Gay Man Confused – Do We Talk About It Or NOT Talk About It? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Is it wrong of me to wish for a simpler time? You see as I’ve written (over and over again) I always knew I was gay and no matter how many people tried to beat it out of me (sometimes literally) I just knew that’s who I was and that it wasn’t going to change. (Read my “coming out” story… http://www.somelikeitscott.com/somelikegay.html scroll down on this page on the right side to the “What I Did For Love” writings) So when I came out to my mother I remember saying, “Look, this is the deal, I’m going to Houston for the summer because I’m in love with this guy who is going there for the summer. I promise you that I will never go out of my way to embarrass you or make you or anyone in the family uncomfortable with me being gay it’s just who I am and I need you to know.” To me this seemed not only reasonable, considerate but it also had some built in Jewish guilt with it. (The interesting part of this whole story is that the guy I was going to Houston for was eleven years older than me – though the age he gives now makes me a few years older than him – and wasn’t out to his mother – another blog for another day.) So now when I hear people saying you should be in people’s faces with your gayness and others like my mother saying, “Okay, we all get it that you’re gay, it’s enough all ready, do you really think that’s what people want to read about?” I begin to wonder and that wonder becomes confusion. Gay man confused – do we talk about it or NOT talk about it? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Honestly I don’t have the answer to this one. I get the whole, the more you talk about something and put it on television and movies the less shocking or scary it will seem to people but I also think there’s something to be said for just living your life as a good person and the people you encounter will be like, “Wow, hmmm. Those gays aren’t as weird as I thought.” I think it’s more of a personal choice. If you must put the rainbow sticker on your car then you must but I for one haven’t had anything rainbow colored since I was trying to be Robin Williams from Mork and Mindy in the 1970’s and had to wear the rainbow suspenders at least three days a week. (Yes, of course with all the buttons too)

While I slowly integrated bringing my six foot black man to family functions (the only black face above the crowd – we’re all short Jews) after a period of a few years and him bringing me to his family for Christmas, in contrast my cousin came out and was so gay that I think he used gay soap, gay toothpaste and walked around saying, “Hi, you know I’m gay, right? Have you met my lover?” ten minutes after he came out of the closet. It was like watching a race horse come out of the gate with no track or race, just running and kicking up a lot of dust. I adore him so if that’s what he need to do, good for him. (I hate that whole phrase by the way, when I first moved to Las Vegas and went to the doctor for the first time he asked about my sex life for the sake of case history, etc. and when I told him I’d been in a monogamous relationship with a man for over 11 years at the time he said, “Oh…good for you.” I never knew what that really meant. Like good for me that I found someone who would want me? Good for me that I was with a man? Good for me that I was monogamous? Or just from the doctor handbook – when patient says something to which you have no response try, “good for you.” – The doctor by the way was gay too but didn’t get my sense of humor so I didn’t go to him for long…go figure)

The thing is that with people debating whether Perez Hilton is right in outing people or not, I know in my heart that I don’t agree with this tactic. Coming out is not easy and less easy if you’re a celebrity (not that I would know, mind you being the greatest never was been there ever was) so why not let these people do what they need to do in their own time? They don’t owe you or me anything but to entertain us at their chosen craft, period. (Frankly some of the latest “casualties” of blogger outing I’d like to have thrown back, or at least ask them what so many of our parents asked us, “Are you sure it’s not just a phase? I’ll bet if you found the right woman…”)

I’m not someone that needs to hold hands in public but I’ll kiss my guy when I’m saying goodbye to him at an airport. I don’t need to tell people I’m gay because they usually get that from the fact that I’m humming “Second Hand Rose” ala Barbara Streisand in line at the grocery store. (To some that’s a horrible stereotype for some of us, it’s not put on it’s just who we are on a normal day) And while I’m constantly chastised by friends for not going to “Pride” or the parades (for me parades lost their attraction at an early age when we’d go to the Parada Del Sol in Scottsdale, Arizona and watch the bad marching bands, wagons with mock cowboys and saloon gals on them and horses that pooped along the entire route) I don’t discourage my friends from going and having a great time but it just isn’t for me.

As I said, I know I’m from a different generation now but even with all the “in-your-face-gays” today I see shades of myself represented here and there in the media. I WAS “Justin” from Ugly Betty growing up. And I for one like the fact that they don’t “define” him but just let him be this fun character that is flamboyantly feminine and a kid. I guess that people are going to disagree about just about everything when it comes to talking about being gay or not talking about it. And the important thing is that we keep debating, talking and learning from one another but try as I might to be the very model of a modern major gay (with my apologies to Gilbert and Sullivan) for me, being gay is a part of me but certainly not all that I’m about. I won’t “out” anyone on my site for my own recognition while saying, “I’m doing it for the cause”, I won’t make out in the grocery store over the frozen foods to make sure everyone knows I’m gay and I won’t put the damn rainbow, triangle or any other symbol on myself (because I think that being gay and Jewish, we had plenty of those symbols mandated to be on us at one time, thanks to Mr. Hitler). So maybe I’m not as confused as I thought that I was or then again, maybe I’m not so sure either. Gay man confused – do we talk about it or NOT talk about it? – Don’t Get Me Started!

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I can’t lie, I watched The Anna Nicole Show. I loved it. I mean, where else are you going to see someone so out of control now that Robert Downey Jr. seems to have gotten a handle on his drug problem? I would watch each week in shock, disgust and lust after the next episode. I would see a coming attraction of Anna being crazier than she was on the current episode and I would double check my Tivo to make sure I wouldn’t miss a minute of the next episode. With the odd cast of characters from parasite Howard K. Stern, pathetic Daniel (her son) who just seemed completely lost, to Kimmie, the six hundred pound gorilla lesbian with unrequited love for Anna (to the point she has a tattoo of Anna’s face on herself) to the occasional guest stars of a Bobby Trendy (a supposed designer that I wouldn’t let decorate the inside of my cat’s carrier) the show was plenty chockfull of entertainment in a reality kind of way. The thing is that I really think I saw the best, worst and all I need to see of Anna on that show so why the movie?

Well, we know why the movie…there’s money to be made. Now good for Willa Ford for getting her first acting job since…well, since ever. (This is really her first acting job and we can only hope that the public embraces her more in this role than they did on Dancing With The Stars.) And now in a big twist that has Anna’s ex-hairdresser in a teased up tizzy, Bobby Trendy has apparently been cast to play himself in the movie. For those of you who need more clarification, Bobby Trendy (his real name I’m sure <much eye rolling>) was a designer that Anna hired to decorate her home. As Anna’s taste appeared to only be in her mouth (when she was shoving food in as fast as anyone could make it and then always following it up with a good old fashioned lie down) unless Guess was dressing her, she wanted lots of pink. So Bobby Trendy did what any good designer wouldn’t do…he skinned a couple of Muppets, stole their pink fur and went crazy with a glue gun. We all know from watching Top Design on Bravo and any number of design shows that any designer worth anything employs the use of glue guns to do their best work. It was like having one of those women addicted to crafts like crack decorate your house with fabric and fake pink fur from JoAnne’s! It was great fun watching Trendy be not so trendy or good flailing about as Anna fired him. He retorted by talking about how great he was and how many clients he has but I have to wonder just how many five year olds want and can afford to hire the swishiest and worst decorator to come along since the person who invented Early American as a style for furniture and décor. (All those spinning wheels, spindle chairs and doilies – ugh!)

Here’s my thought. If they’re going to go ahead with this whole Anna Nicole movie shouldn’t it be more of an Afterschool Special than a prime time event? Shouldn’t it be a cautionary tale of what happens when you get fake boobs, dance on a pole, suck ninety year old pole and eventually surround yourself with enough sycophants throwing pills down your gullet that you won’t know how much you’re paying them or they’re stealing from you or who you are anymore? I think anyone who has picked up a Playboy magazine or seen her reality show has really seen all there is to see when it comes to Anna so why not show something that might do someone some good to the people who need it? You know, like the teen girls out there who think that Anna Nicole is some sort of iconic goddess to emulate?

But I know that the cheese stands alone on this one. I know that so many people are dying to see this movie (and if Delta Burke will bulk up again and go back to being a blonde to play Anna’s mother, Virgie). These are the same people that want to watch the Fantasia Barrino story (starring Fantasia Barrino) on Lifetime. If you’re a reality star, the reality is that we’ve already seen enough of you and in some cases, more than we wanted to in the first place. I don’t need a television movie based on your life to show me even more about you. I’ve already got all the entertainment you have to give and I’ll just wait for your next album or tabloid article on TMZ.com to find out about your latest escapade. No need for a movie, a play or a short story, in these cases enough is plenty. Do we really NEED an Anna Nicole movie? – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Rosie Leaving The View, What Will My Mother Do?! – Don’t Get Me Started!

So it was announced that Rosie is leaving The View after only one season. Is anyone surprised by this latest announcement? I mean with all of the constant media attention to every word she said I can only imagine this whole thing has played out…well, exactly the way Barbara planned. Because say what you like about Rosie, daytime television, etc. Barbara Walters is no dummy. One season, get ratings up and then get rid of her. It was the perfect strategy. The big problem I see is much more personal. You see every day I have to hear what Rosie said on The View from my Mother. In great detail she’ll sort of tell you what Rosie said with commentary throughout of what my Mom thought about it, what the other gals on the panel did and what my Mother sees as the solution for the latest Rosie dilemma. Rosie leaving The View, what will my mother do?! – Don’t Get Me Started!

First I have to say that my mother despises when I write about her but she is a wealth of material so today she will have to forgive me for making this about her. Hey, look on the bright side Ma, it’s a Wednesday, not a big day for blog reading on the whole (well, okay, I’m lying). I have always kidded my Mother that she has a People magazine mentality. What that means is that she loves reading magazines like People and that’s where she gets most of her material. This is no longer true. Now that she is online all the time, she’s getting news from all over but the mainstay of her news is basically “People-oriented.” I don’t know of too many people who have their mother leave them a voicemail similar to, “Kitty Carlisle dead, 97” and then she hangs up. She has had her finger on the pulse of the celebrity news for some time now and Rosie was a great added bonus for this season of The View because she gave my Mother (and everyone else) quite a bit to talk about on what seemed like a daily basis.
 

We all know that Rosie has changed over the years and yet like most celebrities, everyone seems way more comfortable trying to keep her in a box that she outgrew years ago. She’s no longer the chubby best friend coming into your home via television to show you the latest Broadway show, throw Koosh balls at you, show you how to do a craft and then watch as you all put your heads between your legs to see what she’s giving away to the studio audience today under the seats. That said; she’s also not the crazy militant lesbian that so many people make her out to be either. (It’s amazing what one bad haircut will get you! Thus the reason no one should hang out with Boy George, well, at least take fashion tips from him.)



She’s still an advocate for children’s causes and what no one ever seems to talk about is that whether she is doing the decoupage technique on a birth certificate onto a piece of drift wood or causing a rift between herself and Donald Trump, she’s good television. What’s more she’s good for television. There’s only one Rosie and what she proves time and time again is that while you think you know what you’re going to get from her, she always manages to surprise you. (No, I’m not sucking up to Rosie, though I think she needs to know about me…click here… http://www.somelikeitscott.com/somelikegay.html )

I don’t know who they’ll bring on next to try and revive The View but you can bet that if Barbara wants the show to continue, she’ll come up with another smart idea as to who will sit in that seat. Let’s just hope that there’s no chance of Star Jones coming back. (Read that blog… Why Is Star Jones Back?) And let’s hope they don’t try to play it safe this time and hire someone like Lisa Rinna (The Broadway show Chicago is definitely not playing it safe, putting Rinna in as Roxie, even with her husband in the show – anyone else see that pitiful performance on Dancing With The Stars last week? Whooo, that’s some bad theatre ladies and gentlemen!)

But most importantly, what in the hell is my Mother going to do? They’ve taken off her Imus and now no more Rosie on The View. Where will my mother get her news and commentary? And whose regurgitated comments will I have to listen to now that she no longer has either of these people to listen to daily? Well, much like Rosie, my Mother is always full of surprises and no doubt she’ll surprise me again when she finds her next great source for info. If you do your best to not read the message boards filled with hate you’ll know that we’ll all be pretty sad to see Rosie go. Not just because of what it means to have a lesbian on daytime television (hell, you can get that on cable any time now) but because she really does have something that a lot of people seem not to have anymore…child-like wonder. She still gets excited over her children, celebrities and coffee cake. So while I’ll miss her for the few times a month I watch that show, I’m sure other people will be much more affected. Rosie leaving The View, what will my mother do?! – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Forget The Spelling Bee Kids; Get With The Texting Bee! – Don’t Get Me Started!

There are several indicators everyday that I’m getting old. It could be the gray hair (both above and below), it could be the several times a day I say, “What?” or it could be the fact that while I consider myself pretty technologically savvy, I see no need for a national texting competition. Forget the spelling bee kids; get with the texting bee – Don’t Get Me Started!

That’s right, a thirteen year old girl from Pennsylvania won the championship and $25,000 that she says she’ll use to go shopping and buy lots of clothes. She estimates that she sends about 8,000 text messages a month and won by properly texting the word supercalifragilisticexpialidocious in fifteen seconds, beating other champs from across the USA. Well my, now there’s something to be proud of, no? I can see the bumper stickers now, “My ten year old can out-text your ten year old LMAO!”

While I’m impressed that she was able to spell the word above correctly (or had even seen Mary Poppins at all) and not LOL or LMAO her way through the competition you have to wonder if this is the right message to send? If they’re sending 8,000 text messages a month then aren’t some of those text messages happening when they should be reading, writing or doing arithmetic? But that’s so old school, isn’t it? Forget learning and go straight to Idol, Texting and MySpace to get to the head of the class! Sell your old text books on Ebay and get carpal tunnel syndrome before your eighteenth birthday as a rite of passage!

Perhaps this whole thing makes me sick because I absolutely detest texting. I don’t get it frankly. I would much rather have my friends call me (and have me send it directly to voicemail to listen to later) than to have to read a message and then figure out what they’re trying to say with all their abbreviations and how in the hell to reply to it. I have friends who love it and have tried (unsuccessfully) to explain the whole use of the “pre-emptive text” option that tries to read your mind. You’re trying to write the word “done” and it tells you that you want to write “demon.” Wow, that’s a great tool, huh? So I’m forced to hit buttons three to twenty times just to get a letter “c” and God forbid you want it capitalized, then you’ll need to invest another twenty minutes.

I don’t want to have to figure out abbreviations or codes obviously written so that only the Taliban and teenagers can understand! My mother was using LOL for the longest time in her emails in a way that made no sense until I informed her that it meant, “Laughing Out Loud” and not the eye rolling, sarcastic, “Lots Of Luck” that she thought it meant. My niece has a book (apparently there’s a series of them) where the entire book is written in instant message format complete with Js and LYMI. Well I don’t Love it and I Mean It!

Swell for us that we now have so many ways to communicate but can anyone explain to me why with all these tools at our disposal we’ve actually become worse communicators? I remember watching Star Trek thinking, “If only I could have a communicator like Kirk, I would be communicating my ass off!” Even if all I could get my hands on was that earpiece of Uhura’s I knew that I could not only be the coolest kid in the world but I could communicate with the world and boldly go where no man has gone before. Well, I have the cell phone (Kirk’s communicator) and the Bluetooth headset (Uhura’s earpiece) and yet somehow my guy and I both managed to buy dishwasher detergent not knowing the other one was buying it. What does that tell you?

Technology has made us faster, not necessarily smarter or better at communicating. No, we’re too busy using technology to keep LaKisha (obviously another mother who spells as well as Anfernee Hardaway’s) on Idol or hopefully texting the right suitcase into Deal Or No Deal’s home version of the game. Well there’s no way we old folk can even hope to compete with a thirteen year old texting a thirty-four letter word in fifteen seconds. So someone else will have to keep my favorite Idol on the show and win the $10,000 from Howie Mandel while I confine my voting for the politician who has spent enough money on their campaign to convince me that they’ll actually make a change for good in the world. (Or has the nicest hair!)

As I said at the start of this, I gladly admit that I’m getting older and that my tolerance for things is getting less and less every day. All the while I’m starting to wonder if being able to heat up a leftover to the temperature of molten lava in half a minute is worth the radiation I’ve been receiving from my microwave. I’m wondering if I’m not losing some of my hearing from my headsets (Ipod and Bluetooth) or is it just that I’m in a place getting bad reception? Can you hear me now? If not, give me six hours and I’ll text it to you. Forget the spelling bee kids; get with the texting bee – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Read the original article about the texting competition on CNN.com:

http://www.cnn.com/2007/TECH/ptech/04/22/top.texter.ap/index.html

Down And PlanetOut In The Land Of The Gays! – Don’t Get Me Started!

A new pal of the Some Like It Scott site sent me a link to an article on Queerty.com (try to keep up people, will you?) regarding the big media congaymorate PlanetOut and the fact that their business seems to be going down without a Molly Brown in site (yes, I know I wrote “site” not “sight”)! For those that don’t know, PlanetOut owns gay.com, The Advocate, Kleptomaniac, Out and more – you get the idea. See they pretty much own everything when it comes to the current gay magazines and online trade (and yes, I’m talking about that kind too as they cater to shopping for everything from clothes to someone who will come over and take theirs off for you). Down and PlanetOut in the land of the gays! – Don’t Get Me Started!

Long have I read the magazine The Advocate (and not just because my blog was rated one of the top ten by Advocate readers’ in 2006 – shameless plug but there you go – no boys, I did not write butt plug – gutter – minds – out!) however recently I decided not to renew my subscription because I was thinking that perhaps I was getting too old to read a magazine that really only cared about who Jonathan Rhys Meyer would kiss if he was going to kiss another boy and if he had any boy crushes. These seem to be mainstay questions in any article in The Advocate lately and it really holds no interest for me. It just seems a pathetic way to portray gays, wanting every man these reporters interview to admit that they’re gay, had a gay thought or at least sat next to one on a bus at some point and thought they looked nice. Honestly, the magazine is like Tiger Beat Gay. Now I read Tiger Beat for years and let me tell you something, there’s an idea right there that could pull PlanetOut out of the alley and back into the club, well, maybe. But today I expect a little bit more from a magazine that is supposed to be the frontrunner in being an advocate for the gay community and what matters to them. (Read the letters to the editor I wrote to The Advocate - Advocate Magazine)

And here in lies the problem in my opinion (be it ever so humble) all of the stuff that PlanetOut puts out looks exactly the same. For a company that is supposed to be celebrating a culture that celebrates diversity, they’re like a twink convention. Everyone in the magazine has to be twelve, airbrushed within an inch of their life (unless they have their shirt off and then they need to have their six pack stencil on) or they’re part of the three token lesbian articles where the women can look like, well, you know…whoamen! Then again, perhaps they are representing our “culture”, you know the guys who only date other guys who look exactly like themselves? I don’t know if these men do this because they love themselves so much or it’s easier to see what that new haircut will look like on them without them having to take the risk of getting it themselves? Same thing with PlanetOut, it’s a little like publication masturbation to me. (They’re the only ones getting anything out of it!)

The thing is that if you just thumbed through the pages (literally or online) you would find that the demographic PlanetOut seems to be going after is one that only exists in the rarest of places, you know, like Neverland (or LA). Their demo appears to be twinks with a sugar daddy rich enough to take them on a cruise, furnish their home in Mitchell Gold furniture and buy real estate in Palm Springs from the classifieds in the back of the magazine. Now before you all start writing in, let me just say, “Shut it!” I can hear the emails now, “You’re a bitter old queen.” Wrong, I’m something that the gay community only parades out once in a great while…I’m an adult in an adult relationship.

Sure I’m a stereotype, love the Judy Garland, have two cats named after characters from the Broadway musical Wicked and have several very close female friends. I understand that my demo is one of a by-gone era and I’m not saying that these publications have to cater to me exclusively but come on people, throw me the proverbial bone, will ya?

Some would say that the same could be said for the leading fashion magazines for women but see the difference here is that they’re not trying to be magazines with a conscience or promote equality, they’re trying to sell clothes and orgasms (You know, like GQ used to do for all of us before there were magazines that identified themselves as gay).

I would hate to see the PlanetOut gang go down without getting paid (and I’m talking about the employees now) because they need the work and we as “the gays” do need magazines and online sites that speak to us directly but come on, let’s not model ourselves after People magazine with their intellectually stimulating articles and diverse selection of People and People En Espanol. Let’s challenge ourselves to have a wide variety of publications that represent a larger range of who we gays truly are, shall we? Maybe we can’t do it as long as PlanetOut is responsible for most of the gay publications. It’s a little like playing Monopoly with my brother when we were little and he was the bank too. Somehow he always had money while the rest of us were trying to sell off pieces of property to stay alive. Maybe more in this case truly is less?

As a t-shirt I saw in a catalog said, “I don’t have the answers, only the complaints!” I hope that PlanetOut finds their way to profitability but how many of us are wearing leather chokers with the word “butch” on a sterling silver coin from Kleptomaniac? How many of us are buying property in Key West from the guys who buy the classified ads in the back of The Advocate? And how many of us really find who we’re looking for on gay.com? There’s an old phrase that I think rings true here – you only have yourself to blame. PlanetOut needs to get out more and represent more of us, period. Down and PlanetOut in the land of the gays! – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Read the Queerty.com article here - http://www.queerty.com/queer/planetout/exclusive-planetout-going-down-faster-than-mark-foley-on-a-senate-page-20070419.php

Alec Baldwin, Kim’s A Thoughtless Little Pig Too! – Don’t Get Me Started!

Well, well, we’re obviously all starved for news when a parent telling off their kid (no matter what their celebrity status) becomes the big new story of the day. I guess we all needed a little flash and trash after the recent events in Virginia this week to get our minds back on the important things in life…watching the celebrities we build crash and burn. The thing I don’t get is that I’ve heard (and surprised it isn’t the same in Mr. Baldwin’s case) parents say a lot more damaging and profane things to their kids when I’m in a store than was on this tape. And usually they’re using physical force on the kids too! So I really don’t understand the big fuss. However, I suspect that for the ex there’s a bitter table for one reservation in her name somewhere (say in a center square on a game show). Alec Baldwin, Kim’s a thoughtless little pig too! – Don’t Get Me Started!

Now I loved when Baldwin and Basinger were together. To me they were one of the more attractive and “old Hollywood” in the “new Hollywood” couples. They were almost the Clark Gable and Carole Lombard of their day (if Basinger could act). So when the ugly divorce happened, I was as sad as everyone else. Yet like a traffic accident, how could any of us look away from the public jabs they hurled at one another? To be honest, much like any fight in your life, I forget what exactly they were fighting about at this point I just know that it got ugly.

Here’s the deal. I live in a house with two actors in a relationship, I’m one of them. For those of you who have not done this and are considering it, I encourage you to step lightly as it is not always the easiest relationship in the world. You have two people who are used to getting applause with no one there but the cats to applaud (and you know that cats – not the ones in the Broadway show – really don’t make a lot of noise when they put their paws together). So egos flare hotter, hurts hurt more and it’s not at all like an exercise at the Actors’ Studio with Shelly Winters and Brando. It can be a volatile mix I tell you and I’m sure the same thing happened in the Baldwin/Basinger home.

You see, although you may know in your heart that the part your spouse got was one that you could never get, it doesn’t stop you from being bitter when they get a show and you don’t. There’s no avoiding it. There’s so much rejection in show business that no matter how hard you try (and I know a lot of people lie about this) you can only be so happy for the person next to you who is now the lead and you’re the second farmer on the left in the Farmer and the Cowman number. It’s just human nature (unless you’re Mother Teresa) that you want your spouse, friends and family to do well, just not better than you.

So one has to ask themselves if this whole recent flare up between Baldwin and Basinger has to do with the fact that Basinger “couldn’t get arrested” right now career wise. I mean she is moments away from joining the next cast of The Surreal Life or Dancing With The Stars. While Baldwin is “slaying them in the aisles” on 30 Rock (with the same character incidentally he played on Will And Grace but it’s still funny) in this larger than life persona he has now created for himself on the screen. I can imagine that Basinger is less than amused at her ex’s recent good career fortune because the only thing worse than your spouse doing better than you is your ex spouse doing better than you.

You see we want our ex’s to be fatter than us, balder than us, out of work and really just wandering life’s bumpy road wondering how they’re going to live without us. This is not being a bitchy queen, it’s as they say in Avenue Q – schadefreude – “happiness at the misfortune of others.” (No surprise it’s a German word) And to a certain extent we all experience this with more than our spouses or ex’s (That’s what keeps the National Enquirer selling and the Jerry Springer show on the air). We love to scoff at these people and say, “Ah, at least I’m not as bad as this bunch.”

I hope that we’ve seen the last of all of this business with Baldwin and Basinger (that is until his book comes out – yes, while doing damage control, he managed to plug his book that he’s writing where apparently all will be revealed.) But I’m sure there are parent groups right now up in arms running around willy nilly to make a name for themselves while they admonish Baldwin for his “ego damaging words” he delivered to his daughter. I’m sure the Today show will have a therapist on to talk about how wounding words can be to children. (We all know that the real damage was done when they picked the name Ireland for the kid’s first name!) The point is that we can all be thoughtless little pigs from time to time and sometimes we need someone to tell us that’s what we’re being. Alec Baldwin, Kim’s a thoughtless little pig too! – Don’t Get Me Started!

Read the whole sordid mess at www.tmz.com

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Do you remember as a kid when someone would say, “Who farted?” the common response was, “The one who smelled it, dealt it!”? Well, I was in line in Target yesterday and let me just say that the one who smelled it isn’t always the one who dealt it – Don’t Get Me Started!

I was doing the typical worker getting off work trying to run a million errands before getting home to make dinner for myself (my guy is out of town), feed the cats and do some more work while trying desperately to get the amount of saved programs on my Tivo down to a minimum. All that was missing was a boss named Lou Grant and a Jewish neighbor to come over with a schmata on her head to talk about her inability to find a husband. I indeed was Mary Tyler Moore without a pull out couch or “M” on my wall.

Anyway, back to my harrowing tale. So I’m zooming through (random thought – remember the Aretha Franklin song, Who’s Zooming Who? – why doesn’t anyone ever play that, love that song!) I’m zooming through the Target trying to beat the Mom and everyone who also just got off of work rush and pretty much everything that I’m there for is out. I mean from lotion to dish detergent soap, it felt like a conspiracy or perhaps there’s been a run on Lubriderm that I’m simply not aware of…what’s next hoarding of the Lubriderm?

Now I can never get out of Target without spending a million dollars. Usually it’s because I’m trying to get bargains that end up just costing me more money than I was planning on spending. Whether it’s me going for the twenty-seven pound box of kitty litter to save twenty cents (but not my back) or the gum at the checkout, I’m a store’s dream come true, falling for every piece of marketing and suggestive selling they throw at me.

So I get to the checkout line with my purchases and the woman in front of me is nice enough to put the divider on the belt. Now I always do this for the person that is behind me too. At first I was afraid that people would think I was doing a whole, “Ugh, let me put this divider down so that the cashier knows there’s no way I’m paying for the crap this person behind me just put on the belt. And who in the hell would buy pudding that hasn’t been refrigerated and sixteen bags of beef jerky anyway?” But then I discovered that this was paranoid thinking. I discovered if you smile and do a little head nod, people are actually appreciative that you put the divider down for them and aren’t offended at all. (Lesson learned - not everyone offends as easily as me.)

So I put my items on the belt and as the woman in front of me (nicely dressed, late forties, well groomed and seemingly normal) is using the credit card machine it suddenly hits me…this wave of odiferous something or other that attacks me like a lead pipe (in the Conservatory with Colonel Mustard) on Nancy Kerrigan’s knee! (And I’m thinking the same thing Nancy did, “Why me?”) There was no noise and the checkout next to us wasn’t open so the only place this could have come from was her. I don’t know if she had eaten sauerkraut, asparagus and something had died inside her or if she was on some fad diet that causes you to have unbelievably bad gas but this seemingly normal woman had cut one of the smelliest farts I had ever smelled in my entire life!

Now what are you supposed to do in this type of situation? I did what any normal person would do. First I immediately opened my mouth in a mock smile that would allow me to breathe through my mouth and not my nose while looking inviting and lovely at the same time. Next I looked at the cashier to see her expression, was I close enough that she could have thought this came from me? I made eye contact with her with the mock smile so that if we needed to we could give each other a knowing small facial expression that would say, “Can you believe this woman just cut the cheese this bad?” but there was no expression change in the cashier. The woman left and I assisted the cashier as she was trying to shove my twenty-seven pound box of kitty litter over the scanner and proceeded to my car.

Now I know some of you are used to me talking about political things, things that piss me off or an injustice done to me because I’m Jewish and/or gay but today I just had to share this experience. Now I know that people can’t help the fact that they fart (Yes, I’ve watched Dr. Oz on Oprah, people) but this woman cut the most SBD (Silent But Deadly) fart in the world and I couldn’t help but wonder who it is that feels so comfortable just letting one rip in line at Target? I would rather clench my butt cheeks together like I was trying to pick up a quarter (no, I haven’t had practical experience in this) and self implode trying to hold out for the parking lot but I guess good for this woman for being so comfortable with her bodily functions. Hooray for the incredible farting woman! And to anyone who may have been in the vicinity I just want to make it very clear that the one who smelled it isn’t always the one who dealt it – Don’t Get Me Started!

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"Skip Bagging" - A Classic Don't Get Me Started!

Yesterday I lamented that I thought that I had finally lost all patience. With some reviewing of my blogs I discovered that in fact I may have lost my patience a long time ago.

Enjoy this classic Don't Get Me Started blog...
"Skip Bagging" 

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As I was bussing the dishes off of my table from a dinner Sunday night with my parents at a half way decent restaurant, I convinced myself that I was just doing this because I don’t like to sit at a table with dirty dishes (And having been a singing busboy back in my day, my standards for service are pretty high). Although the restaurant is an intimate one with few tables, there was only one server on and one busboy on during the time we were at the restaurant. The busboy chose to set up tables as opposed to clearing our dirty table so I sat there, trying to be as patient as possible but then I could take it no more and so I proceeded to put our dirty dishes on one of the tables that the busboy had just reset. Now for most of my life I’ve been the Jew that doesn’t complain, send my food back or say anything but as I get older I find that I can no longer tolerate a lot of things. I think I may have lost all my patience – Don’t Get Me Started!

I really think that this whole thing has to do with age. I always wondered why older people just said whatever they wanted and didn’t care but suddenly I’m beginning to see the light. The thing I’ve finally discovered is what is the worst thing that can happen from speaking your mind or not accepting mediocrity – especially when you’re paying for service that you aren’t getting? Sure you can take the easy way out and leave a bad tip but my new philosophy is to just get it out of your system.

I don’t care if you’re at a nice restaurant like the one I was at Sunday night or at Popeye’s chicken place (like I was last night) people need to start stepping up their service when I’m around because I will no longer sit back quietly. I go to the counter, place my order and there are three people behind the counter. There was only one person in front of me so it wasn’t as if the place was packed. After the person in front of me receives their order, the three employees move to the back of the kitchen. Two were looking at their work schedules for the week and the third was doing something else. I waited all of about ten seconds before I came out with my best Steve Martin “Excuuuuse me?!” The two kept looking at the schedule while the third one started filling my order as quickly as possible to get me the hell out of there. Now I don’t recommend this everywhere, especially where you’re not watching them put your order together as there is the distinct possibility that they will spit in your food or worse. But I do think it’s time we all stood up against all this bad service.

In a previous blog I talked about needing a gay when it came to guest service and I still stand behind that statement. (Read the blog here When Bad Customer Service Happens...Gotta Get A Gay! ) I was at the Burbank airport last week and as I was going through security I guess I had forgotten to take out of my briefcase a travel sized cologne and put it in my plastic bag (Read the 3-1-1 blog about the whole plastic bag requirements for travel 3-1-1). As my briefcase came through the screening chamber and I was standing there with my shoes, belt, laptop in hand and taking my carry on off the belt, the cutest lesbian told me that they needed to check through my bag. She said it looked like a small cologne was in the bag and I said that I had tried to remove everything like that and I apologized. She found the cologne and as I was trying to juggle my belongings to get out my Ziplock bag to put the cologne in, she looked at me in a knowing way and said, “You know what? Don’t worry about it, I’m going to put it back in where it was but remember next time it needs to be in the plastic bag.” She gave me a wink and I was on my way.

See, a little kindness goes a long way and can diffuse the most impatient people if done correctly. I don’t know if it was years of feeling “less than” or not wanting to be known as a complainer or bitchy queen due to the fact that I’m Jewish and gay (My Mother right now is saying, “Why do you have to talk about being Jewish and gay in every blog? It’s enough already, they get it.”). For a long time I just put my head down and took it because I didn’t want to be that Jackie Mason version of a Jew or Waylon Flowers (without a puppet). But I’m just putting everyone on notice that the time has come for me to not sit idly by and take a bunch of crap from anyone anymore. The thing is that I’m not sure if it comes with age or just having had enough. All I know for sure is that I think I may have lost all my patience – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Shame On The Advocate For Trying To Out Idol’s Sanjaya! – Don’t Get Me Started!

I subscribe to The Advocate and I am always very excited when I get to tell people that my blog was voted one of the top ten by Advocate readers in 2006. But in the recent music issue (April 24, 2007 with Idol dropout Mario Vasquez on the front cover – read my blog about this guy - General Pace and Mario Vasquez DO ask and DO tell!) The Advocate crosses a line that in my opinion is beneath them. Inside the issue is an article discussing the Idol contestants that are gay from past seasons of the show. (The article is gossipy enough to feel like Rona Barrett wrote it in the late 1970’s) They interview some of the past Idol contestants who talk about their gayness now that they are out (while promoting their latest musical endeavor) and they talk to a contestant who didn’t make it to the final 24 during the current season because he thinks he was a little too gay for the judges’ tastes. All of this is fine because the people talking are pretty much talking about themselves. Even the small picture of Clay Aiken and The Advocate raising the question about Clay’s gayness is okay as he’s an adult, this has long been the topic of public speculation and he has chosen to not address it so he gets what he deserves (while he becomes the Barry Manilow for this generation – um hello…Barry and Clay….hmmmm….enough said.) But before The Advocate decides to be the next Perez Hilton, they need to check themselves. Trying to out a 17 year old (Sanjaya) is a bit much. Shame on The Advocate for trying to out Idol’s Sanjaya! – Don’t Get Me Started!

For most, coming out is a difficult process and for The Advocate to act this irresponsible when it comes to being sensitive to a teenager (yes, we’re talking a teenager here folks, the kid is seventeen) dealing with enough in the spotlight all ready just feels like the bitchy queens at The Advocate are sharpening their tiaras and are hooking their Lee press on nails into a defenseless kid for no other reason than to sell some magazines. Bad enough this kid can’t sing and somehow has remained on the show, shouldn’t a magazine that has page after page of important stuff like retired military leaders coming forth after the recent comments from General Pace and other important articles keep their bitchiness at bay when it comes to outing teens?

The “outing” of Sanjaya is a small blurb in the corner of the main article and supposedly they’re only quoting what “some bloggers” are saying. Well being a blogger myself I know that bloggers can be as accurate as playing “telephone” at a party when you’re eight years old. Surfing the web and taking what some people write as the whole truth and nothing but the truth is a dangerous thing to do. I admit that I get a lot of what I write about from the web and we have to understand that it isn’t always gospel, in fact most of the time it’s opinion from a land where the moon for the misquoted rules supreme. While we bloggers don’t claim to be journalists, we should at least make the attempt to do our best to get the facts right. Otherwise it creates the whole, “well, they said” which is the excuse grade school children use so one would think we should do a little better when we become adults. Also when you press people to find out who specifically they’re talking about it’s always, “well, you know, everyone.” This is high school behavior and perhaps that’s where The Advocate thinks that they can get a free hall pass to say and do whatever they want. But for those of us who have been reading this magazine for years, we all know that this magazine usually shows it’s style and it’s intelligence to the level of a masters degree so this current sophomoric misstep we can only hope is just that, a misstep. The failed the test but hopefully they’ll ace the midterm to keep a passing grade.

I’ve never been one of those people who think that everyone is gay because I am because that whole thing I’ve always felt is insecure people who have the need for everyone to be gay to make them feel better about themselves. But I have many memories of a childhood that were “less than” they could have been because of the hate that was thrown at me on a daily basis growing up Jewish and gay. And whether you’re gay or straight, we all know that the teenage years can be difficult for everyone, even the most popular or seemingly popular teens. Have we forgotten how difficult these years can be? And is being glib and sensational better than being sensitive and supportive? I would expect the bloggers of the world and gossip rags to come up with the whole Sanjaya thing but I just expected more from a magazine like The Advocate.

Growing up, my parents didn’t really yell at us that much and maybe it has to do with Jewish guilt or something but the worst thing my parents could say to my brother and me was that they were disappointed in us. Well Advocate, I’m disappointed in you. Shame on The Advocate for trying to out Idol’s Sanjaya! – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Having been in theatre for years I know a lot of people who are still doing theater. They’re doing everything from touring children’s theater to Broadway and the stories that evolve as you’re putting together a show are some of the best in the world to me. In talking with one of my best pals in the world yesterday, she was telling me about a new musical that she had done some readings for as the writer and director shape the show. These readings are not full blown productions but rather where they get some actors to have a few rehearsals and then read the show on a stage so that the production team and some invited guests can give their feedback on the show. Sometimes they are partially staged and some times they are not. So we start talking about this show that she is now doing the second reading for and I was stunned to learn that the show is all about breast cancer. And all I could think was Cancer…The Musical – Don’t Get Me Started!

Now not being very literate I had never read the book Les Miz so when I heard that they were going to make a musical of it I was at a complete loss as to why as Broadway musicals always meant the flashiest of the crashiest experiences (unless of course it was A Chorus Line) up to that point. The Broadway “opera” had not been born yet. I knew there was something about someone stealing a loaf of bread in Les Miz and my roommate and I used to walk around our apartment singing, “You, you stole that loaf of bread!” (A song we made up but were sure would be in the musical). Of course when I saw the show I thought it was fabulous (although I do have to admit that where he steals the bread the song “You stole that loaf of bread” went through my head and I chuckled out loud.)

So that’s my sort of disclaimer that perhaps doing musicals about disease are the next big wave and I just don’t know it yet. But the more my friend was telling me about this particular show I couldn’t help but have images of choreographed numbers running through my head. (Taste Disclaimer: almost everyone in my family has died of cancer and I’m pretty sure that if I was to only drink green tea and eat bark from now until the end of my life I’m going to be struck down by cancer too so this means I can make fun of it.)

Imagine if you will the diagnosis scene…there would be a large microscope that comes out onto the stage while men dressed in black unitards to represent the cancer cells and women dressed as the “good” cells would come out dancing wildly on a large Petri dish. Next up would be the treatment number – think lots of people dancing with IV poles like Gene Kelly in Singing in the Rain. The finale of Act One would be the “What’s in a wig?” number where wigs drop down from the flies as the dancers (with their bald heads) spin to pose with one wig then move on to the next wig until they all have wigs on and are dancing with wild abandon. The number finishing with all the wigs in a pile in the center of the stage as the characters discover their inner strength and show their determination to not wear a wig through their treatment. Act two would open with everyone wearing schmatas on their heads looking a little like Valerie Harper as Rhoda. Sure there are I’m sure plenty of dramatic scenes in between but everyone’s spirits will be lifted in the finale number “Gotta Get A Boob” where they actually put taps on the prosthetic boobs and do a complete 42^nd street number by holding the boobs and tapping on rolling examining tables as the doctor sings, “You’re Cancer Free! Wow wee Wow Wee!”   

I know I may be one of the only people in the world who hear about someone doing a musical about breast cancer and have the entire show mapped out in my head in a ridiculous fashion moments after but hey, we all need a skill and this is mine. But I have always been the type of person that chooses to laugh at adversity. If I didn’t have the sense of humor I have, I know I would have killed myself long ago. And who knows, maybe this is the future of the Broadway musical. I’ll wait to make my performing comeback until they come out with Tay-Sachs The Musical but for now we’ll have to go support the breast cancer musical (if it ever makes it to Broadway) but can you imagine what the t-shirts and the rest of the merchandise will look like? No surprise, I can. Cancer…The Musical – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Hair Piece Out! – Don’t Get Me Started!

I understand the loss you feel when you start losing your hair. The good news for me is that my hair loss is being kept at bay by drugs and sprays. Also it’s happening in the back of my head so I can fool myself into believing that it isn’t really happening because I don’t have to look at it unless I hold a mirror to the back of my head while looking in the mirror in the morning. So I get it that you would want to do something about your hair loss but I also believe very strongly that whatever you do should look as good as possible. On a daily basis I see so many men wearing the worst hairpieces imaginable and I just have to say, hair piece out! – Don’t Get Me Started!

I don’t care if you’re the president and a member of the hair club or not, you’re pedaling some of the worst imitation hair I’ve ever seen. If we can put a man on the moon, couldn’t we find something that replicates hair a little bit better at this point? I can’t take the way it just sits on the head like a hair hat and the worst is the attempt at “blending” on the sides of the head that don’t really blend at all. Almost always there’s a fiber in the back of the head flipping up, going the complete opposite way of the rest of the “hair” on the head of the guy. The hair piece is basically just a mistake and when you look at the other alternatives like Elton John’s hair plugs to Prince Valiant in thirty days look, I’m not thinking that is the answer either.

On the complete other end of the spectrum are the guys who think they’re going to be proactive about everything and just shave their head altogether. You know, showing the world just how much they really don’t care. This is good in some cases but not so much in others, you have to wonder if they didn’t know that the shape of their head was something akin to a mutant sweet potato before they started shaving? These guys also spend more time shaving, moisturizing and polishing than most women and are fussier about it than some men are about their hair. Lex Luther’s of the world unite! Speaking of bald heads can someone explain to me the hoopla around ex-NBA star John Amaechi’s (who came out recently) big endorsement deal? I get that the deal is with a supposed mainstream product, The HeadBlade, Inc. (A razor shaped to go along with the contours on your head) and don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that he got the endorsement deal even if he was the “G” word but let’s face it, a razor for your head isn’t quite like the Nike swoosh. I’ll go ahead and just wait for a deal with a company like that before I pull out my pom poms of excitement over gays getting the same deal as straight sports figures. But once again, that’s a blog for another day…back to those who have “hair.”

But hairs (forgive the pun) the deal. Most of the men who wear the God awful hairpieces walk around as if they are really something. The love themselves so much I don’t know how anyone else even puts up with them. They spend so much time looking at the thing in the mirror, adjusting it, patting it, and practically making love to it. They walk among us acting almost superior to us with their hair hats. Let me tell you something boys, you put Astroturf on your noggin, you didn’t get Steve Austin’s Bionic eye or anything. Perhaps some of the toxic glue starts to seep into their brains mutating them into thinking they’re hot when they’re not. And don’t expect me to break out a telethon or even throw an intimate pity party for you guys. You’re mentally ill if you think you’re fooling anyone with that “Har” (you know it’s a little like that imitation crab meat they call Krab) on your head and you need to just accept yourself for who you are and cut that shit right off your head as soon as possible. The only one you’re fooling is yourself, the rest of us are saying, “Hair Piece Out!” – Don’t Get Me Started!

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The Whole “insert letter here” Word Thing Is On My Nerves – Don’t Get Me Started!

I can’t take it anymore. Do you hear me? I simply can not take the whole big deal that everyone is making trying to be politically correct with their slurs of hate as of late. Don’t say the word but just use the first letter and then pat yourself on the back for being a swell person. Oh, by all means, go ahead and think the word but don’t ever, ever actually say it and then you’re safe. Is it long before we hear kids on the playground screaming, “You’re an N” or “Stop being such an “F”? Can someone explain to me where in our conscious thinking we’ve reasoned that this is the answer to hate? The whole “insert letter here” word thing is on my nerves – Don’t Get Me Started!

Does anyone really think that by using the first letter, it’s going to make it all more palatable? That it makes it sound better than using the word so therefore it actually is better? Now don’t get me wrong, as someone who heard the “FAG” word every day (sometimes many times a day) for all four years of high school and beyond (along with being slammed into lockers, punched, etc.) I am keenly aware just how damaging this word can be but I can tell you that having people use the first letter (even as a way to refer to what happened) instead of saying the whole word wouldn’t make it feel any better (or should I say worse) and we’re ridiculous to think that it would or does. I get that people don’t want to repeat the word that was used by say Michael Richards but come on, it’s a real joke to think that you’re being more civilized by just using a letter to represent the words that hurt.

What’s worse is that now it’s started to become an advertising trend! Currently there’s a commercial running for Burlington Coat Factory (a discount, warehouse-type clothing and home furnishings place for those that don’t know) that shows a woman and her children shopping at a department store. When the “mother” sees the prices she says something to her kids similar to, “We need to go to Burlington.” All the sales clerks huddle horrified and say, “She said the “B” word!” The Marketing department of this place knew exactly what they were doing and I guess good for t