Love You, Mom!

Now Playing in Limited Release

We'll talk about Rebecca De Mornay's on screen parenting history and Darren Lynn Bousman's re-imagining  of Charles Kaufman's 1980 'classic' (and I use the term loosely here) in a moment. I promise. It's not like I've seen it or anything, so cool your jets, okay?

"Cool your jets" was something my mother used to say to my sister and I when we got too excited or worked up about something. I don't know how well it worked, but she said it. A lot.  These days, Mom says plenty of amusing things - her malapropisms, Spoonerisms and downright mispronunciations are often quite hilarious (luckily to both of us).  Mom wanted nothing more than to be a mother. She still gets all weepy and adoring at the sight of a cute baby (young "Raising Hope" stars Baylee and Rylee Cregut are among her -- and I must admit, my -- current favs). 

Mom's also a very girly-girl mom. You all know what I mean. She loves girly things: butterflies; wind chimes; bird-feeders; flowers; kittens; diamonds... Not that boys can't or shouldn't love those things... (What the hell did I just start there? I didn't mean to start anything. -- Shut up, Bri! You're just making it worse! Oh, crap!)

Anyway - After a delicious brunch of homemade, stuffed challa bread French toast this mid-morning, Mom opened her gifts from me. She got a stained-glass butterfly chime; a 3D butterfly bookmark and... because she had asked for it for Christmas but didn't get it, two paint-by-number kits: a cat curled up on a bookshelf and finches among hyacinths. She's worried they'll be too complicated for her, bu if she takes her time, I'm sure they'll be beautiful. And of course, even if they're not, I'll tell her they are.

My mother tells me that there isn't a day that goes by that she doesn't miss her own mother, who passed away in 1983. I know that one day I'll know what that feels like but until then, I'll just be glad she's here to tell her how much I love and appreciate her and give her presents. I know lots of folks who aren't close to their moms, and that makes me sad. If your mom is still with you, count your blessings and tell her you love her. You won't be able to one day.

And now once again I find myself segueing from at least sort of sad to silly. So here goes:

Rebecca De Mornay first caught audiences' attention as the train-loving prostitute Lana opposite Tom Cruise in his star-making role in the 1983 teen sex comedy Risky Business.She did several things after that, but it wasn't until 1992's The Hand that Rocks the Cradle, in which she played an evil, scheming nanny, that we really got to see her chew some scenery. She played Wendy in the TV version of The Shining and did plenty of TV shows. And now she's back on the big screen in a movie that was origanlly scheduled for release in 2010, Mother's Day. In the 1980 original, two-backwoods loons (Fredrick Coffin and Michael McCleery) brought sluts home for their elderly mother (Beatrice Pons) to mete out punishment. In the new version, De Mornay plays Mother Koffin (sound familiar?), who returns to the home she once owned with her boys in tow, ready to wreak havoc on slutty teens, once again. Reviews for the film have been spotty, at best, though most critics are quite complimentary to De Mornay and can't help but compare Mother Koffin to Peyton Flanders from ...Cradle. I like that De Morney, while never a huge star, sill manages to fly under the radar while garnering excellent reviews for her performances. As a character actor myself, I get it. It's great to play all these wonderfully diverse and ofetn eccentric roles, but it's even better when you can steal the whole thing for yourself.

Mother's Day is currently playing in limited release. As soon as this boy in the sticks gets the chance to see it, I'll be reviewing it.

And yes, that is Iceman, cutie Shawn Ashmore as one of Mama's boys.

Here's the trailer for Kaufman's original:



More, anon.
Prospero

Well, Duh!

Gay TV

NPR has a story (via) about how TV brought (and continues to bring) gay people into America's living rooms and is helping to change middle-Americans' attitudes and ideas about us. While I can't argue with that (even our Vice President acknowledged it last week), I hope that TV isn't the only thing changing minds in Peoria.

Okay, good. So TV has helped. But let's take a lot at how long it took for TV to get there, shall we?  1977 saw television's first openly gay character, Jody Dallas (played by future Oscar host Billy Crystal) on the ABC parody "Soap." Yes, for the most part, Jody was played for laughs. The joke was on us when it was revealed that Jody and his mother were both having sex with tennis instructor Peter (the late Robert Urich).

I don't remember another gay character on TV until the 80's with "Thirtysomething" (a show I despised) and in the 90's with "Melrose Place," a show I never saw. And of course, Ellen came out in life and on her show and suddenly there was this screeching halt and we were hardly anywhere, except on Russell Davies' BBC series "Queer as Folk." And then came "Will & Grace," I suppose. Almost real gay men on TV at last! And it played in Peoria! Of course, no one cared if Showtime's soft-core American version of "Queer as Folk"played in Peoria. It was purely a coastal phenom, though I took much delight in introducing K to it's many joys while visiting sis in Florida one year. She spent the majority of the hour with her mouth hanging open, poor thing.

Now, of course there's "Glee" (as silly as it may be at times) and "Modern Family" (as outrageous as it may be at times), finally featuring (more-or-less) realistic gay characters in everyday settings. The ratings on both of these shows are pretty terrific. Collectively, they've won Golden Globes, Emmys and GLAAD Media Awards. If the folks in Peoria (i.e Middle America) hated these shows, they wouldn't be the hits they are. Well, it finally seems like people are getting it. LGBTQ people are your friends, your co-workers and your family members.

And what became of Ellen? She is Oprah's gay heir apparent, apparently. The multiple Emmy Award-winning Ellen Degeneres now hosts the most popular daytime talk show on television; is a humanitarian and philanthropist and supposedly the most delightful and genuine person one could hope to meet in Hollywood. Millions of Americans welcome the world's most famous lesbian into their homes every weekday.

Yes, television has done wonders for LGBTQ rights. Visibility breeds compassion, I guess. Honestly I don't care about the why. I just know that things are finally beginning to change for LGBTQ Americans and I'm so glad that I am here to see that.

That's so gay!

More, anon.
Prospero

The Literal Title Repertory Company Presents:

Baby in a Non-Heat Resistant Cat Costume

I squarely place the blame for this post and any actual other material that comes out of this very bad idea, on my dear Stephen R. at Post Apocalyptic Bomehian for everything you are about to read. Not that Stephen is a bad person. Far from it (at least, as far as I know - we've not actually met in person - though I will rectify that, some day). From both his blog and our personal correspondence, Stephen is sweet, kind, artistic and very much in love his with his husband, 'the Husband.' Like Uncle P, Stephen has lived a life of show. Born in a trunk with greasepaint in our veins and all that. 

Recently, Stephen posted a picture of his dog Lulu wearing a muzzle (on her way to the vet, I must assume). He claimed to be mounting a backyard production of an all-canine version of Silence of the Lambs starring his dog as Lulu Lecter. Needless to say, regular readers know that mind is a dark and scary world and by combining Silence... with adorable doggies, Mr R. set off an unstoppable chain-reaction that resulted in my replying to his post the with following:

"Funny. I'm directing Cat on a Hot Tin Roof for the Literal Title Repertory. And no, we aren't using real cats. How cruel would it be to put a cat on a real hot tin roof? We're not monsters, for God's sake! Instead, we're using black market babies in heat-resistant cat costumes. It gets those bastards at PETA off our backs, at least." 

Now you can take that one of two ways. You can think that I am a horrible; sick; aberrant; vile; loathsome pervert. Or you understand that I don't actually mean any of that and know that in real life, I would never hurt a child or an animal in any way. If you reacted the right way, you also understand that now that I've started a thread, I have no choice but to ask you what other plays should the Literal Title Rep take on in our inaugural season? And how should they be staged?

Now, to be honest, this isn't an original idea. It had it's origins in a 1998 production of Love! Valour! Compassion! and the twisted humor of gay men waiting in their dressing room to go on stage and get naked. I'm not sure how it all started, but we somehow created  the Hitler Youth Theatre and a list of musicals they'd produced, including "Maim;" "Eine Kline Nachtmusik;" and "A Firing Squad Line," among others. Sick? Maybe. Okay - probably. Alright, alright! Yes! Funny? Maybe you had to be there. 

Anyway - leave me your suggestions in the comments, please.

Here's a little something or two to get the wheels turning:

Okay - I know. Those both fit Stephen's theme, better than mine. Whatever...

More, anon.
Prospero

The Gayest (and Saddest) Things You'll See This Week

Jeffrey Gomes. Photo: Annia Torres-Rossi

Yesterday was an unusual day, both historically and personally. I had posted this first video on Facebook the other night and it has been highlighted on plenty of LGBT and mainstream blogs. The fact that it went viral right around the time of Obama's announcement, made it all the more poignant (and important). 

When Shane lost Tom in a terrible accident after almost 6 years together and a promise to marry as soon as it was legal, Shane found himself blocked any all access by Tom's family, who rejected their son after he came out to them. Emotionally devastated, Shane wasn't even able to attend Tom's funeral, let alone have any say in it.

The 10 minute short, It Could Happen to You, chronicles Shane's pain and frustration and his determination to make sure no one else ever goes through what he did. If you've seen it already, it is so worth seeing again. If you haven't seen it, you must, but make sure you have tissues nearby. This is why Marriage Equality matters. I know I'm preaching to the choir but maybe some uneducated or curious or outright bigoted person, who came to bash or troll a story about gay marriage will see this video for the first time and suddenly get it. That's my hope, anyway. But then, I've always tried to be an optimist (though it isn't always easy, these days). 

I hope that made you not just sad, but angry. I hope it prompted you to write, email or call your elected officials and make your voice heard. Share this post or even just the video and get other people angry. I hope it made at least one of you see that this is not about sex, religion, tradition or however you choose to rationalize it. It is about love, plain and simple. Love, you dopes! How hard is that to understand?

Okay, okay. Important stuff out of the way. Let's talk about Jeffrey Gomes up there in the right corner. What's that all about? Well, I'll tell you. Via Towleroad comes this sort of sexy and just terrifically upbeat dance video from Choreographer Drew James featuring James and Gomes tearing it up in Manhattan. It's meant to make you smile. And it does. Enjoy:

"Wait just one second! How the hell do those two clips go together in the same post, Uncle P?"

Truth is, they do and they don't. But mostly they do, because they are opposites. Sorrow V. Joy. We would never appreciate one without the other. I didn't initially intend to get all Zen on ya'll tonight but it seemed like a good opportunity to make the point. Enjoy your life. Express your love. Share your joy. Thus endeth the lesson.

More, anon.
Prospero

Can You Feel a Brand New Day?

As usual, I'm late to the party. That's one thing that sucks about being a night-blogger -- I rarely get scoops or breaking news. So I'm not going to embed video of the interview (though I will link to it here) everyone is talking about. But I will offer up my thoughts on the words I and millions of my LGBT friends, family and peers have been waiting four years to hear.

First, to all the naysayers who have been complaining about his lack of action on LGBT issues: you can all suck it. The end of DADT; the refusal to defend DOMA and now this. Of course we have to thank Mr. Biden for giving him the final push off the cliff on this latest item. Still, no president has ever done more to advance LGBT rights in this country and no sitting president has ever come out in favor of Marriage Equality (Clinton and Carter have been long-time supporters, but not until after their time as POTUS). This is pretty effing ginormous news. 

Mr. Obama did several things by giving this interview, one of which I find very entertaining and will get to in a moment. First and foremost, the man must have HUGE cajones! He super-secret-pinky-swear oversaw the takeout of one of the most evil men in the world AND told the American people that he supports same-sex marriage all in the same term. What bully is going to stand up to the guy with gigantic, solid brass balls? Of course, the Repugnican response was to condemn the announcement. Even Frothy tried to remain relevant by spewing hate disguised as righteousness. Most of North Carolina experienced heart-attacks, strokes and visions of the White House burning in Satan's semen. There are no known straight survivors; only atheists, Jews, florists and that dainty little boy who works part time down to Jonelle's Bridal Shop.

The detractors, deniers and drama queens who sponsor "Don't Say Gay" bills while trolling the men's room in the hair salon at J.C. Penney think this is a win for them. But Obama is a shrewd man. He knows that the haters' constituents (i.e. superstitious back-water yokels who believe everything their priest/minister/preacher/charlatan tells them to believe, using fear to manipulate the ignorant) who think gay marriage is wrong were never going to vote for him regardless of his public stance. Not only has he now secured every gay  Democrat's vote (which he was close to having, anyway), he knows that  independent voters tend to be pro-Equality and has likely secured the majority of those votes, as well. He may even have gotten more than a few Log Cabin votes. I mean, even gay Republicans (an oxymoron if there ever was one) aren't thrilled with their Cigar Store Mormon candidate. Obama has also forever changed the Democratic Party. The DNC had officially adopted a pro-Equality platform and expected and hoped that the President would, too. This means, that no matter what happens in Obama's next term, every Democratic candidate for POTUS from now on will have to be pro-Equality.

The part that amuses me, of course, is the thought of ultra-right wing conservatives' heads spontaneously combusting all over the world, at exactly the same moment. Maggie Gallagher's head alone is filled with enough fat and ugly to burn longer than a tire-fire in a coal mine. I bet Sarah Palin didn't leave much of a mess at all. Her empty head probably just deflated like a flaccid birthday balloon. Seriously, picture her face on that. Doesn't that image send you into giddy paroxysms of joy? And the Pope? Oh, Honey! That pointy hat flew up into the Roman sky like a Roman candle shooting rainbow sparks over the Vatican. But even that did nothing to help his heart grow so much as half a size. Must be a side-effect of the prostate removal. And I must admit that it warms my heart to know that they will all hold their future shameful places on the wrong side of history and human rights. Hey, "Futurama!" Put Sarah Palin's head in a jar and abuse her as only you can. Please?

Finally, the president has indeed delivered on his promise of "Hope." I have more hope for the progressive future of this country than I ever have. Change is often painful and slow. And the man inherited a horrible mess from the idiot fratboy who preceded him. One thing at a time, folks. One thing at a time. But today we came a giant step closer and I have more hope than ever that I will see Marriage Equality in all 50 of these great United States in my lifetime.

Okay, maybe that was a bit over-the-top. Oh, who am I kidding? Of course it was! And you wouldn't have it any other way! Nor would I, darlings. Nor would I.

More, anon.
Prospero

Who Do You Believe?

Wait, I have a Kleenex...

I honestly try not to be a gossip blogger. But sometimes an item comes along that requires both mention and comment, especially after a second person has come forward in almost as many days.

Yes, I'm talking about the one that I wanted, none other than Tony Manero; Danny Zucco;Vincent Vega and Edna Turblad himself, John Travolta. And yes, I'm talking about the two masseurs who recently came forward to accuse the long rumored-to-be-gay actor of wanting more than his shoulders rubbed. And this is not the first or second time the same allegation has been made by a masseur. It has also been alleged that Travolta trolled steam rooms and bath houses for close encounters of the queer kind.

OK - I must admit to being conflicted over this story. As a teenager, I found Travolta immensely attractive (as did every young straight gal and gay male in the country, if not the world). Gay rumors have dogged the actor for his entire career. Such rumors dog other celebs like Will Smith, Tom Cruise and Hugh Jackman. Of the three, only Jackman is publicly amused and flattered by the attention - obviously the response of a progressive-thinking straight man with a sense of humor. Of course, Travolta's camp issued a flat-out denial of the allegations.

Bad Movie/Buff Travolta

I have no idea who to believe here. I would hope that if these allegations prove to be true (and that's a big "if"), Travolta will finally come clean, once and for all. It's the 21st century - no one should care anymore. Sadly, some morons still do care. And while I continue to express my disdain for those who out others without consent, I also can't help but say that someone working to a keep a secret has to be a little more discreet. 

Not that there aren't plenty of stories out there about Cruise and Smith. Some of the accounts of Smith's alleged assignations are legen -- wait for it -- dary! Of course, it just may be that the Church of Loonatology helps them all cover their tracks. Wait - Smith's not a Loonatologist, you say? They've been courting him forever. Who's to say what ideas have already rubbed off on him or how far they'll go to get him to join their flock of zomblebrities (yes - I just made up yet another word). 

And it should go without saying that I have as much use for the Loonatologists as I do a boil on my heinie. Really? Your founder was a drug-addled writer of bad-science fiction. You don't think the whole thing just might be the result of a bad trip or a sick joke? 

Wait, I have a Kleenex...

Here's the thing - this is 2012, folks. No one should care who anyone is sleeping with. Or screwing; boinking; banging; boffing; f*&^ing; making the beast with two backs; doing the horizontal mambo or otherwise gettin' it on. It's no one's business but those people doing those things, anyway. If you are a celebrity, part of the price you pay is personal scrutiny. If you aren't willing to tell the truth about yourself, then you damned well better go out of your way to keep that lie alive.

This isn't the 1950's or even the 1970's. Information, scandal and innuendo are 24/7 these, days. Everyone has a camera. Everyone is "jacked in." Everyone is a voyeur. As we've learned with several politicians and at least one discredited anti-gay 'scientist,' there's no such thing as privacy, anymore.

If these allegations prove to be true, I hope Travolta will man-up and admit to it. I won't like the way it happened, but I'll be happy that another person is no longer living a very public lie. The more celebrities that come out, the better.

If the allegations are not proven (if this even goes to trial without settlements), then I will offer up an apology to Travolta and every falsely-accused straight man in the world. Don't hold your breath, though.

Ugh!

More, anon.
Prospero

If She Weighs the Same As a Duck...

"You shall bring us... a shrubbery!"

Uncle P's sister sent me this photo today. She visits as many cake sites as I do horror and movie sites, so I don't know where she found it.  It's probably the single most epic win cake of all time. Just look at it. The Black Knight; a Knight Who Says 'Ni;' the Killer Rabbit and the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch, all perfectly rendered in a cake I couldn't bear to eat, but just want to bask in its glory. This was NOT an inexpensive cake and I wish I had the money it cost just to pay some bills, let alone buy an insanely amazing custom cake. To be honest, she sent it in an email titled "awesome python cake." I was was actually expecting a picture of a snake cake. Imagine my delight at being so wrong.

But this post isn't really about cake. Nor is it about how my sister and I communicate, because she knew this particular cake, in conjunction with her recent guest post, would get me to a topic I don't think I've ever fully addressed: Monty Python Movies. Oh, I may have made passing comments or comparisons or minor references here and there. But I don't think I ever posted anything devoted solely to the British insaniacs and their influence on my personal take on life. But I'm going to talk about the movies, first. And one at a time, every now and then. Starting with favorite and ending with my least. And what better place to start with the group's first feature length film, Monty Python and the Holy Grail. 

Directed by the Terrys (Gilliam and Jones), and co-written by all six of them, Holy Grail is a brilliantly nonsensical take on the Arthurian legends, loaded with bad puns, repeating themes ("I'm not dead yet!") and preposterous situations in a world completely populated by morons, lunatics and cartoon monsters. Not everything works (the three-headed giant is kind of lame as is the movie's anti-climatic non-ending) but there is far more gold than pyrite in this movie and no matter how many times I've seen it or how many lines I can quote from it or how easily I can manage to work a quote into a conversation with either or both people who will get it and people who won't, it still makes me laugh like an idiot after more than 45 years. I think it's because, like Carroll, the six Pythons understood that not only was nonsense funny, it was even funnier when applied as satire.

Holy Grail covers the gamut of what every movie should include:

A Plague:



Religion:



Sex:



Logic:



"Who are you, that are so wise in the ways of science?" Genius!

Denial:



Arranged Marriage (and Musicals):



History:



(It's even funnier in Spanish!)

So many more moments and comments and quotable scenes. Too much to go on and on about. Proof that nonsense can be as funny to adults as it is to kids, especially when applied so pointedly satirical, Monty Python and the Holy Grail not only cemented the troupe's cult status (especially here in the U.S.*) but paved the way for more daring satire (if not always as successfully) in their future films.

If you don't know Python or (like many) think you hate Python, you may want to start with the Broadway Cast recording of "Spamalot," Eric Idle's musical adaptation. Yes, many things are very different from the movie and it's funnier of you know and love the movie but it's as gentle an intro to Python as you can get. Then watch Holy Grail.

Of course, the movie is also one of several very special shared movie experiences for Sis and I. And to some extent, Dad (who swears that at the matinee he attended alone, a very confused old lady got up and left after the first twenty minutes). One of the many things that bond my sister and I so closely are the movies we saw together as kids. I like to think I taught her how to watch movies. I know she helped me to remember how do that and still enjoy them. That and the fact that she loves nonsense as much as I do, helps.

*I know plenty of Brits who don't get Python or our obsession for them. Their loss.

More, anon. 

Prospero

'Brave New World: Part I' or: Don't Pull a Ianto on Me, "Fringe"

= O

SPOILERS AHEAD: If you have not seen this past Friday's episode yet, do NOT read this post until you have.

Left Dot Moth. Left Dot Seahorse. Lower Right Dot Leaf.!!!

I'm sure my sister and a few others will know exactly what I just wrote. Fans of the truly best (but most ignored) show on TV, will recognize those as descriptions of three the 24 glyphs that accompany each commercial break. If you are obsessive about such things as I, you have a printed guide and madly write down each week's word and try to fit it into the show's mythology, which is surprisingly large, for a show with only 4 seasons under its belt. Happily, the show has been picked up for next fall. Sadly, it is for a 13-week final season. Beggars can't be choosers, though.

Still, over the past four seasons its fans have come to know and love (and hate and love again) different versions of the same characters reacting to different versions of reality. If nothing else, the show is an astonishing acting challenge for any performer and it's clear to see that the show's brilliant cast is up for anything.  But by playing fast and loose with the time-space continuum, the writers can do anything they want, including the resurrection of a character we never thought we'd see again at the end of last week's show, and the shooting of a character who was just coming into her own. Agent Astrid Farnsworth (played by the very talented Jassica Nicole) started out as a nerdy gopher/cum baby-sitter for the brilliant Walter Bishop, but over the run of the show, both character and actor have really come in to their own. Nicole was particularly effective this season in her interactions between our version of Astrid and the strikingly different 'Asperger's Astrid' of the alternate universe. Walter, who rarely uses her right name (my personal favorite misnomer of his was "Assturd") would be lost without her. And so would we. But in the final scene of the season's penultimate episode, beloved Astrid was shot! I may have gasped. I know I shouted "No!" out loud. Even worse - the previews for next week's season finale didn't show or mention Astrid at all! Those bastards! 

They wouldn't do it, would they? Sure, Abrams and Co. killed Jin and Sun right at the end. But they surely can't kill Astrid! Of course, I never thought Russell T. Davies would kill Ianto on "Torchwood." Just as we thought Ianto (adorable Gareth David-Lloyd) and Jack were happy together, Ianto gets killed at the end of season 4. Rightfully so, Davies reacted to fan displeasure by saying that the story and characters were his to do with whatever he thought best suited the story. If Astrid dies, I will be very unhappy. But if it serves the story, then so be it. And after seeing this week's episode, I think I'd like to offer a hypothesis as to where it all might end up.

The episode started with Peter, Olivia and talk of a nursery. We know from the future-set "Letters of Transit" that Peter has a blonde daughter in Fringe named Henrietta, so we can only assume she is also Olivia's daughter and though Olivia was not in or mentioned in the episode, that all fits nicely with what September told Olivia at the opera-house. More evidence points to Olivia being Herietta's mother in the fact that the Observers cannot read her thoughts as they can with most humans.

The glyphs spelled "POWERS" this week, and Liv used hers twice. First to save the nano-infected Victoria ("No Ordinary Family" villainess Rebecca Mader) and again to take over Peter's body in a fight to the death with the previously elusive madman, David Robert Jones (the effectively creepy Jared Harris).  And now we find that William Bell (Leonard Nimoy) who is dead in one timeline and presumed dead in the current one, is not only alive but actually behind Jones' machinations. But to what end? Personally, I'm hoping Bell's intentions are not nefarious. And given that we know from September that Olivia is going to die (we've already met the guy who will kill her, at least in one timeline), I think (re: hope) it is Bell's intention to ramp up Olivia's Cortexifan-induced powers to heal both universes.

Well, either that or... BOOM!!!!!! Now that's a way to end a show.

If you're not watching "Fringe," you are missing THE smartest, funniest and most entertaining show on television, bar none.

P.S.

Dear Television Academy;

Where is the love for these four rather amazing actors (Anna Torv; John Noble; Joshua Jackson and Jassica Nicole) who consistently deliver high-quality (if not down-right brilliant) performances week after week. Would it kill you throw a nom or two their way? Jeez!

More, anon
Prospero

Cinco de Mayo fue muy buena!

My 'Taco Pot Pie' w/Toppings

It was the college gang's* latest themed-dinner get-together and since this one just happened to be today, we did a Mexican theme, which I think we may have done before because I've had Deb's enchiladas before, but it didn't matter because everything was just delicious. One of our top five efforts, really.  Along with the enchiladas, Deb did appetizers and sangria. Q made both a green salad and a grilled shrimp & mango salad and Mary made a super-delish pineapple souffle and slow-cooked pulled pork.

Uncle P made two new recipes: a beautifully colorful variation on rice and beans that included diced tri-color bell peppers & fresh cilantro and something that the recipe I based it on called "Creamy Taco Casserole." After making my personal adjustments to the recipe (which were minor and mostly cosmetic), it ended  up being something (while truly very delicious) that wasn't creamy in the least, which is why I was so glad that I offered some toppings (tomatoes, green onion, sour cream & crushed Artisan corn chips) and am officially re-naming it Taco Pot Pie (though it's really almost a taco lasagna). I'm making it again for the Day Job's party on Monday, so I'm glad it worked. If you want my recipes, ask and they shall be yours.

Everything was flavorful and well-seasoned without being too spicy to enjoy it and the combination of dishes was superb; each dish complimenting and working with the others in happily surprising ways to create (you should forgive me) Mexican Umami. Most of us had seconds of almost everything. Then, after a bit of conversation came dessert: Q's cinnamon shortbread-like cookies and a chocolate layer cake. While there were lots of left-overs, not a single person left that table hungry. We've been doing these dinners for a very long and have a list we keep adding to (we just added "A Journey Through Time" which would require genuine period or era recipes) and hopefully will never finish. We always have a great time, whether the food is a win or a fail (and when they fail, they fail spectacularly - though there have been more wins than fails, thankfully). Tonight's Cinco de Mayo dinner was a major win.

*After all these years, I've decided we need a group name. So I think I'm having a contest or something. The person who submits the best name for our group will win... something. What you need to know - these are people who know me better than most of my relatives. Our goal is to create a cohesive themed dinner using recipes we've never tried before. Our rules are flexible. The food is simply a bonus and an excuse  to spend time with one another. I hope you are lucky enough  to have friends in your life like the ones I have in mine.

Enjoy the rest of your weekend! Submit your suggestion and/or ask for my recipes in "Comments."

More, anon.

Prospero

Friday Gratuities, Faux Holidays, Cooking and Other Assorted Nonsense

Nature

Let's start with some gratuitous Nature porn, shall we?

I found that picture on this site, listed as an "Epic Win!" I've seen this photographer's work before (if you know his name, please let me know so I can credit him). He specializes in shooting ocean waves in motion and has captured some amazing things, so I don't doubt to the veracity of the photo and I don't think it's been Photoshopped. Light through water is exceptionally beautiful and this wave looks like magically stained glass thanks to a remarkably colorful sunset. Luck, skill, timing and being in the right place at the right time.

Now, I know some folks who would say "God made that wave like that." Um... Okay. If you want to think that, I'm not going to stop you, but actually the photographer used a combination of science, art and nature to capture that moment when the three come together to create something extraordinary as that photograph. Truth is, art couldn't exist without science. Paint; photographs; videotape; compact discs; Mp3s... all of them impossible without chemistry, biology and physics. And quite honesty, it is science that proves how we exist, even if it still doesn't exactly know why.

"Ai-Ooo-Gah!"

And speaking of beautiful (and slightly less philosophical) things, it's time to move on to some gratuitous male flesh. Because you see, Uncle P has fallen in lus... er, uh... love with  ballet dancer Jonathan Guijarro, pictured to the right. You should all expect your "Save the Date" notifications, soon. Jonathan and I will be honeymooning in St. Tropez, Monaco, Nice and Paris, followed by an extended stay with his parents at their beach house in Ibiza.

In lieu of gifts, please donate enough moeny to convince Jonathan to marry me. For reals, ya'll. I mean it. Help a brother out!

Honestly, I don't know the young man's real heritage. He could be Latino or Spanish, but who really cares? The boy is smoking hot! I'm talking 12 alarms. Mui caliente.All that and a bag of chips. The cat's pajamas. The bee's knees. Wait... what? Australia's number one gay men's magazine, DNA has a small photo feature (may be NSFW) of Jonathan on their website this week. Like Hrthiik Roshan; Chris Evans; Ryan Reynolds; Bradley Cooper and My Obsession, Guijarro is just another gorgeous person with whom I actually have nothing in common. But that doesn't mean I can't look at, admire and comment about people I find to be particularly attractive. I'm only human, afterall. And we all like pretty things...

Of course, it's genetics (more science, thank you) that makes people like Jonathan so attractive. Not everyone's DNA is wired for such esthetic perfection. But enough of that.

May the Fourth Be With You!

Let's move on to Faux Holidays. This weekend sees two of the silliest...

Today of course, was "Star Wars Day" (every self-respecting Sci-Fi geek knows why). My equally demented friend and co-worker Mia, shared the image on the left. Of course, Luke Skywalker isn't quite as Christ-like a figure as Spielberg's E.T. but I suppose he'll do in a pinch, even though he's more like young Arhur Pendragon than Jesus of Nazareth. 

And tomorrow (today, actually) is the Mexican St. Patrick's Day, Cinco de Mayo. Not to be confused with Mexican Independence Day, Cinco de Mayo celebrates a single victory against the French in 1862. In Mexico, it is only celebrated in the state of Puebla. In the U.S., it is celebrated in Mexican restaurants both good and bed; bars and cantinas (talk about a Star Wars seque!) with tequila shots, Margaritas and dos Equis; tacos; enchiladas; salsa; cilantro; tortillas and rice. All of which, by the way, I will be doing tomorrow.

It just so happens that the next dinner with my college friends falls on May 5th, so we're obviously having a Mexican-inspired feast. We're trying hard not to do the usual. I'm making a "Creamy Taco Casserole" and a rice dish that combines elements of two different recipes I found online, along with my personal tweaks and embellishments.

 

Candy-filled Pinata Cookies

I was very tempted to try to make the candy-filled pinata cookies on the right, but I'm not really a baker. I do well enough with pies, tarts and crisps I suppose, but cookies have never been my thing and while I found these to be delightfully whimsical, they're also pretty complicated for a novice cookie maker. I imagine a sweaty version of myself, cursing and decrying my clumsy ape-like fingers as rainbow sugar cookies crumbled to into rainbow crumb-fetti.

Of course, I'll be posting about our gas-inducing indulgence afterwards.  There are some very yummy-sounding dishes on the menu and I'm looking forward to both seeing my friends and eating great food. What more can one ask of life? Wait... Don't answer that... 

I'll be sure to let you know if I ever do make those cookies.

More, anon.

Prospero

The Gayest Things You'll See This Week (Oprah Winfrey Edition)

Via

Via Buzzfeed, comes an amusing tweet from Barney Effing Stinson himself, Neil Patrick Harris which read in part:

"...Oprah came over to our house today. I made her pizza."

Honestly, who doesn't love NPH and David Burtka? Handsome, talented and successful, the power couple almost inspired yet another label (it may still happen) but I had a few things to talk about tonight, so it all falls under "The Gayest Thing(s)..."

But back to Harris and Burtka (screw Oprah*). Are there possibly two more appropriate role models for LGBT youth? They have great careers, lots of money and two very photogenic twins. They're the Gay American Dream. And yes, I know not every gay person wants that, just as not every straight person wants it. All I ask is to truly have the right to "...life, liberty and pursuit of happiness." I know I read that somewhere... Anyway, I dare you to come up with a single item that speaks ill of either of them. And neither seems to take what they have for granted. They are both loved by fans, colleagues and friends. There is no dish or dirt; not a single negative thing to be found. How refreshing! Personally, I can't wait for Harris to finally host the Oscars.

Mistie Atkinson, 32 (really?)

This next item (via) isn't very gay at all, but it goes a long way to prove that straight people are often far stranger than anyone I've ever met in the LGBT community (and I've met and known some doozies). Mistie Atkinson (well, there's your problem), 32, of Nice in northern California, was arrested for stalking her estranged 16 year-old son on Facebook and then seducing him! The police report states that they both knew they were biologically related, but it doesn't say if they knew there were mother and son. O.M.G.. EWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!! Excuse me... I have to... BRB...

That's better. One always feels better after one has offered a sacrifice to the porcelain god. Honestly though, I'm kind of glad this involved straight people. Look at David and Neil and then look at Mistie. Who looks happier and more well-adjusted to you? I'm just saying. Mistie has been charged with a variety of sexual assault an incest crimes.

And since this post is just all over the place, anyway, here are two music videos; one old and one new.

New, first:. Here is the latest and very gay video from KINGSHIP, 'Wandering Sailor" (may be NSFW, depending on where you work):

Next is something I've been holding on to for quite a while (and honestly, almost forgot about). It's been a while since I first came across this, so I don't remember if the song is any good or not (almost too tired to care, honestly) and I don't really care. (Update: It's a really awful death-metal thing where the lead "singer'' screams indecipherably with his lips on the microphone). I don't even care about any of the band members' sexuality. I just love that every time some one Googles this song, they get directed to me, first:

Mwahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaa!!! My plan for World Domination is working!

More, anon.

Prospero

P.S. - Can you tell I'm in a mood? And can I get some sharks with friggin' lasers on their heads? Is that too much to ask?

*Just kidding, Ms Winfrey. Uh, I mean... Your Highness, uh...Your Majesty, uh...Great and Powerful (and hopefully non-litigious) Supreme Cheerleader for the World. I really do love you, though I hate to admit it publicly.

P

Worst Gay Person of the Week

Scott Thorson

Alleged lover of Liberace, Scott Thorson has found a way to get his name in the news again by claiming to have had an affair with yet another deceased celebrity. Hmmm - who  might that be? Why none other than the King of Pop himself, Michael Jackson. 

Really, Scott? At least Lee was still alive when you sued him for palimony. But you wait 3 years after Jackson's death to capitalize on his name and get people talking about you. It isn't enough that Matt Damon is going to play you in Steven Soderbergh's Liberace biopic Behind the Candelabra (and really, Damon's way hotter than you ever were) opposite Michael Douglas (really?) as the bedazzled Queen of Las Vegas?

I can't say I was a sympathizer of Thorson's before. I'm not at all in favor of outing people who prefer to remain closeted. That is the single thing about being gay that actually is a choice and only one person is allowed to make that choice for you. For Liberace's part, the flamboyant showman (even as he lay dying of AIDS) denied that he was gay. Personally, I'd like to think that Lee just wanted to allow his legions of female fans to retain their fantasy image of him, rather than that he lived in fear of losing his career if he was truthful (as was -- and to some extent, still is -- the case with so many of his generation).

As much as I dislike the fact that he outed someone without consent, I believe most of what Thorson says about the time he spent with Liberace. Honestly, how did any half-savvy person not know that Liberace was gay? But as for Michael Jackson? Thorson is hardly McCauley Caulkin, now is he? 

Thorson and his ilk ride the underbelly of celebrity; taking every opportunity, no matter how insane, to keep their names in circulation. He's no better than the woman who recently claimed to be carrying Justin Bieber's baby. In fact, he's worse because Jackson isn't able to respond (though I am sure his parents, siblings and fans will respond quite vociferously). I can't blame the man for trying to make a living but doing so by involving someone who can never respond to his allegations is beyond despicable.

In fact, Thorson has inspired me to create a new label (as seen above): Worst Gay Person of the Week. Shame on you, Scott Thorson! And shame on every person who will ever appear under this label.

More anon.
Prospero

Why I Regretfully Declined

I recently received an invitation to a friend's wedding. My friend is a talented actor and musician and I am truly happy for him and his bride-to be (whom I have only met twice). I responded with my "Regrets" to the invitation. Our mutual friend, Q, posted a message to my Facebook account - "So you are unavailable for ----'s wedding?"

My response to her was: "I have nothing to wear; no time or money to find something to wear and no one to bring as my 'Plus 1.' Besides, I usually hate weddings, They only serve to remind me of how alone I am." 

Honestly, that's not to whine about being alone. It's just a simple fact. It's also true that I do not own a suit and haven't for at least 20 years. I hate suits. They represent everything I despise about Corporate America. That's not to say I haven't worn one in the past 20 years. I've donned several as costumes for various shows and/or events. I even wore a (rented) tuxedo for the JTMF 5th Anniversary Gala. But the thought of owning one just rankles me to my core -- I shouldn't (nor should you) be defined by the clothes I wear. Luckily, the Day Job allows me to wear jeans and even shorts to work (though I personally wouldn't be caught dead in public wearing a T-shirt).

But this isn't really about clothes. It's about pretending to be happy for two people who have decided to spend their lives together when I can't seem to find someone who wants to spend more than a few years or months with me. Is that selfish and childish? Maybe. But I don't care.I just can't bring myself to be happy about something I'm unlikely to ever have. 

Now, don't go feeling sorry for me. Uncle P has long ago resigned himself to life alone. And it's not like I never had a long-term relationship. The relationships I've had were good while they lasted. And I haven't lacked for a sex life (TMI?). But the older I get, the more apparent it becomes that I am not meant to have a "soul-mate," whatever that means. And who knows... I may have yet to meet the man with whom I will spend the rest of my life in connubial bliss. Stranger things have been known to happen. Still - I'm a realist. I know that the likelihood of meeting someone at my age is slim-to-none. And I'm okay with that. At least, I think I am. And I'm certainly not lacking for love. I have several very dear friends (Q, K, Dale, Tracy and D, among others) who love me very much (as I do them).

If you are lucky enough to share your life with a special someone, please don't take that for granted, If, like me, you have yet to find that special someone, take solace in the fact that you not alone. And that's okay. Not every pot has a lid, despite what my grandmother used to say.

More, anon.

Prospero

They're All Gonna Laugh at You!

Sissy Spacek in Brian DePalma's 1976 version of "Carrie"

Uncle P is old. I was in high school when Brian DePalma adapted Stephen King's first novel into an incredibly well-acted movie, starring Sissy Spacek; Amy Irving; William Katt; John Travolta; Nancy Allen; PJ Soles; Betty Buckley and the incomparable Piper Laurie as Carrie's religious nut-job mother. I wasn't old enough to drive and none of my friends wanted to see it, so I somehow convinced my mother to drop me off at the Eric Twin in Fairless Hills on a Saturday afternoon, where the bored girl in the box-office almost sold me a ticket to the soft-core porn version of Tarzan, which was also playing there. But I was a die-hard horror fan (and a relatively naive kid), so I opted to see my first choice. I had read and loved King's novel (structured in the form of diary entries, newspaper articles and court transcripts, much like Stoker's Dracula) and really wanted to see the film version.

I had no idea how much I was going to love this movie. But love it, I did. Like so many movies, the details of the first time I saw Carrie are firmly entrenched in my memory as one of a few 'perfect' films of my youth. Sure, it had some silly moments (the tuxedo scene; Edie McClurg being at least 10 years too old to be a high-schooler; that damned spinning dance scene), but Spacek was absolutely brilliant. Laurie even more so (they both garnered Oscar nominations). And DePalma's use of split-screen during the prom had me losing my mind. Carrie's eerie candlelit arrival at home; the washing off of the pig's blood; the crucifixion of Paul re-enacted on Carrie's mother. All of it amazing and new and terrifying. I had never seen a movie quite like it. And then there was that ending! As Sue Snell (Irving) knelt to lay flowers on the decimated ground where Carrie's house once stood and that hand popped up through the rocks... I practically leapt from my seat in surprise. I waited outside the theater to picked up, breathless and so excited by what I had just seen -- only to be further unnerved by a fellow who, also waiting for a ride, wanted to tell me all about how the government was testing people just like Carrie to use as weapons in the cold war (the Berlin Wall still stood strong at the time). I nodded and tried not to be freaked out and was exceedingly relieved to see Mom pull up in the family's VW station wagon to pick me up.

I was so very disappointed by Bryan ("Pushing Daisies") Fuller's 2002 TV adaptation, which starred Angela Bettis (May; The Woman) and Patricia Clarkson (The Green Mile; Shutter Island). Bettis and Clarkson were fine, but Fuller's teleplay tried too hard to include everything in King's novel and the result was too long and too... messy. And the limits of television censorship crippled the film in the same way it did Mick Farris' versions of The Stand and The Shining.

MGM recently announced yet another remake, this time starring Chloe Grace Moritz (Kick Ass; Let Me In) in the title role and Julianne Moore (The Kids Are Alright) as Margaret White. This, of course, on the heels of an updated Off-Broadway revival of the infamously disastrous Broadway musical version. As much as I love both Moritz and Moore, I'm not sure that Boys Don't Cry and Stop-Loss director Kimberly Pierce is right for this project (though I think "Glee" and "Big Love" writer Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa is as good a choice as any to write it). 

Regular readers know how I generally feel about remakes, but remakes have been around almost as long as movies themselves. While DePalma's original version of Carrie may have been perfect for audiences of the mid-seventies, who is to say that audiences 35 years later don't deserve their own version? With bullying so malignantly prevalent among today's youth, they just night need to be scared into stopping it. I just hope the makers of the new version don't give us reason to laugh at it.

More, anon.
Prospero