Mark Allen

This is part eleven of an ongoing mathematical equation attempting to calculate the current state of Gay New York. As each portion is finished it will be added to the final equation in the appropriate place. The final equation is collected here.

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Assassination Adventure, 1988. Directed by Mark Allen. Macintosh Apple IIgs/Apple IIc Plus, 1/2 inch VHS; 3 minutes, 21 seconds; color; sound.

During the late-80’s in Dallas I was a video artist. It was a hobby. Today, the term “video art” is somewhat extraneous, but back then—and in Texas—work of this nature needed a category. Some of my work showed at places like the Starck Club, a few small gallery exhibitions in Dallas and Denton, and even on the local PBS channel. This is a piece I created in 1988 titled Assassination Adventure. It imagined a cheesy video game based on the assassination of John F. Kennedy. It was created specifically for the Dallas Video Festival (an ahead-of-its-time organization, then still in its infancy). The festival’s “Local Show” (aka: ‘The Dallas Show’) that year featured 22 Texas video artists, and had the 25th anniversary of JFK’s assassination as its theme.

The images for this piece were created on a Macintosh Apple IIgs, or maybe an Apple IIc Plus (I think). I was in the graphic design school at the University of North Texas, and that’s what we used—or tried to use—in my Computer Graphics course (the course, and those antediluvian computers, were new to the curriculum that year, and both were considered extremely edgy). Since the computers didn’t have an animation program, I had to create separate stills and then run through them by clicking the mouse, then record that with a VCR hooked to the back of the computer, which also needed some other kind of filtering device I’d checked out from the RTV&F department. And, I had to get it all on tape in real time, no editing. I remember my CG instructor, Susie Cherry, becoming exasperated as she stayed late with me in the art building, acting as a second set of arms as she pushed the VCR record button over and over and kept repeating “Now…what is this for again?” The soundtrack is the result of my friend Lance and me going to a 7-11 in Denton late at night and playing a video game (I think it was Galaxian or Galaga) while I held a tape recorder up to its speaker. It’s funny to see the results now. Back then, when it came to stuff like this, if you didn’t have a television studio or work at Pixar, you had to jerry-rig everything just to try and get the desired effect. Of course I wanted it to look like a cheesy video game, but even within that capacity it looks absurdly amateur (these days, 5-year-olds can make CG stuff far superior to this in five minutes, on their cell phones—which come free in breakfast cereal boxes). I remember I showed someone a tape of this piece in the 90’s and I thought it was just excruciatingly awful. But now…seeing it 20 years later, I think the piece developed a strange kind of value. It’s like a finger painting.

Back in 1988, that year’s DVF “Local Show” was reviewed by the culture critic at The Dallas Observer. I remember it was the first time anything I’d ever done had been written about in any sort of press. I was ecstatic. The reviewer singled mine out as the most “shocking” of the collection, and I think concluded with something like “Mark Allen’s Assassination Adventure is blasphemous, cheeky fun…” or something like that (I would love to find a copy of that old review).

That weekend the 22 pieces that made up the “Local Show” were screened in the film theater of the Dallas Museum of Art, for closing night of the DVF. I made the mistake of bringing my parents to celebrate the honor. I though having a 19-year-old son who’s work was being shown at a major art museum was pretty great! They were good sports, but before my piece screened at one point my mother looked at the other work, and the crowd packed into the theater, and told me she thought everyone there “hated the world.” Then as the audience broke into uproarious applause after my piece ended, my father leaned over and scowled with a smile, “Mocking a great American leader? Ehh…not the best thing, son.” I then had to escort them both as they almost sulked back to the museum parking lot.

Of course what some readers of my site will probably find most interesting is the short…um, interview with me that follows the piece. The DVF guys thought it would be interesting to briefly talk to each artist about where they were when Kennedy was shot, and show each interview following the artist’s piece. I was the youngest in the show, and hadn’t been born when it happened, so I tried to make a joke about this. Tried. I didn’t have a way with words…no, I didn’t even have any words, and I ended up making love loathe to the camera. I was so beyond inarticulate, in comparison today I make George W. Bush sound like Bill Clinton (maybe it’s something in the Texas air—ok, it was taped at 7 AM on a rainy morning in some studio on the outskirts of Collin County, and the hot lights were turning my eyelids into bacon). I was so painfully self conscious, the taping was like a whole other assassination…of me. When I watch this clip of myself now, I cringe so deeply my chest almost forms a black hole. So, obviously I have to share it with everyone. And yes, I really used to talk like that.

The idea of a computer game based on the assassination of JFK has recently become a reality.

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Here’s a list of my favorite post-apocalyptic films that I did for Vice magazine a few months ago.

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This is part ten of an ongoing mathematical equation attempting to calculate the current state of Gay New York. As each portion is finished it will be added to the final equation in the appropriate place. The final equation is collected here.

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This is part nine of an ongoing mathematical equation attempting to calculate the current state of Gay New York. As each portion is finished it will be added to the final equation in the appropriate place. The final equation is collected here.

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This is part eight of an ongoing mathematical equation attempting to calculate the current state of Gay New York. As each portion is finished it will be added to the final equation in the appropriate place. The final equation is collected here.

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This is part seven of an ongoing mathematical equation attempting to calculate the current state of Gay New York. As each portion is finished it will be added to the final equation in the appropriate place. The final equation is collected here.

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This is the sixth part of an ongoing mathematical equation attempting to calculate the current state of Gay New York. As each portion is finished it will be added to the final equation in the appropriate place. The final equation is collected here.

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This is the fifth part of an ongoing mathematical equation attempting to calculate the current state of Gay New York. As each portion is finished it will be added to the final equation in the appropriate place. The final equation is collected here.

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This is the fourth part of an ongoing mathematical equation attempting to calculate the current state of Gay New York. As each portion is finished it will be added to the final equation in the appropriate place. The final equation is collected here.

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This is the third portion of an ongoing mathematical equation attempting to calculate the current state of Gay New York. As each portion is finished it will be added to the final equation in the appropriate place. The final equation is collected here.

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This is the second portion of an ongoing mathematical equation attempting to calculate the current state of Gay New York. As each portion is finished it will be added to the final equation in the appropriate place. The final equation is collected here.

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This is first portion of an ongoing mathematical equation attempting to calculate the current state of Gay New York. As each portion is finished it will be added to the final equation in the appropriate place. Click here to see the equation displayed in a wider, less horizontally challenged page layout. This is a work in progress…

…to be continued.
AMathematicalEquation.

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Ihaven’twrittenonmysiteinawhile.Oops,Iforgottoputspacesbetweenthewords. There that’s better.
Hey,IwonderwhatwouldhappenifIdidn’tputANYspacesbetweenthewordsasItyped? Atall? And…WhatIfIPutACapitalLetterAtTheBeginningOfEachWordLikeThisToMakeItEasierToRead? Hey, I wonder if…

(more…)

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Last March, I posted on this blog (and here) photos of Ioan, a man in Romania suffering from one of the most unbelievable human skin afflictions ever seen, along with stories and interviews from a missionary working over there to help him. Nine months later, after much attention from the medical field, general global interest, and eventually the press, Ioan’s growths have been identified, treated and reduced significantly.

The missionary treating Ioan–on an on-and-off basis–sent these recent pictures below (click to enlarge), showing the improvements. Doctors have been able to clear almost everything off the palm side of his right hand, and repair the skin a great deal (apparently the left hand as well), and reduce the growths on his feet by about 90%. Overall, Ioan’s treatments have resulted in a physical condition far less severe, especially considering how extreme it was. The missionary says that the last he heard, doctors were going to keep working on his hands but not do anything else to his feet, as he would have trouble walking on the skin grafts. In which case he’ll be working with Ioan again once the dust settles. He says he’d be happy to share some more stories at that point, but would rather relay stories that came from Ioan’s own mouth, than those told through someone else’s.

After some debate, the affliction has been identified as a particular form of Human Papilloma Virus (HPV), combined with an as-yet unidentified immune system deficiency. HPV is not uncommon, but the rare immune immune deficiency in Ioan–believed to be genetic–allows the virus to take over his skin cells, which results in the bizarre branch/root-like growths on his hands and feet (officially called ‘cutaneous horns’). After Ioan’s story broke, a few other cases of the condition popped up, particularly the case of Dede, a man in Indonesia. Still, doctors call the rare combination of elements that lead to conditions like Ioan’s to be “less than one in a million.�

Ioan has has received more and more attention, and his condition is better for it. The posting about him here last March definitely “broke� the story about the condition outside of Eastern Europe (where Ioan was already receiving attention from the medical field and the press). That posting was the result of the missionary, who had reached out to a relative–a friend of mine here in NYC–who then shared the photos with me. The posting on the WFMU and my blog resulted in a baffling number of hits, the attention from medical experts far and wide, and eventually the MSM. Many thanks to all of the commenters and people who contacted us, relaying information to and through us, and each other. But most of all thanks to the missionary, and other like him, working in places like Eastern Europe. He and others are doing the hardest work in helping people like Ioan, and you can see what those initial actions eventually lead to.

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Welcome to Study Hall Detention. I want books open…and pens, pencils and paper out on desks…and NO TALKING! Or you’ll receive another detention. I ask you to please not forget why you’re here, so please think about it. Today, we’ll be learning about three important artworks, created during the mid-to-late 20th century.

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First up is the collage (left) Just What Is It That Makes Today’s Homes So Different, So Appealing?, done in 1956. To many, this work is considered one of the very first to fall under the classification, or movement, known as Pop Art. It was created by Richard Hamilton, John McHale, and John Voelcker (all using the name Group 2), who submitted the work as a trio to the This Is Tomorrow exhibition, held in London that same year. The piece was seen prominently by the public, as its image was used for the exhibition poster, and was featured in the catalog… soon spreading around the world via reproduction. Today, the work is credited to Richard Hamilton only, who technically designed the collage alone, using images from John McHale’s files (Richard Hamilton’s side of the argument can be read here). Historically, John McHale is known as an important art world figure with a visionary appreciation of mass-produced images in popular media and consumer culture, and is known for coining the phrase “Pop Art” (in 1954). Art historians often refer to him as “The Father of Pop Art.” This fact is blatantly represented in this work by the use of the word “Pop” on the Tootsie Pop candy label being held by the body builder.

Regardless of the small controversy over ownership, this piece became quite popular with the general public, mainly due to its colorful and humorous imagery (and its use of the naked female form, which appears unapologetically pornographic rather than artistic), and the piece encapsulated — and perhaps was even seen as parodying — the characteristics of modern art, and eventually Pop Art, which back then was still perceived by most people as “wacky.”

I personally encountered this work for the first time as a child, in an old issue of Mad magazine – which had enthusiastically reproduced it for a gonzo satire of the art world. The collage has been parodied and mimicked throughout the later 20th century, even by Richard Hamilton himself.

As stated, many consider this one of the — if not the — very first important Pop Art piece (the main argument being one of assembled mixed media vs. painting, or sculpture – or even appropriation and copyrights). Chronologically, Roy Lichtenstein’s Look Mickey cartoon strip painting would not appear until 1961, and Andy Warhol’s much-heralded Campbell’s Soup Cans paintings would not be created until 1962.

Today, the original collage itself, which measures a mere 10 x 9 inches, resides in the collection of the Kunsthalle Museum, in Germany.

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Our next work is the black and white short animated film Bambi Meets Godzilla, created by Marv Newland in 1969. Less than two minutes long, the film derives its humor from a clever twist on the tradition of long film credits, and also gets a lot of mileage out of its title (the perceivably crass pairing, in a dual, of the popular Godzilla and Bambi characters, and their respective campy images). This audience-pleaser was shown at a few festivals when it was created, and amassed a small following over time. During the 70’s, it began running as a short to precede feature films, mainly in art house theaters, and sometimes was shown as an oddity on local variety television programs. In the early 80’s, it also began airing on local public television stations, and some UHF channels, as a time filler or sometimes as a late night “going off the air” closer. A colorized version of the short appeared sometime in the 70’s, and over the decades many copies, even plagiarized or uncredited recreations, have appeared (the YouTube link above is the original). Several intentional sequels have also been made over the years, but none by Newland himself.

The film was written, directed and produced by Marv Newland, on a small budget, and it’s initial exhibition was hustled by him alone without the aid of a studio or backers. So, it is therefore thought of as a very early example the independent animated film. The film’s tongue-in-cheek mood can obviously be traced back to other comic book, animation and comedy sources from the 50’s and 60’s, but it’s aesthetic standing as “cartoon short” was unprecedented. Animation continued to expand as a medium for underground or “fringe” comedy expression through the 70’s, but a decade later, in the early 80’s, the popularity of the independent animated short exploded (exemplified and kicked into gear Wesley Archer’s influential Jac Mac & Rad Boy Go! short from the early 80’s, which aired to great demand on late night network shows like Night Flight, and MTV) and soon, several different annual “film festival” series, each comprised of new and expectedly outrageous animated shorts from around the world, began popping up regularly as feature films in art house cinemas.

Arguably, wryly sarcastic and satirical animation like Matt Groening’s The Simpsons (begun in the very late 80’s), and that of John Kricfalusi’s Ren & Stimpy (the early 90’s), could be traced partially back to the popularity of Bambi Meets Godzilla. Today, its influence in animation is omnipresent.

Marv Newland went on to create many other animated shorts, and have an extensive and lucrative career in animation, working mainly in television and in the film industry.

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Next is…PAY ATTENTION! Next is the performance art piece Shoot by Chris Burden, done in 1971. The work consisted of Burden getting shot in the arm by an assistant, with a .22-caliber rifle, from a distance of thirteen feet. It was performed in front of an audience at the F Space gallery in Santa Ana, California, on November 19th, 1971. The plan was for the bullet to just graze Burden’s left arm, but the shooter missed and the bullet penetrated his arm, though he was not badly hurt. Semi-filmed footage of the event can be seen in Burden’s Documentation of Selected Works 1971-74 film (viewable at UbuWeb – it’s the second piece in the short, after the long intro by Burden). Shoot became hugely popular in the art world at the time, and in the press, and is regarded as a cornerstone of the performance art scenes that flourished during that decade. In 1976, Laurie Anderson wrote a strange song about it called “It’s Not The Bullet That Kills You, It’s The Hole” (you can hear an mp3 here, track #15). Burden was known for creating death-defying work even before this piece, and continued to create work of this type afterwards (like Deadman, where he lay at night in the middle of a busy La Cienega Boulevard in Los Angelos, covered by a tarp with two flares by his head…or in 747, where he fired a pistol at a Boeing 747 just after it took off from LAX airport). Important to remember: Chris Burden’s work and its relevance to our world today is obvious, now more than ever. That will be on the test. Later, Burden became a professor of art at UCLA in 1978. However, in a ironic twist, he resigned in 2005 in protest to a fervor (or lack thereof) created by one of his students, who surprised his class with a similar piece to Shoot.

Ok… Study Hall Detention is dismissed. You can go now, AND DON’T FORGET ABOUT WHAT YOU DID!

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Now that fall has dropped, the best American holiday of them all once again this way comes! So — oh, by the way have you seen Wal-Mart’s gigantinormous Halloween decoration/costume section lately? Rubber severed limbs 2-for-1 at $3.99! Strobe lights for $1.99!? Holyshitohmygod our front yard is gonna look kick ass this year — let’s not forget about long-held holiday traditions. HAIL SATAN! One unavoidable Halloween tradition in our household is the watching of the “Halloweenie” episode from television series The Adventures of Pete and Pete. It’s annual viewing has globally replaced the esteemed spot long held by It’s the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown (oh…haven’t you heard?). I was slightly obsessed with The Adventures of Pete and Pete back when it was airing on the Nickelodeon channel in the early 90’s (remember multi-channel cable in the dead of winter being inescapably so-great?). Even though the series was aimed at people around half my age, every episode reflected a subtly dark, often cringingly puberty-ish, and male-centroidial, cranium-ificant, underdog-odial vibe that I really plugged into (as did a lot of people). Plus I had an obscenely huge boner for Endless Mike, who gives a huggably evil performance in this episode. Anyway, “Halloweenie” was one of the show’s best episodes, and it’s viewing is an essential holiday tradition, which must be upheld, lest the moral fiber of our country disease and rot! WATCH TV! If you like, you can see a grainy-ish, start/stop-y YouTube version of the episode in three parts here (but thanks to whoever put it up!). I think some BitTorrents are around if you’re into that sort of thing. Seasons 1 and 2 are available on DVD, and rentable (if you’re on Netflix – ‘Halloweenie’ is on disc 1 of the Season 2 set). There are whole websites about the series here and here (here are the show’s Wikipedia and IMDB listings). The entire as-yet un-DVD-ed Season 3 of The Adventures of Pete and Pete, as well as a few other season episodes (but not ‘Halloweenie’), is available for viewing here. CONSUME!

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Film of Andy Warhol eating a Burger King Whopper, from 1981, and comments. You may also be interested in this 30 second Japanese TV spot he did for TDK, from 1983.

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Today I learned that Dean Johnson recently passed away. Johnson was a musician and legendary fixture of the 80’s NYC club scene, who occasionally gleamed up into the mainstream radar, while always staying rooted in underground NYC gay culture. He first gained lurid prominence with his popular downtown band Dean and the Weenies, and their bizarre 1987 club hit “Fuck You” – which got regular play in many clubs throughout the rest of the U.S. and the world, primarily due to it being featured in the trendy 1988 film Mondo New York (the odd footage of which was often shown as a video). After Dean and the Weenies fell apart, he later formed The Velvet Mafia. Their first CD, We Know Where You Live, was released in 1998. The band’s second album – the quite good Cheap But Not Free – was produced by Wharton Tiers, and released in 2002. The confounding details of Johnson’s dealings with record companies throughout his weird career can be found in his hysterical, must-read 1979-2004 diaries, found on The Velvet Mafia’s website. Speaking of his earliest days, Johnson told Next Magazine in 1998:

“I did this song called ‘Fuck You’ in the film Mondo New York. From that I was able to get a recording contract with Island Records. When they realized I was a gay activist and a drag queen, they freaked out and found an excuse to dump me. They released my record in an unmarked brown paper wrapper and said they were dumping me because the album wouldn’t sell. They printed out thousands of CDs of ‘Fuck You’ and then dumped them into a dumpster behind the Island offices. Homeless people pulled them out of the garbage and sold them for a dollar on St. Mark’s and it became a huge phenomenon. That’s how I really established myself as a performer back in 1987.”

Personally, Dean was someone I looked up to long before I ever moved to NYC in 1991. This was particularly because of his song, “Fuck You,” which was a cult hit in some of the wackier nightclubs in Dallas in the late 80’s. Texan DJs played it a lot, and club-goers would always run to the dance floor when it came on because they knew all of it’s bonkers lyrics by heart. Who can forget a room full of 300 Texas hipsters shouting in unison “Fuck…Mary Tyler Moooooore!”? I sure can’t. The song had an absurdly slow tempo for a dance club hit, but the seduction was that it made everyone think of New York – which was where we all secretly wanted to live. Of course, without the visual it might not have reached that status. Video footage of him performing this song, from the film Mondo New York, was often shown on Dallas clubs’ video monitors – whenever the DJ wanted to get the crowd riled up. A gigantic bald man in a jumpsuit-mini, drop earrings, Jackie O sunglasses and lipstick, deadpanning ‘Fuck… Union Carbide!’ while a band lazily played jazzy rock behind him? The whole package was perfectly nuts. It was like something out of Martin Scorsese’s After Hours, even if it it wasn’t. For New York in ’88, it was (ahead?) of it’s time. For Dallas in ’88, it was like a lost transmission from Dimension Please Maybe. While still living in Texas, I would often see Dean referred to, photographed (or even parodied) in magazines like Spy, Interview, Egg and the early Details. He subconsciously encapsulated a kind of warped ideal to me.

I finally moved to NYC, and got swallowed up by the whole club scene myself. In the early days, he became one of those people my eyes automatically deflected to in a crowded room as my mind raced; “There he is…don’t stare…don’t stare…” When we did meet, I remember being surprised at how gargantuan he was. He towered over you, but was built like a praying mantis, and had a deep voice. He was like a cross between Andre the Giant and Karen Carpenter, and probably could have killed anyone with his bare hands if he’d wanted. He was incredibly friendly, never a trace of of phoniness. He was always in a sarcastic mood, smiling and deadpanning one-liners no matter how high or low the situation. He was obviously very, very wild, which meant his vulnerability sometimes peeked out. We were never close friends, just acquaintances – and shared a lot of conversations. It’s only now that I realize I can’t recall a single unpleasant memory of him. I remember speaking to him once outside of Webster Hall (around ’92?) when he was working an out-of-control door scene at a Susanne Bartsch Halloween party (or was he just hanging out?), dressed in some bizarre outfit. He was complaining about what a bad gig it was and how he wished he hadn’t agreed to do it, yet while he was telling me this he was laughing. When I left the mobbed club about an hour later, the cops had arrived to try and control the now riot-y crowd. As I walked out, Dean turned and said to me, grinning with bugged eyes through smeared make-up, “Happy fucking Halloween” as Herb Ritts stood two feet behind him angrily screaming at a policeman.

I worked for Dean a few times as a go-go dancer. He had this club called Pubic Hair Club For Men at one point, on the West Side, where the go-go dancers were supposed to get nude and perform for the crowd. I agreed to the gig before knowing this fact. I danced all over town, but never nude! I remember Izora Armstead was performing a solo show at the club, before the dancers were supposed to go on (she’s the non-Martha Wash half of The Weather Girls/Two Tons ‘o Fun – and this was right at the peak of Martha Wash’s early 90’s solo career success). Izora gave a fantastic show for a small crowd, but the little stage she was on was way too tiny and, overdressed in a beaded gown, she was sweating a lot while drunk gays stood around her, half-slurring cheers. She was on the same stage I was supposed to dance on afterwards and, as I nervously watched her exhaustedly wheeze out a version of “It’s Raining Men” as an encore, I was thinking; “Oh God that’s gonna be me in a few minutes, and everyone’s going to expect me to get naked!” After she thanked the crowd I jumped on the stage – terrified – as everyone swarmed around, expecting me to whip it out. I started flailing around really quickly, hoping no one could see what I wasn’t doing and also hoping that Dean wasn’t watching (he was downstairs, actually). After spazzing out for about twenty minutes with every eyeball in the place glued to my still-clothed crotch, I ran off the stage like Lina Lamont at the end of Singing in the Rain, almost in tears. Someone yelled “Boooo!” and I think threw a Corona bottle. I was expecting not to get paid because I’d renegged on the deal. I just knew Dean was going to be like “Get back up there!,” which I knew I wouldn’t. But I really needed the $75 – to go towards rent for my regrettable, dilapidated apartment on 11th Street and Avenue C! When I snuck downstairs, Dean just patted me on the stomach and said “Were you a good boy?” and handed me the cash. He didn’t care. I confessed, and told him it didn’t matter because in a few months a porno magazine was going to come out with me in it. Dean laughed and drolled “Your boner, for the world to see!,” which made me crack up really hard. Then we started talking about homeless people’s hygiene. Dean said that the adorable squatter kids who begged for change on Avenue A would make more money if they just took all of their clothes off. I told him that then they’d have to beg for bail money. He said something like “Hey, it takes a tough chicken to make a tender fowl!”

Years passed, he was always friendly. I’d see him out at the clubs for years, greeting me with “Hi Mark” in that Herman Munster voice of his. Occasionally we’d see each other walking around late in the East Village, which just kept changing, getting less scary and less fun. I caught The Velvet Mafia performing a handful of times. I continued to read about Dean’s exploits in the magazines – but now I knew him. I eventually moved away from the city. The East Village? It was finally zapped off the face of the earth altogether (and some people barely escaped). Thanks Dean, and bye.

An ongoing dialoge about Dean’s passing can be found on the Motherboards Forums, as well as at Dean’s personal MySpace page here. His last band, The Velvet Mafia, has a website here (which includes this must-read).

UPDATE: (10/2/07) As the details begin to come in, Dean Johnson’s death appears to be taking a turn towards the scandalous/mysterious. See today’s New York Post and also Wonkette, and today’s Washington D.C. NBC local news.

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I recently sent Andrew Sullivan at The Daily Dish an email about his post “Culture War Gasoline,” which dealt with The Folsom Street Fair’s specious advertising image (above). He never got back to me about my ideas, personally or on site (he gets zillions a day), but rather than create my own post, I just thought I’d just put the email I sent him here. As a whole, it kind of sums up perfectly everything I felt:

Andrew –

As an avid reader, I was taken aback by your response to the Folsom Street Fair poster, which I thought seemed reactionary and unnecessary. But then I saw the poster was getting a lot of attention in other, similar places – negative attention – and certainly was on people’s minds. While I’m no expert on cultural politics, as a simple observer I find it fascinating how unpredictably some artist’s DIY marketing techniques have changed. Ten or twenty years ago, one could easily create work like this – and then sit back and watch the religious right fall into the trap of drumming up loads of attention for it, by protesting “that’s blasphemous!” Today that can’t always be counted on to work.

However, it seems that today one thing you CAN count on is are middle-aged hipsters and politi-think gays going onto the internet and giving it much, much MORE attention by protesting; “That’s not cool, that’s stupid!” or even “you’re ruining the next election for us!” A tactical shift? Not that I would credit such a tired and played out group as the Folsom Street Fair crowd with being so savvy…oops, did it again.

Ten or twenty years ago, such dissenters on the “left” found themselves alienated and silenced. I don’t know if today they have more of an organized voice, or the group-think as a whole has changed – but it’s created a very different playing field. No?

Sincerely,
Mark Allen

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