Dame Elizabeth Taylor

Today I’ve had one word going through my head:  GEORGE!  GEOOOOORRGE! It’s impossible to represent with letter and words and punctuation the raw emotion evoked when Elizabeth Taylor belched it from her gut in scene after scene of her Oscar winning performance in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?.  She was only 34 at the time, but she became a bitter, middle-aged alcoholic wife.  She owned that movie.  I’ve only seen it once, but the line still gives me chills.  She delivered many fine performances, but that one sticks out in my mind.

She played another great role later in her life, one which I’m happy to see many obituaries acknowledging.  She was one of the first public figures to give a voice to that terrible new disease that killed everyone who contracted it, that seemed to target gay men above all others, thus making it an unmentionable.  Her friend Rock Hudson contracted the disease and she saw the film idol slowly fade away.  Politicians, including President Ronald Reagan, said nothing.  Other celebrities said nothing.  But Dame Elizabeth said something, and said it loudly.  Embodying the ACT UP rallying cry that silence equals death, she used her celebrity to bring attention AIDS and helped to create organizations, amFAR and the Elizabeth Taylor AIDS Foundation, to fight the disease and help those with it.  The US and the world could ignore it no longer.

We can continue to enjoy her performances on DVD and streaming video.  amFAR and ETAF will continue their work.  Her legacy is secure.  But Hollywood will never see the likes of her again.  Rest in peace, Dame Elizabeth.

Clarknt67 on Daily Kos has a nice write up about her AIDS work and its importance in the history of the disease.  Highly recommended.

Bashing Big Bird

Big Bird and I have grown grey together.  If you look at him closely, you’ll see a tuft of white feathers on top of his head.  It’s been there for a while, but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t born that way.  Maybe he was, and I just don’t remember.  But in any case, it pleases me to think that my old friend, whom I grew up with, is aging and surviving just as I have managed to do.

So the Republicans want to defund public broadcasting again.  Yawn.  As Rachel Maddow pointed out on tonight’s show, they pull this stunt every time they get in power.  And the Democrats respond with “they’re trying to kill Big Bird.”  Though I guess the aging bird couldn’t make the rally but Arthur the Aardvark did.

Rachel rightly stated that the attack against public broadcasting isn’t fiscally driven, even if that’s what some Republicans might say.  The Corporation for Public Broadcasting isn’t exactly rolling in the dough.  Its 2010 budget saw a federal contribution of $420,000,000.  Defunding CPB won’t exactly rid the country of its multi-billion dollar deficit.

No, the move to defund, either partly or entirely, public broadcasting is strictly ideological.  Beyond the usual conservative talking point about wanting smaller government, public broadcasting, and Sesame Street in particular, represent what they hate the most about the 60s.  CPB is the child of progressive thinking and an optimistic view that said things are possible.  At a time of racial strife, the Sesame Street had white folks and black folks and Latino folks and Asian folks, and a bunch of furry monsters and feathered birds, getting along peaceably.  Other shows born during this period include The Electric Company and Villa Alegre, both also impressively integrated for its era.  I think, I fear, that the bi-lingual Villa Alegre, which portrayed Spanish-speaking people in a positive light as intelligent, three-dimensional human beings, could never get produced today, in this age of SB 1070.  Some folks, I fear, don’t seem to mind that.

Public broadcasting is all about opening doors.  This crop of Republicans seem to be all about closing them.  Culture be damned.  Children be damned.  Well, how we fund our culture, how we fund institutions for our children is the very measure of who we are as a society.  We can cut funding to CPB and get rid of Big Bird and Grover (my personal favorite).  We can cut funding to National Public Radio and get rid of Piano Jazz and Jazz at Lincoln Center.  But is that what we really want?  I give generously to KCSM, Jazz 91, and have for the past 14 years.  Keep jazz alive.  But I’d like some of my tax money to pay for it, too, and to pay for public stations which I may never hear in parts of the country I may never visit.  Because a cultured society, an educated society, a society which fosters these higher ideals in its children is the society I want to live in.

Ideological vapidity be damned.

Re: Vision

I was hoping to put up more short stories.  Some need revisions before I’m willing to put them out there on the internets.  However, I’ve still working on revisions to my novel.  I find that every time I think I’m done, I realize that no, in fact, I’m not.  This is a good thing.  Chapter 1, for instance, has already changed quite a bit since the version I put up here a few months ago.  Stuff has been edited down.  Stuff has been streamlined.  I’m happy with it.  We’ll see what happens.

I’m reminded of a chapter on revision in a textbook on composition I had for a writing class at UCLA.  The chapter was just one page long and consisted of an excerpt from an interview Ernest Hemingway gave the Paris Review.  He said he revised the ending to Farewell to Arms 39 times before he felt OK with it.  The interviewer asked if something had stumped him, but Hemingway simply said he was just trying to get the words right.  Yep.

Back to work.

He made me laugh

I wanted to wait a few days before putting something down about the sudden resignation (termination?) of Keith Olbermann from MSNBC.  My thoughts are influx about what really went down — and we may never fully know the answer.  But I still don’t think he was necessarily pushed, even if Keith himself used language suggestive of that outcome during his sign off speech.  Rachel Maddow, during her tribute to Keith on Monday’s Rachel Maddow Show, stated that there is no corporate influence over the editorial control of her show, and that there never would be.  So she’s not going anywhere.  That seemed to jibe with my initial instinct that if Comcast, the soon-to-be-owners of the NBC networks, really wanted to get rid of the lefty evening programming on MSNBC they would just do it.  They wouldn’t nickel and dime it to death.  Clean sweeps occur on network TV all the time.  So call me naive, but I don’t think there is a grand conspiracy here.  I think this article’s title summed it up pretty well:  MSNBC and Olbermann:  A Failing Relationship.

Regardless of the reason, I still have a heavy heart about the end of Countdown with Keith Olbermann.  He made me laugh, often.  In addition to saying things that virtually no one says on TV, he said them eloquently and, when the occasion merited, with a good deal of humor.  He is a damn good writer, and I hope he continues to put up posts on Daily Kos from time to time.  And needless to say, he is a stalwart friend of the queer community, coming out with a very moving editorial in defense of gay marriage during the height of the Prop. 8 mess.  But he was a voice of all those who are considered underdogs in the mainstream of society.  He has always been an interesting voice — I am hardly a sports dude, but truth be told, he was the most interesting thing on ESPN and I did catch him during his gig there from time to time.  Though in my mind, his best work to date has been on MSNBC.  Not just his own work, but he used his position to help Rachel and later Lawrence O’Donnell get their own shows.  Not bad.

Sure, he could get carried away.  Some might call him a blowhard.  Fortunately, he usually knew when to dial it back a bit when called on the excesses.  But he did something which is becoming an increasing rarity in our cynical world:  he wore his heart on his sleeve.  I’m an old romantic, so I admire someone able to do that consistently.  I hope it won’t be too long before we hear his voice again, whether it be online or on TV.  We need the voice.  And I always need a good laugh.

Kim Jong-Il Looking At Things

My voyage on the shortwaves, mentioned a couple of posts ago, long ago took me to the peculiar country of North Korea — or more formally the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.  DPRK is sort of a bizarre anachronism, a microcosm of old school Stalinism living into the present day.  So its shortwave station, Voice of Korea (formerly and more famously known as Radio Pyongyang) is equally bizarre and anachronistic.  The programs, when you can pick up the station, are usually a hodgepodge of rants and bombast touting the glories of North Korea and condemning the evil West and their “puppet” government in South Korea.  This is old-school Radio Moscow or Radio Peking shit!  And neither of those stations have existed in either name or spirit in about 20 years.  But Voice of Korea is holding it down and keeping it real with their special brand of insular, isolated, the-rest-of-the-world-don’t-exist programming.

The programming is just a reflection of the country as a whole.  North Korea is built upon an extreme, even by Stalinist standards, form of cult of personality.  The personalities are supplied by the family Kim, first Founding Father Kim Il-Sung (aka Great Leader) and after he died his son, Kim Jong-Il (aka Dear Leader).  Dear Leader’s son, Kim Jong-Un, has been tapped to be the next Leader, though I think his title is still influx.  In any case, a great deal of the programs from Voice of Korea, and Radio Pyongyang before it, focus on the activities of the countries leader, visiting places, meeting troops, etc.  Now, in the age of the internet, photos of such events are easier to come by.  And some clever soul has made them into a website perfect for those of us obsessed with this odd place.  Enter Kim Jong-Il Looking at Things.  Now we can see photos of Dear Leader doing what he does best, visiting places in his country and looking at things.  It’s bloody brilliant.  I think nothing better encapsulates this country’s peculiarities than this very simple site.

Short Story: The Swing Shift

This story could be called a love letter to the Duke Ellington Orchestra.  I wrote it around the time I fell head over heels for all things Ellington and started listening to his music 23 out of 24 hours in the day — a practice I continue to the present time.  I immersed myself in all things Ellington to learn as much about what Mahalia Jackson once called a “sacred institution.”  And that’s when I learned about Billy Strayhorn.  Mr. Strayhorn was the Maestro’s composition partner from about 1939 to 1967, when Billy died of cancer at the age of 51.  But I was moved and awed when I learned that Billy was gay and that he was, for his era, fairly open about it.  That is to say, he didn’t go to great lengths to hide it.  He wore no beards.

So this got me to thinking about being black and gay in the 30s and 40s, and that was the inspiration for The Swing Shift.  This story was originally published in the magazine Mobius  in 1999.

Continue reading

Ptolemaic Takeover

With the Republicans taking control of the House, there will be ample examples of ptolemaic logic in the coming days and months.  Chief among them will be items pertaining to the budget.  They will cut, cut, cut the budget until the cows come home and scrutinize any new expenditures to the hilt.  But they will lower taxes without nearly as much scrutiny.  Both add to the deficit, which they profess to care deeply about, but still, tax cuts get a pass.  Why?  Because it makes their base — rich people — happy.

It’s going to be an interesting year.

Homo Sum

I am not a Christian, but I will gladly say Merry Christmas.

I am not a Muslim, but I will gladly say Ramadan Mubarak.

I am not a Hindu or a Jain or a Sikh, but I will gladly say Happy Diwali.

I am not a Jew, but I will gladly say Happy Hanukkah.

I am human

Homo Sum

I am human

Homo Sum

I am human

Homo Sum

And the sum of humanity will always interest and fulfill me.

Let’s get some peace in 2011.

✌ ♥

Shortwaves & Honey Cakes

Some time in November 1975, I was home from school and in something I think we can call a funk.  My older brother Robert and I shared a bedroom.  I was 10.  On this day he showed me what the funny looking metal thing with the vacuum tubes was all about.  It’s a 1937 Stromberg-Carlson Model 250 broadcast receiver, capable of getting AM and shortwave.  He introduced me to the world of international shortwave radio.  From our little bedroom in our house in South Central LA, I could hear voices from around the world.  It was love at first listening.  The geek in me loved the thought of radio waves traveling such enormous distances:  from Cuba, from Canada, from England, from Australia, from Japan, from India, from Holland, from Germany, from China.  And my soul was deeply enriched by hearing those other voices, voices I would never have otherwise heard and viewpoints I would have otherwise never known.  I would not have developed my international perspective at so early an age had it not been for my twiddling with dial of my old radio at all hours of the day and night.

Shortwave radio is the godfather of the Internet.  Radio frequencies between about 1700 kHz and 26,000 kHz have the ability to bounce off the ionosphere, a high level of the earth’s atmosphere, and return to earth where it may bounce off the earth’s surface and off the ionosphere again, and so on.  All this bouncing about carries the signal great distances, much greater than standard AM or FM signals can travel.  And all without satellites.  In the 1920s, governments put this then-nascent technology to use to broadcast radio programs to distant lands, typically to their colonies.  The Dutch were one of the first, creating Radio Station PCJ to broadcast to their then colony the Dutch East Indies — or as we know it now Indonesia.  Holland to Indonesia, not bad.

By the 1970s, when I started listening, there were scores of nations on the radio dial broadcasting news and propaganda to the globe, especially propaganda — this was during the Cold War, after all.  The US’s shortwave service is the Voice of America.  But we also operated Radio Free Europe and Radio Liberty, which aimed transmissions and programs specifically towards Eastern Bloc nations.  To counter this, the Soviet Union had Radio Moscow and Radio Peace and Progress.  Trippy stuff.  More objective news could be found from BBC World Service or Radio Australia.

But my main station was from the country that helped start it all.  Radio Nederland Wereldomroep, or Radio Netherlands Worldwide, used to have a Sunday program called “The Happy Station.”  It was started in 1928 by an Edward Startz, who worked for the aforementioned PCJ.  It was a variety show with music and chatter, programs about Mr. Startz’s travels, listener letters, etc.  The show came to an end during the Second World War.  After the war, in 1947, Radio Netherlands was founded and Mr. Startz was invited back to continue The Happy Station, which he did until his retirement at the end of 1969.  A new young fella by the name of Tom Meijer took over.  That’s who was doing the show when I started to listen to it.  I liked Tom.  He was fun and quirky and could spin yarn after yarn for as long as the broadcast lasted whether it be an hour or two hours.  He retired in 1992 and the show itself was retired by Radio Netherlands a few years later.  (Happy Station was recently been revived, with Radio Netherlands’ blessings, by Keith Perron who’s based in Taiwan.)

One of the shows broadcasted in my early days of listening was a recipe show, featuring Dutch delicacies.  I can’t remember all of the dishes, but one has remained a standard for the past 33 years:  Honey Cake.  I wrote to the station and they gladly sent the recipe along.  I excitedly asked my mom permission to bake it, and she said “Of course!” and gathered all the ingredients for me:  honey, sugar, flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, eggs, coffee.  The only ingredient she didn’t allow was cloves.  She hated cloves.  She said it reminded her of the toothache medicine she had to take as a child.  So we ditched the cloves.  Otherwise, I made the recipe as proscribed and out came a yummy coffee cake like treat.  Apparently the Dutch eat honey cake as a coffee cake year round, but I got into the habit of making it for Christmas.  That’s when I made the first, for Christmas 1977.  I was 12.  Everyone loved it.

The hardest honey cake to make was for Christmas 1996.  Mom had been gone for six months by then.  But I did something impish, to lighten the mood a bit.  For the first time, I included cloves — just a dash, as the recipe said.  I don’t think it made that much of a difference in the flavor.  I guess only Mom would have noticed.  Moms notice everything, you know.

Shortwave radio has been dying a long slow death for the past couple of decades.  First fiscal belt-tightening put the squeeze on many international broadcasters — shortwave stations are hella expensive to operate.  The transmitters usually use upwards of 250 kilowatts of power and require tons of oil and stuff to run.  That adds up.  And of course, the internet arrived.  It’s much easier to hear and see the world now than it was in 1975.  I can listen to Radio Netherlands easier now via podcast than I can on my radio — you know, the funny looking thing with the vacuum tubes.  My dad restored that radio, by the way, in 1968.  Still works.  My prediction that it will likely outlive shortwave itself may well come true, alas.  Though shortwave radio is still important in the developing world where the internet and satellite radio are still cost prohibitive.

There.  I just took the 34th Annual Honey Cake out of the oven.  Smells like Christmas has arrived.  These days I usually bake a couple, one for here and one to send to family and friends in LA.  For those of you who want to try it, look below the fold for the recipe.  73s and Merry Christmas.

Continue reading

DADT BS (updated below)

I’m really not happy with the way the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell repeal is being handled.  The policy, born in 1993, is pure discrimination, nothing less.  It places on a certain segment of the population an unfair burden, that is, that LBGT service members cannot reveal or discuss in any way, shape or manner their sexuality.  That’s bullshit.  Think about it.  How often do you say “my wife” this or “my boyfriend” that in casual conversation?  No brainer.  You just talk about them in the same banal way you talk about the weather.  But if your partner is of the same gender, then all bets are off.  Can’t mention them, except maybe as a “friend.”  But if this “friend” keeps cropping up in conversations, potentially it could lead to one outing oneself accidentally as co-workers and superiors put two and two together.  Outrageous.

Far more harmful, of course, is the pressure real life couples have to go through if one of them is in the service and the other is a civilian spouse.  Straight civilian spouses have a panoply of support services at their beck and call, including each other.  Gay civilian spouses could never take advantage of this network because it would put their military spouse at risk of being fired.  Worse yet, if the military spouse is injured or killed in the line of duty, the spouse is not notified.  The spouse has no visitation rights.  The spouse has no pension rights.  The spouse isn’t even accorded such standard military dignities as a visit from military personnel presenting a flag and sympathy.  Nothing.  Zilch.  Nichts.  That’s beyond outrageous.  That’s plain cruelty.  My partner and I have been together for over 16 years.  Woe betied any hospital that would try to get between us if anything happened to the other.

The press to overturn DADT has been anemic at best.  The policy was created in a state of weakness and so far it is being repealed in a similar state.  The basic problem with the repeal effort is that it has been a series of capitulations to a population of homophobes who have no interest in repeal.  The generals and commanders fighting repeal are projecting their own homophobia onto their charges, stating that they “aren’t ready” for the change.  Some aren’t, though the much vaulted survey of military personnel showed that for many in the US armed services, DADT repeal is no big deal.  But that doesn’t matter.  In the end, these leaders of the armed services should lead.  If they are commanded to discontinue this policy, then that’s what they should do.  PERIOD.  They need to train their troops not to be bigots and to do their work.  As a manager in a non-military setting, I am charged to uphold the nondiscrimination policies of my company.  It’s as simple as that.  And if the military leaders can’t do that, then they need to resign and let someone else takeover who can.  There is no middle ground in cases of discrimination.  You end it quickly and decisively or it does not end at all.  This nonsense about not causing waves during war time is just a smoke screen, again, that the homophobes use to continue that which they feel comfortable with.

And don’t make me laugh about soldiers worried about bending over in the showers, as if cases of sexual assault are going to rise if DADT is repealed.  Please with that.  The armed forces need to take care of its existing problem with sexual assaults against its servicewomen.  The homophobes aren’t making such a big deal about that.  They’ll pay the problem lip service, but showing leadership to end it is another matter.  But they’ll gladly use the truncheon of sexual assault as a reason not to end DADT.

As I’m fond of saying, you can either pull the bandaid off slowly, feeling the tug of each hair as you do it, or you can yank it off in one quick jolt.  You’ll remove some hairs that way, painfully, but the hair will grow back and the pain will diminish.  The only ingredient missing is leadership.  LEADERSHIP.  No more studies.  No more committee hearings.  No more time wasting.  Just end it.  End it, Mr. President.  I would think that the recent court case that decided against DADT would be a god-send.  It’s like a get out of jail free card.  The finicky Senate gets bypassed and the law gets struck down.  Why do the appeals?  Why must it end by a legislative process?  I expect it is possible for the Supreme Court to uphold DADT in the end, but if we don’t appeal it that far, then it can’t.  Stop the appeals.  Let the shameful policy die an overdue death.

You can’t negotiate with bigots.  You can try and maybe you can change a few minds, but in the end, you have to put your foot down and say “this is what we’re going to do.”  That’s the only thing that needs to happen.  Mr. President, you can do this at any time.  Just do it.

Update – December 18, 2010

And in the end, the Senate does the right thing and banished this ridiculousness to the dust bin of history.  I predict within five years, folks will look back and wonder what the hell all the fuss was about.  So it goes with these sorts of things.  Good Riddance to DADT.  May we never see the likes of it ever again.