Friday, April 28, 2006

Weightless On The Kinsey Scale

You know the Kinsey sexuality scale, right? The one which measures your sexuality from "0" (fully heterosexual) to "6" (fully homosexual). So a female friend of mine and I were talking about it about a month or so ago, and I asked her where she fell on the scale.

"Two, maybe three."

"What?" I said. "Really?"

"Yeah."

There was nothing about her that indicated bisexual tendencies. Then, she asked me where I fell.

"Zero, maybe a one at most. I just cannot understand how one might possibly have sex with a man. Aren't we disgusting? Frankly, there is no way in the world I'd have sex with myself. Part of me thinks the women who sleep with me are maniacs for that reason. Which may explain why a lot of my relationships never worked out."

I decided to poll my friends. Some interesting results. First, I have absolutely no lesbian friends, which I guess I should have known, but which still surprised me.

Then, just about every woman I knew said they were a 2 or a 3. What?!?

Except for one, who declared herself fully a 0. She gave me this monologue about how vaginas are so gross that almost had me swearing off them. Almost.

The guys were a study on extremes. My gay male friends rated themselves a 5 or 6. The hetero males all rated themselves a 0 or 1.

Interesting results. Were women being more honest about their bisexual tendencies? Or is there something in the genetic hardwiring of women that makes them more amenable to bisexuality? Or does it have to do with socialization, how we cast women in society and objectify them.

Feeling open? Where do you fall on the scale? And do my results have to do more with the random assortment of friends I have, or do you think the results reflect the way we are?

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Too much porn

Why is it that when you tell a man in a dance club that you're a lesbian, he almost invariably tries to convince you otherwise?

I have been quite unfortunate in the past few weeks, because a friend of mine is having a midlife crisis and wants to frequent dance clubs so she can flirt with men who are in no way like her husband. If I don't go with her - because all of her other friends are housewives - then no one will, and the thought of her showing up at these places alone is worse than me leaving the comfort of my couch for an evening.

Let's just be straight about this: I hate dance clubs to the very core of my being. Dance clubs rank prominently among The Things M. Fresh Hates Most, somewhere amidst anal polyps (I've never had one, but am fairly certain I would hate them), financial distress, really bad sex and Vanilla Ice.

There you are, trying to gyrate around in darkness punctuated by yellow, green, blue and red light, disoriented and lost in music you don't recognize because it all sounds the same. There you are, trying put as good a face forward as you can, even though you are about 10 years older than those who gyrate around you, and you suck at dancing. You spin around -- one of your more embarrassing dance moves -- and you suddenly realize that some tool of a guy has been air-grinding you from behind for the past 15 minutes. He says, "Hey." You say, "hey." He propositions you. You decline. He insists. You decline again. He presses. You say you're a lesbian. He says he can make you change.

Because he's that amazing.

I think some men in this country have been crippled by watching too much porn. When you actually think that a random encounter with a stranger you've air-grinded in a shitty dance club will result with you and me and some blond chick with huge boobs having a threesome in a hot tub, your expectations may be a wee bit high, and are undoubtedly fueled by porn. (Besides, having sex in a hot tub -- or on a beach, for that matter -- is seriously overrated. The Discomfort Factor is too alarming.)

I told the guy that I wasn't interested in dick. I am on most normal days, but I just wanted to be left alone. You'd think that would resolve the matter. My friend was flirting with her guys, and I just wanted to sulk in a corner, be the pissed-off lesbian, and make sure she got home safe to her kids.

But wouldn't you know it? This guy - who was about 5 feet tall, all muscles and hair and gold chains -- kept coming back to try to lure me to his love lair. On his third visit to The Angry Lesbian Corner, he said, "So, have you reconsidered?"

As if one's sexuality was something one "reconsidered" at a dance club at 2 in the morning.

"Let me ask you something," I said. "Do you still have a dick?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'm still not interested."

The porn industry would surely collapse if I were at the helm.

Monday, April 24, 2006

Chappelle's Genius, Part Two

And then, there is the remix....

Saturday, April 22, 2006

Chappelle's Genius

I am not quite sure why, but this R. Kelley spoof from the Chappelle Show might be the funniest bit ever on a sketch comedy show. It is exactly the right kind of skewering that sick ephebophile deserves. It's a damn shame Chappelle went all whatever it is he went and ditched the show.

New Orleans Votes

The citizens of New Orleans are voting for a mayor to lead them in the next phase of the reconstruction effort (although one wonders if there really was a first phase). It may be too little to late, but Banality Fair endorses: Manny "Chevrolet" Bruno. His slogan: "A troubled man for troubled times."

Here is an excerpt from an article about his candidacy:

"Prior to the election, he explained his motto this way: 'A vote for Manny Chevrolet will not only solve a whole lot of problems for the city but it will solve a lot of problems for me, personally. I am pushing 40. I work for a grocery store. I live on the third floor above a bar and by the end of week, I can barely afford cigarettes and cocktail. I don't have a car. That is one of the reasons I am running so I can get a city car and a driver.'

Asked how he would protect city green space, Bruno told the local League of Women Voters he would 'no longer sleep in any of our city parks.' He also pledged to end patronage: 'I have no friends to pay off -- I have no friends at all.' He promised to clean up the city's littered streets with 24-hour 'chain gangs' and vowed to address the city's vacant housing problem: 'If rehab can work for me, imagine what it can do for abandoned houses.'"

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

KC And The Sunshine Man

I was in Philofaxer's home town, Kansas City, for work on Monday for a chunk of the day. It was a strange place for me, a lifelong East Coaster, to be sure. A lot of people my 10 hours there I met were creepily nice. And curious.

I needed a rental car, which is how I found myself talking to...

Him: Hey, I'm Marcus (sticks out hand). Welcome to Enterprise.
Joseph K: (stares at hand, reluctantly shakes it)
Marcus: So, where are you coming from?
JK: Washington.
M: Wow, and you came all the way here, huh?
JK: Yep.
M: Where do you work?
JK: _______________
M: Cool.
JK:
M: So, any __________ I'd know about?
JK: I couldn't really talk about it.
M: Understand, Understand. So, how long ---
JK: Marcus, buddy, listen I'm in a hurry. If you don't mind.

I couldn't tell if Marcus was being nosy or nice. Both troubled me. My colleague said to me in the car ride to our meeting,"You know, Joseph, when I think of the midwest, I think of two things: nice people and meth. I know now I'm part right."

"You can keep it to yourself if you confirm the second part of that formulation."

Fast forward six hours later. Same place, the car rental place. A youngish woman, I'd guess 21 or 22 is there to receive the car.

Her: Hi, I'm Kim.
JK:
K: So, you have a good trip.
JK: Yeah.
K: Awesome, that is great.
JK: (unloading bags)

Then, it got weird. She was printing out my receipt, and she leaned in towards me. A whiff of her citrusy perfume hit my nose. She was a cute girl, maybe a smidge thick. The reason why this mattered was the way she was looking at me. Very flirty, half smiles.

"So, you know. Sometimes around here, we, uh, like to make sure the customers are 100% happy. So, have you been, uh, 100% satisfied?"

Frankly, I had no idea what to make of this. Two options:

1. Tell her the truth. This was the worst Ford Focus I have ever rented. And, that is saying something because it was the fifth Ford Focus I've gotten from a rental agency. And watch her flounder.

2. Say I was 90% satisfied and see if it got me upgraded to a hummer.

I went with a third option. "It was fine."

"Well good," Kim said.

At the airport a little later, my colleague came back from the Starbucks and said to me, "Man, people really are all friendly. Now there is a person in Kansas City who knows my son's favorite color is green."

"You have a kid?"

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Appreciation

Thanks to slate.com for featuring the Banality Fair post about the Gospel of Judas in its "Today's Blogs" round up last Friday. My post was characterized as sympathetic to Gnostics, which is fine, because maybe I am...maybe...I...am. The fact that my post about the Gnostic text closely followed a post about an attractive snooty girl taking a stinky poop at a local lounge was just about right.

Still, you wonder why I got less hits from people reading the slate post from a cross-link I once got at ex-stripper/great writer Stefanie at ex-millennialgirl.blogspot.com. Wait, no you don't.

Saturday, April 15, 2006

Lionel Loves Libya

True headline from a news story I just saw on Yahoo: Lionel Richie Electrifies Libyans. Apparently Richie tore down the house at a celebration in Libya marking the 20th anniversary of the U.S. airstrike on Libya. Well, he figuratively brought the house down (he was playing in one of Ghadaffi's bombed out palaces so the roof had already been torn off that sucka). So, although there was no Dancing on the Ceiling, they definitely partied All Night Long.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

The Gospel of Judas

So, there have been some recent news reports about the Gospel of Judas. The Gospel of Judas was one of some 20+ gospels that were basically deemed heretical by the Council of Nicea; they were tossed in favor of the four that became the core of the New Testament.

The Gospel of Judas is a Gnostic text. Gnostics were an eclectic group who basically believed that the physical being is bad, evil, meaningless, and that the divine was completely spiritual. Basically, the goal is to go from matter to energy. The emphasized transcending to the spiritual over faith (the primary focus of the Gospels that made the New Testament). But, Gnostic gospels were not divorced from morality; the Gospel of Thomas, for example has a bunch of Gnostic allusions, but is basically a moralistic text. On the other hand, there was the Gnostic gospel of Phillip, with references to Christ and Mary Magdalene smooching a bunch (pissing off the disciples! In other words, the disciples were haters!)

So, in the Gospel of Judas, Christ basically says to Judas that Judas will be doing him a favor by betraying him, because he was meant to leave the physical and return to the divine. Some may say it is a revisionist telling of the Judas stories by Judas sympathizers, but it makes sense if you have Gnostic leanings. Christ would not have valued his physical life because, ultimately, it was meaningless.

It raises an interesting question: Was Christ really get mad about having to die? If you are a Gnostic, you'd think he'd be ok with it. If not, we wonder about his inner conflict, speculate about suffering. Do we make Christ too human by assuming he reacted the way we would to his last days?

Saturday, April 08, 2006

"Joseph K" AKA "Joey Knuckles"

Before I get into how I almost got into a fist fight with a crazed homeless guy last night, some background about Joseph K and fisticuffs. I was 19 the last time I was ever in a fight. And I wasn't really fighting. I was trying to break up a brawl. I caught an elbow in the rib. I don't think he meant it. But, it didn't stop me from putting one in his right kidney. I was trying to pull everyone apart, and he wasn't cooperating. It was for everyone's safety.

I am not going to front. My success rate in fights is about 50%. Probably because I am a wild swinger. I remember a fight when I was twelve where I missed with an uncontroled upper cut. I caught a cross on my forehead that had me walking around with a baseball-sized knot for three days. Another fight that same year one of my punches caught a guy flush in the ear. I remember the guy falling to his knees, crying and saying, "Why? Why? My ear?" I didn't have an answer for him, except that I was aiming more generally for his face.

So, I was walking across the street with a friend, on our way to a bar. Something hit me hard in the shin. Then, a voice, "You don't fucking cut me off."

I turned around, and there was this guy yelling at me about being cut off. He seemed like he might be homeless, but seemed relatively well-dressed. He was carrying a bag, which is what he hit me with.

"What the fuck is your problem, you crazy motherfucker?" I actually surprised myself. And then I surprised myself even more by thinking, I could drop this old, crazy fucker with a punch to the neck.

My conscious mind caught up with my subconscious mind a second later. This guy was a violent, crazy and volatile person who was walking the streets. He was going to hurt someone eventually. The combination of me wanting to stop the guy and anger led to me seriously considering punching him in the neck.

All the while I was thinking this, I had been walking. He was behind us muttering. Then silence. I turned around thinking he was just about to hit me in the back of the head.

Nope. He was just digging through some trash.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

Quotes

Sometimes, the things others say to you...speak to you:

1. From a random reggae CD in my collection, "It was the tears in your eyes. That made me realize. That a man like me, should never fall in love, with you."

2. From the Gospel of Judas that was recently discovered, "You will exceed all of them (the other disciples) for you will sacrifice the man who clothes me."

3. Bill Frist on illegal immigrants, "[they] are not a monolithic group." No shit.

4. From an article on the obesity epidemic: "I think the bad news about children far outweighs the good news about women," said Kelly Brownell, director of Yale University's Center for Eating and Weight Disorders. Uh.

5. “I am sorry that this misunderstanding happened at all, and I regret its escalation and I apologize,” McKinney, D-Ga., said during a brief appearance on the House floor. “There should not have been any physical contact in this incident.” Whatver. She is fucking crazy.

Saturday, April 01, 2006

Nasty Girl

There is nothing that turns me off more than an attractive woman who is full of herself. I was at this lounge last night with a friend, drinking wine and eating mussels. The place is a favorite of mine, especially when this one bartender is there. I am in love with her. Natural beauty, outgoing, nice. Usually, I am lucky if the woman I am dating is 1/2 of one of those things. Usually, all I get is "going."

The place was packed, and right next to us was this snooty chick. You know the type. Made up beauty, obnoxiously outgoing, fake nice. So full of herself, its coming out of her ears.

I forgot she was there until I had to go to the unisex bathroom. The door was locked. When it opened, she came out, and all I saw was nostrils and an attitude. I went into the bathroom.

I almost fainted. The smell was overwhelming. Like she had been rotting inside. I almost just left, but I had to piss something awful. And what was worse was that I was wearing button fly jeans. The scent was making me light headed, and I was fumbling with the buttons. Then, I thought, "Shit, if someone is waiting, they'll think it was me." Finally finish with the buttons and start pissing. Breathe through your mouth, I told myself. Yuck, I could practically taste it. I pulled my shirt over my nose.

I was so light headed that I didn't realize I'd walked out with my shirt still over my nose. She turned and looked at me, and turned quickly away. She and her companion left soon (SOON) thereafter.

I tipped the bartender $20 on a $40 bill. Now, the question is whether she'll marry me.