Find me on Facebook for quick, small, easily digestable mini-blogs.

www.facebook.com/jeffrey.marx

Bye! xo

BOY I LIKE:  So, is Jake Gyllenhaal, like, your picture of perfection?

JEFFREY: Yes. He is is my ultimate celebrity crush. He is gorgeous!

BOY I LIKE: You are my Jake Gyllenhaal.

(JEFFREY drops a thumbtack on the floor)

Scene.

Dear Ricky, Aug. 12^th 2009

I think you are the coolest store in Manhattan. The way you dress, the way you smile… I want to be like you. I want to be one of your store managers for this upcoming Halloween season, and perhaps beyond. Living in New York can be rough, but stores like you help people get out of their “funk” and into their “funky”. Being a part of that would light up my life. In turn, I would brighten up the days of your customers and employees. It would be a cycle of happiness and our reciprocal love for the universe will shine through your store windows, drawing in lots of gorgeous people with lots of gorgeous money. Let’s make money!

Speaking of cash, let me share my recent salary history, as requested in your ad on Craigslist. I am currently raking in __K a year as a day-time receptionist. Before becoming a professional phone monkey, I was making 12 dollars an hour at Starbucks as a shift manager. Previous to my lucrative coffee career, I don’t remember my salary history because I was simply too poor. You can only count 3 quarters and a nickel so many times.

I have years of experience in retail management and positive energy. Put me to the test and let me show you how to fly.

Ghoulishly Yours,

Jeffrey Marx

Comedy is never black and white. It’s the gray area that generates laughter. Different people laugh at different things. That’s the magic of the art of comedy. Sacha Baron Cohen’s “Bruno” was neither magic, art, or comedy. It was a tragic, fart comedy. Before scribbling out my reasons why I disliked “Bruno”, let me devote a small paragraph to the elements I thought were good about the movie.

Cohen is a really good, committed actor.

“Bruno” is a contemporary minstrel show. Silly, stereotypically gay vingnettes are strung together like a kindergartener’s macaroni project – minus the thought or care for it’s audience. The concept is to interact with unsuspecting interviewees who are under the assumption that Bruno is a real person. The joke of the scenes are in the reaction. The character of Bruno overshadows any possible irony. When the joke of the scene easily becomes “hey, look at this stupid gay guy”, then Cohen’s true intentions for his comedy become unclear and irresponsible in this political climate.

A good example of how this concept works is in a scene with Congressman Ron Paul. Armed with hidden cameras, scented candles, and purple bikini briefs, Bruno tries to seduce him in a hotel room while they are waiting for the crew to set up the actual interview. Ron Paul’s silent reaction and eventual blow up is quite amazing. Many other bits are just that – bits. Bits of fractured reality caving in to a pit of cringeworthy fabrication. At one point, Bruno hires Mexican workers to be furniture for his victims. Paula Abdul accepts the invitation and sits on a wincing old man, but then quits the interview when a nude gentleman displaying cuts of sushi is wheeled out on a table for Paula’s catering needs. Paula is not on THAT many drugs to have thought this was real.

Whether it’s a busty dominatrix crudely edited into a scene or a horrible sidekick subplot, mixing the artificial elements with the real (and sadly, fewer) only works against the claim of social satire by further blurring the line of what we’re supposed to be laughing at. “Cohen’s well-meaning attempt at satire is problematic in many places and outright offensive in others,” Rashad Robinson, senior director of media programs for GLAAD told the New York Times. “Some gay advocates are worried that Cohen could reinforce negative stereotypes about homosexuals”.

If the height of summer comedy involves talking dicks and bratwurst jokes, then Bruno will thrill you. You might even think it’s “brilliant” as a few of my friends have described it. But, when a straight comedian puts on gayface in the name of social satire, I desire more than pratfalls and umlauts. That is not to say a gay comedian would get away with it, but they would have trouble getting their picture greenlit. It’s much more acceptable to watch straight guys act like gay guys rather than gay guys act like gay guys.

Go see ‘Up’ again. It’s beautiful and actually brilliant.

I’m obsessed with the new Black Eyed Peas Album. I have no idea why. I shouldn’t be. “They just aren’t my genre”, but something about their fresh summer sounds make me feel like I’m at a constant party. There’s a song called ‘One Tribe’ that is my current favorite.

“One Tribe, One Time, One Planet, One Race
It’s all one blood, don’t care about your face
The color of your eye
Or the tone of your skin
Don’t care where you are
Don’t care where you been
….
Cuz man, I’m loving this peace
Man, man I’m loving this peace
Man, man I’m loving this peace
…
One tribe, ya’ll
One tribe, ya’ll
One tribe, ya’ll
We are one people
Let’s cast amnesia, forget about all that evil
Forget about all that evil, that evil that they feed ya
Remember that we’re one people”

I’m 32 and jaded. Hilariously bitter. I honestly try to find the good in everything, even though everything isn’t good. I would be a lot happier if I didn’t believe in happiness. So, when a song catches the spirit of forgiveness and positivity and wraps it up in a dance party – I get excited. It makes me feel like the unattainable is attainable. Will. i. am., the man behind this song, just dampened my summer party. Perez Hilton called him a ‘faggot’ and someone in Will’s posse punched him. Even if it wasn’t Will.i.am. himself, he obviously condones the physicality.

Sure, Perez Hilton is a slug. I don’t love his schtick, even though the American culture created him. He should take a lesson from this beating and eat some humble cake soup. He definitely should not be able to use the word ‘faggot’ at anyone. It is intolerable, and for someone who seeks tolerance for equal civil rights, Perez comes off Superlametown, USA.

Here is my open note to Will.i.am…

Dear Will.i.am.,

I’ll be honest. I’m actually on Perez’s side on this, which I feel is the minority. Verbal violence does not equate physical violence – under any circumstances. End of story. Will, you should take a listen to your own song and learn a lesson yourself. I hate it when I feel like I wanna be positive and then, suddenly, I’m reminded of why the world will never be one, big, dance party. Just makes me sad. Thanks a lot, Will.i.am., for not believing in your own artistic creation. How can I believe, if you can’t back it up?

I guess you “just aren’t my genre”.
I guess you’re just Will.i.was.

Think of all the momentum that Adam Lambert had built during the ‘American Idol’ competition. Think of the millions of fans that were befuddled when they announced Kris Allen the winner. Now, think of this reality TV show as a political metaphor for gay rights.

Adam Lambert is a no-brainer if you are judging solely upon vocal prowess, but this show isn’t just about who sings the best. The show is about who is most popular, and most importantly, how do you manipulate the wholesome viewers to like you best? We heard all about Danny Gokey’s dead wife until she was beat into the ground like a dead horse. The producers paraded Scott Whatshisname, better known as The Blind Guy, for all to see. Single motherhood was the theme for that one chick who’s name fails me, but I’m too uninterested to google her name. Kris Allen was seen at his family’s house in Arkansas, just having a good, old family time. But what was Adam’s backstory? Can you remember? Nothing.

The best way to deal with an unofficially-out gay artist is by not dealing with it. No mention of your family life. No mention of a boyfriend. No mention of his flamboyant style. Adam’s talent spoke for itself. I don’t blame Adam for not officially coming out. You have to play the system to beat the system.

So, what happened? The bottom line is that Danny Gokey votes flocked to Kris Allen after Danny was eliminated, coming in third. But, if you take a moment and realize that ‘American Idol’ is the number one family show, then it doesn’t take a genius to realize that they are rooting for their squeaky clean Kris Allen. They have the numbers to vote in Kris, but it doesn’t mean he is the best singer. The American Majority isn’t always right, just like the debate on gay marriage.

I am glad Kris Allen won because it will keep the conversation rolling on what is right and what is wrong in regards to gay politics. Adam Lambert will continue to fight for his sure-to-be amazing career, just as gays everywhere will continue to fight for our soon-to-be accepted marriage equality.

In the shocked words of Kris Allen himself, after being announced the winner, “Adam deserves this.” And so does every gay American.

The tides continues to turn…

Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix is the fourth studio album by Phoenix. It is the beginning to, what will soon be, my Summer ’09 memories. Perfect music for perfect weather.

Check out Phoenix’s great website and be sure to browse through their photocentric blog - http://www.wearephoenix.com

I stood behind the police barrier as the people walked past me. Hundreds became thousands. There was about 50 of us penned in the fences, but there was a countless mob of ethnic Christians all around. Their brown faces twisted with hate and disgust. They were armed with megaphones and Biblias. Most of their ramblings were in a foreign language, but it was clearly translated into one word – “homophobia”. It’s unbelievable to me that someone who is part of a minority would hate so loudly against another minority. It’s disgusting.

Why was I inspired to go to this anti-gay marriage protest that was sponsored by Radio Vision Cristiana International and the Hispanic Clergy Organization? Because I wanted the haters to put faces to the people they are discriminating against. You can’t bring bus-loads full of people, who speak English as a second language, into the gay island of Manhattan to protest without hearing from us. I wanted to represent.

Since we were dealing with very religious activists, I wanted to bring a symbol with me that they would recognize. I brought a bright, yellow crucifix with a wooden heart attached to the middle, where Jesus usually hangs. It was given to me by a developmentally disabled student of mine years ago. To me, it means unconditional love. It means that everyone is equal in the eyes of love, no matter your religious beliefs. I stood silently, with my cross at my chest, and made sure to look everyone in the eye as they went past. The site of a faggot holding a cross drove them insane.

“God bless you”, said one lady without looking me in the eye.

“God bless you”, said an old man as he walked by with his eyes closed.

“It’s not about hate, it’s about love. Jesus LOVES you.” An angry teenager told us this, but her tone was full of anger. I thought perhaps it was due to her age, then a lady in her 40′s walked past and sneered, “God bless you”.  This happened too many times to count. The looks of confusion on the children’s faces was heartbreaking.

As the parade of hostile churchgoers continued, I noticed that the script they were saying said, “Jesus loves you” or “God bless you”, but the subtext in their hearts was “Fuck you fag” or “You’re sick, jerk”. What they were saying clearly did not match what they were feeling. Every time a Bible was shoved in my face, I couldn’t help but hear the real Jesus say, “Please don’t do that. Please don’t use my name in hate.” I can’t think of anything more sick than the sanctimonious actions of every mother who walked by carrying their daughter in their arms or pushing their son in a stroller while using Jesus as a tool of hate. Completely disgusting people.

Whenever minorities speak out against gay marriage, it really pushes my “fuck off” button. They know similar struggles, they are supposed to “get it”. Homophobia runs deep in religion and misunderstanding. It’s clear that blacks, or latinos in this case, are born “that way”, but gay people have to prove over and over again, that we are based in genetics too. Until everyone understands that, nothing will truly change.

On the upside, I got to meet Lt. Dan Choi (click his name to see his video on The Rachel Maddow Show), who was part of the under-attended counterprotest. He has become the current face of the ‘Don’t Ask Don’t Tell’ policy. He is also originally from Orange County, Ca. and he told me about how his dad refuses to talk to him since he came out of the closet. We chatted for about 5 minutes. He is such a great guy.

After an hour of barfable latinos yelling at me, I went to get drunk on sangria at brunch with a bunch of gays. I have made a slide show full of the gross people I encountered while at the protest. Enjoy!

“You have a very beefy uvula and your tonsils are too fat.”

That was the official diagnosis. I’ve been having strange headaches and occasional dizzy spells since October. Since I have dope-ass insurance, they had tested me for everything. MRI, CAT scan, EKG machines, hearing tests, balance tests, sleeping tests… blah blah blah. The best anyone could come up with until now was, “It’s a stress and tension headache. Here’s some pills. Also, you should go to the gym more.” That was the official diagnosis of my hippyesque neurologist. But, that was 5 months ago. This time, it was my snarky, lesbian ortohinolaryngologist’s turn to make a ruling.

“I’ll be honest. It’s going to be ten days of hell, but I promise to give you percoset.” She was a tiny woman, but she could totally kick my ass if she wanted, and she knew it. “Your tonsils are blocking air while you sleep and your uvula is choking you. They need to be taken out.” I noticed more than a hint of excitement when she said the words “taken out”.

Apparently, the cause of all my maladies is bad sleep. Poor rest is the root of all my evils. It is connected to poor energy levels, which I thought I was suffering from simply because I am old now. It is the instigator of slow metabolism. I will now blame my weightiness on not sleeping for a full eight hours during my lifetime. Most importantly, if air is not getting to your brain while you are sleeping, you can suffer from headaches and dizziness. I have noticed that I will sometimes wake up in the middle of the night, but then go right back to bed. Turns out, this is because my uvula is cutting off my breathing.

“We definitely need to shave your uvual. It’s so big!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Is it going to hurt?”

“I always tell my patients that I would rather have ten tonsillectomies, than one shoulder surgery. Now THAT is real pain.”

“Oh? You have shoulder problems?”

“Yeah. A lot. I used to play tennis.” Of course she did.

“If I’m a good boy, do you have lollipops to give away after the surgery?”

“Oh, we have them, but you don’t get any. Too much sugar. You can stand to have a healthier treat.”

Look, I get it. I should probably lose some weight. But, really? Does EVERY doctor need to keep telling me this? I have joined the YMCA and I try to go every day. I DON’T go every day, but I have made a really great “Gym Bunny” mix on my ipod for when I do!

Dr. Dykey is scheduled to perform my surgery next month. It’ll be my first time “going under” for a procedure. I can’t WAIT to take a video of me waking up from the anaesthesia!

You can still view the lots for auction for the time being on Julien’s Auction’s website… for now. Just in case they disappear, I am posting some of the more, um, eye-catching pieces. I would give a nut for the mouse-boy below or the sculpture in the next photo, which is titled “Two Boys Catching Crabs”.

Ps… This slide is a life-sized sculpture… with life-sized kids. LIFE-SIZED.

Yes, thats a Bucking Bronco coin operated ride. The framed painting above is named, “Baiting Boys”. I’m not kidding. That’s what the website said. I swear.