Well, it took me a bit to get up to speed, but I think I’m getting the hang of this Fleshbot thang. While many people on both sides of the aisle have a dim view of pornography, many, many more (and more again who aren’t willing to admit it) certainly do enjoy it. Of course, finding and linking to sexy stuff is entirely different than actually creating it, something that I don’t have the skill or enthusiasm to do. But I’m a web geek, and if it wasn’t for porn, the web certainly wouldn’t be what it is today.
One of the reasons I’ve been a Fleshbot reader for a long time is because, besides being smartly written, it keeps a critical distance while being in no way judgemental. Most of the stuff I’ve written about and linked to doesn’t particularly turn me on, but it will undoubtedly turn on at least one reader (and make others chuckle). And I can really appreciate that inclusiveness to the editorial mission of the site.
By all means, if you have tips, send them my way (good luck getting through to email@example.com). It’s been a bit frustrating as the new guy, since the site has already covered so much, and while Violet and Jonno have been invaluable in helping me cultivate sources online and find the Fleshbot ‘voice,’ I could always use more help!
Yes, these are primarily ‘straight’ links — I’m sticking to my core competency for now, but any ‘gay’ tips will be duly appreciated and forwarded to experts on the subject.
Interesting, considering the release of the new flick.
So close…(tags: gavinnewsom)
Hmmmm. Abalone also eat seaweed and they’re now protected.
This is really, really interesting.
Man, I really wanna play this!
This is what my friend Roger would call “Rough Justice.”
Okay, this is crazy on so, so many levels. Thanks to Violet for the tip to this awesome blog!
Update: This is how I just explained to someone why I didn’t get as much work done this weekend as I had wanted: “[L]et’s just say [the festivities] involved an angry mob chasing Dr. Frankenstein which met up with a bunch of men dressed as “Whoo Girls” from the Marina before crashing a party at Mistress Morgana’s place and then disappearing into the night in search of a crowd of gay Abe Lincolns.” And of course, there are pictures [reg. req.].
My friend Monica, who throws the best parties ever, has decided to throw a Halloween party this year. What’s the hook? Well, on Wednesday we’re getting together to work on our costumes. We’re all going to be members of an ‘angry mob’ chasing a monster (in this case, Frankenstein). So think mitteleuropean peasant. From the email:
Think farmer/village men from Transylvania way back when. Think the
angry mob scenes in Mel Brooks films. The main inspiration is/was “Young
Frankenstein”. If you’re a man and you want to dress up like a women, go
for it. And the same goes for you ladies.
-Beat up old dress pants
-Tan or faded dress shirts long sleeve, but rolled up (you can soak an
old white shirt in coffee or tea)
-Black vest or suspenders
-Comfy dress shoes or boots
-Old beat-up black or brown hat
-Accessories – Things you’d find on a farm to express your anger, be
chicken, rope etc.
-Shawls (you could use an old knitted baby blanket)
-Puffy faded white shirt
-Large saggy boobs
-Hair – Large buns, braids, maybe gray (if you want to be that crazy old
-Accessories – Things you\’d find in a farmhouse to express your anger.
Pots, pans, babies, brooms, mobs, rolling pins, super ex-large spoons,
those popcorn making things you put over the fire.
On Saturday, we’re going to chase “Frank” all over the Castro, crashing house parties and otherwise having a fine time. Please feel free to get in touch if you want to join in the fun. There ain’t no party like a west coast party, ’cause a west coast party don’t stop.
Awesome! Links to old Ring Lardner strips!
Ha! Well, I doubt an all-male crew is the answer.
This looks really effin’ useful.
It would be funny if it wasn’t tragic.
How awesome is that?
I say here-here. I have nothing against sk8rs using public space, and everything for sk8rs getting public spaces of their own.
I feel your pain, brother.
Word to the wise, I’d say.
I think I’m finally over my cold after basically staying home Friday night and sleeping over twelve hours (I didn’t even realize I was that tired — I didn’t do anything stupid all week). I IM’d my friend Niall to find out what was going on tonight, because I’ve always got that “I’m forgetting something” in the back of my mind about dates and obligations. Luckily, neither of us had any prior engagements, and when he suggested that we go see Good Night, and Good Luck, I was delighted.
It’s been a while since I’ve actually gone to see a movie in a theater. Besides press events, I think the last time was to see The Motorcycle Diaries, way out in Portola. You’d think with that sort of positive reinforcement I’d keep going back, but while I enjoy the social aspect of seeing a movie in public, the freedom to smoke cigarettes and make catty comments out loud keeps me at home. I used to edit film on a Steenbeck with an 8″ viewer, so don’t try to give me that “But you can only really experience it on the big screen” bullshit.
But Good Night is a surprisingly small, intimate film for something with George Clooney and Mark Cuban’s name on it. I see a lot of one of my silver screen heroes, John Sayles, in Clooney. The easy humor while addressing serious subjects, an elegantly conservative use of cinematography, the unabashedly politicized rhetorical voice and the director supporting his star in the ensemble — Clooney and David Straithairn have incredible chemistry as their relationship on screen must mirror that on set.
That the period piece is full of modern allegory is no coincidence — Clooney’s father is a former journalist and politician. That it chooses to use anti-Communist fervor as its metaphor is all the more poignant for me. While I teared when McCarthy went after Murrow for his membership in the International Workers of the World, I was almost more distraught when Murrow unequivocally denied said membership on the air. Either Murrow was lying, or he truly did not want to associate himself with the Wobblies. As an American fellow traveller I felt a little betrayed.
But you can’t fault the film, just as you can’t fault Murrow, with being anything but rigorous with the facts. The script is a lesson in wit and brevity, something that I’ve long missed in American film (especially in my guilty pleasures). That it was filmed in black and white is a testament to how easy it is to be transgressive in Hollywood — it was an absolutely natural decision to make, and one that few consider unless it’s a budgetary constraint.
Of course, immediately after the film I wanted a cigarette and a scotch, in that order. So Niall and I wandered over to the Elephant & Castle for Johnny Walker and a chit-chat. At one moment in the film, Murrow tells CBS head honcho William Paley that “Not saying no doesn’t mean it isn’t censorship.” And the rules haven’t changed, even for this film and especially for the reporter today. Now I have to go see Capote.
A really good point.
Technology. Huh. A word in ancient Greek, you say?
Okay, just as I finally cross one of the blogs I post at off the list, I add two more. Today I’m filling in for Brian Shields at The Bay Area is Talking, and may drop in to help him out on the weekends from time to time.