I am pro-Choice.  That means I am the decider when it comes to issues of personal health, personal happiness, and personal wealth…and with that, the distribution of such wealth.  Today, I have made the personal choice to strike the Susan G. Komen Foundation from my list of annual giving.  I choose to put people above politics, to fund local centers directly, and to get my green out of the pink so to speak.  In light of the Foundation’s recent decision to eliminate funding for Planned Parenthood, I will no longer race for the organization, bike for the organization, walk three days for the organization, or snowshoe for the organization.  Yes, I said snowshoe.

Now, the Komen foundation denies that it caved to political pressure from the right wing when it threw Planned Parenthood and thousands of poor women under the anti-abortion bus.  Personally, I believe the somewhat rose-colored organization is showing it’s true colors…yellow.  Komen sites the ongoing federal investigation into tax-payer funding of Planned Parenthood as the impetus behind revoking the funding.  Komen conveniently ignores the pink pachyderm in the room in that this investigation hinges on an ideologically based report by the anti-abortion organization, Americans United for Life.  This investigation smacks of Congressional over-reach by Rep Cliff Stearns (R-FL), and let’s face it, the ACORN doesn’t fall far from the tree.  To the Komen foundation, I say fine, investigate, but what happened to innocent until proven guilty?

This is what really stinks.  All tied up in a nice, pink, bow is the Komen Foundation’s new Vice President of Public Policy, Karen Handel.  Supported by Arizona Governor, Jan Brewer, and Fox News pundit, Sarah Palin, Ms. Handel made it perfectly clear in her primary bid for Georgia governor last year that she planned to eliminate grants for Planned Parenthood.  In a statement on her campaign blog dated July, 2010:  “During my time as Chairman of Fulton County, there were federal and state pass-through grants that were awarded to Planned Parenthood for breast and cervical cancer screening, as well as a ‘Healthy Babies Initiative’…Since grants like these are from the state I’ll eliminate them as your next Governor.”  The Komen VP may have failed in her bid for governor of the Peach State, but not in her pledge to defund Planned Parenthood.

Handel also posted, July, 2010: “I am staunchly and unequivocally pro-life. I believe in the sanctity and inherent dignity of human life, and I will be a pro-life governor who will work tirelessly to promote a culture of life in Georgia…. I believe that each and every unborn child has inherent dignity, that every abortion is a tragedy, and that government has a role, along with the faith community, in encouraging women to choose life in even the most difficult of circumstances…. since I am pro-life, I do not support the mission of Planned Parenthood.”

Come on, Ms. Handel.  Abortion makes up about 3% of what Planned Parenthood provides as services.  In the last five years, aided with funds from the Komen Foundation, Planned Parenthood provided 170,000 breast exams and 6,400 mammogram referrals to low income women, who otherwise, in the United Stated of America, would have been left out of the healthcare system.

In this political climate, it’s pretty easy to play political football with the lives of the poor.  It makes for a good sound bite to say you are a person of faith, but let’s face it, doesn’t it seem that you are a little too heavenly minded at times to do much earthly good?  I am pro-choice, but I am also pro-life.  My working definition, however, is not that life begins at conception and ends at birth.  Life lasts, well, a lifetime.  And for the needy and the least among us, that lifetime could be pretty short with no early cancer detection and no screening.

On the charity’s website, Nancy Brinker, founder and CEO of the Susan G. Komen Foundation asks at the end of her statement expressing her sister’s story, “Could one person really make a difference?”  Yes, Ms. Brinker, I certainly think so…it’s your choice what kind of difference you intend to make.  Perhaps the race for the cure you should be worried about is blind ideology.  It, too, is a cancer that should be cut out.

I am a Christian.  No, not the Tim Tebow kind.  I don’t strike the overly publicized prayer pose when I score a new pair of sale shoes at Nordstrom.  I’m just your everyday, run of the mill Methodist who wears nothing on my sleeve but the occasional well-tailored jacket.  Among other things, I embrace altruism, criticism, patriotism, and thanks to years of partnered cohabitation, Judaism.  Yes, we are a culturally and religiously blended family.  Last year I wrote about our combined efforts in trimming the best Christmas tree ever, but this year I think it only fitting to wish my Jewish friends the happiest of Hanukkah celebrations over the next eight days.

On Christmas Day, we eat Chinese, but tonight we will sit down to lamb shanks with pears and pistachios, butternut squash latkes with sage and pine nut yogurt, and a pea spaetzle with mint, chives, and tomatoes.  And who will cook this culinary extravaganza?  The Christian, the one who historically ate ham at every religious holiday.  Yes, in the beginning, God (and my mother-in-law) begat a steep learning curve.

My favorite holiday Hanukkah meal was prepared a few years ago by me and my good friend, Chele.  I use the terms “holiday” and “prepared” lightly as Chele was raised Catholic, is now an agnostic, and tends to multiply everything by large whole numbers when converting in the kitchen…which explains my near alcohol poisoning this summer.  Anyway, under the strict supervision (and bottomless wine glass) of the household Hanukkah expert, the runaway former Southern Baptist and the fallen Catholic put together a brisket and fried potato pancakes (it’s all about the oil, and that’s where the Southern part came in handy) that would make you wanna slap your mamma (ok, that, too).  Before we sat down, though, and before the sun set, Randi, put aside her wine glass and picked up a match to light the shamash, the attendant candle that lights the other candles in the menorah.  She recited the blessing over the candles while lighting them.  The blessing is in Hebrew, but you don’t have to be Jewish, or religious for that matter, to appreciate the beauty in the message.  Count your multitudinous gifts and be thankful for each and every one.

I look around the holiday table each year and offer my gratitude for the many miracles reflected in the faces in front of me, and in the faces foremost in my memory.  I am constantly amazed at those who love me not only for what I am humanly allotted, but for eight times more than the expected.  I am truly blessed.  In return, I can only offer you my expressions of thankfulness and my vow to watch over you, to be your advocate, your shamash…so that I might give back some of the abundant light you bring into my life.

Happy Hanukkah!

Once upon a time, there was a very beautiful queen; hair, black as the raven; eyes, brown as chestnuts; and skin, smooth as cream.  She was the fairest of the land, but the unfairest of heart in that her inner self-loathing manifest itself in an evil, Freudian way, and was displaced throughout the queendom onto those who wished to live their own truth and happiness.  In a desperate, last ditch effort to ruin the happiness of her closest, female rival, the Not-nice Queen cast a curse on her fairy tale subjects locking them all into a one dimensional, single spot in time, along the New England coastline of the United States.  Controlling the small-town populous with a cunning, iron-will and poison produce, Mayor Queen establishes an electorate oblivious to their storied history and the world around them…which is quite the effective cover as the ruse blends in quite well with most American voters.

Few outside the maine-land know that the sinister spell can be broken only by true love’s kiss.  (Not true love’s FIRST kiss…everyone knows that abstinence stuff doesn’t work.)  As circumstance would have it, a tough-talking stranger, of tank top and handsome features, arrives by cover of night in quest for answers regarding the first child.  The Evil Mayor, having stopped the passing of her town’s present time, needed only to adopt a son to silence the sounds of her own biological clock.  The origins of the male heir in question, the blonde stranger becomes quite the antagonist to the lovely, but troubled town leader.  Threatening to unearth the true identity of the sleepy town and ruin her sinister plan, the evil queen of the town council makes it a personal point to keep a close eye on the comely stranger.

It is a grim fable to believe that absence makes the heart grow fonder.  It is actually the presence of sexual chemistry and constant, unrequited tension that provide the fertile ground for the planting of true love’s kiss.  One close-up, emotional encounter too many, the stranger follows the instinct of a wanting heart and pulls the raven-haired beauty into the softest of passionate kisses.  The now civil servant bristles no more and lets down her beard of personal doubt.  The birds begins to sing, the sun begins to shine, and the dark cloak of the curse is lifted from the people of the town.

The two beautiful women move to Vermont with their son, buy an apple orchard…and live happily ever after.

It could happen.  In fact, something similar is happening right now on ABC’s Once Upon a Time.  I’m not saying that the Disney network won’t stay true to form in its historic editing of fables and fairy tales to assure a happy ending with a white steed and the opposite sex lip-lock of a handsome prince.  What I am saying is wouldn’t it be nice if ABC had the courage of a huntsman to do the unexpected?

From Snow White, to Sleeping Beauty and Little Mermaid, to a myriad of other fairy tales, fables, and folklore, true love’s kiss has become quite trite in its portrayal.  This is the 21st Century with evolving attitudes of what constitutes love and family.  Yes, ABC’s Once Upon a Time is scoring high with all those Nielsen soccer moms, but there does seem to be some groundbreaking and gallant potential.

via Tumblr

I know, know…subtext can be found under a rock if you look hard enough, especially if socially marginalized and searching for some self-reflective form of representation.  But what if…just what if…ABC could find its big old Mouse balls and make the bold move that defines true love’s kiss in terms of the heart instead of gender.   Maybe it could happen, once upon a time..in my lifetime.

“Always let your conscience be your guide.” – The Blue Fairy

**Swan Queen gif created by: kpfun  Thank you.

There doesn’t seem to be many middle of the road opinions about Tuesday’s Glee episode, “I Kissed a Girl”; most either love it, or they hate it.  From what I have read, it seems to me that those with strong opinions, on either side, tend to forget this is Glee, the Fox network’s offering to multi-generational, iTunes downloaders.  Sure, Santana’s coming out was rushed, but what isn’t on this show?  This cast is too big for arcs to play out the way they should over 22 episodes.  As it is, this week, the Irish potato can only smile and nod, and Blossom 2.0 gets to lip-synch in the background.

Ok, let’s take this thing for what it is…something.  Which is more than can be said for all those other lesbian-themed story arcs out there.  Wait, there are no other lesbian story arcs out there. (I know, Grey’s Anatomy fans, I hear you, but you know what I mean).  SPOILER ALERT:  Boardwalk Empire just sacrificed their offering, and no matter how many times you board the bandwagon in the Rizzoli & Isles pander parade, that duet just doesn’t have play.  I surmise that it is no accident that Santana’s coming out is set on election day Tuesday, and just as with any hopeful foray to the ballot box, I go into it with the knowledge I will NEVER get everything I want.  Right, President Obama?

I wrote last week regarding my opinions on Finn and Santana and the whole outing thing.  I won’t rehash-tag that here, what I will say is that I spend a great amount of time speaking to high school students and in high schools, and when Santana elevated their war of words to a physical altercation in front of four faculty members, the zero tolerance policy kicked in.  These blatantly black and white policies, blanketly administered nationwide after Columbine, are certainly fodder for another discussion, but they are what they are, they do exist, and certainly apply the moment Santana slapped Finn.  Plus, let’s face it, the whole slap thing and the trip to the office is nothing more than a leverage tool for moving the storyline into the lesbian rock download portion of the episode.  She either sits for the lesson (generously applied at $1.29 a pop song) or she is suspended.  She is not the victim here, she is the perpetrator, and it’s as simple as that.  A bigger crime is that assault on Kurt’s wardrobe.  Who the hell is the stylist for this show?  He goes from some rag-tag sweater a third eaten by moths, to something from vintage Hilter’s youth, to a poncho from a spaghetti western.  Please, it’s distracting.

As far as the coming out criticisms go, I don’t think it is justified to myopically pull out one portion without looking at the hole.  And no, this isn’t a typo, I meant it as “h”ole.  This is a campy television show that arcs some of society’s gay woes, but it has never been a serious, socially political show that plans their arcs like dissertations on gender politics.  Are the plot lines rushed?  Yes.  Are there dropped moments in the plots?  Yes.  Is Mr. Schuester a terrible teacher?  Hell, yes.  But that’s Glee…always has been, always will.  For every lovely, emotional moment with a protective, yet understanding parent like Burt, there are moments of complete, one dimensional bat-shit…like Quinn.  No, Katy Perry’s serenade of alcohol induced curiosity is no lesbian anthem, no more so than Melissa Etheridge or k.d. lang should be painted with a wide brush as stereotypically Sapphic.  That being said, I certainly can’t deny that what Ms. Perry purrs about in I Kissed A Girl doesn’t ever happen.  Being completely honest, I experienced in my single days occasional, eventful, evenings with inquisitive women who over-wine.  And though, thankfully, a fabulous Cabernet doesn’t taste like cherry ChapStick, it’s a part of life, and life is good.

I have to admit that I had the unforgiving Abuelita part of the story backwards in my Mind.  Maybe it was just personal experiences, but upon reading that the character’s coming out would not be as uneventful as Kurt’s, I surmised that Santana’s parents would not be accepting of the their daughter’s truth, throw her out of the house, and she would turn to her grandmother for support.  Though I like the way my Mind works better, it’s not that I don’t have perspective of why the Glee creators forged the path they did.  Yes, the parental acceptance was a little too quick to be true, but Brittany has been taking baths in their house for quite some time, and not the separate-tub, dysfunctional, Cialis commercial kind.  Perhaps they got a clue their daughter is ducking her best friend.

I get it, one actor is cheaper than two, and in the eyes of a realist, the money for two actors would take away some of that iTunes download money, and rumor has it they are waiting for Gloria Estefan to turn the beat around.  Either way, we don’t have to she-bang the “Santana is gay” drum out loud the rest of the season.  Like Kurt, it is now a fact and not a flag, and I’m good with that.

Can I just add that Naya Rivera is wonderfully heart-breaking in the well-written kitchen scene with her grandmother, and I am happy to see the only Lucky Charms are in the pantry.  But, I couldn’t help looking for Jessica Lange to pop out of that borrowed kitchen with a Ryan Murphy horror story of her own.

Once again, it may be personal experience, but I’m having a difficult time interpreting this episode as hero heavy instead of heroine.  Sure, Finn angrily outed Santana as was established last week, but he became her ally, not once, but three times this week.  I took it as Finn attempting to support Santana, not save her.  Ironically, I didn’t have many female “besties” in high school.  My closest friend, a male, kicked my butt more often than I can count as my mouth had a bad habit of writing checks my ass couldn’t cash, but he was also the first one standing beside me when I needed it the most.  Like it or not, Finn and Santana have a connection.  You never forget your first, and Finn didn’t.

I am often reminded the setting for Glee is in Ohio, the Midwest, not the more liberal edges of our fringe coasts.  Though I recognize and admire the sentiment of the “it gets better” type campaigns, it doesn’t always, not really.  It gets tolerable with every ally; it seems increasingly less desperate knowing someone else understands.  I sat on my couch and wiped away tears as Finn sang to Santana that strangely lovely Cyndi Lauper/Eagles-ized rendition of Girls Just Want to Have Fun.  You see, I had a love of my life years ago that was emotionally tortured by her family because she dared love a girl, this girl, me.  She could have used a hero of any combination DNA to say, “Just hold on.”  Too late…my earthly angel became a celestial Angel and never saw the joys of life beyond the parental-imposed pain of 21.

On another musical note, this is Glee, so of course there are at least two or three other story arcs playing simultaneously.  How wonderful is Dot-Marie Jones and her performance of Dolly Parton’s Jolene?  Juxtaposed against the emotional, sexual, angst of teenagers, Beiste reveals that with maturity, and again, with a little encouragement from friends, comes clarity.  The coach exhibits the determined strength and fortitude of a female with fight…maybe that, too, comes with maturity.  I don’t think it is a stretch to say only on Glee could two “sporty-type” females play the angles of a love triangle for the affections of a male Cooter.  Even the Shelby-Puck tryst serves more than a predatory purpose in this episode.  It moves Idina Menzel quickly off the landscape and back to Broadway.  Kissing this school-girl is certainly a gray area, but Puck has long been established as cougar meat.  I don’t really see him as coming to her rescue her as much as she uses him.  He is 18 and available; she is lonely, limited, and a little wicked.  And what example as a teacher should Shelby follow, Mister Schue?

Glee’s “I Kissed a Girl” episode is certainly up to personal interpretation jaded by our own personal experiences.  Though it has its problems of script, character development, and consistency, I just can’t see any conspiracy theories of under-the-thumb male savior complex keeping the women down.  The Fox offering is a mile wide in its reach, but an inch deep in its message.  Let’s face it, Glee just wants to have fun and in the meantime throw a directive or two against the wall.  If anything sticks, let’s pull the piano player out of our back pockets and sing about it..and perhaps nudge a kinder, more informed generation as an accompaniment.

As regular readers of the ‘Schmootz blog can attest, I don’t write about myself very often…at least outside of my political ponderings or entertainment selections that I deem personally worthy (or unworthy) of a viewer’s time.  I tend to observe the world from thirty thousand feet looking down, instead of from ground level looking up and out.  I know, it’s safer that way, and I don’t pretend it as anything else.  I’m not above a few Freudian defense mechanisms of my own.  Lately, though, I have been writing from the deep, personal trenches, and whether the results will ever see the light of day, it remains to be seen.  What I do know is that this reflective experience, coupled with a few curves life has thrown at my family as of late, has compelled me to reflect upon my good fortunes and to appreciate more the plentitude of which I am graced.

In a couple of days, I’ll sit down to the American holiday of Thanksgiving, where pepper spray seems to be this year’s condiment of choice.  As I occupy my thoughts, I surmise that I am certainly not one of the richest of Americans when comparing bank accounts, though let me say here, I am extremely relieved and much obliged that I have a good job that provides an ample surplus for my actual needs.  Where I do find an obscene abundance of wealth, however, is in the indices where monetary estimations are difficult to apply.  It is here that I find myself in the fortunate 1% of love, family, and friends.  As a result, I feel that I should be liberally taxed to expound upon my thankfulness in proportion to my earnings.

My partner and I, though legally unwed and filing separately, have been together for quite a few years.  I believe in a Kardashian matrimonial timeline, we have been in power-of-attorney bliss something synonymous to the Pleistocene era.  I often refer to her as my better three-quarters because I believe a realistic relationship it is never 50-50.  Just like the Dow Jones, there are emotional ups and downs, mostly due to speculation, but there has never been an extended period that I didn’t receive a special dividend like hearing the garage door go up after a long day and knowing she will walk through the door at any minute; like waking in the middle of the night to a head on my shoulder and an arm across my chest; like her mother’s difficult chicken soup recipe when I have a cold (the only time she ever cooks); like that extra vote of confidence to push me over the top and that honest shot of humility to pull me back from the edge.  For that, I am eternally thankful.

Over the years, I have made quite the capital gain in friends, and I can honestly say that  we anxiously rely on common shares of each other’s company.  From technical advice, to new grilling techniques, to obscure pop culture trivia, our investments in these mutual corporations of real personhoods have certainly paid off.  What might have started from some obscure individual fund, now matures as virtual writing advice over mutual morning coffee or hours long Skype exchanges half the world away.  There is a saying that you can pick your friends, but you can’t pick your family.  As far as I’m concerned, no statement has ever been more true, but speculation has served me quite well over the years, and I have a few friends who are more of a family asset and thankfully come with a lifetime guarantee…one in particular, an inheritance over several lifetimes.

So, yes, I am a one-percenter.  I am blessed with a wealth of intangible assets that have been created by a loving work effort yet defy physical measurement.  I say tax me more so that that there is such a thing as an equal share of a grateful, giving heart.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone…it is my sincere hope that you add goodwill and kindness to your balance sheet.

Once again a friend has introduced me to something socially viral, but at least this time the consequences won’t require antibiotics.  Yes, the ‘Schmootz is now on Tumblr!  Not that I didn’t go kicking and screaming…ok, it was more like whining, but you get the picture.  But just like the genre of science fiction, once you try it out, your resistance is fracked.

The Mindschmootz Blog isn’t going anywhere as I still have too much to say about life, entertainment, and the body politic.  The Tumblr site is an addendum to include video content, both original and collected, and a few things that just make me happy or pique my curiosity.

So, try the ‘Schmootz Tumblr…drink it in.  It’s not Kool-aid I’m pouring, it’s just my quick thoughts on a topic, and I welcome your input and your discussion.

While Glee and its girl-girl Brittana storyline was garnering most of the attention this week, rumor has it there is more action brewing over on cable.  Just as I paused the Tivo to make a snarky statement about HBO’s Boardwalk Empire abandoning it’s Season One lesbian storyline of Angela and Mary,

look what washed up on the beach.

Yes, I have to take back everything I said about Boardwalk Empire turning Angela (Aleska Palladino) into a baby-gangster’s Stepford wife after Mary left her in dry-dock and sailed off to Paris without her.  I actually thought this Prohibition pairing had potential until Angela’s husband, Jimmy, came back from the war and beat the hell out of Mary’s beard.  It was pretty much downhill for Angela at that point as she was relegated to the background darning socks, pouring coffee, and raising her son.

Until…click on the picture below to see video:

Boardwalk Empire is one of my favorite shows, and in my opinion, one of the best dramas on television.  It is intelligent, gritty, provocative, and good…and what do you know?  Gay.

Wait a minute, I’m not finished.  Cue Tivo sound effect, and I’m on to Sons of Anarchy.  There will be a longer, more extensive blog on this phenomenal offering from FX, but for now, I have to share a moment I found interesting in this week’s episode.  Gemma, the rock-hard matriarch of SAMCRO (Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club), brilliantly portrayed by Katey Sagal, is approached after years by Wendy (Drea de Matteo) the once meth-head girlfriend of Gemma’s baby boy and mother of Gemma’s first grandchild.  These two certainly have a history, as Gemma has tried to kill Wendy on no too few occasions.  Watch as they catch up (Double Click the Pic):

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Yeah, I’ll explain later what happened to Gemma’s face, but my point for now is that a character in a popular and highly acclaimed drama just announced she likes women as nonchalantly as recounting what she did on summer break.  Progress?  I’d like to think so.

It is no great secret that I feel American television networks willingly stroke a sista’s curiosity, but ultimately satisfy the carnal needs of the sponsor when it comes to lesbian relationships, so my first reaction was Santana’s heart would broken when her bath-buddy, “Brittany”, goes back to her chair-bound boyfriend, Artie.  After all, “Brittana” was not showcased in last week’s after-school special about sex, right?  Then I thought, this IS Ryan Murphy and this IS Fox…most American networks may be pandering hacks, but Rupert Murdock will hack into anything for a buck, so I held out hope Brittany and Santana would soon be knocking pom-poms in public, and the angst I saw in the video would be from the populace.

Which one happened?  Well, it seems Glee is actually going there as Santana was outed by Finn in the student-filled hallways of higher learning to the ears of half the student body and the niece of a fellow Congressional competitor of Sue Sylvester’s.  The candidate uses the information to produce a negative, retaliatory campaign video to carpet bomb the tracksuited trash-talker…leaving Sue’s less than conservative family-valued head cheerleader the collateral damage.  Now this being Glee, with about a hundred cast members and twenty-five storylines going at once, the viewer is not allowed to see the fallout, but the artistry of the mash-up performance allows us to fill in the blanks quite well.  Just look at their faces:  We all know.

Santana is PISSED, and she takes her hurt and her rage out on Finn.  Some will say Finn deserves the wrath of his re-pay pawn, but I’m not so sure.  Finn reacted as he has reacted historically, immaturely…like that of most sophomoric teens who lack the cognitive tools to constructively deal with overwhelming emotions.  Just as an uncomfortable Finn reacted badly with a verbal slur toward Kurt when being pressured by his once-crushing classmate to decorate their newly shared bro-room like a Turkish bathhouse in Season 1, I believe he reacted in character as he lashed out at a venomous Santana verbally trashing him and those who he loves.  An vengeful eye for an eye, yes, but fortunately hindsight does provide a little clarity.

Where will the story go from here?  It’s Glee, so it’s anyone’s guess.  At least now we know the root of some of Santana’s anger.  It doesn’t take a psychiatrist to diagnose Santana’s Freudian emergence into this season’s Karofsky, who is now a confident, yet hibernating bear cub.  I certainly remember the frustration, the ill temper, and the living-on-the-edge rebellion that came from a frightened inability to live my teenage truth.  Not everyone has the same coming out experience that the character Kurt had, with an internal flair of confidence and an embracing, loving parent.  In that regard, I’m pleased that Ryan Murphy is beginning (I think, but who knows) this brave new journey of personal ownership over paranoid displacement.  Bring on abuela!

Huge accolades go out to Naya Rivera and her performance both in script and in song.  From the moment I viewed the YouTube video of the Rumour Has It mash-up until Santana slaps the hell out of Finn, I was gleefully along for the ride.

I don’t hesitate to add that the writing of Michael Hitchcock and the keen direction of Eric Stoltz go hand in hand with the performance.

I have to add that I have looked up the song and artist choices for the “I Kissed a Girl” episode in a couple of weeks.  k.d. Lang, “Constant Craving”?  Melissa Etheridge, “I’m the Only One”?  I guess we have already established, “Yes I Am”.  LMAO.  Ok, I get it, but I better not see Santana and Brittany shopping the Home Depot sidewalk sale dressed in flannel and comfortable shoes…at least, not until the finale.

There is nothing quite like a woman dressed in a LBD and a nice pair of pumps.

To be continued…

Well, it’s no rumor any longer.  Shamim, and her wife, Hanan Kattan, are utilizing today, the lucky-numbered November palindrome of 11.11.11, to announce that I Can’t Think Straight is a web series in fund raising pre-production.  The creative team is willing to bet that audiences will double down on what most would consider a sure thing.  After experiencing Think Straight and its South African step-sister, The Wold Unseen, I’m willing to go all in as well.

A new ICTS web series website, complete with web series news, community pages, FAQs, and sponsorship packages, has been created for fan interaction and input.  When surveyed, an overwhelming 97% of Think Straight fans said they wanted more of Tala and Layla.  Big surprise, that’s like asking do you want more chocolate, more world peace, or for me, more shoes.  After viewing the original film a hundred or so times, it would be nice to compare the couple’s future created in my mind to the journey to be created in Shamim’s mind.

As any loyal Think Straight fan, I have to wonder, will there be changes in the web series from the original film?  My guess is, of course there will.  Time and careers don’t stand still.  Sheetal has confirmed that she will be joining the web series to reprise the role of Layla and as an Executive Producer with Kattan and Sarif.  Lisa Ray as Tala?  Well on that one, I’m not too sure.  One of the questions on the fan survey asked for suggestions if recasting the role.  Now before you start kvetching about original character continuity and Lisa Ray, I feel your pain.  If ever I had a partner-approved girl crush, it would have to be Lisa Ray (ok, there are others, but that’s a different blog).  That being said, I trust Shamim and her team completely, if required, to cast someone whose beauty and chemistry match perfectly with that of the doe-eyed Sheetal Sheth.  Oh, those big, brown eyes… (Update: it’s my fantasy; they are brown.)

Sorry, back to my professionalism.

I have said it before, and I look forward to the day that I won’t say it again, but as of now, we still need more quality lesbian content.  In an age where television networks are more comfortable pandering the potential of two women in love or historically sweeps-ing in and sweeps-ing out a CSI-induced, steak knife wielding psycho in love with a straight girl, the web is where the quantity and more specifically, the quality, will be born.  Unfortunately, fundraising is the Achilles heel of any foot in the door a web series might receive.  So, until corporate sponsors recognize the potential of the internet based, short-form film, then the cravings for content and quality will have to be sated by the viewer.  So, I’ll bite…because I’m hungry for more, and I encourage others to step up to the plate as well.

I have confidence, and just a little feeling, that the Enlightenment team will not disappoint.  After all I think Shamim will agree, I Can’t Think Straight is like life insurance, “it sells itself”.