... And I've seen a whole lotta gay.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Follow Your Love
My very dear friend, filmmaker Richard Dutcher (God's Army, Brigham City, Falling, Evil Angel...) was recently asked by a local school to speak at it's graduation. I'm so happy he was. The address given was so beautifully brilliant that I asked if he would allow me to share. Read it. Read it again. Then read it to your teens. And then read it to them again.
WALDEN SCHOOL COMMENCEMENT – 2009
Aspen Grove, Utah
Follow Your Love
By Richard Dutcher
My friend Teddy came up to me not long before my graduation from high school. We were both actors. What he said to me really surprised me. He said, “Richard, if I’m not famous by the time I’m 21…I’m going to kill myself.”
I remember thinking two things. First of all, that he was completely serious. Second, that I was a far better actor and even I didn’t expect to be famous until I was 22.
We graduated and went our separate ways. I remember when I turned 21 I thought about Teddy and, not having seen him in any movies or on TV, I wondered if he had kept his vow. I never knew what happened. Recently I remembered him. I wondered if he was still around. I got on my computer to see if he had a Facebook page. Sure enough, there he was, with a big smile on his face and a pretty woman in his arms.
Teddy has never become famous. Not even close. (In fact, he only has about 12 Facebook friends.) And he doesn’t do any acting anymore. But he seems happy. And now, with some maturity, his priorities have changed. His perspective is focused less inward and more outward. Now, instead of saying “Richard, if I don’t get famous I’m going to kill myself,” he says: “Richard, if you get any more famous, I’m going to kill you.”
This, I believe, is a much healthier attitude.
At 19, I put my personal ambitions on hold and I went to Mexico to be a missionary because I believed at the time that God wanted me to do it. When I came home at 21 I was full of energy, ready to get back into the world, ready to go out and achieve all the things I had always wanted to achieve. I wanted to make movies. I wanted to marry a wonderful woman and have about a dozen kids. I wanted to write some good novels. Despite the fact that I didn’t have any money, I wanted to immediately get back into college. After watching me as I worked my butt off to get money for college, and seeing that I was already studying on my own, and hearing me talk about all the things I wanted to do, and listening to me express my frustration at how slowly things were going, my stepfather said something that made me think. He said, “Richard, you’re a young man. You can slow down. There’s going to be plenty of time to do all the things you want to do in life.”
I thought about that. I let it sink in and I decided, and I still believe with all my heart, that he was dead wrong.
You see, life is short and it goes by fast. It can end for any one of us at any time and, despite what you believe, there’s no guarantee that there’s anything else. A lot of people believe that this life, our lives, are to be lived for the reward of something after this life. I believe, in the deepest center of my soul, that this is horse shit.
My high school friend Mike was the president of the senior class. I was the student body vice president. We both had a lot of things we wanted to do, to experience, to be in life. The winter following graduation, Mike went on a snowmobile trip with another friend. Just as he had done several times before. But this time they got lost. The sun went down. It got very cold. Mike decided that the smart thing to do was to build a snow cave and try to stay warm and make it through the night. His friend decided it would be better to walk, even if he couldn’t find help. At least he would stay warm.
His friend walked for several hours and finally found other people. A team was already looking for them. Although the friend was exhausted and frostbitten, he led the team to Mike’s cave. They called for him. He didn’t come out. They pulled him out, and he was dead. At 19.
He was a smart young man. A handsome young man. A good young man. And his life was over. And whether your time comes at 19 or 49 or 89 or 109, I believe the same questions will go through your mind: “What was the story of my life? What did I do? What did I love? Who did I love? Am I loved? What did I experience? What did I learn? How did I grow?”
In high school I was forced to go to a guidance counselor and take aptitude tests to determine what I should do in life. My teachers seemed to ignore the fact that I already knew what I was going to do in life. I knew from the first time I saw a movie when I was six years old that I was going to make movies, but I still had to take the damn test. Because I was told that wanting to make movies was an unrealistic expectation.
Afterwards, the guidance counselor told me that he wasn’t sure what I should do. Maybe be a doctor or a lawyer because I had the aptitude and because they make a lot of money. And that I should probably join the Army and put in a few years because then they would help me with the costs of college.
Looking back on it, it strikes me as ridiculous. My high school sent young kids, full of promise and hope, to a miserable middle-aged guy who didn’t know what the hell he wanted to do with his life, or he probably wanted to be a rock star when he was a kid, but he never got around to it and so he ended up as a guidance counselor in a windowless office that he had to share with two other middle aged “counselors.”
I remember being baffled that he would think I had an aptitude for the military. I knew myself well enough at age16 to know that I would be one of the worst soldiers in the history of the armed forces. I later learned from a recruiter that guidance counselors often get what amounts to a kick-back, a little bit of money every time they “recommend” someone who actually joins the service. So this man was willing to guide me along the path of life, to counsel me into the military and perhaps onto a battlefield, in order to collect a couple of hundred dollars from the the U.S. Army.
Beware who you listen to.
I’m not one to give other people advice, to tell other people how they should live their lives. However, I didn’t ask to speak today. I was asked. So…seeing as how I was asked…and seeing as how my oldest son is one of you…I do have a message for you. For all of you. But especially for my son. For Lucas.
“Follow your love.”
What do I mean by that? Just that. Follow Your Love. Unless, of course, your love is a boy or a girl. In which case, be sure you don’t follow to close or you might get arrested.
Follow Your Love.
That’s not something anybody ever told me. No guidance counselors, no teachers, no bishops or clergymen, no parents.
Somehow I knew that on my own. I think, as a young child, I grew up watching adults and being very aware of how miserable and screwed up so many of their lives were. And how the smartest thing to do would be to ask their advice, and whatever they said…do the exact opposite. If they tell you to go work at Novell, you should probably go play a guitar on a street corner in San Francisco.
If they tell you put as much money as you can into the 401k, you should probably go spend it on a Jaguar and a really great home entertainment system.
Be who you know in your heart that you should be. If you’re a scientist, if that’s your love, be a scientist. If you’re an artist, be an artist. If you’re a social worker or a teacher or a businessman or an astronaut or an accountant or a rock star or a truck driver or a filmmaker or a guidance counselor or a gay activist. Follow Your Love.
I had another friend in high school, Sammy Chick, who wanted to be a truck driver. Honestly. He LOVED trucks. He wanted to own his own rig and spend his whole life on the highway. It’s practically all he ever talked about. I hope he did it.
Follow Your Love. It’s the advice I give myself when I’m not sure where to go or what to do. It’s advice that has served me well.
I knew I wanted to make movies. Something no one in my family had ever DREAMED of. But I loved movies, clearly more than anyone in my family or in Mt. Vernon, Illinois, had ever loved movies, so I followed that circus right out of town.
And the funny thing about following your love is, even though it may take a very long time for you to arrive at her feet, or even though you may never arrive, you find the journey to be pleasant, sometimes fun, often beautiful, and always worth the trouble. Whatever the trouble is. And, believe me, sometimes the trouble gets very thick.
One day, while studying filmmaking and simultaneously dating many women looking for my life’s mate, I was at an audition and I looked across the room and I saw the young woman that I had been looking for. I watched the way she talked and the way she moved and the way she acted, and I knew that she belonged with me. That I wanted her in my life. Is there love at first sight? Absolutely. And there’s a whole wonderful romantic story to tell about that, but we don’t have time. What I DO want to point out is that I didn’t find her at some bar or at a singles’ dance or at a Saturday night party. As fun as those places can be, they’re not the best places to find a soul mate. I found my romantic love, unexpectedly, as I was busy following my professional love.
You see, as I was walking down my path, the path that I knew was making me happy, giving me joy, and that would lead me where I wanted to go, one day I look to my side and there’s this wonderful girl whose own path had intersected mine. You see, she was following her love, too. And we found ourselves walking together. And it was easy to be friends and it was easy to be lovers. We liked the same things, we loved the same things, we liked hanging around with the same kind of people (generally).
Follow your Love. Live your life IN and looking for YOUR happiness. That’s how and where you’ll find your lover. If you want one.
And what if you don’t KNOW what your love is? Well, find it. Go out and find it. Maybe you do know what you love, but you’ve been told it isn’t practical. Forget that.
Maybe you know what you love, but there are people around you discouraging you. Then go away to college or to another city and leave them behind. They think they’re helping you; they’re not. It’s your life. Go live it. You can always go back and visit the well-meaning obstacles for a few days at Thanksgiving and Christmas, but go live your life.
Or maybe you’ve always had your needs well taken care of and you generally haven’t LOVED anything, WANTED anything with a PASSION. Well…I don’t know. I can’t relate. Honestly. There are things I want as badly as a man dying of thirst in the desert wants a bucket of water. Maybe, if you really don’t know what you want, you need to go into the desert, metaphorically speaking of course, and discover what your water is. What you have to have or else you’ll die.
Remember: It’s your life. It doesn’t belong to your parents, your family, your church, your employer, your country, or your friends. It’s yours. Own it. Live it.
Also: Life is short and there are no guarantees. Listen to your heart. Follow Your Love.
When I attended my 10 year high school reunion I was shocked at how many of my classmates had already given up. They had found, after only ten years, that life was hard, that love didn’t always happen or didn’t always work out. They had found that somehow they had lost their dreams. Life at 28 was a disappointment. Many of them had clearly already just settled in for the ride. They were going to let this big ugly bus take them wherever it was going.
That was a shame. A damn shame. At 28. Are you kidding me?
In the words of Al Capone, “It’s not over until it’s over.” (That’s from the movie The Untouchables, not from real life, of course. But it’s still true).
An older friend of mine once told me, “I’ve done everything I’ve ever wanted to do in life. But it has always taken me a hell of a lot longer to do it than I expected.”
I ran into a friend of mine at the theater recently. Her name is Marilyn. She’s a writer, and she’s a beautiful woman, and she’s probably 70 years old. As we talked she spoke with passion about the book she is writing and about the future books she wants to write. Many people, at her age, are just watching television and waiting for the end, waiting for someone to cover them with dirt. But she’s still working, still living, still learning, still dreaming. She’s an inspiration to me.
I hope you’re not seeing life as my friend Teddy once did. I hope you’re not planning to jump off a skyscraper if you haven’t won the Nobel Prize by age 25. I hope you’re not thinking as my stepfather did, because you don’t have all the time in the world. I hope you can see life as my friend Marilyn sees it and that you live long lives filled with wonder, achievement, beauty, happiness, love and passion.
Final summation:
Life is short. There are no guarantees.
It’s your life. Own it.
Listen to Your Heart.
Follow Your Love.
It’s Not Over Until It’s Over.
And, in the words of Winston Churchill: “Never never never never give up.”
WALDEN SCHOOL COMMENCEMENT – 2009
Aspen Grove, Utah
Follow Your Love
By Richard Dutcher
My friend Teddy came up to me not long before my graduation from high school. We were both actors. What he said to me really surprised me. He said, “Richard, if I’m not famous by the time I’m 21…I’m going to kill myself.”
I remember thinking two things. First of all, that he was completely serious. Second, that I was a far better actor and even I didn’t expect to be famous until I was 22.
We graduated and went our separate ways. I remember when I turned 21 I thought about Teddy and, not having seen him in any movies or on TV, I wondered if he had kept his vow. I never knew what happened. Recently I remembered him. I wondered if he was still around. I got on my computer to see if he had a Facebook page. Sure enough, there he was, with a big smile on his face and a pretty woman in his arms.
Teddy has never become famous. Not even close. (In fact, he only has about 12 Facebook friends.) And he doesn’t do any acting anymore. But he seems happy. And now, with some maturity, his priorities have changed. His perspective is focused less inward and more outward. Now, instead of saying “Richard, if I don’t get famous I’m going to kill myself,” he says: “Richard, if you get any more famous, I’m going to kill you.”
This, I believe, is a much healthier attitude.
At 19, I put my personal ambitions on hold and I went to Mexico to be a missionary because I believed at the time that God wanted me to do it. When I came home at 21 I was full of energy, ready to get back into the world, ready to go out and achieve all the things I had always wanted to achieve. I wanted to make movies. I wanted to marry a wonderful woman and have about a dozen kids. I wanted to write some good novels. Despite the fact that I didn’t have any money, I wanted to immediately get back into college. After watching me as I worked my butt off to get money for college, and seeing that I was already studying on my own, and hearing me talk about all the things I wanted to do, and listening to me express my frustration at how slowly things were going, my stepfather said something that made me think. He said, “Richard, you’re a young man. You can slow down. There’s going to be plenty of time to do all the things you want to do in life.”
I thought about that. I let it sink in and I decided, and I still believe with all my heart, that he was dead wrong.
You see, life is short and it goes by fast. It can end for any one of us at any time and, despite what you believe, there’s no guarantee that there’s anything else. A lot of people believe that this life, our lives, are to be lived for the reward of something after this life. I believe, in the deepest center of my soul, that this is horse shit.
My high school friend Mike was the president of the senior class. I was the student body vice president. We both had a lot of things we wanted to do, to experience, to be in life. The winter following graduation, Mike went on a snowmobile trip with another friend. Just as he had done several times before. But this time they got lost. The sun went down. It got very cold. Mike decided that the smart thing to do was to build a snow cave and try to stay warm and make it through the night. His friend decided it would be better to walk, even if he couldn’t find help. At least he would stay warm.
His friend walked for several hours and finally found other people. A team was already looking for them. Although the friend was exhausted and frostbitten, he led the team to Mike’s cave. They called for him. He didn’t come out. They pulled him out, and he was dead. At 19.
He was a smart young man. A handsome young man. A good young man. And his life was over. And whether your time comes at 19 or 49 or 89 or 109, I believe the same questions will go through your mind: “What was the story of my life? What did I do? What did I love? Who did I love? Am I loved? What did I experience? What did I learn? How did I grow?”
In high school I was forced to go to a guidance counselor and take aptitude tests to determine what I should do in life. My teachers seemed to ignore the fact that I already knew what I was going to do in life. I knew from the first time I saw a movie when I was six years old that I was going to make movies, but I still had to take the damn test. Because I was told that wanting to make movies was an unrealistic expectation.
Afterwards, the guidance counselor told me that he wasn’t sure what I should do. Maybe be a doctor or a lawyer because I had the aptitude and because they make a lot of money. And that I should probably join the Army and put in a few years because then they would help me with the costs of college.
Looking back on it, it strikes me as ridiculous. My high school sent young kids, full of promise and hope, to a miserable middle-aged guy who didn’t know what the hell he wanted to do with his life, or he probably wanted to be a rock star when he was a kid, but he never got around to it and so he ended up as a guidance counselor in a windowless office that he had to share with two other middle aged “counselors.”
I remember being baffled that he would think I had an aptitude for the military. I knew myself well enough at age16 to know that I would be one of the worst soldiers in the history of the armed forces. I later learned from a recruiter that guidance counselors often get what amounts to a kick-back, a little bit of money every time they “recommend” someone who actually joins the service. So this man was willing to guide me along the path of life, to counsel me into the military and perhaps onto a battlefield, in order to collect a couple of hundred dollars from the the U.S. Army.
Beware who you listen to.
I’m not one to give other people advice, to tell other people how they should live their lives. However, I didn’t ask to speak today. I was asked. So…seeing as how I was asked…and seeing as how my oldest son is one of you…I do have a message for you. For all of you. But especially for my son. For Lucas.
“Follow your love.”
What do I mean by that? Just that. Follow Your Love. Unless, of course, your love is a boy or a girl. In which case, be sure you don’t follow to close or you might get arrested.
Follow Your Love.
That’s not something anybody ever told me. No guidance counselors, no teachers, no bishops or clergymen, no parents.
Somehow I knew that on my own. I think, as a young child, I grew up watching adults and being very aware of how miserable and screwed up so many of their lives were. And how the smartest thing to do would be to ask their advice, and whatever they said…do the exact opposite. If they tell you to go work at Novell, you should probably go play a guitar on a street corner in San Francisco.
If they tell you put as much money as you can into the 401k, you should probably go spend it on a Jaguar and a really great home entertainment system.
Be who you know in your heart that you should be. If you’re a scientist, if that’s your love, be a scientist. If you’re an artist, be an artist. If you’re a social worker or a teacher or a businessman or an astronaut or an accountant or a rock star or a truck driver or a filmmaker or a guidance counselor or a gay activist. Follow Your Love.
I had another friend in high school, Sammy Chick, who wanted to be a truck driver. Honestly. He LOVED trucks. He wanted to own his own rig and spend his whole life on the highway. It’s practically all he ever talked about. I hope he did it.
Follow Your Love. It’s the advice I give myself when I’m not sure where to go or what to do. It’s advice that has served me well.
I knew I wanted to make movies. Something no one in my family had ever DREAMED of. But I loved movies, clearly more than anyone in my family or in Mt. Vernon, Illinois, had ever loved movies, so I followed that circus right out of town.
And the funny thing about following your love is, even though it may take a very long time for you to arrive at her feet, or even though you may never arrive, you find the journey to be pleasant, sometimes fun, often beautiful, and always worth the trouble. Whatever the trouble is. And, believe me, sometimes the trouble gets very thick.
One day, while studying filmmaking and simultaneously dating many women looking for my life’s mate, I was at an audition and I looked across the room and I saw the young woman that I had been looking for. I watched the way she talked and the way she moved and the way she acted, and I knew that she belonged with me. That I wanted her in my life. Is there love at first sight? Absolutely. And there’s a whole wonderful romantic story to tell about that, but we don’t have time. What I DO want to point out is that I didn’t find her at some bar or at a singles’ dance or at a Saturday night party. As fun as those places can be, they’re not the best places to find a soul mate. I found my romantic love, unexpectedly, as I was busy following my professional love.
You see, as I was walking down my path, the path that I knew was making me happy, giving me joy, and that would lead me where I wanted to go, one day I look to my side and there’s this wonderful girl whose own path had intersected mine. You see, she was following her love, too. And we found ourselves walking together. And it was easy to be friends and it was easy to be lovers. We liked the same things, we loved the same things, we liked hanging around with the same kind of people (generally).
Follow your Love. Live your life IN and looking for YOUR happiness. That’s how and where you’ll find your lover. If you want one.
And what if you don’t KNOW what your love is? Well, find it. Go out and find it. Maybe you do know what you love, but you’ve been told it isn’t practical. Forget that.
Maybe you know what you love, but there are people around you discouraging you. Then go away to college or to another city and leave them behind. They think they’re helping you; they’re not. It’s your life. Go live it. You can always go back and visit the well-meaning obstacles for a few days at Thanksgiving and Christmas, but go live your life.
Or maybe you’ve always had your needs well taken care of and you generally haven’t LOVED anything, WANTED anything with a PASSION. Well…I don’t know. I can’t relate. Honestly. There are things I want as badly as a man dying of thirst in the desert wants a bucket of water. Maybe, if you really don’t know what you want, you need to go into the desert, metaphorically speaking of course, and discover what your water is. What you have to have or else you’ll die.
Remember: It’s your life. It doesn’t belong to your parents, your family, your church, your employer, your country, or your friends. It’s yours. Own it. Live it.
Also: Life is short and there are no guarantees. Listen to your heart. Follow Your Love.
When I attended my 10 year high school reunion I was shocked at how many of my classmates had already given up. They had found, after only ten years, that life was hard, that love didn’t always happen or didn’t always work out. They had found that somehow they had lost their dreams. Life at 28 was a disappointment. Many of them had clearly already just settled in for the ride. They were going to let this big ugly bus take them wherever it was going.
That was a shame. A damn shame. At 28. Are you kidding me?
In the words of Al Capone, “It’s not over until it’s over.” (That’s from the movie The Untouchables, not from real life, of course. But it’s still true).
An older friend of mine once told me, “I’ve done everything I’ve ever wanted to do in life. But it has always taken me a hell of a lot longer to do it than I expected.”
I ran into a friend of mine at the theater recently. Her name is Marilyn. She’s a writer, and she’s a beautiful woman, and she’s probably 70 years old. As we talked she spoke with passion about the book she is writing and about the future books she wants to write. Many people, at her age, are just watching television and waiting for the end, waiting for someone to cover them with dirt. But she’s still working, still living, still learning, still dreaming. She’s an inspiration to me.
I hope you’re not seeing life as my friend Teddy once did. I hope you’re not planning to jump off a skyscraper if you haven’t won the Nobel Prize by age 25. I hope you’re not thinking as my stepfather did, because you don’t have all the time in the world. I hope you can see life as my friend Marilyn sees it and that you live long lives filled with wonder, achievement, beauty, happiness, love and passion.
Final summation:
Life is short. There are no guarantees.
It’s your life. Own it.
Listen to Your Heart.
Follow Your Love.
It’s Not Over Until It’s Over.
And, in the words of Winston Churchill: “Never never never never give up.”
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
God Is Not Your Bitch
Another well written, humorous and thought provoking column from the San Francisco Gate's Mark Morford. I love this guy. Many of you will not. Oh well. I'm going to continue to post links anyway because he kicks serious ass. My favorite line: I find I am in a constant swoon of giddy amazement at this universal phenomenon, the fabulous, hubris-loaded idea that God is NOT actually an unfathomable river of cosmic energy to be supped from like liquid light, while you still take complete responsibility for your own life and choices.
Strange things are afoot - not only at the Circle K, but in the heart and soul of this sassy little blogger. Miracles. And the fact that I can even write the word miracle, let alone God, without my colon breaking out in hives is parade worthy.
There is spiritual life on the other side of religious brain damage. Who knew?
Strange things are afoot - not only at the Circle K, but in the heart and soul of this sassy little blogger. Miracles. And the fact that I can even write the word miracle, let alone God, without my colon breaking out in hives is parade worthy.
There is spiritual life on the other side of religious brain damage. Who knew?
Blog Note...
Whenever I mention the religiously brain damaged, I am not pointing fingers at religious folk in general. I am always - without exception - referring to the former faithfully freaky me, myself and I.
And Chris Buttars.
And Chris Buttars.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Deep Fried Delights
So, the answer to the question of how the hell I can do all the work and traveling that I have been doing and still blog should be obvious by now. I can't. Sorry all.
Went straight from LA to San Francisco. Had a wonderful time. Won't bore you with the Who, Why, Where, When and What I Did On My Summer Vacation essay but there are a few things that came out of my time there. First, and of far greatest importance...
Who knew you could deep fry sugary treats??? I am gathering that the deep frying of random foods originated in the South and since I grew up in Northern California and have not attended many carnivals in my life - despite my love of Hillbillies / Carnies - I had never heard of the very thing that is now haunting me, even in my sleep.
Deep Fried Twinkies.
I learned from a friend last week that, not only can you deep fry Twinkies but, you can deep fry Oreos, Snickers Bars, Apple Pie... I had a Happygasm right then and there and have since been able to think of little else.
I got home and asked my friend Suzette if she had ever heard of such a thing. She had. Then, backed by the trumpets of Heaven, she announced that she has her very own deep fryer. Her husband gave it to her a couple of years ago and she has never used it. NEVER USED IT! Oh yeah, we're gonna put that Baby to work right quick.
Deep Fry Party: Twinkies, Oreos, Snickers, homemade chocolate chip cookies, Twix Bars... Then the sugar high will have me deep frying Tequila topped with deep fried pickles, grapes, cheese, those weird little Smuckers Peanut Butter & Jelly pies, beef jerky, licorice and Blair Underwood.
Colonic anyone?
Went straight from LA to San Francisco. Had a wonderful time. Won't bore you with the Who, Why, Where, When and What I Did On My Summer Vacation essay but there are a few things that came out of my time there. First, and of far greatest importance...
Who knew you could deep fry sugary treats??? I am gathering that the deep frying of random foods originated in the South and since I grew up in Northern California and have not attended many carnivals in my life - despite my love of Hillbillies / Carnies - I had never heard of the very thing that is now haunting me, even in my sleep.
Deep Fried Twinkies.
I learned from a friend last week that, not only can you deep fry Twinkies but, you can deep fry Oreos, Snickers Bars, Apple Pie... I had a Happygasm right then and there and have since been able to think of little else.
I got home and asked my friend Suzette if she had ever heard of such a thing. She had. Then, backed by the trumpets of Heaven, she announced that she has her very own deep fryer. Her husband gave it to her a couple of years ago and she has never used it. NEVER USED IT! Oh yeah, we're gonna put that Baby to work right quick.
Deep Fry Party: Twinkies, Oreos, Snickers, homemade chocolate chip cookies, Twix Bars... Then the sugar high will have me deep frying Tequila topped with deep fried pickles, grapes, cheese, those weird little Smuckers Peanut Butter & Jelly pies, beef jerky, licorice and Blair Underwood.
Colonic anyone?
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Miranda
Okay, this woman is freaking brilliant! I had been forever hearing about her from my daughter and finally checked her out. I think I'm in love.
For the record - there is no way this is for real, as many are insisting. This is a character she created specifically to make me pee my pants. The only thing I don't love about this is that I didn't think of it first.
Try this: Watch all her videos with shots of tequila in between. She just gets funnier and funnier...
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Outfest 2009
I just returned from a whirlwind weekend in LA where I attended Outfest - the Gay & Lesbian Film Festival. It was great. Did the booze-n-schmooze, connected with some really talented and interesting people and had a guy announce to me and the group I was with, upon learning my family pedigree, that he and I have slept with the same man.
A girl can't hear that enough.
This same guy, later that night, drank himself sideways and announced to another group that I was making a movie about my mother that died of AIDS. Wow.
So, there I was at a pool party at Outfest when my friend looked at his blackberry and read to me that a gay couple had been arrested for kissing on the cheek at Salt Lake City's temple square. Nice.
I get that they weren't arrested for the kiss - they were arrested for fighting back after being asked to leave the property for the kiss. I probably would have argued too. And I get that if you are in handcuffs and “unleash a flurry of profanities” at those that are holding you prisoner they aren't going to like it. But sometimes those things just can't be helped.
I involuntarily unleash a flurry of profanities when I'm on temple square too.
A girl can't hear that enough.
This same guy, later that night, drank himself sideways and announced to another group that I was making a movie about my mother that died of AIDS. Wow.
So, there I was at a pool party at Outfest when my friend looked at his blackberry and read to me that a gay couple had been arrested for kissing on the cheek at Salt Lake City's temple square. Nice.
I get that they weren't arrested for the kiss - they were arrested for fighting back after being asked to leave the property for the kiss. I probably would have argued too. And I get that if you are in handcuffs and “unleash a flurry of profanities” at those that are holding you prisoner they aren't going to like it. But sometimes those things just can't be helped.
I involuntarily unleash a flurry of profanities when I'm on temple square too.
Friday, July 10, 2009
The Other White Meat
(I'm sorry, but doesn't he totally look like Paul Abdul in this picture?)
Okay, here comes the gentle mocking. It's allowed - he was not a little person. Yes, I said it. Michael Jackson was The Other White Meat. That was my second favorite MJ joke. (Soooo bummed that I can't have that t-shirt made now!) My very favorite joke was: A child kneels down to pray. He asks, "God, are you a man or a woman?" God replies, "I am both and I am neither." The child then asks, "God, are you black or white?" God says, “I am both and I am neither.” The child’s jaw drops and he looks, wide eyed, at the ceiling. “God… are you Michael Jackson???”
Okay, so when I was writing my We Are The World ode to MJ – I received an email saying that Al Sharpton had said something about because Michael Jackson was a black man that had become so white, it helped a black man get voted into the White House. WTF??? And, since when have any of us considered Michael Jackson a black man? As Chris Rock said, “Only in America can a poor black boy grow up to be a rich white woman.”
And now, supposedly, his plastic surgeons and dermatologists are commenting on his obsession with looking like a white woman. Well, duh. I have no problem with the whole androgynous thing. I like the human diversity we have on the planet. And I actually liked the way he looked - up to “Black or White.” Banish McCauley Culkin and it’s a very cool video.
But then his nose fell off and his face caved in and I had to call it a day.
Yes, he got weird. He was broken and in pain and it made him very, very weird. Now he is free. But you can’t tell me that when he got Home and he sat down with his guides and angels to review his life they didn’t freeze frame on his later photos, exclaim, “Dude, what were you thinking?”, and have a good chuckle. You know they did.
I have no idea if he molested those kids. If he did, he deserved to lose more than just his nose. I hate to say that I wouldn’t put it past him to be horribly boundary impaired. But I also wouldn’t put it past people to try and take him for all he was worth, either. All I know is that he didn’t touch me or my kids so I can’t know for sure one way or the other. I will just leave it up to those who really know the truth to sort things out and heal what needs to be healed. But this I do have to say: The dumb ass parent that allowed their kid to sleep over, alone, at Neverland with Mikey J. and Bubbles The Chimp – especially after the first allegations – gets the Stupid and Bad Parent Award and should have gotten a settlement check for a whopping Nothing Dollars and Zero Cents.
And, even if he did do it – as deplorable as it was – it does not make up the entirety of who he was. And certainly not who he still is. When all is said and done, I still think Michael Jackson’s talent was a gift. And so was a lot of his weirdness – he totally mixed it up for us.
What Al Sharpton actually said was that Michael Jackson deserved, “…credit for creating an environment in which Barack Obama could be elected president. It was Michael Jackson that brought blacks and whites and Asians and Latinos together. It was Michael Jackson that made us sing ‘we are the world,’ …kids from Japan and Ghana and France and Iowa and Pennsylvania got comfortable enough with each other so later it wasn't strange to us to watch Oprah on television. Those young kids grew up from being teenage comfortable fans of Michael to being 40 years old and being comfortable to vote for a person of color to be the president of the United States of America. Michael did that, Michael made us love each other.”
I certainly wouldn’t go so far as to say that Michael Jackson is directly responsible for Obama being President – but I’m sure he did help change the “how whites feel about blacks” climate in our country. Before he became Joan Rivers that is.
I guess I have to agree with President Obama when he said, “I don’t think there’s any doubt he was one of the greatest entertainers of our generation, perhaps any generation. I think like Elvis, like Sinatra, like the Beatles, he became a core part of our culture.” He said that Jackson was a combination of “extraordinary talent” and a “big dose of tragedy and difficulty in his private life” and added though that he does not think “we can ignore” Jackson’s past controversies but, the president said, “It’s important for us to affirm what was best in him.”
And what was best in him was really incredible. I watch “We Are The World” and listen to “Heal the World” and I am moved to be a better person. I am inspired to leave the world better than I found it – which I believe, when it all comes out in the wash, Michael Jackson did.
I just hope my nose doesn’t fall of while I’m doing it.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
We Are The World
I only watched snippets of The Funeral yesterday. It was quite a spectacle and quite moving – especially, I think, for those of us that have so much of Michael Jackson’s music on the Soundtrack of our Formative Years. Friends that I thought would never in a million years watch Michael Jackson’s funeral, watched it and actually admitted to crying. Which, I admit, I did too. Michael Jackson is dead. Weird.
I remember the day Elvis died. The mother of my friend Andrea Zappa spent the whole day in her slip, with the curtains drawn, sobbing, drunk on the couch. I was too young to really get what had happened but was absolutely fascinated by the drama.
Someone sent me this YouTube link to the original We Are The World video that was parodied so well on Saturday Night Live. And as I watched it I was transported back to high school. Remember that day after school when MTV played this for the first time? I bawled like a baby. If memory serves it was not too soon after the death of my father so I was already a big raw emotional nerve ending – but I was always a big boob anyway, crying at the end of nearly every episode of Little House on the Prairie.
It is cool to see this again and all the familiar faces from…
…Okay, so before I could finish writing this post I got an email from a friend with very bizarre WTF quotes from Al Sharpton and MJ’s plastic surgeon and dermatologists.
STOP POST. I have remembered me.
How long before one can gently mock the dead without being beheaded by blog readers? Tell me Internetland, cause I got some stuff to say.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Final Ninja Tip For Healthy Living
Secrecy is of upmost importance to the Ninjas peace of mind. Not even the Ninjas parents can know their identities. Not even if a Ninja still lives in the basement of his parents house.
And... thanks for playing!
A Mormon And An Irishman Are On An Airplane...
This is one of the funniest jokes I've heard in a while (that I can publicly repeat.)
A Mormon was seated next to an Irishman on a flight from London. After the plane was airborne, drink orders were taken.
The Irishman asked for a whiskey, which was promptly brought and placed before him.
The flight attendant then asked the Mormon if he would like a drink. He replied in disgust, "I'd rather be savagely raped by a dozen whores than let liquor touch my lips."
The Irishman then handed his drink back to the attendant and said, "Me, too, I didn't know we had a choice..."
Thank Jeebus for the gift of choice, huh?
A Mormon was seated next to an Irishman on a flight from London. After the plane was airborne, drink orders were taken.
The Irishman asked for a whiskey, which was promptly brought and placed before him.
The flight attendant then asked the Mormon if he would like a drink. He replied in disgust, "I'd rather be savagely raped by a dozen whores than let liquor touch my lips."
The Irishman then handed his drink back to the attendant and said, "Me, too, I didn't know we had a choice..."
Thank Jeebus for the gift of choice, huh?
Monday, July 6, 2009
Confirmed: God Is Slightly Gay
For an incredibly entertaining and amazingly enlightened read, check out Mark Morford's column in the San Francisco Gate.
I know that this will make many readers that have very specific ideas about God very uncomfortable and squirmy. And, by now, you all know that I consider this to be a very good thing.
Just wish I had written it myself.
I know that this will make many readers that have very specific ideas about God very uncomfortable and squirmy. And, by now, you all know that I consider this to be a very good thing.
Just wish I had written it myself.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Kitty Wigs II
I previously wrote about the wonder of Kitty Wigs and my re-discovery of the magical world of pets in drag (as opposed to the grand peeve of pets dressed as humans). Well, I am now the proud owner of my very own Kitty Wig - which I WILL fix atop Joey's head long enough to take a picture one of these days. (And by one of these days I mean when he is unconscious and being prepped for the surgical loss of his little fuzzy puppy balls - since that is the only, and I do mean ONLY, time he will hold still long enough.)My very own Kitty Wig was a gift from my very own wonderful friend that gives me my very own make-me-fall-down-laughing-after-I-jump-up-and-down-with-glee silly gifts. The only thing that made me laugh harder than my Kitty Wig was the instructions that came with it:
Please combine creativity with common sense, and never force your kitty to dress up strictly for your entertainment.
I'm sorry, but what reason besides one's own entertainment could there possibly be for putting a wig on a freaking cat???
When introducing the wig to your kitty, use lots of sweet talk. Remind your kitty that he or she is the belle of the ball, repeating over and over how chic-looking and beautiful he or she is. LOTS of petting and cooing are needed here! Praise!
Oh. My. God.
DO NOT immediately throw the wig on your kitty and start snapping pictures. Start slowly and let your kitty set the pace. The key is positive reinforcement... Keep photo sessions short and fun! You want it to be something your cat enjoys and appreciates as special time together... We hope you'll share the results of your Kitty Wig photo shoot with us in our Flickr group...
Okay, for you truly naughty and bent folk (Mom, that does NOT mean you - you stop reading NOW) re-read the instructions and replace the word Kitty with the word Pussy.
Then go change your pants.
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