Press Release: Norman Man Claims Gay Bashing by Tulsa Police

Press Release
For Immediate Release

Contact: Keith Kimmel
Ph: 405.795.3800
E-mail: keithontap@gmail.com

(Norman, OK) Keith Kimmel, the man who filed a lawsuit earlier this year against the State of Oklahoma’s Tax Commission to secure a personalize license plate, says he was the victim of a gay bashing at the hands of the Tulsa, Oklahoma Police Department this weekend and has filed a complaint.

On Monday March 29, 2009, he filed a complaint by US Mail with the Internal Affairs Department of the Tulsa Police Department, claiming that he had been dragged across a parking lot, punched in the testicles and verbally assaulted by officers of The Tulsa Police Department after being involved in a fight at a Tulsa gay bar. The complaint included pictures of injuries Kimmel sustained in the incident. The complaint was filed by mail after Kimmel was unable to reach the Internal Affairs Department all day by telephone to find out how it could be faxed or e-mailed. “I would like to get this information into the hands of the Internal Affairs Officers as early as possible, but I have tried calling all day and have been directed to voicemail. I tried calling various other offices within the department, but they continually redirect me back to the Internal Affairs number that no one answers”, Kimmel said.

Kimmel says he isn’t sure if the incident comes as retaliation for his earlier suit against the state. “I do not know if someone in the Tulsa Police Department has taken it upon themselves to dole out justice in their own way because of the suit, but what I do know is there has been alot of media coverage about the case in Tulsa, and I think its something that should at least be looked into. Regardless of why it happened, it was completely unacceptable and unprofessional. I am currently seeking the advice of an attorney on the matter and will pursue the internal complaint procedure of the Tulsa Police Department to the fullest extent possible in the meantime.”

In the complaint, Kimmel asks the Tulsa Police Department to utilize the recently passed federal hate crimes legislation to ask the Federal Bureau of Investigation to help investigate the incident, despite the fact that Oklahoma State Senator Steve Russell has recently introduced legislation designed to allow Oklahoma to “opt out” of the new law. “Senator Russell may belive that the protections of the new federal hate crimes law are not needed here in Oklahoma, but I think I have just learned how sorely they are needed in a very personal way. This is not an issue where TPD should be allowed to investigate itself, an unbiased party should be brought into to examine the incident throughly and through an unbiased lens.”

A copy of Kimmel’s complaint may be downloaded in Adobe PDF format (6.17 MB) by going to: http://files.me.com/keithkimmel/l4g041.

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Why I Have Been So Quiet (The Clayton Horner Story)

So a few days ago, Clayton and I broke up. Or maybe we were never together. Who knows and who cares. Any of you surprised to hear that I had a boyfriend? Some of you should be, I didn’t make it public knowledge because I am tired of the Oklahoma City queer community being involved in my personal life. This time, I took it one step further and not only told virtually no one, I also went off to a far away city and did my looking.

So, here is how this whole thing really got started. One fine day, I found myself up in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I was there with some friends, Gary and Chris, and I brought a friend named Yue from OU Norman up there too. This group first met at Tulsa Pride 2009, after we all endured an insane after party with Bobby Crowfeather and some other demented souls, we were pretty much like plane crash survivors. A bond had formed between us, we now have reunions and such. Somehow, this crew and I wound up at a little dive bar in Tulsa known as The End Up. It was my first time there, but it quickly became my favorite haunt in Tulsa, as it features Go Go Boys every night at 10 PM and I like dicky dancers.

I was at End Up when this little blond bombshell took the pole, his name turned out to be Clayton Horner. He wasn’t the cutest and I have seen and had better. But once he came to my table, I was intoxicated with love (and booze) and we ended up exchanging numbers. My friends were busy with objects of their desire, I took on Clay for several lap dances. He was so drunk he nearly fell asleep standing up against me, and I took the opportunity to give him a very thorough back massage. Not a grab ass massage that you might give your average pole boy, this was the kind you might give a lover. Slow. Steady. Through. Loving. He responded – actually, he purred – and he and I talked. I basically told him I liked him and for the first time in a long time.

I felt a connection, one far deeper than the rentboy/client relationship I am used to.I have often preferred that detachment, that ability to sacrifice a small amount of money (which I can always make more of when I need to) to satisfy all my needs while taking no risks of emotional injury. That ability to have my fun and then put him – it, actually – out on the front door and not care what happens to him – I mean it – once he left my front door step. But throughout several times in my life, I have had a desire to have something more. To have a real relationship instead of a business transaction based on love instead of money, where the currency was mutual respect and compassion instead of PayPal and Visa.

We exchanged numbers. The next day, I thought about it. Was I wrong, had I just been drunk and imagined a connection that was not there? No, this transcended the booze, cut it like a knife. So I called him and he answered. We chatted a little bit, about how drunk he was and how he broke the shadow box at the end of the night when he fell into it. He then told me a little bit about his life, how he normally doesn’t get that plastered and told me when he’d be dancing again. We talked for like a half an hour, he said he remembered me from the night before and that he liked me as well and thought I was sweet. I told him to take care of himself, and he invited me to call again in a couple of days. I promised I would.

So like a week later, I called and I left a message which was not returned. There was something there, so I kept trying once or twice a month. Not enough to be pushy, just enough to say I am still interested. Its not stalking unless the other person indicates that the contact is unwanted, its just persistence and dedication. For all I knew, he was just busy or he never checked his voice mail. This went on for several months. Finally, I called him a last time and pretty much said I was giving up. It wasn’t returned. In December or so, I looked up Clay on Facebook and added him. Sent a message that wasn’t returned. Didn’t call for like a month, then one day just decided to call and… Clay answered.

He said he remembered me still and wanted to talk to me. I apologized if I had been creepy by being so persistent, he said not to worry he had just been busy with life. This started a string of conversations that turned into daily phone calls and Facebook messages. We talked about family, ex-lovers, about goals, plans, dreams and hopes for the future on both sides and so on. Some of the conversations lasted hours, others only a few minutes.

I am striking out the first half of this message because it contains alot of family and personal stuff and even though no consideration was shown for me or my feelings in this whole thing, I am not quite vindictive enough with regard to this little shit to go on an all out crusade and lay bare all his dirty laundry. This Facebook message is being reproduced unedited, with all misspellings and such intact, I have just cut the top half of the message off:

January 22, 2010 at 3:33am

we could definately get a chance to talk more, i figurei need to move one from my old life that this is all i know and everyone says running away doesnt solve anything well its not running when you are leaving to find yourself and happiness so hopefully this works out, im so excited thinking about a new life new start new me, i have been through enough to even keep going through this crap, ands it sucks because all most all of it is inflicted upon me like a plague lol sorry im babbling now lol, but feel free to ask absolutely anything i’ll be honest, trust me i am so tired of games ppl play not saying i never did that would be a lie but im not that same person by a long shot and luckly i have my family to thank, my brothers have always been my protecters and they are awsome to be around my parents well are parents but make great friends now im older and learned even though i did learn bad things too early, bad things happen to good people, good people should watch out for each other, but this laptop is about to die lol i cant find charger im at my lesbiaN friends house keepin her company until morning, but i want to talk more and again im sorry it took a bit lol…. and i remember that night talking to you not everything but i do remember and you were a lot of fun and great and interesting to talk to not like those other people who ugh lol, but i will talk to you again and i am interested in talking to you or seeing whatever but i just cant get hurt.

clay

Shortly after this message, we had the more serious relationship talks which I file under the “please don’t hurt me” category. Where I promised not to be a douche and he promised the same, etc. Most of all, we promised not to hurt each other, if we got together. And we chatted daily for alot longer. At one point, his parents were going to stop paying his cell bill because he was on a family plan with them and went over his minutes, so I bought him a prepaid T-mobile phone and mailed it to him because he had no money for one. His phone was the only way he could stay in touch with me and the rest of the world. At the time, I was in a huge financial pinch. He doesn’t know this, but something of mine went into the pawn shop so that phone could hit the mailbox. Clay moved out of his place with Josh (his ex) after he lost a job at Sonic as a result of some drama with that living relationship. Yep, he cried on my shoulder for that, too. Everytime Clayton Horner had a crisis, I was there for him the best I could be being 100 miles away. At one point, I asked Clay if he wanted to declare a relationship status on Facebook, he said we’d talk about it when I got to Tulsa.

What is particularly damning about this one is the fact that I actually helped him find his new boyfriend. No joke! This all began about two weeks ago or so, when I was in Tulsa for a mini-vacation from the daily bump n grind, and I went up to Owasso and got him from his parents place and brought him back to my hotel room and got ready. It was all kinda last minute the way it came together. I asked again about the relationship thing, and he dodged the question skillfully. This should have been my first clue that he was backing away, but like an idiot I had the blinders on big time.

So off we went to The Bamboo Lounge. Clay got shitfaced on my dime, it was our first true date. I got pretty wasted and I even sang Karaoke – I sang “Escape” (The Pina Colada Song) by Rupert Holmes. I butchered the lyrics therein, adding that it could be a boy to blame instead of a woman to blame. Little did I know but I was predicting the future, as it was unfolding between my very eyes. Well anyway, at some point this guy named Adrian sat down at our table and began hitting on Clay, who was at this point way too drunk to consent to anything, or for that matter, barely even stand up. I finally decided to pull Clay out of there and call it a night. Before I left, Adrian gave me his number and Clay insisted that I make sure that Adrian had Clay’s number, which I dutifully did, even got my own phone out to check it and make sure it was correct. So as soon as we got outside the bar, he kinda fell into my hands and started kissing me and thanking me for nothing and everything. He was obviously very drunk and I reminded myself that now would not be an appropriate time to do anything in the love making department, he was clearly vulnerable and needed to go home.

On the way back to his parents house, Clay passed out in the back seat of my car hard core. I was shouting at him and he wouldn’t respond at all. I text messaged Adrian and told him I thought it was shitty that he was hitting on my boyfriend when he clearly was drunk and not in a position to consent. He called and apologized up and down, saying he had no idea that Clay had a boyfriend, and he felt really bad like he disrespected me and all this happy horse shit. I thought we had an understanding and despite the fact that I was good and pissed at him, I decided to play it cool and realize that sometimes innocent misunderstandings happen and the guy was being decent about it. I was now at Clay’s parents place, and I had to wake him up so he could get back inside his house. I shouted at him and he wouldn’t respond, so I parked the car, shut off the lights and killed the engine and put my seat back (Clay was in the back seat) and shook him until he woke up. He started kissing me again and I kissed him back, then told him he better get inside after making sure he didn’t want me to walk him up to the door.

So I left, the next day was St. Patrick’s Day, and Clay was to dance at End Up. I was planning to go with Gary and Chris since Adrian was now all set, I decided to call and invite him. Little did I know, Clay had already invited him. Adrian texted Clay the next morning and said “Sorry, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend” and Clay supposedly responded back “Oh no” and then proceeded to tell Adrian how he had no feelings for me. The implication is obvious, Clay was playing me for everything I was worth. I wouldn’t find this out until after days of bothering Adrian, tonight he told me everything. It started by text, but later it wound up in a phone call and I could tell this little fucking prick was smiling while he was telling me this.

So anyway, back to End Up on St. Patty’s Day, Clay got very drunk again on my dime. Clay was on the schedule to dance three sets and after the first set, he announced that he didn’t want to dance anymore and couldn’t remember when his next set was. Then Adrian announced that after the next set, Clay was gonna pack his shit and leave.I tied to talk Clay out of it, because I was convinced that Clay was again too drunk to consent and everything I knew about Adrien told me big trouble was ahead. Adrian said he had just met Clay the last time he and I were together, Clay told me he knew Adrian for a long time. So I went and found Blake, the owner of End Up, and asked him about Adrian and Clay. Blake said that Clay said Adrian was his boyfriend. Fine, it was clear. Clay had made his choice. I have always respected people’s choices and I don’t interfere with them.

Still, the problem was Clay was drunk and in no position to consent. What kind of person who I be if I saw him getting picked up in a bar and did nothing to stop it? Yet, it was clear Clay had made his choice. So when Clay showed up out of the dressing room dressed (and after Blake told him he was giving up his job at End Up if he walked off stage without completing the schedule, something he has done before), it took me a few moments to decide what to do. I finally decided I had to let him go. He was sober when he told Blake what he did, which means he made this decision a while ago. I walked him out to Adrian’s car, told Adrian in no uncertain terms that this had better not end badly, told Clayton that he made his own choices and I respected them and reminded him that he was very drunk. Clay insisted he wanted to go. So in he got and I shut the door. As Adrian pulled out, I whipped out my iPhone and took a picture of his license plate as he left, just in case. I sent a text message to Adrian and told him what I did and told him that I would hunt him down if he hurt that kid. I sent another message to Clay and told him to call me the next morning to let me know he was OK.

I felt bad. Bad for my loss, and I felt like I should have stopped him from leaving for his own safety. But the Libertarian in me got the best of me and reminded me of my belief in personal responsibility and not protecting others from themselves. Imagine how much worse I felt when Clay did not answer my calls. I was frantic, worried that the worst had happened and above all, I could have prevented it and didn’t. He finally text messaged me a single line: “I’m fine, very angry with u”. That was the last I heard from him, he blocked and deleted me on Facebook a couple of days later and for several days I sat in disbelief. I went back to the clubs, but only after putting him out of my mind completely. Finally tonight, I decided to turn the heat up on Adrian and thats when I got the finally bits of the truth.

This Friday, my rage finally exploded and after getting very, very drunk at End Up, a fight ensued and I somehow wound up decking Mike who has been a good friend. How my anger wound up aimed at him I have no idea, it made sense in my drunken mind at the time I am sure, but it resulted in me getting ejected from End Up for starting the fight and then the Tulsa PD came. What happened after the Tulsa PD came, lets just say that will be another story for another day, pending an investigation already launched by the Tulsa Police Department Internal Affairs Bureau. None the less, I am going to work to repair my friendship with Mike.

So basically, the above is the story of how Clayton Horner, a 23 year old pole stripper, hustled me the best anyone ever has managed to. Never before have I swallowed so much bullshit in such a short amount of time. But I’m not missing a beat. I was back at the clubs a few days later, with a new attitude and new outlook on life. Its ironic that I sit here right now as I type this watching Logo show Queer as Folk episodes back to back. Its taken several hours to type and edit this. For me, writing is a purging process. It relieves pain. Some people cut themselves, others take drugs, I write and drink – and sometimes take drugs, too. But tonight, I wrote and this is my big fuck you to the world and especislally to Clayton Horner.

I think I have said that Brian Kinney is my idol character in the QAF series, someone who is very much a sociopath, incapable of loving anyone who has lots of mindless sex and worries only about how he feels, what his needs are and says to hell with everyone else, their feelings, wants, desires and needs. Only he hawt enough that he doesn’t have to pay for it. I am going to truly embrace the attributes of Brian’s character in myself. I used to hold out hope that there is a place for true love in my life. But I see now that there is not. Only insane people make the same mistakes over and over without learning from them. The definition of insanity is repeating the same set of steps expecting a different outcome. Not only am I not insane, I am also intelligent enough to learn from my mistakes. And attempting to love people around me is, was, always has been and always will be a fucking mistake.

To sum it up shortly, my new approach goes something like this: fuck you all. Its all about me from here on out.

So, ya’all, here is the new deal:

Do you need money? Got an hour or two of spare time? I’ll buy your time, if you are hot. Don’t tell me about your life because with few exceptions, I don’t care. You are not a person to me, but a means to satisfy and end. Just as a hire an account to file my taxes, I hire you to service my cock with your mouth and with your asshole. My accountant is my tax service provider, you are my sex service provider. I don’t ask my accountant about his life or his kids, because he is there to file my taxes, not find emotional support. And you are there to provide me with sex, I pay you a fee for that. Take your fee and go. I will treat you with basic professional respect, which means I wont hurt you physically, I wont be emotionally abusive for the sake of doing so (but if I feel like saying something, I will let it be said), I wont take advantage of you and I wont make you do anything you don’t consent to. Beyond that, your feelings are not my concern. Interested? E-mail me. My address is: bemyrentboi@gmail.com.

This may all seem quite cold and heartless on my part, but you know what, I really don’t care. I am done trying to love a world that has no love for me. I am done trying to believe redeeming things about people who have nothing redeeming about them. I am done caring for people who simply mistake my selfless caring for a ticket to a free ride. People have not earned the respect or the credit that I give them. But I will never know this pain again. You, Clayton Horner, have ensured that I will never love anyone again. You sir, have finally turned me into the sociopath that many people think I am.

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Finally, a New Place Worthy of Serving Up My Shit!

Its been a while since I was making any serious amount of money online. I used to have several dedicated web and database servers housed at various data centers across the country. At one time, I was planning to build a huge network that was geographically distributed across the world. I turned out the lights of my last few remaining websites last year, when I let my last server go – it was in Los Angles, hosted at OC3 Networks. If you know anything about porn, you know thats where most of the sites are hosted. Ilan Mishan hosted just about everyone who was anyone in that industry, and despite the fact that some folks did not like him, he always struck me as someone who was honest and easy to deal with and the service was top notch, except for some problems with the IPs being blacklisted by the spamming places alot.

Its been difficult to find webhosts that would tolerate me. Many years ago, I was sued by one of my webhosts after I said some unflattering things about their service. A non-disclosure agreement prohibits me from talking about that incident. A favorite tactic of corporate America these days is to threaten the webhost of anyone who says anything they don’t like with a lawsuit if they don’t silence their customers, and most webhosting companies out of fear, ignorance or laziness – or a combination of all three – cave in and shut off the customer’s account even though the customer is not doing anything illegal.

After some searching, I found this company NFSN, Inc. that was offering hosting services under the name Nearly Free Speech. My hardware and bandwidth requirements are nowhere near what they used to be as I don’t need an entire cluster of boxes to myself anymore. After looking into the pricing of this place, which offers a very reasonable pay as you go approach to all services, they also offer something more important: management that knows how to handle legal threats and respond to frivolous ones by… doing nothing.

Have to say that after using their services for a week now, they are a company fit to serve up my shit. I may start working on some of my more controversial projects and getting them online.

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Mommy, My Head Hurts!

I have not been blogging (or doing much of anything else) as I have been suffering from a bout of toothaches and headaches lately. I think I may have an impacted tooth, which means a visit to Dr. Drill n Fill is in my future soon. Those are always fun. Not.

I just finished up an interview on Sirius/XM for The Jay Thomas Show, which was kind of a crazy, but fun show. We talked about the plate case and they had callers suggest plates I could get and we also kinda had a “Ask the Gay Guy” segment. They had a caller come and ask me if I had ever gotten poo on my wong, which was kinda disgusting. Thats why you always check your boys before you do them, folks. Always, always inspect that ass. Hey, this advice goes for you straight boys, too. Always look before you insert your roll of quarters in the vending machine.

Its St. Pattys Day, so tonight I’ll be going to End Up in Tulsa to hand out with my boy (hes dancing tonight, gotta support the home team) and I bought a new green shirt just for the occasion. The fun starts at 8 PM, hope you to see some of you there. I know Chris and Gary will be there.

So in other news, The Oklahoma Supreme Court has admonished the legislature yet again for seeking to enact and enforce unconstitutional legislation. You’d think they would have gotten the hint after the first dozen times. I also finally got tired of answering e-mails from folks asking about the plate case, so I posted an update to the site for the plate case. I wasted about twenty minutes of my life and read the drivel on The Advocate about the train wreck that is Johnny Weir. I think he is really is a brat. A cute one, though.

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Restaurant Review: Mickey Mantle Steakhouse in Bricktown

So tonight I took Oklahoma’s Most Beautiful Boy to Mickey Mantle Steakhouse in Bricktown. To cut right to the chase, it was a disaster of a dining experience.

Ratings (Key)

Overall: 1.50
Presentation: 0.75
Taste: 2.50
Service Quality: 1.00
Service Promptness: 1.25
Service Accuracy: 2.50
Menu Selection: 3.00
Menu Clarity: 2.75
Value: 1.50
Queer Friendly: 2.50
Hot Staff: 0.75

Lets be clear from the get go that this was not a date, Oklahoma’s Most Beautiful Boy has a husband and despite the fact that I find him extremely attractive (which he knows) this is a friends night out and nothing more. I enjoy his company a lot and so I don’t mind spending a little money on him as one might spend on a boyfriend. Many people don’t understand the dynamics of the relationship and mistake it for, well, whatever. As he often points out, its hard to find a “complete package” of beauty and brains in Oklahoma City. While it was not a date, we do go to nice places and I do expect the same level of service I would expect on a date, after all, it’s not any cheaper because it isn’t a date and I expect to get alot of the same things out of it most people expect on a date, like the ability to talk one on one.

To put it bluntly, the atmosphere, presentation of the food, service and the arrival of the check made me want to vomit. For starters, the place bills itself as a top of the line steakhouse. Its nothing of the sort. Undoubtedly the most over-rated restaurant I have ever had the misfortune of dining in. I wound up leaving $170 on the table for a meal that wasn’t worth $70, this includes the customary tip of 20% which was left out of respect to my dining guest and my desire not to raise a stink right then and there not because it was earned. If I were dining alone, I would not only have not left a tip, but I would have left an address to mail the refund check to and I would have taken the manager back into the kitchen and shown him how to make food presentable before it hits the table.

The atmosphere reminds me of a nice Dennys on the good side of town. People sit right on top of you, so there is no privacy (which makes talking about blowjobs, anal sex and who has a nice penis over dinner and wine without offending neighboring tables difficult) and there is nothing in the place to buffer the sound, so its like sitting in an echo chamber. Here is a hint, fancy restaurant designers: people go to nice restaurants to relax, unwind and enjoy peace and quiet. They also go to talk to the person they are taking out to dinner, to enjoy their company and enjoy being with them. None of these was possible, and I often had to ask Oklahoma’s Most Beautiful Boy to repeat himself, much to his annoyance. I couldn’t hear him over the clatter and roar of the restaurant. If I want to hear everyone yap about their lives, I can go to Applebees or TGI Friday and pay $40 for two including drinks.

The presentation of the food was awful, save the cheesecake which we both agreed was attractively presented. When it arrived, Oklahoma’s Most Beautiful Boy remarked “Wow, I think this is the most attractive thing to come to the table yet”.  I had to agree. Hindsight being 20/20, I should have snapped a picture of it with my iPhone, because the presentation on the desert really was well done. Ironically, it was also the cheapest thing on the ticket and probably the only item not prepared in the restaurant.

His Shrimp Fettuccine Alfredo was presented with a touch of class – with four shrimp set at compass points on the rim of the plate and the pasta piled in the center – but it still was not what you’d expect to have gotten for the price. It looked like an Olive Garden specialty. My Surf and Turf was just thrown on the plate with no particular attempt to make it attractive. Neither dish was garnished. Every chef knows that presentation is one of the most important aspects of the dining experience and they made little effort to do so much as throw some parsley at these dishes.

The service was for shit, I have gotten better service at sit down burger places. The server filled the drinks a total of three times, often left them unfilled for a long period of time. The server made an awkward show of reaching across my face and over my plate to remove my lobster tail from its shell without asking me if I’d like it de-shelled. Prior to that, some guy who was not even our waiter walked by and took my shrimp cocktail off the table without a word – and without noticing we were not done with it as there was still a jumbo shrimp clinging to the side. Before I could object after a moment of speechlessness and shock, he was already half way back to the kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned to apologize for taking it, saying he didn’t see the shrimp there and gave me the cocktail back. Never offered to make me another one, or asked me if I wanted it back.

This incident was probably the biggest screw-up of the evening here. Proper procedure in what is supposed to be a high-class restaurant dictates then when you fuck up and snatch someone’s food off their table and don’t realize they weren’t done until you get back to the wash pit, you don’t bring the same thing back to them without offering to make them a new one. First off, it was your error and the establishment should eat the cost. Second, you have just had your grubby little hands all over my food, to bring it back to me and suggest that I eat it is an insult. Finally, you took my food back to the wash pit. How unappetizing is it for you to bring me something from the trash can to consume? Give me a break. Never mind the fact that the kid clearly doesn’t know the first thing about waiting tables in a decent restaurant, if he did he would have asked before reaching to the middle of the table while we are talking to ask if we were done with that dish. Heck, the even do this at family restaurants!

Finally, we get to the bill. Before the check arrived, I asked Oklahoma’s Most Beautiful Boy what the check would be. I wasn’t adding it up and my surf and turf was a  market price item, so the price wasn’t in the menu. He guessed about $80 and I concurred. I felt that was about what it was worth, sort of. When the check arrived for $141.75, we both exhaled at about the same time and said words to the effect of “no way, not worth it”. They charged $75.95 for my surf n turf, and I must say that while the lobster tail was good size, the turf portion of my dinner was barely larger than a business card. I don’t believe it was a 7 oz filet, even if that’s the precooked weight. We both agreed that it wasn’t a $75 plate. Of course, presentation goes along way to making a diner feel like they got a good value

The bottom line: Mickey Mantle is an overpriced steakhouse that touts its ritzy location on the Bricktown canal to the hilt, charges way too much for what they deliver and is extremely over rated. I don’t mind paying for quality, but when you are gonna stick a bill for $170 (including 20% tip) on my table over a diner for two that didn’t even include drinks (Oklahoma’s Most Beautiful Boy rarely drinks), you had better be doing something doing something exceptional to earn your asking prices. At the very least, give me competent service from a wait staff that acts like they have worked in a world-class restaurant before. These hacks were a complete disgrace to the profession. Its clear that the management does not provide training and has terrible hiring procedures.

Now, lest this review find its way to the wait staff who served us this evening, I want them to know that I don’t blame them for the awful experience. I blame their boss. Its clear they were doing the best they could with what they were given. They were polite and caring, but are clearly just ignorant of the proper way to wait tables. The responsibility for that, my friends, rests solely with the management, as it is the management who is ultimately responsible for the performance of the wait staff or lack of it. Oklahoma’s Most Beautiful Boy owns several businesses and while I don’t always agree with his business decisions, there is one thing about his approach to business that is spot on and that is that management is always responsible for the success or failure of the business and satisfaction of the customers. Knowing that, he often chooses to manage everything himself rather than delegate that to anyone else.

The buck stops with the management, period. All failure or success in a business, regardless of who actually screwed up or did good, is a product of the management and therefore they are directly responsible for it. This is something that Mickey Mantle could apply to its business methods. Start taking responsibility for its staff and get them on par with other area restaurants, because this one is far below par to say the least.

I am printing a copy of this blog post (along with a cover letter) and mailing it to the owners of the restaurant with a copy of my receipt along with an address of where they can send me a refund check. The experience was that awful. I wouldn’t recommend Mickey Mantle Steakhouse if it was the last restaurant in Oklahoma City unless they had a dollar menu, because they don’t deliver much above fast-food levels of service.

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Free Speech at Risk in SCOTUS Westboro Baptist Church Case

I really wish I didn’t have to make this post, but unfortunately, I do. Unlike many folks I encounter, I have a code of ethics and morals and I believe in true equality. Many folks seem to have this hypocritical habit of supporting things like free speech and equality only when it suits them or their interests, or only when the topic in question is not too controversial or only so long as certain people they place upon pedestals don’t object. This is not the mark of a patriot, a freedom fighter, an independent or someone worthy of support. Its the mark of a coward, a hypocrite, an imbecile and folks who ought not to have the right to inhabit our country.

I don’t hate very many people or organizations, but The Westboro Baptist Church (WBC) is one fundamentalist Christian organization I do reserve a special spot in the deep, dark bottom of my cold, dead heart for. WBC is better described as a cult and its a disgusting little organization run by a deranged lunatic who appointed himself to be a preacher named Fred Phelps. The flock is comprised mostly of members of his family. I truly hate this organization, its membership, its leaders and what it stands for.

Being a gay homosexual myself, I am one of the groups of people they have targeted. So far, I have had a couple of run-ins with this organization, the most recent of which was when they came to Moore, Oklahoma and decided to picket Moore High School. Moore has alot of gay youth, as one friend of mine so politically incorrectly observed, “Moore is where all the bottoms come from.”. There is a video about the protest that I got involved in on my YouTube channel.

Now word comes that The Supreme Court of the United States (SCOTUS) is going to hear an appeal regarding a lawsuit filed against him Phelps for WBC’s activities. One fine day in 2006, Phelps decided to picket the funeral of a dead US solider in Maine with their usual vile message of hate. The family sued WBC and Phelps and was awarded the family over $11 million in damages for emotional distress. The judge reduced the award to $5 million, then a federal appeals court threw out the award all together. The family now appeals to SCOTUS to reinstate the damages.

This is an important case because we are about set a key precedent. That family deserves the money, that I will tell you. But unfortunately, if they are awarded those funds, it will come at great expense to all of us. Because the case will not just decide if they get the money, it will decide if free speech extends to funerals. While most decent people know that a funeral is no place to make a political statement, this is not about decency – of which Phelps has none – this is about freedom of speech. As we should all be aware, the right to speech in this country includes the right to speak at times when it is not socially acceptable (at a funeral) and also the right to say unintelligent, disagreeable, stupid things (as WBC does early and often). As we should also be equally aware, rights are have often been lost by taking a well-meaning step towards silencing a highly offensive message in the name of cleaning up the public forum.

Fred Phelps is an old man, soon he will be in the ground dead and no longer voicing his hatred for all. WBC has not been very successful in recruiting new members, either. When his family dies off, so to will his church and its vile message of hate. While the message Phelps and WBC have for the world is annoying and undoubtedly painful for those who have to hear it, it is not worth gutting the first Amendment over to rid ourselves of it! If we start saying that objectionable or offensive speech is not allowed at funerals, we have just set a dangerous precedent that you can bet will be promptly extended to other areas – like churches and other religious gatherings. Will it be illegal for homosexuals to protest WBC while they are in session if SCOTUS decides in favor of the family? Thats a real possibility if SCOTUS finds in favor of this family.

Many people are going to argue that funerals are off-limits and that no one has the right to come into a funeral and make a statement. In other words, SCOTUS should find in this family’s favor because the ends (stopping people from being assholes through speech at funerals) justify the means (making it illegal to be an asshole through speech at places where such conduct is prohibited by law). In one way, they are correct. Funerals are closed events and there should be a legal right to exclude undesirables. Funerals, when held on private property as they usually are, are off-limits to anyone who does not have permission of the real property owner to come onto that private property. All that is needed is for the property owner to tell the Phelps that they are not welcome and ask them to leave. If they don’t, a phone call to the police will result in an arrest for trespassing.

But if they stand beyond the property line on public property or on the property of someone who allows them to be there, then that’s fair play. Legally, there is no sound argument to be made for silencing WBC so long as they stand beyond the property line. That wont keep them from sending their message, and the best thing to do would to be to use a very large piece of property, so that the property line is far enough away that the Phelps are out of sight and out of mind. If this case is about protecting the privacy and sanctuary of funerals, this will be an adequate fix to the problem. But I suspect alot of people want to see this family win to silence the Phelps and thats not an action that should be undertaken.

I must say that in this case, I support the right of WBC to speak because it’s a right granted to all citizens of this country – even at funerals and even when the message being spoken is morally repugnant and devoid of value. I hope that SCOTUS, with its conservative makeup, makes this connection. True conservatives tend to understand these types of arguments and will see them under the Castle doctrine, so there is hope that common sense will prevail.

We must resist the temptation to take feel-good actions in extreme cases that have far-reaching consequences. Part of not being a hypocritical coward is having the courage to defend people you truely hate when their ability to remain equal is threatened. In this case, the equality of WBC and Phelps is being threatened in a manner that threatens our collective right to free speech. This I cannot and will not be a part of supporting.

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My Status as a Gay Homosexual

It has come to my attention that some people do not believe that I am a homosexual. I’m not sure when this went up for grabs and I thought that everyone was on the same page regarding my gayness. It would appear that I was mistaken. I would like everyone to know that I am a gay homosexual and this faggot loves to suck dick. To help any of the doubters among you resolve your doubts, I will be releasing some pictures very soon that will convincingly make my case.

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You Have GOT to Be Kidding Me!

Gonna be a short post tonight, kiddies. Yesterday, I finished downloading all four seasons of Dexter and I am still watching them, so I am gonna cut right to it:

So I was playing with my new iPhone and something came across the Tweeter (thats what I call Twitter) from News9 asking followers to vote on whether or not Ronald Reagan should be put on the $50 bill. Out loud, I uttered “What the fuck?” and clicked the link, which was broken. So I did a Google News search and – sure enough – one idiot in Congress (Patrick McHenry) is wanting to put Ronnie on the $50. I know he is a hero of the conservatives and all, but this is just ridiculous.

As the country is going bankrupt, you have these idiots out there arguing about whose face should be printed on the increasingly worthless paper. Imagine the irony! What a joke. Tell ya, folks: the tea party movement may be onto something. I think its time to show the bastards the door.

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Elections Held Today: My Thoughts on Oklahoma City and Norman Results

I promise you what I am about to say is true: I don’t take the unpopular side of every issues just to be a douche.

I know that making a statement like that is an odd way to begin a blog post, but we are going to be talking about local politics and specifically Oklahoma City Mayor Mick Cornett and Norman Mayor Cindy Rosenthal, so in light of these circumstances, I felt it might be appropriate. Plus, I am preparing to go on a tirade here of epic proportions and I wont be mincing words, so use of the word “douche” in the first sentence was the most thoughtful way I could think of to fire off the opening salvo.

I should also warn you that this is the scene in my hotel room right now. Well, more specifically: this is the scene as it applies to this post. Yep, thats 190 Proof (95% pure alcohol). Its a generic version of Everclear. In other words, I’m quickly on my way to becoming drunk. Don’t ask me why I am calling a hotel my residence until I find a new place that meets my very particular requirements in Norman. Lets just say the lease on my last place ended on February 28th and I elected not to renew and got lazy about finding a new place.

Anyway, first up is the election results in Norman. Mayor Cindy Rosenthal was re-elected, carrying 53.65% (6,798) of the vote and two spending measures passed as well. 64.72% (8,170) of the voters decided to spend $19 million on roads and infrastructure projects, while 62.07% (7,814)of the voters decided to spend $2.5 million on expanding the warning siren system. I voted against both spending measures and against Mayor Cindy.

I voted against the spending measure because the roads within the city limits of Norman are fine. There is nothing wrong with them. Oklahoma City roads are far worse. I voted against expanding the warning siren system to cover the entire city way out into the boonies of Lake Thunderbird because (and this is another reason I voted against the infrastructure bond, too) while it is something that should be looked at in the future, we are in a recession and money is tight for alot of people. City government should be tightening its belt with the rest of us, not continuing the frivolous spending spree that has gone unchecked in Norman for quite a while. The area that will be served is sparsely populated and because most tornadoes stay on the ground for less than a mile, the risk of a tornado hitting and doing serious damage to many homes (as opposed to one or two or a few homes) is very small. Those who are concerned should buy emergency weather radios (which receive the same signal that the sirens receive to activate and sound an alert locally), not force the cost of government-funded sirens on a struggling population.

I voted against re-electing Cindy Rosenthal because she is a liar. She campaigned on a platform of reducing government waste and making Norman city government efficient. Throughout her time in office, she has consistently reaffirmed this mission and used as her central theme at times. Being fiscally conservative, you might wonder why I have a problem with someone who takes this platform. The reason I opposed her is because she did not follow through. That is, she said one thing while doing another. Last year, she worked to get a $50 million spending measure passed to build a new city library. While I am in favor of education, I believe in delivering education in an educated manner and what Cindy did was just stupid. Less than three miles from The University of Oklahoma, which has one of the state’s largest and best libraries by any measure (size or depth of collections, number of items, computers, resources, hours of operation, staff, etc) she wants to spend $50 million bucks to build a new library to serve the exact same population. This is a massive waste of money. In a flyer supporting the most recent two spending measures, mailed at taxpayer expense (of course) city officials forced their agenda down our throats on these two issues. The fact that these things are even allowed to happen on her watch prove that she is incompetent as a mayor.

Now, we go to the Oklahoma City mayor’s race, where homophobe and parasite Mick Cornett was – according to The Daily Oklahoman – “comfortably re-elected, with 58.3% (14,073) of the vote favoring another term. This really pissed me off because this guy is a complete louse and I cannot understand for the life of me why every queer in the city limits is not out marching in the streets right now. Well, actually I do know why the queers are not doing anything about him, but thats another topic for another day.

For those who think our pal Mick is still an all right guy, lets look at what makes him who he is, shall we?  First off, there is the disturbing little incident which no one seemed to notice except Gossip Boy (its worth noting that this news outlet is really run by a nutcase, but on occasion, even nutcases say things that are relevant and spot on, this was one of those incidents) whereby Cornett tried to pack the library board with anti-gay religious nuts. Perhaps it was an isolated incident, but a look at his connections suggests that this was no mere coincidence.

Mick is tied to organizations that are unfriendly to homosexuals. Mick is not just the mayor, he is also the Executive Vice President of Ackerman McQueen (AM), a powerhouse of an ad agency. AM manages publicity for OPUBCO, which publishes The Oklahoman, also known as America’s worst daily newspaper according to The Columbia Journalism Review. AM also manages public relations for The Oklahoma City Chamber of Commerce. What a shock that The Oklahoman, The OKC Chamber of Commerce and Mick all just happened to come out in favor of MAPS 3. AM clients have helped further Mick’s agenda in the past before, for instance Taco Bell (which is owned by Yum Brands – whose public relations are, you guessed it, managed by AM) came out in support of Mick’s This City is Going on a Diet campaign to encourage weight loss. The diet campaign is not a bad thing for the most part, but this level of corporate involvement in politics is rarely a good thing.

MAPS3, well, now thats another matter entirely. Most people are well aware of the fact that I don’t believe in corporate welfare or the abuse of imminent domain. As such, I was mostly opposed to MAPS3, which Mick managed to pass by a narrow margin. I say “mostly opposed” because there was a small nugget of useful, responsible spending on public transportation. However, if I were an Oklahoma City voter, I would have voted against the proposal because spending a few million in a responsible manner in a spending bill that has a pricetag of $777 million and contains reprehensible amounts of pork and corporate welfare is complete and utter bullshit. Just because a  bill has one redeeming aspect does not mean it should be passed, and alot of people voted for this bill solely because of the inclusion of public transit which folks have been clamoring for over the course of many years.

Before Mick became mayor, he used to own a company called Mick Cornett Video Productions, which provided production services to the commercial and legal sectors. He has worked in the media as a reporter, anchorman and manager. He has worked in nearly every aspect of media and he knows how to spin an issue and manipulate people like a master. This is evidenced by the passage of MAPS3, which had lots of opposition, but not enough to stop it. All of these facts come down to this: Mayor Mick Cornett is as slick and as dangerous as they come. His political career needs to be terminated before he makes a run for the governor’s office and wins, bringing his special, seductive brand of homophobia and fiscal irresponsibility to the rest of the state from it’s highest office.

So is there a point to all of this, or am I just trashing Cornett? Yes, there is a point – and I am going to make now and do so directly to my fellow queers. With another four years of Cornett, as sure as the sun will rise in the morning, there will be another MAPS proposal. This time, we should be smart and make sure that we get something out of the deal. By we, I mean us queers. More than anything else, Oklahoma City needs a comprehensive queer community center that serves the needs of the queer community exclusively. That should include not only a center that provides comprehensive programing and services like Tulsa’s Oklahomans for Equality but it should also provide shelter services for homeless and struggling queer youth. You might be surprised to know how many queer youth in this city are homeless or abandoned by their family. Further, the center should provide educational services and job training.

We should must work together and send a message to Cornett that reads as follows:

Dear Mr. Cornett,

You have been re-elected. We’d rather you were not, but you are. We’re going to make the best of it, but we have a condition.

If you want to tax us further for one of your fancy little urban renewal projects, i.e. MAPS4, then you’re going to stop taking our money and spending all of it on amusements for straight rich people in Bricktown. You’re going to spend some of that money helping us, providing basic services that we need to enjoy a quality of life.

We’re tired of you taking our queer money and not providing us basic services. It amounts to taxation without representation. We’re not taking it anymore. Either play ball, or we will shoot down your next project.

Sincerely,

The Oklahoma City Queer Community

Will we rise to the occasion and come together for something that this city desperately needs? Or will we continue to be more interested in doing nothing particularly useful and playing the victim? Time will tell. Cornett’s re-election is bad for us, but we can and should turn it into something useful. Cornett is one of those people that could careless that queer youth live on our streets. As long as he gets his MAPS proposals passed, he is happy damn us all to hell. The only thing he will understand or heed is a direct promise to torpedo his proposals (and by extension, his political career) and then he will play ball.

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What If… I Were Hot?

Some of us are hot. Some of us are smart. A very few of us are both hot and smart. I know someone in that last category. I met him a few weeks ago, for obvious reasons, not the least of which is he would kill me if I were to do so. He is hawt as hell, probably one of the most beautiful boys I have ever personally met. I saw some photographs of him and he has one of the most amazing bodies I have ever seen. If I were still shooting porn, I would have immediately gotten out my checkbook to get him in front of my camera.

I wont say his name here (also for obvious reasons) and for many reasons, we are friends quietly and my interaction with him is mostly done under assumed names and aliases. This is necessary because he has appearances to keep up and I am the sort of person who sinks careers and destroys business ventures just by virtue of association. I have spent a fair amount of time talking to him and I enjoy his friendship and conversation. I would be lying if I said I did not find him attractive, but I also know it will only ever will be friendship, for he is married and he and I would never work in that way. In the past, I have been bad about avoiding fucking my friends, so this is an exercise in self control. He is one of the smartest people I know and my knowing him and the conversations we have  as a result have caused no small amount of self reflection.

He is hot and smart and unlike many hot guys (smart or not), he doesn’t flaunt it. He’ll take the compliments and he doesn’t mind the attention and will even bask in it, but he doesn’t feel the need to remind you of the fact that he is hotter than you at every chance. Such an approach to life is refreshing, I must admit. Nothing is worse than somebody who is hot and knows it. So this article is not about me fawning over him or putting him on a pedestal and dressing him up. Its about my self-reflection and musings on the title: what if I were hot?

Everyone has a few things going for them and a few against them. One of the gifts I have is the ability to give myself honest self appraisals. Doing so has lead me to the following determination: I am smart. Not an opinion held by just me, even most of my enemies admit this freely when they are being candid in their thoughts about me. People who like you will often patronize you and tell you what they think you want to hear or what will get them what they want. If you want to know how you are really projecting yourself or how you are come off, then ask someone who hates you. Be prepared, you may not like what you hear, but then again, that’s probably why you are enemies.

But while I am smart, I am enough of a realist to know that I am not hot. Well, there is one truck driver I met at The Finishline from somewhere out in Indiana who thinks I am hot. I got drunk one night really bad and wound up swallowing his cock. I was so drunk that before that night was over, I’d get arrested, have three criminal charges filed against me and wake up in the hospital tied to a bed and being forcibly treated after lapsing into a coma at the county jail. So I have to say that the trucker finding me hot was an isolated incident.

I am not cute – but what if I was? The guy I talked about at the start of this article is hot and smart and he has a wonderful middle class life. Does he have it because of his looks? Do I not have it because of my looks? This is the million dollar question, to be certain. I have wondered about this early and often. He is just as direct and in your face as I am and when he thinks something stinks, he says so. Only he says fuck you with a smile, and I say “fuck you” aloud when the time comes. This is a difference between us, but when you look right at it and compare the way he approaches things and the way I approach stuff, we are not all that different. He is extremely manipulative and self-focused, as am I. We are both focused on money, success and power. Yet with all these similarities, he has the life and I do not. While he will tell you his not rich, he has it going on. He makes money while he sleeps and he can go out on the town every night of the week and not blink. By contrast, I have a half a dozen corporations in bankruptcy and a personal life in disaster.

If I were hot, would I have the kind of life I want? Would I have his life? Sometimes I think it all boils down to looks in our community. Most homosexuals will tell you its not a choice to be gay. I disagree with this, I think for some people it is a choice and I think others they are born that way. But we all know that we cannot control the way we look, at least not without much plastic surgery. In a community that screams for equality because we cannot change who we are, why would I be excluded from the community because of my looks. I know I am slightly more abrupt than he is, which may be what holds me back in life. While he just gives the fuck you smile, I put it into words. Perhaps that subtle difference is what separates us.

Who knows. I am pretty sure that my looks are not the only thing holding me back. There are plenty of popular ugly people in our community. Yet there are also plenty of popular assholes in our community. So what gives? Perhaps I am just cursed. These are the kind of thoughts that keep me up at 2 AM in the morning, watching Logo and Queer as Folk re-runs posting on my blog that no one reads or cares about.

Today is set to be a busy day as I do more errands than I have done all year in a single day. Yet I can’t sleep, I don’t want to sleep and I just want to sit here and be miserable. I want to sit here and think about how my life has been a complete failure. I am keenly aware of the fact that I am 28 years old, in two years my life will be over (as every faggot’s life ends at 30) and while I am doing the things successful fags do, I dont feel it. I don’t feel successful. I am not happy. I am not where I want to be in life. I have no plan to get there. Today should be a good day, for it marks my burial of a hatchet with someone. But I don’t feel it. More than anything, I want a nice, stiff drink. Looks like I am going to be having booze for breakfast – again.

Despite the fact that I have spent more than a thousand words writing about it, I really don’t care. Why should I? I am cursed. I am doomed to suffer in this life. Maybe next time, I will be a cute little faggot that everyone wants.

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