This caught my eye last night while lounging around Tuscany cafe in Southside.  (Doesn't that sound like I do cool things on week nights?  LOL)

You Had to Ask
6/22/2006

I?m still wondering about the Pittsburgh Left. No one can tell me where it comes from. Question submitted by: Catherine Stephens

That's a very good question Catherine.  And Mr. Potter does a fine job exploring this unique phenomenon.  Even I, a lifelong Pittsburgher, did not have a precise understanding.  I'm a bit of coward when it comes to pulling in front of people without clear signals that its okay. However:

No one can pinpoint the origins of the practice, of course. But when executed correctly, the Pittsburgh Left is a justifiable, and maybe even inevitable, response to Pittsburgh?s history and topography.

That's one of the awesome things about the City Paper.  You learn things that seem so obvious, but no one at West Mifflin High School ever made a point to teach us.  About the 1988 boys basketball team, I learned too much.  About Pittsburgh history and topography, not so much. 

Get that man a toaster! 

Paul Fero of Monroeville, Repulican and former candidate for the State House of Shame er, Representatives in 2002, announced that the Rethuglican obsession with homosexual marriage has caused him to convert -- to a Democrat.   Proving once and for all that while you may be born a breeder, you choose to be an slavish idiot to a hate agenda.

Fero's writes that his decision is based on the political priorities of the Republicans.

A constitutional amendment to ban gay marriage -- our elected Republican officials believe this is a priority?

This is absolutely ridiculous and I can't take it anymore. The endless positioning to support the conservative base of the Republican Party has truly hit a milestone.

Then he puts forth a clear statement of support

And I support the right for gay and lesbian couples to marry. Marriage shouldn't be about what sex you are but about love, compassion and caring for one another. Those qualities aren't exclusive to heterosexuals.

Fero's opponent in that 2002 election was incumbent Joe Markosek, one of the 20 House Democrats who voted in favor of the original constitutional amendment -- the really bad one as opposed to the hate-light bill that made it through the Senate. 

To be fair, if Fero had been elected as a Republican who knows where he would be now -- would he have joined that other convert Mike Divin (opposite direction) in opposing the amendment?  No way to tell.

Nonethless, hopefully this is one more vote for Bob Casey and one more sign that the Republican obsession with controlling my bedroom behavior is turning off the real party faithful.

I think the PG's poser-columnist Catherine Specter is losing her grip.  Not only does she continue her relentless campaign to drag unsuspecting yinzerettes back into her 1950's delusional reality, but now she's just rambling incoherently ... who made the decision to give her a column?

First, she makes a bizarre allusion to  Darwin out of nowhere in order to make a rather weird point about embracing your gay friends.  Right after pointing out that all relationships improve or die.  Huh?

Second to bat is a single chick who doesn't want to get married and gives a big feminist shout out to all her sisters in the same boat.  Does Specter accept the props?  No, she has to get in a little marriage dig.  And there's this little gem:

Cat's Call: If you find someone who brings out the best in you, don't let it go just for the sake of staying single.

OK, cause that's what the woman is doing.  She's staying single on principle, not because it is a valid life choice.  I'm sure if Cat helped her "prettify her attitude" things would be much better in terms of taking down a man, er getting a husband.

Finally, there is this jumble of words that I can only interpret as a desperate cry for help from the author:

DEAR S.I.T.M: Emotions can be too nebulous to define, but the metric is simpler when it comes to relationships. You're either committed or not, and your heart is either in it or not. You are in the commitment without the emotion. "They" can say what they want, but I say the opposite of love is indifference. Where does that leave you?

Cat's Call: If you only get halfway to anywhere ...

If you only get halfway to anywhere ... you are still somewhere?  Its the journey not the destination?  Sometimes the road signs are wrong?  You are a bisexual?  Again, WTF?

I suspect Specter made a pact with the devil to trade her self-respect for a chance to be Pittsburgh's Carrie Bradshaw.  Now she's decompensating and soon will emerge as a minor-league Ann Coulter clone ...

h/t Fact-esque

Sarah MacLachlan gave away the $150,000 production video for her new video for the single "World on Fire" and made a video for $15.00.  The video shows the many cool things she was able to do with the money to help people living in poverty.  And its uplifting, not preachy.  Just setting a good example ...

The world's on fire and
It's more than I can handle
I'll tap into the water
(Try and bring my share)
I try to bring more
More than I can handle
(Bring it to the table)
Bring what I am able

The more we take, the less we become
A fortune of one that means less for some

Sue beat me to the punch on this one, too. I'm not as dedicated a blogger as she is. Recetnly she wrote an article talking about how a "queer" woman made a comment to the effect that she didn't recognize/acknowledge Sue & I at Steel Queer N' At  because she didn't think I/Sue would be at that type of event. Or words to that affect.

I should have questioned her about what she meant. 'Cause sister, I have the street cred to go anywhere that I want to go. Yes, I'm white. Yes, I'm middle class (barely) and yes, I have a law degree. But I have paid my dues in spades. I toiled as a young female lawyer making $7-8 dollars an hour for a man who made that in a minute. But it was the only job out there and I wanted to practice law. I've been poor. I've had to scrimp to make ends meet--to pay bills, etc. So this notion that if you're not dirt poor you don't qualify as "queer" is bullsh*t. With a capital B.

I also have the street cred because I have been an outlaw and nonconformist my whole life. From the time I can remember, I didn't like dresses, pink, frills or any of the things "normal" little girls liked. To this day, when I pass the woman's section in any store, my reaction to the clothes on display is one of utter disinterest. I have worn short hair for quite awhile along with men's/boy's clothing. Sure, I've worn women's clothing--still do. But I have never fit the image of a woman in this society. And I've been mistaken for a man or a boy countless times. I've been queer before queer was a word.

So don't stereotype me. You haven't earned the right. You haven't paid your dues. And to top it off, this particular person then made a comment about her--boyfriend. What a f**king joke. I've been a lesbian since forever. And I've paid a price for it. So don't look down your nose at me and sneer.

We did a lot of gay things this weekend ... the dyke march, the quiet storm queer performance, pride march, pridefest, pride baseball game, etc.  All of them had their awesome moments. 

There was only one moment that really pissed me off.  And it was when a self-styled queer woman had the gall to suggest that my girl and I aren't the "type" of lesbians to show up at either a dyke march or the recent queer cabaret show (Steel Queer N'At). 

Meaning we aren't dyke enough, queer enough, cool enough, hip enough and a whole other list of prejudicial exlusionary things enough for this chick's comfort.

I guess its easy to take a look at us and write us off as middle class white yuppie lesbians.  And, yes, that is part of who we are ... we have a house, two cars, professional jobs, advanced degrees and all that assimilationist stuff that goes along with it.  What you don't see if you don't bother to look is the important stuff about who we are -- our values, our beliefs, our practices, our contributions, our commitment, and so forth. 

Here's a small slice of what you f*cking don't know about us. You don't know how many hours of volunteer work we do.  You don't know how we choose to spend the money we earn working public service jobs rather than for corporate America.  You don't know if we eat meat, recycle, take care of our aging family members, ride share, go the library, live in an inner city neighborhood, drop everything to help our friends, support LGBTQ human service agencies, shop at thrift stores, feed homeless cats or boycott Wal-Mart.  You don't know if we stand up, speak out, shut up, kick ass, takes names and speak to the manager when we see discrimination, oppression, injustice, unfairness or plain old hatred.  You don't know if we recognize our privileges.  You don't know what we say when get access to people with power and money.  You don't know how many times we've been harassed, assaulted, violated, picked on, laughed at, mistreated, misled, denied, ignored, repudiated and disregarded because we are gay or women or both.

Guess what, honey?  You need to f*cking get over yourself.  Who the hell are you to tell either of us - whom you barely know - that we aren't cool enough to play in your sandbox?  This is the kind of exclusive crap that reinforces those giant walls that keep women in our community disempowered. 

What you also don't know is that you pissed off the wrong lesbians.  Because now we will come to every f*cking event there is and we will plop our middle-class asses down right next to you and make you acknowledge us.  And we will bring others -- from Sewickley and Homestead and Bethel Park and Greensburg --- we will invite them to be part of the dyke experience and they will come.  There will be minivans parked next to bicycles.  There will be burgers and tofu.  They will listend to WYEP and KDKA. 

We're here.  We're queer (too).  Get used to it.

In today's column, Cat Specter taps into her inner-Harriet Nelson to dish out some spectacularly dated 1950's crap advice for her "girl" readers. 

First, a reader asks for advice on being set up for a date with the son of her parents' friends, a date on which she does not want to go.  Specter tells her that she has to go for risk of embarrassing her parents or offending their friends with the implication that their son is not datable. 

Wow, if I lived my life to avoid embarrassing my parents or offending their friends, I'd pretty much not be openly gay, not be a social worker, not be a liberal, and defintely not writing this blog  --- I would not be me.  But maybe the reader values her parents' comfort more than her own and will suppress her instincts to go on this date.  She might get a car, house in Cranberry Township, two kids and the occasional new outfit out of it.

Then there's the anti-woman kicker:

Who knows, maybe he's equally averse to dating you, which could make him more attractive.

Now that's CATTY.  What the hell kind of advice columnists INSULTS her readers -- all of her women readers? 

And then she does it again in the next round of advice.  A concerned dad writes in to ask how to push his 37 year old daughter into marriage with her boyfriend of four years.  Specter starts off strong by explaining that marriage is his goal, not necessarily hers and he should relax a little and let her follow her own instincts without judging her.   Then she points out that marriage to this guy might not even be an option because he probably won't buy the cow if he's getting the milk for free.

You're right that he probably won't marry her if he can get it all without walking down the aisle, but she may be of the same mind.

What is the "all" that he is getting --- a long-term, committed healthy relationship with a mature woman who shares his values about marriage?  Or ongoing access to her vagina with no strings?

CORRESPONDENT'S CALL:  Darryl Metcalfe would be proud!

This morning, I flipped to the "Just Ask Cat" segment in the PG and almost spilled my coffee.  No, she still has the rich girl slumming as hipster yinzerette photo up.  Its way more interesting than that. And you know how much I look forward to reading Cat's insipid advice each week. 

Cat stood up for women.  Sort of. Women who don't wear makeup.  Or girly clothes.  And sexually active women.  All the good girl no-no's. 

First a letter from a 40 year old divorced man who questions whether he can trust his current lady love to have outgrown her casual sex days of yore.  Cat sort of steps up on this one, informing "Bothered" that his concern for her past is a reflection on his screwed up values and not hers. 

Then comes De-Tom Time who thinks his near perfect "girl" needs to girly up a little bit and asks for advice since "it is way too early to start criticizing her."

Ahem. 

Cat's response:

DEAR DE-TOM: There are myriad reasons why attractive girls with great bods might not have a lot of dates. Don't assume it's because other guys can't see past her lack of makeup and minis. You've had three dates and you want to change her already? Get over yourself. "Near-perfect" is quite something. Take her someplace real; don't just hang out. If she wears overalls to dinner, accept it or move on. And do note, there's never a good time to criticize her.

Cat's Call: The best thing about tomboys -- the girl underneath is an elusive surprise, not a given.

Obviously, she has a LONG way to go toward actually valuing women (or offering good advice). 

Sadly, what Specter fails to recognize is her complicity in patriarchal attitudes that treat women like inanimate objects solely existing for their male sexual gratification (and breeding.)  Her constant use of the term "girl" to describe adult females is the obvious starting point for her never ceasing descent into the world where boys will be boys and women will be dissected on Top Ten lists.  

But perhaps there is some faint glimmer of hope that Specter can evolve into an actual dispenser of good advice instead of merely spewing out quasi-flippant comments while licking her 8x10 glossy of Carrie Bradshaw. 

Or maybe not.

I woke up with one of those sinus headaches slightly reminiscent of a hangover without the fun memories.  Another crappy Friday to muddle through. I'm scrolling through the online edition of the Post-Gazette and I stumble into the return of my all-time favorite columnist - Mr. Tony Norman.  PLUS, he even makes a gay joke about himself. 

"But here we are again, dear readers, stumbling into each other's arms for yet another awkward dance of indeterminate years. Oh, how I've missed your early morning coffee breath, your sighs of agreement and your belligerent howls of skepticism."