Acid Reflux by Brian Finch
Brian Finch, a native Winnipeger, began exploring the written word several years ago by the creation of Acid Reflux, a reality show blog revolving around the celebration self-declared D-List Positive AIDS activist.
His satirical - yet at times serious - no-holds-barred blogumentary uncovers life's tales that usually go untold, such as going to not-so celebrity rehab, life post-drugs, porn, travels to uncharted lands, and his glamorous serological underworld.
Nothing is off limits. Finch is bold, crass, and has the cultural intellect of a gutter.
Life is in transition as he travels out of the world of an activist to one of an ordinary guy with a big mouth embarking on new projects.
Last Thursday a friend had invited me along to see Joan Rivers at Centre for the Living Arts.
This was the first time I had seen her live. To be expected were the numerous of blue-hair rinses with expectations they were coming to an evening of “coffee chat” with Joan Rivers, and we were out in Mississauga.
Instead, I’d venture to say they probably never have heard references to female anatomy in all its forms in their entire lives than they did that evening.
Having never seen Joan River’s live, I’ve heard that she puts it all out there and crosses every line there is to be crossed. What I discovered was a very funny 76-year-old woman who could care less about what you thought.
One of the reasons I think she can get away with it is that she has a history of community involvement, and raising a lot of money for charities.
For example, was she got on to the subject of AIDS, I laughed quite a bit, mostly because she dared go there and pulled it off.
“There was a time when AIDS was killing everyone, now it’s a long-term chronic illness. I don’t want to be delivering meals to the same guy three Thanksgivings in a row, and then watch him go off to the gym. Either AIDS is going to kill you, or I am!” she says motioning as if she holding a knife up.
At Spirits for their weekly Open Mic night, a friend and I had a recent conversation about how you don’t come to comedy and then complain about being offended. “Comedy is how we work all this shit out in our lives.” says my friend, a comic herself.
Having said that, one guy that night told a joke about rather than go to Canada’s Wonderland to wait in long line ups, and pay 60 dollars to feel like you were going to die for five minutes, why not just go get an HIV test done.
He lost the audience on that one, and had to work to get us back. But that’s comedy, people take a lot of risk: Sometimes it works, sometimes doesn’t. I wasn’t offended, but slightly uncomfortable for a second. The rest of his set was quite funny and he did win us back.
Joan continued on with her brand of inappropriate humour.
On Jennifer Aniston:
“She’s so needy that a rapist wouldn’t even go near her” Pretending to be Jennifer Aniston talking to the rapist, “Will I see you again?”
On getting older:
“Nobody told me when I was going to get old my vagina was going to drop. One day I looked down and I was wearing bunny slippers. Now I can have sex in one room, and watch TV in the other.”
On 9/11:
“Did you know that the families of people who died in 9/11 all got five million dollars, five million dollars. Really I can think of a few relatives that should have been there. Oh grow up! Just wait until Thanksgiving and look around the table.
It was a great night out, and I hadn’t laughed that hard since I’d seen Kathy Griffin.
I now know the litmus test of a good comedy night is when people walk out, something both Joan and Kathy can easily make people do.
I have to admit, being an avid fan of the sport, these images make me want to rush out and buy a carton of smokes.
For some reason that wasn’t the intention of this French anti-smoking campaign. “Fumer c’est être l’esclave du tabac”, or “Smoking, be a slave to tobacco,” is the caption under each photograph.
Needless to say there is a big brouhaha in France over this campaign. The intention was to get people talking. It didn’t get me talking, it got me fantasizing something that I’m pretty sure is a federal offense.
Now who would create such provocative images? The answer would be the Association for Nonsmokers’ Rights.
The group’s director Mr Parola says they are not about sex at all:
“The visuals have a sexual connotation, that I can’t deny, but it’s really a way to start a discussion with young people to get them to understand the dangers of smoking.”
Now I’ve done a lot of things, but I’ve never sucked cock and smoked. I’ve eaten and smoked. I am going to have to give a try though.
The marketing company who designed this campaign certainly did get people talking, but I’m not so sure the images I’ve just conjured up are quite what they were thinking off.
Mr Parola continues:
“Traditional advertisements targeting teens don’t affect them. Talking about issues of health, illness or even death, they don’t get it,” the group’s director, Remi Parola, told The Associated Press in an interview. “However, when we talk about submission and dependence, they listen.”
I have to disagree, teens will listen when you start talking about fellatio – the new second base, parents beware.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s an interesting idea, but in my humble view this is what happens when one over intellectualize an idea to the point that it actually sounds like it will work.
How many hours did high level “ad men” huddle around the idea of sexual submission – and really is it submissive to be on one’s knees?
I don’t think they know how hard it is to get a guy off orally sometimes. There ain’t no submissiveness there, just shear determination.
I digress.
Kids listen up, the moral of the story is if you are going to go to second base, make sure you’re a non-smoker, and make sure the business man pays you.
Since I’m pimping my videos, which I call experimental video instead of experimental theatre, I thought I’d through this recent one out. It’s my submission to win a free DVD from Kathy Griffin. Of course I can just by the damn thing, but this is such more fun. Of course it is probably NSFW
The Real Housewives of Orange County,” and ”The Real House Wives of Atlanta and New Jersey” got me talking with a friend in the buidling on how we should make our own show. Always to be the one to take crazy ideas and make them reality — you don’t become a hooker with a passport unless you’re not that kind of person — and grabbed my camera and set out to make my first John Water’s inspired Canadian Content of ”The Real Hags of Cabbagetown.”
I start with the first two hags, Jone and Roxy, but there are more. So for a cheap Monday morning post, I will share with you my train wreck.
It’s not pretty. And like I say, it can only get better.
Valentine’s Day is right up there with the December holidays! The only thing I like about it is February 15, because the chocolate is on sale. Despite the sales, February 15, bugs me as well with our provincial holiday called, “Family Day,” which sounds far too Christian too me.
Why hate such a holiday? Well, anytime I was in a relationship I rebelled at anything that felt contrived and forced upon me without my consent. Suddenly, because Hallmark says so, I’m supposed to be so in love that I want to go buy a gift, do a dinner or something.
Usually the day ended up in a fight, without the make up sex. Perhaps this is why I’ve learned this Pavlovian response to the day. One time I was traveling across the country, arrived back home quite late, and didn’t have a card or anything and all hell broke lose. Sure, I know, I was a bad boyfriend.
To me it’s like doing drag. All these guys who put down the drag queens can’t wait to put on a dress come October 31st, as if they somehow now have permission to do it. I’ve never felt the need to have permission to get into a costume, especially having been a make up artists. I can do this anytime of the year.
Trust me, babysitting is not my evoluntionary role in life.
Study reveals potential evolutionary role for same-sex attraction
One possible explanation is what evolutionary psychologists call the “kin selection hypothesis.” What that means is that homosexuality may convey an indirect benefit by enhancing the survival prospects of close relatives. Specifically, the theory holds that homosexual men might enhance their own genetic prospects by being “helpers in the nest.”
That’s one theory, because this one sort of went out the window when they selected the Pacific Island of Samoa to look at a group of “effeminate” men who primarily had other male sexual partners, and were considered a third gender. This isn’t the part that threw me; it was when they were deemed “Super Uncles” to the family’s nieces and nephews.
It pains me to say this, but I’m only starting to like my niece now that she’s getting older. If this puts it into context at all, I’d take her any day as a Hannah Montanna-loving tween, over one day of her younger days.
A recently befriended a guy sent me a dick shot on the second or third message Everyone knows I’m not a prude. It’s Facebook not Dickbook. I congratulated him, he was my first Facebook flasher.
Social media has a few uses for me. The first is obvious, social. It’s been a great way to keep up with real “friends” and connect with others. The other takes the form of getting word out on various writing and other projects. Facebook becomes akin to a cyber office. Trying to balance these two functions can be challenging at times.
I was inspired by this video for this post, along with my recent dick shot.
That got me thinking about Facebook etiquette. My list is a rip off of what I’ve seen elsewhere plus my own additions made. Please feel free to add your own. Why stop at ten?
In searching for a bit of theme to write about, I thought my voice coach was a good place to start.
This year is about taking ideas I’ve always had in the back of my mind, and making them real. I can’t tell you how fucking scary, and exciting that is, all at the same time.
Years ago I did some voice work for my public speaking and really enjoyed it. Just like cosmetic surgery, I had a taste of what my voice c0uld be and I wanted more.
Working on our voices really becomes like a form of therapy, as our voices are the vibrational (I may be making up a work here) representation of self. If deep down we have issues with ourselves, it will be reflect either in our voices, or how we perceive them.
When I saw the Facebook page “Canadians Against Proroguing Parliament” had climbed past 200,000 members. I knew it was time for my little Hildy, my 2.5 half pound Chihuahua, to take a stand. Here average, cross demographics of Canadians were mobilizing grassroots in a way that I have not see in a very long time.
Gone were the days when Canadian’s couldn’t give a shit about politics, and our democratic institutions. Years ago I remember feeling frustrated listening to a friend who said, “I don’t vote, they’re all the same anyway.”
A few weeks ago I went to see James Cameron’s latest blockbuster Avatar. It seems to be a hit with grossing over a billion dollars since its release.
Now, I’m the first to say I’m not movie, theatre, or arts critic. Where others seem to have a good sense of analytical thought, I seem to just take it in and more or less like something, or not.
Walking into Avatar, I kept an open mind. If anything, I knew that the pushing of filming technology was going to be captivating, especially 3d Imax.
In the end, I thought it was stunning. And as cynical as I am, I even fell for the love story narrative of the flick.
I don’t know about you guys, buy sometimes I just want to be entertained? Sure by saying such, I may be branded the Margaret Wente of the gay community, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.
