Category: General & Random

The Gay Uncle is not gloating today. But he does have one thing to say: He’s extremely pleased that when Sarah Palin’s name was mentioned during poisonous toad John McCain’t’s deservedly contrite concession speech, the crowd of grotesque Republican true believers erupted into a spontaneous boo.

One more thing: Does anyone know Bristol Palin’s home address in Wasilla? The G.U. would like to send her an autographed copy of his book. Girlfriend’s going to need some good advice, and lord knows she’s not going to get it from any Secret Service mannies anymore.

It’s election day, and the future of our country (and world) is in your hands. The Gay Uncle doesn’t care what your political preferences are, so long as you make sure you get your lazy ass to the polls, carefully consider your decision, and then VOTE FOR BARACK. Gunc means it. For the sake of your children, you better vote Obama. Unless you want them to spend their formative years looking at John McCain’s mean ugly face, and suffering through his mean ugly policies. Or if you like the idea of them living in a cardboard box, wearing a barrel, and eating shoe leather soup. Or if you actually hate polar bears. And ice. We have a chance, maybe our last good onee, to make something of this country besides a mess. Take it.

The Gay Uncle’s extended family had a banner meeting this past weekend, when his boyfriend Tal’s brother Marty went down to the Keys with his daughters to meet up with Gunc’s sister and her two girls. Marty can be something of a wild card (you might remember him from this piece, and this one) and while his children are generally delightful, putting four kids in the same room always has the potential to degenerate. So the G.U. was pleased to hear that there was no name-calling, fistfights, eye scratching, or other forms of smackdown. Not that he really expected anything like this (though maybe for the sake of this column, he hoped for a bit more conflict.) The girls discussed school, activities, and recent films in a very refined manner, the only blip being an eruption over a noise-making, squishy, duck toy, the incessant squeezing of which caused the Gay Uncle’s sister Roxy to lose her shit, and scream at Marty’s older daughter. “Enough with the duck!” (This blow-up also resulted in his niece Amber taking her mom aside for a gentle scolding, “Mama. I think you went a bit overboard with the whole duck thing.”) Gunc couldn’t figure out why this summit had such a polite temper, until Roxy revealed that its wheels had been greased by the presence of the ideal (children’s) social lubricant: immense bags of Halloween candy. Apparently, the girls all had their booty-satchels with them and spent much of their together-time laying out their collections, sorting them by shape, size, color, ingredients, and brand (and presence or absence of razor blades), and then performing sophisticated swaps and trades. Though Gunc recalls the delights of this practice with his three siblings–all of whom had staked out very different confectionary preferences– he’s not exactly sure what the exchange rate is anymore on Reese’s, Snickers, Twix, and Dots. Are Three Musketeers plummeting with the dollar? Is Toblerone rising with the Euro? And what about Swedish Fish? Anyone have any ideas?

One of the Gay Uncle’s readers recently posed an interesting series of questions regarding how folks will be dealing with the spookiest of scary holidays this year. Since her inquiries truly…piqued Gunc’s interest, he thinks her missive is worth quoting in its entirety.

Whats everyone doing for safety precautions for Halloween? My husband came across an article with some info about background checking neighbors. I thought that may be a little overboard, but it had some other good suggestions for some precautions I haven’t thought about. Last year my youngest son came down with a massive fever after Halloween. I almost thought about just taking the kids to our church’s fall festival this year instead of door-to-door to prevent that from happening again. I don’t know yet. What’s your advice? Am I over-reacting or just being a concerned mom?

Since there are so many different ideas and concerns included here, the G.U. is going to try to address them one at a time.

1) Whats everyone doing for safety precautions for Halloween? Well, Gunc and his boyfriend are planning on sitting in a friend’s new hot tub, getting wasted, and watching zombie movies on a big screen using said friend’s new DVD projector. Their “safety precautions” will include having plenty of towels and robes around in case any kids drop by. They’re hoping this will keep them from spending the weekend in jail.

2) My husband came across an article with some info about background checking neighbors. The G.U. asked a brutally intelligent mom friend who chairs a commission on childhood sexual abuse about this one, and she said that folks should definitely be aware of any sex offenders that live in their neighborhood, though she cautioned–with a commendable degree of rationality–that “convicted and released sex offenders are the tippy-tippy-top of the mountain of risk in terms of children and abuse. Nearly 90% of kids who are abused are molested by family members.” She went on, “There is no way to absolutely ensure that your child is safe. Do what you can, within reason, but remember that accepting the presence of risk is part of life.”

3) Last year my youngest son came down with a massive fever after Halloween. The Gay Uncle would like to point out that there are a number of factors that may have potentially been involved in this boy’s illness other than the endemically infectious nature of the holiday. First, Halloween comes during a season called “Fall”, the time of year when children return to the Petri Dish/Germ Pool of school, when the weather often vacillates wildly between warm and cold, and when kids frequently O.D. on sugar, all of which tend to compromise their immune systems. Gunc is willing to bet that the boy wasn’t Roofied, dosed, or a victim of bio-terrorism, but that he caught a bug from a classmate, refused to wear his coat over his Wonder Woman costume, and/or simply ate one too many pounds of candy corn. Next question.

4)I almost thought about just taking the kids to our church’s fall festival this year instead of door-to-door Given the lax standards for admission to most churches, and the number of sinners that come through them on a weekly basis, the Gay Uncle would like to posit that the basements and rec rooms of such locales likely have a higher infectious bacteria count than subway poles, kitchen sponges, or gas station toilet seats combined. (While cleanliness is next to godliness, the reverse is not necessarily true.) And the whole bobbing for apples thing that often takes place at these festivals–while ultimately resulting in a lower sugar intake than T-or-T-ing–requires immersing your child’s vulnerable oral and nasal passages in warm, germy, kiddie-face water. Plus, if you’re going to a church to avoid Stranger Danger, Gunc has one word of warning: Priests.

The Gay Uncle is in Sacramento this week, working on a consulting project for a major manufacturer of kids’ educational electronic toys. Though he usually lives his life in something of a mainstream media blackout, when traveling, he finds TV and Clear Channel more difficult to avoid: they’re playing in the rental car shuttle, the waiting area in the airport, or the taxi to and from JFK. He’s no newbie–he’s seen the kind of garbage ads that get perpetrated during a political season; he actually finds some of them kind of funny from an objective perspective. But nothing prepared him for the bilous streams of hot hate that the folks in favor of Proposition 8 (outlawing the already sanctioned gay marriage) are dumping into the California media supply. Sitting in P.J. McFunsies–the bar in his hotel lobby–last night, he was shit-blasted with at least two or three examples. Now the G.U. isn’t particularly interested in getting gay married himself–he and his boyfriend look stupid in matching white tuxedos, he finds it difficult to pick rice out of his frizzy Jewfro, and he believes that the bundle of rights that come with marriage would be better acquired through campaigns for things like universal health-care and tax reform–but still, he finds it difficult to understand just what it is about the practice that has these concerned citizens so up in arms. He’s working on an article right now about the “New Queer Media for Kids” that will cover off on some of the books, movies, and tv shows aimed at children that promote the Homosexual Agenda–many of which deal with two dudes or two chicks (or two male guinea pigs or female songbirds) getting married, so stay tuned here for some exciting and bombastic theories.

This week, the Gay Uncle’s sort-of weekly column on Yahoo’s parenting site is all about one of his favorite topics: teaching little boys to pee sitting down. The piece contains five thrilling reasons why young males should be initiated into this practice, and not one of them has anything to do with emulating the way that Sarah Palin urinates. Check it out.

http://shine.yahoo.com/channel/parenting/true-mom-confessions-answers-with-uncle-brett-5-reasons-to-let-your-son-pee-sitting-down-295030/;_ylt=AuM8IPblm.GSeWu4CqTXPdFhbqU5

The Gay Uncle was fortunate enough to be invited to an advance screening of the eagerly awaited, brand new, big screen, destined-to-be-more-popular-than-Christianity, Disney sequel High School Musical 3: Senior Year last night. Could he have said no? Sure. That is, if he hadn’t already seen both HSM1 and HSM2 multiple times; if he didn’t own the soundtrack to the first movie and listen to it with embarrassing frequency on his iPod while working out at the gym; if he didn’t have a Tiger Beat poster of Zac Efron hanging in his writing studio; and if wasn’t his JOB to be profoundly, disgustingly, market-savvily aware of the kind of candy colored, inane, and extraordinarily compelling filmic goo young people are watching these days. Of course, as with achieving anything worthwhile, he had some obstacles to overcome in attending–mainly in terms of derisive public opinion. When he told his friend Babs that he was going, she teased him that anyone over twenty-five who attended the movie without a child should have to register as a sex offender. When he told his nine year-old niece that he’d was going, she said: “Uncle Brett? I have just one thing to say to you: You are extremely gay!” But was he dissuaded? Absolutely not. He rode up to Time’s Square, pushed in front of lines of children literally doing back-flips in anticipation, and took a seat in the roped-off reviewers’ section.

So what did he think? Well, while his ears are still ringing from the deafening shrieks of the clots of spoiled seven year-olds in the audience, he has to say he had a pretty good time. The core conflicts and narrative trajectory could have been much clearer. The film was about fifteen minutes too long in the middle. He finds Ashley Tisdale’s face impossible to focus on, and her voice reminds him of someone ice skating on sheet metal. And there were a few too many ballads. But Troy’s two big numbers were great, all the Footloose inspired choreography and butchy dancing with basketballs and junkyard cars made him giddy (perhaps too giddy?), and the lunchroom scenes continued to wow. Not that those of you who are parents will have any choice, but he recommends that you go see it.

One of the Gay Uncle’s friend’s six year-old daughter recently, and quite vocally, endorsed John McCain for president. Said friend expressed dismay, then anxiety, then the rest of the seven stages of grief, before asking what one is expected to do in this situation. The G.U.’s immediate retort was that the child needs to be “liberated” from the family. (Give her a taste of the “ownership society” her candidate espouses.) But on second thought, Gunc wondered if it might be possible to have some sort of open dialogue with kids like this about the election. Of course, being who he is (and Barack being who he is) the G.U. doesn’t know a single other young person who actually supports The Evil Toad. Dear readers: do you? If you do, fill him in. What are these (very) Young Republicans’ issues? They want to see the full-on demise of public education so they don’t have to go to school ever again? They really like camo and are hoping to be a first-round draft pick? They already evolved a set of gills and are thus well-suited to live in a post-climate-change earth? They think the Great Depression only happened in the American Girl movie? Gunc sort of gets what’s the matter with Kansas, but what’s the matter with these Kids? DO TELL.

The Gay Uncle went out canvassing for Barack again this weekend. But it was no ordinary, head out into the remote reaches of rural Pennsylvania with his boyfriend, knock on strangers’ doors and say, “Hi. We’re two gay guys from the City. Can we count on your vote for our candidate?” kind of thing, like it usually is around this time of year. Not at all. This time, his close friend Danika had emailed that she wanted to go to PA with him, inspired to hit the streets (for the first time since the Dukakis campaign) by her nine year-old daughter Erica’s desire to help elect the Big O. Mother and daughter were thrilled when Gunc told them he could provide a hook-up just across the river from his country house in a deeply red blob of the Keystone State, but as the date approached, little Erica became increasingly nervous. “She’s kind of shy around strangers,” Danika wrote “and she’s worried about having to talk to them.” Gunc replied reassuringly. “She doesn’t have to say anything. Her job is just to stand there and look cute, and help soften the effect of me and Tal’s presence so it doesn’t feel as much like we’re some invading fag army.”

The tactic seemed to work out in the field. The two families divided up into various mixed-gender pairs, and after four nauseating hours of driving, parking, and walking among the tiny unmapped dirt roads of a enormous lakeside development, the Gay Uncle is proud to report that only one of the “undecided” voters on their lists was still considering John McCain’t (and this person just happened to be an Evil Racist Bitch who said “it was too close to 9/11 to be voting for a candidate who was running as an African-American” whatever that means). The rest were strong for Barack. This was deeply satisfying to all of the participants. Even Erica said she enjoyed the adventure. But when Gunc asked the girl if the day had gone as she expected, she shrugged. “Not really. When you said we’d be going door-to-door, I sort of thought we’d be, like, parking on a street, going up to every house, and ringing the bell. Like Halloween” The G.U. nodded. There had indeed been more driving than interacting. (And a complete lack of costumes or free candy.) “But I felt like I did a good job using my special ability,” the girl said. The Gay Uncle squinted as if he didn’t understand. “You know,” she smiled. “Looking cute!”

The Gay Uncle had dinner with some parent friends the other night, and this couple told him about an interesting new trend in New York pre-schools. Apparently things have gotten so competitive in this category–with school directors being plagued by constant calls, demands for visits, thousand child wait-lists, and paper-bagged cash bribes–that some popular early childhood centers have chosen to go off line completely. They don’t have websites. They keep their phone numbers unlisted. They disavow signage, advertising, or press. Some have even gone so far as to require a secret knock and password before entering. Okay, that last bit is a lie, but they do operate solely on word of mouth and a certain hush-hush in-the-know quality–like the exclusive and unadorned nightlife spots that have sprung up around Manhattan in recent years–and when moms are granted an ultra-exclusive opportunity to tour the facility, they are required to vow that they will not tell anyone of the time or date of their rendezvous, not even their closest friends. Gunc’s pal was one of the fortunate few asked to drop by one day, and was shocked to see three of her closest mommy mates in the same group, not one of whom had mentioned the appointment to any of the others. Like most practices related to contemporary parenting the G.U. is at once horrified and intrigued by this, and is attempting to come up with an appropriate (and appropriately condemnatory) name for this practice or school. Extrapolating from the name of the bars that sprung up around New York during prohibition, but adding in a little crying toddler noise for good measure, so far he’s running with Shriekeasy, but he’s open to suggestions. Drop a line below with your ideas.