Inside this edition of the Smoking Banana (April 2002)
--->Troop Alert: Lucky Lounge, 209 West 5th St, 78701, 479-7700
--->What to wear to the invasion: PLAID
--->1, 2, 3, . . . Ranting on counting.
--->How to Get Lucky at the Lucky Lounge
--->A brief Report on Mother Egan's.
--->Blurt: Fag Rock, SWAT, Bovine Flesh Fettish
--->Toaster Oven Awards: Who says we don't recruit?
--->Are you my mommy? Maybe you're my daddy
--->Upcoming Invasions of the 21st century
What: Homo Happy Hour
When: Friday, April 12, 6-9 pm
Where: Lucky Lounge, 209 West 5th St, 78701, 479-7700.
Wear: Plaid, yikes!
1, 2, 3, ...
Did you ever stop to realize that the foundation of civilization is based on counting? Sure, sure, some misguided utopianists out there might point out that the invention of the discrete unit may have indeed led to ownership, divisiveness, greed and therefore the first disputes leading to the earliest cracks in the foundation of said civilization. And yes, there are those ready theorists who would be eager to add that it was those very cracks that cemented folks into the civilizations that sought to preserve the distinction between a specific number of cows and a "whole slew of 'em." "By golly, that sexy man owns a 100 head a cattle." Translation--he's a Big Red sugar daddy in the making and you better go meet him quick. Now, we know this because we counted the heads of the bovine critturs as they passed from the field into the corral. At first, we had to use our fingers and toes. Quickly running out, we shifted to tallying up hash marks--five at a time--using a stick in the sand. These pre-Andersen accounting practices were fairly straight-forward, not nearly as creative, very repetitive, highly prone to error, and very very boring. Thus, it was common to overhear "...65....70....75....yummm....look at that cowboy ride....uhh....where was I?....oh yeah....65....65....70....naw, shit Emma, I gotta start all over!" Of course, this means putting all the cows back out to pasture, getting them to come back into the corral again, and hoping that that young cowboy doesn't twist in his saddle again just so.
Counting heads, that is, taking stock of your flock, remains a very important activity in our post-post-modern civilization. As a matter of fact, tax day, the day when all counting must be completed and bottom lines submitted for review, is upon us. We've made lots of progress since the foundation of civilization and the counting of heads. In fact, one of the important principles of accounting is how not to count everything. Now, if you're married you get to deduct a couple heads, if you've got children you can lop off a couple more. Student loans, you don't have to count those low-interest bearing heads. If you're using that thing for business, well then, you get to depreciate those heads over time. The tax code is all about not counting everything that should be counted. It's a fancy man's way of saying "Hey! Look over there!" while a few heads walk by unnoticed. It's not very different from "Yummm! Look at that cowboy," except the former is intentional, and the latter is whimsical. Now, not counting everything sounds like a good thing, especially when you get taxed on what you've counted. The trick is that some of us are better at not counting than others. So here's the bottom line: The person who has the most and counts the least, wins. You can count on that.
Head counting also remains an important activity in any group of head-bearing individuals. This is when you yourself, that is, your head is counted. We just completed another national census. They're still counting it all up. Well, not exactly. You'd think it would be as simple as counting heads. Afterall, we filled out scantrons for them. It's not, because there's a lot of interest in getting people to look the other way while some heads walk by uncounted. Even worse, there's a process called editing, where they go back and simply erase some heads that were counted. Fags were among the especially uncounted heads this go around. It went something like this: "Okay, everyone who's married walk over this way....2....4.....6.....holy moses, they're queers!....uh....4....6....8." Don't believe me? Check it out: http://www.census.gov/population/www/cen2000/samesex.html. For those of you untrained in science-speak, fear not. Here's my biased paraphrasing: The Defense of Marriage Act does not recognize same-sex spouses and therefore prevents the Census from counting 'em. "Y'all are queers. You're headless. You will not be counted in this here headcount. Besides, we're closin' our eyes and we can't see you. N-e-e-e-e-e-x-t! Oh yeah, but don't forget to pay your taxes." If the government refuses to count us, let alone legitimize us, how will they ever know how large the constituency for same-sex marriage is? It's a dirty math trick issuing from the cracks of the uncivilized and too often experienced by the countless numbers of uncounted people from the beginning of time.
You can count on the Austin Outpost of the Guerrilla Queer Bar to keep a reasonably transparent count of the numbers of heads in our midst. As of today, we have 485...well on our our way to our 500th recruit. This compares to San Francisco which has well over a thousand, mebbe even 2. We don't have good numbers on them. On the other hand, we've only got 1 million folks in our population base and they've got 7. However you want to look at it, our penetration in Austin is very very good. Keep up the good work, men. Show up in numbers and wear your colors. Don't count on being counted. Make them count you.
Springtime is in the air. The buds on my Redbud have already reddened, come, and gone. I encourage y'all to get outside and take advantage of the season before your buds fall off too. To this end, we are invading the Lucky Lounge. This hetero haven has been bandied about the Daddy list for months and we're now very proud to serve up a whole new venue for your consumption. We think you'll agree with our choice for where you can part your petals and let your buds down. The key, like any good flower, is to draw attention to yourself. Bees, butterflies, all the rest that flitter, are drawn to the fanciest blooms. This is why the uniform of the day is PLAID. You will certainly not go unnoticed.
Erin Go Bro!
The Shamrock Brigade of Shame transformed Mother Egan's Irish pub into one of Austin's newest, very attractive, and popular gay bars. Lots of homos. Lots of smiles. Lots of camaraderie. Lots of new faces. Lots of old, I mean, familiar faces. Lots of straight people heading for the doors. They didn't evacuate in droves, but they were harder to come by by the end of the evening. So to speak.
Toaster Oven Awards
Just to prove that we really do recruit, GQB-Austin is going to award a Toaster Oven to the person who recruits the 500th homo to join our band of merry men. The actual award is subject to the recruit passing a Gay Apptitude Standardized Profiency exam (GASP), the Gay Repetitive Agility Standardized Proficiency exam (GRASP), a stress oral board, a physical, and an extensive on-the-back-on-the-ground investigation. The recruit must also supply detailed references and other stories. We apologize for this battery of examinations, but in an effort to maintain quality control over who gets to be gay, it's been decided that simply sleeping with other men is no longer enough.
Fag Rock added another 10% to its rolls. They're Austin's largest group of homos standing around waiting for someone else to make a move. A list full of music bottoms. If you have a knack for organizing homos, please submit an event announcement that looks something like this:
Event: The Monkey Humpers Band
Date: Full moon Thursdays
Location: The Manhole
What to wear: Smock
Fag Rock is testing a "match-maker" style format where someone posts a musical event to the list. Then all interested parties hook up, so to speak. Somebody lead us, oh please. Clearly, we want to hook up badly.
Back to the recurring theme of homos and cows, the "LeatherFolk" have asked us to kindly pass on this word: The Austin Gay Leather Social is TONITE (April 10) at the Rainbow Cattle Company from 7-9pm. Sounds interesting.
Are you my mommy? Maybe you're my daddy
Ever wanted to know where the secret discussion list for GQB Austin is and who's sayin' what about whom? The mommys and the daddies of the Austin GQB are passionately debating the future and mission of our merry and hairy band of 'mos. Should "where we spend our queer dollars?" be a concern when choosing invasion targets? Where are the guerrilla queer lesbians? Is the gay world a man's world? Is GQB a political movement or a drinking movement from the bar top to your mouth? Who was that drunk and handsome Cajun crooner? These are just some of the exciting topics that could fill up YOUR inbox if you so desire.