Age is a State of Mind, Somewhere Near Nebraska

What a year it has been! After surviving the odometer rolling over to 40, I had a year of sabbatical. That gave me plenty of time to think about my mid-life crisis next steps in my career. It turns out that I needed to make some important adjustments to my plans. Now I have a new writing project, hints of which can be found in this post. I also have a new attitude about returning to the soul-crushing service that had drained me of ambition before my leave. Seriously kids, stay clear of administrators who take your labor without gratitude.

I also feel much better about being in my forties than I did at this point last year. Sure, my local supermarket has started sending me targeted coupons for adult incontinence undergarments. In my heart, I know that I am at least two years away from needing to take advantage of them. Most of the television that I watch also seems to be sponsored by reverse mortgages and joint-pain supplements. At least the marketing demographic profiling appears consistent.

What I mean to convey is that there is a new GayProf in town ‘cause I’m feelin’ good. Get a smile, get a song, for the neighborhood. There’s a new GayProf in town on his own two feet and this GayProf is here to say with some luck and love –- Wait, that might be Alice, not GayProf. Although I had heard that she doesn’t live here anymore.

Whatever the case, another year means taking a moment for some much needed comparative stock with where other people happened to be at this same point with their lives. Won’t you join me as we find out what it meant to be 41?

If I were Johnston McCulley at age 41, I would have invented my most enduring and popular character, Zorro, four years ago. I would continue to write Zorro stories for another thirty four years.

If I were Truman Capote at age 41, I would be finishing In Cold Blood this year.

If I were Ronald Reagan at age 41, I would marry Nancy Davis this year. I would also become the host of General Electric Theater. This is not to say that my career might have hit a dead end. My last starring role, however, would have found me competing for screen time with a chimpanzee. I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'.

If I were Diego de la Vega at age 41, it would have been seventeen years since I set out to foil injustice with nothing more than a rapier, mask, and long flowing black cape.



At 41, if I were Montgomery Clift, I would co-star with Marilyn Monroe and Clark Gable in The Misfits this year. I would also be nominated for an Academy Award for Judgment at Nuremberg.

If I were Marilyn Monroe, I would be dead.

If I were Pancho Villa, this would be my last year as a military commander.

If I were Linda Lavin, I would be starting my second season in Alice.



If I were Queen Isabella I of Castile, I would complete the brutal so-called “Reconquista.” I would also issue my Alhambra Decree, expelling people of Jewish faith from Castile and Aragon. Finally, I would send Christopher Columbus across the Atlantic to claim new lands for my crown. It would be a year that would show me not to be a particularly nice person.

If I were Pierre Trudeau, I would be an associate professor of law at the Université de Montréal.

If I were Clark Gable, this is the year that I would lose my wife Carole Lombard in a plane crash.

If were Corky Gonzáles at age 41, I would organize the Chicano Youth Conference, the first of its kind and a major milestone for the Chicano movement.



If I were Candice Bergen, it would be another year before I would be cast as the eponymous character in Murphy Brown.

When Murphy Brown turned 41, she had been sober for one year.

If I were Gene Roddenberry, I would be working on launching the show The Lieutenant. It would be another two years before I started production of Star Trek.

If I were legendary folklorist Américo Paredes, this is the year I would earn my Ph.D. It would be another two years before my most famous work, With a Pistol in His Hand, would be published.

If I were Dorthea Lange, I would have just become famous for my photography documenting poverty and suffering during the 1930s.



If I were J. Edgar Hoover, I would have just started as Director of the newly formed Federal Bureau of Investigation. Civil liberties everywhere would take a giant step backwards.

If I were Bayard Rustin, I would be arrested in Pasadena, California on charges of “sex perversion” with two other men who were with me in a parked car. It would be another ten years before I would be the logistical mastermind behind the March on Washington.

If I were Douglas Fairbanks at age 41, I would make the film The Thief of Bagdad. It would have been four years since I originated the role of Zorro on film. Next year, I would have the audacity to play Diego de la Vega’s son in the sequel Don Q, Son of Zorro despite being sixteen years older than the character.



If I were Mae West, I would be at the height of my film career, releasing Belle of the Nineties.

If I were Mary Tyler Moore, this would be my last year playing Mary Richards.



If I were Reies López Tijerina, this is the year that I would lead an armed raid on the Rio Arriba County courthouse in New Mexico.

If I were Gloria Swanson, it would be another ten years before I would play faded star Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulvard.

If I were Lyndon Johnson, I would start my first year in the U.S. Senate.

If I were Murphy Brown's boss, Miles Silverberg, it would have been sixteen years since I started working at FYI.



If I were Ellen Burstyn, this is the year that I would dodge projectile vomit in The Exorcist. It would be another year before I would win the Academy Award for Best Actress for my work in Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore.

If I were Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, my former secretary would release a tell-all book about working for me this year.

At 41, I would return to my role as Hikaru Sulu in Star Trek:The Motion Picture if I were George Takei.



If I were Jimmy Carter, I would be in the midst of serving my second term in the Georgia State Senate.

If I were Oscar Wilde at 41, this would be the year that I would try to prosecute my lover’s father, the Marquess of Queensberry, for libel. That would turn out not be such a good idea.

If I were Guy Williams, this is the year I would start playing Professor John Robinson on Lost in Space. It would have been four years since my last television appearance as Zorro.

If I were Billie Holiday, I would release my album Lady Sings the Blues, my last for Clef Records.

If I were Isabel Allende, I would win Novel of the Year from the Chilean government for my book The House of Spirits. It would be another twenty-two years before I would write Zorro.

If I were Chris Christie, I would have no moral compass.

If I were Lily Tomlin, this is the year that I would make 9 to 5.



If I were Martin Luther King, Jr, I would have been dead for two years.

Jane Fonda, at age 41, starred in the film Coming Home. I would age another two years before I teamed up with Dolly Parton and Lily Tomlin for 9 to 5.

If I were Scott Walker, I would be a college dropout.

If I were Kate Jackson, I would be starring in the short-lived sitcom Baby Boom.

If I were Pearl Bailey, this is the year that I would release Pearl Bailey Sings for Adults Only, one of my best.



If I were Elizabeth Montgomery, this is the year I would make the controversial television-movie A Case of Rape.

If I were Batman, I would be a knockoff of Zorro.

If I were Farrah Fawcett, it would have been a year since I starred in Poor Little Rich Girl: The Barbara Hutton Story.

If I were Ted Cruz, I would be totally nuts.

If I were Dick York, this would be the year that I would be replaced by Dick Sargent as Darrin Stephens in Bewitched.




If I were Jaclyn Smith, I would be starring in Rage of Angels: The Story Continues. Disappointingly, the titular angels would have no relation to Charlie.

If I were Bobby Jindal, I would be completely delusional.

If I were Cher, this is the year that I would star in Moonstruck, for which I would win an Academy Award. Snap out of it!



If I were Dolly Parton, I would record the much acclaimed album Trio with Emmylou Harris and Linda Ronstadt.

If I were Tyrone Power, I would be touring the United States and Canada in the play The Dark is Light Enough. It would have been fifteen years since I portrayed Zorro.

If I were Wonder Woman, I would age another 2,450 years before joining Patriarch’s world to fight crime.

GayProf's Holiday Gift Guide 2014

Holidays always seem like a period of extreme endurance to me. For weeks we struggle with crowds of shoppers, awkward conversations with distant relatives, and even more awkward conversations with close relatives. Everybody scrambles and agonizes over what gift to buy that special somebody in their lives. For me, I don’t need lots of things just to prove that people adore me. No, no. In the immortal words of Pearl Bailey, just give me a five-pound box of money. Cash, after all, is always the perfect size and always the perfect color.

Not everybody, I recognize, has my pragmatic sense of the world. Many of you want to send just the right message with a present this year. To help you all out, here is my [almost]annual gift guide. Allow me to decipher just what those hidden messages are behind the gifts we give.
****

THE GIFT: Tortoise shell hair combs with jeweled rims.

WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: I clearly had not anticipated that you were going to cut your hair like a Coney Island chorus girl. Why, oh, why did I sell my grandfather's gold watch for these damn things?

WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: Hey, at least my hair will be long and luxurious again in a few months. Good luck growing a new gold watch.

***

THE GIFT: A 500-page summary outlining the CIA’s illegal and ineffective use of torture.

WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: Your Congress is hard at work and on top of things – thirteen years after they happen!

WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: If somebody actually ends up doing jailtime for this, it would be the best Christmas present ever!



***
THE GIFT: A commemorative statue of Batman’s 75th anniversary.

WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: You’re kinda a nerd.

WHAT THE RECEIVE THINKS: A statue of Batman -- the lesser Zorro.



***
THE GIFT: An announcement by Jeb Bush that he will be running for President of the United States.

WHAT THE GIVER MEANT:This nation has been foolish enough to let two other members of this mediocre family become president. Why not me?

WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: Isn't there a way to keep this family sequestered on an island somewhere?

*** THE GIFT: A poem about a visit from St. Nicholas

WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: Aren’t I clever?

WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: Other children get actual gifts from St. Nicholas. All I got was a cloying set of sloppy rhyming couplets. Worst. Christmas. Ever.

***
THE GIFT: Normalized relations with Cuba.

WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: This has been a complicated and difficult set of diplomatic negotiations that will have lasting impact on this hemisphere and beyond.

WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: Finally! I will be able to get a bottle of Havana Club rum without having to smuggle it across the U.S.-Mexican border.



***
THE GIFT: Flesh, wine, and pine logs

WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: You shall dine well tonight and be warm!

WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: Uh, that’s nice for tonight. What about the other 364 days when I live in grinding poverty? This neighborhood is a dump! We get landslides from the mountain; the forest fence needs repair; and I can't even remember the last time that Saint Agnes’ fountain actually had water in it! Your cruel tyranny has allowed the accumulation of wealth among the few.

***
THE GIFT: Crystal wine glasses

WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: Your stemware situation is grievous.

WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: These are better than drinking out of a bottle in a paper bag I suppose.

***
THE GIFT: A collection of money to replace the missing deposit that your uncle was supposed to make for the savings and loan.

WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: We are a shockingly selfish set of humans making a token gesture. We will never really acknowledge our parasitic dependence on you or that our lives would have certainly turned to crime and/or alcoholism had you not been around.

WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: Great, I get to avoid jail time for a mistake that I did not actually make. Otherwise, my life remains focused on playing nursemaid to an entire community. God, I hate this town.




***
THE GIFT: A diamond tennis bracelet.

WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: Television tells me to buy these.

WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: If I look closely, I can almost see the blood inside each one.

***
THE GIFT: A video of our employees making paper airplanes out of boarding passes.
WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: You all are sheep and won’t notice the cripplingly expensive airfares we charge despite the low prices of fuel.

WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: The holidays are that special time of year when I become nostalgic for the era when our nation actually enforced its anti-trust laws.

***
THE GIFT: A three-month gym membership.

WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: I plan to break up with you soon, but I want to make you feel as badly about yourself as possible beforehand.

WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: Gee, if ever I begin to doubt what a small person that you are, I can just think of this gift.

***
THE GIFT: A “shared services” center designed by an outside consulting firm for $11 million.

WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: Faculty who protest this should really just shut-up and teach.

WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: Apparently I work at a university that values its employees at the same depth as a Texas Wal-Mart.

***
THE GIFT: The opportunity to carry flesh, wine, and pine logs through the bitter cold so that I can look like a saint.

WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: Walk in my footsteps and you will find the winter’s rage freeze thy blood less coldly.

WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: You know what would freeze my blood less coldly? If you handed over your ermine cloak, you selfish bastard.



***
THE GIFT: A blog post after months, or even years, of absence.

WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: I can still be funny, right?

WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: Oh, are you still alive?

***
THE GIFT: The complete DVD box set of WKRP in Cincinnati.


WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: Aren’t you nostalgic for the time when AM radio stations played rock’n’roll?

WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: What is a radio station?

***
THE GIFT: The opportunity to guide my sleigh through a blizzard.

WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: I used to think you were a cruel freak of nature. Now that you have some marginal use to me, I am more than glad to exploit your labor.

WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: After tonight, I am converting to Judaism and running away with Hermey, my gay lover.



***
THE GIFT: A Republican controlled Congress.

WHAT THE GIVER MEANT: I hate America.

WHAT THE RECEIVER THINKS: Looks like I picked the wrong holiday to quit drinking.

Well, on that final cheerful note, I will simply extend my best non-sectarian, non-denominational winter greetings to you all. Enjoy the gifts whatever their hidden meanings.

Yes, I am Getting Older Too

I find it hard to believe that I just finished my fourth year in Midwestern Funky Town. That’s one year longer than I survived in Texas. Yet, my time in Texas still feels like it was almost twice as long. Go figure.

The summer has technically just started, but the appearance of fireflies suggest that we are already halfway through the season in the north. The fireflies also means that it must be time to celebrate my birthday, some 37 years ago. Do take the time to fix yourself a cocktail and toast to my health. Probably I will live quite a long time -- unless I don’t. Whatever the case, I always like to take a moment each year to consider what other people were doing when they were my age:

If I were Mary Richards at age thirty-seven, I would have moved to Minneapolis seven years ago. Although I would not know it, this would be my last year working at WJM.



If I were Dolly Parton, this is the year that I would release “Islands in the Stream” with Kenny Rogers.

If I were Kenny Rogers, this is the year I would release my first solo album. It would be another sixteen years before my disastrous foray into fast food.

If I were Cher, this would be the year that my film career took off with the release of Silkwood. I would take the then-unknown Val Kilmer as my date to the Oscars. He would be 13 years my junior and sport a hideous mullet.



If I were James Dean, I would be dead.

If I were Luke Appling, the Chicago White Sox legend, I would be serving in World War II at age 37.

If I were Pancho Villa, this is the year that I would attack the small town of Columbus, New Mexico. This action would transform me overnight into a villain in the eyes of most U.S. citizens.



If I were the Roman Emperor Nero, I would be dead.

If I were Chloë Sevigny, this is the year that I would have finished filming the series Big Love.

If I were Captain Kirk, my five year mission “to explore strange new worlds; to seek out new life and new civilizations” would end.

If I were William Shatner, I would have been playing Captain Kirk for two years.

If I were Captain Picard, I would be serving as first officer of the U.S.S. Stargazer. It would be another 22 years before I took command of the Enterprise.



If I were Patrick Stewart, I would have been a member of the Royal Shakespeare Company for eleven years. It would be another ten before I accepted the role of Captain Picard.

If I were Jesus, I would be dead.

If I were GayProf, I would be mediating on another failed romance. My blog, The Center of Gravitas, would barely be updated in its sixth year.

If I were César Chávez, I would sign the one-thousandth member to the recently founded National Farm Workers Association. That organization would have fifty locals.

If I were Marylin Monroe, I would be dead.

If I were Martin Luther King, Jr., I would be campaigning to end slums in Chicago.

If I were Noël Coward, I would produce my short play Still Life for the first time in London this year.



If I were Paul Revere, my silversmith business would be struggling. It would be another three years before I rode through the night to warn Massachusetts colonists that the British regular army was mobilizing for a possible assault on Samuel Adams, John Hancock, and others at Lexington.

If I were Sarah Palin, I would have absolutely no idea why Paul Revere was important to the U.S. War for Independence.

If I were Princess Diana, I would be dead.

In between nursing my polio stricken husband, I would write my first article (“Common Sense Versus Party Regularity) if I were Eleanor Roosevelt.

If I were Blake Harper, I would retire from gay porn in three years. -- What? This isn't a blog for children.



If I were Ellen Degeneres, I would be starring in my own sitcom (Ellen). It would be another two years before I publicly came out of the closet.

If I were Oscar Wilde, I would pen “The Soul of Man under Socialism” this year.



If I were Hernán Cortés, Malintzin (a.k.a. Doña Marina, a.k.a. “La Malinche”) would give birth to my son this year.

If I were Michel Foucault, I would publish Birth of the Clinic this year.

If I were either of my parents, I would already have three children. The oldest would be seventeen years old. The youngest would be ten years old.

If I were Montgomery Clift, I would finish filming Raintree County with Elizabeth Taylor. It would be the first time the public saw my face after my car accident.



If I were Derek Jeter, this would be the year that I hit my 3,000th hit (most likely).

If I were Franklin Roosevelt, I would be the Assistant Secretary of the Navy. It would be another 14 years before I became President of the United States.

If I were Paul Lynde, I would record a comedy album entitled Recently Released this year.

If I were Mitt Romney, my insatiable greed would lead me to seek $37 million to co-found the private equity firm Bain Capital.

If I were Wonder Woman, I would age another 2,454 years before joining Patriarch’s world to fight crime.

Give It Up

December is passing by rather quickly. While we all know that I celebrate the winter Lunar celebration for the goddess Diana (wink), others are preparing for the big C. Or the big H (sometimes also C). Or the big K. The pressures of finding the perfect gifts for your loved ones, traveling to see your loved ones, and then spending an ungodly amount of time with your loved ones is likely driving you all batty. It’s like GayProf always says, “Family: Can’t live with them, can’t shove them in a trunk and drive them over a cliff.”

As I prepare the invisible jet for my return to Paradise Island, I wanted to offer my annual help to the loyal legions who keep vigil in cyberspace. Allow me to be your guide as you navigate these gift giving rituals. There is still plenty of time to figure out just what type of message you want to send with your presents this year:

***

The Gift: A bottle of bourbon.

What the Giver Meant: You’re a drunken bastard.

What the Receiver Thinks: Give me, give me, give me.



***

The Gift: A hands-free infrared soap dispenser.

What the Giver Meant: You’re a dirty bastard

What the Receiver Thinks: Anal retentive much?

***

The Gift: A nativity set with characters from Star Trek, including Mr. Spock as Jesus.

What the Giver Meant: You’re a nerdy bastard.

What the Receiver Thinks: Maybe Shatner was right. Maybe I do need to get a life.

***

The Gift: An assortment of flavored hot chocolates.

What the Giver Meant: I want you to be warm and toasty in these cold winter nights.

What the Receiver Thinks: I’d rather have a bottle of bourbon.

***

The Gift: A year-long membership on Manhunt.com

What the Giver Meant: You're a horny bastard.

What the Receiver Thinks: I guess that I can use this if Grindr is ever down.



***

The Gift: A year-long membership to Match.com.

What the Giver Meant: You're a lonely bastard.

What the Receiver Thinks: I’d rather have a bottle of bourbon.

***

The Gift: A year-long membership to eHarmony.com.

What the Giver Meant: You're a creepy, Christian bastard.

What the Receiver Thinks: I don't need anybody in my life because my ability to smugly judge others keeps me warm through the night.

***

The Gift: A give away tax plan for the wealthy.

What the Giver Meant: I ignore the people who elected me in a futile effort to curry favor with the people who will forever hate me.

What the Receiver Thinks: I see we are still waiting on that spine donor.

***
The Gift: Mid-century modern ceramics

What the Giver Meant: I am a man of exceptional style and taste.

What the Receiver Thinks: Somebody has been watching Mad Men a bit too much.



***

The Gift: The DVD collection of Glee.

What the Giver Meant: You’re a gay bastard.

What the Receiver Thinks: I still have fantasies that high school could have been fun.



***

The Gift: The DVD collection of Modern Family.

What the Giver Meant: You like shows with non threatening Latina and/or gay characters who subtly conform to societal stereotypes.

What the Receiver Thinks: I enjoy the stifling suburban status quo.

***

The Gift: The DVD collection of Dallas.

What the Giver Meant: You’re an out-of-touch bastard.

What the Receiver Thinks: Why did the eighties have to end?

***

The Gift: A product made in the state of Arizona.

What the Giver Meant: I have no social conscience.

What the Receiver Thinks: I need better friends.



***

The Gift: A Dodge Challenger!

What the Giver Meant: It’s not like Chrysler is going to be around much longer.

What the Receiver Thinks: I have the best friends.



***

The Gift: A reclining chair with built-in massaging technology.

What the Giver Meant: You’re a lazy bastard.

What the Receiver Thinks: I wish it had come with a bedpan.

***

The Gift: Tea Party Paraphernalia.

What the Giver Meant: You're a crazy bastard.

What the Receiver Thinks: ? (When dealing with the crazed, your guess is as good as mine.)

***

The Gift: A copy of NERPoD.

What the Giver Meant: Somebody, somewhere, should read this thing.

What the Receiver Thinks: Was the bookstore out of Secret Historian?



***

The Gift: A humidifier and a tub of Vick’s vapor rub.

What the Giver Meant: You’re a sickly bastard.

What the Receiver Thinks: (Unable to receive gift because you are in bed).

***

The Gift: Your own blog.

What the Giver Meant: You’re a whining bastard. Now you can vent your spleen without me having to listen to it.

What the Receiver Thinks: This would have been interesting... Five years ago (Unless you are an academic, in which case you feel really hip having a blog).

***



The Gift: A wildly inappropriate airport screening procedure.

What the Giver Meant: Hey, if we make this a big enough dog and pony show nobody will notice that we blew an obscene amount of money on machines that will do nothing to make us safer.

What the Receiver Thinks: Basic human dignity was overrated.




***
The Gift: A gift card.

What the Giver Meant: You’re an impossible-to-shop-for bastard.

What the Receiver Thinks: You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble! Cash would have been just fine.

***

The Gift: A Wii entertainment center.

What the Giver Meant: You’re an adolescent bastard.

What the Receiver Thinks: We are so having a slumber party this weekend.

***

The Gift: An ipad.

What the Giver Meant: I am a slave to the Apple corporation and have confused capitalist brand identification with actual individuality.

What the Receiver Thinks: Here is an overpriced toy that will end up sitting in a drawer in six months.

***

The Gift: A window’s based PC tablet.

What the Giver Meant: I was too cheap to buy the ipad.

What the Receiver Thinks: Why is it on fire?

***

The Gift: An all expense paid trip to Madrid!

What the Giver Meant: The holidays are meant to be enjoyed.

What the Receiver Thinks: This is the best present, ever!


***

The Gift: A trip to see your family that you have to pay for yourself!

What the Giver Meant: The holidays are meant to be endured.

What the Receiver Thinks: Life is suffering.

***

The Gift: Diamonds!

What the Giver Meant: You’re a greedy bastard.

What the Receiver Thinks: Marilyn was right.


***

The Gift: A key holder disguised as a realistic rock.

What the Giver Meant: You’re a forgetful bastard.

What the Receiver Thinks: Where am I?

***

The Gift: A lava lamp.

What the Giver Meant: You’re a stoned bastard.

What the Receiver Thinks: Where am I?

***

The Gift: The soundtrack for Burlesque.

What the Giver Meant: You’re a campy bastard.

What the Receiver Thinks: I missed my calling as a Cher drag queen.

***

The Gift: The Clapper.

What the Giver Meant: You’re an old bastard.

What the Receiver Thinks: Well, I suppose it is better than the clap.

***

The Gift: A Tom and Jerry bowl with matching cups.

What the Giver Meant: You’re a weird bastard.

What the Receiver Thinks: Now my 1930s dish collection is complete!


***

The Gift: A three-month membership to a gym.

What the Giver Meant: You’re a fat bastard.

What the Receiver Thinks: You’re just a bastard.

Give a Little, Take a Little

Alright, kiddies, I am off to my equivalent of Paradise Island. That’s assuming that the invisible jet can navigate through these snowstorms. Transparent wings don’t really take to chemical de-icer. I am not sayin', I am just sayin'.

Before departing, though, I thought that I would once again help you all decipher the hidden messages behind gifting this year. Okay, a couple are recycled – But they are as true now as ever!

And that truth can be as disillusioning as my discovery that egg nog is now manufactured with that nasty high fructose corn syrup. Oh, agribusiness, is there nothing you won't ruin?

Here is a list of gifts, what the giver meant by giving them, and what the receiver thinks upon getting each:

The Gift: A copy of Going Rogue.

What the Giver Meant: I have a perverted sense of humor.

What the Receiver Thinks: Oh, I can use this. My coffee table is a little wobbly because of that short leg.





***

The Gift: A complete set of the Twilight saga.

What the Giver Meant: Sex will only bring heartache, despair, and pain – So don’t do it!

What the Receiver Thinks: I will develop a kinky S&M obsession involving fangs.

***

The Gift: A complete set of True Blood on DVD.

What the Giver Meant: Buying porn seemed too obvious.

What the Receiver Thinks: Was the store out of porn?

***

The Gift: Antique Dishes

What the Giver Meant: My dishmania has reached the level that I can only justify things to myself if I buy them for other people.

What the Receiver Thinks: These better be dishwasher safe.



***

The Gift: Diamonds!

What the Giver Meant: I am trying to buy your love.

What the Receiver Thinks: I wonder how many children suffered digging these out of the ground. . .



***

The Gift: A Bible.

What The Giver Meant: You should remember the real reason for the season.

What The Receiver Thinks: When will this sanctimonious asshole get out of my house?

***

The Gift: A blank, white coffee mug.

What the Giver Meant: I panicked at the local CVS.

What the Receiver Thinks: Was the CVS out of Bourbon this year?

***

The Gift: A basic textbook on macroeconomics.

What the Giver Meant: You are the most crooked, creepy, incompetent Treasury Secretary this nation has ever had.

What the Receiver Thinks: Macro-what now?


***

The Gift: An all expense paid vacation to a beach resort.

What the Giver Meant: I am trying to buy your love.

What the Receiver Thinks: Maybe once I get there I can ditch you at the beach.

***

The Gift: An electric quesadilla maker.

What the Giver Meant: Quesadillas are delicious.

What the Receiver Thinks: Oh, something that I will use once and then abandon in my cupboard forever.

***

The Gift: Egg nog with high fructose corn syrup.

What the Giver Meant: I give the gift of diabetes.

What the Receiver Thinks: Why do you hate me?



***

The Gift: Stock in GM.

What the Giver Meant: It’s bound to come back!

What the Receiver Thinks: Did this gift come free with a full tank of gas?

***

The Gift: An Apple Computer.

What the Giver Meant: Now you can be as smug as I am!

What the Receiver Thinks: This person has confused capitalist brand identification with actual liberation.

***

The Gift: A Windows-based PC.

What the Giver Meant: This new operating system is bound to be better than Vista!

What the Receiver Thinks: Oh, I can use this. My coffee table is a little wobbly because of that short leg.


***


The Gift: Guitar Hero - Van Halen.

What the Giver Meant: You never let go of the eighties.

What the Receiver Thinks: Sigh – I wish that I still had enough hair to be part of a hair band.

***

The Gift: A new car!

What the Giver Meant: I am trying to buy your love.

What the Receiver Thinks: I love you.


***

The Gift: Wonder Woman comics, books, or dolls.

What the Giver Meant: Wonder Woman is the alpha and the omega.

What the Receiver Thinks: Your personal obsessions make me uncomfortable.


***

The Gift: Baked goods.

What the Giver Meant: I learned in childhood to show my love through food.

What the Receiver Thinks: If this person loves me much more, I won’t be able to fit into any of my clothes by the new year.

***

The Gift: A healthcare plan that mandates coverage to 30 million new people.

What the Giver Meant: I sorta wanted reform, but didn’t want to bother with all that work of dismantling private insurance companies.

What the Receiver Thinks: Insurance companies will be even richer now!

***

The Gift: Liquor

What the Giver Meant: I think that you are an alcoholic.

What the Receiver Thinks: Give me, give me, give me.



***

The Gift: A Promise to Have a “Special” Christmas Together – on December 26.

What the Giver Meant: I am really married to somebody else – with kids. If queer, however, it could also mean that I still haven’t told my parents that I am gay.

What the Receiver Thinks: Man, I have made poor life choices and am in denial about the viability of this relationship.

Have a happy and safe nonsectarian, nondenominational winter holiday!