Bobservations

Last weekend we had a lawn service come out and give the back yard a refresh, trimming trees, cutting branches back, shaping hedges and holly bushes and the popcorn tree. The workers are all Latino so Carlos was walking them around the yard telling them what we wanted done and he didn't know I was there. 

At the side yard, under the trees, was our Pet Cemetery and I heard Carlos telling them that the big stones under the trees are cat and dog graves and not to remove those markers. But when he mentioned Tuxedo, whom I buried under the trees and then placed a rectangle paver over him, he told the men not to move the paver because that was the grave site of, as Carlos said, “El gato más espectacular de todos los tiempos” or “the most spectacular cat ever.”

All the times that Carlos poked at me for my love of The Great Tuxedo and now he says this.

I love that man.

This Tale of Tuxedo is from June 2010 and is entitled “Artist’s Model”:

"Years ago, in San Francisco, a friend and I stumbled upon a cool little furniture store in the Mission, where I saw this piece of wrought iron sculpture called "Twisted Kitty."

I bought it instantly.

This morning, finding Tuxedo on the floor, I wondered if, in one of his Nine Lives, he'd been the inspiration."

Tuxedo was a lot of things but he was most definitely bendy!

Sam Neill, star of the original “Jurassic Park,” died Monday at 78. His death came just two months after he announced he was cancer-free following his battle with non-Hodgkin lymphoma. 

I had a crush on Sam ever since I saw him in “Dead Calm” with Nicole Kidman. As both a younger man and an older man he was always a most handsome fella.

RIP

Lindsey Graham has barely boarded the Handbasket to Hell and already the South Carolina Sludge™ is eyeing his seat … Nancy Mace, whom the entire state just said “Oh Hell no” to when she ran for governor is lurking around, and so is Nikki “I am the Queen of Flip Flopping” Haley.

Oh, and Cankles wants Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent, a native of South Carolina, to run for the seat and at least with him you’d be trading one sold-his-soul-to-the-Devil closeted gay man for a sold-his-soul-to-the-Devil out gay man.

Dear goddess, let’s get Democrat Annie Andrews into that office!

Remember married Kristin Cabot, the woman caught on camera at a Coldplay concert making out with her married boss, on the Jumbotron?

Well, I guess her fifteen minutes of fame wasn’t enough for the boss’ sidepiece and Kristin is now telling anyone who will listen that Coldplay frontman Chris Martin never reached out to check on her.

Oh Kristin, go sit in a corner and think about what you’ve done, and then get a real life.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, if football players dressed like this I might be more interested in watching them, um, “play.”

In a Sunday night Truth Social post, the 80-year-old demented man in the White House claimed that his approval rating was ::: hold for laughter ::: “59 percent” and that “prices [were] coming down along with the lowering of oil and gas.”

Seriously? Could anyone in DC get the straitjacket and haul this doddering old rapist off to the Nut Barn?

Atila Escolano Sanchez is a Spanish male model and musician based in Madrid, and is also an avid trail runner so, if you could catch him Would You Hit It?

Bobservations

We all know I have many … MANY … Husbands-In-My-Head but this is a tale about Carlos’ boyfriend.

When he and his family moved in behind us we struck up a n over the fence friendship and when Carlos asked me to describe the husband I said he was bearded and beefy and dirty, because he works with his hands. That intrigued Carlos so I began calling the new neighbor Carlos’ boyfriend and saying things like:

“Your boyfriend is outside.”

“Your boyfriend is working in his shed.”

Your boyfriend is mowing his yard.”

This week the neighbor was using a small tractor to grade his property for better water drainage and I said to Carlos:

“Your boyfriend is outside on a tractor. Maybe if you’re nice he’ll let you take a ride.”

“I don’t want to ride on a tractor.”

I smiled:

“I didn’t say anything about a tractor.”

I’m fun.

This Tuxedo Says is from July 2012 …

Can you imagine Tiffany testifying? 

I mean, she’d probably admit that Daddy kidnapped the Lindbergh baby if it saved her ass.

Actor and director Rob Reiner and his wife Michele, a film producer, were killed this past weekend by their own son, Nick, who had a history of substance abuse issues.

But this isn’t about that.

Rob Reiner starred in one of the most iconic TV shows of all time, All in the Family, and went on to produce and direct such films as This Is Spinal Tap, Stand by Me, The Princess Bride, When Harry Met Sally…, Misery, A Few Good Men, The American President, LBJ, and The Story of Us among others.

But this isn’t about that either.

At a time when many people in this country stood against LGBTQ+ rights and marriage equality Reiner cofounded the American Foundation for Equal Rights, which funded the legal fight against Prop 8, the California ballot measure that revoked marriage equality in that state.

When two same-sex couples—Kris Perry and Sandy Stier, and Paul Katami and Jeff Zarrillo—sued over Prop. 8 after they were denied marriage licenses, the American Foundation for Equal Rights hired lawyers Ted Olson and David Boies to argue the case against Prop. 8.

U.S. District Judge Vaughn Walker ruled in 2010 that Prop. 8 violated the U.S. Constitution while California state officials in two consecutive administrations declined to defend Prop. 8; in 2012, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit upheld Walker’s ruling and the following year, the U.S. Supreme Court let that decision stand.

Reiner likened the Prop. 8 case to the landmark civil rights case Brown v. Board of Education, which determined that separate is not equal:

“We don’t believe in separate but equal in any other legal position except this. We feel that this is the last piece of the civil rights puzzle being put into place.”

And he continued to be an ally; at the Human Rights Campaign’s Los Angeles dinner in 2019, he spoke out for LGBTQ+ equality, saying:

“We have to move past singling out transgender, LGBTQ, Black, white, Jewish, Muslim, Latino. We have to get way past that and start accepting the idea that we’re all human beings. We’re all human beings, we all share the same planet, and we should all have the same rights, period. It’s no more complicated than that.”

At a time when the courts, the state legislatures, and our own Congress were standing against equality Rob and Michele Reiner stood up for simple equality, for all of us.

That’s what this is about.

Thank you, Rob and Michele, for taking up the fight, for standing by us, and with us, and with anyone who’s ever been considered less than in America.

RIP

I just saw the photos Vanity Fair took of Cankles staff, unretouched photos, and the right is calling it an act of sabotage. I say, Good for Vanity Fair, showing that his team is rotting right before our eyes.

Claudio Breitscheidel was born in Southern Germany to Polish immigrant parents who wanted to model after seeing an ad on television and two weeks later he was walking in Fashion Week. He moves fast, so … Would you Hit It?

Bobservations

The other night as we ate dinner, the kids of the family who live behind us were playing in their yard, and as kids do there was a lot of shrieking and screaming and laughing and yelling which spurred Carlos:

“I’m going to call over there and ask them to quiet down those kids.”

“No you are not. When I was that age [and these kids were 12 and 10 or so] we used to play with our friends and scream and shriek and yell.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“That’s because when you were an only child and at that age you were probably wearing a tutu and giving a piano recital.”

His sly smile told me I was probably correct.

This Tuxedo Says is from October 2020:

Tuxedo has discovered Twitter and really enjoys finding people’s Tweets and sharing them. This is one of his Favorites …

The owner of an Idaho bar and restaurant plans to host a two-day “Hetero Awesome Fest” outside of the state Capitol in Boise in June to coincide with LGBTQ Pride Month because there is no more oppressed group in the entire world who need a celebration to stoke their egos than straight people.

I may start a GoFundMe for them, but I’ll call it a GoFuckYourself.

After that last snippet, I’m’a need me some Summertime Beach Cakes to cleanse my palate.

Let’s try this again … because of the tariffs there are fewer ships arriving from China which means less work for dock workers … for truck drivers … for retailers and fewer dollars circulating.

It’s a cascading effect and will affect all of us.

RuPaul’s Drag Race icon Jinkx Monsoon, left, is eligible to be nominated for a Tony Award in the category, “Best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role in a Musical” for her performance in the musical ‘Pirates.’

Yes ma’am.

On the flip side, we lost the wonderful Jiggly Caliente, right, AKA Bianca Castro-Arabejo this past week.

May I call you Jiggly.

RIP

This is model Brennan Aldred and I don’t know how old he is or where he’s from or much of anything else so we’re flying blind here but: Would You Hit It?

Jon Newman Has Passed

For those who followed his blog, I got word this morning that Jon Newman of Moran-Newman Farms passed away this week.  I was newish to his blog, and he to mine, but he was fun to read and hear tales of life in Texas and with his beloved Robert:

"It is with deep sorrow that we announce the death of Jon-Tomas Newman (Abilene, Texas), who passed away on May 24, 2024, at the age of 76, leaving to mourn family and friends. Leave a sympathy message to the family in the guestbook on this memorial page of Jon-Tomas Newman to show support.

In the echoes of fond remembrance, may a sense of peace be found, knowing that the memories held dear will continue to shape and inspire his loved ones, keeping Jon-Tomas' spirit alive in the hearts and actions of family and friends alike. While his presence may be gone, his impact lives on in the kindness shown to others and the joy found in the ordinary moments of life.

He was predeceased by : his parents, W. N. Casey and Pauline McCullogh Casey; his spouse Robert Moran; and his sister Latrice Casey. He is survived by : his pet Timmy. He is also survived by six first cousins."

RIP Jon 

source

Ozzo

We weren’t looking for another dog; we’d just lost one that Carlos had for years before I came into the picture, and we weren’t ready yet. But we had a friend who found a dog, brought him into her house, named him … something … I don't know. She loved him; her kids loved him; her big dog didn't.

So she asked us to dog sit for a week, and then all of the sudden, we had him; he was ours and we named him Ozzo, so of a take on the Spanish word for Bear because he looked like a Black Lab puppy, and we were excited to have a larger dog after having a Poodle before, and so we took him. Another rescued animal in the house. I sometimes wonder if we rescue animals or if they rescue us. I think it's a bit of both.

And we waited for him to grow. And he did. He got a wee bit longer, a touch taller, and a bit wider; but not a big dog. Apparently our newest family member was maybe Black Lab mixed with … wait for it … Dachshund. So, he wasn’t going to be a big dog, in fact he turned out to be even smaller than Dengosso, the dog we’d just lost. He was, to paraphrase Jack MacFarland from Will & Grace, a "pocket dog. Slip him in a briefcase, a manpurse, a shirt pocket, and you're good to go."

Pocket dog.

But oh what a dog; as sweet as could be and he could run like the wind and leap into the air for a stick or a Frisbee … both of which were bigger than Ozzo. We used to take him into the backyard when we moved to Camden and throw a stick and he’d tear across the lawn after it, scoop it up and come running back; a little dog, scarcely a foot long carrying a four-foot branch in his mouth and coming back so you’d throw it again .

A tiny little lab-wannabe who chased the cats, until the cats chased back,  and loved you like nobody's business. remember Tuxedo and Ozzo those first few days; Tuxedo hadn’t been with us too long then, but he sat atop Ozzo’s crate and would wait until the dog woke up and stepped out, and then Tuxedo would tap his head, as if to remind him that Tuxedo was in charge. He liked Tuxedo, but he loved Tallulah, and those two would curl up and sleep together in the sun.

The only time Tuxedo couldn’t wrangle Ozzo was when  the doorbell rang … on Frasier. TV doorbells make that tiny little motherf***er go nuts, barking and barking at the TV doorbell.

TV. Doorbells.

In Miami, his best friend was a neighbor’s Satin Bernard, and when they’d walk the dog we’d take Ozzo out front and he’d run at that dog, and jump on that dog; the Saint Bernard would lay in the ground and Ozzo would crawl onto him and sit there like a king, yet looking the size of something a Saint Bernard would leave on your lawn.

In Camden, where we rented a house before buying, a neighbor would walk by with their Great Dane, Lilly, and Ozzo would beg to go outside and ‘play’ with the giant; and they would wrestle on the front lawn, this ginormous gangly dog and out little Pocket Ozzo.

Pocket Dog.

A wild man who loved walks through the neighborhood and sneaking cat food when his Daddies weren’t watching; a loving little man who would follow you into the office and sleep by your feet while you worked at the computer; a crazy man who had never seen snow until we came to Camden, but loved running and digging into that cold icy stuff on the ground until his tiny feet grew cold and he demanded to be carried into the house.

A happy old man who loved going for rides in the car even if it was just to the recycling center to take trash and such; he loved standing on the seat with his head out the window, ears flapping as we drove; and he went nuts when I took him with me to pick Carlos us from work, or from band practice. As soon as he spotted Carlos he would go nuts running front seat to back and back again crying for Carlos to get into the car.

Me? He loved me screaming at him playfully, and he would run up and down the hall and into the living room circling the couch and take off again, trying to prove he was the Big Man of the house in the Pocket Dog body.

The past year or so his health declined; his eyes were going bad and his hearing wasn’t so good. He developed arthritis in his hips and we started taking him to the back yard through the garage because the stairs off the deck were difficult; there was less running and jumping and more sleeping and resting. Carlos and I talked about his life, and the quantity versus quality and spoke to the vet about that; it would be our decision and this week it was made for us. The last few days his arthritis was so bad he could barely stand, and if he sat he had trouble getting back up. Neither of us wanted to see him like that and so, again, for the third time in 18 months, we made that call.

Ozzo was with us for over twenty years of laughter and sticks and balls and running and jumping and snow falling. One of my favorite pictures of him was taken on a weekend trip to the mountains when he sat on a dust road and cast a long, Big Dog shadow.

That shadow will stay over us for a good long while.

RIP Little O, you’ve earned it.

I'm gonna take a few days off and just remember this Little Man. Back soon.

Bobservations

While doing our groceries over the weekend, Carlos stopped me, and whispered:

“Can you get me something?”

“What is it?”

He looks around.

“Preparation H.”

“You got a fire in the hole?”

“Stop that!”

But I can’t, so I jokingly tell him I don’t know where it is in the store so I’ll ask a cashier; then I mimic her on the loudspeaker:

“We have a gentleman in need of Preparation H! What aisle is the Preparation H?”

And then I say once we find it and head the checkout:

“I need a price check on Preparation H? Price check. Preparation H.”

Carlos mutters:

“I hate you.”

But he doesn’t because had the situation been reversed … uh huh.

We have had many, many cats over the years and almost all were good at following the rules; staying off counters and tables; not sitting on certain pieces of furniture. But this one time:

“Rule Breakers

We have rules at Chez Smallville. Cats can get on the beds, on the desk, on the sunroom furniture and on the living room couch. They cannot get on the counters, the tables, the dining room chairs or any of the four new chairs in the living room. And they listen. They know where they can go, and where they cannot.

So, imagine my surprise to walk into the living room and find Tuxedo and MaxGoldberg nesting in a No-No Chair! And look at Max; he's got that Uh-oh face. Tuxedo, on the other hand, couldn't even be bothered to wake up.

At least not until I yelled Geddownfromthere!

Cat scatter.”

And they never got on those chairs again … at least not while we were home.

The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People [NAACP] has issued a travel advisory for … no, not Ukraine, or Russia, Syria or Iran, China or North Korea … but for the state of Florida. The advisory is a response to Governor DeFacist’s attempts to erase Black history and restrict diversity, equity, and inclusion programs in Florida schools, and read, in part:

“Florida is openly hostile toward African Americans, people of color and LGBTQ+ individuals. Before traveling to Florida, please understand that the state of Florida devalues and marginalizes the contributions of, and the challenges faced by African Americans and other communities of color.”

And now the Human Rights Campaign, the League of United Latin American Citizens, the Florida Immigrant Coalition and Equality Florida have joined the NAACP in advising people to avoid visiting or relocating to the State of Hate.

In America.

Tina Turner. Icon. Diva. Singer. Sex Symbol. Goddess. Survivor. She started out a little rough, and then it got rougher for her, but she came through and persevered and taught us all what it looks like to come out of the darkness and into the light.

RIP ... and thank you for the music and the strength.

A guy goes into a bar where there’s a robot bartender who says:

"What will you have?"

“A martini.”

The robot brings back the best martini ever and asks the man:

"What’s your IQ?"

"148."

The robot then proceeds to talk about physics, space exploration, and medical technology. The guy leaves, but he is curious, so the next night he goes back to the bar and the robot asks:

"What will you have?"

“Whiskey."

"What's your IQ?"

"100."

The robot then starts to talk about NASCAR, Budweiser, and John Deere tractors. And then the guy leaves but finds it so interesting that returns next night and the robot asks again:

"What will you have?"

“Beer.”

“What’s your IQ?"

"Uh, about 55, I think."

The robot leans in real close and says:

"Ain’t it awful the way Joe Biden stole the election?”

Could’a happened and could still be happening.

Marjorie Taylor Greene, Republican Traitor and White Supremacist, was the highest bidder among House Republicans for a cherry “chapstick” used by Speaker of the House Kevin McCarthy. Greene made the winning bid for the lip balm after McCarthy sweetened the deal by promising to attend a donor dinner.

And this occurred while McCarthy was ALLEGEDLY negotiating with President Biden over the debt ceiling. If Republicans refuse to raise the debt limit—which they do without a thought under Republican Presidents, but never Democrat Presidents—the US will default on its debt for the first time in history which could drive interest rates sky high, devastate the US and world economies, destroy confidence in the dollar, and permanently increase the interest rate the US spends on its debt.

Yes, while the country appears to be teetering on default, this is what the GOP does. Large Marge and her ilk ick battle over the lip balm KKKevin McCarthy slathers on his mouth before he places it directly on Thing 45's sphincter.

Democrat Representative Sean Casten put it the best:

“In today’s Democratic caucus meeting, we discussed how devastating a default would be for American families and what we can do to get the GOP to take this seriously. In the House GOP meeting, they auctioned off Kevin McCarthy’s used chapstick.”

That’s the GOP; they don’t give a flying fuck if the country is destroyed.

A nice slab of beefcake is Alvise Rigo, an actor, a model,  and an athlete. But all that matters not because all we need to know is: Would You Hit It?

Tuxedo

On paper this never should have worked. Carlos was managing an animal hospital in Miami and Tuxedo was the “transfusion” cat there, after being dropped off by his last owner for being mean. And mean he was; once, when he got out of his cage, he climbed to the top of a cabinet, pushed back an acoustic ceiling tile, and pulled himself up inside the celling to hide. Carlos had to find him, then grab him, and then get him down; which he did. But as he was setting Tuxedo down on the counter, the cat wrapped all four legs around his calf and he shredded Carlos with his claws.

That was my first time hearing about Tuxedo.

A few months later, Carlos asked if  wanted another cat; we had four other cats, down from the original seven, and we didn’t really need another mouth to feed, so I said:

“Let me meet him.”

At the animal hospital, they brought him out and set him on a counter, and I instantly scooped him up, flipped hm on his back and started scratching his belly. Carlos’ co-workers were stunned that Tuxedo was allowing this to happen and so, yeah, we took him home.

And he was not happy. We kept him in the den downstairs so he could get used to the smell of the other cats and the smell of us, before we let him out. See, Tuxedo had been adopted out many, many times, and always brought back within a day or two because "he's mean and hides all the time." The last time, before we saved him, he was returned to the animal hospital and one of the doctors decided to declaw him so he might be more adoptable.

Never a good idea; mean cat .. hides all the time. What to do? What to do? I know! Cut off his fingers! See, declawing a cat isn't taking off fngernails, it's actually removing their "fingers" down to the first knuckle. So they can't scratch themselves, protect themselves, play. And it doesn't make them nicer, it turns them into biters.

Oy! People are stupid.

So that first night he hissed at us, spit at us, growled like a demon cat, tried to bite us and hid from us. I stupidly let him out of the den and he immediately crawled under the stairs. The risers on the staircase are open so Carlos fashioned a leash into a noose-like rope and was able to get it around Tuxedo’s head and grab him out from under the stairs. Oy, the sounds he made at Carlos, the guttural growl and the hissing. Carlos looked at me:

“Maybe we should take him back.”

But I saw something in that cat.

“No, everyone takes him back and maybe that’s why he’s so mean. We’re not taking him back.”

Every day for over two weeks I went in the room where we were keeping him, and I sat there. And every day he came closer, sometimes close enough to bite me and run off; then close enough for me to pet him. And for him to bite me and run off. I threw a ball on a string and he’d chase it; I fed him and talked with him, and touched him when I could, and soon he sat in my lap. It took a good month or so, but Tuxedo became the sweetest cat, the smartest cat, the most playful cat ever.

He started sleeping with us—something he did every night after that until last night—and he took over the house. Scruffy, one of our tabby cats, had been the Head of Household when Tuxedo arrived, and Tuxedo took to following Scruffy and seeing how things worked; when breakfast came, when dinner was served; who went out in the mornings, and who stayed in. When Scruffy passed Tuxedo was Head of Household … again, until yesterday.

Sidenote: the night before he left us, I was holding Tuxedo, and Consuelo came  into the room; I ran a hand along her back and told her that she would have to take over being in charge and Carlos muttered:

‘We’re fucked.”

Y’all know Tuxedo was diagnosed with kidney disease and went on a special diet. Late last week he wasn’t too interested in his food and would only nibble at it. By the weekend, I decided he was done with that special food and started giving him his old food, and he loved that. But he was still losing weight and his back legs were growing a little more unsteady; he lost some muscle mass back there and was wobbly on his hind legs.

By Monday it was clear he wasn’t planning on being around much longer, but we wanted to wait and see; he was still eating a little, and was still drinking water, which kept him and his internal organs hydrated, and we hoped he would slip away quietly at home. Wednesday morning we knew that wasn’t going to happen, and so we once again made that call, and we took him to the vet that afternoon, where he passed quickly and quietly and peacefully with both of his Dad’s petting hm and kissing him and saying our goodbyes. Then we brought him home and buried him in the backyard alongside MaxGoldberg, his best friend.

Sidenote: I have always called him The Great Tuxedo, and Carlos has always muttered, “He’s not so great.” As we stood there crying in the backyard, Carlos said:

“He really was the greatest cat.”

I turned and said:

“Eighteen plus years and you never once said that!”

“I always told him, but  didn’t tell you, because you’d get a big head.”

Last night we sat and talked about Tuxedo and the things we’ll miss: the way he loved us was tops, then came the way he welcomed people into our home. He never hid from strangers, he always met them and sat with them. Once time, a guy was here working on the dishwasher and Tuxedo sat right by his head as he lay on the floor working, and the man laughed about his ‘apprentice.’

I’ll miss the way he met me at the back door when I came home from work, and then walked with me not the bedroom to ‘talk’ while I changed clothes. I’ll miss the way he would play fight and bite me; the way he galloped down the hall when you called him to dinner. I’ll miss that face; oy, the punim on that cat. I’ll miss the way he made himself comfortable everywhere, from a windowsill to a kitchen floor to a spot against the wall.

We’ll miss the way he loved being outside with us, walking along the deck railing or just lying on the table and soaking up the sun. I’ll miss him sleeping n my lap, sleeping on the bed between, and sometimes on top of, his Dads.

I’ll miss every single thing about The Great Tuxedo, but I’ll remember what we learned from him: that if someone seems a little mean, a little shy, maybe even, oh I don't know, a bit of a biter, sit with them, hold out a hand, and maybe, after a while, they'll come to you and become one of the sweetest greatest friends you'll ever have.

That was Tuxedo. And I will miss him every single thing about him, every single day.

We’ve lost a lost of pets over the years, but this one is really doing me in. I’ll be back sometime next week.

Thank you all for your kind words.