Category Archives: politics

In Which We Are Appropriated


Let me share my outrage with you, yet again. Our story begins in New Orleans in 1985. Homogay mrpeenee is busy leading a happy, quiet homogay life when his puny attention is snagged by a snappy tune called Smalltown Boy by Bronski Beat.

And what a brilliant song it is. It’s the story of a young gay man thrown out of his home because he’s queer, everything he owns “in a little black bag” after already experiencing ostracism and gay bashing. Even those of us lucky enough to have avoided that extreme when we came out could still identify with the pain and the alienation and the fury in that song. Plus it had a really rockin beat.

The singer, Jimmy Somerville, is a role model, fierce and furious and pissed off and not willing to take any shit. He’s a humpy, short redhead (I’ve always had a weakness for them) and his videos dancing around to his music are very appealing, but the message in his songs was for his gay brothers to demand to live our lives unafraid. FUCK TOLERANCE, I DO NOT WANT TO BE TOLERATED. Oops, sorry, I got carried away.

Anyway. Try to imagine my feelings when Super Agent Fred sent me a video of Smalltown Boy covered by some yahoo, Marcus Layton. I’m not including it here because I don’t want it to get even a single more view. The cover is so unoriginal it might as well have been karaoke. The video itself is a classic of the “My cousin has a camera” with abrupt quick cuts of bland youth rollicking around some parking garage with a boosted grocery cart: urban but not too urban, we don’t want to have to mess with any riff raff. It is stripped of any politics in the original and it includes heterosexual humping just to rub salt in the disco wound.

Did anyone involved in this production ever listen to the original, could they have possibly understood the lyrics? Or did they just hear a song they liked, downloaded the lyrics from Google, and recorded their own stupid Brady Bunch cover.

I worry that some people vaguely think the struggle for gay equality is over, that somehow, the right to marry means that The Gays won and now we all can go back to not worrying. I got news for you. In living memory there was a time when simply being gay was illegal, not merely frowned upon or socially awkward. It was against the law and you could go to jail. Not just in some bum fuck rural outlier, but in London and New York. I worry that young people, young queers, think the fight is now about the right pronouns and including the right colors on the right flag. Our living an out life is not inalienable. A Supreme Court Justice recently included, in a draft decision for the court, the suggestion that attacking gay legal rights would be just peachy keen with him.

The kind of appropriation this cover represents, where the queer context of the song is erased, shows how easy it would be, in small encroaching ways, to shove us back into the good old days closet. Just like women and abortion, I can’t believe we’re still fighting this fight. Oh well. At least we know the words to the song.

Smalltown boys, naked edition:

Love them big boys.

You need to get out of the sun, baby.


It’s the peak of beachy weather. At least it is if you’re not living in San Francisco where it remains chilly.

oh, my dudes, I forgot to mention, on July 25, that it was the 15th anniversary of my little blog. Yay.

This seems to have been the first dick pic I published, from August 25, 2007. Another anniversary.

That first year, when I was much more apparently energetic, I cranked out fifty-four posts in one month.

I’m pretty sure I couldn’t think of 54 words now.

Always, Always, Listen to Cher




Allright bitches. It’s been a week. Unless you are planning a coup (and if you are, I ask, please don’t) it’s time to move on. We’ve all been through the stages of grief now: anger, denial, bargaining. whatever the other one is, and now it’s time for acceptance.

Unless of course, you are Secret Agent Fred, in which case the stages are Valium, cheap beer, Vicodin, cheap beer, and cheap beer. Also, Fred has used his art as therapy to “work through his issues.” Personally, I don’t think Fred could get through all his issues with a GPS and a machete, but, you go, girl.


President Trump.  Snap out of it.  But also, here, just to make us all feel a little better on this cold gray day


"Like large, round melons…."


I love Mark Sanford. He is a hero and role model to tall, skinny homely guys everywhere. Not terribly cute or smart and yet scoring the hot love action! I say yes!

Still, I would recommend to him that during these press conferences expressing contrition over said hot love action, he refrain from gestures such as the one above. Unless of course he’s actually describing voluptuous South American buttocks, in which case, I’d like the audio included.


OK. OK. OK. No more whinging, no more glum woeful posts. I refuse to allow a bunch of mormon funded, oh-what-about-the-children shrieking harridans make me miserable. Wouldn’t that just be handing them an even greater victory? The days are too beautiful to waste and will not last, R Man’s birthday is Monday so we’re making a four day weekend out of this to celebrate, we had tasty, tasty udon for dinner and besides, I’m not good at being downcast for long. It could be my sunny disposition, it could be my tiny little short attention span; whatever. I am hereby moving on.

Plus Ernesto Garimundus, the houseboy in charge of our Laundry and Wiccan Centre, says I am bumming him out and that I should stop.So what could I do?

Married? Not So Fast, Buddy


I didn’t expect to be so disappointed if Proposition 8 passed. Prop 8 is the California amendment which eliminated same-sex couples’ right to marry, and it’s passing right now by a tiny, tiny margin, but tiny, tiny margins are all it takes in a democracy. I thought that I had a hard-headed view about how very unlikely it was that the gays would achieve something so thrilling as this minor bit of equality, but I seem to have been swept up by my wedding and the general optimism. Living a life as an out gay man in San Francisco, I suppose I’ve gotten a skewed perspective that things have changed, that things are better. On one hand I know they are better: I have a sweet happy life with a wonderful man I love that I could not have imagined being mine when I first struggled out of the closet 25 years ago, and yet…. And yet, this reminds me that the morons who plagued me as a sissy in elementary school have not gone away. I suppose they never will.

mrpeenee’s Only Political Comment. Honest


Much better than a shot of Joe Biden, don’t you think?

Several stories I’ve read this week quote McCain sources, or their apologists, discounting the polls showing Obama pulling ahead of the the troglodyte. Their logic? People lie to pollsters when asked if they would vote for a black candidate (or for that matter vote to remove the right of gays to marry.) So they’re basing their hopes on the cowardly lies bigots tell to complete strangers in order to hide their shame. Fabulous. That’s the kind of democracy that needs to be protected from the likes of, oh, say, Me. And ronda. And Miss Janey. And Thombeau. And Elizabeth. And jason (or jehsean) and TJB and Muscato and all the Michaels and everyone else who thinks.

I’m mrpeenee and I approved this rant.