Page 557 - Gay San Francisco_Eyewitness Drummer
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Gay San Francisco: Eyewitness Drummer                537
             Jack Haines at the Slot to let me lead my troop through the hallways. That
             night Tony told every sex maniac checking in about the visit of young
             SFPD cops which, of course, escalated everyone’s exhibitionism.
                The Slot hallways were like a night in the red-light district of Amster-
             dam. The door to nearly every room was left open on some intensely
             posed and in-progress S&M athletics. When my troop of young troopers
             reached the third floor, one of the recruits freaked out and hyperventi-
             lated all the way down the stairs as we helped him to the front door and
             set him down on the pavement. (I always wondered what became of him.
             Had he some pentecostal revelation of his own desire? Did he return the
             next night as a paying customer?)
                Sports have always been a gay metaphor from ancient times to the
             present-day gym culture. The Greek word gymnos actually means naked.
             What could be more ideally gay than bodies moving naked? Read The
             Naked Olympics: The True Story of the Ancient Games by Tony Perrottet. In
             Drummer, the sports metaphor expressed itself in terms like “S&M games
             with players in a playroom” which was more rollerball and dangerous than
             the 1980s therapeutized “safe spaces” for urban aboriginals spanking their
             outraged inner child for politically correct Marxist gender issues.
                The 1980s was a whole 180-degree spin away from the 1970s. Blame
             viruses, Marxists, and faux fags and imitation lesbos who weren’t really
             gay, and only acted gay, because they were actually straight men and
             straight women afraid of the opposite gender. Where else but in the inclu-
             sive gay press could kinky straight people run their ads in search of each
             other? Our GLBT crew are all empathetic travelers on Noah’s Arc where
             we have seen two of everything, but when a self-described “lesbian” seeks
             a “gay man” to fist her, that seems more like refracted heterosexuality than
             homosexuality. For all the power of Playboy and Penthouse, I’ve never seen
             either corporation’s magazines run “Classified Sex Personals” that were
             always the backbone of Drummer and of The Advocate whose “Pink Sec-
             tion” kept it alive during the 1970s.
                “GLBT” is destined to become the alphabet soup of “GLBTETC”
             because anyone and everyone can hitch a ride on our momentum, and we
             never throw them under the bus.
                Nevertheless, that’s the great element of “blank” in homosexuality
             and lesbianism: both are such open existential positions that they let any
             and all come into the tent whether they essentially belong there or not.
                This existential irony has helped deconstruct pure homosexuality
             and pure lesbianism.
                Unlike much of the gay press, I am not heterophobic nor anti-Cath-
             olic nor a gender separatist. However, I have the queer idee fixe that in
             all the years in which “Sandinistas in wheelchairs” are invited to lead

           ©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved—posted 05-05-2017
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