Let David Decide

Dear Friends,

I'm writing to you all for feedback, ideas and advice. The current
political climate in this country has become a frightening joke to me,
and I feel the need to be part of it. I rant and rave to anyone who will
listen to me. I write letters to the editor of the Los Angles Times and
I comment on Yahoo message boards and it's not very satisfying. As the
mid-term elections approach it seems the right time. Time to get in on
the joke. I think it's time for the people of my state and my country to
hear and to have an alternative voice to speak out on the tough issues.
It feels like time to stop letting the professional politicians have all
the fun. Some of my positions on the issues of the day will shock you,
some will awe you, a few will make you laugh and others will make you
ask "why aren't we doing that now"?

What follows are a few of my ideas. Some you already know, others will
be new to you. I'm asking you to take a minute and read my positions. If
I've neglected an issue, or if I've missed a joke that's being
perpetrated on us please share it with me. I'm not the sharpest knife
one the block so I could use some help.

My first thought is to begin an on-line only campaign to govern the
great state of California.
What do you think? When was the last time a candidate asked you what you
thought?

Gay marriage: marriage should be the province of the church and not the
state. The state needs to remove itself from the business of marriage and
only offer domestic partnerships to any two adults of legal age
regardless of their sex, color, race or religion. Civil unions between two
adults is the province of the state, not the church. The church's role
should remain primarily ceremonial. They're pretty good at pretty.

Immigration: Any undocumented worker in the country today should be
given instant citizenship.
The border should be sealed and a barrier built. Guest worker programs
will only create another second class society in this country and is
asking for future problems. After the barrier is in place
any illegal immigrant found in this country should then be deported to
their country of origin, and that country billed for the cost of deportment.
Immigration laws need serious rewriting and the border patrol budget
needs to grow. As for the fence, it will provide an excellent canvas for
NEA artists. Painters, sculpters, projectionest.

Abortion: Abortion should remain legal and accessible to every woman.
The termination period should be extended until the fetus is five years
old.

Welfare parents: single or married women receiving welfare from the state
would be required to have a Norplant implant. Any man receiving welfare
from the state with two or more children would be required to have a
vasectomy. If either a white man or a white woman refuse, their children
will be put up for adoption to parents in African countries that want
white children. If any man or woman of color refuse the Norplant their
children shall be put up for adoption to parents in Scandinavian countries.
It time to share our tired, poor and huddled masses with the rest of the
world.

Teachers & Schools: Collage tuition for future teachers would be paid for
by the government in exchange for a commitment by the student to teach for
a minimum of 5 years. Attractive students who do not make the grade will be
trained to work in the sex industry, or as models, actors whores and P.R.
people. The unattractive students will be trained to work behind the
cameras and at fast food franchises. Money for schools and teachers
salaries would be raised by an emissions tax placed on automobiles and the
auto industry in general.

The Death penalty: Only one appeal may be made by a death row inmate.
The ultimate decision whether the convicted felon lives or dies will be
made by me. There will be no executions at prisons. There will be two
prisoner execution sites in California, one in the north and one in the
south. The sites will be state of the art facilities that will broadcast
pay per view executions to raise monies for the prison system. Executions
will be broadcast for free at every city, county, state jail and prison
and grammar school.

Soooo.... Any ideas, comments, suggestions, helpful hints??

Open Letter to Daddy Bob

Bob, even though I am not on your e-mail list, your letter did make
its way to my mail box and I feel a need to respond.

"Just how offended the public was" WOW! No one I know who was there was offended by the Leather Casbah motif. The folks I know who were there were laughing thier asses off. Political humor and satire are a time
honored tradition in this country. I'd like to suggest you tune in to "The Daily Show" or "The Colbert Report" on Comedy Central for a crash course in political correctness.

I'd also like to ask if you're offended by the Sisters of
Perpetual Indulgence? I know that as a Catholic I love them, I find them outrageous and funny, shocking
and thought provoking. Exactly what good comedy should be.

Now on to the "sleaziest most dangerous neighborhoods in the city".
Bob, do you ever get to this side of the hill? The worst that's going to happen to anyone at 8th and Main is they're going to get panhandled, sold or get a great deal on a watch. I have a friend who owns a seven figure loft not two blocks away. You're clearly unfamiliar with just how sleazy/fascinating this city can be.

Now I'd like to speak to you as a survivor of quadruple bypass
surgery. Whenever I'm about to attend an event I try and contact someone
connected to the event to see if my special needs will be met. If they're not then I do whatever is necessary to make sure I'm comfortable. My health and my comfort are my responsibility. (Three years ago the Bullet was so loud and crowded during your Mr. Bullet contest we left because it was taking so long to crown the winner and we were tired of having beer spilled on us. To be expected at a feeder event, but still...this was your bar, Bob. Your event.)

Now on to prominent Leather folk waiting in a "dark, damp, filthy
alley". The guys I know who waited thought the whole alley thing was kind of hot. As in sexy. But then these men had been downtown the night before in a hot dark, damp, filthy party. Did you, by any chance, go to Hard Tribe?

When I checked the L.A.L.C. website I saw that The Bullet was a
member of the coalition. Since you're a member of the organization
that planned the event, how active were you? Did you attend the meetings where the decisions were made? No? Perhaps, then, it is you who owe your constituents an apology for not shouldering more responsibility.

And finally, Bob, you need to ask yourself, what kind of man finds
fault with some one else's hard work? Some one else's good time? Hmmm?

A Death in The Family

A Death in the family

Not long ago the father of a family member died. I got the phone call early on a Monday moring. Claire calling me that early in the morning told me everything I needed to know. She asked that I contact the clan and start to spread the word. I suggested she call Louie herself, some people should not hear this kind of news second hand. louie wasn’t close to Bob, Claire’s now dead father, but Claire and Louie..... I see them as brother and sister.

Being the family towne crier I got on the phone and started making the calls or in some cases sending out e-mails. Mr. Dick, Gregory-Alan, B.J., Doug, Marlane........If your of a certain age you know the routine. Being a gay man in his early 50’s I was not new to this. In the first half of the 80’s it was routine, as friends, ex -lovers, bothers, and arch enemies droped like flies. It’s been years since anyone close to me has died younger than 60, not that 60’s old if your looking at 54 . That afternoon having made the calls and sent the e-mails, I had to think . What do I do now? I am not Mr. Fix-it or even Mr. Johnny on the spot. I have been known to have made a few situations worse just by being there, although none come to mind. Someone close to me has lost a father, what do I do? How do I feel? Sad is the first word that comes to mind and while that’s true it’s to easy. Powerless, absolutly, I’m not god although I sometimes think I am. Helpless? Yes!

Ever since Claire's call there is one thing, one thought that keeps coming to me , I have to go to Moro Bay. I have to be by her side. Now you should know I have no car but that’s not a problem, I can rent. I can even take the train, quick easy effortless. Claire or her sister Pat, or even a friend of thiers can pick me up at the station, then return me to the train station the next day. I want to help, not get in the way. It doesn’t matter I have to go. What’s that about? Why go? “Stay home, she’ll understand”, and she will, I know she’s family. There it is, the key, the reason to go, she’s family.

I’m embarassed to tell you I don’t have a clear memory of feeling the need to be at her side when her mom died. I don’t think she needed me, us, then. Claire still had her Bob when Mary died. I’m not sure what that means. Father daughter, father son, mother daughter, mother son; each relationship is unique. After her mom died I knew she still had her daddy to lean on, or to push. Don’t laugh you know what I mean. That’s why she needed us, because with family you can lean or push and still be loved. Any combination of our inner family circle could have gone, Kurt, Shelley, Michael. She needed to know that whatever was going to come up for her in those few days, we would be there. Just like I know that when Lucy sends me an e-mail that says “Congratulations on your loss” members of my family will be there .

We, Douglas, Richard and myself all drove up in Dougs sleek new car. The ride up was a joy a reunion of old friends who see each other too rarly. “Let’s stop at the outlet mall”. “We should stop at the winery in ‘Sideways’. “We need tulle for veils, find a Wal-mart”. All that done, the trip comes to an end. There she is sitting in her Merele Norman make-up Studio. What do we now? Stop laughing, take a deep breath, get out of the car, put on our dollar a yard black tulle veils from Wal-Mart and walk in. Does she laugh? No, she’s not ready. Is she up-set, no way. Much later that evening after the best meal ever, gathered around Pat and Gary’s diner table , sated with food, a fire slowly dying out and what seems like non-stop infectious laughter each of the daughters tells her tale. The stories of the last momemts of time they would have with Bob here on this earth. They tell thier stories with love and wet, intense eyes and have all of us at the table in stiches.

Doug and Richard and I drove up not knowing what Claire needed or what we had to offer. In these situations some times it’s best to just let go and trust the gods . Our combination of sprits, astrological signs, needs, and strenghts, brought laughter to the occassion. It was the gut busting release you can only experience with people who love you, even if they show up to the funeral of one of thier parents in cheap, black tulle veils from Wal-Mart.

Last Sunday my friend Gregory and I were heading south on Vermont to El Gran Burrito to get ourselves a couple of the tastiest burritos in town. As we approached Santa Monica Blvd we heard the faint sounds of sirens growing louder behind us. Making exactly the same decision I would have made, Gregory pulled as far to the right as possible and came to a complete stop. There we sat in his mini van watching the other drivers keep driving, some slowing down, some seeming to move to the right but waiting instead to see if it was really nessacary. The sirens were blaring as a police car wove by moving much slower than I would have expected, but how could it move faster? The street in front of it was a slalom course of slow moving, tentative drivers refusing to give up there lane or there position in their rush to the next red light. When did our busy lives become more important than Ambulances, Fire Trucks or Police Cars?

Was it that long ago, September 11, 2001? After that date we couldn’t stop talking about how heroic our first responders were. No matter what state or town we lived in we stopped them and asked to shake their hands, thanked them, offered them our prayers. They were and are great American heroes. We listened to songs written about then watched made for T.V. movies about them and if we wanted our special effects special we paid Ten dollars to see their heroics on the big screen. We prasied, honored and rasied money for our first responders, for the families of the fallen and for memorials to honor their memories. So what happened that we can’t get out of their way on the road.

I learned what to do when a siren or sirens were heard from my father, well, really from hearing my mother turn to my dad and say “Sevy, pull over” I remember dad doing everthing my mother said. Mom would then turn her attention to my sister and I in the back seat, “sit down, and stay seated” We wanted to stand, to climb up on the seats, we strained to see what was comming. The only thing restraing us in the back seats was our mothers voice. Seat belts? What were they? They still didn’t exsist. Neither did laws mandating that you wear them. I won’t even get in to infant or child car seats. Remember I am a man of a certain age. Back to the back seat, “God please let it be a fire truck”. As excited as we were we also knew somthing bad was happening, sirens meant danger, move to the right, stop and stay out of the way until it was safe. For us kids there was excitment in my parents quite unspoke fear, “thank god it’s not us”.

After the sirens would pass, if it was police car we knew they were off to catch a bad guy, if it was an ambulance we all though “thank God were safe”. Now if it was a fire truck, well to us kids, that was exciting. Imeditaly after it passed our cries would go up “follow it, follow it”. What in the world was more beautiful and exciting to me than a bright red firetruck full of gages and gadgets with big strong, brave men. I knew fire was dangerous, but it was also beautiful and other worldly, almost and alien life form. The brave men in the firetruck that we had just pulled over for, were off to fight it.

If we were lucky dad would roar off to follow the firetruck, ignoring my mothers pleas that he stop, and instead, listening to his kids in the back seat, cheering with delight. Dad at the wheel arms extended head low, looking like a race car driver in serious pursuit. Dad always kept to the speed limit while we screemed “fater, faster” and my mom, quietly under her breath would whisper “Sevy... Sevy” we were sure, and excited, that dad wasn’t listening to mom, yea! But soon, all to soon dads pose would change his arms would relax on the wheel his body would lose it’s tense look and he would turn to us and say “it’s going to fast, I can’t catch up” or “sorry kids but we have to get to, fill in the destination, home, the market , grandmothers, where ever it was we were heading. Mom would relax and look back to us kids as if to say the fun is over, I’m back in controll. The chase would end but for a few moments there was real excitment, a chase and maybe the chance to see something burning.

What I know today as a man of a certain age is that it was all an act. An improv of mom and dad’s. It was a little performance that mom and dad had perfected to give their kids a thrill. I know now that dad would never have caught the fire truck. They would never willingly have allowed us kids to wittness some on else’s tragety, a house on fire, maybe a life in danger or worse a life lost. For a few minuets we played out a game of excitment, my sister and I always forgetting it would end the same way, with a return to the original destination. I don’t remember when my sister and I stopped crying out “ follow it dad, follow it” I know at some point we stopped because we knew he would never catch it and that mom would win with her quiet pleas to my dad, “Sevy...Sevy”. What I didn’t know until I became an adult was that we didn’t pull over solely because the law said we had to, or because my mom said so. We pulled over becasue something more important than us was happening. Something possibly life threating. Brave men (women still couldn’t be Police or Firefighters) were rushsing to do their jobs and maybe to save a life.

So last Sunday Gregory and I pulled all the way to the right and stopped, not just because I hear my mothers voice saying “pull over”. Not because it’s the law, but because some one’s life may have been in danger and it was the right thing to do, what’s more important than that.