Conservatives need to come up with better theories, especially when the topic is sexuality. As most of you know the Values Summit happened this past weekend (the attendees went gaga over Ms. Prejean). Michael Schwartz, chief of staff for Sen. Tom Coburn, held a session on the evils of pornography. Here is what he opined:

“All pornography is homosexual pornography,” said Schwartz, repeating what an ex-gay friend told him, “because all pornography turns your sexual drive inwards.”

You read right. According to Schwartz’s ex-gay friend (we all know that queen is at the sex club with his booty in the air….not that there is anything wrong with that) all porn is touched with the homosexuality. But hold on peoples because it gets better. Schwartz is convinced one way to keep 11 year old boys from loving show tunes is by telling them Dad’s Playboy will transform them into sodomites.

“And if you tell an 11-year-old boy about that, do you think he’s going to want to get a copy of ‘Playboy’?” he said. “I’m pretty sure he’ll lose interest. That’s the last thing he wants!”

I hate children, but I know this much: Playboy’s hold on the imaginations of 11 year old boys is tenuous at best. When was that magazine last relevant? Forty years ago?

While I’m ranting, this is problem 423 about minority life. The majority will always point to some goofiness uttered by a tribe member (good morning Rev. Jesse Lee Peterson) to uphold their bigotry. Who better else to quote than some “ex-gay” nitwit for the juicy dirt on gay living?

The Human Rights Campaign has stepped into the hornet’s nest of  identity with a new report called “At the Intersection: Race, Sexuality and Gender.” The organization is even having an online conversation about the report today.

The study’s findings are not that earth shattering, especially if you have been paying attention to the “community” chatter since the defeat of Proposition 8. Gays and lesbians  of color experience their lives primarily through the lens of race and gender. LGBT people of color are simultaneously accepted and rejected by their communities. Brown and black gays and lesbians see no difference in racism and sexism exhibited by gays or straights.

The report isn’t all downer. It suggests bridges can be built on work against hate crimes and job discrimination. How the HRC study will be received is any one’s guess. I  think it will come and go with nary a whimper. Mainly because we would rather talk noise about community which is easy.

To hike my funk meter for a minute, is any one really shocked by this? Gays and lesbians of color have been saying stuff like this for ages, ages, and ages. And precious little has changed. And we all know how it will go here. Some  will call me a racist and tell me to get help. Others will wonder why 365 has turned into ghetto news central , and a few will quote nuttiness espoused by a black friend (word to the wise: just because your colored friend says it, it ain’t necessarily so).

Race talk brings out the crazy in all of us ; however, let’s put the crazy down  and actually hear each other. One way to start is to let go of the  innocence shields that always pop up when the topic is color.

Comic Dave Chappelle is right. Too much ink is wasted over the political yammering of the famous. If singing and dancing is your forte, that is what I require when you open your mouth. Your thoughts on the topic of the day not so much. Today that rule will be broken to announce that from now until I’m some slobbering dirty old man pinching the backside of an overworked nurse, I’ll be the first in line for any Hugh Jackman movie.

Rumors about the Aussie star’s sexuality have been up for public debate (please do me a favor: don’t leave notes about how your best friend’s third cousin is Jackman’s lovah or how your third cousin’s man saw him kissing someone at the Hangar). Why we care about his bed mate(s) is beyond me, but what do I know? Heck I even can’t stand Twitter.

But here is how Jackman responded when pressed to answer the gossip:

“I’d be happy to go and deny it, because I’m not,” Jackman said. “But by denying it, I’m saying there is something shameful about it, and there isn’t anything shameful. The questions about sexuality I find more here in America than anywhere else, because it’s a big hang-up and defines what people think about themselves and others. It’s not a big issue in Australia.”

While your third cousin’s mate will be annoyed by this, it made my day. Made me fall in love a little bit. In a purely platonic way. Wrecking homes is for nasty girls and my parents raised me to be a lady.

Jackman has a new movie coming out and although he doesn’t need my cash he’s getting it. I can’t think of a better guy to give it to (excluding me of course).

I’ll understand if no one believes this story. Heck I don’t believe it myself. And it’s not a April 1 joke. I’m not that clever.

Yesterday I was getting rid of the messages on my phone. Standard stuff. Bill collectors demanding cash I don’t have. Friends. Telemarketers looking for cash I don’t have. Ahhh, but one stood above the crowd. The message leaver was a gentleman. He paused before saying this:

“You sound like a faggot.”

At first I thought it was a cheeky friend having  fun, but I didn’t recognize the voice. Played it again to make sure it wasn’t anyone I knew, then deleted it from the system.

I should have kept it and did some research to find the number of the caller, but thinking is not my forte. It was early morning and the coffee had not kicked in yet. Now if this was a heated election, I would follow the example of Ashley Todd,  scrawl a letter on my face, and say it was done by someone with a Bible. However, my handwriting is wretched.

If I’m not mistaken, this is my first hate voicemail. Oh I’ve had many a dealings with constables over the years (my favorite is when a friend and I were stopped on the New Jersey Turnpike and my friend was asked by one of the troopers if “he was smoking that crack”), but overt crap over sexuality has not been my lot. Could be my demeanor. While I’m convinced I’m the gayest thing out there (especially when I clap my hands), my gay ways have been called into question. Once I was drinking a cosmo, by myself, in a gay bar in Nyack, NY and the guy next to me asked if I was straight. He said I wasn’t giving out a “gay vibe.” Too bad my message leaver wasn’t with me that night. He could have vouched for me.

And while we are on the topic of my gentleman caller, I have a special note for him: why the nasty language baby? You didn’t talk like that when we were making that sweet sweet love last week. Instead you were calling out to the gods. But I understand.  You are scared about your feelings and your boys are giving you grief for not being manly enough, so you had something to prove. And we always hurt those we love. But don’t worry. I know how you really feel you nasty boy.

When I moved to a one room closet, the book collection had to be pruned. There were some easy cast-offs. The anthologies that had not been cracked since Flock of Seagulls ruled MTV. All that lit-crit verbiage. History books purchased for projects that died in mid stream. When I came to Shakespeare’s play’s I piled them up and stared for a good 15 minutes before deciding they had to go.

Wish I could say I was a Shakespearean scholar or that his lines fell of my tongue with ease and grace. Yet even an unlettered knave can appreciate the beauty the Bard put in the mouths of his characters. Here is Othello, a man whose heart was twisted beyond recognition.

Soft you; a word or two before you go.
I have done the state some service, and they know’t.
No more of that. I pray you, in your letters,
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate,
Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak
Of one that loved not wisely but too well;
Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought
Perplex’d in the extreme; of one whose hand,
Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away
Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdued eyes,
Albeit unused to the melting mood,
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
Their medicinal gum. Set you down this;
And say besides, that in Aleppo once,
Where a malignant and a turban’d Turk
Beat a Venetian and traduced the state,
I took by the throat the circumcised dog,
And smote him, thus.

Looks like the image we have of the Bard is in for a makeover. Stanley Wells, the chairman of the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust, announced this week the discovery of a Shakespeare portrait that was done when Will was alive. It’s easy to imagine this William being cruised hard on Friday night (or any other night), although he does look like he’s tired of sitting for his picture. And give the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust people credit for not denying the sexuality questions the painting engenders.

“This Shakespeare is handsome and glamorous, so how does this change the way we think about him?” was a question in a handout Birthplace Trust organizers gave to reporters. “And do the painting and provenance tell us more about his sexuality, and possibly about the person to whom the sonnets are addressed?”

This being Shakespeare means some doubt the authenticity of the painting. And that’s the way it should be. Sure we can debate the details of the man’s life, but it’s all about the words.

Shut-up! Shut-up! Shut-up! God, shut your toothy trap! How long is this Ted Haggard speaking tour going to go on? I’m an ardent fan of the First Amendment, but when it comes to Haggard I want to add a provision that keeps him from the public square for 25 years.

From Larry King to Oprah to morning TV shows, we’ve had Haggard reminding us of his sorry story. I understand he needs to make sure we all watch the HBO documentary about his post scandal life, but what is up with this guy? It’s like he grooves to the public flogging. Anyone who says the following line needs what both grandmas called a whippin’:

“People want you either to be heterosexual, bisexual, homosexual, whatever. And my counselor says I’m a heterosexual with complications, whatever that means.

If allowed to, I would take you on a curse filled tirade about that line, but I like working for 365 so use your imagination.

Ultimately, the whole Haggard tour has nothing to do with sexuality and everything to do with the former reverend being a simple fame whore. When he preached, he was adored and had a captive audience every week who hung on his every word. When that was taken away, the solitude was too deep and silent (the status most of us have as we spend our time on this spinning land mass), so he had to have the glare again. Junkie punk. And if it meant throwing out comments best reserved for a comic’s routine, then so be it. Do anything to get the crowd again.

I was really hoping to keep my keyboard away from the train wreck that is Ted Haggard. The last time I  paid any attention to the former evangelical minister was when all of his mess turned public in 2006. Actually I  didn’t care about him. Hypocritical preachers are easy to find.

The real story was his  wife. After escort Mike Jones told Haggard’s sorry tale , a reporter stopped the Haggard family as they were pulling out of the driveway. Instead  having  a no comment, Haggard decided to answer the reporter’s questions. Mrs. Haggard’s face was pinched tight and unlike her husband she was not giving any TV ready grin. Instead she looked at her man  with a “I so wish my meth taking gay husband would shut-up” glare.

There will be more looks of hatred in the Haggard household after KRDO’s investigative report airs tonight. Apparently Haggard had a sexual relationship (note: there are differing reports on whether the sex was consensual or not)  with one of  the volunteers at his former spiritual home New Life Church. After Haggard got booted out of that house, the new minister found out what happened to the the unnamed volunteer, in his early 20’s now , and paid the guy a rather large sum of cash to keep everything on the hush-hush. The cash was supposed to be used for college and counseling. 

“It wasn’t at all a settlement to make him be quiet or not tell his story,” New Life Church senior pastor Brady Boyd said. “Our desire was to help him. Here was a young man who wanted to get on with his life. We considered it more compassionate assistance _ certainly not hush money. I know what’s what everyone will want to say because that’s the most salacious thing to say, but that’s not at all what it was.”

Come on Boyd! We are all adults here. It was a settlement. Man! Why can’t ministers just be upfront when their churches get caught in crazy stuff?

Never met Mark Buse. Couldn’t pick him out of a line-up. I  know he is John McCain’s chief of staff and that means there’s not much we agree on. That’s enough for me. His sexuality, just like the love life of “singer” Clay Aiken, are bits of information that do not need to be added to the flotsam and jetsam in my head.

Yesterday Buse’s supposed gayness became a talking point in the gay blogosphere. When the rumor first hit my email box, I rolled my eyes. Mainly because this type of conversation is as dated as watching  a rerun of Beverly Hills, 90210. Isn’t outing a technique we have moved away from?

Aside from the moldiness of it all, why the shock? A gay man shills for the GOP and its candidate?  We’ve seen this story before and it ain’t new. Can the choir say former senator Rick Santorum’s communications director Robert Traynham? And who can forget Mary Cheney (love the fact she got paid a whole lot of cash for a book no one read)? Are we so naive that we continue to be shocked when we find there are gays and lesbians  who actually are Republican? The horror. The horror.

Yes Virginia, there are gay Republicans; instead of being shocked about that, it might serve us better to come up with reasons on why we disagree with them. And reasons do not include using the terms “Nazi” or “self-hating.”

I’ve said it before and have no problem repeating it. Sexuality does not equal ideology. Never has. Never will

Alas, the article was referring to actual insects, the annoying little ones that remind you to throw away overripe bananas. Apparently, some researchers at Penn State University have discovered that by getting groups of male flies “drunk” with alcohol fumes, they can induce homosexual behavior. (Just like frat boys.) They observed this behavior in a small transparent chamber, which they called—I am not making this up—a “Flypub.”

According to newscientist.com,

“The first time they were exposed to alcohol, groups of male flies became noticeably intoxicated but kept themselves to themselves. But with repeated doses of alcohol on successive days, homosexual courtship became common. From the third day onwards, the flies were forming ‘courtship chains’ of amorous males.”

Yes. And by the fourth day, they were redecorating the Flypub in sleek mid-century modern furniture. By the fifth day, they were serving Cosmopolitans and debating the relative fabulousness of Martha Stewart’s new Wedgwood line at Macy’s. And so on.

The article continues,

“[Lead researcher Kyung-An Han] argues that the drunken flies provide a good model to explore how alcohol affects human sexual behaviour. While the ability of alcohol to loosen human inhibitions is well known, it is difficult for scientists to study.”

Of course it is. Imagine the grant application:

“Describe the proposed methodology.”

“Um, well, I’m going to get a bunch of college students drunk and naked, then record their behavior.”

Sounds like a shoo-in for funding, no?

It’s not that I doubt the merits of such research. Granted, I’m far more interested in figuring out how to keep fruit flies out of my kitchen than how to make them horny. Still, I appreciate the value of scientific inquiry—all else being equal, the more we know about the world, the better.

My problem arises when people start using these studies to draw conclusions about human romantic behavior. While Han has warned against such inferences, other researchers and commentators have not been so cautious.

For example, when Austrian researchers in 2005 genetically manipulated a female fruit fly to induce homosexual behavior, Dr. Michael Weiss, chairman of the department of biochemistry at Case Western Reserve University, told the International Herald Tribune, “Hopefully this will take the discussion about [human] sexual preferences out of the realm of morality and put it in the realm of science.”

I hope it does no such thing. For two reasons: first, because human sexuality is far richer and more complex than fruit-fly mounting behavior. (Fruit flies don’t pout if you don’t call the next day—or so I’m told.)

Second, and more generally, because science and morality tell us different things. Science tells us something about why we behave as we do. It does not tell us how we SHOULD behave, which is the domain of morality. Science cannot replace morality or vice-versa.

To put the point another way: while scientific study can reveal the biological origin of our feelings and behaviors, it can’t tell us what we should do with them. Should we embrace them? Tolerate them? Change them? Those are moral questions, and simply observing fruit flies—or humans, for that matter—is insufficient to answering them.

But can’t these studies prove that homosexual attraction is “natural”? Not in any useful sense. Specifically, not in any sense that would distinguish good feelings and behaviors from bad ones. Discovering the biological origin of a trait is different from discovering its value.

Beyond conflating morality with science, popular commentators on these studies have an unfortunate tendency toward oversimplification.

Consider last year’s fruit-fly study at the University of Illinois, which the gay newsmagazine The Advocate announced with the headline, “Study finds gay gene in fruit flies.”

Except that it didn’t. What the study found was a genetic mutation in fruit flies that rendered them essentially bisexual. Scientists could then switch the flies’ behavior between heterosexuality and homosexuality through the use of synapse-altering drugs.

In other words, the study neither found a “gay gene” in fruit flies nor answered any questions about how hardwired or malleable human sexual orientation might be.

Meanwhile, one fruit fly who participated in the Penn State study released the following statement: “Dude, I was so drunk that day—I don’t know what happened!”