Mixtapes for Hookers


Sunday News

Lost mixtapes!  That reminded me of this, which I was really into in 1999.  I actually posted the “Mix Of The Week” twice on there.  Here’s but one example of what a nerd I used to be.  If you don’t know who Lou and Peter Berryman are, oh boy.

Tony Buff’s Top 10 Reasons To Play In A Leather Bar.  It wasn’t until I read this that I realized I’ve never actually played in a leather bar.  Even though the first bar I ever went to was a leather bar (RIP Yukon Trading Company) and, until 2003, the Eagle in Providence had a pretty seedy bathroom scene.  (It was in the basement, at the bottom of a flight of stairs that seemed rather treacherous if you’d had more than one beer.  It was laid out rather conveniently, with dark corners and urinal troughs that made it easy to either be kinky or not be kinky depending on your mood.  That was before the Station Fire and the state tightening up on things like having multiple safe fire exits.)  I won’t get in to what the bathrooms are like there now; it’s too sad.

Johnny Murdoc writes about how queer zines are alive and well and living around the world.  He calls Pinups “the coolest thing to happen to print since McSweeney’s.”  (If you’re in New York the launch party for Pinups Issue #11, pictured above, is later this week.  More here.)

Democrats support gays; homosexuals, not so much.

Time has a sorta-insightful look at the last decade of reality TV, and how those Jersey Shore kids have never lived in a world without The Real World.  I still hate most reality shows and don’t think Survivor is as benign as the writer says.  But it’s worth reading.

The Rhode Island Until The Violence Stops movement is looking for people that want to set up tables at an event they’re doing on March 14th.  More here.

Before this week I had never seen Harlan Ellison talking about how writers deserve to be paid, which I found via The Online Photographer.  I may soon also start behaving this way.

TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS?!?!  I’m just saying.

That other person with my name turned thirty the other day.

If for some reason I was forced to go back in time and make out with a twentieth-century terrorist of my choice, I’m pretty sure I’d like to pick the ultraviolentWest German Bommi Baumann.  It’s probably rude to say, but politics aside he’s pretty dreamy.  Plus, one bio describes him as being something of a looker:  “Not all terrorists are shy, reclusive young men who have trouble meeting women.”  (No, I don’t know how I originally came across this.  It was one of those late-night internet things.)


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