Give the Gift of Gay for the Holidays!


In the month of December, my true love gave to me…one bunch of butches, a group of gay resistors, dyke demonstrators, a tank of transgender activists, and a boatload of bisexuals! All for me!!!

Buy at Stacked Deck Press. $5 flat rate shipping for all domestic orders — stock up on LGBTQ+ comics and books for all your favorite pals, sweeties, and teachers! Also available on Amazon in the US and Europe.

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It’s Finally Raining in San Francisco

airI’ve finally finished writing Resistance: The LGBT Fight Against Fascism in WWII; long mornings of waking up, showering, dressing, making an iced latte, then sitting down at 6:30 am to research and write about WWII for a couple of hours before I take the bus into work are completed. I decided to add a small glossary, mostly of German laws that were enacted in 1933 and leading up to the war — that time period when the liberal Weimar Republic was winding down and the nationalists were gaining power is early familiar.

I live in San Francisco, just 70 miles southwest of the recent massive, quickly moving fire that destroyed the town of Paradise, killing over 80 people, burning down over 13,000 homes, and who knows how many animals were killed. The smoke of death and destruction traveled, reaching San Francisco and hovering in our air for ten days, a thick yellow haze that burned our eyes and throat. It was recommended that we stay indoors to protect our health, classes and events were cancelled, and people organized to hand out masks and water to the vulnerable homeless folks.

I work in downtown San Francisco, in a small basement room with piss poor ventilation, which meant that I was sick by the time I spent eight hours in my office. My cat, Lulu refused to enter the living room of my small drafty Victorian apartment, where there was a bay window. She normally slept on a small faux leopard covered armchair in front of the window, but she stopped. She took to sleeping under the blankets on my bed, something she never did before. I started calling her my little canary-in-the-coal-mine cat.

My girlfriend in Massachusetts mailed me two N95 masks to filter out the poisons and I gave the extra one to my neighbor who’s on a fixed income.  Walking down the streets of the city felt apocalyptic and strange; many folks were wearing either white masks or more elaborate ones that were reminiscent of WWI gas masks. Politics continued to trudge forward, each day more disorientating than the last. It was during this time period that I received my review copy of Resistance: The LGBT Fight Against Fascism in WWII at work. I carried it home on the bus and through the smoke while wearing my mask. The book was beautiful, but the circumstances were bizarre and dreamlike.

Thankfully, the recent rainy, windy weather has blown away the smoke and toxins from my city. I’ve returned an enormous stack of WWII and queer forebearers research books to the library and have been reading Scandinavian mysteries instead. I’m exhausted though; between immersion into the Holocaust, angrily pounding out Resistance: The LGBT Fight Against Fascism in WWII, the calamitous fire, politics, and my cold, my brain has drained into nothingness. I hope you enjoy the book. For me, it’s time now for pleasure and relaxation — sewing projects, strolls through the Botanical Garden, visiting my daughter and grandchildren, maybe a new tattoo, and cooking experiments in the kitchen.

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Resistance: The LGBT Fight Against Fascism in WWII – Vera Lachmann

Here is a sneak peak into Resistance: The LGBT Fight Against Fascism in WWII. I loved researching,  writing about, and drawing Vera. Like all of the folks in this book, she was absolutely fascinating and by the end, I completely wanted to become Vera.


Vera Lachmann, 1904–1985, Germany/United States and drawn by Avery Cassell

Vera Lachmann was a poet, classicist, scholar, and an educator. She was born in Berlin, Germany into an upper class, well-to-do Jewish family. Her father, Louis Lachmann, was a prominent local architect, designing one of Berlin’s opera houses, department stores, and other buildings. In 1910, when Vera was only five years old, her father committed suicide when his firm fell into bankruptcy.1 There were several suicides in Vera’s extended family, and suicide was common amount bourgeois Jewish-German families in that era.2 Louis’ death left Vera, her mother, and her two siblings, Nina and Erick, alone. Vera was studious, attended a private girls’ school, then went on to Humboldt University of Berlin and the University of Basel to study philology, language, and literature. In 1931, Vera earned her PhD from the University of Berlin, with an interest in Icelandic saga. Her goal was to teach at the university but, due to the sexist hiring practices of the era, she was denied that opportunity and earned a secondary school teacher’s certificate instead. In 1933, Vera founded Jagowstrasse School, a small progressive private school for Jewish and non-Aryan children.3

Continue reading

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Happy Holidays with a Turkey Fisting Scene from Behrouz Gets Lucky:

There was only one scene in Behrouz Gets Lucky which horrified my publisher, and this was it; She was scandalized that Lucky did not use latex gloves.

By noon Alex, Sam, and Theo were crashing from the sugar. Lucky and I volunteered to start the roast turkey and sent everyone off for naps. I removed the twenty-five-pound hunk of bird from the brining bucket on the back porch and patted it dry while Lucky chopped sweet onions and tart apples for our traditional cornbread and apple stuffing.

I fried the sage sausage, and when I was done Lucky mixed everything in a large metal mixing bowl.

“Baby, I’m going to show you how to stuff a turkey. Watch closely.” Lucky whipped out a pair of black nitrile gloves from the back pocket of her jeans. She put them on, snapping the cuffs, then flexed her hands. I jumped at the snapping sound, my cunt getting wet in Pavlovian response.

“I gotta warm this sweet little bird up,” she said, and reached into the turkey’s cavity slowly until she was in halfway up her forearm. “Come closer so you can watch my hand. Stand next to me. There you go. Closer. Right next to me. Just rest your hip against my ass the way I like it.”

I was mesmerized, turned on, and horrified all at once. I was in my daughter’s kitchen in Ohio while my lover did dirty things to and fisted a clammy cold dead turkey carcass. Lucky removed her hand from inside of the turkey, poured a dollop of olive oil onto her gloved palm and rubbed her hands together, getting them slick and shiny.

“I need to make sure the flesh is tender, so I’m going to smooth this olive oil into the inside and then the outside of our bird,” she said, like a perverted Martha Stewart. She reached in again, meeting my eyes. “See how I’m making sure our bird is all slick and slippery inside. I’m turning my hand around and pressing into its tender flesh with my

knuckles. I’ve got to make sure that I grease up every spot. Put your hand inside too and grab my fist. Go on. Don’t be shy.” I reached in the opening, felt Lucky’s greased up fist, and gasped. I imagined her sliding into me the way she’d slid into that turkey and my hips moved forward against her ass. I couldn’t help it.

Lucky grabbed a garlic clove, then separated the cold, feather-pluck marked skin from the turkey breast. She took the clove and slowly inserted it with her index and middle fingers under the loosened skin “See how I gently loosened the skin? Now I’m sliding the garlic in between the skin and the flesh.” She moved her hand around, the two fingers straightened out and sliding carefully, reaching the entire breast and pressing in with her fingertips. “I’m softening up the breast flesh and making it flavorful. You know how important it is to soften things up before you cook them, right?”

“Oh baby,” I moaned. “You are so fucking unfair. So fucking mean. We haven’t fucked in days!”

“That’s why I’m the sadist, monkey butt.”

“Hey you two,” my daughter, Theo stood in the doorway rubbing her eyes. “Tell me what you want me to do next.”

Theo came into the steamy kitchen and I backed away from Lucky’s ass. I did all but throw myself onto the snow in the backyard to cool off. I washed dishes. I folded laundry. I peeled potatoes. I took out the trash. I fed the cats. Anything to stop thinking about Lucky’s right hand in my cunt and her left hand at my throat.

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Feed Your Brain – Resistance: The LGBT Fight Against Fascism in WWII

My new book from Stacked Deck Press is available now! Buy your copies of Resistance: The LGBT Fight Against Fascism in WWII! This illustrated historical biography is twice as long as the previous books and packed full of queer history, bravery, love, gossip, and rebellion, with artwork by an international community of queer artists! This book is great for folks that want to learn more about the rise of fascism leading up to WWII, and LGBT activists of that era. Available on Amazon in the US and in Europe.
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