Milwaukee Pride Parade
Sunday, June 13, 2010 at 8:37PM 
As friends to all of our fellow citizens, Simone and I decided to venture out this particular Sunday to celebrate God's day of rest at the Milwaukee Pride Parade; an annual gathering of the city's LGBT community.
Long have I been sympathetic to the plight of the homosexual, dating back to the latter days of my elementary school education when, at the tender age of ten or eleven I began to realize that some of the other boys in my class were a bit more "girlish" than me. They also began to be treated differently by the other boys who were a bit more athletic and bellicose. Being of a large yet sensitive nature myself and falling, as I always do, on the sensible side of most issues, I spoke up when I saw bullying or excessive mockery directed to the more effeminate of my male contemporaries. When the epithets of "fag" or "queer" came hurtling at me due to my newfound alliances, I simply kicked the shit out of my detractors.
This new enlightenment did not prevent me (nor does it to this day) from using fun terms like cocksucker, pillow-biter, nancy-boy or ass-bandit. I think "gay-lord" was the big one back then. As a staunch defender of the homosexual lifestyle and the struggle for the accordance of their rights as citizens, I feel they at least owe me the freedom to use faggot slang as I see fit; whether as acerbic tools slung at my heterosexual rivals or simply for a good laugh. My gay friends have always been very accommodating about this.
Simone grew up with much the same sensibility towards people's sexual preferences. Was it hurting anybody? Was it consensual? Was it remotely anyone else's fucking business who other people choose to sleep with? What is the goddamn problem with those who condemn it or withhold rights from others because of it?
Sound questions to keep in mind.
So here Simone and I were, standing on the roadside in downtown Milwaukee with a throng of other like minded people (isn't that always nice?!) awaiting an urban flotilla of costumed eccentrics eager to shower us with beams of their gay pride, candy, rubbers, foam promotional bricks (I kid you not), lubricants, fliers, coupons and beads, beads, beads.
The theme was a vague "Fairy Tale" motif (pun intended assuredly) and the majority of the entries seemed to lean toward variations on Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Which, for purposes here, became primarily a guy in drag as Snow White in the back of a pickup truck followed by seven dykes on Harleys in tow. It was no easy task to decipher which biker lesbian was playing which dwarf. Grumpy was surely there, but I saw no Bashful, Dopey, Sneezy or Doc. I chose to give them new elf names more in line with the characteristics I was seeing; deciding ultimately on Butchy, Greasy, Beefy, Bitter, Manly, Toughy and Cock.
Other floats were sponsored by local gay clubs and featured mostly drag queens or leather fetishists flitting and prancing about. A Rocky Horror Show theme here, a Sex & the City send up there, but, for the most part it was simply people smiling, waving, walking and having a good ole time just showing and being themselves. And that was the real purpose.
It lacked the flamboyancy and outright swagger of gay parades in Miami or New York. The costuming was a bit plainer, the floats less elaborate, the dancing and mincing about - much more understated. There was certainly a lot fewer dicks flying around. But, the Milwaukee Pride Parade was, in my mind, the very nature of what these events should be about. To put a face and a body on the name and the lifestyle without turning it into a popper-crazed sausage fest. To show that there is no essential difference between those that choose same sex partners and those who do not. To destroy the lies and stigmas applied to transgenders. Here were people from all walks of life, all social and economic strata, all religions, all familial upbringings, just out parading to show they refuse to be treated like second class citizens or deviants any longer.
Parents, children, husbands, wives, men, women, Americans.
People.
Simone sees this struggle as the civil rights issue of our age and she is dead right. It is time the rest of us face up to the promises of this nation and drop the silly religious dogma (overwhelmingly where the opposition stems from) and sexual immaturity that allows a group of people to be treated as lesser due to whom they choose to fuck. Those who would suggest "correcting the behavior" or "staying in the closet" are ignorant, petty and severely lacking in empathy. The DOMA backers, the bigots, the homophobes, the authoritarians, the regressives - Republicans, in a nut shell.
They are losing this game, but not quickly enough.
As the last float faded off into the distance, we walked back to the car. The screech and thunder of a Blue Angel F/A-18 roared overhead from the air show down at the lake where most of Milwaukee's thrill seekers and douchebags were this day. A gaudy exercise in militarism and war recruitment that transfixes the rubes with shiny objects, speed and the tease of fiery death from above. I shook my head in disgust and ruminated on the real communal experience I had just shared with those who know a little bit about disenfranchisement and what it is to be forsaken in this country. And how that gathering is really what this nation needs to heal itself and be good again; not staring awestruck up at the skies, absently chewing on a fifth hot dog, while machines of death go screaming by.
Simone nudged me. She knew I had been in my dark, judgmental place.
"Eh, I'll look on the bright side", I muttered optimistically, "Maybe there'll be a horrible crash into a Baptist church."
Photos courtesy of Simone.
Reader Comments (18)
Thank you for covering this. If interested I can provide you with more information about the picture that has the 'nun' in it. I am part of that organization. Abbey of the Brew City Sisters. And if you have any more pictures of our group we would greatly appreciate them for our archive. Thank you.
Thank you for the response. Pictures are on their way to the email address above. Hope you had as much fun as we did.
C. & S.
So I spend a few years in Belgium and return to find Mr. Moores has impersonated me under the guise of loathing to be ‘indulging in self-descriptive profiling.’ But as his agent I should be happy of his writing at all. I will, however, correct a few details.
First let me say Mr. Moores has written nicely of his support of homosexuals, and indeed anyone, and their right to ‘choose to fuck’ whomever they want. And I am sure there are old gay classmates pleasuring themselves at this moment while remembering our own Mr. Moores swooping in like Superman and saving them from the homophobic bullies. Mon Dieu! It makes me swoon to think of it.
Now, regular readers of Mr. Moores work may think he doesn’t really care what anyone does so long as someone else isn’t quoting scripture against it. Not so. He indeed has a soft spot for the homosexuals.
Now to add or correct a few details in biographical page (http://www.cadolphmoores.com/about-cadolph/). He says I ‘dabble in small boys’. True, but never the underage ones. I have no patience for that much tutelage. What he failed to say was he was once one of those boys. Ah yes, back in his experimental college days he had a bit of a thing for men slightly older than he and slightly hairier…and with camping gear. Camping always turned into his favorite game: Re-enacting Deliverance….yes that scene…the one you are thinking of right now…minus Burt Reynolds saving the day.
On his behalf, I would also like ask that you hit the ‘donate’ button. The peeing problem from which Simone suffers is not one of his feeble jokes. It is the quite tragic result of a horrible strap-on accident. I am sure the money would be helpful in paying the Kegels coach.
And let’s face it the writing isn’t paying for it. He fancies himself dark and edgy, a literary CHIP-off-the-Tarantino as it were.
And I say to you directly sir, I had no idea you had written for Florida Trend. As your agent, I would just like to say…you owe me money.
Lars van der Cleven
Damn you, van der Cleven!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Check is in the mail.
Kegels coach indeed. Had a titter over that one I can tell you.
How do you get one of those "gmail" accounts by the by?
Vous ne commprenez pas! Shirley you jest. Why I keep you as a client je ne sais pas. You ask 'how to get a gmail account'? If you visited sites other than your own blog.......useless. www.google.com and 'create an account'. Ahh mais non! You are clever monsieur...you fish for information so that you may spy on me, that you may delve into my secrets. For now, I know far more about you than you I. I shall be the Moriarty to your Sherlock, the Riddler to your Barbara Gordon, the 'Mr. Tubbs the real estate agent' to your Thelma & Scooby. Tell me, how long have you been sans les cheveux longs?
You must know far more about me than I do of you because I've never told a living soul about my prurient predilection to dress up like Barbara Gordon.
I have been sans cheveux for about four years now. The beehive wig fits better over a bald pate.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uHWJe8ASs6k
So my first cover is blown. No Matter. Without revealing my identity I can tell you I have been hired by the Born Again Christian Terrorists Exterminating Radical Internet Artists (BACTERIA for short). They are still smarting from the your review of the rapture in which you said, "Mimi Rogers has the vacant stare of a born-again Christian down pat". You have been warned...recant and repent or DIE!
PS thanks for the youtube link to Batgirl
I knew they'd catch up with me eventually.
Flambeau enthusiast, eh? My list is getting smaller.
Heavens boy! Had you caught all the clues in my first post, your list should be far smaller than just 'Flambeau' enthusiasts. Should we play 21 questions?
Are you vegetable or mineral?
No. Neither. Nor animal. Just a hardened prescient goo aka Joan River's face.
Tch tch. Missed another clue.
My 21st question would be whether you resembled a '70-'80s porn star.
Porn Star? You're fantasizing again. The truth is I am You. After just 21 beers and 7 Krispy Kremes you black out and comment on your own blog as the fictional agent you created - a Gay Belgian Dwarf - far more interesting than 'Chip'. Ask the cats - they have been watching as you write as Lars, dressed as Toulouse-Latrec, stinking of the absinthe spittle in the corners of your mouth, and when your finger finally cease and eyes glaze over and movement is impossbile, they come and lick the spittle from your space. The pants of Lars are covered in cat hair.
You funny. Me like.
To be fair, I actually have had people tell me old photos of me look like a 70's porn star, but never been told that by you...that I recall. Still trying to decide if that is ever a compliment....
Always, always a compliment. Unless the resemblance is that to Ron Jeremy or Sue Nero (Googleth!). And as your memory seems keen and I told the person I had in mind of the likeness many, many times - I fear you remain unbeknownst to me.
Although, I think I may like you better this way. Just a hunch.
Many things fall through the cracks of my memory friend. Those I remember I remember well, others are eradicated as completely as Joyce DeWitt. Perhaps I am that self same personage of porn star looks. Name me if you will, I shall continue to comment as Lars as I have grown comfortable in the posing, as if by miracle I discovered a Halloween costume that is actually easy to wear, breathable and with no sweaty plastic mask forcing mine own breath upon me.
I sent a message via your 'Contact Me' form, but there may have been a problem submitting. Did you receive? I hope potential employers have not experienced similar problems.