Four Down - Dream in Motion

Dear Reader,

I finally got out there today and in Florida-like summer temperatures and humidity delivered my first four portfolio packages to arts organizations here in New York City. My package to each organization included: my three page resume, my artistic resume, a DVD with video samples of my work and a CD containing a comprehensive PDF portfolio documenting my ten years of professional and scholastic experience as an event manager and theatre professional. All of this was assembled professionally using very theatrical, yet professional graphics (thanks to Joey Gomez).

Putting fashion in front of function, I wore a sleek, all black outfit as I journeyed through the city. Not too bright for a day such as this! I dropped packages off to The Julliard School, Roundabout Theatre Company, New York City Opera and The Public Theatre. I have several more packages to submit. Some are for positions organizations are filling and some packages are just going to organizations of interest. Now, mind you, I have no idea how much time I have this fall to devote to a job or internship. I may be getting ahead of myself, but its all part of the big picture so . . . I'll keep on keeping on.

I did get a call today from LaVie Productions (www.lavieproductionsllc.com) offering me an internship. LaVie Productions is a theatre production management company. Some of their clients include In the Heights, Sweet Storm (the show I worked on for a couple weeks back in July) and the New York Musical Festival. If LaVie Productions can offer me something that will help further my goals it may be a great opportunity. Again, time limitations may dictate just how much is too much.

I thought a lot today of what I wanted to write here. Traipsing through the city taking another step in the right direction brought about some important feelings. By no means will this blog be a day by day account of my life. That would overwhelm me more than balancing any job or internship with full time graduate school work. But my mind has started racing around material I am eager to share. As it pertains to this blog, I felt today's activities relates directly to my efforts to minimize margins.

I have been preparing these packages for over a week now. They are retools of what I submitted to New York University as my application package. Nonetheless, each package takes a considerable amount of time. After a lifetime of feeling like a person 'like me' - gay, not a great test taker, immature, irresponsible, remedial, etc., - all the labels assigned to me over the years by those who were oppressing me, I was ready for this step. Now, I could still fail. I could get zero response from any of these organizations. But I realized the same effort I have put into avoiding my dreams in the past pursing activities that did not fulfill my life's vision was the same as what I channeled into this project.

I did feel nervous at first as I dropped my first package off at The Public Theatre. And as I acknowledged the fear that is now part of my past, I walked in, calmly and deliberately and delivered my package, knowing I am good enough to be there. I was there and therefore, I belonged.

None of this post is to written to counteract a crippled ego. I don't write out of self pity. I share this experience because it has its rightful place on this journey. It is an important step to saying 'yes'. Though my road traveled may vary and I may not end up exactly where I think I will my sights are set where they should be and it just feels right.

Thanks for reading.

Alan L. Bounville

My New 15 Minute Play - Heir Apparent

Dear Reader,

I'd like to share the following draft of my most recent short play, Heir Apparent. I hope you see in the play the result of current modes of dominant cultural pressures and how they are subverted once enlightenment of the subjugated takes place.This play was recently submitted per request by Stageworks Hudson and is currently being considered for their Play by Play Festival of New One Act Plays. Whether the news is good or bad - I will report it here first once I hear back from the theatre.

And please, pardon the formatting here. It seems blogger has locked me into its left aligned format. Otherwise character names would be properly indented above their lines. As always, your thoughts are greatly appreciated.

Thanks for reading.

Alan L. Bounville

Heir Apparent

By Alan L. Bounville

Copyright © 2009 All Rights Reserved


CAST OF CHARACTERS

LORRAINE CASTOR – 17; Daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Castor

MRS. VALERIE CASTOR – 40s; Wife of Mr. Castor

MR. CHARLES CASTOR – 40s; Husband of Mrs. Castor

GRANDPA CASTOR – 70s; Father of Mr. Castor


(Lights rise on the living room of the Castor household in the mid afternoon of a warm late spring day. The Castors live in an Upper East Side penthouse in Manhattan. There is a slightly dated air about the place, as if some of the more costly furnishings are somewhat past due for replacement. A sweeping, ornate staircase is at stage left. Off stage left below the staircase is the kitchen. Upstage there are a series of French doors that look out onto a large terrace overlooking Central Park. On the terrace are a variety of vibrant flowering plants and small trees. Off stage right is the entrance to the apartment. Below the entrance offstage is a restroom. For a production that can not accommodate the above, a modified set can be an alternative. Lorraine Castor enters the apartment, somewhat quietly closes the door and runs up the staircase only to descend sitting side saddle on the banister. She wears a Catholic school uniform, 80’s style headphones and cassette tape player and hot pink book bag. As she makes her grand entrance, she is heard singing Otro Dia Mas Sin Verte by Jon Secada. As she slides into view Mrs. Castor enters from the kitchen. Mrs. Castor wears the latest fashions, but in the most vibrant of colors. What she wears is also light and flowing.)


MRS. CASTOR

Darling, Lorraine, must you?


LORRAINE

Must you?


MRS. CASTOR

Of all days. Grandfather Castor will be here momentarily and, well this surely won’t help.


LORRAINE

Maybe if you would be more understanding of my need and right to openly express the culture of my people you would appreciate its beauty.


MRS. CASTOR

That may be the case if you were Hispanic, but I assure you that it is not – even if I did have questions about your heritage at first. (laughs) Latin blooded you are not.


LORRAINE

(yelling) Racist whore!


MRS. CASTOR

Oh, you mustn’t call me racist.


MR. CASTOR

(He enters from restroom and speaks to Lorraine. He wears dress slacks, polo shirt and comfortable house shoes.) Oh, sweet pea you are home. Father will be here in just a moment. (goes to her and holds her hands as he speaks with beloved sincerity) Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being here today. You are loved, cherished and the most important person in the world. You can do no wrong.


MRS. CASTOR

(looking heavenward then out to the terrace as she speaks to Mr. Castor) Charles, doesn’t the terrace look lovely this year? And the park beyond? I couldn’t be more proud of my handiwork. What do you think?


MR. CASTOR

(breaking away from Lorraine) Yes my love. The direction you gave to ‘the help’ has given me years of stress free living I may not have had otherwise. Now, both of you come here. (Mrs. Castor meets Mr. Castor as Lorraine runs up the staircase just to slide down the banister again, singing a different section of the same song as before. He enthusiastically applauds. Lorraine goes to Mr. Castor’s side, receiving a delicate peck on the forehead.) My angel. Or should I say mi angel. You sure know how to make an entrance.


LORRAINE

It is important you feel the energy that is the pulse of my people.


MR. CASTOR

I have no idea what that means, but I love your dramatic flair. That’s what makes you a Castor I suppose – but a special one indeed.


MRS. CASTOR

(awkwardly getting between the two) OK. What is it dear?


MR. CASTOR

Yes, well. When Father arrives I want you both to show some patience with him. As he’s aged, well, he tends to do as people do when they age. And he may say or do some things that seem off a bit. Just entertain his flow as best you can and all will be just fine.


LORRAINE

Yes Father.


MR. CASTOR

Thank you.


LORRAINE

Now, may I be excused in preparation for Grandfather’s visit?


MRS. CASTOR

Oh dear.


MR. CASTOR

Of course you may be. (Lorraine ascends the staircase singing the last few lines of the song.)


MRS. CASTOR

Charles?


MR. CASTOR

Yes Valerie.


MRS. CASTOR

Thank you.


MR. CASTOR

(looking away) I don’t see any other choice we have with the way you spend –


(The doorbell is heard. It is an obtrusive sound, clearly too loud for the space. Mr. Castor goes to answer the door as Mrs. Castor goes out onto the terrace.)


GRANDPA CASTOR

(from offstage) Good day to you boy!


MR. CASTOR

Father. Come in. So good to see you.


GRANDPA CASTOR

(He enters followed by Mr. Castor. He wears comfortable yet dated clothing.) What a beautiful day for being transported to ones son’s house. This is the day the Lord has made. Let us be glad and regain conscience. (pause) Or is it consciousness?


MR. CASTOR

(leading Grandpa Castor to the couch) Father, please come and sit.


GRANDPA CASTOR

(sitting) What do you have to drink around these parts? I’m parched beyond parched.


MR. CASTOR

Just one minute. (calling towards terrace) Valerie. Could you come in here please?


MRS. CASTOR

(enters with a flourish) Oh my, I didn’t realize Grandfather would be here so soon. I was just slaving away on the terrace. Plants don’t grow themselves you know.


(There is an awkward moment. Then Lorraine descends the staircase. This time Lorraine is dressed in full drag king regalia. ‘He’ holds a boom box on his shoulders that plays Jailhouse Rock by Elvis Presley. Lorraine slides down the banister and goes right to Grandpa Castor and lip syncs the song to him.)


MRS. CASTOR

Dear heavens.


GRANDPA CASTOR

(clapping away with a child–like smile on his face) This is fantastic! You’ve hired a jester.


LORRAINE

(turning music off) Grandpa, it’s me Lorraine.


GRANDPA CASTOR

(confused for a moment which brings about a touch of gravity to the room, then jubilantly) Ha! My dear shape shifter. Come sit on Grandpa’s lap.


LORRAINE

(sits on his lap, takes off wig she wears and places it on his head) I love you Grandpa.


GRANDPA CASTOR

I too love you, more than most. (sees Mrs. Castor) Can I have my drink now?


MRS. CASTOR

Oh dear, I’m so sorry. (exits into the kitchen)


GRANDPA CASTOR

Where is all the help?


MR. CASTOR

Lorraine, darling, please could you go get washed up for dinner?


LORRAINE

(standing as she kisses Grandpa Castor on the forehead and adjusting the wig) Certainly. (She exits with the boom box as if she has an idea.)


MR. CASTOR

(uncomfortably lying) We decided to let the help take a day off.


MRS. CASTOR

(enters) Here you are Father. A fresh Arnold Palmer.


GRANDPA CASTOR

That’s an oxymoron.


MRS. CASTOR

(all laugh) Well, I do hope you enjoy.


GRANDPA CASTOR

As long as you didn’t put too much arsenic in it, I’m sure it will sit just right. (He takes a sip and pretends to choke. Mrs. Castor gasps.) Nope, not enough. (This time only Mr. Castor and Grandpa Castor laugh.) Where is the head?


MR. CASTOR

(pause) Father . . . (looks at Mrs. Castor with a hint of guilt and sadness) Ah, right this way. (He leads Grandpa Castor to the restroom.)


MRS. CASTOR

(She goes offstage towards the entrance to the apartment and is heard opening and closing a drawer. She enters with a stack of legal documents.) Charles.


MR. CASTOR

Yes dear. (sees paperwork) Oh dear.


MRS. CASTOR

It is time.


MR. CASTOR

I’m not sure. I mean, look at him. I just don’t think –


MRS. CASTOR

(showing dominance) This is not debatable.


MR. CASTOR

But Valerie –


MRS. CASTOR

This has to be done. (Mr. Castor walks to the terrace and looks out upon the park.) Or we loose it all.


MR. CASTOR

If you didn’t –


MRS. CASTOR

(motioning up the stairs) If you didn’t –


MR. CASTOR

She is our daughter.


GRANDPA CASTOR

(offstage singing) Sailing, sailing, sailing the ocean blue. Barney loves me and I love you.


MRS. CASTOR

What in the –


MR. CASTOR

Father? Is everything OK?


GRANDPA CASTOR

(coming out of the bathroom, his shirt and hands dripping wet) Something isn’t quite right in there.


MR. CASTOR

Father, what did you do?


GRANDPA CASTOR

I used the helm, ah head. Then I washed clean. Except everything was all backwards. Your sink is awful low and toilet equally high.


MRS. CASTOR

(moved by this) Oh Father, please don’t say that you –


MR. CASTOR

(He shares a moment with Mrs. Castor. As he says the following, Mrs. Castor briefly glances at the paperwork showing a feeling of guilt.) Father, do you understand what you did?


GRANDPA CASTOR

(irritated) I used the head.


LORRAINE

(sliding down the banister dressed as a scantily clad dominatrix singing along with the boom box the following section of Love Dominates by Dynamix) I’ll be the one, oh oh. Dominate this love, oh, oh. I’ll be the one, oh oh. Dominate this love oh oh.


(Grandpa Castor starts clapping along. Mrs. Castor puts the paperwork down on the couch and gasps in horror. Mr. Castor is at first taken back, but decides to join Grandpa Castor in clapping along.)


LORRAINE CONT.

(producing a whip and snapping it about the space singing to each of them, especially her parents) Let me show you my words can burn. Honey, can’t you see? I am no little princess. All you got to do is release your fear. Let your real self, come into the light. Don’t stop oh oh, don’t talk oh yeah, sit down uuh, and do as I say. Don’t stop right now, don’t talk oh no, sit down uuh yeeeeah, and do as I say.


MRS. CASTOR

(turning off boom box and yelling) What the hell is going on here? (pause) This is the most absurd of all your antics!


LORRAINE

(yelling back) I’m expressing my individuality! Something you do all too often!


MRS. CASTOR

What are you talking about? I’m the most unindividual individual I know.


LORRAINE

You, running all around this place like you are the center of the Upper East Side universe.


MRS. CASTOR

Oh, Lorraine, you’re mad is what you are.


LORRAINE

I’m an angst ridden youth. But I’m more grounded than any of you.


MRS. CASTOR

Why? Why do you have to make everything a spectacle? What is in it for you?


LORRAINE

You think I don’t know what is going on around here?


MRS. CASTOR

Oh, daughter, don’t be ridiculous.


MR. CASTOR

Valerie. Let our angel express herself.


MRS. CASTOR

Oh, give it up Charles. You think this is expressing herself?


GRANDPA CASTOR

It’s something.


MRS. CASTOR

(She looks at Grandpa Castor and realizes he is still wearing the wig. It’s as if all of the sudden her eyes are turned on.) Father, please take that off your head.


GRANDPA CASTOR

You leave me and my hat alone. Charles, you know I’ve always said –


MR. CASTOR

(He puts his hand over Grandpa Castor’s mouth and leads him to sit on the couch while Grandpa Castor continues to indecipherably finish his thought. Mrs. Castor goes and looks out over the terrace. She begins to lightly weep.) Father –


(long pause)


MRS. CASTOR

I already know how he – you all feel. I’m all too aware.


MR. CASTOR

(softly) Valerie –


MRS. CASTOR

What have I done?


LORRAINE

Spent all your family inheritance only to yet again have Grandpa over for one of your sponging visits.


MRS. CASTOR

No, what have I done? Managed a staff to make a life for us here (turning to them) only for all of you hate me for it.


LORRAINE

No one asked for any of this.


MRS. CASTOR

(not hearing Lorraine) Your father needs you to be in the best schools. You practically have Broadway size budgets with all these goings on.


LORRAINE

(looking around the room) Who are you talking to? You don’t fool anyone. Mother, what country did you have to visit last week? Or the week prior? How many closets in this penthouse are housed with your wares?


MRS. CASTOR

You ungrateful, insensitive, insolent –


LORRAINE

Insipid, soulless, piteous woman.


GRANDPA CASTOR

I do enjoy family day.


MR. CASTOR

(to Mrs. Castor) Please, can we please not fight?


MRS. CASTOR

A fight goes both ways. There are two of us standing here, you know.


MR. CASTOR

You know what I mean my love.


MRS. CASTOR

My love – I know we have been on separate roads heading away from each other since I had my one indiscretion. That’s when this all started.


MR. CASTOR

Why would you – oh Valerie, this is in poor form.


MRS. CASTOR

I’ve tried to make up for it for two decades, by keeping up all of this. But you made your choice. Do you know how much it pains me to know my replacement came from my own womb?


MR. CASTOR

That is not at all (pause) entirely true.


LORRAINE

I’ll say it again – who is asking for all of this?


MRS. CASTOR

(to both of them) What?


MR. CASTOR

I was angered beyond words over what you did. But, I put forth the best effort to forgive.


LORRAINE

Yes, I get how the best schools may help my future, but the rest is not essential, for me.


MR. CASTOR

Or me. I didn’t work for any of this. I know what feeling unaccomplished is like. But your airs must be maintained or else I fear it will end up just Lorraine and I. And I can’t bear that thought.


LORRAINE

It’s been that way anyway. Mother, you walked away too. And, why maintain anything?


MRS. CASTOR

You think I enjoy all of this?


MR. CASTOR AND LORRAINE

Well, yes.


MRS. CASTOR

Well, I don’t. Maybe I’m just hiding. Maybe I’m suffering extreme boredom. Maybe once you get caught up in being ‘someone’ so everyone knows who you are you don’t know who you are anymore. Who you want to be. But the expectations are there so you have to maintain. You have to keep that up otherwise . . .


GRANDPA CASTOR

You make a choice. You’ve been caught up like this for years. It’s about time you grow some balls and become your own fucking woman.


(Mr. and Mrs. Castor are taken off guard while Lorraine laughs and cracks her whip. Lorraine goes to the couch and sits next to Grandpa Castor. As she sits, she unknowingly moves the legal papers towards him. During the following he starts to quietly read the papers.)

LORRAINE

Your own fucking woman. But not blowing the family inheritance on numbing yourself to play dress up and jetsetter. Stop hiding.


MRS. CASTOR

This coming from our leather clad princess.


LORRAINE

This is who I am. That’s why you can’t stand me.


MRS. CASTOR

Lorraine, I can stand you. I just choose not to – because (long pause as she realizes the old excuses don’t work) because you’re right. And I want to make you happy like your father does. And I want to be part of your inner circle.


LORRAINE

Then just give it all up. We’re right here, waiting.


MR. CASTOR

Sweet pea, maybe it’s the leather or the whip, or maybe something else, but I have to say you’ve certainly come into your own. A fine young woman. (to Mrs. Castor) And we can all just let this go and accept our fate. The economy and our spending have crippled us and this (looking subtly towards Grandpa Castor) is not the solution. I won’t resent you for pushing this because I see my part in it now. I could have done better. (He goes to Mrs. Castor and they embrace.)


GRANDPA CASTOR

What the fuck is this?


(pause)


LORRAINE

Grandpa, let me see those. (taking papers and looking them over then in shock) What? Father, how could you allow this?


MR. CASTOR

I know. It’s –


GRANDPA CASTOR

High Top Robbery.


LORRAINE

That’s highway robbery.


GRANDPA CASTOR

(looking at Lorraine for a moment as if he does not recognize her) That’s one hell of an outfit missy. (catching himself, pause) Granddaughter, I’m, I’m . . .


LORRAINE

(to Mr. and Mrs. Castor) You were going to have him sign over everything just so you could –


MR. CASTOR

Give me those. (grabs papers from Lorraine and proceeds to tear them up) Not any more. (Mrs. Castor reaches out for the papers a bit in shock then catches herself.) We’re going to figure it out.


GRANDPA CASTOR

No – you’re part right.


MR. CASTOR

Father?


GRANDPA CASTOR

(pause) I know what’s happening when I know it’s happening. I’ll sign over control of the estate, with some provisions of course.


MRS. CASTOR

Father, we can’t –


GRANDPA CASTOR

You won’t have to. Lorraine, though these two seem to have learned some lessons here today, you’re the only one of the bunch I trust.


LORRAINE

Oh, I don’t know I’d go that far.


MRS. CASTOR

No, Grandpa’s right. There will have to be some major decisions made in the next few years. Your father and I can do all the legwork, but you can have the final say. Maybe that’s the best way to –


MR. CASTOR

To bring us back to where we need to go for the future. A family we can all trust.


MRS. CASTOR

A less pressurized place. When we – I didn’t care so much about airs.


MR. CASTOR

And I balanced my affections.


LORRAINE

(pause, showing a softness and genuine appreciation) Wait. (runs upstairs)


MRS. CASTOR

I don’t think I can take anymore. (collapses next to Grandpa Castor, looks at him and takes the wig from his head and puts it on her own)


GRANDPA CASTOR

The color suits you.


(They all laugh as an obnoxiously loud sousaphone is heard from upstairs. Lorraine descends playing Stars and Stripes Forever! by John Philip Sousa. Lorraine is wearing a band uniform jacket over her dominatrix outfit and hat. She holds a snare drum, drumsticks, a set of symbols and a trumpet. She begins to march around the space and pass out the instruments. Grandpa Castor receives the symbols. Mr. Castor is given the snare drum and drumsticks. Mrs. Castor grabs the trumpet. All march behind Lorraine and play along to the best of their abilities. At the end of the song they sustain the final note for a moment past a blackout.)


END OF PLAY

Lee Corso's Racist Comment

Dear Reader,

I'd like to share a true story of something that happened several years ago. A story that, not for the first time, but in one of the most blatant ways showed me how much discrimination and hate against African Americans exists in the minds of the business leadership in Orlando, FL.

Up until recently, I was living and working in Orlando. Over the past decade I have worked there for various organizations in various capacities - basically, doing the best I could to get ahead as a marginalized person. For most of that time I was afraid. Afraid of working in a state that didn't value my equality as a gay person and afraid because those who 'managed' me seemed to more times than not ignore my plight and instead play into the unconservative (They would call themselves conservative, but really, what are they conserving?) hands of the business elite in the community.

While working for a creative agency in 2003-2004 I attended many mandatory Greater Orlando Chamber of Commerce networking events. This story takes place at one such event sponsored by the chamber and produced by a now defunct organization known as Breakfast Club of America, LLC.

The goal of Breakfast Club of America LLC was to provide high level networking opportunities with the business elite in Central Florida. The price tag for membership - $10,000. The hook - networking with other elite business people while having access to a sports celebrity guest speaker at each of their events. The business model - elite business people like sports figures and therefore this would appeal to the most elite leaders in the community. I shall not use this post to go into detail on the clearly discriminatory claim behind this business model. We can only be grateful the organization went out of business.

The organization I worked for was able to finagle a business membership in trade for producing a marketing video and some other creative materials for Breakfast Club of America. This business trade granted me, the one and only sales associate for the company access to the other members of the organization in hopes I would build relationships with them and acquire them as new clients for the company.

Oh joy of joys! I got to schmooze with the good ole boys! I got to kiss their asses in order to pay my rent. Wasn't I just the privileged one?

Now, mind you I had suffered discrimination on the job at this point from a previous employer. (I'm sure that story will be told at some point.) And I had seen how many Orlandoans felt about giving LGBT people employment protection within the city a few years prior. But I had no direct knowledge of any of these Breakfast Club of America members’ views against LGBT people or other marginalized groups. Having been taunted by the sports types as a kid, I figured the sports affiliated business leaders who were part of this networking group were the grown up version of my past oppressors. I admit I judged a whole group based on who they 'seemed' to be like. That is not right. But as it turned out, my correlations between the marginalizing forces of middle and high school jocks, a past white male employer and certain citizens in Orlando that ‘looked like’ these people was as it turns out not without some comment on white culture in Central Florida.

Back to the event. I did what I always did at these things. I worked the room, meeting as many people as I could before settling with the group that seemed at the top of the heap. This was a buffet style after work happy hour event set up in a country club banquet room. I networked by butt off, ate a bit of food and then sat with sports commentator and special guest, Lee Corso and some members of the organization. I have no recollection of the body of conversation these white men engaged in. All I remember is what happened next.

As I sat, the men were well into a discussion about, you guessed it - sports. I was not even recognized as I joined their happy circle, something that is always odd, but not particular concerning. Then, in a random comment in regard to athletes, Lee Corso compared some African American athletes to "porch monkeys." The table, sans me provided a knowing laugh, as if they were in on some fraternal secret. Then, by identifying eyes it was realized by the group a young, professional African American female was sitting at the table next to us. And finally, a mention, I don't remember by whom, expressing gratitude there wasn't a microphone nearby, which there could have been since one was used earlier in the evening.

I sat speechless, questioning if what I heard was REALLY just said. I couldn't believe it was true. But, as I sat there in confusion and shock I had to accept the fact that this did just happen. Then, as this realization sunk in, I had to grapple with what my response should be. I wasn't going to stand by and let this incident go unpunished. And as I thought of what I was going to say to combat this blatant hate, I thought of my African American niece and how this comment, if made about her would make me want to jump across the table. I found my speechlessness and anger yielding to...more speechlessness and anger. And then, as I was building the courage to confront this head on, I became afraid. Afraid of standing up to these goons and being treated as I was in front of the jocks of my youth. Afraid that the delicate balance known as ‘me making a living in a hostile environment’ could be disrupted to the point where I would easily be the outcast of this whole organization. Afraid of the place I had never gone - the place that says my voice is as loud as yours and will be heard.

I still ask myself, if I were a straight man who saw the injustice of this comment would I have said something to show my dissent? Would I have felt any kind of bullying memories weighing on me during my moment of inaction? Or, out of modes of survival, would I have done the same thing - nothing?

It is not enough that I am sharing this experience now after all this time. It doesn't erase the fact that I didn’t stand up for plurality. That I didn't stand up for my loved one who is part of the group they were marginalizing. And still, after all this time I question - am I only speaking out on this now because I feel safe that the powers that be in Orlando have no control over my voice anymore or that I can say what I want to whom I want without fear of losing my job due to being seen as a polarizing activist?

Even my most recent job was with an organization that may be refusing to embrace a heightened understanding of multiculturalism. Depending on what this unnamed organization does or does not do in the near future will determine how I speak of my experiences working there. If I publicly shared this Lee Corso story while at my last job would I have put myself at risk?

In an attempt to see if Lee Corso has his own Facebook page, (Because isn't that what we do when we want to get to know someone these days - send them a friend request?) I found a Lee Corso individual member who may be the actual Lee Corso. I sent him a friend request. If it the actual Lee and he does accept my request I'll be sure to share this blog post with him. If you happen to have a connection to Lee, I would be more than interested in following up to make sure he knows his racist comment wasn't forgotten and is now out there for all to see.

And who knows, maybe a beer between Lee and I would clear the air like it did as of late between Professor Gates and Sgt. Crowley. Except, I would say to him, having been there and knowing all the facts that Lee did indeed act stupidly. And in case anyone asks, I would probably have a Bud Light. Maybe, just maybe the new Bud Light Lime.

Some Facebook group names involving Lee Corso I uncovered in my search, some offensive, some funny, some just plain stupid:

"Lee Corso is an Eskimo"
"Lee Corso is a god"
"Lee Corso is an idiot"
Several "Fuck Lee Corso" groups
"Lee Corso is a DOUCHE"
"Lee Corso is the devil!"
"Lee Corso resembles a sea otter"

Thanks for reading.

Alan L. Bounville