Today: I Hope Somebody Is Pickpocketing Those Tourists

A disclaimer: I was having a very nice dream about myself and a handsome flight attendant flirting over duty free on a UTA flight from Milwaukee to New York, when I was woken up to watch this. Needless to say, Matt Lauer & Co. cannot compare to the charms of a bespectacled 33 year old frenchman with a buzzcut and 45" chest bursting out of his uniform.

Although I have watched it for as long as I can remember, The Today Show has worked my nerves ever since they got that cockamamie idea of having a crowd right outside the studio. I don't get the appeal whatsoever. If someone showed up on the streets of Rockefeller Center with a sign saying "Hello Hikaru," then I would kindly inform them that if they feel the need to say "hi" publicly, they should call me on a speakerphone.

Anyway, Today, rightly or wrongly is considered the gold standard of morning television. I can see how, it combines the celebrity factor of GMA with the probing of The Early Show, and--as Tom Cruise and Anne Coulter can attest to--Matt Lauer is not afraid to go there. However, they still have that daft crowd lingering in the background.

Much has been said in recent days about the new set of Today--the one that they were working on all summer. Well, it looks like any cut-and-dry snooty lounge (think Therapy, but all in orange and blue) I've been to. All that is missing is a DJ looking hipper-than-thou in the background and servers trying desperately to not to drop drinks on the pretentious clientele.

The other new addition to Today, of course, is Meredith Vieira. She is not Katie Couric. That is not a slight, nor is it effusive praise. I'm just saying that she is not Katie Couric. She is, however, very genial and far from wanting to steamroll her personality onto the audience. She's also very aware of the fact that the show is now all in HD (because believe you me, Rob Morrison has forgotten that WNBC is now all doing all their news in HD as well).

Now that I've just praised Today, I now come to dump on it. For starters, Natalie Morales. What is her purpose on days when Ann Curry is there? She just sort of sits there and smiles, waiting for someone to switch her off. Then there's Al Roker, who really should learn that all we need to know is the weather and not try to build his own cult of personality. (Although, I will say that only Al Roker could interview Star Jones and nonverbally communicate to the audience at home that nobody was buying what she was selling.)

Then there's the cutesy aspect of the show. This isn't so much something that the anchors say, but rather what the director chooses to show. There will always be certain shots you can count on seeing during any episode of Today: at some point, some child will be hoisted into the air by their parents--clearly oblivious to the fact that the child does not want to be front and centre; Matt Lauer & Meredith Vieira will try to do a promo for a very serious story while Pat & Harvey from Boise go "I'm on tv! I'm in New York City!" in the background; and they will cut to Al Roker too early surprising him.

Unfortunately, Today is in one of their "Let's Throw A Heterosexuals-Only Wedding" multiweek parties. On the plus side, Meredith doesn't slop sugar as much as Katie Couric did, but god almighty, I do hate these segments. Homophobic exclusion aside, I can't stand these. It's 8:20 in the morning and the last thing I want to see is people grinning from ear to ear and shitting sunshine, to be blunt. Luckily, the WNBC news break comes just in time to rescue me.

Today during it's 3 hour run goes through peaks and valleys. The first half hour starts strong, then it gets into a minor valley in the second, the third half-hour goes down somewhat, then it hits close to rock bottom in the fourth half-hour, it redeems itself somewhat in the fifth, and then just comes crashing to the ground at the end. Understandably, this means that I am not looking forward to the 8:30-9 half-hour. Today's one is a classic: cooking meals you will never eat as well as warnings that women are wasting their money...and no one gets the irony.

I have never understood why they have cooking segments on television. Not once have I ever been inspired to cook a recipe seen on television, nor have I eaten something that someone prepared after seeing it on television. Maybe some people do, but I have never come across them. Today, Matt Lauer is aiding/leering at Nigella Lawson, a woman whose breasts threaten to become part of the recipe itself. They are ostensibly making spaghetti and other "comfort foods," but all they are really doing is making me nauseous. Once upon a time, I was able to eat breakfast, but then I started watching Today, and my ability to have solid food in the morning disappeared.

Then it's Jean Chatzky's segment. She seems to be on this show every single day, and somehow manages to write a book. Every single time she is on this show, she has one message: "Ladies, you're spending too much!" Why are women singled out, Jean? And, um, if you're telling us that we're spending too much, then why do we have to buy your book to learn how to be frugal? Just put it up on a free website. Somehow, I suspect that Jean herself is deep in credit card debt and is trying to climb out of it by telling people that they're spending too much. It screams pyramid scheme to me. I don't buy into her argument that women need more money than men because they live longer. I can't wrap my head around the fact that since I'll live a statistically shorter life than my female cousin, I can go and spend money like there is no tomorrow. Not buying it--in both senses of the phrase.

Gene Shallit closes out the half-hour with his review of Everyone's Hero. The only interesting thing about Gene's reviews is that you can wonder why that man decides to show himself in public looking like he spent his life sticking his fingers into electric sockets. Otherwise, it's rave, rave, rave unless it's Brokeback Mountain, or a film that might be perceived as just tiniest bit challenging.

(Joe Avellar for some reason is doing the local news break at 8:55. If someone would explain to me why I find him very sexy, despite the fact that he's extremely avuncular, I would appreciate it.)

The fifth half-hour opens with Matt & Al (Meredith can't appear in the third hour, due to her contract with Disney) discussing why Eighties fashion is returning. If that sounds like a recipe for uncomfortable television to you, then you'd be quite correct. Even though Natalie Morales--who is no Ann Curry (and that is a slam against Morales)-- gives a competent news digest, the show takes a nose dive into inanity by having Al Roker talking to the new Ivory Soap family. I don't care. I also don't care about Natalie Morales and some woman from eBay (!) trying to convince us of why overpriced Eighties knockoffs are chic. Third hour, I now dub thee "the hour of blatant shilling," because all I see here so far are people working for their kickbacks.

Al Roker then stumbles his way through a report about getting your vitamins from fruit. Some genius decides to play the NBC News Special Report music to open it, and gives me an unnecessary scare. There are few sounds that can shock to me to the core, a Special Report theme is one of them since you know it never is going to be good news. (The other one is the old Emergency Broadcasting System siren. Thank god, that has been replaced on most channels with something much more melodic.I always suspected that those things were causing heart attacks and epileptic fits.) Anyway, why is this a report? Do some people really not know that you get calcium from milk? And again, who told Al Roker that he should do more than just the weather? Not everyone who watches the third hour of Today is stupid.

Coming up on the final half-hour: Tony Bennett & Michael Buble'. The ad with Teri Hatcher swinging her hair about was more interesting than the prospect of hearing and seeing those two perform. I hate crooning, just so you know.

The final half-hour opens with this android they have been yammering about all morning long. I truly believe that these people are genuinely threatened by it, judging by the amount of nervous jokes they have been making about a relatively lifelike android. Then Al & Natalie--because Today is basically 12 Little Indians with anchors disappearing over its 3 hours--prattle on about nothing at all. Seriously, I was listening closely and I can't recall a single sodding thing that they said, and I have captioning on.

The android is apparently part of some invention shindig that GE is co-sponsoring. The show's resident technology guru (read: geek complete with glasses, but he wears jeans so he's "hip") goes through umpteen different inventions while Al Roker makes a fool out of himself. I feel like I'm watching a car crash.

Oh lord, it's "American Story" today, Today's mawkish attempt to replicate Charles Kuralt's folksy travelogues with Bob Dotson as Il Kuralt. Dotson is no Kuralt, no matter how hard he tries. Today, he's featuring a bunch of middle-aged (and that's being generous, because these men look geriatric zombies) men who have restarted their garage band. All I can say is that if I was related to them, I'd change my name and burn my family tree down.

Bennett & Buble' next, and I feel a bit puzzled by why Tony Bennett is on again less than week after appearing on Today to promote yet another duets album. Who's buying these albums, and can we possibly incapacitate them? It seems that every singer off the hit parade these days is doing a duet album, and the fact of the matter is that they all sound and look like desperate attempts to maintain some type of relevance.

Anyway, that's neither here nor there and the whole segment is blissfully free of any audience reaction shots, so I gather I should be grateful for little mercies.

Thus ends 3 hours of Today, still the best national show, but flawed as hell. I still hope that somebody is pickpocketing those tourists.

(Mysteriously, Rob Morrison returns to do the final local news break. What the devil is going on at Rockefeller Center?)

On deck: The CW11 Morning News or Hair! or "Probably The Most Mind-Numbing Two Hours in My Whole Life (and I've seen The Early Show)"

The Early Show: Who Are You (I Really Wanna Know)

For starters, I will admit that The Early Show is coming in with pretty much a serious bias against it, and it's no real fault of theirs. On Tuesdays, I tend to be pretty groggy first thing and it takes me awhile to get alert. So basically, I'm staring at the television thinking "who are you people and what are you talking about?" It also doesn't help that I don't have the time to sit through the full two hours this Tuesday.

Nonetheless, this show moves quickly, within the first 14 minutes, Harry Smith (who apart from Julie Chen and "weatherman" Dave Price is the only person on screen who I knew) covered about 3 stories with relative depth, joked around Dave Price, and then introduced a story about the New Orleans Saints returning to The Superdome. I haven't even had my morning cigarette yet.

The Early Show seems to have the same wagging-finger-"Back in my day, they didn't do that" tone that parts of Sunday Morning have. Appropriately, they give these stories to Harry Smith, who used to host that bastion of wagging-finger television: A&E's Biography. Meanwhile the female co-anchors: Julie Chen, Hannah Storm, and Rene Styler smile in the background, and Dave Price mugs like Al Roker.

I've always noticed that CBS News shows for some reason have this gauze fliter over them that makes everything look very...um...hazy. I don't know why CBS News does this, but I've noticed it on every single CBS News programme I've seen on several different stations. It's like looking at television from the womb. I guess wagging-finger television wants to make everything look as cozy as possible to its viewers.

What surprises me is that I remember when this show started they were trying to make CBS's morning show more appealing to a wider spectrum (that's why they hired Bryant Gumbel). Well, you can do as many tie-ins to CBS & CW programming and talk about current pop stars, but the show just seems so "blah" like Metamucil.

Interestingly, the format of The Early Show is rather freeform, there is no set time for a news digest--in fact, I don't think there is no real news digest on this show. Dave Price is thrown in randomly just to liven up the preceedings. If there is any pattern or format that emerges it's this: Harry Smith: Be Scared; Julie Chen: Celebrity talk; Hannah Storm: Sports or "isn't that cool?;" Rene Styler: Lifestyle segments. They may try to switch them all around on occasion, but even if Harry Smith is talking about a dog on surfboard, my gut reaction is telling me to be scared, and I could not possibly take Julie Chen talking about a nuclear arms proliferation with any degree of sincerity.

Next on the "let's scare you first thing in the morning" theme: A rash of armed robberies in LA restaurants. I haven't even had my protein shake yet and you're already trying to keep me from leaving home. This is followed by a story about doctors not telling patients all they need to about their prescriptions. Oh joy! I can't leave home and I can't trust my doctor to tell me the truth about the anti-anxiety medication I'd need in order to leave the home.

All of this wouldn't be a problem, if the show wasn't so damn sober. They may put a harmonica on the bumpers, and use a very light conversational voice in talking about subjects, but you just get the sense that they are dying to pull the rug out from under you. It's like "isn't Jessica Simpson crazy? Now, let's talking about impending world war." As baffling as Good Morning America was to me, at least they eased you into the downer subjects. Would Walter Kronkite approve?

And the big stories of the second hour? Dogs who swim and Dave Price's trip to Vancouver to hang/mug around backstage with John Mayer.

Come back Bryant, all is forgiven. This show needs someone with a caustic sense of humour.

On deck: Today or "3 Hours at The Rockefeller Center Bar, Lounge, and Tourist Office"

Good Morning America: What Have You Done To Deserve This?

Perhaps I really have been watching too much Good Day New York, because it makes total sense that all the on-camera people on Good Morning America are rather detached and not firing on a million cylinders. In fact, the only person I could describe as perky is Sam Champion--who really does belong there more than the evening local news. (Not because he's that great per se, it's more that he is really upbeat.)

Diane Sawyer is undeniably the ruler of this roost, and I always wonder if on some level she's thinking "What Have I Done To Deserve This?" She's very poised, clipped, and relatively serious--albeit without coming across as above it all. It's just that it strikes me as odd that someone who has done many high-profile, indepth interviews is giving her comments on surfers over the tune from Hawaii 5-0.

Then there's Robin Roberts, who today is in New Orleans to celebrate the return of the Saints. I'm a bit hesitant to judge her since she's outside of her normal position as co-anchor, but she just seems like a total non-entity. Apparently the fact that she's from the Gulf Coast is the only real remarkable aspect about her.

Taking, I guess, the "Ann Curry" role is Chris Cuomo, of that Cuomo political family which you are thinking about. Granted, he's very good-looking, but this man just looks like a deer caught in the headlights. I don't know if it's the fact that HD makes his blue eyes very blue, but I can't help but wonder if he's running around offcamera thinking "where's my copy? where's my copy?"

Finally there's Sam Champion. I don't know what to really make out of Sam Champion. I've always thought that he was a LA weatherman who took a wrong turn and wound up in New York. He's too waxed, buffed, sunshine for New York local television. (Or for CNN for that matter.) He is, however; perfect for morning television on a national level. He's like Al Roker without the excessive jollyness. You just get the impression that Sam is like "yeah, whatever, get me a soy burger" when the camera is off.

I grew up in a Today household, so the few times I watched Good Morning America were during the Charlie (now Charles) Gibson-Joan Lunden era. My impression of it at that time was that it was extremely saccharine and low on substance. Of course, since it was run by ABC Entertainment at the time, that sort of mood made sense. Well, it's undeniably run by ABC News now because it is serious, serious, serious. This is not a bad thing, as I said above. See, at 7 in the morning, I am not upbeat and I do not want people to force me to be upbeat. I just want information and that's just what they seem to do--at least during the first hour.

Come 8, Diane's pageant show background kicks in. She starts slopping the sugar left, right, and centre. It's kind of unsettling for me. Oddly enough, Chris Cuomo starts getting more serious (even Ann Curry starts giving the news in a more relaxed tone during the 2nd hour and she's got another hour after that). The man even delivers a story about a Target being held up--over an Elmo doll--with the gravitas normally applied for world summits. He still looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

If there is a segment that seemed to define the second hour of GMA, it would be the next segment where Diane interviewed Oprah Winfrey and her friend Gayle King. Major media figures talking to each other as if it's a coffee klatsch. I will cut them some minor slack since the second hour of any morning show is frothy, but this is just weird. Diane Sawyer is interviewing Oprah Winfrey and there are thousands of probing questions to be asked, but they aren't. Now, it's likely that Oprah wouldn't answer them, but again, just on a symbolic level: Diane Sawyer, Oprah Winfrey; this shouldn't be a disposable interview.

This is followed up by Robin Roberts interviewing The Edge & Billy Joe Armstrong about a charity in New Orleans that helps give musicians their lost instruments. Probing, this is not. Informative? Maybe. By the way, Robin Roberts is still a non-entity, strange since her background is in sports where personality is everything.

I'm starting to wonder why GMA is coming across as less grating than Today, and finally it dawned upon me, they aren't constantly cutting away to the tourist audience with thousands of daft signs for "Granma," nor are they omnipresent in every single segment as they are in Today. Thank god for that. Peculiarly, the show seems to run shorter than its NBC rival. The 8-8:25 segment consisted of a very quick news segment, Diane talks to Oprah & Gayle, and Robin's interview. Next thing I know, Lori Stokes is doing local news. (By the way, Lori Stokes should have Robin Roberts job.)

The last half-hour begins with another possible probing interview that will likely fall into the coffee foam: Marcia Cross. You know you want that question to be asked. I know I do, but if Oprah didn't get challenged, you know they won't play hardball with an ABC celebrity on a top-rated show. Interestingly after Chris Cuomo's stunned delivery of the news (news at 8:30? I like you people), they cut to Sam Champion talking about a blood drive, which he can't participate in. Nor can I, nor can most people that I know. This is an exaggeration, but I get the impression that this is like Larry Kramer talking to Anita Bryant about Florida orange juice.

So Diane talks to Marcia Cross and manages to play along without giving away the subtext of this interview, which is "let's not admit that we know a fair amount of closeting is going on." What they do talk about is the logistics of Cross's pregnancy and Desperate Housewives this season, and again, it's a coffee klatsch. It's rather funny for me to see all these bigger name celebrities getting these softball interviews by people who should know better (well, person who should know better, because I have not seen Robin Roberts at work before GMA).

Chris Cuomo is given a rather appropriate interview for someone of a prominent family: Bill Moyers's son talking about his drug addiction. Cuomo sounds engaged in the interview, but he looks like he's thinking "fluffy pink clouds, gum drops, Brooks Brothers suits." Depressingly, he's more probing than anything we've seen Diane do this morning, but I wonder if that has more to do with Diane being hamstrung by a dictum not to irritate the celebrities. I don't think the producers would give a toss if Bill Moyers's son was pissed off.

The feminist in me rather likes the dynamic of the show, where men are relegated to second string work while the women are given high-profile, albeit puffy pieces. (I was rather shocked that Diane let Bill O'Reilly off so easily during the first hour.)

What does GMA boil down to for me? Big names, little depth. On one hand, the show seems to be mercifully free of the asinine cooking and fashion segments which are the staple of Today and Good Day New York, but it also has so many opportunities to go in deeper with the subjects they interview and they drop the ball.

Memo to the producers: You can be vicious in the morning.

On deck: The Early Show, or "Who Are You People from Channel Z?"

CBS Sunday Morning: No, You Won't See Me On the Radio

For the next few days, I'm going to try to vary up my morning television habits by watching things that I don't normally watch.

However, you can't really do a comparison unless you also describe your normal habits, in my case that is CBS Sunday Morning, Good Day New York, and the last hour of Today.

Today, the fangs turn towards that venerable arts/news/whatever magazine Sunday Morning.

First, I just have to say that this show would be perfectly fine if they could just get rid of Charles Osgood. I barely remember Charles Kuralt, so it's not a case of Dennis Farina on Law & Order here. To be blunt, the man is horrible. He looks and sounds like a Southern school headmaster c. 1926 and these damn aphrorisms that he pulls out of nowhere work my nerves. (Somehow, I suspect that he is two seconds away from saying "colder than a witch's teat," and then there's his signoff: "I'll see you on the radio." What on God's Green Earth?)

I always wonder who the audience is for Sunday Morning. It seems like they are aiming for classical music lovers and PBS viewers, but the subject matter is more along the lines of hip middle aged art and music teachers. The top story this week is the cost of college. The tone of the piece was very much "I can't believe how much it costs, back in my day..." One interesting thing about Sunday Morning is that there is a certain tone and pitch to every reporter's voiceover. It's hard to describe, the closest I could call it would be "reserved and perky," like a church luncheon.

The weird thing about Sunday Morning is that it is mostly arts stories, but they are interspersed with news stories, such as today, where the college story is followed by a story about whether bin Laden is dead or not. Yet, even in the coverage of news stories such as the bin Laden mystery, the story is looked through a skewed lens, searching for the quirks. Robert Krulwich does this all the time on ABC, but this is Krulwich's style let loose on an entire programme. Hell, even Bill Geist sounds like Krulwich.

To it's credit, Sunday Morning could easily fall into intellectual snobbery, but doesn't. It's hard to be perceived as an elitist show when you have a segment that deals with a cowpie tossing contest, albeit with no seriousness attached to it whatsoever. Much of the criticism of the new Sunday Morning is that it is nothing without Kuralt's travelogues. What is forgotten is that Sunday Morning is basically the television equivalent of USA Today's "States" blurbs mixed in with profiles by correspondents, the latter which have leapt into prominence these days, since I don't think Osgood wants to go anywhere outside of the Mid-Atlantic.

This show is a strange creature: does it want to be an arts magazine? A news show? A commentary show? The whole show morphs into several skins throughout 90 minutes (60 this week, since the last half-hour was pre-empted on WCBS by marathon coverage), and never quite stays in one skin too long.

You could compare it to this week's other profiles/victims (Today, The Early Show, Good Morning America), but it's a little too smart and specific to be an easy fit in that group, which seeks to be everything to everyone. So what is Sunday Morning? It's like a gathering of refugees from some Norman Rockwell-esque town who both reminisce about a hometown that never really was what their memory tells them and also talk about the latest New Soul singer they have downloaded on their iPod. (Or to put it in visual terms, Sunday Morning is a Serbian pop song being performed by characters from an American video game. Viva La Nikolic, I say apropos of nothing.)

Damn you Osgood and your inane folksy aphorisms. ("Twenty-Oh-Six," indeed.)

On deck for tomorrow: Good Morning America, or "Just What on Earth Are You People Doing In Times Square?"

From The "Obvious" Department

Everyone seems to be shocked by the results of this survey that says of the heterosexually identified participants, 10% are had sex with men.

I reckon they didn't ask the participants--especially the gay-identified ones--who the first man they had sex with was, and how did they know them? I'd be willing to bet that a significant amount of were men, who to this very day, identify as straight while still having sex with men.

Rewriting

Rewriting is one of those things that I absolutely hate. In all honesty, I don't see the point of it.

When I write, I get very meticulous. I analyse every single word choice and stage direction to make sure that it is what I want it to say. Scripts are like a house of cards: if you don't place them the right way, then it'll all fall down soon enough. When I finish the first draft, then it's done. I like to kill characters at the end as a big sign to myself to state just how finished I am with the story.

Yet, I find myself in the process of rewriting right now.

So what does that have to do with Luther?*

*And by the way, I would not have known that there were two versions of this video, had I not just seen it this morning on VH1 Classic. That one had no split screen and focused on the white woman a bit more than this one, which focuses on the black woman more. Racial politics at work in Luther Vandross videos, who knew?

Well, Luther, in my view, is an icon of rewriting. He went from small to large to small to large (and so on and so forth). He went from "just waiting for the right woman" to "I'm not talking about it," to "everybody knows and why do we need to talk about it?" The fact of the matter is that we have to talk about it sooner or later. If we don't talk about it, then we're left with the status quo which forced us into the position that caused us to shut our mouths in the first place.

I'm not just talking about homosexuality here, but it certainly applies.

For all the attention to detail and style that I put forth in a play, making sure that every thing is in just right the place, the fact of the matter is that there always a better way to shore it up so that the story and characters stay put even when they get shook around. Likewise, you can craft a facade and relationship with the outside world that may be a lie or a partial truth, but will it withstand the test of time?

No, it won't.

So we rewrite, and rewrite, and rewrite until at some point we die. Even then, we are rewritten as other's observations and memories run contrary to our own self-perceptions. The thought at first filled me dread, because don't we all want to be around to defend ourselves and our viewpoints? Then I paused for a second and really started examining the notion: If I write something, then isn't important that I be willing to return to it, if only to be able to explain it with more knowledge than I have at the moment? In addition, shouldn't we be able to take in new information and perspectives without it damaging our sense of self?

Now, this might seem to run contrary to what I said about Evangelion earlier, but I don't think so. (See, I'm rewriting!) Part of the rewriting process, in my view, is being willing to let go and say it truly has been worked on enough by me.

It Seems Oddly Appropriate

...for today that I stumbled across this tidbit of news about there being four new Evangelion movies planned.

Colour me skeptical, but hasn't everything been said in that series...at least in a plot and character sense? Not to mention, it can't be good for Anno to keep on returning to a story that is essentially charting his descent into psychosis.

Don't get me wrong, I think he's a genius (the show--in particular the homoerotically charged final episodes--inspired me as a writer more than I will ever fully know), but for that reason alone I'd be more interested in seeing him continue on with new work.

Of course, I'll still buy the dern things when they get released...which is the most likely reason as to why they're making them.

The Heartbreaker Summer continues.

Weekend Jukebox Continues The Fight

...against Disaster Porn Weekend.

This time it's a trio of videos from the excellent interval of Dora 2003, which had the group Divas singing with 4 Croatian divas.

First up, Divas & Radojka Šverko singing "Oprosti Mi." Radojka has got a killer voice, but seems to favour the Shelley Morrison as Rosario look.



Next, Divas sing with the pink-haired Josipa Lisac, the original singer of "Danas Sam Luda."



Finally, the big group song (it's worth wading through the minute long introduction) where Divas and the four Divas sing "Sexy Cool."

Friday Jukebox In Albania

My way of combatting the September 11th distaster/grief porn that will dominate the airwaves through Monday.

Apparently the 1990's are thriving in Albania



Nor the 1980's



Albania's answer to Celine Dion (I didn't even know she was a question)



And pageant hair has reached the Balkans...along with rampant screeching!



Many thanks to Sims for the videos.

Remember, Remember the Fifth of September

So there's this article on AfterElton about Gravitation written by this playwright, and it's not too shabby.

It's a good read, I reckon.

This Was Summer 2006

All the political news, pop culture events, and everything in between that occurred this summer can be summed up in this song.




Bring on autumn.

The Many Faces of the Caribbean

The uneasiness that I felt being a cruise passenger in the Caribbean has some merit.

From Kristoffer A. Garin's Devils on the Deep Blue Sea:

"Beginning with the marketing of the islands themselves, much of the Caribbean cruise tourist's experience is as tightly orchestrated an affair as any Disney World trip with the locale nothing more than beguiling scenery...This Caribbean is more a simulation than a genuine place--a real -life theme park composed of resorts sealed away behind fences and armed guards, of air conditioned touring vans whose pith-helmeted drivers and guides whisk you through the places where local people live en route to this beach, or that charter boat, or this 'colorful' straw market where ladies in bandannas hawk 'local' crafts, with not a local customer in sight. Indeed, most of the major cruise lines have taken long-term leases on private islands where they can treat their passengers to a version of the Caribbean 'as it's meant to be' without any inconvenient interruption from the locals.

"Not that Caribbean cruises are actually marketed as opportunities to learn about the places themselves. Leafing through the glossy brochures, one would never guess that the region's nearly forty million people share an economic, military, and social history that, from slaves, sugar, and rum to the Monroe Doctrine and gunboat diplomacy, is inseparable from that of the United States itself.

"The Caribbean's allure, instead is presented as generic, an opportunity for 'castaways' from the United States to let their hair down for a week in a carefully constructed Eden--to leave behind the stresses and complexities of their everyday lives. To the extent that a sales pitch mentions the character of local life at all, it's usually to paint a picture of a touchingly simple folk, who for all the appear to hold no dearer wish than to welcome yet another tourist to their unthreateningly primitive world--and put an umbrella drink in his hand. Tucked away, out of frame, are the armed guards patrolling the beachy borders of this wonderland, there to protect visiting eyes from the far less photogenic reality: of unemployment rates as high as 20 percent, of political frustrations nutured by centuries under corrupt, inept, to cruel rulers, of the resentments held by peoples who after two generations of political independence are still hopelessly unequal players in the arenas of international trade and diplomacy.

Tourism Industry? What Tourism Industry?

The bigoted amendment going up for a vote in Wisconsin may kill (or at least severely maim) the state's tourism industry.

I just have to ask: what tourism industry are they talking about? The Dells? Lake Geneva? I always got the impression that whatever tourist attractions there are in Wisconsin were basically patronised by other Wisconsinites with a dash of Illinois and/or Minnesota residents.

Apart from the fact that the amendment is just enshrining bigotry, I think this is a much better reason to vote no.

Seven Wishes

Four fantastical and three realistic; give it a whirl.

The fantastical

1. The ability to be a total chameleon, in other words, change height, weight, gender, even orientation for a brief period of time.
2. A successful singing career.
3. Fluency in 10 languages other than English.
4. Telepathy.

The realistic

1. 24 hours with Aaron Tanner & Aiden Shaw.
2. 2 shows on the CBC.
3. A majority SP-USA Congress.

One of these things will happen in my lifetime.

Import More Gay Television Personalities!

I don't know what happened but yet another gay television personality is leaving New York [local] television.

Sam Champion is jumping to GMA, a jump that will not include doing local weather duties apparently.

I say he's a wimp--a perfectly nice guy, but still a wimp. Al Roker and Matt Lauer did double duty for quite some time. Janice Huff continues to work practically every day if you combine her WNBC schedule with her Weekend Today schedule. (Mr. Champion, that means she does the late night weather then gets up early in the morning to do it nationwide.)

Attention New York Station Managers: You heard the mission, now get to the hiring.

Thursday Jukebox Is Traveling

Just one video today, but it's a good one. The other Hikaru's "traveling"

The View-Splash-The View Post-Mortem: It's Good To Be Home

Really it is.

It's all the friendliness of Chicago combined with the certain "life is tough" aspect of New York.

I know I'm happy to be home, because not even the go-go boys thrusting their crotches in my face while I sucked down San Pelligrinos got on my nerves. In fact, they added onto the night.

No Cypriot action tonight, so that even made it for a more fun and friviolous night.

And then there's The View.

I was seriously in danger of getting blotto there because they kept on mplaying great video after great video. By the time that Kylie Minogue rolled around I knew I had to pry myself away.

(Before La Minogue they played a dance remix of Mary J. Blige--no, not the one you're thinking of--a video that seemed to involve Mary being surrounded by men dancing shirtless, in other words the "Mary is a gay diva and you'd better realise" video.)

All I can say is that life is very good at home. I can tell it's a good night when I come home optimistic. Perhaps I need to check if I've reached official New York resident status.

Will you have me New York?

Chicago Post-Mortem Part II: And We End On A High Note

No, not that sort of high.

When I came back to Chicago on Sunday I had one goal in mind: clear the residue from last week, and by god, I succeeded.

Perhaps making up for the horrors that befell me in Milwaukee on Saturday night, I found Chicagoans on this Sunday to be extremely friendly.

First off I went to Roscoe's, where for some reason the very amiable bartender kept buying me drinks and saying "welcome back to the Midwest."

More like welcome back to civilisation.

I knew that I was in for a good night when the video for my favourite dance song (and yes, I get the irony of it being a dance song) ever came on. Yes, they played "Gypsy Woman."

Next, the infamous Sidetrack, where an aging punk from San Diego travelling to see the Drum Corps in Madison (it's his logic, not mine) explained the difference between Drum Corps and Colour Guard to my uneducated ears. I inquired about San Diego and he told me that according to Angelenos, San Diego is the poseur capital of California. Apparently you can dress like a punk in San Diego, but if you dare slam dance into them, they will have a shit-fit.

I took a break to go to the Lucky Horseshoe, because frankly stuffing dollar bills into go-go boys is a vacation tradition of mine. It was...well...dead. I'm not a fan of dead strip bars, because then I start feeling guilty and give tips to go-go boys who don't really do it for me. So I did. Next thing I know, the lonely go-go boy starts talking to me after his set.

He's a grad student of English Composition! So that made the conversation flow.

I decided to return to Sidetrack, given that a huge chunk of time had passed.

Fortunately, the musical fetish had melted away and in its place was 1960's/1970's campy songs.

And the heavens shout forth "Hallelujah!"

Insanely crowded, I asked to sit near a guy who seemed to be solo. Turned out he was part of a triumvirate, but not a nasty Milwaukee one. In fact, this triumvirate was very warm and welcoming. So much so that at one point one of them asked me how I knew the others, and when I told him that I was just sitting there having a drink he was completely surprised. Such was the comfort level.

I moved on downstairs to have a cigarette. Probably since I was on vacation and my normal defenses were non-existent, I lent one to a drunk and scruffy ex-bartender from Detroit. Well his book didn't match his cover, I'll say.

Turns out that he was torn up six ways from Sunday over a lawyer with biceps "the size of [his] head." Whether or not I wanted to, he was going to give me the back story. It certainly was a fascinating one, even if my own romantic side is repressed (for the most part). I'll spare you the details, partly for brevity and partly due to the fact that I can't really recall what they were beyond the fact that Lawyer Biceps was well known and Scruffy had to steel himself not to be paranoid about it--hence the drunken state.

What I do remember is this: not but a half-hour later Scruffy & I were exchanging the hugs that generally are the province of long-lost best friends. I actually offered to pray (in my own way) that he and Lawyer Biceps get it together. Even more shocking, Scruffy & I could not break the embrace for 10 minutes. He was tearing, I was overrun with a rare case of goodwill to "strangers," it was like Wonderland.

Maybe we should all get to that Wonderland ASAP.

Is There A Gay Anchor Quota On New York Local News?

Seems like it, because Charles Perez is leaving, right after Ron Corning is announced as the new co-anchor for Good Day New York.

NB: Eric Braate will not be joining GDNY, which is a good thing for this piece of the internet which seems to be heavily favoured amongst both the Ron Corning and Eric Braate* rabid fans.

* Who knew an ex-weatherman from Milwaukee television was so well...um..searched?

It's also somewhat of a bad thing, since I can envision heads exploding if Ron Corning, Eric Braate, and Mike Woods were on one programme. Personally, I'd enjoy seeing all the shade being thrown about as karma for the way Jim Castillo was so unceremoniously dumped.

From The "I Just Know This Will Be A Glorious Disaster" File

The local NBC affiliate in Milwaukee is going to have a chat show that will air after the revamped Today.

Chicago Post-Mortem: Did You Know That I Hate Showtune Nights?

(This could possibly be a two-part post-mortem as I'm returning to Chicago next week after staying in Milwaukee for awhile.)

With all due respect to San Francisco, I would hazard to say that Chicago now holds the title of Gayest City in the US--at least for 2006.

Not but two weeks after the Gay Games completed, Chicago's Boystown held Market Days which seemed to me as being a rather spread out version of the Street Fair that takes over the West Village during Pride.

Combined with Lollapalooza being in town, no wonder it was impossible to find a hotel room.

Travelogue over, let's get to the sordid stuff.

The night after Market Days, I found myself in a bar socialising with two men: one originally from La Crosse and the other a married (to a woman) man from Toronto. Since I'm on vacation, I figured this would be my one chance to put my beliefs to work and slowly chip away at his have-his-cake and eat-it-too attitude*, since this wasn't a case of having a relaxed straight man visiting the gay bars with his friend--in fact, he had only met Mr. Ex-LaX earlier that evening.

* Since you catch more flies with honey, the plan was to get him to breakdown by the end of the night. I know, I'm evil.

Let me say this, it is hard to employ militant gay strategy when you have been drinking since 3 PM.

Ex-LaX, Cake-Eater, and I eventually got into a cab to head up to Sidetracks, which apparently (according to Ex-LaX) was the pretty people's bar. I would call it a S & M bar, as in "stand and model." Unfortunately, it was showtune night. I hate showtune nights. I hate them with a passion. Yet, I was focused on my strategy, albeit rather slowly.

Ex-LaX took off, leaving Cake-Eater & I to our own devices. (FYI: I wasn't even remotely thinking of going there for personal reasons.) Cake-Eater was like a kid in a candy store. This boggled my mind: This man lives in Toronto and is amazed by a gay bar in Chicago? I mean, Queer as Folk was filmed in Toronto, it can't be that radically different, and Toronto isn't a small town where everybody knows you.

From this point onwards, it was a carousel of threesomes. First, we got latched on by a very drunk French Canadian who made sure that everybody within earshot knew that his rear end was well-used. After he departed, then another drunk guy--this time from Miami--joined in. He mostly was babbling, but the majority of his observations seemed to revolve around hotness, dick size, and my ethnicity.

Oh yes, ethnic fetisation is the perfect way to get someone to sleep with you.

Apparently Cake-Eater was of the similar mindset as the drunk Miamian, since he sunk his teeth and tongue into a 21 year old Latin guy who launched into a tourist board spiel for Chicago.

And then Madonna's "Don't cry for me, Argentina" came on and the 21 year old flew into a frenzy and dragged us into another area of the bar. Here, our threesome became a foursome as a man from Gary, Indiana latched onto me and started talking rapidfire about all sorts of things ranging from an apparent tradition of throwing napkins in the air during the climax of "Don't cry for me, Argentina" to his mother informing the family of their father's death on Christmas with a straight face,' and did you know that "[he] was a lover, not a fighter, like all Aquarians." (Not this Aquarian.)

By this point, my heart was running a mile a minute and I was feeling nauseous, so I decided that health had to come before agitprop theatrics. The 21 year old was busy trying to get into Cake-Eater's pants by a series of pouts and slight whining.

It was time to make my move.

I had it all planned out: I was going to lean in, brush Cake-Eater's stomach, say "your wife hired me," and leave then and there.

That was the plan.

In reality, what happened is that I burped and said "ugh, I got to go."

At least, my heart was in the right place.

Welcome to the Midwest.

Before I Walk Off Into The Sunrise

It's five in the morning as I write this, so I couldn't very well write "sunset."

I'm off to the Midwest (alright, Chicago & Milwaukee) for the next week, to (mostly) sit down and knock out some writing; however, I stumbled across this article in The Daily News and found it both surprising and not-so-surprising.

I think the same would apply to a lot of black boys as well.

If this film gets wide distribution, I think we all should see it regardless of gender or ethnicity.

I'll Judge The Book By Its Cover, Thank You Very Much

I'll admit it, I write all of this with a heavy dose of bitterness. It is the bitterness that every writer or behind-the-scenes creative feels when you hear or see someone's trashy, sub-par, half-baked work get some traction while yours doesn't.

A good person uses this as an impetus to try harder.

I am not a good person on a Friday morning. I am in the mood to read some fools, and I'm not talking about in a newspaper.

(A disclaimer: I am willing to revise my opinions, but when you do write ups, you have to realise that you're putting the baggage out in front of the marquee.)

Like most things that piss me off, the source of my anger stems from The New York Blade. This time, it's their article on The New York International Fringe Festival, and for once, it's not The Blade's fault that I'm angry.

In the article The Blade gives a few blurbs about this year's gay and lesbian themed shows. Well, I have to say is that most of these shows look smellier than day-old excrement.

• Romancing The Terrorist: Tajiki Nights - The American president falls in love with a gay Tajik terrorist. I understand satire. I understand absurdism, but this just seems daft as hell. By the way, unless it's a musical, anything that has two authors attached to it is to be avoided like syphilis.
• Don't Ask - An affair between two army men set during the Iraqi War. This actually looks interesting if the execution focuses on the characters as opposed to their situation. Since it's part of the "experimental" group (read: "we just slapped this together and called it art"), I don't hold my hopes up.
• The Saints of Festus - Missouri women get drunk and go wild. Three words that will strike fear into my heart: one. man. show. One man shows are like watching watching solo masturbation porn videos, but even dirtier since you're not allowed to clean yourself up after the writer and performer (even worse when they're the same person) has ejaculated their ego and "aren't I talented?" all over you.
• Blue Balls: In and OUT of Uniform with the NYPD - "Neighbourhood Sissy joins New York's Finest." The fact that this is billed as an "arresting new comedy" makes me think that this will have all the depth of a David Spade/Rob Schneider/Pauly Shore movie with a cameo by Carrot Top. I'm not saying that this couldn't be a comedy--in fact, I think it would be refreshing to see this subject treated with a light flourish instead of the expected "woe is me" sturm-und-drang drama. However, once I read that this is based on the playwright's own experience, the frist thing that came into my head was that this was going to be a revenge play. You know, the kind where you can just sense that the playwright is basically going to make himself out to be the unassailable hero devoid of flaws living in a world full of idiots.
• The Return of the Wayward Son - Bedroom stories from hustlers and their johns. Just read who the sponsor is. I actually like dark stories about prostitution, one of my most favourite plays that I've written is about a male prostitute and he's the protagonist (like a dark, cynical version of Irma La Douce). All that said, how much honesty and character depth could be attached to this piece given that one of the sponsors most likely doesn't quite want all the warts to be shown. By the way, you can write "phantasmagoria" all you want, it still has the air of slapdash writing job on it given the "experimental" classification (see above). Ironically, given the play's genesis, much of what I wrote above about Blue Balls (in respect to unassailable heroes) would apply here.
• Rainy Days & Mondays - Nice Jewish boy(tm) turns circuit queen during the nineties. Based on the website this show looks like style before substance ad infinitum. Kind of like the film Circuit, which--let's be honest here--was basically nothing but good-looking men romping about with an acrid script with good cinematography. Still, based on the playwright's pedigree, I'll grant him that this script is better than Shafer's. But...Jesus wept! The synopsis makes me want to retch! There is a black character who is described as "a sassy Southern African American 'baby boy let loose with a trust fund.'" For starters, "sassy?" Let us just ponder this for a second. How many more "sassy" black characters in gay film and theatre do we need before we actually start getting complex black characters? We don't need to be heroes, but for pete's sake, could we not be the "truth tellin', shut-yo'-mouth" bitchy queens for once? Then there's another character described as "an Adonis from the Midwest with no sexual boundaries." Like that archetype is completely new and fascinating. It's rather ironic that the synopsis claims that "this is not your typical salacious gay play with boys running around in their underwear," since I'd be shocked if it isn't given that summary.

Where's The Picture?

Three stations in New York happily tout that they have HD cameras installed on their helicopters.

And yet, we rarely ever see them.

It's no secret that I watch a lot of Fox 5*, which is home to "Skyfox HD." Whenever they cut to their helicopter, the anchors are always keen to mention "Skyfox HD," as if the moniker has been there from the get go.

* I need local news in the morning delivered by people who aren't obsessively perky and neutered. Plus, how else can I poke fun of Mike Woods on a daily basis?

Well, it has been months since I've seen any HD pictures off Skyfox HD.

Now, I'll be honest here, this is a rather tedious point to nitpick, but I find it rather interesting that a station that is now home to Arnold Diaz and his "Shame on You" reports, should probably have that wagging finger turned on itself.

Either stop flogging the sodding thing or turn the damn camera on.

Protect Marriage. Ban Divorce.

The 590th Post Manifesto

I had an epiphany this weekend.

While many gay rights activists seem to say that we are focusing too much on marriage to the detriment of other areas, I tend to believe that we're not. I believe that marriage rights are only part of a goal that we need to implement in order to get full equal rights in this country.

(That's not the epiphany.)

I'm not in any way shape or form the first person to say this, but I want to put this out here on this little piece of the internet in the hopes that someone will read this and perhaps do this.

Today/tomorrow/this week/this coming month, write the following at the end of an email or a post you make on either a blog or a message board:

"Protect Marriage. Ban Divorce."

While on the surface that is a very marriage-rights thing to say, I offer it as a way of protesting against the absurd world we've been living in for the past 6 years.

- The NSA can follow your every movement without your knowledge or even with good reasoning.

- FEMA plays favourites with who they choose to save.

- The electoral process has been hijacked by cronies.

- A budget surplus has turned into a deficit.

- A tidal wave of goodwill has turned to animosity.

And many other nonsensical occurances that have come to fruition.

If you believe that we are living in times that make no sense, then I suggest that you write this at least once in a public way--especially as a non-sequitur--to show the world where you stand.

You don't have to explain it, just let it sink in.

Protect Marriage. Ban Divorce.

Friday Jukebox Has Something For The Weekend

Indeed, this is late, but it is still Harlem Week so enjoy.




By the way, is anyone else hearing "stick your dick right out and shout...?"

These Search Engines Are Interesting Things

Given the sad news today in respect to the Washington State Court's same sex marriage ruling, the mind started thinking towards the referendum in Wisconsin.

I tend to believe that if someone proclaims that they want to protect marriage, then they should ban divorce, plain and simple.

In fact, let's go all the way and start arranging mandatory heterosexual marriages for all children from the second they are born. They can take a personality test and find their ideal partner for life. (I can find that ideal woman out there who won't complain one bit when I refuse to have sex with her, instead preferring clandestine nude all-male trysts in my car.)

And since marriage is an institution made purely for reproductive purposes, I suggest that we now make it illegal for any sterile people to marry. (IVF for those of us who aren't naturally inclined that way.)

And now back to reality.

Now, the architect behind the referendum, Mark Gundrum, is a lawyer. Turns out that he's a lawyer in a firm that handles divorce cases.

It makes me wonder what his real motivations are behind pushing this.

Perhaps Gundrum is afraid that since gay & lesbian couples tend to stay together longer that he'll see a downturn in divorce cases and income.

Or perhaps he's afraid that he may get overworked since there wouldn't be a need for sham hetero marriages in Wisconsin (not that it's a threat at the moment since the law already defines marriage as solely heterosexual right).

But Marky, you really aren't fighting for your best interests. You should be fighting for it.

You're already spearheading the fight to make marriage cheaper, so why not expand it?

So clearly your interest here is money not morals. Correct me if I'm wrong here, Marky, but if you want marriage to be cheaper so that more people will get married, then shouldn't you want everybody to get married?

And if you believe so strongly in the institution of marriage, then how come you have basically made your living out of participating in its destruction?

I find it rather interesting, Marky, that your infamous quote "This is the time in particular when people need to re-enforce the institution of marriage, not reinvent it," is coming from a man who is actively trying to reinvent marriage.

I find it rather interesting that you refuse to even give out your positions on pressing issues facing the country to Vote Smart. Does your ability to be elected and stay in office rely upon people being ignorant of what you stand for? And if so, then why are you flying the homophobic flag so--dare I say it--proudly this time?

Marky, I think it's time you start realising that the 1950's are over and will not return. I think you need to start realising that just as integrated schools and interracial marriage did not cause the US to descend into anarchy, that maybe, just maybe, it won't mean that your marriage will suddenly be worthless.

Then again, if you feel that your marriage will disappear with same sex marriage legalised (and I hasten to point out again that it is not legal in Wisconsin), that probably means it was built on a shakier foundation than you'd like the rest of us to know about and that the lesbian couple who has been together for decades might be a bit more savvy in how to keep a relationship going than you do.

All in all, this just makes you look like a bully on the playground who got pissed since now he's the one with the wedgie.

Monday Jukebox Says The 80s Were Good To Me

It is a true shame that I was quite an oblivious child in early 1980's.

Example #1:

The Gap Band and Charlie Wilson's swagger--which to be honest he has every right to do (if you catch my drift)




(And let's not even get started on the video for "Party Train")

Example #2

The Opening animation for Daicon IV featuring ELO's "Twilght"




My first exposure to this piece of anime history was at AnimeCon '91, when I was 12. (I survived one more anime convention after that, then decided to keep my otaku-ness mostly to myself, for the sake of preserving sanity.) This short pretty much encapsulates everything that I love about film, television, theatre, and animation: whimsy. It's a shame that whimsy is now chained up in the attic being served table scraps every fortnight.

Example #3:

Philip Michael Thomas: R&B Singer




I just discovered this video and song. Let me tell you, I have no clue that PMT--hahaha--was hot as hell in his prime. The whole Miami Vice craze basically was lost to me, given that I was in elementary school at the time and my parents would've sooner checked themselves into an asylum than let me watch it. Yet watching this, I'm completely baffled as to how Don Johnson got the most press as that show's sex symbol.

Another thing: who knew PMT could sing like that?! He's no Charlie Wilson, but damn he comes close (and beats Don Johnson's acrid pop song by a country mile).

Only on this piece of the internet could you get The Gap Band, a bunny girl sci-fi fantasia, and Philip Michael Thomas all in one post.

Go Away Grace!

Was Eurovision 2006 the beginning of the huge media blitz of Maria Menounos (forever known to me as Grace after her horrid turn as presenter)?

It certainly seems so.

Yesterday, Grace was on MTV, since she was appearing in Jessica Simpson's new video (*cough* Madonna knockoff *cough*) for "Public Affair."

Then she was on some haircare advert.

Now Grace is co-hosting this morning on Today. The funny thing is that she still looks and sounds completely incompetent. Right now she's talking with a psychiatrist and somebody from US Magazine--oh, the combos you get on Today--and all I keep on hearing is her astute observation of "I think that's monster talk."

Splash-Stonewall-The View Post Mortem: Halloween in July

Apologies for the high interval between posts, but heat seriously does me in and sometimes it takes a high amount of energy to just be an automaton.

The night started off at Splash, where again the Cypriot was working downstairs and taking his sweet time in getting anything else beyond the first drink. There's a bartender upstairs who I'm quite keen on (and vice versa, believe me, because you've got to be blatant for me to pick it up), but ever since Splash has decided to have karaoke up there, there's no chance in hell of me getting my drink on with him.

That said, I have to admit the video selection was decidedly retro. It started off with a Carpenters tribute, followed up with Bette Midler (and Katie Couric!?) singing "Hey Big Spender," then Martha & The Vandellas doing "Heatwave," and when I left The Supremes were singing "Stop! In the name of love." Judging from that group, you wouldn't think that it was Black & Latin night just a few hours later.

Not that I would be a participant in it tonight, since I had to be down in The Village later on (after a quick Amaretto Sour down at The Stonewall, a quick drink because I had to go meet someone and because the weirdness of seeing peroxide blonde Valley Girls drinking next to me while Method Man played in the background, was just too much).

I eventually wound up--completely drenched--at The View.

Full Moons are known to bring out weird people. The same can be said of rain. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something definitely askew. I was no exception.

As you may or may not know, I'm a "former" anorexic and struggle often with body image issues. I mention this because I was wearing an article of clothing that I rarely wear outside the confines of my apartment: a loose tank top.

I really don't like showing skin in public. It goes back to the days when I was overweight and felt like The Hunchback of Notre Dame on a daily basis. I remember how I used to feel watching other guys doff off their shirts as if it was nothing and feeling a mix of jealousy and lust. Two thoughts would enter my head: 1) "Why can't I be so free and uninhibited?" 2) "Why do they think they're so hot?"

So tonight I challenged myself and to be honest, it was far from easy. I felt like I was wearing a Halloween costume on October 30th. My instinct was to run back to the apartment and immediately cover up before going out again. Yet, I still wanted to at least for one night chase away the demons that haunted me.

I came up with a modified mantra that most people use when encountering bears: "Don't be afraid, because there is no spotlight on you," a take on the popular "they're more scared of you, than you are of them."

And it's true.

It took a sudden downpour for me to realise something that most people pick up in elementary school.

The question is, can I remember it?

Greetings from GOP New York

I just finished Simon Winchester's Outposts, and found the chapter on Bermuda struck several parallels with modern day New York since Giuliani, feel free to weigh in:

"Bermuda then gave me the feeling that it was a sort of Disneyland, and that the shootings [of the Governor and ADC] were the local equivalent of a tourist having a heart-attack inside the plastic Matterhorn -- smiling young men with shrouds would clear everything up within seconds and hustle the cadaver away through a back door, and then the whirligigs would start up again and the crowds would re-form, like waters briefly parted, and the music would start, and the smiling young men would resume their cries of 'Have a nice day!' and all would seem well once more."

Tuesday Jukebox Says Stop Haunting Me

I like to think that I am not easily swayed by commercial jingles, but to this very day, I find NBC's mid-eighties slogan still running rampant in my head.




The fact that NBC is now doing horribly in the ratings is at least some solace.

In happier hauntings, I could swear that I remember Norway's 1979 entry from my childhood. (Even though I was still a few months old at the time.) Maybe it's just that Anita Skorgan looks uncannily like Karen Carpenter.

Just Because You're Pissed Off About Your Divorce...

...don't take it out on the rest of us, a great many who can't even marry.

If there's anything more indicative of the selfish individualism that has taken grasp of the US in the first decade of the 21st Century, I think this is it.

By the way, I think the local news stations went a little too far in their 3 hour plus nonstop coverage. After it was known that this wasn't a terrorist attack and that a bomb wasn't involved, there was no need to go on and on about it.

Then again, this did happen on the Upper East $ide, and by now, we all know that whenever the wealthy are threatened then it's a catastrophe and the sign of end times.

In Memoriam: Frank Zeidler

How much times have changed, when politicians are now subject to the same rules as movie stars.

The Day of Interdependence

What is the state of our 230 year old Union on this July 4th?

Still strong?

Still defiant?

Still together?

I think it's at one of its most precarious states, personally.

As is a common theme on the piece of the internet, I truly think that there is so very little that links us together beyond just mere geographic location.

Blue states vs. Red States, Liberals vs. Conservatives vs. Libertarians, and so on and so forth.

It's funny (in a tragicomic way) that in this day and age when you practically have the same stores and utilities in whatever part of the country you're in, that our bonds are increasingly nonexistent.

I wonder what links me to another 27 year old male in, say, Tennessee. We are both citizens of the same country, pay roughly the same taxes, and have the same protections on the federal level.

But do we share the same cultural values?

I don't know. I feel more and more divorced from other Americans, and the sense I've gotten from my friends and comrades is that this isolation is shared.

I'd like to say that our current administration with its mantra of "you're with us or against us" is to blame, but I think it's just a symptom of this new isolation.

Where the crux of it lies is that we have forgotten (and have been forgetting since at least the 1960's, if not earlier) that this is a nation unified by shared ideals and culture. Ideals and culture that are forever evolving, but remaining steadfast to the core belief that all people are created equal and deserving of equal treatment.

So why is it that right now everything must be broken down to black or white terms? Why are we dehumanising each other now when most likely we need each other the most? Why do we refuse point blank to listen?

Because it gets in the way of downloading the latest hits on our iPod-friendly cellphone.

Day of Independence

(Tomorrow is more of a sign of our interdependence rather than independence.)

Last night, the Ex came to visit. Drenched, and with a grin on his face, he gave me a broken clock. It was extremely appropriate in the metaphorical sense.

We were together for a little over 3 years and during that time as is the case in many relationships, there were good and bad times and in our case, a great deal of miscommunication.

I was the one that pulled the plug and as I said at the time, and still hold true to this very day, it would be my mistake if it was the wrong decision.

I do not regret it one bit.

Y'see, in this media-saturated world that we live in, we are told that we are nothing on a daily basis:

• You are nothing if you don't have a significant other.
• You are nothing if you don't look a certain way.
• You are nothing if you don't speak a certain way.
• You are nothing if you don't act a certain way.
• You are nothing if you don't like certain things.

These edicts constrict and contract us to people, situations, and actions that run contrary to who we are. Why? Because they are the beliefs of insecure people who feel the need to claim so-called "power" over others.

And more often than not, we give that power to them, because we're afraid that the person next to us will inflict mob revenge on us if we don't.

Actually breaking up with the Ex was not half as terrifying as the lead up to it. (And yes, I'm cognizant that this is rather trivial compared to being a refugee from Herr Mugabe or Lukashenko.) The lead up was an analytical orgy the likes I had never experienced before. Yet, somehow, I found the shred of determination within to actually go ahead and do it.

And the strangest thing happened afterwards.

I started to feel good about myself, my own Portrait of Dorian Grey disappeared, and was replaced by just myself--unadulterated.

This may not read as radical to most, but for me, this was a 180 degree turn. It's also one that I know I will do my damndest not to reverse.

As The Blade Slides Further Into Irrelevance and Intolerance

This week's Blade features an article (read: puff piece) on Coors trying to mend its reputation with the gay community.

Now since reading The Blade is becoming more and more akin to reading Drudge or Fox News, I can't say that I'm totally surprised to see this indirect love letter to one of the biggest supporters of the Republicans, but one particular passage [in the interview with the Lesbian CEO of the ad agency working with Coors on this endeavour] stands out:

Blade: I certainly don’t mind looking at the guys in the ads. I noticed a predominance of Latino-looking guys. Is that intentional?

Meifert: We found through a lot of very informal polling that Coors Light is the No. 1 beer in a gay space and is huge with the Latino community. We also found out that white guys are really attracted to Latino men, and Latino men are attracted to Latino men. So we decided to go with a Latino flair.

So apparently black, asian, and multiracial men don't matter one iota?

Absolutely charming philosophy to live by.

Because in my mind it's only Tuesday

So it's basically been like The Lost Weekend for me since the end of Pride, except that I've not had that much alcohol. All I know is that I was awake for nearly 72 hours, before the body finally beat out the mind and allowed me to sleep and eat.

I don't know how this happened, but I won't ask for a reason why. Since when I was starting to wonder why I was still awake, Jesus Christ Superstar played on television and scared me silent. (Seriously, "Could We Start Again" is very chilling when you've gone without sleep. Let's not even talk about "Superstar.")

And I've been playing catch-up since then.

What a world to wake up to:

• Four former Wisconsin Governors agree: The Anti-Gay Amendment is basically enshiring bigotry.
• Barbara Walters vs. Star Jones Reynolds, and frankly I'm with Barbara.
• I don't remember all this rain falling!?
• And Mitt Romney is an idiot (part 909).

The View Post-Mortem: Time Does Go By So Slowly

Admittingly, I do not know how to make an entrance, nor do I possess the ability to know when the right time is to even go to a place.

If I did, then I would've had more than just a Corona tonight.

I also would've been able to have avoided or even let slide a large group of twinks singing along to Madonna videos RIGHT IN MY EAR.

Don't get me wrong, I love Madonna, especially from Erotica onwards, and if I had the income, I would've attended her concert at Madison Square Garden tomorrow night, but, jiminy cricket, a person can only take so much.

Now, if they were singing along to Swing Out Sister, then this would totally be my sort of crowd.

After wading through a sea of tight low-cut shirts and sucked-in stomachs, waiting 5 minutes for a beer, and realising that the seat next to the twink posse was the only locale possible. I at least knew that this was my time to leave. (Hey, I had a good Friday night out and another waiting on Sunday, you can't win 'em all.)

In other news, the Hikaruland Pride 2006 Theme Song Committee has chosen Ivana Banfic's "Daj Povedi Me" has for this year's theme song--even though it's from 1991. Just watch the performance and you'll see why.

WORK IT!!!

Why Canadian Politics Are More Fun Than Ours

Let's be honest here, what is the nature of your thoughts when you say 'fuddle duddle'?

Pride Week 2006: A Deeper Love

Once again, it is the time of the year when a significant portion of the LGBT community and our allies come out in force to show that we are defiantly happy of who we are, what we have achieved, and what still lies ahead.

Yet, this is also time when many people come out to say "I'm not like those people."

Despite being subjected to the same legal restrictions, societal prejudice, and the same hatred, still there remain groups who are very quick to point out that they are not like "them."

Who is the mythological "they" which threatens others' sense of security so much that they are quick to disavow any connection?

To some, "they" are effeminate men.

Many times we overhear some gay men saying (with all the venom of a rattlesnake) "if I wanted a woman, then I'd be straight" when an effeminate guy walks past.

But you're not looking at a woman, you're looking a man. A man whose mere existence threatens your insecurity in your own masculinity that you immediately seek to denigrate him for expressing himself in the way that he feels accustomed to. I would hazard a guess that the insecurity these men express has more to do with their own suppressed desires to be themselves.

This self-loathing is quite apparent in the "current" wave of porn that is sold based on the fact that the participants are ostensibly straight men having sex with each other.* While statistically, there must be some heterosexuals who participate in having gay sex on film for money, I would hasten to point out that the money is not that much of an incentive for one to go against one's true orientation. It provides a convenient excuse for those not willing to deal with their true selves, but the pay is negligible at best, and in order to reach the higher echelon (in respect to porn wages), one must truly enjoy homosexual sex.

* Fortunately, there are a great many men who realise that this is a marketing technique with no basis in reality.

There also those who believe that "they" are leather men or others whose sexual practices run contrary to their own.

To be blunt, you just need to give that up. There are politicians and others out there who are so terrified--yes, terrified, because their actions suggest that they feel threatened--of our existence that even hand-holding in public is tantamount to calling for our extermination.

To others, "they" are those who aren't a certain definition of what is physically attractive.

What all this talk of "they" boils down to is insecurity. Let's be honest here, we are beat down every day. All of us: gay and straight, male and female, all races, all people, all nationalities. No one likes it, but it's true. It takes a great deal of energy to wake up in the morning and say that we are ready to greet the world at large. I do mean "greet" instead of "face." "Face" suggests that we are preparing to go into combat with others and that we're already in an adversarial mindset. How rare is it for us to actually "greet the world?" Instead of propping ourselves up with how we are different from others and how others have ruined the world, why not just think "I am" and "you are." Just those two phrases without any qualifiers or descriptions after them.

It is extremely surprising that this is a radical concept and something that we are still dealing with, lo these many years after Stonewall, but honestly, why can't we just take this venom that we set upon each other and use it for change that benefits all of us, instead of ourselves and our clones?

Then maybe, we'd actually find out what it means to be happy and loved.

Thursday Jukebox Likes The Occasional Ballad

...especially when they talk about loss.

Whether delivered by a Swedish operatic tenor



Or by a waitress and a bunch of women in lingerie.

Is This A Good Thing?

The new CBC lineup for Fall 2006. It's heavy on the reality (or "factual entertainment" as the department is styled).

My need to immigrate grows.

The Stonewall-View Post-Mortem: Seeing the world through new eyes

3 Tonic Waters, 1 beer, and 5 Twisted Teas.

My body must be changing, because I would think that amount wouldn't do me in, but for some reason it has.

The Stonewall seems to not be in that much of a music video mode--at least when I'm there--because the past 2 times I've been there, I've seen movies playing with music in the background. Granted this week, the bartender (who is younger than me) was playing a lot of rap as well as Gnarls Barkley's "Crazy" in a loop, so my ears were soothed. (I'm referring to "Crazy," not the rap.)

Ultimately, I wound up talking with a guy who seemed to be addicted to editing others' work. I don't quite get the appeal, but he was all for it. More power to him.

The View however was in full-tilt music video mode, hence the overload on Twisted Teas.

One video played there was a remix the current LL Cool J song "Control Myself." Now, I have to wonder about Mr. Smith. He's pushing 40, isn't he? I don't know what his secret is, but I just have to wonder if he isn't dipping in the well of HGH. And considering that I've only heard the remix version of it, I also have to wonder if Jennifer Lopez's parts are all altered by the vocoder as well.

Also at The View, I wound up talking with the new bartender, who looked at the same time very familiar and yet new. It's rare for me to experience deja-vu, but I certainly did.

I guess I should get to the point of this entry's subtitle.

Well, let's just say that the right type of guy can change one's perspective, particularly if one is practically a Mt. Everest in the romance arena, like me.

I'm loaded, so vague riddles when it comes to the personal are easier to write.

The 2006 Goddamn Tonys Post-Mortem

In short, that was 3 hours of my life that CBS and the League need to return to me.

I should've known this wasn't going to be good when Harry Connick Jr. began the opening number by sounding drunk as a skunk and with a frog in his throat. I was probably blinded because I kept thinking "Hallelujah! No Jackman!"

Then The History Boys started winning.

And winning.

And winning.

You know, even though I was all for Democracy last year, this show well and truly bores me to tears. It's boring, boring, boring. Plus, I'm sorry, all the actors in New York and they couldn't get an American cast to premiere it? It's not like this was full of undiscovered breakout talent.

All my gnashing of teeth about History Boys aside, I have to say that it was the best out of a piss-poor selection this year. Perhaps we can call it the death of the original American play on Broadway, because honestly, the best we could find were 3 foreign plays and 1 so-so American. (And could we kill this Irish play obsession, please?)

Tragic and further proof that Broadway is slipping further into irrelevance.

Now let's get to the other "Boys:" Jersey Boys.

My god, that was one overhyped piece of tourist refuse.

For the past week or so, we have seen John Lloyd Young contort his face in extreme pain (read: constipation) as he "channels" Frankie Valli. That show has been featured on almost every single live daytime television show to the point that I could predict when the switches between the numbers came (since they always did the same damn 3 songs). And were they boring. Well-performed, but boring. (Oddly enough, something that applies to the selection chosen for performance from The Threepenny Opera.)

And those acceptance speeches!

I slightly bought Hoff (even though I wanted to slap him and say "buck up! we're not your therapist"), but Young's was given in such a way that it seemed like he wanted to upstage his castmate.

The award is for Best Actor not Best Mimicry, and I think Hoff and Young realised they weren't in the right categories, so they retrofitted themseleves into it during their acceptance speeches.

That's only reason I could figure out for the crying mess they became. Even the sodding producers seemed to be on the verge of tears!

You'd think they had come up with the 21st Century version of The Cradle Will Rock!

I hold out minor hope that I'll care next year, but the trend is definitely leaning against it.

And we take two steps back...

You know, right now in New York, there is a pending hate crimes trial that hinges on the fact that "nigga" isn't an offensive term, in fact that it is a sign of fraternity.

And now the BBC Board of Governors has ruled that "gay" as a negative is not an insult...depending on who says it.

Now, I'll give Auntie some minor credit for at least admitting that it could cause offense, but by the same token aren't they condoning usage of it as a pejorative by dismissing the complaint? I don't believe myself to be a tinhat, but it really is a slippery slope back towards socially sanctioned (if not legal) discrimination by allowing things like this to fly. The attitude the Beeb takes suggests that just because it is collaquially used in some manner by someone who does not (at least publicly) intend it to be homophobic.

Well, I say it still is homophobic.

See this is the thing. People get all up in arms about not wanting to be politically correct, when really all they want is an excuse to say bigoted thoughts without wanting to actually think about what they say. No adult of sound mind and any sort of inkling of etymologies would choose the word with baggage if they didn't mean it. (Seriously Chris, "naff," look it up in a dictionary.)

Weren't we all thought in elementary school to think before we speak? I reckon that respect for others--especially when one is in the media--is the cornerstone of most modern societies: you don't have to like me privately, but you can at least treat me as your equal.

The governors may have lightly defended their decision by saying that "gay" also means "carefree," but let's be honest here: that was not what Moyles meant and both he and the public-at-large knew it.

Because It's Unofficially Summer Now

A photo taken by the comrade, because I am notoriously evil to tourists in every city that I lived in. I think that The Bronx and Staten Island CVBs ought to thank me because I have sent many visitors to Morrisiana and Grant City in search of the Empire State Building and Carnegie Hall.

Since I figure that people in other cities are as devious as I am, I get a map and stick to it when I'm travelling.

I offer up this quote from a concierge that I met recently:

"I spend hours at my job giving directions, and you're not paying me."

If you can't figure out where West 34th street is and you're on West 33rd in a borough 80% laid out like a grid, then you deserve to be led astray.

Thursday Jukebox Says June Is Strutting Out All Over Too

A compliation of Seve, La Ryan, and Sibel's live performances from Athens.

Scoreboard aside, which diva outdid the rest? You decide.

Thursday Jukebox Says June Is Busting Out All Over

In 1993, Eva told men not to mess with her...



...but in 2003, Mando showed us why no one messed with her, without saying a word on the subject.