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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.
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I've never seen any of Joey Stefano's movies. Born Nick Iacona to a working class family from Chester, Pa (due south of Philly--and hell), he was pointed out to me a few times at the club I worked at in the early 90's. Already an LA based porn superstar by then, he would return to Philly on occasion. According the 1996 bio of Joey S. I just read, Wonderbread and Ecstasy: The Life and Death of Joey Stefano(by Christopher Isherwood--yeah, right), the reasons for Joey's return to town ranged from getting away from the LA drug scene to getting back to the Philly drug scene. He'd also visit the family and friends who knew nothing of his career, but knew he was somehow successful, and a generous source of good drugs. The book is better written than I'd expected. I was looking for a traditional tale of multi-faceted dysfunction (as usual), but I also got a good short overview of the gay porn industry (the flood the market strategy of the Planet Group porn studio in the early 90's would make for an unusually interesting Harvard Business School case study), and understood for the first time the enigmatic rise of Chi Chi LaRue.
I additionaly learned that Joey died in a Hollywood motel that I stayed in several years later. We'll call it the La Brea Star Pit, it's on Sunset just west of La Brea. Right around the corner from the Crazy Girls strip club and the twice holy complex of mock tudor buildings that first housed Chaplin and that later became Herb Alpert's A&M.
Which makes that motel twice holy, too, of course.
I don't know if this bumpersticker wisdom comes from the Navy Seals or Hell Angels or rock climbers or substitute teachers, but I read it in an AOL profile last night:
What If You Brought Your Mask And Phallic Missile Prop And No One Else Came?
Well, for starters, you would definitely get your picture taken. What kind of frankenzoid homunculus is that beneath the mask, though. He scares me.
The caption startles as well:
The latest hopes for early mass protests in the streets of Ottawa on the eve of Bush's Tuesday visit fizzled out as journalists outnumbered demonstrators at one protest and no one turned up at another.
Strange, disembodied hopes, those. The implication of a rapidly succeeding train of dashed hopes bemuses as well, as does that overly specific early. All in all, a sentence with a rich shadow life.
(The AFP photographer's name knocks my mask sideways and makes my missile point straight up: Tobin Grimshaw. Formidable handle, shutterboy. I just might move to Canada and marry you. For a summer. That name would be way cute for a while, then less cute, then ordinary, then a grotesque reminder of a wasted summer of parties with CBC types and jealous, moonlit fights on Parliament Hill.)
Leaders of the G3 (that would be the gay industrialized world, i.e., the United States, Japan and the United States) met in Philadelphia yesterday. I was behind the barricades yelling hurtful things as they enacted their sickening ritual of dressing up in native garb for the closing banquet. Pool coverage here and here. The smirks and ostentation on display in the photos posted at the first here could very well spark a global revolution, if I read the spirit of the times correctly (and remember, my weekend box-office projections are rarely off by more than 50% or so.) Look for those heads on spikes soon is my prediction.
The increasingly screwy Bill O'Reilly defends himself by any other name:
The ordeal of Dan Rather goes far beyond the man himself. It speaks to the presumption of guilt that now rules the day in America. Because of a ruthless and callow media, no citizen, much less one who achieves fame, is given the benefit of the doubt when it comes to allegations or personal attacks. The smearing of America is in full bloom.
...But you'll be seeing more of this kind of thing in the future. All famous and successful Americans are now targets. Unscrupulous people know that any accusation can be dumped on the Internet and within hours the mainstream media will pick it up. It will be printed in the papers, discussed on radio and TV and become part of the unfortunate person's résumé whether he or she is guilty or not. A click of the Internet mouse can wipe out a lifetime of honor and hard work. Just the accusation or allegation can be ruinous.
Let me ask you something: In the future, do you think potential public servants and social crusaders are going to risk being brutally attacked within this insane system? I don't. I think many good people are simply going to walk away from the public arena.
Dan Rather did not get what he deserved in this case. He made a mistake, as we all do, but he is not a dishonest man.
So says Social Crusader Rabbit. And so says we all.
I might have to start following soccer if every lede is as evocative of ancient romance and the sexy diaspora of modern sport as this:
Diouf Charged After Spitting Row Futbolera - 3 hours ago
Bolton's El-Hadji Diouf has been charged by the Football Association for spitting at Portsmouth's Arjan de Zeeuw in Saturday's 1-0 win for Pompey.
I've mentioned the writer Alfred Chester on this page a couple times, most recently just last week. His work and life interest me greatly. I thought of him again today. Something brought to mind that excellent collection of his stories called Head of a Sad Angel.
