My First Music Video

To my delight and detriment of my Sunday morning workout, I discovered that my Toshiba laptop, powered by Microsoft Vista, has Windows Movie Maker. Woo hoo! Here's my first ever music video with shots and footage from some of the trips I've been on with James and our families.

Dictators and U.S. Policy

I've been wanting to write about the slew of celebrities who have paid visits to Venezuelan dictator Hugo Chavez, but I was worried that my rants against Kevin Spacey, Naomi Campbell and Sean Penn would make me sound shrill and right wing.

Don't get me wrong. I see these folks as conspirators in crimes against democracy and humanity. I think it's beyond despicable for these millionaires to entertain the notion of violent Communism that is meted out by Chavez and his cohorts.

But just as alarming, and not as publicized by Ruppert Murdoch's minions, is our country's selective distaste for dictators. The Red Scare made us turn a blind eye to the horrors perpetrated by Augusto Pinochet in Chile during the 70s, the Somozas in Nicaragua and Saddam Hussein in um, um...

And while I understand that we have to protect governments that are friendly to our policies and more importantly, to our bottom line, it doesn't put the U.S. above reproach on the world scene when we turn our backs on our former allies and hang them when they get out of line and jack up the price of oil.

So should we go all soft and proletariat-lke? No. I like my American way of life and my salary and my capitalist New York existence. But we have to realize that just as we're entitled to our money grubbing ways and to our wanton alliance-building with shady characters, so too are other countries. Even oil-producing countries.

And that means more axes of evil are on the horizon. Which begs the question: How many more wars can this country afford to start?

Paris is Burning. Pass the Turkey, Please.

A few days ago I went with James and another friend to the Scion Route 07 Film Series screening of "Paris is Burning," a documentary about gay life in Harlem during the 80s.

If you know "Vogue" by Madonna then it's worth watching this film, which explores the birth of a pop phenomenon from the city's most disenfranchised and unwanted citizens. And isn't that always the way with great art? Suffering breeds genius, no?

But I have to say, the preamble to the film, and some parts of the film itself, were too much for the little homophobic queer inside of me. A few people featured in the film survived the AIDS crisis of the 80s and were on hand for a Q&A at the Scion screening. On the one hand, it was great to see these guys, on the other, the swishing and the "girrrrrl" shout-outs and the rampant silliness of these men, all well into middle age and beyond, was just annoying.

The film follows poor gay men of color as they dress up as women, doctors, executives (a term that got me to thinking that the "executive" is dead seeing as no one says "I'm an executive" anymore. Unless they're a sniveling PR underling, but I digress) to vogue, pose, read and shade at "Balls," lavish affairs where prizes are awarded for the best representation of any category -- best butch/femme queen, best white woman, best executive.

No best PR underling?

So I'm watching the film, the spectacle of it all, and I'm saying "didn't these guys ever think to finish high school, get an education and make something of themselves? Didn't they see the silliness was going to kill them? Which is when the other pro-everything angel popped up on my shoulder and asked "Did anyone warn the Dada-ists that their silliness was going to kill them?" "Did anyone tell the Andy Warhol and the folks at the Factory to cool their jets and be more civilized?"

And I went back to rooting for the guys, the girls, whatever, and lamenting the fact that most of them would never get to see the impact their silliness had on our world.

Which means I should come clean about why I cringed during the screening. The film chronicles a New York I forgot I knew -- one with gang violence, balmy summer nights with no A/C, neighborhood blackouts, a whore-house called Times Square -- it chronicles the minority experience in this country that teaches people of color "if you ain't white you ain't right."

Check out this clip from the film, it captures the feelings I had growing up when I'd look at the TV and say, "um, these people don't look like me and they certainly don't live like me....what's wrong with me?"



Fast forward some twenty-odd years into the future and I'm in the suburbs celebrating Thanksgiving with my (white)boyfriend of three years and our families, and the talk is pleasant, if not a little boring, and the hood I grew up in is now referred to as an up-and-comer on the real estate scene.

Talk about lucky breaks and privilege -- I've had more than my share of both. And love and support as well. That's something that a lot of these guys in the film didn't have - a childhood, parents, safety - and you wonder how they made it as far as they did in the first place. I mean, before Pageant Place there were more than three queens living in less-than-opulent circumstances trying to find their way in the worldd.

So, on the close of this Thanksgiving Weekend I'm thankful for the lucky breaks and opportunities that came my way, and of course, for the family I came from and the one I have with James. And now, I must WORK...

An N Word By Another Name Would Be More Sweet

Image: Queerty


There's a saying in Spanish that describes the moment when two no-good people get together to plot and cause mayhem: se juntaron el hambre y la gana de comer. Literally, hunger and the desire to eat have gotten together.

That's the perfect description for the union between NFL-player-turned-hate-monger Ken Hutcherson and the KKK. Hutcherson, who has called for a boycott of Microsoft products because of the company's pro-gay HR policies, will break bread with anyone who wants to break some gay skulls. Hence the photo above.

And Hutcherson's efforts to link up with another hate group/Evangelical Church in Latvia.

And the threats by Hutcherson to Microsoft: "I told them that you need to work with me or we will put a firestorm on you like you have never seen in you life because I am your worst nightmare. I am a black man with a righteous cause with a whole host of powerful white people behind me."

Which made understanding this incomprehensible level of hate quite easy. Ken Hutch doesn't just hate gays, he hates black people too. And that just speaks to his hatred of perceived weakness altogether, which is merely the result of years of steroid-use racking his nervous system.

But that "powerful white people" comment stands out to me because in my limited experiences with black churches I've been struck by the parallels drawn by pastors to white places of worship. Last year I was at an AME (African Methodist Episcopal) service where the pastor gave a shout out to his friend's son who became a member of Marble Collegiate Church, a predominantly white church here in the city, saying it was "one of the most prestigious churches in the country."

And here's a clip from TBN (Trinity Broadcasting Network), where gospel singer Yolanda Adams is honored for being the Barbra Streisand of the gospel community (scroll to 1:46 for that choice quote). And for singing for George Bush. And for being the Jackie Onassis of gospel, too (scroll to 3:01 for said comparison).

Whatever.



The disservice of black churches to their own worshippers, as seen in the clip above and in the example of Ken Hutch, is the propagation of a slave mentality that deepens the coffers of some and impoverishes, dehumanizes and enslaves others. Why the comparison to white people? Why can't coming together in the love of Christ be enough? When did Jesus swap the white robe for a white hood? How does the African American community advance by shaking hands with the people who hung them by nooses -- you know, that hot button word everyone has been in a nit over for the past few weeks?

Ah the unifying, race-blurring power of homophobia. And the wonder that is the industry of blacks telling encouraging other blacks to hate themselves and aspire to whiteness.

I wonder if Michelle Malkin, another self-hating person of color, is as worried by the threat posed by Ken Hutcherson -- who has said that us fags will accept Christ the nice way or the hard way -- as she is by the threats of an "intifada" by illegal immigrants as supposedly stated in the Miami Herald.

But I'm sure Ann Coulter, a run of the mill white bigot, is all for the violent re-education of queers -- it's a mission the National Guard can take on once they've killed or deported all the illegal immigrants in this country. (Per her post on Nov 14)

Looks like I might just have to get all pro-NRA. At the rate this world is going I'm liable to get killed by a gay Pentecostal Puerto Rican....

Speedo Sundays Mean Happy Mondays

It's finally cute-outfit-cold in the city. And dark. Which means that after a busy week at work and an anniversary shindig for my parents, we're all entitled to some fun. So instead of yakking about politics and religion, I thought I'd blow your Monday up and direct you to pix from my new fav blog, Made in Brazil, which I found at another of my new fav entertainment blogs, Four Four.

Pour yourself a caiprinha (or a laxative if you're a Botero painting waiting to happen like me) and enjoy.



For more Brazilian hotness, check The Boy at Terra Brazil. Or watch The Simpsons, in Portuguese:

Sunday Reflections

There are times when I want to smash my cable box to bits. I scroll past 1,000 channels every night and feel punished because I don't like the Andy Griffith Show or because I don't want to watch college football or some bisexual Vietnamese tranny's search for love.

But today I felt blessed, I hit the History Channel and was delighted by the line up: a look at cults through history, a special on Pablo Esobar, a docudrama on the Jonestown massacre capped off with a report on blood diamonds. Finally, my DVR would exercise itself beyond taping The Golden Girls and The Simpsons.

I went about my day and when I came home I thought to treat myself to Jonestown: Paradise Lost. I should have stuck with the Vietnamese tranny.

The documentary delves into the last days of the cult's members who had left the U.S. to settle in the Guyanese jungle. What started as a peace movement in San Francisco eneded with the murder of a U.S. Congressman, Leo Ryan, an NBC crew, and of course, 914 church members. Though the term "mass suicide" has been used to describe the mayhem of Jonestown, it turns out many of the church's members were killed by their fellow worshippers.

And I got to thinking, as I often do, about how any wacko can brandish a "God Stamp" and get people to renounce their humanity in the name of "faith."
















One man who escaped Jonestown and survived the ambush that killed the Congressman left his four-year-old son behind, still thinking that he would be in better hands with the People's Temple. The Advocate ran an interview with him in 2003 in which we learn that the Jones cult was the only church that marry him, a white closeted man, and his African-American girlfriend. I found myself hating him for being so stupid, but then again, that's what cults are supposed to do, make you stupid.

It was, understandably, hard for me to pick up and make our planned salmon dinner, so James and I had to talk about the film just so I won't have nightmares about it tonight. This turned into me standing up for the Jehovah's Witnesses who are, unfairly, labeled a cult. And I don't know why the converation went there, but having just seen what cults really do, and knowing that sometimes the JW's get a bad rap, I just felt like saying that my time with them was very positive and even the coming out process was full of love and understanding (and yes, offers to pray for my gay to go away). I spent a lot of time trying to teach people about God, Jesus, hope -- but it was always upbeat, it was never "the man is out to get us, drink up and die now." So I had to put that out there because I'm still a man of faith and it scares me when faith can get twisted around to spawn evil.

Anyway, purge yourselves of the images of Jonestown and look at the other face of faith. You can even pray for celebrities -- which is more in line with the Bible than killing people.

To All the Girls I've Loved Before

I know I want to write about women tonight, but I'm not sure what, exactly, I want to say. And why am I thinking about women anyway? Maybe the Slut-o-ween festivities have gotten the best of me or I'm intrigued by Cristina Kirchner, President-elect of Argentina. But I've been doing a lot of thinking since Friday about the special relationship between gay men and women.

I'm not into vajayjay, but I go through three, four, twenty female crushes a week. Last Friday I was at a housewarming party and couldn't stop talking to James after we left about one guest whose stilettos, smart cocktail dress, intoxicating perfume (Eau des Merveilles; I had to ax)and equally captivating conversation had me swooning. I'm also three years into what I think is a relationship most similar to that of my parents with a coworker-cum-best-friend who abuses me, chides my wardrobe choices and torments my dreams whenever our personalities get to be too much and we stop talking. And just recently, a gay friend and I came to the conclusion that supermodel vajayjay is not the same as real vajayjay which means that enough Dom P and the right Fischerspooner remix could make a slip permissable and forgivable.

Somehow I don't see GCL slippin'.

Well, maybe for Gisele.




Anyway, women.

I did a Google search for gay + vagina and I got a whole lot of Tranny Talk.

Political Commentary: I love all people but I often wonder how T for Tranny found it's way into my queer alphabet soup. I quote Creative Loafing: "What [do] I as a gay man have in common with a man who wants to cut off his penis, surgically construct a vagina, and become a woman. I'm not passing judgment, I respect transgendered people and sympathize with their cause, but I simply don't get how I am just as closely related to a transsexual (who is often not gay) as I am to a lesbian (who is). Is it wrong for me to simply ask why?"

And it's a serious question now that several gay groups are not supporting a workplace protection act for gays and lesbians on the basis that it excludes protection for the transgendered community.

Eek. That's rough. A few years ago people didn't think I deserved any rights, so if I'm two steps ahead of the game now, maybe I should help those left behind catch up?

To my chagrin, my ribald Google search didn't yield anything on vagina dentata either. VD (hee hee), or fear of the toothed vajayjay, is not, as I suspected, keeping gay men from sticking their penaynays(?)where "God wanted them to for reproduction."

My search did lead me to the article I just cited above from the Southern Voice about a group of protestors who descend on the campuses of Georgia State University, Georgia Institute of Technology and Kennesaw State University to blast Gays, Lesbians, Muslims, Hindus, Jews and masturbation (in that order). And what I loved about the article is this quote from one protestor: We’re out here for the liars, the thieves, the adulterers too. We’re out here for everybody.

Um, you know who he's quoting, right? Yeah, the Apostle John, but it's really MA-friggin-DONNA. Her reading of the book of Revelation at the opening of the Reinvention Tour is on my Stairmaster playlist and that part of about thieves (thump) adulterers (thump) and (thump) all (thump) liars (thump, thump, thump) gets me to the 300+ calories burned mark.



So that's my spiel on gay men, women and the space between the two.

Political Commentary: Just because I'm going soft (hee hee) for the fairer sex doesn't mean I'm becoming a PHG.

General Commentary:

Where the Hood At?

Gayborhoods are going the way of Ashanti's career (yes, music AND acting), and the New York Times is leading the funeral dirge with an article that is, as of 10:55pm, the most e-mailed piece of the day.

Citing the cancellation of the Halloween parade in San Francisco's Castro district as another nail in the coffin of gay enclaves (aka the first sign of the Apocalypse: sodomites will no longer don costumes for the entertainment of straight people), the Times also points to the rise of gay communities in less urban areas, like Fort Worth and Louisville as the evolution of the gay real estate pioneer.

So is the gay enclave dead? Did Starbucks and Pottery Barn deal the final blow to West Hollywood, the Castro and Chelsea? Or did the gays decide for themselves that it's time to leave the block and get all Green Acres on America?

Whatever the case may be, I still mourn the loss of The Big Cup here in Chelsea. Think Central Perk with long picnic tables and plush (though gross) sofas pressed up against a window looking out on the Champs de Slee-Zay (Eighth Avenue). I think it's the first gay boite I ever went to (with my mom, no less). But now it's a flower shop. Next to a hat store. Next to a T-shirt store. Next to a Pinkberry. Next to another T-shirt store. Next to Starbucks. Across the street from a condo development where studios start at $2 million. And my view of the Empire State Building is now gone.

For me, though, the gayborhood is still alive. I see it at 6:30am when I think I'm the only guy walking to the gym, and then I see five gorgeous men jogging to their AM workouts. I see it when I hop a cab down from my office in Times Square and wind up at Barracuda, where no one cares what my name is but the drinks are good and the boys are packed wall-to-wall. I know Chelsea, the Chelsea I first encountered as a teen in the late 90s, is still here because James and I (picture above, to the left, to the left, walking down Ninth Avenue) can hold hands while shopping for lattes, towel racks and t-shirts up and down Eighth Avenue.

Except when there are hot joggers passing through.

I'm Never Going to Jamaica...Here's Why

I want to be like Anne Frank and be all "yeah, there's good in everyone," but when it comes to Jamaica, I want to indulge my cynical, entitled New Yorker and say that every time I hear about that island I am convinced that they are a backward, evil little nation.

And that's saying something in a world where Iraq, Iran, China and Sudan exist.

But I'm singling Jamaica out because they wouldn't matter in the world if it weren't for their obstinate view on homosexuality. They could coast along on the world scene as a sunny beach destination; instead, their popular culture, even their politicians, promote an almost comedic homophobic stance that unnecessarily hinders the country's tourism industry.

That an all-but-starving country focuses so much of its collective energy on hating a fragment of their population would be laughable were it not for the fact that many, many gay and lesbian Jamaicans have been attacked and killed by angry mobs.

In thinking about islands I've been to: Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic, I see that Jamaica has a lot of work to do. Naturally, I think public relations is the answer to world's problems, but even here, the Jamaican government keeps putting its best foot in its mouth instead of forward.

Check out this opinion piece that ran in the Jamaica Observer in June of this year in response to an organization that pulled its annual convention from Jamaica because of the country's poor human rights record:

What with an overworked police force, a clogged up judicial system, a cloak of corruption and crime and cronyism, some slick-talking criminal lawyers and a tacit "hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil" code of conduct, there's hardly any law that is actively enforced in Jamaica. In addition to which we tend to drag things out for a very long time in the court system.

In short, Jamaica is dangerous for everyone and the wanton violence on the island isn't gay-specific, it's just a way of life.

Phew!

To sweeten the pot, Out Traveler featured the following comments from the Jamaica Tourism Board's publicist in response to the country's homophobic reputation: "individual vacationers of all stripes are welcome to the English-speaking isle, but they "are encouraged to respect Jamaican laws and community standards and take common sense measures to enhance their travel experience."

That's double-speak for "GCL, leave your Gucci bag and fab physique home."

For these reasons, and for the fact that there are more Caribbean islands than I can count (though non counts more than Puerto Rico), Jamaica can stay ignorant and deprived of the pink dollar. Hmph.

People Who Belong Behind Bars

The lady on the left is Virginia Vallejo, Colombian TV host and Pablo Escobar's former lover.

Vallejo has a book about her affair with the drug lord called "Amando a Pablo, Odiando a Escobar" (Loving Pablo, Hating Escobar). How deep, how ironic -- wait a minute, if she was in his pants at a time when he was bombing airliners, killing police officers, civilians and presidential candidates, doesn't that make her an accomplice to Escobar's crimes?

Well, no. She's a refugee. A refugee-cum-author-and-political-pundit to be precise. Vallejo is telling anyone who will listen -- and given the abysmal state of Spanish TV in the States that's a lot of people -- that Colombia's president is complicit in the country's drug trade.

Though the link above is to an article in Spanish, the choice quote from the piece is from Vallejo herself, who "is disgusted with her country because it forgives anyone except those who tell the truth."

I couldn't agree more. See, when Colombia set out to purge itself of the cartels (and hand the drug trade over to Leftist insurgents) it failed to prosecute the peripheral characters in Escobar's coterie. And that includes people like Vallejo.

Which means she's free to reminisce on her romance with a monster who killed thousands of people -- if this isn't pissing you off yet just ask yourself how the world would react if Eva Braun were alive today and penned a memoir called "Loving Adolf, Hating Hitler."

Sadly, I find myself Hating the Author, Wanting to Read the Book.

Take Your Award and Shut Up

I just hope Al Gore doesn't flip out with his Nobel Prize and start spewing this kind of nonsense:

Nobel laureate Doris Lessing said the Sept. 11 attacks in the United States were "not that terrible" when compared to attacks by the IRA in Britain.

"September 11 was terrible, but if one goes back over the history of the IRA, what happened to the Americans wasn't that terrible," the Nobel Literature Prize winner told the leading Spanish daily El Pais.

"Some Americans will think I'm crazy. Many people died, two prominent buildings fell, but it was neither as terrible nor as extraordinary as they think. They're a very naive people, or they pretend to be," she said in an interview published Sunday.

GCL says:

You know what, bitch? It's like, you're on your deathbed and life threw you a bone. Suck it and shut up. No one cares about your thoughts on the IRA, 9-11 or pubic hair.

Would love to hear what Doris has to say about the slave trade versus the holocaust, or the Khmer Rouge versus the current situation in Myanmar. Are the Turks guilty of genocide or not?

This is why you can't be nice to old people.

Gays Who Read "The Advocate" and Support Hillary Like Abusive Relationships

The Advocate has sunk to a new sycophantic low with its October story on Hillary Clinton. According to writer Sean Kennedy, it's OK that Hil is a megalomaniac who speaks out of both sides of her mouth. All's good because homegirl has an amazing wardrobe: "Indeed, mere moments before, she was wowing the crowd at the Logo–Human Rights Campaign Democratic presidential forum on LGBT issues in Los Angeles, in spite of her evasions on same-sex marriage. Maybe it was the way she looked, resplendent in a coral jacket and chic black pants."

Yes, Sean, gays, like Karen Walker once said, will buy anything so long as it's shiny. And that includes a warmongering candidate who can't fully commit to the issues that impact a huge segment of her voter block.

But Sean's stupid article got me to thinking about the kinds of gays who support Hillary. My conclusion on the matter is that PHG's (Pro-Hillary-Gays) are a bunch of whiney leftist idiots who drunk dial/text their ex-boyfriends while surfing Manhunt, Gay.com and Craig's List. They love abuse -- in the form of overpriced drinks at "it" gay boites, sky-high-priced denim and knock-off Kelly bags (which are a steal at $250, I guess, but still, it's a knock-off), and a candidate who will do nothing for them when she gets into power.

But journalism is still alive and well and relevant. The same week I got The Advocate in the mail I also got New York magazine and was treated to an insightful article on the making of today's Hillanator. Funny, with facts and no mention of Hillary's fashion choices I came away understanding, and (gasp) liking her a little more. John Heilemann explores Hillary and Barack's law school days, at Yale and Harvard respectively, and paints a portrait of an unstoppable, ambitious and already over-accomplished Hillary. It was in law school where Hillary learned to make choices, and sacrifices, for her notion of the greater good. Get the power any way you can, then effect change. So goes Hillary's mantra, rational if not noble.

And that, Sean Kennedy, is how you write a story about a presidential candidate. If your readers can capture their essence in one sentence then you've done your job of humanizing these characters. Surrounding them in fluff prose makes us hate them, and unnecessarily, you.

Damn Those Gay Nazis

In case you were wondering, the Nazis were the original Village People. Before Stonewall, before Will & Grace, before Jay Manuel, the Nazis were sprinkling fairy genocide dust all over Europe. Because that's what the gay mind does, it kills people.

So says one Scott Lively, Christian-demagogue-extraordinaire, in his book The Pink Swastika

Need I remind you what happens when the ramblings of a madman find their way into the hands of other madmen?

Having found American bigots to be a bunch of sissies, Lively has mobilized an Eastern-European cluster of Pentecostal churches in the Sacramento area to form "The Watchmen on the Wall." The Watchmen, made up of Russian, Latvian and Ukranian immimgrants, are a hate group. And they also blatanly infringe on trademarks seeing as the official web site for The Watchmen belongs to some peace-loving pro-Israel Christian group.

The real issue with the trademark-infringing version of The Watchmen, however, is that they're turning violent: in August of this year members of the group beat a gay man in his 20s to death.


Of course, Lively hasn't stepped out to condemn the attack.

That didn't piss me off. This did: Lively is the former head of the California Chapter of the American Family Association, a right wing group who was praised by President Bush for its fight against abortion rights. God bless a bunch of clinic-bombing homophobes, indeed.

And there you have it. The axis of hate isn't this abstract concept and hodgepodge of crackpots from across the U.S., it's a very well-funded entity that counts on the support of our current administration.

(I hope) You've heard that speech about speaking out against injustice because at some point you're gonna need someone to speak out for you.

It should scare everyone that the former Red Menace is now some weirdly-gay-obsessed hate group that has the ear of the White House. It's not the Nazis, gay or straight, that we should be worried about. It's these pseudo-Christians, their deep pockets, and the bigots they've brought to power.

If Only It Were About Movies

Not even sure why I'm writing about this, after all, the Iraq war -- Operation Iraqi Freedom to those wearing flag pins while minding Fox News -- has played out in the mainstream press like a tiptoe through the tulips. But the fact of the matter is that the death count in Iraq is soaring and some of our troops have done some very un-American things. Hey, war can make you do some crazy things.

And that's the premise behind director Brian De Palma's film, Redacted, which explores the cover up of the rape and murder of an Iraqi teen and her family at the hands of American troops.

From Reuters:

Director Brian De Palma is fighting battles on two fronts for his gritty Iraq war movie "Redacted," blasting the film's distributor and taking incoming fire from right-wing pundits.

He told a New York Film Festival audience late Wednesday that Magnolia Pictures forced him to black out the faces in a montage of real photos that runs at the end of the film.

"The irony of all this is that even though everyone (in Iraq) has a digital camera and access to the Internet, somehow we don't see any of these images," De Palma said. "Why are things being redacted? My own film was redacted."

My two cents: This war isn't going to end anytime soon. And that means that more rapes, more killing of civilians at the hands of overpaid security contractors and more Abu Ghraibs are on the horizon. We can also expect for this administration to continue to try to silence any effort to expose the horrors of this war.

Spent the weekend in Miami so it's only fitting that I write a 305-centric post.

Today marks the 40th anniversary of the assassination of Che Guevara. He whose image is the stencil for prepubescent rebellion, he who spearheaded Fidel Castro's coup d'etat in the 1950s to throw Cuba into a communist dictatorship, is being honored by leftist governments in Latin America -- more so, I suspect, for his standing up against the U.S. than for his communist ideals.

Interestingly enough, I heard nothing of the anniversary of Che's death down here. A local TV show dedicated to the ex-pat Cuban community instead featured a discussion on the life and times of Pedro Luis Boitel, a Cuban dissident who died during a hunger strike against Castro in the early 70s. This was followed by a trip to Versailles, the epicenter of the anti-Castro community here in Miami, where a plaque was recently unveiled in honor of the restaurant's status as an institution in the fight against Castro's regime.

It's funny how the story of the Cuban revolution has been hijacked by two figures, one of whom is dead, the other on his deathbed. Behind these two men are thousands of individuals who have fought, and continue to fight, for freedoms their country hasn't seen for the better part of a century.

China Ain't at the End of the Rainbow

I'm a big fan of Thomas Friedman, the op-ed columnist at the New York Times. And I really like his piece in today's paper about redefining the impact of 9/11 on our society. I'll spare you the summary, read it here, it's well worth it.

But in describing an America that I very much want to see, one that focuses on possibility and openness, Friedman draws a parallel between our current state of affairs (yes, it sucks to live in the Bush 2 era) and China's. In short, in spite of its government's shortcomings, China's mobile phone infrastructure is a marvel we should aspire to.

And that's when he lost me.

Communism doesn't work. Which isn't to say that torture does either, so I agree with Friedman that Gitmo has got to go. But turning it into a hospital for poor Cubans? (I will not vote for any candidate who is not committed to dismantling Guantánamo Bay and replacing it with a free field hospital for poor Cubans.) I thought everyone got primo healthcare in Cuba. That's what Michael Moore said.

I don't think China or Cuba represent anything we as a society should aspire to. The New York Times is vying for another Pullitzer with their gay-porn titled series "Choking on Growth" which chronicles China's abysmal environmental practices. We all know that both China and Cuba have sent scores of political dissidents to prison and that both countries have poor track records when dealing with public health issues.


The fact of the matter is that Red doesn't work. Whether it's communism or republicanism, both ideologies are entrenched in a myopic, inhumane view of the world.

GCL Is Human, Too

He ages like everyone else. See for yourself.

The Concession Stand

In case my opinion on politicians' flip-flopping ways isn't enough, check out today's Daily News and Washingon Post.

Both articles highlight the obvious: we're in the final stretch of the party nomination race. That means the candidates are doing everything and anything to make a mark. Mama Rose said it best: you gotta get a gimmick.

But this race is going to come down to two things: the war and family values. We saw this in 1980 when Reagan came to power and ushered in TWELVE years of Republican rule. Americans want a leader who can bomb a village and make it home in time for dinner and Sunday service with the wife and kids. An armed-to-the-teeth Ward Cleaver if you will.

And neither Hillary nor Rudy, the front runners in this race, fit that model. That's why they're at the concession stand, making excuses for their personal beliefs just to stay in the running. I fear that someone a little more straight forward and under the radar can steal this race from both of these guys. That's not a morning I would want to wake up to.

Old-school joint of the day:

Folsom Street: Last Supper Indeed

From my girls at Jezebel: The gays have pissed off well-intentioned war-mongering Christians yet again with an ad for the Folsom Street Fair.

To promote the yearly leather fest, Leonardo DaVinci's The Last Supper was recreated to depict a bunch of gays before a table of sex toys. Dangerous sex toys if I might add.

The hardcore Christians are saying that if you can't mock Mohammed you can't mock Jesus.

Fair enough, I guess.

But here's the thing. Ask any Gucci-bag-toting, career-minded, skinny-jeans-wearing, self-and-cardio-obsessed queen in his 20s here in New York about the Folsom Street Fair and you're going to get a look of shock, awe and disbelief.

Kudos to Susan Jones at Cybercast News Service for her to-the-point headline about the controversial ad: "Homosexuals Mock 'Last Supper' With Sex-Toys Twist." But guess what, Suz, this homosexual aint never been to Folsom Street and he certainly has better things to do than mock the Last Supper.

Either I've gone soft or I'm just too busy with my life to care either way about EGS (Extreme Gay Sex), but in short, I think the Folsom Street Fair is the last thing the Christian Right needs to worry about. Instead of worrying about the mocking of a painting why don't they worry about that "thou shalt not kill" commandment they keep on breaking when they support the war in Iraq?

At the same time, I do see a lot of anger at Christianity in this ad. There isn't a need to promote S&M by mocking what many, including myself, believe to be the expiatory sacrifice of Jesus Christ. It's a repetitive cycle of hate and recrimination...

Me, I'm Christian and I'm gay. My only plea to my fellow gays is to leave Jesus alone. Go and hate the Pope and anybody else you think has wronged you, but Jesus is love and it's unnecessary to bring him into the same conversation as this that and the other.


One choice that does come easy for me, though, is the choice between normal sex and dangerous sex. I mean, take a good look at the ad for the fair -- they've got rubber fists and all sorts of painful-looking stuff that can wreak major havoc on delicate male orificies. Is that my cup of tea? No. And it doesn't float the boat of the gays I hang with either.


To purge my head of all this useless garbage I'm listening to and watching this:

Something You Can Play With

I thought I was on team Barack, but the results of an online quiz at WQUAD.com place me on team Kucinich. Huh?

Who's your dream candidate?