BijouBlog

When ABC premiered his first prime time special, “The Barry Manilow Special” in 1977, one would have thought the second coming of Christ had occurred in our house.

(By the way, Barry is Jewish. I found out his name was originally Barry Alan, the son of Edna and Harold Pincus. Harold deserted the family when Barry was two. Manilow was his mother's maiden name, which he adopted at his bar mitzvah. )

My poor mother. She didn't now that so many of her favorite artists were/are gay. As I said above, Barry never came out as gay, but she was quite enamored of the openly gay Village People. (If youtube had existed at that time, I am certain her YMCA dance might have gone viral.) She also liked Saturday Night Fever. Yes, John Travolta … still in the closet.

Now, I am not trying to denigrate the very talented Manilow (I just don't get his music), but what I find fascinating is the attraction Manilow holds for women of a certain age. I don't know of any girl going to high school at that time who liked him (or admitted to liking him). It was always someone's MOTHER who loved him.

I remember reading somewhere that Barry's most fanatic “fanilows” or “Maniloonies” are British homemaker types. Manilow himself proclaimed his “love affair” with the United Kingdom fans, lauding them for their loyalty.

There was even a 48 Hours special on these fans, but I found out that Manilow himself was not thrilled about it; he wanted to ensure people knew younger people liked him too, not just the Mums.

I wonder if my mother still likes Barry Manilow.

I know I'm not about to confess, like on the show Family Guy, a secret love for him.

And congratulations to Barry, who is also doing his final tour this year.

Posted on craigslist, missed connections:

Thursday night it was the backyard at Manhandler. You were sucking guys off with your shirt off. You smoked a lot. That's nasty by the way. You seemed to be in my proximity or in my face the whole time I was there. You were inside fucking with your tired little cell phone (probably seeking even more cum from the web) and I got a good look at your face in the light. No wonder you lurk around dark sex venues. You are at least 55, maybe 60, wrinkled, fugly, and that Sean Hayes hairstyle has GOT to go. Please, do us all a favor, and take the summer off from sex. Don't come to water sports parties or bear naked or anything else. Stay home, or whatever the fuck. And the next time you try to elbow your way into the middle of my sex with someone, I'm going to give you a swift kick into your dried up decayed little balls. You know who you are, the one who looks like Jack from Will and Grace, and wears that ridiculous half-lopsided little harness thing sometimes. Go pickle yourself, hon.

Reply to the above: OMG I know exactly who you're describing. He is everywhere!!!! And so rude and will try to horn in on your action. He needs to stay home for about 20 years until sex no longer matters lol.

I am damn mad. I understand the poster's need to vent on one level, but I actually felt sorry for the person this individual was complaining about.

I wasn't surprised by the poster's crass materialism (”tired little cellphone”) and of course, obviously, the insults about the person's age and physical appearance. Such unabated viciousness seems to be common these days in a culture of narcissism and entitlement.

And let's face it: these have always been problems with ageism in the gay community, as well as the rampant discrimination against those who don't possess an ideally perfect youthful body. Even in vintage Hollywood, an actress over 35 was over the hill.

And the prejudice against age and those who don't match up to certain physical standards has escalated in a world where sex is available on a phone app, bodies can be photoshopped, and Kim Kardashian is a role model.

Regarding the reason for the vent, I do understand the etiquette about not “horning” in on public sex scenes, but rather than posting something so hurtful anonymously (the coward's way out), how about speaking kindly to the person and perhaps explaining the etiquette, for a start?

(But then, in the middle of a circle jerk, counseling might not come to mind.)

As I said above, I feel deeply sorry for this person who was the target of such vitriol. Loneliness … sexual addiction … who knows what drives this person to behave this way? I think his fate is the fate of so many unattached older gay men, many of whom don't know how to develop relationships (or, even more sadly, they could be lonely survivors of the AIDS epidemic of the eighties) because their only exposure to gay life was “dark sex venues,” which before today's environment of acceptance, were often the only places a gay person could connect?

And finally, to the person who posted that craiglist ad: Who are you to judge? You also seem to frequent these “dark sex venues.”

I don't think I would be wrong in predicting that you will be that person in about twenty years. Karma's a bitch, bitch!

Pizza's been in the news big time lately, and it is a big deal because of the LGBT rights issues involved. Memories Pizza in Indiana claimed they would not cater a same-sex wedding (not that this Mom and Pop outfit catered weddings anyway, but that's beside the point, and I don't really know of a wedding reception with pizza as the main course unless it was on the show Extreme Cheapskates, again, beside the point). This outfit, since closed, received almost a million dollars in support from most probably religious fundamentalists of a certain ilk.

Pizza, rather than a wedding cake, has become the food of controversy in the same-sex marriage debate.

Now, based on people's general attitudes about pizza, I'm not that surprised that at some point a pizza outfit got involved in this controversy.

Pizza: what is it about pizza? It's not that is just a popular food that has taken on so many shapes and forms (and in gay porn, sex with pizza delivery boy is a cliché) but there's something, I don't know, deeply psychosocial about the way we approach it in the United States. Quite amazing for a food that essentially began as a vegetarian “peasant” food, a simple dough with a simple sauce on it.

In the United States, pizza seems to be the center of so many social functions. Not just the obvious ones like the Superbowl Party, but diverse work and school functions. In fact, I remember pizza was often a bribe to keep the masses docile.

In elementary school, the promise of a pizza party was definitely held over our heads to promise good behavior. The good classes got pizza, but the bad classes got nothing. The really bad classes got to pull weeds outside.

When I ushered at benefit concerts in college, the ushers got pizza to ensure they were not served food only for the wealthy benefactors, which happened one year, creating a furor among the administration.

And at one notably condescending paternalistic place I worked at, the floor who got the people out in the least amount of time for the fire drill “won a pizza party.” Yes, pizza on paper plates, and you got your own soft drink from the vending machine. Thrillsville. Our floor didn't win.
 

Oh, one of my brain candy shows has started another season on TLC aka “Sideshow America.”

There seems to be the usual people eating strange supposedly inedible objects (many of these people suffer from a disease called pica), but one guy, who lives not far from Chicago, shared an addiction which for many in the BDSM community is not that highly unusual a fetish.

Kevin from suburban Lombard, Illinois is a straight guy (who from what I saw would be very popular in the gay bear community) who is addicted to casts. Yes, casts, what gets put on a limb if you break a bone.
 

Now, from what I saw, it's not like he is always putting on a plaster cast (remember how exciting it was when you are a kid, at least I remember, that you got to sign someone's cast or get yours signed); some that he wears seem to be made of some cloth-like material.

And it's not clear, I gather, from the show, if he is getting off sexually from putting himself into this form of restrictive bondage. Perhaps he is, but it's not something he seems to be able to integrate into his intimate relationships.

He is straight and has had girlfriends, and the one on the show who basically told him shrilly to choose between her and all the casts broke up with him soon afterward, but I wasn't getting the sense that the sex involved doing something with the casts.

He seemed to be more of an exhibitionist, perhaps, and the episode showed an obviously staged, scripted incident involving Kevin and his too-too embarrassed sidekick (who always gets roped into putting his buddy into his more elaborate casts, hello, Ethel) parading down Michigan Avenue. Kevin was in some kind of cast that basically covered his torso and pinned his arms to his sides. It's the type of cast someone would wear if he or she, for example, got hit by a truck.

Now, the usual end of this show is some meeting with a medical professional, in this case, a psychologist. The doctor proclaims, sadly, that Kevin will always be alone. His addiction (I guess fetish, but as I said above, I just can't tell how sexual it is for him), according to the doctor, isn't something he can or even will manage to overcome, much less integrate into the rest of his life.

I've seen plenty of guys get into all types of restrictive bondage (I've even seen a plaster cast scene at one event), but the elaborate bondage was part of a large dominance/submission dynamic. Plus it was clear the guys got off on the activity (not that I could see evidence if the cock was covered by plaster!). Plus they were playing with like-minded people in a sexual setting. In Kevin's case, how he approaches his addiction to casts doesn't really fit into this play party context.

Now I've seen (and known) plenty of guys with sexual fetishes become so addicted to the fetish that they lose sight of actually relating to a person. I think specifically of guys who post multiple times a week on craigslist. (I am thinking in Chicago of Mr. I want to lick the mud off the boots of a UPS driver or Mr. karate kick me in the balls.) I guess they are reaching out and don't want to jack off alone, but the person they play with is a means, not an end.

I do sincerely hope that Kevin will find a castmate (pun intended) because of the show's publicity.

Check out our website for some of classic BDSM videos, and don't forget to check out all our fetish books and magazines too.

 

Now, many of us remember Schroeder's tempestuous relationship with Lucy, he being the object of her doomed, unrequited infatuation. 

Schroeder is so NOT interested. 

For example, on one occasion, Lucy remarks to Schroeder "Beethoven wasn't so great." Irritated, Schroeder asks Lucy to explain her comment. Lucy replies, "You've never seen his face on a bubblegum card, have you?" 

Face it, Lucy, you can't compete with Beethoven. 

I'm not really getting a gay vibe, but is Schroeder perhaps behaving like a little gay elitist snob? 

I think to understand Schroeder, you've got to understand Beethoven. 
 

His idol, Beethoven, was certainly no elitist: 

“His attitude to the princes and nobles who paid him was conveyed in a famous painting. The composer is shown in the course of a stroll with the poet Goethe, the Archduchess Rudolph and the Empress. While Goethe respectfully gave way to the royal pair, politely removing his hat, Beethoven completely ignored them and continued walking without even acknowledging the greetings of the imperial family.” 

And he was also a “confirmed bachelor.” 

Now, some critics have made out that Beethoven was some kind of repressed misognyistic homosexual who took out his frustrations on his adopted nephew Karl and Karl's mother, even though he displayed warm relationships with many women, such as Magdalena Willmann, Josephine Deym, Bettina Bretano. 

He also suffered through several youthful infatuations with women. One of these was a countess who came to him for piano lessons. It didn't work out. 
 

So, what does this have to do with Schroeder? Schroeder is mirroring Beethoven; Lucy wants to be his muse, but she isn't up to his standard. In Schroeder's case, no one is. Music is his lover, his god. Whether that's healthy or unhealthy in the long-term, who am I to judge? 

In fact, unrequited love seems to be a major theme in Peanuts: Charlie Brown for the the little red-headed girl, Peppermint Patty and Marcie for Charlie Brown, Marcie for Peppermint Patty, maybe (that's the gay relationship in Peanuts, I think), Sally for Linus, Linus for Miss Othmar. 
 

Only Schroeder seems immune to such earthly complexities. He gets to be horrified when he forgets Beethoven's birthday, but his sighs and tears are mostly sublimated in music. 

And it's not like he's always behaves like a total snot to Lucy. 

In reaction to her constant advances, Schroeder has been known to occasionally humor her, somewhat good-naturedly. He gave her a Valentine after confirming that he didn't have to love her to give her one, just "barely being able to tolerate her" was fine. 

Schroeder demonstrates the same fondly teasing tone toward Lucy in the December 14, 1975 Sunday strip, whispering a flirtatious comments to her while she pretends to be asleep on his piano. 

He addresses her as "pretty girl", and says "I think you're kind of cute! You really fascinate me!" He ends his string of flirtatious remarks with "I guess I love everything about you... Sweet baby!" Lucy cannot help but grin, to which Schroeder exclaims, "Ha! I knew you weren't asleep!" Lucy responds with "Rats!" 

So, is the eternally prepubescent Schroeder gay? The jury is still out on that one, but I think he's more “queer” than gay, using the definition of “queer” as nonconforming or eccentric. I also think he kind of fits in with the Oscar Wilde-like late nineteenth century aesthete, living for art, and art alone, or, closer to Beethoven, a Romantic artistic antihero loner type. 

I remember in the movie You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown there's a dreamily beautiful sequence of Schroeder playing Beethoven, and he seems to morph into his idol. 

Note the combination of churches from Beethoven's time period and psychedelic imagery like flowers and dancing flames. 

That's the essence of Schroeder. He dreams, but for him, the dream is real. And come to think of it how many of us are that in tune with our own “queer” dreams that won't allow themselves to be scaled down to a picture on Lucy's bubblegum card or an app on a smartphone?