BYU Threatens To Arrest and Discipline Students Who Protest anti-LGBT Rules.

BYU Threatens To Arrest and Discipline Students (Again) Who Protest Anti-LGBT Rules.

Let’s begin this with a quick history recap of past Brigham Young’s dangerous and deadly anti-gay rhetoric and “rules”.

Believe it or not before 1962 BYU was actually a “live and let live” type of college, the few lesbian and gay students who had attended though deeply closeted seemed to have no problems on campus. But on On September 12, 1962, the “live and let live” policy was officially eradicated. Spencer W. Kimball (Quorum of the 12), Mark E. Peterson (Quorum of the 12), and Ernest L. Wilkinson (BYU President) addressed the university and introduced the new university policy: “…we [do not] intend to admit to our campus any homosexuals. We do not want others on this campus to be contaminated by your presence,

Homosexuality is an ugly sin, repugnant to those who find no temptation in it, as well as to many past offenders who are seeking a way out of its clutches. All such deviations from normal, proper heterosexual relationships are not merely unnatural but wrong in the sight of God.

Spencer W Kimball

In July 1964, Spencer W. Kimball spoke to institute faculty, calling homosexuality a “malady”, “disease”, and asserted it was “curable [through] self-mastery”. On January 5, 1965, Kimball again addressed the BYU student body, equating homosexual “desires and tendencies” to “petting”, “fornication”, and “adultery.” He also professed that it was a “damnable heresy” for any homosexual person to claim, “God made [me] [this] way.”

Five gay, male students died by suicide in 1965 on campus. And unfortunately over the years more followed.

But it get’s worse.

In 1967, BYU administration took control of the Honor Code and Honor Committee (now called Honor Code Office). That following year, a recorded 72 students were expelled under pretenses of “suspected homosexual activity”

In 1973 BYU’s university-sanctioned electroshock aversion therapy was reported for the first time. These were mentioned by BYU psychology professor Allen Bergin in a July 1973 New Era article, justifying the actions by claiming that homosexuals were “psychologically disturbed persons.” university-sanctioned electroshock aversion therapy was reported..

This TORTURE continued through the 1976 thesis/experiment by BYU clinical psychology professor, Max Ford McBride, which used 17 gay, male students and subjected them to “positive visual stimuli” (nude images and pornographic videos of women) with no consequence and “negative stimuli” (nude images and pornographic videos of men) accompanied by high-voltage shocks to their genitals and sensitive areas of the body, as well as induced vomiting and odor aversion. The shocks reached an intensity of 4.5mA, the equivalent of a powerful stun gun. Sources suggest this practice continued on BYU campus until 1983.

Brigham Young University and the Mormon Church didn’t stop there. Conversion Therapy Camps, spying and purging students & faculty, fighting tooth and nail against same sex marriage. It goes on and on and all of i tax free!

Fast forward to 2022 and BYU is still at it.

Almost one year after LGBT students lit up Brigham Young University’s “Y” sign in rainbow colors to show support for LGBT equality, BYU has passed new rules to discipline or arrest any students who protest against the school’s anti-LGBTQ teaching and all it’s rules in general.

The university’s new rules define a demonstration as “an event that occurs on university property that is not sponsored by the university in which two or more people gather to raise awareness about, or express a viewpoint on, an issue or cause.” This includes “marches, memorials, parades, picketing, leafletting, signature-gathering, rallies, sit-ins and counterdemonstrations,” BYU also states that student protests may not “contradict or oppose church doctrine or policy”, nor are they allowed to “deliberately attack or deride” the church or its leaders.

After all these years of Brigham Young University not only discriminating but TORTURING it’s gay students it still remains open, receives government funding and the Mormon Church tax exempt.

And everything old is new again.

Gay History - January 16: 1901 - The Astonishing Story of NYC Politician Murray Hall Who Lived As A Man, But Was Born A Woman.

Gay History – January 16: 1901 – The Astonishing Story of NYC Politician Murray Hall Who Lived As A Man, But Was Born A Woman.

Tammany Hall politician Murray Hall lived a hard drinking, poker playing man for decades without his gender being questioned. Following Hall’s death, however, the New York Times reported that Hall’s “true sex” was revealed by the doctor as biologically female.

Hall was born Mary Anderson in Scotland and around age 16 began dressing as a male, taking the name John Anderson. Anderson married young, but had a roving eye and a jealous wife who disclosed Anderson’s gender to the police. Fearing arrest, Anderson fled to America in 1870 and assumed the name Murray H. Hall.

In 1872, Hall married Cecilia Lowe, a schoolteacher, and by 1874 Hall had established an employment agency, a Bail Bondsman business and had an active political career.

But on January 16, 1901 upon Heads death, the 30+ year secret was discovered:

—————————-

New York Times, January 18, 1901:

WOMAN LONG POSED AS A MAN

Murray Hall Had Conducted an Employment Agency-Sex Revealed at Death

A peculiar case was brought to light yesterday when Dr. William C. Gallagher of 302 West Twelfth Street reported to the Coroner’s office the death of Murray Hall, sixty years old, who kept an employment agency at 145 Sixth Avenue. Death was caused by cancer of the breast. Although Murray Hall had passed for a man for a number of years it now turns out that the person was a woman.

Neighbors who were asked last night said that although Hall had always been considered a little peculiar, there was no thought that the person was other than a man. A woman who was understood to be Hall’s wife, died about two years ago. The only other member of the family is an adopted daughter. She refused to see any callers last night.

——————–

The New York Times said Hall had suffered from breast cancer for several years, and speculated that he had not sought medical advice due to fears of his secret becoming known.

He had, however, amassed a collection of medical books which he used to treat himself.

When Hall did consult a doctor, he only had a few days left to live.

After his death, every private moment, real or perceived, was twisted and turned and held up to the light, but in the end Murray Hall told no stories of his own but he shall be remembered.

Read more about the fascinating life and death of Murray Hill at History Matters and The Walks of New York,

Murray Hall: The New York politician who broke 19th Century gender rules -  BBC News

SO GAY! – LGBT Weekly News Roundup 1/15/2022

MoMA Acquires Rainbow Flag - artnet News

Kenneth in the 212 remembers the late great Ronnie Spector and “Dangerous”.

That witty and handsome BosGuy it turns out can also tease your brain.

JoeMyGod breaks the bad news about upcoming coronavirus variants. Maybe coming soon to a theatre, restaurant, airport, school, and so on and so on near you.

The Randy Report covers the story of a high school senior in NY who is raising his voice after being told he couldn’t mention being gay in the school newspaper due to a school policy that apparently doesn’t exist.

Matt Rettumund of Boy Culture brings you Twinks To Watch Out For: 2022 Edition!

A unique LGBT Youth Homeless Shelter in Philly is helping our lost youth. But for how much longer is anybody’s guess? – The Patch

The Advocate reports on the death (murder) of Jorge Diaz-Johnston, a gay activist who won a landmark court case in Miami-Dade County against the state’s ban on same-sex marriages. He was 54.

A law that bans so-called conversion therapy in Canada took effect on Jan. 7. Oh to live in a civilized country – The Washington Blade

The OutFront takes on the challenging and ever evolving legacy of January 6, 2021.

TWITTER PHOTO OF THE WEEK Revenge for Snowflake

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Gay History – January 15, 1973: Remembering Lance Loud. America’s First OUT Gay Man On Television

Decades before Matt Bomer, Neil Patrick Harris, and Zachary Quinto there was a young man named Lance Loud who brought gay awareness, lifestyle and culture to millions of homes across America at a time when it was unheard of.

On January 15, 1973 Lance Loud came out on the PBS “series” An American Family. He was the first person to come out on national television.

Am American Family” An American Family, was a 12-episode reality documentary series broadcast in 1973 on PBS. The directors, Alan and Susan Raymond, were the first to install cameras into a real-life situation. They documented hundreds of hours of the lives of the Loud family of Santa Barbara, California. During the course of the filming, the marriage of Bill and Pat Loud imploded, they separated, and Pat filed for divorce. The documentary became a real-life soap opera and the progenitor of ”reality television,” in which private lives were captured for a national audience.

An American Family also delved into the lives of the Loud children, Delilah and Michele and brothers Kevin, Grant and oldest son Lance.

Lance was the first openly gay person depicted on television, and was shocking to an audience that had rarely witnessed frank portrayals of homosexuality on television. Lances scenes were of his true self, wearing blue lipstick, moving to the Chelsea Hotel in Manhattan, and introducing his mother to the gay underground music and art world of transvestites, hustlers and types of  gritty New Yorker’s that were never seen on television before and made an American Family a groundbreaking series first. (In 2001 Pat Loud  stating that the family were all probably aware of Lance’s sexual orientation beforehand. )

After the show ended Lance remained in New York for 10 years living in a Lower East Side apartment writing for Andy Warhol’s Interview magazine and performing in a semi-successful rock band called the Mumps.

In 1981, Lance moved back to California, where he studied journalism. He was a regular contributor to such publications as the Advocate, Details and Interview. . He was a presence in Los Angeles’ gay community but shed his earlier flamboyance, saying he had “gone back into the closet; no more blue lipstick.” Over the years, he spent time working with animal rescue organizations.

Whenever “An American Family” was rebroadcast, Lance was cast back into the spotlight. A one-hour sequel, “An American Family Revisited: The Louds 10 Years Later,” appeared on HBO in 1983. His mother reviled the original series, telling an interviewer once that she felt disgraced by it–”like letting your pants down in public.”

Lance himself always seemed puzzled by the notoriety accorded him by the series, which, he wryly observed, had “raised my family to the status of a recurring question on ‘Hollywood Squares.’

Four years later in 1987 Lance learned he had HIV.  He remained in good health except for occasional bouts with Hepatitis C  before his untimely death to AIDS

”It seemed like a medical miracle,” said friend Kristen Hoffman said. ”He just kept bouncing back.”

But in the end the years of partying and drug abuse took its toll..  After being told that his hepatitis C was now terminal  Lance wrote one last piece “a cautionary tale” about the health risks of his partying ways for The Advocate.

At the age of 50, Lance Loud passed away on December 22, 2001

As his final request, Lance wanted his parents to reunite. Bill and Pat honored his wish and are living together again.”

After Lance’s PBS presented  Lance Loud: Death in An American Family“>Lance Loud! A Death In An American Family, that commemorated the 30th anniversary of the original series broadcast and explored Lance’s legacy by looking back at scenes from the original documentary, examining the intervening years of Loud’s life and spending time with him in his final months.

Below is an interview Lance gave to Dick Cavett in 1973 after An American Family had aired.

The Advocate published Lance Loud’s final article after passing  in their January 22, 2002 issue.

Preface: Why Me?
What Did I Learn Last Year?

When The Advocate invited me to participate in its roundup of people sharing accomplishments in 2001, guilt bubbled right next to the pride I felt to be included in such an honor. Who was I to be included in an issue where everyone else presumably would be expounding about triumphs won over the past year? But my triumph came completely by coincidence. Like the recognition that had given me a voice in the public arena in the first place (I was in An American Family—PBS’s controversial 1973 TV documentary in which, still a teenager and more out of laziness than activism, I made no secret of my homosexuality, a “feat” considered brave at the time), this recognition is coming to me completely by accident.

And so I rationalized that in a sea of Advocate winners, some loser’s musings on his own mortality might just provide a fitting reflective glory to further flatter our issue’s winners. I don’t mind that; I am glad to help out. I have a lot in common with Lewis Carroll’s Alice (my favorite female literary heroine, besides Becky Sharp). I’ve been sent on a journey to places even bleach can’t reach. I know that I shall be very lucky indeed if Death looks like the Cheshire Cat, and even if I lose contact with my audience before his entrance, my audience—such as it is—will get as much death dirt as possible. I was, after all, a gossipy old pencil pusher in the bloom of health; no sense in letting that strong suit go.

So for a short part of this journey, you are there.

This year, you see, I not only got diagnosed with terminal hepatitis C but got checked into a local men’s hospice to await its final curtain. Though for years I had told myself that all my unbridled drinking, drugging, and unsafe sex were going to lead exactly here, I’d never really believed it.

But when the big showdown came, instead of laughing maniacally and swigging my tequila from one of my old Beatle boots, I had a response that was 180 degrees off. When I was told in the early summer that it was indeed just such outlaw ways that had been responsible for bringing me to my knees, I crumpled without any “damn the torpedoes” tribute to Billy the Kid or Bonnie and Clyde. I became a shadow, hunched over, round-eyed from fear, shuffling as I took my place in the long line of customers who are gathered here, part of a group with the same things in our mind, each of us grimly waiting to be served.

The bulk of my learning—if I may call it such—has come within the past three months, after I became a part of the fragile body of patients who make up an AIDS hospice. Here, surrounded by teams of supportive nurses, attentive doctors, and interns, one gently comes upon his own strengths and shortcomings.

So what was my “triumph” this past year? As with my “feat” on An American Family, I was, once again, merely myself. But over the course of 2001, my dormant hepatitis C and my HIV—both “silent partners” in governing my health till now—suddenly decided to step out from behind the curtain and take the spotlight. Check out uridine monophosphate for more information. I lived 18 years with HIV and 10 with hep C with very little more than a fleeting case of thrush. Now I find myself in a hospice with a limited-time warranty on my life.

“Dubious achievement,” anyone? Till now, yes. But the hep C–HIV numbers among gay men and women look to be far larger than originally expected and are rising every day. The fact that many gay men who carry the dual diagnosis are feeling fairly great, not feeling or showing signs of illness thanks to their drug cocktails or gym regimens, misleads many of those infected. I don’t know if hep C is called “the quiet killer,” but it easily could be, so unnoticeably does it nestle into your body before crankin’ up the screws and letting you race to figure out what’s going on.

Now I’m asked to put pen to paper and, in so many words, take you on a brief tour of the Rabbit’s hole that is swallowing me up. A peep into my own private dying process and what I’ve noticed over the past year as my surroundings get curiouser and curiouser. It’s not wild, but it is mysterious, and you’ll encounter some of the strangest thoughts en route to the main tunnel going straight down.
My “accomplishment” of being one of the first wave of gays to deal with the messy last stages of this dreary road to death speaks for itself. Despite this writer’s basic clumsiness and dull-wittedness, I will now tell the tale. Let’s break my list of “accomplishments” down into the four seasons, shall we? Think of it as a cautionary tale.

Part I: Winter ’01
Is There a Michelin Man in My Family Tree, or What?

Last winter, ’01, was typical of any year in recent times for me. Six years earlier, my gig writing a regular column for The Advocate had to, regretfully, be put out to pasture thanks to a full-time career as a crystal addict. I’d finally rehabbed from the drugs and drink, and I was a lonely hermit, presiding over my nine stray cats in a small one-room kingdom on a hillside in Los Angeles’s Echo Park, where I took many naps and read English rock magazines. I was not in great health—big shock. But I was feeling well enough to still say yes when a girlfriend asked me to accompany her to the University of California, Santa Cruz, in the spring to move her 18-year-old son for summer break.

Shortly after the three of us set upon his dorm room to dismantle it, a small but sharp twinge of pain registered just under my left kneecap. And it would not stop. In fact, it got worse. For the duration of the weekend and through the trip home, it got worse and worse. Damn my friend, I said to myself as it throbbed away. How could she have forced me into so much work? But on returning to L.A. and going to the doctor that following Monday, I found out it had little to do with a twisted knee. It was a septic infection that had settled under my left knee. But I still believed I was invincible and continued my old lifestyle.

However, it was only a couple of days later that I awoke one afternoon in Cedars-Sinai hospital. I don’t know how the day started out, but I had been found in a mud puddle near Echo Park Lake at 4:30 in the morning. At the hospital, I had accosted the nurses and doctors. I ripped out the I.V. needles leading into both my arms. Blood. More blood. Then there was my left leg. Sometime during the previous 48 hours, it had swollen to at least four sizes larger than the right one. The skin was shiny and tight. God was partway through inventing a new Pokémon—me. Though doctors told me I should stay in the hospital, I was having none of it. I returned home; me, the cats, and my little wooden house in the wilds of Echo Park. Ready to stick it out to the bitter end, little did I know, in terms of my domestic setup, that finality was about as close as the nearest Starbucks.

Part II: The Summer of My Incontinence.

Actually, bona fide incontinence waited until fall to make itself known. Still, as we passed the halfway mark of the year, I was not without plenty of disillusion. But as we crawled toward that final quarter of the year, waves of human degradation began breaking over my body. Daily bouts of catastrophic diarrhea suggested my intestinal tract was undergoing some sort of Chernobylish meltdown. My belly—for that is the only word with which to adequately describe my stomach—had grown taut as a kettle drum. My leg was now not only swollen and unusable but had developed a needles-and-pins sensitivity that completely obscured any other feeling. While my leg still tingled constantly in a most uncomfortable manner, I could be standing on a tack and not notice it. All this plus the fact that it seemed I was now racing to the hospital every couple of weeks for a six-hour transfusion session to replace the blood my body was not replenishing. This was leaving large gaps in my energy and hollows where my cheeks had once been. I was, in short, beginning to look a little like a WeHo version of the Crypt Keeper. After a few haunted weeks spent lurking between the sheets in my mother’s bedroom, it was decided to get me back into the hospital.

Part III: Waiting, waiting, waiting…

I thus spent August and part of September in hospital rooms about town. Perhaps there is no agony worse than the tedium I then experienced waiting for Something to Happen. I should say that when you’ve grown sick of reading and bug-eyed from watching TV, when your friends are all visited out and there’s nothing else to do, no words can adequately praise the link to the outside world provided by your parents and family. I was going insane. There was no exact diagnosis. The unspoken one, everyone knew.

Suddenly…news. Word came along the hospital jungle that they were booting me out. With the newfound gusto that a minimum-wage earner gets shortly before his work day ends and his allotted amount of work still remains to be finished, I was packed up and told I had to find myself a rest home to stay in. They did not tell me what was wrong or what could be done about it. Suffice it to say that this did not give me much hope.

Part IV: Revelations, Anyone?

You know those people who tell you they’ve forgotten how to cry and that they can’t anymore? I was one of them—until I crash-landed at the Carl Bean hospice facility on the northern tip of south-central L.A. It’s not because the facility is bad—on the contrary. The food is the best I’ve had in an institution—and believe me, by the end of the summer I had become quite the hospital food gourmand. The nursing and doctoring staff? No words can do justice to their efficiency, thoroughness, and all-around human compassion above and beyond the call of duty.

But what I learned in this situation is how easy it is for me to cry. Having been one of those who didn’t cry at anything, I am now faced with mortality, finding myself on a deserted beach on the brink of a saline washout. And forget about my family; just a sidelong look at my mom while visiting her home and watching her prepare dinner struck a gusher. Or my giving a toast at a dinner for my brother and sister: Halfway through, yours truly simply kidnapped the situation by bursting into a massive crying jag that left my sisters frozen, silent, and with two long tear-stained trails on their cheeks. Definitely not the most generous move to inaugurate a “happy occasion.”

Epilogue: This is the end, my friend

I recently read that “a sentence of death concentrates the mind wonderfully.” True, but you’ve got to be able to excuse yourself from what you can and can’t concentrate on. Beware flights of fancy. Surely it sounds great to finally envision the perfect rock band, the script that is right in front of your nose, the inevitable volume of memories that the world must see.

And you must be prepared to handle those “What to do?” moments. My doctor told my already-hysterical mother, “Pat, you’ve got to face it. You’re going to outlive Lance, so you may as well get prepared!” Neither of us felt good about that moment. Or the fight between friends when a dear pal blurted out to me that he’d speak well of me at my wake.

When will it happen? That’s certainly got to be number 1 on the most-often-asked-questions-of-myself list that I usually break out at 4:12 a.m., when no one’s around to answer. All I can hear is my own breath pulling like cotton through my nostrils. Now that I’ve gotten up enough nerve to ask the kindly doctors and nursing staff for some illumination, most likely they’ll turn such queries back on me, asking how long I think I’m going to live or telling me it’s all relative.

Still, I got the truth, though it came in a variety of vague replies. And the truth was not pleasant. After the question “Am I dying?” was met with responses that ranged from “What do you think?” to “Lance, everybody dies sooner or later,” salty tears were running down my cheeks.

Such attempts on my part to sleuth out a departure date are suddenly replaced by one of the staff breezily telling me that my liver has completely stopped operating. The ammonia now racing around in my body (which must be urine, though I haven’t got the nerve to clarify that salient point) is causing me to have memory lapses, and by that time I’m about ready to get back to discussing the food, the weather, anything, as long as it is superficial.

Oh, yes, it has been a year full of dark revelations, but without the fame or glory that might help offer someone else some little shred of solace if they are on the same road.

Lance Loud was a TRUE gay hero and icon and he should always be remembered.

Undersea Volcano Near Tonga Erupts With Giant Plume, Tsunami And Sonic Boom

Undersea Volcano Near Tonga Erupts With Giant Plume, Tsunami And Sonic Boom [VIDEOS]

Get your 2022 Bingo cards out. Sigh.

An underwater volcano erupted in spectacular fashion near the Pacific nation of Tonga on Saturday, with a volcanic plume and a blast wave seen from orbit, sending large waves crashing across the shore and people rushing to higher ground.

 The powerful eruption produced a volcanic plume about 150 kilometers (about 100 miles) wide.

According to a NPR news release, the Tonga Meteorological Services said a tsunami warning was in effect for all of Tonga, and data from the Pacific Tsunami Warning Center showed waves of 80 centimeters (2.6 feet) had been detected. Videos shared online show a wave inundating coastal settlements.

This tsunami will bring large and dangerous rip currents as far as Southern California beaches today.

There have been no reports of casualties as of this posting.

Gay History - 1974: The Equality Act Introduced to Congress and We Are Still Waiting

Gay History – January 14 1974: Bella Abzug Introduces the First Equality Act to Congress

In 1974, gay activists in New York City were fighting to pass a city-wide gay rights ordinance. Then NY Representative to Congress Bella Abzug (pictured above), inspired by the emergence of the first national gay rights organization, the then newly formed National Gay Task Force (NGTF), had the idea to circumvent local homophobes by introducing federal legislation that would give gays and lesbians full FEDERAL equality under the law.

Enlisting the co-sponsorship of Ed Koch (D-NY), (the closeted New York Congressman who would go on to become the mayor of New York City), Abzug courageously introduced the Equality Act on  January 14th of 1974 — the first piece of federal legislation to address discrimination based on sexual orientation. The act would amend Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 to prohibit discrimination on the basis of sex, marital status, or sexual orientation in public accommodations, public facilities, public education, federally assisted programs, housing, and financial services. Anticipating contemporary “hate crime” legislation, the act further stipulated penalties for anyone who willfully injured, intimidated, or interfered with a person on the basis of sex, marital status, or sexual orientation and empowered the U.S. Attorney General to take civil action against such discrimination

Of course it failed.

In 1975, the National Gay Task Force urged Abzug and Koch to try again. This time, the pair got twenty-four members of Congress (including themselves) to co-sponsor their proposed legislation: the Civil Rights Amendment of 1975. Bruce Voeller, director of the NGTF, along with NGTF national coordinator Nathalie Rockhill, organized a press conference on Capitol Hill, inviting prestigious organizations, such as the American Civil Liberties Union and the National Organization for Women (NOW), to attend. Rockhill was slated to introduce Congresswoman Abzug, who would then explain the bill to the press. The Civil Rights Amendment of 1975, Abzug explained as she spoke into the microphone, would extend the Civil Rights Acts of 1964 and 1968 to protect gays and lesbians in all of the areas covered by the proposed Equality Act of 1974; and like the Equality Act, the amendment would penalize anyone who discriminated against someone on the basis of their sexual orientation.

And once again the bill did not pass.

Beginning in the 1990’s, Congressional efforts shifted to the passage of the Employment Non-Discrimination Act (ENDA). More narrow in scope than the Equality Act, ENDA would prohibit discrimination in hiring practices and employment on the basis of sexual orientation and, in some versions of the bill, gender identity without amending the Civil Rights Act. In 1994, ENDA was introduced in the House by Congressman Gerry Studds (D-MA) and in the Senate by Ted Kennedy (D-MA). Both times, the bill died in committee.

ENDA was introduced in every Congress since 1994 except the 109th. The bill gained its best chance at passing after the Democratic Party gained the majority after twelve years of Republican majorities in the 2006 midterm elections. In 2007, gender identity protections were added to the legislation for the first time. Some sponsors believed that even with a Democratic majority, ENDA did not have enough votes to pass the House of Representatives with transgender inclusion and it was dropped the bill, it was the closest that the bill ever got to passing,  ENDA passed the House and then died in the Senate. President George W. Bush threatened to veto the measure even if it did make it to his desk.

A trans-inclusive ENDA was again introduced again in 2009 by Frank in the House and Jeff Merkley (D-OR) in the Senate, only to die in each chamber’s respective committee.

ENDA was introduced twice more by Merkley: in 2011, where it again stalled in committee and in 2013, where it passed the Senate with bipartisan support — including the backing of President Barack Obama — in a 64–32 vote only to then die in the Republican controlled House.

Some 45 years later Abzug’s “Equality Act” was reborn. This version, introduced on May 2nd, 2017, in the House by Congressman David Cicilline (D-RI) and in the Senate by Jeff Merkley, would go back to amending the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the Fair Housing Act, the Equal Credit Opportunity Act, the Jury Selection and Services Act, and laws regarding employment with the federal government to include sexual orientation and gender identity as protected categories. .

Now once again the Equality Act waits gathering dust while LGBT Americans in 30 states have no civil protections at all.

48 years later.

Shameful.

Meet Jason Mariner Convicted Felon and GOP MAGA Cultist Who Claims Election Fraud In 59-Point Special Election Loss In Florida

Meet Jason Mariner Convicted Felon and GOP MAGA Cultist Who Claims Election Fraud In 59-Point Special Election Loss In Florida

Democrats heavily outnumbered Republicans in the South Florida district that had a SPECIAL ELECTION last week for District 20 House Rep in Florida— Nobody. I mean NOBODY expected a close race and it wasn’t. Democrat Sheila Cherfilus-McCormick won the special election with 79 percent of the vote.

But wait! GOP MAGA Cultist opponent Jason Mariner the representative-elect’s Republican rival, who hedged on conceding the race is calling it calling it. You guessed it. Election Fraud.

 The CBS affiliate in Miami reported, the unusual part of this story was the response to the outcome from the representative-elect’s Republican rival, who hedged on conceding the race. “Now they called the race, I did not win, so they say, but that does not mean that they lost either, it does not mean that we lost,” said Republican Jason Mariner. Several hours before the polls even closed, Mariner filed a lawsuit alleging there is a problem with the ballots in Palm Beach and Broward Counties.

msnbc

Jason Mariner is a convicted felon, praised the Jan. 6 rioters who attacked the Capitol, and has at least one Confederate flag tattoo on his arm. In mid-December 2011, Mariner broke into a Delray Beach property and stole approximately $20,000 worth of paintings by the legendary Florida Highwaymen, and other local painter. Mariner took the stolen paintings to a secondhand shop and sold many for a total of $400

What a maroon.

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Gay History - January 13, 1958: Landmark Case One, Inc. v. Olesen, Supreme Court rules in favor of magazine “One: The Homosexual Magazine.”

Gay History – January 13, 1958: Landmark Case One, Inc. v. Olesen, Supreme Court rules in favor of magazine “One: The Homosexual Magazine.”

January 13, 1958: In the landmark case One, Inc. v. Olesen, the United States Supreme Court rules in favor of the First Amendment rights of the gay community magazine “One: The Homosexual Magazine.”

In the original case  One, Inc. v. Olesen, 241 F.2d 772 (9th Cir. 1957), the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals ruled that a magazine published for a homosexual audience was obscene and was therefore not constitutionally protected under the First Amendment . The case arose when the postmaster of the city of Los Angeles, Otto K. Olesen, ordered federal postal authorities to seize One informing the publisher that he considered it “obscene, lewd, lascivious and filthy” and “non-mailable” under federal law

On appeal, the Ninth Circuit emphasized that it would base its ruling on the effect of the words on the reader, insisting that it was not “its brothers’ keeper as to the type of reading to be indulged in.” However, in announcing the opinion for the circuit court, Judge John Rolly Ross noted that although the magazine stated its aim was to provide educational and informative material, it “has a primary purpose of exciting lust, lewd and lascivious thoughts and sensual desires in the minds of the persons reading it.”

The judge described one of the articles, as “cheap pornography.” and added that he believed homosexuality could only be discussed from a “scientific, historical and critical point of view.”  found the magazine as a whole “obscene and filthy” and upheld the lower court’s ruling that the postmaster was justified.

On January 13, 1958, the Supreme Court accepted the case and, without hearing oral argument, issued a terse per curiam decision reversing the Ninth Circuit. The decision, citing its June 24, 1957, landmark decision in Roth v. United States 354 U.S. 476 (1957), read in its entirety:

On the same day, the court issued a similar per curiam decision also citing Roth in Sunshine Book Co. v. Summerfield, which concerned the distribution of two nudist magazines.

One, Inc. v. Olesen was the first U.S. Supreme Court ruling to deal with homosexuality and the first to address free speech rights with respect to homosexuality. 

January 19 Kiss A Ginger Day

January 12, 2022: Kiss A Ginger Day!

Every year January 12th. is my favorite holiday.

It’s Kiss a Ginger Day!

Fiery red hair, pale skin, and eyes of blue or green and smoking hot. These are the defining characteristics of some of the most amazingly attractive human beings in existence. They were once held as being holy as they were believed to have stolen the very fire of the Gods and imbued their crimson locks with it. Kiss A Ginger Day is your opportunity to steal a kiss from one of these amazingly attractive genetic rarities.

History of Kiss A Ginger Day

Kiss A Ginger Day was established in 2009 by Derek Forgie as part of a Facebook group, intended to offset the far less fun Kick A Ginger Day that takes place in November. After the events of this aggressive event, gingers everywhere were tormented and assaulted in schools all over the world.

Redheads are some of the rarest expressions of genetics in the world, true red only being present in 1-2% of the population. The range of colors that can be seen range from Burgundy to bright copper, with a few instances of an unfortunate bright orange in between. While in some parts of the world this color hair is disparaged, and the origin of such phrases as “like a red-headed stepchild”, the rest of the world has an undying love affair with them. Red hair dye is one of the most popular hair care products, and it comes in a wide array of colors, including some never found in nature.

As an interesting fact, while Ireland is heavily associated with red hair, those with red hair actually have an older origin. Red hair is a layover from the days of the Viking invasions, bring brought in from immigration and acts of heinous violence against the Vikings’ victims.

So go find a ginger today and offer him a kiss! 

Gingers are the exotic spice of life.

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Today January 12, 2017 Is Kiss A Ginger Day!