Category Archives: Queer stuff

Bears, Queens, Fags, Twinks, Dykes, Trannies, Transexuals, the whole nine inches.

What the Hell Was That?

political, Queer stuff, Toronto, You Stupid Dick 8 Replies

SharkBoy, BobaDoug and I trotted off to the Church Street Village Fair on Sunday, which use to be called The Church Street Fetish Fair, which is now called Leather to Lace but way back in the day was called The Church Street Fetish Fair, created as competition for Folsom Fair North (or FFN when they lost the right to use “Folsom”) but now is called something else and will probably be in direct competition with Folsom Street Fair on September 25, but not in Toronto.

Confused? Not as confused as the crap we saw on Sunday afternoon!

Gone was the public demos of S&M which I am told by the rumor mill was pre-requisite if the Church Street BIA wanted to get licensing from City Hall. Instead an outside company of carnival like “rides” were inserted to keep the tops and bottoms on their toes. This is Rob Ford’s new Toronto, I guess. We can be gay but just don’t show it.

I could have taken pictures of the ferris wheel or the mechanical bull or the surf board bouncy play thing but I had forgotten to put my freshly charged battery in my camera, which in hindsight was a good thing… there wasn’t much I wanted to take a picture of, compared to the previous years. The Leather and Lace site has photos but metaphorically the gallery is broken and doesn’t work in Firefox.

We walked up and down the street twice and witnessed a few proud individuals displaying their fetishes, but in terms of it being a “fair”, I would say it was more like a funeral. Oh sure there were the trans, the rubbers, the plushies and the leathers, but they didn’t seem to have a place to congregate and the crowds weren’t “sticking” to one place. I saw more hopeful photographers (including the creepy boobie photographer guy from Pride – no, not Councilor Mammoliti) than actual participants in the Fair. When we arrived there was a leather “flash mob” as it were: a large group of people in full S&M gear walked through the crowd but quickly dissipated when they did two circuits of the Fair.

The Lettuce and Lace Fair was the perfect example of “design by committee” ever to come to life.

Troop Update

Queer stuff, Toronto, You Magnificent Bastard 3 Replies

I am utterly blown away.

You people have made me so very happy with your generous responses. Here I was all frightened that I wasn’t going to crest $500 and now I may have to increase my goal again.

As of this morning, I’ve jumped to the #9 spot in the top ten Individual walkers over on the Scotiabank AIDS Walk page. Within 6 days of signing up! With 56 days to go!

Thank you thank you thank you. I can’t say this enough.

If you’re up in Greektown during the Taste of the Danforth, come by Re:Reading around noon and get your picture taken with me in my armour! And buy a book, for god sake.

Brave, Proud and by the River

Queer stuff, You Magnificent Bastard 1 Reply

My mom sends me this link to my old home town newspaper: Brockvegas to hold it’s first ever Gay Pride Walk




This has awesome written all over it. If you know Brockvegas (it’s really called Brockville, but due to my dislike for the little ‘ville, I call it something more flashy), then you know that it’s either very much old money or very much proletariat (the local WalMart actually scares me, it’s so rough), with barely any “middle class” in residence at all. So it will be curious to see how this plays out. I hid my sexuality and made a promise to myself that when I physically left Brockvegas (oh how many times did I “mentally” leave?) that I would truly start living my life the way I was suppose to do.

I’m really happy that this is happening.

Comments after the article are positive, but I love how most commenters are afraid that peacock feathers, makeup on dudes and assless chaps will be on display.

In time, Brockville… IN TIME!!

That I Can Do, Too!

Hobbies, I'm going to tell you what to do, Personal Bits, political, Queer stuff, Toronto 2 Replies

I took postbear’s words to heart and thought I should start out small – I’ve decided to walk (march?) in the Scotiabank AIDS Walk, this Sept 25th. I don’t think, however, I will be selling off space on my suit, unless I’m offered some ridiculous sum of money. Hint Hint PrideFM?

Within a few hours of tweeting my decision, long time internet friend (and one embarrassingly drunk pick up attempt night at the Eagle) “Bark” aka Steve K dropped $50 into my sponsor jar!

I’m off to a great start!

Here are the details:

My Sponsor Page: My goal is low – this is my first time doing anything like this, but secretly I’d love to crest $2000. Expect some aggressive tweets and boring blog posts. Why not donate now to shut me up early!? Plenty of payment options!

If you want to make a PayPal donation, my account is “deadrobot” At “rocketmail” dot com. Every little bit helps!

The Event: Starts around 11am and I’ll most likely get there early because who doesn’t want to get a photo with a Sandtrooper?

I’ll keep you posted on how I’m doing.

Wish me luck!

Pride 2011

political, Queer stuff, Toronto, You Magnificent Bastard 4 Replies

SharkBoy and I had a very nice Pride, thankyouverymuch! Quiet and low keyed, we wandered, we chatted and we took some pictures! The tone this year was more political than corporate, despite TD still having the same old muscle marys hanging around their booth making phototime with straight girls from the 905. No, this year had a tension to it, most likely from a missing asshole mayor. Noticed that not one Conservative political representative was on hand (unless you count some creepy city councilor skulking with a video camera during the Dyke March) and that would probably be a good thing, considering they’re kicking a hornet’s nest of prejudice and ignorance with their opposition to Pride.

Look at me getting all serious!

Here are some pictures that go bigger when click-oed! Remember to check out my Flickr account over the next few days for updates

Keep Feeling Fascination!

Pride, Day One

Personal Bits, political, Queer stuff, Toronto 3 Replies

Just back from Pride where just two hours ago they closed the streets and people are still streaming into the neighbourhood. The energy is building.

While waiting for BobaDoug, SharkBoy and I sat on the wall outside the 519 Community Centre, where we were entertained by a young, slightly high lesbian youth who wanted to know all about my Five Finger shoes. She and I eventually left the topic of shoes and got into a game of shouting “HAPPY CANADA DAY!!” at random people. SharkBoy was in stitches because, in true Torontonian fashion, when you yell a greeting at a stranger in this town they instantly put on this face of “Oh my god you are yelling at me and if I ignore you, you might disappear…”

Of course the slightly high lesbian youth would yell “Happy Cananaerrday!” and that made me laugh.

Regardless, here are some pics! Enjoy!


Let them eat Cake

The Bunny of Pride


Bal Cone

Coming Out: To my Dad

Personal Bits, Queer stuff 8 Replies

Coming out to my Mom here.

Coming out to my friends here.

When I came out to my Dad it had been a year and a bit since he came out to the family and a few months before I decided to return to Brockvegas to tell my friends that I was gay. I was living in Brantvegas, finishing up my last year at high school and for some reason I had fallen into the Theatre Fag group at that school pretty darned fast. Go figure. I was bringing home all manner of queer teens for my father to meet, as well as a couple “beards” and “Fag Hags” for good measure.

Really I wasn’t fooling anyone. Hence my decision to come out a tad bit earlier than I expected. My original plan was to come out when I left Brockvegas, because I hated (still hate) that town. It was empowering to me to be able to control the rumour mill that would eventually fire up when I told everyone who cared or mattered that I was gay. But Dad threw a spanner into that plan and left Brockvegas a few months past my completion of grade 10. I pleaded to be taken with him. I dreaded a year living with my Mom and her soon-to-be new husband – not that I disliked them, but purely because they were in that new, fresh, in-love stage and I’d just be under heel. It was decided that I would move with Dad to Brantvegas and finish my high schoolin’ there.

When I moved I became entrenched in Dad’s new gay life. I met Francois, Dad’s new boyfriend. I know… I was going from one parental “new, fresh, in-love” relationship to another, but this one seemed more vibrant, more alive. Francois was a gregarious Quebecois who put the “flambĂ©” in Fabulous! Francois was an event planner/flaming homo by trade. His apartment was covered floor to ceiling with art, plaster tchotchkes and deep rich wall papers, which gave the place an aura of someone preparing a shrine to bawdy houses. To this day I’ve never met his creative and energetic equal. Of course Dad was his polar opposite.

I’m getting ahead of myself. Dad, by this time, was changing. He went from an invisible parent who was always away on business trips to a “fun” guy to be around. He became playful, humourous and witty. He became himself. And while he was turning into a Good Time Charlie, he never forgot to be a parent.

I was legal to drive and on the occasional Friday night I would ask Dad for the car. Being the honest kid I was, when he asked where we were going with it (there were always 4-5 kids in the back) I would reply with an innocent shrug: “Buddies.”

The thing about living with a gay dad while you’re still in the closet is that if you choose a life of honesty, you’ll not be in the closet for long.

Buddies was a gay club in Hamilton, 30 mins over in the next town. Dad knew this. He raised an eyebrow to my response.

“Oh come on, Dad. You know gay bars have better music,” I responded as if he was mentally challenged.

This went on for a couple weeks.

One weekend Francois came and when he got wind that I was running a shuttle bus to the local gay bar, was into me like a falcon into a mouse. “You’re going to a gay bar? That makes you gay, you know!” and on and on. But this mouse knew all the burrows to hide in. “Mark is coming too, he’s bringing his girlfriend… what does that make them? Gay by proxy?” The banter was child like but strong.

After a month or two of this, Dad told me he was going to be late getting home from the office, so dinner would be my responsibility. We often switched up chores like this – we were good roommates, I like to think. I came home to school to a quiet kitchen. On the counter was a note, lying across a book.

“Dead Robot,” It read, in my father’s 1940s public school scrawl, “I really think you should read this.”

Underneath was the hard cover edition of The Joy of Gay Sex.

I bet you straight people reading didn’t know we had our own version, did you? It even had the arty farty pencil sketches of man on man instructional action, just like yours, but a lot more penis-centric. And anal-centric… You get the drift.

I didn’t make dinner that night. I made sure I was sitting at the kitchen table reading lazily through the book when he came in.


“You got me,” I said. I was out.

Non. Event.

Epilogue: Francois came to our house the following weekend and Dad had already told him the news. As Francois exited his Datsun 280Z, I ran across the parking lot and threw my arms open, shouting: “MOTHER!!”

I have never seen a man more repulsed in my life.

Coming Out: To my Friends

Personal Bits, Queer stuff 4 Replies

Coming out to my Mom is here. I’m continuing on my carpet bombing trip of telling friends and family that I’m gay…

I’m sitting in Joan’s back yard. She’s got her signature can of Coke in hand and she’s fretting about some grade 13 essay that is due later that week but she’s not making any effort to actually work on it. Typical Joan. She could knock a solid 90% out of the park 10 minutes before the 1200 word essay was due. I drop the bomb.

She takes a long pull off her Coke and looks at me. “I was wondering when you’d get around to that.”

Non. Event.

Dave sits on the swing where we once waited out the effects of a stupid LSD experiment. We shared a common love of gorey horror movies overflowing into practical jokes – when we met he threw a bag of ketchup at me trying to make me look “bloodied”. He was the first person who I could relate to on a nerdy level; that it was ok to like science fiction.

“That’s cool. I guess. What’s it like?” He was always curious. Not “gay-curious” but curious in general – hence I thought it appropriate to tell him on the “LSD swings”. If I had said I tried recreating the Jack the Ripper killings, he’d probably ask the same thing.

Non. Event.

My best friend Rick and I were walking towards the school when I told him. In high school hierarchy Rick was an anomaly – the football jock who liked to hang around the “Theatre fags”, just like Fynn off of Glee. I am sure he caught hell from the rest of the football team over it, but he never let on. Rick was highly intelligent but reveled in pretending to be stupid – it was his schtick that made our circle of friends love him more. After dropping the bomb, he didn’t said anything for 20 or so paces, then muttered: “What do you say when your best friend tells you he’s gay?” It was the last thing he ever said to me. We walked the rest of the way back in silence and at the school he waved his hand dismissively when he yanked the door open. Brockvegas Collegiate Institute swallowed him whole and I never heard from him again.

I suspect he was struggling with his feelings for me. That or he could sense that I loved him a tad bit more than “a friend” and I had dragged our relationship across the border into “inappropriate”. Either way, I’ll never know. Rick became a cop in some remote Northern Territory and last I heard was married off.

So… Sort of not “non event”.

Coming Out: To My Mom

General, Personal Bits, Queer stuff 9 Replies

I realized that in the last 10 years of this website I’ve never shared with you, dear internetz, how I came out to the world.

Mostly because it was such a non-event. What with all the drama that preceded my gay cotillion.

A bit of back story for new readers: My oldest brother came out when I was about 11yrs old. I didn’t understand fully what that meant, but I knew there was drama of sorts… my parents were having hushed conversations that were punctuated with “DeadRobot, go to your room.” Later, when I was 16, my father came out of the closet for fear of meeting up with Dan in a gay bar on one of his many business trips to Toronto. Of course the family was shocked, the town of Brockvegas was scandalized, Dad lived a quiet life of a shattered bachelor for all of 10 minutes and then took up with his lover for 14 years. Family came to accept him (including Mom, to a certain degree) and we were happy chucks all again. Okay?

There’s your 8 years or so of drama packed into 125 words or less.

Skip ahead to my 17th birthday. The year I decided that if I was to live my life honestly, I had to tell the people I loved that I was a ‘mo. I decide that I have to make a trip back to Brockvegas to tell friends and family in one fast trip. Get in, drop the bomb, get out, let them decide where their loyalties lie.

Picture my Mom’s house. She’s living with her soon-to-be new husband in a sprawling Brady Bunch style split level bungalow. Mom and I are sitting in the sunken entertainment room (not the good living room, mind you, where the china figurines and untouched furniture resides, no the “living” room where the TV resides) and she magically whips out a photo of me from the year before. It’s of all my sibs laughing as we stand in our grandmother’s kitchen.

“I showed this picture to my co-worker,” My Mom starts, “And as a joke I asked her which one of my sons were gay.”

Uh. Damn. Is my Mom…

“She pointed to you. DeadRobot, are you gay?”

Holy shit my mom just trumped me.

“Yes.” Breathe… breathe… 1, 2, 3…

“Ian!” My mom calls up to the kitchen to my soon-to-be stepfather, “DeadRobot just informed me that he’s gay.”

“That’s good. When’s dinner?” We ate roast beef and yorkie puddings soon after.

Non. Event.


Queer stuff 8 Replies

My brother (the Gay Historian of the Soviet Era Russia) says that we now live in a “Post-Homophobic World”.

I agree wholeheartedly. I think that slowly, slowly, monkey monkey we (as a gay species) have crossed over a singularity of acceptance that transcended all religions and political boundaries. Don’t get me wrong, they’re still killing gays in parts of the world, but hey – Canadians are still allowing seal clubbing… I can proudly and ironically say “We’ve come a long way, baby!” And I mean that in a “look where feminism is today” kind of irony. With shows like The A-List: New York, we now can be accepted as douchebags, like those Jersey Shore douchebags.

My brother’s statement seems a bit dark to me. I prefer to call us living in a Proto-Homo society. Where homosexuality is evolving into main stream acceptance, not being shoehorned defiantly. Watch as some gays mesh into the middle class norm of two dads and a couple adopted kids while others who see themselves as the defenders of a gay culture, sit outside, mocking inward. See: Sky Gilbert. Oh sure, activists got us here (cheers Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence! ACT UP! Westboro Baptists Church!) but we with the money will take it from here.

You may use “Proto-Homo” if you like. I may make it into a t-shirt.