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The Public Blogging of Pomosexuality, Homotextuality, Homophobiaphilia, and Drear Theory (aka Career Theory) [aka Gay4Pay]. We also read the Corner and OpJournal so the right buttock will be punished as well. All comments subject to publication. Or dismissal. Or Both.


Your Disciplinarians: Glenda Benda (Philapa), Amber Waves (Kansaster), Polly Morpheus (Dreamsville), Tess Tosterone (D'Urbervilles)



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Calvin Klein's Obsession:
Glenn Reynolds
Virginia Postrel
Andrew Sullivan
A & L Daily
Mickey Kaus
Boing Boing
Joanne Jacobs
The Onion
Hunk Hunters
The Corner
Dennis Cooper
Clay Shirky
Wired News
The Cellar IOtD

Paloma Picasso's Tentations:
Eve Tushnet
Ralph Mag
Julian Sanchez
Light of Reason
Matt Welch
Ken Layne
USS Clueless
The Volokhs
Found Mag
Indie Gay Effers
NY Press
L'il G Footballs
Shout Across Pa
SciTech Daily
Manny Toomany
Tim Blair
Jesse Walker
Chas Murtagh
The Loom
Daniel Drezner

Nina Ricci's L'air du Temps:
M. Wickens
N. Imp
J. Micah Marshall
M. S. Dog
H. Stuff Works
M. Pool
W. Peril
E. Dge
M. Filter
C. Cosh
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U.W. Beauty (RIP)

Elizabeth Taylor's Black Pearls:

Karl Lagerfeld's Narcisse:
Cranky. P.
Salam P.
Pop B.
Samiz D.
Radley B..
Dan G.
Classical V.
Terry T.
Two B.
Porno C.
Larry L.
Ox B.
Howar D.
Choir E.
Luke F.
Jeff J.
Gay P.
Kieran H.
Roger S.
Jay R.
Jocko H.
Crampe R.

Agenda Bender
Friday, March 21, 2003  

The Remaining Times

Poor Salon. It was a daily stop before the subscription regime. More like a monthly afterthought now. I still like it, but the internet is the ultimate substitution economy, increase a site's friction even slightly and I'll go to one of the other thousands of places I've bookmarked. It is funny to see who's sponsoring the daily free pass though, I could almost get back in the Salon habit just to see what Salon sub-entity is paying my way in each day. Paying, ha.

I doubt today's sponsor will ever be topped. Salon Master Classes!

A History of Independent Film

Enroll now! Space is limited to 98 students!
Readers like you have always looked to Salon for its coverage of Independent Film. From "Mulholland Drive" to "Memento," from "Boys Don't Cry" to "Y Tu Mama Tambien", Salon has been at the vanguard in covering cinematic life beyond the blockbuster. Now, through "A History of Independent Film," our new 12-week class, we're giving you the opportunity to take your appreciation for the indie movement even further

The History of Independent Film will examine the evolution of American independent filmmaking, from the early shoestring experiments of mavericks like John Cassavetes and Roger Corman to the byzantine pipeline that now feeds the Sundance Film Festival each year. Each class session will feature a screening of a feature film by one of the movement's key figures, followed by a lecture and class discussion. Directors whose work will be addressed include David Lynch, Jim Jarmusch, the Coen Bros., John Sayles, Charles Burnett, Steven Soderbergh, Todd Haynes, Hal Hartley, and others

Class rate: $599; $575 for Salon premium members.
Class style: The History of Independent Film is lecture-based and takes place in a small movie theater. Each week, students will be shown a print of a film, followed by as much discussion as the remaining times allows.

Dig that discount! Your yearly subscription just paid for itself! Oh, to be one of the lucky 98. I wonder if the class is oversubscribed will the hopefuls be winnowed down with an essay contest? Sample movie reviews? A Jim Jarmusch trivia smackdown? Maybe a physical challenge. Survivor: New School!

I would live on sewer rat and city rain water for 3 weeks, I 'd crawl through 8 mile of byzantine pipeline, I'd watch The Great Lebowski and really pay attention this time, just to earn my ass a place at this cintellectual feast.

11:13 PM

Thursday, March 20, 2003

Passion Fishin'

From a poem by Charles Henri Ford (he appears to be quoting some other poem in part, don't know which. Google doesn't either):

"the tangled net of ruin/ which passion casts..."
With houses as with people, you love them you use them you
leave them

5:59 AM

Wednesday, March 19, 2003

His Barbs

Steve Miller at Indie Gay Forum noted a Jonah Goldberg column in which Jonah makes kinda nice to the idea of gay quasi-marriage and is more ecumenical than usual about gays and culture cons. I guess this is good in some way. A disinterested "wassup?" from a nodding acquaintance is better than a "die, motherfucker" from a deranged stalker, certainly. Even though you loom larger in the life of the stalker and at least their interest is real, abiding, passionate. The problem with Goldberg as I noted before is not that he's a gay hater. He's a disliker. Gays appear to make him queasy. He also appears to not know many.

As if to make the point (yet again), shortly before I read the gay friendlier Goldberg column I read a post by Golberg to the Corner that begins like this:


Mickey Signorile gets his panties in a bunch over Howard Kurtz. Lord knows I'm not one to whine too much about name calling, but I do try to attach some logic or rationale, unpersuasive though they may be, to my barbs. Time and again this joker just throws the stuff around like a drunk buffoon who won't settle down about the fact the world's against him (this is hardly the first time Mickey's mentioned me, by the way; I think he's a little obsessed.).

Mickey Signorile is of course the openly gay columnist, Michelangelo Signorile. Signorile is a conscientious drudge in the cause of gay progressivism. He is also a middling writer and occasional rhetorical hitman on behalf of his ideological familiars. He does at times expose anti-gay hatred without trying to score political points for his side. It's then he gets my grudging respect, though he's in no danger of wearing me down from the repetitive strain of it. Goldberg is unquestionably the better writer and brighter guy, but he manages to throw this wildly uneven fight.

The column Goldberg quotes from has zero gay content aside from the (unmentioned) sexuality of its author. It's battleship Potemkin boilerplate in exaltation of all things Eric Alterman and in execration of all things Howard Kurtz. A prodigious waste of rusted metal in either case. Goldberg's response is the only sexual thing about it. If a column on Alterman and Kurtz (with passing shots at Goldberg and others) can get him retaliating with underwear insinuations and winks at homo crushes then for Jonah the subtext of anything Signorile writes must be FAG. Too harsh? Well, let's suppose M. Signorile responded to a J. Goldberg column on media bias with the apropos of nothing lead, Jonny Goldberg's yarmulke mustn't be keeping his brain warm enough. Suppose, in other words, he made a slighting reference to Goldberg's religion in response to a column by Goldberg that had zero Jewish content except the (unmentioned) religiosity of its author. Hell, suppose he made the slighting reference in response to a column that had everything to do with Goldberg's religion.

"Someone has a crush on me", "panties in a bunch", and the "Mickey" diminutive are hardly epithets of mass destruction. Even less are they witty. Goldberg should almost be as embarrassed that he resorted to the panties trope, a line that should have died with the last century (at the very latest), as that these jokes ex machina make us smile more at the joker's fixations than laugh at his target's predilections.

5:06 AM

Tuesday, March 18, 2003

Music for Ultimatums

I wonder if ancient Memphis was the soul music capital of the Grecosphere. Maybe you don't even agree modern Memphis is the soul music capital of the Anglosphere. I'd be willing to entertain arguments in favor of Detroit (obviously), Philadelphia (certainly), New Orleans (Toussaintly), and, yes, Losa Ngeles (perhaps surprisingly--the Solar sound was one of the pop wonders of modern times, holy Shalamar your flame still burns). But to my ears Memphis reigns. The Hi Records legacy alone is probably enough, with Al Green being the greatest part of that beauty (and Belle the fullest flower of it). It's the miracle of Dan Penn's songs that puts Memphis over the top. The other towns had only one power station each--Motown, TSOP, Solar--but Memphis had Hi and Penn both. And it doesn't hurt (except it really does hurt) that Memphis is sacred to Jeff Buckley's memory.

And let's not forget Alex Chilton: A Box Top, A Big Star and A Lone.

We will leave unnamed the gentleman who lived, died and was buried at the end of the lane there.

Irma Thomas and Penn collaborated a couple of years ago on the record My Heart's in Memphis. 13 songs--some only very good, several unforgettably great. Maybe the best of the collection is the song we feel is appropriate to the moment and recommend to tyrants stuck in their ways (except they should have started listening to it a few years back). It's called Not Enough Time to Change. It is one of the most grown up songs I know. Penn himself has released a CD of his demos which includes a bare bones take on the song. As lovely and somber as Irma's version is, Dan might have her beat. Either way we all win.

Don't believe me? Don't blame ya. The house motto here is Distrust--But Verify. Dan Penn touches your soul in 39 seconds flat.

2:14 AM

Sunday, March 16, 2003

When Words Collide

Those of you travelling to Philly for QPenn2003, the University of Pennsylavania's sexual minority awareness and pride week, will want to be sure to pencil in the discussion slated for March 28th from 2-4pm, Queer and Chicano: Deconstructing Societal Bullshit.

I would like to alert the organizers of QPenn2004 that I am available next year to facilitate a program I like to call The Queer World: A Colloquium on Some Fucked-Up Shit, if they have room on the goddamn schedule.

12:40 PM