This Soda Might Be Hard To Swallow

I don't normally take an entire entry to go down an equal rights road. But today I feel a little pissed off. So what the hell. Straight people will have to bear with me. I've endured Parade Magazine all these years. You can deal with this.

For a while now, gay people have been trying to deal with a response to DOMA... The Defense of Marriage Act. I've come up with it.

I think it's time for one of my elected representatives to introduce SODA: The Sexual Orientation Discount Act.

Here's the premise.

The conservative right spends an inexplicable amount of time and energy devising ways to shortchange gay men and women of their rights on the federal, state and local level. Depending on the issue and community, these efforts have either been partially or entirely successful. So, if our rights are to be discounted, our taxes should be discounted as well.

Here's how it works.

Each right is assigned a value based on its importance in the American fabric. As these rights are deprived, the value is discounted on our tax returns, by a newly created IRS form. Here are some possible examples:

MARRIAGE: 35%
MILITARY SERVICE: 8%
ADOPTING CHILDREN: 15% (currently only an issue in Florida, so only gay Florida residents are eligible.)
EDUCATIONAL OPPORTUNITIES: 9%
PRIVATE SECTOR EMPLOYMENT: 11%
HOUSING CHOICE: 16%
HOSPITAL VISITATION EQUALITY: 7%
ESTATE EQUALITY: 7%

The following discounts are available only in the communities where applicable:
LOCAL GOVERNMENT EMPLOYMENT: 11%
TEACHING: 16%
LACK OF HATE CRIME PROTECTION: 9%

These are only examples. There could, of course, be more.

People would qualify for the discounts by filling out a simple IRS form where they would simply:
A) Declare they are gay;
B) Check off the discounts for which they are eligible;
C) Apply the discounts to their federal, state and local income taxes;
D) Calculate similar discounts to their local property taxes;
E) Calculate the total, then enter it on a line on their 1040 form to be deducted from their tax obligation.

No further proof or documentation would be required.

Critics might argue that it would be possible for some dishonest heterosexuals to claim they are gay, simply to get the tax advantages. I find this difficult to believe. But even if it happened, it would serve only as a balance, considering the enormous number of closet cases who continue to try to pass themselves off as straight.

This is just a starting point, but, like all IRS codes, I believe it could have the potential to develop into an entire bookshelf of long overdue tax breaks.

Now, let's calculate the cost.

Assuming the standard 10% number for the nation's gay population, we get 30 million people. Realizing that gays and lesbians have higher average salaries, we're looking at taxable income well in excess of one trillion dollars. Given that gays and lesbians have fewer average deductions, you're looking at taxable gross income of about $900 billion dollars. Once you calculate a conservative federal tax rate of 23%, plus state and local taxes, then apply the SODA deductions you're probably looking at tax losses of about $250 Billion.

That's $250,000,000,000.

That should close a few thousand schools, stop construction of a few highways, and shut down a few dozen federal agencies.

I think people might start to notice, and might decide there isn't that much wrong with same sex marriage and equal rights protection.

After all... neither Massachusetts nor Canada have ceased to exist yet. And I think most people would rather live in either place than ANY part of Kansas or Mississippi.

Kiss My Blog

I have come to the conclusion the blogs are like asses.
Everybody has one.

Let me explain.

You have noticed by now that my site is not particularly flashy or dynamic. It is a simple design, with the primary purpose of steering you to these pages. It doesn't contain screaming graphics, fabulous backgrounds or dozens of video clips culled from YouTube or other places scattered around. It isn't that I'm not interested in making the site lively. It's that I just don't have the time. I don't have the endless hours it takes to make a Spielberg-like website an obsession. It's all I can do to squeeze out a few hundred words a few times a week... if that.

But even though my site will never be a 3-D or HD experience, I've at least been trying to develop and build up a links page with links to some interesting websites and other blogs that might be fun to visit. So, I spend a little time in the evenings and on weekends, trolling websites and blogs, in search of other website and blog links, looking for gold.

Yeah. Right.

Which leads me back to my conclusion.
Blogs are like asses. Everybody has one.
And, like asses, most look basically alike and serve the same function. A few look a little nicer than others, until you take a closer look. Then you discover they tend to be bloated, uninspired, or even padded to look nicer than they are.

But once in a while, like asses, you find one that is exquisite. A joy to behold. Breathtaking in so many ways, that you can't stop looking at it. You want to explore every part of it, and you can't wait until you have the chance to see it again.

Come on. You know it's true.

I do have a link to one blog that seemed to have that kind of promise on my links page. I'm not going to name it... if you explore them, you'll figure it out. It looks better than it really is, although it does have some admirable qualities, some good news areas, and is updated daily. It has even won a number of awards. I'm not sure why, but it has. It also has a quite lengthy "Blogroll" of other blog sites. I've explored many of them and they bear out my point.

First, about 10% of the sites don't exist anymore. Keeping them there is just sloppy on the part of the blog creator. But I've discovered none of them are particularly different from the others. Most have the same clips pulled off YouTube. Most have the same gossip pulled from the trendy gossip sites, the same blind items and the same bitchy comments. Even the same naked pictures (where applicable). Not much creative content, not much thought and not much new. Nobody seems to be trying. It's like McDonald's of the Blogsphere.

Which brings me back to my conclusion for the third time.
Yes... that.

Thus ends today's rant.
My ass might not be pretty, but at least it's a little unique.
So is this clip I found. Yes it's from YouTube... but it hasn't made the rounds a lot, and I think it's pretty funny.

Please enjoy "THE EVOLUTION OF DANCE."

Roses Are Red, How Soon Til You're Dead?

Okay. I've long since passed the point where anything really surprises me anymore. Now I'm just amused.

This week, Hallmark unveiled a new line of greeting cards called "Journeys". These are cards for people who want to say something but don't know what. In my experience, those are the people who should just keep their mouths shut.

Anyway, this is an idea obviously conceived by and green-lighted by a couple of people who believe there's no reason to wait until people die to send sympathy cards when there's a market to be cultivated among the not dead yet.

There are cards for those with cancer that say don't give up hope. After all, the one thing a person needs to pull them through a cancer diagnosis and the battle facing them is a frilly Hallmark card. Think how many people could have been saved through the years if only they had gotten Hallmark inspiration instead of chemo.

There's a card for eating disorders that basically suggests thinking positive thoughts are better than barfing. Ironic, since the very idea makes one want to vomit.

For the clinically depressed there are cards encouraging one to look up, be happy, and work harder toward a brighter tomorrow. How fortunate that so many drug stores sell Hallmark cards just a few steps from the pharmacy department. People can now peruse the options while waiting for a Prozac prescription.

On the lighter side, there are even a couple of cards congratulating people on coming out, complete with full color rainbows. Who would have ever dreamed that the Gold Crown could find its way to America's queens. Still, somehow I doubt we'll be seeing reruns of Queer as Folk on the Hallmark Channel.

I long ago stopped buying Hallmark cards, opting for the much more creative, and usually dirtier, cards they sell in little shops in Greenwich Village. Obviously Hallmark recognizes that's a niche market that Omaha and Oklahoma City can't quite replicate, so they're going to try with their own version coming soon to a Rite Aid store near you.

What with stores full of cards for Grandparents Day, Adoption Day and Take Your Toaster To Work Day, the card companies have no choice but to dream up some new ideas instead of some new holidays. American Greetings had already come up with the Anti-Valentine card this year... an idea I like a lot. I think a card that says "I hope someone breaks your heart" still beats the hell out of one that says "Have a happy heart attack".

Welcome To Carousel

If you haven't seen Logan's Run, you might have a little trouble following part of this. For those who need it, here is a very quick summary.

Logan's Run is a movie set somewhere in the future where people live in a mythical city run by unseen bureaucrats. Nobody lives past 30. On reaching 30, citizens must take themselves to Carousel, where, presumably, they are "recycled", to return again as infants and start life all over again.

As a gay man in New York, I understand the concept of being considered dead at 30.

Continuing on, some rebels don't believe the recycling is real, and instead run to escape Carousel. Logan is an undercover cop who penetrates the resistance to arrest the runners, but instead learns the truth and helps to expose the lie of Carousel and destroy it... thus allowing everyone to live past 30 and happily ever after.

He should have left well enough alone.

When I was a child, we had a family friend named Jerry. On Jerry's refrigerator was a piece of paper with a mystery date written on it. Nobody knew what it meant. Not his family or friends. Not even his wife. People theorized it might be the date he wanted to retire... Or when he hoped to have his house paid off... Or when he might take some long discussed vacation. Jerry never divulged the secret.

Years passed, and when that day finally arrived, Jerry got up very early in the morning, got dressed, went out to the garage and started his car. And stayed there. His wife found him hours later. The mystery date was the date Jerry had chosen years earlier to make his exit.

In going through his letters and notes, people learned that Jerry had realized the time would come when he would have done everything he wanted to do, and would face only boredom. He would have sold enough cars in his life so that it was no longer a thrill. He would have seen his children graduate from school, marry and have their own children. He would have fought in wars and seen any parts of the world he wanted to see. He would have buried enough of his friends and family to know he didn't want to be the last man standing. He decided the choice of when to leave would be his.

Friends and family were aghast. They were stunned and angry. I was in awe. I applauded him for seizing control of his own existance and refusing to allow anything or anybody to make what would be the ultimate and last decision of his life for him. I have never forgotten it.

My parents died of cancer in their 50's. Three of their parents and two siblings died in their 50's as well, of heart disease.

Owing to heredity, knowing I am predisposed to both, I have lived my life with the idea (though not necessarily the intention or goal) of dying relatively young. I have not saved a tremendous amount of money over the years. I buy what I want. I go where I want. I make life decisions based not on what they will mean for me when I am 60, but what they will mean 60 minutes from now.

Carousel gave people the same opportunity that Jerry's mystery date did. It forced them to live life now. It removed the temptation to put off joy or love or excitement. It forced people to realize that time is finite and there is no reason not to do what you want when you want it, rather than waiting for a "better time". It also forces you to make good decisions, because the chances to compensate for bad ones are limited.

My biggest fear is not dying. That is... I'm afraid I'll live way too long. I don't want to outlive my ability to afford living or my friends or my interest in what comes next. I don't have the courage to put a date on my refrigerator. Even if I did, I own neither a garage nor a car. Carousel would make it all a lot easier.

For irony sake, they could even put it in Chelsea.

Getting, Having, Doing

There's a difference between having a job and doing a job...
Between wanting a responsibility and wanting a title.
Sometimes it's a very fine line, and other times it can be a huge divide.

Take for instance, the growing field of men and women who are trying to decide whether to run for President. I think there are actually a few of them who really want to be President, to face the challenges, make the hard decisions, and do something for the nation. Whether I agree with their intentions doesn't matter. The fact is, their intentions are to do the job.

Then there are those who just want to BE President. They want the power, the parades, the marching bands, Air Force One and their name in history books. They don't have the slightest idea what to do for the country, and actual service is the farthest thing from their minds. They just want to sit behind the desk.

The tough part is distinguishing between them. The dangerous part is when the wrong one gets the job.

Similar situations can be found much closer to home. Even the local automobile dealer has a couple of salespeople lusting after the new car manager's job, and a new car manager who wants to be general manager. Some of them might actually know how to increase sales, motivate employees and whack the competition. Others just want the desk, the check and the business cards.

I'm reminded of something a cousin used to say: "Remember the dog who chased cars every day until he finally caught one, and then didn't know what to do with it." A little South Plainfield logic mixed in with a touch of Perth Amboy irony.

Every day we encounter people who can either make our life a little easier or a little harder. The ones who are simply filling the chairs inevitably make things harder, either because they can or because they don't know any better. The rest of us are stuck with it.

Then again I am reminded of what my friend Joe K. used to say back in Maryland: "the sun doesn't shine on the same dog's ass every day."

Under Life's Bigtop

I've always been fascinated by the idea of being famous for being famous. It's a phenomenon that's only been around a decade or so, but already seems to captivate us at every turn. Paris Hilton, Perez Hilton, at least half of the entries on any given day in Page Six and, of course, Anna Nicole Smith.

I don't plan on speaking ill of the dead, but Anna Nicole Smith's death has now been on the front pages longer than Gerald Ford or Ronald Reagan. And while I was certainly no fan of either, a decade from now people won't say "Who?" when their names come up.

That isn't to say Ms Smith's untimely demise wasn't headline making. It certainly was, in that way that human nature loves a circus sideshow or a train wreck. Nobody wants to live next door to an Anna Nicole Smith or be related to one, but everyone wants one to talk about. The Anna Nicoles represent an important need in each of us... the need to feel better about our own lives. Because on any given day, no matter how crappy our own lives or jobs or or personal relationships are, at least we can sit back and say with an air of self righteousness, "Well, at least I'm not Anna Nicole Smith (or Britney Spears or Paris Hilton or Kevin Federline or whatever sorry SOB has pissed off the columnists today).

There is a vulture mentality that grips each of us when a story like this hits. We love seeing the bones laid bare and picked clean. We want to know all the dirty details, regardless of who is scarred along the way. No preaching, just fact. To us, these are creatures in a circus we can gawk at and laugh over for a few days, then forget about and resume our own sad pathetic lives, rich in the knowledge that for at least a few days we could feel superior to somebody richer and more famous than ourselves.

Such is the danger with being famous for being famous. There is no cushion of love or loyalty to protect these pseudo-personalities from the inevitable fall. Celebrities who have truly accomplished something have more than money in the bank. Like family members who sometimes stumble and fall, they have built up forgiveness credits with the public that they cash in when needed, provided they don't bankrupt the system.

After the quickly assembled books are released and the Lifetime movie is made, the Anna Nicole memory will fade. There will be no blockbuster film starring Meryl Streep and no Broadway musical. No college course on her life will be taught. However, someday, perhaps a century or so from now, somebody will pull a Daily News or New York Post or Miami Herald from a newspaper archive and see the newspaper headlines about Anna Nicole from this week. They will be totally clueless and will devote hours or days of research to finding out who this apparently quite important personality was who suddenly died in a Florida hotel room.

Won't they be surprised!

More Lunacy To Walk Away From

The protectors are out to keep us safe again. Why is it the more they try to protect us, the more I feel violated?

State Senator Carl Kruger of Brooklyn wants to make it illegal to cross a street in the state of New York while listening to an iPod (or similar mp3 device), talking on a cellphone or using a Blackberry. It seems he believes iPod distractions are dangerous and responsible for pedestrian accidents in his district. So, his solution to individual personal stupidity is a stupid statewide law.

I don't see any rush to ban the practice of putting on eyeliner with one hand while holding a cup of coffee in the other and still driving down the Thruway at 70 miles per hour. Nor is anybody cracking down on bike riders in the city who endanger themselves, pedestrians and drivers by weaving in and out of traffic, ignoring stop lights, and riding against traffic on boulevards or one way streets.

The idea that police officers are going to start ticketing walkers who don't take earpieces out at cross-streets is only slightly less moronic than the idea that people would actually pay attention to such a ridiculous ordinance. If people are so stupid they can't walk and listen to music at the same time, odds are they don't know how to program an iPod in the first place.

Yes, some people can get distracted and lose focus. But they don't need an iPod to do that. People daydream behind the wheel, lose their balance on subway platforms or lose focus on a stairway. We've already got new laws on the books telling us what we can and can't eat in restaurants. Now they want laws telling us how we have to conduct ourselves on the way there? Are we not to be permitted the luxury of actually being responsible for our own well being?

The last time I needed somebody to watch me cross the street, I was 7 years old. I don't need Senator Kruger or the police of any New York municipality to start holding my hand again. If I can't think clearly enough to listen to my XM and look both ways before crossing 48th Street, or to at least wait for the walk signal, then I probably deserve to get hit by a Gray Line bus or a Honda from New Jersey.

Maybe the good Senator would consider a ban on incense sales on street corners instead. Talk about something that will drive you into the street!

Left, Right, Sideways

Let's see if I can make this make any sense.

I'm at a crossroads in my life and trying to anticipate what comes next. Like any stop at a crossroads, that means looking at where one has been and where one is going. While I generally dislike looking back, I can't deny I've learned some simple but important lessons over the years, and unfortunately I have learned them all the hard way. But they still all seem to apply.

1. Always go with your gut. Never over-think things. Generally your first reaction or decision is the right one.
2. Knowing stuff is important, but it is sometimes more important to know what you don't know. Knowing what you don't know means having the wisdom of caution and to ask questions. Both can keep you out of serious trouble.
3. People are not interchangeable. They are not commodities. They are not hammers. Understanding each person as an individual and as being unique means seeing the big picture. It takes longer to do and takes an enormous amount of patience at the start. But as time goes on, like any good investment, the dividends will prove the time and energy investment worthy.
4. The worst decision is no decision.
5. Be bold enough to risk making mistakes and be brave enough to admit it when you do. Mistakes come with bold risks and bold moves. If you've never made a mistake, then you've never aspired to much of anything at all.

They're fairly simple principles, and yet I am amazed at how radical they seem to some people. They often get me in trouble, especially with authority figures.

So now, as I said, I'm right at that junction where the Turnpike meets the Parkway. One wrong move and you get slammed by a commuter bus doing 70.

I'd give anything for an E-Z Pass.