No on 8 PSA: CONSTITUTION

This is the largest grassroots political movement in California's history. Get off my civil rights and put ignorance back where it belongs, in the church.

Third Grade Gay

Give us a cause to celebrate. Let's do this.

Rabbit, rabbit.

Yeah baby. Rabbit Rabbit.

Well it didn't make the grade this month (I'm writing this postumously for the sebbeth) We had a fantastic idea to help some people out and it fell apart. The Duke's "For A Cure" Breast Cancer Benefit was cancelled due to many reasons I don't feel like getting into again. It's over. It's done and we plan to do the benefit next year with a more solid plan and effort from all parties. The lessons learned in this debacle will provide more insight to '09. Why should Sara Palin be the only one making lofty long range plans. Thanks for all the nice words and works; ya made me feel great.

In lieu of a sebbeth post I'll leave you with a grand bit of words celebrating the Spirit we all strive to extol. I dedicate this post to my mother, Pauline Spatafora. She's the woman that I learned to get back up on my feet each time I get knocked down. She's the ideal I consider when I do something, it's with an effort the strength of huricane. She put amazing good stuff in me. She's a Phenomenal Woman. Phenomally.


Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.


Maya Angelou

Sebbeth.

Wednesdays child is a quiet child. I'm finding the economy is a bummer. I've done my level best this year to restart the global economy with the 12 Days, but I'm not getting the dollar to go as far as I need it to. This is trying.

We are quiet this month as the sebbeth lets us reflect on the year. I'm pretty jazzed to where we've been and where we're going. Amazing events appear to happen all over the calendar not solo 17Th. Fall is here, Mexico is near, Halloween nearer, and the big event comes soon after both.

Last week LynZ, June and I made the trip to Ahmanson to see and a fun little number entitled '9 to 5; the musical. Yep, you've guessed it, the American cinema was mined again to try and find blond luck for the American theater. The best part that this had for it was that the music and lyrics were by Miss Dolly Parton herself. The familiar theme song has a co-starring role in the production that features my favorite Alison Janney cast as Violet Newstead; the role Lilly Tomlin brought to life. The music is cute and really enthusiastically put out there for all to love. All three leads kicked the hell out of their songs, if only the story had a little more zip to sell it. Dolly has put a great little number in for the Dora-Lee Rhodes character. The sexpot brings "Backwoods Barbie" to the laps of the audience and leaves the joint a-smilin'.

When we saw the show it had just opened and was still experiencing some growing pains. In the second act the recently freed boss, Franklin Hart, begins to extract vengeance on the three ladies who have held him captive all this time. As he unleashes his demands he grabs for the phone on his desk, who's cord has not been reconnected since Dora Lee ripped it out in the first act. Oooooopps. The cord sails around loose, even as the phone miraculously rings. We bust a gut laughing at what only live theater can bring to a night. The actors all tried numerous covers for the gaff and settled on not being able to fix it. This was fine by us in the house. Everyone was smiling. On a preview night earlier in the week the show was plagued with some technical difficulties causing the show to stop. Miss Parton watching the show stands and starts chatting the crowd up. She ends up buying the crew time by leading the audience in an Capella version of the theme song. Everybody ate it up, even Miss Parton. "C'mon, y'all know the words by now, don't ya?" To keep it going, she then sang "I'll Always Love You" with an intro letting the audience know that Whitney may have sung it prettier, Dolly made more money on it. Now that's pretty funny.

The show is off for New York where it will probably die a quick death. I'm glad I got to see it because it is one of my favorite movies. I was glad to see that so many of the great scenes in the film were translated in word and sentiment to the stage. This production did lovingly approach the movie in this, so I was thankful. It was a fun night.

Rabbit, rabbit.

Rabbit Rabbit. Here's a new month of joy to play and frolic towards forty with. Or to take forty steps to the playground and fall into the sand looking for the wormhole that brought me here. I think back to childhood and what is it I see? Sandboxes, inchworms and of course.................the Village People.

This manfest that rode (pun intended) the rising star of Disco in the late seventies until, well, now is as American as Liberace, Betty White and apple pie. This troupe of performers featured a cop, a cowboy, a leather man, an Indian, and a soldier each chosen to be typical masculine varieties. The homo eroticism was lost on a naive public. A concept band, Village People was the genius of Jacques Morali, a French musician who planned on cashing in on theDisco phenomena. After hearing the amazing voice of the original cop, Victor Wills, Morali auditioned for some manly talent to surround Wills with. So much the better that they could dance and carry a stage presence. Audition notices went out and a crew was assembled. When their hit "Macho Man" made number one, the splash that the Village People made had the American attention. It would be the iconic "Y.M.C.A" that would forever leave the Village People's mark on the United States and the world. Other hits include "Go West", "In The Navy" and "Key West".

This year the Village People celebrate their thirtieth anniversary and will receive a star on The Hollywood Walk Of Fame, not far from Liberace's ironically. Although the line-up of the band has changed over the years, the role's have still held fast. The typical masculine varieties have been recast but their orders are still being obeyed. At many a social event a tribe of people in a circle will be throwing their hands in the air in the forms of letters to lyrics.

Birthdays and birthday suits.

Isn't it funny how we mark special occasions with ritualistic behavior. We blow out candles for wishes' sakes, we christen boats by smashing champagne bottles over their hulls, We extend blessings when people sneeze and yet nothing when they fart. On New Years Day many people mark the new year by jumping in the ocean, temperature be damned. Why is it so many of us when in our twenties decide to mark our birthdays by getting naked?

Is it a back to basics? Is it animal foreplay with the universe? Why do we jump into our birthday suit and start running a lap of victory? We don't necessarily call our parents and say, "Hey thanks for having the sense to not watching tv so many years ago so that you guys could make me. I really appreciate it today." I'm sure they appreciate their dna being bandied about in an uppity bar in Santa Monica with a blond bippity as jewelry on their precious labor. And yet it happens. Most of my twenties were spent with my pants dropped, my nipple exposed and my feet bare. There was always something that needed to be regarded with my physical side. In our twenties do we think that this is our only commodity? I certainly was the social one.

I had the privilege of attending a bday soiree last pm and witnessed the same behavior happening around the bar. The guest of honor enjoyed the bacchanalian worship. Other patrons in the place experienced similar joy. Maybe it's just part of the mating ritual but I can't help but see more meaning in it. It was late in the evening and yuppies were pairing up, but these acts pop up so frequently in celebratory events. It's been around for centuries. Maybe it's a tribute to Adam and Eve. Getting back to basics, as simple as it can be, and embracing joy. Exposing yourself is as old as the moon. Literally. (drops pants and moons monitor)

Sebbeth

It's an addiction this tattooing. I love my first one I got fifteen years ago, as the art form was getting it's rise.

I was in Auburn, NY and it had been an annoying day where we had done 'Aladdin' in two different venues in the same town. The load in and outs had been in the rain which made the day that much more bliss. I should also mention that this was probably our one thousandth performance of this children's theatre Chinese drip torture, we had begun in early June it was now October. I was the evil magician and if I got my hands on that little street whelp Aladdin, I would kill him; the cast was ready to kill each other. One quick corner with a magic carpet and I was going to put him right through Agrabar. Aaaaah non union theatre in the woods, it's as manly as hair on your buttocks. I digress.

Reba (The Genie) and I had decided we would get ink together and just had to get the date down. We looked at each other at the last load out and said 'Now', our bonding over ill fitting set pieces, too many c-clamps, and stinky costumes had brought us to this point. We would mark the occasion with ink, and if the pain was as good as we'd feared it would be a blessed alternative to where we had brought our lives. Don't misread this, we were overly dramatic, as was our prerogative. We were in the woods, delivering 'Quality Theater At Affordable Prices' and we'd been sharing a van with 2-3 other strong personalities. This was high drama at high altitudes. Off to Tatu Tony's just by the prison. The artist in residence, Tony, had 69 tattoo'd on his lip. We were so in the right place. Reba opted for a simple piece (I'm not sure if I should even divulge that she has one she's a soccer mom now) and mine as well. A simple Chinese character on my ankle, the pain was nothing. The worst part was the cramp I got from holding my leg up on an angle for soo long. For fifteen years I've loved my first and have eagerly wanted my second.

It's addicting. So I swore that one of the Sebbeths would be a tattoo. But what to get? And where? These were newbies problems. Get a set Spats. Get a set and get it done. Jen turned me on to an artist in the neighborhood who was clean and good. I just needed the specifics; location, art and deposit to secure an appointment. My this art form has come along way from the side of a prison. I began thinking it over and for a longtime have wanted a monkey on my back (hee hee). I narrowed the research to tribal and cartoon. I stumbled on some original Oz art and thought that might be genius. Marking my fortieth with a flying monkey, how Wicked. And it was my first professional job after college, and the first show little Julia saw me in back in 91 in Davenport Iowa. Another two stories entirely. The shop got me right in and here's my latest brethren, Balthazar (like Getty but more). I was sitting in the chair imagining where the next tattoo would be. And the next. This is addicting.