Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Gay Bashin' is the Fashion?

Tourguider must admit to a bit of skepticism on the issue of Gay Bashing. Who really does this now, after gayness and acceptance seems to suffuse the culture just about anywhere?
The thought was brought on by an article on how the pier that sticks out into the Hudson from the end of Christopher St., was a haven for LBGT-whatever youth.
Well, you'll always find bullying in kids, caused by something as simple as what kind of shoes they wear, so I believe that. But the idea of gangs of youth cruising Chelsea to attack adult gay men seems farfetched. It's like going to South Williamsburg to Jew-Bash. You would have to find someone very alone.
On the other hand, there was a sickening assault on two hetero Latino men in Queens walking with arms around each other, when a man with a bat not only assaulted the two, but came back when he saw one still moving and clubbed him to death.
Incredibly, the bat-wielder actually said "so I killed someone. Does that make me a bad guy?" Is this absolute amorality or immorality?
Once again, New York seems to be a great market for Louisville Sluggers, as so many bat attacks in the past attest. Do people who swing baseball bats at other people's heads really believe that they won't kill them at worst or cause permanent brain damage at best? I guess the National Bat Association (NBA) would be a hell of a lobbying force.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Homer homerun

Homer Simpson led a grunge band in the 1990s. This will come as a surprise for those who viewed Homer's youth as being the late 1970s. His band inspired Nirvana and other bands of the time, supposedly, in the Simpsons.
I recently came across a critique, finally, of grunge. The author felt that grunge "legitimized suffering."
Yes, that was the point. Emotions like hate, self-hate, suicide, and depression were given the gift and power of song.
The knowledge that someone out there knew what these emotions feel like probably saved hundreds of suicides. I screamed and screamed along with those songs. Perversely, it was my greatest pleasure.

Hounded by Shadow Man

I notice in the Dashboard space that should be a photo or an avatar, I have a shadow man. Who is this guy? A spy? A generic threatening shape? Is he the one getting all the action here in my own space? All I know is that he follows me everywhere. Now he's even on my blog space!
I tried once to have a cop arrest him, but the officer laughed it off.
I decided to become vigilante. I punched the shadow repeatedly, but every time I thought I'd disposed of him, he came back. All right then, let's get physical! I took out all the knives in my house and stabbed that bastard over and over. The result: still there.

Well, I got sick of it, and went to the East River and tried to dispose of the corpse. But instead of sinking, Shadow Man just lay there on top of the water. I swear I saw him grinning.
If anybody wants to contact me, I'll be after that guy pretty much 24/7 from now on.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

The Golden Age of Fellatio

Please no one of a certain age or sensitivity read this.
It all seemed to start with Monica Lewinsky. What was she guilty of, exactly?
I can't see as to how I can state this delicately. She, uh, pleasured the president (Clinton, at the time) with oral attention.
Afterward, she showed off the evidence, on her dress, and elsewhere. This apparently was her big break, her shot at stardom (double-entendre intentional).
After that, the flood gates opened. Given the thumbs-up by the President, both girls and boys seemed to think a bj was the natural course of in a relationship beyond five minutes.
After the Lewinsky affair, lots more came to follow.
One book, called "Restless Virgins," came from two recent female graduates of Milton Academy. Milton, outside Boston, has had as numerous illustrious alums in the Kennedy and Rockefeller clans.
All of this came to climax (sorry I couldn't resist) when a sophomore girl was found in the locker room giving pleasure to five guys on the hockey team. I don't know whether it was one after another, or somehow, all at once (I need to buy the thing, instead of being a sicko covertly looking at Borders).
The players apparently would play a game called "Stoneface." This was a competition in which the guys would be serviced, but lost if they showed evidence of pleasure (such as closing your eyes, opening your mouth in exstacy etc.).
The authors, a few years out of college, basically said the same thing as Tom Wolfe in "My name is Charlotte Simmons." Stop having sex (and yes, that means oral too) with guys you barely know.
So maybe this is a post from a sexually frustrated middle-aged man. The danger is, of course, that this is the path to boredom. If you want something different and thrilling, try an aardvark.
Otherwise, if you are humping on the dance floor, the reaction is just the same: yawn.

Friday, March 13, 2009

Jugamos, Dominicanos

I read with great sadness that that immigrants from the Dominican Republic, particularly teenagers, have renounced their god-given heritage. Too many drug arrests have led to the plague, by taking our teen Dominicanos out of the dance and into the jailhouse.
The NYT, as usual always found itself far ahead of the pack in the incredibly shrinking NY newsroom.
"Jugamos," said the MC, "you are a tropical people. Play your overly-loud and pointless music far into the night!"
So play; play on; jugamous! Set a boom box or other things loudest outside a bodega - and share so thoughtfully these obnoxious and moronic songs which sound like elevator music turned up to to 11. Bondaleo!

Monday, March 9, 2009

Credit in the Straight World

Argue it one way or another, but the greatest contribution of Gen X (besides the Onion) was musical. In the early 1990s', we finally kicked overplayed Classic Rock off the airways and stereos. Grunge and its offshoots were the most powerful rock music made in 20 years. I couldn't believe it when I traveled to Philly that the stations they had devoted to endlessly playing "Satisfaction" finally discovered and broadcast "our" music.
But here comes the advertising industry to acknowledge that we are now the supposedly responsible generation dealing both with children and our elderly parents. How? They've offered the old-fashioned sell-out.
It was bad enough that the Smiths allowed "Everyday is Like Sunday" to be a football game anthem. The song, whose chorus ends up in "everyday is silent and gray," was about nuclear Armageddon. But only the "everyday is like ..." was broadcast, the part about the end of the world is conveniently left out.
Last night, though, I heard the catchy guitar beginning of Smashing Pumpkins "Today" in some series of ads. Help! We're them (the boomers). Selling out when you can no longer push record sales (and that's about everyone now).
All right. I know we have to face up to responsibility sometime. Life is difficult. But the transition was so fast, from the boomers to their Gen Y children. We had about four years of media attention. Kurt died and that was about it.
Economists and the like say that caring for the aging boomers is the growth industry of the future, since they are a much larger generation than us, and they are living much longer than in the past. That's where the money is - serving them.
That's probably true, though they better knock off the supercilious attitude about how they magically ended the Vietnam War and resistance to civil rights in the south.
I grew to loathe them when in Madison because the campus and city were practically uncontrollable in the late 1960s, with the National Guard as frequent guests. But the violence lasted for under four years, after which the Nixon draft was curtailed and students in late 1970 (after Kent State and the bombing in Madison) quickly went back to knocking back pitchers at the student union.
But were talking about music here. At this point, with so many outlets, it's hard to see what's really popular. U2 is the last big band. Nobody knows what's next. But please, Gen Y, don't copy our worst material. Listen to the past, take what you can, and leave the rest.
I'll be damned if I'm going to become one of those obnoxious Boomers who think their music and experience is the end all and be all. Put us out to pasture where we belong. Moooo.