Monday, October 29, 2012
As you may know I have become completely obsessed with Nazis lately. Okay, gay Nazis. Well, Nazis that may or may not be gay and the theories of social ethnic cleansing of a people… and the men who loved them.
Now we know that ethnic cleansing is the widely accepted scholarly term used to describe the systematic and violent removal of undesired ethnic groups from a given group or society. And that the Nazis used massive ass hat social policies that was based on the improvement of their made up “Aryan race” through targeting groups who were deemed “unworthy of life, including homosexuals.
The funny thing, and by “funny” I mean unimaginable, is that gays were the first group to have their rights removed, yet historians seem reluctant to approach the subject and quickly turn to the fate of other minorities in Nazi Germany at the time. Homosexuals were subjected to the first wave of cleansing of Germany, yet you will find very little about this in history books.
What I have found a lot of lately is the massive amount of Allied propaganda that still survives today. This misinformation was based around the fact that the Hitler himself was a huge moe. This propaganda was used in a schoolyard bully way to motivate the U.S. forces in demonizing Hitler. Which, they didn’t need to do as he was pretty much making his own case of being a horrible monster. This propaganda did; however, begat the “homosexuals are Nazis” and was pretty much the foundation for the books like The Pink Swastika, which right-wing AM radio nut job ass hats use to spread their personal vendetta and hate against Gays and Lesbians.
Even though Homosexuals were the first group to be hauled off and gassed, not to mention the thousands who were mutilated or dissected in so-called medical experiments by Nazi doctors, who insisted that homosexuality was a disease that could be “cured.” My thought is, if the Nazi Doctors, with out any medical board regulations could not cure homosexuality… well I guess it can’t be cured. And why is it that if gays were the first to die in horrible ways, and used in massive slur campaigns why is it still being then turned around and used to demonize homosexuals. Why don’t historians speak of the sacrifice?
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
I spent the entire day yesterday writing my term paper. I have entitled it my Mos and po-po paper. Not realizing that I had wasted an entire day sitting at the dinning room table with nothing but the dog staring up at me, around seven p.m. my stomach decided it was time for me to stop clicking away on the keyboard and throw some food in it.
Without considering the social norms of good grooming, I grabbed the Shar-pei and headed out onto the streets for nourishment. I have a level of guilt for patronizing the new Panda Express fast food chain that has opened up recently. I have always dined at the locally owned and operated Chinese take-away, but after a day of writing in my sweat pants, I feared that Mr. Wok would assume that the zombie apocalypse had begun, and this particular zombie had a taste for Asian brains, and I would be shot in the head. One should not fear being mistaken for a zombie and shot just because one desires chinese food, but one should also take a shower and remove ten hour old Pop-Tart crumbs from one’s beard before heading out into public. So I went to Panda Express. They don’t judge.
As I did my zombie shuffle up to the “Order Here” sign, the guy behind the glass sneeze guard smiled and said “hey, we chatted on Scruff!” peering into his dreamy blue eyes and swimmers build wrapped in a fast food uniform, I recognized him as well. My stomach and other bits growled. I thought, it’s Mr. “watts up” and “your hot.” Pondering his very bad grammar, I quickly thought, who am I to judge the proper use of you’re verses your? This hot twenty-two year old wants to give me his egg rolls. Under the panda embroidered polo shirt is a six-pack that thinks I am hot. I smiled my best “How YOU Doin?” smile and ran my hand over my right pectoris muscle covered by my coffee stained tee shirt.
I then grabbed my to-go bag and retreated out of the restaurant like a defeated Mongol warrior, yet giggling like a Japanese schoolgirl.
Monday, October 22, 2012
I have to read several books in a very short amount of time.Over the weekend, after being disappointed that our local independent GLBTbookstore, The Tattered Cover, was wholly lacking any books on Gay Americansserving in the military, I found what I needed at the local library.
I grasped my stack of books centered on “Don’t Ask; Don’tTell” and headed for a nice quiet place to read. My gym. Attempting to read thestruggle of Dan Choi, while on a treadmill was problematic at first. Eventually I got into a rhythm and was able to knock out a lot of research. I did notice as I read about the military’s hypocritical and deviant policies towards Gayand Lesbian service members I started to run faster. Soon I was pounding awayon the treadmill belt. During a particular chapter explaining that during WWIIthe US Government had an ad campaign to advertise draft dodgers as weak,less-than-real-men homosexuals, that any man not wanting to serve wasn’t a“real man” and should be mocked. I realized that a part of our societies viewon homosexuals is based on the governments need to recruit soldiers.
Around this realization, I was bucked off my treadmill.
Thankfully the gym was close to empty, so no one noticed. No one noticed me falling from my treadmill and shaking my Tim Gunn fist at the ceiling declaring, “Damn you, Lawrence S. Kubie, M.D. Damn you for characterizingmen who don’t have blood lust and swishy sissies!”
I might be studying too hard.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Leave it to a nerd with a They Might be Giants poster on his wall to simply explain human sexuality...http://www.youtube.com/user/vlogbrothers?feature=watch http://dftba.com
Monday, October 15, 2012
Sundays are my homework days. I head to my favorite coffee shop, spread out my books and attempt to write my latest class required essay. For my modern history class I’m writing a paper on homosexual soldiers during World War II. Sunday I started researching my topic.
As I sat amongst my fellow students, we crowed near the coveted available power outlets to plug in the sea of laptops. I soon blocked out my surroundings and searched through a massive amount of online research databases. After finding an amazing article about wartime homosexuality, I dove into the topic. Soon I heard, “Guuuurl! What you reading?!” It was the front desk gay from my gym. He smiled, and asked again. I quickly explained my research into the military’s screening of inductees during the 1940’s and society’s viewpoints during wartime. I received a slow nod as he wished me fun with that.
Anonymous photographer, Untitledimage of two uniformed sailors kissing*
Ten minutes passed before I moved from one column to the other side of the page. That is when I noticed the photo the author was referencing…
Well… I guess I found my visual aide for my class presentation. I will apologize for not blurring the naughty bits, but being unable to find this photo anywhere on the web, I did not want to alter it. I find it incredibility important to preserve it in its original state. I find it romantic and valuable in the topic that is so easily forgotten. That during military service, soldiers fall in love.
*I claim no rights or ownership to this photo. Original photo found: Lee, E. "When Sailors Kiss: Picturing Homosexuality In Post-World War II America." Journal Of American Culture 32.4 (2009): 318-331. and The Kinsey Institute for Research in Sex, Gender, and Reproduction, Bloomington, IN, KI-DC: 44270.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Based mostly on my academic accomplishment and leadership potential, I have been asked to join an exclusive National Society of leadership and success, Sigma Alpha Pi. Based on my totally awesomeness, or as the form letter states, their decision to ask me to join the hallowed ranks of Sigma Alpha Pi was partially based upon my “academic accomplishment and leadership potential.” Whatever the hell that means. I’m sure it just got around campus that I’m just an all around righteous dude. The sportos and motor heads, geeks, sluts, bloods, wastoids, dweebies, dickheads… they all adore me. They think I’m a righteous dude.
Or… Maybe it’s the eighty-five dollar registration fee. With the additional forty-five dollar charge to have my name on a wooden plaque. I do get a tee shirt. How cool will I be walking among my school's grass lawns with an eighty-five dollar tee shirt.
Maybe I’ll act like any college student and blow that money on fast food.