By Randall Job In our gay world of  “throw on a costume at the chipping of a manicured nail” or “I saw this bed sheet and had to turn it into a Dior knockoff,” the very idea that Halloween could be canceled by a world-wide pandemic is a reason to scream. The bottom line, queens

By Randall Jobe “The devil will drag you under by the sharp lapels of your checkered coat.” — Guys & Dolls Working in gay bars can be like trying to swim in quicksand. Unless you have an incredibly strong constitution, a highly developed strong moral fiber, or both, there is always something or someone attempting

By Randall Jobe “Deception, deception, deception.” —Amanda Wingfield, The Glass Menagerie I’m sure it exists in all cultures, social circles, and most families, but my experience with the art of deception has too often centered on gay males who have telling lies down to a science. I have been duped more than once and not always

By Randall Jobe In a job, I held for over 25 years, the “powers that be” seemingly reveled in the indiscretions of others. They handed down reprimands and punishments like a “Christians facing the lions” spectacle. If the accused wasn’t trembling in fear by the time they were called to have their fumble reviewed, there

By Randall Jobe I’ll call the drag queen in this piece “Homo Siedel” for reasons that will become apparent. Homo was a beauty, a popular club emcee best known for her “put down” humor. She could rip you a new asshole and stuff a cabbage up it. She made Joan Rivers look like an Ingalls

By Randall Jobe Long before a hookup was possible from a naked Grnder photo sent via Smart phone, guys (and girls) actually met in the bars and shared a drink and some conversation before jumping into bed.  I know it sounds crazy to the younger populace who a) probably can’t define populace and b) are

Go to Hell and wait.’ By Randall Jobe I may have had, in my 20-plus years of bartending had a few, OK, dozens, OK hundreds of customer complaints. One thin-skinned crybaby once turned me in for the way I said “Thank you.” Now, I am no Meryl Streep, but I do have a knack for

By Randall Jobe Put several homosexual men in one spot, pour the alcohol, stir, and within a few hours you are promised a hook up, a break up, a break down, a fight, or all of the above. Or, if you are lucky, you’ll experience the most descriptive, joke-filled, bitchy comments, and loving exchanges that