Turning A Theory Around. . .

Two good friends have just been evacuated from their homes in SoCal, fires burning all around them.

Earlier, I was talking to someone who said, "Imagine if Schwarzanegger hadn't vetoed that gay marriage measure last week how the Christians would be up in arms saying this is God's wrath."

Funny. Imagine if maybe this is God's wrath that His people are still being treated unjustly--and by people calling themselves Christians. . .

This in no way is meant to imply that ANYONE in SoCal deserves this. As a former resident of both Orange County and Hollywood, my heart is going out to everyone out there. My point is that those same Christians who think the hand of God is in every disaster, by design, never consider that he may be saying something to them. This is, after all, just a week or two after gays were yet again denied marriage rights. Maybe God IS angry.

Just turning a theory around. . .

ENDA

The recent decision by House leaders to move forward with a version of the Employment Non-Discrimination Act (ENDA) that does not include gender identity is creating a fuss within the NGLTF and HRC, who are insiting on the inclusion of transgendered persons in the non-discrimination legislation.

I hate that the revised bill is dropping transgendered, but. . .isn't ENDA, even without transgendered people attached, a victory nonetheless, IF it passes? I'm sorry but I don't feel it's a loss--it's a step in the right direction, and just because we can't make a jump doesn't mean we don't take the step.

I agree that the transgendered folks should be protected as well. But right now, we (meaning gays and lesbians) have no federal protection. How can anyone say that passing ENDA without the "T" in GLBT is equal to being a Log Cabin Repug? It's a beginning. What are we supposed to do--back away from legislation that can help most of us because it doesn't include a few of us? If I were black should I also say, "Let's step back and erase everything that's made my life as a black man easier so I can show solidarity with my gay brothers?" You take what you can get and you push for more. If we only get the ammended ENDA passed, then we stay and fight for more to make sure the "T" in our comminity gets the fairness they deserve. But if the "T" is too confusing an issue at a time when people barely understand what is so elementary to us, and it's inclusion in a bill will cause it to fail when it may otherwise pass, then shame on us for not doing a better job educating the public--but we should not say "It's all or nothing." People--we aren't that powerful. Yet. We have to take what we can get. An ENDA without the "T" is still a victory, even though it's not the victory we want.

Maybe rather than throwing tea parties, HRC can start educating the public. That's where all of our biggest battles are. And the "T" battle, to the publuc, is a new one, while the GLB battle has been going on for thirty years. Anyone who walks away from the table because we can't get everything we want in a non-discrimination act in one fell swoop is a fool.

If HRC and NGLTF are lobbying in opposition to the bill that will secure non-discrimination protection against gays and lesbians because they're unhappy with it not including transgendered persons, it's time for a new organziation to spring up and time for all gays and lesbians to stop funding those two institutions.

Stupid Straight People (Part 236)

As a continuing community service, O-Town Guy presents the following reminders of the many limitations of straight people, a reminder to the gay community that THESE are the idiots holding you back:

-- And Yet Gay People Can't Adopt in Florida: Another great example of straight parenting: www.cfnews13.com/News/Local/2007/6/25/child_left_in_stroller_at_disney_world.html

-- Well, I Sure Am Glad She's Not Incontinent: So that astronaut who drove from Houston to O-Town to kill her competition? Apparently, she was NOT wearing a diaper, or so her attorney claims, calling that the 'biggest lie'. Is it just me or shouldn't she be more mortified by her own actions? Or is that asking too much of a heterosexual in a non-traditional relationship? http://www.orlandosentinel.com/news/local/na/orl-bk-diaper062907,0,5628023.story?coll=orl_tab01_layout

-- Isn't It Romantic?: Speaking of that crazy astronaut situation (which is humiliating several innocent gay people I know who work hard for NASA. . .thank you, straight people), isn't that situation just the most romantic thing you've ever heard? Person A falls in love with Person B, who is in love also with Person C and Person A, driving Person C to load up a car with adult diapers so she can drive from Houtson to Orlando and kill Person A--or, at the very least, taze her? Sigh. I want someone to load up their car with adult diapers so they can drive to me non-stop, shitting their pants the whole way someday. Yes, that's when I'll know I'm loved. Thank you, straight people! You show us all what "natural" love looks like!

-- At Least The Bible was Nearby: I can't get over this one: the wrestler who kills not just his wife but his 7-year old child. And then, after killing them, leaves a copy of The Bible nearby. And then kills himself. This is sick and yet, you just know there are some idiot wrestling fans out there feeling sympathy for the idiot who shoved steroids down his throat and danced around in choreographed "matches", all the while wearing a speedo and faking pain. While I won't speak for the wife (who had filed for divorce and a restraining order only to then drop both issues, forgetting apparently about providing a safe haven for her child) the seven-year old deserved to have a chance to live his life without dying at the hands of a thankfully now-dead father. http://origin.dailynews.com/ci_6236796

-- And They Call Gays 'Sick and Twisted'?: I have no words. . .But I DO have a link to a website catering to those depraved heterosexual males: http://www.grannyangel.com/index.shtml

-- When You're Good, You're Good: Yet another case of a straight man exposing himself to a young girl. Only, in this case, he gets stabbed. . . and continues masturbating. http://stuff.co.nz/4103247a4560.html

Of course, not ALL straight people are irresponsible, crazy, sex-obsessed psychos.

But the majority of them sure do seem to be a bunch of irresponsible, sleazy, mindless shits, don't they?

Rules of En-Gay-Ment

"I'm a horrible person, aren't I? I'm not supposed to think these types of things about my family, am I?"

"K--you don't even talk to your family. Why should you feel bad for talking about them?"

"It's just wrong. I'm being mean and shallow and superficial and I know it but I just can't help it," K explains, his voice rushed in a moment of panicked mental justification. "But I just know that every one of them--every single one of them!--is going to get off that plane decked out head to toe in godamned Red Sox shirts and ballcaps. And they will look so stupid. I mean, what is it with people and ball teams? The Teams are made up of millionaires who usually don't even live in the same city as the team they play for! Isn't there something deeper to have civic pride in? Who cares about the Boston Motherfucking Red Sox? Or the damned Yankees--"

"That's downright Southern of ya there, K. 'Damned Yankees. . ."

"Please don't mock me right now. I'm losing it. I hate that they're coming here. I really do. I don't even know how to talk to them. What do I say? What do I do? And I just know--I know!--that my father's going to take one look at me and say something like, 'Getting bald' or 'You look old' and then I'll snap back something like, 'Looks like I got the ugly gene from you.' This is not going to be good."

"How long has it been since you've seen them?"

"Not long enough apparently. Do you think there's any hope I might just vanish?"

"What do you mean by that? Like you just take off and don't--"

"Like the straight people."

"Like the straight people what? I'm so confused. You make no sense when you go crazy."

"Straight people. They always go missing. It's always the straight people. Straight women go to Target. 'Hi, I'm leaving Target now. I'll see you in five minutes. Whoops! Poof! I'm gone! Missing forever!' You never hear about gay people going missing. What is it with those damned straights? Do they have a special talent we don't know about? Or do they just have no sense of direction and get lost--forever? I mean, if that's the case--if they're too stupid to find their way home from Target--shouldn't THEY be the ones without the right to marry, and without civil rights protection? I'm just saying--"

"You can't go missing."

"I'm a horrible person. I can't believe I'm here waiting for them and regretting it. Jesus--why did I agree to this? The last time they saw me was--"

"You're panicking. You need to stop and chill out for a minute."

"Oh, I need more than a minute. I need a drink. A two-drink, minimum, actually."

"When does their plane land?"

"It landed ten minutes ago. They should be in the main terminal any minute now, I guess."

"Pull yourself together."

"Should I have made a sign? I think I should have a sign. They're not going to recognize me. And I won't recognize them. I should have a sign that reads, 'Long Lost Parents'."

"They're going to recognize you; you're their son for Chrissakes."

"I had Botox again."

"What?"

"I didn't tell you because of what happened last time, when you said it made me look like a mannequin. I had to do it. I just couldn't resist."

"You spent a thousand dollars on Botox again?"

"I needed it. Wrinkles. On my forehead. Made me look old."

"You realize that was your down payment on your dream car, right?"

"Actually, I still have that down payment set aside. The thousand I spent on Botox was my rent."

"Are you crazy?"

"Am I crazy? How long have we known each other? Don't you know the answer to that by now without my confirming it? Besides, I have the thousand for my rent, too. Financially, I'm secure. It's mentally that I'm challenged."

"How bad is the Botox this time?"

"Well, let's put it this way--the panic you hear in my voice? Not showing on my face at all."

"When did you have it done?"

"Two days ago. When you thought I couldn't have lunch with you because I had a meeting with--"

"You lied to me?"

"Oh, please. You think that was the first time I lied to you? Please. Remember when we broke up and I dated Doug, the fireman?"

"Yes."

"Total lie. I made him up. Imaginary boyfriend."

"What? You didn't really date him?"

"Did you hear what I said? I couldn't date him; he was imaginary. I couldn't help myself. I needed to make you jealous so I created someone who couldn't possibly get killed by you in one of your psycho cop moments."

"Hell, had I known then what I know today--namely, that you're crazy--I would have hunted him down just to thank him for taking you off my hands."

"S?"

"Yes?"

"Now you're the horrible person."

"You know I'm kidding. Botox Face."

"Yeah well. . . I lied about some other stuff, too. Like when I met you, I wasn't a virgin."

"You never told me that."

"Oh. That must have been someone else. Anyway, I'm sure I lied to you more than just that one time."

"That one time was spread out over six months. Didn't you date this Doug guy for six months?"

"I liked watching you get jealous. Besides, you know that old adage that one little lie just grows and grows? Well, it's true. I meant to stop after telling you that I met a hot fireman. Then we went on an imaginary date. Then we went on another date. Then we had sex. Before I knew it, we were having a full-on relationship full of drama. And it was killing you and I loved every minute of it."

"You little twisted bastard. I can't believe--"

"Fuck me."

"It's a little late for--"

"No, I mean 'fuck me' as in I see them. And, oh God. . .it's as bad as I thought. Red Sox everywhere. I gotta go."

"Call me and tell me how it goes."

"I will. Hold. S. Hold. . . ."

"Are you still there?"

"S--they just walked past me. They didn't recognize me. Is this my out? Can I go home now?"

"They walked past you?"

"I told you they wouldn't recognize me. They haven't seen me since I was eighteen. Does that mean I got old?"

"You got older but you don't look old, no."

"I love you for saying that."

"Hmm. Maybe I'm lying to you now."

"They're actually standing in place, looking for me. And they've looked past me several times. They seriously have no idea what I look like. S--this isn't normal."

"This is why you're so adorably fucked-up. Your family life is crazy."

"Yeah, well, if I look old enough to need Botox, 'adorably fucked-up' is going to look like 'pathetic' and 'screwed up loser' any day now."

"Go talk to them."

"S, really. I can't. I just turned away from them. Now I'm walking away. I can't talk to them. I really can't. You remember what that was like, right? You remember my college years, right? You remember my graduation ceremony and they weren't there, right? You--"

"Turn back around and talk to them!"

"They signed that petition against gay marriage in Massachusetts. I know because that petition is a public record and I looked into it and they were listed; name, address and all. My patrents signed it. My sister signed it. My aunt signed it. My uncle signed it. I can't talk to them, S. It goes against every ethic in me."

"You lie like a rug. You have no ethics. Now be the ballsy K I know, walk over to them and say something like what I'd expect you to say."

"Like what?"

"How about you walk up to your parents and say, 'Hi. You may not remember me because you haven't talked to me since 1990--but I'm the person who used to be known as your son'."

K stops walking, ponders this, and takes in a breath. S knows him well. That's exactly what he would say if he had the balls. And thanks to S, he finds his balls, walks back to the terminal, walks up to his parents, and does just that.

God's Nightgown! (K's Back!)

In the midst of writing his own novel or, more accurately, thumbing through a thesaurus for a synonym that can replace the word "duplicates", K hears a voice he loves.

"You've got mail."

"Thank you, automated voice!" K responds as he automatically clicks on his mailbox. He's been waiting for a reply from a writer he knows: a REAL writer, K calls him. Someone who has actually published a book. Actually, three books. With a fourth coming out in June. K dated him briefly when K lived in Los Angeles and recently, on one of K's quick trips back to Los Angeles, the two had come across one another at The Grove. After an embarassing moment where K's better side emerged for a change, K laughed off the fact that R had failed to call him, just disappeared off the face of the Hollywood Hills.

"I assumed," K had told him as R began apologizing, "That I had slowly bored you to death and that someone failed to send me an invite to your funeral. I'm glad to see I'm not fatal."

They had then had a drink or two, during which R had discovered--because K had purposely let it slip--that K was finally writing that damned novel R had encouraged him to write.

"It's not going well at all, though." K had told him. "The story is great--but my punctuation is a tragic mess."

Proving he was paying attention, R later sent a grammar guide to K's Orlando home.

They've been shooting each other e-mails and laughing on the phone often since then, with R offering to read K's travesty of a manuscript and K throwing up a little each time he considers sending R a copy.

"It's not good," K tells him at least once a week.

"I'm sure it's great," R assures him. "Let me see it."

"You really want to see it?"

"I really want to see it."

"How badly do you want to see it?"

"I really, really want to see it." R growls in that sexy voice of his.

"Sometimes I think you mistake my book for my penis," K tells him, "And after the shitty way you dumped me, you'll never see that, either."

So, aside from the tense undercurrent that runs through K's bitter veins, the two have become rather chummy, with R talking K through some plot issues without ever really knowing what K is writing, and K playing the part of the coquette, promising a glance at his pantaloon of a novel he has no plans letting R read. . .unless the mess gets published someday.

Which, considering R's books are hardly masterstrokes of literary genius, is not an impossibility.

* * *

But the e-mail is not from R. It's from Crazy Widow, who he knows takes to e-mail only in the most critical situations. Crazy Widow still believes in writing letters--the type that are composed on a clean desk accented with a vase of fresh flowers, written on stationery and with fine, looping, cursive penmanship. Crazy Widow, in fact, still writes letters to all of her friends. Crazy Widow, for that matter, still mails them. Even when the letters are written to friends who live on the same street.

Crazy Widow isn't just called Crazy Widow because of those big hats she wears to the gallery openings; she's called that term of endearment because she puts so much effort into earning that term of endearment.

Like when she sent K a birthday gift of a mannequin from Barr Display, with the note, "Happy Birthday. Here's a good hard man for you."

But that's a private joke. No one in Orlando, at least, no one who has seen her pictures in Orlando Leisure on the society page, would ever believe she possesses such youthful sauce. Only those who have seen her sauced at museum and gallery openings and charity fund-raisers would believe it.

(K's mannequin now has a place of honor in the window display of a shop on Virginia Avenue owned by one of K's friends. Occasionally, K considers taking him--the mannequin, named Rinaldo, not the shop owner--out on a date, or for a spin around town in his car. Crazy Widow would enjoy that.)

And so, knowing that Crazy Widow has taken the time to log on to her computer and hunt down that Outlook account of hers and participated in the ruining of civilized people by sending--gasp!--an e-mail, K knows it's a matter of critical importance. Which, for Crazy Widow, usually means a rambling e-mail that reads, "You wouldn't believe what I saw today! A young woman in a bonnet. A beautiful straw hat with a gorgeous blue velvet bow that ran down in the back like twin streamers! What do you know? Hats are back! I singlehandedly started a fashion revolution!"

K never tells her that many young women wear them now--not so much for fashion but out of a fear of getting melanoma and dying. M has a whole collection of hats, each matching certain outfits. Hell, K wears baseball hats all the time--and, if men had a bonnet, it'd be a baseball hat. Not so much worn because of melanoma fears but because they make a man look younger to the untrained eye that hasn't yet learned that ballcaps usually hide a balding head.

But, in that instant after recognizing Crazy Widow's account name (which, for correspondents she feels close to is named "BingoSlut") K sees the subject heading and he knows it's something important:

"YOU'RE GONNA HATE THIS!"

At first he thinks, "Oh. She's writing about Rosie O'Donnell leaving 'The View.'"

But then. . . he opens her e-mail. And, yes, true to Crazy Widow's psychic prediction, K does indeed hate what she has to tell him.

* * *

"GWTW III Blows Into Bookstores This November" the pasted news article reads.

K is dismayed. Another sequel to his favorite novel. He has known of this sequel for years but silently hoped--withoutguilt--that the chosen author, Donald McCaig, would die before he could finish it. K had always hoped he himself would be picked from obscurity to write a sequel worthy of the original. The first sequel, "Scarlett" was a disaster. K, who had begun writing his own version of a sequel a few years back, in the months after he left X, only to give it up after realizing that it was a pointless project: without the rights to the characters and the blessing of the Margaret Mitchell Estate, his little project was futile. And so he had given it up and tucked it away, with it's sole reader being Crazy Widow herself who, having a fascination with "Gone With the ind" herself, told him pointedly, "This is what a sequel should have been. You need to finish this and show this to that greedy family. They can't not publish it. Finish it!"

But K had insisted it was pointless and never resumed his work on it, turning his attention instead to various screenplays and novels and the occasional magazine article. (And, of course, a blog with a few frustrated subscribers who he loves and appreciates dearly, dearies.)

And so, seeing that the second sequel, laughably and annoyingly titled, "Rhett Butler's Peopke" is set to be issued in November, K is filled with both jealousy and contempt. A.) He feels strongly that there should be no sequel. "Scarlett", thankfully, has become so highly disregarded that it is no longer in print, unlike the original novel which inspired it, B.) He feels that if there is a sequel written and puvlished, it should be HIS and C.) He sees that this sequel is told from Rhett Butler's point of view--an annoyingly unoriginal idea. In recent years, too many have taken this type of approach: most successfully, "Wicked" telling the story of "The Wizard of Oz" from the Wicked Witch's perspective. And now "Gone With the Wind would be told from Rhett Butler's perspective.

How annoying.

Wouldn't that be like telling K's story from X's perspective?

"Actually, that might be interesting," K admits.

But that "Gone With the Wind" sequel is just a bad idea. Leave it alone, he wants to tell the estate. They're ruining the legacy of a great book by issuing sequels thoughtlessly. A thoughtful, heartfelt sequel written by someone who understands the character of Scarlett O'Hara and her society would be fine--but K refuses to conceive of the idea that anyone but he can write it.

After typing out a reply to Crazy Widow, he starts to forward the article on to R but, as he does so, he hears that lovely voice again:

"You've Got Mail."

"Thank you, sexy AOL Man," K purrs.

He minimizes his e-mail to R and sees, with a laugh, that R has just e-mailed him.

As if to prove he's paid attention to K, the subject heading is, "Have You Heard About GWTW 3?"

If K were in Los Angeles, K would hop in his car and drive up into the hills to kiss R.

Instead, he calls him on the phone and asks, "Tell me again--Why didn't we work out?"

I'm Getting Old

It just dawned on me that with the Downtown Triple Play about to start, that I am an antique. Yes. A 35-year old antique.

No, I'm not being melodramatic; I'm really young compared to most of my boyfriends who typically die before they even get to first base. in fact, I'm so young, I still think in terms like "First base."

But, at 35, I'm old enough to remember when there was no Orlando Arena. I'm old enough to remember it being built. And now, apparently, I'm old enough to hear it called, "antiquated" and "outdated."

The damned thing isn't even 20 years old.

If it went out to a bar, it would need a fake ID.

And now it's being torn down. Not right away, but that seems, unfortunately, to be it's fate as soon as the new arena is built.

But here's another thing that concerns me: when the current arena was built, it was considered state-of-the-art. How did it become outdated in just a few decades? How did it become so useless that we now need to spend $300 million (budgeted, actual will be much higher) to replace it with an all-new arena? And why, if we're building a new arena, are we building something on scale with Mempphis and Providence? Our growth pattern indicates a need for ammenities more on the scale of a Dallas or a Mami; why do our civic leaders keep comparing us to current-day Tampa? Is it because, in another 20 years, they're hoping the new arena will also need to be torn down and their name will be emblazoned on it's replacement? Shouldn't we build for the future Orlando rather than an Orlando that will have outgrown the new construction a few short years after the new arena is built? (The State seems to think so: widening and improving traffic flow on I-4 is it's road improvement project #1.)

And yes, I'm opposed to the $300 million refurbishment being planned for the Citrus Bowl. Woo-hoo! More flea markets and one football game a year. Why bother? Spend a good chunk of that $300 million on making the type of arean Orlando's going to need five or ten years after the new arena is built, increasing the new arean budget to $500 mill and making the Citrus Bowl do it's refurbishment on a measly $100 mill. Even with the expansion of the Citrus Bowl, it won't attract a Super Bowl. So why bother? We don't have a local football team, it's not even a goal to attract one, so why are we spending money on something that, in it's current very-usable state, is empty and eventless more than 96% of the year? The arena makes sense: we have a basketball team, we attract concerts (though many are passing us by thanks to the current arena's "antique" state), we attract conventions, and so on. But a football stadium? Why bother?

You can check out the official Triple Play site here and, via links, see the entire deck for each of the new facilities being built: the new arena, the enlarged Citrus Bowl, and the new Performing Arts Center. http://www.projecthometown.com/

* * *

Lovely Lou Pearlman's disaster of a makeover (Church Steet) goes on the auction block on April 5th! Here's hoping a developer interested in refurbishing and reviving Church Street to it's historical roots--not trampling all over them as Pearlman did--gets it. Placeholder bonds start at $1.5 million. At 2pm, downtown Orlando's future takes a turn for the better or a turn for the worst, depending on what developer snatches it up--and whether they decide to raze that great complex or make it live up to all of it's promise.

* * *

My favorite annual event takes place this weekend: the Winter Park Art Festival. This follows the Winter Park City Commissions vote on whether light rail will stop on Park Avenue. (The fears of Park Avenue becoming a haven for the homeless via the coming-soon light rail is ridiculous. The trains aren't going to be free.) No word yet what the vote came down to; I'm hoping the rail does get a Park Avenue stop. It'll ensure Park Ave stays alive. (Think it's healthy now? Yes, it is. Think it can't die? Think again. It was just as healthy in the late 80's and died in the mid-90's, allowing all the chains to move in. ) And it will allow the underprivileged access to museums and culture. (As a formder "poor kid" who used to take the subway into Boston to go to musuems and better myself, I'm all for it. Somehwerre out there is a kid who wishes he were just a train ride away from The Morse and the Cornell.

Be sure to check out this year's Spring Art Festival. Even if you know nothing about art, you'll be impressed by the range of artists, mediums, and pieces on display. A great, do-not-miss event.

Random O-Town Rants

--With the Downtown Triple Play about to become reality, what to do with the current Arena? How about keeping the shell but gutting the insides for a new home for the Orlando Museum of Art? With our population, the OMA's allegedly huge collection (which they complain about but never have enough sense to rotate), and an empty arena (once the new arena is built), how about taking this public space and converting it into a true "big city" art museum? It worked when the beautiful Orange County Courthouse (minus the garish 1960's annex) was refurbished and turned into The Orange County Regional History Center, one of the South's most honored museums. While the area the Arena currently sits in isn't as pretty as Loch Haven Park, where the OMA is situated now, the OMA also wouldn't need that enormous parking lot that separates the Arena from Lake Dot. Tear it up. Keep the parking to the rear--where the new Parramore District is rising. Put a lawn between the Arena and Lake Dot, creating a pedestrian-friendly area and a green buffer between the museum and Colonial Drive. the building is large enough to hold four to five stories, countless galleries--and rather than having that allegedly enormous collection stored in warehouses, it can be put on display for the public to see. How about it Mayor Dyer? Or would you rather have your buddy, Lou Pearlman, try to do for the Arena what he did for Church Street?

-- Speaking of museums, can someone out there encourage the local museums to put a freaking cafe inside any of them? With the exception of The Morse (which may not have a cafe inside but is surrounded by sidewalk cafes) all other museums in town have nowhere to catch a mid-museum trip drink. Or a light lunch. Go to any big city, any good museum, and you have an option to stop mid-cruise, take a break, enjoy the ambiance, and reflect on what you've seen thus far. In -Town, you better drink and eat up first because it might be hours before you can do anything but grab a sip from a filthy water fountain. Come on, O-Town--get with the program. (Particularly the OMA, which has space RESERVED for a cafe but has never convinced anyone to go into the space set aside for one.)

-- Sea World's third park, Aquatica, was announced formally this week. Yes, it's been under construction for two years--following a particularly bitter fight with the neighbors in Williamsburg (the most off-putting neighborhood name in O-Town; a name more suitable for Virgina than the tropical Orlando area)--but this week saw the first public unveiling of the plans for the park, from the amazing "lazy river" tube that cuts through dolphin tanks, to two simulated beach fronts, and so on. Looks good! Looks fun! And looks like Sea World is continuing it's successful infiltration into the Disney Dollar: plans are for Aquatica to be offered more heavily to existing Sea World and Busch Gardens guests rather than marketed to the public. In short: Convincing visitors to spend three or more days at Sea World, vi sting Sea World, Discovery Cove, Busch Gardens, and Aquatica. Sort of a way to fight Disney's market-grabbing multi-day tickets. It'll be an interesting fight, given Sea World's impressive number of improvements over the years and it's vastly improved image.

-- The rumoured fifth park at Disney looks like it's not happening--at least, not yet. All that land being cleared on the west side of the property is\, as was recently announced, for an enormous Four Seasons/Disney resort, and a neighborhood of rental homes surrounding a "new vision" of a retail/entertainment complex. More details are to be released soon, including the branding of the new complex but the project is so large (the Four Seasons alone occupies over 400 acres), that it will be built in stages over the next eight years. Here's hoping the retail/entertainment complex" is more like Los Angeles' The Grove rather than Disney's Crossroads strip mall. And here's hoping that fifth park gets underway soon--and can I plead a case for the Disney's America park? (Hey, if the moronic Virginians don't want it, send the jobs, the tourist-driven economy, and tax money our way!)

-- By the way, even with all this new development, Disney still will have built on only 30% of all their Florida land.

-- Anna Nicole Smith is still dead. But watch Entertainment Tonight as this condition might likely change and Mark Steines will surely report all about it--either way.

-- Is it just me or has George Clooney gotten hotter with age? I have a new crush.

-- Mitt Romney is a fuck-head. For anyone foolish enough to believe the Repugs were being "gay-friendly" in getting all worked up over Ann Coulter's "fag" remark about John Edwards, keep in mind that the Repugs don't give a shit about your rights. Hell, Mitt Romney, who called her remarks, "inappropriate", is the asshole who wants to make sure Massachusetts gays lose the right to marry. How is THAT appropriate?

-- Fuck gay Republicans. Just felt like saying it.

-- One Republican who's not so repugnant? Dan Zwonitzer, of Wyoming, who not only supports gays' right to marry but stated, to the Wyoming House Committee in regard to an anti-gay marriage amendment, "'I will tell my children that when this debate went on, I stood up for basic rights for people" in order to explain that he did not care if his support for the gay community cost him his political career. There, at last, is what a true leader of the people looks like. Pussybama and Hillary, take note.

-- Is it just me or is it ironic that the same cronies who tell us to support our troops never bothered to notice that the DC-area hospital that treats those troops is rat-infested and over-ridden with infectious mold? Don't our troops deserve better?