Washington Irving, Updated
Would Ichabod Crane
Have gone insane
Had he'd met the headless horsemen of Manhunt?
Back in Sleepy Hollow
Would he have dared follow
A fellow who called his ass "mancunt"?
Would Ichabod Crane
It's not escaped my attention that some of you, my gentle readers, have come to the opinion that I'm an uptight, humorless , politically-correct prig, when it comes to sensitive social issues.
"At what point does allying with bigots and not calling them on it make you a bigot yourself?"
I took this picture outside of Grand Central Terminal, during an anti-abortion rally. There was lots of really bad chanting, like rhyming "baby" with "baby". There were misspelled protest signs, like "Life Begins At Conseption!" And there were lots of really bad outfits. I saw gauchos, people. Gauchos.
Well, you know I couldn't go all the way to Minneapolis last week and not do this. Fortunately, this was taken very early in the morning, so not very much of downtown witnessed my foolishness.
This morning I found this picture in a frame on a shelf in Terrence's home office and insisted that he scan it for me. We were at Winter Party in South Beach and I impulsively put on Terrence's silly trident hat, which is his Winter Party trademark. I think I had it on my head for about 10 seconds.
Does anybody have some mouse ears I can borrow? Minnie, if you got 'em.
Eckerd Pharmacy, 68th Street & 2nd Avenue
I'm not sure why, but it really tickles this raging atheist's heart to see that I'm now the 119th highest result when the word "god" is googled. Out of 171 million results.
(Ratings employ the Joe.My.God. five-star scale)
It's 10:36am and I've just had 3 beers.
Line item blogging over WebTV: (Because my miserable laptop won't start. Grrr.)
Does anybody have a beret I can borrow? Raspberry, if you've got one.
A tropical storm arrived on Saturday evening delivering one of the most thorough drenchings that New York City has experienced since I've lived here. And as usual, Eddie arrived at my apartment two hours late, delivering one the most thorough drenchings of ennui a little man can carry.
Last Wednesday, Aaron and I attended Bob Mould's concert at Irving Plaza. Being the bigshots we are, we were on Bob's VIP list which yielded us access to the balcony above the stage. Suh-weet! Before we even got upstairs, I was stopped by an attractive young straight couple, who've been reading this blog after following the link on Bob's page. They spoke very knowledgeably about some of the stories I've written, which was very flattering. For some reason, I'm always surprised to meet straight readers, isn't that odd?
Section II, 1990-2000 (Abridged)
- The one that always said her name "Donna Summers", with the "s" on the end, even though he knew it was wrong and knew that it bugged me.
- The one that told everybody he was Italian, when in fact he was Mexican.
- The one that chastely put off any sex until the fourth date, and then when we finally got naked, literally recoiled from my hands, saying "Um, I'm not really into touching."
- The one that laughed out loud, actually hooting, actually slapping his knees in glee, while watching reruns of Too Close For Comfort or Perfect Strangers.
- The one who relocated our date to the restaurant right behind his house, because it was within range of his electronic monitoring bracelet.
- The one that got down on his knees and prayed for forgiveness after we had sex.
- The one that had long conversations with the fish in his aquarium, asking them how their day was, and whether they were hungry, and did they want any new roommates. All in his funny, squeaky "fish" voice.
- The one that asked me how I could stand having such queeny friends.
- The one who during the first (and only) time we had sex, asked me to fuck him, during which he whimpered "Why Daddy, why? I'm just a little boy!"
- The one who consulted his astrology chart before he'd get on a plane.
- The one who slept with the sheet tucked in all around his body, including over his head, like a cadaver.
- The one who "playfully" liked to trip, tickle, pinch and push me.
- The one who voted for Bush the First.
- The one who listened to Color Me Barbra at least 5 times a day.
- The one that insisted on an empty seat between us at the movies, so we didn't look gay.
- The one that was rude to waiters, clerks, delivery men and hotel staff.
- The one who believed that man had never actually been on the moon and every other conspiracy theory he read.
- The one who lavished me with gifts of designer clothing, which it turned out he'd been stealing from his employer, Neiman-Marcus.
- The one who wouldn't meet me for lunch at Sizzler, because he was afraid someone would see him there. Not with me, but AT a Sizzler.
- The one that was married and said that his wife "knew", and that it was OK with her that he dated men, and that they were only staying together for the sake of their FIVE kids. Then he had her call me to say she didn't mind if I was dating her husband.
Taking my cue from the scene in "Miracle On 34th Street" in which Macy's employee Kris Kringle tells customers that they could find what they were looking for at over at Gimbel's, Macy's archrival, I'd like to offer up a few suggestions to my gentle readers.