The Sushi Conflict

The Moonies are involved with sushi, which may mean having to give it up. Granted, this isn't that huge of a sacrifice--since I'm allergic to fish with gills--but it's an annoying one.

The other option is drilling every place that I go to about who their supplier is, and life is too damn short.

I don't know why this is a boycott I'm going to follow. In general, I believe boycotts can be a slippery slope, because oftentimes they don't take into account the shades of gray at work. For example, although ABC/Disney airs The 700 Club on ABC Family (and that whole Focus on the Family episode of Extreme Makeover), it's also a company that employs probably the most visible contingent of out gay reporters, and has been at the forefront of gay programming going all the way back to thirtysomething. Let's not even start with Gay Days--this company is defintiely on our side.

Another prime example, the Caribbean: While I agree with the boycott of Jamaica, The Cayman Islands, and The Bahamas, I have trouble buying the St. Martin/Maarten boycott and the extremists that call for a boycott of the entire region. Now, I definitely sympathise with families and friends of Jefferson and Smith, and I have issues with the nature of Caribbean tourism itself, but from what I've read and heard so far--and I say this, fully aware that testimony/-ies may arise that might cause me to reverse this opinion--it strikes me as boycotting France and The Netherlands. Chris Crain was bashed in Amsterdam last year and there wasn't the same sort of outcry. I don't know if it has to do with the fact that it's in "our backyard" or if there is some type of subconscious racial politicking playing out, but it just doesn't seem to add up in my head.

Yes, the attackers should be brought to justice, as quickly and as strictly as allowed under the law. I needn't mention that. Yet, let us remember that there have been vicious attacks here in New York as recently as last year. Even after Sakia Gunn's tragic murder, we haven't heard of people refusing to visit the Greater New York area. We haven't heard of people refusing to visit Northern California because of what happened to Gwen Araujo, and unless I've been missing something, there was no boycott of Austin.

I watch NBC, even though I know General Electric is one of the biggest supporters of the GOP. I've stayed in Marriott hotels even though the Marriott family is extremely and financially close to the Mormons. I don't give anybody any grief about using Bayer, despite their checkered past, nor do I shun the merchants in my hometown in Wisconsin, even though they have continually put Sensenbrenner back in power for years.

So it comes back to why isn't sushi given this same exception.

Perhaps on some level, it is guilt. I agree that the concept of a boycott is a noble one. I've participated in several, one of which was a wholly personal one against GNC after a hysterical and bigoted shop clerk called the local police on my father under the misguided belief that he was "casing the joint" in order to rob them. (Little did she know that my father was a good friend of many of the officers and the police department in general due to his work as a Rotary member.) Even though I still go out of my way to avoid using GNC anywhere in the world, I do know that not all of the franchises are to blame.

Maybe, sometimes, enough is enough, and maybe it's worth the effort to ask who the supplier is.

Thursday Jukebox Looks Long Ago and Far Away

A rarity, two non-JPop and non-Eurovision related entries.

I am not a crying person by any stretch of the imagination, but I did lose it the first time I heard "Superstar."



And to lighten the mood, something "Truly Outrageous."

Goodbye Met Life Clock

I had adopted a stance of "ignore it and it will go away" in respect to the building going up across the street.

I can't anymore.

The construction is now blocking my view of the clock on the Met Life Tower and they've still got 16 more floors left.

Dammit, I'll miss you Met Life Tower, you spunky skyscraper. I always liked you better than the Empire State.

Fools in the Sun

It's a rainy Sunday and I'm catching up on some shows on my DVR. One of them is a Destination HD episode on the Dominican Republic. I like this show because unlike many travelogues they try to paint a real honest picture of a place with both the beauty and the warts alike. After hearing several Dominicans talk about how difficult it is to make ends meet, the show moves onto a coastal town where they talk to a German man who bought the villa previously owned by Falco. He's asked about the poverty that co-exists around him.

This is his response:

"There is a lot of poverty around here, we all know that. But we shouldn't measure ourselves against that. We just want to live our lives here in the Caribbean as pleasantly as we can, in the standard we know from home. That's something that we have to keep up!"

Excuse me?

It doesn't bother him that the majority of Dominicans are struggling to put food on the table? What sort of plantation mindset is that? He's so Marie Antoinette about it, that I want to just yank him by his naff ponytail and see how he could survive on a 20 peso a day salary.

Really, if you're going to live in an ivory tower, fine. Just be cognizant that you are living in one and that a "let them eat cake" attitude will come to bite you in the ass sooner rather than later.

Why He's Called Slo-Nick

Nick Verreos




















Anžej Dežan

A Delayed Reaction

If you had seen me on the street yesterday, you wouldn't have had any idea what I was going through.

I was re-evaluating all that had transpired since 2002, and finally beginning to deal with it.

Here's the backstory: Around the time of my father's death I was heavily infatuated with a man that I'll call M. In fact, it would be safe to say that M was the first person outside of my family who I could open up to. He seemed to seek it out, taking a very strong interest in how I viewed the world and what my views were on a myriad of topics, basically interested in knowing my emotional side. This was made all the more interesting because as a horny 22 year old at the time, I was initially more interested in having sex with him than talking about feelings. (Note: we never did have sex.)

Nonetheless, walls broke down and he got in. When my father died, the first person I called after receiving the news was M, who was eerily calm and collected about it. (Granted, I was as well.) No call while I was back in Wisconsin, nor email to see how I'm doing. In fact, M--who lives a bicoastal existence--absented himself for several months. Reappearing on a rainy Spring night to invite me for a post-dinner drink. I gladly went. The conversation was rather unremarkable and we went our separate ways afterwards. Again, no contact for several months until that Summer, when he responded to my email that I would be out in California for a weekend in August.

We attended a classmate's play and afterwards, he shook my hand (6 months ago we were kissing in public, something completely out of character for me) and disappeared again. This time he disappeared for 2 years. Although I wrote a play partially about him and his hot-and-cold stance, I thought I had exorcised the pain that had had wrought. Then in the summer of 2004, he reappeared in of all places the 79th street station on the 1 line. We talked, partly caught up, and the whole time he gave me this look that said "why haven't we spoken in such a long time?" He wanted to see if we could have dinner again and to get in contact with him to arrange a time. I sent an email with my availability and...nothing.

Well, M reappeared again this past Monday. I was making my way from Newark Airport back to Manhattan and he was right next to me on the platform and on the train. We talked, we share a brief laugh, and there was yet another invitation for me to have dinner with him. While I was sitting down at the computer to ostensibly give him my availability, I started wondering.

Why did this man haunt me?

I kept thinking and thinking, and finally it dawned upon me. He was the first person I had ever opened up to on a deeper level. When he disappeared, I interpreted it as a rejection of who I am as a person inside. While M did not cause my previous relationship to fail, I do understand why my ex mentioned that I could be unbelievably cold on occasion. It was self-protection.

M once told me that he had mentioned to a friend of his that "[I] could be great person, if [I] could ever get out of [my] head." At the time, I remember being flattered that at least I was getting mentioned by M. What I've come to realise now, is that in the greater scheme of things, he was saying that I had not opened up to him or to the world at large.

Which is how I found myself wandering around yesterday analysing how that fear of being hurt again had affected my life. It had, in more areas than just in my lovelife. I had never sought to promote my work the way that my colleagues do. I avoided any challenges or opportunities that I didn't have full or at least majority control over.

M had, in my opinion, sought me out as someone to get emotionally intimate with and then disappear as if I was another notch on his bedpost. Had we just slept together after that one chance meeting back in December 2001, then maybe I would've been spared this. Yet, I don't mind it now. Without a doubt, someone with a higher EQ than mine would've come to this conclusion much earlier. Nonetheless, I remember one thing that I have always said when asked to console someone: "Everything that has transpired has lead us to this point, and this is where we are supposed to be."

So a wounded optimistic I will be.

Quote of the Season #1

From Stewart Lewis's Rockstarlet:

"I knew it was a sickness, but part of me was sad that all the dreams I'd pinned on Timothy were over. It wasn't that I missed him so much anymore--he was acting like too much of a freak for that. But I still wanted a good, solid relationship so much. I knew it was dumb to fall for strange guys and expect it to be all joy and rapture."

You'd Better Work!

Severina does actually have a proper video for "Moja Štikla," and I'll say this, she's got La Ryan beat by country-mile in the video stakes.




Meanwhile, some daft MP is claiming that La Vissi's video is offensive to Greeks and Europeans. I think the video is a million times better than the song, frankly.

Sod The Cat

There are murders going unsolved.

There are generals calling for Rumsfeld's head.

There are politicians lining their pockets with the people's money.

There's a death related to dust exposure at Ground Zero.

And the top story for WNBC on Good Friday is about a damn cat being freed from the wall in the West Village.

NBC stations across the country seem to be afflicted with misguided priorities.

(By the way--even if you don't live in Milwaukee--Tim Cuprisin is honestly one of the best no-holds-barred TV columnists out there, and worth reading.)

Verdammnt

(Apologies to all German-speakers)

The saga of the police raids in Chelsea continues. Take note of the incident at Steel Gym.

Eurovision 2006 Preview Video Showdown: Finale

So who were the best and the worst of the preview videos, according to this little corner of the Internet?

The Best

1. Finland
2. Belgium
3. Greece
4. Turkey
5. Bulgaria (sorry, but sex sells)

The Worst

1. Spain
2. Monaco
3. Albania
4. Switzerland (for sheer gall)
5. Every single country that took the cheap way out (I'm looking at you harshly Croatia, Norway, and Poland).

Honourable Mentions

1. Andorra
2. Iceland

Dishonourable Mentions

1. Russia
2. Lithuania

I still think La Ryan is going to take the lot, followed closely by Fabrizio, Severina, and La Vissi. I can live with liking the winner and the 3rd place finisher.

Eurovision 2006 Preview Video Showdown: Part 5

S to U + France

• Slovenia: As Sestre's promo materials in 2002 attested, "Slovenia is the only country with 'love' in it." That said, I do not have to love Slo-Nick, except as a fey car crash. Perhaps trying to capitalise on the success of "Energy" in 2001--for many people the song didn't become a contender until they saw the video--RTVSLO has trotted out a sort of A' version of the same video. Granted it makes sense, since the writers are the same, the tempo is the same, and in some parts of the song the melody is the same. The only real difference is the gender of the person singing it. Whereas La Derenda had gothic architecture surrounding her, Slo-Nick (oh, how I so want to call him La Dežan) has fields and coastlines. His hair is spiked so much that I think it's yet another homage to "Energy." Then all of a sudden it switches to Slo-Nick in front of a blue backdrop sporting a mohawk and ridiculous blond streaks. Oh jesus, then the song goes uptempo and into camp overdrive. Slo-Nick starts switching his hips while dressed like a FIT reject's idea of pirate clothes. The poor lad even does jazz hands and pops his eyes while singing "will it be forever?" God, I hope not. (Just remember, this could have been the breasts that performed "Mandoline.")
• Spain: There is an advert running here to get people to buy diamonds. It consists of some happy-go-lucky American couple in Trafalgar Square. The man says "I'd marry you again in front of all these people." The wife expresses shock as it is soon revealed that her parents are present along with a whole bunch of other people that they know. We are supposed to think it is romantic. It is actually vomit-inducing. While the Spanish entry isn't that bad, it's pretty acrid. Let's deal with the song first: it's limp and having it "sung" (well, I would call it screeching, but that's just me) by 4 women with a vague relationship to the key, doesn't help its cause. I love the lyrics, which seem to celebrate alcohol, shopping, and infidelity: " I left him high and dry/He has the gift of gab/I can be an underground low life/But my heart has spoken:/Duty free, duty free, duty free." However, the video is C.H.E.A.P. It's the Ketchup girls--dressed like fashion disasters--sashaying in front of various watercolour backdrops like it's 1986. Ay! TVE just get Andermay and at least pretend that you're trying.
• Sweden: Melodifestivalen performance. Deranged homophobic zealot with a wind machine (again), raspy voice, and key changes. I think we've all been here before.
• Switzerland: A whole bunch of soloists walking around a palm-fringed paradise that cannot possibly be remotely near Switzerland. So that they don't feel guilty about the fact that 99.9% of this video is pretty people in a sunny paradise singing about charity, there's a shot of Tinka helping an old woman with her bags. Still, the main focus is on hard bodies and melisma.
• Turkey: Very psychedelic and one of the better songs this year. Sibel sounds similar to Madonna and looks similar to Gwen Stefani. (And yes, I know that Gwen & Madonna are distant relatives of each other.) How to describe this video? Well, it's basically a collage of very striking images (think any video from The Shamen) : Sibel on a star, Sibel in coloured lights, Sibel in a top hat, etc. Basically, it's "look at me," which is appropriate since the song is called "Superstar," and this isn't from the Karen Carpenter lonely heart's perspective.
• Ukraine: It's attack of the Bouncy Hair Woman! Watch out, she's got a throaty voice, black gloves, and step dancing skills to knock you out. To be honest, this video is pretty generic. Tina dances on the dance floor, sways about, smiles about a mile wide, and sings "show me your love." Frankly, all it's coasting on is cuteness, which given the fact that this year is full of entrants who look like they've been around the block and back umpteen times, is probably an advantage.
• United Kingdom: National Final performance. Since the backing "singers" are blatantly miming, this will obviously be different come next month. Anyway, five grown women dressed in school uniforms sing the chorus and then Daz comes out (npi). He actually is ten times more engaging than the schoolgirls. He also raps pretty quickly, so I only have the slightest inkling as to what he's saying. For some inexplicable reason, I really like this. It won't win, but it'll do well.
• France: Live performance, since she chucked the National Final song--which was pretty damn good, in my opinion. It's Virginie and a microphone. Singing a ballad. Normally, this irks the living daylights out of me, but this style of song and performance has been a part of French culture since Piaf (if not earlier) and lord knows, Virginie pulls it off. How so? She actually does an excellent job communicating the song. Lyrics are not just noise, they do have meaning and guess what, poppets? You are supposed to show in your face that you understand the meaning. Won't win, but could signal a return to the 2001-02 run of high scores for France.

History Repeating

With much of the current debate about immigration centered around the fact that supposedly "Americans won't do these jobs," it all seems reminescent of the plight of the Helots of Messenia.

I am not as educated nor as coherent as the author of the linked article, but much as the US found out during the Civil Rights Struggles of the 1950's and 1960's, a society cannot exist if there is a two-tier system that keeps groups disenfranchised.

The tension of the future--as it stands now--will be rich versus poor, and we must be willing to accept that things must change so that we are all equal.

You Made Me Like You

A perky ad campaign that really did not sell anything but Rebecca Romijn would normally be big on my "must miss" list, but goddammit I actually like Pepper Dennis.

1. I'm a sucker for any television show set in the world of television itself. (Although, as sacrilegious as this sounds, I never really enjoyed The Mary Tyler Moore Show.)
2. The writing is actually pretty witty and funny, in the vein of Grosse Pointe (so please don't screw this up like you did that gem, WB/CW) .
3. Despite a blatant detour from reality (a reporter swears oncamera and only gets a suspension?) , the show still has merit beyond that.

It's the sort of television show I would write, if the main character was a drunk bisexual male reporter working for Canadian television.

In the interest of full disclosure, I have no relationship with The WB, UPN, or the CBS Corporation, beyond watching CBS News Sunday Morning.

Eurovision 2006 Preview Video Showdown: Part 4

N to P

• Netherlands: National Final performance. I'm really going to call this one as I see it: A bunch of blonde women beating drums and singing nonsense. It's children's music basically. Sure, it's catchy, but it's extremely saccharine. Considering that Belgium gave us the surprise 2nd place finisher "Sanomi" in 2003, I would definitely say the bar has been raised for songs in made-up languages...and this falls very short. Bring back Edsilia, Nederland.
  
  
  
  
• Norway: National Final performance. (Wow, NRK is really stingy with the money when they have a multi-week MGP it seems.) Since I've already tracked Christine's journey to her MGP win, I'll just add that she's still stunning, and the song is one of the few decent ballads (lyrically and musically) in a year full of "I-love-you-don't-you-love-me" dirges.
• Poland: Yet another National Final performance, and from TVP as well! They usually manage to come up with the most amazing videos. Tsk, tsk. Anyway, Pretty Brunette sings "I Follow My Heart;" The Rapper snarls "I Follow My Heart;" Pretty Blonde #1 sings "I Follow My Heart;" Pretty Blonde #2 sings "I Follow My Heart," and it all goes downhill from there. First, The Rapper proceeds to rap in Spanglish--and rips off the lyrics to "Gasolina" (Daddy Yankee could so take this guy.) Then Kool-Aid Hair (with added streaks of silver) and his voice of gravel and shredded glass starts singing. I must add that everybody onstage is dressed like the days of the Court of Prussia have never ended. In the interest of being positive, I will say that I like this slightly better than last year's Polish entry although that certainly had a better stage show.
• Portugal: Guess what? It's a National Final performance, but considering that most Portuguese entries get previews from their national final, I'm not as annoyed as I am with Poland. I really want to like this song, but there are a lot of barriers to doing so. For starters, the music sounds like something straight out of a Teachers' Talent Night. Secondly, I know these women can sing, but giving them a routine best suited for rural Nebraskan cheerleaders isn't doing them any favours. On the upside, the switch from English to Portuguese and back is flawless, even better than last year.
• Romania: Finally, an original video! Mihai goes through a labyrinth aided by shots that make it look like he's on PCP. Going "heeeeee-a-heeeee" in a falsetto at the beginning doesn't do any help dispel this thought. So what's in this labyrinth? Acrobats, musclemen, fire-eaters, snake-charmers, and clowns. Now, I'm not saying that this is what the director was going for with this video, but consider this equation: dance music, plenty of shots of shirtless men, snake-like corridors? They know their audience. The song still makes no sense, but it also makes me not care about that fact at all.
• Russia: I don't know if there's one person who has directed all of the Russian preview videos over the past two years, but I'm beginning to think that he or she needs to break out of their comfort zone. Why? Well, in 2004, the video featured Julia Savicheva faux-performing in front of a screaming audience. 2005, the video featured La Podolskaya doing the same. This year, Dima "Twinky" Bilan does the same. Dima is a fashion disaster--and if a self-proclaimed fashion ignoramus like myself notices, then it's bad. His hair is styled into a mullet and the jeans-white tank top combination makes him look eerily like La Podolskaya from behind. Then there's his performance. Maybe it's me, but from what I can make out from the lyrics (Dima has got atrocious pronunciation, which is a shame, because Russian-accented English can sound melodic and crisp to Anglophone ears.), he shouldn't be grinning and smiling while singing "Never let you go...flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone." This ballad is really all surface and no substance. Considering that last year, La Podolskaya kicked ass singing about school violence, a generic "why-don't-you-love-me" Enrique-Iglesias wannabe ballad is a step in the wrong direction. Still, Twinky will be in the final, just you watch.

Next Time: Slo-Nick tries to make us notice that he is "Mr. Nobody," Las Ketchup gets giddy about alcohol and duty free (and despite those being 2 of my favourite things, it leaves me cold), Homophobic religious nut claims invincibility, The "Swiss" entry try to guilt us (ha!), Turkey oozes coolness from all corners, Ukraine shows us Tina Karol's love and hair extensions, the UK raps about teenage angst, and France's time has come...despite the fact that the other song was probably better (at least to my ears).

The Conundrum of Chelsea

Ok, so you want to live in the middle of all the action? Good.

Sign right here on the dotted line and you too, will have your own over-priced apartment within easy walking distance of all the bars and clubs you could ever want to visit.

Oh, you want all the noise to stop by 10 PM so you can get some rest? Sure, just call the NYPD and they'll fix it for you in 9 months time.

Of course, you'll wind up shuttering a fair amount of the bars and clubs that attracted you to the neighbourhood in the first place, and therefore start complaining again that there's nothing to do at night that doesn't require a long subway or taxi ride; but, who cares? As long as you're happy and your parents keep paying for your apartment, then all is right with world.

It's not like I'm all that suprised that steroids and guns were involved all of this, but it does seem to me like the police were looking for a way to justify the closings by getting some of these drug buys to occur in certain locations (or vice versa). If the police captain himself said "he's going to be adversarial," then what can you expect?

And you thought Tammany Hall was long gone.

Wednesday Jukebox Goes Balkan

This will be a rather ballad heavy jukebox, but at least they are stand out ballads. However, we start upbeat with Ivana Banfic's performance of "Daj Povedi Me" from Jugovizija 1991, a performance that could clearly be straight out of Paris Is Burning. What's the Croatian equivalent of "Chante'! Chante'! Chante'?"




Next we go to 1975 and the first ever Turkish entry "Seninle Bir Dakika" as performed by Semiha Yanki. Now to all you songwriters and singers out there, this is a love song. She's talking about just a single minute with her beloved. She is racked by so much desire and heartache that just being able to see them for a sodding minute makes life worth living. That desire is such a part of her being that she can barely stand up by the end of the song. That, comrades, is emoting with the best of them. Not to mention that the melody itself can chill you down to the bone.



And finally going even further back to 1971 and Krunoslav Slabinac's performance of "Tvoj dječak je tužan" or "your boy is sad." This is true heartache. Poor Kico has lost his other half and basically throwing himself further into shock. He talks about "the night being long and dark like pain." His bed is empty, he can't sleep, his hair is rendered practically immobile.This man's journey is over. Those lo-fi emo kids ain't got nothing on Kico's pain, I tell you.

The Stonewall Post-Mortem: The Two Eternal Gay Male Questions

1. Why do tops have trouble believing that others are tops as well?
2. Can you really kiss someone while in the throes of anal sex?

So I'm (top #1) at The Stonewall after 10, which is pretty radical for me, and I wind up in conversation with a man visiting from San Francisco (top #2). As I always have found to be the truth, after midnight the conversation turns to sex. It starts with a story from the bartender (top #3) who relates a story of a guy he was having sex with. It turns out that this guy wanted him to kiss him while in the midst of thrusting his penis inside him. The bartender said this was logistically impossible.

"Oh no," said the visitor, "it's totally possible."

"I'm sorry, it isn't" said the playwright.

For five minutes we debated this. The bartender and I coming to the conclusion that it is only possible if you are missing a rib and/or can perform auto-fellatio. The sheer logistics of anal sex make it too uncomfortable for a guy to kiss someone--unless there is a significant height difference--while penetrating.

We're not talking flicking of the tongues here, I mean a serious full-on tongue-touching-tonsils kiss.

Finally, since: a) I wanted to prove myself right on this matter, and b) had openly stated that I would bottom for a friend (despite the fact that I derive no erotic pleasure from it at all), I offered to illustrate the problem--live & completely clothed.

I laid down on the stool and put my legs around the tourist's neck while he positioned himself as penitrator. He leaned down to kiss me and declared his victory.

"Not so fast," I said, "your crotch was nowhere near my hole."

"Yes, it was" said he.

"No, it wasn't."

He put his finger on the spot where he believed my opening was.

"That's my scrotum."

He moved it again.

"That's still my scrotum."

He moved it around all of three more times and each time still managed to hit my scrotum--and it's not like I have a freakishly huge one either.

New Yorkers: 1, San Franciscans: 0.

As for question #1, it must be pointed out that the entire conversation was peppered with a great many "yeah, right, you're a top" statements directed from one to another.

Hair

I have just had relaxer put in my hair, after a nearly 7 year hiatus.

Some inexplicable force inside me beckoned me to do it, because I haven't had a haircut since February, and the thought of another shave-athon seemed banal.

When I was younger, I used to hate my hair. It was never kinky enough to support anything even remotely resembling an afro or proper fade. It also isn't straight enough for me to style it that way. Barring her militant period, my mother always relaxed her hair. Conversely, my father kept his hair close-cut. I just experimented all the time.

In high school, I started out with a high top that was more like a medium top and ended with relaxed hair down to my neck.

In college, the humidity of the Home Counties put a quick kibosh to the relaxing, since I looked like a deranged militant. Not exactly the best image to show to the world, especially when one is a hardcore leftist. So I started getting it cut close again.

When I returned to the US, I resumed the relaxing. I thought it looked decent, until I realised that in order to keep it under control at night, I had to wear a nightcap. It was at that point that I just decided to screw it all and just get it all cut off.

The funny thing through all this is that so often others tried to imprint their beliefs of "black coolness" onto my hair, as if my follicles and what I did with them were public domain.

"You should get dreadlocks!"

"Wear a 'fro, man."

"Dude, cornrows."

Apart from telling me that I really hung with too many people who liked to ape surfer-speak, I had to wonder why they felt the need to box me into their definition of what a black man should like.

Some guys can wear locs (I will never call them "dreads" anymore, courtesy of a friend schooling me via her play) and come out stunning. I'm not one of them. I don't have the wherewithal to maintain them properly. You see, they are meant to be striking and awe-inspiring and most importantly, they are to be treated right. I also suspect that my hair could never get tight enough to support them.

The same applies to cornrows. I don't know about you, but I can't fathom spending several hours to nearly a day while someone works on my hair. What do you talk about? What do you do when you need to use the bog? And how do you get rid of the guilt of taking up that much of someone's time?

Then there's the proverbial afro. It seems that too many people have seen too many blaxplotation films and think that the afro is a sign of being badass. No, it's not. It is a sign of one's link to Africa. It is a political statement without uttering a word. It is a statement of solidarity with one's ancestors. It also wasn't always called "an afro," in fact many people called it "natural," because it was the natural state of their hair and a sign that they were reclaiming their own beauty.

Unfortunately for me and virtually every member of my family, that isn't quite the natural state of our hair. We can grow it only so far before it collapses on itself, rendering us into sepia versions of Leopold Stokowski.

So what's left? Relax or cut. It feels very limiting, to be honest. There are times when I'd like to feel what it's like to have your hair blowing in the wind as opposed to just the scalp. Yet, at the same time, I ultimately don't mind that I will never experience it. It's my claim that I'm making to my own beauty and no one else's.

Eurovision 2006 Preview Video Showdown: Part 3

I to M

• Iceland: I know this is supposed to be a parody of Eurovision entrants, but the video seems like a subtle dig at Whitney Houston. How so? The set looks uncannily like the one for "How Will I Know?" and Silvia's wardrobe is very similar to Mrs. Brown's in some scenes. There are also pretty strong digs at Bjork. The original English lyrics included "fuck" in them, alas, that's gone.
• Ireland: Brian wails that "every song is a cry for love" in the middle of [what I'm assuming is] Dublin's airport. If I was in earshot of some whining man with shoulder-length hair, I'd be hightailing it to the next plane headed to the Antipodes. What's really hilarious is how absolutely indifferent everyone in the background is to him. I can't help but think that some of them are thinking "who is this twat blocking up the moving walkway, and when will he shut his yap up and MOVE?"
• Israel: Kdam performance. Eddie wears white, utters the occasional phrase in English, and does his best Luther Vandross impression. Strike that, make it Luther Vandross and Patti LaBelle impression. (Who knew men could do Patti's chicken?)
• Latvia: National final performance. I have generally been uninterested in Latvian finals, and this is just really gives me more reason to ignore them in the future. A whole bunch of scraggly looking men sing acapella. Pink (or P!nk, if you will) is performing "Stupid Girls" on Today, as I write this. Today show live performances tend to make the most energetic performer seem milquetoast, and yet, it's inherently more interesting than anything going on with the Latvian preview.
• Lithuania: Collage of various performances and studio shots here. No real narrative, which means they missed a great opportunity for a soccer/football inspired video, especially given the group's name of LT United. Anyway, the song is daft and not even close to Iceland when it comes to parody. Remember how cringe-inducing those sports team music videos are ("the ickey shuffle," for example), primarily due to atrocious singing and annoying synth in the background? Bleech.
• Malta: Fab has a spat with his grilfriend. She seems to be the instigator based on what the director told her ("look angry!"). They spend the rest of the time longing for each other to upbeat dance music. Poor Fab. You know he wants to be a sex symbol, but he just can't pull it off, by which I mean, there is no gratuitous shirtless shots. I could slam this all I want, and yet, I pretty much know that this year is going to come down to Fab vs. La Ryan.
• Moldova: National final performance. Moldova's most famous submissive wears a blue and black striped sweater while some slapper in a pink blouse and acid-washed denim skirt (!) sings in response. Jesus wept, they do know it's 2006 and not 1986 in Moldova, right? If they're going for heat, then they've failed miserably. It's about as suggestive as Tiffany on The Mickey Mouse Club.
• Monaco: One day, I'd like to be the Monegasque entrant for Eurovision. I'd act all serious, wave the red and white flag, and sing my little partially talented coeur out. All I ask in return, is a nice high-tech video that looks like it cost a lot of money. The principality ain't exactly hurting for money, so why are their preview videos cheap as hell? "La Cocodance" is already a cheap sounding song that even Kassav wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. Don't make it worse by just making it a collection of Severine recording the song, Severine posing for pictures, Severine arriving in Monaco by helicopter, etc. Then there's the whole bizarre fact of a girl from Reunion singing a song partly in Tahitian, representing Monaco. I know they're all part of La Francophonie, but still...

Next Time: The Netherlands give us blondes who babble incoherently to the beat of drums; Norway gives us a rarity this year: a decent ballad; Good ol' Kool Aid hair and gravel voice return for Poland; Portugal promises to make us dance and smile (and manages to get a single toe tap); Romania makes no sense in either English or Italian (and I don't care); and Russia gives a twink with that eternal free-language message "never let you go."