My brother isn't "recently outed gay." And apparently he (and no one else who knows him) don't read my blog or else I would have been swarmed with phone calls. This is actually a running joke going back and forth between us for years. Now before ACTUP decides to reform along with Queer Nation to protest my blog, let me give my standard disclaimer regarding homophobia.

1. Calling my brother gay is just as funny to me (and to him) as calling him a double crispy, high yellow, Alabama porch monkey. It's very equal opportunity bigotry with us.

2. If he were gay (and I suspect he might be happier in this arena) who cares?

3. We were raised by two gay parents.

No I'm not talking about a gay couple who decided to adopt I'm talking about two parents who both turned out to be gay. Gay father, lesbian mother. "What the fuck?", you might be saying while thinking to your self, "well that explains it." Yes, welcome to the wonderful and continuing experiment that was the 60s. My father who was a gay man when he met my mother was encouraged by his lover at the time, who was leaving town, to get involved with Carole who became my mother after she fell in love with my father who I've already mentioned was a gay man. *Whew* So in the context of open love and great hallucinogens the birth of 3 sons becomes possible. So what about my mother you might be thinking? Well, she has always resisted sexual labels, a practice I whole heartedly agree with. Just the same she has lived with the same woman for over 18 years now. Hmmm. Maybe she's just in denial.

So there you have it. Raised Black, Italian, and apparently Gay. It's part of our culture. Funny thing to carry with you in this divisive world. So, yes I can sing you the entire original cast album of Mame off the top of my head. Yes, my mother had cats in the house growing up. Yes, my father preferred dogs.

And finally yes, I've had many gay lovers. They were all lebians.