Category: Urban issues

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Wanna see my pot of gold?

Last week at the conference in Philadelphia, one of my advertisers stopped by our booth and asked me to come by to answer a question his coworkers had. Their company is based in a small city.

One said, “On the way to dinner last night, we noticed that some of the street signs are made with rainbow symbols on them. Why is that?”

I looked at them puzzledly. “Seriously?” I asked.

They stared at me. “Yeah,” one said.

“It’s, uh, it’s the gay district,” I said.

“THANK YOU!” one said. “I told you guys! It’s like they’ve never been to a big city before,” he added.

I said, “You’ve never seen that? Rainbow flags? Storefronts with pretty colors? Guys who are much better looking than any guy you’ve ever met?”

“Seriously?” another asked. “Why do you know that?”

“Because . . . I’m aware of cultural symbols and I have lots of queer friends . . .?”

Walking back to my booth shaking my head, I muttered, “What did they think, it was the leprechaun district?”

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What it is: 3/17/08

What I’m reading: During the weekend, I finished Love & Sleep, Osamu Tezuka’s Buddha comic and Darwyn Cooke’s The New Frontier. I’m continuing to work on Retired Racing Greyhounds for Dummies. I have 6 weeks until the third volume of AEgypt gets reissued, but this week’ll get spent pounding out the April issue and designing an advertiser’s supplement, so I doubt there’ll be much book-reading going on.

What I’m listening to: Dummy, by Portishead

What I’m watching: 2nd season of The Wire (two episodes remaining), No Country for Old Men, and Super Bowl XLII Champions: NY Giants DVD

What I’m drinking: Tim Horton’s coarse grind (French press style), a gift from my pals in Providence

Where I’m going: nowhere this week

What I’m happy about: Rufus is doing much better on the stairs.

What I’m sad about: Closing the crate door on the poor guy when I go to work in the morning, even though lots of people — including veterinarians and greyhound owners — told me not to get upset about doing it.

What I’m pondering: Whether I should get a microchip implanted that will give me an electric shock anytime I go more than 3 days without writing back to e-mails from friends or family. I feel like a heel lately.

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Eliot P. Ness

Last week, I mentioned NY Gov. Spitzer’s creative use of campaign funds in a post about why I hate writing about politics. This afternoon, Spitzer got nailed in a federal investigation of a high-class prostitution ring (with lead reporting again by St. John’s College alum Danny Hakim!).

I consider prostitution a victimless crime, unless the John is ugly or fat or something. In fact, I’m only writing about this so I can write a post with the title of Howard Stern’s great character from The Gay Untouchables.

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What it is: 3/10/08

What I’m reading: Still working Love and Sleep; it’s a longish book, and I was pretty busy this weekend.

What I’m listening to: In Our Nature, by Jose Gonzalez

What I’m watching: 2nd season of The Wire

What I’m drinking: Miller’s G&T, since I found a couple of decent limes this week.

Where I’m going: up and down the stairs, trying to get Rufus to follow me.

What I’m happy about: Besides bringing Rufus into our home? That my pals Paul & Deb sent really awesome holiday gifts (since we never got around to visiting during the holidays).

What I’m sad about: that my uncle (Dad’s brother), needed emergency bypass surgery last week, just like Dad did 3 years ago. Guess I really am going to have to watch my diet and get on that treadmill more often.

What I’m pondering: how my uncle managed to become The Invisible Man. Seriously: he lives over in NYC, and yet my father had no way to contact him beyond his cell phone; no land-line, no residential address, no business address. Of course, going in for emergency surgery, he was out of cell phone contact, and Dad had no way to reach his brother’s wife, kids, business associates or friends. I tried some detective work online (trying to track down his business, then his ex-wife for any contact info she had) but came up dry. What’s awesome about this is that Dad and his brother are not estranged. They’re actually in touch and talk occasionally, and yet my father has no idea how to contact his brother.