Well, fellas, truth is certainly stranger than fiction in this deranged modern world. Y'all remember last week, I predicted Mamdani would play David to Trump's Goliath. Yesterday's meeting in the White House might have been a remake of Daniel in the lions' den. But oh, was I ever wrong. Turns out, it was Beauty and the Beast all over again. Love has bloomed, and life is beautiful. Ain't that grand?
This is an invitation across the nation for dancing in the street!
I'm going to keep my predictions to myself in future. When you get two New Yorkers in a room together, there's no telling what the result will be -- love or murder, or who knows what. But I'll say this: I don't believe a fucking word either of them said. There's a devil's game being played for the cameras, and it stinks. But I'll stop right there.
Update, 11/22/25, 6:30 p.m.: Republican Curtis Sliwa, who came in a distant third in the NYC mayoral race, agrees with your Head Trucker, saying "everyone got played" by these two fakers. (Can't embed the short here.)
And studly Chris Cuomo, brother of Andrew, the defeated challenger to Mamdani, says the White House pantomime was a really, really good thing, actually. I don't believe him. But this scion of a big political family also spills the beans on what motivates politicians - it's all about stirring people up to get votes and stay in power, not doing the right thing.
So don't fall for their smiles and pretty words; by their fruits ye shall know them. Enough said.
Jeffrey Kevin goes over the top once again for Thanksgiving. It's much more than we would ever put on one table, but he does have some very pretty things, and he enjoys displaying them. And why not? À chacun son goût!
I've been meaning to write something about 1975 for months now, but the year is nearly over. So I'll just post a few thoughts today, and may post some personal reflections another time.
Bernie asks a question that can only be answered by those who are old enough to remember the time: Was life better fifty years ago?
Regardless of Bernie's remarks, the truth is that the question has no factual answer. Whether life was better then depends entirely on one's point of view. And indeed, no matter what year you want to talk about, in human life it is always the best of times or the worst of times - for somebody. Your answer hinges on whether you feel loved or unloved, content or unsatisfied, hopeful or despairing.
I am annoyed by some people's comments on YouTube and in other places, people who were children or young teens then -- Oh, what a glorious time it was to be alive, a golden age! The music, the clothes, the cars - and everybody was so kind and courteous and loving. Well, no, that's not the way it was -- it was far from a golden age, as this CBS news summary makes clear, for anyone who cares to look back at the reality of 1975:
After long, dreary years of conflict and protests, defeat and deceit, Vietnam and Watergate were finally behind us. Tricky Dick Nixon was gone, and steady Jerry Ford was in the White House; he survived two assassination attempts by wild-eyed leftist radicals (seriously) in this year. Other wild-eyed leftist radicals blew up the State Department, and the Patty Hearst kidnapping ended horrifically. The Middle East was still in turmoil, as it always is, and the Cold War was still on, with the spectre of nuclear war always in the background. The crime rate was rising, and there was a growing sense of decline in American power, politics, money, and manners, from the bold optimism of the Kennedy years to the stagnant malaise of the post-Nixon era. Many felt the country was going to pot.
The change was felt most acutely in the pocketbook. Inflation was out of control: the Oil Crisis of '73 had made the prices of everything go up sharply. I remember that the price of sugar zoomed from, say, a dollar a bag to five bucks. (That equals $30 today.) The same with coffee. And for the first time in my life, there were empty shelves in the supermarket. The recession of 1974 was still going strong, and jobs were hard to find. Your Head Trucker was finding out the hard way that it was just not possible to live well on minimum wage - $1.60 an hour, so take-home pay was about $240 a month. Rent on my first little cottage was $80 a month, plus phone and utilities. For comparison, an apartment in a nice complex with swimming pool cost about $120 a month, or more.
My first home after high school was very similar to this one - but the front door was on the side, under a porch roof, and there were no basement stairs, so the kitchen was wide enough for a table and chairs. It wasn't new, but it was decent, and it was MY place, where I could do as I pleased. I felt very grown-up,
The placid "happy days" of the 1950s and early 1960s were long gone by this time, as I remember discussing with my friends. However, I will say that compared to the state of the world today and the polarized society we now live in, it was easier to live without constant fear and dread back then. The world was already quite complex in those days, but it all seemed more understandable somehow - and it was easier to hope that tomorrow would be better.
In the Deep South, far from the tumults and convulsions in the big cities up north and out west, everyday life was mostly calm and pleasant as long as you could pay your rent and feed yourself: books, magazines, records, radio, television, movies, church doings, and simple outings with friends were enough to keep a young man occupied. Nobody had a home computer; cable TV was non-existent, as were VCR's and DVD's. Phones still had dials, and they were hard-wired into the wall. You didn't buy one, you rented it from the phone company for a nominal fee, with a choice of four styles and half a dozen colors.
All that would soon begin to change, but as yet, no one felt a need to be "linked in" every single waking moment, and broadcast to the world pictures of their cat, or their butt, or what they were eating at the burger joint. People would have fallen down on the floor laughing at the very thought of such nonsense.
But now we live in a world seemingly controlled in nearly every detail by nosy machines and callous trillionaires. Since this old man's exit will be coming up sooner rather than later, I don't obsess about these things, though I deplore them heartily. But God help the younger generations.
Speaking of whom, someone has come up with a way to assimilate them even faster into the Hive Mind: watch this report on a new school with no human teachers -- and shudder.
Here's a sure-fire recipe for the best General Tso's Chicken you ever had. At least, it's the best recipe we've found. From America's Test Kitchen, father and son team Jeffrey and Kevin Pang - they call themselves the Hunger Pangs - show exactly how to make it, step by step.
M.P. has used their recipe a few times before, and he just made it again yesterday for our Sunday dinner - boy howdy, it's GOOD! Took a long day in the kitchen, but M.P. says it was worth it - and your Head Trucker totally agrees. We'll have it again tonight.
Using chicken thighs rather than breast meat makes tender, juicy eating. And the sauce is just the right balance between sweetness and mild heat. It's finger lickin' good - I tell you what, boys!
BTW, to make a complete meal, you'll also need some white or fried rice and perhaps an egg roll or two to go with the chicken. Unless you're an experienced cook like M.P., I suggest you get those at the store, ready to heat up.
As my longtime truckbuddies know, I've pretty much given up following or blogging about politics lately - it's all too terribly sad, and totally disgusting. But I did watch the astonishing New York mayoral returns last night, and I listened to Mamdani's victory speech; a cinematic finale to a hard-fought campaign by a political upstart.
So come January 1st, New York will have a Muslim socialist mayor from Uganda. That's a scenario even Hollywood wouldn't have tried to put over -- "What? Nah, nobody would believe that." I'm not sure what to think about it. New York, you know, is a whole 'nother world from Texas. What's normal here is considered bizarre there, and vice versa. So I will reserve judgment until I see what he does in the job.
Right now, Mamdani is an unknown quantity: a youngster with lots of idealism but no executive experience - and more than a little naivete, too. But what's apparent to all is that Mamdani is a born politico, and Fate has dealt him a mighty good hand of cards. Call it charisma. It's what makes people sit up and listen.
First of all, he's a sexy guy - handsome, smart, witty, friendly, talkative, flashing a megawatt smile often and easily. He'd be the life of any party he cared to drop in on. These things shouldn't count for much in politics, but of course they do. Imagine if an unknown 33-year-old Woody Allen had run for office, saying all the same things Mamdani has said - would he be in the driver's seat now? I think not.
Besides his looks and personality, the other thing that stands out is that he's got balls. At this dark moment in our history, when so many others who ought to be leading the resistance are quaking in their boots, afraid of the Orange Wrath, Mamdani seems ready and eager to face off with the Tyrant. No fear. No worry. Bring it on. You have to admire a guy with that kind of guts.
One more thing that stands out is his cocksure confidence that he is right. He doesn't beat around the bush; he knows what he wants to do, and states it plainly. Promising free goodies is always a crowd-pleasing strategy, on the right or the left. The possibility of being wrong or mistaken doesn't seem to enter his mind. That may show leadership ability - or foolhardiness. A little time in office running the biggest, grittiest, most contentious city in the world will surely temper his juvenile certainties.
But beyond all that, the headline of this article from The Atlantic - "Mamdani Is the Foil Trump Wants" - made me realize what the dramatic set-up is here, the protagonist and antagonist. David and Goliath. Wow. Oh wow. This will make great reading in the history books of the future. All the elements and players are coming together now, and the drama will proceed to the climax step by step.
Of course, no one can foresee with certainty the eventual outcome. But I say, firebrand socialist or not, thank God somebody is standing up for truth, justice, and the American way! Cometh the hour, cometh the man.
So go make some popcorn and stay tuned. This is gonna be quite a showdown.
I just came across two young fellas who have shared the story of their life and love in many YouTube videos. They don't look gay, they don't sound gay, but they sure as hell are gay. And so much in love. Beautiful.
The vids I've posted below are the most poignant to your Head Trucker, who used to be a great romantic - before life knocked the stuffings out of me. I always wanted the things you see in these videos - the rapturous love, the proposal, the wedding, the home, the happily ever after. Someone to build a life with, a shared life worth living, not an empty string of one-night stands.
But wantin' ain't gettin'. Sometimes, though, you get what you need. Keep trying. I had two husbands - as I like to say - before I met M.P. Despite rosy beginnings both times, they didn't work out: one left and one died. There are no guarantees in this mortal life, none. You pays your money and you takes your chances. (But it's better to try and fail, than never to have tried at all. At least you lived and loved.)
There's not many pics of us together. Here we are at Xmas 2010. I'm not really that much taller than M.P. - I'd just come in from outside and was still wearing boots, while he was wearing house shoes.
But then 18 years ago today, M.P. and I met for the first time, and we hit it off right from the start. We don't do all that sloppy stuff like you see in these vids. Been there, done that. Finances are tight, so we don't travel, don't go to bars or movies. don't even eat out. But we think alike, laugh a lot, take care of each other in sickness and in health, and we're content with what we have, despite the ups and downs of old age. A quiet life in a happy little home is enough for us two old boys; it's all we need and all we want.
As someone who well recalls a time when gay marriage was an impossible dream, it's quite touching to watch these young'uns start their life together, as I would have liked to do - a couple of regular guys in cowboy boots and hats getting hitched before a crowd of family and friends, heading off hand in hand in the prime of youth, in the pink dawn of love. As all young lovers should, straight or gay. Sweet. Very sweet.
A Ring for My Boyfriend (2016) (9:31)
The Proposal, Part 1 (2016) (10:25)
The Proposal, Part 2 (2016) (8:50)
The Wedding (7/11/17) (4;57)
Bonus: Zach has a deep, sexy voice, but I can't quite place his accent - it's Southern, but not quite Texan. It reminds me of Mark Collie's accent -- my first husband and I saw him in concert more than 30 years ago. Here's a song of his we used to dance to on cowboy night at the gay bar:
Father of all, we pray to you for those we love, but see no longer: Grant them eternal rest; let light perpetual shine upon them; and in your loving wisdom and almighty power, work in them the good purpose of your perfect will; through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Almighty God, Father of all mercies and giver of comfort: Deal graciously, we pray, with all who mourn; that, casting all their care upon you, they may know the consolation of your love; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, harmony; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Grant that I may seek not so much to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.
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We cannot all do great things, but we can do small things with great love.
and welcome to the Blue Truck, a blog for mature gay men with news and views on gay rights, history, art, humor, and whatever comes to mind. Plus a few hot men. The truck's all washed and gassed up, so hop in buddy, let's go.
CAUTION: For mature gay men only beyond this point. Some posts and links may not be suitable for children or the unco guid. You have been warned.
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Churches say that the expression of love in a heterosexual monogamous relationship includes the physical, the touching, embracing, kissing, the genital act - the totality of our love makes each of us grow to become increasingly godlike and compassionate. If this is so for the heterosexual, what earthly reason have we to say that it is not the case with the homosexual?
It is a perversion if you say to me that a person chooses to be homosexual. You must be crazy to choose a way of life that exposes you to a kind of hatred. It's like saying you choose to be black in a race-infected society.
If God, as they say, is homophobic, I wouldn't worship that God.
