Bobservations

Carlos was recently called to do an interpretation for the Florence County Court Solicitor’s office, which is about an hour or so from Camden. When he explained that he doesn’t drive, they offered to come pick him up, and then drive him home, so he agreed.

But then he worried about the ICEstapo because although he’s a legal documented immigrant that hasn’t stopped the ICEstapo from grabbing people up, so he decided to research the name of the woman who called him: Christine Lowe … a made-up name because she doesn’t need to be on here. He looked and looked and found nothing about her and got a little worried, so I said I’d take a shot at it and Googled Christine Lowe and also found zip, zilch and nada.

I told him I’d come out of the house and meet her when she picked him up and told him to get a business card from her for his records and then give it to me to check. She arrived, we said Hello, she gave me a card and it all looked legit; she even wrote down her home phone on the back. Still, I went back to the house and Googled her again because her name isn’t Christine Lowe but Kirsten Love.

And she’s an investigator for the Florence County Courts. And she had Carlos home by 5PM at which time I told him to pay attention when someone gives their name because Christine was Kirsten and Lowe was Love and he said it all sounded the same.

Bless his heart.

This Tuxedo story is from February 15, 2009 …

Carlos and I decided today would be a good day to do some deep cleaning, so we worked from one end of the house to the other with vacuums and sprays and laundry baskets and window cleaners and furniture polishes and floor cleaners.

I planned dinner. Sunday is usually Carlos' day, but I was in the mood for marinated pork loin, so there you have it. I gave Carlos a haircut. Not the pseudo-mohawk he wanted but something short so he wouldn’t have to mess with it too much. I stripped the beds and was doing laundry and wondered where the cats had gone. All of them hide on cleaning day. I don't know if it's because they think they're getting a bath, or they simply don't like the turmoil.

I discovered Tallulah napping behind the love-seat in the sunroom. MaxGoldberg hid under the guest room bed. But Tuxedo was a harder find.

Until I walked in the bedroom and caught a glimpse of something cat-like. I lay down on the bed and peered into the pile of blankets, and there he was. Hiding out because he doesn't like it when you clean; all his regular smells and places to play get cleaned up and put away.

I feel that way sometimes myself.

Crawl into a hole and pull the hole in after me.

Former reality TV star Josh Duggar, serving a 12-year prison sentence for possessing child pornography,  spoke from behind bars to dismiss child molestation allegations against his brother Joe.

The family that pedophiles together …

I saw this headline on JoeMyGod:

NYT: [Corey] Lewandowski Had Access To Classified Briefs

And I assumed because of their extramarital affair that  ‘classified briefs’ meant Kristi Noem’s panties.

I’m an Old School Gay; y’all can have Madonna, and Gaga, too. For me, the Gay Diva Icon to end all Gay Diva Icons is one Diana Ross. And so, since today is the anniversary of the birth of the Diva known as Diana, I will make do by reposting my story of A-Run-In-With-Diana, er, Miss Ross.

As a younger gay boy living in California, I waited for Miss Ross to come to Lake Tahoe, or even Reno, although Reno is tacky and dirty and Lake Tahoe is gaw-geous. So, when I saw the announcement that she would be appearing somewhere, anywhere nearby, I instantly got on the phone to my homies, er, homos, and homo-friendlies, and we made plans to see her.

One time we invited our friends Ann and Steve. They liked the idea of a show, but a Diana Ross show? They weren't fans; but then we enticed them with the idea of cocktails and gambling and Lake Tahoe and cocktails and cocktails, and they relented, so we went.

Now, back in the day at the casino showrooms, if you wanted a good seat, you tipped the ushers at the door to get closer. So I did. And we were seated next to the stage!

Well, I was two seats away from the stage because a couple of queens of mine stepped in front of me. Ann and Steve sat behind me. The show starts and she appears; sings, dances, and works the crowd. Reach Out And Touch! Ain't No Mountain High Enough! Baby Love! She appeared at the head of our table and, well, Steve, Mister I-Don't-Like-Diana-Ross leapt up, sprawled across my head and the two queens in front of me so he could, as he says, just touch her.

I think I created a monster.

A few years later, Miss Ross was back at Caesars Tahoe and once again there were phone calls and invitations to the performance. We invited a straight couple--probably because Ann and Steve couldn't make it and we like to keep a nice gay-straight ratio. I went with my best fag hag Lisette and our straight friends, Shawn and Lori, wanted to close, so they tipped this time, and we were once again next to the stage. Lisette sat right at the edge and I was behind her.

Show starts. Lights dim. Orchestra plays. Miss Ross sequins out and divas all over the place. She tells the crowd she has a bit of a cold, and they bring out a small table with hot tea for her. But she soldiers on. 

Come See About Me! Love Child! My Man! Stop! In The Name Of Love! I'm Coming Out! The Boss!

And she keeps coming over to our table to talk to us. She says she loves all the good energy we are sending her and then she looks down at Lori, who was about 26 months pregnant at the time, and asks Lori about the baby, wishes Lori and Shawn all good things, and … They. Just. Sit. There. Needless to say they were never part of the Caravan To Caesars To See Miss Ross again.

Anyway, Miss Ross starts to sing ‘It's My Turn,’ and she comes back  to our table and holds a hand out to me. I rise, like any good gay boy in the presence of diva-liciousness and clasp her hand. No, she says, up here. I believe I used Lisette's head as a steppingstone and I rose to the stage. Miss Ross wanted to slow dance with me; and we did, center stage at Caesar's Palace, while she sang It's My Turn.

And at the end, she kissed my cheek and told me that I was a gentleman.

Somehow I returned to my seat until The Boss. We were up in the aisles dancing and Miss Ross came to us once again and called us all on the stage to dance. I believe I was trampled on by the homos behind me, and this time, I actually let Lisette go up first...after all, Miss Ross had said I was a gentleman, so I was not about to disappoint!

Needless to say it was a fabulous concert and one of those memories that will never fade.

At the end of the show, Miss Ross once again appeared at our table to thank us for being so nice to her.

Happy Birthday Diva! Eighty-two looks fierce and fabulous.

There wasn’t a single Democratic elected official who celebrated Charlie Kirk’s death, not one, but Cankles openly celebrated Robert Mueller’s death and no Republicans are condemning him.

Both sides are not the same.

Brady Nitz is a 21-year-old content creator and model known for lip syncs, dances, and memes, and has amassed more than 70,000 followers on TikTok account so Would You Hit It?

Bobservations

While doing our groceries over the weekend, Carlos stopped me, and whispered:

“Can you get me something?”

“What is it?”

He looks around.

“Preparation H.”

“You got a fire in the hole?”

“Stop that!”

But I can’t, so I jokingly tell him I don’t know where it is in the store so I’ll ask a cashier; then I mimic her on the loudspeaker:

“We have a gentleman in need of Preparation H! What aisle is the Preparation H?”

And then I say once we find it and head the checkout:

“I need a price check on Preparation H? Price check. Preparation H.”

Carlos mutters:

“I hate you.”

But he doesn’t because had the situation been reversed … uh huh.

We have had many, many cats over the years and almost all were good at following the rules; staying off counters and tables; not sitting on certain pieces of furniture. But this one time:

“Rule Breakers

We have rules at Chez Smallville. Cats can get on the beds, on the desk, on the sunroom furniture and on the living room couch. They cannot get on the counters, the tables, the dining room chairs or any of the four new chairs in the living room. And they listen. They know where they can go, and where they cannot.

So, imagine my surprise to walk into the living room and find Tuxedo and MaxGoldberg nesting in a No-No Chair! And look at Max; he's got that Uh-oh face. Tuxedo, on the other hand, couldn't even be bothered to wake up.

At least not until I yelled Geddownfromthere!

Cat scatter.”

And they never got on those chairs again … at least not while we were home.

The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People [NAACP] has issued a travel advisory for … no, not Ukraine, or Russia, Syria or Iran, China or North Korea … but for the state of Florida. The advisory is a response to Governor DeFacist’s attempts to erase Black history and restrict diversity, equity, and inclusion programs in Florida schools, and read, in part:

“Florida is openly hostile toward African Americans, people of color and LGBTQ+ individuals. Before traveling to Florida, please understand that the state of Florida devalues and marginalizes the contributions of, and the challenges faced by African Americans and other communities of color.”

And now the Human Rights Campaign, the League of United Latin American Citizens, the Florida Immigrant Coalition and Equality Florida have joined the NAACP in advising people to avoid visiting or relocating to the State of Hate.

In America.

Tina Turner. Icon. Diva. Singer. Sex Symbol. Goddess. Survivor. She started out a little rough, and then it got rougher for her, but she came through and persevered and taught us all what it looks like to come out of the darkness and into the light.

RIP ... and thank you for the music and the strength.

A guy goes into a bar where there’s a robot bartender who says:

"What will you have?"

“A martini.”

The robot brings back the best martini ever and asks the man:

"What’s your IQ?"

"148."

The robot then proceeds to talk about physics, space exploration, and medical technology. The guy leaves, but he is curious, so the next night he goes back to the bar and the robot asks:

"What will you have?"

“Whiskey."

"What's your IQ?"

"100."

The robot then starts to talk about NASCAR, Budweiser, and John Deere tractors. And then the guy leaves but finds it so interesting that returns next night and the robot asks again:

"What will you have?"

“Beer.”

“What’s your IQ?"

"Uh, about 55, I think."

The robot leans in real close and says:

"Ain’t it awful the way Joe Biden stole the election?”

Could’a happened and could still be happening.

Marjorie Taylor Greene, Republican Traitor and White Supremacist, was the highest bidder among House Republicans for a cherry “chapstick” used by Speaker of the House Kevin McCarthy. Greene made the winning bid for the lip balm after McCarthy sweetened the deal by promising to attend a donor dinner.

And this occurred while McCarthy was ALLEGEDLY negotiating with President Biden over the debt ceiling. If Republicans refuse to raise the debt limit—which they do without a thought under Republican Presidents, but never Democrat Presidents—the US will default on its debt for the first time in history which could drive interest rates sky high, devastate the US and world economies, destroy confidence in the dollar, and permanently increase the interest rate the US spends on its debt.

Yes, while the country appears to be teetering on default, this is what the GOP does. Large Marge and her ilk ick battle over the lip balm KKKevin McCarthy slathers on his mouth before he places it directly on Thing 45's sphincter.

Democrat Representative Sean Casten put it the best:

“In today’s Democratic caucus meeting, we discussed how devastating a default would be for American families and what we can do to get the GOP to take this seriously. In the House GOP meeting, they auctioned off Kevin McCarthy’s used chapstick.”

That’s the GOP; they don’t give a flying fuck if the country is destroyed.

A nice slab of beefcake is Alvise Rigo, an actor, a model,  and an athlete. But all that matters not because all we need to know is: Would You Hit It?

Happy Birthday Diva!

I’m an Old School Gay; y’all can have Madonna, and Gaga, too. For me, the Gay Diva Icon to end all Gay Diva Icons is one Diana Ross. And so, since today is the anniversary of the birth of the Diva known as Diana, I will make do by givin' up one of my favorite Diana Ross songs, The Boss, and reposting my story of A-Run-In-With-Diana, er, Miss Ross.

     _________________________________________________________

As a younger gay boy living in California, I waited for Miss Ross to come to Lake Tahoe, or even Reno, although Reno is tacky and dirty and Lake Tahoe is gaw-geous. So, when I saw the announcement that she would be appearing somewhere, anywhere nearby, I instantly got on the phone to my homies, er, homos, and homo-friendlies, and we made plans to see her.

One time we invited our friends Ann and Steve. They liked the idea of a show, but a Diana Ross show? They weren't fans; but then we enticed them with the idea of cocktails and gambling and Lake Tahoe and cocktails and cocktails, and they relented, so we went.

Now, back in the day at the casino showrooms, if you wanted a good seat, you tipped the ushers at the door to get closer. So I did. And we were seated next to the stage!

Well, I was two seats away from next to the stage because a couple of queens of mine, stepped in front of me. Ann and Steve sat behind me. The show starts and she appears; sings, dances, works the crowd. Reach Out And Touch! Ain't No Mountain High Enough! Baby Love! 

She appeared at the head of our table, and, well, Steve, Mister I-Don't-Like-Diana-Ross leaped up, sprawled across my head and the two queens in front of me so he could, as he says, just touch her.

I think I created a monster.

A few years later, Miss Ross was back at Caesars and once again there were phone calls and the invitations to the performance. We invited a straight couple--probably because Ann and Steve couldn't make it and we like to keep a nice gay-straight ratio. I went with my best fag hag Lisette. Well, this straight couple, Shawn and Lori, wanted to sit up front, so they tipped this time, and we were once again next to the stage. Lisette sat right at the edge and I was behind her.

Show starts. Lights dim. Orchestra plays. Miss Ross sequins out and divas all over the place. She tells the crowd she has a bit of a cold, and they bring out a small table with hot tea for her. But she soldiers on. 

Come See About Me! 

Love Child! My Man! 

Stop! In The Name Of Love! 

I'm Coming Out! 

And she keeps coming over to our table and talking to us. She tells us that we are sending her all the good energy; and she looks down at Lori, who was about 26 months pregnant at the time. She asks Lori about the baby, wishes Lori and Shawn all good things, and.

They. Just. Sit. There. Needless to say they were never part of the Caravan To Caesars To See Miss Ross again.

Anyway, Miss Ross starts to sing It's My Turn, and she comes back over to our table and holds a hand out to me. I rise, like any good gay boy in the presence of diva-liciousness and clasp her hand. No, she says, up here. I believe I used Lisette's head as a stepping stone and I rose to the stage. Miss Ross wanted to slow dance with me; and we did, center stage at Caesar's Palace, while she sang It's My Turn.

And at the end, she kissed my cheek and told me that I was a gentleman.

Somehow I returned to my seat, until, The Boss. We were up in the aisles dancing and Miss Ross came to us once again and called us all on the stage to dance. I believe I was trampled on by the homo's behind me, and this time, I actually let Lisette go up first...after all, Miss Ross had said I was a gentleman, so I was not about to disappoint!

Needless to say it was a fabulous concert and one of those memories that will never fade.

At the end of the show, Miss Ross once again appeared at our table to thank us for being so nice to her.

Happy Birthday Diva! Seventy-eight looks fierce and fabulous.

And this is The Boss, one of my favorite Diana-tunes of all-time ...

Then and Now .... Divas

Diana Ross in THE 70s                                                             Diana Ross in HER  70s.

Tina Turner in THE 80s.                                                      Tina Turner in HER 80s.

Madonna in THE 80s.                                                            Madonna in HER 80s.

Happy Seventy-Fifth Birthday, Diva!

I’m an Old School Gay; y’all can have Madonna, and Gaga, too. For me, the Gay Diva Icon to end all Gay Diva Icons is one Miss Diana Ross. And so, since today is the Diva’s seventy-fifth birthday, her Diamond Diana,  I will make do by givin' up some of my favorite Diana Ross songs,  and reposting my story of A-Run-In-With-Diana …

_________________________________________________________

As a younger gay boy living in California, I waited for Miss Ross to come to Lake Tahoe, or even Reno, although Reno is tacky and dirty and Lake Tahoe is gaw-geous. And when I saw the announcement that she would be appearing somewhere, I instantly got on the phone to my homies, er, homos, and homo-friendlies, and we made plans to see her.

One time we invited our friends Ann and Steve. They liked the idea of a show, but a Diana Ross show? They weren't fans; but then we enticed them with the idea of cocktails and gambling and Lake Tahoe and cocktails and cocktails, and they relented, so we went.

Now, back in the day at the casino showrooms, if you wanted a good seat, you tipped the ushers at the door to get closer. So I did. And we were seated next to the stage!

Well, I was two seats away from next to the stage because a couple of queens of mine, stepped in front of me. Ann and Steve sat behind me. The show starts and she appears; sings, dances, works the crowd. Reach Out And Touch! Ain't No Mountain High Enough! Baby Love! 

She appeared at the head of our table, and, well, Steve, Mister I-Don't-Like-Diana-Ross leaped up, sprawled across my head and the two queens in front of me so he could, as he says, just touch her.

I think I created a monster.

A few years later, Miss Ross was back at Caesars and once again there were phone calls and the invitations to the performance. We invited a straight couple--probably because Ann and Steve couldn't make it and we like to keep a nice gay-straight ratio. I went with my best fag hag Lisette. Well, this straight couple, Shawn and Lori, wanted to sit up front, so they tipped this time, and we were once again next to the stage. Lisette sat right at the edge and I was behind her.

Show starts. Lights dim. Orchestra plays. Miss Ross sequins out and divas all over the place. She tells the crowd she has a bit of a cold, and they bring out a small table with hot tea for her. But she soldiers on. 

Come See About Me! 

Love Child! My Man! 

Stop! In The Name Of Love! 

I'm Coming Out! 

And she keeps coming over to our table and talking to us. She tells us that we are sending her all the good energy; and she looks down at Lori, who was about 26 months pregnant at the time. She asks Lori about the baby, wishes Lori and Shawn all good things, and.

They. Just. Sit. There. Needless to say they were never part of the Caravan To Caesars To See Miss Ross again.

Anyway, Miss Ross starts to sing It's My Turn, and she comes back over to our table and holds a hand out to me. I rise, like any good gay boy in the presence of diva-liciousness and clasp her hand. No, she says, up here. I believe I used Lisette's head as a stepping stone and I rose to the stage. Miss Ross wanted to slow dance with me; and we did, center stage at Caesar's Palace, while she sang It's My Turn.

And at the end, she kissed my cheek and told me that I was a gentleman.

Somehow I returned to my seat, until, The Boss. We were up in the aisles dancing and Miss Ross came to us once again and called us all on the stage to dance. I believe I was trampled on by the homo's behind me, and this time, I actually let Lisette go up first...after all, Miss Ross had said I was a gentleman, so I was not about to disappoint!

Needless to say it was a fabulous concert and one of those memories that will never fade.

At the end of the show, Miss Ross once again appeared at our table to thank us for being so nice to her.

Today is the Diva's Birthday! And seventy-five damn hot! But, before we get to the music, for all of the "diva" wannabes out there, this is how it's done!

Happy Birthday Diva!

I’m an Old School Gay; y’all can have Madonna, and Gaga, too. For me, the Gay Diva Icon to end all Gay Diva Icons is one Diana Ross. And so, since today is the anniversary of the birth of the Diva known as Diana, I will make do by givin' up one of my favorite Diana Ross songs, The Boss, and reposting my story of A-Run-In-With-Diana, er, Miss Ross.

_________________________________________________________

As a younger gay boy living in California, I waited for Miss Ross to come to Lake Tahoe, or even Reno, although Reno is tacky and dirty and Lake Tahoe is gaw-geous. And when I saw the announcement that she would be appearing somewhere, I instantly got on the phone to my homies, er, homos, and homo-friendlies, and we made plans to see her.

One time we invited our friends Ann and Steve. They liked the idea of a show, but a Diana Ross show? They weren't fans; but then we enticed them with the idea of cocktails and gambling and Lake Tahoe and cocktails and cocktails, and they relented, so we went.

Now, back in the day at the casino showrooms, if you wanted a good seat, you tipped the ushers at the door to get closer. So I did. And we were seated next to the stage!

Well, I was two seats away from next to the stage because a couple of queens of mine, stepped in front of me. Ann and Steve sat behind me. The show starts and she appears; she sings, she dances, she works the crowd. Reach Out And Touch! Ain't No Mountain High Enough! Baby Love! 

She appeared at the head of our table, and, well, Steve, Mister I-Don't-Like-Diana-Ross leaped up, sprawled across my head and the two queens in front of me so he could, as he says, just touch her.

I think I created a monster.

A few years later, Miss Ross was back at Caesars and once again there were phone calls and the invitations to the performance. We invited a straight couple—probably because Ann and Steve couldn't make it and we like to keep a nice gay-straight ratio. I went with my best fag hag Lisette. Well, this straight couple, Shawn and Lori, wanted to sit up front, so they tipped this time, and we were once again next to the stage. Lisette sat right at the edge and I was behind her.

Show starts. Lights dim. Orchestra plays. Miss Ross sequins out and divas all over the place. She tells the crowd she has a bit of a cold, and they bring out a small table with hot tea for her. But she soldiers on. 

Come See About Me! 

Love Child! My Man! 

Stop! In The Name Of Love! 

I'm Coming Out! 

And she keeps coming over to our table and talking to us. She tells us that we are sending her all the good energy; and she looks down at Lori, who was about 26 months pregnant at the time. She asks Lori about the baby, wishes Lori and Shawn all good things, and.They.Just.Sit.There.

Needless to say they were never part of the Caravan To Caesars To See Miss Ross again.

Anyway, Miss Ross starts to sing It's My Turn, and she comes back over to our table and holds a hand out to me. I rise, like any good gay boy in the presence of diva-liciousness and clasp her hand. No, she says, up here. I believe I used Lisette's head as a stepping stone and I rose to the stage. Miss Ross wanted to slow dance with me; and we did, center stage at Caesar's Palace, while she sang It's My Turn.

And at the end, she kissed my cheek and told me that I was a gentleman.

Somehow I returned to my seat, until, The Boss. We were up in the aisles dancing and Miss Ross came to us once again and called us all on the stage to dance. I believe I was trampled on by the homo's behind me, and this time, I actually let Lisette go up first...after all, Miss Ross had said I was a gentleman, so I was not about to disappoint!

Needless to say it was a fabulous concert and one of those memories that will never fade.

At the end of the show, Miss Ross once again appeared at our table to thank us for being so nice to her.

Today is the Diva's Birthday! And seventy-three looks damn hot! But, before we get to the music, for all of the "diva" wannabes out there, this is how it's done!

Happy birthday, Miss Ross!