince of Wales. (That thing behind the Queen that looks like a wicker room divider is Camilla's hat.)

Outside, a protest by Fathers 4 Justice was thwarted.
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Courtney Cox Dishes Dirt

I don't think it's ever been established how much I love Courtney Cox, but it's alot. She was my best Friend, and I am eagerly awaiting Dirt on DVD.

Here she dishes with Jimmy Kimmel, this past January, about motherhood, Jennifer Aniston, and just how unsexy she is...

Happy Birthday Mrs. Arquette!
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Queen Mourns Falklands Fallen

Her Majesty The Queen today led mourners at a service commemmorating the 25th anniversary of the end of the Falklands War, in which 255 British and more than 600 Argentines lost their lives. She was joined by hundreds of mourners including the Duke of Edinburgh, Baroness Thatcher, and Tony Blair.

While there the Queen placed the final stone on a memorial cairn made from rocks brought back from the conflict.

Meanwhile, in Stanley - the capital of the Falkland Islands - the Queen was represented at a similar service by her youngest son, The Earl of Wessex.

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Sledd Inks NBC Deal

It's a great day for anyone in new media toiling their way out of obscurity the hard way.



William Sledd, host of "Ask A Gay Man" on YouTube (with 51,000+ subscribers!) will apparently be developing content for one of the many arms of NBC/Universal, possibly Bravo.

So you tell me... Is this a new star being born or just another bitchy fag for straight people to laugh at? Either way, it's cool, as long as a bitch is gi'in paid.

One thing is clear: it's time to take my claws out of cold storage and teach this twink a thing or two.

The story, from Advocate.com...
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In Lighter News: Fig Leaves For Everyone!

It seems Judy "Fig-Leaf" Fenton is opposing Sally "Responsible Legislator" Clark in Seattle's upcoming City Council elections, running on a no-penis platform.

Apparently, the Olympic Sculpture Park has a statue with a little nudie-nudie going on, and Ms. Fenton is seeing head. Er, red.

Hm. Running for public office, and the only reason is to take down a... Statue?

Something tells me that statue has a better platform than you lady.

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Kurt Waldheim's Dead

I suppose, in order to be a credit to my community, I should be sombre and respectful when reporting the death of such an uber-Villain.

But I don't wanna.

The man was clearly a Nazi and an anti-Semite; because of it he tainted the office of Secretary-General of the United Nations and the chancellory of Austria.

Yet, each figure from that period who passes on brings us closer to closure on the entire mess of World War II. Of course, we shouldn't ever forget it (and thanks to the History Channel we won't be able to) but its ability to polarise us needs to end. Today's problems are far more important than yesterday's, and dealing with them will make tomorrow's easier to manage.

I like to think that it was press scrutiny which kept Herr Waldheim in check throughout the final half of his life. If there was ever a better case to be made for a strong press, that's it right there.
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Spielberg Endorses Clinton

Which I guess means he'll be wearing one of these, probably on that damn baseball cap he won't take off.

Hollywood has long been Clinton country, since the Clintons themselves have considerable star power, not to mention the ability to backstab, obfuscate, and commit adultery. It's like the Clintons are speaking Hollywood's language!

Though the elections are still 17 months away, there's still plenty of time before the New Hampshire primary in January for a certain dark horse candidate to enter the ring. Of course, the truth is, that could be quite inconvenient for Mrs. Clinton.

Being Canadian (not to mention despising politics) the Pop Culture Institute will probably not be endorsing any candidate. (Obama) I mean, it wouldn't be fair (Obama), and let's face it, what do I know about anything? (Obama) I suppose I could try something subliminal (Obama), but my readers are so smart (Obama) they'd catch on right away. (Obama)

As Newt Gingrich probably said to Ralph Reed: Hilary is the one to beat. I certainly hope they were talking about the election.

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Congratulations Joe.My.God

2000 posts!

Although Joe.My.God wasn't the first blog I ever read, it was one of the first five, and remains in my personal favourite Top Five to this day. I like the mix of stories, and love love love the occasional appearance of Instant Disco History, because I'm just that gay.

Also, his commenters are to die for. He routinely gets more comments on a given post than I've gotten in my entirety.

You've set the bar pretty high, buddy; I only hope my pole is long enough to get me over it.

What? Whud I say?
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Now Showing: That Mitchell and Webb Look

If you only know David Mitchell and Robert Webb from the UK Mac vs. PC ads, you're in for a treat. They are also gifted sketch comedians.

Ooh, I love a good comedy sketch meself, and I laughed out loud at these. Especially Numberwang.
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When Is Poacher Season Again?

Is there anything quite so loathsome as a poacher? I think not.



Last week, poachers shot and killed one of two white rhinos remaining in Zambia, injuring the other. The rhinos were among six brought to Zambia from South Africa after poachers killed off all rhinos in the Zambian wild.

These two were heavily guarded at the Mosi-Oa-Tunya national park near Livingstone. The murdered rhino had her horn cut off so some schmuck could get a boner, which is definitely not worth dying for.

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Previously on the Pop Culture Institute...

Who's Up For A Spot of Poacher Hunting?
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The Bully Within: Letting Go

You know that feeling you get when something or someone you really can't stand all of a sudden isn't there? Kind of a light-headedness mingled with a great contentment? Hopefully, you know what I mean, because it's such a terrific sort of feeling I think everyone should have it.

So what's missing? Well, do you want the long answer or the short answer? Because the long answer is: me; even better, the short answer is: I.

As recently as a couple of weeks ago, I was the most boring drip in the world. Being forced to spend all my time with myself was making me goofy. It got so bad I even... It's kind of weird to admit it, but I kind of... Hated myself.

I know, I know... You're thinking: "What a weirdo! Who hates themselves?" I agree with you. Totally gone, right?

Recently, I've decided to celebrate my faults, rather than continuing to punish myself for them. Now you're thinking "What possible faults could this mensch have? He's da bomb!" Thanks. That's sweet.

But no, seriously... I think it's time to come to terms with it.

For one thing, I'm kind of a jerk, and you know, I gotta say I'm okay with that. I'm not going to jump out of the way of a speeding SUV only to send the yuppie motherfucker flowers. I'm gonna tell him to put down the latte and BlackBerry and drive, only maybe not in such nice words, or possibly with utterly un-cryptic hand signals.

I'm also kinda shallow, which was part of my problem in the first place. I was trying not to be, and it turned me into a boring drip. Rest assured, my eating disorder is back in charge of all the holes in my face and I should be back to normal size and temperament before you can spell diverticulitis. And just in time for Pride Day too. Whatever shall I do?

Somewhere along the way I had come to loathe myself. I certainly don't remember loathing myself when I was a little kid, so it probably came about through human interaction. No, in fact, there's no probably about it. Other people made me hate myself. What's worse is: I let them.

Normally, when someone whose opinion I don't respect says something I disagree with ("Maude sucks", maybe, or "I miss Alberta") I can secretly - or not so secretly - laugh at this schmuck for the ludicrosity of his judgement. Yet when the same no-neck mouth-breather says some stupid thing about me, somehow I believe it.

I suppose I could wonder why that is, or I could forget I ever did it and never do it again. Whatever shall I do?
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