sex

Same-sex marriage: Supreme Court’s big “F- You”

0

The remarkable logic behind the historic legal decision

By Melissa Griffin of sweetmelissa.typepad.com. For more same-sex marriage photos, stories, and coverage than you can shake a lesbian stick at, visit our Guardian’s SF blog.

charliemarry7a.jpg
Photo by Charles Russo

I am positively giddy! As of yesterday at 5 p.m., the California State Supreme Court’s May 15th same-sex marriage ruling took effect. The County Clerk’s office began issuing marriage licenses at 5:01 p.m.

In this post, I’ma try to give you the basic reasoning in the ruling (which is here: Download supreme_court_opinion.pdf). Obviously, squeezing the 121-page ruling into a three-page word document necessitated leaving out a number of nuances. Specifically, I’ve tried to give you the affirmative reasoning here and will follow-up with a second piece on how the Court shot down the arguments against gay marriage.

As I walked to City Hall from the BART station yesterday to witness this marvelous moment, the first sign I saw was a large yelIow one that read “Recriminalize Sodomy.” And I had to chuckle because these folks had clearly not read the decision.

See, the California State Supreme Court’s decision contains a Technicolor “Eff You” that beats any chant or hiss I could muster. Not only did the Court summarily reject the notion that heterosexuals would be harmed by extending to gay people the right to marry, it also made quick work of the defendants’ argument that “tradition” is somehow a rational justification for preserving heterosexual marriage.

Thanks to prior civil rights movements, court cases are rife with precedent for change in the traditional way things have been done. (Women being afforded the right to serve on juries, for example.) One chant aimed at the religious folks holding anti-gay signs on steps of City Hall could have been written by the justices themselves:

“Racist, sexist, anti-gay; fascist Christians go away!”

Homonuptial stories: Cupcakes and a chuppa for same-sex newlyweds

0

Maria Denzio reports from City Hall

Along with cheering demonstrators waving signs and banners of encouragement for the same-sex couples emerging from City Hall this morning were representatives of some local churches – religious leaders of various faiths, all showing their support in ways just as diverse.

The Unitarian Universalist Church delegation brought more than 200 celebratory cupcakes for couples and wedding party members. Members of the non-denominational Universal Life Church handed out flyers with scheduling information for wedding ceremonies.

arielcupcake.jpg
Cupcakes! Photo by Ariel Soto

And for Jewish couples, Congregation Sha’ar Zahav was on hand with a chuppah, under which pictures were taken amidst much singing and cheering. “It’s a symbol of sanctity over the covenant of marriage,” said congregation member Chayarivka Mayerson, who held one of the canopy’s four supporting poles. The Ketubah was also present for couples to sign as a symbol of the marriage bond. “Anyone who supports the marriage signs it,” said Mayerson.

Congregation Sha’ar Zahav expects to see a bounty of marriage ceremonies performed in the coming weeks, according to Rabbinical Student Intern Rubin Zellman. “A lot of our members are using this window of opportunity to get married before November,” he said. But ceremonies are not limited to members of the congregation. Sha’ar Zahav, which has performed same-sex marriages for 30 years, is opening its doors to all Jewish couples, including ones from a sister congregation in New York. (If you want to make an appointment, you can call them at 861-6932.)

Mayerson’s brother will be marrying his partner next week. “I’m so excited,” she said. “Now my family is legitimate.”

Homonuptial stories: Sarah and Kristina

0

Maria Dinzeo reports from City Hall on some of the same-sex couples getting married today.

Every couple has a different tale, and same-sex couples are no exception. Some met and fell in love at school; some found love in a bar.

Sarah Good and Kristina Ramos met in Charlottesville, VA, where Good was a law student and Ramos as a graduate student in English. They have been together 20 years, waiting for the right to marry.

So how did they know they were right for one another? “How does anyone know?” said Ramos. Good point.

Michael Gerber said he met husband Tony Paredes “after the bars on Folsom Street closed on a seedy Saturday night.”

“Oh don’t say that!” laughed Paredes, a burly bearded gentleman whose grey suit jacket matched Gerber’s.

For both couples, this day has been a long time coming. Gerber and Paredes have been together 13 years and were first married in 2004, mostly as an act of civil disobedience. Now they are marrying for a second time, and they hope it will be the last. “I’ve been out for a long time, and I never thought in my wildest dreams that this could really be happening,” said Gerber, beaming. “It’s very affirming, and it makes you feel good to have your marriage recognized by society,” he said.

While Good and Ramos recently took a three-week vacation to Australia, “as our retroactive honeymoon,” Gerber and Paredes will head off to Glacier National Park in Montana for two weeks. “We both enjoy road trips and we’ve been to many national parks,” said Gerber. “We’re from the City so we like to get out of Dodge as much as we can.” But don’t expect them to be pitching tents. Said Gerber, “my idea of camping is a room and a shower.”

Homonuptial stories: Marc and Charles

0

Maria Dinzeo reports from City Hall on some of the same-sex couples getting married today.

Marc Benson and Charles Sullivan descended the City Hall steps this morning amidst a thunder of applause and a flurry of flags and signs, one of which read, “It’s a Nice Day for Gay Wedding.” For this pair of high-school sweethearts, nothing could be more true. Although the two have been together 27 years, it wasn’t until today that a decision from California’s Supreme Court allowed them to formalize their commitment with a marriage ceremony.

Benson and Sullivan grew up together in Long Island, New York, and attended the same grammar and high schools, but did not become a couple until Benson went off to college. There, Benson befriended “a very persuasive lesbian” named Maxine. “She threatened me with bodily harm if I didn’t tell Charles how I felt about him,” said Benson.

The two married in 2004, when Gavin Newsom defied California law by issuing marriage licenses to same-sex couples, but as with all same-sex marriages performed at that time, it was voided in August 2004 by the state Supreme Court. “It bothers me that so many have tried to defeat this,” said Benson.

Sullivan said they registered for their marriage license online a month ago, as soon as they heard the court’s ruling. “I work for the city attorney who has been arguing this case, so I’ve been following it closely,” he said.

In spite of their many years together, Benson and Sullivan have had little difficulty maintaining the spark in their relationship. “I’ve never really stopped to think about why our relationship works so well,” said Benson. “Charles is very tolerant and patient with me. He lets me do anything I want.”

Though the two have no immediate plans to adopt children (their hectic work schedules prevent them), they plan to celebrate their nuptials with a party in October and a honeymoon in Patagonia.

Same-sex marriage: Supreme Court’s big “F- You”

0

The remarkable logic behind the historic legal decision

By Melissa Griffin of sweetmelissa.typepad.com

charliemarry7a.jpg
Photo by Charles Russo

I am positively giddy! As of yesterday at 5 p.m., the California State Supreme Court’s May 15th same-sex marriage ruling took effect. The County Clerk’s office began issuing marriage licenses at 5:01 p.m.

In this post, I’ma try to give you the basic reasoning in the ruling (which is here: Download supreme_court_opinion.pdf). Obviously, squeezing the 121-page ruling into a three-page word document necessitated leaving out a number of nuances. Specifically, I’ve tried to give you the affirmative reasoning here and will follow-up with a second piece on how the Court shot down the arguments against gay marriage.

As I walked to City Hall from the BART station yesterday to witness this marvelous moment, the first sign I saw was a large yelIow one that read “Recriminalize Sodomy.” And I had to chuckle because these folks had clearly not read the decision.

See, the California State Supreme Court’s decision contains a Technicolor “Eff You” that beats any chant or hiss I could muster. Not only did the Court summarily reject the notion that heterosexuals would be harmed by extending to gay people the right to marry, it also made quick work of the defendants’ argument that “tradition” is somehow a rational justification for preserving heterosexual marriage.

Thanks to prior civil rights movements, court cases are rife with precedent for change in the traditional way things have been done. (Women being afforded the right to serve on juries, for example.) One chant aimed at the religious folks holding anti-gay signs on steps of City Hall could have been written by the justices themselves:

“Racist, sexist, anti-gay; fascist Christians go away!”

The wonderful politics of gay marriage

0

I was listinging to Forum this morning on my way to work and although a few complete idiots called in, most of the talk was about how great it is that California now has legal same-sex marriage. I was struck by one caller who announced, with a kind of bemused confidence, that the protests and acrimony are really old news and will soon by ancient history.

The man, who identified himself as straight and 30 years old, said that when his generation takes control of this country, same-sex marraige will be legal, accepted and no longer an issue at all.

Michael Krasny, the host, pointed out that there are stil some young, religious types who oppose gay marriage, but the called shrugged that off. Sure, there are a few, and there will always be a few bigots and nuts around, but in fact, even the young religious types aren’t as adamant about this issue. When you grow up exposed to something as part of your culture, you come to accept it, the man said.

Yeah, I know, when I was in college I thought that when my generation took control, pot would be legal and war would be outlawed, but this guy is right. The wonderful politics of same-sex marraige is that fact that the battle is over, and we’ve won.

When two 80-year-olds who had fought all their lives for basic human rights and dignity took their vows from a mayor about half a century younger than them, it was both a victory celebration and a passing of the torch. Thanks to older queer pioneers like Lyon and Martin, and the generation that followed them, homosexuality is now a part of mainstream American society. Queers are everywhere, literally — on TV, in the movies, in magazines, in comedy, in popular music, in professional sports, going to high-school proms … and that’s never going to change.

So the religious right can make a last gasp attempt to overturn the Supreme Court decision, but that’s going to fail. The tide has turned.

Homonuptials: More Day 1 wedding shots

0

Guardian photog Ariel Soto got these shots of Phyllis Lyon and Del Martin’s wedding at City Hall yesterday, as well as some of the celebratory crowd outside.

marrycrowdout.jpg
The view from City Hall steps

marrynotebookheart.jpg
Spiralling toward matrimony

phyldelcakemarry.jpg
Phyl and Del (in wheelchair) cutting the gorgeous Citizen Cake cake

phyldelcakegavin.jpg
Joined by the glowing, and glowing-haired, mayor

Ariel says: “From my perch up in the balcony of city hall, looking down at the throngs of media and a beautiful white cake, my heart started beating faster and faster because I was about to witness a true piece of much awaited and much deserved history — the first legal same-sex marriage of Phyllis Lyon and Del Martin on June 16th in San Francisco’s City Hall. The couple was greeted with lots of love and joy and loud cheering, along with the huge crowd outside the court house who were also joining in with the festivities, passing out flowers, singing songs and just being darn happy that this day has finally arrived. Congrats Phyllis and Del on your much awaited marriage — and may your love and courage live on forever!”

rotundamarry.jpg
Well-wishers from above

Homonuptials: Phyl and Del’s wedding, as seen from outside

0

Hunky Beau and I hightailed it down to City Hall at 5pm today to (we hoped) catch Phyllis Lyon and Del Martin, San Francisco’s first legally married same-sex couple — and the city’s only one today, symbolically — emerge triumphantly onto the hall’s steps, frantically waving their newly imbued license to the roar of a supportive crowd.

marrycrowd1.jpg
The crowd of hundreds eagerly awaits

marrysodomya.jpg
Tired, usual bigots in their corner

gavinmarryme.jpg
Signs of support

That crowd was sprinkled with hometown stars, including Ron, former owner of the much-missed Josie’s Cabaret and Juice Joint in the Castro and comedian Scott Capurro, who kept the waiting crowd in giggles with occasional surreal outbursts.

marrymatchingpups.jpg
Yep, we’re gay

Same-sex equality: From dongs to ding-dong-dings

0

OK, so this is it. This is the day I’m finally equal. No longer a “second class citizen” — in California at least, the third biggest state with the largest population in the good ol’ US of Gay. Today at 5pm, two precious octagenarian lesbians will legally tie the knot at San Francisco City Hall, and tomorrow I’ll have access to the last state right denied to me on the basis of which side I butter my queer toast. Weird.

Will I suddenly walk taller? Will my shoulders expand and my chest inflate? Will I finally fall prey to all that Sex and the City hoo-ha and watch my moods swing from Blahnik pump to Wang gown with every hysterical cosmo and Cosmo I down? Or will I become the stereotypical male role model — unable to commit to an ice cream flavor or credit card company, let alone matrimony.

spotqu~1a.jpg
Gurl, we already had Sex and the City in the ’40s. From www.queermusicheritage.us

Maybe worse, as someone whose queer identity was partly formed by saying “who cares” to marriage, because there’s more pressing problems confronting the community — now that that stance is officially a personal rather than a political statement, what will happen to my politics? “Who cares.”

Mostly, and oddly, though, I found myself waking up this morning itching for a fight.

From dongs to ding-dong-dings

0

OK, so this is it. This is the day I’m finally equal. No longer a “second class citizen” — in California at least, the third biggest state with the largest population in the good ol’ US of Gay. Today at 5pm, two precious octagenarian lesbians will legally tie the knot at San Francisco City Hall, and tomorrow I’ll have access to the last state right denied to me on the basis of which side I butter my queer toast. Weird.

Will I suddenly walk taller? Will my shoulders expand and my chest inflate? Will I finally fall prey to all that Sex and the City hoo-ha and watch my moods swing from Blahnik pump to Wang gown with every hysterical cosmo and Cosmo I down? Or will I become the stereotypical male role model — unable to commit to an ice cream flavor or credit card company, let alone matrimony.

spotqu~1a.jpg
Gurl, we already had Sex and the City in the ’40s. From www.queermusicheritage.us

Maybe worse, as someone whose queer identity was partly formed by saying “who cares” to marriage, because there’s more pressing problems confronting the community — now that that stance is officially a personal rather than a political statement, what will happen to my politics? “Who cares.”

Mostly, and oddly, though, I found myself waking up this morning itching for a fight.

Sausage and the City

0

By Justin Juul

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you ever actually pursued one of those weird ideas you get when you’re driving (or bussing or biking) home from work and your brain starts to wander? You know the shit I’m talking about. Something like this: Mmmm, I’m hungry — a hot dog would be nice – they always smell so good – but there’s bacon in them dogs – I wonder how much money those bacon-dog cart people in the Mission make – I wish they sold veggie dogs – I wish I had a hot dog cart – I bet I could find one on Ebay – I could start my own veggie-dog cart and get rich peddling my stuff in the park.

sausageparty1a.jpg
Wonder no more!

Then someone cuts you off and you slam your brakes and forget about the whole thing. You start thinking about sex or iPhones or something important like that. We all have those ideas that we know would work, but that we don’t have the time, energy, or money to get around to. The truth is we’re just lazy. That idea –the one about the veggie dogs– would totally work. Just think about how much money you’d make at Dolores Park on a sunny Sunday afternoon. All those stoned hipsters! All the drunk vegetarians! Who knows, after a month or so maybe you could make enough money to buy a cute little French bulldog to tag along as your mascot. You should do it! But you can’t –not anymore—because Danielle and Kristine, better known around these parts as Sausage Party, have already done it. And their dogs are fantastic.

sausageparty2a.jpg
Dog Eat Dog. Would the cute guy in this pic call Marke B. immediately.

On Jay-Z, Lil Wayne swagger jacking allegations

0

By Ian Ferguson

Hip-Hop has long depended on sampling and remixing beats for its instrumental tracks; why should its vocal tracks be any different? Commercial rappers bring home the bling, and for what? For spending torturous hours, pen in hand, slaving over rhyme to earn the accolades “best rapper alive” (Lil Wayne) or “Hova” (Jay-Z, as in Jay-Hova, Jehovah, God)? Judging from the numerous Swagger Jacker remixes posted on YouTube, probably not.

In urban slang, a swagger jacker is a person who steals someone else’s syle, flow, lyrics, or ideas and passes them off as their own. The two most notorious alleged swagger jackers (or at least those most dissed as biters, synonymous with swagger jacker, in cyberspace) consistently fill arena seats and stand at the highest heights of the hip-hop hierarchy: Lil Wayne and Jay-Z.

When Lil Wayne raps, “Some say the X, makes the sex spec-tacular, make me lick you from yo neck to yo back, then ya, shiverin’, tongue deliverin’, chills up that spine, that ass is mine,” he reanimates Notorious B.I.G.’s voice from the dead, biting off of the song “Fuck You Tonight.” Or when Jay-Z raps, “Gather round hustlers that’s if your still livin’ and get on down to that ol’ jig rhythm,” he’s rapping what Slick Rick rapped back in 1987.

Speed Reading

0

GO FUG YOURSELF PRESENTS THE FUG AWARDS

By Heather Cocks and Jessica Morgan

Simon Spotlight Entertainment

268 pages

$29.95

Dear Diary: I wanted to like Go Fug Yourself Presents the Fug Awards. Really, I did. Partly because this tome by GoFugYourself.com creators Heather Cocks and Jessica Morgan feels like a miss-guided tour through the mind of the cattiest, most clothes-obsessed cheerleader — one who spells Kanye, K-a-y-n-e and admits she’s too lazy to check the exact origins of the It Girl phenom. (Er, try Clara Bow of the 1927 silent film It.)

From its opening salvos at Inexplicable Style Icons (well, Vogue and all of Vogue‘s tatty offspring differ when it comes to Chloë Sevigny and Sienna Miller), to its truly startling images of a death-rattled Marc Anthony and a radical-plastic-surgery-disaster Kenny Rogers, Fug Awards is the book equivalent of the meanest girl in high school. You kind of, sort of, want to pal around with her, if only to protect yourself from the harsh glare of judgment. Alas, instead of nasty kicks, what it offers is unfunny and even tedious — like an awards ceremony, it fluffs its pseudo-pomp with overly lengthy intros and kaboodles of glossy red carpet snaps. Fug Awards only inspires you to dress in the most conservative yet "classic" garb, accessorized with a sorry case of the fashion blahs.

True, the orange-hued aesthetics that inspire the Tanorexics Awards are startling in these melanoma-riddled times — occasionally there’s a logic to Cocks’ and Morgan’s middle-of-the-road rage. But does Cate Blanchett deserve to be in here simply for trying out an unconventional ensemble by a chance-taking designer? Must one wear a gown to a car promotional event?

Oh, Diary, such a long, lukewarm sip of haterade makes one wonder: why try anything sartorially daring or new and be subjected to a similar clawing, courtesy of your neighborhood Fug-in-training? XOXO (Kimberly Chun)

BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN

By Charles Bock

Random House

417 pages

$25

The notion that Las Vegas is a playground for complete id-indulgence certainly holds resonance for tourists. But what is the city like for folks who work and live there? Charles Bock’s debut novel Beautiful Children strips away the city’s glittering veneer to reveal a degraded core. At the epicenter of Bock’s troubled Las Vegas landscape sits 12-year-old Newell Ewing, a coddled, almost joyless boy — comic books are his chief source of comfort — who disappears from his affluent suburban home. Newell’s alienated parents, Lincoln and Lorraine, each embark on a distressing solitary journey to find out what has happened.

Beautiful Children is also populated with runaways and street kids. Aside from one notable exception, these characters appear trapped underneath the weight of unfulfilled expectations. Their friends, family, and acquaintances — pawn shop dealers, gambling addicts, exploited sex workers — expand the tangle of disillusionment. The result is a modern counterpart to the alienated Los Angeles cityscape of Nathanael West’s classic 1939 snuffed-dream chronicle The Day Of The Locust.

Beautiful Children has been on the receiving end of more than a few "cinematic" compliments. Bock crafts an ambitious pull-back-the-curtains epic reminiscent of the early work of filmmaker P.T. Anderson. Occasionally the author appears overly aware of his novel’s filmic qualities, resulting in heavy-handed dialogue. Still, he portrays the underbelly of Las Vegas with precise detail. What happens in Vegas does not stay in Vegas. Instead, Bock argues, what happens in Vegas is actually happening everywhere. (Todd Lavoie)

Knock three times

0

› andrea@altsexcolumn.com

Dear Andrea:

I am a happily married man (16 years). My wife and I’s lives are pretty good. But I have a recurring fantasy about swapping with a couple who are our friends. We flirt and play around (no touching) but we have skinny-dipped, flashed our parts, etc. What I can’t figure out is why I want to do more. Thinking about it turns me on a lot. I have spoken to my wife about it in a general way — but never mentioned it to our friends — and she typically just laughs. What do you think?

Love,

Hopeful

Dear Full:

I think you have to go back and change, "My wife and I’s sex lives are pretty good" to "My wife and I have a pretty good sex life." Unless you:

A) want people to think you and your wife have two completely separate sex lives and

B) want people to think you’re a moron.

If no one else is going to take a stand against pronoun abuse, then by golly, it’s going to have to be me. I. Me.

Grammar aside, I don’t see what’s so terribly confusing about this situation. I assume all of you are semi-youngish, still cuteish and hornyish, and often quite drunkish, or at least that’s the picture I’m getting. There’s nothing wrong with being any of those things, of course. I do not judge! It turns you on because other naked cuteish drunkish bodies are meant to turn you on, and because while many men in particular (although this is not in any way limited to either the young or the male) may find themselves satisfied day-to-day with who and what they’ve got at home, they would jump at the chance for some free (that is, wife-approved) alternative nookie. Nobody will be shocked to hear this, I assume? Some fidelity, granted, is fueled by honest-to-God "I only have eyes for you"-ness. But another substantial chunk is inspired by the "I’d like to, but she’d kill me" sentiment. Swapping, presumably, removes imminent murder from the equation, hence its appeal — at least in theory.

Since you used the word "swap," I’m assuming that the lure here is the other wife. Of course it is possible that you, Mr. "My wife and I’s," do not so much value precision in language and really meant "all get together in a great heaving heap of miscellaneous body parts," in which case it’s even less surprising. Nothing like a nice old-fashioned orgy to get those unnamed, unconfessed itches scratched before pretending they never itched in the first place. But whatev. It doesn’t matter why you want to do this: you want to, that’s all. Too bad you’re not going to get to.

What? How do I know? Because, silly rabbit, you have asked your wife (and more than thrice, I suspect), and she just laughed. If she was interested and had been waiting for you to bring it up, she would have laughed, yes! and then gone on to say: "We should ask them (giggle)! I mean, just for a joke! And see what they say, you know, just for laughs (giggle)." She would have said that, and she didn’t. And now you have to drop it. You get three tries with most things like this. After that, it turns into pestering or, depending on the dynamic in a given household (no aspersions cast), bullying. There are always exceptions. It is acceptable, for instance, to mention more than three times that you think your partner ought to be getting more of the oral sex. Even that would wear thin pretty quickly, though, if not actually accompanied by more of the aforementioned oral sex.

When it comes to more controversial acts, though, like wife-swapping or bondage or anal play, I think most people say no when they seriously mean no. By the second offer, most people who might be a little — or even a lot — interested but don’t feel comfortable copping to that yet will whisper, "Let me think about it, OK?" And you have to back off and let them. By the third time, they should be ready to say yes or no. What’s to be gained by a fourth try, or a fifth?

There are, of course, subjects that can only be brought up once and then they must be banished forever. If you want to raise one of those, you have to bring it up the right way, which goes like this:

"Honey, come watch this video with me."

"What’s it about?"

"Um, pooping on people."

If you receive a resounding "EEEEEEEEEW! NO!", you will know to drop it. If you don’t drop it, there is no help for you. Compared with pooping on people, your fantasy is pretty tame. But you still only get three tries and then it’s back to the "flirting and flashing" for you. Be glad you’ve got that.

Love,

Andrea

Andrea is home with the kids and going stir-crazy. Write her a letter! Ask her a question! Send her your tedious e-mail forwards! On second thought, don’t do that. Just ask her a question.

Andrea is also teaching two classes: "You’ve Really Got Your Hands Full" — a realistic look at having twins — at Birthways in Berkeley, and "Is There Sex After Motherhood?" at Day One Center in San Francisco and other venues.

Election as prologue

0

› steve@sfbg.com

San Francisco politics shifted June 3 as successful new coalitions altered the electoral landscape heading into the high-stakes fall contests, when seven of the 11 seats on the Board of Supervisors are up for grabs.
Progressives had a good election night even as lefty shot-caller Sup. Chris Daly suffered a pair of bitter defeats. And Mayor Gavin Newsom scored a rare ballot box victory when the southeast development measure Proposition G passed by a wide margin, although voters repudiated Newsom’s meddling with the San Francisco Public Utilities Commission by approving Prop. E.

But the big story wasn’t these two lame duck politicians, who have served as the two poles of local politics for the past few years. It was Mark Leno, who handed Sen. Carole Migden her first electoral defeat in 25 years by bringing together progressives and moderates and waging an engaged, effective ground campaign. In the process, he may have offered a portent of things to come.

The election night speech Leno gave just before midnight — much like his entire campaign — didn’t break along neat ideological lines. There were solidly progressive stands, like battling the religious right’s homophobia, pledging to pursue single-payer health care, and blasting Pacific Gas & Electric Co. for funding sleazy attack pieces against him, reaffirming his commitment to public power.

But he also thanked Newsom and other moderate supporters and heaped praise on his political consulting firm, BMWL, which has run some of downtown’s nastiest campaigns. "It was clean, it was smart, and it was effective," Leno said of his campaign.

The Migden campaign, which had the support of Daly and many prominent local progressives, often looked dirty by comparison, marred by past campaign finance violations that resulted in Migden getting slapped with the biggest fine in state history and by Daly’s unethical misuse of the Guardian logo on a mailer that made it appear as if we had endorsed Migden.

Old alliances seemed to crumble around this election, leaving open questions about how coalitions will form going into an important November election that’s expected to have a crowded ballot and huge turnout.

UNITY AND DIVISION


There are things that unite almost all San Franciscans, like support for public schools. In this election that support came in the form of Prop. A — a measure that will increase teacher salaries through a parcel tax of about $200 per property owner — which garnered almost 70 percent of the vote.

"These numbers show that people believe in public education. They believe in what we’re doing," school superintendent Carlos Garcia told a jubilant election night crowd inside the Great American Music Hall.

Also uniting the city’s Democrats was the news that Barack Obama sewed up the party’s presidential nomination June 3, ending a primary battle with Hillary Clinton that had created a political fissure here and in cities across the country.

"The winds of change are blowing tonight. Let me congratulate Barack Obama on his victory," Leno said on election night, triggering a chant of "Yes we can" from the crowd at the Upper Market bar/restaurant Lime.

Local Clinton supporters were already switching candidates on election night, even before Clinton dropped her campaign and announced her support for Obama four days later.

"As a strong Hillary person, I’m so excited to be working for Obama these next five months," DCCC District 13 member Laura Spanjian, who won reelection by placing fourth out of 12 slots, said on election night. "It’s my number one goal this fall."

Leno also sounded conciliatory themes. In his election night speech, Leno acknowledged the rift he created in the progressive and LGBT communities by challenging Migden: "I know that you upset the applecart when you challenge a sitting senator."

But he vowed to repair that damage, starting by leading the fight against the fall ballot measure that would ban same-sex marriage and overturn the recent California Supreme Court decision that legalized it. He told the crowd, "I invite you to join together to defeat the religious right."

A day later we asked Leno about whether his victory represented a new political center in San Francisco and he professed a desire to avoid the old political divisions: "Let’s focus on our commonalities rather than differences," he said, "because there is real strength in a big-tent coalition."

But this election was more about divisions than unity, splits whose repercussions will ripple into November in unknown ways. Shortly before the election, Daly publicly blasted "Big Labor" after the San Francisco Labor Council cut a deal with Lennar Corporation, agreeing to support Prop. G in exchange for the promise of more affordable housing and community benefits.

On election night, Newsom couldn’t resist gloating over besting Daly, whose affordable housing measure Prop. F lost big. "I couldn’t be more proud that the voters of San Francisco supported a principled proposal over the political proposal of a politician," Newsom told us on election night, adding, "Today was a validation of community investment and involvement over political games."

While Daly and some of his progressive allies have long warned that Leno is too close to Newsom to be trusted, one of the first points in Leno’s speech was the celebrate the passage of Prop. E, which gives the Board of Supervisors more power to reject the mayor’s appointees to the San Francisco Public Utilities Commission. "As an early supporter I was happy to see that," Leno said.

Susan Leal, the former SFPUC director who was ousted by Newsom earlier this year, said she felt some vindication from the vote on Prop. E, but mostly she was happy that people saw through the false campaign portrayals (which demonized the Board of Supervisors and erroneously said the measure gave it control over the SFPUC.)

"This is one of the few PUCs where people are appointed and doing the mayor’s bidding is the only qualification," Leal told us on election night.
Sup. Tom Ammiano, who will be headed to the Assembly next year, agreed: "It shows the beauty contest with the mayor is over and people are willing to hold him accountable."

ANALYZING THE RESULTS


On the day after the election, during a postmortem at the downtown office of the San Francisco Planning and Urban Research Association, political consultants Jim Stearns and David Latterman sized up the results.

Latterman called the Prop. E victory "the one surprise in the race." The No on E campaign sought to demonize the Board of Supervisors, a strategy that clearly didn’t work. Firing Leal, a lesbian, helped spur the city’s two major LGBT groups — the Harvey Milk and Alice B. Toklas Democratic clubs — to endorse the measure, which could have been a factor when combined with the high LGBT turnout.

"This may have ridden the coattails of the Leno-Migden race," Stearns said.

In that race, Stearns and Latterman agreed that Leno ran a good campaign and Migden didn’t, something that was as big a factor in the outcome as anything.
"Migden did too little too late. The numbers speak for themselves. Leno ran a really good race," Latterman said, noting how Leno beat Migden by a large margin in San Francisco and came within a few thousand votes of beating Joe Nation on his home turf of Marin County.

"It was a big deal for Leno to get so close to Nation in Marin," Stearns said.

Leno told us the polling his campaign did late last year and early this year showed he had a strong advantage in San Francisco, "so with that, I invested a lot of time and energy in Marin County."

Stearns attributed the big Prop. G win to its large base of influential supporters: "The coalition-building was what put this over the top." Daly chalked it up to the $4 million that Lennar spent, saying it had bought the election. But Stearns, who was a consultant for the campaign, didn’t agree: "I don’t think money alone ever wins or loses campaigns."

Yet he said the lack of money and an organized No on G/Yes on F campaign did make it difficult to stop the Lennar juggernaut. "You need to have enough money to get your message out," Stearns said, noting that "Nobody knew that the Sierra Club opposed [Prop. G]."

In the one contested judge’s race on the ballot, Gerardo Sandoval finished in a virtual dead heat with incumbent Judge Thomas Mellon. The two will face off again in a November runoff election because a third candidate, Mary Mallen, captured about 13 percent of the vote.

"How angry is Sandoval with Mallen now?" Latterman asked at the SPUR event. "If that 13 percent wasn’t there, Sandoval wins."

Both Latterman and Stearns agreed that this election was Sandoval’s best shot at unseating a sitting judge. "He’s going to face a tougher test in November," Stearns said.

The other big news was the lopsided defeat of Prop. 98, which would have abolished rent control and limits on condo conversions in addition to its main stated aim of restricting the use of eminent domain by local governments.

"It just lost bad," Latterman said of Prop. 98, the second extreme property rights measure to go down in recent years. "It just needs to go away now…. This was a resounding, ‘Just go away now, please.’<0x2009>"

LOOKING FORWARD


Aside from the Leno victory, this election was most significant in setting up future political battles. And progressives won a big advantage for the battles to come by picking up seats on the city’s two Democratic County Central Committees, a successful offensive engineered largely by Daly and Peskin, who were both elected to the eastside DCCC District 13.

"On the DCCC level, we took back the Democratic Party," said Robert Haaland, a progressive who was reelected to the DCCC District 13.

"The fight now is over the chair. The chair decides where the resources go and sets the priorities, so you can really do a lot," Haaland told us.

Many of the fall supervisorial contests feature races between two or three bona fide progressives, so those candidates are going to need to find issues or alliances that will broaden their bases.

In District 9, for example, the candidates include housing activist Eric Quezada (who lost his DCCC race), school board president Mark Sanchez, and Police Commission member David Campos — all solid progressives, all Latino, and all with good bases of support.

Campos finished first in his DCCC District 13 race just ahead of Peskin. Speaking on election night at the GAMH, Campos attributed his strong showing to walking lots of precincts and meeting voters, particularly in the Mission, an effort that will help him in the fall.

"A lot of Latino voters are really eager to be more involved [in politics]," Campos said. "Speaking the language and being an immigrant really connects with them."

Campos thinks public safety will be a big issue on voters’ minds this fall, an issue where he has strength and one that progressives have finally seized. "Until Ross Mirkarimi came along, progressives really weren’t talking about it," Campos said.

So, does Campos’ strong DCCC showing make him the front runner? When I asked that question during the SPUR event, Latterman said he didn’t think so. He noted that Sanchez has always had strong finishes on his school board races, citywide contests that includes the Portola area in District 9 but not in DCCC District 13. In fact, Latterman predicted lots of acrimony and close contests this November.

"If you like the anger of Leno vs. Migden, we’ll have more in the fall," Latterman said of the competitive supervisorial races.

Leno hasn’t been terribly active in local contests since heading to Sacramento, and he told us that his focus this fall will be on state ballot fights and the presidential race. He hasn’t made endorsements in many supervisorial races yet, but his two so far are both of progressives: Ross Mirkarimi in District 5, and David Chiu in District 3. And as he makes more supervisorial endorsements in the coming months, Leno told us, "I will be fighting for progressive voices."

Sarah Phelan contributed to this story.

Kerchiefs out, again, for Phyl and Del

0

Dammit, this picture does it to me every time:

phyldela.jpg
Phyllis Lyon and Del Martin, the first couple to get married in City Hall, 2004, in a great photo by Liz Mangelsdorf of the Chronicle

Kamala (left), I know exactly how you feel. And my once radical queer eye teared up again, dammit dammit, at the news that Phyllis and Del will officially be the first legally married same-sex couple in San Francisco on June 16. (The flood of betrothed others will be ball-and-chained starting the 17th.)

Phyl, aged 83, and Del, 87, who of course are legendary for their incredible contributions to the community, met in 1950 and moved in together in 1953. That means they’ve officially been together for more than 55 years.

As I read the news last night next to my Hunky Beau, I realized that time might be against us for reaching such a milestone anniversary together — but still our hands squeezed a little tighter. Romantic fools! Thank you, Phyllis and Del. You completely deserve this. Whatever reservations I and many other queers may have about marriage, you’re an inspiration of feisty longevity and dedication.

White tigers: Your fierce queer arts week at a glance

0

whitetigersa.jpg

Pride is a rock! Whether a diamond or a millstone depends on which side of the Miller Lite bottle you view the whole dang sprawling homolicious mess from. HOWEVER, as usual, there’s a plethora of amazing performances and events happening — not only the gargantuan upcoming Frameline and Queer Women of Color Film Fest (of which I and the fab Johnny Ray Huston write about in this Wednesday’s Guardian) but also the citywide 11th Annual National Queer Arts Festival, that started at the beginning of June and continues throughout. Here’s a few choice choices from the NQAF coming up this week.

BUT FIRST — bonus pics! did you know that Seigfried of Seigfried and Roy was in town on Saturday (at the the Castro’s Lookout Bar) to celebrate his 250th birthday with his “protege” Darren Romero, “The (Gay) Voice of (Twink) Magic”? See his wizardly wizened face below, with fab girl about town Miss Kate and kind-of-bitchy Gloss Magazine columnist Pollo Del Mar. (Photos by Darwin Bell.) Roy did not attend.

seigfriedkatea.jpg

seigfriedpolloa.jpg

Now, out with the claws, and check here for more NQAF info and great events:

>>Kirk Read, This is the Thing

Thisisthethinga.jpg
Kirk Read, photo by Ed Wolf

450 pound sex work clients, surly Guitar Center employees, teenage Satanism, and touring through rural Alabama with strippers — what else would you want an evening of spoken performance to deliver? Perennial SF literary hotshot Kirk Read takes on sex work, hallucinations, and the apocalypse in this multinight odyssey, with musical accompaniment by Jeffrey Alphonsus Mooney.
June 10-14, 8pm, $12-$15
The Garage
975 Howard
Tickets: www.brownpapertickets.com/event/32515

No exit

0

› a&eletters@sfbg.com

LIT An interviewee in Grant Gee’s excellent 2007 documentary Joy Division posits that the gloomy Manchester band inverted punk’s initial "Fuck you!" to convey a more atmospheric and ultimately unsettling sentiment of "I’m fucked." If so, the contemporaneous No Wave bands from New York City melted down those two approaches to one primal howl. Spiritually indebted to punk but suspicious of the first wave’s rockist stance, the No Wavers pursued aggressive detachment and tongue-in-cheek dissonance with the all-in brio of performance artists.

With its loose aesthetic boundaries, abbreviated timeline, and incestuous collaborations, the No Wave years are ripe for the kind of anthropological studies offered by two recent illustrated histories, Marc Masters’ No Wave (Black Dog, 205 pages, $29.95) and Thurston Moore and Byron Coley’s No Wave: Post-Punk. Underground. New York 1976-1980 (Abrams Image).

No Wave’s bylines make for an unwieldy taxonomy: Rhys Chatam studied with LaMonte Young and Tony Conrad; Lydia Lunch was a teenage runaway; Arto Lindsey of DNA and Mark Cunningham and China Burg of Mars all met at Eckard College in St. Petersburg, Fla. Moore and Coley have the most fun with the movement’s eclecticism. A No Wave coffee-table book may be a paradox, but they cram a fantastic level of detail into a handsome spread. If you want to learn that the artist Jeff Wall suggested the name of Glenn Branca’s group Theoretical Girls, theirs is the tome for you. But Masters gets several broader trends right, like when he makes the crucial point that No Wave filmmakers like Beth and Scott B. were upsetting an established avant-garde just as much as No Wave’s musicians were troubling their punk godparents.

Both No Wave overviews go to pains to limit their sphere of focus, though one does wish to read a little more about the movement’s literary influences (William Burroughs, J.G. Ballard, William Gibson) and outliers (Lizzy Mercier Descloux, please). Likewise, it would help to learn how the same set of city blocks produced Lydia Lunch and Madonna, and what exactly Jean-Michel Basquiat was doing all those nights at the Mudd Club.

But what these books skimp on context, they make up for in their rich detailing of No Wave’s internal split between Lower East Side habitués and SoHo aesthetes. There’s no question that Glenn Branca has influenced as many Mogwais as James Chance has Liars, but at the time of the movement’s heyday, downtown NYC was contested terrain. Brian Eno’s 1978 folklorist survey No New York (Phantom) conspicuously ignored the more outwardly intellectual SoHo contingent, and one still senses the bruised egos in Branca’s stinging account: "We were doing music that was too similar to what [Eno] was thinking about," the composer explains, elsewhere fuming, "If those East Village bastards had ever come down to Barnabus [a Tribeca bar], they would have found … as much sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll going on in our scene as theirs."

Never mind the bollocks, there’s one clear constant refrain in all the No Wave testimonies: gimme cheap rent. Robert Christgau is right when he muses that No Wave’s bundling of nihilism and self-righteousness was "symptomatic of formal exhaustion"; but beneath, one finds an obvious irony. Where the movement’s progenitors were reacting to a perceived state of endless urban decay, their actions have, in retrospective, taken shape as an essential pre-gentrification story. As with Weimar Germany, No Wave is compelling for what was — and for what followed.

Slamdance elegance

0

"Ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?" Rock critic Simon Reynolds opens his recent survey Rip It Up and Start Again: Postpunk 1978-1984 (Penguin, 432 pages, $16) with that famous piece of invective, courtesy of Johnny Rotten from the stage of San Francisco’s Winterland. Rotten sneered those words during a Sex Pistols show. Tellingly, they arrived at the end of an American tour that contained both a zeitgeist and its own annihilation — or so it seems from Lech Kowalski’s documentary D.O.A. (1980), one of four features comprising the Pacific Film Archive’s "Louder, Faster: Punk in Performance" series.

Even before the blowup, Rotten’s question had already been answered — first by the art school oddballs and city poets who pre-dated then capitalized on punk’s groundswell, and later by the younger acolytes who reclaimed the false prophets’ call for "louder, faster" with their authenticity-obsessed rebel yells. Punk was made to be photographed — Sex Pistols guru Malcolm McLaren ensured that much — but the spirit of the frame depended on who was doing the shooting. The same three-chord assaults could make for social documents (1978-’88’s Target Video) or hipster scrawls (1976’s Blank Generation). They might inspire science experiments (Bruce Conner’s 1978 Mongoloid; Graeme Whifler’s 1978 Hello Skinny), or lyrical love streams (1979’s Deaf/Punk).

Blank Generation is the earliest punk film essay, a given since its New York milieu was already codified and oozing latent celebrity before punk moved to the provinces. Directed by Patti Smith bassist Ivan Kral and future No Wave saint Amos Poe, the film’s chapbook portraiture is heightened via a Hollis Frampton-like use of non-synched sound. Grainy black-and-white 8mm footage floats over the skips and starts of the soundtrack’s mix, creating a jilted effect perfectly suited to the push-pull of Television and the Talking Heads, as well as the tense erotics of Smith and Blondie.

Crappy audio and video smears aside, Joe Rees’s Target Video compilation reveals Bay Area post-punk in full bloom as it moves between Black Flag’s pummeling hardcore and Flipper’s art-damaged sludge to Devo’s proto-Teletubbies weirdness. The austere, one-camera setups anticipate a billion YouTube transmissions. I’ve driven by San Quentin Prison dozens of times wondering how Johnny Cash scored his famous gig there, but that was before I saw Rees’ footage of Crime at the same site — thrashing away in mock police uniforms under the harsh glare of the afternoon sun.

Before it is art or communion, punk is permission. For a zenith-like picture of this freedom flight, one should look no further than John Gaikowski’s modest short Deaf/Punk. Gaikowski’s film uncorks a long-forgotten performance at San Francisco’s Deaf Club, using slow motion to revel in punk’s limitless potential energy. This music wasn’t designed to be elegant, but I can think of no better word for Gaikowski’s shocked vision of a singer standing in repose among a small crowd of daydreaming slamdancers.

"LOUDER, FASTER: PUNK IN PERFORMANCE"

Thurs/5 through June 26

Pacific Film Archive Theater

2575 Bancroft Way, Berk.

(510) 642-1124

Poodle piddle problems

0

› le_chicken_farmer@yahoo.com

CHEAP EATS You thought you were done with this, I know, but I forgot to say that I did get a couple of correct answers to my months-ago riddle: what my mom said when I came home crying after the beating I took for peeing on my kindergarten teacher’s hot-car-melted poodle.

Two readers got it right, but only one accepted lunch on me, and that was my new friend B.B. Teaspoon, who earned her fried chicken salad by crafting her answer into a brilliant, Ogden Nashish, Shel Silversteiny — no, downright Dr. Seussian poem:

If the poodle made you piddle

And the puddle got you paddled

Cuz your teacher was so addled

When her poodle’s life skedaddled

Then

Did your mother try to straddle

Moral lessons that a lad’ll

Never learn when he is rattled

Cuz he’s maybe too gonadal?

Even electronically, her hesitance to hit the send button was palpable, yet B.B. Teaspoon actually did send these exact words, line breaks intact, to me, Chicken Farmer. I publish it here, in spite of pronoun-induced discomfort, because it’s been too long since I printed a poem in Cheap Eats and I was about to lose my accreditation as a literary magazine. Plus what the hell, everybody knows I grew up boy. Or lad, if you will, for the sake of rhyming.

Not surprisingly, B.B. Teaspoon is a songmaker and a teacher of children. I told her about my new part-time job, nannying and cooking for a family of four: two musicians and two budding musicians. They have a dedicated music room full of entirely on-limits drums, pianos, toy pianos, a stand-up bass, and other stringed things. I tried to find a way to express, in words, the cacopho-symphonic potential of a 3-year-old boy, a 9-month-old girl, and me in this room while Mom and Dad are away at band practice.

Words didn’t work, so I tried interpretive dance, but that didn’t exactly come across either.

B.B. Teaspoon was telling me about a kids’ song she sings about a noose, and, in spite of my morbid curiosity, I suddenly realized I was as cold as I had ever been. First unofficial day of summer, sunny California. Could of been New Years Day, Canada.

We were sitting outside because that was the only place you could sit, at one of several ironing boards on the sidewalk. Maybe she said "moose." I happened to be wearing my beloved rabbit fur jacket, not because I’d guessed it was going to be Canadian out so much as to annoy vegetarians.

But not even that, and not even the many jalapeño slivers in the coleslaw, could melt my cold, cold …

Come to think of it, the other guy who correctly punch-lined my stupid joke was a musician too. We could have been a band! A really, really, really annoying band. Sike.

A lot of people love alliteration.

And I’m just going to let that line sit there, by itself, until it proves it’s ready to join the rest of the class and behave. A teacher! Of children! Other people are having kids, right now, even as we speak. Still others are adopting, or having sex real hard.

Me? I’m Dani the Tranny Nanny. As predicted.

I like to rhyme.

———————————————-

My new favorite restaurant is Bakesale Betty. Fried chicken sandwiches, fried chicken salads, sidewalk ironing boards that are probably pretty fun when it’s nice out. By salad they mean coleslaw, no mayo! Also famous for its strawberry shortcake and baked goods, this funky little Temescal district joint is not undiscovered (as in: lines). The good news: you might get a complimentary cookie out of your wait. We did, and we weren’t even in line we were sitting there talking. It was buttery, cinnamony goodness.

BAKESALE BETTY

5098 Telegraph, Oakl.

(510) 985-1213

Mon.–Sat., 7 a.m.–7 p.m.; Sun., 7 a.m.–3 p.m.

No alcohol

AE/MC/V

Yuks galore

0

FILM FESTIVAL Sometimes the best thing a movie has going for it is its title, especially if that title happens to be Mutant Vampire Zombies from the ‘Hood!. Far and away the most expressively named selection at this year’s Another Hole in the Head Film Festival, Zombies imagines what would happen if a couple of rival gangbangers, a weary cop, and assorted other ragtag types emerged as the only humans unaffected by a mysterious solar flare. Zombie-movie conventions are followed (the obligatory lesson about shooting ’em in the head, etc.), self-referential jokes are cracked (Shaun of the Dead gets a shout-out). The most distinctive features here — casting erstwhile soul man C. Thomas Howell as the cop, an eye-rollingly dated Snakes on a Plane joke, and a truly disturbing twist that renders the zombies brain eaters and sex freaks — aren’t quite enough to elevate Zombies to the realm of must-see undeadness. To be fair, though, even Troma would have a hard time fulfilling the promise of something called Mutant Vampire Zombies from the ‘Hood!.

A better bargain for your gross-out buck is 2007’s Jack Brooks: Monster Slayer, a film I seized on after noting the top billing of Robert "Freddy Krueger" Englund. With higher production values than Zombie and a clever script (cowritten by John Ainslie and director Jon Knautz), Monster follows the titular hero (Trevor Matthews), a slacker dude plumber who’s been toting around some serious anger issues since childhood — when he witnessed a monster gobble up his entire family. Jack’s princess-bitch girlfriend (Rachel Skarsten) convinces him to enroll in a night-school class taught by the bumbling Professor Crowley, who ropes Jack into taking a look at the rusty pipes beneath his creepy old house. Cue: the unearthing of an ancient evil, and Crowley’s transformation from science geek to chicken-wing-gobbling, Jabba the Hutt–like menace.

Naturally this turn of events unleashes the inner warrior in Jack; the film is bookended by flash-forwards that suggest he becomes something of a Buffy for the monster population. But the main reason to see Monster is Englund, who’s having something of a mini-comeback between this film and the recent Zombie Strippers. Always a limber, engaging performer, Englund further proves there’s more to him than vivisecting Elm Street teens — though that’d be enough for me, really.

But back to the zombies. One of HoleHead’s programming edicts is apparently "never enough zombies," to the extent of capitalizing the Zed-word in their programming notes. Along with those mutant hood-rats, the fest also includes Wasting Away (2007), Trailer Park of Terror (question: when did zombies and white trash become so synonymous?), and Brain Dead (2007), the latter containing nearly as many gratuitous female nudes (full-frontal, in most cases) as it does alien-parasite-spawned undead beasties. Whatever, dude — you want class, look elsewhere. These HoleHead selections embrace crass with pride.

Other notable picks in this year’s festival include the locally made Home World, an uneven if ambitious sci-fi tale that owes a debt to Battlestar Galactica; a revival of Roger Vadim’s 1968 Barbarella, Queen of the Galaxy (free entry for Jane Fonda look-alikes and other costumed attendees); The Machine Girl, about a one-handed Japanese schoolgirl who exacts tasty, gory revenge on the baddies who offed her family; and, just ’cause it’s Uwe Boll, ‘Nam drama The Tunnel Rats, potentially the first film he’ll direct that spawns a video game instead of vice versa. HoleHead kicks off with the Bai Ling-starring The Gene Generation (2007), followed by a party headlined by all-girl psychobilly quartet Thee Merry Widows.

ANOTHER HOLE IN THE HEAD

June 5–21, most shows $10.50

Roxie Film Center

3117 16th St, SF

www.sfindie.com

Opening night party with Thee Merry Widows, the Zooby Show, and the Undertaker and His Pals

Thurs/5, 9 p.m., $5 (free with HoleHead pass or ticket stub)

Annie’s Social Club

917 Folsom, SF

www.anniessocialclub.com

Leno celebrates tough win

0

Lime on Market Street near Castro was crowded with Mark Leno supporters when the candidate took the microphone just before midnight. He had already taken the concession calls from Carole Migden and Joe Nation and was primed to celebrate his victory over an incumbent senator, whom Leno supporter Bevan Dufty had just taken a couple subtle digs at as he introduced Leno, suggesting that Migden didn’t listen to her constituents or play by the rules.
Leno then gave a speech that demonstrated the unique package of issues, enemies and allies that he has turned into a winning coalition. “Tom Ammiano, it’s gonna be a helluva lot of fun serving with you,” Leno said of the man who will succeed him with his endorsement. “I just heard Prop. E passed,” Leno continued, referencing the measure that will submit the mayor’s SFPUC appointments to Board of Supervisors approval. “As an early supporter, I was happy to see that.” That stand was already a hopeful sign of his independence from Mayor Gavin Newsom and PG&E, but then he really went after the company, which had funded a hit piece mailer by a group calling itself Californians to Protect Children, trotting out some old sleaze about Leno being soft on pedophiles because he resisted right wing efforts to capitalize on crime fears.
“When you attack one gay man like this, you attack all gay men,” Leno said. “All gay men should be outraged with PG&E tonight.” He thanked Dennis Kelly of United Educators of San Francisco for giving his campaign early credibility. Then Leno returned to the LGBT community, promising to heal the rift his challenge of Migden opened by leading the fight against the fall ballot measure that would ban same sex marriage. “I invite you to join together to defeat the religious right,” Leno said.
He then thanked a long list of leaders who endorsed him, from Mayor Gavin Newsom and House Speaker Nancy Pelosi to District Attorney Kamala Harris and former SFPUC director Susan Leal to members of the late night entertainment community, which rallied for Leno with signs on nightclubs all over town. And then he thanked his campaign consultants, the downtown darlings BMWL, affectionately naming a list of people from there and saying of the campaign they created: “It was clean, it was smart, it was effective.”
And Leno’s final name check was to the presidential candidate he supports, who also had a good night: “The winds of change are blowing tonight. Let me congratulate Barack Obama on his victory.”

Beers With Violet Blue

0

While we’re on the subject of Violet Blue, we figured it’s time to post Justin Juul’s recent interview with the sexy local celeb. Read on!

Violet Blue is one of those people who builds robots, dreams about cupcakes, and has twelve phones. You know the type. They usually write about porn and sex on their award-winning blogs and you can pretty much count on them to release about three books a year. They often pose semi-nude for well-known photographers, write columns for daily newspapers, and make appearances on national television shows. Wait. I don’t know anyone that cool, or at least I didn’t until I met Violet. The Guardian recently had a few beers with Ms. Blue to try to learn the secret to her seemingly impossible career and life.

violet_parka.jpg

SFBG: So whatcha been up to lately?
Violet Blue: Well, one new thing I’m working on is a series of interviews for Kink. They’ve really been stepping up their production lately so there are more big-name porn stars coming through. I’ve been interviewing all of them.

SFBG: Who have you interviewed?
Blue: Oh, I’ve done tons. I’ve been gathering them for weeks and I’m just writing them up now. I’ve got Ariel X, Flower Tucci, and a bunch of other famous people. I like doing the interviews because I’m kind of outside the porn industry. So instead of asking them how big their boobs are, I’ll maybe ask them if they have names for their boobs, which I actually did ask a couple girls.

SF Weekly sneers at sex work

0

blue.jpgfetishgfc.jpgblue2.jpg
Sex writer Violet Blue is one of the best things at the Hearst-run SFGate website, an authentic local voice singing the praises of sex-positive San Francisco. So of course, the soulless and snarky hacks over at the SF Weekly felt compelled to try to knock her down a few notches, sneering at the notion that many of us are accepting of sex workers. And for that, they have been rhetorically bent over and pegged by the lovely Mistress Blue in a blog post earlier today.
You’ve really got to read this thing, which is more investigative in nature than your average flame. She brings up the Weekly’s weird history of fake journalism on another sex story, and digs up some good dirt on the latest perpetrator, freelance writer Benjamin Wachs. Now, we couldn’t verify the rumors about Wachs’ efforts to start a right-wing news site in San Francisco (hey, Ben, good luck with that one). But our research does show the guy moved here a year ago from Rochester, NY, which might come as a surprise to the Brighton-Pittsford Post in New York, where he’s supposedly a local columnist.
Messages to Wachs and the Weekly went unanswered — no surprise — but I’ll update if I hear anything new. Or if you see Ben around town…
wachs.jpg
…maybe you can ask him why he wanted to live in San Francisco if he has such a problem with our values.