Under Where? TGTYSW (NSFW Version)

Gay Underwear Designer, Andrew Christian

Wow, that's a lot of acronyms in one blog post title. Of course, NSFW is one we're all familiar with by now: Not Safe For Work. And if you read Caliban's Revenge with any regularity at all, you may have sussed out that TGTYSW = The Gayest Thing You'll See This Week. Field space makes for strange acronyms. And the video I am about to share is most certainly the gayest thing you'll probably see all year. The ridiculous pun goes back to an elementary school joke: "What are you eating under there?" 

Andrew Christian is well known for marketing his products to young, gay men with lots of disposable income to waste on frivolity. And believe me, I know - quality underwear is hardly frivolous. A traditional "tighty whities" boy growing up, once Uncle P discovered boxer-briefs, there was no going back. I may have experimented with the bikini brief, briefly. But that was back in the 70's and who wasn't experimenting with something in those days? 

Personally, I don't find Mr. Christian's line to my taste. I have nothing against colorful britches (my personal favorite pair of boxer-briefs is Blood Red, of course) but I just don't understand how one can be actually be comfortable in some of his more daring designs. I'm also not particularly a fan of the twinky young 'models' (i.e. porn star wannabes) he uses. Being a full-blooded Ursan, I tend to like 'em bigger and fuzzier And now that you know WAY too much about me, here is The Gayest Video You'll Ever See Which Isn't Actually Porn (NOT SAFE FOR WORK!!!!!):

Now that's about as far from Magic Mormon Underwear as one can get! Coincidentally, tomorrow is laundry day at Chez Prospero. 

Bottom line (every pun intended), why anyone would spend the kind of money Christian wants for his skimpy drawers when Hanes does an even better job of providing support and mystique, is beyond me. I can buy 5 pair of Hanes boxer briefs at Target for less than half the cost of one pair of Andrew Christian's 'Candy Pop' drawers.

Then again, I don't have the kind of money the poor, vapid idiots this campaign is designed for have. And even if I did, I would hope that I would use it in more socially productive way. Still, I suppose the old Madison Avenue adage applies: Sex Sells. Just ask Jon Hamm.

More, anon.
Prospero

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The Most Powerful Gay Thing You'll See This Week

Anthony Starble

The Internet is both a wonderful and terrible tool which has changed the lives of everyone born before the 1990's. A virtual Wild, Wild West of information; entertainment; knowledge; pornography; science; music; art; film and almost anything else you can think of, it can bring people together and drive others into total isolation. 

I like the Internet best when it teaches, entertains and introduces me to new artists; musicians; performers and cool science. Today, it introduced me to a young gay musician by the name of Anthony Starble. His latest single,"Oh Father" (via) is a gorgeous ballad about the very complicated relationship between so many straight fathers and gay sons. While I won't get into my theories about my own father and our rather complicated relationship, I will admit that Starble's song and video hit home on so many levels. And I'm guessing it does the same with many of my readers. See for yourselves:

My father always seemed on the verge of violence, especially once he realized I was never going to be the person he wanted me to be. I have long since forgiven him for how he treated my mother and I and actually feel sorry that he couldn't find the happiness he so desperately seemed to be seeking. I lost my father long before he actually passed, and did not mourn his passing in the 'traditional' way. Instead, I mourned the missed the opportunities we could have shared. Starble's song and video capture how I felt about him in an oddly personal way. As I am sure it will for many others. 

More, anon.

Prospero

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X-Men Live; Gay Actor Out

Vin Diesel in Riddick. Confused, Ain't Ya?

Trust me when I tell you all these things really do tie-in together. If you saw my earlier post on Malaprop Mom, you'll continue to  understand what a weird day it continues to be for yer ole Uncle P.  My workday was disrupted by a rather annoyingly unsuccessful doctor's appointment (Grrrr... Long story - trying again tomorrow evening) and for the first time in a long time, I had several things I wanted to talk about. 

So, first: There's a story going around Facebook about a boy in China who can see in pitch black darkness. Snopes, as of this writing, has nothing on this. A friend of mine posted it with the headline: Evolution? If it's true, it's obviously a mutation, which according to Darwin leads to evolution.  Take that, Fundie wingnuts! The story reminded me of two works of Sci-Fi/Fantasy. First, David Twohy's about-to-be-released Riddick, the third in a trilogy of films in which Vin (I want him to talk dirty to me) Diesel plays an escaped convict/savior/mercenary who has had his eyes surgically altered to see in the dark (watch both of these on Full Screen):

And this Red Band trailer for Riddick is probably NSFW for language and violence:



Damn! Now THAT's an Action/Sci-Fi movie!

Of course, the "Evolution" tag also made me think of the mutants who make up Marvel's "X-Men." Homo-Sapiens has remained pretty static for the last 195,000 or so years. It's about time we started to evolve. Of course, the very tabloidy news also brings to mind my favorite Weekly World News story:

Now continuing on my ADD adventure, "Prison Break" star Wentworth Miller officially came out in a letter to the St. Petersburg International Film Festival, to which he'd been invited to attend. Miller, whose sexuality has been the subject of much debate since his breakout role on the Fox series finally opened the glass closet in his response to the invitation saying, in part (via):

"As a gay man, I must decline. I am deeply troubled by the current attitude toward and treatment of gay men and women by the Russian government. The situation is in no way acceptable, and I cannot in good conscience participate in a celebratory occasion hosted by a country where people like myself are being systematically denied their basic right to live and love openly."

As I have said all along, visibility is the key to acceptance. Thank you for finally feeling free enough to admit what many of us have suspected and for standing up to a homophobic regime, Mr. Miller. Your voice is a welcome addition to the cause.

Well this was a strange melange of things to talk about, wasn't it?  Je ne regret riens!

More, anon.
Prospero

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The Gayest New Music and Hottest Boys You'll See This 1st Gay 4th of July

Happy Gay Independence Day!

This Independence Day has new meaning to millions of LGBTQ people all over our country, who are celebrating the deaths of DOMA and Proposition 8. For the first time in my life, our government no longer considers us "Less Than." We are closer and closer to joining the 13 (and soon to be fifteen with Uruguay and New Zealand's Marriage Equality laws taking effect next month) countries who have come into the 21st Century and recognized that there is nothing wrong, unnatural, perverse or sinful in love. When we're long gone, I hope someone finds and reads all our archived blogs and says the same thing we now say about "Whites Only" fountains and entrances and theater seating. 'Equality under the law.' Finally.

And apropos of both the First Gay Independence Day and my recent new music tear, I have discovered a second country artist I actually like (I'll talk about big ole Country Bear Drake Jensen and his anti-bullying anthem "Scars" in another post, soon). Today is all about gorgeous and so very hot Steve Grand and his debut single "All-American Boy." Those who've known Uncle P since the late 80's will understand why this song and video mean so much to me. And after you watch it, I'll tell you why. Here (via) is "All-American Boy":

So, there are three major differences in Steve's story and mine. First, my All-American Boy already knew I was in love with him because everyone I told and asked not to tell him, told him anyway. Second, we didn't end in an awkward attempt at a kiss, but rather a very difficult (but ultimately cathartic and beneficial) conversation during a long drive in the country, necessitated by the fact that I was about to direct him in one of the greatest romances of all time and facilitated beforehand by a wonderful and more-than competent therapist (thanks, Jim, wherever you are!). And third, I am not nor have I have been anywhere near as hot as young Mr. Grand. So now you know a little bit about me that you didn't know before.

I hope my U.S. readers have the same 4-day weekend I have. And thank you to all the police; firefighters; EMTs; doctors; nurses; technicians; pharmacists and other service workers who don't. I hope you're getting lots of OT or DT in exchange. You deserve it. Have a safe and happy holiday, America. I can't remember a happier one for me, even with that nostalgically bittersweet video (of course, Steve and his co-star help make it a little sweeter). Grand's website is under construction, so there's nothing to really link to him yet, but I'll be looking out for him and will surely post about him again. Like Father Tiger, if he keeps putting out great music like this, I'm sure he'll be around a while.

For the first time in a long time, I'm starting to (just a little bit) regain my faith in Humanity.

I'll be posting at least once or twice more before celebrating the Caliban's Revenge 5th Anniversary Super Post on July 9th. I hope I'm able to live up to the hype!

More, anon.
Prospero

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Daddy Issues

If you met my father or worked with him, you would have thought he was a pretty great guy. Often funny; fairly intelligent; somewhat handy and occasionally a good cook, my dad presented himself as a perfectly decent human being. 

Those of us who lived with him, knew better. A racist, anti-Semitic homophobe who was fascinated by Alexander the Great; Napoleon and Hitler, my father was actually quite a jerk. He cheated on my mother (who foolishly took him back after the first time he left her for the woman who gave birth to my half-brother) at least twice that I can confirm. His vacations were spent painting the house or doing other things that excluded the rest of the family and never took us anywhere for more than a day (and even then, only when he had free passes to wherever it was we went). Of course, I didn't realize what a jerk was when I was younger.

Truth be told, as a child, I idolized my dad. As most kids do. I have tons of happy memories spent with my father at the movies; at family cook-outs; on day trips to the Jersey Shore; learning to cook my grandmother's recipes... He instilled in me a love of classical music and certainly informed my sense of humor. He taught me about classic movies and introduced me to the Universal Monsters. He showed me how to build a perfect wood grill fire and attempted to teach me how to drive. He told lots of jokes and taught me accents which I use to this day.

As I got older and reached adolescence, it became clear that my father resented my mother, my sister and I. And although I never officially came out to him, once he realized I was gay, he shut me out completely. He often quoted Thoreau to me: "Most men lead lives of quiet desperation." He complained, "There are men exploring uncharted regions of the world while I am stuck here, paying bills and painting walls." And whose fault was that? As a young adolescent, he repeatedly reminded me that I had an acne problem (his face was heavily scarred from his own, much worse bought with it) and complained because I didn't participate in sports. He absolutely HATED the fact that I discovered Theatre and constantly berated me for not wanting to become a doctor, lawyer or some sort of executive at a boring, soul-crushing corporation.

Don't get me wrong. I loved my Dad. I loved him right up until the day he died from a neuroblastoma at the age of 59 in 1998, less than ten years after he left my mother for the second time and married a trashy, wealthy widow who dragged him to Las Vegas for the last five years of his life. That wedding was one of the unintentionally funniest events I have ever attended, though it's a story for another time. I loved him, but didn't like him very much at all.

Dad died alone, with no one from his real family nearby. Six months before he passed, we had a phone conversation in which he said "I love you" to me for the first time in my memory.

I was camping with my then boyfriend in Provincetown when he passed-away on July 5th, just three weeks shy of his 60th birthday. When Ric and I got home that afternoon, Mom told me he had passed and honestly, I felt nothing. Just like the gal in that number from A Chorus Line. And for the longest time, I felt guilty for feeling nothing. I mean, this was huge. My father had died. I should feel something, shouldn't I? 

After several weeks of legal wrangling (impeded by the meddlings of the aforementioned second wife), Dad's ashes were finally sent back East and we buried them along with his father mother in St. Stephan's Cemetery in Trenton, NJ. The ceremony was attended by myself, his sister and exactly five other people (one of whom was the funeral director). It was then that I finally realized that everyone else who had known my father knew what a jerk he was and that they had stayed away in droves. And while I have long ago forgiven him for being such a creep, every Fathers' Day I resent the fact that I don't get to share with everyone else who has or had a really great Dad. And then I realize that given the chance, I would have made a pretty great Dad, having learned so much from having such a jerk for a father.

I know I'm not alone in this. Plenty of folks have absolute monsters for fathers. He never beat us, or stole money to support a drug habit or killed anyone. He worked hard to support, feed and clothe his family. He just wasn't all that into it, I guess. 

I hope you have or had a better Dad, than mine. I'd like to imagine that given the opportunity, I would have been a better father than mine was. And I do have to thank my mother, whose kindness, compassion and love of Rock 'N Roll counterbalanced all of his negativity. I have no idea how or why she put up with him as long as she did. Without him, my sister and I wouldn't exist, so I have to give him credit for that, too. Still... I wish I had a Dad I would want to wish a Happy Fathers' Day. 

To all of the fathers reading this, please know how much you mean to your children. Love them no matter what. Don't give them reasons to hate or resent you. Make them want to be at your side on your deathbed and give them reasons to mourn your passing. They'll be all the better for it.

More, anon.
Prospero

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When Did You Know?

Go, Speed Racer, Go!

Nostalgia fully rears its bittersweet head in three... two... one:

I don't think I knew what it meant when, at age 10, I had my first crush on a boy (more on that, in a bit). In those days, my neighborhood friends and I would take every chance we could to look at somebody's dad's Playboy or other titty magazine, carrying on like the 10, 11 and 12 year-olds we were. For me, it wasn't so much the titties as it was the thought of being "naughty." I didn't understand the significance of that, either.

Life for kids who would now be referred to as "Tweens" was very different in the early 70's. We knew the future was coming, bringing technology with it. We had no idea of when or what or how much that technology was going to completely change the entire world in a few short decades. There were no video games then and there were 3 main channels, PBS and a couple of VHF channels (what my mother still refers to as "the off channels," for some reason). Even though we were very early cable TV subscribers (which meant we got off channels from New York!), we still had less than a dozen channel choices. There was no HBO; Showtime or Cinemax. In fact, the first time a friend told me his cousin got a channel that played uncut movies, 24 hours a day called "Home Box Office," I thought he was making it up to try and impress me or something. Computers were huge machines that took up entire rooms, though they had moved on from punch cards to tape and VCRs were still 8 years away. Anyone who has smelled the unmistakeable aroma of purple mimeograph ink knows exactly what I'm talking about. There was no CNN or FAUX News; no Google, Facebook or Twitter (words which actually had entirely different associations, then). No smartphones, tablets or laptops. Hell, there weren't even faxes. The Olympics were tape-delayed even then, but there was no way to spoil the results. I didn't know that gay people even existed at 10. I didn't even know that I was one of them because I had no real frame of reference for what I felt.

So, now onto to my first crush on a boy. Or rather, I should say: a fictional boy. Back when there were far less than than 500 channels, one's after school TV choices were limited. Channel 10 (at the time, CBS) had Gene London, a live studio show that I never really cared for. Channel 6 (ABC) had "Pixanne," who played cartoons, but was really for younger kids. VHF Channel 48 had "Bozo"* and classic Warner Brothers' Looney Tunes; Hannah Barbera and MGM cartoons: Bugs; Daffy; Elmer; Snagglepuss; Doggie Daddy; Quick Draw McGraw and Tom and Jerry. But VHF channel 17 had Wee Willy Webber, the go-to guy for anime and kaiju (not that those terms were even known here, then) shows. "Ultraman;" "Gigantor;" "Astro Boy;" "Kimba, the White Lion" and "Speed Racer."

Young Uncle P loved all of these shows and I knew and loved all the characters. But then... there was a special Two Part "Speed Racer" where Speed and Racer X (secretly Speed's supposedly dead brother) are in race through a South American rain forest (don't ask me why, I don't remember). What I do remember is at the end of Part I, Speed crashed the Mach Five and had to make his way through the jungle in a torn shirt. Then, in Part II, Speed's shirt had literally disintegrated and he was shirtless. And I... well, I wanted to be in that animated jungle helping cartoon Speed (and maybe even kissing his boo-boos). Again, at the time, I had no idea what those feelings meant. But that episode has stuck with me all these years, though it wasn't until much later that I managed to put those particular pieces together in a very "Aha!" kind of moment.

The summer before high school was when I knew for sure and it was my then best friend who helped me figure it out. It was my high school Theatre and Accelerated English teacher (a lovely and brilliant man who has created the top-rated high school theatre program in the country) who was the first adult to recognize, acknowledge and tell me that it was okay to be gay. He also taught me more about theatricality than any professor I ever had (not to disparage any of the men and women who have taught me over the years).

I was pretty much out to most of my friends in college, though I sometimes (like many of us) eased them into it by telling them I was bi-sexual, first. I came out to my mother and sister rather late in life, both of whom already knew (they always do) and both of whom still love me exactly the same as they always had before I told them. Of course, at Uncle P's age, one doesn't give a Jolly Roger what anyone thinks (except you, faithful readers - and even then... ). I've never had to actually come out at my current Day Job. People just kind of figured it out for themselves and completely accepted it and me as a package; far more interested in how I do my job than who I love.

I know that at least a few of you folks play for my team (or at least lend your athletic support). So I really am hoping for some responses to my questions, tonight. 

First - gay or straight, who was your first crush? It can't be any more embarrassing than a Japanese cartoon character (and yes, Betty; Veronica; Betty and Wilma count, but so does Racer X).

Second - When did you know for certain that you were gay or straight? 

Third and Fourth - If you are LGBT, when did you come out and how has your life gotten better (or - though I hope not - worse) since you did?

Please leave your answers in the comments! Meanwhile, if you are reading this and still struggling with coming out, or want to know how much coming out is a good thing, please watch this (via):

More, anon.
Prospero

*One day I MUST relate the story of my sister and I appearing on "Bozo" - Uncle P's Television Debut!

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A (Happily Minor) Health Scare

I will do my best not to get too graphic here, but I think it's just as important for men to check themselves for lumps as it is for women.

While showering last Sunday, I discovered a small lump a in place where there had never been a lump before. I was concerned, but not terrified. The lump was was smaller than a pea and not causing me discomfort or any functional problems. I noted it and decided to mention it to my doctor on my next regular visit.

That was until Thursday, when I awoke to discover that the lump had not only tripled in size, but was now painful to the touch. Cue full system panic mode! 

I got to work and called the Health Advocate to find a specialist, ASAP. If your employer does not offer Health Advocate services, ask them to. Health Advocate will (among many other things) find you a doctor or specialist who accepts your insurance, help settle medical bill disputes and even help find long-term care for your elderly parents. Staffed by polite, caring and discreet nurses who immediately make you feel at ease discussing the most intimate of health issues, Health Advocate has proven an invaluable resource for Uncle P in the past few years, especially now that I have reached a certain age. The amazing nurse Kathy at HA found me a local specialist who had an available appointment this morning. After a quick call to my PCP (Primary Care Physician) for a referral, I was on my way. 

The doctor they sent me to was not only competent and professional, but adorable. Not quite as hunky as the doctor in the above picture, but certainly someone Uncle P could appreciate on a non-medical level, if you know what I mean. After a thorough examination of the area and lump in question, I left his office with a prescription for an antibiotic and the assurance that what I had was nothing more than an inflamed cyst, something he said was quite common among men my age. He ordered a blood test and scheduled a follow-up in six weeks.

You have no idea the relief I felt upon leaving that office. Still, I am glad that I know my own body well-enough to realize when something's not right. And I urge you all to be just as aware. While my issue turned out to be simple and not at all life-threatening, it is so important to be aware of changes to any and every part of your body. Examine yourselves regularly and mention any changes, lumps and other anomalies to your doctor right away. What you find may well be nothing, but it is so much better to be safe than sorry.

While every doctor you see may not be as hot as ER's Goran Visnjic, he or she may well be the difference between nothing to worry about and something serious. 

Okay - lecture over. Back to my usual nonsense, tomorrow.

More, anon.
Prospero

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