Oh, these dangerous middle-aged men.....

Doesn't this guy look like a fink? He's our new supreme court justice!

I do get so tired of middle-aged white Republican guys. Or young Republican white guys. Or really any sort of Republican guy. They never do anything right, and they have all sorts of sexual issues that come out in inappropriate ways.

And don't even get me STARTED on Republican women. Women are supposed to be smarter than that, and most are.

Question for the Ladies.....

As many of you ladies know, I am a big skirt fan. Not for myself, mind you, but just generally. I think they are very graceful and cover a variety of sins.

(Actually, if non-drag queen men could wear a skirt without looking dumb or weird, I might actually don one, although I really don't have the hips for them. And don't even talk to me about a kilt.)

Anyway, why would a woman wear heels with pants? I see that "look" frequently over at the Westin, and it doesn't seem to make sense (But, come to think of it, neither does the Westin). Heels, if I am not mistaken, are to accent the legs. Pants cover the legs. What's up with that?

And I don't blame women for not wearing heels. They are dreadful. Although they do make the legs look nice. I really admire women who can wear heels. But I don't blame you for not wearing them. I kind of like that skirts and flats look. Very artsy.

But now I'm babbling. I'll stop now.

Now as a contrast.......

I offer you some wide words from a Gracious, tasteful lady who left us yesterday. Mrs. Coretta Scott King, widow of Dr. Martin Luther King.

Make Room At The Table for Lesbian and Gay People

Coretta Scott King, speaking four days before the 30th anniversary of her husband's assassination, said Tuesday the civil rights leader's memory demanded a strong stand for gay and lesbian rights. "I still hear people say that I should not be talking about the rights of lesbian and gay people and I should stick to the issue of racial justice," she said. "But I hasten to remind them that Martin Luther King Jr. said, 'Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.'" "I appeal to everyone who believes in Martin Luther King Jr.'s dream to make room at the table of brother- and sisterhood for lesbian and gay people," she said. - Reuters, March 31, 1998.

Homophobia is Like Racism and Anti-Semitism

Speaking before nearly 600 people at the Palmer House Hilton Hotel,
Coretta Scott King, the wife of the late Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Tuesday called on the civil rights community to join in the struggle against homophobia and anti-gay bias. "Homophobia is like racism and anti-Semitism and other forms of bigotry in that it seeks to dehumanize a large group of people, to deny their humanity, their dignity and personhood," King stated. "This sets the stage for further repression and violence that spread all too easily to victimize the next minority group." - Chicago Defender, April 1, 1998, front page.

MLK's Struggle Parallels The Gay Rights Movement

Quoting a passage from her late husband's writing, Coretta Scott King
reaffirmed her stance on gay and lesbian rights Tuesday at a luncheon
celebrating the 25 anniversary of the Lambda Legal Defense and Education Fund, a national gay rights organization. "We are all tied together in a single garment of destiny . . . I can never be what I ought to be until you are allowed to be what you ought to be," she said, quoting her husband. "I've always felt that homophobic attitudes and policies were unjust and unworthy of a free society and must be opposed by all Americans who believe in democracy," King told 600 people at the Palmer House Hilton, days before the 30th anniversary of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.'s assassination on April 4, 1968. She said the civil rights movement "thrives on unity and inclusion, not division and exclusion." Her husband's struggle parallels that of the gay rights movement, she said. - Chicago Sun Times, April 1, 1998, p.18.

Mrs. King is Outspoken Supporter of Gay and Lesbian People

"For many years now, I have been an outspoken supporter of civil and human rights for gay and lesbian people," King said at the 25th Anniversary Luncheon for the Lambda Legal Defense and Education Fund.... "Gays and lesbians stood up for civil rights in Montgomery, Selma, in Albany, Ga. and St. Augustine, Fla., and many other campaigns of the Civil Rights Movement," she said. "Many of these courageous men and women were fighting for my freedom at a time when they could find few voices for their own, and I salute their contributions." - Chicago Tribune, April 1, 1998, sec.2, p.4.

Sexual Orientation is a Fundamental Human Rights

We have a lot more work to do in our common struggle against bigotry and discrimination. I say “common struggle” because I believe very strongly that all forms of bigotry and discrimination are equally wrong and should be opposed by right-thinking Americans everywhere. Freedom from discrimination based on sexual orientation is surely a fundamental human right in any great democracy, as much as freedom from racial, religious, gender, or ethnic discrimination. - Coretta Scott King, remarks, Opening Plenary Session, 13th annual Creating Change conference of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force, Atlanta, Georgia, November 9, 2000.

We Need a National Campaign Against Homophobia

"We have to launch a national campaign against homophobia in the black community," said Coretta Scott King, widow of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., the slain civil rights leader. - Reuters, June 8, 2001.

Justice is Indivisible

For too long, our nation has tolerated the insidious form of discrimination against this group of Americans, who have worked as hard as any other group, paid their taxes like everyone else, and yet have been denied equal protection under the law.... I believe that freedom and justice cannot be parceled out in pieces to suit political convenience. My husband, Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” On another occasion he said, “I have worked too long and hard against segregated public accommodations to end up segregating my moral concern. Justice is indivisible.” Like Martin, I don’t believe you can stand for freedom for one group of people and deny it to others. So I see this bill as a step forward for freedom and human rights in our country and a logical extension of the Bill of Rights and the civil rights reforms of the 1950’s and ‘60’s. The great promise of American democracy is that no group of people will be forced to suffer discrimination and injustice. - Coretta Scott King, remarks, press conference on the introduction of ENDA, Washington, DC, June 23, 1994.

Rest in Peace, Mrs. King.

Reminder: Republicans are Vulgar.

I know, I know - "Furnishings and China" (with the occassional foray into the Bible as Literature) but This IS a blog about good taste. And the GOP ain't got it.

Start with the "First Family". Dreadful people. Made a lot of their money off of the Nazis, which right there is really tacky. The old lady (who's parent's made their money off of McCall's Magazine, which was very tacky) looks like an elderly Mrs. Doubtfire. The old man is creepy. All of the kids are creepy.

(btw, did you know that the elder Bushes had a daughter that died as a little girl? Truly a tragic event. But to skip the funeral and go golfing instead? Now THAT'S Tacky. My source is Barbara Bush's odious biography)

Jeb: Castro was right. Chubby little brother

Neal: A pervert. His ex-wife (family values?) was bought off by the family when she threatened to write an expose.

George: Just look at him. Born to any other family, he would have risen no higher in the world than an assistant manager at TGI Fridays or used-car salesman at a particularly desparate car dealership.

Then there's the Mrs. Laura. While I'm sure it wasn't her fault that she killed her ex-boyfriend by hitting him with her car on a clear night where there were no visual obstructions (teenage girls ARE flighty, after all) her outfits are dreadful. I haven't seen so much polyester pantsuits since the last time I walked through Sears. And she chain smokes Menthols.

Barbara Junior and Jenna: Nothing I can say here would equal what they themselves do. They're what we used to call "skank" back in Council Bluffs.

Then there's the whole cast of characters that surround and support them, with their numerous ex-wives, dirty novels they've written, drug addictions, gay children they muzzle, etc, etc, etc.

The most outrageous has to be the latest though: Mrs. Sam Alito. Alito's a bit of an odd duck himself (who else would approve of strip searching eleven year old girls? yuck.) but that wife of his, who wears dresses apparently made out of left over 1970's upholstery, and bursts into tears at confirmation hearings? Get a grip, girl. Laura will give you some of her valium. It's just the frosting on the cake that her hubby will serve on the highest court in the land.

So see? I was able to tie this back to the premise of this blog. We have tacky, vulgar trash in the very highest offices in this land. Living in Jackie Kennedy's white house. It's a shame, that's what it is.

Me and My Shadow (box)

I was going to hold off on this, because I was hoping to get a picture when it was sunny outside and/or the room was finally painted, but it's been cloudy forever here (except for Saturday, when we had some brief sunlight AND thunder) and the living room can't be painted until the new windows are in, so there you go.

Ladies and Gentlemen. This is the shadow box.



Isn't this thing freaky? I saw it, and I just had to have it, because it's so, well, over-the-top. It was made by Illinois Molding Company of Chicago, who were known for this sort of thing.

The Colonel thinks it makes the living room look like a "Chicago Polack grandma's" (which, I hasten to add, is not an insult, coming from him. He's Croation, which is basically the same thing - although he'd slap me if he heard me say that - but just trust me on this one.) When you add the Aquarius to the mix, he's probably dangerously close to being right. But I ask you: What Polish Grandmother in Chicago had a Paul McCobb Dining Room Set, a John Lazlo Coffee Table AND a Kimball Aquarius and Illinois Molding Shadowbox in her home? Maybe in Skokie or Glencoe, but certainly not in Chicago.

This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius....

So. The Colonel had to go have a "procedure" the other day (I won't divulge the details, you'd only be appalled) so I played hooky from work. Instead of waiting in some dreary waiting room, however (and this one was world-class dreary - you should never have to see the waiting room of a gastroentonology center) I went shopping. That's when the magic happened.

I pulled out of the parking lot and immediately cursed the colonel because the car was on empty. E. No gas-o. So I went in search of a gas station.

North Seattle is a messy place. It's not laid out well, and there are lots of dead ends. It was while wandering through this morass that I came upon the sign.

Estate Sale. Last Day. Everything Must go.

This I took as a sign from Our Lord to stop and have a peek. So I did. And there it was..... Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you the Aquarius.

















Yes! It's one of those fabulous '60's organs that do most of the heavy-lifting for you, and has all sorts of pleasing, built-in rythmns. La, what a Jolly Thing! And for only $50!!!!

It also came with a bunch of songbooks, where the names of the notes are conveniently included in the note itself, so you don't have to sit there and try to remember if it's Every Good Boy Does Fine or Good Boys Do Fine Always. And the chords are just push-button auto-matic, so you don't have to stretch your fingers.

Already, I have branched out and have created a lovely version of "Spanish Eyes", and I also do a nearly flawless "Somewhere My Love" Both to a Bossa Nova beat (The Aquarius doesn't have quite as many beats as my late Aunt Eleanor's "Swinger" but it's also not as big) I'm still having trouble trying to select which cord to play during one part of "Somewhere My Love", but I just fake it. Perhaps one of our readers in Wisconsin could assist there?

For the Colonel and Greek, I have a dandy bossa-noved version of "I've Been Working on the Railroad" that leaves them speechless.

Yes, the gift of music is alive and well in Our Gracious Home.

Still interested in the Shadow Box? Stay tuned.

P.S. I was able to find a gas station. Kind of left that one hanging, didn't I?

Don't let the door hit ya where the good lord split ya!

Oh dear, it seems that Seattle has this basketball team (who knew?) named after a failed Boeing product that caused the town to go into a depression in the 70's. Anyway, they've been playing for years at the old Colliseum (now the arena) which we built for the World's Fair, and then rebuilt for them about 10 years ago (not that there was anything THAT wrong with it; What's a few leaks up here in Seattle? Some athletes are SUCH prima donnas)

Well now it seems that the arena is just not good enough for them. Not enough luxury suites, or too many luxury suites or lack of water-pik in the locker rooms or something like that. So they are threatening to pack up their balls and their silly little outfits, and their remarkably slutty-looking cheerleaders, and move to Bellevue, for God's sake.

I could not be more thrilled with this idea. I would be willing to help them move and even make them a casserole so that they don't have to cook on moving day. But the "City Fathers" have other intentions. They're all moaning and wringing their hands about the situation. They'd probably even rend their garmets, but they're far too bourgeousis to do something like that. So they will undoubtedly cave, and give them everything they want, plus some, to keep them in town.

Contrast that with our poor monorail, which had a little bit of an accident the other day and needs fixed. They are making ominous rumblings about getting rid of it. One City Father sent me a rather condescending email that basically said "Gosh, I would hate to tear down the monorail, but Golly - sometimes there's not enough money to do everything we want to do"

Blast! I say. Thunderation!

The monorail is MUCH more glamorous than any silly basketball team - although their stadium is rawther deluxe-ish from the outside - Let's save the Monorail and let the boys go to Bellevue. They'd be much happier there.

Well, duh!

It must be some sort of Karma payback, after I went off about those Fundie Christian Morons (who are still morons, by the way - I stand by my statement) I find out that I had a BUNCH of comments that you dear readers have submitted, and I didn't know that I had to approve them!

So comment away. Sorry for the delay!

On having to wait around for the morons to catch up.

NBS, in its infinite cowardice, decided to cancel "The Book of Daniel" because of a bunch of whiny Christians who, as usual, were talking out their ass about a program they had never seen.

Why do companies cowtow to these morons? Why do all of us have to suffer so that some fraidy-cats can stay in the collective bubble? Face it, the fundamentalist Christians are idiots, there's not that many of them, and they don't have much money. Why bother with them?

The truth is that the vast majority of this country are lip-service Christians or just plain old pagans who just want to be left alone with their porn. Let's just drop the facade of being a righteous nation. Righteous people are a pain in the ass anyway.

Someone needs to stand up to these Christo-fascists. But it ain't gonna be NBC. And if they roll over on something as trivial as a TV show, imagine what they do when it comes to news coverage. Between GE and the GOP, it's amazing we get any news at all.

btw, I hope you are all ready for the shadowbox.

DAMN that Brokeback Mountain

It's corrupting our youth and sapping our our precious vital fluids

And in other news, I know that many of you readers wish I would stick to discussions of Furniture and China (with the occassional foray into The Bible as Literature) but President Dimbulb is at it again. His idea for "reform" of health care (The pay for your own damn doctor act) proposes that we have "Medical Savings Accounts" in lieu of employer-provided group health insurance. In a nation where wages are stagnating, where the national savings rate is in the negative factor, that's not a good idea.

I know what I'm talking about for once: The doctor bills from my dad's demise are still trickling in. The week he spent in the hospital before dying cost about $50,000 so far. Luckily, he had a great pension plan that included health care AND there was medicare to pay the basics. Others are not so blessed, and if the Shrub and his GOPers have their way, the number of unblessed will grow. I don't know about you, but the idea of saving up so that I can pay for my death is a pretty grim one.

These bozos have got to go. Come November, vote Democrat, so we can take back the house. That's where impeachment starts.

OK, enough of my politics. You want china and furnishings? Stay tuned. The next big thing is shadow boxes.

In which I become a soccer mom......

The Volvo has developed some sort of upper respitory infection, and until I get it fixed (still trying to recover from that sewer bill) I am driving the Colonel's 2001 Highlander, which everyone thinks is a hybrid.

It has many more bells and whistles than I am used to, which can be embarrassing. I couldn't find the relase for the gas tank cover one day, and for several days the only way I could unlock the door to get out was to use the little button on the keyring.

But it's a nice car, and it has a great stereo, which is quite different from the stereo on the Volvo (which, since it is down to one speaker, is more of a "mono") so things could be worse.

All sorts of things have been happening

So much to bring you up to speed on!

* Had lunch with the fabulous Sylvia O. Stayformore's handler, Benjimen. Sylvia's show is a magnificent success, a Tour de Force. You can still catch it Thursday - Saturday evenings at Rebar through the end of the month. (Sorry, no matinees)

* The carpenters have been busy at the home place. The colonel and I ripped out that kitchen wall, and now they are coming in to frame in the new knick-knack shelf. It should be staggering in it's beauty and functionality.

* The attic ladder is in. We now have a functional attic to store extra crap in. And boy, do we have extra crap.

* Electricians are coming to put in new kitchen and hall lighting, and hook up the garbage disposal

--- and it doesn't hurt that the electrician and carpenter are both sort of cute ---

* The house hasn't slid down the bank (yet) with all the rain we've been having. This rain really bites.

* The colonel is feeling better, and we're awfully afraid he's going to make a full recovery.

* We have another dog! Her name is Gladys, and she is a dachshund (named after that poor mountain doxie that was at the ridiculous place I got the banquette).

I know I keep promising pictures, and I will as soon as we get daylight at a time when I am home. That may not be until April, if current trends continue.

on which we visit the Hospital

So yesterday afternoon I get a call from the colonel. It seems his doctor is sending him to get a CAT scan because he thinks he has an acute appendicitis! Since the glamorous hospital was all backed up, we have to go to the Catholic Hospital (which is actually now part of the Glamorous Hospital family)

After work, I go up to see him. He is encouched in a "semi-private" room (three walls, one curtain) in the emergency room. On one side of his room is a poor little kid with asthma, on the other is - of course - an annoying Republican couple (I can't get away from them, no matter how hard I try)

So they start the colonel on Morphine (in case he has to go under the knife) and I'm left there with an elderly copy of "O", and the conversation on either side of me.

The little kid doesn't say much, he just wheezes occasionally, but the Republicans (of course) can't stop yammering. I never did figure out what they were there for, or which one was the patient. They talked mostly about the TV. But one thing that the guy (a doofusy white guy) said to the girl (a bleached blonde moron) really stuck out as a great example of conservative humor. I repeat it now, pretty much verbatim, to give you an idea of the level of intellect in the old ER.

"I know this guy, and when people come up and panhandle to him, he gives them .75 cents taped to a piece of paper that says that since he only gets to keep .75 of ever dollar he makes, that's all he can give them"

My thought (Christ, what an Asshole) was not echoed by the couple who thought this was the funniest thing since Hurricane Katrina. They laughed and laughed, while I contemplated either hooking myself into the morphine drip or taking one of the dirty hypodermics out of the sharps receptacle and stabbing them. But I settled for the calmer course, and read again about how you can lose weight without dieting (smaller portions, more exercise) for several more hours until we were finally released (where, I was happy to note, a loud Mexican family were coming in right behind us, which was sure to appall the Republicans)

As it turns out, the colonel was not to go under the knife. It seems he has some sort of affliction that I can't even begin to remember the name of that sounds scary and dreadful, but can be easily cleared up with some medications. It looks like an appendicitis, and acts like an appendicitis, but it ain't no appendicitis. The tease.

The trouble with being stylish

The problem with being an International Trend Setter and Style Guru is that people tend to latch onto your interests, and thus make them expensive.

For instance, I have been searching and searching on eBay for a cool set of fireplace tools, and suddenly they're a hot commodity. It's probably because it's winter, but you used to not be able to GIVE these away.

(I'm not talking the corny brass ye-olde-colonial crappe, but a really smart set that looks good against a modernist brick fireplace.)

The same is true of fiberglass bullet planters, TV lamps, Interesting Toasters, and countless other things.

It's just a cross I have to bear, I suppose.

In which the Colonel and I tear down a wall.....

Sunday is the day that the colonel and both have off. So we were sitting in the breakfast nook, drinking coffee, and trying to figure out what to do with ourselves. For lack of anything better to do, we decided to tear out half of the wall between the nook and the staircase downstairs, so that we could have some more light in the kitchen.

Several hours later, when everyone was quite dusty, we had a very satisfactory hole which we will be making into a cunning knick-knack shelf ala Rob and Laura Petrie's house on Bonnie Meadow Lane in New Rochelle.

Of course, when you start something like that, something else always has to muscle in and mess with you, and this time it was the sewer. It got all backed up, and required a call from the plumber to straighten things out. Five Hundred dollars later, the problem was resolved and we can take a shower again, but it was a bit dicey there for a while.

The suckiness of Alaska Airlines

You know, I used to really like Alaska Airlines. They seemed to have some class, in an industry that really has no class left. But they've got me pretty grumpy recently.

But then all this crap started with them: Scab ramp agents causing near fatalities; a call center that is a joke (I have a travel credit with them that I've been trying to use for at least six months, but every time I call them, I'm told my expected wait time will be 30 minutes - and of course, you can't process the credit on the web) and now, worst of all, they were busted for having yet another scab baggage guy mishandling animals.

I flew Alaska home from LA, and I can tell ya: The bloom is off the rose. They used to have a really nice first class, but now it's nothing more than slightly bigger seats that are slightly closer to the door. We get the same bad service up front as they do out back. Might as well fly southworst. (which is something I never thought I'd ever say.)

So scratch another one off the list.

The rest of the Story

It occurs to me that I haven't told you, my Dear Readers, how the rest of my trip went. So here goes.....

The morning after arriving in Chicago was spent shopping and mourning the demise of Marshall Fields (soon to be a Macys)before reporting back to Union Station for a ride to Omaha.

The California Zephyr (aka The Train To Omaha) was right on time, and is always a pleasant ride. It takes about the same time to take the train as it does to drive, so we arrived into Omaha at 10:30, which I think was a bit early.

Home for Christmas was very nice. Since it was the first Christmas we've had since Dad died, expectations were pretty grim, but we really did have a nice time. I made a leg of lamb, and had some good Washington Merlot to wash it down with. I managed to slip away and hit the Omaha antique shops, and discovered a great new thrift shop in downtown Council Bluffs (where the Chevrolet dealership used to be) so I was quite pleased with my haul.

Before you know it, I was back on the Zephyr, and electroluxing back to Chicago, where I checked into the Palmer House, and promptly hit the Trader Vics. Closing Vic's was just a crying shame, and it most likely spells the last time I will stay in this hotel, because it's just not worth it. All of their other dining venues suck.

So I spent the next morning wandering around downtown Chicago, which is just an amazing place. Chicago has its own special energy, and there's no place like it. It was with a lot of regret that I headed back to Union Station to get on the Southwest Chief.

I have to say it again: I love the Southwest Chief. It is hands down my favorite Long-Distance Amtrak route. It's the best way to see the Southwest, and it's on-time record is exemplary. After an evening of leisurely dining, follwed by some lovely cocktails, we arrived into Kansas City, where I stepped off the train to view the Western Auto sign, which is one of the nation's best pieces of neon (yes, I am a geek. I don't care) and then slept blissfully through Kansas (which is the best way to go through Kansas. Backwards Republicans.

The next morning, I awoke, and spent the day oggling out the windows at the scenery. Not to get too wonkish, but the route this train takes is quite remote, and very rugged. At some points, the train travels through gullies that are literally the width of the train. The only place more scenic on the Amtrak system is the route between Denver and Salt Lake City. Unfortunately, this stretch of track is being considered for abandonment by the Burlington Northern Santa Fe, so it may not be available that much longer. It will be a sad day when and if they give up this stretch of track.

That evening at 9pm, I got off the train in Winslow, Arizona, and checked into La Posada, the fabulous resort hotel designed by the legendary Mary Coulter for the Santa Fe railroad.

La Posada was closed in 1959 and turned into offices by the Santa Fe. When they consolidated operatons in 1993, it was nearly demolished. Luckily, a couple purchased the hotel and have been gradually restoring it to its former grandeur. Coulter's vision was that the hotel should look like a Spanish Hacienda that was converted to a hotel, and she was meticulous - designing everything from the furniture to the maid's uniforms.

The new La Posada features a great dining room and a neat little bar, but the bartender was something of a prude. There were only four people in the bar when I got there, and when one of the other patrons used a swear word, she told him that there was a "three strikes" rule on swearing. What the fuck is up with that? It's a fucking bar, for Christ's sake!

The next morning, I explored Winslow, which took exactly 30 minutes. There really ain't no there there, and here was revealed the greatest flaw of La Posada: There's nothing to do, and if you are taking the train, you are stuck there until 8:50 that evening. So I spent most of the day sitting out on the gallery, reading a book and listening to the radio via the satalite radio the colonel gave me for Christmas. (Thank GOD for that Satalite radio. Without it, I am certain that I would find nothing but Country and Jesuscasts)

After treating myself to a lovely dinner in the dining room, I boarded the westbound train, and after a nightcap, fell asleep. I woke up the next morning as we were entering the suburbs of LA, arriving one hour early at the enchanting time of 7:30am.

LA was a rainy mess, and depressing to boot. I checked into the downtown Marriott, and was extremely not impressed: The room was worn and the hotel seemed really creepy. So after a nice nap, I decided to check out and try San Diego.

The train to San Diego was great. It runs right along the ocean for a good amount of time, and the stormy Pacific was quite a sight. Soon we were arriving into San Diego, where I checked into the Radisson.

The less said about that Hotel, the better. It was a classic dump, as are almost all radissons. But I met up with some very fun stewardesses in the hotel bar, and we all rung in the new year together.

The next morning was sunny and warm, and I had a lovely new year's morning before boarding the train up to LA, and boarding a flight home.

All in all, it was a great trip.

The controversy never ends.

So we signed a contract last night for new windows. Vinyl windows, which has already caused something of a stir in some circles (architects HATE vinyl windows).

Personally, I just want to be warm. The current windows on the house (single pane aluminum that were the vinyl window of their day) are drafty as hell. Plus, we can hear everything that goes on with the neighbors, and surely vice-versa.

It's just the latest in some necessary upgrades to the Home Place that will include a new furnace, deck, water heater, plumbing, and a full bathroom in the basement. All with an eye on resale of course. Non-architects evidentially don't care if windows are vinyl. I know I don't.

But still, SOMETHING has to be done about that kitchen floor. I hate that kitchen floor. I may just go out and buy some cheap vinyl for that as well, just so I don't have to look at that damn floor anymore. God, is it ugly.

Breaking News: Sale of red wine triples in "show me state"

And who says the GOP never has any good ideas?

...and another one

two in one day

And by the way......

Check out this tidbit on Americablog, which is a great liberal political blog. It's pretty funny how all these anti-gay ministers keep showing up in the company of vice officers.

Another Hotel Rant

Having returned from my trip on New Year's Day, I have had my fill of hotels for a while. It really is beyond my comprehension how crappy the business has become - even with brands that are supposed to know better.

In my two weeks of travelling, I stayed at a Hilton, a Marriott, a Raddisson, and an independent hotel. In all of them, I saw such basic lapses as torn wallpaper, missing or broken outlet covers, no base cove in the bathrooms, poor water pressure or no hot water at all - the whole gamut, in hotels that advertise themselves as "upscale"

The Radisson was a particular nightmare, but Radissons usually are. I haven't seen a more fucked up front desk since the days when I was staffing the desk at the Howard Johnson's in Medina, Minnesota. How anyone can check someone into a room that is already occupied in this day and age of computers is beyond me, but they had done it to some poor slob. (I used to do it all the time, but I was dumb, and there wasn't a computer to keep track of things. I could expound on all of the intracacies it took to keep track of guests in those days, but this is already too boring of a post)

And I know I've already gone off on this, but that is passing for "business attire" in hotels is appalling. Unbuttoned suit jackets (my personal peeve) is just the tip of the iceberg. One clerk, who called herself a manager, was wearing the most horrendous polyester stretch pants with the obligatory exposed gut, and trashy sequined top. Note to the real management: Guests do not shell out $200/night to see some tarted up slob mishandle their credit card. It does not inspire what we used to call confidence in the establishment.

And you can tell that the economy is not recovering by the amount of queens working in hotels. Most of us left with the .com boom, but when that died out, all the ex-waiters and desk clerks headed back to whence they came (I have, so far, been able to avoid returning to the hospitality convent) Homos and hotels go well together, as so many of us are snobs, but a snobby homo without proper training is just a pretentious ass. At one hotel, where I was supposedly upgraded to the "towers" floor, the too-precious-for-his-own-good "concierge" spent most of the time playing on the computer and gossiping (in the frankest sexual terms) with someone on the phone. That's all fine and good, but you don't advertise that sort of thing if you want to get a tip. No one understands discretion these days....

By and large, the hotels seem to be coasting on their former glories, eliminating nice restaurants, skimping on the training, paying crappy wages, cutting corners on the amenities, but still wanting top dollar for the rooms. While I am a sucker for a swanky downtown hotel, it really makes you wonder when people are going to get wise.

So I finally saw “Brokeback Mountain”, but I am not going to gush about it. Mostly because so much gushiness has already occurred, that my amateur gushiness would be lost in the general hubbub – but also because it’s too complex of a film to gush about.

It’s not exactly about unrequited love – there’s too much sex and too many varieties of sex in this film to qualify as anything being unrequited – but it is about regretful love: Something I know something about, from my long and rich history of that sort of thing.

Back in my younger years (which started roughly with the second Reagan inauguration, and continued through the end of the second Clinton term) I was the poster boy for loving “not wisely, but too well”. (Actually, that’s too pretty of a description: It was more like “not wisely, but a hell of a lot.” OK, I was a tramp.)

My problem was linking sex with love, which is embarrassingly girlish, and having unrealistic expectations resulting from that. It was something I picked up during the 80’s, and just carried through as a bad habit. When everyone else was getting hooked on cocaine, I was pining away for someone or the other.

Because of this, I had my share of regretful incidents involving emotions of the most shocking kind. But so did most of my friends, so it just didn’t seem that unusual. I am just eternally grateful to whomever decides these things that I am not of a vindictive or particularly addictive manner, or things might have gone really south.

After too many unfortunate episodes(usually culminated by sobbing on a kitchen floor, strangely enough) I learned how to acknowledge and move on. It might be a bit cold, but it really does save on the liquor bills, even if I do have to mop the kitchen floor more regularly.

So what does this lesson (acknowledge, move on) have to do with “Brokeback Mountain”? Well, you’ll just have to go see, won’t you?