I expected to blog on Friday, but a sick kid at home, needing groceries before the storm, and mulling over a difficult plot point in the novel-in-progress up-ended my day. But here I am, providing a rare Monday blog entry, trying to make up for lost time. Onward.
Originally, I was simply gonna ask, “I really don’t have to say anything about Spongebob, do I?” But then I saw Maureen Dowd’s column and chuckled over her choice of words, perverted invertebrate. Me, I would’ve used inverted invertebrate, culling up that old term from the first half of the twentieth century. Invert. That’s what the psychiatric community use to call a homosexual.
I’m not sure when the medical community abandoned invert for homosexual, but I guess we can facetiously see the religious right as being ever so slightly enlightened because they use the more modern word. That they see queer conspiracy in every little thing, all I can say there is: ludicrous speed, anyone?
BTW, does this mean that all those stolen SpongeBob inflatables stolen from Burger Kings around the country and found abandoned and damaged were essentially crimes of gay bashing? Hmm?
I must admit, I always like a good “my stint at the skin mag” story. I suppose the writer in me understands how close to silly one treads when writing or editing sexually explicit material. It’s sort of like being punchy from lack of sleep. Plus, there’s not much one can say about such a story because it says it all as it entertains.
I have no idea if this documentary will come around to my neck of the woods, but it sure looks interesting. Detached but interesting. There’s a bit of a website for the film, but no word on larger distribution.
Finally, you might want to check out the current Renaissance Magazine. Not for the ren faire photos or SCA-pleasing minutiae, but for its screaming headline. Gotta tell you, it was a hoot, seeing it on my local newsstand. And, yes, I did buy a copy.
