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Let’s get serious about anal health! (But not too serious)

So I was down at the LGBTQXYZ health clinic the other day, getting some of the special LGBTQXYZ medications I take for special LGBTQXYZ diseases that I’ve contracted from bathhouse sex over the years, when I stumbled upon a great article in Positively Aware Magazine.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with the publication, Positively Aware is a free ‘zine available at health clinics that focuses on AIDS awareness. Oddly enough, the magazine has an unmistakeably gay bent, which is really inappropriate and downright ignorant. If I’ve learned anything from AIDS educators it’s that AIDS is definitely NOT a gay disease. It has nothing to do with homosexuality, it has to do with lack of federal funding for research. Butt sex isn’t the cause of AIDS, Ronald Ray-gun is. Thankfully, the magazine skips over references to butt pirates by referring to them as MSM–men who have sex with men. That’s a totally different category from cock smugglers.

PA Magazine, November/December 2011

While I was waiting patiently for the doctor to fill my ‘scrip for antibiotics (I have the clap, y’know) I found a wonderful article by Dr. Gary Bucher, MD, an  anal dysplasia and anal cancer prevention specialist from Chicago. It was called “Getting to the Bottom of It: Be Proactive About Anal Health”. What an eye opener!

http://positivelyaware.com/2011/11_07/analHealth.shtml

The title of the article was, in itself, enough to tickle my funny bone. Get to the bottom of “it”? Get to the bottom of what, exactly? And then I saw the picture and it all became crystal clear to me. He’s talking about my asshole! Silly goose.  Why didn’t he just say so?

The cup in the picture above is a symbolic stand-in for arseholes. I suppose the publisher thought that a picture of a dixie cup with a spoon in it was enough to get the point across without actually printing a picture of someone’s sphincter. But the message came through loud and clear for me. That’s about how wide my asshole is, and yes, sometimes I shove a spoon up there just cause it feels good. I’m kind of loosey-goosey in my anal region, due to years of using my asshole as the vagina I never had. Sometimes when I walk, it kind of wiggles and jiggles like one of those old Jell-O commercials with Bill Cosby. You get the picture, right?

Dr. Bucher explains that there are pro-active steps that a person can take to catch anal health problems before they get out of hand. Prevention is the key.

I also ask the patient if they have performed an anal self-exam by using their finger to feel around for any lumps or bumps inside their anus.

Well no, that’s not something I usually do. But if the doctor wants to do it for me, that would be great.

The good doctor also recommends yearly anal pap smears for “high risk groups”. I think I might be one of the high risk groups considering the fact that my sexual proclivities tend to make me high risk for just about everything. But how can I be sure?

Individuals at increased risk for developing anal cancer include HIV-positive men and women; HIV-negative men who have sex with men (MSM); women with a history of cervical, vaginal, or vulvar cancer or cervical dysplasia; chronically immunosuppressed organ transplant patients; men and women with a history of anal warts; and people who smoke tobacco.

Oh! Well, I don’t have AIDS. At least I don’t think I do. Maybe I should wait for the test results. But I’ve had anal warts before. I think there was a mean case of that stuff circulating in the West Village when I was there in the late 80s. I am also an “MSM”. So that means that I fall into two high risk groups.

I don’t smoke however; at least not tobacco. I prefer pole. Because tobacco is just gross. Smokers should be shunned and forced to pay eight dollars a pack just in taxes on their fifty cent box of coffin nails. Smoking is so unhealthy, and as we have seen, it obviously leads to cancer in all parts of the body, including the asshole. People shouldn’t smoke because it’s unhealthy.

Sodomy, on the other hand, is completely safe. And if any doctor ever told me that it wasn’t, I would storm off in a snit and contact the state to see if I couldn’t get his license pulled.

Okay, so I have a story to share about medical malpractice. It happened to me in the bad old days, about 1982, when fear and ignorance were the normative climate that surrounded all things HIV. I went to the doctor to get tested because half of my ex-boyfriends were coming down with it. He gave me a full exam and then sat me down for a little doctor/patient chat. He informed me that I had the gay “triple crown”–gonorrhea, anal warts, and protozoal infections– but thankfully not HIV. Back in those days, they referred the bundled package of STD’s infecting the poop chute region as “gay bowel  syndrome”, which is such an obscene term. Thankfully, doctors don’t talk like that anymore because the term itself makes me want to kill myself. He told me that the best thing to do for my anal health was to quit sticking things up my anus.

I broke down and cried right there in the office. He wasn’t even supportive. In fact, he told me to quit being a sniveling bitch. He didn’t understand that I really enjoy sticking things up my asshole–particularly other men’s penises. And I have no choice at all whether I will continue to do it. I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to because homosexuality is NOT A CHOICE.

Then I asked him if he thought, in his expert opinion, that the bruising and bleeding around my asshole was a result of my favorite pastime, sodomy. He told me that it was pretty obvious that blunt trauma was to blame and that if I ever wanted my pooper to recover, I should quit violently abusing it for pleasure.

That’s how bad it was in those days. Seriously. Doctors actually recommended that gay men stop doing the things that put them at elevated risk of contracting every disease known to man. It would almost be like telling a smoker that if he wants to avoid lung cancer he should quit smoking. Or telling a boozer that if he wants to avoid cirrhosis of the liver he should give up drinking.It’s just backwards, ignorant thinking.

Wait, it’s not like that at all. Because no one–NO ONE–has the right to make me feel bad about my sex life. I do what I want and everyone has to affirm me, even my doctor.

I sure am glad that Dr. Bucher isn’t such a neanderthal. Nowhere in the article does he recommend discontinuing sodomy as a means of preventing anal cancer. I think that’s because the good doctor is himself a homosexual. He takes it in the ass just like me. So his expert advice tends to be pretty straightforward.

Just keep engaging in high risk behavior and then get checked, m’kay?

Thank goodness he’s not so backwards as to assert that people shouldn’t use their assholes as a two way street if they don’t want to get icky diseases and stuff. He wants you to be serious about anal health, but NOT TOO SERIOUS!

“Take charge of your anal health. Ask for your DARE exam and your anal Pap smear!

Yup. And by all means, continue to take it up the ass, if that’s what floats your boat. Just make sure you make an appointment with Dr. Bucher once a year so he can stick his finger up there and probe around for pre-cancerous lesions.

Dr. Gary Bucher. He

Dr. Bucher’s website (http://www.analdysplasiaclinic.com/) breaks down the cold, hard facts on the subject. here they are:

135 out of every 100,000 HIV+ MSM will develop anal cancer

The risk in the general population is 0.9 per 100,000

Ah ha! So the risk of anal cancer among HIV+ MSM is one hundred and seventy-two times higher than the rate for the general population. And the general population includes other HIV+ MSM, other MSM, and women who also take it in the poopchute. It kind of makes me wonder what the risk is in comparison to people who don’t use their assholes for sexual pleasure. Probably pretty high.

But, please–by all means, keep on keeping on! Don’t let a little thing like anal health get in the way of your anal health. I mean, don’t let it get in the way of your pleasure.

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Brain damage makes you gay. Three cheers for brain damage.

If ever there was a story of something good coming out of something deeply tragic, this is it. Meet Chris Birch of Ystrad Mynach, South Wales. He’s gay. I mean, really, really gay. He’s a hairdresser for crying out loud. Chris lives with his nineteen year old boyfriend in an apartment above the salon. They have lots of gay sex. Did I mention that he’s gay?

But here’s the thing about Chris Birch. He’s only recently become gay. Not that long ago, he was definitely a hetero–he worked in a bank, played rugby, and drank beer with the boys. He was also engaged to marry his girlfriend.

Chris Birch. He's gone all the way gay. I mean, seriously. He's not holding anything back. I've seen straighter guys on the Tony Awards.

And then something amazing happened. While playing “footie” at the park, he decided that he could really impress his pals with a killer backflip. His attempt fell flat. He didn’t pull off the stunt but he did manage to break his neck and trigger a stroke. The amateur acrobat was racked with excruciating pain, blacked out, and was rushed to the hospital.

And then he woke up gay.

Sounds strange, I know. But there really was a whole new Chris.

“When I was finally let out of the hospital I moved back in with Mum and started physio. I had to learn to walk, eat, even speak again and all my family were supporting me, hoping they would see the old Chris come back ­soon enough. I had physio for five months and was ­really focused but every now and then I would notice my family shooting me a funny look or saying I was different.”

Yes. different. And what gay man hasn’t felt a little different? Not like the other boys. The old Chris Birch–the beer drinking rugby player who worked at the bank and dated women–was gone. Suddenly all that hetero masculine stuff just wasn’t interesting. He was a femme queer.

“My old friends would come round and visit me but the conversation would dry up straightaway. I wasn’t interested in the rugby scores, going down the pub to watch football or anything else I used ­to do.”

It didn’t take long before Chris realized that he didn’t care so much for the taco anymore. He was a fan of the sausage.

“I was watching TV one day when a really handsome guy came on. I felt my stomach flutter and the same feelings I used to have for pretty girls came across me. I had never felt like that about a man before but I knew immediately what the ­feeling was. I fancied him.”

His first crush on a boy. How cute.

Now, I have mixed feelings about this whole thing. On the one hand, I’m always glad to have one more person on our side. Making the whole world gay sounds just fine by me. Welcome to the club, Chris.

But on the other hand…this is very threatening to our theory that people are just “born that way”. Wait, did I say theory? It’s not a theory. It’s science. And if you don’t believe me, you must be a science hater. And you don’t want to be a science hater…do you?

Born this way. It's our motto, our creed, our rallying cry. I'm not even sure I believe it, but the entire basis of our political movement is that sexual activities are genetic and therefore comparable to sex, race, or ethnicity. We couldn't change even if we wanted to.

The entire foundation of our movement is that our sexual activities are preprogrammed at birth and therefore not really our fault. Without this concept, we’re just another group of people defined by our behaviors, just like cigarette smokers, vegetarians, swingers, bungee jumpers and pet owners. No one would think we’re being “discriminated against” if, for example, an apartment complex didn’t permit smokers.

So we had to come up with something else. And this is what we decided: Gay is the new black. It’s a rather far-fetched concept that was initially laughed at and mocked when the political gays rolled it out three decades ago.

Butt sex is kind of like having black skin? You’ve got to be shitting me.

The worst part is that the blacks themselves were the least likely to accept that my taking it in the poopchute was somehow equivalent to the color of their skin. They laughed at us, and from time to time, kicked our asses for making such a stupid and insulting comparison. Believe me, I once caught a serious beating.

So we had to start firing the blacks from their jobs for failing to see the comparison. Just ask Crystal Dixon. She was fired from her job at Toledo University because she wrote a letter to the editor expressing her belief that someone else’s sexuality was not the same as the color of her skin. Yeah, what the hell would she know about being black? We had the bitch fired. In the future, the blacks will be careful not to question the analogy.

We pressed on, repeating the lie so many times that it started to ring true. We got ourselves into the schools and we taught it to an entire generation of kids who, by the time they graduated, had heard it so many times that it didn’t seem the least bit ridiculous anymore. It was probably the most successful propaganda campaign in the history of the world.

We were doing so well and then along came Chris from Wales. A stroke changed him from hetero sports fan slob caveman into a queerboy. Now, I’ve heard of strokes having an effect on personality. I’ve heard of people waking up from strokes with odd foreign accents and with newly discovered artistic skills. But I’ve never heard of a stroke altering a person’s DNA. And since gayness is predetermined at birth by genetic code, this whole story just does not compute.

Gayness is a just a genetically determined trait like any other–say, having red hair and freckles, height, eye color, or skin color.  Unfortunately, there are no known instances of any of those genetically determined traits changing because of a stroke.

For example, my mother had a stroke a few years back, and she still woke up a Caucasian woman with blond hair and blue yes. The stroke happened right after I came out to her, if I remember correctly. She had an aneurism and collapsed right there in front of me. Nothing much changed after the stroke except that she now drools out of one side of her mouth and she spends most of her time crying because her son is a homo. Now, if she had woken up as a black person, as a man, or as a red head,  that would have been a really neat trick. If she had woken up as a Lakota Sioux chieftain that would have been pretty cool too. Or if she had woken up with a new eye color. Unfortunately, she can’t wake up as any of those things because her DNA won’t allow it.

But if a person can wake up gay, that must mean that DNA is not the culprit. No wonder we can’t find a gay gene despite the fact that we’ve been searching since before Chris Birch was born.  All we’ve done is asked the government for more grant money and assured the public that such a gene exists and we’re going to find it…someday. Until we find the evidence, just keep believing in the theory, m’kay?

That’s how science works, right guys? First I come up with a theory then I demand that you take it on faith while I find the evidence to support it, no matter how long it takes. I have this theory that there’s a magic space dragon who lives on the opposite side of the sun from the planet earth. We can never see him because–duh!–he’s hiding behind the burning ball of gas in the sky. But don’t worry, we’re looking for him. We’re sure he exists and we’ll just need a little more time and lot more money to find him. In the meantime, you’d better shut your mouth with all of that doubt. This is science and you don’t question science.

The Stroke Association of Great Britain was asked to weigh in on the astounding revelation that strokes can turn people queer. According to spokesman Joe Korner:

“In a stroke, blood supply to the brain is cut off and in the areas starved of oxygen, brain cells die and brain damage can occur. But the brain is amazingly adaptable and during recovery it can make new neural connections, finding different pathways to achieve the same thing. So it’s possible those new neural connections can trigger connections to things people weren’t aware of such as an accent, language, or different sexuality.”

Geez, that’s strange. Accents and languages are not genetic. But gayness is. I know that it is.

It’s almost as if he’s saying that homosexuality is the result of brain damage. If your brain is cut off from oxygen for a while, parts of it begin to die, and then you wake up with the insatiable urge to slurp cock. That goes a long way in explaining why so many of the men I’ve dated over the years have been batshit crazy. Sorry, Michael.

Even so, I don’t like this brain damage theory. If people thought that being gay was a mental disorder–as it was classified by the APA until 1973–they still wouldn’t understand us to be a persecuted minority. They’d say, ‘Hey they need some help, but they’re still crazy like schizos’. No one would change marriage laws to accommodate the mental patient community. So it has to be genetic. It just has to be.

Still, there appears to be something to the brain damage theory. Last year, a study was conducted in Sri Lanka concerning the effect of mercury on male ibises. Shockingly, the study determined that the birds were significantly more likely to engage in same-sex pairings after being fed mercury in their rations than ibises that had not been exposed to the heavy metal.

Boy ibises tend to like other boy ibises after suffering heavy metal poisoning. So don’t tell me it’s “unnatural”.

I was initially thrilled with this news because I love to read about homosexuality in the animal kingdom. Whenever anyone says that two guys sodomizing each other is not natural, I point out that animals do it. And heaven knows that humans should not hold themselves to any higher standard than animals. If it’s so unnatural, how come it occurs in nature?

But then someone pointed out to me that a human pollutant was added in this instance. The point of the study on ibises is that mercury poisoning makes you gay. So when I say that being gay is natural, I mean that you might begin to exhibit homosexual tendencies after sucking out the contents of one of those new curly-q lightbulbs. That kind of natural.

http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn19784-mercury-poisoning-makes-male-birds-homosexual.html?DCMP=OTC-rss&nsref=online-news

Even so, it’s kind of hard to attribute the homosexual behavior of the ibises to their genes when it appears that mercury poisoning is to blame. Mercury may have a lot of nasty effects, but it doesn’t alter your DNA. So I think we should just ignore this study because it doesn’t fit my preconceived notions.

Hmmm…I just had a thought. There was that time when I was a kid when I found a broken thermometer on the floor and started playing with that fun silvery metal that was seeping out of it. It was so much fun to watch it roll across my skin in beads. I put it in my hair, in my mouth, up my butt. Might that have something to do with why I like boys?

If it is, I’ll just say that it’s better this way. I sure am glad I poisoned my brain because now I have my husband and we’re happy and fulfilled. At least that’s what we try to convince ourselves.

Chris Birch is happy too. He likes the new Chris.

“I think I’m happier than ever, so I don’t regret the accident.”

Good for you Chris. Take it from me–brain damage can be a wonderful thing. It can lead to rich and deep relationships with other men and eternal happiness.

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