"I'd be friends with the sparrows and the boy who shoots the arrows"

I usually don't throw these things out on short notice. I usually spend far too much time trying to define an arc or fabricate a connection and I never click that publish button until I "feel it". Today I decided I was going to make myself "feel it". Perhaps it was the Chimay or the Maredsous Triple but I wanted to see what I could do off the cuff because sometimes, on your sleeve is where the most important things can be found. And besides that, given the timeliness of the subject matter I couldn't really wait until next month to post.

Once again this year I was asked what I wanted to do for Father's day. My response to that question is this: When you don't become a parent until you are almost 40 years old and your life is half over, like myself, Father's Day should no longer be about me. Quite similar to previous years, this year it wasn't about me either. Because I was travelling on Sunday, Father's Day was on Saturday and it included several goals scored in the last of the season pee wee girls Soccer Game, an open house for Summer Camp which starts Monday because Kindergarten is over, a little bit of shopping and because it rained for the rest of the day, staying home, making soft shell tacos and watching the High School Musical "Sing-a-long, Dance-a-Long" party on the Disney channel.

I can't imagine what the cynic in me of 20 years ago who's life was about surviving on generic Campbell's soup and saltines, Morissey and Siouxsie and The Banshees and learning the ins and outs of Pharmaceuticals would have thought of this. Or that he could have imagined himself to be one day not only downloading but also singing along to The Jonas Brothers who, although he can't explain it, he finds it very difficult to say anything bad about.

I've resigned myself to the fact that some things will never change. When I go into Williams-Sonoma I know I'm not going to be able to walk past that big stainless steel funnel without feeling the urge to put it on my head and start singing "If I only had a heart" and when I do I know some sales associate will roll his eyes and say "Oh Jesus, another fag has the funnel, someone get security". Likewise I know I'm always going to be a cynic, it is an integral part of who I am, but I've come to realize that the things which have become the targets of my cynicism are inconsequential, unimportant and don't really matter. They never did.

A couple of weeks ago I went to see UP. I don't go to the theater to see movies that often, unless it's Almodovar. The Wonderful, Horrible Life of Leni Riefenstahl and Man On a Wire are 2 of the best movies I've seen and I've seen them in my living room. So when I do go to the movies, it's a given that it's something I really want to see. I'm a big Disney fan and I had high expectations. I knew it would be entertaining but I didn't expect to be steamrolled by themes of love and loss and coming to terms with the past and the necessity of cutting the past loose in order to keep it from dragging you down and not moving on to the future. Until you've experienced it, it is very difficult to try to explain to a 6 year old that you are shaking because you're trying not to laugh out loud when the truth is it's exactly the opposite. The past and everything that encompasses it is full of trickery and deception and it is quite adept at making you believe that things are not what they really are and until you can tell it goodbye it will always burden you.

I've known burdens and I've known trials but in spite of overcoming them, I can't think of anything that leaves me with more contentment than knowing that somewhere there is someone who thinks I am a bigger person than I really am.

"It's so hard to find someone to admire"

Here it is, the first post written from my new Mac. Although it's an impressive piece of equipment I can't say it has really given me any inspiration or changed my thought process or made me feel as though I have anything more to say than I did when I was using a Microsoft based computer. Inspiration is just something else I can add to the list of things I won't be able to use the Mac for. A list which seems to continue to grow day by day.

At 24 inches the screen is bigger than some of the televisions I've owned. It's fast, incredibly easy to set up and use and the desktop icons for the Microsoft Office applications are cool. Ooops did I say my Mac has Microsoft applications on it? Not that I will really need them because my client's VPN isn't supported by Mac so I won't be able to use it for work anyhow.

Apparently it turns out that unless you are Tori Amos or you work for Pixar your job is probably going to involve Excel spreadsheets and Power Point presentations and a Microsoft-less world is as conceivable as the "water-boarding isn't torture fantasy". I guess you could say what I have right now is a really quick and flashy Internet browsing, non-inspirational blog writing jukebox with a 100 gigabyte and growing music library. It's funny how none of this reality ever makes it into the television commercials. The bottom line is that I'm keeping my Dell desktop which has started working amazingly well ever since I unloaded iTunes. I feel like Father Damien Karras. Perhaps a counter-marketing campaign is in my future.

MAC: Hey PC how's it going.

PC: Really busy at work MAC, I have tons of medical orders for vaccines and intermittent irrigation and things of that sort I need to build. how about you MAC?

MAC: Oh I don't do work PC

PC: Really MAC, what do you do all day?

MAC: I just hang out in my hipster clothes and expensive haircut and look good and play music.

PC: Well, OK MAC have fun with that, I gotta get back to work.

MAC: Could you lend me a buck or 2 PC I'm getting kind of hungry, it's why I'm so thin.

I'm waiting to see how many solutions I'm given that involve "running" Windows or "emulating" Windows or "loading" Windows on my Mac. My response to that is this, doesn't using Windows on a Mac sort of defeat the purpose of the Mac? Not only that, doesn't it sort of nullify their entire marketing strategy and position of Microsoft and Windows are bad, problematic and only for overweight bespectacled dorks in cheap suits and bad shoes?

But, if I'm going to spend time making snarky, sarcastic observations about superficial appearance and style over underlying substance or lack thereof it's not going to be about Microsoft and Apple it's going to be about Miss California Carrie Prejean.

I'm embarrassed to say that I did indeed watch parts of the Miss USA pageant. As much as I dislike the victim of circumstance defense I watched it because I was a victim of circumstance. It wasn't my fault, I was hostage to a hotel room on a snowy Cleveland Sunday night and the only options were either Internet or channel surfing. Frankly, I was surprised that these pageant things still exist, I can't imagine who watches them other than those in a similar situation as myself, the occasional pervert looking for a cheap thrill and nursing home residents. Without a doubt the 750ml Gulden Draak I scored at Whole Foods was the high point of the evening. Anyhow...

Carrie Prejean was at least honest and gave an answer that was related to the question unlike some of the others who were Sara Palinesque with their vapid rambling of a recited, pre-rehearsed answer that had absolutely nothing to do with the question they were asked. But it's that sort of train wreck idiocy that makes watching these things tolerable. Carrie Prejean is free to believe whatever she wants to believe. I have no problem with that. What I have a problem with is her claim that after making her statement she is now being attacked because she is a Christian. Why it's the most disgusting, atrocious thing to ever happen in America. It's almost as appalling as Dijon mustard on a cheeseburger. Or Paula Abdul being allowed to lipsynch her first ever live singing performance on the television show where for the past 8 seasons she has judged the singing abilities of others. Or the lack of an obvious Ampersand on my Crackberry.

If she is in fact being attacked at all it's not for being a Christian it's for being a hypocrite and choosing to practice this Christian hypocrisy where just like so many before her one voices an opinion that to anyone else may seem offensive, discriminatory or racist and then justifies it by invoking the name of God.

I'm not quite sure where having topless photos of yourself spread across the Internet fits into being a devout christian but perhaps that appropriately illustrates the shortcomings in my perfunctory understanding of the nuances of religion and it's fanatics. Of course the obvious truth is that it was not her fault but that of Satan, who blew that evil gust of wind. I mean really, who hasn't had their clothes ripped off by the wind? It happens to me all the time. It is the main reason why I no longer visit Chicago. But, I would imagine that it's an even more common occurrence when you walk around with your top already opened and half off, your back arched, bulbous buttocks jutting outward, celestial orifice engorged and tingly (where's the church lady?). Her lame explanation is sort of like the guy who shows up in the ER with some foreign object stuck in his rectum and says he was doing some naked house cleaning and accidentally slipped and fell on it.

I find it remarkable how she chooses to speak about God's Will and make judgements about how God's Will should affect and be followed by the rest of us but at the same time when it came to her breasts, her hair color, her nails and whatever else she has that has been augmented, altered, enhanced, artificial and fake it seems that God's will sort of lost the battle. Moral judgements based on religion from Miss California are not entirely unlike abstinence advise from Bristol Palin. She's found her place on the do as I say not as I do religious conservative platform.

I guarantee you that I wouldn't have to turn too many pages to find a scripture passage which states that willfully altering your body, you know, "the image of God", is against God's will. It would be just as easy to find one that says wearing a tacky cotton/polyester blend evening gown, "a garment of two kinds of material mixed together", is an abomination even greater than that of its own ugliness.

The truth is, I don't have a problem with any of these things. I certainly don't believe that blond equals dumb but who doesn't love the dumb blond with big boobs, it's the oldest punch line in the book, and that is pretty much what Carrie Prejean is. As for hair, mine has been more colors than Linda Evengelista's. But the thing is, the amount of time I've spent galloping around on my moral high horse making judgements about what is right and wrong with how other people choose to live their lives in relation to my perception of God's Will is zero.

I think what I am most confused about is Donald Trump's defense of her topless photos by stating "This is the 21st century". What exactly does that mean? Does it mean that times change? That things are different now than they were in the 18th or 19th century? Does it mean things that were unacceptable in the 20th century should be considered acceptable now? If so, who gets to decide what things are acceptable to undergo change? Our newly anointed moral guides Carrie Prejean and Donald Trump?

In the past few years by way of various media outlets and Senate hearings, we've heard quite a bit about athletes, anabolic steroids and performance enhancing substances. Besides guessing exactly when Miss California's full time career at Fox News will begin, I am left to wonder why breast implants wouldn't be considered a performance enhancing substance when your sport is competing to see who looks best in a string bikini and peep-toe pumps.

Perhaps this feeling of lack of inspiration has absolutely nothing to do with the Mac after all. Perhaps it is related to the very substance of this crappy post itself. Pointing out the idiocy of an idiot doesn't really require much creative thinking. They've already set everything up, all you really have to do is just repeat it.

This picture may or may not have anything to do with the post but I snapped it on a bike ride and thought it was funny and somehow appropriate. I haven't yet decided who the swan is.

"It's like the kicker in a julep or two"

After nearly 3 years of working for a client in Dayton Ohio, I've found myself back in Ohio, this time Cleveland. When you do what I do you have to be resourceful, flexible, able to work independently and most of all, quick to learn. I'm doing all of those things because I was given a one day notice to start working on a new project with a piece of software I've never used and don't know anything about several hundred miles from my home. I'm always up for a new challenge and the fact that I'm still here is a testament to how well it's going. Clinical information systems are all sort of similar. They all use the same pieces of data, they just each call those pieces of data something different. They are all basically just a collection of relational databases that need to connect on different levels to produce a desired outcome. It's sort of like life I suppose but I'm not going to get into a dialog about the reduction of life and human interaction to bits and bytes. That's been done enough already and done quite a bit more effectively than I could ever imagine doing it myself.

I love what I do and I am so much better at managing myself and being my own boss than I am at being managed by others. This opportunity gave me a last minute reprieve from returning to a Pharmacist position in a Philadelphia Hospital ICU. I've found that it is sort of difficult to be your own boss when your clients are at any given moment 1 heartbeat away from cardiac arrest.

Because of the economic crisis, and stricter budgets, with this project I find myself in the situation of having a cap on weekly expenses. As ridiculous as it sounds you would be surprised at the challenges involved in living away from home on $1200 a week, especially when last minute airline tickets are $800. I need to be creative and figure how to do this as cheaply as possible but still be able to have a life outside of working 10-11 hours a day that at the same time excludes expensing $12 bottles of beer and dinners at Ruth's Chris but doesn't involve sitting in my room at the Marriott, eating take out from the Olive Garden and watching Dancing With the Stars.

Driving was the cheapest option for the first couple of weeks because airline tickets purchased 2 weeks in advance are more reasonable. At first the idea of a 7 hr road trip from Philadelphia to Cleveland sounded like a fun and exciting adventure. Just me and the road on some journey of self discovery. I know Jack Kerouac didn't write "On The Road" from a Mercedes Benz but, whatever. I tried to make the most of it and take everything in, not that there is really much to take in while travelling RT80 through Pennsylvania. Oddly enough, I think somewhere along the way I passed a graveyard for dead SEPTA trolleys. Not that it would mean anything to anybody un-familiar with Philadelphia.

During the trip I finally felt as though I was getting my money's worth out of paying for the Sirius/XM satellite radio in my car. I tried to see how far I could go until "80's on 8" played a song I didn't know the words to. Unfortunately, after several hours I couldn't help but to wonder at what point does another Loverboy song tip the nostalgia from being mildly enjoyable into super-saturation. If I learned 1 thing I learned that, for me, the answer to that question is on or around 4. So somewhere in western Pennsylvania I abandoned "80's on 8" and switched to "Broadway".

I feel the need to mention Broadway simply because I received an invitation to the theater bloggers social from Ken at The Producers Perspective. I never really considered myself a blogger let alone a theater blogger. Being labeled as one is most likely nothing more than the glorious results of a lack of creativity to do anything other than repetitively explain how your theater experiences relate to the minutiae of your everyday life, your political viewpoints and your opinions on current events, television, film and Julie London records. Unfortunately for me, being that I was at 30,000 feet at the time it was going on, I was unable to attend.

Anyhow, back to Broadway and my 1st drive to Cleveland. Somewhere in western Pennsylvania and near the end of "Roxie", the part about Sophie Tucker shitting, for the first time in 26 years of being a licensed driver, I got pulled over for speeding. As I watched the officer in my rear view mirror put on his hat and approach my car with his left hand on his gun there were several thoughts going through my mind. Did I pull far enough off the road that he was not in danger of being struck by passing traffic? I know it's probably protocol but I couldn't help but to be amused by the fact that this officer has his hand on his gun while he's approaching the great threat that is me driving a car and singing show tunes. But most importantly, thank Heavens that if I was going to be pulled over it was by a State PoliceMAN and not by some ill-tempered, gun toting lesbian state trooper, which, all things considered, could very well be a successful B-movie franchise.

By the time he got to my car I had everything he needed ready for him. When he asked me if I knew why he stopped me I readily admitted that I was speeding because I know you don't lie to the police. I also knew that in this situation, mentioning a vision of Ann Reinking in a black bowler hat channelling Bob Fosse wasn't going to score me any points. He thanked me for being honest and said that he would help me out, so this all being new to me, I didn't know what to expect. After he came back to the car and presented me with the ticket and I saw that I was still getting a fine I didn't really understand how he was helping me out but it didn't matter anymore because by that point the thrill had worn off.

Even though I signed the ticket, I still for the life of me cannot figure out what the thing actually said and I'm a Pharmacist so I've spent a great deal of time trying to interpret shitty penmanship. Working to eliminate the world or at least the United States or perhaps just the states of New York, Pennsylvania and Ohio of handwritten medical orders is pretty much what I've been doing for the past 10 years. Perhaps at some point I could parlay some of my experience with technology into the area of traffic citations so people would not find themselves in the same situation as I found myself.

For what it's worth, my final thought is this. If we are going to put limits on speed perhaps we should rethink the availability of German cars that are engineered in a manner which makes them feel as though they are doing 60 when they are actually doing 100.

Just before the officer gave me the ticket he asked me for my number which kind of caught me off guard because I know he had a computer in his car and with my driver's license and registration I'm sure he had access to my phone number. In the end, I don't know why he bothered asking for it in the first place because he never called.

The office I am currently working in is located in Shaker Heights and according to the billboard in the airport it is Cleveland's most prestigious suburb. I suppose some would say that is exactly where you would expect to find an elitist liberal such as myself. That being said, everyday as I head from my hotel to my cubicle I'm just thankful that the trip I take down Chagrin Boulevard is merely an event in my life and not the story of it.

Don't blame the sweet and tender hooligan

Perspective becomes a fascinating concept when you consider how it can drastically alter one's perception of a singular event. For example the UK Miners Strike of 1984 certainly isn't a topic that would have sparked my interest or one I would have cared knowing much about. But given that same historical event and adding some singing and dancing and flashy production numbers with boys dressed up in girls clothes and tap dancing it suddenly becomes the most interesting thing that ever happened and now I know everything there is to know about it.

There are a couple of things that I currently find to be almost as entertaining as Billy Elliot. First is watching the destruction of the Republican party at their own hands. If memory serves me correctly, not so long ago, and I mean during the Bush years, disagreeing with the president, his policies and his wars got you labeled as "un-patriotic", "un-American", "un-supportive of the military", "hating America" and "wanting to destroy America". But now it seems that not only disagreeing with the president but coming right out and wishing for his failure is not just acceptable but the cornerstone of the Republican party leadership. A party which is now being led by a drug addict, a horny unlicensed plumber, a woman who claims the ability to see Russia from her living room and a lunatic who can't seem to leave the house without putting on the black cocktail dress she won in a fistfight with a meth-whore on the track in Atlantic City. Watching the GOP fighting each other for a place in line to wade through Rush Limbaugh's empty Vicodin bottles and kiss his fat impotent ass is almost better than anything Tina Fey could write.

Rush Limbaugh, more than anything else, is always ready to define his relevance through his millions of listeners just as Ann Coulter defines hers in that she has multiple New York Times bestsellers. But even if he has 20 million listeners and she sells a million books, their fans are all the same people. The most recent US census is around 303 million people so I postulate that those who subscribe to the ideology of Rush Limbaugh and Ann Coulter are a small minority. I would suggest that more than 20 million people have seen Phantom Of The Opera but I wouldn't think a political party could survive being comprised solely of fans of Phantom Of The Opera even if they were the most radical fans in the history of musical theater.

Secondly and just as entertaining as any musical on Broadway is the addition of Glenn Beck to the Fox Noise lineup. Another week, another gun massacre, this time in Alabama and of course another excuse. We've heard all the others and now there is new one to add to the vault of reasons that includes Marylin Manson, Judas Priest, Ozzy Osbourne, the IML, the Folsom Street Fair, and anything else connected to liberal America. The latest excuse is that people are pushed to extremes by always having to be politically correct. In reality this argument makes perfect sense, right?

In the equation where the victims progressed from being alive to not being alive it seems to me that the catalyst or the rate limiting factor in the reaction is the bullet, not the talking point du jour of the neo-conservative agenda. It's not only mind boggling but also offensive and demeaning to not only the victims and their families but to all victims of gun violence or anyone who has ever had a gun pointed in their face that a discussion about the cause of a shooting massacre would not involve talking about guns and their proliferation but about the fact that people say Happy Holidays rather than Merry Christmas.

Good or bad, political correctness is what it is, and the way I see it the intentions of political correctness are rooted in the idea of being respectful and accepting of diversity. All diversity, be it religious, racial or cultural because America is a multi-racial, muti-cultural, multi-religious nation. As we have seen time and time again from the neo-conservative viewpoint there is no room for anything that isn't old, white and Christian so it makes perfect sense that the thought of accepting something not old white and Christian could bring about some stress. I completely accept that fact that douche bags like Glenn Beck can have a TeeVee show and millions of other douche bags can watch it, that's diversity acceptance.

I don't claim to be an expert on political correctness. There are probably quite a few things I believe in that aren't considered politically correct. I believe in the circle of life because it's part of that horrible, nasty, evil evolution thing. My only caveat is that you should respect the animal that gave up its' life to feed you. So when you're cooking, don't fuck it up. I've had quite a bit of free time to watch television lately and I can't help but to be disgusted by the stupid attention seeking vegetarians who go on a cooking show where ingredients are chosen at random and they make it a point to express their righteous indignation at being put in the position of cooking pork loin. The horror. I love fois gras, I don't think there is anything wrong with it. Human beings, conservatives and liberals alike, ingest all sorts of things on a daily basis that inflame their livers so I'm not in a position to take a stand either way on food ingestion to the result of liver inflammation. But for all of the emotional surges these thoughts induce in me I can honestly say they don't produce the desire or impulse to go on a shooting spree. Am I wrong? Perhaps if I was a conservative Republican and owned my own arsenal I'd come out guns a'blazin but thank heavens I'm not.

The motives of the Limbaugh-led Republican party are quite clear. The failure of a Democratic president and Congress reinforces the neo-conservative notion that America is a liberal, immoral cesspool and we need need to redefine ourselves and live through some conservative, puritanical, creationism based values system because 20 million Rush Limbaugh fans who've never ventured anywhere beyond their double-wides think it is so.

According to the general consensus in the world of theatrical criticism, the message or theme of Billy Elliot is based on the premise that "it takes a village to raise a child" and that may very well be true but I also believe that if the goal and priorities of the village are undefined or corrupted the village can also destroy the child. We are living in an age where via the process of evolution, whether you like it or not, the family is being re-defined. It may take a village to raise a child, it may take more than a village to raise a child, I don't know. Even though I am doing it myself I would never claim to be an expert. But I do know without a doubt that there is no room in the family or in raising a child for the judgement, advice and opinion of an unmarried, man-less, childless, barren as the fucking arctic tundra hot tranny mess who gives away a couple thousand books and claims she has a New York Times bestseller. A person whose lonely legacy is going to be nothing but a closet full of hatred, intolerance and Herve Leger dresses from the seconds rack at Off 5th.

How is the hope for failure going to benefit a population facing the harsh economic situation we are currently in? How is the hope for failure going to benefit anyone who isn't cashing multi-million dollar checks from their radio show or publishing company? When I hear the Limbaugh message of hope for failure I can't help but to be reminded of any number of video and audiotapes sprung from the caves of Afghanistan where similar mad med hoped and prayed for the failure of America, there is really no difference.

Why wait for someone else to do what you can do right now

Just one week ago we had the biggest snowstorm of the season so far. But the snow is all gone now and even though the sun barely peaked through the clouds today it was still warm enough to be outside in shorts. I decided to test my endurance and attempt my first bicycle trek of the year.

Starting at Yardley, where I live, to New Hope/Lambertville and back via the Delaware Raritan Canal. It is a small section of the entire canal but enough for an afternoon trip. It's been a while since I've done the complete trip so I was pleasantly surprised to find that I was able to complete it. The canal is actually on both the PA and NJ sides of the river but at a certain point the PA side becomes sort of difficult to traverse. I went PA side to Washington Crossing Park and then NJ side to Lambertville/New Hope.

A slideshow follows but here are some of the interesting sights I encountered along the way.
I'm not sure who Joe is but I was thankful for his bench and I hope he didn't mind my sitting on it for a while.


Multi-million dollar condos on the PA side of the Delaware River near New Hope. They become islands every few years when the river floods.


Destination. I have on previous occasions had lunch at the Station but I forgot my bike lock and I didn't want to walk home.











I was surprised to still see soldiers at Washington Crossing. Based on the suspicious glances they were shooting at me I didn't feel comfortable approaching them and using my fake British accent to explain that the war had ended quite a while ago.



7 + 4 = 11 x 2 = 22 miles round trip.



Always remember to never pee on an electric fence.

"After one whole quart of brandy"

For all of the excitement surrounding the the first ever Broadway revival of South Pacific and the rave reviews and the Tony Awards and fact that I had to buy the tickets 6 months ago to get half decent seats I have to say I was left feeling just a little underwhelmed afterward. More often than not I suppose the outcome of high anticipation and great expectation is letdown. As far as being presented with a narrative to give me something to think about goes, I believe I spent more time contemplating subjects completely removed from the the story on the stage. Like the familiar faces I recognized in the audience and where I knew them from. Or how the picture on the cover of the Playbill may have been inspired by the paintings produced by Paul Gauguin while living in the Marquesas Islands. Or the fact that Gauguin was actually a Post-Impressionist and not an Impressionist as he is often mistakenly categorized as. Or how to tell the difference between a Monet and a Manet. I probably spend 80-90% of my time being consumed by thoughts, it's innate because of the whole having a brain thing. In this case though, the thoughts that consumed me weren't really about the core message of South Pacific or as a friend from long ago once referred to it, "South Pathetic".

Don't get me wrong, it went by quick enough and I don't recall at any point being bored or looking at my watch but I can't help but to feel that at a length of 3 hours there should have been a little more character development, at least enough to make make me care who lived and who died and who washed who out of their hair. I guess what I am trying to say is that I didn't need 3 hours of singing, dancing and some surprisingly unexpected nudity to tell me that racial intolerance and discrimination are unacceptable. I have a distinct and funny feeling that those to whom this message really needs to be delivered will not be spending $120 a ticket to sit in a theater at Lincoln Center to watch a Broadway musical.

Ultimately my disappointment lies in the fact that I didn't leave knowing anything I didn't already know going in. It was quite unlike my experience at Pal Joey where I learned that most people are pretty much in it for themselves and don't really give a fuck about anyone else, although I have long suspected this to be true. I also learned that Martha Plimpton is a much better singer than Stockard Channing. Merely using Stockard Channing and singer in the same sentence is being generous. All I will say is, girlfriend knows how to talk her way through a song. As worthless as that information is, at least I left learning something new. In reality, I would probably sing "There Are Worse Things I Could Do" just as bad as she would if she sang it today.

2008 saw the passing of Mildred Loving who was responsible for setting into motion the 1967 Supreme Court case Loving v. Virginia which brought an end to bans on interracial marriages. Considering South Pacific in the context of the standards of today I suppose some of the themes may seem dated. But South Pacific was first produced in 1949, a time during which it was illegal for interracial couples to get married and they could be arrested for doing so, as was Mildred Loving. So in 1949 the underlying theme of interracial relationships was probably provocative at the time, even for the progressively liberal theater patron.

In my thought process and in my frame of reference it seems unimaginable that a thing such as interracial marriage could have ever been outlawed or there would have even been a thought to make it against the law. The Racial Integrity Act of 1924 seems like marginally offensive comedy or farce rather than the true part of our history it is. The impact of such a thing if applied to us living in the present would be life altering and astronomically devastating. I know it's oranges and apples but the concept as I see it is very much similar to how young people of today may view vinyl record albums. It's hard to imagine that something you have no experience with ever existed and how it would affect you. Likewise, we now have a whole generation of people for whom HIV is seen as a treatable chronic illness that has always existed when for earlier generations, mine included, it was viewed as the equivalent of a death sentence. Without progress and evolution, two horrible nasty words in some circles, we would never see such shifts or changes in thought.

Theater can be found in almost every aspect of life. Some form of it can be seen in any situation. It is present in a train ride with someone you barely know as well as in a walk down 7th Avenue with someone you thought you knew. This observation is one I found profoundly apparent during the Presidential Inauguration. As Rick Warren delivered his invocation he sounded every bit the theatrical, Jim Bakkeresque, drama queen, cartoon character, televangelist sleazebag that I'm sure he truly is. While closing my eyes and listening to him I could almost see and hear Jimmy Swaggart proclaiming that "I have seea-awned my Lord".

When regurgitating his views on the issue of gay marriage and proposition 8 Mr. Warren has stated that about 2 percent of Americans are homosexual, or gay and lesbian and we should not let 2 percent of the population change the definition of marriage. His proclamation that 2% of the population is gay is of course simply a piece of conservative propaganda aimed at marginalizing yet another group of people. That number will always be debated, I'm certain it is much higher than 2% but there will always be just as many people whose agenda benefits from it being higher as there are who benefit from it being lower. The statement is just another example of how denial and distortion of the truth always has a major role in the way forward for conservatives. It does not really matter what the actual percentage is. I cannot imagine that even some conservative Republican politician would make a statement like "Laotian-Americans do not deserve the same rights as caucasian-Americans because they only make up 0.0643% of the population". Although I don't doublt that they are thinking it and one of them probably has a "Vong the magic Laotian" song and video ready to go. If Chip Saltsman's picture doesn't scream pedophile Klansmen I don't know what does but I fear I'm moving off message.

By 1970, 3 years after Loving v. Virginia, the number of interracial marriages accounted for only 0.7% of all married persons. Utilizing a simple numeric extrapolation will indicate that because the total population is comprised of more than just married persons the number of Americans in interracial marriages is an even smaller percentage of the total poulation. In 1967 laws that played a huge role in defining marriage were changed for what ultimatley amounted to less than 0.7% of the poplulation. The laws were changed because it was the proper and moral thing to do.

My personal opinion on the whole gay marriage issue is not one that will be very popular among most gay men and lesbians (especially the militants). I honestly feel that you just haven't earned it yet baby. I don't believe that most gay men have the capability to step far enough outside of the trappings of their superficiality to assume the responsibility and attention needed to nurture and sustain the sort of commitment I feel is required by a marriage. That being said, history has show that high level of frivolity and shallow depth of commitment the likes of say Pamela Anderson, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Elizabeth Taylor, Britney Spears and on and on does not create a barrier to marriage as far as the law is concerned. It is only right that it shouldn't in the case of the homosexual either. That of course is just my opinion, even if it makes me trashy and no good.

Gale force winds of change

I am waiting with great anticipation to exhale that final sigh of relief. Even though I did receive an official invitation I'm going to experience Tuesday's history from the comfort of home. I did everything I possibly could as an individual to make this happen, and it happened. So what more can I say. I have never been so proud to be an American and regardless of what you hear, I don't think there is anything wrong with saying that. Mostly because I have not been so proud to be an American for the past 8 years.

I remember riding the train to New York City in the spring of 2003 and the train was filled with people carrying signs on their way to protests against the impending Iraq war. Even though I disliked George Bush and disagreed with him, I thought that after all that had happened it was a time when we should show unity and we should be supporting our president. What a fool I was. It was such a mistake because he took the trust that I and people like me gave him and he used it and abused it and then used it against us. My show of support is something that is now as embarassing to me as was my drawing a blank when my daughter asked me what Dorothy's last name was.

I doubt there will ever be another leader of the free world who will be more of a detriment to liberty and democracy and freedom as George W. Bush has been. I am happy to admit that I am still unable to type his name without having to go back and make corrections. I am equally happy that I won't need to type his name any longer.