I want [...]]]> The title of this post is cheerfully ripped off from the Richard Brautigan poem “All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace” — a typically-whimsical, typically-Brautigan meditation on a future devoid of labour and filled with connectedness, via technology, to all of the natural world — but it’s really just the title I’m stealing.

I want to tell you some stuff you already know.

Our physical selves are, stated dispassionately, nothing more than finely-crafted machines, or an aggregate of thousands of tinier machines, perfected through countless generations of evolutionary R&D. To move your arm, a signal is sent from the brain to elicit an electrochemical surge in the machines of our muscles, which respond by contracting, but only to the degree meted out by the information received by your eyes or by touch to those centers of the brain which will, in turn, stop sending the signal to move when the operation is complete.

And over thousands of years, Evolution Inc’s R&D Department imbued higher species with consciousness. And self-awareness. And since evolution is, functionally, nothing more than insurance that each species will continue to pass along genetic materials to generations following, conscious minds developed a complex, hyperintricate set of protocols not unlike the programmed circuits running practically every machine we use today. These protocols work to guarantee the survival of all sentient species by establishing bonds with or barricades against individuals (and families) within that species. And between species.

It’s hard to speak of these protocols, these emotions, in a dispassionate fashion. I won’t even try. Hey, take a look at the greatest, most perfect music video ever crafted:

Video: Björk + Chris Cunningham, “All is Full of Love”

A number of friends and web-correspondents have been trying to find some peace, some grace, in their emotional selves following recent — and even longer-term — disappointments in their romantic lives. I have, too. We rage, we despair, we achingly long for an end to those sleepless nights, to that soul-corroding loneliness, to that overwhelming fear of connecting with another and being hurt again or, worse, we fear never again being able to connect with another. I have no tangible solution to offer to you. Or to myself.

But the world only spins forward.*

And we are still human. We’re still machines which need to move and fuck and eat and shit and feel. We can’t not. It’s how we’re built.

We’re built to experience exhilarating joy, impenetrable sadness, debilitating fear, warm contentment, searing hurt and the gentle embrace of love. We can’t not eat, we can’t not move and we can’t not feel. We’re programmed that way, we electrochemical-machines. We emotion-machines.

So, go. Do. Feel. Accept with grace that it’s never easy, never painless and never without crushing disappointment. But it’s also undeniably built into the very fabric of our bodies, of our consciousnesses. To deny that is to deny our humanity. We machines of loving grace.

And before those there were [...]]]> Oh, bygone eras of sublimated male eroticism! Before there was Xtube there was newsgroup photo-sharing and before those there were dirty videos (βeta!) and magazines. And before those there were International Male catalogs and “fitness” magazines and before those there were the swimsuit and underwear sections of Sears and Eaton’s catalogs.

And before those there were Ivory soap ads:

“Ivory soap had a good many unusual experiences during the war…”

“Not the least of the pleasure of a hard game is the bath that follows it.”

I believe it’s safe to say that I’ve devoted the latter part of my life to being 0 ⁵⁶/₁₀₀% pure. And I can’t help but think that ads like these got Mad Men‘s Sal into advertising.

(From Divine Caroline via MikeP.)

Both a parody of and homage to television science programs circa 1980, the mood, look and content is captured perfectly.

Even if you’re not as high as Jesus, the silliness piles on top of silliness until you’re doomed to laughter. This BBC series makes [...]]]> I’m not kidding, you guys, Look Around You is nothing short of brilliant.

Both a parody of and homage to television science programs circa 1980, the mood, look and content is captured perfectly.

Even if you’re not as high as Jesus, the silliness piles on top of silliness until you’re doomed to laughter. This BBC series makes it’s debut on Adult Swim on Sunday. From the “Computers” episode:

If you’re a geek and you don’t already, you really need to check out Lifehacker, an invaluable source of tips, trends and other, wired-world ephemera. An intriguing post yesterday tipped us to AreMySitesUp?, a website in which you can enter site [...]]]> Oh, Intertubes. How you provide endless, endless hours of information, stimulation, frustration and, yes, humour!

If you’re a geek and you don’t already, you really need to check out Lifehacker, an invaluable source of tips, trends and other, wired-world ephemera. An intriguing post yesterday tipped us to AreMySitesUp?, a website in which you can enter site addresses and monitor them for possible downtimes. This would be useful for this here place and, perhaps more importantly, the sites at which I work. Eager to check out AreMySitesUp?, I clicked on the link and…

Service Temporarily Unavailable

The server is temporarily unable to service your request due to maintenance downtime or capacity problems. Please try again later.

Oooh, ouch.

In other related news, if you’re a geek — and, seriously, if you’re not? I can’t imagine you’ve read this far — you’re no doubt aware of Microsoft’s new operating system offering, Windows 7, the highly-touted replacement for (the unfairly-maligned) Vista. It’s getting rave early reviews and a much-hyped βeta release was to have been made available with activation keys for the first 2.5 million inquiries last Friday afternoon.

So how’d that go? Not so good (like you didn’t see that coming). Roughly eleventy billion people tried to get both the download and an activation key before the 2.5 mil cutoff and, well, let’s just say that Microsoft’s understanding of the web — and the contempt for Vista which fueled the great interest in Win7 — still, after all these years, leaves much to be desired:

Is it fantastic that Microsoft is offering this freebie preview? Yes. Is it shameful that they’d be so woefully unprepared for the demand it would draw? That also would be a YES.

Sure, hosting a multi-gigabyte download on the web is an enormously expensive undertaking, but Microsoft has more money than God. Plus, while the download itself is large, it’s only of interest to a relatively small portion of the population. If lack of infrastructure to handle an insane traffic spike over a few hours was truly the problem (even though these were conditions Microsoft created), there are lots of alternatives they could’ve used that would have kept their servers up. In fact, users have been happily downloading and distributing the Windows 7 beta build 7000 now for weeks using an efficient file-sharing protocol called BitTorrent.

It’s all good now, for the record. Microsoft shored up their servers, threw those responsible for the woeful underestimation of demand into vats of boiling muriatic acid, extended the offering from 2.5 million keys to anyone who asks and most of us who wanted the download and keys probably already have them by now.

And, really, the problem wasn’t really the multigig download of the product itself — that’s been around for a couple of weeks in TorrentWorld — it was the cherished, limited-in-number, activation keys. So imagine our delight, after wasting considerable time on Friday afternoon and evening, on discovering that…

Well, below is a list of every single activation key for the Windows 7 βeta release:

32Bit W7 Beta Keys:

GG4MQ-MGK72-HVXFW-KHCRF-KW6KY

6JKV2-QPB8H-RQ893-FW7TM-PBJ73

4HJRK-X6Q28-HWRFY-WDYHJ-K8HDH

TQ32R-WFBDM-GFHD2-QGVMH-3P9GC

QXV7B-K78W2-QGPR6-9FWH9-KGMM7

64bit W7 Beta Keys:

RFFTV-J6K7W-MHBQJ-XYMMJ-Q8DCH

482XP-6J9WR-4JXT3-VBPP6-FQF4M

D9RHV-JG8XC-C77H2-3YF6D-RYRJ9

7XRCQ-RPY28-YY9P8-R6HD8-84GH3

JYDV8-H8VXG-74RPT-6BJPB-X42V4

Bet you’re glad you spent the entirety of your Friday P.M. clicking REFRESH on your browser, huh? Even if you were using Check4Change with FireFox, man, what a pain.

ADDENDUM: AreMySitesUp? is… back up. As of 1500EST, 11 January 2009, I mean.

Those of us old enough to remember — and those of us still alive to remember — ACT-UP and Queer Nation (and, before geezers like me, Stonewall) have long wondered when the latest generation of queer kids will have their big moment of anger and solidarity. If our early-’90s [...]]]> OMG, you guys, I love Joe.My.God.! He’s, like… totally!

Those of us old enough to remember — and those of us still alive to remember — ACT-UP and Queer Nation (and, before geezers like me, Stonewall) have long wondered when the latest generation of queer kids will have their big moment of anger and solidarity. If our early-’90s demos were sexy acts of defiance, it’s time our demo children, born of those actions, came of age.

The flexing of the Republigious right wing, stinging from their defeat in the election and eager to find victims to bully, have set their sights on same-sex marriage. And it’s time for us to act up and fight back.

Brother Joe explains it all for you:

As I’ve said here before, I consider the 1993 March On Washington to have been the single most thrilling event of my entire life. I will never forget the rush of goosebumps and tears as my posse of Florida queers rode up that enormous subway escalator into Dupont Circle as hundreds of our brothers and sisters applauded our arrival from above. That weekend I took part in my first ACT UP demonstration at the Pharmaceutical Manufacturers Association and laid sobbing in the middle of F Street as the Grim Reaper marked chalk outlines around our bodies. Still, somehow, the overwhelming mood was hopeful. Clinton had just taken office and all things seemed possible. And in many, many ways, things did get better.

This week we’re beginning to see the rumblings of a call for another March On Washington. Could the lightening of 1993 strike again? Or would we see another scandal-ridden fiasco like the 2000 Millennium March? Would it be remotely possible to organize and conduct another March without the overlords of the Human Rights Campaign? Should we? How would wemarshall our new and eager army of young queers? These kids are champing at the bit for a shot at their own Stonewall, their own Queer Nation. The LGBT world of the 21st century is larger, younger, and I think, smarter. I would love to watch.

I’ll totally buy a new pair of 8-eyelet, black Docs. SIgn me up.

Spanish artist Jorge Rodriguez Gerada crafts a giant Obama out of sand and rocks on a beach in Barcelona, not far from where Champ and I trundled in September.

John Hart, Sameh Tawfick, Michael De Volder and Will Walker crafted teeny-tiny, half-millimeter Obamas out of carbon nanotubes. 150 million of them make up each [...]]]>

Spanish artist Jorge Rodriguez Gerada crafts a giant Obama out of sand and rocks on a beach in Barcelona, not far from where Champ and I trundled in September.

John Hart, Sameh Tawfick, Michael De Volder and Will Walker crafted teeny-tiny, half-millimeter Obamas out of carbon nanotubes. 150 million of them make up each head, one for every American voter.

Barack O’Lanterns, courtesy Yes We Carve:

And, really, I want to tell you… except for a good cry with my Dad when he asked and I told him, [...]]]> So it’s National Coming Out Day today in Canada — even though it’s technically an American invention — and I’ve been totally, totally out to absolutely everybody for… wow, twenty-one years? Geez.

And, really, I want to tell you… except for a good cry with my Dad when he asked and I told him, and a good cry with my Mom when I told her, and a few weeks of them assuming I’d automatically get AIDS and die, and a couple of years of them not telling anyone that they had a gay son… it’s been painless.

I haven’t regretted — for even one second — coming out and living my life out and free.

And if there’s some protoqueer kid out there reading this (or, really, anyone reading this) who’s afraid to take that step out, know that everyone who’s done it before you is encouraging you, and is supporting you, and wants to reassure you that it really is a process, and it never ends, and that you might not think you’re gay or lesbian because you’re not like all the gays and lesbians you’ve encountered or see in movies and on television but if you have sexual feelings for someone who uses the same locker room as you… you are.

And that’s okay. In fact, it’s better than okay. You will find your true self and you will love that true self. You will find community, even if it’s a small community which rejects the larger community. You will find people to love and people to be loved by.

Honest.

Coincidentally, it’s Thanksgiving this weekend in Canada. I’d like to give thanks to my health and my luck at so far dodging the bullet that mortally wounded too many of my gay brothers — and a helping of common sense, too, to not engage in risky behaviours. And I’d like to give thanks to my parents and my brother, my family and friends, my colleagues, my blogbuddies and readers and commenters, my exes and my wonderful and amazing boyfriend, Champ.

Not one of the above things for which I am thankful would be possible had I not come out.

Thanks for reading this.

The World Health Organization removed homosexuality from its International Classification of Diseases in the early ’90s. <Insert eye-roll at the WHO’s foot-dragging here.> May 17th was thus designated as International Day Against Homophobia and this year’s campaign focuses on healthcare workers and professionals:

I dunno about [...]]]> So, here’s a couple of upcoming events for ya.

The World Health Organization removed homosexuality from its International Classification of Diseases in the early ’90s. <Insert eye-roll at the WHO’s foot-dragging here.> May 17th was thus designated as International Day Against Homophobia and this year’s campaign focuses on healthcare workers and professionals:

I dunno about the poster, though. “STOP”? Stop what? Injecting people with antigay venom? The more I look at the poster the less clear the message. Regardless, it’s worth checking out the International Day Against Homophobia website and some of these tidbits:

Unfortunately, prejudice is deep-rooted. Some people continue to think that homosexuality is a mental disorder while others mistakenly believe that it can be cured. Specialists know that this is impossible. Bisexual and transgendered people experience the same prejudice as well.

CAMPAIGN 2008

Each year, worldwide campaigns against homophobia culminate on May 17 with the International Day Against Homophobia. As it traditionally does every year, the Fondation Émergence suggests that the new 2008 campaign puts front and centre one particular sector of human activity. This year, it will be healthcare.

The 2008 campaign highlights gay and lesbian health issues. Just like any other citizens, gays and lesbians need to receive health services free of discrimination.

Gay, lesbian, transgender and transsexual people must feel comfortable in consulting a healthcare professional. The International Day Against Homophobia for the year 2008 will be an opportune time to question current practices in the health and social services field, and to put forward new approaches.

CONVERSION THERAPIES

One of the methods created to attack or eliminate homosexuality has been conversion therapies, or so-called “reparative therapies”, which ex-gay and other anti-LGBT movements are still based on today. However, starting in the early 90′s, they have been discredited by virtually all major medical, psychiatric, and psychological organisations because there is no scientific basis for such therapies and they can cause more harm than good.

This campaign is particularly important for two reasons. Gays and lesbians must expect (and demand) the same level of health care afforded to the rest of the population and, since our health concerns can occasionally be significantly different from the rest of the population, we must feel completely comfortable in a candid and participatory relationship with our health care providers.

Secondly, and I know I’ve said this before — and you’d better believe I’ll say it again (and again (and again)) — you absolutely must discuss safer sex practices with your health care provider. Get the latest poop. Get tested. Get as much information as possible and don’t ever, ever think your questions or fears are dumb.

This year’s International Day Against Homophobia campaign is an important step in this direction. Check it out.

Hey, speaking of homophobia and prejudice, how about those fuckwads at that Florida high school? You know, the ones who wanted to prohibit rainbow-adorned clothing and stickers because they “would make students automatically picture gay people having sex”? Yeah, those fuckwads!

Well, they lost their case in the the Florida U.S. District Court.

Now, full disclosure: I can’t fucking stand rainbows. Flags, stickers, rings, jockstraps. And don’t get me started about a series of colours-of-the-rainbow teddy bears artfully arranged on your bedroom shelf. How can anyone have sex in such a bedroom? I can’t.

Of course, just because I can’t doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. And just because I can’t stand rainbow flags doesn’t mean I want them removed from, like, everywhere. They serve a useful purpose for some people and, like them or not, they also represent a rather pivotal stage in everyone’s coming out. So, yeah, they can stay.

I know my approval warms your heart.

As it turns out, this year marks the 30th anniversary of the rainbow flag as a symbol of gay identity and community. Gilbert Baker designed and flew the first rainbow flag in San Francisco in 1978, paving the way for my first gay kiss/fuck/boyfriend (same guy) the next year.

Swedish vodka maker Absolut is even getting in on the anniversary, with their Absolut Colors campaign. I’m not one to shill for or automatically patronize any big corporation that gives a nod to the gays but, hey, Absolut’s history of supporting gay artists and causes has been long and consistent so I’ll probably buy a bottle, rainbow (ugh) and everything. And hide it in the fridge. Or display it ironically. Yeah, that’s it: ironically.

Now, you and I may find the notion of pride flags silly and/or outdated (and/or horribly banal), but a little respect is due such a potent symbol of just how far we’ve come in the past 30 years. And it’s still a potent symbol for people just coming to terms with their sexuality and finding community and belonging. And, as Gilbert stresses in the article above:

We cannot take our freedoms for granted. Indeed there are still parts of the world where being gay is punishable, sometime by death. The Rainbow Flag inspires hope and makes us think. Our work to unite our community has only just begun.

Gaymen, brother. But please don’t ask me to put on one of those rainbow-festooned temporary tattoos. And respect my request to hide those damned rainbow teddy bears, please. At least until I’m out the door.

I joke here about loving to scandalize my Mom — with all the swears and nudity and gay sex and unbridled grumpiness and whatnot — but the fact is, my Mom is the greatest Mom who ever lived and I love her to bits. I probably wouldn’t be able [...]]]>
I got taller. But not gayer.

I joke here about loving to scandalize my Mom — with all the swears and nudity and gay sex and unbridled grumpiness and whatnot — but the fact is, my Mom is the greatest Mom who ever lived and I love her to bits. I probably wouldn’t be able to say that with any surety had I not come out to her almost 21 years ago.

It wasn’t a joyous occasion — it all spilled out during a rather bad breakup while I was moving from Calgary to Toronto — but she stood by me then as firmly as she ever had before or since. (Dad, too, of course). So when I read Leven’s potent plea to come out to your family as an act of love for them and yourself and your community, I was prepared for a bunch of yeahbuts and, indeed, the comments for that post fulfilled my expectations.

It’s powerfully liberating to be able to talk to my Mom on the phone once or twice a week and not ever have to filter where I work or what I’m doing with Champ or who I’m visiting wherever or what my friends are doing. All she wants is to know that I’m happy and healthy and involved in the world, and when she hangs up the phone I always make sure she’s reminded not just of those things but also how instrumental her influence has been in ensuring that I’m happy and healthy and involved in the world.

And doesn’t that trump all the yeahbuts — the “I need the approval of my parents”s and the “they’re too old to understand”s and the “they can’t handle it”s — we throw up as lame rationales for not trusting ourselves or the people who raised us?

Of course there’ll be horror stories of Bad Coming Outs. But I can’t help but marvel at all the energy and time and deception I’d have expended over the past 21 years had I stayed closeted from the people who made me. It tires me just to think of it. You deny yourself a life less deceptive if you don’t come out to your family. You deny your family the knowledge of the real you if you don’t come out. Denial and deception, isn’t that what we’re supposed to be fighting?

It’s important for people who’ve been out for so long to remember how enormous that fear was. And how easy it is to say “come out, COME OUT!” But there’s a yeahbut for that, too: those of us who’ve overcome that hurdle and are urging you to take that leap do so because we’ve been there. We knew that fear — we lived with it for so long, ourselves — and we’re so much happier now. It’s a huge step but a necessary one.

“We must destroy the myths once and for all. We must continue to speak out and most importantly every gay person must come out. As difficult as it is, you must tell your family, you must tell your relatives, you must tell your friends, you must tell your neighbors, you must tell the people you work with, you must tell the people in the stores you shop in, and once they realize that we are indeed their children and that we are indeed everywhere, every myth, every lie, every innuendo will be destroyed once and for all. And once you do you will feel so much better.” — Harvey Milk

And you might be surprised to find your mom’s as cool as Jill Abrams’ mom:

Click here to view the embedded video.

So to repeat what I said a couple of days ago: Mom, Happy Mother’s Day. See you in a couple of months. When Calgary joins the rest of the country in summer.

Oh, if you’ve also got a problem with overly long, rambling and anecdotal information — or [...]]]> Anyone who finds a frank discussion of gay sex — unencumbered by polite words and descriptions — in any way offensive should probably give this entry a pass. No, really. You’ll thank me later. I mean it, Mom.

Oh, if you’ve also got a problem with overly long, rambling and anecdotal information — or if you object to the noninclusion of nearly-identical heterosex acts — please, go to Wikipedia. In just 4 minutes we can save the world, but it’ll take longer than that to read the rest of this entry.

You know me as a pretty easygoing kinda guy, but I must confess: nothing drives me crazier than the phrase “condom fatigue”, especially when it’s used to rationalize the stupid risks gay men take when it comes to their health and the health of their community and those for whom they claim love. Do you hear about “seatbelt fatigue”? How about “not-drinking-gasoline fatigue”? Come on, grow the fuck up.

So, as I mentioned a couple of days ago, as I left my doctor’s office, after receiving the results of my 30th (or so) HIV test, my doc pressed a fistful of female condoms into my hand. “Now, more than ever,” he said. I replied with a “thanks, but… what are you talking about, the continuing — and very depressing — seroconversion rates among gay men?”

He said: “Well, there is that, but I’m talking about increasing stories from bottom guys who report that the condoms they thought were tightly rolled down their penetrators mysteriously disappear at some point in the action.”

The fuck? No, really. THE FUCK?!?

If you’re an HIV-negative gay man who wants to stay HIV-negative — and if you also like buttfucking — you have exactly two options:

1. Find yourself an HIV-negative partner with whom you trust your life and make a strict, no-exceptions monogamy pact — for the life of your relationship. Both of you get tested, both of you get tested again three months later, both of you get tested again three months after that and lose the condoms with the proviso that neither of you ever, ever strays, not even once. Ever.
   Good luck on that, by the way. I suppose it’s possible, in the same way that there are some truly extraordinary things possible in this world, but I’m realist enough to not bet my life on it. Whether you do or not is your choice. I’ve been around the block. I know how this gay monogamy thing usually works and, man, would it ever suck to find out your totally-monogamous boyfriend’s been messing around on you by finding out you just seroconverted.
2. Barrier protection, always following the proper usage guidelines to ensure maximum effectiveness.

I sincerely do wish there was a less blunt way to illustrate the situation and I totally wish there were more options to offer you, but there simply aren’t at this time, so make your choice now.

Actually, hold on, there’s more to Option #2 than you might be thus far aware. And, for the life of me, I can’t figure out why that is.

But first… I get it. Traditional condoms are a pain. They can tear, they’re constrictive, you’re limited to water-based lubricants, you’re allergic to latex. I know, I’ve heard it all. And my response is: replace the torn condom immediately, buy a bigger condom, buy a better water-based lube and use a polypropylene condom.

“I really want the intimacy of sex without condoms.” Good for you! I really want to win the lottery, pal, but the chance of doing that (without risking far more than I’m willing to risk) approaches zero. Besides, you’re side-tracking this discussion in 2008 with your unrealistic dreams. Wake the fuck up.

And now you’re thinking “okay, b, I know your drill, what are you getting at? It’s not like I didn’t see the mock ad at the top of the post, anyway, so spill.”

So, yeah, what you probably haven’t heard, or what you might’ve heard and haven’t yet seriously considered, is that there’s another form of barrier protection for Men Who Like To Stick Their Wieners In Other Men’s Buns, and that form of protection is…

Female Condoms.

Huh? Female condoms? Simply (and, again, bluntly) stated, they’re bags you stick in your butt so the guy porking you doesn’t need to wear one. And the receptive partner has more control than with regular condoms. They’re made of polypropylene, they’re stronger than latex and they transmit body heat better than latex. When used properly — more on that in a mo’ — they’re as safe as traditional condoms. Provided you’re using traditional condoms properly, too, that is.

Now, what I’ve just told you is my opinion. If you’re interested in seriously investigating these dealios, you absolutely must arm yourself with as much information as possible and you absolutely must consult with your health care practitioner. I’ll get to the conflicting information is a moment. But you need to talk to your doctor if you’re at all skeptical about my Professor Harold Hill-ish enthusiasm for this product. I mean, you should be talking to your health care practitioner on a regular basis about safer sex anyway, right? Right?

So, yeah. Female condoms are marketed in North America under the brand name Reality™. Made for a woman but strong enough for a man. They’re made of polypropylene, approximately as thick as latex condoms but about three times as wide and a little longer. There’s a flexible rubber ring around the open end — that’ll stay on the outside of your butthole — and there’s another flexible rubber ring, loose, in the bottom of the bag. You squeeze that ring to insert it in your bum. You push the whole contraption inside with your finger or, I dunno, can you think of anything longer than it is thick? Use one of those.

Imagine the left hand, below, is your butthole and the demonstrator is your Dream Hunk (or Dreamsicle, if you will):

Click here to view the embedded video.

The Reality™ condom is lubricated to make insertion easier. The lube on the outside also means it might slip out, so whatever you stick inside the condom, if you know what I mean (and I think you do), do make sure it has tons of lube — tons — on it. You can leave the insertion ring inside or you can take it out; there are two schools of thought on that, and I’ll get to them in a minute.

Let’s talk about pros and cons. First, the bad news.

1. They’re a bitch to insert. Well, no they’re not. They’re tricky to insert, if you’re a n00b. That’s only because they’re slippery. But you’ll get used to it, the same way you got used to something going into your butt: Practice, practice, practice.
2. They can pull out. Yes, they will. They will pull out if you didn’t pay attention to what I said about that ton of lube you need to put on whatever you’re sticking inside. Stick it back in or put a new one in.
3. They’re way more expensive than regular condoms. You’ve got me there. They are. Anywhere from three to five bucks each, unless you purchase them in bulk on the Intertubes for half that cost. I suggest you contact your local HIV-prevention organization to see if they have free samples. If they don’t, they need to get some, stat. Tell them bstewart23 said so.
4. That “female” in the name is a turn-off. You seriously need to grow the fuck up. I’d just like to point out — for those who haven’t already come to this conclusion — that self-professed “total tops” are probably the nelliest of all the gays and if they have a problem stickin’ it into a product with “female” in the name, well, that just blows my mind. Geez, think up another name for them. PigBags™ comes to mind, but it’s your call.
5. Ouch. Yes, sometimes they can irritate the lining of your colon. There’s a seam along the side of the polypropylene which some say can scrape your interior, and if you don’t remove the rubber insertion ring, whatever might be thrusting against the ring will in turn be thrusting against your interior. That can cause irritation and even some bleeding. You should always worry about blood, of course. But if you’ve been around the block, you know there can be irritation and bleeding using regular condoms, too. Move on to other activities. Cripes, do I need to tell you everything?
6. But I can feel the outer ring! Waaaaaaahhhhh! Let me get this straight: you have a big wiener pounding inside you and you’re worried about the feel of a rubber ring tickling your bumhole?
7. But I can see the outer ring! Yes, yes you can. You’re supposed to see it. That’s how you know it’s still in place. Sort of like the way you can see a regular condom on your dick, so you know it is still in place. Duh. Think of it this way: “I can see the ring encasing my turgid member, ergo I need not stop.” Anyway, shouldn’t you be making eye contact with your partner at this point, or is he just some hole for you to use?
8. Taking them out can be… interesting. Yes, if you left the insertion ring inside, it’s… unwieldy. Sometimes you really have to pull. The ring that’s causing so much resistance is the same ring which kept the contraption inside, where it belongs. And you can’t flush them down the toilet, or you shouldn’t. Saint Bono and Al Gore would get mad. And you’ve already gotten Laura Bush mad by what you’ve just done, you pervert.
9. Taking them out can be… messy. Yes, I suppose, if you weren’t spotlessly clean inside in the first place. (This is actually a benefit; more on this in a bit). But look at it this way: would you rather deal with a surprise mess when you pull the condom out in the privacy of your bathroom, or when your regular-condom-wearing partner pulls his tool out on your Ralph Lauren duvet cover? I rest my case.
10. Like regular condoms, female condoms do have a failure rate. Yes, and that rate goes way down if they’re used properly. But, y’know what? If you’re going to cite condom failure rates as a rationale for not using this condom or that condom, just lose them entirely and throw caution and safety — and your life — to the wind. That was sarcasm, people. Wrap it up, every time.
11. Where the hell can I get them? Well, you should be able to get them at a drugstore, and in any large urban drugstore you can. Curiously, not in Canada; at least, not in downtown Toronto, the largest, urbanest center in the country. You can order them online from a variety of places. And many public health organizations hand them out, too. You’ll need to ask. That can be a bit embarrassing, though not as embarrassing as going to your doctor or the clinic for an HIV test six weeks after some asshole stuck it in you without protection.

Now the good news:

1. They’re durable. Polypropylene is strong.
2. They’re thin. They transmit body heat better than latex, though be honest, now — is it the body heat you’re really interested in?
3. It’s like you’re barebacking! No, it’s not. It’s ensuring safer, hot sex with barrier protection for the receptive, not insertive, partner. Gay men really, honestly, seriously need to stop this trend toward normalizing barebacking as the ultimate in intimacy and edgy, renegade sex. It’s the ultimate in STUPID AND RECKLESS AND NOTHING GOOD WILL COME OF IT. What could be hotter than doing everything to ensure you and your partner(s) will be having lots of really hot sex for many years to, er, come?
4. You’re not confined to water-based lube. They’re not made of latex, so the prohibitions against oil-based lube don’t apply. Break out the olive oil — extra virgin! — for some kitchen-floor action! Apply a shmear of Vaseline™ for some standing-under-the-shower-spray buddy fun!
5. Is exploring new and fun (and safe!) ways of pleasuring your partner(s) hot? Well, duh.
6. They afford additional protection not available with regular condoms. It could be argued that the outer ring and the bag accompanying it protect to some small degree the buttlips — no laughing, you guys! — from STIs like anal warts. Not a lot, but a bit, nonetheless.
7. Fewer embarrassing surprises. I hate to belabour this point but, really, an occasional ew! comes with the territory. Accidents do happen, and aren’t they better happening in the bathroom during removal than upon withdrawal, on your bestest linens? Don’t you want to shnuggle afterwards, rather than run for a hot, soapy shower right away?
8. They’re flipperific. If you like to swap places — and, really, all the cool gays are doing it these days — you’ll find no better protection than both of you wearing female condoms. Pull out, and all that’s on your pole is lube and, possibly, manjuice. Yes, it can go in your partner’s mouth, if you’ve established that unprotected, pre-ejaculatory oral sex is within your realm of safety.
   But, if you’re like certain greedy, homosexual bloggers and don’t want the other guy to have all the fun, it’s just a matter of the penetrator pulling out, lubing up his partner, switching positions and climbing aboard. Sweet.

So, yeah. That’s quite a lot to digest, I know. But you totally can’t limit your investigation to the above. You really must talk to your health care practitioner. Ask as many questions as possible. Get his or her advice. If they don’t know about using female condoms for anal sex, they seriously must find out. It’s their job.

Here’s a source of information for you: AIDS (The Official Journal of the International AIDS Society. And AIDSmap is another. Both of these sources give helpful information. The State of New York’s Department of Health does not recommend female condoms for anal sex, but I would caution that their reason for frowning on them is “because use of the female condom during anal sex requires removal of the inner ring, the female condom is unlikely to stay in place during anal intercourse.” I believe I’ve dealt with this concern, above.

And, for the record? I’ve been using them — and enthusiastically promoting them to, um, friends — for over a decade. I’m almost evangelical about them, hence my doctor’s donation to the cause.

So there. If you didn’t know about female condoms, you know a lot more now. Talk to your health care practitioner or HIV/AIDS resource counselor. As I stated a couple of days ago, safer sex is hot sex. The hottest sex. Ensuring you’ll be able to have hot, safe sex, over and over — lots and lots of really fuckin’ hot sex, for many, many years! — with minimal fear and no regret at all is an integral part of hot sex.

Note: the author eagerly requests additional information from readers, dissenting or affirming, and will incorporate such material in the text of this post.

You’d think that with the diminished volume, mail carriers like Canada Post(/Postes Canada) would be able to get an envelope or package to its destination faster than in years past. [...]]]> Thanks to email, Hallmark.com, online banking and Amazon.com gift certificates, the need to send actual, hold-in-your-hand mail has diminished enormously. Yet… sometimes ya just gotta, right?

You’d think that with the diminished volume, mail carriers like Canada Post(/Postes Canada) would be able to get an envelope or package to its destination faster than in years past. You’d also think that in the downtown core of the largest city in Canada you could find some carrier — Canada Post or Purolator or UPS, for example — with an office open on a Saturday and capable of fulfilling the promise of Next-Day Delivery. And you’d further think that, given all of the above, your parcel or letter or card would actually arrive at its destination on or before the promised date.

Of course, you’d be thinking crazy if you thought any (or all) of the above. But on that last point you can actually turn a consumer-unfriendly situation to your advantage! Canada Post’s reliably shitty service can be utilized when you have a package which needs faster-than-regular delivery and you want it to get there by a specific date but don’t quite need it to get there on time. Say, for example, a birthday card (with a Starbucks gift card enclosed) sent to that uncle to whom you’re not particularly close. You don’t want to send a plastic card of any kind through regular mail; what, are you stupid?!

If it gets lost, no big deal, you can send a replacement and Canada Post will reimburse you for your costs. If it arrives a day or two late, even less of a big deal, and your shipping costs will be refunded. Because, if you’re like me, at least one in three packages you ship via Canada Post will be lost or arrive late.

With parcel in hand, head to your local post office and choose the cheapest, trackable (important!), express-delivery service. Fill out all of the paperwork accurately and honestly — the goal here is not to cheat but simply to take advantage of predictably shitty service. Make sure you keep all your receipts. And voila! Tell or email your recipient that there’s a package on its way, due to arrive on the date promised.

Next, familiarize yourself with Canada Post’s parcel-tracking system. Don’t be overly shocked if your parcel doesn’t even make it into the system for a day or two, despite the fact that it was scanned into the system when you paid for the service. That’s just one of the serendipitous joys of using Canada Post! Depending on your level of investment in this game, check back periodically to track the progress of the delivery.

If you’re like me, on the morning after the promised delivery date, you’ll probably find the online tracking system will tell you that the package was received by the post office and hasn’t budged ten feet from where you left it. That’s probably not true, but who knows, right? Here’s where you can call up the number on your tracking receipt and ask as to the whereabouts of your package and initiate an investigation. Be polite! The person on the other end of the phone didn’t lose or delay your package, they’re merely part of the fucked-up system which did. Ask to be phoned and/or emailed when there’s a status update.

And, sure enough, your package will probably show up at your recipient’s address a day or three after promised. And Canada Post will cheerfully send you a refund cheque for your delivery charge.