Archive for the ‘a BIG HA HA HA’ Category

My, My, My

a decree is sent out: Be thee unafraid of another man’s dick.

by punkpink and Arvey Jones

“My, my, my”, said punkpink on the telephone to me the other day. “I just saw on one of your areas finest blogs a photo of those old fashioned urinals. You remember the times, the great times, the fun times we use to have around those things. Gee I know its not political correct now-a-days to talk about cruising the tea rooms of long ago, oh what seems to me to be long ago but of course not as long a go as some things that happened longer ago than that long ago. Some gay men and other folks would like that part of gay stories to be hidden away and die off with our generation but maybe I should just have a bit of fun and publish this piece. To heck with those who will say, Hey now wait a minute why must you perhaps give fuel to the radical right wing conservatives or those who are freaked out about a trans person using the same restroom as their beloved Buffy and Joey. But let me say right up front this has nothing what-so-ever to do with any Trans person. This has nothing to do with Trans people using the restroom. This has to do with gay history. This has to do with the days that we sought out love and sex where ever we could find it. The days back then and maybe the days now for many, if you are lucky enough to find the place where it is happening without the police interfearing. Seems to be one of their job qualifications, interfere  with folks enjoying themselves. Interfere with folks just walking down the street, getting in the way of life all with power, guns, violent temperaments and ambitious white power. Let’s say it right now, Fuck the Police! Want to read why us old white queers take this position. ( 1 )

Beyond this door one finds joy!


“Hey,” is this the place where all the dicks hang out?” he shouted as he drove his transportation chair into the men’s restroom. “If it is then make room for the biggest baddest dick this side of the river.” All the dicks were hanging out at all the urinals and someone was taking a long piss in water closet number 1. “Oh.” thought Johnny, “the biggest baddest one this side of the river shit I got to hang out awhile longer to see that.” Soon as he said Johnnie’s dick leaped just a bit and he  couldn’t take my eyes off the guy.” Never did a guy like that but I hope that I can do him.”

You know said punkpink, I remember those two quite clearly. I snuck into a stall as I heard one of them say, “Do you need any help?” Later I saw them over at Macy’s shopping together in the underwear department. “Oh,” come on punkpink, “You tell such stories.” “Sometimes,” replied punkpink, “I heard one of the guys say, “Baby its cold outside and you need some new underwear.”

YMCA

William Sloane House YMCA NYC.. Action City back in the day.

“Oh,” punkpink said, “both of us have such stories to tell here is one for you. ‘ Do you remember the guy named Quacky or something like that? I think his last name was Quackenberg. Well he told me when first landing in NYC back in 1964 he headed for the YMCA on 34th street got a room and headed for the showers. To wash the dust off from traveling from Kansas, washing away all that flatness all that corn and pigs or something like that. It was customary at the time for men who were headed to use the men’s shower and restroom to only wear a towel. Just big enough to go around ones waist and cover what needed to be covered while walking the halls. He headed for a stall to check out if there was any action or not as “love notes” sometimes were left on the stall walls. A silent partner was in the next stall. A foot moved closer, tap tap tap. Not knowing the secrete signals Quacky thought the guy was taping maybe to get out a big one so he though maybe just maybe if I tap along he will be able to do his business. Closer moved the foot until it came to rest on Quacky’s. “Oh I get it he wants to play footsies” But knowing in the rub, how the rub it rubbed, I knew it was something else the gentleman wanted. Why not thought Quacky, that’s what I am here for. Off they went to the older gentleman’s room where he proceeded to lay down face up on the bed. Shit said Quackey he just wants to lay there, like he’s half dead and have me do him. Not my idea of a good time. Maybe all that foot tapping and rubbing tired the old gent out. After about five mins. of laying there giving him a rub Quacky said, “Hey man if I wanted a corpse I would have gone to the grave yard. I’m heading to the showers for some action.” Not a very good start to experiencing the art of cruising. So some are duds and some aren’t and the best action that evening was found by Quacky in the shower.” All of us found action there. Every day we stayed at the YMCA.

men's locker room 1930

Paul Cadmus, YCCA Locker Room 1930

Here is a real campy song. I first heard it back in 1966 when I had cruised a guy in Bryant Park and we went home to his apartment on 22nd street. Yes it tells of what many of us experienced at the good old YMCA before many in both worlds sang along with the Village People. But you know back there in that apartment I met another gay man who was becoming as political as I was. It is where I first heard Shirley Verrett sing from the album Singing in the Storm. Songs such as Oh Freedom, No More Slavery Chains, Strange Fruit, and other songs of the era. Songs of protest, songs of hope, songs of that new day when all of us would be free. Some of the songs I had heard and sung back in my hometown with others who had the light of peace, justice, and freedom burning in them. But this was the first time that I had met a gay man who was listening as well as I was.  His name was Clyde was a member of the War Resisters League knew who was who in the organization and best of all who was like us. Early days mostly closeted homosexual men who found their interests in anti-war, civil rights and other social justice work. More than likely wondering when it was going to get better for us. Sure there was the Mattachine Society in NYC but in the beginning  of the “breaking out of heaven on earth,” it seemed to be rather boring, old fashioned and far to nice. Besides like Clyde said, it didn’t like us Beatnik types, you know those suit and tie Joes who hated us bearded, long hair pot smoking guys. Us pinkos, us commies. You know there has to be something else we thought. Something for our types. Something out of the ordinary. Something that will take all we have learned and say a big fuck you. Fuck I don’t want to be normal. I will never foget those words, those ideas, that were stirring in many of us at the time.

For this piece we shall listen to I’m So Wet! the Shower Song. Love it as its fun. This song Arvey we must dedicated to all of the good fucks we had at the old YMCA on 34th street, NYC.

Just a tad bit of ourstories.

****Men had been meeting men for sex, and this is on record, since the 15th century. (we won’t even consider what went on in the baths of 6th century Greece.) In 1492 in Florence a purge against the “vice of sodomy” took place in taverns, baths and sheds or houses used for sex. The city’s leading criminal court warned the owners of bath houses to keep out “suspects”. The taverns, baths, sheds and houses were raided. The court in Florence convicted 44 men for homosexual relations from April 1492 and February 1494. So the attacks by straights on homosexual men has been going on for many many years.

In England from the early 1950s there was a “witchhunt” of homosexuals with the Conservative home secretary David Maxwell Fyfe vowing to “rid England of this plague” and an estimated 1,000 gay men were arrested each year by undercover policemen prowling the parks, cruising grounds and public toilets.

Throughout history and for a variety of reasons, gay and bisexual men have looked to public bathrooms as places to get laid. Some men enjoy cruising public restrooms because they’re turned on by the exhibitionism and the possibility of getting caught, while others see it as a place to anonymously and discretely have a same-sex encounter in times when being outed as gay carries severe social, political and legal consequences.

Cruising public restrooms has become an ingrained part of gay history with mixed feelings surrounding it. On one hand, it’s considered so seedy, sexy and transgressive. On the other hand, it’s also considered by some gay men to be a dark side of gay sexuality and gay history that has been used to shame gay men for their otherwise harmless sexual proclivities (often in the name of protecting children, public decency or stopping the spread of disease). Most of the LGBT mainstream disassociates themselves with cruising in public and some  yes some have actually turned in men who were cruising and tattling to the police where the popular cruising spots are or were all in the name of advancement of their political agenda and the misinformed ideas that only the closeted men and men on the down low cruise restrooms.

We could write and write about the treatment of gay men who were out cruising and came face to face with entrapment in amerikkka and yes honey don’t think that it is over as it is still going on here today but others can do that job. Bet you ten bucks unless something changes it is going to get worse and bet you a hundred that the lovely LGBT mainstream will continue to look the other way.

Fuck with some of us we will fight back: 

Here is an amazing story about one man who after being arrested fought back and dear hearts a movement just grew and grew.

Dale Jennings, ever hear of him? Here is a bit of his stories: Dale Jennings was a early member of the Mattachine Los Angles. In the spring of 1952 Jennings was arrested for allegedly soliciting a police officer in a toilet in Westlake Park, now known as MacArthur Park. The trial that took place drew national attention to the Mattachine Society and membership increased drastically due to the decision of the Mattachine Society to help contest the charges brought against Jennings. Jennings called fellow Mattachine founder Harry Hay, and they enlisted the help of attorney George Sibley, a member of the Citizens’ Council to Outlaw Entrapment. Jennings was one of the first homosexual men to contest charges such as this one. Most homosexuals at the time pleaded guilty so as not to be publicly scrutinized. His decision to fight back was a pivotal point in the movement. The organization raised funds and promoted Jennings’ case nationally. The trial began June 23, 1952 and lasted ten days. Jennings confessed to being a homosexual but denied any wrongdoing. While there were different accounts of what exactly occurred that day, by the end of the trial the jury voted 11–1 for acquittal on the basis of police intimidation, harassment, and entrapment of homosexuals, and the case was dismissed. While only Dale Jennings and the police officer know the exact details of that day in the park, the trial brought a lot of attention to the Mattachine Society, increasing awareness of the Gay Rights Movement as a whole as well as increasing the organization’s membership. ( 2 )

Conversations:

The fear of seeing another dick freaks a lot of men out. I have heard many men say things like, “I would wait as long as it takes” just to avoid peeing next to another man. Come-the-fuck-on-bro, the dude is probably just trying to empty his bladder the same way you are. There’s no conversation or eye-meeting — unless you’re trying to get something out of it — so why should it be awkward? What did Mommy and Daddy do way back then when you were potty training to give a person such fears? Do you fear another man’s dick hanging out, emptying itself? What are your fears? Next guy may see what a small dick you have? You may get hard? You are hard? You want the next guy but your too afraid to let him know? Afraid that violence always lurks if you even dare to move outside of staring ahead for even a second.

Not the place for a man who is afraid of another man seeing his dick or being seen.
(more…)

by Punkpink

Down from the wilds of Vermont where any reader of this site knows I am now living on a farm with four other people, forging the woods for food, taking care of chickens, goats, two Alpacas, a few ducks, fields of dandelions, vegetable gardens and just working hard chopping wood and getting ready for the coming winter. Benny, myself and Mark from down the woods finished 2 cabins this summer and now we are trying to convince 2 certain someone’s to come on up and stay with us. Here I am taking a break back visiting my old stomping grounds of Hartford Ct. where so many times years ago I got myself in a bit of trouble with some folks in the arts, LGBT, and other communities for writing what I consider to be something that needs to be said. I always believed that I said it so well, stuff that no one wanted to hear. Too bad was my moto. So here I am in the big city of Hartford. Now I have been in bigger cities in my life, lived in some, had great times in others but Hartford is dear to me because some of my dearest friends are here and of course this is where my favorite blog is. So what to do in Hartford this weekend. I see there is something that they call Open Studio, hyped up all over the place. Come on out, get on the shuttle, see the artists in their natural habitat. You have 2 days, fill it up.

Here’s their promise from the literature that I have seen. If you go all about town you will be able to see the works of over 300 artists. Yeah, folks you read that right. Over 300 artists. My goodness there are artists here and artists there and artists everywhere if you want to believe the hype. “Heavens,” said Betsy, “maybe some type of evolutionary thing is happening on earth and we are in the mist of a great change.” You know if you think of Hartford that is only one little dot on the art trail, every city, every town, every suburb, every hamlet, even out the woods there are artists and their number seems to be growing every day. Our old art teacher used to say if everyone became an artist war would end. Well we are on fast forward to that goal and we are experiencing more wars than ever. Can’t folks spend more time on ending war than on making “not art”?

One wall as in many. Picasso Lives!!! (2)

If one was to review Open Studio and be honest without being a sympathic wimp, without worrying about someone down the street not likeing you, caring little if you are seen with the most famous artist in the town at any opening, about fitting in, or being hipper than the next gal, or of course like me able to get out of town in a flash  one would have to begin like this.

Open Studio: To Turn An Old Phrase–More is Less. 

A great mass, a Hodge Podge of doodlers, who would do well to donate their art supplies to someone else, maybe a real artist in the crowd and go about the business of saving the whales or helping to give mother earth a break by scooping plastic out of her oceans. Your passion would be welcomed in many a place. Right now you are in the wrong box no matter how hard you try you will never be an artist. You are wasting your money and your time. Come on folks let’s get real here, 300+ people all claim to be some type of artist I can only say NAH! Never! Is Not! Nor shall it ever be!! Just because you have a creative bug somewhere in your system doesn’t allow you to claim the title of artist. You copy lessons, the techniques you learned in art school, you’re making what is called “Just like art” amounts to nothing more than something that someone can use to cover a hole, crack in the wall, or to decorate their place. Got a new sofa, need a work of art.  Just think if everyone who has the art bug devoted their passion to getting rid of the present administration, filling their time with learning about revolution rather than upholding bourgeoisie notions of art what a great world we would create.

We have far too many who claim, I am artist, see what I do. I have learned my lessons well. But in the seeing all one sees is copyists. How sad. Even old aunt Helen and tattooed Joe is in on the act and Hartford will soon have its own Paint Bar. Come on in drink and paint. You can take home the painting at the end of the night. Just don’t get too drunk and paint the lady next to you with all of her clothes on. If you do remember me and paint her pink and then maybe just maybe you will have a career in art that goes beyond a one horse town.

“Oh come on,” says Mabel, “No one is hurting anyone by doing what they do.” “Well, said Joe, “how about art?” Art is getting a bad name. No I must say “Please remember art is much bigger than do-dads saying we make it.” Remember also that we do have other fish to fry in the art world. The money folks. The bastards that love art, buy art and all the while murder not only others in war but kill our earth. The 1 %. The Ugly, the horrible, the nasty, the unfit for humanity. Kill them now or kill them later? We would prefer now so their dirty works do not have a chance to spread.(1) (more…)

Greetings of the season.

from Pumpkin Town Village. Check it out, its fun, and a non-scary treat for Halloween.

 

This system is a joke, a real damn joke. The whole damn system shut it down!

CODEPINK Activist Arrested for Laughing at Jeff Sessions’ Hearing Will Face Yet Another Trial.

Today’s sentencing of CODEPINK activists Desiree Fairooz, Lenny Bianchi, and Tighe Barry for protesting at the confirmation hearing of Attorney General Jeff Sessions was shameful. Desiree Fairooz, who was arrested for laughing, will have to go through the whole process again with a new trial in September. (The judge said Fairooz should not have been tried for laughing, only for speaking out as she was being removed. Instead of dismissing the whole case, he ordered a retrial.) Lenny Bianchi and Tighe Barry were given a $100 fine, 10 days of (suspended) incarceration, and 6 months of probation from Capital grounds for each of the two charges; disrupting Congress and demonstrating.

These sentences are designed to discourage dissent and prevent activists from engaging in the daily protests that are taking place during this tumultuous time. CODEPINK feels that the judge should have overturned these absurd convictions and dropped all three cases.

As Desiree was leaving the courthouse, she remarked, “I would have never spoken out at the hearing if I hadn’t been arrested for laughing, and now I am going to be tried again! It’s absurd. This is a waste of everyone’s time and a waste of tens of thousands of dollars in taxpayers money. The only thing more ridiculous than being tried for laughing, is being tried twice for laughing.”

Image may contain: coffee cup

Mug from somewhere on facebook that came up on my page. (it might have been those liberal democratic folks in the Women’s March, but not sure)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, more liberal democratic bull shit. More and more coming out daily from those in the mainstream resistance to Trump but loving the democrat side so damn much. You know if that is the best your side has to offer you are rather limp.

Well here are our inspirational women that should be on the mugs.

Persist like Harriet Tubman

Inspire like Dorothy Day

Speak like Sylvia Rivera

Influence like Jeannette Rankin

Defy like Emma Goldman

Fight like Angela Davis

Empower like Shulamith Firestone

Focus like  Lucy Parsons

Rule like Wilma Mankiller

On Saturday folks from furbirdsqueerly join with about 45 other people in what was dubbed an Equality March. It was wonderful to see so many LGBT and queer folks out that day. Young folks, old folks, Black folks, Brown folks, white folks, all out for equality bringing their issues out to the streets of Hartford Ct. we wrote this as a response:

“We would like to bring up a point here as lesson. A lesson for learning to all of us in these dreadful times. A light to shine in darkness. A please remember others beside yourselves. A all for one and one for all! This article has been adapted from our comment over at The Equality March Page found HERE.

Before marching I had asked the organizer if she would please have the march go a little slow as some of us would most likely not be able to keep up. This was met by some off remark by someone in the crowd and a laugh by her. When the march was going down Pearl Street I noticed that the front of the march was getting further and further away. I yelled out a few times to slow down and was met with a few off handed remarks from other marchers which took me by surprise, until Pickles heard me say “Slow Down- Pass it On” and repeated it. Thank you Pickles for passing it on. Thank you for helping stopping and slowing down the marchers. I couldn’t understand why the rush, why would we want to become a blur? The cops were blocking the intersections, no need to rush through, why the rush, were we out to please them so they wouldn’t have to stand there? Did we care about the people sitting in their cars waiting for us to pass so much that we forgot about those who were all ready standing with us? Funny I heard no honks in support of the march from any motorist waiting. It wasn’t pouring rain, or freezing cold. Some of us older people and folks with children were having a hard time keeping up. The children in this march had some wonderful signs that they had made. What did it say to them that the march left them way up Pearl Street.

What was at play here? Self centered ableism? Getting into the moment of the thing and forgetting that everyone who was out that day would help to make this resistance succeed? Breaking a number one rule of revolution (yeah I will call it that for now, when push comes to shove that will be another story) “all for one and one for all.” Forgetting that some are not as able as others for whatever reason? Or as one person said, “These people are just oblivious and only think to the tip of their nose.” Sad commentary on our state if that is the case. What is next non-accessible meeting spaces?

I would like to tell a little story here. In my long history of resistance, I started as a young queer child, I have always made it a point to say when any action was to be taken, or laws to be passed, how will this effect the least of those among us? How will this affect the poor, the elderly, the young? Then I would work up from there. If I couldn’t see advancement for those of us who were not privileged then I would not take part. Many years ago there was an argument about a space that some in the LGBT movement wanted to use. Well the space had 3 stairs to get into. I knew that one of the speakers was in a transportation chair. I couldn’t believe my ears when one person a very able bodied lesbian said, “Well all we have to do is carry him up the stairs.” Needless to say folks on my side of the fence booed her out of the picture and another meeting space was found. What length were we willing to go to? Busting up the group and forming a new one? We were willing at that point. 

Another point that should be well taken and contemplated is this, in these times when in small marches we must look out for each other. Folks left behind could become victims and when we rush ahead we put them in danger. No one in that line of march should have made an off remark about stopping and slowing down. One person had the nerve to say, we were “power walking.” So funny I forgot to laugh. What only the able folks got the power? Honey get with it. With messages such as ours wouldn’t a stroll be nicer. Give folks on the sidelines time to read your signs, to hear your chants. Instead we go rushing by, to beat the band, to get to the fire, the fire is in the streets not in front of an empty state capitol.

In the future please remember to check out others, look behind you, get off and out of yourself. Extend your compassion. If you see folks falling behind you and your friends please go and walk with them. One thing please don’t be just like trump and his boys, leaving seniors and the young behind. That is what I took away from this lesson. I know many folks who are out and about protesting today are new at the game with many lessons to learn and I know one lesson is to stop being so damned privileged. You and I well know, we all have a lot to learn in these times.

Onward and forward! Remember, “What force on earth is weaker than the feeble force of one!” Together we are strong. This resistance will not succeed with only you, if you think so welcome to the end of the cliff.  Equality March? Equality March? Equality March? Come on folks forget your able body fast walking selves? Equality march no it isn’t when some are left way up the next block. 

They almost had us until the last 2 lines.

In from Homophobia Exposed

when I was hungry, you canceled my food stamps
when I was thirsty, you diverted lead & coal into my water
when I was sick, you tripled my insurance rates
when I was naked, you raped me & blamed me because I was naked.
when I was in prison, you enslaved me to corporations
when I was a stranger with brown skin you deported me
then…
from the lonely, YOU took away social programs
from the elderly & disabled, YOU took away meals & medicine
from the workers, YOU took away legal protections
from the young, YOU took away school funding
from the victims, YOU took away shelter
so…
instead of diversity, YOU encourage intolerance
instead of caring, YOU encourage isolation
instead of equity, YOU encourage military excess
when the 1% has ground US into the dust, taken all of OUR money, and let US die for lack of insurance – who will YOU feed upon?

First who ever wrote this please take a real hard listen to this song:

Note from Furbirdsqueerly

Why would any one let it all get this far. Ground US into the dust. NO WAY!!! Take all my hard earned money!  Go Fuck yourself! Let us die for the lack of insurance!  Blast off!! Who will you feed upon! Not us!!

Got to get out from under their thumb.  We would think that by the 6th line of this happening folks would have formed a united front and fought back. Fought back by any means necessary. By all means possible. Over on Homophobia Exposed postings we read these two comments:

Love only wins when you stand up, strap on your armor, and charge into battle for it.”

and this doozy

Karama will get the wicked. The justice will win one day. Tomorrow is only a day away. Love always wins.”

We would like to ask the two who wrote such nonsense, What are we to do why we are waiting for love. Someday peace will come?  For Karma to come crashing in, for love to win? How many will die? How many must suffer at the end of the beating stick. As long as its someone else is not at all appropriate. Give up, give in, sit down and die, wait for a savior from on high to come and save us, someday my prince will come. Bullshit!!!