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The Eye in the Sky

1/28/2014

I've wanted to travel to Russia ever sense I saw Doctor Zhivago. It's a beautiful country with an incredible history, and it's climate doesn't frighten me because I love the cold. Having witnessed the end of the Cold War in the 80s, I'd really like to see Moscow; I want to stand in St. Petersburg Square and absorb the panorama of the world's other side. I also want to ask the locals if they have a favorite James Bond villain.

Sadly, as Vladimir Putin has made very clear, I'm not welcome because I'll likely spread "homosexual propaganda." And he's totally right: I'd definitely seek out the Russian gay community during a visit, asking as many questions as possible. "How do you find each other in the city?" "Do your neighbors harass you?" "The police?" "What are your lives like, living with a government that's as openly oppressive to gays as the South once was to blacks?" I've seen a few Russian profiles on Recon (which surprised me), and I'd want to know if gay Muscovites had access to social media. I'd also want to know if they thought Edward Snowden was sexy.

I've often wondered what kind of porn Snowden watched on his computer. You just know he did. He's a guy - and all of us do. I know those websites that I have bookmarked on my laptop (under the label "Smut"), and I know how often I visit them - sometimes more than once a day <eg>.

But I also read many political sites, and despite being gay, I lean towards conservative. I read Fox, Limbaugh, CNN, and the BBC; I visit the Drudge Report at least ten times a day - and sometimes even more, when the app sounds a siren. I google "North Korea" daily, and I search YouTube for videos on life in Pyongyang. I also go on the occasional Mideast kick, whenever Iran makes the news or a new Joel Rosenberg book comes out. Between the sex and political sites, I'm sure my online behavior had raised occasional red flags - especially when I read Pravda.

I read today that the government has been watching us through Angry Birds, and that police will soon be wearing Google Glasses. But that's no surprise - Snowden only confirmed what we already know: we're all being watched technologically - through phones, computers, televisions, tablets. TV Shows like Almost Human and Person of Interest may not be reality yet, but they will be soon - within the foreseeable future. Almost everything we do can be monitored from great distance, and it's getting harder to be a criminal. The telescreens are everywhere, far more than what Orwell envisioned. And it's only getting worse. Pretty soon, we'll all be wearing Star Trek com-badges. If we want to know where someone is, all we'll need to do is ask the omnipresent computer.

It's tempting to complain about surveillance, but, sadly, I've always seen it as inevitable. Europe has had public surveillance for years, and it took 9/11 to make America vigilant. And besides, when we accept the connivence of depositing a check with our phones, how can we not suspect that the technology goes both ways? What concerns me now is how dependent we've become on the integration of computers in daily life. Look up from the device that you're reading this blog on now, and notice how many items in your house rely on a computer chip. In most cases, it's everything but the couch.

Now, imagine what happens when all those chips get zapped by an electromagnetic pulse - say, the type that North Korea is said to be working on right now. Not only do we lose the TV, but the furnace stops, the car won't start, and the Keurig won't even squirt out a mocha while we scratch our heads over our lifeless iPhones. Imagine what happens when the grid goes...down. No lights, no heat, no phone, no Internet. It's won't be like it was when I grew up, heating soup/coffee in the family room fireplace during Springfield Illinois' 1979 ice storm. Back then, our "grid" was down for 10 days; with the exception of shag carpeting/popcorn ceilings, we were reduced to pioneer living. If that situation happened today, I literally don't know how I'd survive without my gadgets. I'm far too dependent on them. As an introvert, they make it easier to interact with others.

I don't like the fact that the government is watching our lives, but if that's the only way to guarantee the grid stays up, I reluctantly concede. I'm not willing to live without my Apple products, and though I enjoy watching Downton Abbey, I have no desire to return to hat time...even if I were a Crawley.

I've written/blogged about the days before the Internet - and how hard it was to meet other people, especially in the late 80s/early 90s (back when AOL was little more than a small ad in OMNI magazine). It was a lonely time for me. A dark time, even...and a time that thanks to my iPad, I will never see again.

Surveillance technologies seem as scary today as telephones once seemed a hundred years ago.

But in the end, it came down to "quality of life"...and in my opinion, that's what our gadgets are really all about.

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Top Ten List

1/27/2014

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The first time I noticed over-the-top DVD packaging was when the complete series of The Brady Bunch arrived in a box made of green shag carpeting. On inspecting the set, I found its interior lined with 1970s paneling; "How clever," I thought. "It almost makes me want to watch these crappy shows all over again."

Thanks to Netflix, digital downloads, and on-demand TV, DVD movies will soon be obsolete. And that's especially true for DVD television series; who wants to pay $20 for Hart to Hart when Hulu is half the price, and allows unlimited streaming of every show imaginable?

The exception would be "specialty DVD box sets," where fun packaging is more important than content. The kitschy Brady Bunch is the perfect example, but I can also think of others: A Mad Men box, shaped like a Zippo lighter. The Simpsons Movie, shaped like a donut. Hell, you can even count the less-clever-but-far-bigger-boxes-box-sets, usually for a single title, like Gone With the Wind, Close Encounters, or Al Jolson as The Jazz Singer (though I don't know how Blu Ray can improve a movie from 1927).

The Wizard of Oz is barely 100 minutes, but the boxed set (as large as a Whitman's Sampler) has hours of bonus features, as well as replicas of movie souvenirs It's so big, it won't fit on the same shelf as the rest of your DVDs...and it makes green shag carpeting seem practical.

All that being said, allow me to help keep DVD boxed sets alive for just a little longer. It's clear that in order to be successful, it's all about the packaging - and to be as obscure, niche, and impractical as possible. With that in mind, I give you:

TOP TEN LIST:
Fun Packing for DVD Boxed Sets

1. The George Reeves Superman boxed set, shaped like an athletic cup - to hide that manly bulge from a 1950s TV audience. Special features include a flask of vodka, a bottle of Lithium, and a 1979 copper penny from Somewhere in Time.

2. The Different Strokes boxed set, shaped like a commercial washing machine (in honor of Dana Plato). Special features include a rap sheet for Willis, a porno mag from "the bicycle man" episode, the Gary Coleman episode of "Where are they now?," and one of Mrs. Garret's girdles.

3. The Hello Larry boxed set, shaped like a remote control to quickly change the channel. Special features include McClain Stephenson's resume, and both wooden & plastic coat hangers (an inside joke for the handful of viewers who watched the show).

4. The SuperTrain boxed set, shaped like a bomb. Special features include a written apology from the show's producers, a copy of 30 Rock's second mortgage, and various pieces of metal, plastic, and glass that fell from the SuperTrain model during filming.

5. The Bradys boxed set (not to be confused for the Brady Bunch from the 70s) shaped like a brick cell phone. Special features include a Members Only jacket, a "silver fox" permed toupee, a copy of The Sexless Marriage, and a home HIV test.

6. The Falcon Crest boxed set, shaped like a box of house red. Special features include a corkscrew, Jayne Wyman's shoulder pads, an autographed glossy from Lorenzo Lamas' Body Rock, Chase's rose-colored sunglasses, and various Redken salon product samples.

7. The Fantasy Island boxed set, shaped like Kahn's foam rubber chest. Special features include a tin of white shoe polish, an owner's manual from a 1977 Chrysler Cordoba, a plastic lei, a copy of Tattoo's bar tab, and assorted drink umbrellas.

8. The Love Boat boxed set, shaped like 1970's-era Samsonite makeup case. Special features include a bottle of Valium (but labeled "Dramamine"), a doggie bag from the midnight buffet, Isaac's mustache comb, and a VHS copy of Titanic.

9. The Duck Dynasty boxed set, shaped like a shirtless bust of Vladimir Putin. Special features include a Bible cover crocheted from Uncle Phil's hair, a crucifix-shaped vibrator, a tube of Jack Beard Lube, and a well-worn Damron Guide with its pages stuck together.

10. The Anna Nicole boxed set, shaped like a can of hairspray. Special features include a pair of pink stretch pants, a bottle of propathol, a Mr. Burns-shaped Pez dispenser (but filled with Viagra), and a damp faux fur G-string.

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Aurora: The City of (Pink) Lights

1/22/2014

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"You! You an orgy-er! You going to hell because you an orgy-er!"

If you're a follower of this blog, you know I purposely keep things upbeat & funny. I write about television. I write about poop. I write about the people I've observed in my neighborhood - shopping, snooping, taking children to the liquor store at ten in the morning. I've written about the apocolypse twice, about nuns too old to play the organ, and about looking like William Shatner as I grow older. I've compared Uncle Phil to Shain Gandee from Buckwild, and I wrote three posts while attending IML. Fun stuff, I hope. And with no soapbox rants.

That being said, I need to vent - a little.

The town that I live in is very homophobic, and my experiences with neighbors, police, and now even my local grocery store have made me regret the fact that I presently live in Aurora, Illinois. And that's really a shame. I've been here since 2006. And until recently, I've genuinely loved my neighborhood.

Historic downtown Aurora.

Next to Chicago itself, Aurora is the largest city in the area. Aurora is a massive suburb - with a charming downtown, stunning historic districts, and a rich history that's as fascinating as Chicago's. Our motto "City of Lights" was created because we were of the first townships in the area to embrace electricity.

Aurora has both old parts and new, working-class neighborhoods and upscale streets near Naperville, Batavia, and Oswego. Our demographics lean heavily towards Hispanics, with whites a close second, followed by other ethnicities. We're an American melting pot, but with an extra dash of chili powder.

The riverboat casino's landscaped walkways.

But despite our size - and huge gay population - Aurora is far from gay-friendly. The few businessmen who have opened gay bars/restaurants over the last 20 years have closed quickly because of neighborhood backlash - as well as an unaccommodating city council.

Aurora has no gay-friendly churches, no openly-gay businesses, and definitely no gay social clubs. And it's not because such organizations haven't tried; they've opened - but we're soon forced to close. Aurora - like Putin - has made it clear that gays are not welcome.

"You! You an orgy-er!," the woman shrieked in the supermarket. "You going to hell because you an orgy-er!" The woman was dark-skinned - not black, but not quite Latin American either - and she stood behind my roommate in line at Cermak, our local, upscale Hispanic grocery store. The woman had pegged him as gay, and she was far from happy. "You orgy-er, you're going to hell!"

Cermak grocery stores.

My roommate - Jack - was completely stunned. He was just standing in line alone, buying a handful of groceries, when the woman went ballistic, and yelled as though he'd just stolen her purse. Jack took a step back, then looked to the cashier in bewilderment. His eyes said "WTF?" - as he doesn't look in the least bit gay, and certainly hadn't done nothing to antagonize. But the woman's gaydar was on and Jack was in the crossfire. As she shouted bad-ju-ju-curses, the unapologetic cashier told Jack, "She's from Zimbabwe...and she tends to speak her mind." Jack couldn't help but laugh.

When Jack posted this story on FaceBook later, I was stunned and disgusted - especially with Cermck management. Everyone was watching, but no employee intervened. If one customer verbally attacked another customer at my place of employment, every single coworker would come to that customer's defense. But the Cermak cashiers, stockboys, and managers all took the sideline - despite the African woman's pattern of assaulting customers. And I can't help but think this happened because the Cermak managers agreed with the shouting woman: We don't like gay people either. That's definitely what their actions said.

Until fairly recently, I've sided with Aurora's Hispanic community. I figure that I'm the minority on their turf, and as a smoker would never light up in a nonsmoker's living room, I (as a gay man) wasn't going to make waves in a town that embraces family values. I've kept to myself, kept my house in tip-top shape, and I've kept visiting friends to a minimum. But even though I enjoy my home/privacy, there's something to be said about sharing a neighborhood with likeminded people. I might not want to gossip with sidewalk passerby, but I also don't want to see mothers hastening their children, pointing at me and speaking in bitter Spanish. It's frustrating. And it's because machismo doesn't tolerate gay.

To fully understand the size of Aurora's LGBT community, just take a ride on the Metra on the day of Chicago's Gay Pride parade. More specifically, try to ride the Metra; the last time I did (in 2010), the last six stops were cancelled because the cars were standing room only. It was wall-to-wall gay people, and Aurora's passengers alone filled almost eight cars. And that was just one of the trains bound for Pride, not counting those who drove.

On that particular Gay Pride Sunday, there were thousands of gay Aurorians...many young, many my age, and all of whom were enjoying the one day of the year when The City of Lights couldn't hide its LGBT community. It was both exhilarating and sad - like watching unjustly incarcerated being freed from prison, and walking out of the courthouse without being hassled by angry reporters. I remember looking around and thinking, "Where the hell did all you people come from?" And on the ride to Chicago, I learned they were my neighbors - many from blocks near my home. There were just so many of us, and it's shameful that Aurora has yet to embrace that fact.

I wonder what the Zimbabwean lady from Cermak would say if she had been on the train next to me.

I definitely know what we would have said back.

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Dexter, Dallas, and the Fall of North Korea

1/16/2014

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Has anyone else noticed that on Showtime's series Dexter, even the "minor" predators have professionally-decorated kill rooms?

And it's not just their kill rooms, but their entire houses are nice - living rooms, kitchens, bathrooms, hallways - Dex's guest stars live in spacious coastal bungalows, no matter what they do for a living. But even saying "nice" is an understatement; most guest villain lairs glow with an intentional color scheme, as though Ty Pennington had spent a week remodeling the set before film crews arrived. It doesn't matter if they're a UPS driver/kidnapper or a cannibalistic salesman in a shopping mall kiosk, Miami's hourly wages must allow a very high standard of living. As 30Rock's Liz Lemon would say, "I want to be there."

I'm often amazed at the size of dwellings depicted on weekly TV. From Sheldon' Big Bang apartment to Temperance Brenner's incredible house on Bones, these places are huge - especially when you consider that in real life, they have to be twice as big from what we see on the screen. Can you imagine how much rent the real life Friends apartment would have cost in NYC? Or how about Niles' cavernous pad on Fraiser? Remember Different Strokes?; Mr. Drummond' s two-story penthouse had no visible ceiling. That place must have been massive. No wonder Mrs. Garret had such big hair.

Years ago, Rush Limbaugh suggested that television's Dallas was the reason The Soviet Union finally fell. The communists saw the Ewings' lifestyle and assumed that all Americans lived in luxurious houses, wore fancy clothes, and rolled around in either pickups, Cadillacs, or helicopters. In 1982 America, maintaining Linda Grey's hair cost more per week than most Russians spent on food. According to Rush, the lavish neon of Dallas bore stark contrast to the Orwellian streets of Moscow - where babushkas were far more common than Sue Ellen Ewing's shoulder pads.

American television forced Communists to look at their own bleak lives, then compare their lifestyles to what they saw on Dallas, Falcon Crest, Dynasty, and even 80s sitcoms. American television had lines for a Cabbage Patch dolls, St Petersburg television - for those lucky enough to see it - had government-sponsored programming. I don't remember any Americans saying that while watching Soviets stand in line for toilet paper.

Two years ago, I read a heartbreaking book called "Escape from Camp 13" - the story of a man who escaped from the harshest prison/labor camp in all of North Korea. The book was gut-wrenching; Shun in-geun's harrowing story exposed North Korea's NAZI-like concentration camps - and their complete disregard for human life. Reading this book made me understand why George W Bush called the DPRK "evil," and for the last two years I've followed events in that country - from smuggled YouTube videos, to the stories surrounding Dennis Rodman's shameful behavior. North Korea is tragic, and I genuinely believe that its government will soon collapse - creating a humanitarian crisis. When I read about people's lives in the DPRK, I'm often reminded of the wives in polygamist marriages: happiness is replaced by conformity, and people live entire sheltered lives, never experiencing joy.

The reason I believe North Korea is in decline is because the country's government is increasingly unable to hide the outside world from its people. And television in particular - just like the old USSR - is the one thing that does the most damage by showing North Koreans how we live in the rest of the world. South Korean soap operas are the most popular; their language/culture is similar enough for those in the DPRK to understand. Simple pleasures like running water, working electricity, and seeing Koreans with the freedom to wear whatever clothes you want: these are the images that will make North finally throw out the Kims.

That being said, I believe North Korea will fall a lot quicker if we actively "attack" them with current American television. As Dallas is back on the air, we'll start with that; forget dropping Christian leaflets over the boarder, let's drop DVDs and 10-gallon hats.

Considering that much of the DPRK is starving, I think Honey Boo Boo should be next - particularly, the "sp'ghetti n' butter" episode. We could follow that with Gordon Ramsey's programs, and all of Rachel Ray's shows. Hell, we should just beam a 24 Food Channel feed into the country...show the North Koreans that if they kick out their government, they can be just as fat as their dear leader. Especially if Paula Deen makes that pie out of Krispy Kreme donuts.

And the DPRK could only be the beginning. We could go back to Russia again, this time with The L Word, and episodes of Queer Eye For the Straight Guy. We could change the face of Al Qaeda with Baywatch, old episodes of VIP, and anything starring Tori Spelling. While we're at it, let's get Band of Brothers on Iranian TV; let's see how hard it is to deny the holocaust when you're watching Schindler's List in a barcalounger, along side Ahmadinejad.

But no matter what programming we export, one thing is certain: our enemies will know that life is so good in America, even our villains live in nice places. And if our bad guys live like that, think of how the good guys live. America's true power lays within our depiction on television. We can use that to our advantage, and I for one, really like Dexter's apartment.

It reminds me so much of my own home...

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The Walking Dead & The Queen of Clean

1/9/2014

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So, I'm standing at the top of the stairs, staring at the ceiling light's reflection in the growing pool of water on the basement floor. A pipe had burst, not surprising considering the laundry room thermometer read 42 this morning, and it looked like Murphy's Law would be getting a pass today - in leu of the polarrrrrrrrrr vorrrrrrrrtex.

My house is 115 years old this year, and as the basement is unpredictable, I've learned to keep everything in Big Rubbermaid totes. I get water in the spring, bugs in the fall, and occasionally birds who fly down the chimney. I'm pretty much prepared for anything that might happen to the property - and that includes stored food & water in case of martial law.

It's important to note that I'm not a survivalist, nor am I paranoid - or preparing for some type of government collapse. The world we live in is an increasingly dangerous place, and I believe within the next few years, we'll be hit with some type of "event" that temporarily disrupts the flow of goods and information - and for that it would be irresponsible to not prepare. I haven't gone shopping at the Patriot Pantry yet, but I have set aside enough canned goods & bottled water to camp inside the house for a few weeks. I don't own a gun, but I do have a big bat and a drawer full of kitchen knives. I've got basic first aid supplies, a hand-crank radio that can also recharge my phone, and several extra bottles of bleach. I'm as ready as I can be, I guess...assuming that civil defense works better than the Obamacare website.

But if Hollywood has taught us anything, it's that there are far worse disasters than dirty bombs or blackouts. Weaponized viruses are pretty high up there, and according to Michael Crichton's The Andromeda Strain, we could always accidentally bring back something biological from space. Terrorists have WMDs, and that includes nukes; personally - in the event of a nuclear attack - all I need is a good 10 minutes to make it to the liquor store. Again, I'm preparing realistically.

That being said, I'm totally screwed in the event of a zombie attack. I have no shotgun, I have no crossbow, and I have no patience whatsoever for anyone with bad hygiene. If the utilities go out, I fully understand that hot showers go away with them, but if you've prepared like me you'll still have enough water to wash your face, pits, and ass. And I'll also add that deodorant doesn't go bad like milk in the refrigerator.

Zombies - more than any other disruptive civil event - will be extremely difficult to guys like me who vacuum our way out of the house in the morning. Sure, zombies are deadly, but they're also very messy...and they leave in their path not only a trail of victims, but a greasy brown smear of rotting DNA...from spoiled flesh to discarded bones. Like many Americans, I enjoy The Walking Dead on AMC. I watch it because I like "human dramas," slow, winding tales like Battlestar Galactica - stories that focus on human survival, set against calamity. The Walking Dead explores the zombie phonomea to its stomach-churning fullest, especially when it comes to the stink of unrefrigerated meat. But even more importantly, TWD shows how quickly tidiness turns to squalor; in any given zombie story, the moment the undead hit the streets, the survivors replace their curtains with rags - and trade in new cars for weathered 1970s RVs.

I totally get that supplies must be rationed, but do we really have to ration clean clothes as well? I suspect that most of us have more than one shirt in our closet, and once it gets stained with blood, slime & eye-juice, wouldn't most of us put on a fresh one? Even if it's not ironed? And if you've just had to kill your spouse with a screwdriver, wouldn't it make you feel better to wipe the red splatter off the wall? Clean off the upholstery? Throw out the carpet?

I could go on and on, but I think I've made my point. The next time Linda Cobb writes a book, I really hope she includes a few chapters on survivalist-cleanliness.

Again, when it comes to civilization-ending catastrophes, I'd prefer something atomic, non-zombie viral, or rays coming from flying saucers that somehow think Aurora, IL is important. I want a disaster that I can experience from my house - with the dishes done, the beds made, and windows darkened with drapes & blinds, rather than oily rags.

It's funny how a little water in the basement can made you understand what's truly important in life...and death.

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There is No Corn in Chocolate

1/1/2014

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So, I'm staring in amazement at the turd on the toilet - a pile of brown, orange, and harvest gold that was resting behind the seat, rather than in the bowl. It was an intentional shit. It's position on the commode meant it's creator had to straddle the porcelain and aim his bowel movement like a bomb being dropped from a plane. The result was a bulls-eye: a perfect steaming splat of brown, with a swirly tip reminiscent of a Dairy Queen sundae. And the turd was garnished (so to speak) by what looked like the entire contents of our wall-mounted toilet seat cover dispenser. Yes, it was an act of vandalism, but it was also a work of art.

This wasn't the first time we've found this type of mess in the bathroom, and after 11 years at Barnes & Noble, I've seen a lot of gross stuff. My very first store was the closest BN to the Sun City area, so much of our clientele was old & incontinent, and "Code Browns" were common, even daily occurrences. It was at that very store where I grew a cast iron stomach, and learned which brands of adult diapers really lived up to their promise. I'd often find myself staring at a brown pool on the floor, thinking, "This is what happens when you buy an off brand." Be careful when you sneeze, especially if you're wearing white shorts.

Once I was walking through the bookstore when I noticed a lump of chocolate on the carpet in the fiction department. I first thought a kid had dropped a candy bar, but as I approached the brown deposit, a second thought crossed my mind: "That's strange. There is no corn in chocolate."

On realizing it was feces, I took a closer look at my surroundings. I saw more poop at the end of the aisle, and even more in the next aisle over. The increasingly-frequent shit-piles told the story of some catastrophic adult-diaper failure, and their path left clues to a frantic trip to the restroom - a trip with serious urgency.

"It must have gone down his pant leg," I thought, wondering how such a trail could have been made in a retail store, without anyone noticing. "He was trying to hold it in, but the prairie dog wouldn't stay in the hole." The poop trail stopped short of the mens room door, and after preparing myself for what I would find, I slowly pushed the door open.

The restroom was empty, quiet, surreal.

There was nothing but the buzz of the humming fluorescent lighting, and a heaviness in the air that made the room seem hazy. The air tasted "creamy," sweet on the surface, but foul underneath. I soon realized that I was inhaling a mixture of shit and roses - floral air freshener aerosol and the aftermath of something unholy that had occurred within in the handicapped stall. I saw shit on the ceiling and a abandoned pair of underwear on the floor next to the toilet. And with a hand over my mouth, I couldn't leave the restroom fast enough.

I don't know why it is that bathrooms in bookstores get so dirty. Maybe it's the coffee, or our proximity to four different restaurant bars. I'm tempted to say maybe people are just pigs, but I really hope that our customers are better than that. "Who shits ON a toilet, rather than IN it?" I feel is a valid question to ask. I suppose it's the same person(s) who shat in both our urinal and hand sink a few months back, but as bathroom monitors are not on our payroll, we'll never really know the answer.

It disturbs me that as a bookseller, so much of my job involves dealing with poop.