Aaron Away

Apparently, Aaron is moving to the other end of America. I'll miss his mischief most of all. I'll also miss receiving the directive "OK, you take that room and I'll take this room, and there will be no crossing over." whenever we bumped into each other at certain venues in which one might prefer to play the crowd unobserved by those who know your name.

A farewell gathering at the cruisy Chelsea restaurant Intermezzo. Left to right are Foxy, Chris, moi, Dr. Jeff, Aaron, Little David, Damian, Joe and C.



Thinking about Aaron's departure made me realize what a durable family we have become. Very few changes. There was Chris B's move to Texas, Eddie's mysterious seclusion in Philadelphia, and Mark's stone's-throwish move to Jersey, but other than that, the line-up has remained rather constant over the last four to five years, the passing of which has felt like five minutes.

Insufficient Provision

Today is the fifth anniversary of Farmboyz/Perge Modo.

Lately, I have discovered what I knew all along in a seminal way, that this would be a solitary voyage akin to those made by men on rafts with insufficient provision who find strange clots of painted people on untitled beaches, and return with tales spilling through fabulous whiskers.

I find I have the instincts to decide what among the exotic fruits to consume and what to avoid.

This lengthy prelude, now performed far afield of its inspiration and happily scuttled into improvisation, is bleaching and fading and sinking into the sand. It is overcome, overtaken and perfectly unfinished.

This week in the South Florida Blade

My new favorite gay word: Accessocrats

Tomorrow on Bilerico: "Star-Studded"

Oh you will just have to go there Thursday after 10:30AM.

When GLAAD throws a party....

Update: It's up. Get on it.

Lars Stephan Self-Portraits

On Thursday, August 20th, I attended a one-night-only show of the self-portrait photography of the handsome Lars Stephan. I admire his work, and although his art is inextricably joined to the beauty of his own body, I think he has a fine eye and was pleased to hear him say that when a vista appeals to him, he will simply strip down and jump into it. I often do the same, sans the camera.

Because Lars speaks with an accent, I have added subtitles to this video.








Update: Lars says he much prefers the interview without the subtitles. He likes its raw unpolished quality. I have swapped out the subtitled version at his request.

Tomorrow on Bilerico: "Motown Helps When Smoke Gets In Your Eyes"

You will have to go to Bilerico tomorrow after 10:30AM EST to find my response to the following:

Dear Father Tony,

I'm involved with a smoker. He is funny and brilliant and we are great together, but I am not dealing well with the cigarettes. He wants us to live together and I do too. He promises that he will quit smoking forever on the first day of 2010. I don't know if he can do it, and I don't know if I can handle it if he doesn't. Love is a bargain, and I have a few bad habits of my own, but I am afraid I am getting into something I will regret.

Coin Tosser

Update: It's up. Get on it.

Hollister

I did not know that Hollister is part of Abercrombie and Fitch, although the writer of this NY Times review thinks I should have known it.

Who buys this stuff? I thought kids were supposed to be media-smart these days. I thought they didn't fall for this kind of marketing.

GMHC's 19th Annual House of Latex Ball Burns Down Roseland. Again.

And we learned that when one house dares to violate the pre-ordained table arrangements by moving a table or shuffling a place card to gain proximity to the runway, there is hell to pay. Here is the chart and here are pics and vid, some of which is by C. (Here are the pics if the following link is faulty.)







For more about GMHC's involvement, check out Myballroomlife.

Update: over at Bilerico, our very own Birdie wondered what This House and Ball" stuff was all about! here is my response to her:

Dear Birdie,
OMG, are you in for a fabulous ride! I'm predicting that within one week. You'll be vogueing, throwing shade,and screaming to your husband and son "Work it, bitch! Walk for me! Get her! Xtravaganaaaaanza! and "Tens across the board!"

This 20 yr old article will define "Vogueing" for you:
http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,957725,00.html

You will need to rent and watch the 1990 "Paris is Burning"

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paris_Is_Burning_(film)

Then you must form your own house:

I think it should be called "The Birdhouse of Paradise".

A error

Provident Bank runs this ad in the New York Times:



I think it should read "an SBA..."

Upon encountering the abbreviation "SBA", most people neither think nor say "Small Business Administation" so even that reachy argument would not prevail. The whole purpose of "an" is to make nice-nice phonetically. This is something the Bostonians do in spoken English when they substitute "er" for a word's concluding vowel if the next word begins with a vowel, as in "Rhonda charges $200." but "Rhonder always charges $200."

This matter was also with us yesterday when C requested a ruling regarding the use of "an" before words beginning with an "h". And there you have the long an short of it.

Milky White Goodness

He took it quite a bit farther than I had gone, and he did it admirably.

My Starbucks Idea

There is a website where one may suggest improvements to Starbucks. This is what I posted:

Three lines, labeled "1,2, 3" printed inside the cup indicate the level to which the customer would like the cup filled. A customer would say "I'd like a tall coffee. Fill it to 3, please."

This would eliminate the huge amount of wasted coffee that gets poured into the trash immediately upon purchase. (Surely you have all noticed this.)

This would also eliminate the ambiguous question and response concerning whether or not the customer wants "room" or not.

It would also speed up the purchase process. Surely you have noticed the number of times that a customer, upon receiving the order, hands it back immediately, asking the barista or cashier to add more coffee.

I'm assuming that there is a soy-based ink that is non-toxic and would not alter the flavor of the coffee.

What color are your toes?

OK. It has come to my attention that at least two (men!) of you have interesting colors painted on your toenails.

(Long have I felt that the time has come for men to start painting their nails. Why should women and trans folks have all the fun?)

I'm going to do a post about the colors of the toenails of ya'll - men, women and trans - that will require your sending me a snap shot of your toe or finger nails in all their chromatic splendor. Or, if you don't paint 'em, tell me your thinking behind the abstinence. (Use the fathertony@bilerico.com email address)

I know you are a colorful lot. Let's unfurl that resplendent ungual rainbow.

PS: I am also going to be including some reference to the fact that straight men sometimes color their toe nails - albeit at the instigation of their brush wielding girl friends.

If we can't be creative with our toe nails, how can we be expected to save America?

Today in the SF Blade: "Protect Me From What I Want"

Today, in the South Florida Blade, I say this.

(The print version ran the photo I supplied.)

Today on Bilerico: "Unplugging and Rebooting Your Partner"

You'll have to click off to Bilerico after 10:30 AM to find my response to the following:

Dear Father Tony,

Got any tricks to turn an old dog into a young pup again? (I'm not talking about sex. We are great with that.) But he seems to have lost interest in other stuff. He wants to stay home more and more and more. I am interested and involved in community theater and boating, hiking and fishing. He used to share these interests but it's like he's dropping out of everything and just wants to stay home and watch TV. When I mention it, he gets mad and says "Aren't I enough for you? Am I boring you?"

Suffield 37, partner of Jack 47 going on 147

Update: It's up. Get on it.

Summer Fashion for the City Streets

In case you were wondering what they’re wearing in New York City in the heat of the summer, I kept the camera in hand this weekend.

As everyone already knows, this is the year of the jaunty and lightly woven fedora, and its sister, the pork pie panama. Both men and women are wearing them, and the idea is to personalize them with a slash of color or a small feather, or by twisting the brow up or down. The basic look is easy-suave Jude Law in The Talented Mr. Ripley.





Wearing this hat necessitates a smile. Without the smile, the hat struggles.



Here is the other popular hat that is giving the fedora some much needed competition. Choose it in beige.



Some guys are adding shaggy hair and beards that seem to be a protest of the buzz cut/shaved head look of recent seasons.



The messenger bag is still on every guy’s shoulder.



Speaking of bags, ladies, what on earth are you all carrying in those huge studded leather bags. They make you look like camels. Seriously, what’s in there?



Colors are what you’d expect. Hazy sherbets. Here are two folks from different generations who have chosen the exact same palate.



Footwear is light hearted and fun this summer with the simple canvas sneaker being the most popular choice for urban prowling. You can go with watermelon, Pink Floyd or just popped-up pink.







The look of the moment for young guys is definitely the black vest (extricated from a thrift shop suit?) over the white tee shirt topped with dark Wayfarers. Muy caliente, but don't try it if you are over 40. Seriously.



In some cases, an "A" might be given for effort

.

But what style could be sexier than that of two Mormon boys crossing a New York City street? Don't you just want to lick their...nameplates?

Dazzling the Troops

In the South Florida Blade this week, I look at the proposed March on Washington. Some will disagree vehemently with me.

A group show on W20th

I went to an opening at Jonathan Levine. A light-hearted group exhibit of what I assume to be mostly extremely young artists. Their imagery is largely rooted in comics or typical of the elaborate mental fantasy doodling that they will eventually shed like molting skin as they age.



There were a number of paintings that featured cutesy/uneasy human/animal combos. Yawn.




There were a number of paintings that are based on photorealism. Pretty, but…yawn.




Three noteworthies:

Nicola Verlato combines the two themes that preoccupy the young artists: critters and comics in a masterful painting that has good light and motion, or maybe I’m just a sucker for a Sam Browne belt over rippling muscles.



Anthony Lister seemed to channel Francis Bacon.



Cleon Peterson is responsible for my favorite in this show because his three pics made me laugh. This is what the Vivian Girls would look like if they had been allowed to grow up. (The artist is in California so I could not ask him if he was indeed doing Darger but I can’t imagine that he’d deny it.)



When you see paintings by young artists, you can almost feel their hormones mixed into the paint. So much desire to say something and yet so little to say. This, incidentally, is why I hate Mozart. (Oh, go right ahead, and rage, you Mozart lovers. I’ve tried to like him. His music is heartless wallpaper.)

Tomorrow on Bilerico: "He's in love with a GRAMP! (Gay, Rich, Alone, Middle-aged, Positive)"

You'll have to go to Bilerico tomorrow after 10:30AM to see my response to the following:

Dear FT,

How can I convince an older man that he should take a chance on me?

Him: 56. HIV positive. Hot. Healthy as can be expected. Rich.
Me: 24. Cute. Negative. Hard working.

He says things to me like "Run the other way. You have your whole life ahead of you. Find someone who you can build a life with." He is the man I love. The one I always knew I would meet. I know he feels strongly for me but won't let himself go with it. He tells his friends and they tell me that he thinks he loves me but would not wish himself on me or anyone else like me. He won't have sex with anyone who is negative. I'm not winning this battle. My friends tell me to give up on him but I can't. How do I win him over?

Stubborn.

Update: It's up. Get on it.

Just because

A fraction of the stuff we see and do in New York makes it into this little boutique blog. Sometimes I sift through forgotten files and find snippets that I had forgotten. Like this. In some art gallery.

Central Park in the Rain

On Sunday afternoon, when C suggested that we go out into the Park during the downpour without umbrellas, I could think of no reason why not, except the usual adult ones.
Here are some pics he took with the cam wrapped in a plastic baggie.





Here is my husband, the beautiful child, running through a flooded soccer field.

La Donna è Mobilephone ?

In front of Lincoln Center.

Where the operatic performances are not confined to indoor stages.

Don't miss the little sigh of satisfaction this diva makes at the end of her aria.

1959 fins

This is the style that is hardwired in my brain.

It will never change.

The way the world should look.

Name that plant

I bought it at a supermarket. It blooms once a year but not at all if it is moved. It is very sensitive to changes in the length of daylight which trigger blooming. I thought it was a type of Christmas cactus but it actually isn't. It's Mexican and I think its name begins with a "t" but I've forgotten it. I have it labeled tithonia because that is the name that comes to mind when I try to think of the real name.
Help.

Today on Bilerico: Diction Addiction

A brief rant on connectivity.

Two Fascinators

I would ordinarily report on the contents of our meeting, but Couch Stalker and Vintage 'a Go Go have both agreed to join the team of the percolating Bilerico-NYC and I will let their stories and introductions unfold therein. Having never previously seen each other, we fell into instant rapport at Therapy yesterday evening and two hours felt like five minutes.

There are other luminaries who have signed on to Bilerico-NYC and still others to be revealed in future hints, and still others to be contacted. About two dozen voices with powerful portfolio. I'll be occasionally lifting their veils for some advance glimpsing before the launch, the date of which is in the hands of the site owners in Indiana.

Glass Blowing in Red Hook

On Sunday, I took receipt of an extraordinary birthday gift. C had arranged a session at Pier Glass in Red Hook. With our friends Peter and Bob, we took the water taxi from pier 11 in Manhattan on a shimmery summer day. (It’s free and brings you to the IKEA store a short walk from our destination.)

Kevin, who is one of the owners and glass making experts at the studio, would be my instructor. He had previously warned me to wear no synthetics (The high heat of the place might melt a polyester shirt!) and no sandals (The idea of dropping molten glass on your foot needs no explanation.), and to bring a bottle of water.

He carefully walked me through the process while he made a drinking glass. At one point, I distracted him by asking him the derivation of two glass-making words: marber and sofietta. While trying to answer me, he lost concentration and broke the piece and I resolved to be quiet and to research the words after I got home.

The most fantastic part of the experience involved extending the metal rod into a vat of molten glass, collecting it as one would scoop a dollop of honey from a jar with one of those corrugated wooden dippers. I kept forgetting to keep the rod turning to keep the glowing glob of glass from slumping but I always managed to save it from disaster.

C and Peter documented the entire event meticulously. Here are some of the pics and vids.

I learned that in glass blowing, the expertise lies in knowing how the glass will react to heat and motion. It is an extremely sensitive process. Not particularly forgiving. It made me want to sell off all the glass I’ve ever collected and replace it with my own stuff. While returning on the watertaxi, I was deeply saddened by the overwhelming brevity of a life in which one manages to get one’s laundry done because one must, but one does not have time to make all the glass one imagines while looking at sunlight flattered by the ocean.

Here is the vase I made. In it is a flower I also made allowing me to use other tools for crimping and stretching glass.

Madame X

And because Kitchenbeard is too polite to hijack a blog (although I have given him license because of where he would take it), here is what yesterday's snippet about Sargent recalled. The arm/hand arrangement/weight are exactly right. Was her name Gautreau? No time to google. It's a sparkling Manhattan morning and my husband is hustling me out the door.

Un-Branding

This is a brilliant business decision. Say you've got all this coffee to sell. Say your staff is trapped in an annoying process that makes your customers dissatisfied. Say your coffee is overpriced and your business is overextended. Why wait for your competition to eat your lunch? You just pour your coffee into new cups and become your own competition. Because the fact is that your coffee is basically good; its your whole delivery system that got out of whack.

An Affection of the Throat

In The New York Times, April 25, 1901.

What You Won't See in the South Florida Blade This Week

The editor liked most of it, but felt that the proposal for a public sex park was "nutty".

Men who wish to have sex with men anonymously, casually or with NSA (no strings attached) constitute an underserved market and a prickly social problem. These men are single, partnered, married, polyamorous, on vacation, from out-of-town, on the down low, young, old, good citizens, criminals and every other descriptive imaginable. Above all, they are horny, and this sometimes drives them to have sex in public places such as parks, highway rest areas, moonlit beaches, restrooms, adult video arcades and to jeopardize their safety via online hook-ups.

By not providing a safe and reasonable public outlet for casual, anonymous and NSA gay sex, we make guilty those men who, while answering a natural, perpetual and eternal urge, risk losing their reputations and sometimes their lives.

The righteous among us say that this type of sex is bad and should not be facilitated. They also say it should be persecuted and punished when it happens in a public place. My response to them is summarized in the following rather long sentence.

Because all the police crack-downs and sting operations, and all the media exposures and outings and public humiliations and career/marriage wrecking persecutions, and reinforced concrete/metal stall dividers in public restrooms, and surveillance cameras, and mean-spirited church ladies writing down license plate numbers and murderous thieving hook-ups and hysterical legislative prohibitions and the overarching spread of untraceable social disease have not been able to make even the slightest dent in this type of behavior, perhaps you will join me in concluding that it is time for us to accept the premise of this type of sexual need and to furnish safe circumstances that will facilitate it in a socially acceptable and healthier way.

Here is what I envision. There ought to be municipally owned and operated (or licensed) “male sex parks”. They ought to be located in commercial areas that have nearby discreet parking options. These parks ought to be roughly one quarter of an acre in size and securely walled with one metal-detecting entrance/exit where admission is paid and personal possessions and/or clothing are checked. There should be some shelter from rain, some benches and some trees and sturdy landscaping. There should be toilets without walls because in this type of venue, there is no reason for privacy and also because building separate stalls would only encourage drug use and unsafe sex. There should be dispensers stocked with condoms, lube and hand sanitizer.

These facilities should be staffed by municipal employees who monitor the behavior of the attendees. They would be highly trained safer-sex rangers who would be skilled in the management of male sexual interaction. They would expel those who cause trouble or attempt unsafe sex.

If, at this point in my description of such a venue, you find yourself dismissive, I think you need to examine more fully the unsuccessful current alternatives and your real motives for supporting them. Consider the inordinate amounts of public resources spent chasing this type of behavior and processing offenders. I would suggest that most of the offenders are no less noble as citizens than were our ancestors who drank illegally during Prohibition. What sort of wrong-headed panic is really at the root of persecuting and stigmatizing men who want this kind of sex? Why would you be against funding or licensing service providers who would move sex off the beach, out of public parks and rest areas and out of the hands of internet thieves and murderers? Why would you be against a solution that would help stop the spread of HIV by establishing a controlled and sensible environment for male sexual behavior that is part of our nature?

I have estimated the public revenue that such a venue would generate in Broward County alone. While my calculations are somewhat unscientific and based on “drive-by” data involving public sex seekers, numbers of “on line now” local guys, men cruising bars and going to bath houses and sex clubs, I can very conservatively suggest an annual revenue of over $1,000,000 per facility given a per visit charge of $10. And that would be net of my $250,000 annual estimated cost of operation. This does not even take into account the amount of resources we would save in police time, and the amount of money saved in health care costs due to irresponsible sex. And, think of the increased tourism revenue.

We should be embarrassed by the fact that what I propose has little chance of becoming reality in our lifetime, and we should examine our own motives for supporting current anti-sex laws that are rooted in moralistic nonsense rather than the public good.

It has been one year with no resultant hysteria since the police themselves in Amsterdam suggested the decriminalization of cruising and sex in certain public parks provided the sex took place at night and away from established paths, and with a warning against sexual litter. While their proposal is laudable, mine does more to foster safer sex. If there is any purpose to the public sector, it is to direct us against our antisocial individual inclinations by monitoring and facilitating interactions. Those should include sex. Our sidewalks are well maintained for the safety of pedestrians. We ought to be equally fastidious and proactive about inevitable sexual congress.

Today on Bilerico: "Figleafing"

You'll have to go to Bilerico after 10:30AM to se my response to the following:

Dear Father T,
My partner runs around the house taking all our “gay” artwork off the walls when his parents, brothers or sisters (all of whom are over 30) come to visit and he does the same when my relatives come over. He also rips the “gay” books off our bookshelves and hides them. They all know we are gay and they know they are entering a “gay” house. I am against this and we have had some arguments about it. What do you say?
Proud Mapplethorpe Owner

Today's Revelation

Down here, the midmorning sun is regularly brilliant on the ocean that each day brings a different message.

John Davidson

When I was in high school, I bought one of his albums just because I thought he was the most beautiful man alive. When he started doing TV, I began to think he might be one of the gayest men alive. Now, the whole John-Davidson-shtick-life-thing-era is just creepy. But in his day.

Poised

and ready for a fabulous life.

But as Professor Marvel said of Dorothy "Poor little kid. I hope she gets home all right."

My New Best Friend

In which I receive a message from a total stranger on Facebook:



And yes, I have confirmed (Mr.? Ms.?) Dani Caleb as a friend. Because the world is an insane place. Let the walls of the asylum ring with laughter.

The Contagious Fear of Gay Aging

My latest in the South Florida Blade

Today's Revelation

Down here, the midmorning sun is regularly brilliant on the ocean that each day brings a different message.

Tomorrow on Bilerico: "Where To Find Sex and Love"

You'll have to go to Bilerico tomorrow after 10:30AM for my response to the following:

Hey there,

I’m a teacher is Madison Wisconsin who is ready for a change. I’ve been vacationing for many years in Fort Lauderdale ever since my partner died. I think that is where I want to be and I have an opportunity to do this. I am hesitating because I think I know only what an outsider knows about the city and this move could be a big mistake. Is it true the men are interested only in sex, booze and drugs and can‘t handle relationships? Would I be moving into a city of burn-outs? I’m OK with being single but love would be nice. I can be alone here in Wisconsin, so I don’t need to move to Florida for that. Got any advice for me?

Wisconsinner

Update: It's up. Get on it.

What C saw on Governors Island

Some mysterious doors. Others that we wish could talk.

Who?

I always feel a bit old whenever someone I've never heard of makes headlines by coming out of the closet.

Pontifical Coat of Arms racially insulting?

The Obamas recently visited the Pope. I wonder if they took a close look at his coat of arms. If so, did they find the depiction of a Moor insulting in that Al Jolson way? It is not even clearly known why the Moor is part of the Catholic imagery of Munich, but B16 saw fit to replace the traditional papal tiara with a miter on his coat of arms. Certainly he could have done something about the facial features on the Moor. I guess he was more worried about his hats.

Hot Saturday Fort Lauderdale Style

Finally, an archbishop worth reading

The archbishop of Denver writes about Catholicism and the Fourth Estate.
Only a clever bishop can manage to quote Oscar Wilde in support of denying gay equal rights. Here's how to do it:

Over the past 200 years, the power of the press in democratic societies has grown dramatically. The influence of the press led the 19th century poet and playwright Oscar Wilde to write that:

“In old days men had the rack. Now they have the press. That is an improvement certainly. But still it is very bad, and wrong, and demoralizing. Somebody -- was it [Edmund] Burke? -- called journalism the fourth estate. That was true at the time, no doubt. But at the present moment it is the only estate. It has eaten up the other three . . . We are dominated by journalism.”

Of course, Oscar Wilde was not exactly a model of piety and Spartan virtue. But he had the gift of very keen perception, and we should think about what he said. When the press portrays itself as the “tribune of the people,” ensuring the honesty of the other major institutions in our society through relentless critical scrutiny – then we need to ask the question, who scrutinizes the press? Who keeps our news media honest? Who holds them accountable for humiliating one political candidate while fawning over another? Nobody elected Brian Williams as the NBC news anchor. And readers can’t impeach the editor of The New York Times – though some people I know would find that a happy thought.

What we can do is refuse to be stupid. We can decline to be sandbagged by our news establishment into thinking that marriage for homosexual partners is inevitable or an obligation of social justice; or that Islam and Christianity lead to pretty much the same conclusions about freedom, society and the nature of the human person; or that the abortion issue is somehow “settled” when thousands of unborn children continue to be legally killed everyday.

Robert Isabell

He was brilliant.

And don't miss the last line of this, in which Ian Schrager asks the eternal question for which there is no good answer.

This week, in the South Florida Blade, I said....

Your Little Gay Life Is Over Before You Know it.

At issue is the tissue.

The real offense here is not cruising but littering.
Gentlemen of the world, pick up after yourselves. While using the condom is admirable, no one ought to find to find it and your used kleenex by the garden gate.

"Just going from here to there" she said.

This is a very moving New York Times account of how an expiring order of nuns manages death. I have often wondered, when I go out in the sea of silver hair in Fort Lauderdale and Wilton Manors, how we gay men manage death as a community. We are not bound by the vows and financial surrendering made by the nuns, but we are bound by our histories and our camaraderie. Do we surround and support each other well at the time of death or is it business as usual with too much medication and anxiety and too little attention? If ever there was a place that could benefit from the example of these nuns, it's this town.

Tomorrow on Bilerico: "A Wild Night, Secret Photos and the Real Problem"

You'll have to head over to Bilerico tomorrow at 10:30Am for my answer to the following:

Dear Father Tony,

Here’s my story. I was on a business trip a year ago. The day is done and I go down to the hotel bar for a drink before going to bed. Alone. I am in a LTR of five years and we don’t sleep around. I want to emphasize that I am not in gay neighborhood and not at a gay bar and not cruising. I am having a couple by myself and looking at the TV news. This guy sits next to me and strikes up a conversation. He’s funny and interesting and good looking and also on business (not related to mine). A few drinks later, I am not thinking straight and I end up in his room really drunk. I think he put something in my drink because I can take a lot of alcohol and still find my way home without a problem but that night was different. I did wake up in my own room alone the next morning, but I know we fucked. That was one year ago. I never got the guy’s name or number and I never told my partner. An isolated incident. Three months ago I had a dream about that night.. I lived the whole night again in the dream and that included something I had forgotten. He took nude pictures of me and of us together. In my dream I saw this as clear as if I was right in the moment. So now I think that there are some really bad nude photos of me out there somewhere. I never told my partner about that night but maybe I should because it would be worse if those pictures should ever get to him in the future. Should I tell or not tell? That’s my problem.

I’m In A Pickle

It's up. Get on it.

Perplexing

I don't know what to make of this.

Charity for Sale by Pope Benedict XVI

In its coverage of B16's fresh encyclical entitled "Charity in Truth", the New York Times highlights this bit of it:

Profit is useful if it serves as a means toward an end. Once profit becomes the exclusive goal, if it is produced by improper means and without the common good as its ultimate end, it risks destroying wealth and creating poverty.

Nice. The pope denounces greed. OK, I'd like to read more of this, even though I think he ought to tend to his own disheveled backyard before he criticizes capitalism. I'd like to see how he juggles the fact of property and wealth in his empire with his mandate to charity. How does he balance his own astronomically high level of personal material refined comfort with the hardscrabble lives of millions of his followers? B16 has written me a letter and I wish to read it.

Eager to receive his guidance about money and profit-making, and filled with a fervent desire to read all 144 pages of the encyclical letter in English and also in Latin as Caritas in Veritate, I was happy to find that the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops would send it to me as soon as it is available on July 17th.

Unfortunately, in order to receive B16's letter, I would first have to Add to Cart and set up an account. At Checkout, I was apprised of the shipping and handling costs for the Pope's letter: $6.00 for domestic ground, $15.00 for UPS or FedEx 2 Day, or $25.00 for UPS Nextday or FedEx Overnite.

And, yes, the letter itself is not free. The American bishops are selling it to you in paperback for $6.95.

("And that's not all, act now and you'll get not just Charity in Truth, but we'll throw in....")

I guess the American bishops have not actually read the letter, or, maybe they have read it and are doing what European Catholics have done for centuries, rendering an old pope harmless by ignoring his prattling.

In any case, do you recall that B16, in the wake of his disastrous pardoning of that monster-bishop who denied the Holocaust, vowed to use the internet in his future communications? I guess he wasn't serious about that because these days, if you write a letter and really want folks to read it, you use the internet. Duh. And yes, I'm not buying it because soon enough I'll be able to find the entire text somewhere on the net.* It is just very disappointing that B16 did not publish it that way himself.

I guess it's business as usual in the Roman Catholic Church.

I don't think this is the kind of enterprise Jesus had in mind when he distributed the few loaves and fishes he and his disciples had among them, and managed somehow to feed for free the huge multitude that had gathered on a hillside to listen to his words. Now that was charity in truth.

And hey, you American bishops, whose head is on that coin? Take a look at section 6 of the introduction: Charity goes beyond justice, because to love is to give, to offer what is “mine” to the other; but it never lacks justice, which prompts us to give the other what is “his”, what is due to him by reason of his being or his acting. I cannot “give” what is mine to the other, without first giving him what pertains to him in justice.

* Yup. Rocco's got the whole of it up already at Whispers in the Loggia. Interestingly, it seems to be an ode to the memory of Paul VI, the last of the great queer popes.

Today's Revelation

Down here, the midmorning sun is regularly brilliant on the ocean that each day brings a different message.

"Gotta Keep Moving On"

With a motto like that, they should have known what to expect.

The Next Pope?

Watch this guy.

He is the right age. He has the right experience and he has something the other American Timothy does not have. Strong Latin American credentials.

We had adjacent rooms in Rome. I never once heard a sound come through the wall that separated us. I think he'd make a fine pope and that he would surprise many people.

Today's Revelation

Down here, the midmorning sun is regularly brilliant on the ocean that each day brings a different message. Today it said "There are millions of excuses for not doing something you love or need. Only one is valid. You died." Not surprisingly, it had a Jewish accent.