This morning at 11:00…
This afternoon at 3:00…
There is now one less dying tree in Winston-Salem. And three hundred fewer dollars in our checking account.
Funny. The weekend before Mark moved into my apartment in San Francisco, I was all excited about “Mildred Pierce” and “Double Indemnity” being on TV. As the fourth anniversary of that weekend arrives, I’m reading the novels the movies were based on.
In the next day’s entry, I mentioned how excited and happy I was. I still am.
I’m just disappointed he’s not here to experience the great weather.
This pair arrived just as I was being interviewed by a reporter from Supermarket News this morning. I wonder if our cohabitation anniversary will be mentioned in the article. Probably not, huh?
Come on. Admit it. This is probably the only website you’ll read all week that’s run by someone who’s been interviewed by Supermarket News. You know it’s true.
By the way, my apologies to anyone who’s tried to use my email form the past week or so. I took it offline temporariliy to thwart a robotic spammer and then forgot to put it back.
Quoth Rich Tramontozzi, president of the Bears of San Francisco:
“..it’s more of a, ‘We’re here to stay, and we’re only going to get stronger in our cohesion and in our ability to be a formidable power within the gay community.”
This is absolutely the stupidest thing I’ve read all day.
Please don’t assume that I’m slighting da’ bears here. No, my slight is much more universal and is directed at anyone who can speak without irony about becoming — or even wanting to become — “a formidable power within the gay community.”
What a ridiculous notion.
Just what does one do when one is “a formidable power within the gay community?” I envision warring fetishist factions slugging it out in some student council chamber, trying to decide what this year’s uniforms will look like and who gets to be (pardon the expression) the prom queen.
Seriously, against whom would one wield “a formidable power within the gay community?” The editors of The Advocate? The publishers of PlanetOut or Gay.com? The bouncer at the queer bar? Some guy who won’t “friend” you on MySpace?
It all sounds a bit like an episode of “The Young and the Restless” to me. In other words, who the hell cares?
I’m being interviewed by The Charlotte Observer about my other site next week. I’m not bragging. I’m just demonstrating how I’ve become a formidable power within the retail history web publishing community.
Just thought you might like to know.
Unearthed on a photo expedition over the weekend: the tattered remains of Winston-Salem’s first leather bar.
OK, maybe not. But it was found just three blocks from this building, which, ummm, separates the men from the boys:
Downtown Winston-Salem. Your home for unintentional architectural homoeroticism. Or stupid jokes. You be the judge.
Dammit, I liked this essay, and no one commented on it. So I’m featuring it on the front page again, simply because I can.
Maybe it got overlooked because of the other one I posted the same day, which at least generated a slight argument.
Or maybe no one cares.
Caption: Yer Humble Host. 1976. Aunt Mildred’s living room couch. Somewhere near Tampa, Florida.
I ran across this cool bunch of stuff from my childhood while looking for something else today. The interesting thing is that I didn’t spend my childhood in the Tampa Bay area. I was in the area, at most, for about a week or so each year when we visited my aunt and uncle there. And I STILL remember this whole campaign, from that breezy “WTOG, as far as the eye can see” jingle to the “extended remix” instrumental versions. In fact, I’d actually looked for some of this stuff online before.
WTOG was one of those great 1970s independent stations, all of which were remarkably similar despite their lack of a network affiliation. Mornings were always given over to black-and-white sitcom re-uns from the 1950s, an assortment which always included “Father Knows Best, “Leave It to Beaver”, “Dennis the Menace”, and “I Love Lucy”. Afternoons were about “Speed Racer”and “Brady Bunch” re-runs, and primetime was invariably filled with either a movie or Merv Griffin, followed by “Marty Hartman, Mary Hartman” at 11.
any of these stations later became the first round of Fox affiliates. Some, as of this week, have traded The WB orUPN for The CW or My Network TV. Very few, I imagine, have “Father Knows Best” reruns or a jingle that 10-year-olds will remember thirty years from now. KOFY in San Francisco may have had the last one of those.
I watched way too much TV when I was a kid. Even when I was on vacation.
Spotted today in Danville, Virginia. It’s one of only about thirteen still in existence. I used to love Golden Skillet. Thirty years ago, there were at least four in Greensboro alone. This one, I believe, is now my closest location.