It’s 5:30am. In an hour and a half, I’ll be dangling from the ceiling of the Municipal Auditorium, hanging crepe de chine streamers and silk swags for tonight’s ball. Why do I risk my life in the service of such faggotry? For the unabashed glamour of it all, of course. Well, that, and because I’m a faggot.
The most shocking thing in this article is not that Deborah/Debbie Gibson has doffed her high-80s porkpie to reveal a different sort of pie in Playboy, nor is it that Tiffany did the same not so long ago (however did we miss that?).
No, the most shocking thing in that article is that bitch claims she’s 34.
What the…? What in the name of all that is good and holy are you doing here? You and your slack, slack jaw had best be getting over to Goodwill or Red White and Blue, or–and goddess, I’d love you for this–Freddy’s to find me full-length formal skirt and a new goddamn corset! I have three balls–count ’em: three!–over the next week, and not a stitch to wear! Now I know how poor Widow Hubbard felt when she opened the door to her empty armoire or pie safe or whatever it was….
You there, the snickering one with the glasses and the tired Urban Outfitters t-shirt: having three balls, whether formal or scrotal, is no laughing matter. Having only one–now that’s a tragedy.
And FYI, if any of you would care to accompany the boyfriend and me to two of these–the Mystic Krewe of Satyricon’s Bal Masque on Sunday or the Radical Faerie Coronation Ball next Wednesday–do let us know. <nellyvoice>I’m sure sssssomething can be…arranged.</nellyvoice>
I understand that Jews were the primary target of Hitler’s “Final Solution.” I understand that, regardless of why people were sent to the death camps, a day like today should be used to mourn those who perished and celebrate those who survived. I understand that the 60th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz is not necessarily the best time to push a progressive social agenda.
Still.
Wouldn’t it be nice if somewhere in all the speeches made today by all the world leaders, someone acknowledged the thousands of homosexuals who died in the Holocaust? Wouldn’t it be swell if just one of those speakers–perhaps, Dick Cheney, who ought to know first-hand about the discrimination GLBT persons face right here in the land of the free and the home of the brave, much less under the totalitarian Nazi state–denounced anti-Semitism, racism, and homophobia? Wouldn’t it be lovely if all this talk about how prejudice is bad and tolerance is good didn’t imply, “except when it comes to homos”? Wouldn’t it be a wonderful surprise if we weren’t cut out of the discussion altogether?
Maybe that’ll happen. Maybe it had already. I don’t know. I haven’t read transcripts of the speeches. But if history is any guide, odds are better that that kind of talk will get left in the snow.
So, I know that some of you have issues with the HRC, and admittedly, I’m not completely cool with everything they do, but I think this is something we can all agree on.
Apparently, certain jerks/pragmatists in the US Senate have decided to re-introduce the “Marriage Protection Amendment.” (I guess all that “political capital” they’ve been talking about spending is really more like a Macy’s gift card with a rapidly approaching expiration date.) Senators like mine may not be swayed by a volley of emails, but maybe they’ll understand that not all of their constituents are card-carrying members of the American Family Association.
Titbits
- Is it just me, or is it a tad ironic that The Passion of the Christ received only two Oscar nods, one of which was for makeup? It’s enough to make me think there’s something greater in the universe–something bigger than Mel Gibson’s ego, yet smaller than his insignificant penis.
- Speaking of penises, perhaps I’m showing my hand here, but this month’s G Project wallpaper is, like, the hottest thing ever. The intern/office/necktie fantasies are endless. But then, what does it mean to be aroused by a cartoon?
- Barbie Horse Adventures lures you in with a great premise, but frankly, the plot’s a little weak.
Why so quiet, you ask? Because someone was sweet/kind/cruel enough to give Jonno and I an XBox this weekend, and we’ve since been…otherwise engaged. Expect a fatter, lazier, more A.D.Delicious Richard in 2005!
Subtext and other stuff you didn’t hear in
W’s manifesto for a neo-crusade inauguration speech
…our duties are defined not by the words I use, but by the history we have seen together.
“Though they’re both pretty scary, ain’t they? Heh, heh…”
And then there came a day of fire.
“I’ve been reading a lot from Revelations lately. Can ya’ tell?”
For as long as whole regions of the world simmer in resentment and tyranny prone to ideologies that feed hatred and excuse murder, violence will gather and multiply in destructive power…
“I’m not gonna name names, but y’all know who I’m talkin’ about: all those towelheads over there in the hot, hot desert. Simmer…that’s a good one, Karl!”
Freedom, by its nature, must be chosen, and defended by citizens, and sustained by the rule of law and the protection of minorities.
“‘Cept for fags, dykes, and she-males.”
All who live in tyranny and hopelessness can know: the United States will not ignore your oppression, or excuse your oppressors.
“Unless y’all live in Burundi, China, Colombia, Cuba, Democratic Republic of Congo, Indonesia, Liberia, Myanmar, Nepal, Nigeria, Rwanda, Saudi Arabia, Sudan, Tibet, Venezuela, or anyplace else that ain’t on the ‘Axis of Evil’.”
Those who deny freedom to others deserve it not for themselves; and, under the rule of a just God, cannot long retain it.
“But, uh, you might not wanna ask the friends and family of them 226,000 tsunami victims whether God is just…”
And all the allies of the United States can know: we honor your friendship, we rely on your counsel, and we depend on your help.
[Insert frog joke here.]
Americans, at our best, value the life we see in one another…
“Then again, at our worst, we’re a seething mass of consumerism, greed, and bigotry.”
…and must always remember that even the unwanted have worth.
“And by ‘unwanted,’ I mean ‘fudgepackers’.”
And our country must abandon all the habits of racism, because we cannot carry the message of freedom and the baggage of bigotry at the same time.
“Darkies are fine. Unless they’re fudgepackers.”
History has an ebb and flow of justice, but history also has a visible direction, set by liberty and the Author of Liberty.
“Except when it comes to fags gettin’ married. We’re gonna put a stop to that right now.”
When the Declaration of Independence was first read in public and the Liberty Bell was sounded in celebration, a witness said, it rang as if it meant something.
“Then it cracked.”
Today, some people are celebrating. Some–like the group here in New Orleans that’s mounting a jazz funeral for democracy–are in mourning. Most, I would imagine, are just going about their daily routine, content to know that miles away, pomp, circumstance, and the American political machine are still thriving.
Me, I’m somewhere in-between. Since November 2, 2004, I’ve traipsed through denial (“I’m pinching myself, but nothing’s happening”), anger (“Jesus H. Christ, I’m off to Canada”), depression (“Huh? Wazzat? Just pour daddy another lil’ drinkie-poo, baby”), and bargaining (“Okay, I’ll give him privatization of Social Security if he’ll back off the fagbashing”), and finally sashayed toward grim acceptance.
Right now, I guess you could say I’m hopeful: hopeful that GW will avoid hurling us into another war we can ill-afford; hopeful that Condoleeza Rice can mend some bridges with our former allies in Europe and elsewhere; hopeful that Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld will be caught in flagrante by photographers from the London Times, the New York Times, the National Enquirer, and National Geographic. But then, maybe I’m being too optimistic.
Which is why I’m kicking off round two of Bush fils with a politely worded letter to the Big Cheese, letting him (or at least the lackey who reads his email) know that, well…I’ve got my eye on him. Not that I expect the Big Brother technique to work terribly well on a man who helped engineer the Patriot Act, but it’s worth a shot. Why not give it a try yourself?
No, what you see above is not a vidcap from Chubs, Cubs, and Bodyrubs (Brawny Media, $24.95 plus shipping), nor is it a hidden-camera snapshot of Rotary Club initiation hijinks. No, ladies and gentlemen, the image above is just one of 22 photos documenting Iraqi prison abuses by British soldiers.
How nice to see that the international game of one-upsmanship is on again. It’s been far too long since the heady, fiercely competitive days of NSYNC vs. Take That.
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