bEnTguY

September 6, 2008

Hmmmm. One more before I give Governor Sarah a rest…..

Filed under: bent! — bentguy @ 7:51 pm

2008, bitches!

How does Arianna Huffington really feel?

Filed under: Sweet Sweet Sarah!, bent!, politics — bentguy @ 6:37 pm

She writes:

“The GOP is intent on keeping George Bush — and his disastrous legacy — as far away from John McCain and the convention as possible. If they could have had him beam in his speech via satellite from Mars rather than Washington, they would have.”

September 4, 2008

What’s the difference between a pit bull and a hockey mom?

Filed under: Sweet Sweet Sarah!, bent!, images!, politics — bentguy @ 5:09 pm

No diff. They’re both equally qualified to run the country.

The MILK Trailer!

Filed under: bent!, politics, pop culture! — bentguy @ 4:29 pm

I saw a test screening for MILK a few weeks back. I remember when he was killed. I was 13 years old, and I remember thinking that there was no place in this world for people like him….people like me.

I’d forgotten all about that feeling until I saw the movie, and thirty years later, it came rushing back. It’s all the more apparent to me now that the people who came before me did a lot to bring us to this point, and it’s up to us to make sure that we don’t backslide….that we start with the idea that we DO have equal rights, and we ARE entitled to everything that everyone else is…..but there are factions that are intent on keeping it from us.

If we don’t fight for it today, the people who come after us won’t have it tomorrow. None of us is free and equal until all of us are free and equal.

When Harvey Milk was killed, I was 2 hours away in a small rural town. I remember a shock, a little fear, and then about five years of never ever considering the idea that I could be out and open myself. In fact, I wasn’t open until I was into my 20s.

I wonder how a gay 13 year old feels now when he hears McCain say that he shouldn’t be entitled to marry the person he loves.

I wonder how a gay teen feels to hear someone say he or she isn’t qualified to raise a child. And how it feels that his country is actually thinking about electing that ass to run the country?

I guess I’ve always felt that outdated ideas die when the old people that have them die. But now in my 40s, I’m not so content to wait for these ideas to die. I may die before they do. So I’m registering voters this weekend at the DMV. Yup, you heard me. I’ll be one of those annoying guys who approaches you to ask if you’re a registered voter yet.

It’s that important. Don’t believe me? Watch the trailer above.  And check out the MOVIE ONE SHEET here at Towleroad.

July 3, 2008

the octopus doesn’t mind…..

Filed under: bent!, friends!, travel! — bentguy @ 5:48 pm

….with couchsurfer Jun.

Jun!

Kickass guy from Osaka who cooks a rockin set of Octopus Balls!

Jun!
Which tastes nothing like chicken. Jun and I talked a lot about the uneasy friendship between our countries, and the similarities in the way we approach work. I think our country has an inordinate amount of school and workplace shootings, and he believes the only reason Japan doesn’t is because it’s harder to get a gun.

That’s reassuring, no? Anyway, Jun was only one week into a one YEAR around-the-world journey….again reminding me that all it really takes is the willingness to be without a place to live, sleep, play, and work.

Which sounds tougher than I think it really is….but still scary.

Jun might be back in March! (”After I go to South America and Mexico…”) I hope he comes through again.

June 19, 2008

Little Italy…

Filed under: bent! — bentguy @ 9:12 pm

Big love.

I heart my friends.

DSCN0506

June 7, 2008

Noah’s getting older….

Filed under: bent! — bentguy @ 7:20 pm

I don’t know what I like more, watching Noah age, or the piano music he’s aging to.

Noah took a photo of himself everyday.

For
six
years.

Say YES, Morgan!

Filed under: bent!, home!, images! — bentguy @ 3:52 pm

Say YES, Morgan!

Say YES, Morgan!

Say YES, Morgan!

Spotted on the I-15 today on the way to breakfast.

Good luck, Phillip.

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