The State Legislature is in sexi...er, session

Our illustrious leaders are gathered under the gold dome to serve the citizens of Georgia. Let the circus begin! Many times these legislators have been so bunged up over a stupid or obscure issue, they can't wait to get to Atlanta and shoot their mouths off. This session it's going to be hard to top Rep. Calvin Hill (R-Canton.)

On February 2nd, this story appeared in the AJC---Rep. Hill had somehow gotten his hands on a Georgia State University guide, which listed professors as experts in such areas as oral sex (gasp!) and male prostitution (double gasp!) He was outraged tax dollars pay for college courses in these topics, and issued a fatwa to rally the faithful. Being informed Georgia State offers no such courses didn't assuage his righteous indignation. No reason to let facts get in the way, right?

A few days later, a follow up story showed Camp Bizarro gaining followers. Enthusiastically joining the witch hunt were Rep. Charlice Byrd (R-Woodstock) and Georgia Christian Coalition President Jim Beck, who called for legislative hearings on the ungodly mix of heathen eggheads, taxes, and wee-wees. This all might be funny--until you realize Rep. Hill is Vice Chair of the House Appropriations Committee. Georgia State faculty offered numerous rejoinders to the accusations, without much result since obsessive-compulsive combing of all college courses in the entire State revealed some with "queer"(triple gasp!) in the title. I will never understand how these offended people can endure hours, days, and weeks searching for something that will offend them. I'd rather spend time looking for things I enjoy, and don't send me into a maddened frenzy. Maybe it's just me.

Finally someone at Georgia State stopped laughing long enough to send two of the listed experts to testify before the House. The "male prostitution expert," Professor Kirk Elifson, said his research is aimed at cutting the rate of sexually transmitted diseases. Georgia has a high rate of STD's so this seems sensible. However Mr. Elifson understood he was dealing with politicians, making sense wins no points in the legislature. So he stated he had become an expert while serving in the Army in Viet Nam. Checkmate move, Professor! I've found playing the Veteran's card on rabid family-values flag-waving Republicans shuts them up. (Temporarily anyway.) Despite their hawkishness few have actually been in uniform, or even watched Saving Private Ryan. Those who have served go into immediate feedback loop/meltdown, where they try to process how another Vet could be such a commie pinko longhair. And poor Rep. Hill must have been really bummed when the "oral sex expert" implied her work could be useful to prevent teens from having oral sex. How the hell can a God-fearing uptight Republican oppose less sex? Game over, man.

Having lost the high ground, Rep. Hill backtracked. He declined to ask the GSU expert heathens any questions, and later blamed the media for "blowing the subject [giggle!] out of proportion." Continuing his unintentional Freudian leakage, he told the AJC “It’s been taken sideways by people who like the titillating words.” This man is a walking, talking invitation for me to create another drinking game. And again, maybe it's just me, but I like to keep my titillating words in places for uh, titillation. Like the bedroom. Oh, maybe the kitchen table occasionally, perhaps airport restrooms if I'm really drunk and lucky. But a subcommittee of the Georgia State Legislature? Dear God, if you're using titillating words there, you are an irredeemable pervert.

Rep. Byrd, on the other hand, hasn't given up the good fight against blowjo---uh, ungodly smut. Her website currently has a vaguely ominous fatwa (warning: EXTREMELY annoying video.) It's a merger of paranoia and bad English, such as "...there is a professor at UGA that has confirmed and verified courses in 'Queer Theory' among other things are being [sic] taught. " If this woman wasn't immersed in Theory of Porno 2101 during her college years, what was she doing? Her alma mater (SE Louisiana) may be morally superior to UGA, but at least University of Sodom and Georgia students learn English when they aren't sexing it up in the classroom. BTW, Rep. Byrd shares her colleague's unfortunate Freudian leakage. Even as a longtime resident of Decatur, I've seen few hairstyles screaming "dyke" as loudly as the one in her video. I bet she lives for fish taco night at La Parrilla, and has no idea why.

Snow Mountain

I have my ticket. 44 inches of snow at the base of Stone Mountain should be a real experience.

A poignant little story on what those snow machines were doing Christmas eve...

Congratulations, it's a....backbone!

Zoo Atlanta's panda, Lun Lun, is pregnant! Here's her ultrasound, the alien like thing in middle is a spine. And this is very soon (in panda terms) after having Mei Lan....I'm so proud of our little panda hussy!

Santa Clara's drumline does NOT rule

In the world of DCI, the Phantom Regiment does. Literally. They brought their own slaves to the semifinal competition last Thursday, and had them carry the drum major onto the field--when they weren't otherwise abusing them.

All assertions from Cheryl about the superiority of Santa Clara's drumline aside, they placed sixth, along with their overall corps. The DCI theater telecast was great, both in coverage (really good camerawork and sound) and in comfort (A/C, cushy seats.) I had forgotten how entertaining these productions are, with bunches of people who can run--not march, run--around making formations while playing the Waldenstein Sonata in C Major, Movement 1.

Like the Phantom Regiment, who did "Spartacus," most corps' shows had a central theme. My biking nut friend Jamie really enjoyed "Tour de France," with the color guard in full biking attire. Good thing it included helmets, they threw bike wheels at each other.

Other interesting themes--a boxing match, and "The Pursuit of Happiness," (yeah, whatever, people.) One of my favorites was the Cavaliers Samurai theme. They whipped Santa Clara too, check out the Cavalier's Kodo drums in the youtube clip. Hard to compete with that. Poor Santa Clara. Outgunned in the percussion department.

Another good reason to live in Decatur

It's that time of year again, the Decatur Book Festival will be running through the Labor Day weekend. They've managed to attract some very cool authors, like Charles Frazier (Cold Mountain) and Kinky Friedman (who is more famous for being Kinky Friedman than for writing, really. But he should be a hell of a keynote speaker.) Check it out! There's quite a range of activities beyond discussions/signings with the 200 invited authors, like cooking demonstrations and live music.

Book Fairs aren't all that common, but Decatur is quite the literary stronghold. There's kind of a intelligentsia feedback loop at work. Taxes are so high that you can only afford to live there if you have an advanced degree. The high taxes support a school system that parents are rabidly tied into, so the kids learn to read well. They grow up and pay high taxes and read books. It all makes sense, yes? I remember going to the downtown Decatur library when I was a kid, it was pretty big for the relative size of the city. They've expanded the building now and it hosts tons of authors, book discussion groups, and even musical artists.

All the local bibliophiles also support offbeat independent bookstores. Wordsmiths just opened in the old Post office building. It carries some of the books you'll find at the big chains, but the space is much cooler than the local Borders. My favorite ice cream shop, Jake's, shares a space with Little Shop of Stories, a bookstore aimed at kids. Normally this would drive me nuts, but Decatur children are remarkably well behaved. Yet another reason to live in Decatur.

God Bless America

I love the American spirit. We're unique. What other nation celebrates Independence with such a wide array of opportunities to injure or kill yourself? On July 4th we gather in drunken groups to blow fingers off with fireworks or set fire to ourselves via grills.

In Atlanta, the hurting starts early with the Peachtree Road Race. 55,000 official entrants, plus an unknown number of unofficial "stringers" run, walk, and crawl 6.2 miles down Peachtree in the Summer heat. If you have never seen the Peachtree, it's quite a spectacle. The logistical arrangement is fascinating. Getting 55,000 people to run together is clearly an accomplishment close to putting a man on the moon.

The runners don't all start at the same time, they're divided into time groups. The elite runners start first, and every few minutes thereafter another wave moves up to the start line and begins at their own time. Since runners are by definition anxious to get moving, the time groups are seperated with the clarity of Indian castes. They're herded into enormous enclosures I call "holding pens". Volunteers direct runners by bib number (for example, runners with numbers starting with 7 are in that time group) to where to wait for the start of the race. You can drop back and start in a later time group if you want to run with a friend or get a few extra minutes of sleep. Trying to sneak into a higher time group is about as easy as infiltrating Al Queda.

Each holding pen (composed of chain link fences and orange netting) is self-contained, with it's own water station, porta-potties, and volunteer cadre. For about two hours, it's like a little mini-city of 5,000 along Peachtree street. To move runners to the starting line, the volunteers remove the netting from the front of the pen. Several of them take up positions at the front with signs marked on the front with "WALK" and "STOP" on the back. By flipping these signs back and forth, they can control the movement of the group without the dreaded "pileup" effect, when the back of a large group keeps moving when the front has stopped. All in all, it's a very organized and well-run process. It helps that many of the volunteer groups are composed of the same people who work the same station each year, so they have preassigned jobs that are old hat.

The pain of the Peachtree road race can be measured in numbers. According to the Atlanta Track club runners will collectively burn 34 million calories. 120,000 gallons of water is used in a futile attempt to keep runners cool during the race. It's distributed in 65,00 bottles and 500,000 paper cups for drinking, and for cooling by spray hoses. Even Jesus tries to keep everyone from stroking out on the race course.

Of course, only 54, 950 runners are really hurting. About 50 world class African runners drop in and leave Americans in the dust. They collect their T-shirts and depart Hartsfield International before time group 9 even gets to the starting line.

Another Pride for the history books

The annual Southern migration of homosexuals to Piedmont Park is a sight to behold. My friend Jennifer injected a little class into my weekend by suggesting we go to the Krog Bar on Friday night. They have an excellent wine list and tapas. A very nice evening of fun and good food.

Unfortunately the weekend was all downhill from there as I de-evolved into my more natural and primitive Pride state...Drinking whatever alcohol I could get my hands on, sweating, wandering through herds of people, and rolling around in the grass like a heathen.

The tent area had some R-rated action in the afternoon. Our tent had a strategic location just downhill from the breast-painting area so the view was pretty good. As the afternoon wore on the casual partiers packed it up and the R rating got closer and closer to XXX. Only the use of huge floodlights by the organizers and the Atlanta PD kept it from getting too out of hand. Dang.

One disappointment was the lightweight entertainment schedule. There were no big headliners like the B-52's or the Indigo Girls. Not even a Michelle Malone in sight. Instead, the lineup was dominated by the likes of Debbie (excuse me, Deborah) Gibson. Maybe that's why I was so anxious to pay $ 8 for a Hurricane with extra vodka.