The Folsom Street Fair is the daddy of all fairs, and I gave this year's a pass. I don't have a lemon-sucking smirk as I write this; I love Folsom! Kristians who approach life from the perspective of defending themselves from a so-called 'gay agenda,' are correct in their collective outrage. Folsom is the greatest of marketing tools for anything gay, even though, as anybody who's attended understands, Folsom in itself is not really gay. It's inclusive of a wide...wide...range of fetishes, as adherents come out from the woodwork (as they say) and let their hair down...wow, I'm just spewing all these cliche's, but Folsom always flirts with becoming a big cliche to the most discriminating of us. One of my favorite cartoons is one published by Playboy Magazine decades ago but could describe Folsom today: a leatherclad woman with whip in hand, gazes into the mirror, saying 'Mirror, Mirror on the Wall, who's the kinkiest little housewife in Hutchinson, Kansas?' That's what Folsom is becoming, and I'm all for it.
But for all the fetishes celebrated, at least one remains unacknowledged: poz cum. Well, there are other opportunities to celebrate the donation and reception of that nasty, poisonous man juice, and fortunately, the big bad world gets less and less like Hutchinson, Kansas, by the day. So let me celebrate Folsom for what it is: the freedom to be what you are and maybe for what you want to become,...in your way and in your own time. Kristians, be outraged. Hutchinson, Kansas is not all what it seems to you.
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