The BEST of Lifelube - "Who's that Queer?" From Thursday, December 11, 2008

Who's that Queer?

Brought to you by Pistol Pete

Gore Vidal is an American novelist, screen writer, playwright, and politician. Early in his career he wrote the ground-breaking The City and the Pillar (1948) that outraged mainstream critics as one of the first major American novels to feature unambiguous homosexuality.


In 1956, Vidal was hired as a contract screenwriter for MGM, and collaborated with Christopher Fry, reworking the screenplay. Vidal later claimed that in order to explain the animosity between Ben-Hur and Messala, he had inserted a gay subtext suggesting that the two had had a prior relationship, but that actor Charlton Heston was oblivious.

As a political activist, in 1960, Gore Vidal was an unsuccessful Democratic candidate for Congress (running as Eugene Gore), losing an election in New York's 29th congressional district, a traditionally Republican district, by a margin of 57% to 43%. He received the most votes any Democrat in 50 years in that particular district.

If We Knew What We Know Now...

via HuffPost Gay Voices, by Ace Robinson

Would we have stopped AIDS? It is a valid question to ask, as the world has been aware of this epidemic for over 30 years.

GMHC was passionately and courageously created 30 years ago by a group of gay men who did not know how far-reaching and devastating this disease would be to all corners of the Earth.

We know through retrospective epidemiological data that the first confirmed American AIDS death occurred in 1969: a 15-year-old, sexually active young man in Saint Louis, Mo. who had never traveled abroad.

And by the time HIV was isolated and identified in 1981, it had already found its target communities: people who have engaged in anal sex, injection-drug users, breastfed infants, and individuals who received medically sanctioned human tissue (i.e., donated blood or organ transplants).

During the early '80s in the States, a strong cultural shift had just occurred, from "free love" and "live and let live" to the conservative Christian movement led by Jerry Falwell.

The Moral Majority had become a major player in the political field, which led to the election of President Ronald Reagan. The policies that would shape America for the next eight years would also mold America's response to the introduction of AIDS into the lives of countless individuals and the American lexicon.

Due to advances in diagnosis and treatment of the virus, in addition to the political activism of the direct and indirect victims of HIV/AIDS, the virus is no longer a death sentence for the estimated 1.2 to 1.5 million Americans who are affected, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC).

But lest we forget, these data, which seem so large, are a measure of the prevalence of HIV/AIDS in 2011. Thirty years ago, that number was exponentially smaller.

Imagine an America that only had around 10,000 to 20,000 persons with HIV/AIDS, and a world that may have had about 70,000 to 100,000 total cases.

Couple that information with the knowledge that a muted health care response would eventually lead to 2 million deaths annually. Would it have been morally acceptable to demonize particular populations?

We have all heard countless justifications for why some people "got it," without any level of sympathy. These sentiments are based on racism, sexism, homophobia, classism, and/or prejudice against addicts.

Typically, bleeding hearts only pour out to individuals who are considered without fault in their HIV status, such as newborns or hemophiliacs.

After 30 years of AIDS, we know what works and, more importantly, what does not work. We know that first and foremost, education is the greatest deterrent to infection (if one is HIV-negative) or infecting another person (if one is HIV-positive).

Furthermore, we have seen the effect of readily available medication (anti-retroviral drugs) on the level of impact that HIV/AIDS has on an individual and on a community. And we have seen effective public health initiatives that have saved countless lives, domestically and internationally (e.g., syringe needle exchanges).

Moreover, after 30 years of AIDS, we know that our leaders have a choice of when, how, and to whom any and all interventions are available. To the ultimate detriment of 20 million people each year, those interventions are often not available, sometimes due to funding, and sometimes due to normative culture values that punish those most in need: the world's outcasts.

It is not being cynical to suggest that if we knew then what we know now, all possible barriers to the spread of HIV/AIDS would have been enacted.

Even in 2011, Congress has taken actions that will diminish headway in the fight against HIV/AIDS. Reinstating the federal ban on syringe-exchange funding, coupled with funding for abstinence-only education, unfortunately shows a trade of proven-effective health policy for proven-ineffective actions.

As HIV public health advocates, our hope is that the correct actions are taken so that in a few decades, we do not look back and wonder why the tools that we have today were not utilized. There is no viable excuse for knowing now what we already know and still not doing the right thing.


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When a Gay Boy Loves a Girl

via HuffPost Gay Voices, by Justin Huang

They say that behind every great man is a greater woman. As a gay man, I'm an exception to this. You see, I have multiple greater women standing behind me.

When I first came out to my mom (the foremost Great Woman in my life), she asked me why I didn't love women. "You don't understand," I said. "I love women more than anything.

That's why I don't want to have sex with them." And this statement remains true to this day. I believe that the most shining, transcendent, sublime human bond occurs when a gay boy loves a girl.

There's something remarkable yet completely sensible about the union between a gay man and a straight woman.

On a shallow, heteronormative level, you seem to have a traditional romance of sorts, in which a boy and a girl care greatly for each other.

But look more closely at this dynamic and the layers become more complex, intertwining like strands of DNA. Without sexual tension and social norms, the love between the two of them is not clouded by expectations or unwelcome erections.

Something deeper, something magical, something liberating happens, and the rest is history.

It all started for me when I was a sexually confused teenager in high school drama club. Drama club, it turned out, was the mecca of sexually confused teenagers in high school.

I was obese and unhappy, defined mostly by my good grades and utter lack of social skills, when I was cast as Mr. Van Daan in The Diary of Anne Frank. (By the way, Anne Frank proved that teenagers can still find time to be sexually confused even with Nazis trying to kill you.)

Mrs. Van Daan was played by a beautiful young girl named Julie. I was in awe of her. Julie was everything that I had wanted. She was smart and popular.

She lived in a gorgeous cabin up in the mountains, surrounded by thoroughbreds. All the boys had crushes on her -- including the precocious gays.

But instead of taking a look at me and writing me off like everyone else had, the "bond" between us occurred instantly that first day of rehearsal. Never had a friendship blossomed so easily for me. And when she made me grab her boob backstage and it did nothing for me, our eyes locked, and we knew we were meant to be.

It didn't matter that I had put up my walls of insecure self-defense and gay teen self-loathing. It was a matter of destiny; there was no stopping her.

A gay boy and a straight girl fell in love. I slept over at her house and became close with her equally wonderful sister Amy. We went shopping together. We played The Sims a lot (these were the early 2000s).

Julie made me feel beautiful for the first time in my life. It isn't easy being a double minority. But instead of feeling weird, she made me feel special. And yes, she was my prom date.

I wore a pink vest, and it was one of the best nights of my life. You might snicker, but some stereotypes are beautiful.

This past Valentine's Day, I spent it with Julie. She cooked dinner, and I brought her the last bunch of dozen red roses at the flower shop, which I had to wrench out of another guy's hands.

We ate too much, then passed out on adjacent couches. At 25, I've known and loved her for eight years now.

Could this have happened if I was straight? No.

Would it have needed to happen? I wouldn't have it any other way.


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Gay Men's Support Group to discuss ED

via sdgln, by SDGLN staff

Gay men with erectile dysfunction (ED) will meet Saturday, March 10, in Southern California to talk about their common experiences and find ways to connect around impotence.

Gay men have long faced homophobia when seeking care for problems common to both gay and straight men.

Many gay-focused national nonprofits have long histories of helping gay men with diseases such as prostate cancer and HIV/AIDS.

Now, for the first time, gay men will be meeting to discuss ED among men who enjoy sex with men.

“Gay men experience health issues from their unique perspective, but, health care professionals continue to ignore this, causing needless harm to thousands upon thousands of gay men who experience erectile dysfunction,” said Darryl Mitteldorf, LCSW, executive director of the national men’s cancer survivor nonprofit organization, Malecare Cancer Support, which is involved in the meeting.

“Malecare wants all gay men to find the help they need, from men who care about them and we are proud that one of our support group leaders, Dennis Bogorad, has developed a supportive meeting focused on erectile dysfunction,” Mitteldorf said.

This social gathering will offer single gay men with erectile dysfunction a chance to meet other gay men with erectile dysfunction.

It will be a chance for men to mix and mingle in a no stress environment, share experiences, make new friends or maybe meet the love of their life.

“This is one silent sexual issue both gay and straight men share in common," said Bogorad, a film producer who volunteers as leader of the gay men with prostate cancer support group that is co-sponsored by Malecare Cancer Support and the Cancer Support Community at the Benjamin Center in Los Angeles.

Gay men are best supported by each other, in a gay friendly atmosphere, organizers said.

Erectile dysfunction may be caused by many different diseases, such as diabetes, high blood pressure, cancer, HIV, antidepressants, prostate issues, physical injury, aging and more.

Although the cause may vary, the life changes resulting from ED can challenge the quality of life for many gay men.

Unfortunately, caregivers, medical professionals and advertisements present treatment options and social remedies almost always from a heterosexual point of view.

Success with this first gay men and erectile dysfunction event will likely lead to similar events throughout the United States.


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Lesbophobia in a Gay Bar: A Personal Account

via HuffPost Gay Voices, by Zach Stafford

The other night I went to a gay bar on Christopher Street in New York City and left feeling like a broken piece of a larger, broken gay community that doesn't seem to be whole.

As I walked into the bar, I was excited to see drag bingo being played on a moderately busy Sunday evening, and an array of different kinds of people.

This was New York to me, the New York you always hear about: fun, vibrant, diverse.

My friends decided to stand next to a group of people in front of the drag queen who was moderating bingo, and we befriended them instantly. This group, like mine, was a mixture of lesbians and gay men.

While my friends, new and old, played bingo alongside the other bar-goers, I moved to the restroom for a moment. During this break from bingo, I suddenly heard the drag queen yell over the mic, "Hey, I know you're lesbians and all, but this is a gay bar!" among a few other hateful comments.

I let that my brain absorb what had happened, and I thought, "Wait, did a man impersonating a woman just yell at women for being in a 'gay' bar?"

When I got back to my friends, I saw that the lesbians of the group were clearly pissed off and confused; one friend pulled a bartender over to ask him why they were being targeted by the drag queen's hateful remarks when they were paying customers just wanting to play bingo.

The bartender looked at us and responded, "I can't kick you all out, but I can say that you all should probably leave. You're not going to get served anymore."

This stunned all of us, and in complete anger one of my friends started yelling at the bartender that she was being denied service because she was a lesbian.

She said, "I am staying and finishing my drink. You will just have to deal with me being here, a paying customer playing bingo." The bartender shrugged the statement off, rolled his eyes, and walked behind the bar.

By this time, a gaggle of older gay men who had been watching this happen began yelling things at us: "This is a gay bar! Go home, lesbians!" "Why do you have to be here?" "Don't you people have your own bar?" I decided to talk to these men.

I approached two of them, but one looked at me and said, "You should leave here, too. You don't belong, either!" This came off as racist to me, and I responded accordingly to the older white man: "Sir, you should be careful with how you word that sentence; you're at risk of sounding racist along with already being misogynistic."

He glared at me and once more said, "Leave!" while grabbing my half-full drink, trying to pull it away from me, as the bartenders watched in apparent support of his actions. At that moment I pulled back, yelling, "Excuse you, I am not done yet, and do not touch me!"

I drank the rest of my beverage and slammed down my drink in front of them, but once again, they insisted that I leave along with my lesbian friends.

Finally, I looked at the bartender with hopes of help, but he just shook his head at me. His only response was, "Don't provoke them." With that statement I went for my coat and my friends, who had each been individually cornered by a combination of staff and the older regulars who frequented the bar. We left, defeated.

With the letters L, G, B, and T we see different identities being pushed in tandem in order to present a united front. At times this has caused controversy and turmoil within the "gay" community, but with recent advancements in legal rights, we seemed to be piecing together a more equal future and even beginning to look more whole.

But I want to point to this moment above and ask us, as a community, to look within our own group and recognize the ways in which we are fragmenting each other.

The incident that I went through is not rare, and many of my lesbian friends can point out past moments in which they were harassed for being in a gay bar.

Although I understand the importance of having certain spaces for certain groups, we should not be subjecting women within our own community to the same discrimination that we are fighting against, whether we happen to be in a gay-male bar or not.


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We're Not Friends, So Dont Call Me 'Girl'!

via HuffPost Gay Voices, by Terrence Phearse

A random person comes up to you at an all-too-chic soirée and says "Girl, where did you get those shoes? They are fierce!"

You look over your shoulder and around the corner to make sure that you, a male, are the person being addressed. Hmm... no one is standing behind you, so you are indeed the one being addressed as "girl." But here you are tailored in menswear, with a full face of facial hair.

Obviously, this is the stranger's attempt at identifying you as a homosexual aloud.

I'm no stranger to that.

Some gays would happily respond with the tumultuous story of how those "fierce Prada shoes" were the last pair at the Barney's warehouse sale, and how the shoes were marked down to $399, and how they nearly died fighting to get them.

But words are things, and they are powerful. You have to be careful about the words you allow to be used around you, because they eventually get into you and become a part of you. Coming from a stranger, "girl" can send up a red flag as a pejorative for a gay man, so my mind quickly crafts a witty and somewhat rude response: "Oh, thank you, 'fierce' is how you pronounce my last name, and we're not friends, so don't call me 'girl.'"

The same rule applies for straight guys: "Don't 'bro' me if you don't know me!" Make sense?

"Hey, girl, hey!" "What's the tea, girl?" "Girl, hurry up and call me back!" These and similar expressions should be reserved for and used in good fun with close friends and family, as terms of endearment.

"That's a title exclusively for friends and people who randomly do you a favor," a friend exclaimed. I wholly agree with him.

Am I saying that women should not refer to their close gay friends as "girl"? No! Call your best gay friend "girl" if he is comfortable with it; you have a bond.

Just don't go blabbing out the word to everyone you see walking down 8th Avenue in Chelsea if you've had too much to drink. Capisce?


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Pieces of Meat: Do Gay Men 'Deserve' to Marry?

via HuffPost Gay Voices, by Justin Huang

Last June I was sexually molested by another gay man during L.A. Pride. It's not worth getting into details, but suffice to say, this wasn't your run-of-the-mill dance-floor groping.

I was in a dark, unfamiliar room, alone, powerless, terrified. As I walked home that night, I turned to look back at West Hollywood, and I wanted to burn it to the ground.

I've been called a faggot while taking a punch, alienated by people I love, told I'm ugly and worthless, but this? This was dehumanizing.

I was a piece of meat. And it happened during a celebration of LGBTQ identity, and it was done to me by a gay man. Pride? Proud of what, exactly? The question haunted me for weeks. I couldn't sleep.

Two weeks later, the New York Senate passed the Marriage Equality Act, effectively legalizing gay marriage in one of the most populous states in America.

New York City is arguably the capital of the New World; this was quite possibly the most significant domino piece to be toppled thus far, and now with Maryland following suit, the legalization of human love is more than a pipe dream.

I was sitting at the LAX airport when I heard the news, waiting to board a flight to San Francisco. My phone buzzed, and a text popped up from a friend: "Wanna get married in NYC?"

At the time, it was bittersweet for me, personally. Later, on the plane, as I watched California sprawl beneath me, I wondered if gay men deserved to marry. Is it too late for us?

The first time I ever heard talk of gay marriage, I was probably around 10, and I was listening to my aunts and uncles spout about politics at a family reunion.

It was becoming a hot-button issue at the time, and while I still didn't quite grasp exactly what gay people were, I was one of those kids who liked to pretend that they could keep up with adult speak. "Why do gay people want to get married?" I asked my uncle.

My uncle laughed. "Crazy, isn't it? Listen, I know gay people personally. And believe me, none of them want to get married. Why would they? They just screw each other until they drop dead of AIDS." His wife shushed him and told me to go play with my cousins.

As I walked around S.F. Pride last year, this conversation popped back into my head. I watched as people held signs proclaiming "Marriage Equality" and "Love Is Equal," and I wanted to join them, but I couldn't.

I don't think people quite comprehend the profound effect it has upon a group of people when they are told that their love is not valid. My generation of gays has grown up with the notion that we aren't equal, that our feelings are weak shadows of straight love.

Is it any wonder why we have such self-destructive reputations of promiscuity, drug use, and abuse? These seem to be the main accusations that anti-gay-marriage activists dole out. What a vicious cycle. Gays can't marry because we're all sluts... and we are sluts because we can't marry.

I found a quiet place under a tree at Dolores Park, where the S.F. Pride festivities were taking place. I took in the sheer volume of the crowd, every color, age, gender, and size possible, a gathering of people who had in common the fact that they were different.

People smiled at me, and I smiled back. It was beautiful, and there was a Great Hope that permeated throughout the crowd. For the first time in a very long time, I cried. Not because of what happened, but because -- despite it -- this Great Hope overwhelmed me.

I realized then how momentous this was, how someday I'd be telling my grandkids about how I was at S.F. Pride the weekend after New York legalized gay marriage.

And it had nothing to do with how one piece of meat treated another piece of meat on a drunken night. This is a battle, one of the few in my life in which I am not just an army of one but part of a greater movement that is fighting not just for gays but for humankind.

What is marriage? It's more than a few signatures on a piece of paper, and it's more than our needing recognition. Marriage is a shining hope that we can aspire to.

It gives our love a reason and a meaning. It narrows our search to one person. It makes the idea of a soulmate seem less like a silly romantic comedy for straight people.

Sure, none of this may exist, and monogamy and marriage may just be outdated institutions. But don't we deserve the opportunity to give it a go as much as the next person?

One day, I will marry. I'll have a wedding ceremony, maybe on an idyllic beach, and I'll invite everyone I know. When it's time to cut the cake, I'll smear it on my husband's face and let him lick it off my fingers. We'll have a honeymoon, somewhere I've never been, like South America or Australia, and I'll forget to pack my cell phone.

Fast forward a few years, and I'll be sitting in the living room watching our kid play as we unwind our day. I'll be the typical Asian parent ("Educational toys only!" "No TV on weekdays!" "Finish your rice!").

But I'll also teach our kid about how lucky we are to be a family, and how my friends and I fought and yelled, side by side, obliterating these limitations on love. "People have suffered and persevered so I could have you," I'll say, "and I will never take you for granted."


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Red is in the Rainbow: A Closer Look at Blood Donation Discrimination

via HuffPost Gay Voices, by Emily Horowitz

We met this past August: six of 42 American University freshmen selected to participate in the School of Public Affairs' Leadership Program.

We were tasked with identifying a social issue connected to gender and sexuality and working to change it. After two months of intense, sass-filled discussions, we zeroed in on an issue that we all felt needed to be changed: the Food and Drug Administration's policy that bans men who have had sex with men (MSM) even once since 1977 from ever donating blood.

Enacted in 1985 at the height of the AIDS scare, this measure was deemed necessary by confused scientists and puzzled politicians.

Today, however, it is outdated and unreasonable. It is difficult to resist concluding that the continuation of this policy is the result of homophobic stereotypes.

In order to fully understand the ban and the issues stemming from it, we first assembled a policy memorandum that examined all sides of the policy.

We learned how blood is tested for HIV and that with current technologies, there is a 1 in 1.5 million chance of infected blood passing through the screening processes.

We also learned that the United States is in the midst of a critical blood shortage, which America's Blood Centers states would end if we increased the annual blood supply by just 1 percent.

In 2010 the Williams Institute at the University of California's Los Angeles School of Law estimated that if the MSM blood ban were lifted, there would be approximately 219,000 additional pints annually, an increase of 1.4 percent.

This means we could increase the lives saved by blood donations each year by up to 657,000 (given that one pint donated can save as many as three lives) and eliminate blood shortages for the foreseeable future.

Also in 2010 a group of 18 United States Senators, including John Kerry (D-Mass.) and Kristen Gillibrand (D-N.Y.), advocated that the FDA change its policy, to no avail.

Keeping this knowledge in mind throughout the fall semester, we became further impassioned by the need for reform. We forged relations with nearby organizations such as the D.C. Center for the LGBT Community, and with nearby college campuses. Finally, spring semester arrived, and the hands-on action commenced: it was time to start our project.

Our three-point plan is comprised of education, awareness, and political action. We established ourselves as Red Is in the Rainbow.

Through social media websites such as Facebook and Twitter, we are spreading the word about the blood ban and facts pertaining to it.

To make a personal impact, we will be hosting blood drives across Washington, D.C. this April. To bring awareness to how many people are prevented from donating blood, we will be distributing stickers stating, "I have a friend who can't donate blood.

Ask me why," and "I can't donate blood. Ask me why." We hope that these will encourage discussion of the discriminatory policy and further spread the word. Finally, we aspire to put political pressure on the FDA to change its policy.

By coordinating a letter campaign, we seek to communicate to policy makers just how much harm this ban inflicts and put forward an alternative we believe more appropriate: a one-year waiting period between male-to-male sexual contact and blood donation, the same waiting period that a person who has sex with a prostitute or a person infected with HIV/AIDS must undergo.

A one-year deferral period has become the choice of most other industrialized nations who have amended their policies, the most recent of which was the United Kingdom.


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Old Is the New Black; BDSM, the New Gay

via HuffPost Gay Voice, by Eric Schaeffer

Being human is sublime. The ability to reason and feel emotion definitely blows my skirt up and makes me grateful The Great Spirits chose to birth my breath into this particular animal form.

Sadly, though, there is a serious downside to this intellect-emotion body: ego. The notion of separateness. And the ego seems passionately devoted to pounding that delusion of separateness into our hearts and minds so that we hate anyone who is not like us because we fear their difference will be our downfall, when, in fact, the opposite is true.

Other people's wonderfully unique nuances are our soul's education and light source. They are our uprising, not our undoing.

But the hate bully born from the fearful voices of our friends, parents, schools, media, and spiritual teachers, who are terrified of not being accepted for who they are and what they feel, has historically body and mind-snatched our higher internal judgment and convinced us there are a right people and a wrong people. A people to love and a people to hate.

It needs to end once and for all, because as of now, we are merely transferring the baton from one ridiculed group to the next every so often, absolving ourselves of inaction by doing so, and claiming evolution of equality and tolerance when, in fact, that is a lie and we are comfortably dying from the cancer at the source which remains untreated and more ferocious than ever.

PAST CHAMPIONS

As if black people and homosexuals had not been mistreated enough by the bigoted fascists of our country over the past 200 years, recently they had to endure the penultimate blow.

No longer being the number one most hated peoples. (Non-criminal, of course.)

For blacks, this crushing blow was memorialized in the autumn of 2008. When polled, a vast majority of Americans said they would rather vote for, as president of our country, the most powerful person in the world, a young black man (who was even accused of being a Muslim sympathizer, and in our world accused means guilty, especially with young black men) than an old white man, who happened to also be an established, well-liked war hero.

That signified the changing of the hate guard in the most absolute terms.

At that moment, the major news organizations, the truth makers, had announced loud and clear; old is the new black.

I remember it well. I was on a sit-down bike at the gym and the sadness was palpable. It was as if the hum of the workout machines was replaced by the sound of tears being shed by the nation's black people, devastated they were no longer at the top of the sociopath's "most reviled" heap.

But wait, what was that noise that seemed to be supplanting the ocean of black sadness? Gay cheers? Gay people all over the country were wildly expressing their joy at the promise of soon taking over the number one spot of hatred by America's ignorant.

Old people, while valiant in their attempt to retain their new crown, would be too weak to fight off the tidal wave of support for the new impending kings of the lowest: homosexuals.

And so it came to pass. As quickly as the white-hairs rose to power was as quickly as they retreated back to their bingo games, replaced by the gays.

But, alas, the past three years has been good to the gays -- which has made their tenure fragile, and ripe for hostile takeover. Ever more acceptance by the mainstream, evidenced by the passage of gay marriage, integration of openly gay co-workers, family members, friends, entertainment stars, and gay-themed TV and movie successes have all conspired to put the gays one solid far-right-cross away from a TKO.

And, sadly, the weight of the gay successes has been too much to bear and while they have fought bravely, they have finally succumbed.

Homosexuals are no longer the anti-Christs. That prestigious honor now resides with a new rising star that has seemingly come out of nowhere: BDSM.


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Egg, Banana, and Coconut: Are Gays More Racist?

via HuffPost Gay Voices, by Marten Weber

Anyone following the hype over U.S. basketball star Jeremy Lin will have observed the thick layer of racism lying ponderously over the media.

One not-so-witty journalist rightly lost his job over the headline "Chink in the Armor," after Jeremy's recent setback, but the public statements of some athletes and the reactions in the press showed that race still matters, and racism is yet a fact of life.

As a hopeless (or hopeful?) sentimentalist, I like to think that there exists a global community of gay men and women who, in the face of discrimination and prejudice, all love and respect each other regardless of skin color, a worldwide brother- and sisterhood with common interests, similar outlooks on life, and shared values. Yeah, right!

How deluded this idea is was brought home to me during last year's visits to several American and European cities.

Almost every major metropolis with a gay scene has separate bars for Asians, and even for Asian-lovers, both of which have to endure a plethora of derogatory denominations, from "rice queen" to "potato queen" and a whole lot of edibles in between. (Do you know what a banana is? How about an egg or yolk? Or a coconut? Don't ask!)

A look at online profiles will bring the same disheartening revelation: the gay world is full of narrow-minded, bigoted racists.

Prowlers proudly pin their racism and prejudices on their profiles: the favorite "no fems, no chubs, no Asians!" reminds me of the old "no dogs or Chinese" store signs of pre-war Shanghai, and I shudder.

On my U.K. book tour in the lovely city of Manchester, we listened to natives explaining why Poles were good for a hot one-night stand (no pun there, I was assured), but not really boyfriend material; why one should always avoid Arabs and Turks ("they smell and lie"), and that Asians -- no offense to my husband, or indeed to me -- were only suitable for old queens or really ugly guys. "They are only after your money anyway."

The amount of racial affinity is staggering. Even in big metropolises like Madrid and Milan, we counted far more profiles of young men looking for men who were "alike" in age, looks, and muscle development than we found explicit interest in otherness and delight in racial difference.

The more subtle date-seekers qualify their predilections with the moronic "no offense, it's just my taste."

The author Andrew Holleran described the gay world as a social melting pot, the gay disco that most democratic of institutions, where construction workers meet lawyers on equal terms.

Apparently they do mingle, as long as the both share approximately the same genetic makeup. No Moroccan construction workers for that Danish lawyer, please.

As a biracial couple, we are especially attuned to such attitudes. My Asian husband tends to like or dislike cities by the number of friends we make on social apps -- thus Boston is better than Los Angeles, and Berlin better than London.

We made a test and changed his app picture to show only his torso. His dedication to healthy cuisine was rewarded by a whopping 143 Hi!s in half an hour!

Of those, 140 disappeared or blocked him when shown his -- and you must believe me here -- absolutely gorgeous Asian face. I won't tell you which city, but we ain't gonna visit there again, I tell you.

Go through any magazine in a Western bookstore or your local porn shop and you can count the number of ethnic cover boys on one hand. "Ethnic" is of course itself a Caucasian-centric term.

The fact that it, along with "Interracial," is a category on many websites is a sign of how far away we are from an equitable, accepting society in which the color of one's skin does not matter.

That Jeremy Lin has to be an Asian-American athlete rather than just an American basketball player is simply ludicrous.

To compare notes, we interviewed the owners of two straight dating website for this article, who told us that Asian men did not have a big following, whereas Asian women were fairly easy to match with desirous Caucasian husbands.

In general, the straight bars and pubs we surveyed had a higher percentage of racial diversity than any of the gay venues. In Asia, of course, Caucasian are invariably in high demand and are often treated better than their arrogance deserves. Perhaps because there are so few to go around? So is it racism or just a matter of supply and demand?


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Why We Lie About Our Age

via HuffPost Gay Voices, by Robert Levithan

"If people knew my real age, I'd never work again." I have heard this plaint more than once. The last time was the day before yesterday, when talking about age with a vivacious, successful Brazilian friend. She doesn't dare tell the truth about her age.

Why do most people lie about their age? Because they think they have to. Our culture at large -- and our gay male culture, specifically -- embody ageism.

Young is good. Older is less good.

On Facebook few people put their year of birth. For online dating sites, not to mention hookup sites, there is such pressure to lie that those of us who tell the truth are odd men out.

When I post my age as 60, men think I'm somewhere between 64 and 75. Again, why do we lie about our age?

Ageism, yes. Internalized ageism, as well. Internalized prejudice is when we operate out of a learned prejudice about something we are: I have been exploring my own internalized homophobia, anti-Semitism, and AIDS-phobia, however subtle or overt, for years.

I lead workshops where we have looked at our internalized prejudice, such as racism, classism, and genderism.

How do we know when we are operating from internalized prejudice? When we try to "pass" without cause.

When we are living in the belief that what we are is less than what other people are; when we have bought into other people's prejudices (which do exist) and perceive danger even when it doesn't exist.

There are situations where honesty about my sexual orientation, my HIV status, or my religious heritage could get me killed.

I would lie or hide if my life were at stake. However, often I observe "passing" behavior when there is no danger.

Most of us will not suffer harm if we are honest about our sexuality or our age. We do, however, suffer psychically, from constant denial of the truth about who or what we.


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Asian Men with Balls: The Sociosexual Implications of Linsanity

via HuffPost Gay Voices, by Justin Huang

I didn't pay much attention to Jeremy Lin until I realized he was getting me laid.

Story of my life: my insecurities take the form of mild to moderate narcissism and I ignore a cultural sensation -- the Asian Obama, if you think about it -- until it directly becomes pertinent to my sex life.

But there this pretty boy, whom I considered far out of my league, stood in front of me, offering to buy me a drink at Akbar, a trendy gay dive in the Silverlake neighborhood of Los Angeles.

The boy, whom I'll call Tim, was, I think, mixed-race, and generally too attractive for me. (I tend to like gruff guys, anyway, the type who look like they can take a punch.)

But it's always pleasant when an Adonis turns out to be good conversation, and after a few drinks, I asked him what he was looking for.

"To be honest," Tim replied, taking a swig of Anchor Steam, "I've been on an Asian kick ever since Linsanity. I think he's so hot, and I'm surprised I've never been with an Asian guy before."

Normally I don't like it when guys bring up my race when they're hitting on me. Without question, race is usually a major component of sexual chemistry (and I certainly have my own preferences), but there's no easier way to feel like a piece of meat than when you're being compared to an anime character. But this was different. And it was entirely new to me.

I was being likened to an all-American mainstream superstar, not a niche fetish.

Since then, I've gotten wing-manned by Linsanity on several more occasions. On my Adam4Adam account, I have a picture posted that features me clutching a strategically placed basketball. (I took this picture as one of the subjects of a photography project called Sexy Geeks.)

The photo shoot was taken months before Jeremy's Shakespearean rise to meteoric stardom, when the image of an Asian man clutching a basketball was meant to be a critique on societal stereotypes. How quickly things change.

Now, I'd gotten no fewer than 30 messages on Adam4Adam that directly comment on the basketball picture, gushing about Jeremy Lin.

I haven't really paid attention to the NBA since the end of the Golden Age of the Lakers in 2004. And the only reason I paid attention to that was because of the diva bitch fight that was the Kobe/Shaq rivalry. ("Just make out already!" I'd yell at the screen.) But this Jeremy Lin figure was ramping up my sex life, and I was curious as to why. So I Googled him.

On paper, Jeremy Lin and I have a lot in common. We are both American-born. We're both from good Christian families; we both were stellar students in school; we both grew up in California. Like my mom and dad, his parents came from Taiwan with hopes of a better future for their kids.

Like my maternal grandparents, his maternal grandparents fled China to Taiwan during Mao Zedong's takeover.

But the similarities end there. I was confused. Was it really just skin deep, this sudden spike in interest? Or is something greater at work here?

You see, I grew up completely devoid of any role models that I could physically identify with. I am a thoroughly Americanized Asian man, but I've always felt that when it comes to my identity, I am an army of one.

I feel marginalized by the stereotypes thrust upon me, even defensive. The image I present -- one that I believe makes me a serious contender in my social surroundings -- I've carefully cultivated myself, without a face to base it on.

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Gay and Gray: What We Need to Know About Aging Gay Men

via Huffpost Gay Voices, by Perry N. Halkitis Ph.D, M.S

In 2011 the Institute of Medicine released a historic report documenting the health disparities faced by lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) individuals.

This report was call to action for researchers, practitioners, and policy makers to address the burgeoning and often underserved health needs of the LGBT population. In the United States these health disparities coincide with an epidemiological shift: the aging of the American population.

Due to increases in life expectancy and aging of the "baby boomer" generation, or those born between 1946 and 1964, approximately one third of the United States population will be 55 years or older by 2014.

While no direct population figures exists, extrapolations drawn from multiple sources suggests that within the population of older Americans, approximately 1.2 to 1.4 million will be older gay men, a figure more pronounced in urban areas such as New York City, where it is estimated that approximately 5 percent of gay men are 50 or older.

A significant proportion of these older gay men, both nationally and in New York City, live with HIV, and as a group this generation of gay men, to whom I have previously referred as "the AIDS generation," have all been directly impacted by the epidemic.

Despite these critical population characteristics, we poorly understand the health care needs of aging Americans, who, by all indications, will live longer and will have very different expectations regarding their care than previous generations.

And while we fail to truly understand the needs of an the overall aging American populace, we have even more limited information on the health disparities experienced by aging baby boomers who are gay, and only minuscule amounts of knowledge about those who are older, gay, and HIV-positive.

Without such knowledge, we are not equipped to provide effective and meaningful health care to men of my generation.

The facts speak for themselves. Older gay men are more likely than heterosexual peers to have experienced a range of negative mental and physical health conditions throughout their lifetimes.

Most notable of these is the AIDS epidemic, which has unduly impacted men of my generation. To date, gay men account for nearly 50 percent of AIDS-related deaths as well as HIV infections, despite representing only 2 percent of the U.S. population.

Gay men also experience heightened levels of riskier health conditions such as substance abuse and other mental health disorders as compared with their heterosexual peers. Finally, many of this generation of gay men came of age at a time when homosexuality was considered a psychiatric illness.

It was not until 1973 that the American Psychiatric Association declassified homosexuality as a mental disorder.

In effect, the confluence of these factors (homosexuality as a disease, the AIDS epidemic, and the socially imposed stigma of being gay) have unduly and negatively impacted the lives of older gay men, creating emotional and psychosocial stressors that undermine the well-being of men of my generation, a reality that extends into the lives of a new generation of gay men.

While recent advances in gay civil rights are a sign of progress, the fact remains that as a group we still remain under attack -- attacks that perpetuate the stress in our lives and compromise our health. Ecological studies indicate that gay men who live and love in states where gay civil rights are more advanced experience better health outcomes.

The recent passage of marriage equality in the state of New York may, over time, impart such a benefit to future generations of gay men and may counter the venom of politicians such as Rick Santorum and the rest of the Republican presidential hopefuls.

But those of us of advanced age cannot undo the years of victimization and stigmatization, both subtle and not-so-subtle, that we have experienced in our families, in our communities, in our workplaces, and in our nation.

Therefore, it imperative that the delivery of health care to my generation of gay men -- the AIDS generation -- focus on the totality of our existence and consider our life experiences, including how the devastation of the AIDS crisis and a lifetime of bigotry have compromised and shaped our health.

Yet we have little data on the health of older gay men, or gay men in general. Because national, population-based studies do not incorporate questions assessing sexual orientation, and because studies focused on sexual behaviors among older adults include only small numbers of gay men, we lack nationally representative data on the risks, resilience, and needs, as well as the physical, mental, and neurocognitive health, of this population.

In the absence of such knowledge, the delivery of service to an aging gay population will fail to be informed by science, and moreover, policies regarding health care and federal funding will continue to neglect our needs.


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A Flaming New Anthology

via HuffPost Gay Voices, by Emerson Whitney

A bathroom view of two side-by-side urinals is the book jacket graphic for Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore's new anthology, Why Are Faggots So Afraid of Faggots?

In a femme and fearless metaphor, one of the urinals is stuffed full of jewelry, flowers, and other colorful, queer-looking flotsam -- a nod to the book's anthological content, featuring "flaming challenges to masculinity, objectification, and the desire to conform," as the subtitle reads.

In anticipation of the book's official launch -- slated to take place, appropriately, on Valentine's Day -- Ms. Sycamore spoke with me while on her West Coast book tour.

"The book is dedicated to exposing hierarchies wherever they exist," said Ms. Sycamore of Why Are Faggots So Afraid of Faggots?

The book was born, she said, out of frustrations with the "gay male" sex scene that she inhabits, and the hierarchies within it: internet cruising, sexual commoditization, and assimilationist culture.

"It's about flaming challenges to all of that," she said. "Flaming as in flamboyant and queenie and outside the conventional binary, but also in the sense of lighting things on fire."

She paused. We laughed.

Since her first book, Tricks and Treats: Sex Workers Write About Their Clients, published in 2000, Ms. Sycamore's work has lit lots of us on fire.

Why Are Faggots So Afraid of Faggots? is her fifth anthology in a string of wildly popular works -- at least, in the queer scene -- including her much-acclaimed Nobody Passes: Rejecting the Rules of Gender and Conformity (2007) and That's Revolting! Queer Strategies for Resisting Assimilation (2008).

"Like always with my anthologies, the idea for this one stemmed from a question that's coming from my own life experience and the cultures I'm involved in," she said.

"In my life, I feel really inspired by trans/genderqueer and gender-nonconforming communities that I inhabit. But in a very personal way, I feel less and less hopeful in the sexual spaces I find myself. Gay male space often mimics the grossest norms of everything I hate."

Ms. Sycamore and I discussed cyber cruising scenarios, including the use of Grindr, a gay cruising app for the iPhone. (For further reading, visit a new website called "Douchebags of Grinder," aimed at exposing extreme examples of racist, ableist, classist, and other stereotypical gay male sexual exclusivity, as illustrated by profiles on Grinder.)

"'No femmes or fatties' is practically the mantra of gay cruising culture on the Web," she said. "This gross kind of hierarchical regimentation has become so normalized, to such an extent that most gays don't take the time to say, 'Oh, that's fucked up.'"

Ms. Sycamore described an experience she had attempting to say "that's fucked up" to a random cruiser.
"Someone had one of those standard posts with all the 'don'ts,' and this one was 'no Asians,'" she said.

"I wrote, 'I'd prefer no racists,' and the person responded by saying, 'Don't be sore just because you're Asian.'"

Ms. Sycamore is not Asian, and she was appalled at the expectation she shouldn't be offended by a racist comment if she is not member of the race the comment is perpetrated against.

"I wonder whatever happened to our dream of a world of sexual splendor?" she said. "The dream of a sexually inclusive utopia.

Today, instead of imagination, we just have regimentation. The gay culture started out so we'd have a place to express ourselves sexually. Where's all the glamor and joy and sustainability now?"

The stories of 31 different authors were compiled in Why Are Faggots So Afraid of Faggots? in an attempt to answer this question.

And according to Ms. Sycamore, the authors and their subjects are as varied as the alternatives to sexual assimilation.

"For example, there's a piece by a straight, female prison guard about the interaction between homophobia and male-on-male desire in prison," she said.

"And there's another story about how drag king culture sometimes takes on the same kinds of prioritization of masculinity as in the gay male and heteronormative communities.

Even in a performance that is based on gender fluidity, still there's a hierarchy. It's amazing!"


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When Beauty Is a Curse

via HuffPost Gay Voices, by James Peron

It. Some people have it, some don't. The "it" factor is undefined. It refers to a personal radiance that surpasses looks alone.

It is part charisma, but not entirely that. We often say they just have "something" that turns every head when they walk into the room.

David had "it." I could show you photographs, but they don't do him justice; they capture his good looks, but they don't quite capture "it." It was in his smile, his movements, his pose, his attitude -- all of these things combined together, things you can't capture in a photograph.

His smile melted his admirers, turning them into putty. When he walked into crowded rooms, I could see every eye drawn to him.

For several years he was my closest friend. Every day we talked on the phone for at least an hour or two. I knew every aspect of his life.

One night we met at a party and went to his house, and I just sat with him until early morning. He talked; I listened. He must have told me everything that night alone.

I also knew about his curse. You see, "it" was his curse.

As astounding as it sounds to those of us without "it", David felt damned. He wanted one thing more than anything else: he simply wanted someone to love him.

He didn't want someone attracted to his looks. He didn't want someone merely drawn to his "it" factor. He wanted people to see him for who he was. He wanted them to love him for something much deeper.

He never felt sure that any of his suitors loved him. And the one person who really did love him never said a word, afraid to complicate David's life further.

It was better to be there for him, to support him and be his counsel.

David never knew how to approach the person he loved. He played coy and tried to create a scenario to force a declaration by announcing a new relationship.

That caused the opposite reaction than the one he wished for: instead, the person he loved backed away, caring too much for him to interfere if he found someone who made him happy.

David moved across country to pursue this new relationship, but his unhappiness grew deeper. He was plagued by doubts that anyone could actually love him.

They wanted his looks; they wanted "it."

His calls grew more frequent. Two or three times a day, for an hour, two hours, sometimes three or four hours. His pain was real. His doubts were real.

His job took him away from home for several days per week. And one day he went home to discover he was being cheated on. Every doubt he had was confirmed.

We spent hours on the phone that afternoon. I stayed on with him as long as he wanted. After three hours he said he had to go. A few hours later he called back.

He had been drinking. We talked for two more hours, then he said he had to hang up. I promised him we would talk in the morning.

At 4 a.m. the phone rang again. There was no hesitation to answer. If he needed to talk, I'd be there for him.
It wasn't David. Instead, it was the cheating partner calling. "I'm calling because I realized that no one else would think of telling you.

David shot himself a couple of hours ago and died. I know how much you meant to him, and him to you, and I didn't think his family would think to call you."

More was said, but I don't remember it. I know there was a horrifying sound that scared me -- it was coming from me.

The next several days didn't exist for me, quite literally. Early in the morning friends came to my home; one went to the chemist and came back with some sedatives -- prescription laws there are not the same as in the U.S. The sedatives literally knocked me out.

That is how it was for three days. The sedative would wear off, I'd awake, relive it all over again, and take another one. I slept for those days, until friends drove me to the funeral home in Pretoria. I had to see him, just to make it all real to myself.

I walked into the empty viewing room. None of David's admirers were there. It was just me and his body lying in the casket.

I remembered his jokes about dying young and leaving a good-looking corpse. They didn't seem very funny to me. I looked at his face. "It" was gone; "it" had left with his life.

The face was the same, the body was the same, but "it" had vanished. And so had he.

There are times when I see someone who clearly has "it." I see the admirers flocking around them. For those who qualify as celebrities, the paparazzi follow them everywhere.

And like most other people, I find that a bit of jealousy creeps in. I start to wonder why they should have "it" when most of us are "it"-deficient. There is no fairness to "it."

There is no concept of justice, or redistribution of "it." There can't be. But David always comes to mind, and then I have to wonder if these people are so lucky after all.

David would have traded all of "it" for the surety of knowing that people saw beyond "it," that they saw deeper than what drew their attention. My deepest regret is never making it clear to him that one person had.


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Gay Bigots-I Hate Them

via GayNZ, by The Gay Blade

And there is so much racism out in the gay world, and it really comes through in the online setting. So many ads in NZ that read  ”No Asians/Indians”.

Hmm, so that’s over 2 billion people, about 1/3 of the globe’s entire population you’ve decided to dismiss because why…?

OK, if it’s just the gay portion of that more than 2 billion you’re dismissing, it’s considerably less, several hundred million men, absloutely none of whom you could ever find sexually interesting.

 Zero. Zip. Nada. Not one.

That’s crazy – and no, it’s not “just my preference”: it’s racism pure and simple. And I have a particular loathing for racism and racists.

It’s racist because it is firmly and entirely built on the idea of race in the first place. How can you generalise about all men from Korea or Sri Lanka? You can’t – if you try to, you are using a tool of racism, and you are racist.

It’s racist because it fails to see our shared humanity – you are relegating and dismissing one group of people purely and simply because of your own bigotry based on their ancestry and what this does to their physical appearance.

If it’s “just a preference” consider how the sentence reads if you say “No Maoris (it’s just a preference) ” or ”No Jews (it’s just a preference)”

Does that feel right? Does that sit well with you? I can’t imagine anyone using that on a profile here in NZ, although I know there are men who have that view.

I have met loathsome white people in NZ who can’t have sex with “brownies” I’m sorry to say.

And can you imagine the effects of that constant negative barrage on people?

It just seems so weird to me – some men are hot, some aren’t. I don’t care about ethnicity. I’ve met hot, beautiful and sexy men from all sorts of backgrounds.

There are some amazingly unsexy and ugly whites out there, but I wouldn’t use that to justify saying “No whites”, so to me it comes down to some level of fear of the unkown.

Fear of those that are different.

Saying it’s “Just a preference” is a load of bullshit. That’s a cowardly, mealy-mouthed way of pretending you’re not prejudiced – pure and simple.

What happens when you walk out of a dark room and find that muscle-god with the 8 inch dick who was banging you into a happy quivering mess turns out to be Chinese, Thai or Indian? Do you turn round and go “Oh dear, I don’t like Asians, sorry”

The truth is we are taught to associate certain groups with being sexually desirable and not others. We learn it through porn through our general culture and the images that are put out.

So in NZ we see people associating Maori and Pasifika men with being hot and sexy, hence the lack of the “No Maoris (it’s just a preference)” in the online world.

We’ve decided they are hot. But that’s part of a long tradition of seeing brown-skinned people from the Pacific as sexually freer than uptight “white” culture, freer and available. It’s racist, it’s exploitative and it’s based in fantasy, but it’s accepted.

And fear of what is different isn’t just about race either. I am still amazed at the well-educated, intelligent men I meet who are completely irrationally terrified of making love with someone who is HIV+.

Even when they regularly use condoms, if they know how to have safe sex and do it, if you tell them you’re poz they become gibbering wrecks.

It seems we embody all their fears about their own behaviour. I can’t see what else they are afraid of. If you know what you’re doing you’re not going to get it, no matter what the HIV status of your partner.

And this is another form of discrimination that’s close to racism. It’s a refusal to acknowledge that you are dealing with another human being who is just as worthy, just as real, just as human as you are.

Yes, I find some Indian and Chinese men unattractive – but I find the same about Germans and Anglo-Americans too, I find some Brazilians deeply unsexy to look at.

But I don’t dismiss the entire group because of it. Some men with HIV are sex-on-a-stick, some of us aren’t.
We gay men came from such a position of fear and discrimination ourselves – I guess this is why I react so strongly to this.

For centuries we were persecuted for being who we are, I find it amazing to see the same sort of ignorant nasty bigotry in our own world.


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Sports Deficiency Syndrome

via HuffPost Gay Voices, by Domenick Scudera

Doctor, can you help me? The Super Bowl is this Sunday, and I do not care. I feel nothing. That is not normal, right? I cannot even tell you the names of the teams that are playing.

Am I missing the sports gene?

I always thought my aversion to athletics stemmed from the fact that I was gay.

Professional sports are not exactly gay-friendly, what with all the sports stars spewing "faggot" at each other when they get angry.

And I hated gym when I was a kid. Maybe that's when it started? I was always picked last for a team. I was told I threw "like a girl."

I knew some girls who threw really well, so that didn't make a whole lot of sense. Oh, and I loathed dodgeball. In junior high school all the boys were put in a big, padded room, and the bullies were encouraged to let loose their aggressions by whipping the balls extremely hard at the "less athletic."

In other words, dodgeball was organized gay bashing. But my gay friends today are not damaged like me.

They are totally sports-crazed, glued to their billboard-sized televisions on game days just like everybody else. What is wrong with me?

I have tried to get into sports. I really have. Concerned friends have invited me to Super Bowl parties in the past. They try to explain football to me while we watch, but then they hoot and holler like crazy when someone does something that is seemingly inconsequential, like walking over a line or dropping a ball.

It is all so confusing. Yards, downs, flags being thrown all around. I cannot follow it. I watch all the wrong things -- the players' tight pants, the graphics that overlay the live action.

Commercials and the half-time show are way more interesting than the actual game.

There are commentators on these shows who are supposed to help you. Big, burly, beefy guys in striped suits and striped shirts.

They sit in a semicircle and analyze everything. But to me, it is as if they are speaking a foreign language. These men have encyclopedic knowledge of things that make absolutely no sense.

They know how many yards some player ran four years ago, or they know the exact number of times a right-handed player threw the ball to a left-handed player in the rain on a Tuesday.

How do they remember this stuff? Each one is like a sports Rain Man.

I long to feel the same hyperinflated emotion, the pure joy, that a rabid fan feels when his or her team wins the Super Bowl. Have I ever experienced that scale of elation any time in my life?

Maybe I would feel it if I won the lottery, or if same-sex marriage were made legal. But those are once-in-a-lifetime moments. A sports fan can feel that grand excitement any day of the week just by turning on ESPN. Why can't I be like everybody else?

Is there a pill I could take? A sports reparative therapy? Maybe I could join a support group, an Athletically Challenged Anonymous meeting?

The symptoms get worse around the time of the big games, series, cups, and bowls. I feel so lonely, like the sole human after a zombie apocalypse.

The game will be playing everywhere! Everyone will be wearing their team colors, talking statistics, placing bets. There is nowhere to hide. Please, help!


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They Called Me a Slut at 82

via HuffPost Gay Voices, by David Leddick

"The 80-year-old slut." That's what a friend calls me. "82," I say, correcting him. "82."

We have to completely rethink what age numbers stand for.

Yes, I am 82, and yes, I have a lover who is well under 30, and yes, I have an excellent sex life with him. Our relationship began when he said to me, "I usually don't like guys, but you give me a boner." For someone over 80, this is good news.

I told yet another friend, a woman, in this case, "He either really is into me or he's the best actor in the world." She said, "What's the difference?" and she's right.

As the baby boomers bulge over the 65-year mark, the time has come when what we think we will be doing in the latter part of our lives will change, must change.

If you may easily live to 95, do you really plan to sit about for 30 years, from 65 to 95? That's a third of your life.

I prefer to think that 80 to 90 is just late middle age, and we have to be ready for it. We have to run our lives and not let our lives run us. Exercise.

Control all that eating. Do all these things that we always wanted to do and have not done yet. Our lives are meant to be lived, and in that final third we can do it.

Baby boomers (and even those younger) will find themselves having a shift in their thinking as to who they are and what their potential is.

The attitude of younger people in the 21st century is bound to filter upward, and those over 65 will not be living as the previous generation did when they reached that age.


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[VIDEO] Out Airman Will Raise Funds for HIV

via Advocate, by Michelle Garcia

A gay airman who came out to his family and the world the day "don't ask, don't tell" was officially repealed, announced that he will raise funds for HIV programs by joining the AIDS/LifeCycle this June.

Randy Phillips, a member of the U.S. Air Force stationed in Germany, will ride 545 miles with thousands of other participants from San Francisco to Los Angeles, with a personal goal of raising $10,000.

He's now asking for pledges from the big YouTube following that he's accumulated since coming out last year.

"There's so much stuff I could do with [this platform]. I could show you dumb kitten videos, I could try to sell you corny shirts that nobody wears, or I could try to do something good in the world," he said in a YouTube video.

Phillips said he was compelled to join the ride after speaking with filmmaker Ryan Yezak, who created the short clip "The Gay Rights Movement," which also went viral on YouTube earlier this month.

Phillips added, "I haven't been on a bicycle since high school — an actual pedal bicycle. I've never rode 545 miles, but I signed up to do the AIDS/LifeCycle."

Funds raised by AIDS/LifeCycle go directly to HIV services offered by the Los Angeles Gay and Lesbian Center and the San Francisco AIDS Foundation.






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How to Be a Better Homosexual

via HuffPost Gay Voices, by Domenick Scudera

Apparently, I am not a very good homosexual.

I have had a real education this week. I started listening to Bryan Fischer, the Director of Issues Analysis for the American Family Association. He is very smart and has provided me with an eye-opening education.

He is teaching me about what it means to be gay. I have learned things I never knew before. I am not sure what his credentials are, but he talks about homosexuality quite often, so it is obvious that he is an expert.

First, he has made it clear to me that the average homosexual has hundreds of sexual partners, some as many as 500 or 1,000 in a lifetime.

I did not know this. He said that we homosexuals admit this in our own literature, but I haven't read that literature. I feel so remiss! I am way behind.

I am not getting any younger, so it seems that if I want to be at least average, then I'd better start sleeping around more. I figure if I find at least one new lover each week for the next few years, I will be getting closer to filling my quota. What have I been thinking these past 16 years, being monogamous?

Precious time has been wasted.

I also found out, thanks to Mr. Fischer, that I need to get some poppers. Using poppers is the way that gay people stay sexually stimulated for more than one sexual encounter in the same night.

I did not know this. If I want to get closer to 1,000 or at least 500 sexual partners, it is a good idea to get some poppers so that I can maintain sexual activity with more guys per evening.

And did you know that the research says that 96 percent of us who engage in homosexual behavior are using poppers? And that poppers are the main reason for the spread of AIDS? They sound so dangerous! I am so out of the gay loop that I do not know how one even goes about getting poppers.

Can you order them online? Or will I have to find a drug dealer on a street corner somewhere?

I also might need to reevaluate Nazism. I always thought that Nazis were reprehensible, but I did not know that we homosexuals are closely aligned with them. Why is it not more widely known that the Nazi party was started in a gay bar and consisted largely of homosexuals?

Thank goodness for Mr. Fischer. This fact would have gone largely unnoticed if he had not brought it to the world's attention. He also says that today's homosexuals are basically Nazis.

I want to be a good homosexual, so I better give this whole Nazi thing a second chance.

Mr. Fischer says that gay parenting is "inhumane." I do not have children, but he reminded me that if I want to be a good gay, I need to start recruiting other people's children early on.

I have not done any gay recruiting before. How embarrassing! He does not provide any information about how to recruit, but I bet it is outlined carefully in the gay literature that I have failed to keep up on.

For now, I will start hanging around schoolyards so I can build trust with some kids, and then I will slip in some gay recruitment techniques later.


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