Regrets only

I'm a bit late here because I don't read fundamentalist Christian websites. I found out today that on April 29th vehemently anti-gay "pastor" Scott Lively wrote us a letter entitled "My RSVP to LGBT." Us as in the gays. All of us. (In case you didn't know, that LGBT stands for Lesbian Gay Bisexual and Transgendered. So clever.) It's long-winded and chock-full of chapter-and-verse justification, but it basically says we should repent. There's a hint of the usual "love the sinner, hate the sin" thing that we always get and a bit of "I've sinned too" as well.

It kills me to link, but should you be interested enough to take a look you'll find it here.

As a good-mannered gay I've looked around to see if anyone responded, and I don't find that anyone has. So I will.

Mr. Lively,

Thank you for your recent note inviting us to repent. You obviously spent a great deal of time composing it, and I know that you have little to spare with all your work convincing East African governments that loving someone of the same sex should be a capital offense.

I can't speak for all of the gays as I haven't personally talked to everyone, but among those I have chatted with the general consensus is either that the bible is open to interpretation, or is not actually the word of god. Another salient point raised by more than one of us is that our eternal salvation is our business and definitely not yours.

That last point leads me to a question which I've always wanted to ask: If we're not going to change our ways (and clearly we're not), and you believe (which you clearly do) that we're going to spend eternity in a firey hell of unimagineable agony, wouldn't a Christian response be to support our safety and security in this lifetime? You don't have to love us. Indeed I sleep just fine knowing you believe my 13+ year relationship both displeases god and will bring about the eventual fall of civilization. Couldn't you just stand aside, perhaps read one of those Left Behind books, and just let us live our lives with the rights and dignity you enjoy? Couldn't we all just live the way that feels right for ourselves? And when the afterlife finally arrives we can play whatever hand we're dealt. Wouldn't that be fair?

Sincerely,

David (for a bunch of the gays)

Design Freak: The Christopher Barson Project - Or, why Fine Living Network is dead

I normally tend to post later in the evening as I'm kind of a nighttime guy, but I've just witnessed something so heinous it sent me running to my laptop. We changed cable companies so tonight after I changed out of my work clothes I flopped on the couch and started flipping through the TV listings to see if there was anything to watch.

Fine Living Network (soon to be Cooking Channel, and now I see why) was airing a special called Design Freak: The Christopher Barson Project.

Here's the premise: Find a smart-mouthed gay dude with a trendy haircut and a drinking problem, give him a homeowner with no unreasonable demands, a bland but perfectly serviceable room, and a small budget. Then sit back and prepare to be simultaneously horrified and underwhelmed.

Here's what the program description on the website says:

"Equipped with his non-stop snippy one-liners, Christopher takes on these projects with a droll

roll of his eyes and creates living spaces that go beyond the homeowners' wildest dreams. This

special combines the docusoap of Christopher's wild personal life and successful business with

makeover projects for homeowners who have no idea what they got themselves into."

So what did I see during my 3 minute stay? Nice young married couple, city apartment in what looked like Chicago or NYC, master bedroom reno. The room was maybe 14X16, good sized windows on one end, hall of closets at the other, painted a minty medium green. West Elm wood lattice headboard, patchwork bedspread, pair of assembly-required nightstands. Bland but neat and clean.

For the final installation (the part I caught) Christopher Barson sat on a chair, barked "COCKTAIL!" at an assistant (who produced one!), then sipped away and told some poor kid where to put the lamp and end table. He then sat a couple vases on the end table stuck in the corner, leaned a 30 inch tall (seriously, not even up to the window sills) mirror against the wall, and proclaimed it done. Art? No, none. Window coverings? Huh-uh. Candles or flowers? Oh, big Pier One bottle base on the end table got a few sprigs of something artificial. Finis!

The homeowners seemed pleased with his paint choice, a paler shade of non-descript, as well as the bedding, something gray with unironed pillow cases. Oh, and the husband liked the vases. If they enjoyed the half-ass gold leafing he did on their headboard they didn't mention it.

To conclude the segment Christopher said he felt like he made a good looking room, but had he had $15,000 he would have done something that would have ended up on the cover of Architectural Digest.

BITCH PLEASE.

I don't know what I'm more offended by, his stereotypical sassy homo schtick, his complete lack of design skills, or his blaming the lackluster space on the size of his budget. Christopher, I just took a similar size bedroom down to the studs and built it back up, including all new electrical and floor refinishing for not much over 4K. My room is better looking completely empty than yours is "fully" furnished. Style and price are almost never related, and blaming the room's shortcomings on a lack of funds is just plain unprofessional.

I feel bad for the homeowners too. They seemed really nice. Young and cute, probably not married long, they deserve a designer that can make 3500 look like ten grand, not like 500 and change.

And finally, Fine Living Network, WTF? Find the person on your staff who thought the self-described "drama magnet" was a good idea. Fire them. If you're doing a special on design, you need someone who can actually make beautiful rooms, not some sassy homo wearing an ironic sweater who thinks that a lighter paint color fixes everything. The world is full of shelter magazines and design blogs and HGTV and people of all walks who care about their living spaces. Your audience has evolved, and we know bad when we see it.

An open letter to the woman who's car I injured

What's the use of having a blog if you can't name names, right? I had a little accident on my lunch hour today. So with an enormous sense of indignation and a big gin-and-tonic sweating away next to my laptop, I'm ready to tell Joyce Omer what's on my mind:

Dear Joyce,

I still don't quite know how it happened. I haven't been at fault in an accident since I was 16 (25 years ago!), and I'm generally very good at parallel parking, but it was absolutely my fault. I was too close to your car and turned too soon, yanking the front bumper halfway off your BMW.

I completely understand why you'd be upset, I would be as well, but there are a few things you should know. That Land Rover I was driving? Got it in March, used. Prior to that I was driving a 1999 Blazer with no heat or A/C, an acceleration problem, and a door that often refused to close. So when we were assessing the damage and I mumbled "my car seems to be ok" it really wasn't meant for you. It was, I believe, my mind trying to assure me that I hadn't just fucked up the nicest thing I've ever owned. I didn't expect you to say "oh good." I didn't expect you to say anything really. And that's why when you said "I don't care about your car" I was really caught off guard.

Because of the way I was raised, the next thing I did was apologize. It's what one does when they've damaged someone else's property. Your reply was "I've been hit three times in this car, I'll accept your apology but don't expect me to be nice about it." I guess I didn't really expect you to be warm, but I didn't expect you to be so hateful either. They call them "accidents" for a reason. It's a terrible shame that your pretty little convertable has been hit so many times, but frankly I'm not responsible for the first two and I would think someone of your age (around my mother's age I'm guessing) would understand that.

After apolgizing, we went into the Barkery where I asked them to photocopy my insurance card. I took the paper and I wrote my name, my home address, and my cell phone number. I let you copy down my drivers license information so you could be sure I was being honest. You then threw your business card at me. Again, I'm not expecting you to be grateful, but I didn't have to do any of this. I could have let you do all the writing. (By the way, when I went back into the Barkery to buy the poop bags I forgot, the staff was appalled by the way you acted. If you need something dog related I suggest you try Petco for a while.)

Back outside, I hope you noticed that I stuck around while you checked with the police, again, something I wasn't required to do. When you drove around the block to "see if your car was driveable," I stayed. And when you then decided your car wasn't driveable (and your bumper wasn't dragging, even though you said it was) I stayed while you called the police back, even though I called my boyfriend (a lawyer) who assured me I was free to go.

And finally, when you said you needed my license plate number, do you remember what I did? I went to my car, took out an index card, and wrote my plate number down for you. The way you grabbed it and shoved it in your purse without looking at me was especially nice. In hindsight, given your performance what I should have done was say "then you should write it down before I drive away." But I didn't do that. I wrote it down for you, because I'm a decent man, and I damaged your car, and that's what a decent man does.

I guess that decency is what this entire letter is about. I damaged your car, and I tried to do what was decent and right. You, conversely, decided to be the biggest bitch you could possibly be. I can't think of anything you could have done to be more successful in that endeavor. Well done Madam.

I phoned my insurance company the moment I got back to my office, and they've assured me that you'll be made whole. To be honest, I told them that you were spectacularly mean and that I'd appreciate anything they could do to make the process more painful for you. The claims rep laughed, but I work in commercial insurance and know how this goes, so I'm sure everything will be handled as efficiently as possible and you'll be back on the road in record time.

One last time, let me just say how sorry I am that I crunched your car. But more than that, let me say how sorry I am that you care more for your 325 than you do for showing basic decency to another human being. I drive an expensive car too, and indeed my blog is generally dedicated to the discussion of "things." But in the end, things fail us, and beings are all we truly have. I would have hoped that at this point in your life you'd know that. In that respect I guess that today was more of a tragedy than I originally thought.

Sincerely,
David