The Queer Issue

Homo History

Queer Issue 2006

Pride Events

Divorced From Reality

Pride 2006 Events Calendar

The Queer Issue

Queer Issue 2013

The Queer Issue

Ban Heterosexual Complacency

Gay Bathhouse

100,000 BC-1968

Gay Bars


What I know About...

The Delicate Art of Not Giving a Fuck

Having My Cake and Eating It Too


Amend It to End It

Lesbian Bathhouse


Public Sex

In a 'Star Trek' Outfit

Learning the Ropes


The Fag-Hag Emancipation Act of 2006


You Go, Gays


Diva Worship

On a Deadline

ASSIMILATION MAY SWEEP most of the quirks of gay culture under its carpet, but the pride parade will not be one of them. This is not because the pride parade is unceasingly wonderful. No, the pride parade is, in fact, increasingly unbearable, general good cheer notwithstanding. The pride parade is simply one of those bloated, tired institutions that can't die because it has established itself so firmly as a bloated, tired institution. It fulfills a cheesy niche just to the left of all of popular culture's rights.

The pride parade is the slightly tacky aftertaste of every Rose Bowl, the off-color whisperings beneath every Miss America pageant, the second thought of every Seafair. It's the necessary yin of the American parade scene, stuffing all of its yangs into tight cut-off shorts. Where else can America go to embrace the sagging, relentless flesh of its naked ambitions? There is nothing more American than "Look at me!" and the pride parade is "Look at me!" and then some. The good-natured, bad taste exhibitionism it celebrates will be around as long as there are really unappealing penises and boobies whose owners are convinced of their God-given right to foist them in your face.