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How are your holidays going? Fly anywhere? Did you have to do a striptease in the security line? Here's a really good New York Times opinion piece on "Security Theater" in airports. Patrick Smith writes the Ask the Pilot column for Salon.com, and I was glad to see him here as well.
Recently a friend of mine announced that he (now she) was transgendered. This came as a pretty big surprise, and has been a tremendously educational experience. Fortunately for all of us, Megan Wallent has been very forthright and open about her transition, and has shared the experience on her web site. I hope you will find what you read there interesting and educational as well. (I hope it goes without saying that this person is a friend of mine, and regardless of your thoughts on the matter you will keep any comments on the site civil and polite.)
It's been interesting for a number of reasons, one of which it's caused me to spend a great deal of time thinking about gender. Not sexuality, but gender (the fact that I've even had cause to separate the two is telling right there). While I care about and respect my friend, and am quite happy that this decision has brought her closer to her true self, I have to admit there's a part of me that simply doesn't understand what it's like to want to be the opposite sex.
I was talking to a friend of mine: "Gay I get," I said. "You're attracted to the opposite sex. Got it. But to want to be the opposite sex?
I've never wanted to be a man."
I've been saying and thinking this statement for the last several months (again, without judgement or anything but love for my transgendered friend. Just trying to wrap my mind around it.)
Then last night, I realized: That last statement is patently incorrect. While a few of my closest friends know what I'm about to say, it's time for ME to "come out" here on The Leslie Show:
Since 1982, I have wanted to be Brian Setzer.
I'm not kidding.
Not date. Not marry. BE.
I'm very crush-prone. Always have been. The earliest celebrity crush I can remember is Shaun Cassidy. Shortly after that came Andy Gibb and The Bee Gees. Posters all over my walls. 16 magazine, and Tiger Beat were dietary staples, and I read the idiotic descriptions of how my dream date with these guys would go with ardent pre-teen fervor. Oh yes, it was going to happen. I was totally going to date Andy Gibb. And while I look at these pictures now and laugh at the soft, unthreatening faces of these young pop stars, I still maintain that in the late 1970s Barry Gibb was a hottie. (Then again, he was well into his thirties by then).
Duran Duran followed a few years later. This time the posters BLANKETED my entire room. My friends and I thoughtfully divided up the band so there would be no conflict. Rachel got John, Wendy got Nick. Simon was mine. Oh yes, I was going to marry Simon Le Bon.
But right around the time I was planning to marry Simon Le Bon, there was a band that I found absolutely compelling. The Stray Cats spoke to my gut. Brian Setzer's fingers whizzed along the guitar strings, and the music they made was animal and danceable at the same time. I wanted to be able to do that. I wanted to have my arms covered in tattoos and have a Gretsch guitar be my slave and do whatever I asked of it. I wanted to stand on a drum kit and howl while a crowd screamed. I had my hair permed (it was the '80s after all) and highlighted while showing the stylist a picture of John Taylor from Duran Duran, but when I got home, I combed it into a big pompadour, put on a big-shouldered jacket and rolled up the sleeves, grabbed my Gibson semi-acoustic guitar, and jumped around the room howling. Poodle-skirt my ass, I wanted to be the one up on the stage making the poodle-skirts twirl.
I saw the Stray Cats in 1983 at Pine Knob with Dave Edmunds opening for them. Very few people were there, we practically had the place to ourselves. I remember being astonished at Lee Rocker when he would stand on his upright bass while playing it. How cool was that?
In 1999 I won a radio contest and got tickets for two to Woodstock '99. Oy, what a long, strange trip that was: Price gouging, heat waves, and filth, but that's a story for another time. One of the cool highlights was seeing The Brian Setzer Orchestra perform, and the field of college stoners jumping up and swing-dancing on the lawn. HA! Rock!
Finally, in around 2001 or 2002, we went and saw Brian Setzer at a little tiny club in Seattle (the Showbox). It was, of course, amazing, and I realized that I STILL wanted to be him. So talented, so respected, so authentic. It was just amazing.
So, in closing, three things:
1) I HAVE wanted to be a man. One man. Brian Setzer. So never say never.
2) Vote for Brian on Deep Rock Drive:
3) In case you have lived a horribly deprived life, or have simply forgotten, here's a 7.5 minute Stray Cats video to remind you:
