The latest stats from the military’s policy of discharging honest gay soldiers are encouraging in a small way. There’s been a big drop in discharges. Whether this is because a Republican is in the White House (no one did worse than Clinton in this respect) or whether we’re at war and we cannot afford to lose good soldiers is hard to tell. But consider this: in the last five years, we have lost 49 nuclear, biological, and chemical warfare specialists, 90 nuclear power engineers, 52 missile guidance and control operators, 150 rocket, missile and other artillery specialists, and 340 infantrymen. We’ve also lost 88 linguists, many of whom are expert in interrogation. It seems to me that this policy is stupid and cruel in peacetime. It’s madness when we are at war.
EMAIL OF THE DAY: “In regards to your article “Reagan did not give me HIV” on the Advocate website: Huzzah. Every time I see Larry Kramer’s overwrought, specious work, I recall the character of the aunt in the poem “Matilda Who Told Lies and was Burned to Death” (from “Cautionary Tales for Children” by Hilaire Belloc, which is in no way suitable for children). One early stanza in the poem reads:
Matilda told such dreadful lies
it made one gasp and stretch one’s eyes.
Her aunt, who from her earliest youth
had kept a Strict Regard for Truth,
attempted to believe Matilda.
And the effort nearly killed her.
I have no desire that Larry Kramer, who tells lies, be burned to death, but I do sometimes think that he will nearly kill me. I do not even attempt to believe him any more: gay loyalty can only go so far. I welcome that there are writers like you still alive in my community, so that I don’t have to suffer the agony of shame by proxy for being gay like Kramer. I was lucky to have not become infected with HIV; many of my friends and boyfriends and a few of my heroes died from it. The second man whom I ever shared sex with died from AIDS on 25 June 1992. Joe Albanese was a soldier, secret service agent, political operative, and president of the Washington D.C. Gay & Lesbian Community Center. To me he was a loving, supportive friend from the day we met in 1983 until he died, almost 9 years later. I appreciate that you honor him and my other, dead friends, by writing forcefully, temperately, and truthfully.” More feedback on the Letters Page.
The Dish 