My Gay Life

I don't remember in High School.

Integration was happening and, on the football team anyway, blacks and white got along well.

Besides one of my best friends was Paul Walker, a very tall black kid, and we'd crash parties at the Desoto Hilton exchanging dates so we entered the ballroom as interracial couples. The moment we strolled inside everything stopped and you could hear a pin drop.

No one knew what to say in those uncomfortable days so nobody said anything.

Paul and I and our dates ate and drank for free before laughing all the way to the Garden City Methodist Church where we parked ... making out until the girls had to be home.

At Georgia Southern I had friends who were gay, one on our Intramural Football Team "The Smokey Jays" and never really thought much about it.

I was busy working, going to school and my son had been born so there wasn't a lot of free time to wonder about differences.

But in Seminary my world changed!

In the early 80s there was AIDS.

Inexplicably I was the "Professional Christian" in charge of an inner city church where I was intensely focused on Ronald Regan's exploding homeless population.

AIDS scared everyone more and landlords were evicting gay tenants left and right who were sick and had nowhere to go.

Some heard about a hippy preacher who helped people find a place to stay so they came to me.

Young, naïve, with a good heart and high hopes, I believed in Jesus and everything he did so I did my best to help.

And I entered another universe.

People in love ... or desperate for it ... faced discrimination like I had never seen and God forbid if you were both black and gay because churches of all colors were so lovingly hypocritical.

"GOD DID NOT CREATE ADAM AND STEVE," an African-American preacher bellows as I integrated his congregation. GOD MADE ADAM AND EVE AND THAT'S THE WAY IT'S ORDAINED TO BE!"

"What a shit head," I remember thinking.

So in Louisville, Kentucky in the 80s and Savannah, Georgia in the 90s and 00's a big part of my life ... a big part of my heart ...was spent helping the gay community become one with the rest of us.

We opened Glade House in Louisville and Phoenix Place in Savannah so people with AIDS had a home when their own families kicked them out.

As important we helped "out" gay people through the St. Jude's Guild in Louisville and First City Network in Savannah.

I'm very proud to have played a small part in these things.

So this weekend, Sarah and I are celebrating "The Rainbow Festival" on Tybee Island where we live.

We are full of Gay pride!

"Red and yellow, black and white," keeps running through my head, "Lesbian or gay, transgender or any ol' way ... all are precious in his sight ... Heaven's come to us today!"

Amen!

And thank God!

A Repulsively Erotic Morning

Every single night, Winston, the Little Gay Dog (TLGD), prances into our bed room, lithely jumps on the bed and snuggles next to Sarah, fur touching skin.

It's repulsively erotic.

After licking himself, he balls up beside her bare back, falls asleep and purrs like a Pussy Cat.

Goddess sleeps on the floor in the doorway protecting us from whatever she fears may come in the night. She snores loudly and Winston, TLGD, ever-the-Diva, snarls with his eyes closed but Goddess could care less.

She's stoned.

Sarah can sleep through nuclear explosions, unless one of her girls whimpers or rolls over, then she bolts upright while some radar sensors beam through walls making certain her "little Blessings" are alright before immediately falling back into a deep sleep.

On the other hand, I could fall out of bed, hit the floor, burst into spontaneous combusted flames and she wouldn't even roll over.

That's our nights.

Every night.

Winston, TLGD, typically is staring at me when I open my eyes and the little Son-of-a-Bitch, and I mean that literally, yawns in my face.

He's having another of his "Cher" moments.

So I reach into the dresser Drawer, pull out the baggie with his balls inside and wave them in front of his face.

Sarah moans so I quickly put them back in the drawer.

Goddess is wide awake now wanting a snack.

Throwing Winston, TLGD, out of bed I snuggle with my wife.

He snarls.

I flip him the finger and snuggle Sarah tighter.

He licks himself then puts on a black sweater vest with pink words that read, "U R Why I Am GAY."

He smiles and prances away.

That's pretty much our wake up routine every day.

It's repulsively erotic.

What's your wake up routine?
___________________________________________

Interested in more deep, inspiring writing? Check out  my new book "Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts" at www.meellc.com/newbook

The best thing in life

I remember watching Liberace, the flamboyant incredibly talented pianist and showman, when I was a kid sitting on the floor in the Den with my family. Wearing a fur cape and brightly colored tuxedo, he'd stare straight into the camera, directly at us in TV land, never looking at the piano keys while playing beautifully.

The man was magic!

And he was gay.

No one in America seemed to care he was gay and Liberace himself shied away from the topic whenever it was brought up. For more than two decades he was the highest paid entertainer IN THE WORLD!

Sarah and I were watching the magnificent movie "Behind the Candelabra" when I'm reminded of Liberace's incredible talent, opulent lifestyle, incredible showmanship, life in the closet and ... for a second ... I was transported to another time ... another place.

Eight of us were gathered in the very opulent home of Jack Kersy, with flowing fountains, chandeliers, long dining room tables and statues of naked men. Four of us were clergy and four others gay ... some in the closet and some not.

We were the St. Jude's Guild.

St. Jude is the patron Saint of desperate cases and lost causes.

It was 1984 and AIDS was exploding across America. I was the 28 year old pastor of the Jefferson Street Baptist Chapel in Louisville, Kentucky and HIV infected people were begging me to give them a place to live. Their landlords were evicting them out of fear of catching the disease.

So the eight of us joined forces to do something because we didn't know what to do. Fred Schloemer and I were the babies of the bunch, the others being older, established, reputable and wealthy.

The result was Glade House, the nation's second housing program for people with AIDS (the first was in L.A.).

It was the first time I comprehended what it's like to live as a gay person. In those days, there was fear, hate, condemnation and prejudice. And AIDS made it all worse as a Holocaust was launched by the good and faithful folk of America.

Since then AIDS left its exclusive hold on one segment of people jumping to women and children as its favored mode of transmission.

I shared these things with Sarah as I rubbed her feet, sitting in the floor watching a movie on television.

"The best thing in life," Liberace explains, "is to just be yourself."

"Yep," we both say out loud at the same time.

Because why in hell would you want to be anything else?
___________________________________________________

"Doing the things that are right for you" is the online journey beginning in December. Do something good for you and register now at http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/onlineclass/

Jonah's Whale

The Book of Jonah
Chapter 1
Micheal Elliott Revised Standard Version

1. God said, "Hey Jonah!"

2. "Go to the city. It's a wicked place with bars, strip clubs, football, American Legions, prayer meetings, live music and political parties. Preach against that stuff."

3. Liking virtually everything on the list except the Democrats, Jonah made a run for it. No way in Hell he was going to say bad things about them, so he booked a Carnival Cruise heading for Tarshish, an exotic island filled with bars, strip clubs, football, an American Legion, live music, one Democratic party, two Republican parties, a big Tea Party and a lot of people who could care less about any of them.

4. Then the Lord saith, "Oh Hell No You Don't! Watch this!" And a great wind suddenly blew a violent storm against the Carnival Cruise Ship so that it lost power and there was no air conditioning, flushing toilets, big screen televisions, or working slot machines.

5. All the sailors said, "Oh God" as they puked into the sea ... to lighten the load but ... Jonah was passed out in his cheap cabin with no windows on the bottom deck.

6. The Norwegian Captain was pissed after the crew did the deck drill preparing everybody for the Lifeboats and only one person was missing ... JONAH. He marches down to the bottom deck, shakes the passed out Prophet demanding to know, "How can you sleep through this? Get up! Say something! Anything! God! Whatever! We don't want to die!"

7. Meanwhile the Sailors had figured out you could play roulette, Blackjack and Poker without electricity so they were having at it. But they really wanted to play the slots! "Who in the hell's responsible?" they demanded over warm beer and someone said, "Jonah."

8. And they saith, "Is he Republican, Democrat, Tea Party or a Damn Liberal? He is black or white, gay or straight, man or woman, have work or no? Where's he live? Does he work for the Government? Is he a real American ... white and all? How do you spell his last name?"

9. Now awake, Jonah answers the Captain and the Sailors, "I'm Jewish. I don't have a foreskin. Wanna see?"

10. This scared the living hell out of everybody on the broken down Carnival Cruise Ship and when he whipped it out, they screamed in glee, "What have you done?"

11. The surf was really up now and the Carnival Cruise Ship was rolling from side to side like Jonah's exposed anatomy. "STOP IT!" they yelled, "That thing is whipping the seas up even higher."

12. "Aw, it's my fault," Jonah said pulling up his pants. "Throw me overboard."

13. Instead, the men ... it was a gay Cruise ... wanted to keep Jonah and his foreskin-less self so they tried to row back to shore but they weren't looking at where they were rowing because they were looking at Jonah instead and the ship  got further and further from the land.

14. "Oh God!" they screamed. "We don't want to die and we certainly don't want to throw this fine looking specimen overboard. But you're God and we don't want to be held responsible. What do we do?"

15. God didn't say anything so they grabbed Jonah and threw him overboard.Immediately the sea was calm. "Oh God," they exclaimed on the gay Carnival Cruise ship without electricity, "that's one fine flat ocean."

16. And the men sacrificed all of their clothing and called upon the name of the Lord often.

17. But Jonah was swallowed whole ... and it took three days.

If you don't believe it, read it.

In one of the 16 versions of the King James Version of the Bible.
__________________________________________________________

An eccentric life dotted with eclectic characters pop from the pages of award winning author Micheal Elliott’s newest book Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts. His musings immerse you in a world of headshaking wonder, gut wrenching laughter, heart touched tenderness and empathetic tears.

Never letting the truth stand in the way of a good story, Elliott’s ninth book takes you on a wild journey of “Wow! Really! I can’t believe that!” every day moments. Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts exemplifies his gift of capturing common thoughts and painting them perfectly into words.

Order yours now at http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/newbook/

Breaking the Silence

You've become quite the recluse. You rarely grant interviews anymore. Why did you agree to this one?

I didn't have anything else to do. Sarah's still asleep. Winston, the little gay dog, is licking where his balls used to be. Goddess is sleeping too. I was bored. That's why I'm doing it. I can't think of what else to do.

When was your last interview and does anyone care?

I think the last one was at WTOC. It was in the lobby and took about half-an-hour. The only people who cared was the Board Chair who chooses to remain anonymous (Jerry Rainey), who didn't want me to do it at Union Mission and Johnny O, who pointed out that I was old news because it was broadcast at 5:55 rather than right after six.

Well, we have lots to cover. There are lots of things other bored people want to know. Ready?

Whatev's.

Is Bill Berry, not the former drummer for REM but the other one, real?

That's a hard first question. He was real. At least I think he was real. He really threw me over the wall in a Monastery once. I'm pretty sure it was him who painted "Jesus Shaves" on the sanctuary wall. I remember he saluted the Polish boarder patrol in his underwear while I hid under the covers. He saved me from a bunch of Turkish whores one night in Prague. And a bus hit us once while we were on the way to Seminary together. I don't know. He sounds pretty real to me but I couldn't say for sure.

What about the Cat Lady? Is she real?

She's a real pain in the ass. That's pretty real!

Do you every talk to her?

Well, it's hard to get a word in edgewise because she's always screeching to her cats or moaning like them with the parade of buff boys marching in and out of her house. But yeah, we talk. It's hard though. Have you seen her? She looks like Marge Simpson on meth and it's hard to carry on a conversation when you have a little bit of throw up in your mouth.

Winston, the little gay dog, has amassed quite the following. Has it gone to his head?

Winston, the little gay dog, is real son-of-a-bitch! I mean that literally. To be honest though, I really don't spend a lot of time with him. He's forever shopping for slogan tee shirts online or answering fan mail. Sarah's his agent and I know they're in contract negotiations for him appear at Fantasy Fest in Key West this year. He seems to be doing alright.

How's Goddess doing?

Oh Goddess is great! Goddess is good! She's aging gracefully and really doesn't give a shit about much anything.  She likes it when Jodee and Cheryl come over. They're into bagism.

Last year, you and Sarah were in the Bar Church band. How's that going?

Well, God kicked us out. It was one of those Beatle things, you know, when they were asked if they were more popular than Jesus? We were just getting too popular.  It was getting in the way so God told Sam to tell us to get the hell out. It's all good though. God told Sam to tell Jimmy Cochran to join and D-Luv is up to one finger on the piano these days. They sound good buried under Stephen's overbearing guitar solos. Sarah and I wish them the best.

What about The Carnival of Friends? Everyone doing alright?

Oh yeah. We don't get together too much these days to reminisce. Primarily because none of us can remember anything. But everybody's good. I saw Judy O this morning and she was her normal self ... lost, aimlessly wandering around, looking naked without a glass of wine in her hand.

Speaking of naked, how's your testosterone levels?

Thanks for asking. They're the highest they've ever been. It's because of Sarah though. I can't take all of the credit. She makes certain they get plenty of sunlight every day.

Are you still the Chaplain at the Breakfast Club?

Yeah sure, but it's mostly a ceremonial title these days. I mean the place got so popular and has tons of Groupies. They line up before the suns up so the place went to hell years ago. There's not much a Chaplain can really do.

So what's next? Anything new on the horizon?

Yep. A book on Winston, the little gay dog, is being released soon. It deals with how he found himself and he collaborated with Goddess in writing it. It's pretty good. And I have a new book coming out too called "Sandy Bottoms and Duct Taped Hearts." It's a book about being Spiritual hence the title. I'm doing a lot of teaching these days too. It's all online so you don't have to actually go to class or anything.

How's Sarah?

I already told. She's asleep.

Yeah you did. Well, anything else to want to add?

About what?

I dunno.

Me either.

Alrighty then.

Yep.

Feminist Right Wing Political Wackos

There were no Pope Frances sugar cookies for dessert.

It was terrible and we are still traumatized. Sarah is shaken. The girls all need therapy. My faith in God is sorely tested.

A feminist right wing political terrorist group broke into our house while we were away on a mission trip for Jesus.

Imagine our horror when we finally made it home after spending five days doing God's will on a Cruise Ship.

We were saving large Cherub children from ice cream laced bacon ... stupid people who confuse a white letter "T" on ugly orange shirts with the state of Texas ... lost white people who wear baby blue tee shirts with yellow shorts, matching baby blue tube socks and sandals (can you say Georgia Tech?) ... mothers who raise their daughters to wear matching cover ups over matching bathing suits ... this was a mission trip to pure hell!

But we prevailed and came home filled with glorious praise for the Savior's command to do unto others as you would have them do unto you. We taught them to eat salad which they struggled with mightily. We held backyard Bible Clubs showing heathens God only follows the SEC and doesn't give a shit about Notre Dame. We sought out the oppressed giving the good news that clothing is optional. It got ugly sometimes when we had to slap some sense into parents for doing really stupid things with their children.

We were so happy to hurry home and begin a family study for this week's Sunday School lesson.

Instead, we were shocked to see what Satan's people did while we were gone.

We found Winston, the little gay dog, wearing a tee shirt that said "Republicans blow harder, Democrats always got your rear but we can agree on one thing. They suck!" The poor little thing was crying, paws duct taped  behind his ball-less butt with a tiny Cuban flag stuffed in his mouth. He was left in the closet like this.

Goddess was beside him, also traumatized, snoring and passed out smelling of reefer. She was actually smiling.

Anyway, the feminist right wing political group was obviously upset about our mission trip.

Leaving their devious calling card, an elephant dressed for Fantasy Fest made us all scream in horror, "HOLY J. EDGAR HOOVER!"

Releasing Winston, the little gay dog, he hiked his left rear leg ... he is a leftist ... and peed on the Fantasy Fest Elephant.

Goddess half way opened her eyes and blew smoke on it.

Sarah and I locked the girls in their rooms and had a laying on of hands ceremony.

God's name was called upon multiple times.

So was Jesus's.

So was Satan's.

I swear to God Monica Lewinski and Mitch McConnell were there. Harry Reed and Nancy Pelosi were too. They were all entangled in a holy, sweat soaked, steamy, copulation of sex. Bill Clinton, America's greatest President ... he balanced the budget, left a surplus, never killed anybody and made oral sex a part of the country's vernacular ... hovered above.  That was one great service! I still feel healed.

GLORY!

Anyway, when Sarah and I finished with the laying on of hands ceremony, Pope Frances himself had obviously intervened and performed a miracle.

Hearing a scream, we almost jumped up, but ... well, we were naked so we didn't.

Later ... much later ... a lots later ... a really long time later ... I went to the bathroom and saw Pope Frances' miraculous work ... the Fantasy Fest Elephant was screaming for his life as he was being flushed down the toilet.

Looking down on it ... experiencing yet another sigh of relief than the one I had with Sarah ... I watched it go round and round.

Winston, the little gay dog, having bathed, groomed and changed clothes ... now wearing a tee shirt that reads "The stuff trickling down on you isn't money" ... jumped up on the toilet seat and looked down.

The Fantasy Fest Elephant spun round and round.

Winston, the little gay dog, barked "Call me."

As the Elephant went down, we heard "I will."

Winston, the little gay dog, looked at me and winked.

"Another convert," he barked as he went to find Sarah.

A Bible and a bone

Winston, the little gay dog, pranced into the kitchen wearing a sleeveless tee shirt that read "Too cute to be straight" over a multicolored rainbow. He's wearing sunglasses and has his doggie Bible with him obviously ready to go to Bar Church.

Goddess is passed out in the floor between the kitchen and the living room, snoring loudly and reeking of medical marijuana. She isn't budging so Winston, the little gay dog, lithely jumps over her and makes his way to the doggie treats, picks out a big bone to suck on and lays it on top the little doggie Bible.

Sarah is wearing a bikini and is lathering herself up with suntan lotion as I pack the cooler. We're planning on spending the day at the beach. Goddess doesn't care that we're skipping Bar Church to go to the beach but Winston, the little gay dog, is pretty indignant and told me that I'm going to hell.

I gave him the finger and continued getting ready for the beach. He got all miffed and hasn't said anything since.

The other day I couldn't find any of my bandanas. I wear them when I run in the mornings but every single one had disappeared. Eventually I got down on my hands and knees and looked under our bed which Winston, the little gay dog, has made his own.

I was shocked at what I found.

A tiny disco ball revolved from one of the slats reflecting bright colors from the little Christmas lights hanging on the other slats. A tiny Chaise Lounge lay to one side covered by my bandanas. A lava lamp rested on a coffee table beside a stack of doggie porn.

I yelled at Winston, the little gay dog, and ever since he's gotten all religious on me.

I don't care that he's created his own space. Everybody needs there own space. I don't even care that he has stacks of doggie porn but He SHOULDN'T HAVE STOLEN MY BANDANAS!

Walking out the door, Sarah and I grab our beach chairs and take a right. Winston, the little gay dog, totes his Bible and bone, takes a left and prances down the street towards Bar Church where Psalmist Stephen can try to knock him off his Holy throne.

I let Sarah walk in front so I have something else to focus on.

A Bible and a bone!

Give me a break.