Lip-Service With a Smile

Waiting tables isn’t for everyone. There, I said it. It happens to suit me just peachy for the moment because I’m a total misanthrope and a fine, fine bullshitter. Believe me, it helps. In some ways it’s like being part of some fabulous club; the service industry is a true subculture of grizzled alcoholics straight from the touring company of some wretched Dante adaptation. And boy, do we have some interesting conversations — nothing is taboo and everyone is fair game. I think it’s this raw discourse that’s kept me in this industry for so long, frank and honest exchanges about everything from anal sex to legalization of heroin to alternative phrases for “fag hag.” The managers, even! It’s one big happy drug-addled family.
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The Language

Newt Gingrich decries bilingual ballots. Nothing new there.

I wasn’t even going to read this article. I said to myself, “There are more important things going on right now. There’s a war. There’s disease. This guy isn’t even speaker anymore.”

Then I realized that just because there are bigger, more pressing matters for our elected officials to deal with, that doesn’t mean that these other matters should just be dropped. Anyway, what else is Newt going to do with his time?

More urgent matters are being dealt with by hundreds of other, more urgent politicians; so, says me, let Newt say what’s on his mind. Evidently, what’s on his mind is the impending doom the nation will face if we don’t stop teaching students in languages other than English.
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Don’t. Just Don’t.

I’m as progressive as they get, but this book makes me pray it’s actually satire published by a right-wing author. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you this:




So essentially over the past few decades we’ve made great strides to warn our children against the stereotyping of others on the basis of race, only to now send them the message that there’s an invisible political line down our society, is that it? Are we to infer that conservative parents don’t care about their country, much less their children? Look, I’m all for skewering Republicans, but why not work with the wealth of material they provide us daily instead of mass-producing propaganda thinly-disguised as a children’s book? Besides, let’s face it: if they were the ones publishing a book of this sort, you can be sure virtually everyone on the left would decry it as an act of fundamentalist brainwashing. See, I’m already agreeing with the right-wingers and that is unacceptable!

I’m ashamed of this book. We can do better than this.

A Certain Type

I’m a fairly isolated person. Not exactly anti-social, but I’m also not the sort of person with a throng of drinking buddies just a phone call away. In this way, I suppose I’m not your average gay guy. I don’t work out, I’m not a neat person by any stretch of the imagination, I don’t have anything waxed (but I do get my eyebrows threaded on a regular basis), and I hate clubs. And for some reason or another, I don’t get along with other gay men — I have no clue why. I’m the only gay man in my restaurant, which is shocking in and of itself. The intern minister at church is gay, and even in that case he tends to talk to me like someone was paying him to. So now I’m beginning to think I need to give women a try.

Anyway, I watch LOGO every so often, particularly when the Outlaugh Festival or Wisecrack is on. The other night I had Doug Holsclaw on in the background when all of a sudden my head jerked up in response to something very, very familiar. Now, usually when I hear a gay comedian refer to “we,” I roll my eyes at the description of any number of things I absolutely cannot relate to, but I was delighted to hear something that rang incredibly true:

“I’m a certain type of gay man — I dislike most everything and everyone. And the word hate doesn’t quite do justice to my feelings, you know what I mean? Somebody says, ‘Oh, did you see the new Tarantino film?’ ‘I despised it. It was vile.’ Vile is another gay word. ‘I sat next to this vile woman on the bus. It was abhorrent. She was atrocious. I was livid.‘ And have you ever gone to dinner at a restaurant and the waiter says, ‘Would you like some ground pepper on your salad?’ ‘I detest ground pepper. I loathe it with every fiber of my being. But thanks for asking!’”

My face lit up with recognition — I even did the gay gasp. Those are my words! Could it be? Do I actually have something in common with other gay men? Does this mean I don’t have to go to the dark side to get a date? Look out world, I’m a bitchy queen with a good vocabulary!

So why doesn’t this help any?

This Just In

My minister has asked me to give a reading of my first post, “This Blessed Lenten Season,” in church Sunday after next, and this coming Monday I’m off to the Ian Harvie Show at El Cid in Silverlake. Finally, I’ll get to meet Margaret Cho — a red letter day for any gay man!

[EDIT: Apparently my post entitled Doppelgänger has attracted the attention of a German website dedicated to Gonzo journalism. I love it!]

That is all.*

*I stole this exit line from Devon.

Sacred Profanity

I’m energized by speaking to rational, intelligent individuals with worldviews completely opposite from mine. Similarly, I find myself drawn to objects — whether fine arts or otherwise — that are simultaneously beautiful and grotesque, or even terrifying. To my delight, on Sunday I got two handfuls of both.
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Building Things

First things first: about the Chicago Transit Authority. People complain about the CTA. I hear people complaining about it while I’m riding the train. Usually, I think to myself: Asshole.
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Holy Crap!

I can hardly contain myself — The Onion News Network finally launched today:

Immigration: The Human Cost



Between this, Jon Stewart, and Stephen Colbert, I have all the news outlets I need. Oh, and maybe that appallingly bad Half-Hour News Hour just to switch things up. It must be seen to be believed.

Doppelgänger

Spring Break is officially here for the local school districts, as evidenced by the unusually large influx of teenagers into my restaurant. Which, of course, means hamburgers all around. having your ass ridden for nine Coke refills, and a sad pile of coins left on the table in their wake. And it doesn’t matter how old you are, really — even the greenest of servers knows you’re in trouble when your guests start asking you how much the lemonade costs. Joy.

But today, one such table gave me pause. Three of them. Couldn’t have been any older than 14. Accompanied by a disproportionate number of Macy’s shopping bags, it was a guy and his two lady friends — clearly a gay-in-training and his two fairy godmothers. Of course I didn’t think this immediately, but all it took was his smooth-as-cream demeanor as he ordered a virgin strawberry daiquiri and I knew I was in for an experience. Really, it made me sad I don’t have a younger brother.
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Best. Restaurant. Scene. Ever.

Besides that one scene in The Meaning of Life, of course.

One of my favorite movies is Stuart Saves His Family, which for some reason completely flopped at the box office and was thus one of the key motivating factors in Al Franken’s decision to leave Saturday Night Live for good. Nevertheless, it’s terribly, terribly quotable, and the following scene is no exception. As far as I’m concerned, it’s the best restaurant scene in any movie anywhere:

SCENE: Stuart is working at his day job as a server. At the moment, he’s completely oblivious to his guests as he is instead sitting at a table receiving counseling from one of his many 12-Step sponsors. Suddenly, one of the tables in his station catches him, so he gets up and heads over.

Stuart: Have you had enough time to look at the menu?
Patron: We’ve had enough time to memorize the menu.
Stuart: I’m sorry, I’m having a personal crisis. Can I take your order?
Patron: For my wife, the penne arriviata; I will try the osso bucco.
Stuart: You know, the osso bucco is extremely fattening. You might want to try…
Patron: I’ll try the osso bucco. And also the mixed baby field greens.
Stuart: Lo-cal vinaigrette?
Patron: Creamy Caesar.
Stuart: On the side?
Patron: On the salad.
Stuart: Thank you.
Patron: And I’d like another double scotch.
Stuart: No.

Love.

And yes, I’ve seen Waiting, and no I did not like it, as it was not even close to an accurate depiction of just how crap a job serving really is. But for those of you that have seen it, I’m totally Naomi. OK, so maybe I did kind of like it after all, if only for that reason.

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