Father Juliano's Dream Car
Put a Bag On That Car. A NYT story about Branford Connecticut Catholic priest, Alfred A. Juliano, and his obsession with car design. Father Juliano, attempts to create the world’s safest car, which results in the ugliest thing ever seen on four wheels.
If you’ve been following along, I’m considering cars to be symbolic of vessels/cups/grails - the divine feminine. Any story combining Catholics and cars is like nitro-powered symbolism. Catholics (the traditional guardians of the grail - Mary) have, like Father Juliano, turned the grail religion into something pretty damn ugly, and then top-coated it with a gorgeous “candy apple” paint job. Silk purses come to mind.
Lately, the Catholic paint job is showing obvious wear, which opens the meme gates to the Jedi Knights Templar - the next pretenders to the throne. Which to me is small comfort - kinda like choosing between Democrats and Republicans. At the end of the day, they’re all playing on the same team.
It may well be that the divine feminine is inherently wild and dangerous, like a big cat, and while the attempt at Catholic abstinence (or Red Cross Safe Sex) is understandable, that is entirely missing the point. Maybe sex isn’t sexy if it’s not somehow... dangerous. LIke a sports car. Car = risk = sex = grail.
In Austin Powers - International Man of Mystery, Mike Myers drives a Jaguar XK8 - a spotted cat. Austin is a male sex god - Dionysus - an archetype that really IS a mystery to the West. Overt male sexuality, while no longer strictly taboo, is still strongly discouraged. Men can be men in every way a man can be, as long as we don’t show actual dick. See Adam Star’s post at Inside the Cosmic Cube: Mystos Mustela for his inspired take on another Dionysian - Wolverine.
After Austin is revived from cryogenic sleep, he is taken to a room where he is presented with his possessions - which include a “male enhancement” vacuum pump (the black hole/vacuum/ultimate power source of the universe). Like Peter, Austin denies ownership at least three times - though in the end, he confesses. A remarkable scene.
My middle name is "Danger”
The short-lived television series The Ugliest Girl in Town made its debut in 1968:
Timothy Blair is a Hollywood talent agent. He falls in love with Julie Renfield, a British actress, visiting the United States to do a movie. After that movie is finished, she returns to England. To get his mind off her, Timothy dresses as a hippie and poses for his brother Gene, a photographer. When the photos appear in a magazine a modeling agent in England sees it and assumes that it's a woman, and he offers "her" a job. Knowing this would be the only chance to be with Julie, Tim accepts and dubs himself Timmie. Tim has two weeks vacation time to spend as much time with Julie as he can, but when as he is about to leave with his brother, Gene loses £11,000 gambling. Unless he pays him back, Tim has to continue being Timmie for a while longer.
The Ugliest Girl in Town... is a boy.
Agent Smith relaxing around the house
Back in the day, women were forbidden to act in theatre, so men played the feminine roles. The sex of the actor is actually besides the point, and if you’ve ever seen a good drag show, you understand - it’s all about attitude. The feminine must be expressed, even when men are the only actors available. The masculine is made feminine. It’s a drama still playing out in gay bars, every night of the week.
This is a disjointed post, and if you've followed along it's in spite of my writing, not because of it. I'm grappling with the roles of gender, the masculine and feminine, tops and bottoms, and the mercurial nature inherent in the sexual unions of men. When I look at the world as a sort of divine play - a cosmic dance, then I begin to wonder about my role, and the role of my people. In less than 40 years, gayness has come along way, baby - from "the love that dare not say its name", to the favorite vice of priests and senators. I suppose that's progress, but I could wish for more.
Sometimes I think gay people are ugly ducklings, somehow lost from our true home, being raised by another species! We're not ducks at all - we're swans - and one day we'll real-ize it. In gay slang, a bodybuilder is a “Muscle Mary”, which pretty well wraps it up.
Tom Katt - born again porn star