ROBBLOG #215

I was watching American Graffiti (I & II) the other night- in High Def no less, when all of a sudden I remembered that I had met Cindy Williams a year and a half ago. In this classic film, Cindy- who would eventually be Shirley Feeny and Ron Howard- who was to be Ritchie Cunningham, played boyfriend and girlfriend. They were young. My- but they were young.
Ron even had hair!

Anyway, it was the summer of 2009. I first met Cindy on the telephone. She was performing at Drayton’s King’s Wharf Theatre in Penetanguishene and I was interviewing her for Swisssh.

She was very nice on the phone. We seemed to hit it off right away.

As I remember, my first question was about Boo Boo Kitty, the stuffed black cat that appeared in many episodes of Laverne and Shirley. I had set the question up as if I was asking about Penny Marshall. You know, saying that I had heard for years that someone on the set- not mentioning anyone’s name, was a real “bee-otch” to work with.
She wents quiet on the phone.
Then I said- “So tell me Cindy Williams. Is it true Boo Boo Kitty was a real Diva-Bitch?
She laughed and laughed.
Then she spilled the goods on that black rascal.


Cindy on Stage at King's Wharf

 Apparently Boo Boo Kitty’s first appearance wasn’t scripted. She was just shoved under Shirley’s bed with a bunch of other stuffed animals that the “girls” had won at a Carnival. I think she told me either her of Penny dropped a line- something like that. The cameras kept rolling, so Cindy ad-libbed a situation. She grabbed Boo Boo and the rest was stuffed kitty history.
She told me she still has Boo Boo Kitty. A stage hand gave it to her on the final day of the show. Since she was off the Laverne and Shirley show by that time- even though the title stayed the same, the stage hand would have had to present it to her at a later date.
I am just surmizing here.

She was excellent in the Drayton Entertainment Show which was a farcical comedy- the name escapes me now. She was terrific after the show too as we accompanied her to her vehicle out in the parking lot. She suggested we- my husband Tom and I, go to a restaurant in Midland down by the dock with her and the cast.

So we did.

We followed Cindy- a.k.a. Shirley Feeney, along St. Vincent Street into Midland.
I will never forget saying to Tom-
“...who would have thought in a million years that we would be following Shirley Feeney to a restaurant in Downtown Midland!”
Small world.

She even paid for my Bloody Caesar. I will never forget that.
What a sweetheart. We didn’t talk TV or movies- just other stuff.

Maybe Drayton will have her back. She’s friends with Artistic Director- Alex Mustakis, so the chances are good. I haven’t seen her name appear in any press materials that I have received this year from Drayton regarding their 2011 Summer lineup, so maybe not this season.

Still, it was strange watching someone in a High Def movie filmed years ago that I had met- in person, just a year or two ago.
Much better than High Def.
It was not exactly “kismet”- but something close to that.

ROBBLOG # 214 W E E K E N D Edition

I was talking to a radio buddy the other day and the topic of Christian Radio came up.

I said- “Come on- Christian Radio?- I mean really?”

“Yes. It’s out there.”- he says with a grin.

“I know it’s out there, but have you ever really thought about it?”

He paused for a second, drumming his fingers on the wooden table in front of him- “No, but it’s probably a tax free deal.”

“Isn’t everything concerning religion?”- I reply.

“Yes,”- he nods his head slowly, “I guess it is. I wonder if Jesus appreciates Christian Rock?”

“Well,”- I add, “It’s not just Rock. Its gospel, pop and even teen rap.”

“Rap? Really? Rap?”- my friends says, as if he thought it was just all- ‘what a friend we have in Jesus’ stuff.

“Heck yes, it runs from nice to nasty- well as nasty as today’s Christian Music can be.” I grin.

“So, do you think Jesus likes it all? The music I mean. Do you think he’d be in favour of today’s sound of the Christian hits?” He expected an answer.
I thought for a few seconds.

“You know, religion is a real archaic kind of thing. I mean people are worshipping and falling at the feet of some mystical being who lived- if he did at all, more than 2000 years ago. God, they ate with their fingers back then, never wore underwear and sent women away every 29 days or so until their bleeding stopped!”

“Okay. Okay!”- my friend says quickly, “That’s a little more than I asked for.

“Yes but its all part of it.”
I continue.
“Religious folks have their own beliefs and faith. Some of them make it up as they go along- even the bible. Hell you take a half-decent writer and he could make up any number of verses that sound like they could be found in the Bible- but aren’t.”

He stares up at me- “Get out!”

I think for a second.
“Okay. Truth or Consequence-

‘…and Jesus said: The hills are the Lords. The lambs and sheep and water of the streams are all his. For he is the stream of life and the power of the Lord is in the sheep and all living things and so within his Glory are the hills and all that abide within.’

So. Real or fake?”

“Oh, no.”- he says shaking his head, “I’m not going to hazard a guess. That sounds too good either way.”

“You see. It’s just words.”- I want to continue but my friend interrupts.

“I know. I know”- my friend interrupts, “But maybe the mysticality of it all is what sells Christian Radio to their listeners. Maybe if they listen daily, they think it’ll be their pathway to Heaven- or at least it’ll get them past the Rapture!”

I look at him and say- “What? The Rapture. Most churches and spiritual organizations today have given up on the Rapture. They don’t believe in that mumbo jumbo anymore!”

“You’re kidding?”- I say.

“No really!”- he adds, slapping the table this time.

I continue. “But the church’s Dogma is set up to be so, well, hateful and intolerant. It divides rather than gathers the flock together!”

“You mean stone-age stuff.”- he says.

“Yes! Definitely! It’s stone age stuff. Draconian. Middle ages. We don’t live in the stone age anymore- let alone the middle ages!” –I sounded singularly certain.

Then, he continues. “Now as for God, I think she'd prefer something light like CHFI- don't you?”

“Probably…” I can’t think of another choice that would suit her better except for all Michael Buble- all the time.

“So, religious broadcasting. Christian radio. What a deal-eh?”

“Gee, I hope Jesus doesn't get offended.”- says my friend.

“Hmmm....I wonder, does Jesus pay for Satelite Radio or does he get it for free being omnipotent.” –I suggest, “Or is it just God who's omnipotent?”
“Haven’t got a clue. Want to go for a Timmies?”- he quickly adds.

“Sure.”

ROBBLOG # 213

Words are never enough…

Two rich society “friends”- Marcia and Roweena, meet on the street. A conversation- of sorts, ensues. Roweena speaks first.

Marcia: Roweena!

Roweena: Marcia

Marcia: so

Roweena: so

Marcia: it’s…

Roweena: yes?

Marcia: really

Roweena: yes?

Marcia: really…

Roweena: yes…

Marcia:…you?

Roweena: Certainly

Marcia: Oh.

Roweena: What?

Marcia: Surgery?

Roweena: Yes.

Marcia: Ah…

Roweena: Well?

Marcia: Perfect!

Roweena: Liar.

Marcia: Skank!

Roweena: Yes!

Marcia: Ummm…

Roweena: what?

Marcia: tea?

Roweena: Delightful

Marcia: where?

Roweena: there!

Marcia: Lovely.

Server: Ladies?

Marcia: Tea..

Roweena: Two.

Server: Scones?

Roweena: No

Server: Brownies?

Roweena: Chocolate?

Server: naturally.

Roweena: Yes.

Marcia: two

Server: Certainly.

Marcia: Cute.

Roweena: Hot

Marcia: precisely.

Roweena: So?

Marcia: Oh…

Roweena: Sorry.

Marcia: Sorry?

Roweena: Yes.

Marcia: I

Roweena: just

Marcia: just?

Roweena: felt

Marcia: unloved?

Roweena: Old!

Marcia: hmmm

Roweena: Yes!

Marcia: Really?

Server: Tea!

Marcia: Thanks.

Roweena: Brownies…

Marcia: Ooooh.

Roweena: Ummm...

Server: Ma’am?

Roweena: F**k?

Server: Now?

Roweena: Yes.

Marcia: Roweena!!

Roweena: Sorry.

Marcia: but..

Roweena: Horny…

Marcia:  figures.

Roweena: stud…

Server: Ma’am?

Roweena: Come...

Server: Probably.

Roweena: Naughty!

Marcia: Roweena…

Roweena: Marcia…

Marcia: Skank.

Roweena: Yes!

The End

ROBBLOG # 212

Today, another Gayish BlogNote of sorts.

Elton John a British Citizen who is married- well not married really just in a British sense of union with Canuk David Furnish, is the father of a California baby. You’ve probably seen their happy faces plastered all over several magazines at the check-out counter this week proudly showing off their newborn to the citizens of America. I’ll bet that Palin broad is as pleased as Mr. Harper would be if that magazine was Canadian.
Did anyone else notice that David’s name is not mentioned on the covers?

It’s all Elton. All the time.

Boy, having my name omitted on the front cover- if I were Elton's spouse, of a major gossip rag or two would piss me off big time. Elton would be sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future- even though technically it wouldn’t be his fault.

Anyway, Mr. John, you see, is pissed off at Americans because of their “back-ass” thinking when it comes to Gay Marriage. He’s on the warpath and wants things made right today- not tomorrow.

A few things here of note.
Why didn’t he marry Mr. Furnish in Canada where Gay marriage- federally, has been around for 5 years?
No second class citizens here in this country-except for reform party folks still clinging to their now defunct party membership cards.

Now just why isn’t this Mr. Elton directing his anger at his British homeland where laws keep Gays as second class citizens. You see “straights” can marry in England. I mean really marry. Same Sex couples- like Elton and David or John Barrowman and his main squeeze, can only have a “union” performed.

No equality there, is there?
You have to shop in Canada for equality- maybe even Spain.

Lastly, I’d like to know how David and Elton get into the U.S? If they declare themselves a family- especially with their new baby, U.S. Immigration should refuse them entry into the country like that Toronto couple- the first Gay couple to be married here at home, who have been refused entry into the States these past 10 years because they told U.S. Immigration officials they were a family.
How dare they, eh?
I talked about this very thing in an earlier blog. Tom and I were told by Canadian officials last March in Vancouver that it was better to “lie” on our U.S. Immigration cards rather than say we were a family. We were told the Americans wouldn’t understand and it would just cause problems for us.
So we lied, like good little Canadians so we could linger under a palm tree on Waikiki Beach in Honolulu, Hawaii.

To make his point about Gay Marriage in Cali-forn- eye-eh, Mr. John picks on the Christians as well as the Yankee government who don’t see things his way. Please note, he’s a little mad. His knickers are in a knot and he may take revenge or at least try to change things in his own demonstrative British way.

Gee, these things take time don’t they?
I mean he can’t snap his fingers- or fire a gun like some Gay Mafia kingpin can he?

Or can he?

Here’ Elton’s words. They sound like song lyrics to me.
“Everyone is entitled to have their own beliefs and their own spirituality. The big difference is that the dogma of the church can be so hateful and divisive. It’s stuck in the stone age. We don’t live in the stone age anymore. The church is losing people left, right and centre because people are fed up with the rhetoric that they’re giving them.”

Like, how many times have I said that very thing about "dogma" in this very Blog. Time will only tell if he’s “big enough” and worthy enough to enforce change. Well the Brits used to own the Americans anyway.
We can’t forget that.

It’s a start- at least.

ROBBLOG # 211

Well a new twist to Gay Bashing has arrived on the scene.

In cold, unrelenting January no less- and why not?
It’s 2011.
It’s practically a new decade.

I mean, throwing eggs and shouting “Faggot” is definitely “old school”.
Tom and I put up with that disgrace a couple of years ago already. We have moved on- even though the Orillia Detachment of the Ontario Provincial Police did little to nail the culprits- as far as we know. Yet they appeared to be so helpful for the first few weeks. Then, our case was dropped like a latex condom in a bowl of fresh whipped cream.
Eeew!

We expect a file is still open at the detachment headquarters down there on Peter Street South in Orillia. The file is probably stamped on the front in big red letters:

“A Queer One!”

Now, it’s come to light that the kids of today have taken up a new hobby, a new curve shall I say, to the tried and true traditional ways of going about bashing Gays.
The old tried and true ways still stand. A little tired and worn but they have worked well in the past.
Egg throwing, as I mentioned above, can still be an immensely popular choice.
Messy and cheap. Keeps the Gays busy for hours cleaning up the mess.
Hah! What fun!

There’s the perennial favourite- shouting out “faggot” or “queer” from a moving vehicle. However, on a busy sidewalk a homophobe does have difficulty knowing if his insults reached the ears of the intended victim. There’s always the chance the “Faggy outburst” falls on a person less worthy!

Then, of course, a choice of not only friendly homophobes everywhere but that American Baptist Church as well, that shows up wherever they can- except here in Canada where they are not welcome, with their placards of hate and intolerance.

However, this new way comes straight from television where all great ideas are born- except for those born of the Harper Government.
Wait, that is so unfair.
Stephen Harper has never had a good idea.
No, the TV show “Glee” is the major culprit here- as a matter of fact.
It’s called “slushing”.
It may be a little pricier than purchasing a dozen eggs up at Wal*Mart or Foodland- where the little bastards bought the eggs for our attack- but it’s a heck of a lot of fun and totally demeaning to Gays all the same.

Here’s how it goes.
The homophobe goes to a Mac’s mik store, DQ or convenience store and buys a super, big, slurpy slushie.
Then he- or she, walks down the street, chooses a worthy homosexual victim and lets the “slush” fly in the unsuspecting victim’s face or back.
Such fun!
Best of all the homophobes got this “slushing” idea from a TV show that is watched by Gays or girls- mostly.

There is the exception to the Glee-watching rule but I just can’t understand why a straight boy would be interested in watching this all-singing, all-dancing Gay romp through high school. Unless, the boys who watch each week are all in love with Jane Lynch since she’s such an icon of authority and masculinity or at the very least Lesbianism. Choose one.

This popular Gay Bashing pastime is all the rage in Toronto’s Gay village these days. It seems the best defence against such a moronic pastime is a camera. If that fails, a grappling iron perched on the rooftop at Priappe.

So there you have it.
Something new- and refreshing, for 2011 and the year has just barely started.

A final note.
Although this Gay-bashing method may seem more refreshing in warmer months it is definitely an “icy” situation in January.

ROBBLOG # 210 W E E K E N D Edition

I’m Not Depressed- I’m just mad!

If my husband and I travel to the USA, we must not declare that
a) We are married
b) We are a family
or we will be denied entry. Therefore we must lie!
I’m Not Depressed- I’m just mad!

Hawaii- and B.C have palm trees and Orillia does not.
I’m Not Depressed- I’m just mad!

If the Provincial Conservatives tell you that they’ll cut even a percentage or two of the HST- if the get elected come October, millions towards education and health care will be lost. They will not be telling us this truth, mind you.
I’m Not Depressed- I’m just mad!

You can choose your friends, not your damn family.
I’m Not Depressed- I’m just mad!

Always look on the bright side of life.
I’m Not Depressed- I’m just mad!

Now that we’ve all torn out our coloured bathroom fixtures and installed white or bone, designers are about to tell us that colours in bathroom fixtures will be the next big thing in baths. Should have saved the pink toilet, eh?
I’m Not Depressed- I’m just mad!

I spent five months working on a show that brought a disappointing return. Will I ever produce another show? We are just a small local company. The city gives outsiders 42,000 dollars. We can’t get 42 dollars. I asked.
I’m Not Depressed- I’m just mad!

Last year, it had stopped snowing by now and temperatures moderated. This year the cold and snowflurries just don’t know when to stop.
I’m Not Depressed- I’m just mad!

Why do your hands look older before the rest of your body does? Why does the hair in your ears and nose grow faster and thicker than the hair on your head?
I’m Not Depressed- I’m just mad!

We are renovating a bathroom, hallway and walk-in closet. There’s no extra cash this year to get away to somewhere warm- like Hawaii.
I’m Not Depressed- I’m just mad!

If you'r a lad and you begin feeling sickly after you have an...ummm... orgasm,
Doctors say you might be allergic to your own...um....stuff.
I'm Not Depressed- I'm just flabbergasted!

Apparently, the first day of spring is-
8 weeks away.
I'm Not Depressed- I'm just Mad!

Life’s a piece of shit,
When you look at it…

I’m Not Depressed- I’m just mad!

ROBBLOG # 209

Well, it’s a strange week.

It’s been surreal.
My Mum moves into a retirement home this week. Almost 51 years in the same house. An era is over.
Is it upsetting? To her, I am sure it is. She’s only shared a bit with me so far.
To me?
Definitely.
Although my siblings have no idea what this whole process has done to me.
If they read this blog, they will but I haven’t shared my feelings with either of them and it’s not likely I will. We’re just not that close. We just put up with each other.
Sad, really- isn’t it?
But families are families. You can’t pick them ahead of time. You must stick with what you have.

When I got a call a week ago telling me that the idea of moving Mum out of her home, is a reality, I thought there would be some time to pause and reflect. A week later I get another call.
“She’s moving in Friday!”- says my Sister, a satisfied tone in her voice.

I haven’t been invited to see the facility. Not really. I haven’t seen her room- her new home- or even offer an opinion about it. My family is like that. The driving force in moving my mother has been my brother and sister. Oh, a Doctor or two is in the mix too. They do this together. All of them. All in the best interest of the individual- my Mum.
I am told after the fact. It’s just safer that way, I guess.

When talking to my Mum last week I said it’s like a production line.
You live your life. A spouse passes. You live you life some more.
You move to a retirement home where life is supposed to get better.
People are around. Nurses or facilitators keep you busy. You are supposed to relax and enjoy this final phase of life. Next, along comes the nursing home- if you live that long, where you turn into a vegetable garden and professionals are paid to “tend” you.
Then, it’s a box and game over.
The great thereafter.

I feel that my sister is somewhat satisfied that the old gal is finally being put out to pasture.
Freedom for her, at least.
Thank God, she’ll be mighty free at least- at least to go to Florida and not have to think about driving my Mother around town or making sure her pills and medication are all in order.
My Sister is a martyr where that’s concerned- my brother too, although, I haven’t heard a word from him. To be fair- I don’t call him or keep in touch.
Our paths last crossed at a funeral on December 27. If you were to ask me, I don’t even know how he feels but I would expect he believes this move to be in Mum’s best interest.
I do too.
I just question the swiftness and finality in the whole decision-making leading to the move.

So what have I done for my Mum?
I have been a designated driver too- many times.
It’s just of late, I’m not included. My Brother and Sister know what I think and they don’t want to hear it. So, they stay away. Keep me at more than an arm’s length.
Without any opposition or opinion from me- it’s a done deal.
She’s moving in.
No help from me.
I am a bad son.
At least, I feel that way. The funny thing is- I don’t seem to really care.
Isn’t that awful?

It’s always been a chore for my family having me around.
Being Gay has been a partial instigator in all this. They might deny that- but it has.
I remember when announcing to my Mum that Tom and I were to be married in a real ceremony, she questioned why it was necessary to celebrate on such a large scale- with so many guests.
Yes, there is acceptance.
I know that.
I mean I have been with the same man for almost 26 years- married officially with the government’s blessing these past five. However, things haven’t been the same since our wedding. That started something.
Something big.

I didn’t talk to my Mother for three months prior to the ceremony. It only came together when I made a call to her a week or so before. My brother never even came. We have never talked about it. To the best of my memory, it’s never come up in conversation. That’s okay- really, I’m past that now. To be fair, even Tom’s sister and father who live in Toronto were absent.

Look, I know I can be a snob.
I like better things.
I have travelled. I’ve seen what’s out there in the world. Meeting people and going places somehow gives one a different outlook. I have opinions. That’s where the line is drawn. I am cut from a different piece of cloth than the rest of my family.
It’s just easier somehow to be the “absent” son.
The “indifferent” son.
It’s not that I don’t care- I do.
I guess- in this instance, I just haven’t been allowed or given the time to care.

Now, the argument might be- well you didn’t come around. You didn’t do this. You didn’t do that. You left it all to the rest of us...blah, blah, blah.
It is what it is. I can’t change it. I am tired of trying.
I expressed that fact to my Mother yesterday.
Whether of not she understood what I was saying is another matter.
I asked her if she thought she was “losing her marbles”.
She didn’t think so, although she has been told so- I gather.

I am not a young “gaffer” anymore myself.
I am on the cusp of 60.
Cripes. 60!
I am growing crotchety. I am thinking of what’s ahead for me- another 20 good years?
Maybe more.
Could be less.
Yes, the bear has gone over the mountain and he’s sliding down the far side.
The darker side.
The life-altering side.

So the move is on. Am I there for support?
In spirit.
It will happen without me.
I am sure that I won’t hear much about it. It’s best if I stay away. I’ll just upset the apple cart anyway.
I feel sorry for my Mum but it’s out of my hands.
For the Doctors. For my siblings. It’s their war and they’ve won.

I just want to say one thing more. Okay, a few things.

I’ll see her new place when the dust settles.
When the time comes, I will be there. I will still go to my Mum when- if, she calls me. I’ll take her to lunch. I’ll drive her to Costco. She’ll come into our home and enjoy a Sunday dinner. Maybe she’ll excel in her new surroundings- her room with a bath.
Maybe she’ll give up.
Maybe she just wants to go.
Maybe she’s tired of the whole thing.
I know I would be.
So the indifferent son- the bad seed, sits idly by.
Hey, that’s something I am good at.
After all- it’s always been about me- right?

Someone should slap me up the back of my head.