The Minneapolis Jewish Film Festival once again dares to wrestle with controversial subject matter. This year, those subjects range from forbidden gay love between an Israeli and a Palestinian to the Holocaust. Twin Cities GLBT and allied viewers had less than a week last year to catch The Bubble when it played in Minneapolis. Luckily, they get another chance at the film fest, March 3, 9 PM, at Oak Street Cinema.
By its own admission, the Human Rights Campaign (HRC) has been too associated with being white, privileged, and male. However, unlike countless others, HRC has admitted this fault, which the organization diligently is correcting with its Listening Campaign of the Equality Forward Initiative. Last year, HRC hired Cuc Vu as its first Chief Diversity Officer.
Several months ago, I wrote a piece about comfort foods in the Twin Cities. The best burger—hands down—was the Juicy Nookie Burger at The Nook in St. Paul. Well, since then, something big has happened to this establishment. Every couple of weeks, I walk two blocks carrying my laptop from my house to The Nook. I order lunch, and work on writing assignments. Usually, I’m the only person there about 11 AM. Regulars start arriving around 11:30, and local business people begin pushing open the door at 12:15 for lunch.
On February 16, I was at Vera’s Café in Minneapolis for what I thought would be a routine meeting of the Minnesota Leather Pride (MLP) planning committee. Instead, to my surprise and delight, I was privileged to see history in the making. Committee members at the meeting witnessed the signing of an agreement between MPL and Twin Cities Pride (TCP), formerly known as GLBT Pride/Twin Cities. The agreement is historic, because it is the first official collaboration between the two groups.
Central Florida boasts a couple of swell flight museums, and any Minnesotan with a thermometer can calculate the reason: If God had wanted us to suffer through another winter, would He have given Orville Wright the go-ahead? Think about it…. Then, step out of the Orlando Airport into a little slice of heaven, fringed with palms, you bet, but also with jeweled citrus groves and arcades of live oaks dressed in drooping shawls of Spanish moss. Leave the palms to Miami: These are the emblems of the Old South, as played out in Florida. Step back into pockets of mannerly, small-town hospitality, where a deferential “Sir” or “Ma’am” trips off the tongue with every sentence, and smiling locals greet you, as if their happiness depended on it—“Haah. How all y’all doin’ today?”
You’ve run into those demigods from LA, haven’t you, who perform triathlons daily, exist on salads, and consider our Midwestern lifestyle something the Taliban thought up? Well, if California is an acronym for all that’s perfect, what are they all doing in Mazatlan? Getting their knickers untwisted, that’s what. Fleeing the Image Police and actually enjoying themselves. Sunning on a beach chaise within easy reach of a margarita, wearing decidedly unfashionable swim trunks from Señor Frog’s.
It has been more than two decades since the winds of queer change swept through college campuses. Across America, they now sponsor GLBT centers, offer gender studies programs, and pledge never to discriminate on the basis of sexual orientation.“Out” has become the new “in”—everywhere, that is, except the locker room. Finally, however, even that is changing.
Exterior home renovation seldom comes at a welcome cost, and when it does, let the homeowner beware: Unlicensed or inexperienced contractors can do a lot more harm than good. According to Bob Davis, owner of Window Outfitters, shoddy workmanship can cause anything from mold and mildew to an infestation of carpenter ants. “It’s important to pick a licensed contractor who’s had experience, and get references,” Davis advises.
After recent shootings, my AOL screen (an inveterate questioner) asked me, “How concerned are you about violence in America’s schools?”—reporting 81 percent of respondents to be “Very;” 14 percent “Somewhat;” and 5 percent “Not at All.” A pointless, inane exercise that avoided any examination of what I believe is a main source of school violence: bullying.