In which I make my internet debut

THIS IS AN INAUSPICIOUS WAY of introducing myself to the internet, but I'm going to jump on the 4 Girls Finger Paint reaction video bandwagon here.

For anyone who hasn't seen the wretched clip of which I speak, let my reaction suffice. Do not, under any circumstances, see this video for yourself. It was vile. But do you see how I suffer for my art?

4 Girls Finger Paint Reaction

I know it when I see it. And now I wish I hadn't.

In which I am grateful for my father

A GROUP FROM MY CHURCH back home put a proposal in favor of same-sex marriage before the church's vestry, which is like the church's board of directors.

My mom has been involved in the effort from the beginning, which is wonderful, if not entirely surprising: her middle initial, L, effectively stands for liberal. The woman has never met a minority group she didn't adore, which she made abundantly clear by attending a gay pride parade just weeks after I came out, and years before I could have stepped foot near a leather daddy wearing chaps and nipple clamps.

On the day of the presentation to the vestry, however, my mom, who is a member of the city's school board, had a last minute meeting to save public education, and was forced to pull out of the presentation.

Then something even better happened: my dad agreed to attend. He even agreed to speak in her place.

I can't tell you how proud this made me. My father never makes public statements on political issues, and his private statements on, say, foreign policy have been known to include the statement "Bomb the bastards back to the Stone Age." Moreover, like any good Yankee, the man has a strict "Don't ask, don't tell" policy when it comes to sexuality - homo or otherwise.

What's amazing to me is that my parents, while motivated by my stake in the issue, both made it clear that they aren't doing this on my behalf. For them, this is about doing what's right, what's just, and what's good.

I want to share what my father said said because it's beautiful.

(Warning: there are a few sentences where he goes on as fathers will about their children. I am not trying to be immodest in posting those sentiments; I'd prefer to share this whole cloth).

I am not here this evening to speak as a member of the St. Francis parish, although I have been for a quarter century.

Nor am I here to speak as the father of a son who is gay, who I love beyond any words. That said, when I think of him, I think of Ernest Hemingway’s profound observation that “Courage is grace under pressure.” The courage and grace he has shown in dealing with his sexuality - first to his family, then to his friends, and then to the great unknown that is society - leaves me in awe. I don’t know if I could have ever summoned his strength and his belief in the essential goodness of people.

No, tonight I’d like to speak with you about a matter that goes beyond St. Francis and the Episcopal Church, but strikes to the most American of values. We are a people who believe deeply in fairness and equality. They are qualities that more than two centuries ago sparked a flame that allowed the rest of the world to dream of - and embrace - democracy and which make us a universal symbol of hope to this day.

No one wakes up in the morning and decides they want to be gay. Why would they want to be loathed by people who don’t know anything about their dreams and hopes and fears? Why would they want to be the subject of cultural ridicule? And why, finally, would they be willing to face discrimination from the institutions they value most, including their church where, in my son's case, he was Baptized, received First Holy Communion, and served as an Acolyte before he outgrew the robes.

I am not well-versed in the intricacies of Episcopal dogma or politics, either at the international, national or, most importantly, local level - and honestly, they don’t particularly interest me. What I am concerned about is this fundamental issue of humanity.

In 1966, Bobby Kennedy traveled to South Africa, a country then suffocating under the boot of their loathsome and, ultimately, self-destructive, policy of Apartheid. Kennedy spoke at the University of Capetown and said this:

“It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.”

Today, the question before us is more subtle but it calls to us the same essential questions Bob Kennedy asked:

If not now, when? And if not here, where?

He used to look good to me, but now...

IF THERE'S ONE THING I like, it's a winner. Thus, as Obama comes ever closer to clinching the nomination, I find him ever more attractive. I mean, why root for a loser? Instead, just say, "Oh, I don't know, I like them both; I'll be happy either way."

Perhaps my ambivalence is rooted in my deep seeded guilt at being the white male oppressor. If I come out too strong for Hilary, I'm a racist; too strong for Barack and I'm just reinforcing the glass ceiling. After all, isn't it her turn? Doesn't she deserve it? Too bad there isn't a gay candidate, this would be so much easier.

Ultimately, I blame New York. If I still lived in DC, my friends would never let me get away with being on the fence. Here in The City, however, people break out in hives when you try to talk politics with them.

It's unsettling, however, that I somehow have developed stronger opinions about who I think should be the next American Idol than I have about who should be the next president, despite listening to NPR every day and reading the New York Times online religiously. What's the point in learning so much about the candidates if someone hasn't told me what to think by now?

Well, consider my dilemma solved.

Barack Obama-sistible

Welcome to their home.

FOUR FRIENDS STARTED A BLOG recently and it's pretty great. Three of the four contributors live together, which makes for some fun posts about the things you only learn about people when in very close quarters. Given that there are multiple contributors, the blog has a scattershot quality to it, but it's fun because you can get to know each of them.

A few weeks back, one of the guys wrote about a one night stand that turned into a two day affair; it's wonderful, particularly his discussion of the morning after that became the whole next day and night. It has a kind of honesty that gets you, like at the end when he writes:

He gets up and walks across the room and hugs me. This is a not the weak, pacify-your-sadness hug that I've felt before. Nor is it the lame generic sympathy hug. He wraps all of himself around me, and we fold into each other on the modern green angular sofa. This is the hug that seems to say, "I have room for you". It's more connection than intimacy, but feels amazing in a way that I hadn't realized I missed until now.

Check out the post at Fuzzy Mimosa.

And here's the absolutely brilliant Brenda Dickson parody that gave the blog its name. If you haven't seen this, sit down and watch. It's bizarre and perfect.

Brenda Dickson - Welcome to My Home

"As long as I don't bleed or cry I'll do it."

Novel uses for shovels: Episode 1

KANYE'S VIDEO FOR "FLASHING LIGHTS" has some amazing cinematography, gorgeous colors, and the girl has a serious swerve. Something about it reminds me of the Arcade Fire video mash-up I posted a while back, something about the pacing and the cold, silent violence, but this one is definitely more hip-hop.

The song is typical Kanye - stunning beat, great sample, tiresome, self-congratulatory lyrics - but I like the video enough to post it anyway.

Kanye West - "Flashing Lights"

Fur is murder.

You gotta be bad/bold

THE GENTLEMEN WHO GRACE my stoop (who apparently never need to sleep) decided to celebrate the coming dawn this morning by blasting some reggaeton track from their hoopdie at 5:30 AM.

These fairly regular impromptu parties usually come and go without incident (with the notable exception of a few weeks ago when someone leaned out the window and screamed "It's two-fucking-thirty in the morning" to no avail). This morning, however, was different. Apparently tired of having the party forced on them, a neighbor across the street decided to fight back. This brave soul mustered all of their courage and decided to return fire with their most effective weapon: "Strong Enough" by Cher.

Really? Cher? That is the most feeble shit, and yet totally brilliant. There's nothing that would make those guys want to go party someplace else. And you know what? It worked.

I think the next time it happens, I'm putting my speakers in the window and blasting Des'ree.

Let's take back the night.


Fear this.

You should have heard me do "Sometimes"

I'VE ONLY SEEN ONE episode of MTV's "Rob and Big," the one where Rob decides he's going to buy a miniature pony and lets it live in the house. The show is fun in a way that catches you off guard. As Heather put it, it's like watching a 14-year-old boy with unlimited funds live his dream life, and that's strangely amusing.

On some recent episode, Rob and Big go to a car wash; the new Enrique song comes on, and Rob just goes crazy dancing to it. Behold.



This reminds me so much of high school, it's not even funny. The only difference is that rather than an overweight black man, I was with my best friend Lex, and rather than Enrique, it was Britney, and rather than dancing, I was singing the harmony part in the last chorus of "Oops! I Did it Again." But the general idea is the same.

Four score and seven queers ago

MAYBE THE RUMORS ONLY exist in the sequin and lube corner of the world, but there are rumors nevertheless that President Abraham Lincoln was gay. Of course, this was before Freud had defined homosexuality in the way we mean it today, but there's something glorious about the idea. Hell, if Obama can claim him, so can I, right?

The US Treasury is doing their part to keep my hopes alive. I present you the new $5 Bill. Tell me the big purple five isn't the queerest thing you've ever seen! It's like it's popping out to say, "Hey girl!"