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."