Thursday, April 30, 2009
J. Edgar Hoover Being a GentlemanFBI Director J. Edgar Hoover seats Mrs. Martha Mitchell, wife of U.S. Attorney General John Mitchell, during a dinner given in her honor by the American Women's Newspaper Club on May 25, 1971. Hoover, making his first public social appearance in almost three years, was asked whether he had ever received one of Mrs. Mitchell's notorious late-night telephone calls. Without hesitation he replied, "I stay up at night waiting for it." (Bettmann/Corbis)
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
A Wimple in Time
In 1966, at the height of Deckers' success, Debbie Reynolds starred in a saccharine, Oscar-nominated Hollywood musical version of her life story.From Riley.
The producers weren't to know how things would later end: with Deckers depressed, destitute and dependent on alcohol and tranquillisers, killing herself with her lesbian partner in 1985.
Nail to the Chief
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Today's Top Story
... [T]he Republic of Texas should arrange a population transfer with the United States, like how Turkey and Greece exchanged all their misplaced Turks and Greeks after the first World War — only this time without the forced marches and famine. Basically, we get all the New Yorker-reading lefties, and Texas can have all the crazies — millenarians with basement stockpiles of semiautomatics, true believers who blockade abortion clinics, paranoiacs who think The Gays are coming to get them, and anyone who believes that evolution is "just a theory."
Monday, April 27, 2009
Phyllis Up
Dan went to Californy this weekend for a much-deserved getaway. I was left in Marty's able hands, with help from Nicole and my mom.
Yesterday evening we were startled to realize that we hadn't watched a single freak show the whole time. The entertainment highlight was something of a surprise.
"Little Britain USA" got mixed reviews, so my expectations were low, but I found it largely hilarious. My favorite character was a new one: Phyllis Church. You can see her in action here and here.
Thanks again, Tina!
Yesterday evening we were startled to realize that we hadn't watched a single freak show the whole time. The entertainment highlight was something of a surprise.
"Little Britain USA" got mixed reviews, so my expectations were low, but I found it largely hilarious. My favorite character was a new one: Phyllis Church. You can see her in action here and here.
Thanks again, Tina!
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Beadazzled
Bea Arthur was the first celebrity I ever met. It was in a shoe store in Brentwood when I was six or seven. Engrossed in sandal selection (fag!), I heard my aunt say, "Well, since I see you on TV every week ..." and looked up to see her talking to ... Maude.
My little world was rocked. I suppose I realized that actors were actual people, but I'd certainly never imagined they shopped among us. Back home in the Washington suburbs, all we had were politicians and journalists, and who the hell cared about them. But a TV star ... Wow.
"Who else have you seen?" I asked my aunt.
"I saw Burt Lancaster at the deli counter once," she said.
"Who?"
"He was in The Swimmer," she offered, to no avail whatsoever.
There've been plenty of star sightings in the years since (especially in New York, where they really do live among the people), but Bea will will always be my first.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Today's Top Story
Previously Michelle Malkin’s writing was on the edge of unreadable; she’s sort of like Ann Coulter, only without that tiny fraction of P.T. Barnum/Mick Jagger-esque self-promotional flair that makes Coulter at least vaguely interesting. When you read Ann Coulter, you know you’re reading someone who would fuck a hippopotamus if she thought it would boost her Q rating. That’s a rare quality and it commands one’s attention.From Peggy.
Michelle Malkin doesn’t have that. She’s just a mean little dunce who’s wedged herself into a nicely paying career as a GOP spokesclown, and she’s going to ride that gig for as long as it keeps gas in her minivan.
Grounded
Next to my office in San Francisco, there was a restaurant with a jungle plane-crash theme. (This was years before "Lost.") The menu was Polynesian, and the cavernous interior featured dense tropical foliage; a grotto; and, most strikingly, the "wreckage" of a jet that purportedly had belonged to Jefferson Airplane. (I guess they upgraded to a starship when they changed their name.)
It was fun to have a mai tai or three in the airplane while "scenery" glided by in the windows, which had been replaced by video screens ... although I'm suddenly wondering, more than a decade after the fact, why we were pretending to fly if we'd already crashed in the jungle. Probably better not to overthink it.
Apparently "airplane food" - and drinks - have a certain universal appeal.
Thanks to Kristine.
It was fun to have a mai tai or three in the airplane while "scenery" glided by in the windows, which had been replaced by video screens ... although I'm suddenly wondering, more than a decade after the fact, why we were pretending to fly if we'd already crashed in the jungle. Probably better not to overthink it.
Apparently "airplane food" - and drinks - have a certain universal appeal.
Thanks to Kristine.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Rudd Awakening
I'd do anything Paul Rudd asked me to, but I'm not sure he should be sounding the alarm about global warming, considering how hot and moist he makes me.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Who Knew?
Cuttlefish are chronic masturbators. They only ever stop
to eat, or, if they still have the energy, to mate.
More conversation starters at Factropolis.
From Derek.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
That's Rich
As the polls attest, the majority of Americans who support civil unions for gay couples has been steadily growing. Younger voters are fine with marriage. Generational changeover will seal the deal.Source
'Did That Sound Gay?'
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Storm Season
"Before long, the winds will be blowing each other."
There's also this.
| The Colbert Report | Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c | |||
| The Colbert Coalition's Anti-Gay Marriage Ad | ||||
| ||||
There's also this.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Curb Your Enthusiasm
What if you threw a party and nobody came? Again and again, day after day.
Nicole and I have a running joke. We call it different things, but the gist is that I'm a stripper in search of an audience. I put on two shows a day: just before and just after my shower. The stage is my bathroom, and the performance is always the same: the world's slowest, most awkward pole dance.
Despite living on the ground floor, I don't bother putting the shade down. Dan imposes strict blackout restrictions, but when he's off duty anything goes. If someone's going to go to all the trouble of peeping, I say they deserve to see whatever they can. It's called hospitality.
No takers yet, and I've been peddling my wares for a year now. I often glance at the window during my awkward pirouette - sometimes I even give a winsome wave - but there's never anyone there. I'm considering sending Nicole out with a sandwich board to announce my showtimes. Come one, come all, to the Grossest Show on Earth! You won't believe your eyes!
Nicole and I have a running joke. We call it different things, but the gist is that I'm a stripper in search of an audience. I put on two shows a day: just before and just after my shower. The stage is my bathroom, and the performance is always the same: the world's slowest, most awkward pole dance.
Despite living on the ground floor, I don't bother putting the shade down. Dan imposes strict blackout restrictions, but when he's off duty anything goes. If someone's going to go to all the trouble of peeping, I say they deserve to see whatever they can. It's called hospitality.
No takers yet, and I've been peddling my wares for a year now. I often glance at the window during my awkward pirouette - sometimes I even give a winsome wave - but there's never anyone there. I'm considering sending Nicole out with a sandwich board to announce my showtimes. Come one, come all, to the Grossest Show on Earth! You won't believe your eyes!
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Meating of the Minds
What is it about bacon that inspires such creativity?
Exhibit A
Exhibit B
Exhibit C*
* Apparently an April fool prank from the brain trust that brought us Baconnaise.
Sources: Colleen, OMG Blog
Exhibit A
Exhibit B
Exhibit C*
* Apparently an April fool prank from the brain trust that brought us Baconnaise.
Sources: Colleen, OMG Blog
That's Life
Young Isabel Harter riding a tricycle while her sister Nellie rolls a hoop, with other children and adults in background. Fort Greene, N.Y., May 22, 1886. (Wallace G. Levison)From Florence.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Steamed Crabs
If these people were Americans, they'd be the ones who drive SUVs while bemoaning the price of gas. Or buy McMansions in Outer Hades, then bitch about the commute. My personal favorite is the guy who moved to a community carved out of the Arizona desert, where he was deeply perturbed by dust and sand blowing onto the golf course.
From peripatetic Peg.
Squirms of Endearment
At first I thought it was bad art by celebrities, but this is almost as good.
From Kristine, who prefers unicorns.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
When you told me you loved me, I couldn’t tell
if you were serious or if it just slipped out.
Either way, I’m glad I laughed.
Bad Eggs
Twelve years ago (a dozen!), Dan and some friends hosted an Easter brunch. He was living in the Castro, in a great house with a sweet little back garden - the perfect setting.
He and I were tasked with filling plastic eggs for the hunt. Or maybe we tasked ourselves. Anyway, it probably would have gone fine had we not been stoned.
Our early efforts were normal enough: Hershey's Kisses, Tootsie Rolls, hard candies. But that seemed dull after a while, so we started looking around for less-predictable treats. Who wouldn't be delighted to find a teabag in an egg? Garlic, anyone? ¿Huevo jalapeño?
Regrettably, things went downhill from there. Increasingly giddy, we vied to make each egg more outrageous than the last. One was filled with a raw egg, another with the contents of a dirty ashtray. The worst involved a trip to the cat's litter box.
Guess what? People like things predictable, at least when it comes to Easter eggs. The reactions ranged from mild amusement to shocked dismay. No one was harmed, but no one was charmed. And our brunches have been boring ever since.
After all this time, I was happy to learn we aren't the only Easter degenerates.
He and I were tasked with filling plastic eggs for the hunt. Or maybe we tasked ourselves. Anyway, it probably would have gone fine had we not been stoned.
Our early efforts were normal enough: Hershey's Kisses, Tootsie Rolls, hard candies. But that seemed dull after a while, so we started looking around for less-predictable treats. Who wouldn't be delighted to find a teabag in an egg? Garlic, anyone? ¿Huevo jalapeño?
Regrettably, things went downhill from there. Increasingly giddy, we vied to make each egg more outrageous than the last. One was filled with a raw egg, another with the contents of a dirty ashtray. The worst involved a trip to the cat's litter box.
Guess what? People like things predictable, at least when it comes to Easter eggs. The reactions ranged from mild amusement to shocked dismay. No one was harmed, but no one was charmed. And our brunches have been boring ever since.
After all this time, I was happy to learn we aren't the only Easter degenerates.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
When Sally Met Edie
Friday, April 10, 2009
Fauxpocalypse
Have you heard? Turns out the married gays are still on the march. No longer merely a coastal phenomenon, undeterred by the economic recession, as yet unsmited by God's redneck fury, these bizarre, relentlessly loving creatures are now invading the heartland. Will the nightmare of love never end?Mark Morford on conservatives' latest backlash.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Neck Is Supple
I recently saw a urologist for the first time in my life. My internist's an old friend, and he passed along the dick doc's report because some of the comments just had to be shared. To wit:
Mr. Jack is a 42-year-old man.
God, I am, aren't I. How in the hell did that happen?
His brother brings him in today.
Say what, now? If Dan is my brother, what we're doing is very, very wrong. But we've heard it enough times that we're beginning to wonder just what sort of vibe we give off.
He is in a wheelchair, but he has good cognition.
Go figure.
Physical exam shows a well groomed, well dressed gentleman in no distress.
I should note that my hair was its usual frizzy mess, and I was wearing drab nylon pants, brown fuzzy Crocs, and a shapeless oatmeal sweater I acquired 22 years ago as a Benetton vendeuse.
Alert and oriented times three.
Why, thank you. Not bad for someone in a wheelchair.
Neck is supple.
I don't know whether to blush or whinny.
I did not do a genitalia or rectal examination.
This was a great pity, at least from my perspective. For he was a hottie: a younger, leaner, furrier George Clooney, with a personality to match. He could have poked and prodded me all day. And my brother would've let him.
Mr. Jack is a 42-year-old man.
God, I am, aren't I. How in the hell did that happen?
His brother brings him in today.
Say what, now? If Dan is my brother, what we're doing is very, very wrong. But we've heard it enough times that we're beginning to wonder just what sort of vibe we give off.
He is in a wheelchair, but he has good cognition.
Go figure.
Physical exam shows a well groomed, well dressed gentleman in no distress.
I should note that my hair was its usual frizzy mess, and I was wearing drab nylon pants, brown fuzzy Crocs, and a shapeless oatmeal sweater I acquired 22 years ago as a Benetton vendeuse.
Alert and oriented times three.
Why, thank you. Not bad for someone in a wheelchair.
Neck is supple.
I don't know whether to blush or whinny.
I did not do a genitalia or rectal examination.
This was a great pity, at least from my perspective. For he was a hottie: a younger, leaner, furrier George Clooney, with a personality to match. He could have poked and prodded me all day. And my brother would've let him.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Pole Position
Sometimes a site's name says it all.
I'd love to know whether Sarah Palin monitors her PAC's ad placement.
From Kristine, a konnoisseur.
I'd love to know whether Sarah Palin monitors her PAC's ad placement.
From Kristine, a konnoisseur.
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
A federal trooper stands on watch on a street in Washington, D.C.,6 April 1968. Dozens of major American cities were rocked by an
escalation in race riots following the assassination of Martin Luther King
on 4 April. Several hundred people were injured and about 3,000 arrested,
most of those in Washington. (Pictorial Parade/Getty Images)
From Riley.
Monday, April 06, 2009
All Thai'd Up
Last week Dan put his car on Craigslist, where it was promptly snapped up by an adorable woman in her mid-20s. A fairly recent arrival from Thailand, she showed up with an entourage of two female friends and one male. Only the guy spoke fluent English.
The test drive took so long, we were joking about filing a police report when we got a call for directions. They were lost.
Ten minutes later, they burst into the Holler. The man glanced around and declared, "Your house so neat and clean, Mr. Dan. But not your car."
It was like an invasion of hummingbirds. They fluttered around, examining one object, then another, chattering and giggling all the while. At one point all three women surrounded Devo on the couch, stroking him simultaneously.
"He sad," they decided.
"That's just how he is," Dan explained, not entirely convincingly.
Then came the questions.
To Dan, for no obvious reason: "Are you ecologist?"
"No. I work for the Northern Virginia Regional Park Authority."
"So ... biologist?" she offered hopefully. He was a little sorry to disillusion her.
The man was even more inquisitive. When he first saw me, he asked Dan: "Is he your friend?"
"He's my partner."
This threw him, but not for long. Scrutinizing a framed photo, he said: "You're taller than him?"
"No," I replied. It seemed easier than: "I used to be a hair taller, but probably not anymore, what with the ALS and all."*
Unsatisfied, he turned to Dan, who'd missed the exchange: "Is he taller than you?"
"Yes."
Not surprisingly, this led to queries about the state of my hearing and comprehension. Which in turn led to a series of questions about my health. After earnestly imploring me to try meditation, he changed tracks completely.
"Is okay if I take pictures?" he asked, whipping out his cell phone and pantomiming.
To our bemusement, he proceeded to snap photos of our profoundly ordinary IKEA kitchen, our bathrooms, and other unlikely subjects.
When they finally left, I said: "You just sold your car to Hello Kitty."
* The first time I met a group of Dan's lesbian amigas, one of them exclaimed, "Oh my god, they're the same size! Where's my camera?"
The test drive took so long, we were joking about filing a police report when we got a call for directions. They were lost.
Ten minutes later, they burst into the Holler. The man glanced around and declared, "Your house so neat and clean, Mr. Dan. But not your car."
It was like an invasion of hummingbirds. They fluttered around, examining one object, then another, chattering and giggling all the while. At one point all three women surrounded Devo on the couch, stroking him simultaneously.
"He sad," they decided.
"That's just how he is," Dan explained, not entirely convincingly.
Then came the questions.
To Dan, for no obvious reason: "Are you ecologist?"
"No. I work for the Northern Virginia Regional Park Authority."
"So ... biologist?" she offered hopefully. He was a little sorry to disillusion her.
The man was even more inquisitive. When he first saw me, he asked Dan: "Is he your friend?"
"He's my partner."
This threw him, but not for long. Scrutinizing a framed photo, he said: "You're taller than him?"
"No," I replied. It seemed easier than: "I used to be a hair taller, but probably not anymore, what with the ALS and all."*
Unsatisfied, he turned to Dan, who'd missed the exchange: "Is he taller than you?"
"Yes."
Not surprisingly, this led to queries about the state of my hearing and comprehension. Which in turn led to a series of questions about my health. After earnestly imploring me to try meditation, he changed tracks completely.
"Is okay if I take pictures?" he asked, whipping out his cell phone and pantomiming.
To our bemusement, he proceeded to snap photos of our profoundly ordinary IKEA kitchen, our bathrooms, and other unlikely subjects.
When they finally left, I said: "You just sold your car to Hello Kitty."
* The first time I met a group of Dan's lesbian amigas, one of them exclaimed, "Oh my god, they're the same size! Where's my camera?"
Sunday, April 05, 2009
It broke my heart to see myself breaking your heart,
but I’ve always been a masochist.
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Father Knows Best?
Perhaps we should look at it differently, and use Benedict as our grand reminder that the general Rule of Divinity still holds true: the more you claim to be some sort of inviolable authority on things sacred and holy, the less you are to be trusted and the more we should all hope and pray for your urgent obsoletion.I have many issues with the Catholic Church, but the notion of papal infallibility is near the top of the list. A human being - elected to the position by other human beings - cannot be wrong? Pardon my Latin, but give me a fucking break.
Mark Morford on Ratzi's latest rot.
Friday, April 03, 2009
It's Academic
Hard Finding a Prostitute in Baltimore, Huh?From Overheard in the Office.
Grad student: So I think that the manuscript should be organized differently...
(advisor's phone rings, he has a quick conversation in Arabic)
Advisor: Goddammit, sorry. I hate when my damn Arab relatives call, they always want me to set them up with prostitutes for their trips to the United States.
Grad student: Uh...
Advisor: Anyway, where is figure 3 going in your paper now?
Baltimore, Maryland
Overheard by: LabCat
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
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