Nick Poff's Blog, page 4

Milwaukee Bound, June 1, 2019

Schlemiel! Schlimazel! Hasenfeffer Incorporated! Where the hell are Laverne and Shirley when you need ’em? I’m off to Milwaukee for a reading at Outwords Books. I hope you’ll join author David Pratt and myself on June 1st. Looking forward to it!

http://www.outwordsbooks.com/

Saturday, June 1 – 3:00pm
Author ! Author !!
Outwords Books is delighted to host two popular authors, Outwords Books favorites both. David Pratt will read from Todd Sweeney: The Fiend of Fleet High while Nick Poffwill read from the latest of his popular Handyman series, the Handyman’s History.

This is a free event and everyone is welcome!

FLUER DE LYS LIAR 1969 I haven’t found a good way to sneak this record into any of my writing, so I’m sharing it here for the simple reason it MUST be shared. Fluer De Lys were way WAY ahead of their time with this one. Had it been released later — say maybe about 1975 — I believe it would have been a huge hit in both the UK and the US. Listen. Enjoy. Become addicted.

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FLUER DE LYS LIAR 1969

“Come to Jesus” for An Old Fart

I recently received a lovely review for my latest book THE HANDYMAN’S HISTORY. I was very pleased with her enjoyment of, and enthusiasm for the book. One thing sort of tickled me, though. To this young women Ed and Rick’s experiences in 1985 genuinely WERE historical. Really? It wasn’t THAT long ago. After some more thought, I realized the reviewer was right. This book and the three that proceeded it ARE gay history. Who knew?

The specific reasoning I had for setting Ed Stephens’ story in the past is all but lost in my foggy memory. I do recall thinking that Ed and Rick’s “meet cute” wouldn’t work well in the age of the internet. I also know that a good deal of my frustration with reading gay fiction in the eighties was the total lack of representation of guys like me; gay men who lived in the flyover states. We didn’t seem to matter. I was determined to change that in my writing. So, instead of putting Ed’s story in the 21st century, I decided to go backward to a time when men such as Ed were all but invisible. And frankly, this pop culture geek relished the idea of recreating a bygone era.

Here’s the thing, though: When the first book (THE HANDYMAN’S DREAM) was published in 2005 I didn’t think of it as anything but contemporary. Oh, sure, it was set twenty-five years in the past, but I assumed contemporary readers wouldn’t have an issue with that. I think my mind was so focused on guys like me — same life experiences and the same age range — that I assumed it’s 1980-1981 time frame would just be a novelty, something to set it off from other books. And you know what? Gay men my age LOVED it. I’ve had two men share with me their coming out experiences AFTER reading DREAM. I remember thinking, “well, if I get hit by a bus tomorrow, my life was worth it. My writing actually effected these men’s destinies.” How ’bout that, as Rick would say.

Well, here it is 2019. Time keeps flying forward, and poor ole Ed and Rick are still stuck in the eighties. I suppose I could either abandon them and go to work on more contemporary characters, or move them up to 2019 and discover what they are up to now. I’m not crazy about either of those options. I have to go where the muse takes me, and the muse has already told me that my next book will be another Ed and Rick story, and it will take place in 1987. It’s what I enjoy. It is what I am good at. But you know what? I now get that I am not writing contemporary gay fiction. I am indeed writing HISTORICAL gay fiction. How cool is that?

I’ll be honest: I’m often lost in the whirl of life in 2019. I have no problem adapting to the changes; I couldn’t live without the internet, and I think Chromecast is one of the best inventions ever, but now I am facing the cold, hard fact that my frame of reference is stuck somewhere in the 20th Century, not the present. (Let’s just be fucking grateful that my sociological and political outlook is VERY current, unlike a lot of people I could mention. Go Pete Buttigieg! You are my new hero, and I have no problem with having younger heroes. You know what’s going on today. I don’t.)

So it’s all good. I’ve been enlightened. When someone asks what kind of books I write (that’s ALWAYS the first question) I shall say confidently “I write historical gay fiction.” Hell, now that I think about it, it really is up to us old farts to share our experiences, whether anyone wants to listen or not. ‘Cause I’ll tell you, now that I am old, I realize what I didn’t thirty or forty years ago: That history is important. “Those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it.” Trust me, young LGBTQ folks: You do NOT want to have go through the shit shows we fogies survived.

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SINCE I FOUND YOU JOEL CHRISTIE 1966. This non-hit is one of the most joyful lost gems I’ve discovered in the past few years. If this does not brighten your day, check into a facility. You need help. If you really like it, I strongly suggest you go digging around the ‘net for more about and from Los Angeles’ Gold Star recording studio. Ah…audio ecstasy! Modern day producers should take a lesson, hell, take a whole course!

JOEL CHRISTIE – SINCE I FOUND YOU 1966

Goodbye, My Little Friend

I’ve been out of touch with this site for most of March. Here’s the reason: My furry companion Abner suddenly hit a rough patch. We happily celebrated his twelfth birthday in late February, but even then, in hindsight, I can see that Abner’s health was failing. These past few weeks have been awful — back and forth to the vet; worry; trying to administer medicine to an unhappy cat. I finally had to deal with the inevitable. This past Friday we made our last trip to Allen Veterinary Hospital. I’m grateful for both Dr. James and Debbie, who made the process as painless as possible.

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So now I’m wrestling with all the emotions that come with mourning, with grieving. The emotions are such a tangle in my brain I despair of ever finding the strand that will eventually unravel the mess.

If I have to settle for one word to describe the way I have felt the past few days, and continue to feel, it is “lonely.” This once cozy and comfortable home feels cold and empty. As do I.

The process of saying goodbye to my precious, sweet, gentle cat will continue. Time will pass. I’ve been up close and personal with death my entire life, so I know this is true. But now? Now, I just stand still and hurt.

I miss you, Abner. The depth of the loss I feel is a tribute to your faithful companionship. Thank you for keeping me company for the past ten years. You were truly there when I needed you.

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LONELY EAST COAST LEFT 1970 Here is proof that record company executives often have ears of tin. The Powers That Be dumped this catchy, evocative tune on the B side of this 45. The A side was given over to a supposedly hip tune calculated to resonate with radio listeners in 1970. Boy, did it suck. I truly believe if this record had been flipped we’d still be hearing this on Oldies stations today.

LONELY EAST COAST LEFT 1970

HIV: 1985 VS 2019

Readers of the Handyman books will never agree on one very basic part of the story: The inclusion of HIV reality.

I’ve heard from both sides of the argument. I’ve had readers tell me that including HIV facts and stories brings back painful memories of their own experiences with the AIDS crisis of the 1980’s. I’ve also heard from readers who heap praise on me for not ignoring it. I find myself squarely in the middle, as I remember those years with both bitterness and sadness. I’m still bitter over the needless suffering and ostracization of gay men. Sadness? I lost a lot of friends, and frankly, that still fucking hurts. A lot.

Ed’s story began in 1980, and as I continue to write about his life with Rick I feel it would be disingenuous to avoid the topic of HIV and AIDS. It was a big part of every gay man’s life in that era, whether they spoke of it or not. I enjoy writing about the past from a present day perspective, and unfortunately that means including the bad with the good. People have gotten a big kick out of my references to “New Coke” in the latest book, THE HANDYMAN’S HISTORY. Well, 1985 was also the year Rock Hudson died, and if you were not around then, believe me, that rocked the world as it put a specific face on AIDS. A very harsh, unforgiving spotlight was turned on gay men. It was uncomfortable and genuinely frightening at times.

I suppose I could avoid all of this — the gloomy stories that come from AIDS, the controversy and the fear — by moving the story back before AIDS, or moving it forward to a time when AIDS became more of a chronic illness as opposed to a death sentence. I can’t do that. The AIDS crisis and the reaction of gay men to the whole thing is as a huge part of our legacy, one just as important as the Stonewall riots. It shaped who we are today. I believe watching the whole thing unfold through the eyes of Ed Stephens is an important reminder: We’ve come a long way, but we still have a long way to go and much we need to accomplish.

And on a very personal note, I could not weave a story of that era without remembering my own experiences. To ignore something that had such a profound and life-changing impact on me and the other survivors would be spitting in the face of the ones who died. I remember Jay and Tom and Bruce and Mikey and all the others from my life who are gone with great affection. In some respects, Ed’s story is my tribute to them, and every gay man who struggled through those dark years to achieve some of what we take for granted today.

Speaking of which, there was a great episode last season on the “Will & Grace” reboot. Will hooked up with a millennial gay man whose coming out and general experience as a gay man had been pretty easy, which annoyed the hell out of Will. It finally came down to a point where either Will or the young man (I can’t recall which) said: “Okay. Either we have a gay history lesson or go to the bedroom for sweaty sex.” There was a pause, and Will began his gay tutorial. I all but leapt from chair and cheered. (Okay. Found the clip after I wrote this. See it below. ;-)) We mustn’t forget, nor must we allow the young ones to remain ignorant. If that makes me a stuffy old fart, so be it. I firmly believe that those who ignore the past are condemned to repeat it. And once was enough for me.

Last night I was watching the CBS Evening News. There was a story about a man in the UK who had had HIV eradicated from his body. They explained the very complicated procedure that allowed this miracle of sorts to happen. Jeff Glor wrapped up the story by quoting the CBS medical expert who said that the procedure was radical and too far fetched for any sort of general use. Essentially — NOT a cure, just another step toward one.

I sat quietly through the story, feeling almost no emotion, no reaction. After thirty-seven or so years of worrying about HIV and AIDS I guess I’m just numb. You see, for anyone who believes AIDS is not a “thing” in 2019, I will remind everyone that the Christian Right is still spewing the exact same garbage about AIDS and gay men as they were in 1985. That has not changed. According to them, we are responsible for all the ills of this planet and our society. Well, Pat Robertson, Jerry FOUL-well, Jr., Franklin Graham, Michelle Bachman, and the rest of you smug, money-grubbing holy rollers, I have two words: “You’re welcome.” Without us gay men I believe you’d be hurtin’ financially.

For everyone else, I’ll say this: Don’t get too comfortable. The fight ain’t over. 

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This was Friend and Lover’s follow-up to “Reach Out of the Darkness” in 1968. I discovered it a couple of years ago. I’ve been playing it over and over ever since, finding the lyrics just as apropos, if not more so, today as in the late sixties.

A Wise Man Changes His Mind  Friend And Lover   1968

I’m Glad Amos Lassen Is Glad I Am Back

http://reviewsbyamoslassen.com/?p=69383&fbclid=IwAR3SeKxqdrpjw6uuMTsmwr3DnhK7pfJtEvzFEh1yginHy-3s2LaXzRe6CZE

How THE HANDYMAN’S HISTORY Came To Be

I was facing a very uncertain future in 2008. Therefore, when I finished THE HANDYMAN’S PROMISE, I wanted the ending to work as an ending for the book, and, if need be, the series. Although I didn’t know what was going to happen to me, I DID know what was going to happen to Ed Stephens (kind of), which is the advantage of living life within one’s imagination. Everything turns out the way you want it.

I thought a lot about Ed and Rick and Porterfield over the years. I never really gave up hope that I’d someday land in the right circumstances to get more of the story into the world. In fact, as early as 2009 I had the next book planned in my mind. I wasn’t terribly satisfied with it, though. I felt it took the story too far away from where I had left it. Something, I thought, needs to happen before I can take “the guys” (that’s how I think of them) to another phase in their relationship. Too, there were the supporting characters, who mean as much to me as Ed and Rick. I’ve always felt the need to be as honest with them as I am about the guys.

I think it was was around 2012 or 2013 when the idea for what became THE HANDYMAN’S HISTORY first started to form in my mind. It had always bugged me that Ed seemed to be just existing until he met Rick in the autumn of 1980. What happened before that? How on Earth did a guy like Ed survive in a place like Porterfield all those years? I wanted to know as much about his past as his future.

I also began to wonder about Ed’s deceased dad, Tim Stephens. Ed obviously thought highly of him. What was his story?

Writers are like bag ladies; we are constantly picking up scraps that may appear unimportant to other people, but often become the kernels from which good stories grow. Somehow the idea of exploring Tim Stephens’ life became intertwined in my mind with a backstory based on bits and pieces of real life stories I’d collected over the years. It finally occurred to me that the best way to learn more about Ed’s past was through Tim.

I didn’t want it to be a “prequal,” though. I wanted to move Ed’s story with Rick forward as well. I began to conceive a book set in the present (well, present for the guys), with flashbacks to Ed’s earlier years. (SIDE NOTE: I cannot tell you how annoyed I was when I first saw THIS IS US on TV and watched the writers pull this concept off brilliantly. Shit, I thought. I should have gotten this book out years ago. Now it looks like I’m copying!) I began to see that something in the present, which turned out to be 1985 as I wanted to move past the terrible sadness of a main character’s death in early 1984, would allow Ed to turn inward and think about the past and his discomfort with it. So I dug around in my scrap bag and began tracing the history of both Tim Stephens and his son.

Putting this together made me realize that Rick would be put in the position of saying “Yes dear” a lot, and constantly providing support as opposed to drama. I liked that idea, though. I thought of this as Ed’s book, and I wanted him firmly center stage. Plus, Rick could have been impatient with Ed and not so supportive of his determination to lay the ghosts of the past to rest. The fact that Rick was next to Ed through every step, always having his back, said more about Rick and his relationship with Ed than I could have said in mere words.

The main goal for me as a writer and for Ed as a gay man living in a small town in the eighties was to align the past and the present and prepare Ed for his future. As the writing progressed I was amazed at what I learned. You may think that the writer dictates everything that happens in a story, but that simply isn’t so. Quite often the characters tell the writer what actually happens, and it’s not always what the writer had planned. THE HANDYMAN’S HISTORY is not the book I originally envisioned; with Ed’s input it came to life as a truer description of Ed and his quest to be a better man. Frankly, that’s when a writer turns into a doting parent of sorts. I am so PROUD of him! My mental picture of him has changed as well. I’ve always seen Ed as kind of boyish, in fact in this book Rick kids him at one point about losing his boyish charm. Ed has lost it. I now see him as a man in every sense of the word — tall, broad shouldered, and having a maturity that has made him a good deal more handsome than I ever pictured him previously. And for some reason I see his hair a good deal longer and his mustache thicker. I don’t know. That must have come from some picture that Ed emailed directly to my brain.

With this book, Ed Stephens has grown up. Again, I can’t tell you how proud I am of him. He is now ready to face whatever comes next. Not only that, but observing him with Rick in this book clued me in to the fact that Ed alone is strong, but together with Rick they are a force to be reckoned with. I expect great things of them going forward.

I did not see this coming. For the longest time I was stuck on the image that begins the book, Ed waking up on a dangerously cold morning in January to Bruce Springsteen’s “Cover Me” on the radio. My mission, if I would accept it, was to get Ed out of that bed and finish growing up with the help of the man sleeping next to him — the lover that would cover him, no matter what.

Mission accomplished. I hope you enjoy the book as much as I do. 

 

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COVER ME  BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN  1984

Keep Your Mouth Shut

I was told — in a very polite way, of course – to keep my shut and my negative thoughts to myself this morning.

Well, that’s not the first time this has happened, and it certainly won’t be the last. My tendency to point out the truth of any given situation has landed me in hot water many times. The thing is, I’ve had to face the reality of my own life over and over again. It’s given me a strong desire to cut through the bullshit and zero in on the crux of any matter. So once again, I must apologize for my Cassandra ways, and hope I don’t get the kind of aggravation SHE did for telling the truth.

Here goes:

I apologize for having the audacity to say that Indiana in general and Northeast Indiana specifically is NOT welcoming to LGBTQ folks. How dare I? I mean, even though it is perfectly legal to discriminate against LGBTQ folks when it comes to employment, housing, service, and health care, I shouldn’t say so, right? I should stick to the corporate line about how inclusive Indiana and Northeast Indiana specifically is where LGBTQ people are concerned, and urge them to come to “The Crossroads of America” and get a heaping helpin’ of that Hoosier Hospitality. Despite the fact that when I was recently fired from a job I had excelled at for over four years on a bogus charge, and a respected employment lawyer told me that a gay man has no recourse but to accept it and move on, I mustn’t rock the boat, nor imply that Northeast Indiana is not a happy, healthy place for LGBTQ people. I certainly should not share my experience as a gay man who has lived here his entire life, especially when that experience has taught me that acceptance of LGBTQ people in this area is surface oriented only. In other words, they may be polite to your faces, friends, but watch your back.

And for pity sake, I shouldn’t mention what is credible news at this moment in 2019, that Indiana is only one of five states without a Hate Crimes law, and that any attempt to pass a credible law with any sort of protection for marginalized people has been watered down to worthlessness by our self-righteous Republican politicians. Oh, and I probably should not add that they can do so and will do so at the approval of the majority of their constituents. Yep, living here is like a full-time Folsom Street Fair.

Now, mind you, a good many straight folks and even a lot of gay ones will tell you that despite the lack of a social safety net, this is a fine place for LGBTQ people, that despite any of the negative publicity Indiana in general and Northeast Indiana specifically receive, this is an “inclusive community.” I will admit in all honesty that in some respects this is true. I live in a nice neighborhood where my sexual orientation is not an issue. I have lots of straight friends who do not seem to be particularly perturbed that I am gay. However, every employment experience I have ever had has been fraught with horror that I would be rejected for my sexual orientation. Why? For the simple reason that this truth-teller has noted over and over again that it IS an issue, whether the employer will admit it or not. (The lingering stench of Christianity is usually a motivation behind this.)

So, by all means, LGBTQ people, come to Northeast Indiana! Make friends! Enjoy all we have to offer! And for cryin’ out loud, whatever you do, tell that awful Nick Poff to shut the fuck up when he reminds you that here you’re even more of a second-class citizen than you are elsewhere.

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SMILING FACES SOMETIMES  THE UNDISPUTED TRUTH 1971

Disco Doesn’t Suck — White Straight Guys Do

I just finished watching a documentary about Studio 54 on Netflix. The film was an in-depth look at the guys behind the infamous discotheque and the whole Studio 54 phenomenon of the late seventies. (Before I forget, I highly recommend THE SECRET DISCO REVOLUTION for a thorough historical look at disco music, the artists, and the disco era.)

So I’m watching this and I suddenly realize this is 2019, which means it has been (Oh, My Lord) forty years since I graduated high school, which also means we are coming up on the fortieth anniversary of the Disco Demolition night at Chicago’s Comiskey park. I’m sure there will be all sorts of nostalgic pieces about this come July, but I want to get my licks in now while I’m thinking about it.

I’m still annoyed by the insanity of that stunt night in the summer of ’79, and I make no apologies for it. The disc jockey who started the whole thing, Steve Dahl, has said for years that there was nothing homophobic about his “disco sucks” movement, that it was a reaction to losing a job at a radio station that went from rock to disco, and also a general reaction of straight guys who didn’t fit into the disco scene.

I call bullshit.

Disco music and the whole concept of “disco” as a source of entertainment and recreation was created by black men, gay men, and women. I noticed at the time that a lot of white straight guy anger toward disco seemed to have a lot to do with the fact that three groups of people they had marginalized for centuries were suddenly having a good time without their leadership, their overall input, and without them. In short, they had no control over disco and the people who were enjoying it, so they did everything they could to destroy it.

What a bunch of fuckin’ crybabies.

 I mean, how DARE we? How dare the people those men had controlled for so long have fun without them? How dare we make own music and our own rules? The audacity of it! So these supposedly macho manly men got together and threw a big ole drama queen hissy fit and pissed all over our parade. Typical. I was reminded of this recently with the brouhaha over BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY, the biographical movie about Freddie Mercury. I have not seen it, but the way it was described to me makes me believe the movie was made for all the guys I knew in high school who loved Queen but hated fags.

Honestly, I didn’t think about that insanity from the summer of ’79 for many years, but events over the past few years have brought it back to me. White straight guys are under attack, you know. Women are actually CALLING THEM OUT for being sexual predators. Black men and gay men are calling them out for being targets of their racial and sexual orientation bias. Mercy! I raise a hand to my heart and shake my head. Those poor men! How they must be suffering these days.

Yeah. Cry me a river.

Now, I suppose if I were a bigger, kinder kind of guy I might actually feel some stirring of sympathy for the alleged plight of the white straight man, but I have a tendency to be resentful by nature, so I have no pity or sympathy to share. Empathy? You bet. Gay men such as myself have been treated abominably for hundreds of years, so when I see the beginnings of targets being drawn I can’t help but empathize. I have not, however, forgiven or forgotten. I’ve never been given a reason to do so. As I write this, the Republican politicians of my home state,  Indiana, are doing everything in their super majority power to keep marginalized Hoosiers as marginalized as possible. That shit bag in the White House and his giant collection of old white straight guy shit bags are doing the same. (I won’t get into the Christian thing. That’s for another piece and another time.) Oh, every now and again someone will be tripped up for something they have said, and then will  issue a half-assed apology, obviously something put together using a form apology letter found on the internet. I haven’t forgiven or forgotten because not once, NOT ONCE, have a heard a genuine apology. I doubt I ever will. White Straight guys do not have to apologize. They never have because they are in charge. And by God, that’s why they are being even bigger asses than usual, because they fear they might lose that power….and what? Be treated the way they’ve treated black and gay men and women for centuries? One might call that karma, but I’m more comfortable thinking of it as “what goes around comes around.” Eventually.

Still, I can’t imagine I will see that in my lifetime. I don’t think anyone who went out of their way to make my life as a gay man miserable will ever apologize. I doubt that any white straight guy will ever cough up an apology that actually addresses the damage they have done to gay men in general. I say this because I’ve been testing straight people (both men and women) on this for years. When I ask them if they want to trade places with me and experience what true personal and cultural humiliation feels like, each and every one of them have gotten a deer in the headlights look, a kind of frozen, silent terror. No, they don’t want to walk in my shoes, and what’s more, they don’t want to admit it, nor do they feel the need to contribute anything in the way of empathy. They can’t. They refuse to allow themselves to even think for a moment what being me or any other LGBTQ person would be like. They sense how painful it is, so they turn away to protect themselves. Can’t say as I blame them, really. Who’d ask for this?

Getting back to disco, the whole backlash from straight guys against disco was especially hurtful to me as this happened at a time in my life when I was trying to come out. The disgust and hatred for a form of music I enjoyed and made me feel as though I might actually be a part of something bigger than myself just shoved me farther back in the closet. It hurt. You can say “get over it;” you can say “deal with it,” and I have. I’m still here, still queer, and still playing my disco, not the vinyl records I still have, but via mp3. However, under the scar tissue of “getting over it” are some pretty deep wounds. I think if someone from the disco opposition (white straight guys) admitted that I have a right to be hurt and angry, a lot of that hurt would go away.

So when a bunch of wags are writing and recording their “it was forty years ago today that a bunch of angry men blew up disco records at Comiskey Park” this summer, please remember that more than a bunch of plastic bit the dust that night. A hell of a lot of self-esteem from people who were constantly told they were not allowed to have self-esteem was destroyed as well.

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This is far from being my favorite Diana Ross record, but it WAS one of the first songs I ever danced to inside the walls of a gay bar in the autumn of 1980. Coming Out indeed! I’ve been doing that over and over ever since.

I’M COING OUT DIANA ROSS 1980

The Handyman’s History Kindle Or Softcover available at Amazon.com

Cherry Pickers

Since when do people get to custom build their convictions? Are there options I simply don’t know about?

Consider the Religious Right: They rain all kinds of condemnation down on LGBT people, and will spout Bible verses to prove their righteousness. Am I the only who is puzzled that they feel no need to follow ALL the rules and regulations laid out in that particular book? God lets them choose? I must have been home sick the day they talked about that in Sunday school.

Actor Chris Pratt is currently justifying his membership in a trendy Los Angeles church that discriminates against LGBT people, and has been involved in conversion therapy. Mr. Pratt says that his faith has nothing to do with where he attends services. Nice try, Chris. As long as you attend their services, and as long as you tithe from your Jurassic, monster-sized paychecks, you are supporting abuse against LGBTQ folks.

A year or so ago I read a WAPO article about Trump voters in Iowa. One man, a Republican party county chairman, said his best friend was a “gay gentleman,” and how he would “bleed out for that man.” Really? You gonna take his place in the gas chamber? Sorry, but I don’t particularly want a friend whose idea of loyalty is supporting a regime that is determined to make life a living hell for me.

Recently I saw another Trump supporter write on Facebook that he has lots of gay, black, and Hispanic friends. You like and support that shit bird in the White House? Okay. Fine. You bought the whole fucking package, mister. Tell THAT to your gay, black, and Hispanic friends.

I was watching a documentary on the Alt Right yesterday. I cannot remember who said this, but it was very true. “Perhaps not all Trump supporters are racist, but all racists are Trump supporters.” Wow, I sure want to be in that company!

Sorry, folks. You don’t get to cherry pick your convictions. If you throw your support to a politician, a religion, a school of thought, a celebrity, or whoever you choose to follow, you get the whole thing. You don’t get any “yes buts,” you don’t get to deflect, play the disingenuous card, or pat yourself on the back for your supposedly more charitable beliefs. You buy bullshit, it’s your pile of bullshit. It is yours to maintain, and it is yours to keep or throw away. But don’t tell me you support my ardent wish for full citizenship in this country while you support those who want me eliminated from the conversation. I have more respect for the genuine haters; at least I know exactly where they stand. The cherry pickers? If one of them was standing between me and the Nazis, I would not turn to them for help, I’d just kiss my ass goodbye. Cherry pickers always pick the path of least resistance. Oh, and for them, the means always justify the ends. Just ask Sarah Huckabee (“Lying For God”) Sack-A-Shit.

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INCREDIBLY COOL RECORD YOU SHOULD KNOW: CHERRY PIE BY SIXTH DAY CREATION 1969.  I swear I have a different interpretation of the lyrics every time I hear it. Anyone who has yet to learn how subversive bubble music is has my sympathy. They don’t know what they are missing. If this one had broken out beyond Cincinnati, I believe we’d all be familiar with it today. 

SIXTH DAY CREATION  CHERRY PIE  1969