The Uncontrollable Urge to Smack Someone

I've got the urge very bad this morning.

First him:

Then the writer of this piece in The Blade, who apparently doesn't the see the hypocrisy in his final line.

I'm Afraid of Conglomerates

PlanetOut is buying LPI, the company that brings you The Advocate, Out, and Alyson Books.

I have a very bad feeling about this. Perhaps it's my natural distrust of large private companies, but the first thing that came to my mind when I read this was "this is the gay version of AOL Time Warner." I just sense that this behemoth will do its best to stymie any competitors.

Think about it, how many other serious competitors does The Advocate have? (I'm excluding Out because they are pretty much in competition with Instinct, Genre, and arguably Attitude in the "let's put some twentysomething oiled-up Hitler Youth on the cover in the hopes that somebody will buy it" market) Practically none. All the other magazines are too busy selling lifestyle over actual news. The Advocate for the most part is the gay Newsweek. Now, I wouldn't be surprised if they decide to stop including actual news for a story about which butt implants are right for that perfect bubble butt. (Remember PlanetOut owns Gay.com which knows what it's selling as judged by the current campaign of a man with his briefs around his ankles.)

So if you are planning on starting your own gay-focused newsmagazine, you'd better start it right now.

Keep On Shining, You

It's Wednesday. I have a slight hangover. My Rio Carbon just died on me. My warranty on it ran out last week.

All I want to do is just stare at a tackily dressed Russian girl group, because these girls can sing.

Decision 2005: You Take The Good, You Take The Bad...

Well, this was really a mixed bag for me.

The rich closet case won in New York, albeit by 20% which was closer than expected but was sadly one of the largest percentages ever. I guess the Sex & The City yuppies, Uncle Toms, Aunt Condis, and power-hungry guppies just don't care about anybody other than themselves. For those who crossed party lines, I'm just going to point out this quote by RNC Chairman Ken Mehlman:

"Bloomberg's achievement, is particularly impressive when one takes into account that there are 5 Democrats for every 1 Republican in the city. Tonight's victory is testimony to the fact that voters are more concerned with the candidate and the platform that best represents their views."

You voted for a Bush-licker, you drank the Kool-Aid, now deal with the 4 year hangover.

On the other hand, Proposition 2 passed which will allow construction to start on the 2nd Avenue subway and connect the LIRR to Grand Central Station. Anyone who has ever used Penn Station during rush hour has got to be happy about that.

In Texas, the bigots got their ban on the constitution. My sympathies, especially to STB. I hope they see the error of the ways in the very near future. In Maine, however, the bid to repeal the LGBT anti-discrimination laws failed, so sanity did prevail there.

Then there were the governor's races. Porky Pig got trounced by Jon Corzine in New Jersey, and La Kilgore lost to Kaine (albeit by only 5 points, but still...), a victory made even more sweet by the fact that Bush campaigned for him. At least Thor the leatherman now gets his prize client back on a regular basis.

Splash Post-Mortem: Middle-aged Black Men Like Me

All I can say is that tonight was bizarre.

After liquoring up at The Stonewall, I made it over to Splash--where the infamous Alex wasn't present, but apparently a very drunk near 40 year old black man was. He was, indeed, a very jolly man to say the least.

Apart from the shock that my name is Hikaru (honestly, has no-one heard of Kobe Bryant?), he proceeded to give me his entire family genealogy. I can't think of a time where copious amounts of alcohol lead to a discussion on the origins of black family names. When he left he gave me a present (no not that one)--Maria Shriver's book. What the hell kind of present was that?

After he bounced off, another middle-aged black man approached me. We had a very intriguing conversation peppered with politics amongst other things. This guy had apparently been eyeing me for quite sometime. Unfortunately, his opinions (slightly pro-Bloomberg, in favour of the smoking ban) didn't exactly mesh with mine. Nonetheless I stayed there longer than normal because they extended happy hour for all voters, and you are not going to separate me from having an extra Mike's Hard.

And by the way...

If you live in Virginia, please vote for Kaine, because as funny and unaware as he is, the thought of La Kilgore in power is not worth the risk.

Vote or Shut Up

Remember what I said in September? Well, it applies double now. Not only because it's your damn civic duty, but also because you might encounter the idiots that I had the misfortune to be sandwiched between at the polls this morning and you don't want them making decisions affecting your life, don't you?

Idiot #1: A stunned gormless fool wearing a "Berkeley" shirt who couldn't manage to figure out how to operate the sodding voting booth. You pull the lever before you vote and pull it again when you are finished! He also verbally pointed out that he was voting Republican. So apparently Magic Johnson isn't the only Californian that Bloomie is bringing in to rig this election. I gave him a cold stare not rarely seen outside of International Falls for his traitorous actions. (Not to mention the fact that it's just not right to mention who you're voting for while you are at the booth!) I hope his income plummets to zero, his company goes into receivership, and all his accreditations are disqualified. Don't mess with me, I know voodoo priestesses.

Idiot #2: This stunned fool didn't bring his ID. Excuse me? Was I the only person who had it drilled into his head that you do not leave your home without any identification? The nice woman volunteering at the booth (I had a very nice conversation with her while Idiot #1 was still arsing about in the booth) asked him for it and his face was just awash with the shock that: A) He didn't have it on him; and B) that she asked him to prove who he was. Do people not remember the voter fraud scandals last year and in 2000?! For all she knows, he could be a felon or someone trying to muck up the elections. Luckily for him (and unfortunately for those of us who believe in fair elections), another poll worker said that he was not required to show photo identification. I chose that moment to take out my photo ID and display it prominently. Sometimes you just have to educate these fools with a visual aid.

So there you have it, these are the fools shaping your public policy. If you don't get your ass out and vote properly they will truly give us a government run and chosen by dunces.

By the way, if you live in Maine or Texas, you had better get out and vote against institutionalised discrimination against gays. In Maine, the single celled organisms of The (so-called) Christian Civil League are trying to overturn Maine's civil rights law that protects LGBT residents from discrimination in housing, employment, and credit. While in Texas, there is a measure to amend the state constitution to ban gay marriage--which is sadly already banned by law, so this is basically the bigots trying to stomp down even harder on civil rights.

On a less moral but still important note, for New Yorkers who live and/or work on the East Side from Lexington Avenue to the East River, you'd be wise to vote for Proposition 2, which will authorise construction on the long-awaited Second Avenue subway line. If you have ever taken the 6 from 6 am to 10 pm, then you know what I'm talking about. It's desperately needed.

Go vote or do not even consider complaining when your civil rights and services start being chipped away. In fact, if you don't vote and you are eligible to vote, just leave this planet now. People have died to give you that right, and your pampered ass should be sufficiently humble to give up just a shred of your time.

Irony at The Bold & The Beautiful

I know Pookie and the Mizez will get a kick out of this:

Stephanie: The underlying message in all [women's] lives is that in order to be attractive she has to expose her whole entire body.

Taylor: Amen...Well in my business it seems like you're selling eating disorders and unrealistic body images.


Um...I wonder if Hunter Tylo and her collagen lips and breast enhancements are in on the joke.

In Other TV News

• Killer Instinct: Johnny Messner still can't act, but at least knows how to brood enough to keep you interested, because face it no one is paying attention to anything that comes out of his mouth. That said, this man is no lead and the series would be vastly more interesting if they wrote it with Chi McBride or Kirstin Lehman as the lead character. Messner just seems so out of his league.
• But Can They Sing? : Bai Ling still can't sing, but knows that outrageous outfits and '80s pop songs always win voters; Antonio Sabato Jr. improves ever so slightly by not completely butchering "I Want You To Want Me" shirtless (do not ever give this man a ballad again); Carmine tries the same route, but I'm sorry, I don't think there's a market for tanorexic twink rap; Larry Holmes sings "Let's Get It On" and...ew, it's my father and I just don't even want to envision it.
• The Boondocks: This show and Noah's Arc were the two big premieres I was waiting for this Fall, and...this is the bigger disappointment. Let's just put the whole "nigger" debate to the side here (I side with Steve Harvey and Richard Pryor on it, anyway)*, this show just seems to have the oddest pacing. The comic strip is quick-paced and to the point, and the show just drags. As much as I like Regina King, she's no Cree Sumner, who is a voice actress par excellance and makes some of the most hackneyed lines on Drawn Together work.

*Richard Pryor said that after he visited Africa, he would never call another black man "nigger." Steve Harvey echoed that sentiment and disagrees with McGruder, who believes that the word does belong in entertainment.

• Reunion: Well, it's getting kind of interesting. I'm praying that as we get into the 1990's that the characters will at least acquire some sort of actual depth and quirks. The show's basic premise is too good for it to tank.
• Noah's Arc: I still stand by my Julia comments, but for pete's sake, I hope the actor playing Noah starts pitching his voice a bit deeper, because half the time I have to rely on captioning in order to find out what he says. The writing, however, still is very strong and I hope it stays that way. Good job, Patrik-Ian.

What I Do All Day

To answer a question that a lot of people have, I do work.

I'm a freelance writer and work from home. Essentially, the majority of my work is cleaning up grammar and spelling, which I find quite funny, since I think that my own isn't that great to start with. In between projects, I work on plays, do notes for plays, and [after spending the month of June housebound] take time off to watch The Bold & The Beautiful. (Speaking of which, they just need to give Susan Flannery the Emmy now.)

Currently, I'm working on three scripts.

In the middle of writing: A play about anorexia and body image. I'm nearly finished with Act 1. I don't rewrite until I have a production, so I ponder dialogue very closely before writing. Sometimes I can finish a play in a month, other times, it takes me nigh on a year. The latter is the case here.

Note-taking stage: A true-crime play (that's all I can say about it now in a public forum).

Brainstorming: My second ever spec script for television.

Splash Post-Mortem: No Sex in the Champagne Room

World, let it be known that a certain somebody and myself have been captured for posterity in HX of all things. There will be no escaping it, so we'll just embrace it.

I don't know how these Saturday nights at Splash turn into nights of debauchery, but please do not let them end. At the far corner of the downstairs bar there were lap dances being given and was it a sight. The eroticism of it was relatively low (well, at least to the specatator), but one gets taken in by the technique. One man seemed to be a one-trick pony because all he ever did was thrust himself silly against whatever man (and solitary woman) who paid for him. Not too impressive, except that after this woman decided to flash her breasts at him he walked away and said "Oh, disgusting!" I gave him $5 on the basis of that alone, because I'm an old militant and an avid supporter of hiring gay men over gay-for-pay ones.

Another lap dancer must have been an acrobat because he was able to get on his hands and work his crotch 'til the cows came home. I nearly paid for him just on the basis of that alone. And I would be remiss if I didn't mention "Daddy" with his '70s era mustache and intimidating body. I didn't get a good look, but he tweaked our nipples and I felt like a schoolgirl inside.

And I won't even start on the cheating doctor, Alan with the baby oil promises, the return of the infamous Alex, and Rocco & Tony. All I can say is that indeed, no one got or gave up the cookie last night, but I got damn close.

On a slightly related note, courtesy of Thomas, I took a gander at Astrodienst and found this very interesting tidbit about my romance life:

You can enjoy a wide variety of sexual experiences, and if you limit yourself to one partner, that person should enjoy lovemaking as a continuously changing adventure, however affectionate.

You are not the type to be tied down intellectually or emotionally, so you must have a partner who respects your freedom.

Achieving the kind of communication you want requires contact on many levels with your partner, so a close relationship will develop slowly.

Although you find sex by itself naturally satisfying, you are quite capable of carrying on a love affair without any sexual contact at all.

And that my friends, is why there will be no sex in the champagne room, unless I'm really turned on mentally and physically.

Me Vs. The Blade

Rarely have I ever read The New York Blade and felt pissed off. Well, that's changed. Somehow it's gone all Log Cabinette this week.

Perhaps it has to do with this week's cover story?

Which has seeped down to this Blade Blog entry.

And lest we forget, the parent company gave Jeff Gannon an occasional column.

L'Ètat C'est Moi

Doug Forrester is Porky Pig

Or is it the other way around?

Odd Thoughts That Pop Into My Head On A Thursday Morning

• For some reason one of the doormen here just does not like me. I do not know why. I do not yak away on my cellphone. I talk to him in a respectful polite manner. I always make sure to say "hello" when coming in or out of the building. All I get in response is a sneer and cold stare. I am honestly stumped. I'm almost tempted to believe it's some strange form of black-on-black racism or male-on-male sexism, because he fawns all over the white women. No need to be rude just because you don't want to sleep with me.
• There has to be some sort of city law that prevents construction sites from starting at 7 am in an area that has more than 200 apartments.
• I don't care what Steve Harvey says, any song that features the lyrics "a thug has feelings too" has got to be tossed out and steamrolled.
• Speaking of which, could I actually pass as a "homothug" for one day? I got this image of me with cornrows and baggy pants and I thought it was hilarious. I looked as ridiculous as Shemar Moore in Diary of A Mad Black Woman (aka Misery In Da Hood).
• I like this new Ferrer ad that has a roller blader dancing to salsa with the tagline "for all New York." It's very GAP-meets-political ad. Go Freddie.
• Ann Tripp is funny. She needs her own show. In the interim, she can replace Alexis Glick on Today. Television is just aching to have a woman who just doesn't care and tells it like it is.
• I know it's only next month, but it just seems a little bit early for egg nog to be hitting the stores.
• Aquarians: Read today's horoscope at Out.com and strut proudly.

Posh-Splash-Barracuda Post-Mortem: Do Not Violate The Box!

As I type now, John Kerry is being interviewed by Steve Harvey. Now that I've established that weird image in your head, let's go rewind to last night.

Somehow I found myself starting out in Hell's Kitchen at Posh. Quite a strange bar I have to say, it feels crowded when it actually isn't. Even more strange, the bartender was from Milwaukee and actually knew Mequon. Perhaps strange is the wrong word, because whenever I come across someone who knows my hometown it makes me feel like I'm not pulling the wool over everyone's eyes. It's a bit hard to explain, but I imagine that anyone living in the Northeast who wasn't born here understands where I'm coming from.

After a good spirited and friendly debate on socialism with a Frenchman it was onto the mainstay of every Tuesday evening--Splash. I jumped for joy--at least on the inside--upon entering because the music videos had returned. I was all settled in when all of a sudden I was besieged by a blonde woman and her gay male friend. They just came up into my box without a care. I do not understand it. It was somewhat ameliorated by the fact that she did start up a conversation and was quite an interesting person. Nonetheless, they violated my box, so I found my way to Barracuda.

I don't knpw why I went to Barracuda, except for one reason--I've missed waking up in the morning with a handstamp. Again, I was beseiged by another group of people--ironically, another blonde woman and her gay male friends. Now, I could ultimately care less who comes into a bar, but it does drive me insane when people start behaving as if others aren't there. I'm talking about SCREECHING IN MY EAR and flicking your hair right into my face. For pete's sake, could we kill this strain of narcissism that seems to be running rampant amongst urban twenty and thirtysomethings?

And trust me, no upspoken apology like "I am so sorry about that. I like totally hate it when people flick my hair" does not do the trick.

RIP Conviction

I’ve come to the conclusion that the era of people having convictions and standing by them is coming to a close. Perhaps it’s a sign of maturity and it’s always been this way, or perhaps it’s a whole societal shift. Personally, I don’t know, but it’s a sad state of affairs nonetheless.

What’s made me take notice of this has been seeing all these Democrats all of a sudden run to support Bloomberg. I’m not necessarily referring to sociopaths like Brian Ellner and Jonathan Capehart, but rank and file nominally liberal ones. It boggles the mind how in a city that has 6 Democrats for every 1 Republican, that the Republican candidate is leading by 30%. Some people say it’s because he’s doing a good job. Those people tend to not have much on their mind other than getting their end over on a Friday night. They do not want to think. Thinking causes them to question the futility of their existence. They will register as Democrat in a Democratic city; they will register as Republican in a Republican city. Oh hell, I’ll cut to the chase, they are basically sheep.

Sheep are prevalent in American society, because there is a vicious disease running through this country, a disease called “I’m afraid to stand up for what I believe in, because it might not be popular.” “I won’t stand up for what I believe in because I’m scared.” Everybody wants to back the winner, even if they don’t really care about the winner, because at least they aren’t the loser. It’s just unfathomable to be the loser.

Well, let’s start changing that. Whether you win or lose, go down believing what you believe. History remembers those who are unique, not those who were part of the masses. A vast amount of people don’t want to stand out, but every time that you don’t stand up for what truly matters to you (and forget how much elected officials can actually do), your identity dies.

If you see your identity as secondary to being with the in crowd, then enjoy the primordial ooze.

On Halloween

B.A.H. H.U.M.B.U.G.

Especially when the sodding parade route gets too close for comfort.

Sunday Night Is For Trashy Celebrity Singing Shows

Good god, I just saw Larry Holmes singing "I Feel Good" on But Can They Sing? And I swear it was like watching my father during one of his rare free-spirited moments. Vocally, it was no different either.

The show's most interesting moment, however, was when host Ahmet Zappa (get that man some codeine ASAP) say enthusiastically that he'd go gay for Antonio Sabato Jr. It certainly wasn't based upon his horrific version of "Every Breath You Take."

Nonetheless, my vote went for Bai Ling and her I-don't-care-what-you-think-of-me performance of "Like A Virgin." We should all be so lucky to have batshit crazy moments where we don't care what the rest of the world thinks. (Stephen knows what I'm talking about.)

They Don't Do Openings Like This Anymore

Forgive my multiple postings today, however, I just figured out Putfile, and it's made me all giddy.

As a frivolous contrast to Amina, here is "Don't Look Back" the opening theme song to Sonic Soldier Borgman.

What can I say? I'm on a nostalgia kick this morning.