What to make of Senator Hillary
Clinton's sudden gay-love? Not much really. The
presidential hopeful on Thursday gave the Philadelphia Gay News an
exclusive interview where she said that she would fight for gay rights. The next day she appeared on Ellen giving her the same exclusive news.
While it's encouraging to hear Clinton speak-out more frequently on
GLBT issues, it seems she still finds it difficult to give a whole
hearted endorsement to the idea of full equality for us. She has
made it clear that she supports civil unions over marriage for
same-sex couples. Civil unions is a limited, watered-down version of
marriage that has already proven inadequate in states like New
Jersey. For the record, her opponent, Senator Barack Obama, also only supports civil unions.
I'm going to come up behind you at
Panera Bread and pay for your peanut butter and grape jelly on rye or
give you a wedgie. Keep reading to find out which.
I told you that, so I could tell you
this: Voters
in at least two states this November will be asked to alter their
constitutions to effectively ban giving same-sex couples marriage
rights. But
Arizona, the only state where voters have turned down a constitutional
ban on same-sex marriage, has chosen to provide health coverage for the
domestic partners of state employees and retirees. And the gay marriage roller coaster ride continues.
Here's a photo of what my mother calls “a cup of sugar.”
Sally Kern (R-Okla.) had her coming out
party this week. She attended a rally with about one thousand supporters in the Okla. Capitol. Sally
Kern, as you may recall, is the lawmaker whose recently revealed
anti-gay speech was posted on YouTube by The Gay and Lesbian Victory
Fund.
It was our own Gay Entertainment Report which brought us news that the new C-Spot channel (youtube.com/cspot) is distributing 13 episodes of Owen Benjamin's Gaytown. Gaytown is the story of a straight man who musters-up the
courage to come out of the closet in a town where being gay is the
norm. Very funny.
I'm sitting at my desk in my office
after returning from lunch, trying to decide between a vintage ivory
or navy cashmere rugby-stripe v-neck sweater at j.crew.com, but
neither is available in stock and I tab back to my email.
I send the following email at
2:30PM: Dan, I hit Barack-bottom today when Chip snatched me off
the street and forced me to luncheon with him at his “Bottoms for
Obama” meeting at Memoirs. While I applaud their ass-pirations,
why are bottoms always sooo damn political? You remember
gym-stalker/gawker Chip? On St. Patrick's Day he stood behind us at
X-Treme thinking I would eventually turn around and say, “Hey
Chipper, let's do green shots and then play find my leprechaun
treasure crock!”
I receive the following email at
2:40PM: Gym-stalker Chip? Is this the same guy you tortured last
summer by sending him random anonymous drinks at Double Trouble? At
each round he would turn around looking to find someone to thank and
then walk up and down the bar in hopes of finding some hot dude to
show his appreciation to. Walter, you're terrible.
I send the following email at
2:44PM: That's 'da 'mo. For the record, the anonymous drinks
were all Sloppy's idea. Damn, here comes Hill.
Hillary walks into my office and asks
me about the Stone file. I reply that I'm on it and that in fact I
attended an Obama event during lunch. This seems to impress
her, despite the fact that Obama has nothing to do with the Stone
file, and she leaves satisfied.
I receive the following email at
3:05PM: Stop calling him Sloppy! Ryan ;>)
I immediately pick up my 16GB iPhone
and call Dan. When he answers, I ask, “What is he doing there?”
“Ryan brought me pizza,” Dan
answers, handing the phone to Ryan.
“I'm only three blocks away, why
didn't you bring me pizza?” I hiss.
“You always insist on Valentinos,
that's like twenty minutes away for me,” Ryan answers.
“You're a messenger man,
what's an extra twenty minutes for a messenger man?” I ask,
baiting Ryan for being a 40 year old bike messenger. But instead he
says he'll text me next time he passes Valentinos.
FedEx brings me more DykeTees.com
promotional items. I give the shirts to Michelle. Michelle is not a
lesbian, but likes to say, “I got soul, but I'm not a soldier.”
Who you kidding sister, you're the whole army. Afterwards, I send
Michelle to Starbucks for a venti non-fat honey latte with extra
cream.
I send the following email at
3:37PM: The Barack-lash from this luncheon has given me a
sickening headache. Chip insisted I sit next to him like a trophy
top and wear a corny “Bottoms for Obama” pin. The portions at
Memoirs are too meager.
I call Simmon on my 16GB iPhone, but
get his voice mail. I leave this message, “Hey Simon, Walter. It was nice running into you at the park this morning. Maybe we could
do Valentinos tonight? Gimme a call, you know the number, 233-WALT.
Thanks.”
I receive the following email at
3:42PM: So, did you confess to Chip about the drinks?
I send the following email at
3:44PM: Yes, I did. Because
what I need in my life is a mentally unstable, surprisingly strong,
politically connected, power bottom angry at me. Was that pizza from
Wal-mart?
While I'm trying
to find new music to buy on iTunes, the mail boy arrives. He hands
me a copy of GQ and O. And a small, plain box. I open the box and
find a fake Rolex watch inside. The card attached says, “From your
secret love, time stands still while in your presence.” I give
Michelle the GQ and fake Rolex watch. I return to iTunes, but I
already own every Abba, Madonna, and Elton John album available on
the service.
I'm reading how to
make “Coffee, Chili, and Cumin-Rubbed Filet Mignon” from the
April issue of O in the restroom, when I receive the following text
message from Simon: “W, no V 2nite, work. Got your number
233-WALL, will call.” “It's 233-WALT,” I say, disappointed,
swiping the message away.
I return to my
desk and briefly consider pouring Russian vodka into my latte, but
decide instead to call my therapist. I dial Antonio's 24 hour
emergency phone number which he gave me before I left for Wonder
Rehab, but his voice mail answers and I pass on leaving a message.
Slipping on my
navy blue Polo casual single-breasted jacket still clinging a
“Bottoms for Obama” pin I head out of my office and onto the
street.
I make my way
north to Banana Republic in a desperate panic for retail therapy, but
when I arrive I'm shocked to find out the store has been converted
into some discount clothing outlet for urban angst-ridden teens with
too much time on their hands. I call Michelle and ask her what
happened to the Banana Republic store and she informs me it had
closed three weeks earlier.
Arriving at home I
find an unmarked package waiting for me. I tear into the cardboard
on my front stoop, pulling out the Canon EOS Mark III 21.1 megapixel
digital camera I had purchased online months before and glee,
“Barackulous!”
Hey kids, organize your own “Bottoms for Obama” chapter with this quality stuff.
Walter Weeks is a
writer for On Top Magazine and can be reached at ww@ontopmag.com.
The Gay Slant pops-in most Saturdays at On Top Magazine.