by Mykel Board
[I originally wrote this for Street Carnage e-zine, but I never heard from the editor after I sent it in. I expected it to be run on that shameful NY Sky Vodka, TD Bank, corporate who-knows-what “Gay Pride Day.” It didn't happen.
So, I'm putting it out there for my friends, followers and enemies. As usual, you can use this any way you'd like... without changing it (ask if you want to edit it)... and with giving me credit/blame for the writing.]
John Jay College of Criminal Justice... where they train the cops... courses like Forensic Science and Protection Management. Not a place I expected to be... ever. But here I am... in the gym, of all places. I hate sports... especially team sports... especially COLLEGE team sports. But this is perfect... perfect for Manhattan Mayhem vs Queens of Pain. Yes! Roller Derby... a track taped in orange concentric ovals just inside the edge of the gym mats. Girls... skating around... bashing each other... elbows and hips flying. My kind of sport.
PLOW!... a pile-up... block... hit... block... I don't get the rules... something about the girl with the star on her helmet. She's gotta break through the blockers, score points. An elbow to the abdomen... Yeah! Shoulder to shoulder... okay! Not as violent as I hoped... no blood. Still the crowd... the audience on the gym bleachers... a mass of lesbitude.... like at a WBA game ... more butch than Henrietta's... my kind of crowd.
On the mats, the referees wear black and white. The jersey back on the one in front of me says WILLIAM SKATESPEARE.
Another bunch of guys stands around the center of the mats. I donno... prop men maybe. They handle the towels, fan the girls between periods. They look like college students. One-- a 20-something guy with a beard-- wears a black t-shirt with white letters. STRIVE TO BE BORING, it says.
He can wear this at a Roller Derby? Surrounded by manly women? They'd just as soon run a cue stick up his ass as munch a carpet. And he STRIVES TO BE BORING??? What the...
I'm Archimedes in the bath... Newton under the apple tree... Fleming at the moldy Petri dish. EUREKA! I get it! That t-shirt explains EVERYTHING... the last 35 years... exactly what we lost... exactly what's gone in the screaming demands from every don't-call-me-tranny to every Mack-and-Mark wedding registration at Bloomingdales. It's the STRIVE TO BE BORING.
There was a time not so long ago, when people strove to be exciting. Hets copied homos. Straight men put on glitter to separate themselves from the boring masses of heterosexuality. Plato's Retreat, the notorious on-the-premises swingers' club, opened. It was the first of many hetero attempts to copy the free-wheeling WE ARE EXCITING life-style of America's homotude. I was there. I was also at HELLFIRE jerking off with a dozen other guys watching a beautiful naked blond woman, hung in a sling. She was being fisted by a man wearing a black leather vest and nothing else.
In the decade before that, the New York Dolls-- whose individual sexual preferences remain unknown-- made some of the most powerful rock'n'roll in decades-- in drag. Make-up became standard for outsider music. Trannies? Homos? Everyone wanted to be one... or at least look like it.
Holy red scare! Herpes-- then AIDS-- put the kibosh on the free sex. Sad, but understandable... at least in its reining in condomless nookie. But what else happened? The first stirrings of a change... of the quest for equality changing to the quest for sameness... and then the quest for BORING!
Instead of just putting a sock on it, people stopped screwing around. The law came down on the gay baths and their hetero imitators. Platos and Hellfire closed. The Dolls stopped dressing up. Exciting was dying.
Worse: a multitude of homos came out in VERY BORING places. The Log Cabin Club-- gay Republicans-- were among the first. From the New Republic, a formerly liberal magazine that trannied to Neo-Con in the late 80s, came the first call for gay marriage. In 1989, Andrew Sullivan wrote an essay for that magazine called “Here Comes the Groom: A (Conservative) Case for Gay Marriage.”
Its premise: homitude was wild, promiscuous, exciting. How to tame it? Allow... encourage... homos to get married. Then, they could be just like everybody else... boring. Gay marriage became legal in Denmark and other Scandinavian countries-- then England and Canada. [Interesting side note: a friend of mine was one of the first in England to get gay-married. He was also one of the first to get gay-divorced... and to pay gay alimony.]
In America, it wasn't until the rich got involved that things began to roll... money talked. Bill Clinton, ironically much beloved by America's same-sexers, had signed the DEFENSE OF MARRIAGE ACT. That law prohibited states and the federal government from recognizing same-sex marriage.
FLASH TO WESTCHESTER: A pair of rich lesbians in a mansion. They'd married in Canada. One of them kicks the bucket. The court orders her mate to pay more than $300,000 in estate taxes. That ain't clamjuice!
The mate fights it all the way to the Supreme Court. DOMA is UNCONSTITUTIONAL! says the court. Why? It violates equality. That $300,000 doesn't have to be paid!
What the court DOESN'T say is that marriage ITSELF violates equality. Married people don't have to pay estate tax. Unmarried do. Is that equality? There are over a thousand LEGAL rights that married people have, and singles don't have. Is that equality?
The right questions: What business does the government have in marriage? Why do relationships require licenses in the first place? How can the government sanction a religious service? Why should I be forced to WORK to make a relationship, or else suffer the consequences of divorce? Instead of asking these, the former (drag) kings and queens of freedom... of open lifestyles... of sex and make-up and genderfuck... ask to be boring!
Marriage is not only a conservative economic union, it's a BORING one. Screwing outside is A VIOLATION, and reason for divorce. Marriage takes your sexuality and MAKES IT BORING. You always hear married couples working on their relationships. You ever hear of blowjob-in-the-toilet stallers working on their relationships?
Work is boring. Play is not. The right to be outrageous... to be exciting... to be playful... beats the right to be boring any day. Don't worry, Gay Priders, you've been striving to be boring for more than a decade now. You're coming closer to your goal every day.
Me? I will not strive to be boring. There's no pride in that.