Monday, June 27, 2011

New York City Pride

This photo gives me happy tears.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Friday, June 24, 2011

THANK GOD! We won!


Thank you, Jesus.  I'm tired and off to bed.

Here's hoping that this helps turn the tide to bring marriage equality to the rest of the United States.  Next stop - DOMA!

Much love to y'all.

XOXO

No balls for Greg

My e-mail sent today to Senator Greg Ball:


Senator Ball :

You could have been a hero.  You appeared to be willing to check your personal beliefs at the Senate door and have a legitimate conversation about marriage equality.

Instead, you allowed your personal beliefs and career to trump the rights of your fellow New Yorkers.

You asked New Yorkers how they felt - by Twitter and Facebook.  Responses to both were overwhelmingly pro-equality. 

You obviously never intended to listen at all.

You chose to use your power and influence to try to keep a subset of tax paying New Yorkers as second class citizens - while creating unnecessary protections for tax-exempt religious institutions.

I hope. Senator, that you will remember this day and understand the slap in the face you have delivered to millions of New Yorkers who support marriage equality.  

Thanks for nothing, Senator.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

The F word

Words fail me.

This evening, I had chicken on the grill, a fresh green salad mix freshly picked from the garden, and a lovely cous cous salad cooling on the counter.

Dakota Staton was on the stereo, chilled cocktails were in hand.

And then it happened.

I first heard Brian conversing with our neighbor - and all I caught was "..it's the first time that's happened since we've been here."

Then he came into the back patio where I was and informed me that some man/teen driving a green mini van had driven by and shouted "faggot!" at him.

I was stunned.  I was angry.  And what pissed me off the most was - I was afraid.

I literally regressed thirty plus years back when people actually wanted to beat me up for who I was.

That word - that fucking word.  How does it retain such power?  In the space of twenty minutes, I wanted to cry, I wanted to beat the little bastard's brains out, and I wanted to install a home security system.

What the hell??

How does a word create so much emotional turmoil?

Because - unlike those who are fighting against us in marriage equality and in society in general, you're not going to shit your pants if I drive by your house and call you "Christian!"  or "Conservative ass!"

Chances are, you're going to laugh, pour another highball and go make an eTrade that kills another 5% of the rainforests in South America or enslaves another third world labor force.

Meanwhile, people like me are being attacked, injured and killed all over the freaking planet.

Well, you know what - it's time to stop.  Call me a faggot - sure - go ahead.

But be damned sure that I will prosecute to the limits of the law if you fuck with me or my family.  Got it?  And beyond that - you've never seen me angry. Ask my reprobate brother who was once pinned into a corner of his bedroom with the razor sharp shard handle of a softball bat pressed against his throat.

I waited for the van to return - I was ready.  My BFF Peter has my bail money - I know this without asking.

It's 2011.  Fucking evolve.

New York: NOM Cheats again!!

Spread the word, kids! 

If you don't agree with them, they don't include you.

Troll baiting

I've been having way too much fun in the opinion pages of one of our local newspapers about the pending vote on marriage equality in New York state.  (Click to embiggen)



 


Thursday, June 16, 2011

You said it!

"Only second-class states have second-class citizens," said Assemblyman Charles Lavine, a (NY) Democrat who voted in favor of legalizing gay marriage.
 Send this man some love.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Okay. Two comments here...

  1. Is it me or is Ben Shapiro one eyebrow waxing away from a lost weekend involving a sling, spurs and an unhealthy amount of a lubricating substance?  Really.  "Lifestyle choices?"  Ben - you are practically a ladies' epsadrille with an unibrow. Stop - for all our sakes.
  2. Okay - can Pat Robertson just die now?  I mean really - he's so old he goes in for carbon dating.  NO ONE CARES ABOUT WHAT YOU SAY!  You could say you stick brussels sprouts up your nose and shoot them out your ass as glitter - and NO ONE WOULD CARE.  Sweet Jesus on a pogo stick - go find a comfy bench in the sun and expire!  You are ridiculous and no one will miss you except the mentally ill and much of Kansas.  God wants you home.  Really.


Fucking asswipes.

P.S. Ben Shapiro is one hell of a whiny little vagina  - grow a pair, Ben!

It's time!

Wish us well - and hope that the right thing will at last be done here in New York.  I look forward to being at City Hall to get our license on the day this takes effect.

Cuomo intros same-sex marriage

Sunday, June 05, 2011

Proud to be - really? Part One......

WARNING:  I am assuredly going to take heat for something in this post.  I recognize and admit that I am not being politically correct and all sunshine and rainbows and unicorns.  But, man - I have to wonder about where we as an LGBT community are at and where we need to be - or not....

Today was an educational experience.  B and I attended our first LGBT Pride Festival since we met and were dating in San Francisco in 1991.

After that - living in San Francisco's Castro District as we did - Pride for us meant a huge inconvenience. Throngs of people, no parking, and usually...someone eventually urinating, defecating, fornicating and/or passing out on our front steps. So for Pride, Halloween - any gay high holy day - we split for points North. Mendocino, Napa, Petaluma - anywhere the thousands of gays weren't - we were there.

Living in the Castro is difficult if you are a committed couple.  It's great if you're single and on the razz, as it were, with bars every few doorways (handy if you need a restroom!) - but when a spontaneous demonstration prevents you from getting home for three hours after innocently walking two blocks to the Walgreens for toilet paper...just because you are on the wrong side of the street...well, it's a bit wearing.

Anyway - back to present - we have actively avoided Pride festivals since - for better or worse.  But our memories of that one that we did attend was about community and friends and neighbors.  We bought art and crafts and whatever from GLBT artisans - I still have the tank top that I bought that reads "I'm not gay but my boyfriend is."   It was a celebration of ourselves and our abilities and our joy of living.

Our local Pride event today was a sobering encounter.  To begin with - we were there as a vendor trying to introduce ourselves as a half-gay-owned business to the community while simultaneously raising funds for the local LGBTQ center here in town. Only to find out that the only other vendors there was some woman who painted celestial visions that she had apparently channeled while downing a fifth of Jack Daniels, three food booths (Caribbean BBQ, corn dogs and funnel cakes, and hot dogs), and us.

The first wave of interest we encountered was from the insane and addicted, who came before the parade because there was really nowhere else to go and get free things.  Their contribution amounted to "Oh those are pretty", "Can I have this?", and "bebbebEEE NEE souhahaha - Martha (drooling noise)!"

As the parade and attendees arrived some time later (hours - goddamn, we set up at 10:30 and had to wait till 1:30 for people to show up) we actually had some lucid customers buying flowers and were able to shake the hands of noted dignitaries who had appeared first thing so they could escape the sad spectacle as soon as possible.

Then the disco/rap/hip hop tent launched and nobody heard anything for an hour.

Following this - sadly - came the speeches and the local talent.  And in what I refer to as the Holly Near-Death Experience - (Google Holly Near if you don't get the joke) - we were then subjected to nearly two hours of ululating lesbians and zaftig belly dancers and drummers -- singing and drumming and wailing about social justice and empowerment and peaceful protest - until the entire tent became a huge, vaginal sweat lodge.

Estrogen-sicles formed on the tent poles and anyone walking by became disabled. I swear this is true.

Side note - what the hell is up with lesbians and being disabled?  Do they put you in a wheelchair when you declare your lesbianism?  Honestly - does someone just show up and mess with your ovaries or knee-cap you or something?  Jesus.  If I saw one more paraplegic lesbian today, I was so going to cry.

Needless to say, this was a huge surprise for our straight but supporting business partners who were experiencing this for the first time.  And for us.

I mentioned how many vendors we had - they were only outnumbered (and easily) by the number of tables featuring mental health providers, "ok, we'll accept you" churches, and "Hi - we're masquerading as an affordable housing developer with Mafia connections that no one talks about. Trust us." organizations.

No alcohol. Anywhere.

Except for the totally cool interfaith minister and his boyfriend next to us who turned out to be really fun and cool and snarky - and who live just a few blocks away (YAY!).  Their friend, who looks and dresses like Snookie and owns a winery, dropped by with six bottles of Syrah.

And there was not a corkscrew in sight.

Besides, today was totally cloudy but warm - a Rose' or unoaked Chardonnay kind of day.

-->To be continued<---