Hold the presses! This just in from the Crazy Christian Right: Kindness is good and Homosexuals are kind. I didn't make this up. It's right on their website, Dingbats For Truth About Homosexuality. Who would know more about homosexuality and truth than these fine folks? They spend nearly all their free time studying us. That's right, in between exorcisms, church pot-lucks, snake-handling and giving away their kid's college tuition to shyster TV evangelists with meth addictions, they are on "the homo" like white on rice. But, they're not just upset about our beloved Dumbledore ...

"The movement is afoot to include positive portrayals of homosexuals and the transgendered in all textbooks from kindergarten on up. I have no objections to textbooks including the important invention or discovery of a homosexual or transgender person so long as their homosexuality or transgenderism is not mentioned."

That's pretty Christian of the Dingbats for Truth. They don't mind that homosexuals are important inventors and scientists, they just don't want anyone to know about it. They won't tell you, but I will. There are so many queer scientists in Los Angeles, they have they're own website, Los Angeles Gay and Lesbian Scientists.

Guess what? We're not just good at science! And the Dingbats for Truth aren't the only Christians on the block!

My high school English teacher was a poet. My favorite line from one of her poems is, "I am not so old that what my students teach, I cannot learn". I always read that line from a student's perspective. Until last night, that is. All joking about old coots aside, there has been nothing in my life to age me. Not in a real sense. I have no children. My life has always been free. No alarm clocks, no nine to five. No looming retirement. I've moved so much I don't even have any old friends. Well, I have old friends, but like my old furniture, they were already old when I met them.

Last night, I had the honor of performing at an awards dinner for a local New York chapter of GLSEN, the Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network. There were a dozen or so high school kids there, along with teachers, GLSEN board members and allies. Four awards were given out to community allies.

One of the award recipients said something that stuck with me. She said, "I'm honored to receive this award, but saddened that an award needs to be given to anyone for being an ally of LGBT youth." She was right of course, but I couldn't see it that way. I am indeed old enough to remember when there were no gay/straight alliances, no GLSEN's, no discussions, no community centers, no support. I wanted to give everyone in the room an award just for being there.

When I was in high school, gay was not an option. I didn't really even know any gay people until I was living in New York and went to my first gay bar. We weren't really a community, we were just a bunch of individual gay people who managed to find each other. Sometimes we were just lesbians or just gay men, and more often than not, the two groups did not intermingle. Much of the time we were separated and some of the time, we were separatists. We didn't know better. There were girl bars and boy bars, but I don't remember any T's or Q's or B's. With the exception of my own biological sisters, I don't recall having any straight allies.

I sat next to a young woman in her twenties last night. I asked her to explain her definition of "queer" to me. She said, "Queer just means different. Some queers are gay, some are gender fluid, some aren't sure exactly what they are, but they're not straight. Queer is just different, you know, whatever. We just want whatever to be OK."

I looked around the room and I saw some gay, some straight, some old, some young, some feminine, some masculine, some gender fluid and some taking gender and bending it like a pretzel. We were all together in one room.

At my table was a woman who looked to me to be in her late fifties or early sixties. I assumed she was straight. She seemed straight. She looked straight. I even worried a bit when I told a mildly racy gay joke at the table, wondering if I had made her uncomfortable.

My girlfriend who had been seated next to that woman, corrected me this morning. It seems that my new straight friend had been married for a long time, divorced her husband and was now in a relationship with her former neighbor, another woman who had also divorced her husband. They did not leave their husbands to be together. That happened later. It just happened. So, I was wrong. Whatever.

For me, last night was an awakening. For the first time I understood what the queer community was. There were sixty of us in that room. Some straight, some gay, some whatever. We were all a little bit queer and it was delightful.

Forgive this old gay coot for not understanding. I'm a bit set in my ways but I am trying. "I am not so old that what my students teach, I cannot learn". That was the last line in a poem my English teacher wrote for me thirty years ago. I now understand fully what it means.

On a personal note, I have grown to love you wonderful Queersighted readers. That's not easy for an old gay coot to say. You have made me laugh (and think) with your comments. God knows, a good laugh is hard to find. I look forward to getting to know you all better. Now, off with you, dagnabit!
(The Fairy Lady) Susan Norfleet

Let's lighten things up on this fine Friday, shall we? There's so much to love this week!

Don't you love it when the military accidentally recruits gays by placing more than 8,000 job listings on a gay networking website? "Whoops!" doesn't quite capture the sound of high-ranking officials crapping their pants when they found this out.

Don't you love it that Lance Bass wanted Britney Spears to be his fag hag? But nooooo, they haven't talked since that fateful night when Lancey-poo invited Britney to his bed--only to clobber her by coming out.

Don't you love it that Lance wants Justin Timberlake to be gay as much as we all do? "We thought Justin was gay because he told us he wanted to do a gay part in a movie," Lance told GQ magazine. I don't know about you, but that still gives me hope. Maybe Justin can team up with Daniel Radcliffe, who wants to go gay too! Who would top? Who would bottom? The possibilities are endless!

Organized religion has perpetrated an outrageous and profoundly hurtful con. And an intimidated American media and a conservative mental health community has played the classic enabler role in underpinning this con leading the American people to actually think there is such a thing as an ex-gay. Ex-gays are simply men and women who have been enabled to return to the destructive and soul-crushing world of the Closet. The only difference is that this "reborn" closet is made of glass and allows us all to look in with horror.

Case in point: an obviously damaged and pathologically troubled Charlene Cothran finds herself standing before an adoring crowd of bigots and fundamentalist fanatics at a recent Americans For Truth About Homosexuality fund-raising banquet proclaiming that "the born gay claim is a vicious lie." Ms. Cothran, overwhelmed by a pathologically homophobic society succumbed to the self-delusions and self-loathing of the closet, albeit a glass closet , and now lives in a world of ignorance and dead souls.

Speaking before this modern version of a Ku Klux Klan rally, born again into the Closet, Ms. Cothran betrayed and humiliated her spiritual core and humanity.

Enough is enough. At the risk of upsetting my tens of fans, I can no longer lie. Io non sono omosessuale! I'm not gay! There. Basta. It's out. Finally.

I've never been gay. And under no circumstances could I imagine ever being gay in the future. It's not a choice I would make. Why would anyone? It's unnatural and almost beyond reasonable comprehension.

Yes, indeed, I have spent the last 18 years of my life researching the gay lifestyle in order to better understand it. And in the interests of credible and indisputable research, I have worked diligently until reaching a statistically significant sampling--approximately 1,500 men with whom I have engaged in just about every permutation and variation of gay sex imaginable. Science be served. I have swallowed. I have explored every orifice available and allowed the same to be done to me. I have rope burns, customized leather goods and imported German sex toys that have set me back some serious Euros. (As an aside, rimming chairs can be converted into nifty lawn ornaments once you've completed your research. Sadly, I don't have a lawn.)

So, there you have it. I'm not gay.

I had fully intended to continue my research as a faux fag for many years to come, but I've been inspired by the Roman Catholic Church to come out and stand proud as an openly straight man researching gay sex so that I can better help real gay men and women walk into the light. After all, if you haven't waged the battle of teeth and breath control, how can you possibly understand the awfulness of homosexuality?

Coming out isn't a one-time event. Once you come out to one person, you've begun a lifelong journey of little coming outs (think hotel desk clerks) and and big coming outs ("Exactly why do I like guys? Because, Mom, penises are cool."). Since coming out is something that happens all year round, and more often for each of us that one might think, it's only fitting that there's a special annual event like National Coming Out Day. It's a time to honor what it means to come out, and help those who need a push, a hand, or an inspired bit of encouragement to come out, too.

In honor of our little gay holiday, I have a couple of stories to share, and then four videos chosen just for the occasion that you might enjoy.

One of my more amusing small coming outs happened in an airplane. I was working for the national gay rights organization, NGLTF, and was on a flight from Washington to San Francisco. Seated next to me was an older woman I hoped very much wouldn't talk to me. Not that there seemed anything wrong with her, but I don't usually like talking to people on airplanes. But silence would elude me on the flight because, yep, she was a chatter. After 20 minutes or so of small talk, she said, "And what is it you do?" I cocked my head her direction and said, "Me? Oh, I'm a professional homosexual," hoping that might end our discussion. She paused, and then trumped my self-titled profession by replying, "How does that pay?" Of course I loved her for her response and we became fast friends for the rest of the flight.

Today's the day. Come out, come out, where ever you are!

In fact, thank you all very much for coming out today!

And no matter how out you think you are, it's therapeutic and a small but positive moment of activism to just walk up to a straight person and simply declare, "Happy Coming Out Day! I'm gay! How about you?"

"They" always assume that we're straight, so for a day let all of us live with the assumption that they're all gay. Larry Craig for example, as straight as a laser beam and yet, according to recent reports, thought to be gay by half the members of Congress.

So assume "they" are gay. And when they respond with "No, no, I'm straight, totally straight!" or even "I'm not gay, I've never been gay." you respond with "You're kidding!!?? I'd always assumed you were gay by the way you act. Wow, am I ever surprised. You are so totally gay-acting. I guess you just never know."

Take me for example. I'm often accused of being straight-acting. Go figure. I try my best to be gay-acting but I often fail and have to out myself in some dramatic way.

Coming out was not easy for me. Unlike many of my gay and lesbian friends, I was not born gay. In fact, it's pretty clear from photos and old home movies, I was an "in your face" heterosexual until about the age of ten. I wore dresses. Lots of dresses, some pink, with ruffles and matching shoes. I don't want to scare anyone, but there's a photo of me in a bonnet holding a purse. I was also a graduate of Miss Mary Ellen's School of Dance.

But that all changed in the summer of my tenth birthday. I was attending the birthday party of a close "hetero" friend at the local country club and had taken a break from swimming to get a snack from the snack bar. Unbeknowst to me, some ass named Timmy, yelled "Last one in the pool is a queer!" and I didn't hear it. By the time I figured out what was going on, it was too late. I had already eaten.

"Never go into the pool after you've eaten!" My mother had drilled this into me from birth. Needless to say, I was the last one in the pool. Cursed forever (and beyond: see bible, gay, hell) to the sordid an unseemly "gay lifestyle" of tea dances, disco infernos, hot girl-on-girl sex, exciting travel, two-income households and perpetual lesbian chicness. I was queer and the whole thing was clearly my mother's fault.

With my seemingly obsessive ongoing posts about High School Musical, you may think that I'm pretty much a one trick pony. But, as you may have guessed, I like to have as many tricks as possible.

There is something to be said, however, for latching onto a theme and running with it. In my plays, I seem to deal with coming out issues repeatedly. Perhaps I'm striving to get it right in art--since the process has been imperfect in my own real life. In these plays, the audience assumes a certain character is straight, but the character eventually comes out, clumsily in most instances and much to everyone's surprise.

For example, in Boyz of All Nationz: The Rise and Fall of a Multi-Ethnic Boy Band (2002), the very religious Hispanic member of the group, Jace, is changing backstage after the band's first big concert. An obviously gay fanboy named Joe sneaks into Jace's dressing room and starts gushing. Soon, gay Joe is trying to figure out which way his favorite boy band member swings.

This is a story of how coming out and riding roller coasters are similar experiences. Let me explain.

A couple of weeks ago, five of my friends and I participated in Six Flags Great Adventure's "Gay Night" where the amusement park was open for us gays (and the straights who love us). So there we were: Six fags at Six Flags for a great adventure -- you didn't think I was going to let that pass without comment, did you? -- where I was chomping at the bit to ride the big, scary rides ... especially the roller coasters.

Now, if you knew me, you'd know that my just looking forward to spending time in an amusement park was ironic. As a kid, I was a huge wuss when it came to ANY big, scary ride. From my childhood deep into my twenties, the closest I ever got to a coaster, in fact, was at a small, local amusement park called Nunley's that had a dinky, pint-sized "coaster." I use the quotes because it wasn't even a good excuse for one.

About eight years ago, my family and I began a yearly tradition of going to Coney Island on Mother's Day to ride The Cyclone -- a serious coaster if there ever was one -- and eat Nathan's hot dogs. And for years I watched from the side, swearing up and down that I would never, EVER ride that thing.

But then fast-forward to the spring of 2001: I was working on a television show where we did a shoot at Disney World's MGM Studios. Our office trailers were right next door to the Rock 'n' Roller Coaster and, because of that, everyone wanted to go on the ride. Well, um, let me clarify: Everyone but me. But I wasn't about to be laughed at by my co-workers for being a chicken. So I went, sweaty palms and queasy tummy in tow. And man, did I LOVE it. Who freakin' knew? ...

Comedy is surely a subjective thing. I never found America's Funniest Home Videos funny in the least, and yet it was one of the most popular shows on television for years. It had the word "funny" right in the title, but to me, it was just a series of unfortunate accidents caught on tape and set to wacky music. Subjective.

For years I did stand-up and never mentioned the fact that I was gay. My generic, gender neutral material was funny enough to get me work, but after about 12 years of doing jokes about my grandmother, lunging tweezers and stupid Southern people I couldn't stand stand up anymore. I quit.

The most fun I ever had as a stand-up was when I was working for RSVP cruise lines. My idea of heaven is being on a cruise ship stage with an audience full of happy, tanned, gay men. RSVP knew I was gay and their audience knew I was gay, but they didn't hire a gay comic. They hired a comic who happened to be lesbian. I was not so lucky with the Dinah Shore entertainment organizers. They politely told me I wasn't "lesbian enough". So I'm a lesbian who isn't lesbian enough working on a cruise ship full of gay men doing straight stand up. I am a queer queer. Sorry, a QQ.



I quit doing stand-up because I couldn't be myself. I couldn't be gay and funny and get enough work to pay my bills. Remember, I wasn't gay enough for the lesbians. I've actually had lesbians walk out on my show. Why? I do a Powerpoint presentation called "Debunking Gay Myths and Stereotypes", and the first slide that appears is, "Lesbians are humorless". I stand there for a few moments looking confused and then say, "I got nothing" and move to the next slide. Some lesbians are furious over this, but to me, a lesbian comedian, it's hilarious on a number of levels.

Kenneth Hill is the best friend I've never met. This may come as a shock to you, but Kenny and I have never met face to face, exchanged bodily fluids or gotten so drunk that we vomited on each other's cashmere sweaters. And yet, I've fallen in BFF with him. It's one of those superficial man things you hear about: A friendship based on personality, wit, wisdom and intellectual capacity instead of the way women form relationships--based on physical beauty, a firm ass and the size of the genitals.

Kenny and I rarely find ourselves in disagreement but when we do, a lively debate ensues. Recently we've locked horns on two issues: the role of sissies in the fight for gay civil rights and The Advocates handling of Hillary. Kenny and I went into a public "he said/she said" mode. (Kenny is "she") and some of our readers reacted badly to this. We were both grieved to hear that. Kenny did not post his rebuttals--as wrongheaded as they were--without my permission. Not all issues are black and white and an open and robust public debate is a good thing.

So we're going to debate each other as often as we disagree--which isn't that often. Of course, sometimes we'll argue over an issue just because we're both into that and it makes us hard.

So here we go, Kenny. Bring it on!

Scroll down, or click to QueerSighted Debates Folsom Street and Public Displays of Sexuality.

If you're like me, you are finding it very difficult to keep track of Republican and Evangelical sex scandals. Goodness, they just keep screwing and screwing up faster than my aged brain cells can synapse. Well, fret no more! The naughty liberals over at Nation Books have felt your frustration and on October 28 their newest title, The Brotherhood of the Disappearing Pants: A Field Guide to Conservative Sex Scandals will be available nationwide. You can, of course, pre-order this essential reading immediately on amazon.com or bn.com or any number of other vendors. The fun in that, I find, is that it's like buying it twice, once on-line and then once when it comes. It's a double shop.

The publisher boasts that this remarkable treatise on right wing penis antics will list over 60--yup 60--conservative Republicans and Evangelicals who diddled in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Among the star-studded heroes of the carnal and the libidinous will be Mark Foley, Bob Packwood, Tim Hutchinson and Ted Haggard. Stick it in your pack pocket and just yank it out whenever you feel the need for a little right wing erotica.

The publisher does point out that the hero of their story, taking top honors in bad behavior ,is our own beloved Mark Foley. According to this new guide, "The [Republican] party was undoubtedly hurt most (at least as far as scandals are concerned) by Congressman Mark Foley's tireless efforts both to establish a national child predator database and to keep his own name off of it. "

"Foley managed to drown an already foundering party, proving yet again that, when it comes to politics, there's nothing the public remembers and reacts to quite like a lurid sex scandal. But while Foley's prominence thrust the story into the media spotlight, his is just the tip of a very large, very phallic iceberg. Indeed, there's far more to the conservative creep-fest than the high-profile Foley scandal, Clarence Thomas's Dadaistic come-ons, and Bill OReilly's many chickpea-related indiscretions.

Over the years, conservatives across the country have spun webs of deception, hypocrisy, and grotesque lechery that have shot so many holes in their pretensions of moral superiority, it's a wonder they can even mouth the words "family values" without getting laughed out of the bordello.

It's enough, at least, to fill a book."

Dear Queersighted readers,

I'll be the first to admit that I'm a bit long in the tooth. The only reason I can imagine that I was asked to write for Queersighted, is that they desperately needed someone who could bridge the yawning age chasm between Richard Rothstein and all the other bloggers. Yes, It's true ... you always hurt the one you love. (BTW Richard, I've never snatched any Cootchie; it has always offered itself to me freely).

I've had a few weeks now to research what younger lesbians are interested in, and notwithstanding a tourette-like affinity for the words "hot", "hottie", "chicks", "super", "boobs", "frickin" and "awesome", or combinations thereof, it appears to an aging, wildly un-hip, newcomer like me, that girl bands are a popular topic.

So, in the spirit of unity and ingratiation, here is my first and last blog about a "super hot, awesome, hottie girl band, full of hot chicks with boobs" which gays, young and old, can frickin dig. I will do my best not to age myself in the course of my review. I dedicate this inaugural blog to the incredibly insightful, wonderfully witty, and older than me, Richard Rothstein.

Sweet Sue and her Society Syncopaters - Say, here's a nifty band of musical molls for all you gay guys and gals in Queersville. I'm not sayin' I'm superficial, but check out the chassis on these red-hot tomatoes! Yowzer! There's not a bug-eyed-Betty in the bunch. These dolls hit on all sixes!

You Ethel's out there, listen up. Daphne and Josephine are Hotsy-Totsy and how! These dissimulated dames slay me, so if you're a Daddy-O who prefers Sheiks to Shebas, these babes-with-a-beat, might be right up your alley.

Lead singer Sugar Kane has the gams and the pipes, but she's a bit of a Dumb Dora if you catch my drift. Sure, she's the Real McCoy, but I like my Janes saucy and well seasoned.

For me, Sweet Sue, founder of this sue-per synched, bevy of bearcats, is the choicest bit of calico. She's a tall drink of water, and man-oh-man, am I ever dying of thirst!

Sweet Sue and The Society Syncopaters started it all, kids. So, whether you're gay, straight, young, old, lesbian, bisexual or transgender, you've got to agree that this almost all-girl band has something for everyone. They're Frickin Awesome! Now how often can you say that and really mean it?

I hope you will all look for my next entry, entitled: World's Worst Gay Professions, where I will be discussing my brief career as a comedy writer for the Radical Lesbian Separatist movement.

Until next time, this is the other Sweet Sue, signing off, and reminding all you Daddies and Dad-ettes out there that every girl in my band is a virtuoso, and I intend to make sure it stays that way.

Today is the most Jewish day of the year and it's also our once-a-year 24 hour shot to gain entrance to God's house.

Catholics ask forgiveness for their sins whenever they please. Jews get one shot a year for one 24 hour period. God buys your excuses or he doesn't. The only way to know is to drop dead. Harsh. I like to observe this day with some very personal Jewalicious moment. For me, it's a tradition.

Have you noticed that there's a Broadway number for virtually every aspect of life?

Anyhow, so to keep up the tradition of remembering some very personal Jewalicious moment, I take you back to 1976 and then 2004--that's two moments, I know, but together they make one very big moment.

We start with a nice long illogical Jewish preamble.

Can a gay man play a straight man convincingly? This question has plagued Hollywood and the American public for a very long time. No one seems to have an issue with a straight man playing a gay man, gay for pay seems to be an honorable undertaking. Of course, the question is simply ridiculous. Consider the great gay actors who have convincingly and successfully portrayed straight men over the years: Rock Hudson, James Dean, Montgomery Clift, James McGreevey, Ted Haggard, me.