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Arlen Specter Is No Friend of the LGBT Community
I am writing to urge readers
not to support Arlen Specter in his current run for re-election to the U.S. Senate. Many Pennsylvanians see Arlen Specter
as a moderate. For some of us Democrats, splitting our ticket to vote for Arlen Specter has been a longtime habit. Some of
us remember his opposition to the nomination of Robert Bork to the Supreme Court. That was way back in 1987. In the 17 years
since then, Specter has moved far to the right. Here are three of Specters most outrageous recent votes:
Supported
the nomination of former mining lobbyist and anti-environmental extremist William Myers to the 9th Circuit Court
Supported
the nomination of anti-choice extremist James Leon Holmes to the US District Court of the Eastern District of Arkansas
Supported
the cloture motion to attempt to bring the Federal Marriage Amendment (S.J. Res 40) to a vote in the Senate, voting along
with anti-gay extremist Senators Rick Santorum and Bill Frist.
In the past, Specter would take conservative positions
during the primary in order to fire up the Republican base, and then move to the center in order to gain the votes of moderate
Democrats. This year, hes not even bothering to pretend to be a moderate. Pennsylvania already has one anti-gay extremist
U.S. Senator Santorum and we dont need two, especially with at least three Supreme Court justices likely to retire after 2004.
Fortunately, the Democrats are running a strong candidate in Joe Hoeffel, currently the U.S. Congressman representing
the 13th District. Joe Hoeffel supports the LGBT community, is firmly pro-choice, and has a fine record on the environment
and other progressive issues. Check out his website: www.hoeffelforsenate.com. Joe Hoeffel has supported our community, and he deserves our support in November.
Sincerely,
D Reppert
Conshohocken, PA
What A Scary Thought from
the November 2002 issue of Instinct Magazine
By Samuel Reiss
What A Scary Thought!
We've
all uttered the expression, "I know exactly how you feel." But do you really? Check out the following frightening scenarios
and see if you can imagine what it was like to be in these guys' shoes: WHAT IT'S LIKE
TO: JUMP OUT OF A PLANE
"I
first went skydiving the day before my 35th birthday," says Dan, 38, who lives in San Francisco."My friend, Greg, who has
probably tried just about every extreme sport on earth, told me that from 35 on out I needed to experience more than just
going to the bars and gym. Greg had been skydiving about a dozen times before, mostly with past boyfriends he wanted to impress.
What's funny, though, is that I think all of those guys thought he was trying to kill them! Anyway, on the eve of my 35th
he drove me out for a full day of skydiving training, which culminated in an actual tandem freefall." "The training part of
the day actually
only lasted about an hour. They demonstrate the safety features, like the many different ways you can
release the back-up chute, which is supposedly "fail-safe," if your main chute doesn't open of if you start pissing your pants
and forget everything you just learned back on the ground. Okay, I thought, why would they make the back-up fail-safe but
not the main chute? Obviously, the other people there, two girls, four straight guys and Greg, were thinking the same thing:
one of the girls piped up. "The main chute has never failed to open on us around here," the instructor assured us, but that
didn't stop them from having us sign a paper that said they were in no way responsible if we end up splatting all over the
ground. "Once we'd practiced climbing out onto the wing of a "skeleton" plane - okay, first word of advice: don't say the
word "skeleton" to a group of people about to jump from 11,000 feet - and making sure all the maneuvers are second-nature
to us, they took us up in groups of four. Of course, Greg insisted that we go first. Greg was going solo, but for the first
dive they want you to go tandem, which means an instructor holds onto you as you fall just to make sure everything goes right.
They turned off the engine and my instructor yelled, "Let's skydive!" and I yelled back, "Let's skydive!" although I
had
to muster up all of my enthusiasm. I looked at Greg, who gave me a big smile and a thumbs up, then my instructor guided me
out onto the wing. I tried not to look down, but it was hard not to notice how high you are up. In fact, the reason I probably
didn't freak out more is because it seemed so unreal at the time. Before I knew it, I'm looking back at the shrinking plane
above. For the next few seconds I go into auto-pilot, throwing out my arms and legs and slightly arching my back to keep myself
from 'rolling' out of control. Between 5,000 and 5,500 feet, which you can gauge thanks to an altimeter, I signaled to my
instructor that I am ready to pull the cord. There's a split second between reaching for the cord and before the chute jerks
you upward that
you start thinking, Fuck, this is the end. But then the chute opened and I couldn't believe how easy it
was to descend to the ground. That part lasts about five minutes, during which time I made sure I hadn't pissed my pants.
However, after I realized that I wasn't going to die, I found the courage to enjoy the view. It was amazing. The parachute
was a rectangular shape, which supposedly makes it easier to maneuver. I pulled the cord left to circle around and get a 360-degree
view. The wind felt great on my face, and I almost forgot to start planning where I was going to land - although the field
below was wide open, so I could've pretty much landed anywhere. "The landing was a breeze, too,
and when Greg finally made
it down, I gave him a hug and told him that he was an asshole for trying to kill me." WHAT IT'S LIKE TO: NOT GET IT TO GO
DOWN
The word priapism should scare the hell out of you. The word comes from Priapus, who was the son of Aphrodite,
the Greek goddess of love. Supposedly, he was ugly but he had a huge member that always seemed to be standing at attention.
What's the friggin' problem with that? you may be wondering. You're about to find out. Jake was 32 when he experienced his
first, and hopefully last, erection that wouldn't die. "It's a common saying that most guys wish they had a permanent erection,"
jokes
Jake, whose own member is back to normal. "However, if they could experience what I went through, that saying would
die quickly." First off, a priapism usually develops in guys who have sickle-cell anemia. The blood flows into your penis
but can't get out because of low amounts of oxygen; the blood 'sickles' and can't escape. Therefore, most causes of priapism
are non-sexual, which should be a wood kill in the first place. But Jake's actually started as a bonafide hard-on, which,
after he had finished having sex with his boyfriend of three weeks, suddenly wouldn't turn off. See, Jake had taken a triple
dose of Viagra, a sexual supplement he had used before but didn't really need at this stage in his life. He just used it because
he said it made the sex feel even better. Plus, he used it frequently enough to where he thought he had built a tolerance
to it. "An hour after I had come, I started to freak out because my dick wouldn't go down," he says. "My boyfriend thought
we needed to have sex again, but I wasn't even turned on. My mind was racing, and I figured if I ate something or drank water
that it would dilute the effect of the Viagra. Of course, that didn't work, and three hours after I had come, my boyfriend
finally drove my to the hospital. "At first, I couldn't even imagine sticking the needle in my penis. The doctor wanted to
inject my penis with terbutaline to counteract the
effect of the Viagra. I asked him if there were any other options
and he said, "Sure, we could cut your penis open and drain the blood." I quickly opted for the needle. Luckily my boyfriend
wasn't in the room because it was painful. Trust me, you never want a needle stuck in your penis. Anyway, luckily what the
doctor injected worked and my penis went back down to its flaccid state. "I found out after I was in the clear that not
many doctors are familiar with this condition. What's more, the doctor said I was lucky that I had come in when I did. Any
embarrassment I may have had from entering a hospital with a hard-on is nothing compared to what may have happened if I had
ignored it for more than four hours. After about four hours, the prognosis gets worse, and usually the only option is to go
through with the surgery to let the blood out. After many of those surgeries, a lot of guys experience erectile dysfunction
for a while, if not for the rest of their life." Obviously, Jake doesn't plan on using Viagra again until he really does have
a problem gettin' it up. >>
WHAT IT'S LIKE TO: BE STALKED
Brad, 28, from Los Angeles, had dated Nathan for about
six months before he started to realize just how jealous Nathan could get. "At first I thought it was just his way of protecting
our relationship," Brad laments. "But then he started calling me up at weird hours of the night- that is, when he wasn't spending
the night at my place - and asking if I had anybody over. The first time I joked around and said that, yeah, I had two guys
that I picked up that night at the bar sleeping next to me. Next thing I know I hear a dial tone. Nathan was over at my place
in no
time, ringing my doorbell frantically. When I opened the door he burst in and started looking around my apartment.
"Hey, I was just kidding," I said. Nathan looked at me with rage in his eyes. He ran into my bedroom, checked out my bathroom,
and even looked in my storage closet. He didn't find anyone, but now I think he must of thought the two imaginary guys had
made it out just before he arrived. And that wasn't the last time he freaked out. Nathan wanted me all to himself. I couldn't
go out with
friends without him tagging along. I stopped going out to clubs and bars, even if he was with me, because he'd
have a minor fit if I so much as looked at another guy. After talking with some of my friends, I realized that it wasn't going
to work out with Nathan - which is when it got worse. I broke up with Nathan in person, telling him exactly how I felt. He
was actually pretty calm, and assured me that he was so protective because he had had boyfriends cheat on him in the past.
I said I understood, but I still wanted to step back and let things cool off for a while. He said that was fine, got up from
my couch and left. I didn't see him again until two weeks later. I was walking down the street on my way to the grocery store
when I recognized Nathan's car on
the other side of the road. I noticed he was sitting in the car, staring at me. I stopped
walking and stared back, waved, but he just started up the engine and drove off. I started becoming more aware of my surroundings
after that, and started to see Nathan around town - a lot. Places I thought he never went, like my favorite restaurants, the
music store, my local supermarket, he was there, but always walked off when I noticed him. Then, one day, I came home from
work and realized that my apartment had been broken into. I hadn't given Nathan a key, thankfully, but I couldn't figure how
somebody had gotten in. Nothing was stolen, so it wasn't a robbery, but a lot of my personal files were scattered around in
my office. Credit card bills, cards from my family, work-related notes - all of these were out on my desk and on my floor.
I don't know why it came to my head just then, but I raced into my bedroom and look in my drawer for my journal. It was gone.
I looked in my closet to make sure the box that held all my past diaries was still there, but it was gone, too. Nathan was
somewhere reading my life story. I called the police, but they said they couldn't get a warrant to search his place unless
I was sure it was him. Although stalking is considered a felony in California, it's gathering proof that's the hard part.
So, I had to change my phone number so I wouldn't get any hang-up phone calls. My work number had to change, too, which was
embarrassing; all my calls had to be screened. I had friends over to spend the night on a regular basis, and I felt so helpless
because I couldn't do anything about it. Then, one day I saw Nathan as I was coming out of my gym. I started to walk towards
him but he started walking away from me. I ran after him and eventually caught up to him. "Listen," I almost yelled, "I'm
sorry
you're f_____d up in the head, but I'd like my journals back. Now!" he just smiled at me and tried to continue walking
away. I put my hand on his shoulder to hold him back. He turned around and pushed me back. I don't know why I said it, but
I felt at that moment I wanted to spite him: "I'm glad I fucked around on you, asshole!" I screamed. Then he got that crazed
look in his eye and he jumped on me, tackling me to the ground. Some passerbys pulled him off of me, but that attack was enough
for the police to go pick him up. At his apartment they found my journals and a stack of unsent letters that basically said
that he was going to get me back - whatever the cost. After a psychiatric evaluation, Nathan confessed to stalking me. I pressed
charges and after a trial where he was pretty much bragging about stalking me, Nutty Nathan was sent away for ten months to
prison. He's still in there for three more months, but I'm afraid of what he might do once he gets out. I don't want to think
about it. illustration: JOHN KISSEE text: SAMUEL REISS
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