HOW DID I WIND UP HERE...???

I was trying to find if there were any new gay/christian/married blogs out there, and ran up against my inability to deal with video, and a link I couldn't resist, under the heading:

Five Gay Movies That Deserve a Sequel More Than "Rambo" Did...

Of course, that isn't saying much. The only thing that could possibly explain the making of "Rambo XCVI" is the simple fact that the first ones made money.

Lots of it. And that means that sooner or later, someone will want to market that "brand" again. Just look at what that @$$hole Eisner has done with the Disney animated cartoons. Not that the originals were High Art or anything, but really:

Cinderella II: "No More Mr. Nice Guy"?

Peter Pan II: Wendy Finally Figures Out Why Peter Stays in Never-Never-Land?

Jungle Book II: Baloo Goes into Therapy?

Aladdin IX: More Pointless Bad Animation?

Give me a @#$%-ing break.
There's something to be said for quitting while you're ahead...

On a more positive note, here is a wonderful poem I ran across a while ago, and just stumbled across again. It hit a little too close to home, so here's hoping the Goat isn't thinking about it...

"I Love the Way Men Crack"
by Ellen Bass, from Mules of Love, Vol. 1.

I love the way men crack open
when their wives leave them,
their sheaths curling back like
the split shells of roasted chestnuts,
exposing the sweet creamy meat.
They call you and unburden their hearts
the way a woman takes off her jewels,
the heavy pendant earrings,
the stiff lace gown and corset,
and slips into a loose kimono.
It's like you've both had a couple shots
of really good scotch and snow is falling
in the cone of light under the street lamp—
large slow flakes
that float down in the amber glow.

They tell you all the pain
pressed into their flat chests,
their disappointed penises,
their empty hands.
As they sift through the betrayals and regrets,
their shocked realization of how hard they tried,
they way they shouldered the yoke
with such stupid good faith—
they grow younger and younger.
They cry with the unselfconciousness of children.
When they hug you, they cling.
Like someone who's needed glasses for a long time—
and finally got them—
they look around just for the pleasure of it:
the detail, the sharp edges
of what the world has to offer.
And when they fall in love again,
it only gets better.

Their hearts are stuffed full as éclairs
and the custard oozes out at a touch.
They love her, they love you, they love everyone.
They drag out all the musty sorrows and joys
from the basement where they've been shoved
with mitts and coin collections.
They tell you things they've never told anyone.
Fresh from loving her,
they come glowing like souls
slipping into the bodies of babies about to be born.
Then a year goes by. Or two.

Like broken bones,
they knit back together. They grow
like grass and bushes and trees after a forest fire,
covering the seared earth.
They landscape the whole thing,
plant like mad
and spend every weekend
watering and weeding.

And here is the link to the VIDEO I couldn't figure out how to import and glue here. And the responses to it, and the responses to the responses. Too much for me to follow...

The first is just a pitch for people to consider it normal to be gay and Christian; it reminds me a little bit of the math that says that in a room with nine cats and one mouse in it, statistically speaking the mouse should be just fine, as he is 90% cat...

I know I exist, but I don't really consider myself "normal."
Whatever THAT means...

Five Things I Love About Jesus

Only five? Randomly selected out of the many things I dig, and in no particular order:

1. Jesus gets really cranky sometimes.
It comes out most in Mark's Gospel account. Or maybe it just stands out more because of the author's rather terse, telegraphic writing style. Why do I dig this? Because it's just so bleeding human.

2. Jesus doesn't write people off just because they get it wrong sometimes.
He really doesn't. He can get really cranky about it (see item #1), but he doesn't cut them loose.

3. Jesus doesn't write people off just because they're right.
Which is, let's be honest, a far worse sin in the eyes of many great leaders. Most of them can't stand it when someone else is right. Jesus, on the other hand, shows a refreshingly remarkable willingness to listen and be affected by another human being. Case in point: the Syro-Phoenician- Canaanite woman, who challenges Jesus to broaden the scope of his compassion (Matthew 15:22-28, Mark 7:25-30).

4. Jesus is funny.
I mean, come on, that bit about "get the log out of your own eye before trying to get the speck out of your neighbor's" is classic. Also calling the Pharisees--who seem to be friends of his, given the number of times he's having dinner at one or another of their homes--a bunch of snakes; actually, he calls them a "brood" of snakes, which is pretty much a "yo mama" joke. And let's not forget his response to Thomas's "unless I put my fingers in the print of the nails, and put my hand in his side, I will not believe." Put your finger here... Now, that's comedy!

5. Jesus is both an impeccable host and a gracious guest.
Lots of people can do one or the other, but many can't do both. Now, my mother was a fabulous hostess, but feeding 5000 hungry people on 5 loaves and 2 fish was beyond even her extraordinary talents. And I like to think of myself as an appreciative guest, but I've never turned my host's water into wine. And I don't always accept every invitation. The thing I dig the most about Jesus? He always shows up. To every party, whether it's just 2 or 3, or 100 or 1000. You invite him, he's there. Even if the music sucks and the food is dry and tastes like styrofoam, even if the decor is lousy and people are uptight, even if the liturgy is boring or messy or incoherent or just plain dumb, Jesus shows up like it's his birthday or something. I just love that.

from: Christians and Writers and Queers, Oh My!

Meanwhile, the Goat is really mourning the death of Heath Ledger. It seems a tad excessive, to me anyway, and as one Spanish-language gay blog asked:

Are we mourning Heath Ledger,
or Ennis Delmar?

The answer to that one
seems pretty clear...

and then there's this:

[look left, guys]

I mean,

I always

assumed

it was true,

but I never

expected

anyone

to come out

and admit it...
C