The Internet Has Everything...

Sexually transmitted diseases are a big problem, especially among the gay community in big cities. So you've already hooked up with dozens of people when it turns out you've come down with the clap. You get a pang of guilt. How do I tell all these people I might have caused them to burn like hellfire when they take a whiz? I can't do it face to face since it's too embarassing. E-mailing them would be better but I don't want to be ostracized. Whatever is a boi to do?

Well, San Francisco has the answer. Anonymous e-cards! Hey, you've been screwed!

The sad thing is, there are enough people in this boat to warrant this website. And it's not a joke. I don't mean to make light of people's plights, and young people especially make mistakes since they often feel immortal or liberated right after coming out. But dude, if you're going to be a slut, wear a fucking condom. And if you don't want to wear a fucking condom, find someone you like and get married. Oh wait....

And Speaking of Nobels...

Go ubiquitination!

Another One Bites the Dust

First it was Rosalind Franklin, back in the day. A few months ago it was Crick. Now, sadly, Maurice Wilkins, that other guy who won the Nobel Prize for discovering the structure of DNA passed away this week, at the tender age of 88. I'm beginning to believe they're going in order of talent. And if I'm correct that means Watson's going to live forever...

And in the South...

Today a Louisiana judge threw out the anti-marriage equality (don't you love that double-speak?) amendment passed last month, based on the constitutional requirement that all amendments serve one purpose and one purpose only. I can almost hear the screams of liberal judicial activism right now. Wait. What was that? The judge was a Republican? Wait, he must have caved in to some emotional Brownshirt manipulations by sympathetic gay plantiffs. Wait, what was that? He said, "This is a matter of law. Emotions do not, will not play a part in this court's ruling"??? But... but... but...!!! Ah judicial activism judicial activism judicial activism!!! Whew, I feel better now. Wow, my mommy was right; if I say something enough times I can force myself to believe it.

An Unlikely Ally

Proponents of same-sex marriage bans, especially the poorly worded ones, like to claim that their proposals are only meant to protect marriage and won't have any other over-reaching effects on private contracts, etc. Then why, pray tell, is the AARP opposing the SSM amendment in Ohio? Yep, that's right, the AARP. As in old people. As in people, when polled, are generally around 80% in favor of banning same-sex marriage. Why on earth would they propose an amendment that is in-line with their opinions. Oh wait:

“State Issue One would deny property ownership rights, inheritance, pensions, power of attorney and other matters of vital interest to the health and well being of unmarried older couples," AARP Ohio said in a statement.

But I thought it was only supposed to stop gay marriage?

Intelligent Science?

I have no idea how this little piece of information slipped under my radar, especially since I've been preparing to give a workshop on Intelligent Design v. Darwinism (don't worry, I'm going to come heavily down on ID if I can), but it appears as though a peer-reviewed journal has published an article in support of ID. Now granted, it is in a very low-impact journal for taxonomists, and has adequately been debunked, but it gives credibility to the movement which is largely just Creationism warmed over.

What I can't understand is how legitimate scientists get caught up in this trap. The Theory of Evolution is a scientific theory because it asks specific questions that can be proven or disproven. It makes no claims on the origins of life. I understand how some religious people may feel uncomfortable about evolution being one big string of epistatic accidents, but why put limits on the power of God? Since He's omnipotent and omniscient, why couldn't He have perfectly planned the architecture of life with random chance as one of its driving principles? Why do we have to constantly be finding jobs for God to do and try to fit Him into our feeble, limited worldview? And why do we have to co-opt science to make ourselves feel better about our faith? I can understand this crap from the Fundies, but there are a lot of other people jumping on the band-wagon, apparently because reconciling molecular evolution with a divine creator is too challenging. Well so is the Mystery of the Holy Trinity and Jesus's divinity and I don't see anyone coming up with stupid pseudo-theological theories about that (besides the Mormons, or course).

Intelligent Design is not science. It is a flawed misinterpretation of science and an incorrect application of the scientific method. It has to frequently ignore scientific evidence in order to proport the things it does and by allowing it into a scientific journal it does more damage to science than leaving it out does damage to religion. Some people can look at evolution and philosophize that God does not exist. Some people can look at evolution and be even more reassured than before that God indeed exists. And some people can point to evolution and say it was aliens who made us. There is no limit to the philosophies of the human mind. But no one can point to evolution and say confidently that it is proof of their philosophical position.

A casual observer might note that evolution seems to remain silent on the philosophies of Man. But that is exactly how science is meant to operate. It should report only what is testable and remain neutral to the philosophies of its handlers. Intelligent Design, however, does not, which means that ID has absolutely no place in a scientific journal, let alone in a science classroom.

Happy (Belated) Third of the Month!

I'm sorry that I didn't get a chance to wish you all a Happy Third of the Month on it's actual blessed day, but I was in Boston. I celebrated the beauty that is me yesterday by not taking the bus back, a bus that no doubt would have been full of people crazier (if possible) than on my ride up. Instead I gave myself a treat and went business-class Amtrak and by golly it's really the only way to travel (short of the shuttle which I can never afford). Yeah, I know it's pricey but when you get back instead of being tired because you've been sitting next to some insane woman reading self-help books and taking diligent notes or behind a man who insists on having his seat all the way back, even though he spends half the time leaning forward, you are actually rested because you've had a nice, leisurely snack of cheese and crackers and wine have watched the sun set over the Connecticut coastline. And you get free soda! It really does make everything better. And then when you get home you can watch The Wire and not be grouchy.

So remember, whether or not it is the Third of the Month, or the fourth of the month, or the twenty-fourth of the month, love yourself. Love yourself, because everyone else loves you and you wouldn't want to be the only one left out. Love yourself because love is what the world needs now and there's just so little of it and you wouldn't want to spread it around too liberally and not have anything left over for yourself, now would you? Love yourself because you can't trust other people to do it for you, even though they really should cuz you kick ass. And love yourself because when you're used to loving yourself it helps make loving everyone else just a little bit easier. And like I said before, the world needs love. Love, sweet love.

And plaid. The world definitely needs plaid. And moist towellettes. Oh, and cheese. But not the kind with weird fruits or nuts or stuff in it; that shit's just weird.

Defend Traditional Marriage!

The Faithful Skeptic wants to defend "traditional" marriage. Hiliarious!

Similarly, I've never liked the term traditional marriage, because it tends to lead to disengenious arguments about the state of modern marriage and its links to ancient or older traditions. But I'm hard-pressed to find another one. However I will say that the best PC term I've heard to date was from the New York Times last month: 2-sex Marriage.

Two Guys, a Camaro and an Alpaca

This weekend the boy and I to the Homaro into Guilford, CT for some apple- and raspberry-picking. For some reason he got it into his head that he wanted to do a lot of baking this week and I got into my head that you can't make a proper apple pie if you don't pick your own apples (similarly, if you can't harvest your own mussels you should make sure that the ones you buy from your fishmonger were grown on a rope in the middle of a fjord). So off we went, picking about 35 lbs of apples and 3 lbs of raspberries.

Now I love raspberries, but we had to cart them back to New York on a train and since we were rushing to catch it we didn't have time to put it in a proper bag or something so they were sitting open in a carboard container. Right next to me. So I picked at them. The whole ride home. For those of you who have never eaten a pound of raspberries in one sitting you have absolutely no idea the kind of upset stomach and noxious gas that they induce. It was also amusing to be lugging 35 lbs of apples and (now) 2 lbs of raspberries down 125th St. to the subway. We had a few people eyeing us suspiciously, a few people eyeing us confuddled, and one woman on Metro North eyeing us longingly, hoping against hope that I might miss one of the apples I kept dropping on the seat.

In the end we got to make a delicious raspberry tart and a (hopefully delicious) apple-raspberry pie. And since we have approximately 32 lbs of apples left, I see a few more pies, streussels and tarts in my future. And probably a lot more gas...

Must See TV

After a less than stellar dinner at Wondee Siam II (Wondee Siam I was packed and their sister restaurant across the street isn't nearly as good (can we say $10 corking fee?!)) I was tired and headed home where I watched a little TV before crashing early. I caught a bit of The Apprentice, but like to wait until Saturdays to see it because they have amazing, juicy extra footage from the board room. Trump still kicks ass. As does Carolyn (if not more so this season). I never warmed up to George. This season, my money's on Pamela or Ivana (although her name might put her at a disadvantage). I can't get behind any of the men, although I'd like to get behind a few of them, if you know what I mean (oh, smack!).

But afterwards I slid back into my old standbys for an evening alone, South Park and the Daily Show. I don't know how or why I'd missed this, but the South Park episode where the kids go on a Lord of the Rings quest to get the One Video (the porno Backyard Sluts 9 in a LOTR box) back to the video store is pure genius. Genius. Although less genius then when Jon Stewart suggested to Gwenyth Paltrow that she let his kid bang hers. His newborn and her newborn. I have a feeling that Gwenyth won't be accepting any more invitations to appear on the Daily Show.....

Area Code Misery

Well, I finally did it. Today, I canceled my ground line. My blessed phone number, that 212 with such an easy, rhythmic feel to it that I had it memorized in less than 10 seconds, that wonderful, wonderful phone number that I'd had for four blessed years, that number that I finally got purged from most telemarketing lists so for the first time in just under two years I've been able to sleep past 8:15 on the weekends, that fantastic ten digit number will soon belong to someone else.

Please, join me in a moment of silence.

Now you may weep openly with me, so I don't look like a pansy all by myself.

Relaxation...

So I haven't blogged in a while because I've been out of town a good deal. Since I didn't get a chance to get a real summer vacation, and since summer was ending, I decided it was time to relax. And relax I did! My relaxation reached fairly epic proportions at one point.

I shall begin with Labor Day weekend. I decided to join the boy and his fam in a cabin in Georgia. We started relaxing early on Thursday by renting the gayest car on the planet, the PT Cruiser, against our will. We relaxed for 16 straight hours in which we made many relaxing detours through various inner cities in an attempt to find a multitude of Starbucks Skyline mugs. We paused briefly from our relaxation in North Carolina since too much relaxing in a PT (Poon-Tang) Cruiser is bad for your health.

The cabin was in a loverly spot in the Blue Ridge Mountains, far away from everything, which meant we spent most of our time having his sister, our Relaxation Coordinator, driving to various spots of relaxation, where we enjoyed a non-stop barage of relaxing mountain activities such as rafting a class 4 rapids, galloping through the woods on a flatulent horse for two hours, and trying to stay afloat on an inner tube in a chin-deep river travelling forty miles an hour while trying not to spill our beer. So blissfully relaxing!

When we weren't doing such relaxing outdoorsy events, we were relaxing in front of the Weather Channel in an attempt not to wonder if the boy's parents (who live in Florida) would have a house to go back to after their relaxing vacation.

After a few days of this, we decided it was time to relax some more, so we piled back into the gay-wad mobile and drove back to New York. I then got to wake up 6 hours later so I could get to work early, scrample to get my poster ready for my conference and then get up even earlier the next day to spend the rest of the weekend relaxing on the Cape. And by relaxing I mean going to relaxingly long talks about phophatydalinositol involvement in cell signaling, without a break, from 6pm on Wednesday until noon on Saturday. Literally. Which was wonderful because who wants relaxing activities like an hour long lecture about PIP2 binding to FYVE domains in an un-airconditioned auditorium with 127-year-old wooden seats to be interrrupted by something as horrible as sunny weather and all-you-can-eat-oyster bars?

It's a good thing that I got to relax so much because when I got back to work I was saddled with the wonderful job of training our new technician, which means that if my vacation hadn't been relaxing and I wasn't terribly eager to jump right back into my own work and try to get the hell out of graduate school in a reasonable amount of time, I wouldn't really have been able to anyway.

Oh well. At least I know I'm never buying a PT Cruiser.

That Box Turtle's Lookin' Fine...

Apparently if you want to marry a box turtle and make sure he gets insurance, just go work for Home Depot.

The Human Rights Campaign today condemned Home Depot, Sprint, Ecolab and Waste Management — all Fortune 500 companies — for offering their employees pet insurance but not domestic partner health insurance.

“Paying for a parrot’s but not a person’s hospital stay is absurd,” said HRC President Cheryl Jacques. “This is no joke. Employees deserve better from these companies.”

John Cornyn would be proud.

An Absolutely Positively 100% Guaranteed Way To Piss Off Your Lover/Partner/Spouse/Trick/Prostitute/RNC Delegate:

Out of the blue, laugh uncontrollably during sexual intercourse.... Or grow facial hair.

ThirdoftheMonthless

I regret to inform you, my loyal readers (I think there are more than one of you) that this Third of the Month you are going to have to go without my words of wisdom, for alas I shall be out of touch with civilization (Georgia) where I will be spending Labor Day weekend in the mountains. So if you come looking for some Third of the Month advice on Friday, just click here. That should cover you in a pinch.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Within the past year I've switched from getting my haircut at my local barber (who I never really liked but went to support the fact that he had issues of Playboy in the waiting area) to using a more stylish "unisex salon." It's marginally more expensive but I get a marginally better haircut, so I don't miss Jack's so much. What I do miss, however, is the lather. Any guy who gets his hair cut from an old-school barber knows what I'm talking about, that little machine that looks thirty years old and pumps out the warmest, thickest, creamiest shaving cream ever. Then they rub it into your neckline and sideburns and take a straight-edge razor to your bare flesh and clean up the lines. Lo! how I do miss that wonderful sensation. Instead, these "salons" use that fancy-wancy electric razor that goes scrape scrape scrape along your tender, dry neckline. And it isn't nearly as clean and sexy. It's enough to make me want to go back to Jack's. Well, that and the Playboy.

Gays Will Be Gays

It's not very often that the Republican National Convention comes to a place like New York City, so I've felt compelled to participate. That is the reason I ended up at an RNC event last night. Well, OK, that and the free booze. It was hosted by the Human Rights Campaign and Victory in association with the Log Cabin Republicans. And it was in Chelsea. Which means it was pretty gay. Sure, it was a bunch of gay Republicans and so they were dressed slightly less whorish than your average queer, but when push came to shove, everyone else was there for the free booze as well. And by the end of the evening it had more or less turned into any gay bar in the city, only with more neckties.

And as I said, gays will be gays. When Rep. Christopher Shays (from my homestate!) made a comment about his very young looking college intern (who was in the room) having to lick envelopes, the guy behind me said, quite audibly, "He can lick anything he wants..." I guess you can take the liberal out of the fag but you can't take the fag out of the Republican.

Area Code Angst

So for sixth months I've been paying for a phone line that I don't use because my phone is broken. I kept it around because I thought that some day I'd get a new computer and start using my dial-up service again. Now that I have a new computer, I've decided that dial-up is too slow and now I want Road Runner. I can't afford to pay for a high-speed internet connection and a phone I don't use. But....

I don't want to give up my 212 area code. Whatever is a boy to do?

Tashalee...

... is a big fat doody-head. Just thought you should know.

All My Sons

While certainly very similar in many respects, America and Britain can be worlds apart sometimes. Today we have Bush and Blair, who could never be mistaken for each other. But back in the day we had Reagan and Thatcher, two peas in a pod who worked steadfastedly to bring the threat of Communism crashing down. But what are their inheritors doing today? Fighting the good fight, of course. But in very different ways.

Ron Reagan, Jr. is fighting the good fight by being the poster-boy for embryonic stem cell research, thereby protecting the AARP from the grisly fate of senility. Mark Thatcher, on the other hand, is financing military coups to overthrow brutal African dictators, thereby protecting entire populations from massive human rights violations. Way to go, boys!