When HIV Strikes Close to Home

As the city bus pulled away from the curb the rain continued. Gray, wet, constant. We sat toward the back, on the left side. Me, here in this city I knew a few things about from my numerous visits, and him, a friend I'd known for only a year or two. Always a smile. Always up. Everyone knew him. "Oh yea, he's a great guy," they would all say. And he was, that's for sure. I had seen him earlier that same day in the office with several of our mutual friends. I had walked into a closed-door meeting and noticed that a couple of them had maybe been crying or something. Definitely a meeting for some particular reason but I didn't give it too much more thought. I just knew that I'd come for a visit with him....and boy was I happy. You know those people you really enjoy being around? That's the kind of feeling I had when I had packed my bags for the trip early that morning. And now, with no car, we were on the #12 Sandy Boulevard bus on our way to his apartment in downtown. I really liked it here. Rained a lot. But it sure was pretty. Everything green, lots of flowers, and not so cold in the winter time. He said he had something to tell me. Okay. We had just returned a week or so earlier from a great time in Mexico with eleven of our closest friends. Cabo San Lucas. All thirteen of us at a resort that was getting ready to close. So there were no other guests at the resort, just us. I can't remember if it was the first or second day when we turned the pool area into a clothing-optional area. But we did. He said that he had been to the doctor and had some blood work taken. The results were not good. HIV, he said. "Do you know what that is?" Nope, I didn't know that much about it. I mean, I knew what it was. But certainly no one I knew had it. Oh, but they did....he did. And he was in the painful process of telling his friends. You see, on this Mexico trip, we had become much better friends than we had been. I had been divorced earlier that year and he was nearing the end of a not-so-good 12-year relationship. We had become close. So close that we were now going to spend the week together at his place. And now he was telling me what? HIV? I was ignorant, knew very little. But I knew it wasn't good. And I knew that I was now crying, my head turned and staring through the fogged-up window of the bus as we splashed our way down the road. And then, the words that still ring in my ears......interesting because I can't totally recall exactly what they were.....but the heavy emotion behind them hits me like a ton of bricks even today. Was it "Will you still be my friend?" or was it "Do you still want to keep on having this relationship with me?" It felt, for that one fleeting second of time hanging in the air, like he was on one planet and me on another......miles, universes, apart. Space and major distance. I could feel him separating himself from the rest of "us." Those without HIV on one side and those who didn't have it on the other side. I could tell that he had struggled to bring himself to even deal with it let alone the fight to tell others that, at some point, he'd been exposed to one of the world's worst plights.....and now it was his plight.....and now he was trying to reach across what seemed like miles of inky, murky distance and grab onto my hand of friendship. It was a dark moment in my life. But at the same time, I reached right back. He needed the hand and I needed to extend it. Of course I'd still be his friend. Who cares what he had. I mean, my dad had died of Lou Gehrig's disease. My god, that was a living hell to go through. I'd had many cancers in my family, suicide, multiple sclerosis, alcoholism. Those were the times that we drew together, not separated. And this should be no different. I don't think I had any idea of what I was truly saying or doing that day.....but I thought I did. You know those surreal times when everything seems to happens all at once. Decisions are being made and words are being said at rapid rates of speed. I just knew that, as sad as I was and as nervous and scared as he was, that we needed to be friends and hold on tight. Sort of like when a hurricane or tornado is coming....head for the cellar, all together......one. The road has been bumpy, up and down, crazy at times. But it was that day that started it all. Fear of rejection on his face and in his voice. And my weak struggling words "Of course I'll be your friend." I reached out and, for the very first time ever, pulled his hand and mine together.....down between the two of us where it was warm, dry, and safe. I knew it was time to draw together and not be apart. That's what friendships are all about. For healing and not for hurt.

YOU, ME, US.........World AIDS Day.........December 1, 2006

Snow, Fake Trees, Snoring, and (No) Sex

The frozen white specks from the cold winter sky have (sort of) arrived. For those of us in Portland, it usually doesn't happen when it's forecast too....and always does when no one expects it. It's not a rarity here but really doesn't happen that much. So for 20 beautiful minutes yesterday afternoon, it came down. Right after the snap-crackle-pop appointment with my D.O. And a little after 5 this morning, it happened again....stuck just enough to be beautiful. Supposed to fly to a meeting this morning but it was cancelled. Even more snow in Seattle than in Portland. We just plain old don't handle it well....roads are a mess, people freak out and don't know how to drive on it. So, I think the (fake, plastic, made in China) tree is going up this morning. But first it has to be pulled out of its little cardboard box, complete with handle attached. It's in the basement now. We've finished a pot of coffee (Coffee Mate eggnog creamer, of course). Time to light the proverbial firecracker under our ass and get going. Last year, we waited so long that it was nearly past spring break by the time the tree went up. What is it about growing older that takes the excitement and steam out of holidays and other special days. Honestly, sometimes it's so ho-hum. We don't do gifts for either family any longer which is one of the smartest decisions we've made in recent years. Hell, what else do I need? Except for a new spine and neck, the ability to sleep through the night undisturbed, and a little less shimmer on the balding spot at the top of my head (I hear that jock itch powder can take the shine away.)

Last night he popped a couple of NyQuil night time tablets because he hasn't been feeling well. After we climbed into our warm bed and slithered underneath the down comforter, he started putting Vick's vapo-rub under his nose (to help him breathe better). He had already squirted Astelin up his nose to clear things up "up there." And now, the crowning glory, he opens up a new box of Breathe Right Strips from Walgreen's. You see, we've been fighting this snoring thing lately.....and we're pulling out all of the stops to get it nipped. So, with one of us trying to read the tiny-tiny instructions on the box, and with him holding the sticky side of the nose strip hovered precariously above his snout, he lowers the thing into place.....perfectly. And I start to sort of fool around a little. You know, running my cold hands down under the covers thing. And he turns to me and says (with all of the sweetness and smiles that he's known for): "Oh yea, just wait until I've taken my night time medication, squirted Astelin up my nose, smeared Vick's under my nose, and hooked a plastic strip to the top of my nose and then try to fool with me......Not Tonight." We both laughed, pulled the comforter up around our necks, and went to sleep....spooning together just like a perfect fit. Ah, who needs fooling around anyway? Oh, there was not a snore all night......my gosh, how could there have been?

I'm really thankful for the blogosphere opening up for me and being able to meet so many new people around the world. It's been a month right now since I started blogging. To all of you who have posted, commented, and emailed, thank you so much. You're awesome. I really enjoy hearing from you.

And now, off to make another pot of coffee and put the tree up! Happy, safe, and warm journeys to you all today.

The Holidays....Time for Random Acts of Kindness

It's official! The holiday (whatever holiday you want include is fine with me....Arbor Day, Secretary Week, Clean the Bathtub Week, whatever) season has officially started. We don't exchange presents with our families--but for some reason we were out of bed at 05:30 yesterday and off to Best Buy, bought gas, went to Target, had breakfast (potato pancakes), Barnes and Noble (December issues of Out and The Advocate), and JC Penney's.....is there something wrong with this picture? We actually find it kind of fun when there is no agenda or obligation. I think we're weirder than I thought we were.

I'm teaming up with my fellow blogger at Mr. Joe Blog's Blog. He's putting together a, hopefully, long list of those who have done random acts of kindness and are willing to share their story. He is trying to inspire all of us to be better people and to keep those less fortunate than ourselves in mind. I'd like to encourage you to visit his site and either email him (it's in his profile) or attach a comment to his posting on the subject. Years ago, a friend told me that his family takes whatever money they were going to spend on gifts for others and buys a pile of warm blankets. Then, they load the whole family in the car and go looking for those on the streets, under the bridges, or wrapped up in cardboard sleeping and give them a blanket. If your family has ever had someone you know personally in one of these terrible situations, you'll know exactly where I'm coming from. An amazing opportunity! I hope you'll visit Mr. Joe Blog's Blog and send him a story to post. It can be helping somebody in need, giving of your time, help or advice. It can even be anonymous. He's really hoping to kind of propel a Pay It Forward type of wave. Let's have fun with this thing and see if our world can be just a little bit better of a place to live.

Thankfulness 101

Today, tomorrow and, I hope, every normal, average day forever, I want to be thankful. Don't sigh....I know it's Thanksgiving and that it's sappy, emotional, and even expected that I should write some sort of expected message on the subject--along with the myriad of other writers across our nation. Years ago, we started Gratitude Journals. Believe me, we meant well. We tried to write in these little journals five things each day that we were grateful for. We did it regularly for a month or two. I saw them just the other day...hiding out in a drawer. Are we any less thankful? Nope. Not at all. In fact, we are two very thankful gay guys. Frequently saying to one another "we sure have a lot to be thankful for." And we do. I refuse to do a list. It would be long, belabored, and unnecessary. It goes so far beyond geography, family, friends, health, finances, jobs, insurance, blah blah blah. Or even the card that you may feel you've been dealt in life. It's an attitude, a way of life, a choosing of one's heart and mind to live in a certain way. A sort of intersecting of the spirit, the soul, the heart, the head. Doesn't really have anything to do with what we have or don't have. Whether our cupboard is full or empty.....matters not. Job or no job. Who cares. On this, the eve before a particular day decreed on a calendar, and not unlike many other similar days, we are thankful, grateful, appreciative. As the food is being shoved in, licked up off the plate, and remade into leftover sandwiches, we are thankful, grateful, and any other similar adjective you can dig up. We're going to be tomorrow too. Oh, and the next day also. And did I mention next week? Live and, with humbleness, give thanks.

Crossing The Bridge to Civil Unions

There is a breath of fresh air floating around recently. Fueled by a decidedly blue electorate (I just keep thinking "Go Big Blue") there seems to be new agendas and ideas coming next year...as there should be. God knows we've been beaten down, hated, and listed as secondary citizens long enough. Take a look at this article from Gay Rights Watch, a local blog that keeps us up to date on the comings and goings around Portland and Oregon. It appears that civil union legislation may definitely be on the agenda next session here in Oregon. We've now got our former nasty old House speaker out of that position (Minnis in the article). She's a real pro at staying in cahoots with local religious right folks and screwed us over bad in the last house session (god, I almost sound like a victim, don't I???). Looks like she'll (hopefully) be paying for it in 2007. Let's call it a year of victory, refreshing, and renewal. Drinks all around!!

Don't miss out on this beautiful video. You'd better grab a hankie. It definitely pulls at the heart strings but also is a good reminder for us to continue to cross the bridge in our lives. You know what I mean: press forward, look ahead, and keep on keeping on.

"Having put your hand to the plow, don't look back....." Enjoy, my friends, enjoy

The Knot

It's dark, I'm alone because he just climbed out of bed. Turned over and kind of grabbed his pillow cause it feels better like that. Seems cold, too, but he'll have the heat turned up soon. He's sweet that way. But there's this knot in my stomach, I think. Maybe I'll skip coffee this morning to see if that takes care of it. Thinking, wondering, tossing. I remember a similar knot. Sixteen long years ago today.

We had met in 1980, the two of us in college age Sunday school together at church. She in her pretty blue and white dress. God knows what I was wearing in those days but I'm sure it was accompanied by some locks of nicely feathered back hair. We became the best of friends. Vacations together, plenty of movies, shared food, friends and experiences. Me at her parent's house for holidays and she at mine. We both joined a traveling Christian musical group and criss-crossed the US, Europe, and Asia together. What's so wrong with that?

And it was on one of those musical tours in the summer of 1990 that I went to see her perform at a big evangelical church in Salt Lake City. She played in the orchestra. Bass guitar and damn good at it. I had struggled for the past couple of years with the gay thing...but we didn't call it that in Idaho. Was I? Wasn't I? Did anybody really care except for me? Do you think anybody knew? Tried the roommate thing. Yea, right, sure he's your roommate. Let's not say anything to him and maybe this phase will pass. But, my god, these emotions. Up and down. Back and forth. It sure felt comfortable to be with him. But it just wasn't right. That's what they said. The church. The Bible. And so, I join her in Salt Lake City with a handwritten letter from me to her. We sat in the car on the very hot August afternoon. "Will you marry me." I just knew that I could get past these feelings. Past the weirdness and uncomfortableness of being too close with her. Or any other female for that matter. Jesus would help me. And, plus, it can't be that hard. I mean, you just do it. Like walking down the street.

November 17, 1990, found us at a huge Assembly of God church in Lewiston, Idaho. Me scared to death. She nervous as a hen. My best man was my former roommate (yep, THAT roommate...oh god, the tangled webs that we weave). He was trying to be so understanding. But he didn't. Neither did I, but I could, in time. Another groomsman and his family were such close friends. Surely if they had thought I was making a crazy decision they would have said something. I mean, I'd spent more time with them than practically anybody....they would be able to tell. And there was my brother, the third groomsman. God bless him....he's the only one of the three still around in my life today. Thankfully. Do you think he knew? We'd never been close but I'm sure he'd say something. So the wedding begins with that ever-so-popular After All. You do remember, don't you....right at the top of the charts in 1989. Peter Cetera and Cher? I will never forget standing in the long hallway that ran alongside the sanctuary. Standing with my good friend and pastor, looking through the narrow windows into the sanctuary. All decorated with tons of flowers. Special-order flowers that they didn't have in stock in Lewiston. Ironically, Birds of Paradise flowers. A couple hundred friends and family there. All dressed up, hair coiffed, wedding gifts and cards left properly at the door on the gift table. Everybody on their best behavior. (I'm shaking inside.) I couldn't believe that the day was finally here. (Still more shaking only now with dry mouth and heavy swallowing.) And I couldn't believe I was actually going through with this. Remember, Jesus will help you.

Collapse. Failure. Pain and heartache. As in any relationship, there was no shortage of struggle and sleepless nights. Anger built and tempers flared, regularly. Marriage counseling. Personality tests. Prayer time and special sessions with the pastor. Workbooks to complete. Answers to be had. For god's sake, there had to be answers to this mess. There's absolutely nothing worse than being in the wrong situation at the wrong time with the wrong person and living the wrong life. It was totally obnoxious. And nobody knew it better than me.....and she. And us. Together in the house on Kalmia. Built from our ideas, our plans, our interior designs. (And why nobody knew about me at this point was more than I'll ever know.....I mean, the house looked good.....really good........gay good.....but in Idaho we didn't call it that.)

I remember laying on the couch at the home of the only gay people I knew at the time. They couldn't figure it out. (Well, looking back, I'm actually sure they had it figured out.) Nobody had ever been able to, not even me. I squirmed, digressed, unable to say to anybody that "I was gay." I just remember the tears. And the two of them sitting across from me in separate chairs in their beautiful home. Trying to help me. Trying to make me comfortable. Trying to pave the way for me to come out! And being very good at letting me know that they were there for me. It would be OK. And the heavy words finally fell from my mouth "I don't know how much longer I can do this." And I couldn't. And I didn't, very well.

And so, the knot. The knot on the day I asked her to marry me. The knot on the day I looked dazed through the sanctuary windows at all of those people ready to watch us get married. The knot in the ceremony when the two separate candles come together to light the one unity candle as the couple kneels at the alter for prayer. The many knots during the hateful and disgusting times when you say things and treat someone so badly that you just know it's not right. And, now, today, the tears as I write. Running down my face. Tears streaming into the lake where God says he'll collect all of our tears. I hear a siren now. Outside, blocks away, off to some emergency or somebody in trouble.

I was in trouble once. Bad trouble in a worsening situation. Going absolutely nowhere. I'm glad I'm not there any longer. Very glad. She has nothing to do with me any longer. I tried. I think she tried. She just couldn't do it. "Please don't ever contact me again" were the last words I ever heard from her. In an email. Ouch. They still ring in my ears. I know nothing of her story or the road she has traveled since the day she moved out and left a note that "I just can't do this any longer." And I know she couldn't. Me either. So, today, the knot. Remembering, reminiscing, thinking, feeling, crying. Sad that it ever happened. Glad that it's over.

And very glad that my husband turned up the heat this morning. He's sweet that way.

Watch Out For Falling Prices (and T-Shirts!)

As if anybody needs another reason not to support any business that doesn't pay its hard-working employees enough to keep their children off welfare rolls, here is yet another compelling argument to drive on by your local Wal-Mart before you get hit with more than falling prices. Last week, blog site Bent Corner broke a story that WM was selling a particular t-shirt bearing a striking (exact?) resemblance to a Nazi SS symbol. The "Death's Head" (German Totenkopf) symbol was worn by the 3rd SS Division Totenkopf. The t-shirt is nearly an exact replica. There are cool t-shirts by the thousands on the market right now with millions clamoring to pick up the tightest, trendiest ones....you know, the ones that will make our pecs poke out and our six-pack ripple (I'm on my way to a whole case). But this is not one of them. Plenty has happened in the nearly a week since WM was made aware of this particular design. You can read about it's details in Bent Corner as well as a little "Murder She Wrote" type of investigation by another blogger Scott-O-Rama. Just last November, I had the life-altering opportunity to visit my second and third Nazi concentration/death camps. In February 2004, I had been to Sachsenhausen near Berlin and then November 2005 visited Auschwitz and Birkenau in Poland. Let's save the sobering details of those visits for another time. Suffice it to say that there is no excuse for the propagation of Nazi symbols or any other type of hate. Even in a country where many of us support and appreciate free speech and opinion, there are things that shouldn't be done simply because they can be done...especially when it comes at someone else's expense.

Ah, A Great Way To Start The Week

It doesn't get much better than this. Enjoy. I hope you're all having a better Monday than ours. And when you're done listening, play around with making your own. You'll absolutely die laughing!

http://www.careerbuilder.com/monk-e-mail/Default.aspx?mid=16043085&cbRecursionCnt=1&cbsid=fe97c1ffd8dd4aa981658b9ba7a59e01-216758720-XN-2

Deliciously Frittered Away Time That Feeds The Soul

How do I accurately explain the warmth and wonderfulness of our neighborhood (is "wonderfulness" a word??). It's been raining unbelievable amounts for a few weeks now. We've had 8.7 inches since October 1--many places around us are up to more than 20 inches in that same time frame. Windshield wiper blades scrape back and forth in near constant motion, intersections are flooded with water trying its best to make it down the drains but being blocked by inches-deep colorful leaves that plug up the street drains. I rarely mind the rain....in fact it bring a sense of comfort and solitude sometimes....but plenty of folks around here survive on anti-depressants and need their time away in the sun during the winter. Friday afternoon was one of those gray, wet days (and the good news is that winter isn't officially even here yet!).

The phone rings, it's our fantastic neighbors calling (you know, the kind of neighbors where you get to use the back door instead of the front): "Hey, what are you guys doing tonight? It's so rainy and dreary....would you like to come over for dinner?"

Me: "Definitely, we'll be there." (Go ahead, twist my arm.) So, the husband and me were more than happy to scratch our tentative plans to go see "Conventioneers."

Out comes a bottle of deliciously yummy French red wine (given to us by the Lufthansa flight attendant crew last fall on our European adventure); a couple of fresh-out-of-the-oven homemade chicken pot pies filled with potatoes, broccoli, carrots, onion; a very cool salad with apples, greens, and an awesome dressing; creamy hot polenta baked with garlic, cheese and other goodies buried deep inside; followed by warm apple crisp with whole crunchy cinnamon sticks straight out of the oven. Oh, and did I mention the aromatic hot fresh tea? I mean, the whole evening was exactly the reason we love living right here. The comforting sense of being in a neighborhood, the warmth of sharing the end of a busy week in the home of good friends. To know that it's pouring gray wet rain outside (and that it's going to continue for many months to come) and, yet, you're inside around an old, incredibly heavy, farm table with nine very cool people...sharing, listening, interrupting, laughing, being crazy, talking politics, work, food, meeting a very nice gay couple for the first time. You know what I mean.....it's something about the safety of community, of belonging, inclusivity, of not having to dress up or put on your pretty going-out face (which is getting harder and harder to accomplish), of being able to ask questions or make comments without being judged or accused.....so totally filled with acceptance, warmth, caring, a net of security. I couldn't have crafted a better time. And we didn't have to travel to some far-flung corner of the globe. It was right here in our neighborhood, with its beautiful tree-lined streets and tons of brightly-colored leaves on the soaked ground while the wind blew and the cold rains fell. It was "deliciously frittered away time that fed the soul." We were more than taken care of, more than wrapped up in a blanket on a cold day, more than chicken soup when you're sick. Much more.

In the State of "No"

I am so stinking proud of a ton of things that happened yesterday...the list is long and wonderful and warm and so very cool. Feels like a breath of fresh air--like hope has finally come back--just like rain on the desert--like we've won the lottery! Seems that much of our nation finally caught up with what many of us knew several years back...that we were on the wrong, screwed up, track. One of my most favorite moments of yesterday's elections was the "NO" vote in the state of Arizona on their proposition to define marriage as one man and one woman. Arizona is the only state so far to achieve this monumental position. Go, AZ! Just like the Fox News Network, you guys in the Grand Canyon state are "Fair and Balanced." (I'm kidding......) I hope that the rest of our nation is able to catch the wave that AZ has set...and, eventually, it begins to ripple from coast to coast. And the amazing irony of the whole deal is that I get to spend tonight in Phoenix. What a great place to bask in the glory! I am so glad, so proud, so appreciative......of the voters, of being able to stay in this great state tonight, of so many blessings like this huge one. Makes me sad about my homestate of Idaho though. They are not so nearly fair and balanced. Is it so wrong to hate something about your home state? My mom would never let us use the word "hate".....it was "strongly dislike" which is what I'm thinking about ID right now.

It's My Flag Too.....VOTE!

Early Monday morning. A new, fresh week ahead. Last week's achievements and failures are behind. Tomorow is a big day, very big. Hopeful, pensive, nervous. Here's an amazing clip from fellow blogger Trailhead:

http://wanderawhile.blogspot.com/2006/11/sometimes-clothes-do-not-make-man.html

And here's one I found quite a while ago. Time doesn't always change or heal wounds. Sometimes, the sentiments only worsen.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=bHDeJyQhzr4

Tomorrow is an important day. If you haven't already, VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE

Death of a President

An extremely rainy night in Portland, last night was. Windy, warm, deep puddles of muddy water everywhere. Wool hats and coats were soaked. Everyone running to wherever they had to go, walking not really smart unless you're totally into getting wet. My partner was in the basement-- ironing one of the more than 30 shirts that had piled up over a month or so. Now, don't get on my case about keeping his pretty face in the basement, working away. He offered. And most of the shirts were his (he's gonna kill me). But, I digress. We had passed the very old and cool Hollywood Theater earlier in the afternoon and I told him then that I was going to check out the movies when we got home. I spotted two that I wanted to see. It's now straight-up 4:00 and Death of A President starts at 4:45. Did he want to keep on ironing or screw it and get a move-on for the movie? Sounds like an easy answer, but sometimes we're not so good at impromptu. Yesterday, for some reason, was a little different. He yanked the ironing cord out of the electrical outlet and we were off. In a flash. I'm still digressing. The movie is an amazingly powerful fictional documentary about the assassination of George W. Bush next October 2007. It follows the day of the shooting and the subsequent FBI investigation and search for the assassin. Unbelievably gripping. Tons of interesting, behind-the-scenes kind of information. And a script so very well written. Even the would-be Republicans seemed believable. Their scripts were absolutely spot-on...exactly the way they would look, feel, speak, react. Very, eerily, believable. And we both were surprised at how truly sad we felt over the President's death. In spite of the quite-clear fact that we can't stand the dude, and we even knew what was coming in the movie, we both were amazingly sad. The second half of the movie deals with the search for the killer. The interviews become more and more painful as the story unfolds. When the flick ended, we felt empty, worn out, tired. You'll definitely have more material than you need to keep you talking for awhile. And, remember, the movie is not true. You'll be amazed at how lifelike it leaves you feeling. As great as it was, and I'm really glad we went, I told him that I'd rather have seen the other movie at the theater.....something about cancer, loving, relationships, dying. Ah, we'll save those emotions for another day.

Pilgrim Pride

I changed out the pumpkin flag that was up for Halloween (31 trick or treaters, by the way) and put up the cornucopia for Thanksgiving this morning. I mean, you ought to see the little drawer down in our basement where we keep all of our holiday and special occasion flags--all neatly in chronological order, folded, and ready to go the next time around. Totally gay. The larger rainbow flag came to live with us this last summer after we found it at Portland Pride. It's huge, colorful, and really looks cool against the green paint on the house. I've always sworn off having one without any very good reason...but the BF wanted one and it really does look good. We try to hang it out every chance we get. But this morning, for some reason, it hit me: Do you think the Pilgrims and early settlers of the 1600-1700's could have possibly co-existed with "we alternative types" among their pioneering ranks? Reminds me of a book that my friend MJ wrote a few years back dealing with just that...naughty life in the 1700s in the hills of the Northeast US. I'm pretty sure that they didn't identified as GLBT at that point--can you imagine the Monday Night Meeting of the Plymouth Rock GLBT Pilgrims? But you know, "Pilgrim Pride" has a definite ring to it. I'll bet there were plenty of lesbians and gays, keeping all to themselves.....I mean, you can't stick ALL of the women together in their sexy, tight full-length dresses, sleeves to the wrist, and hats tied beneath their pale white chins in one village, with the guys all off to war, and expect nothing to happen. Days of Our Lives and Another World were not around yet...they had to do something all afternoon to occupy their time. (My god, does this sound sexist or what??) And what about those sexy, sinewy dudes all off to battle in the steep hills and narrow valleys--gone for long months at a time, all by themselves, no good looking wilderness chicks in sight, working together in tight quarters, sweating, bleeding from wounds, tying up each other's injuries, sacking out on the ground during very cold, wet nights around the crackling fire. Staring up into the inky black sky at night, wishing that the totally hot mountain guy in the next sleeping bag (do you suppose that Coleman sleeping bags were around then?) would scoot a little closer. Oh my gosh, it could get pretty crazy--and I'll bet it did! So, yeah, I think it's OK to fly these flags together......Co-existence rocks, doesn't it? It always has.

(More) Hypocrisy of the (Well-Known) Saints

One of the largest right-wing evangelical Christian churches in our country lost its senior pastor today after a gay escort came forward to say that he had sexual relations with Pastor Ted Haggard at the 14,000-member New Life Church in Colorado Springs. Happening not once, but over three years. Nice. Real nice. Haggard is one of the most vile opponents of gays along with fellow cronie, and equally hateful, Dr. James Dobson of Focus on the Family. Dobson struggled to come to Haggard's defense and rescue the hypocritcal pervert. Can't you just see him waving his hands in this air at his Sunday services...the air thick with the praise music from the higher-than-thou orchestra and singers.....sweat pouring from his brow...right hand holding the made-for-television-broadcasts Bible up in the air (you know, the Bible with the shiny sparkling edges so that the lights can pick up on it) and spewing his poor, watered-down, untrue, made up version of how God hates the gays. Having had much experience in this type of church and with this type of pastor, and having been an unfortunate prodigy of how to say one thing with one side of your mouth and then do something else with the other side, I SAY ENOUGH. I have spent hundreds of hours on the soft padded pews in churches all across the globe. Always thinking, wondering, crying, questioning. Wondering where Jesus was in all of this...not. So, good luck Mr. Haggard et. al. I used to look up to your type, admiring, striving to be like. God, I'm glad that I was saved from that. (Reminds me of the bumper sticker: "God, save me from your followers"...and with good reason.) Looks like while all of us perverted gays, with our "agenda," were doing our best to keep our noses clean so that possibly you self-righteous types might view us more accordingly....you were climbing in between the sin-laden sheets of cover-up, deceit, and (again) hypocrisy. How dare you. Jesus is far from you and your message and your followers. Thankfully. There is so much to be done.....you know, feeding the poor, taking care of those who are less fortunate...doing the things that Jesus asked of us. It's OK, don't you worry about it....we'll take care of it while you're off doing unmentionables with your gay buddy. By the way, how much does a sleeze-bag hotel charge by the hour now? Oh, and as long as we're asking, was the dude at least cute? Oh, and say now, how are the wife and kids? Tell them hi from all of us.

http://www.towleroad.com/2006/11/gay_escort_clai.html

(Thanks to Andy Towle over at Towelrod for the link.)

Here's another called Rick Santorum's Republican Child Molesters. It's at http://www.armchairsubversive.com It'll give you real good idea of where our family values and morals party is headed......you know, sort of a warm and cozy feeling inside when you realize that good Christian Republicans are helping out our nation's children. Talk about "terrorists"...they are right here amongst us!