For Alana Kella. She was murdered in 1995. She was shot in the head at close range while getting out of a cab in New York. The police investigated for about a month and then stamped the case "unsolved".

Alana and I worked at The Baton in Chicago in the early 80's. She was probably one of the most beautiful, and talented women I knew. She came from Hawaii and had a brilliant sense of humor. She'd give you the shirt off her back, but don't come near her food. If she was in her dressing room and had her dinner in her lap, that was HER dinner. Hers and hers alone. She had a thing about her food. In fact, one night when I asked for a fork-full of her spaghetti, she literally growled at me.

Like a bull dog.

I learned to let her eat in peace.

She once told me:

"This life is what we make it. And it's always changing. So we have to as well."

I loved her and I miss her.

This is for you. Alana.

Aloha.

Here’s the kids at DragonCon beating the Guinness book of World records for the most people in one room doing the original choreography to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”.

I love this.

I love seeing how much time and effort these people took to get into costume, to learn the steps, to stay in their own line. And this isn’t about “getting it Right”, this is about simply Doing it and having as much fun as possible. Some people are having trouble with the beat, some with the Gestures, some with the feet…it doesn’t matter. That’s not what anyone’s there for. This is joyful, beautiful stuff here.

Oh…and look for the guy dressed as a giant silver glove. Genius.

I have an idea.

Now…stay with me here, and try and talk yourself into a world where all of us in the gay community (and I include Trans people in that category) actually get along and speak with each other without disdain or judgment. I know it’s a long shot, but give it a whirl.

I am sick and tired of losing these battles. I don’t know about you, but I’m not a very patient person. If I drive up to a fast food window, I want my food fast. Period. I’ve never been one to wait as someone butts ahead of me in line, I don’t take to liars very well, and I never suffer fools, for any reason.

So I have to say in all honesty, the recent Maine decision got my dander up. Way up. Past Mary Poppins on the cloud and straight to God himself. That kind of up.

We spent 68 million dollars MORE than the Opposite Marriage People did, and we still lost.

We lost.

Did everyone hear me correctly?

I said We Lost.

It’s now time for us to think differently. It’s not time for us to spend more money, or convince people being Gay is okey-dokey, or run around trying to get signatures on pamphlets, it’s time to get mad. It’s time to DO something. To Take Action and stop being dormant and stupid about this thing. That is unless no one really cares, and this is all just fashion. If that’s true, please let me know as I have a million things to get at Albertsons and I could really use a couple of days off.

Since that’s most likely not the case, I’ll get to my idea.

First of all, we need to stop calling the Traditional Marriage People “haters”. All that does is vilify them. It gets people on their side. Everyone equates that side of the debate as plain ole people who believe in God. And like it or not, that’s more than half of the United States. If you’re an atheist, you are a minority. That’s a statistic, not an opinion. So to throw ugly words at them, just makes us look vindictive and unjust, two words we don’t need especially when you’re talking about a hot button issue like same sex-sex.

And let’s be honest, that’s what most people assume we’re talking about. Even the heterosexuals who are on our side are talking about sex. And if you want to get really honest, what they’re really talking about Boys having sex with Boys. When you say the word Gay to a straight person, they automatically assume you’re talking about Elton John, not KD Lange.

People couldn’t care less that Ellen isn’t straight, she doesn’t upset the apple cart. But come to find out that Michael Jordan likes men instead of women, and trust me, all hell will break loose. So before anything, let’s be very, very clear about what we’re fighting for.

And as long as we’re on the subject, I have something to say about Faith in general. It’s none of your damn business. If someone believes in God, it’s their right to shout it from the rooftops just as much as it’s yours to condemn them. But I’m also a little tired of hearing other people belittle someone’s faith in God. That’s unfair and mean. Don’t be like that. You didn’t like it when the bullies in school picked on you, please don’t turn into one yourself. It’s ugly and solves nothing. I believe in God and I dare you to challenge me.

Along with dropping the word “hate” from our tool box, let’s also take out the Bible entirely. I know we all like to fight passage with passage, but this is a futile argument. The Bible has been fought over since it’s conception, and this is a war we will not win. Not ever. There’s too much time being wasted on these pithy signs, and truthfully, it just makes us look like we’re standing in a corner with our hands next our ears screaming:

“Nan-nee nan-ee Boo Boo!”

Let them have their beliefs. They’re entitled to them just as much as we are. You can’t argue Faith. Faith doesn’t have a right or a wrong side, that’s why it’s called Faith.

So…here’s my plan:

Cut Them Off.

And here’s what I mean.. you know how Brad and Angelina have told us all they’re not going to get legally married until it’s okay for everyone no matter what their sexual orientation to get legally married? That’s what sparked my idea. That’s right, Brad and Angelina…..Let’s do the same thing, except this time, for us, let’s cut off the heterosexuals from all the services we provide for them. Let’s only give our gifts to our own community. If you are gay, you only work for, or work with gay people. You only spend Gay Money. You only frequent Gay establishments, buy Gay papers, go to Gay theater run by Gay owners, rent or buy from Gay business people. Gay money for Gay money. We cut them off completely from our lives. They want us to live separately, we do just that.

I’m, not saying we can’t have straight friends, or live in a world of straight people. Think of the United States as one big bus and the gay population as Rosa Parks. It’s time we move from the back to the front. And it seems to me that the only way to do that, and truly make a statement, is to hit them where they live…their pockets.

Think of all the things that would come to a standstill. Think of all the things that wouldn’t run, or would practically shut down. Now this certainly doesn’t mean that they can’t frequent OUR businesses, we don’t want to turn anyone away. I’m not talking about discrimination; I’m talking about simple in-house camaraderie. Gay money for Gay people. Period.

And here’s why it can’t happen:

Because we can’t bear the thought of actually standing on the front lines and sacrificing something important to us for this cause. The thought of not having electricity, or HBO, or a new Escort, or that fabulous center piece from Target is too much for us. Gay Rights are important, they’re just not THAT important. And that’s the truth. And that’s why they’re winning. And that’s why it’s going to take a very, very, very long time for gay marriage to pass.

And I hate waiting.

And if I’m soul searching in any kind of real and honest way I ask myself if I, in fact, could do it. Not shop at the grocery store, or go to the restaurant, or put my money in the bank of my choice. I don’t know. I don’t know that I could do it. But I’ll tell you, if every single gay and Trans person in the United States were on board, I’d certainly be willing to give it a shot. Of course, this would also mean that we’d have to actually stand up and be counted. Meaning, we’d all have to come out of the closet. All of us. I’m talking to you, Hollywood.

I love my community. I know gay marriage is going to become a federal law eventually. I know all that. I just wish we’d put as much ingenuity in our political life as we do in our parades. That’s all.

"I would love to be in a movie at some point, I would love to be the voice of a cartoon character in a movie for my kids, I think it would be fun."


-That Kate Woman with the 8 kids and the pasty ex husband.

Last week I had one of the most important auditions ever in the history of important auditions....for me.

I was completely insane and undeniably crazy. I flew down in one day, stayed the night, and flew back the next night. It was as if time stood still…and yet, it seemed like the longest day of my life.

Sheila O’Malley (whose blog I constantly link to) put me up…..or put up with me…..and not only held my hand, but my heart, my soul and my camera as well. I've been posting my antics for a while now, and occasionally I get comments from people asking if what I'm going through is real or not. Meaning: Am I acting about my acting. I think is there are any doubts e mail me and I'll put you in touch with Sheila.

Sheila and I have known each other for almost 10 years now, and this was her first brush with my auditioning insanity. And I think she can vouch for it's authenticity. I say this only because it's much more a testament to who she is as a human. There's a moment in the video when I completely flip out and begin running around her house mumbling like Art Carney and she not only attempts to find me and make sure I'm all right, she stays with me. She's THERE with me. I really think had I done this without her you’d be reading this post written by someone from inside a well padded booby-hatch. She not only was a great, great friend, but she let me do my crazy, live in my fear, and most importantly, tesserract from minute to minute. There was never any judgment, never any disrespect, even when we got to the actual audition and in the middle of one of her sentences I leapt up from our shared bench and began pacing like a caged monkey.

And as I paced, I noticed something:

The room itself was filled with people. Sitting, reading, chatting, going over their music, walking from thing to thing mindlessly and aimlessly, and there, off in her own chair against the wall, dressed to the nines, was a woman in her late twenties, sheet music in hand.

She sat quietly as the furor around her grew and became almost tangible. Everyone’s fear was surrounding them. Sometimes surprising them, but always coming at them with ferocious speed.

I include myself in that Them.

I walked into a small hallway, then walked out. I went over my song in my head. I passed by the back of Sheila's head. I sped up my Tempo now and then, and circled around different people, posts, and even at one time, tried to walk through a wall.

And there, in her chair, sat this woman with the dark hair and the crossed legs.

She sat in her chair, ear phones in, and closed her eyes with a small forced smile plastered on her face. All the chaos, all the energy, all the Life going on around her and she buried herself in a big, fat Lie.

I wanted to walk over to her, take the ear phones out of her ears and say very gently:

“You’re missing everything, sweetie….that thing that’s going on around you? That’s your life.”

It was a mortifying, awful, joyous, surreal, magnificent, and probably the most frightening thing I’ve been through in years. And I have to say, I've been through a lot of mortifying, awful, joyous, surreal, magnificent and frightening things. And I wouldn’t trade one second of any of it for anything in the world. I have no idea if I’ll get this role, it would actually be a miracle considering it’s for one of the leads and to be honest, this is a Broadway debut and it’s more likely they’ll cast Glenn Close. Or Glen Campbell. But I couldn’t care less. I gave up on this dream 20 years ago and yet, here it was. Here it was staring me in the face and exploding like a SuperNova.

That night after I left Sheila's, at about 1am on the flight home to LA, I glanced over at the 40-something man sitting next to me. Very handsome and reading furiously. I saw out of the corner of my eye he was studying a film script.

I butted in on his life:

“Studying lines?” I whispered trying not wake up the rest of the plane.

“Yeah. I am. I’m so nervous.”

“It’s awful isn’t it?” I agreed.

I was busting to tell him what I had just gone through, but I let it go. Everything doesn’t always have to be about you, Alex.

“It’s just….I’m close to 50, and I really gave up on the dream a long time ago. This is kind of a shock.” He said looking at me.

I looked back at him. The plane rocked a little back and forth. The darkness was thick and there wasn’t a sound except the air whipping through the wings, and the sound of our voices filling the void. Two lights shone….mine on my People magazine, and his on his Dream.

I leaned in to him, and put my hand on his.

“Don’t give up. Believe me…you never know what’s next.”

He smiled a great big smile and I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling. I remembered Sheila's eyes at the end of the day when I sat on the edge of her bed recounting what had happened to me and how grateful I was that she there. How joyous it was to share the day with her and how thankful I was that I had her there to not only be my cheerleader but to simply acknowledge that Fact of it.

I thought of her eyes as I told her I had just lived a Dream. Her gorgeous face beaming and her hands trembling occasionally as we smoked throughout the day. She was rock solid, but every once in a while I saw the fear and joy overtake her as well.

I reached over to the stranger sitting next to me and I touched his hand:

"This is really happening you know. And no matter what the outcome is, just remember...you did it. That's the success."

He welled up a bit, then shot his head back into his script.

And we sat silent until we landed. Both of us on our way toward The Next Big Thing. And both of us with someone near to cheer us on. It was a lucky, lucky day.

The end of something is always the beginning of something else.

...and so it goes...

No one does what Minnelli does. It’s almost unexplainable and a lost art in performing. There’s something other worldly and almost bizarre about what happens to her here.

In the middle of an old blues song, she practically uses herself as a piece of Architecture. Beating on herself, slapping her knee, clapping, flinging her shoulders in time to the drummer. And for some strange reason, it all fits. It all comes together, and the joy and release that happens during a routine song, is once again falling into place because of this miracle of a singer.

I couldn’t care less about the vocals (although there very good here), but that’s not what it’s about for me. It’s about what’s happening underneath the pretty notes and the sustained vibrato. I’m much more attracted to the growling and the hissing…the almost sexual predator attitude she adopts. And yet…never losing her sense of play or humor about it.

This is a gem of a performance.

Now granted, this little girl has been through a lot this year. Getting fired, making speeches, coining the phrase “Opposite Marriage”, and now…well, there’s the little matter of a nasty ole masturbation video an ex boyfriend sold to TMZ.

It’s not the greatest year to be Carrie.

And to be perfectly honest, I think there’s some unnecessary nastiness said about her. Although I agree she’s homophobic, I also still maintain she’s not reacting to what’s really in her heart. It seems like someone else’s text. But whatever the reason, she is indeed working from a place of hatred and anger. If you look closely you can actually see it in her eyes. Where she touts love and joy and God, just look at her very closely. There’s something there that’s almost frightening.

However, she doesn’t deserve to be called names. I thought Perez Hilton’s rant about her was stupid and stereotypically Queeny. I have no respect for that man. Whether we like it or not, the woman’s entitled to believe whatever she wants to, and is allowed to express herself without being called “Bitch” and “Whore”. That guy just set back gay rights about 50 years.

Now that I sound middle of the road and without cruel intent, please watch the above video. It has everything. Including the moment when Prejean’s eyes turn dark and filled with disdain. I don’t like the woman and I have no respect for anyone who runs a career based on prejudice, but I’m not going to join the ranks of name calling.





I will however, relish in her awkwardness and delicious ignorance. And I also have to add her recent appearances on both Larry King and The View just multiply her growing anger and obvious lack of education. It’s fairly well known that most homophobic people are under educated (intolerance stems from lack of knowledge) but Prejean’s headed from something else here. There’s something freakishly big around her corner. And selfishly, I want to be there for every single step. When people claim self righteousness, there's always a long, long way to fall.

I feel as if we've been down this road before.







...and soon enough, everyone turns into a punchline.

I make my living both as an actor and a teacher, reading human behavior. I’ve been doing this since I was about 7 and it never gets old. People fascinate me. The tactics we use in order to get what we want, the lies we tell in order to avoid what we want, or the love we give freely in order to fulfill what we want. I’ve taken many classes and taught many classes, but really, the best classroom in the world, IS the world. It’s a living, breathing testament to who we are, where we come from, and where we’re headed.

I love people.

I always put my students in a neutral Shape. Meaning, when we’re doing something, exploring something, on to something and someone’s standing around with their arms folded or behind their back like a lieutenant, my bullshit meter goes off. I go up to them, tell them to breathe a little, and release their arms so they’re simply standing there. As simple as this sounds, it’s really all the more frightening.

Try it sometime when you’re in a group of new people. Changing your Shape can be mind blowing. You’ll be shocked how naked you feel.

In this video, watch these two speakers. Look at their Shapes. As they stand before a huge crowd, and weep, or Gesture, or talk about the Glory of God and how they’ve overcome their Homosexual Ways, their Shape betrays them. There’s no ease to their souls. There’s a raw hurt and a bountiful pain going through them that manifests itself and says to me:

“Help.”

It’s that simple.

To stand and talk about the Truth without their arms across them, protecting them, holding them, binding them, is too much. They simply can’t do it.

I sobbed when I first saw this. And I sobbed not because they found their true calling and were filled with the Holy spirit, but because they’re filled with fear and really only fooling themselves. And I doubt with all that God has in store for them, that this is truly the answer they’re searching for. I’m praying for them. In a neutral Shape.

Off to the Big Apple for a couple of days to see if my dreams can come true.

If not....I'll at least get to see my pal Sheila and get a hot dog with real pickles.

There is a vastness above our heads. There’s a huge cosmic joke. There is an infinite amount of possibilities that literally swirl and dive and plunge and twirl around us constantly. Looking up is the one thing that mystifies and frightens us. The fact that we all came from the same place, from the same multiple factors, from the same thought process. One thing that lives still and still lives.

We aren’t alone and we seem to want to find reasons for it.

I don’t know if there’s an answer or a reason or an end to the puzzle. I don’t know because I don’t want to know. It boggles my mind this question and I want to grab people and shake them and say:

“Have you heard about this?!”

We live in a physical world where stardust bridges the gap between what’s happening and what we hope will happen.

It’s a huge mystery that I sincerely hope no one ever figures out. The question is too much fun, really.

This is really something.

I wrote a post not too long ago about news and the fact that it doesn’t exist anymore, and along comes Shep Smith (who I watch religiously, and like very much). For all you Fox News haters, here’s a hefty pill for you.

Ready?

….and……GO!

This is my second favorite time of year. I love Haloween. I love seeing the kids in the neighborhood (now that we actually LIVE in a neighborhood), and more than anything, I love, love, LOVE scary movies. I think next to MGM musicals, horror is my favorite genre. I can't wait to some home tomorrow after rehearsa and sit around the tube and scare the living crap out of myself.

My wife will be under the bed.

Here are some of my favorite scary images.









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Because I love spoofs. This is really hilarious.
























































and of course...











And speaking of B Horror movies:











"You see?? You're stupid minds! Stupid! STUPID!"





Have a Happy and safe Halloween everyone.

I was getting into my car and as I shut the door there was a cold wind that blew into the front seat. It was almost Midnight and I was exhausted from rehearsing and my brain had turned off a bit. It was pitch black outside with only an occasional car passing by as I sat parked on the curb on the North side of Chicago. I sat for a minute preparing myself for the long drive home, and took a sip of that morning’s coffee.

As I put the key into the ignition, a small pain went up my leg. I assumed it was either age, or…well, let’s face it, I assumed it was age.

I turned the key, and as I was about to shift into reverse, a huge wave of something almost over took me. It was a long, searing pain that dove into the center of my gut and sat there. I stopped, and crumpled a little forward. I couldn’t move. It was November, which in Chicago is always, always cold. I didn’t want to open the door again, but the pain was getting worse and I didn’t want to keel over in the driver’s seat. I needed help.

As I attempted to open the door..it stopped.

It suddenly, from out of nowhere, just stopped. As quickly as it started, it ceased, as if nothing had ever happened. When I visited my doctor later that week, I asked him what it could have been.

“Well…it could have been a number of things, we could run some tests if you want.” He said smiling.

“You’re thinking of the new house you’re going to get from all this money I’m shelling out, aren’t you Doc?”

He snickered.

“Actually…….yes.”

My doctor in Chicago had a brilliant sense of humor.

“Or…” he continued, “…we could chalk it up to the fact that you’ve had AIDS since 1984. It could be that as well.”

Ah.

Yes.

That.

Sometimes I forget. I live my life and I go along, and things are fine, and then I remember that I have this virus in me and sometimes it likes to remind me by poking me in the stomach with a Ginsu knife. It’s as if the virus gets mad at me for turning my nose up at it, and it needs a little attention. A little caressing, or caring, or at the very least, a Hallmark card. I go about my life. I act. I teach. I rehearse. I run errands. I eat. I do things that people do when they’re busy and working. And then, out of the blue, I get a reminder poke:

“You have AIDS, dummy.”

I’m in a small predicament with my health insurance right now. I’m resolving it, but in order to do that, I have to remind myself that I have AIDS. I’m now living it every day. Talking to people on the phone about it, in the mail, on the computer. Complete strangers now know more about my T Cells than I do. But…that’s my life for a while until I can get this straightened out. I have to constantly talk about this thing that’s killing me, or I won’t have any insurance, and I won’t be able to afford any meds, and it will kill me.

Last night as I got into my car, it was a brisk night in Hollywood as I shut my car door and listened to the sound of passing cars at 11:30. I closed my door and waited. I don’t know what it is I was waiting for, I think for the pain, for the jab, for the reminder, but thankfully it never came. I was pain free. But tomorrow…tomorrow will be different. Because I have to get back on the phone and remind every person I speak with what’s crawling around in my veins that’s lethal and vile and will most likely, one day, take my life.

Well.

I guess the reminder for me is also one for them as well. We all win, in a way…don’t we?

When there were only 5 channels to choose from, and every night after dinner we’d sit around the TV having to actually get up and change the channels with our fingers (or make sure if someone’s holding the bunny ears, that they stand on one foot and not move through the entire program)…when that was my reality, my parents watched the news. They watched the news and throughout the program, my Dad, from his brown leather recliner, with his index finger firmly planted on the side of his head would scream:

“You’re an IDIOT! What?! What?! What did you say?!!”

To which my Mother would always reply:

“Bob. No one can hear you.”

Opinions would fly in our house about the President, the White House, gas prices, oil prices, beef prices, every imaginable discussion was had, as I ‘m sure was had in many houses in the late 60’s. People talked about what was reported. People discussed, argued, belabored, and played arm chair psychiatrist.

We don’t do that so much anymore, because we don’t have news programs anymore.

They simply don’t exist.

No one I’ve seen (with the possible exception of Anderson Cooper…and even he has an agenda) is a real reporter. And I’m not talking about experience, or journalism credits, or even the ability to read the teleprompter and not mistake Jesse Jackson for Michael Jackson. I’m talking about people out in the trenches, getting a story and simply telling it to us.

Reporting the news. Telling us the Facts about what we just saw.

There’s a very big difference in telling Facts and reporting Inuits. To be perfectly frank, Keith Olberman, Glenn Beck and all the rest of the big mouths are mere sound. They remind me of those kids in High School that used to run down the hallway screaming at the top of their lungs about how Bad they were, and how Mischievous they were. It always seemed to be my experience that the people who were yelling the loudest, were usually the biggest liars.

Now I guess it could be argued that these people don’t claim to be journalists.

Okay. I’ll go with that.

Take a look at CNN and Fox and MSNBC. There isn’t an anchor on TV that isn’t personally invested in a story. That isn’t trying in some way to tell me how they feel, or more importantly, how THEY feel. Quite frankly, I don’t care how you feel Anchor Lady/Man. If I wanted your opinion, I’d invite myself over for dinner, and have you read your copy to me over your Stove Top stuffing and chicken legs.

I never knew how Walter Cronkite felt about anything. Or David Brinkley. Or Tom Brokaw. There’s a remarkable moment when President Kennedy was pronounced dead when Cronkite takes his glasses away from his face, Gestures a tear away, reports the time to us, and then resumes his job. That’s one of the few moments when I actually knew how he felt…and it was deserved.

But for the most part, they told us what was going on, and allowed us to form our own opinions without shouting, screaming, pounding their fists on the table, or acting like a spoiled child. I realize people like Rachel Maddow aren’t news reporters, but I think I might be the only one who actually knows that. That woman’s so highly annoying the mere sound of her voice makes me want to shove hot pokers in my ears. I’d rather have lunch with Ann Coulter. At least I know I wouldn’t be mocked like a third grader. Every time Maddow’s making a point about the nasty ole Right Wing, she sounds like she wants to end with:

“Nannee Nannee Boo Boo!”

I get my news from public radio now. I actually wait until I’m on my way to rehearsal or class before I get the news. Oh don’t get me wrong, I LOVE watching all the crazies on CNN and Fox. It’s highly entertaining, and every once in while I’ll find out what’s actually happening, but to be honest, it’s basically hyped up reality TV. And I’m okay with that. It just isn’t news. And when the commentators come on with their fake pieces of paper in front of them, holding their pens in their hands like they’re actually going to write something down, and then begin pointing fingers about how misguided and nasty-wasty the other side is, it just makes me want to throw my shoes at the TV and scream:

“You’re an IDIOT! What?! What?! What did you say?!!!”

Here's a new MeMe I got from a pal on Facebook. I love that thing. I can't stay off it. I try to stay off it, but I can't stay off it. I'm drawn in. I have to see what everyone's up to. I have to make sure people are still wanting to be my friend. I have to make sure I have more friends than my other friends. I have to make sure people like me, like my videos. check the "Like" box when I post an amusing Status Anecdote.

....and I totally blame Lindsay Jones for this whole thing.





1.What was the last thing you put in your mouth?

A café mocha with 15 Sweet and Lows.




2.Where was your profile picture taken?

In Tom Colby’s backyard. I don’t have a head.



3.Can you play Guitar Hero?

Brilliantly.



4.Name someone who made you laugh today?

Sean Abley (the director of our show).



5.How late did you stay up last night and why?

3am. Because I never sleep.



6.If you could move somewhere else, would you?

Yes. Paris.




7. Ever been kissed under fireworks?

Actually, no. I did get arrested under Fireworks, though.




8. Which of your Facebook friends lives closest to you?

I have over 1,650 friends. I’m far too popular to think about it.



9. Do you believe ex's can be friends?

Yes. I’m friends with several of mine. It takes a while, but once you reach a certain age, you only sweat the really big stuff.



10. How do you feel about Dr Pepper?

It tastes a bit like monkey balls.




11. When was the last time you cried really hard?

The year my mother passed away. Worst year of my life.




12. Who took your profile picture?

Tom Colby.




13. Who was the last person you took a picture of?

My wife. At Disneyland. With her head in a shark.




14. Was yesterday better than today?

I don’t remember yesterday.




15. Can you live a day without TV?

Sure. Just like I can live without air and water.




16. Are you upset about anything?

Nope.




17. Do you think relationships are ever really worth it?

Well….worth what?




18. Are you a bad influence?

I don’t believe in a good and bad influence. I think I’m influential...but then, I think everyone's influential.




19. Night out or night in?

It depends on my mood. I love spending time at home, but tonight, I can’t wait to get out of the house with the wife.




20. What items could you not go without during the day?

My cigarettes, my phone, and my GPS. I'd still be on the 101 sandwiched between two truckers if it wasn’t for that GPS thing. God bless my Father in Law.




21. Who was the last person you visited in the hospital?

My wife. Gawd, that was awful.




22. What does the last text message in your inbox say?

“That Stan! Just because he’s hard of hearing from going to too many nightclubs in his early 20’s, doesn’t mean I have to shout everything.” (Stan is an imaginary Gay dragon).




23. How do you feel about your life right now?

It’s really, really good. Shockingly good.




24. Do you hate anyone?

Yes. One person. I hate her. And I’m actually fine with it.




25. If we were to look in your facebook in box, what would we find?

Over 121 unread messages.




26. Say you were given a drug test right now, would you pass?

God I hope so. Otherwise there goes 24 years of sobriety out the window.




27. Has anyone ever called you perfect before?

No, thank God.




28. What song is stuck in your head?

Well there wasn’t one until I read this question. Now I can’t get “I Think I Love You” out of my brain.




29. Someone knocks on your window at 2:00 a.m., who do you want it to be?

Honey.




30.Wanna have grandkids before you’re 50?

Too late.




31. Name something you have to do tomorrow.

Teach and learn lines. Many of them.




32. Do you think too much or too little?

Way too little. My director just had to remind me when the dates of the show were again. It’s a Christmas show and he had to actually tell me it was during Christmas.




33. Do you smile a lot?

I don’t know. Ever since I passed 40, I don’t really look at myself unless there’s something painful on my face that I need to get rid of.

One of the great groups of the late 60’s and early 70’s. The harmonies always floated on top of each other, and this was one of those songs I always loved. It was actually the first song I ever learned on the guitar. It was also the song my mother and I would sing together.

I also loved how there were 95 people in this group. I never knew who was who, but I always loved to see them.

I love a great clip fest.



WARNING: Language



(Thanks John)

I love these actors. I think they're incredibly brave and unbelievably inventive. They're everything I love about Art. But along withe them, I'm always fascinated with the people around them. This thing is happening, and everyone has a different feeling about it. Fear, trepidation, joy...it's always a mixed bag of stuff that comes out of the surrounding crowd.

And the very end is probably my favorite thing anyone has said in a long, long time:

"I dunno...they just turned Life into a Musical."

It isn’t just the fact that the whole balloon stunt was a planned act by these insane and maniacal parents, and it’s not just that the boy spilled the beans on national television, and it’s also not that we need to point a mirror at ourselves as well as the parents, it’s more about the boy vomiting and Merideth Viera completely ignoring him.

I’ve been next to people who’ve vomited. You have to pretend really hard it’s not happening. I mean…really, really hard.

This is classic TV in the sense that classic TV has now become about sensationalistic voyeurs hunched over in judgment pointing fingers at everyone else but themselves. Television used to be about Variety Shows, sitcoms, dramas, and now we support the destruction of the human condition like it’s “Let’s Make a Deal”.

These people want to be famous, just like every other person on the planet wants to be famous. And with the advent of reality TV…they actually can. As long as their disturbed enough, that is.

They had a plan, it went awry, and now they’re making their rounds. I think what I find fascinating is not only the parents pretending nothing’s happening, but Veira’s consistent “anchor lady” tone she keeps as that kid blows his lungs out in a bowl.

Remember though, we’re the ones who keep these reality people in business. If we don’t watch, they don’t have jobs. And I don’t see any end in sight, I’m a little nervous about the next step. I wonder if Jeffrey Dahmer were still out there, and pitched his life to someone, would we tune in?

And if you can stand the noise for this long, here’s this charming all American families first music video:

“The Pussification of America”

About the 240 mark, the boys talk about a “Faggot in the tree tried to pee on me…”

(That’s Dad holding a big red letter “p”, by the way)

I don’t understand.

Am I speaking some kind of foreign language or something? Is there a big piece of fried chicken between my teeth? Is my underwear showing? Am I tap dancing on Suzanne Sommer’s face and no one’s telling me?

I’m really confused here. I feel like I may be losing my mind.

And I’ll be perfectly honest, if one more person talks to me about re-claiming something, I’m going to rip their faces off.

I’ll say it one more time, and this time I’m not going to coat it with any 21st Century, new age, flighty, Angelic, Enya-enducing, daily affirmation bullshit. I’m just going to say it plain and simple:

Stop Using The Word Tranny.

There.

I hope that’s clear.

Stop it.

If you’ve re-claimed “Fag”, and “Dyke”, and “Spic”, and “Nigger”, that’s peachy. I’m sincerely happy for you. Later on, after I wash off my contempt, I’ll throw you a big, fat parade. But let’s be honest…and I mean perfectly honest…you haven’t.

No, you haven’t.

You may be pretending you have, and most people probably buy that. I’ll bet if you’re one of those people, YOU probably buy that…or at least you’ve talked yourself into buying that. But truly, honestly, from your Heart and deep down in the pit of your belly are you actually vilified and more at Peace when someone calls you a Nigger?

I’m doubtful.

Now look, I realize there are no laws here. I understand our community is largely responsible for this Tranny Thing as well. My best friend Honey said to me not long ago:

“If I go to a foreign country, and their law is that everyone eats with their feet, and suddenly I don’t, I’m an ass. I’m wrong.”

And she’d be right. She’d have clean feet, but she’d be right.

Our community is so young still, and there are really not enough of us in the public eye to warrant any kind of kosher behavior, so I do understand that everyone’s trying their best. And I guess my anger doesn’t exactly stem from the people who just drop the word off like a bag of laundry. I can talk to them. I can have a conversation with them. My rage builds when after I’ve said very plainly, and quite clearly:

“Please don’t use the word Tranny. That’s a little offensive to me. It’s belittling. It has a demeaning history to it and I really don’t care for it.”

And then they say back to me (in all seriousness):

“Well I don’t see why. You know, words only have the power you give them.”

No they don’t.

No….they really don’t. Words have no power at all. I’ve never seen anyone taken to the hospital because they were hit by a random Word. That’s never happened. The people saying them have the Power. And they know it. And if someone slings a word at you and you choose to ignore it, you’re letting them get away with murder. Because they’ll keep using it, and teaching their children that’s it’s okay to call people “Spics”, and “Mics” and “Faggots”. And that’s hurtful and mean and discourteous and cruel and hateful and doesn’t belong in polite society.

You know, things like saying “Please” and “Thank you”, and “I’m sorry”. Things like that belong in polite society. I’m talking about simple human kindness here. If someone asks you nicely not to call them a Bolger-Boob, then just don’t do it. Is it really asking that much?

I understand fully that it’s not the word itself that pulverizes. I know that. I’m not a blithering idiot. And that’s why I say in all earnestness, it’s not the word I’m mad at. It’s the people using it. And I’m so sick and tired of watching these liberal yo-yo’s play the pretend game. I don’t know who it is they think they’re fooling, but it certainly isn’t me. And they’re certainly not going to turn me into one of them. I know those pods. I’ve seen The Body Snatchers.

Twice.

I told a friend of mine that I’m going a bit off the deep end, and he related a story about his Blackness that absolutely stunned me: (He’s also Gay. He’s got it all going on, to be honest).

“I was in a bar not too long ago”, he said calmly, “..and some guy from the other end of it called me a Nigger.”

“Holy crap!” I said, “what the heck did you do?!”

“Nothing.”

I stood there.

“……………………..what?” I asked meekly.

“No. Nothing. I knew if I fought back, he’d have won.”

“Um. No. He actually did win.”

“No he didn’t.”

“Yeah. He did.”

“No…see…here’s the thing. I’ve re-claimed that word. That word has NO power over me whatsoever. I’ve learned to love that word. Just like we’ve all done with Queer and Fag.”

I stood there a minute and said to him very plainly:

“Okay. This is really true? You’ve re-claimed the word Nigger?”

“Yup.” He said smiling.

“Okay. Call up your mom and say proudly and with great affection…..How ya doin’ Nigger?”

Gigantic, train-honking Pause.

“Yeah.I thought not.”

Now of course I realize also that Nigger and Tranny have very different histories. One is steeped in shame and humiliation that goes back over 100 years and deals with the treatment of human beings as property, and the other is a minor annoyance made even more annoying by RuPaul. I’m certainly not equating the two. My point is that whatever the new offensive term is, if you say it someone, and they don’t like it, simply don’t say it again. Don’t go off on a rampage about your single handed marriage into your newfound DreamLand and pretend you have all this power. I don’t believe it….and I don’t believe YOU believe it.

Well.

I haven’t reclaimed Tranny. That’s all I know. And if I ever do, please shoot me in the head at close range.

And I haven’t re claimed Dyke or Faggot either. And that’s my choice. If you want to use them about you, that’s great. But if you use them around me, and I ask you nicely to not use them again, and you go off on your pretend speech about how like Superman you are, I’m going to go all Tina Turner on you.

…and if that doesn't work, I'll lip synch you to death.