Gaily Proud, Proudly Gay

Every few years, mrpeenee overcomes his aversion for the gay pride parade and celebration thing and decides to attend. Every few years, mrpeenee is a sucker. This year, I noticed several gay blogs hectoring readers into participating in the parades around the country: gay civil rights are won not through complacency, they would shrill; you owe it to those who came before and lack this opportunity; a show of solidarity in the face of growing conservatism is important. And so I went and remembered, once again, despite agreeing with the high-minded sentiments, I do not like these gay pride celebrations. I find them tedious and crowded and shrill. My favorite memories of gay prides gone by were the ones where R Man and I would sneak down for lunch in the Castro, which was empty while all the reveling tourists were in the Civic Center and then come home to read.

Here's pretty much what today looked like

crowded, hot, filled with people I would not be enthused about sitting next to on a subway; not enough cute boys; a block long line to get in the fetish area (and honey, I can see that at Blow Buddies any weekend night I want to) and, in general, nothing that interested me. It was just another big street fair, with the same skeevy chicken fajita purveyors poisoning the unwary, speeches I couldn't hear and didn't want to listen to, and gangs of people rushing aimlessly around.

I wanted to like it. Honest. I tried to be open to it, to get into the mood, but the mood seems so artificially hedonistic and gay, like all those boa-wearing celebrants are just trying too hard. And Bank of America can put their GLBTQ employee task force in matching tee shirts all they want, I'm still not going to open an account there.

Nevertheless, here's some pictures I took.

Secret Agent Fred and his friend helped make the scene more bearable. So did some vicodan I took while I was standing behind a dumpster next to a cop. I am such a wild dog.

Tits. Everybody likes tits.

I asked the is guy "Can I take you picture?" He said no, but by then I already had (You need to

move fast around mrpeenee.) Sorry, bitch.

This guy, on the other hand, was very sweet about encouraging me to photograph his rather lovely man teats.

Steamworks, the bathhouse in Berkley, was advertising with high quality meat.

He was very nice when I asked him to turn around again and show us his butt. He even laughed when I said I was sure that wasn't the first time he's heard that. Harharhar. mrpeenee: crackin' em up in aisles.

More Steamworkers. Let me point out I have been a regular habitue of the old joint and I have NEVER seen specimens like this toiling away there. I must go on the wrong shift.

This is what most of the parade looks like, the wrong people in thongs.

I thought this was adorable; an adorable muscle boy and his adorable mother hanging at Pride with slightly less adorable boyfriend. Isn't that adorable?

I don't know what these guys were selling, but I liked their technique: large bare muscles.

Again, product seems unclear,

But the old tar seems like he might be interested in a pair. Or two. Or a six pack. Whatever.

Sling shot. He had a girl sort of hanging on him, but so was his chubby guy friend. Who knows what's going on?

Speaking of who knows what's going on, I was never ever able to discover what was so hilarious about this guy's back, but by then we were headed out and I had some more vicodan calling to me, so I wasn't pressing the matter.