Although hating the French is normally just good, clean fun, a county official in Palm Beach FL is taking things a little far. He's proposing to introduce legislation forcing restaurant orders to chance the term "French fries" to "freedom fries"- because he's frustrated with the lack of French support in a potential war in Iraq. Seriously.

Wouldn't this guy's time be better spent by accepting kickbacks from development companies, like most county commissioners in this country? Do PB officials just have too much time on their hands, or something?

From David Rees, the man behind My New Filing Technique... and Get Your War On, comes this beautiful tribute to rad dead guy Mr. Rogers.

Melodica Angst

While I was in CA a month ago, I did a little recording with John- he wanted a melodica solo over a song he was working on and I was happy to oblige. (A melodica is essentially a child's wind instrument, with a nasal, non-vibrato tone). I've decided that if I ever play in a band again, I want to specialize in obscure instruments, so when I saw a melodica on eBay, I figured I'd pick it up.

It got here today, and within 3 seconds of opening the package I realized that I paid $50 for an unplayable instrument. Almost half of the 25 notes don't sound, and one emits this metallic, raspy rattle that sounds like the final breath of a dying woodchuck. Needless to say, I'm pissed. I emailed the guy, but I may be screwed.

This site is amazing.

Even though they were just down here last November, Rainer Maria are playing an all-ages show at the Polish-American Club in Miami. On a Friday, nonetheless. Hot damn!

It's been an interesting week. First of all, my photograph has been in all four major gay weekly publications in South Florida, and was on the cover of two of them (publicizing yesterday's choral festival). Cool, but kind of weird considering my flaming heterosexuality.

Friday night, I went through my periodic "I'm burnt out on music" angsty tirade- the whole "fuck-this-I'm-taking-the-LSATs-and-going-to-law-school" thing that bursts forth every six months or so. All of this was brought on by the lack of job security in my high school position (thanks, Florida governor "Jeb!" Bush- you suck), the perennial vocal health problems (thanks, gastroeasophogeal reflux- you suck), and a feeling that I've peaked musically at age 30.

Well, Saturday's choral festival made me remember why I do this job. I directed the festival men's chorus (around 120 men from the four participating choruses), and they sounded spectacular. I had people complimenting me all day on my rehearsal technique (I have kind of a mechanistic approach to conducting and vocal technique that appeals to a certain type of cerebral personality), breadth of knowledge, and musicianship. It was all quite flattering.

It was also wonderful hearing the other choruses as well (the Gay Men's Chorus of South Florida, the Lambda Chorale, and the Sunshine Cathedral Choir)- they are led by wonderful directors, and it was a great experience for my group to see them- choral musicians in this area don't get out enough to hear other ensembles, and I'm no exception.

Speaking of my chorus, they gave a magnificent performance. We did three charts- choral arrangements I had done of "Under Pressure" and "Over The Rainbow," and the amazing "Battle Hymn of the Republic" arrangement by P. Wilhousky (the version of that song by which all other "Battle Hymn" arrangements shall be judged). That last piece is pretty challenging, and the fellas nailed it. I was kinda proud.

While getting my Blockbuster on yesterday, I had to endure an overheard conversation between two young burnouts who were going on and on about how great the movie Eight Legged Freaks was. The word "dude" was used repeatedly. Is there any way I can have them sterilized?

Usually I delete "funny" emails, as they are often anything but. This one, however, was actually kind of cute, so here it is (sent to me by one of my HS choral students).

When I was a kid adults used to bore me to tears with their tedious diatribes about how hard things were when they were growing up; what with walking twenty-five miles to school every morning uphill both ways through year 'round blizzards carrying their younger siblings on their backs to their one-room schoolhouse where they maintained a straight-A average despite their full-time after-school job at the local textile mill where they worked for 35 cents an hour just to help keep their family from starving to death!

And I remember promising myself that when I grew up there was no way in hell I was going to lay a bunch of crap like that on kids about how hard I had it and how easy they've got it!

But...

Now that I've reached the ripe old age of thirty, I can't help but look around and notice the youth of today.

You've got it so f*ckin' easy!! I mean, compared to my childhood, you live in a goddamned Utopia! And I hate to say it, but you kids today, you don't know how good you've got it!

I mean, when I was a kid we didn't have The Internet--we wanted to know something, we had to go to the goddamned library and look it up ourselves!

And there was no email! We had to actually write somebody a letter--with a pen!--and then you had to walk all the way across the street and put it in the f*ckin' mailbox and it would take like a week to get there!

And there was no Napster, and no MP3s! You wanted to steal music, you had to go to the goddamned record store and shoplift it yourself! Or we had to wait around all day to tape it off the radio and the DJ would usually talk over some part of it and f*ck it all up

You want to hear about hardship? You couldn't just download porn! You had to bribe some homeless dude to buy you a copy of "Hustler" at the 7-11! It was either that or jerk-off to the lingerie section of the JC Penney catalog!

Those were your options!

We didn't have fancy sh*t like Call Waiting! If you were on the phone and somebody else called they got a busy signal! And we didn't have fancy Caller ID Boxes either! When the phone rang, you had no idea who it was it could be your boss, your mom, a collections agent, your drug dealer, you didn't know!!! You just had to pick it up and take your chances, mister!

And we didn't have any fancy Sony Playstation videogames with high-resolution 3-D graphics! We had the Atari 2600! With games like "Space Invaders" and "Asteroids" and the graphics sucked a$$! Your guy was a little square! You had to use your imagination! And there were no multiple levels or screens, it was just one screen forever! And you could never win; the game just kept getting harder and faster until you died!

Just like LIFE!

When you went to the movie theater there no such thing as stadium seating! All the seats were the same height! A tall guy sat in front of you, you were screwed!

And sure, we had cable television, but back then that was only like 20 channels and there was no onscreen menu! You had to use a little book called a TV Guide to find out what was on!

And there was no Cartoon Network! You could only get cartoons on Saturday morning! D'ya hear what the f*ck I'm saying!?! We had to wait ALL WEEK, you spoiled little bastards!

That's exactly what I'm talking about! You kids today have got it too easy.

You're spoiled, I swear to God! You guys wouldn't last five minutes back in 1984!

(Anonymous; from an email)

Funny note: the student edited all of the cursing, despite the fact that she swears like a sailor. Also, she edited "porn" (like this: "p*rn"), but left the phrase "jerk-off" alone. Interesting choices. If you're reading this, which I highly doubt, thanks F.

Christopher is a google search

[On Saturday, I did a Google search on "Tone is" as a funny birthday gift for my friend Tone. Many of the hits were oddly appropriate. Now, I find there is a site called Googlism that does this for you]

christopher is
christopher is 6 weeks old already
christopher is right
christopher is the place to get it
christopher is a great dancer
christopher is the original bigfoot
christopher is one of the many children in africa orphaned by aids
christopher is the prototype for the modern racer—equally comfortable at the racetrack or in a corporate setting
christopher is a leader among moderates in the republican party
christopher is a beautiful two year old boy who has an illness which no doctor in this area can diagnose
christopher is chubby and energetic
christopher is destined to follow in his footsteps
christopher is left there gasping for breath every ten to twelve seconds
christopher is still a saint
christopher is well
christopher is an enthusiastic individual
christopher is also a very curious little frog
christopher is not one to shy away from controversy
christopher is a nationally renowned consultant in the field of learning disabilities
christopher is the current united states secretary of state
christopher is not safe to become a recipient
christopher is in kindergarten this year and is doing really well
christopher is active and loves to play
christopher is our first child so we have no previous experience to go on
christopher is made of sterling and has a 24" stainless
christopher is an artist that defies categorization
christopher is presented below
christopher is from mississippi
christopher is no longer nursing
christopher is one of the most popular saints in the east and in the west
christopher is currently in the 5th grade
christopher is the romantic
christopher is greatly concerned about leaving the reservation to go to school
christopher is booked for weddings throughout the united states
christopher is my hero
christopher is not a normal kid
christopher is a "harmless" vampire
christopher is critically ill now and needs everyone's prayers
christopher is credited with discovering the new world
christopher is the best gift we have ever received
christopher is impulsive
christopher is paralyzed from the waist down

Here's an anti-war rally that meets with my full approval.

Looking for Iraq's weapons of mass destruction? Try here.

Domesticity

There's no better way to spend one's Saturday than shopping for several hours (most of that time being spent at Home Despot), and then digging up the back yard to change sprinkler heads.

Actually, it wasn't that bad. As mechanically disinclined as I am, it felt good to know that I could deal with the sprinklers.

A man knows he's domesticated when his wife gives him a Dirt Devil as a gift- and he's totally psyched. It came in handy about five minutes later, too, after I dropped a bottle on the kitchen floor.

Anti-War Movement is Almost Mainstream

From the Common Dreams newssite:

Millions Give Dramatic Rebuff to US War Plans

Many Moderate Churches take Up Anti-War Cause

Not that it matters: we'll be bombing the brown people in a matter of days, more than likely.

But, I've always maintained that the next evolutionary leap for mankind is not going to be physically developmental, but spiritual. Maybe, just maybe, we are learning through our protest of an unjust war to be better people. Perhaps through this process we, as a country, will begin to question the policies of our leaders in other areas. And maybe this will result in us trying to be a more just and merciful nation, instead of a richer, more powerful, more-heavily-armed one.

And maybe I'm completely full of shit- after all, folks probably thought the same thing in the 60s, and look at all the nonsense that's happened since then. But a guy can hope.

Do I need my own handbasket?

The next time someone tells you to "go to hell," be equipped with this information. One caveat: you need to go to England first.

It seems proper that so many entrances to Hell are strewn about the English landscape- they drink warm beer, for crying out loud! A truly hellish concept if ever there was one.

Julie completely rocked her national certification exams toward her speech pathologist licensure. There is also a good chance that she might get a Clinical Fellowship at the VA hospital in Miami (they want to hire her, but need to wrangle the funding). It's a prestigious gig, so fingers are crossed. The end to poverty is (kinda sorta) in sight.

Finally, some California trip highlights:

The look on my brother's face when I showed up at his graduation party was priceless. He was quite mortified by the whole affair- when asked to say a couple of words at the end of his "fake commencement," he vowed to avenge himself on all of us, however long it may take. That statement was mitigated by his promise that he'd stop hating all of us in ten minutes. Regardless of his embarrassment, I'm proud of the guy.

The rest of the party was equally great, and among the guests were some of my best friends in the world (partial guest list: my brothers and dad, Ben, Tone, Amanda, Jenn, Casey, Rob, Steve, Sal, Rick, and Jenn's rad circle of friends. It was old-school as all fuck. There were obviously many of John & Jenn's friends from SWC and UCSD as well). My tasteless comment to Ben was: "It's like my mom's funeral, but without a body." (Feb. 17 is the anniversary of her death, btw. Hopefully the day won't suck, but pessimism springs eternal). Apparently there are photos of John's soirree on someone's website, so I'll link them when I know where to find 'em.

Got to do a little card geekery with Tone and other assorted ne'er-do-wells, and saw Ben Friday night when he picked me up from the airport. My grandmother also made a big honkin' family dinner my last evening there. Good stuff.

I also had an opportunity to reestablish a friendship with Casey, whom I knew from my Santana days. As she is one of the radder people on the planet, this is a good thing. "Move, bitch!"

Dude, You're Rolling A Fattie!

Annoying guy from those Dell commercials popped for marijuana possession.

Is anyone else really shocked by this? 'Cause I'll tell you, this came out of left field for me.

The Bone: International Male Model of Mystery

The South Beach Chorus is participating in a choral festival later this month with two other gay choruses in the region. So today, I went to an hour-and-a-half photo shoot with the two other conductors. These shots will end up in three local, gay-community magazines over the next week or so (probably on the cover). I've always been leery of having my picture taken, but I've decided that I'm going to try to get over that.

Monday night is a radio interview, also for the purpose of promoting ticket sales for the festival.

I get spam, part the second

So I get some more porn email. No surprise there. (Is some disgruntled student signing me up for this shite? I mean, Jesus H. Beelzebub this is annoying).

My email cuts off the inbox subject line if it's overly long. So this email's subject line says, "super fine babe helps her girlfriend get orga..."

I know it's supposed to say "orgasms" or something. But for some reason, my mind completed the sentence thusly: "super fine babe helps her girlfriend get organized." Which may say something about me. Or not.

I'll scribble more about the California trip on Friday... but for now, I would like to present the inimitable comedy of my father (from Sunday, 2/2):

DAD: So I was watching the game over at my cousin's earlier...

CHRIS: Was it constantly interrupted by exploding space shuttle news?

DAD: No, but it was constantly interrupted by my going to the refrigerator to grab another beer.

Just got back from a surprise visit to Cali... the occasion being a college graduation party thrown for my brother John. More later.