Sounds sensational doesn’t it?

As I get older, I tend to question how news is “constructed” to sell a story. It’s like Edward R. Murrow in drag, totally overblown in that attention whore way. “LOOK AT ME!!! ME!! READ ME!!!” My guess is it’s probably some underaged Thai ladyboy prostitute. The news can’t say “ladyboy” because that would indicate pre-existing knowledge or interest. (Much like Fox Newscasters accidentally saying “teabagging” when they meant to say “tea party.”) And rape here is probably indicative of “statutory rape,” legally involving minors, not like the steamy tear-off-my-clothes-and-slap-me-around Max Hardore style rape that we all know and love (but won’t admit to either)

The next question is, who turned him in? After all, western men knocking around Thailand looking for sex of ill-repute are a dime a dozen. Let’s not pretend here: Western men go to Thailand only for two things: to get a lollipop, or to have a lollipop removed. Anything else would be like going to Samoa for its Fondue. I say it’s probably a competing Russian pianist who couldn’t keep his stage fright jitters in check. He probably had it in for Pletnev, much like Gould wanted Van Cliburn’s head on a stick for receiving a parade for bringing Bach to Russia in the 50s.

That’s not to say I condone any of this and all this is okay. It’s only to say morality has a strange way of attaching itself as a simulacrum for other qualities. I know of at least one dude who got oral attention at work and many thought that automatically meant he couldn’t run a country. So if Pletnev like young girls with joysticks, it doesn’t mean his Scarlatti readings should be dismissed. His Sonata in B Kk87 is as brilliant as Clara Haskil’s.

Take me for example. I can’t play Scarlatti to save my life.

Does that automatically infer that I enjoy rough sex with a copious helping of Bukkake?

Well, it depends on what your definition of is is.

Dear VW marketing execs, may I suggest two candidates for your next “punch in the arm” campaign?

That’s right, Chuck Liddell and Bas Ruten.

What?

pictured above: Me, with short hair

Thirteen years after the debut of my first website at Yahoo Geocities in 1997, the mere six page Transvestite Freedom Fighter has morphed into a veritable beast in a labyrinthine maze of links. Up till this year, I kept all the pages accumulated over the years intact, but I realized that I was not unique in that way thousands of Twitters fancy themselves to be. So I streamlined to the things my loyal audiences continue to appreciate: pictures, images, and thoughts regarding transgender identity. I have also devoted space to futanari (she-male) drawings I find intriguing.

I believe transgender people are oft represented either negatively in the media as serial killers and freaks, or online as individuals obsessed with documenting their transition. I wanted to provide a modest but positive and free website that depicts the humor, innate curiosity, and alas -need I say it? – intellectual inquiry of one transgender person. I don’t even like to use the term “transgender” because to me, it’s purely a legal term for advocating rights and policies in public spaces. I have switched to calling myself a mere “eccentric,” because that term, at least, provides the option of going to new territories when doubt is innate in a developing identity. Besides, friends have long called me “the outlying factor.” I am easily an outcast even in the so-called transgender community, where personal agenda is aggressively – sometimes even militantly – rammed down one’s throat (ie. “If you don’t take hormones and get the operation, you are not legit“) To be fair, it’s risky business to label oneself “transgender” when one considers the mind-numbing amount of weekend warrior headless trannies on flickr.

I’m just glad I am so far over in the left field, I am standing on the lacrosse grounds.

I have been eccentric for over thirty years. I don’t plan to transition fully, because both the male and female anatomy are remarkable, gorgeous works of art. I am struck by wonder when I think about the beauty of the human body. I am not a hormone-taker, as I feel that sex drive is one of the critical lifeforce in sustaining the great human imagination.

Human beings are constantly in danger in their coexistence with viruses. But we shouldn’t flatter ourselves as superior beings. Instead, we should take the path of virus mutation as an ideal, and develop accordingly. I want to continuously, energetically, and joyfully change, morph, improve, learn, and absorb knowledge, wisdom, and humane lessons with each passing day.

This, for me, is the most important transition: to be a human being first, an eccentric second, and a transgendered person if all else fails.

So relax, make yourself at home, and enjoy!

P.A. June 28, 2010

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I’m not against plastic surgery. But I do get a chuckle when people call intense plastic surgery a “makeover.” I’ve actually known people whom I’ve had to help haul out of cars returning from a hospital, all drugged up, wrapped in bandages. A few months later, I’d refer to the surgery, and they’ll look at me and shrug, “what are you talking about? I didn’t have any surgery.”

Here is Kate Gosselin of Jon+Kate+8 and recently Dancing with the Stars. Regardless of what you think this gal’s intentions are, and whether you are a Jon or Kate loyalist (I never seen the show…was too busy watching Survivorman), if a makeover looks this good, a *ahem* makeover can’t come soon enough for me!

If the end result is me looking like the first picture (a cross between Frankenberry and an oatmeal Cheerios), I’ll be happy enough.

I often wonder whether high-maintenance people daydream about being us low-maintenance people….the way we do about them. I know low-maintenance girls resent being described as non-high-maintenance. I know I do.

I had a friend who once called his girlfriend low-maintenance to her face. She threw her vibrator at him!

I sometimes wonder why us self-serve girls are so ashamed to be who we are, and how we aspire- impossibly – to be self-serving girls. Perhaps it’s an attention thing: after all, low-maintenance girls greatly appreciate an attentive man too, it’s just that we are not needy enough to demand it. High-maintenance girls expect attention like a privilege. A privilege is defined as that “special benefit not enjoyed by all.” If high-maintenance girls are princesses, than low maintenance girls are the unwashed masses.

High maintenance girls are like glossy blonde Fox News broadcasters, Low maintenance girls are like PBS dudes. Is it better to be a healthy, feelgood dumb-as-rocks Californian, or a stinky New York intellectual jew? Personally, I would find it extremely offensive to be called an intellectual.

I think low-maintenance people have so much going on, they never stop to worry about that constant flow of minutiae in luxury and needs at every single moment of their lives. I know I can go on for days without talking to my boyfriend – which doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about him – and still carry on a meaningful existence. Sure, if he lived closer, I’d be harassing him more often than not. But aside from relationships, overall, to listen, is so much more than to hear; to live, is so much more than to merely exist; to be attentive to everything around you and to be attentive to yourself, is so much more than to be attended to.

I know low-maintenance girls are the nadir of glamour. No man has ever boasted of being in a relationship with a low-maintenance girl. And why is that? I think if you snatch a lo-main girl….you are essentially admitting you are expendable. But if you are able to stay in a relationship with a high-maintenance girl, you are a proven success as a provider on many levels.

So really, despite the ruse of low maintenance girls being a breed that would most likely succeed in the survival of the fittest, we are the ones who will be the first to be extinct.

I don’t want to limit this entry to transgender / crossdresser girls beacause I think it applies across the board to almost every group and almost every social situation an individual finds him or herself in. What is society and culture anyway? As far as I’m concern, most of it falls in or between imitation, insurgence, invention, or for lack of a better “i,” ignorance.

A successful imitation results in uniformity, or conformity. Its rewards is the lowest amount of friction: there’s no judgment from your peers. Well, there is…it’s just that you’ll never hear it. Insurgence, or rebellion…is richly tied to imitation. Imitation follows the lead, rebellion needs a lead to dissent from. I will always remember walking around the Halstead area in Chicago- where many of the gay dance clubs reside – and seeing a drunk tranny who had been ejected from a bar, wailing, “they just don’t understand! I’m making a statement!”

If she hadn’t been that drunk, I would have asked what that statement was. There’s so many ideas she could be rebelling against, it was virtually impossible to figure out which ones they were. Without something to rebel against, the definition of rebellion would cease to exist.

On the other end, there’s the long admired Invention. For hundreds of years, among genetic women, trendsetters who define their personal, timeless look apart from the slavish brand-dropping fashionista sheep, have garnered nothing but adulation from all sides.

So what of ignorance? Ignorance is simply not knowing better.

Crossdressers’ wardrobe have always fascinated me, because it’s a combination of imitation, rebellion, ignorance, powered by an extreme narcissism, leading to the invention of an entirely new visual style. In glossing over an imitation of superficial femininity, speeding straight towards self-satisfaction, these girls end up creating a new look. You could call it kitsch, nauseating, trashy, plain bad….but I’m willing to bet you if Andre Leon Talley or Anna Wintour raved about shiny black polyester blouses over fishnets terminating in a shiny white bead sequin heels WITH frilly ruffle anklet socks, Paris, Rihanna, Sarah Jessica Parker, and Howard Stern will be all over it faster than an Asian woman on a Louis Vuitton handbag.

I can’t lay claim to anything of such audacious creativity. I’m probably a boring mix of imitation and ignorance. I just don’t care what the current trend is any more. My holy grail in fashion is the observation Rhett Butler uttered in Gone with The Wind: “You don’t know what freedom is until you’ve lost your reputation.” Upon entering any apparel store, my eyes are immediately attracted towards the dowdiest homely outfit collecting dust bunnies in a neglected corner. If there’s an ounce of rebellion in my body, it would be against the hipness of appearing unhip. Remember, a double negative that makes us all delightfully positive!

To quote Holly Johnson: “Relax. Don’t do it. When you want to …”

But you know something? I have also heard people frequently jest about going online for porn. I think when these guys (and girls) get hot and bothered, “porn” for them, is the online comment thread section. It has often been debated whether actual graphic porn encourages sexual aggression OR reduces it, acting as a pressure valve. You know what all the guys do when the moment they flip their switch right? They roll over, bleat for momma, and saw lumber peacefully like they’ve got three hippie vegan bumper stickers across the rear caboose. It depends on the society you live in. When it comes to transphobia and homophobia, Western etiquette encourages its civilians to keep their opinions to themselves when out in public. That’s a good thing; however, the pressure is really building up inside.

So what better place for them to vent than in the privacy of their own homes? Especially after all the rented gay porn has been handily consumed. The feeling of relaxation arrives and before you know it, the snoring follows. Everyone goes home happy. So I say, don’t let the cyber hate drag you down. Let em’ go crazy at home if only it will help remind them that the next time they are out in public, they are supposed to be ogling the “other” girl over there. Not here.

What is it? Everyone debates, but there is no consensus. Mixer, extrovert, showboater?

Yet everyone knows what a wallflower is. I was just having a conversation with the bf the other night about how women tend to be wallflowers. It may sound traditional, and in some quarters, it may even be frowned upon. It would seem that society gives more leeway to women for being wallflowers. For men to be wallflowers, they would be seen as “queens” in the gay world, or socially-impaired in the straight world.

I know I come across articles where interviewed guys say how cool it is for the girl to be the aggressor once in a while, that it is nice for the girl to make the first move. I can sympathize with that. But I am surrounded by traditionalist books chock full of 1950s advice articles. I think it’s okay for the girl to be frightened little creatures, especially in settings where it’s a male-oriented domain. I too, see men who are wallflowers as a tad high-maintenance. I guess that’s what happens after years of soy energy bars, Starbucks Buttofuccocino and Sarah McLachlan mp3s on the IPod.

Trust me, if you are a guy who is after a girl, another tgirl, or even a guy, the bottom half always likes to be pursued. As much as people kick and scream about the perks of modern egalitarian order, there’s nothing quite as sexually arousing as a man on the prowl. He gets kingpin respect, no matter how much he’s not all that. Even though society ladies today flip gangsta signs and get out of confession booths without panties on, a man is still defined by his actions, a gal by her helplessness, or inaction.

Among girls, when they see a fellow sitting there waiting for the women to come to him, the first thing out of our scandalized mouths is, “who does that bloke think he is, a chick?” As a person who has pursued others decades ago – and seen how easy it is – I myself think, this guy is either a princess or he’s lazy as sin.

To be fair, in the game of the hunter and the hunted, what women lack in physical aggression, they more than make up for in signals. I guess it’s the guys who know how to read them that become the first ones past the gate. I think one needs to make the distinction between a wallflower and playing hard-to-get. A wallflower is just too shy to make the first move. Playing hard-to-get is pretending you are unobtainable even after the first move has been made.

Too long for a tweet, too short for an actual entry. Sorry! Will post a real entry later today.

Despite what gossipers are saying about Leno being the meanie, I do wish him well. But if I was someone who got caught in the pageantry leading up to last night’s triumphant return (and I just tuned in to see Coco’s last night several weeks ago, then compared it with Jay’s first night back, I would most likely have said, “This was what the hoopla is all about?”

I like Jay. I think he’s a pro. He can definitely get the standard laughs – one’s you don’t have to work too hard to get. But his routines definitely have a “ghostwriter” feel about them, as if he didn’t really roll up his sleeves the night before to knock them out. So last night’s installment was, well, very predictable, and very safe. And let’s face it, at the end of a long work day, maybe audiences want something predictable before they retire to bed. Maybe naked Max Weinberg in the sex offender’s outcast tents in the backwoods is not an image you want to have before you drift off to sleep, seven hours away from the next work day.

And whenever I get puzzled by the massive conservative votes on poll day, I always need to tell myself, “there’s 48 states between here and California.” Edgy humor about Jewish therapists and masturbating bears may not exactly work with someone who lives in Wyoming and had to put down a Grizzly in the backyard earlier that day.

Still, the return was anything but triumphant. Jamie Foxx was over-the-top in his professional fawner for hire, paid to rouse up the audience. Check’s in the mail. Lindsey Vonn demonstrated why athletes never quite made the leap over to the entertainment world: The audience had to chant U-S-A, U-S-A over her travel-worn voice to keep a viewer from falling asleep, country singer Brad Paisley’s neo-C&W act sealed my suspicions.

When we were driving back from North Carolina, we listened to the present roster of C&W music on the radio. (It was either that or church sermons) We just couldn’t believe how many songs repeated the same images Ad nauseam. By the time we reached Virginia, we were pulling our hairs out: OKAY, OKAY, WE GET IT! YOU’RE A MAN! YOU RIDE A STEER, YOU DRIVE A TRUCK! YOU LIKE THE LADIES! YOU DRINK WHISKEY! YOU GIVE A GOOD BLOWJ- wait, back up one right there Hoss.

But if there’s ever a lineup that screamed “targeted demographic,” it had to be Leno’s Tonight Show v.2 They know who their audience is: Red States people. And who’s tonight’s guest? Sarah Palin.

Keeping in mind that Palin’s appearance opposite Shatner during Conan’s watch was generally seen by his fans as one of the highlights of his 7 month residence, when Leno announced Palin as guest will be her first time ever on the Tonight Show, whatever few Coco supporters who were open-minded enough to give Jay a chance, are gone by today.

The tragedy was horrible, and saddening. I kept quiet and let every one else do the commenting. But today, I see that two agencies have been dispatched to investigate this death. Come on now. Dwindled taxpayer dollars can be put to better use. I’ll save these agencies the trouble with my congressional hearing-style PowerPoint chart:

Any questions?

Don’t make me pull out the Frog and the Scorpion Story.

As always, it is NOT OK for PETA to contact this blog poster.