Monday, October 30, 2006

New Moon

A 13-year-old girl at a high school south of Brisbane, Australia, received a failing grade for declining to write a term paper. The assignment, meant to elucidate what it's like to be in the minority, called for students to imagine being a straight person in a mostly gay colony on the moon. The girl refused, due to her religious conviction that homosexuality is a sin.

She may not want to do this assignment, but I'm all over it.

Okay. I'm living as a heterosexual on the moon. I don't know which is the greater stretch.

No, not so. I lived straight for a lengthy period. I just need a few moments to get into character—it's been a while.

All right, I'm ready to talk about my life as a straight woman here on the moon colony of New Castro.

In some ways it's completely like earth. We have banks, hospitals, post offices, grocery stores, houses of worship, intramural sports leagues. In some ways it's actually better. For instance, we have so many hairdressers that price wars break out; you can get the works at a salon for the cost of a moon rock.

It certainly is weird, after earth, being in the sexual-orientation minority. I'm pleased to say that there is no open discrimination against us. Of course, occasionally someone on the street or shuttle pad will hiss “Breeder!“ at a straight person, but I think those are just stubborn, bitter gays who can't deal with how attitudes have changed.

Things used to be different in our colony. Much different. I remember flipping my pronouns at work so nobody would catch on I was straight. To convince my landlady she had a lesbian tenant, I decorated my apartment walls with Georgia O'Keefe paintings. A friend of mine got beaten up outside a bar after kissing her male date. She still has nightmares of her attackers yelling, “We don't want any of that freaky hetero crap here!“

Then came Spacedock. The police, as usual, were harassing the patrons of the Spacedock Tavern, a straight bar, when the worm turned. The patrons fought back. For hours frat boys and debutantes battled the cops. The straight liberation movement had begun.

Fortunately little time elapsed between Spacedock and the granting of full equality for straights on New Castro. We didn't have to wait nearly as long as gays on earth did for their rights, largely because people realized making the same mistakes on the moon was extremely silly.

I personally discovered that my company had caught up, too. My boss used to hit on me, over and over. She said that if I slept with her, I'd never go back to men. Talk about an ego! She wouldn't leave me alone, and I considered moving to Jupiter to get away from her. But I filed a sexual harassment claim with my company, and the last I knew of my former boss, she was working in space sanitation.

Thanks to straight lib and the good sense of our gay government, we straights can marry. I didn't think I'd see that day until I was in New Castro's Old Crater Retirement Home.

These days, the only complaint I have is some gay men around here feel too free to give me unsolicited fashion advice.

Well, I do have another complaint. Back on earth single straight women often complained that when it came to men, all the good ones were either taken or gay. Here in my lunar colony, they're often both! For a middle-aged straight woman looking to date and mate, the demographics are a horror show. Even the man in the moon is gay.

Monday, October 23, 2006

The Mail Animal

I received an interesting e-mail this morning. In fact, I've decided to share it right now. I'd be doing the LGBT community a disservice if I didn't pass along such an insightful piece of work.

The writer declined to sign the paragraph-length note. All I had was an AOL address, and since I use AOL too, I looked up the writer's member profile. Based on the tone of the missive, I already suspected he's a guy. His profile didn't confirm this, but I don't think many women would choose as their personal quote, “If you want the ultimate, you have to be willing to pay the ultimate price.“

I fear my correspondent is G. Gordon Liddy or Oliver North.

Whoever he is, he lives in the U.S., is single, and enjoys sports, reading, music and “intellectual conversation.“ He began his intellectual conversation with me by typing “hey heterophobe“ into the subject line. I've placed the pearls he proceeded to offer in italics.

Hey you straight-bashing freak.

And a pleasant good morning to you, too.

Isn't it funny that the whiny, sensitive, sissy homosexuals who always cry about intolerance, end up being the most intolerant of any once they get a little bit of power in little tiny parcels of land spread out through the country?

You left out faggotty. I can only guess that you mean when laws to protect every citizen are passed, those who yearn to discriminate feel their rights have been infringed. Yes? No? You'll have to help this whiny freak understand.

Can you IMAGINE if gays ever became 15-20% of the population?

Heaven.

Admit it . . . you gays hate straights and if it was possible . . . you'd make straight people adopt gay ways . . . or else.

I admit no such thing. We gays don't hate straights. Most of us come from straight parents, have straight siblings and friends. Certainly there are individual straights we don't like, but that's because they're none too fond of us.

As to making straights adopt gay ways, is this again a reference to the notion of gays treading on individual freedoms? Being thought police? Political-correctness Nazis?

Or do you actually believe we want to force you to get it on with your racquetball partner?

Or maybe to you adopting gay ways means you'd be required to use hair products and wear designer clothes. Fear not. So far gay men haven't even been able to induce lesbians to do that.

Thank GOODness homosexuals aren't in power and man-hating lesbians don't rule the day.

As you implied earlier, more and more gays are creeping into power. Furthermore, closeted gays have always held positions of power, all over the world and throughout time. Bet that gives your willy the willies.

Answer me . . . if there was a gay president (either a sissy male homosexual or a tough lesbian), what kind of laws would you set down for straights?

Any out gay male who achieved the presidency couldn't possibly be a sissy, considering all he'd have to endure. Ditto for any lesbian, or for that matter, any woman.

Laws for straights? Please. The only policy a gay president would have toward straights is not to sleep with one.

But since I doubt that satisfies you, I'll say a homosexual president would demand Congress pass laws against public heterosexual conduct. To be followed by laws against private heterosexual conduct. Then, no thinking straight allowed. No walking in a straight line. Finally, no American shall ever again get straight to the point.

Monday, October 9, 2006

The High and the Sleazy

Former New Jersey Gov. Jim McGreevey embarked on his book tour on Sept. 19. At the time he seemed to pop up frequently, hitting programs like “The Oprah Winfrey Show“ and “Today“ to promote his memoir. Apparently McGreevey is still on his whirlwind tour for “The Confession,“ but you wouldn't know it.

The sleazy gay politician has been pushed right off the front page by another sleazy gay politician.

Former Florida Rep. Mark Foley has truly been everywhere. Or at least his story has; he himself is ensconced in rehab, we're told. Television offers the Foley follies night and day. The only stations not broadcasting the story are the Cartoon Network and Home Shopping Channel.

But how can I lump the two men together? Foley is the baddie, the one who fired off salacious computer messages to teenagers. He says he didn't have sexual contact with a minor, but that doesn't appear to be for lack of trying. And the man chaired the House Caucus on Missing and Exploited Children! We Americans thought he was an expert in the field--how right we were.

Furthermore, from the gay point of view, Foley's been as good for us as ptomaine poisoning. For years his homosexuality was an open secret, but he refused to admit it. Now, after being exposed as a pedophile, one of the first things he does is come out as a gay man. Thanks. Thanks a bunch.

But I do link Foley and McGreevey. Not simply because they're both white men who were raised Catholic, or because both were long aware of their gayness and took to the closet. Not even because both resigned high elected offices in disgrace.

Neither man could see past the end of his own nose. McGreevey may've just screwed adults--but he screwed over a lot of people.

His two wives, for a start. He used them as cover. He shafted the people of New Jersey when he hired his extracurricular boyfriend as homeland security advisor. Israeli Golan Cipel's main qualification for the job was he hailed from a country which has a lot of homeland security.

Cipel claims theirs wasn't a love relationship, as McGreevey maintains, but that the governor forced himself on him. Whatever the truth—and it's doubtful anyone in this farce would know the truth if it hit him upside the head—it was Cipel's threat to file a sexual harassment suit for millions of dollars that made McGreevey hold that press conference in which he famously said, “I am a gay American.“

McGreevey admits now that had Cipel not forced the issue, he'd still be in the closet. He intended to go right on living that twisted life. I have to believe he and fellow pretzel Mark Foley lived lies for the same reason: power.

That's why I can't muster up a lot of sympathy for the former governor. I know he suffered that internal agony over being gay that so many of us do. But his ambition dropped his integrity into the Delaware.

McGreevey has the distinction at present of being the only openly gay governor in American history. That it sure wasn't his idea doesn't change anything.

He has fans at all levels of gay society. With his connections, money and looks he could conceivably become a power in the community, even a spokesperson. Gag me with a microphone.

Foley and McGreevey are living warnings of the dangers of living in the closet. But I suspect both guys were already out of whack before they took up residence with the hangers, cobwebs and mothballs.

Monday, October 2, 2006

Wedding Pitfalls and Pratfalls

Take heed, Rhode Islanders. Though a Massachusetts judge has ruled same-sex couples from your state can marry in Massachusetts, you might want to pause before laying down a deposit on an Elks hall in Worcester.

Have you truly thought about what you're getting into? You could find yourselves on national television, not for being among the first gay couples to marry, but for staging a fiasco of an event. Picture your wedding video on TV, narrated by a slick host who's gleeful as your bridesmaid trips, rabbi faints, or you throw out your back doing the Chicken Dance.

Now that we're joining the straight tradition of marrying, there's no reason to assume we're immune from wedding debacles. Just look to England for a recent and breathtaking example of what can go wrong.

Vanessa Mayo and Gail Hines, both in their 30s, decided to have a civil partnership ceremony in Totnes, Devon. According to Britain's The Sun, Mayo is a firefighter, and her fellow firefighters formed a guard of honor with their axes for the couple.

That probably had nothing to do with the trouble that followed, but I for one would've become fidgety, passing beneath the axes. After all, the English did have a taste for chopping off heads with them.

Following an afternoon reception, the party moved to the town's Creamery Social Club. Apparently this doesn't mean the guests drank buttermilk. Soon enough they all had reason to say they went to a gay wedding and a soccer brawl broke out.

Around 9:30 a male relative made a comment. It must've been a humdinger, because up to 20 people jumped into a mass punch-up. Vanessa Mayo was hit in the face. Sobbing, she departed for her honeymoon in Turkey with a black eye.

The fellow who started all this left too—in the bridal car. He drove away in a cloud of white ribbons. Any locals who saw him pass by in this festooned vehicle but without another person might've thought, “Poor chap. That marriage didn't last long.“

The club manager, Rose Morrison, said between family, friends and firefighters, about 80 people attended. “It was just one incident and by the time the police arrived the man who caused it had gone. Vanessa elected not to go to hospital.“

Morrison closed the party down. “It's a shame because we had an absolutely superb day and everything had gone really well.“

Mayo's grandmother, Constance Thomas, wielded a verbal axe: “It was a really lovely day but there is always someone to ruin everything. That is drink for you.“ Possibly she'd be willing to perform an execution or two.

A family argument sparked the fracas, said Morrison. “It was nothing to do with the wedding itself,“ she averred.

Methinks it could be the new game in Devon, guessing what the man said that incited 20 people in their best clothes to pound each other. Sort of a smaller version of the international speculation that blossomed this summer after Italian soccer player Marco Materazzi uttered something to French star Zinedine Zidane during the World Cup final, and Zidane headbutted him clear back to Milan.

So Rhode Islanders, if marriage is your aim, best have a serious discussion with your partner. Not about what you want out of marriage—heck, that's easy compared to negotiating the minefield that is staging a wedding.

Discuss whether your relatives would be better guests sober or juiced to the eyeballs. Make a plan, as you would for any natural disaster. And if you're sure you don't want your 15 minutes of infamy, forget the whole thing. Just shack up like in the old days.