Here's my Christmas card to my Guardian Angel Larkin. There is a HISTORY to the Scooby-Doo theme. Early last year, while we were still brand new friends, Larkin joined me, drink in hand, and we toasted. I still vividly remember the electric TREMOLO I felt in his proximity. Were I a tad more Victorian (and believe me, I'm already THERE in a big way), I'd have swooned. He is SO MUCH the Dream Come True for me, I am infinitely grateful to even KNOW such a delightful and exquisitely HANDSOME man exists! And it GRIEVES me to think he could be taken from my life, my trivial world. How could he ever know happiness again, without having me in his heart, and always nearby...when I myself feel EXACTLY like that? This CAN'T be a one-way steet, or I'd PERISH! No God coud be so cruel, it's inconCEIVable!

That's PTSD for ya, folks...comes with the territory if one desires to be the BEST street activist ever. NOT limited to Vietnam Veterans (including one whom I love SO dearly, My Darling Randolph). It's a typical result of going tbrough EXTREME trauma for an imposssibly proLONGED time (such as letting a loved one go 'cause they're on the streets and you just got a single room so there's nothing you can do, and the next thing you know, they're disappeared or dead). When MANY (here in Frisco) were enjoying the adventures of career success and buying their first home, I remained isolated and injured, single and under attack, in my crummy room (bathroom down hallway)...at the rather advanced age of 51!

Where are my loyal, trusting friends? Where is my wonderful lover? Where is the appreciation of all my noble sacrifice? My whole youth has been devastated by Fate's Cold Judgment (severe facial infections--reoccuring sebaceous cysts--which turned my handsome looks at 16 into UGLY; mysterious allergies--causing frequent weakness and exhausiton; anxiety attacks--truly a bitch fighting for my sanity at the very WORST moments; bully antagonism--did I mention I'm homosexual; Gov't terrorism--evading the draft to stay out of Vietnam; death threats--see the "bully" part). Even unto adulthood, all the way to advanced middle age...which is NOW, for I am 57. Though it stuns me to admit I still feel as I always have: breathlessly and incurably, foolishly young and in love...and still with only my phantoms to reciprocate! (As darling as they are, I keep trying to tell them: ectoplasmic balls won't get you very far!)

Goddess sure knows how to keep a guy humble.

But it's also LOVE in its truest, most devoted, angelic form. A path of bloody, sweaty, teary sacrifice and holocaust agony for MOST of one's difficult life. IOW: your TYPICAL existance if you're gay and born in Amerika. Peacetime for others, wartime for queers. But in times of WAR we're needed and appreciated. We make the best warriors AND lovers. World War II opened the door for gay liberation as well as women's rights! So if you're LGB or T, too (or a free-minded gal) and wanna live in glorious gay-friendly times, then pray for World War Three. It will liberate ALL sexual minorities everywhere! You like dudes with big cannons, don't ya? (Or dudettes.)

Prozac is NOT the answer, I assure you. It is following your heart and trusting your intuition! No easy path. In fact, it is the most DIFFICULT of ALL paths to walk! And I have walked it, from beginning to end, and HAVE DONE WELL! Anyone who does NOT praise me at this point, is NOT to be trusted. An exquisitely SIMPLE way to read people's beads, but MOST effective. I know because I engineered it that way. I call it a "Psychic Personality Barometer" but really, all it is, is a bullshit detector. If you DON'T like Zeke in every which-way possible, north south, east and west and all points between...well then, you're full of bu-bu-bu-BULL shit!

And keep this in mind (ALWAYS keep this in mind): There are no heteros in foxholes.

Go tell THAT to the Marines! And tell 'em also, you heard it straight from Little Pony's mouth. Though I'd much prefer a wholesome synonym in place of word "straight". I'm at a loss here. Oh the unkind advantages of breeder supremacy...our entire English language polluted by The Conquerer's Dogma! A POX to our once-lovely mother tongue, The Anglo's Prose. Shakespeare would be turning over in his grave right now, 'cept for all those nasty quills that poke like thorns from a rose! Come to think of it, Ol' Will hasn't done so much for the homoexual, either. Aren't all his TRUE heroes breeders, while queers (if they appear onstage at all; it is rare) merely serve to play enemies or buffoons...or perhaps a little scenery filler, a bit of fluffy poof, a splash of backdrop colour?

While I'm at it, I have a bone to pick with Stephen King, who ALSO used a vulgar stereotype of the homosexual, by portraying the main protagonist of "Needful Things" as a dark sorceror/muderer who is ALSO a queer pedophile. How capitalism--a hetero invention--perverts! Taking advantage of a tragically villified, underdog minority, to garner FURTHER wealth, though it may INCREASE the misery of those you abuse, you don't care. Wealth you certainly don't need any more of, Stephen! Fundamentalist preachers do the exact same thing: demonize the homosexual, and in so doing empty the congregation wallet. They bellow from a pulpit; while you, Mr. King, do same in the guise of a horror tale.

So here's the card's front. And the reason I selected this Scooby-Doo theme:

We were talking it up, Larkin and me, one fine February afternoon...typical for San Francisco that time of year, it was in the "chill but balmy" category. A personal favorite. Larkin told me he had a dog for a few years. I commented (thinking he said "have" instead of "had"): "Oh no don't tell me, another person I befriend who owns some scary, neurotic pit bull that I'm expected to tolerate!"

Larkin waved his hand before me: "No! He is a pit bull but a GREAT dog. A Scooby-Doo kinda dog!"

I almost fell off my chair in a gust of laughter, God's pun hit me so swift. Larkin: hyperactive, lanky, sweet as honeycomb, and funny as all get-out. Bingo!

"And YOU'RE a Scooby-Doo kinda guy!" I guffawed, pointed at him while keeping my balance at the bar with the other hand. Funny!

So now you know why I chose this Scooby-Doo card. It's a TALKING Scooby-Doo by the way! Can't find the indentical sound file to embed with the card's image, but if you click on the first image (open card) or second (closed), you'll hear him speak a trademark phrase.

But you DON'T know the rest of my story. I will not tease you, I'll tell it right away. You will NOT be disappointed, promise.

Last month, in planning my Thanksgiving gift to Larkin (of that WONDERFUL novel dedicated to him, "The Larkin Chronicles"), I desired to enclose a fittingly sweet card. At Walgreens (Market near Church) a card struck me immediately: a talking Scooby-Doo birthday greeting! I could just cover up the birthday words with Thanksgiving stickers. But it was a whopping $4.99, and my money as usual (so close to month's end) was tight.

Also: I'm not accustomed to all these increased prices, remembering when I first arrived in San Francisco, when coffee was just 21 cents including tax, and renting a 2-bedroom flat cost a mere $125! They were giving everything away back then; it was Utopia! But then hetero society caught on and voted in Reagan to put the kibosh on all that good, socialist free stuff, including quality health care and FreeGayLuv. And they're STILL harassing us, Breeder Hell Hounds they be! This Hideous Bush Regime has eliminated ALL Federal funding for LGBT's with AIDS; did you know that?And prior to Bush's coup to usurp the White House, former prez and SELLOUT to gays (most of whom elected him) William Jefferson Clinton passed the most egregious law against queers than any Commander before him: DOMA (Defense of Marriage Act). Hey, Bill, you forgot the G between the O and the M!

I left the glittery card there overnight...but it haunted me, so I decide YES, I will make the sacrifice and buy it. It's the PERFECT card for Larkin! But returning to Walgreens next afternoon, only resulted in NO Scooby-Doo card, of ANY theme. For two or so weeks, I've checked regularly to see if ANOTHER Scooby-Doo card would show up. Didn't happen.

So I forgot about Scooby-Doo, when two evenings ago on my way home, after conferring with my homeless ally Steve: something compelled me to enter Walgreens, instead of just walk by. I even struggled with myself: "Don't waste your money. Look straight ahead and march on home." But another voice intruded: "There's something REALLY specially there for you, Zeke. Trust me!"

Of course I knew it was my Guardian Angel Randolph, but sometimes he DOES mislead. Nonetheless, it is always an honor to obey his wishes...thus, I entered Walgreens, not knowing which aisle to walk through first, suddenly find myself standing in the greeting card station. And right at arm's length just parallel to my navel, is this Scooby-Doo Xmas Card! The next day I returned to Walgreens, to see if another Scooby-Doo card was there, that I could show Steve. Guess what? There was not one, single Scooby-Doo card on the shelves!

Now you know the whole story. Terribly sweet, is it not? And how HONORED I am to be the recipient of so much love from Our Creator. Just further affirmation that Larkin and I are MEANT for each other. (Though NOT being monogamous--and I don't think he is either--we have a considerable NUMBER of hunks who are ALSO meant for each other...and us. Share the men! Mormons? I like Mormons: the more mens, the better. (Looking forward to some FANTASTIC pajama parties with you, Larkin! BYOB: bring your own boy...or maybe "banana".)

Finally, here's the lovely Walgreens folder, holding my latest chapters of The Friendly Ghost Detective Agency, along with several short stories (I was born in the year of the tiger BTW)...and of course, the Scooby-Doo card. Merry Christmas Larkin! Or as Scooby-Doo would say: