The Case Against Decriminalising the Intentional Spread of HIV


In the progressive paradise California it is no longer a crime to intentionally infect someone with HIV. Because apparently not being allowed to do that before was a human rights violation or something?

Democratic Governor Jerry Brown signed into law Senate Bill (SB) 239, which was authored by two fellow democrats,  Sen. Scott Wiener and Asm. Todd Gloria. The law lowers the crime of knowingly exposing a sexual partner to HIV from a felony to a misdemeanour. They and their partners in developing this bill say they want to ‘end the criminalisation of people living with HIV in California’. Though the ‘Trump will put us all in death camps’ crowd likes to believe that every action they perform, from protesting to taking a dump, is in America a criminal act and deserving of victim points, the fact is that being HIV-positive is not a criminal offence and it is the act of telling people it is that stops them seeking treatment. The offence is intentionally giving someone else that disease without their consent. They say that due to recent medication developments HIV is not the death sentence it once was. Is it ok to spread a disease just because the symptoms stop short of death? May I bury toxic waste under a school because the child survival rate for leukemia is 85 percent? These lawmakers have obviously never sat in a waiting room of a sexual health clinic scared to death after receiving a phone call to “come in immediately” or held a friend all night crying because he had been infected by a cute boy he thought he could trust. Nor have they tried in vain to get through health department bureaucracy to report people intentionally spreading HIV, which is a depressingly common occurrence and who’s identities are an open secret in Australian urban gay communities.

It’s also no longer a crime to donate blood to a blood bank despite knowing you are HIV-positive. I am against the ban on gay men being allowed to donate blood, our blood is not automatically poison, but allowing HIV-positive individuals to donate blood because to do otherwise would be exclusionary or some shit is just too far. There’s a chilling scene in Randy Shilts’s And The Band Played On where the blood mobile rocks up to the 1980 San Francisco pride parade because the gays are such good donors. The path that blood takes through the rest of the book is a chilling indictment of how medical companies cannot be trusted to regulate their own products when profit is involved – and profit is huge. Blood in America is a $4.5-billion-a-year business, but competition is strong and margins are getting squeezed. This law will take us back to the 1980s when the executives of medical companies sat around the board table looking at pie charts figuring out how many of their clients it was ok to infect with HIV.

And while we are on the subject of medical companies, I find disturbing this part of the statement from the ACLU praising the bill:


And HIV-negative individuals can take medication, known as PrEP (pre-exposure prophylaxis), to reduce the risk of acquiring HIV by up to 99 percent. SB 239 ensures that these advances inform our laws and the manner in which we address our public health response to HIV.

This combined with the decriminalisation bill says to gay men: Take PrEP or you are on your own to avoid HIV. It confirms to me what I wrote in a previous blog post Truvada Troopers: Who is Behind the Push for PrEP? that leftist organisations are attempting to control the gay population by making PrEP almost mandatory then controlling supply. The fact that my PrEP blog post became my most popular tells me that I am not alone in being sceptical of PrEP.

Also according to the ACLU, this law is consistent with California’s “Getting to Zero” plan to reduce HIV transmission. I don’t know how allowing people to spread disease prevents disease, but then I’m not a doctor or a liberal arts major. No one wants to go the Typhoid Mary route and isolate people with HIV like some kind of HIV…Mary. But we cannot allow to go unpunished behaviour like that of the British hairdresser who ripped condoms to deliberately infect four partners with HIV then sent them text messages such as “Maybe you have the fever cos I came inside you and I have HIV, lol. Whoops!”

Are these the kind of psychopaths the left really wants to defend? Is the next stage of ‘resistance’ rallying for the people that tape used syringes to petrol pumps and bury them in playgrounds?

Betting on ‘No’ to win the marriage equality survey


I may not be your ‘typical’ Australian, but there’s two Australian activities that I know well: Gambling and opposing those who proclaim moral superiority over others. That’s why I’m betting on the No case for same-sex marriage to win the postal vote. Literally betting. Today on Sportsbet I placed $20 on a win for the No vote at odds of 3.00 for a $60 payout.


I may not understand how office footy tipping works, and I choose my Melbourne Cup horse based on the funniest name, but I know politics. I got a sweet little earner on Brexit, and made 2 week’s worth of rent by betting on Trump. Now I’m hoping that the Yes case wins, but have no moral qualms claiming my win and spending it frivolously if it doesn’t.

A month ago I would have bet the other way, but the crazy left, cocooned in its inner-city graphic design studios and campus safe spaces, and  has completely misread the Australian national character and seems intent on alienating as many people as possible. We hate being told what to do and we hate people who think they are better than everyone else. But, as the left is wont to do, every time the Yes campaign gets called out for inappropriate behaviour it doubles down on its self-indulgent moral posturing:

Celebrities and business leaders, poppies that Australians are all-to-ready to cut down anyway, have jumped on the Yes campaign, missing the signals from the US (eg. the declining ESPN and Emmys viewerships) that people are sick of the elites telling them how to think. Australians have been hurting for years with stagnant pay and sky-rocketing living costs. The last thing they want is a lecture in ‘fairness’ from vocal Yes-campaigner Alan Joyce, Qantas CEO, a man whose pay in a year has risen from $12.9 million to $25 million while he slashes his own staff, freezes pay for the rest, and increases ticket prices while reducing service on the national airline.

Churches are being vandalised and religious gatherings are being blocked and disrupted. At a Coalition for Marriage event protesters chanted ‘Crucify Christians’ and unfurled a banner saying ‘Burn churches not queers.’ Not only are they threatening violence, they are equating voting ‘No’, a democratic right, with burning people. I have been disgusted to hear my peers say that voting ‘No’ should be classed as a hate crime.

We have hateful shrews like Genevieve Callaghan getting paid by the tax-payer funded national broadcaster to demand that straight couples put off their weddings until gay couples can marry too (Don’t invite me to your straight wedding until we all have the right to marry). The left says that ‘Love wins’, but apparently love can only happen on their dictated terms.
Protip: Keep being a joyless harpy that uses your friends celebrations to make political points and you won’t be invited to any more weddings ever. Problem solved.

The last straw has been the equality campaign’s door-knocking drive and their mass unsolicited text message yesterday. Australians truly do regard their house as their castle, and we take seriously people violating its boundaries. The number of telemarketers my dad has made cry is testament to that. Inserting yourself into another Australian’s house, either physically or electronically, and especially to push your agenda, is a sure fire way to turn an apathetic ‘Yes’ into an angry ‘No’.

I do not blame those who are questioning the intentions of these door-knockers. Are they really just there to have a friendly chat and remind people to post their votes? Or are they gathering information about the ‘No’ voters in their community for future retribution? People who have expressed support for the ‘No’ case have been harassed, threatened, fired and publically shamed. Make an Australian feel threatened in their own home and you have lost your cause.

The results of the survey will be known on the 15th of November. I’ve already chosen the $60 gingham shirt I’m going to buy on the 16th.

Matrimony Sanctimony: My own Hypocrisy


What is the marriage equality debate in Australia about? Two people of the same sex getting married? Wrong! In the months since postal vote was announced, and the debate began in ernest, it has become about political correctness, the safe schools program, freedom of speech, boys in dresses and political leadership brinkmanship. Throw in some defaced Captain Cook statues for some intersectional nonsense, because why not at this point? No one comes out of this looking good. Marriage equality has exposed deep divisions in Australia and thrust the LGBT community into the centre of Australian political and social debate where they have been exposed as the vindictive, intolerant group it has become since being taken over by the socialist activists.

The debate is getting ugly, with most of the ugliness, as I expected, coming from the Yes side. At this point the only remaining No voters are those who will forever cling to their traditional ideals. There is no use, or joy, in debating these people, so the masochistic Left has decided to destroy them, while picking up as many victim points as they can along the way. Fake gay hate posters? 20 points to Gryffindor! Their latest target is a doctor who is campaigning for the No side. They have started a petition to deregister her as a medical professional because of her political point of view (amongst the usual death and rape threats). You know you’ve gone to far when even that liberal scream sheet the Sydney Morning Herald thinks you’ve gone too far.

But marriage equality has also exposed my own hypocrisies.

While Australia as a whole may be progressing on social issues, until the marriage equality issue there was reluctance among politicians and the media to discuss ‘gay’ issues (Dear Home and Away, I’m still waiting for that story line about the lithe tanned surfer boy exploring his sexuality in the sand dunes, just FYI). I can’t even remember the last time an LGBT issue was this prominent in Australian discourse or went on for so long. Perhaps the 1997 decriminalisation of homosexuality in Tasmania, which, good lord, was 20 years ago now. But don’t take that as a complete complaint. There’s a degree of comfort in being ignored by society at large and being able to slip in and out of politics as you wish. Being one of those annoying “I’m not like the other gays” gays, I was happy having gay issues stay out of the spotlight because it meant I didn’t have to think too hard about my own hypocrisies and uneasy relationship with my sexuality. Even if it meant I was not taking part in debates that were determining my own future as a gay man. That’s what the activists are there for, right?

Now staying out of politics is impossible. Now the uncomfortable questions I have avoided for so long are demanding answers, especially in relation to my conservative identity. The divisions I created between my gay lifestyle and conservative ideals and the excuses I use to justify the excessive behaviour of each have become increasingly untenable as the community splits over same-sex marriage.

It’s easy to criticise activists as rabble-rousers when you’ve always been too busy or lazy to take part in a protest. And it’s easy to identify with a conservative political party, and shamelessly ignore its darker side, when they are talking about power prices or GST distribution. Less so when they are talking about the intimate details of your lifestyle and comparing it to marrying a bridge. Even with the moderates in charge of the Liberal party, and a Prime Minister in support of it, marriage equality could not go to a parliamentary vote. And who knows how much longer he will be around for (Three more months. That’s how long). If the extreme right of the party takes back the prime ministership their backlash to the excesses of the Yes campaign will be swift and ruthless. And I honestly don’t know how I feel about that.



Going Postal Votes


Today the deflating souffle that is Australia’s leadership voted down the plan for a compulsory national plebiscite on same-sex marriage and instead the measure will go to a non-compulsory postal ballot costing $122 million dollars. Will this process ever bloody end? Attorney-General George Brandis says same-sex marriage will be law by Christmas. I think there’s a greater chance that by Christmas he’ll be nibbling mince pies in the London Embassy.

There are worse ways to decide this, I suppose. As a precedent for the Australian government asking the public for opinion on policy, Mathias Cormann cites the 1974 phone poll of 60,000 randomly selected Australians to ask for their view on changing the national anthem. Try that these days and not only will the participants skew heavily towards the older generation who still have landlines, but you’ll end up with a result of 50 percent for ‘yes’ and 50 percent for ‘fuck off calling me a dinner time, call again I’ll shove the phone up your bloody arse’

So with a postal vote all but certain (today at least), here is a list of pros and cons of this political shirking of duty by democracy:

Con: Waste of my money and time

Fact: That money would have been wasted anyway. And you spent all day yesterday on the couch watching The Bachelor. Shut up.

Pro: Will be run by the Australian Bureau of Statistics, not the Australian Electoral Commission, which means the government does not need senate approval to fund the vote. Hopefully that means that the activists determined to stop the vote will not be able to.

Con: The Australian Bureau of Statistics crashed out on the census and they had five years to plan. This would have to happen in months. Also, the legal challenges have already begun.

Pros: Postal ballots can’t be hacked by the Russians.

Cons: If the ABS stuffs this up they’ll probably blame hackers anyway.

Pro: Avoids ugly scenes at polling stations and removes people who would vote no out of resentment for having to show up.

Con: No plebiscite day sausages.

Pro: Only people who feel strongly about the issue will vote.

Con: This could result in a near 50/50 split similar to Brexit.

Pro: Brexit was the reclamation of sovereignty from a corrupt elitist system whose only goal is to enrich itself through the total control of all aspects of society.

Con: Entitled millennials dressed in the European Union flag.

Pro: There might be enough self-righteous millennials to push the ‘yes’ case over the line for same-sex marriage.

Con: Ugh, millennials.

Pro: Once same-sex marriage gets passed they might shut up.

Con: You know they won’t. One shudders to think what deluded activism they might take up in the absence of the marriage equality fight.

Pro: I wouldn’t have to go to anymore Marriage Equality fundraisers and listen to that terrible choir.

Con: The postal vote only means that parliament gets a free vote and the law might still not get passed.

Pro: There is most likely enough votes to pass marriage equality in parliament and by the end of the year same-sex couples will have the right to marry and enjoy the legal protections that that entails under Australian law.

Con: Regardless of the result, the Liberal government tears itself apart and Bill Shorten becomes our next Prime Minister.

Sigh. Well Liberal Pride Launch will be interesting now!



I’m not crazy, I’m just a little self-diagnosed

Revisit 2013-06-26: City Hall Sunburst with Rainbow Flag

A lack of same-sex marriage is making LGBT people in Australia sick, according to a statement signed by dozens of health professionals and reported on the Star Observer. Weird, I’ve never been to the doctor with an aching I-can’t-get-married or called in sick to work because of a painful green discharge of muh rights. But if we’re all going to be delicate little victims with self-diagnosed maladies that render us incapable of basic adult-functioning, I’m going to take advantage and diagnose myself with the following:

  • Retinal blindness from the technicolour-haired harridans smoking clove cigarettes and posing mournfully outside the artist commune warehouse opposite my apartment building.
  • Hepatitis caught from the one the one that keeps doing a wee behind our post boxes.
  • Sprained tongue from trying to pronounce LGBTQQIAP2, the latest term for the community being pushed by activists.
  • Epilepsy from watching 3 seasons of How To Get Away With Murder in two days and trying to keep track of the dozens of plot twists per episode.
  • Schizophrenia from losing out on a promotion to someone with the last name Beans. Beans.
  • Major depression from watching the Freo Dockers go from playing the 2013 premiership to spending the last few seasons at the bottom of the ladder doing only slightly better than the Gold Coast Suns. Suns.
  • Chronic anxiety from worry that if this continues Nathan Fyfe could go to another team.
  • Complete emotional shutdown due to the dawning realisation that Nathan Fyfe will probably never sit on my face.
  • Erectile Dysfunction after hearing Jared Kushner speak. He went from ‘daddy got me this law internship but I’ll still do anything to get ahead’ to ‘I’ll have to go speak to my manager and probably won’t be back’.
  • Narcolepsy from going home every year at Christmas to see my family and watching cricket for a week to avoid talking to said family.
  • Mesothelioma because Tumblr says we can say we have whatever these days.
  • PTSD acquired after my best friend made out with this guy in the club who was totally looking at me first, because Tumblr also says PTSD is the exact same thing as a drunken bathroom cry.
  • Intermittent explosive disorder that I got from getting fined on the tram the one time, THE ONE TIME, I didn’t touch on my Myki card, even though I was only going four stops and it’s like, youth gangs are rampaging through the city with impunity and cars can mow down pedestrians, including babies and children, across half the city centre before the police deign to stop them, and yet one little student trying to get out of the rain gets four officers instantly interrogating him and accusing him of all sorts! RAGE!

If you question me on any of these you are ableist and should die.

Now please give me some welfare money.

Gay Media Watch: Faces (and abs) of Pride


Pride month is finishing in the northern hemisphere and much has been made of the fact that President Trump has not acknowledged it. But why should he? Is Pride obligatory? Is it some sacred ritual passed down by an ancient cabal of hooded monks like on every episode ever of Relic Hunter? Anyone remember Relic Hunter? That was a great show. They should bring it back.

Anyway, even among the LGBT community not everyone is in on this whole Pride thing.

After all, who does pride really represent? Let’s look at what the gay media shows us. Taking the most visible aspect of Pride Month, the Pride Parade, I have done a quick analysis of representation. And for all the talk of ‘resistance,’ ‘intersectionality’ and ‘inclusion’, the same old dominant images are being trotted out to represent Pride that are used every year: muscled, shirtless, mostly white men.

These are the unscientific and completely biased results of what I found. Don’t complain if the maths doesn’t add up; it’s taken several glasses of Margaret River Cab Sav to get through the hundreds of photos. Also I spent every highschool maths class writing out Simple Plan lyrics and staring at class hottie Paul Filacamo, which was quite an achievement considering he sat directly behind me.

So, here is an overview of the  results. Let’s look at some pages from Queerty:

San Diego Pride offered no shortage of sun-kissed eye candy
Shirtless men: 13 out of 25 photos (52 percent). It does not bode well that this the first photo I see in my research:


Over a million hot guys (and girls!) turned out for World Pride in Madrid
Shirtless men: 14 out of 29 photos. (48 percent) Less than 50 percent, but it should be noted that there were 4 photos of flags and just 2 of women. So much for the (and girls!). And we are already into cartoonishly buff territory. This Instagram post leads the page:


Ok, I’m just taking cheap shots here. These pages are directed towards gay men. Let’s see if Advocate, a supposedly more inclusive website, has more diversity:

111 photos show a united Pride in San Diego
Shirtless men: 59 out of 111 photos (53 percent). At this point I also started counting the shirtless men by hotness using the scientific ‘super buff’ rule. In San diego, 45 out of 59 men photographed are ‘super buff’. There’s even a ripped granddad.

99 photos of Pride making a splash in Honolulu 
Shirtless men: 68 out of 99 photos (68 percent). This is to be expected from a Hawaiian pool party of course, but of these 75 percent are SUPER ripped.

98 photos of San Francisco Pride letting the sun shine in
Shirtless men: 24 out of 98 photos. (24 percent). This was one of the more diverse photo sets, though this is how they lead it:


105 photos of gay pool party season in L.A:
Yeah, nah I don’t have enough self-esteem to handle this page.

I went through a few more on Advocate and found that the photo series that most captures the diversity of the LGBT community is in, of all places, Arkansas. Fat people, short people, old people, clothed people are all represented. Even women! This is a concept so foreign to Advocate that they headline it 103 photos of a wholesome and unique Northwest Arkansas Pride. Ordinary people – how unique and quaint! They even let Jews march, which is a big No on the East coast:


Give me an Arkansas Joe over an LA queen any day.

Dear gay publications: I accept the fact that you are always going to go for what’s sexy. It sells. Hell, I jerked off twice while researching. (It also gives our 10 percent of the male population 42 percent of the eating disorders, but I’ll let that slide for now). But don’t act like Trump is ‘erasing’ queer people by not acknowledging Pride month when we have a big beautiful diverse community unable to be seen because you hide them behind a wall of taught, sweaty golden muscle.

N.B The Huff Post is usually good for a bit of intersectional representation, but I couldn’t get past the first article in Queer Voices, in which they praise someone for soiling themselves.


$300 I stay all night, $1000 I stay for ten years.

I met Dylan when I was a shy 18 year old first hitting the gay club scene. He was only a few years older than me, but to me he was the shining promise of everything I was told the gay scene would be. Everyone knew Dylan. He moved effortlessly through the different cliques making friends with everyone from the club kids to the bears and even the sullen lesbians (being 2007, the peak of the emo craze, there were plenty of those around). He knew all the drag queens by name, real and performance, and when it was time to switch between titles. He knew which bars to hit on a Tuesday night, and which ones you would never be caught dead in before 3am. He was never on the dance floor, always on a podium or the stage in front so everyone could see him. I can count on one hand the number of people I talked to in my first year of gawking on the gay scene, so when a mutual friend introduced Dylan to me, and he took an interest in me, I thought I had finally arrived.

The chattering gays of our small city were breathless in their coverage of our brief affair. Anything Dylan did was big news.

We went on a few dates, rather innocent affairs that mostly involved him talking about himself and showing me his dance moves. Even as a naïve 18 year old I quickly realised that was interest in me was based mostly on the fact that I had not yet developed a strong personality and I would not detract attention from him. But I didn’t care. I thought he was very mature. He had his own car, he lived out of home and was finishing his university degree. Once he took me into the production studio at his university to watch a student film he had made. I took a photo of him taking notes as he studied himself on screen. I said I would use it when he was famous to remind him of where he came from.

We all said he had the ambition, the looks and the charm to go anywhere in life. How lucky we were to be involved in his life from the start!

There aren’t a lot of other photos of him; he moved to fast for that. The only photo I have of us together is from a friend’s birthday costume party. We’re dressed like 1920’s gangsters and I’m sitting sideways on his lap with my arm around him smiling at the camera while he leans around me, peering intensely at a lap top screen. Choosing all the coolest music, of course. A few hours after that photo was taken we had sex for the first time, on my friend’s bed (sorry, Alice) and I never saw him again. I didn’t mind. I was just honoured that he had chosen me to share his body with, even if it was just for a few drunken minutes on ridiculous giraffe-print sheets.

That was Dylan, they said, always flitting from one thing to the next like his feet weren’t even touching the ground. Where will he end up next!

The next time I saw his face was when someone sent me a link to his profile on a rentboy site. He was called Jarryd now. He had done a professional modeling shot and he was looking damn fine. Muscled and oiled up to the ninth degree. There was a cheeky half-shaft shot that I saved for later. I was uneasy with his choice of profession, but I was assured by the chatterers that he was just doing this while he looked for a graduate job.

Besides, he gets flown to Hong Kong, they said. In business class! To an 18-year-old stacking shelves at Innaloo Woolies this did seem exciting, and I was caught up in the whispered tales of his glamorous life.

That was ten years ago. Dylan/Jarryd is still a rentboy. But no one talks about him anymore. Whether out of safety, shame or boredom, he long ago deleted all his social media, dropped out of the gay scene and stopped answering the phone. Occasionally when I meet with old friends I hear about him getting taken for a shopping spree on some old man’s credit card or getting a ride in a Lamborghini. As a 28 year old I just find it sad. In the past ten years the rest of us have started careers, gotten fired, started new careers, fallen in and out of love and done all the things your 20s are about.

Dylan/Jarryd is still using his old photos and saying he’s 24. I can’t even pass for 24 and I’m younger than him and don’t go outside. There’s only one recent photo. It’s a tight close up of his face. He’s standing on a beach facing into the sun, and even in full light he’s tired and puffy. His eyes have lost the light that sparkled even in a dark nightclub. He still has the same 2007-era shag-emo haircut.

I think of Dylan whenever the queer community talks about sex work as some kind of noble calling. They have this idea that sex workers are helping the people of the world explore their sexuality and bring in a new age of sexual enlightenment. The sanctimonious way some of them talk you’d think they are curing cancer, not getting pissed on by Chinese executives at the Hong Kong Ibis.

Or they think it’s empowering! Because apparently everything a queer person does with their body is an empowering act of resistance these days. Using your queer body to take money from the patriarchy has to be powerful! No, a prostitute has no power. They are chosen based on looks and paid based on how much the client thinks they are worth. Technically they can decline a client, and for some risk the wrath of their madam/pimp, but don’t get to pick them in the first place.

Others have this idea that they’re such victims of society because of their sexuality/gender that sex work is all that’s available to them. Usually these are middle-class people desperate to do something to reduce their privilege score and feel some intersectional oppression; ‘whorephobia’ is the latest struggle to be lumped in with LGBT rights. These are often the same people that claim they are too ‘anxious’ to have an actual job. Too anxious to scan groceries but not too anxious to go to a stranger’s hotel room at 3 am and negotiate the price of their holes, apparently. There are people involved in sex work for survival. But these people are doing it because they have literally no other option, not because they have an asymmetrical haircut and a septum piercing.

And no, a nine-to-five job in a capitalist system is not more degrading and exploitative than prostitution, as some Marxist Melbourne gays claim. I don’t get to choose my own hours in my office job, but I also don’t have to cleanse every orifice when I get home. I don’t have to suck any dirty old man toes either, so that’s a bonus.

The sex industry is run on the exploitation of the young and impressionable, and queer people romanticising it just leads more vulnerable people into a a job that has the highest rates of violence and murder. I try not to think about what ten years of prostitution does to a person.

The dark side of me wonders if I should hire Dylan for a night to see if he recognises me, or if by this stage Dylan is gone and Jarryd has taken over completely.

Australian LGBTI Awards: The Gold Logie in Activism


Nominations are open for the 2018 Australian LGBTI Awards. Time to celebrate the bland homogenous face of Australia’s LGBTI community. How did we go from Priscilla Queen of the Desert to the pantsuited activist brigade? This is not to disparage their work, they do more for the LGBTI community than I ever will, but it represents how the gay community has become a circle jerk of leftist politics and political correctness. Which I could actually forgive if the winners weren’t so boring.

Some of this years winners:

Hero of the Year: Rowena Allen, Victorian Commissioner for Gender and Sexuality. Activist. Yawn.

Journalist of the year: Chloe Sargeant.
“Proud activist and staunch feminist”. Perhaps she won for her brave stance boycotting Coopers Beer?

Inspirational Role Model of the Year: Sharon Carroll, Diversity & Inclusion Business Partner at Australia Post.
Someone from the post office? Which is a major sponsor of the awards? Ok then.

LGBTI Celebrity of the year: Ruby Rose.
Is this really the best we could do? A person who has built an entire career out of the type of faux-lesbianism that peaked in the late 90s but is still apparently titillating to Australians. She didn’t even show up to claim the award.

Politician of the Year: Penny Wong.
I adore Penny Wong. Penny Wong in Senate Estimates investigating who broke the Prime Minister’s marble coffee table is the greatest moment in Australian politics. But lets see how many Labor and Greens members they get through before they award it to a conservative like Tim Wilson.

Community Initiative of the Year: Australian Marriage Equality.
Well that’s a surprise. I thought they might have given it to the Australian Christian Lobby.

Lifetime Achievement Award: Molly Meldrum.
I think they had to rush this one out; he isn’t going to be around for next year’s ceremony.

Brand and Organisation of the Year: SBS.
Ok, I’ll give them this one. Watching Queer as Folk on SBS at 2am with the sound off taught me everything I know about life and being a gay man. Thank you too for Eat Carpet, the compilation of student films that had so, so many lingering soft focus shots of uncut East European penises.

All from the same side of politics. Apart from Penny Wong, all the individuals who won were white. AIRBNB got an award, but no Indigenous Australians. I got a pretty neat handy while I was working at the Novotel, maybe they can get an award next year. The Australian gay community is so diverse, it’s a shame to have chosen such safe, correct winners as our representatives.

On the other hand, I don’t really blame them for favouring the activists over the more exciting controversial gay media personalities. Because we don’t really have any. For all the feather boa waving of Mardi Gras, Australia is still a conservative country. Neighbours had its first gay kiss in 2012. And remember the national shitstorm over the lesbian kiss on Home and Away? That was only frikkin’ 2009. In fairness, 2009 was a crazy time all round. We were all delirious from swine flu and the random $900 cheques that arrived in our letterboxes. Singer Peter Garrett was a minister for some reason. A black face minstrel show was deemed acceptable prime time entertainment…. but not a tender kiss between two women, apparently. It seems the only way for a media personality in Australia to be accepted as gay is to become an icon then come out once their legend status is enshrined, such as Molly Meldrum and Magda Szubanski, make it a part of their whole shtick, like Joel Creasey, or just shut the hell up about it.

Or you can be an activist. Become the issue. Get wheeled out for talking points on the news and award ceremonies so that Australia can pat itself on the back for how progressive it is. Hey, its still not as degrading as the Logies.

Sidenote: I have a long list of Australian celebrities that I believe to be closeted gays. I have another list of celebrities that are semi-confirmed as gay because a ‘friend of a friend’ has slept with them. But neither shall be revealed because I don’t want to get sued into oblivion. (Just to be a dirty tease: there’s a newsreader who dresses up teenage rent boys in his son’s school uniform and a footy player who gets on the pipe and visits bathhouses in states where he thinks he won’t be recognised.)










Alternative Names for Margaret Court Arena

There have been calls to rename Melbourne’s Margaret Court Arena after its namesake made homophobic comments. If we must rename it, here are some alternative names that celebrate great Australian women:

Sports Groupies Who Know How to Keep Their Damn Mouths Shut Stadium (co-funded by the NRL integrity unit)

Lynne Postlethwaite Astrodome. Named after this All-Australian:


Dorothy Dixer Tennis Centre for Easy Serves

Kath Day-Night-Mixed-Use-Sporting-Facility

Mercedes Corby-Benz Stadium (Crossover promotion)

Lay-Down Sally Robbins Centre for Sporting Excellence Or At Least Completion

Cocaine Cassie Coliseum

Judy Moran’s Ring

Penny Wong Arena (with a roof that retracts just like her statements defending traditional marriage)

Fuck Off, Ya Fat Mole Leisure Centre (Sunshine West satellite facility only)

Katherine Knight Kourt

In these times of extreme political partisanship and hysterical media bleating, perhaps there is only one woman that all Australians could agree to name the arena after. She united us once and she can do it again. She doesn’t even have a name. She’s just Window Lady:


The Not Happy Jan Arena. Sums up the world, really.


Truvada Troopers: Who is behind the push for PrEP?


A man has tested positive to HIV at a Melbourne clinic while participating in a trial of PrEP, an antiretroviral drug credited with preventing the spread of the diseaseThe Age 22/05/2017

If this man has acquired a drug-resistant strain of HIV while taking the HIV prevention drug PrEP he would be the third in the world. But just as concerning as HIV acquiring resistance to PrEP is the resistance among gay men to admit that it could. In past few days I have been attacked for even daring to suggest that PrEP is not the magic pill gay men see it as. The gay men I have talked to have been taught well by the LGBT activist community – rather than entering a debate that could challenge their views, they have universally been personally attacking the man with HIV who we know nothing about. He didn’t take the course of medication right. Was he on drugs? He’s probably taking loads from everyone. The vileness with which they attack one of their own – and anyone could well be in his position one day – is truly appalling.

One day later The Age published another article in defence of PrEP, possibly after receiving backlash from the Truvada Troopers: HIV drug PrEP praised for helping prevent other sexually transmitted diseases. This is a misleading headline. PrEP does NOT prevent other STDs, and suggesting otherwise is highly dangerous. What the headline is referring to is that men on PrEP have to get tested for STDs every three months, which is recommended for every gay man anyway, and that this may reduce infections. Its hard to fathom how getting tested after the fact reduces disease rates, especially when thanks to PrEP the rate of men having casual sex without protection is at 41 percent, the highest since 1996. PrEP does not mean you can bareback without consequences; rates of other STDs are sky-rocketing and chlamydia and gonorrhea are developing antibiotic resistant strains.

This all reminded me of the time it was suggested that I go on PrEP. I was asked about my interest in the study during a regular sexual health checkup. I find it strange that I should be asked given I would be considered a low-risk individual. They know this as they have access to my full sexual history: I use condoms, have regular trusted partners, don’t do drugs, and, like a gentleman, never go arse to mouth. I’m not perfect and mistakes do happen – the Hungarian acrobat was a particularly good mistake – but I don’t make them with such frequency that I should be taking a pill every day, a pill that can reduce bone density and cause kidney and liver problems. Do they think I am incapable of walking down the street without being penetrated? This isn’t Paris.

In the few years since PrEP became widely available in Australia the gay community has gone from shaming those who take it as ‘Truvada whores’ to shaming those who don’t. Some men will only have sex with other men on PrEP. Well, onward Christian soldier! To be clear, there are high-risk individuals who should be taking PrEP and they should never be shamed for their chosen sexual activities or for taking control of their health. But what about the rest of us who have regulation intercourse? Who is pushing for us to take this expensive and potentially dangerous medication? The pharmaceutical companies sure, but they’ve been pushing unnecessary medication ever since they made the remarkable discovery that people don’t like to feel things.

The people pushing the drug and shutting down debate about its actual effectiveness are the gay community leaders. For them PrEP is a political statement: We can have as much sex as we want and if you dare suggest there are consequences you are homophobic. There was the same attitude in San Francisco in the early 1980s. They are pushing a particular view of sex – have as much of it as possible to piss off the establishment – and anybody who questions this or the effectiveness of the PrEP that makes it possible is shunned quickly. It divides the ‘woke’ cool gays in the community hive-mind from those who dare question this gay orthodoxy and might start asking things like ‘gay rights and refugees advocacy are linked how exactly?’

There has been another disturbing theme coming from the activists, which is: If we all take PrEP we can eliminate HIV in a generation! This is based on the assumption that we all have the same sexual health needs and require the same risk management i.e. we’re all sluts. No. We’re not all empowering ourselves by getting pounded behind the bushes in Royal Park at midday while near-by sweet young conservative things are just trying to innocently do their daily run and check out what’s swinging in the short-shorts at the tennis courts. Frankly, what is homophobic is assuming that every gay’s body is pumped full of vile disease that they’re incapable of stopping from spraying over all and sundry without daily suppression drugs. The activist rallying cry should be:

No one has permission to do anything to your body without your permission; now take this bone-melting diarrhea drug so the rest of us can gangbang.

History repeats, and anyone who has studied the early AIDS epidemic will recognise the pattern of hedonism and denial we are currently experiencing in regards to PrEP and HIV resistance. Today, just like then, the gay community is attacking anyone who thinks we should change our behaviour or at least question the prevailing attitudes. A medical crisis is coming, whether it be a new strain of HIV or another drug-resistant STD. Stay safe. Use a condom. There’s salted caramel ones now.