Who Spilled The Reality Tea

I am always amazed at how reality shows has woven themselves into our lives.  Its a curious set of circumstances which have combined and collided to bring us to where the social impact of reality TV programming can be felt in every strata of our lives.

In the beginning, there was of course PBS's "An American Family."  The was done in the 1970's.  It followed an average, upper middle-class family, the Louds.  Lance, the eldest son came out as openly gay on the show.  He is credited with becoming the first gay character on television.  As the show progressed, we saw the break-up and finally the divorce of the Louds.  There has been subsequent follow up shows, which chronicled Lance Loud's fight with addiction, HIV and finally death.  This was America's first taste at what has become a wildly popular format for television programming.

We can safely assume An American Family was the catalyst for the ground breaking MTV show, "The Real World."  I have watched every single episode of The Real World for 27 years.  I guess you could say I was a reality junky long before it was popular to be so.  The all to familiar tag line, "This is a true story of seven strangers picked to live in house, work together and have their lives taped...to find out what happens when people stop being polite and start getting real", has become one of the most widely known tag lines of all times.

The Real World had been hailed as tackling such difficult and sensitive issues as racial, sexuality, AIDS and substance abuse issues as was being encountered by MTV's core audience, 20 somethings.  It has since been very discredited as being just a platform for immature and irresponsible behavior.  I tend to think the shows beginning was good.  It really did show how seven complete strangers coming from seven different social, economic and ethnic backgrounds lived when thrown into a fish bowl and taped.  At some point it became to formulaic and now we see seven barely legal young adults who drink far to much and just cavort in front of a camera for the simple reason of being the most outrageous on the cast.

While most believe that Andy Cohen is the founder or creator of The Real Housewives franchises, he is not.  Scott Dunlop was the original creator of the first housewives show, The Real Housewives of Orange County.  I don't think its a stretch to see how An American Family, The Real World didn't factor into Scott Dunlop creating a show chronicling the lavish lifestyles of beautiful women living behind the gates in a very upscale town in California.  It certainly fits into the reality/documentary format/genre.

What this show has done, as well as, the other housewife franchises, is to ignite the publics preoccupation with what the rich and beautiful are doing.  What started out as entertaining and light has evolved into a very dark and dangerous format for programming.

We have seen the "reality format" from start to finish.  Each time it is used it pervades our social consciousness, and becomes larger than its last incarnation.  We can see from the plethora of reality shows such as Honey Boo Boo, Duck Dynasty and others that television producers now recognize the public's taste for all things reality.

Reality celebs that have been created by this genre are beginning to show the signs of wear and tear. Such notables as Kim Richards, who alcoholism and alleged drug abuse spiraled out of control during the filming of her show, Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.  Taylor Armstrong is yet another fine example of how reality show programming is destroying those who are involved.  The death of Russell Armstrong is a directly connected to his wife being on the show and bashing him and his financial problems.  I really don't think Russell would have killed himself for any other reason than his entire downfall was being captured by the film crew of Bravo TV.

Not long ago we saw the addition of The Real Housewives of DC to Bravo's franchises.  We watched in object horror as Michaele Salahi and her husband Tareq crashed a White House dinner under the careful gaze of the camera's from Bravo.  I believe this is a direct result for the show not being renewed for another season.  I am sure the other cast mates would also say their lives have been negatively impacted by what transpired on the show.

In a way, the reality/documentary format/genre is still the same as when it originated.  It begins as ground breaking.  It serves to educate and entertain the public.  At some point though, it begins its inevitable decent into darkness.  The players involved ultimately become nothing more than characters of themselves.  There is "planned or scripted" drama.  Events are re-enacted for the sole purpose of getting it correctly for the cameras.  People get hurt, lives are ruptured and the public is faced with watching a train wreck.

I remember how adorable Jon and Kate Plus 8 was when it first started airing.  Lets not forget how badly that show and family ended.  Everything has a beginning, a middle and an end.  I think we are seeing the reality genre begin to fade.  As the years march on, the people on these shows have morphed into human oddities and I believe, actually buy the hype that surrounds them.

In two to five years I don't think we will see as many of these reality shows as we do now.  I think people are already beginning to think twice about joining an already existing show or embarking on a new one.  No one likes to be the but of a joke so I don't see Bravo or other stations continuing to spend millions to keep these types of shows in production.  Consumers have been besieged by reality programming.  As with anything in life, too much of a good thing is well....just too much.

While revenues are up, viewership is decreasing.  Revenues are always behind what viewers want.  Its a game of catching up.  With the increase of social media, fads are hitting faster and fading even quicker.  The time of reality TV programming is drawing to a close.  Its just the reality of it.

My Very Heavy Heart

Originally composed on December 3, 2012

I have been struggling for the last few days with a very tough and very personal problem.  As you know I recently wrote a blog entitled, "A Loss Of Innocence".  It was about a person who had recently come into my life.  I guess you could say that we were getting to know each other and almost cyber dating, if there is such a thing.  Anyhow, since the writing of that blog where I chronicled Chris's vicious attack by his Uncle and cousin due to his homosexuality, much has come to light.

As many of you know, I am a para-legal by trade.  I reached out to a couple of lawyers I consider to be friends in regards to Chris and his situation.  Chris had reported to me that he had received death threats in his mail box.  I was becoming alarmed.  I knew he told me that charges had been brought against his Uncle & cousin, but I knew there wasn't any form of Restraining Order.  I knew he was very hesitant to call Victim Services and reach out for the help they might be able to provide.  So you can understand my concern.  I felt reaching out to lawyers I knew and seeing if there was anything they might know or do to help me help Chris was logical.

I gave a friend, John, the information Chris had given me.  Name, county, etc. of where the incident happened.  Johnny is a lawyer, has worked for such heavy hitters as Legg Mason, Lamba Legal Defense Fund and is now in private practice.  I received a call from John early Friday morning.  He said he could find no record of what happened anywhere for the entire state on the date in question.  I told him that the state in particular was in the buckle of the bible belt and people move slowly.  Its not uncommon for a police report to take up to 4 weeks to reach any sort of search able data base.  He informed me that he and his husband spent over 3 hours calling all the court houses within a 3 hour distance of Chris and his home.  Nothing.  They also informed me there wasn't any record of an Uncle by the name Chris had given me.  You can imagine what started flashing through my mind.  I thanked them for their help and hung up the phone.

I was stunned.  I saw a picture of Chris.  Very badly bruised.  Hideous injuries on his body.  I was told the police man had given Chris this pic.  I reached out to another friend, who is a captain on a police force in Virginia Beach, VA.  He told me not only would it be against most departmental rules, but against most rules of evidence to give a pic to a victim.  When I related the entire story to him, his reply was, "sounds very fishy to me.  How well do you know this person?"  I admitted that although I had spoken to him a dozen or more times on the phone and on Twitter, that was the extent of my knowledge of him.  I got off the phone and spent most of Friday and Saturday deep in thought.

I was shocked.  Chris seemed to be very sensitive and sweet.  I was at first very insulted and then the ramifications of all that had transpired started to filter in.  I had blogged about this.  My followers on Twitter had reached out and been very kind and supportive to Chris.  I felt the anger in me rising.  I wanted to know why?  I wanted the truth.

I never said anything to Chris all weekend until I started noticing his tweets.  On Sunday evening he called and we spoke.  He was very quick to get off the phone.  He kept asking if everything was okay.  I kept saying yes.  I decided after we got off the phone to do a little reading on Twitter.  I started reading his tweets.  I noticed that he was talking about me as if I had hurt him.  As if I was treating him badly.  I was more than angry.  I picked up the phone and called him.  I decided to confront him and get his side of the story.  I was tired of seeing his , "Why doesn't anyone love me", "Why do people say they care and then pull the rug out from under me" bullshit tweets that color me as an asshole.

I simply stated that I didn't believe he was attacked.  I told him I, nor others could find anything in regards to what happened to him.  I related other things that had bothered me.  For instance, a house that was raided by the FBI (giggles) for being a meth lab and them taking a dog out of the house and placing handcuffs on the dog.  I got dead silence from him on the phone.  I asked him to prove me wrong.  I told him I wanted to be wrong.  If he could prove me wrong I would apologize and really work with my therapist to not be such a paranoid bitch.  I asked for a pic of the discharge paperwork from the hospital, something, anything from the police, a copy of the discharge paperwork from the walk in clinic that he went to when he supposedly had torn his stitches, something.  He asked why?  I told him his story was not adding up and I needed something to prove me wrong.  He hung up on me.

I called back and got his voice mail.  I got a text from him that simply said, "I am not a liar".  At this point I just sat down and got very sad.  Once again I had opened my heart and once again had a person step all over it.  This time though it was public.  I felt used and I felt my Twitter followers had been duped and used too!  I decided to try to call him one more time.  In an attempt to get to the bottom of this whole mess.  He answered.  He was crying.  I told him to please prove me wrong.  He kept asking why?  This was going nowhere and I was tired.  I told him unless he showed some actual proof of what happened, if anything, I was done.  We would have no further contact.

Fast forward to today.  I received several emails from Chris.  One stated he had lied about what had happened.  "It was not as bad as I told you," he wrote.  The next was I will scan something and email it to you.  I received an email about 9:30 a.m. today with nothing other than the word "proof" typed in the email.  I emailed him back and told him there was no attachment and to call when he got out of class tonight.  As of the writing of this blog, I have not heard anything from him.  He has tweeted that he will be deleting his twitter account after today.  I am hoping he will call so that I can get to the truth of what happened.

I feel the need to apologize to those who follow me on Twitter who offered Chris support and showed him compassion.  As many of you know, I rave about the great people I interact with on Twitter.  I love you guys so much.  I am sorry that this mess touched you and bow at the overwhelming amount of concern, support and caring that you showed Chris.  Thank you.

I could go on and condemn Chris.  To lie about being gay bashed is a cardinal sin in my world.  It comparable to saying you have Cancer and really not.  I actually pity him.  I hope he gets the help he needs to get past this and I am sure other lies.  My anger has evaporated.  I will wait until 10 pm tonight to see if he does call to post this blog.

UPDATE:  February 2013


I spoke with Chris.  This is what he told me.  His Uncle, cousin did not attack him.  It was a verbal argument.  No charges were pressed.  The picture he emailed me was an old picture when he fell working with his Dad.  He was crying.  He asked for my forgiveness.

I think Chris is lonely.  I think Chris has little or no self-esteem or self-worth.  Some may think I am stupid but I felt the need to show some compassion.  Chris and I continued to talk.  I felt I needed to help him and be patient with him.  I guess at some point it evolved into something more.  I fell for the sweet, funny and sensitive Chris he presented to me.  What I didn't know was the new and hurtful lies he continued to spin.  All for his own selfish gain.  He was presenting himself as something he wasn't.  Maybe I needed to be with someone too much?  Maybe I wanted to believe he was changing and working on himself?  I don't know.  

Basically, since this fable of epic proportions there have been many other lies.  In depth, long, lies.  After speaking with my therapist, I decided Chris, in my opinion, had many other issues that were larger than what I could help him with.  This has morphed into something much larger than just lying.  He goes into great detail and keeps adding to them and gets very angry when confronted with his lies.  I feel Chris invents these lies, dare I say alternate realities, because there is something lacking in him or his life.  He lies as easily as I swallow water.  It is very worrisome.

I was angry, hurt and now I am feeling sad.  I pity Chris.  He has a lot of trouble ahead of him unless he gets some professional help.  I always believe every person deserves a second chance.  I gave that to Chris and instead of taking the gift of forgiveness and running with it, he decided to continue on as he had been.  This shows me there are much larger issues here other than just honesty.

This has been a journey for me.  I have braved many inner demons.  I have learned a lot.  The biggest lesson I have learned is to always trust my gut reaction.  I have learned to treat myself with more respect.  Most of all I have learned to constantly be in contact with myself.  Had I listened to myself I wouldn't be here now.  From the beginning I saw the signs but thought I was doing the right thing in extending my hand and eventually my heart to someone I thought just needed a little love and understanding.  Love and understanding are gifts which should be given to those who are worthy.  I gave them to Chris and I guess he was not at a place in his personal journey to accept them.

Chris is aware of this blog.  He has read the beginning up to the Update part.  He is aware that I will be posting this.  Our agreement after his gay bashing lie was, if you lie again, I will post the blog.  He agreed.  I feel conflicted about posting this but feel since our friendship/relationship played out on line, then maybe it should conclude on line.  

I wish Chris the best.  I hope he changes his ways.  I hope I find a man who is in touch with himself enough to be comfortable in his own skin.  A man who, no matter what his economic, job status is happy with himself.  Most of all I wish peace for everyone involved in this quasi psycho thriller.  I hope for healing.  Namastae

Bang Bang - The Absurd Continuance Of The Gun Debate

To ban guns or not is the question or is it?  I think there are bigger problems with our society than whether or not we should be allowed to purchase, own and use guns.  While chatting with a friend recently I made the comment that when babies are killing other babies there is something fundamentally wrong with our culture. 

When a child is pushed to such an extreme place, in their mind or heart, as to think picking up a gun and driving to a school, crowded restaurant, or movie theater and randomly killing innocent men, women and children is an answer,  the whole question of whether or not to ban guns is a moot point for me.  Its not the gun folks, its our culture.

I will not and cannot profess to have any of the answers but I feel something is broke in our society.  Poverty, hunger, lack of access to medical care and respect for our fellow man seem to be just a cursory overview of what I see as some of the contributing factors to the up tick in violence in our society.

let us ponder this question, is it worse for someone to live in one of the richest countries, in the history of the world, to see first hand wealth but not have any of it or for the person who lives in a third world country where everyone is poor?  To live in a country where adequate medical access is available down the road but a person is unable to access it?  How about a person who is hungry and hasn't eaten well in years and yet turns on a TV and sees nothing but food commercials and is told that to receive food stamps and be over weight is a wrong?  I really think if I were to be poor, hungry and in need of medical attention I would prefer to live in a country where everyone else is poor, hungry and dying of very curable diseases.  I wouldn't have to be slapped in the face with the knowledge that probably next door my neighbor is eating a nice meal, being warm, and has just gotten over a serious illness without ruining their credit or losing their home, everyone around me would be in the same boat.  Misery loves company and in this instance I think it preferable.

Our children, those little ones we all can agree need to be loved, nurtured and protected are showing the signs of post traumatic stress disorder.  The levels of stress that are more easily carried as adults is destroying our children.  We all know children are sponges.  They absorb everything.  They hear, see and feel everything that is around them.  Both consciously and with their little sub-conscious minds.  The violence, lack of respect and seemingly lack of hope I see on their little faces is but a symptom of how, as adults, as a society we have failed.

When our children go on killing sprees, bully other children to such an extent that it has become a form of torture  it should be the wake up call that we have failed.  Failed as parents, members of a society, and guardians of future generations.  I am not so concerned whether or not the citizens of this country have guns because I know that happy, well adjusted people do not take a gun and walk into a school and kill 26 adults and children.  What we need to do is fix the underlying problems that are filtering down and exhibiting themselves in our children .  The saying shit roles down hill holds true.  Unfortunately, our children are at the bottom of the hill.

Many years ago I was in Liberia.  This was in the mid 90's.  Liberia is a country that was formed for ex-slaves wishing to return to Africa.  Its a country that has been ravaged by constant war, poverty and violence.  The average level of education in Liberia is on 6th grade.  For a country rich in oil, diamonds and lumber there is mostly poverty.  

 I traveled there with my friend who had been born and raised in Liberia.  One of the first things that struck me after we touched down at the national airport was the lack of anything medium.  We traveled to just outside of Monrovia, the capital city.  While driving threw the capital I noticed either extreme wealth or extreme poverty.  People were either healthy looking or appearing to be on the edge of starvation.  Nothing in between.  Just extremes.

When we pulled up to my friends home it was surrounded completely by high walls.  Once inside the gates it was as if we had entered another world.  His family's home was nice.  I asked his mother why a country rich in natural resources was so poor?  Her remark has stayed with me the rest of my life.  She replied, "when your fellow man ceases to care about you the whole of society is diminished." 

I really think this is one of the core issues that is facing our country today.  I believe if we can spend our time, energy and money on finding ways to improve our fellow man the level of violence will drop.  Happy people do not kill each other.  Think of the money which has only recently been spent on the whole gun control debate.  I wonder if that money would have been better spent getting a consortium of great minds together to come up with a way to eradicate hunger, poverty, to educate our fellow man.  I just have to sit back and wonder.  

I am not, by the writing of this blog, supporting gun right's proponents nor am I endorsing the removal of the right to have guns.  For me, the question is much more complex.  I am more concerned with removing the causes which contribute to gun violence.  I want to see our country resolve the issues which are destroying us.  I will say it again, poverty, hunger, homelessness, lack of education, hopelessness, fear, intolerance, and inequality appear, to me, to be at the root of the ills which are ripping apart our society.

Just as with any other problem, guns are the end result of much deeper, underlying issues and until we, as a society, nation and world really address the problems which lead to violence, especially gun violence, we are doomed to see violence increase time and time again.  We have to say no more.

We have to stop finger pointing in this country and personally, each and everyone of us, take responsibility for what is happening.  We must come to a universal agreement that business as usual is no longer working and we must dig deep within ourselves to find the answers.

I believe when any one person suffers we all suffer.  Pain and suffering are like a cancer.  It grows and is contagious.  It spreads from one person to another.  We have the ability to change and end that syndrome   The work we do today will enable us to see a better tomorrow.  This is what we all want right?

Social Media Stress Syndrome

I can honestly say that after almost 2 years of being on Twitter, I think I have finally gotten the knack of it.  With that being said, I am still constantly amazed by some of the phenomena I have seen evolve on social media, particularly Twitter.

I have written in the past about the gang mentality which seems to thrive on Twitter.  Lately, though, I have begun to see some amusing, albeit odd types.  Let me go on the record right now and save everyone the hassle of getting all worked up over what I have to say.  I am not the judge, jury and certainly anything I have to say is just my opinion.  If I say anything that provokes thought in a reader, then I feel I have done what I intended to do, open a discussion on a particular topic.

There are several types of personalities on Twitter.  We have the strong personality.  This is the user who loves to just throw it out there and really doesn't have much regard for how anything they tweet is received.  Typically, this is the person I tend to gravitate to.  I enjoy people who are just themselves.  I don't feel the need so much to agree with what they say,  but to be honest, its always nice to see the other side of an issue or topic.

The Pleaser personality is another type of use.  These people love to post cute pics of kittens and puppies and always seem to agree with what the prevailing thought is on Twitter.  Their tweets are most often fluffy and hugable.  We saw many of these types of users during the whole Casey Anthony trial and other huge news events.  While timid at first glance, they can be like pit bulls in their false sense of what is acceptable and not acceptable behavior on twitter.  I have been known to tell these type of users if you don't like my tweets then you shouldn't be following me.  I live by my own moral compass and am loath to allow anyone else to dictate to me what I can and cannot say.

The Rabbit Personality is always amusing to me.  They rarely tweet and lurk in the background behind a locked account.  I always find this type of user odd and worrisome.  They seem to have an almost peculiar fear of being open.  Maybe its just me, but this type of user always makes me wonder exactly what are they hiding?  In my experience, this type of user usually doesn't interact very well and becomes embroiled in twitter wars or dramas.  I normally tend to stay clear of this type of user.  While I have many people I follow who have locked accounts, they are not the same as a Rabbit Personality.  I have from time to time, for various reasons locked my account down, but Rabbit Personalities seem to be very preoccupied with keeping people away which is the opposite intention of social media.  Odd, just very odd.

The Comic Personality is where I am.  I love to go on Twitter and crack jokes and have fun with my followers.  I normally tend to stay clear of the wars and love to wise crack about the absurdity of life.  This type of personality seems to interact well with most other users.  I love to "snark" on the Real Housewives and really enjoy the gossipy feeling I get interacting with other users during the shows.

The Politico's.  This type of personal comes onto Twitter with a very clear and defined agenda.  They are expounding their views on the world of politics.  I see a very familiar pattern of behavior with this type of personality.  The do not discuss with people their views but rather just announce they have this great link or insight into a topic and anyone who doesn't agree can be damned.  I tend to stay away from this type of user.  I enjoy discussing politics but come from the camp of debate can be done without the hate.  Respect and tolerance reign supreme in my universe so this type of user and I almost always clash.

The above personalities are a very generic/generalized glimpse  of some of the more common personalities on Twitter.  The last personality I want to discuss is the Fringe Dweller Personality.  This type of personality is the darkest and for many, the most feared.  I have to admit I have run across a few of this type of user.  The Fringe Dweller Personality is the user who has more than a few accounts and from my experience they tend to have some form of mental/social issues and the anonymous nature of Twitter seems to draw out their stalker-ish, abusive and at times criminal behaviors.

Fringe Dwellers can come in the form of the ever suffering victim or the upfront, in your face abuser.  For the ever suffering victimized Fringe Dweller, every interaction is a way to reinforce their sense that the entire world is out to get them and hence, they have the right to react to perceived slights and insults in any way they deem necessary.  This is the user who will create a situation on Twitter between people and when people react, they scream they are being tortured, bullied and tormented.  From the many accounts this type of user has, they say ugly, untrue, and abusive things about other users on Twitter.  They are always lurking somewhere in the background under various names and tend to band together with other Fringe Dwellers in cabals of hate and suspicion.

I recently found one of my more troublesome followers was acting up with other users.  This was not the first time this user had been embroiled in what I term a war on Twitter.  I noticed this particular user was using way too many screen names to insult, intimidate and harass a certain group of users.  This particular group of users are not the horrible group whose sole purpose is to ridicule this user.  I found that this one user was in the middle of several on going wars and had even taken to setting up hate sites about all of the other users.  This particular person was still fighting the same war for over 2 years now.  One person cannot seemingly have the same issue with hundreds of other users and always be innocent.  The one common denominator between them all was this one particular user and her behaviors.

While my personal interactions with this user were always pleasant and friendly, I found she always courted drama and had many people she interacted with who were very abusive and disturbing to me personally.   So I sent her a Direct Message and informed her while I was not taking any sides, I saw things getting stirred up again and didn't want to be involved, so I was unfollowed her.  This Fringe Dweller was very quick to level insults and try to draw me down to her level of behavior.  Since I have unfollowed, this user has been fairly predictable in the ferocity of her rants aimed at me.  For me the situation is over.  I was correct in my perception of her.  She is blocked now and life can continue.

The Fringe Dweller is what makes many take vacations from and even stop using Twitter.  I personally love Twitter.  Its fun and I love to meet new and interesting people.  The Fringe Dweller is very smart and can lull even a self confessed cynic like me into believing them.  I find its just easier to get rid of them and move on.

After a couple of years on Twitter feel I have a firm grasp on how to enjoy the medium.  Many users don't have the insight, experience I have in the on line world, especially on the new and always evolving social media platforms.  Many find themselves drawn into wars, gangs and cabals on social media and get overwhelmed when they have many users coming at them in abusive and threatening ways and as a result have a bad or even terrible experience on Twitter.

I have noticed there seems to be a very different feel on each platform.  The feel on Twitter is very different from that of G+ or Facebook.  As we move forward and these social platforms continue to change and define how we interact with each other I hope that we can keep up with the pace of change and remember to treat each other with tolerance and respect.

Be smart, follow your gut reaction to people and never take any of this seriously.  Think before you share something.  Be aware of how your actions affect others.  Most of all, have some fun.  Life is hard enough without having to make it harder on ourselves by getting involved in social media stress syndrome.

Sunset On The Reza Show

Normally I don't do blogs on any of the shows on Bravo because so many blogs are already dedicated to these shows and are done much better than I could ever hope to do.  This blog is not a recap of last nights episode but rather my response to the very ignorant and offensive remarks made by Reza Farahan last night on the show, The Shahs of Sunset.

Last night, in one fell swoop, Reza managed to get himself put on my "Your A Rank Bitch" list.  He remarked that "monogamy in the gay community was like don't ask, don't tell.  As long you don't come home with something you didn't leave with your okay."  As soon as I got done picking my chin up off of the floor I got angry.  I was thinking, "who the hell does this fucktard think he is to be speaking on behalf of the entire gay community?"  That is certainly not how I nor any of my gay friends view monogamy.  Reza, who is one of the few openly gay Persians in the  Beverly Hills real estate scene should know better than to make such an ignorant remark.  It just supports and give validity to stigmas that surround and get slung at the gay community.

It is these types of images, stereotypes and stigmas which are used by those who oppose gay equality.  Basically, it portrays gay men as some sort of sex crazed animal who is morally bankrupt.  I am so tired of having to live down the stigma that all gay men are narcissistic, shallow peacocks who run around having wild sex and don't deserve to be treated with respect.  It just pisses me off.

My being gay is only one aspect of my personality.  It is not who I am nor what defines me.  All my homosexuality does it add a little flavor to the person I am.  So when I see or hear gay men, a prominent gay men, like Reza make such stupid, ignorant remarks my blood boils.  Reza doesn't live in the real world.  He lives in world where anything can be overlooked if you have enough money.  For the rest of poor schlubs who live and work in the real world, we will have to suffer the consequences of Reza's remarks. 

Reza looks like the pudgy love child of Saddam Hussein and Adolf Hitler.  He dresses like a peacock on crack.  What attracts people to Reza is a mask of superficiality and cockiness that covers up all the years of probable teasing he took as a fat, Persian kid without a father who grew up in Beverly Hills.  In his bio, on Bravo TV's website its says, "Born in Tehran, Iran, and raised in Beverly Hills, Reza is a 38-year-old prominent player in the Los Angeles real estate world. He is one of few openly gay Persians in the community and often struggles with gossip and prejudice regarding his sexuality. Reza’s family supports him in spite of the pressure they feel to ostracize him. Despite his untraditional style, Reza is an old fashioned guy at heart who wants a partner, a family, and the American White Picket Fence happy ending, but he is going to have to get past the baggage he carries from his upbringing to achieve it."

"Untraditional" style?  Are you kidding me?  Reza is a self-loathing, emotionally stunted idiot.  Reza, "an old fashioned guy at heart who wants a partner, a family and the the American white picket fence happy ending?"  Who the hell isn't buying that bullshit?  Great way to put a spin on the asshole that is Reza.  According to Reza, the cut off for being the gay town pump is 55.   For someone who is  Reza's age, this type of behavior is beyond insipid, its embarrassing.  Its embarrassing to watch this man think a 25 year old finds him attractive.  Trust me when I tell you, that little twink in the club is not seeing Reza's eyes, ass or bulge.  They don't want to get to know him.  What they want is his Cartier watch, the Gucci shoes and all that comes with his money, they are seeing his bling and are doing the math.  Reza is delusional if he thinks he is pretty.  He is not.   Reza walks around with enough cockiness that it will draw in  people but in the end most people will see him for what his is, a sad, damaged little man.  

This behavior will bite him in the ass.  I have seen it happen many times.  Reza will end up, as MJ said to him, "you will end up old and alone if you continue to act like this" and he will.  Wealth can buy many things but true love, loyalty and happiness are not for sale.   I see Reza in 20 years, fatter, older and in a panic because the youth he attracts to easily and uses to cover his emotional damage now will cost him much more at 58 than at 38.  Desperateness is not attractive.

We are watching Reza date a man, Adam.  Adam is handsome and appears to be sweet.  As we all know, this current season is filmed months ago, so I don't know if they are still dating.  We are watching as Reza publicly humiliates this man.  If they are still dating my best advice to Adam is this,  "Adam honey, run.  Run like the wind and never look back.  This guy is a douche lord."

Reza has shown me and I am sure the world at this point, what an epic miss as human he really his.  His false bravado and self-loathing behavior is not cute, funny nor attractive.  I am disgusted with him.  I have gone from fan to hater in under 60 minutes.  I will no longer pull any punches for this man.  He is on my radar and I no longer feel the need to temper my words for him.  Its on Reza, like Donkey Kong.  I will continue to watch the train wreck you are because who doesn't love to watch a jerk get his comeuppance.  It makes for good TV.

I was hoping Reza would be a positive role model for the gay community.  I am sure many within the Persian community were feeling the same way.  In the end though, the only thing Reza represents on this show is every stigma the rest of us in the gay community spent the last 20 years trying to live down.  For me, the sun has set on the Reza Farahan show.

Over The Rainbow

I am sitting at my desk this morning, coffee in hand and cig burning in the ashtray beside me.  I am watching the Benitez children goofing around as they wait for the their bus to come.  They are of the same age as those little darlings who were so gruesomely murdered on Friday in the Shady Hook Elementary school in Newtown, CT.

I see them laughing, pushing and teasing each other and I feel thankful they are being children.  Filled with happiness and mischief, as all children should be.  I am sure I am joined by the entire world in our grief for the innocent children who were taken from us and those adults who also were slain while trying to protect our greatest gifts.  Watching my neighbors children in some small way reaffirms life for me.

I think I am so affected because like so many, I was sitting in front of my TV when the horrific news broke.  I don't want to to go into details as I think we have all been traumatized enough.  I will say those first unfiltered images were hideous and I hope they are consigned to the back of a closet in the news rooms they came from.

Newtown, CT is a small town very much like my own town of Torrington, CT.  Torrington is nestled in the northwest Hills of Connecticut.    At the right you will see a pic of downtown Torrington at the turn of the century.  It hasn't changed.  We are a population of approximately 28k people.  We are a sleepy little village, not really a town in its feel but rather a village.  As you can see from the picture at the right, we haven't changed that much.  Our main street, anchored with the our lovingly restored Warner Theater Movie Palace is quintessential New England.

I think that is why we, in Torrington were so touched and are grieving for our neighboring town of Newtown.  Newtown is but 30 miles down the road from us.  We share so much in common.

In the past few days I cannot help but to keep imagining the horror and fear those children and adults inside that school must have felt.  Even now the tears fall.  I feel so powerless to stop what happened and I feel even more powerless to help those who have had their lives forever changed.  Powerless is not a feeling I like to have.

I remember other tragedies such as 9/11 and other school shootings and while I felt many of the same feelings of outrage and sadness, this one hit just a little too close to home.  This one, like the Federal Building bombing in Oklahoma City took the lives of sweet innocent children.  The single most defenseless portion of our society.  I think this is why I and all of us grieve that much deeper and I am sure that much longer.

Do things need to change?  Sure.  I have my thoughts and feeling on gun control, mental health parity, and better access to mental health/medical services as well as, instituting some sort of mental health court system to better deal with those who are afflicted with a mental illness.  I don't think locking away those with severe mental illness is an answer.  I would like to see some form of prevention so that events like this don't have to happen.  I don't know.  Nor do I feel I can attempt to have the discussions I know we need to have to ensure this doesn't happen again.

I know my heart is heavy.   I have moments when I feel almost normal and then a song, a news clip reminds me of the suffering that is going on just a few miles away.  I cannot help but weep again for all those affected by the shootings.

When I get sad music seems to soothe me and help lift my spirit.  This morning I thought of a song "Over The Rainbow"  originally sung by Judy Garland for the movie, Wizard of Oz but it was covered by a man, Israel kamakawiwo'ole or IZ as he was known.  Its a beautiful version of a song that I feel brings much comfort to me.  Its just IZ singing the song in his own way, with a Ukelele strumming in the background.  I have included a link to the YouTube video.  Please take a listen, I think you will also find this song and IZ's voice very soothing. http://youtu.be/VmCcNKd58Aw

I know those in Newtown will find a way to move forward and I know I will too.  The only way I know to over the great sadness and grief I feel is to love a little deeper, do more good and to remember those who lives were snatched from us far to early.  I will simply end with a Namastae or Zei Gezunt, in Peace.

Say My Name

I really don't know how to start this blog.  Its strange for me, of all people, to stumble for a way to convey my thoughts or feelings, but here we are.  I was originally born, Lucien Loren Scott.  The first born son of Lucien Oliver Scott and the the third son of Linda Kress Fischer.  This was my mother's second marriage and my father's first.  It didn't last very long.  A year and a few months to be exact.  They divorced and my mother moved back to Connecticut in pursuit of starting over.

Anyhow, eventually my mother met a new man.  They met at the factory where they both worked.  Charles E. Simpson was his name.  Charlie or Dobbs, as he was nicknamed,  was one of those stand up men a women is truly blessed to have come into their lives.  They married and life was good for a while.  Charlie didn't care that I was another man's son.  He treated me as his own.  We were close.  My biological father was no where to be found.  He never sent a card, a present and certainly never any child support.  All of that never mattered to Charlie, my Dad.  He just was proud to have me as a son.  A few years later my little sister came along, Wendy Lynn.  

When I started school my mother decided to keep with her whole contrived story of being a vestal virgin and my having a different last name that was different from hers wasn't going to make her story believable.  So my Mother did what any liar would do.  She simply changed my last name.  This was the 1970's and I am sure it was easy.  I became known as Lucien Loren Simpson, or Loren Simpson as my mother refused to utter the name Lucien.  That my friends is how this saga all began.  

Earlier this year my drivers license was getting ready to expire.  I dreaded going to Motor Vehicles and standing in line forever and getting another one of those ugly DMV pictures.  When my number was finally called I went up to the window with my birth certificate (in the name of Lucien Loren Scott), my Social Security card (in the name of Lucien Loren Simpson) and my drivers licence.  The clerk looked at all 3 forms of ID and asked the same old question I had heard my entire life.  "Why is your birth certificate and Social Security card different?"  I explained that my mother had changed my name and somehow gotten my social security number with the last name of Simpson.  The clerk then called over a supervisor and they both had very confused looks.  The supervisor explained with all the new laws that had been enacted since the 9/11 attacks.  State issued ID's and driver's licenses had to be "verified."   Basically, this meant that everything had to match and be verifiable.  I was stunned.  

This hit me like a ton of bricks.  I could no longer drive, take a plane, a train or leave the country.  I was in fact, unable to prove my citizenship.  I felt like a non-person.  I went home.  Dejected, angry and worried.  I know the laws in Virginia/D.C. region require a person to produce state issued ID upon request from a police officer and failure do to so can result in being arrested until you can prove your identity.  So now the scared feeling set in.

Being a para-legal by trade, I knew a simple name change is easy.  The problem I had was that I had actually never really existed under my birth name.  I had gone to school, college and worked under my now illegal name.  So I actually had nothing from my birth name other than my birth certificate.  

Last month I went down to the Probate Office at our local town hall.  I knew if I spoke with the Probate Judge's assistants I would find out what I was actually up against.  I was told to bring down 2 forms of ID, $150.00 and my long form birth certificate.  That was all I would need.

Today I did all just that.  I filled out the requested forms, paid my fee and went before the Probate Judge.  I was scared and feeling alone but was bound, set and determined to get this matter dealt with before the end of the year.  The Judge asked a few questions and I answered and then he stamped my application and it was done.  Lucien L. Scott was no more.  I would now and forever be known as Lucien L. Simpson.  The clerk handed me a couple of papers and explained what I would have to show the DMV to prove my name change.  I thanked every one and was about to leave when the Judge stepped over to me and said, "I knew your Dad, we went to school together, how is he?"  I told the judge that we lost my Dad 11 years ago to a massive heart attack.  The Judge said he was sorry and that my Dad always spoke highly of me when they would go golfing.  I think I teared up when he said that.  We shook hands and I left.

As i walked home I know I had a smile on my face.  The relief was apparent in the quickness of my step.  I had a name.  The name I always had but now it really was my name.  It was the name of the only man I ever truly trusted and respected.  When I got home and sat down on my bed I started to cry.  The house was quiet and the tears just flowed.  Dad and I had a rocky road.  I blamed him for all the physical abuse I had endured from my mother.  I blamed him for not stopping it.  I had blamed him for not stopping the sexual abuse I suffered.  Dad and I warred well into my 30's.  It wasn't an easy relationship to say the least.  

Somewhere in my mid 30's I moved to Virginia.  Dad and Mom would come down every year for a visit. One year Dad and I had an explosive fight.  It all started over my Mother.  He didn't like the way I was talking to her.  Dad and I exchanged ugly words for what seems hours.  Of course Mom enjoyed the whole event.  She always loved to pit one against the other when it came to us.  I don't know how it happened but that night I ended up in his arms asking what I ever did to him to make him not love me?  

This was the only time I ever saw that man cry.  He looked at me and said he didn't hate me, that he indeed loved me and was always so proud of me.  When I asked why he allowed to happen what did, he said he didn't know how to stop any of it.  He said he too had been molested as a young boy by a family member.  He begged for my forgiveness.  We just cried together.  It was the single most important moment of my life as a man, a boy and a person.  

I, of course, accepted and gave him the forgiveness.  We healed that night.  Two men, a father and his son.  All the years of resentment, anger and misunderstandings faded away.  We started to get to know each other as people, as men.  I finally had the father I always wanted and I hope he felt like he had the son he always wanted.  We talked weekly.  There were even time when he and a couple of his golf buddies would come down to play golf at some of the great public golf courses we have in Virginia Beach.  Just good times and great memories.

Of course Mother would always be trying to drive the old wedge between us but we never allowed it.  We enjoyed each other.  I would take him to hooters to see some "Boobies" and he tried to get to know the gay world, like watching Queer As Folk with me.  I still laugh as I watched him squirm all over that couch when two men kissed.  What an act of love huh?  Our time as friends, as parent and child was short.  Dad died of a massive heart attack on September 28, 2001.

So as I sat on my bed all of these thoughts were going around and around in my head.  I hoped that Dad was looking down and smiling.  I miss his "you've done good kid, real good, I am proud of you."  The tears have yet to stop.  I don't know why this is so affecting me.  Maybe because I wish I had done this while he was alive?  Maybe because I am a Simpson now?  Maybe just because I miss his big arm around me? I don't know.  Maybe I am just an emotional gay man?  Who knows?

So, at the end of it all, a name is not really just a name.  Its the feelings and history that comes with it.  I am proud to be the last Simpson to carry on the name.  I understand I very well may be the last male to use it in this family but I will, as Illana Angel, of Keeping The Faith Blog, says, be keeping the faith because who knows what the future brings.