Friday, September 16, 2005

This Explains Everything

One of my favorite assignments in college was writing a paper on the dual homosexuality in my favorite childhood cartoon, He-Man. On one side of the coin, you had Prince Adam, the very definition of effeminate in his pink and purple outfit and love of words like "fabulous." However, once he grasped his sword, he became He-Man, quite possibly the butchest man in the universe. Even the name, He-Man, drips with excessive testosterone.

A friend passed this along from slack circus, and it was too amusing not to share. Quicktime required.

Fabulous Secret Powers

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Oh, this reporter is just so confused

There is nothing sweeter than seeing an ABC reporter interviewing black New Orleaneans, asking questions fully intended to draw out criticism of the president, only to be met with tirades against the state and local governments and warm, unanimous support of the president.

On national television.

*sighs happily*

Update: Polipundit has another recap of the interviews and links to more reaction. (h/t Gay Patriot)

Update Update: Polipundit has also found the video and transcripts.

Tell Me Lies and I'll Love You Forever

NorthDallasThirty has a bit of a debate in the comment section of his excellent post on the partisanship of gay Democrats. Many of the posts on his blog touch upon the often vicious political in fighting wracking the gay community at large.

There are three types of fights in this world:

There are fights among strangers. These are often over macro problems and large-scale ideologies. In the current War on Terror, the intricacies of Western and Islamic culture matter less than how these two entities interact on the world stage. While understanding the day-to-day lives of individuals within each culture is often helpful, it is not vital to know these things in order to be opposed to radically different systems of government that threaten to undermine basic Enlightenment values.

There are fights among friends. These are over issues large and small, exemplified by the liberal vs conservative, Democrat vs Republican battles being waged all across America. While we may often be at each others' throats over the role of government and what form that government will take, we are also distanced enough and given enough personal space and freedom to step away from these arguments, take a breather, and regain perspective.

And then there are fights within families. There are few things more devastating than an irreconcilable standoff within a family. There is not only a shared foundation, but a shared history, affection, and intimacy. Small disagreements may ripple for years through all quarters of life, breaching trust and building impenetrable walls of resentment. We cannot simply walk away, for we are inextricably entwined in this world, for better or for worse. Even if we seek some small solace in isolating ourselves from our families, there is always a simmering need to press against the bruise to see if it still pains us.

The ongoing battle between gay conservatives and gay liberals encapsulates this third kind of argument. Generally speaking, every action taken by a gay conservative or gay liberal has the potential to affect our lives at their most basic levels. We are, rightly or wrongly, perceived as our own separate group within American culture and politics. As a result, we take every disagreement with our gay opponents personally. Some homosexuals don’t like Pride festivals because they fear they reflect badly on us and affect the perceptions of Middle America. Others take issue with the concepts of marriage and monogamy, believing it is acquiescence to an obsolete heterosexual culture that should be flung into the dustbin of history.

No matter what our disagreements, we are forced through various pressures to live in the same homosexual house, and we all have different ideas about how that house should be run. Studying this, I have come to a conclusion:

Gay conservatives are the parents, and gay liberals are the teenagers.

The problem with the gay liberal mindset is that it is infested with a naïve idealism and penchant for wanting to see the world as how they wish it to be, not how it objectively is. The Democratic Party is their first true high school love, and like all true loves, the warts and faults have been smudged to a blurry shadow cast by their perceived Adonis. Even when their love pushes them aside in the crowded hallway between classes, these liberals swoon and shiver, running to their friends with excited declarations, “He actually touched me! He touched me!” Now the Democratic Party has come to tolerate them. They even allow our adolescent family members to carry their books on occasion; a job gay liberals are only too eager to do.

Like all great loves, it is impossible for any criticism to dilute the adrenalin of pure, unadulterated worship. “You know, he doesn’t really love you. He’s simply using you because it’s convenient,” bounces like so many pebbles against armor. “It’s not true!” they declare, a Kathy-Bates-in-Misery look creeping into their eyes. “Some day he’ll realize he really loves me! Some day he’ll see that we’re meant to be together always!” And, much of the time, that’s when we start slowly backing away.

Gay conservatives, on the other hand, are generally cynical adults. While some decry it as nothing more than jaded bitterness, cynicism is a characteristic wrought of experience and the wisdom that accompanies it. The Republican Party is not our true love, nor particularly a love. They are a friend we generally respect without feeling a need to be inexpressibly loyal to their every belief. We realize grown adults may reasonably disagree with one another without destroying a friendship and indignantly declaring, “You don’t love me!” before flouncing out of the room.

While I cannot speak for all gay conservatives, I know my place in the Republican Party. They are my allies on a variety of issues, which is why we are friends in the first place. But I do not paint them in shades of rose. There are a great many things I disagree with them on, and I have no problem saying so. What they dislike about me, I recognize. Though I will not change my life, I will neither reject them wholly.

You see, it is about being honest. Gay conservatives have no problem seeing their situation honestly. We know there is a large swath of religious evangelicals who are vehemently opposed to things like gay marriage and adoption. Instead of engaging in a shrill, emotional breakdown, we choose the path of reasoned discourse and steady persuasion.

Gay liberals don’t want a discussion. They want what they want, and they want it right now, to hell with everyone else. Should you deny them these things you are the enemy. You are mean, nasty parent who doesn’t understand them, and why don’t you love them, why do you hate them so much, and I’m never speaking to you again! Queue door slamming.

So, stupidly, we try to talk to gay liberals in a calm, rational tone of voice and are met with accusations and tantrums and “How dare you talk about my love that way?!” They don’t want to hear it. We cannot tell them that perhaps the anti-war movement isn’t a good idea, as it allies itself with multicultural forces that make the Religious Right seem positively gay-friendly. I can say I really dislike Pat Robertson, but few on the gay Left can will themselves to recognize the racist, anti-Americanism inherent in organizations like International A.N.S.W.E.R. Cindy Sheehan can declare the Iraq war a conspiracy of American Jews, and nary an eyebrow is lifted against this intolerance. With a driving need to be loved and accepted, the gay Left will swallow anything and everything they are told to swallow. Not only swallow it, but actively promote it.

The Democratic Party and attendant politicians can oppose gay marriage, support the repealing of gay rights, treat homosexuals with general disdain in private - if not in public as the Jeff Ganon episode revealed – and it just doesn’t matter. Gay liberals will lie to themselves and others, because they believe there is someone in this world who unconditionally loves them, and someday the rest of us will see it.

It just isn’t so. And when the necessary growing up is done and these illusions are shattered, I can say from personal experience it will be inexpressibly painful. But, like all parents, we conservatives will be standing by, as patiently as we possibly can, waiting to catch our family when they fall.

Until then, the battle to force them into adulthood continues.

Hello, My Name is Simon

In a long history of frankly bizarre political ads, this one's pretty tough to beat.

As Chad at Cake or Death noted: "I love how the ad goes from bashing Bush, to a poorly photoshopped picture of him 'naked' and then right to the oh-yeah-and-here’s-my-partner-(that’s-right-I’m-gay) ending."

That, however, is entirely secondary, for this ad struck a chord in my symphony of gay conspiracy theory. When our vastly open homosexual closes with,"And this is my partner, Simon," I exclaimed, "Of course he's Simon!"

That's because almost every man named Simon is gay.

In fact, the name Simon is so gay, even if there is the odd heterosexual running around with it, he's tainted by the sheer fluorescent pinkitude. Allow me to demonstrate:

Simon Rex




Before this former twink and MTV VJ found mainstream appeal on the WB's Jack and Jill, he had appeal of a more sordid kind in a series of solo gay porn flicks. MTV wasn't pleased and canned him when news of his steamy past hit the papers.

Simon Cowell



He's snippy, he wears tight t-shirts, he has a lisp, and he's British. The first three alone would convict any wretch in queer court, but the Britishness seals it. Every man in Britain is gay (and invariably named Simon, bringing us into an infinite sequin-lined loop). When visiting this isle glittering with effete foppishness, leave your gaydar at the door.

Simon Belmont



A favorite video game character from my youth, Mr. Belmont enjoys wearing leather, furs, and rather fetching - yet masculine - boots. His weapon of choice is, naturally, a whip. Furthermore, his life is consumed with hunting vampires and, if Anne Rice has taught us anything, all vampires are gay. Only now do I realize Castlevania was nothing more than the lonely journey of a guy who forever yearned for a little man on man action. Drive a stake into the Count, indeed.

Simon Le Bon



Technically, not gay. And yet, we can't overlook the lead singer of Duran Duran. Any band reaching its zenith in the 1980's is gay by chronological proxy. Any lead singer is doubly suspicious. Plus, he's British (see above).

I think my theorem holds up pretty well under scrutiny, all things considered.

h/t GayPatriot for the video link

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Feline Fuel Frenzy

I think it's time we go back to worrying about the Germans:

A German inventor says he's found a way to make cheap diesel fuel out of dead cats.

I always thought crazy old cat ladies were suffering from dementia. Now I realize they're simply members of Greenpeace.

Spot the difference, eh?

What Comes After Hell?

Every time I think the Islamofascists can't possibly go any lower, they top themselves.

A U.S. Army commander said Tuesday that extremist fighters battling for control of Tal Afar in northern Iraq had committed atrocities against civilians, including beheadings, torture and the booby-trapping of a murdered child's body.

"The enemy here did just the most horrible things you can imagine, in one case murdering a child, placing a booby trap within the child's body and waiting for the parent to come recover the body of their child and exploding it to kill the parents; beheadings and so forth," Col. H.R. McMaster, commander of the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment, said in an interview from Tal Afar with reporters at the Pentagon.


Remember, folks. The insurgency is just angry because Americans are there. These are valiant minutemen defending their country.

I have not the words.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

The Betrayal

This is really an addendum to this post, but I think it deserves its own space.

After giving it a great deal of thought, I've decided that I, Robbie, am a modern day Odysseus.

No, really, it's true. Consider the evidence. We both fought wars far from home; his literal against Troy, mine ideological for a time in Europe. We have both conquered our fair share of one-eyed monsters. We have both returned from our journeys to find our homes much different than we left them. And, whereas that heroic figure of Greek myth had his Trojan horse, I have fairly tragic hair that seems to pass for fashionable these days, allowing me to penetrate deep within the walls of the gay community.

Like Odysseus, when I returned home, I moved among friends and family in disguise. He chose the robe of the beggar, while I preferred the cloak of the democrat. He found his house infested with suitors who wished to corrupt his wedding bed. I found my ideological house infested with liberals corrupting the concepts of freedom and human rights.

The resemblance is really rather uncanny, all things considered.

When I finally cast aside my cloak and laid my conservative leanings bare, many of those closest to me registered shock and surprise. I was very angry with them. I let more than a few metaphorical arrows fly when I learned what had gone in my absence.

You see, liberalism was once my natural home. I firmly believe in human rights for all. I disdain oppression in all its forms. I want equality and justice and opportunity spread far and wide and the ideological extremism threatening these virtues met with cold, hard steel, both literal and rhetorical.

When I returned home, I could scarcely recognize the rooms. Who were these imposters apologizing for Saddam Hussein's regime, praising Iraq as a kite-flying paradise before the wicked American invaders arrived?

Who were these suitors with silver-tongues whispering that the American Republic was dead and gone, and now we must remove the president from his rightful office so that they might impress their vision on our country?

Who were these gargoyles pressing their fetid claws against our cheeks, that they might turn our faces away from the suffering and oppression in the Middle East?

Who were these bureaucratic beggars in golden robes urging us to leave the poor to their fates as they smuggle sacks of coin from their international castle in the dead of night?

Who were these homosexual charlatans protecting rulers who treat them no differently than the enemies they abhor so much?

This was not my home.

Since the election of George Bush and the events following September 11th, liberalism has been corrupted into a wretched mockery of what it once was. Are those really my friends arguing for leaving those suffering in the Middle East to their cruel fates? Is that really my family arguing that the greatest evil facing America is a democratically elected president rather than a vast web of Islamic extremists? Can it be that people I thought I knew so well are arguing for multicultural idiocies which protect some of the most oppressive law ever crafted while silencing those critics who would warn against it?

This is nothing short of a betrayal.

My gay friends believe I have gone to the Dark Side. When discussing politics and haranguing my ideological opposites, they often deride my constant use of terms like "The Left," "liberals," and "moonbats." They believe I have morphed into some kind of radical right-winger.

No, I tell them. You don't understand. Liberalism was my home. You've destroyed it in my absence, burnt it to the ground. Now you dance within the charred, skeletal remains as if you have just completed a grand renovation.

This hurts.

I don't feel the same enmity for the right wing. I am a Deist rather than a Christian. I have long argued for closing corporate tax loopholes, more stringent regulations to protect the environment, expanded rights for gays and lesbians, and on and on. In American politics, the Right had never been my natural tribe, it is not where I came from, it is not where my heart and my memories lay. The Right can never betray me because I never believed in them. They were never my kin, they were never where I turned in my times of questioning and need.

Now, when western civilization is under gravest threat as the Enlightenment foundations of our European roots crumble beneath decadence and moral relativism, my home is no longer a shelter. Worse, liberalism is rapidly becoming complicit.

Now, conservatism is that shelter. Conservatism has throw open the windows and let the light of truth shine into the darkest corners of our world, illuminating the most horrifying impulses of human nature.

I never really liked the Right, but now I save a very special form of disdain for the Left.

You betrayed me.

Of Fish and Men

I have a great boss. Here is a woman who had the foresight to know that one day I would be hired, and when I was, I'd be needing cable on my office television so I could spend the time between clients doing things like crafting play-doh dinosaurs while watching tedious Senate confirmation hearings. And yet, I still feel only nominally more childish than Dick Durbin.

Yesterday after lunch, I found myself watching "Killer Storm" on the History Channel. Anyone who has ever seen the movie The Perfect Storm, starring George Clooney and a scruffy Mark Wahlberg, knows the gist of it. A recap never hurts, though:

In October of 1991 a storm stronger than any in recorded history hit the coast off of Gloucester, Massachusetts. This "Perfect Storm" — so called because it was three storms combined into one — created an almost apocalyptic situation in the Atlantic ocean, where boats encountered waves of 100 feet (30 meters) — the equivalent of a ten-story building. These storms are some of the strongest and most terrifying manifestations of nature's strength.

At the end of "Killer Storm," the camera pans across the Fisherman's Memorial Cenotaph in Gloucester. It is inscribed with over 5,000 names, a small tribute to those lost at sea.

Though I certainly knew deep-ocean fishing is dangerous, I didn't come to appreciate just how deadly a profession it is until I saw those names etched upon that wall. Every year, men and women drift away from the coast, perhaps looking upon their homes and their continent for the last time, and for what? So they can provide for their families, and I can munch a few Gordon's sticks with ketchup. It almost seems a little ridiculous when looked at that way. There is a scene in The Perfect Storm between the girlfriend of a fisherman soon to be lost, and the man who owns the boat. It sums up the situation at its heart-breaking best:

Christina: "My guy's out there, risking his life, and for what? For a bunch of stupid fish!

Governor: "That's the game."

Christina: "Then I hate the game. Do you hear me? I hate the god damned game!" *pounds and sobs against the Governor's chest*


What the governor understands is that Christina's boyfriend, Bobby, has made a choice. He has chosen to risk his life by signing onto the life of a fisherman and going out to sea. He has chosen to work on a boat captained by a man who may or may not make wise decisions when it matters most, when the lives of the entire crew hang in the balance.

He and thousands of others choose this path to support their families, and so that we the consumer can have our fish sticks.

So, the question is this. If we eat fish and support the fishing industry, an industry that is highly dangerous and results in many deaths each year, are we morally obligated to instead go fishing ourselves? After all, if we chose not to eat fish, there would be no cause for these men and women to risk their lives. If we're so keen on having a nice Friday night fry, shouldn't we be willing to risk our own lives for it?

It's a fairly ridiculous argument, but it is one the anti-war Left has been making on a daily basis over the last several years.

Almost since the beginning of the Iraq war, many on the Left have been painting any supporter of the invasion who has not enlisted a chickenhawk. I don't like that the word"chickenhawk" has been hijacked. Mainly because I now have no readily available means to identify the sixty year old at the bar who's exuding a creepy molestation vibe as he ogles the eighteen year old who just wandered in. I suppose I could call him Peter Ian Cummings, but that would be a bit on the nose.

That aside, looking at the recently released list of dangerous occupations, there are a great many things that we the people desire that others are willing to risk their lives to provide. While fish may seem trivial, things like national security, freedom, and the destruction of tyranny are not.

We have a military populated by men and women who have made a choice. Inherent in that choice is the knowledge they may be putting their lives at great risk to provide the American people with what they desire - in this case an end to the Islamofascism. They know they are signing up for a job that the rest of us are not required to do.

Obviously, chickenhawk is meant as an ad hominem slur, mainly directed towards the president and the vice-president. There is little doubt in my mind that if our executive branch were helmed by a cadre of retired generals, the anti-war movement would be shift gears and start screaming about the militaristic fascism of it all. Forget trying to explain the concept of civilian control of the military and why it is vital to the continuance of a constitutional republic. These people may have a vague impression that military coups are bad things, but only because they saw a particularly awful staging of Evita at the local Schubert.

Our men and women in the military bravely choose to perform a service for the American people that your average citizen is not prepared to do themselves. They know they are risking their lives to get what the rest of us want from the safe confines of our own homes. They know the value of civilian control of the military. They know they may never see American shores again. But they still do it. Even though they don't have to.

That's the game.

Some people may hate it, but it is the soldier's choice, not their own.

Monday, September 12, 2005

Let's Adopt Him

I have to hand it to Judge Roberts. He is doing yeoman's work in pretending to be remotely interested in the long, sonorous grand-standing of Sen. Joe Biden. Roberts' supreme patience is on full display - he hasn't rolled his eyes a single time, not even as Biden performed his little Living Constitution tap dance.

Personally, I couldn't have managed it.

Roberts is sitting there now with a furrowed brow, jutting chin, and flat lips: the perfect expression to exude interest while actually day-dreaming of making half this committee weep when he ascends to the Chief Justice chair.

He's only changed facial expression a single time, when Biden criticized his past writings and decisions. For a moment, Roberts' eyes widened and his lower lip drooped ever so slightly.

It was the most adorable sad puppy face ever.

Can we keep him?

Sunday, September 11, 2005

Why Gay Men Shouldn't Trust The Left

You’d think, given today’s date, some people on the Left would give it a rest.

As Chad at Cake or Death notes, not so much.

When someone on a message board brought up American religious conservatives, I noted I’d sooner take my chances with Pat Robertson than your average European Muslim immigrant youth. Their response:


I’d rather not chance any of them. I see extremists as all the same, be they Christian or Muslim or whatever.

This is one of the core reasons I grew to distrust the Left, this need to draw equivalence between some of the most evil behaviors and belief systems in the world with the relatively pastoral religious conservatism of America. In their eyes, there is no atrocity committed in the world, no belief system so heinous, that they cannot stand up and say, “America is just as bad, if not worse!”

This doesn’t scare me. But this does. And this. And this. And this.

This kind of religious fundamentalism fills me with horror:



People may say what they will of conservative Christians in America. They may call some of them bigoted. There is certainly no shortage of ignorance and hatred in any belief system, be it conservative or liberal, religious or secular. I certainly cringed when some of the usual suspects asserted Hurricane Katrina was God's punishment for a homosexual festival.

However.

Pat Robertson does not send planes crashing into buildings full of innocent non-believers. No one is loading up Kirk Cameron with C4 and sending him into the local Chuck E. Cheese. No governor of Alabama or Mississippi or Texas lords over a gallows as children are executed because of who they fall in love with.

No matter how many times our hearts break because a homosexual is killed in America because he is gay, the fact remains these crimes are perpetuated by lone human beings consumed with hatred. There are no churches with millions of members who run schools to teach young and old alike how to slit the throat of a young man walking down the street. Robertson and Falwell do not go on television agitating for the cleansing of homosexual sin through mass bloodshed. There is no government in America, local, state, or federal that will ever execute a homosexual for being gay.

Islamic fundamentalism is not equivalent with American Christian conservatism.

In a post-modern world of moral and multicultural relativism, this failure to distinguish between these beliefs systems and their consequences says to me that the Left has only the most tenuous hold on the reality of political and social situations around the world.

How can I trust a political ideology to combat evil if they cannot even recognize it?