Quotes & Quips

Compiled By Jack Nichols What's Changing? Have men changed for the world? Or has the world changed for men? I don't know…you become a man from a boy, so I've been so absorbed in leaving teenage traits behind that I haven't really discovered how the world might have changed for men. Joseph Fiennes—"The Movies Mandate for Change"—Interview magazine, February The Death of Sociability It is an increasingly distinct possibility, the final outcome of people versus their technological robots may not be the total physical annihilation of people. People may, in a subtle fashion become robot-like in their interaction and become human robots, or robopaths. This more insidious conclusion to the present course of action would be the silent disappearance of human interaction. In another kind of death, social death, people would be oppressively locked into robot-like interaction in human groups that had become social machines. In this context, the apocalypse would come in the form of people mouthing ahuman regimented platitudes on a meaningless dead stage. Lewis Yablonsky—Robopaths: People as Machines (Penguin Books) Our Barney, the Brain (Barney) Frank may be unintelligible to some, but his reputation as the smartest person in Congress needs no deciphering. He is, in the words of one Washington hand, considered to be 'easily two classes of I.Q. above everyone else.' 'Barney,' echoes former Massachusetts governor Bill Weld, 'is brilliant. With Frank's prodigious memory, combined with a zest for cruelty, he is a fearsome opponent in debate, one of the few congressmen who can draw a crowd of tourists to the gallery overlooking the House floor.' Lynn Snowden—"Frankly Barney"—George magazine, February Hatemonger Horsley: Homosexuality Unbuckles the Macho Belt Homosexuals are first and foremost manslayers. The revolution in the meaning of manhood that has occurred in this nation over the last three decades very clearly proves that one does not have to be a murderer or engage in literal homicide to be a "manslayer." To be a manslayer all one need do is destroy the definition of manhood, removing from that word any distinctive that would separate it from other words. To destroy the distinctive activities of the man is to remove the presence of the man as surely as if the man himself were literally destroyed. If nobody does what the man is supposed to do, then the man literally is destroyed, or at least paralyzed and thereby made unfit for any activity except death. Neal Horsley—"Arresting Homosexuals" Christian Gallery: www.christiangallery.com/arstfags.htm Advice for Short Straight Men As a rule, women don't like heels…Should she decide to wear heels anyway, have the confidence to support her decision even if they make her taller than you. "Esquire's Things a Man Should Know About Women"-- Esquire, February The Reincarnation of Judas Paul Robeson I formed the opinion that (historian) Duberman was a sick writer when he asked people if my close relationship with (Paul) Robeson might have been more than collegial—me, a lifelong one-woman man, openly heterosexual! Not even the many investigations made of me by J. Edgar Hoover, whose concern about the class struggle was equaled by his fixation on the ass struggle, did such probing. Paul Robeson, Jr. might reflect upon some prophetic words of an appropriate authority. "Every great man nowadays has his disciples," said Oscar Wilde, "but it is always Judas who writes the biography." Lloyd L. Brown—The Nation—"Robeson: How to Write a Life?" February 1 Duberman: A Nit Picking, Guilty, Self-Flagellating, Fork-Tongued Dimwit Duberman is misleading when he quotes only one word—"prurient"—from my public comment on his biography (of my father). The core of my criticism reads as follows: 'The chief shortcomings of the (Duberman) book lie in its failure to offer analysis and judgments of Robeson's historical role, and its flawed presentation of his personality. Apparently, the author's remoteness from his subject reduced his sensitivity to important aspects of Robeson's cultural and emotional makeup. The result is especially disquieting in Duberman's occasionally prurient exploration of Robeson's personal life.' Paul Robeson, Jr.—The Nation—"Robeson: How to Write a Life" February 1 Stupefying Vulgarity? Lloyd L. Brown's addlepated letter displays his homophobia with such stupefying vulgarity that any response would be sheets to the wind. Martin Duberman—The Nation—"Robeson: How to Write a Life" February 1 A Midnight Snack with Porn's Clown Prince Screw Publisher Al Goldstein let's us all know what he thinks of Nuts Photo: www.screwmag.com I was still hungry. The cupboard was almost bare around Casa de Goldstein, but I scratched and sniffed and hunted and pecked around my apartment for something to eat, and all I came up with (aside from a pair of rug-burned knees) was a box of Grape Nuts Flakes cereal. Ah, breakfast cereal. Just looking at the box brought me back to my childhood, to my lower-middle class roots growing up in Williamsburg when the only solace I could find was nestled somewhere deep in a box of breakfast cereal. It might have been a decoder ring, it might have been a little tin race car, but it was something that even for the briefest of moments would take me away from the blight of my existence. Such was not the case with this box of Grape Nuts Flakes. There was no joy, no prize, no nothing—except for a vomit-inducing pile of shredded cardboard and carpenter's glue that was being passed off to me as a breakfast cereal. I couldn't eat it if I was a starving man—and I was. So I went off to bed with an empty stomach, a broken heart and the weight of the world on my shoulders once again, all thanks to a bunch of dough-flipping foreigners and a box of crumbly, stale shit. So Grape Nuts Flakes—and any breakfast-cereal company that doesn't include premiums—Fuck You! Al Goldstein—Publisher, SCREW Magazine December 14 Learning about Love with a Gay Dad By telling me, he gave me license to be as honest with him as he was being with me… We learned what it was like to have meals together that are part of a daily routine rather than special events. We learned how to just be with each other instead of always trying to cram in every fun activity known to man. I was finally able to begin getting to know my father. It was finally safe. Katherine Travers— "One Voice, One Song"--Alternative Family Magazine, October/November, 1998

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