An op-ed printed today in the Post ("Damned for what we aren't") kind of hit the spot when it comes to my understanding of the District. We should all despair. The capital district has, once
again, ranked 51st in the list of "Best states to raise a child."
Now, those of you with keen eyesight will see the problem immediately.
The Congress has done it again. For some reason, these men (and yes, they are men, they are white, they are wealthy, the whole set of often-quoted pieces) feel that by virtue of being elected in South Dakota, or Georgia, or North Carolina they are entitled to dictate what the residents of the District of Columbia can and can't do.
I have officially decided that nine of every ten sport utility vehicle drivers are horses' asses. I've also established that the remaining 10 percent of SUV drivers are perfectly fine people who have fallen prey to a dastardly trend.
I very frequently get messages asking me to call American Airlines or ABC or Anhaeuser-Busch or HBO or MTV or whomever asking me to say "thank you" because I'm being included and represented. The latest one is this whole Annhaeuser-Busch hoopla about them putting out an ad in Out and The Advocate showing two (male) hands holding. I less often get messages asking me to call Wendy's or Cracker Barrel or Coors or JC Penney because they're pulling away from anything associated with Queer.
When I grow up,
I want to be a Professional Homosexual
I would make it
my job to know the words to every new House beat,
and would mouth the words to
it, my lips quivering full of passion--
the sounds of HiNRG my mantra, each
Please Don't Go and Baby Don't Go my own call,
my own plea...
I would make it
my duty to see every new movie with a Gay character,
and repeat its lines, my
lips quivering full of passion--
the lines of Hollywood my validation, each
minor character my own duty to know...