So Bob Leahy, that happy puppy (and editor of this site), emails me the other day and says, “Hey Michael, why don’t you write something light-hearted for the holidays? Something uplifting, easy, a present for all the poz boys and girls?”

Or something to that effect.

Well, ‘Easy’ is my middle name – not a word from the peanut gallery, please – and making Bob happy is one of my reasons for getting up in the morning (how the poor man puts up with me, I do not know), and it occurs to me that Christmas at least can be even more homosexualized even beyond the angels, elves and glitter everywhere, so here goes.

Think it through for a second: Christmas is all about consumption. Vast, awesome, garish and guilt-free consumption. So that’s our baseline, and you know what, I say go for it. If I’m going to have to listen to hundreds of god-awful, off-key renditions of Rudolph the Red-Nosed reindeer (how did he get that shiny nose, anyway? I have my theories about that little four-legged tramp), damn right there better be some material benefit. Note to boyfriend: iPad.

Then there’s the iconography. Poor Joseph; his wife gets knocked up, spins some likely cover about divine intervention (Mary must have hit him over the head with a menorah to get him to buy that story), and the poor guy winds up scurrying around ancient Israel looking for a hotel. Been there, done that, and where does the guy wind up? In a freaking leather bar avant la lettre. Really?

Or take the angels. Even as a little boy (maybe in a hint of things to come), I always thought they would have to be hot. Smoking gorgeous hot, chiseled faces, sculpted bodies, the kind of exquisite material any Catholic would be familiar with. Go to any church in Rome (or anywhere we’ve planted our flag of guilt, pagan art and lecherous clergy) and you’ll see what I mean. The Sistine Chapel might as well be in West Hollywood, and if the Cardinals had their way, it probably would be.

But Santa, now he’s a problem.

Start with the residence. Who in their right mind – sorry, Manitoba – wants to live at the North Pole? Unless you’re some survivalist freak gun nut (or Sarah Palin, but I repeat myself). Even the local bears seem to be tiring of the place, and small wonder: it’s melting.

His life/work arrangements likewise are suspect. There is apparently a Mrs. Claus, if one chooses to credit what seems fairly obviously a fabrication of some clever PR department.

But Mrs. Claus or not (now might be the right time to expound on the drag queen theory), the man lives surrounded by elves. Not Tolkien’s elves, mind you, the kind that wield swords, but a bunch of preternaturally happy, hard-working androgynous male children. What we further south call “twinks”, except for the happy and hard-working part.

Perhaps they’re the reason why he’s at the North Pole in the first place; the entire arrangement reeks of scandal, not to mention a deliberate flouting of the child labor laws that obtain in any respectable jurisdiction. Are there any paparazzi up there? Ravenous gossip blogs? No? I rest my case. If TMZ or Gawker were within a string of pearls throw of the place, we’d know the truth. As it is, we’re left with dark suspicions, vague innuendo and crucially, no sex tape. With the polar bears out of the picture, well, you do the math.

All of that said, you’ve probably met Santa; and no, I’m not talking about his deputies at the mall, vaguely disconcerting as they may be.

The simple fact is that Santa is a bear. A bit of a paunch, check. Excessive facial hair, likely stretching down his front and back into regions I don’t even want to think about, check. Thigh boots? But of course.

Face it: if you haven’t gone home with Santa yet (and I’m not ragging on you if you’d like that; no judgments), you’ve at least been asked, little cub. Forget about the presents: what kind of toys does the man really have?

Man, the stuff we do for toys. Happy Holidays. 

As is the wont of my life I was talking to some friends the other day over a few beverages of an alcoholic nature.  It dawned on me what I could write about next.  It was my birthday, thank you very much, and we were discussing aging among many other things.  

And it hit me, along with a thrown ice cube, that there is a whole range of books to be written.  Not just small articles.  But this . . . 

How To Care For Your New HIV Friend. 

Of course after chapters of identifying which generation and type of HIV poz person you’ve just acquired, there would have to be a series of books for each kind.  For myself I think the older, longer term survivor is the best chance to really educate people.  And make fun of myself. 

There could be chapters about things like basic biology.  While the newer models of HIV poz people might have these kinds of issues, they are not generally expressed the same.  More of the older poz people will appreciate the understanding you can afford them by following several simple rules. 

For example.  When a poz person of a certain age and experience says they need to go, it is not the time to ask whether or not they meant the movies, across the street, to Folsom or some such.  In fact staying perfectly still and making sure not to get in their way is often the best one can do.  If possible point, silently, to the nearest washroom if you should know where one is.  

You will find, along these lines, that many of your older poz friends will be able to quietly and unconsciously navigate their home city via the sewer system’s public outlets.  It is was necessary part of existence as often there is no warning when such things would manifest in a public place.  And really the only option is to run, sweating profusely, toward the nearest restroom.  Even if those reactions no longer necessarily apply, the reflexes persist. 

A chapter on pills could be written.  Explaining that, among many other things, their rhetorical explanation that they would prefer a new regimen because their present group of pills don’t colour coordinate, well one should solemnly nod along and not point out how ridiculous it is.  For some the unending number of pills gulped down over the years can lead to a strange desire to at the very least have them in pleasing colours if one is going to be tied to them forever.  It has even been suggested that efforts be made to create alcohol flavoured ones.  A Bailey’s Atripla, for instance, might just make the morning move along more smoothly for your new HIV poz friend.  

Also, here, one could discuss how to feed or at least be sympathetic to their newly acquired HIV poz friend.  The planning of which pills to eat with food or not to eat with can produce something that appears to be five dimensional origami from an outsider’s view.  Tolerances and side effects might have changed, but fussy eating habits tend to stick with the HIV poz friend. 

A whole range of books would have to touch on humour.  For each kind of HIV poz individual there is a different kind of way to approach what makes them laugh. 

For a specific kind of HIV poz individual you will find sometimes a darker tone to their humour.  Do not be offended, for instance, by comments such as “always the pallbearer, never the corpse”.  

For others this kind of thing would be highly offensive.  It’s probably best to provide an open and free space for your new HIV poz friend to express their own humour.  Much like approaching a wild animal it is often best to be patient and quiet as they acclimatize to you. 

Or, of course, you could just buy them a beer and ask about their day. 

Miss Manners makes sense if you’re unsure but the general rule of thumb should come down to this : we’re just like everyone else.   Sort of.

There is a certain irony in that I left the world of HIV to go into comedy, and yet I’m starting to talk about it in my stand-up.

This is no easy feat for a novice comedian. Folks it’s only been since January. I can’t seem to get away from this hacky pun, but I have been dying to do it for a long time.

It takes time to work up the guts to do very personal comedy; especially when tackling the topic of HIV. It’s so original that people are blown away by anyone who can go on a stage and talk about this kind of stuff.

It's like going to my friend’s dark show called Shock Therapy where subjects of early childhood sexual abuse and other fun subjects were tackled.

It’s a bit of a conflict for me. I don’t want to be known as the “AIDS” guy. But on the other hand, it makes up an important part of my life. I feel if I ignore it, then I’m not being true to myself.

Initially I was more worried about the other comics and what they would think of me.

A week ago I finally got up at a venue called Giggles on Groove and did my set about being positive.

There were a lot of comics that night. My plan was to have more time so I could ease into it a bit. Instead, due to the amount of people going up, my time was shortened to five minutes.

The approach I took worked well for this one night. I explained that I had worked on some new dark stuff, and I wasn’t sure if it fitted the bill, but they can be the judge.

So . . I stopped speaking, looked at the audience from one end to the other, and proclaim to my unsuspecting subjects: “The worst thing about being HIV positive is that I’m never quite sure when I’m having my mid-life crisis………..it could be now. Oh who am I kidding, I’m 47. The mid part of the life-crisis has long passed by.”

After I finished, I had one comic say, “Wow, you just woke up the room with that.” Another comic who I love (and is so dark) was standing clapping as I came down. “I stood up just so I could give you a standing ovation” he said.

The feeling was of respect, support and a lot of encouragement. Another comic was very complementary and wanted to hear more. “We need to talk about these subjects, and you can do it.”

Since I have a big gig coming up tonight (July 25) with Scott Thompson hosting, I wanted to practice a bit more and went out to a venue in Mississauga. I tried the orginal way of just hitting people over the heads with it. However open mics that are just comics (and in Mississauga) sometimes don’t work as well.

As I was doing it, I realized that I hit them too hard too soon. They didn’t feel like they had the permission to laugh. I got great notes (feedback by other comics) on how to broach this topic. This is definitely not beginner comic material. This takes a lot of reading of the room, and the ability to be able to bring it back.

Getting near to the end of my set I realized and said out loud, “Ok it’s easy enough to get into this HIV stuff, but how the hell do you get out of it.”

Some of my observations are that I need more time to get into a heavier topic and that I need to explicitly give permission and a bit of context to the stand-up.

My fellow positive friends don’t find my humour that crazy, but to civilians, they don’t know what to do with it. Isn’t HIV supposed to be all about stigma and discrimination? How is it that we are seeing someone right in front of us bring out the taboo and lay it out for all to see?

I do like the expression one comic uses, “personally uncomfortable” Should comedy be easy laughs or should we go into the personal and work our shit out in a comedic way. I go for Door #2.

As for tonight, I’ve yet to make up my mind on whether or not I’m going to go there.

This Saturday night though, I have a full ten minutes at a friend’s show, where she wants me to do my “ballsy” stuff. I’ll have an opportunity to workshop it some more. 

There are few issues about which I feel more strongly than HIV/AIDS awareness and I take my advocacy/activism quite seriously, for a variety of reasons both globally-effective and intimately personal. I've found Twitter to be a fantastic resource for me in finding individuals, charity organizations, and hospitals/research centers to educate myself, lend support, and a million other uses when it comes to the disease. I cannot recommend it enough in this regard.

But...there's a downside, of course. For all of the people out there trying to educate, inform, and enrich life for everyone, there are just as many ignorant, corrupt, and hateful folks.

So -- one of the people I follow on Twitter (whose tweets are normally hilarious) posted a joke, a joke about HIV. Now, I firmly believe none of us should ever take ourselves so seriously that we can't find something to laugh at ourselves about, even if that laughter is in response to something as dire as illness, death, or catastrophe of some kind. I'm not saying I'm gonna do a 10-minute set of my best blond jokes at your funeral, but I have experienced the cathartic release of laughing at something truly devastating as a means of coping.

The tweet made me curious though; just how far would I be willing to go for a healing laugh? Are there certain subjects that are strictly verboten in any and every setting, or just around me personally?

With that in mind, I started digging around in the Twitterverse searching through thousands of tweets, and links, and blog posts for HIV/AIDS jokes. Believe me, there are A LOT and some of them are so repugnant I wouldn't even dream of sharing them here. Take my word for it, OK?

But the jokes are just that -- jokes. In bad taste? Of course! Not suitable for sharing in mixed company? Most definitely! But there is still an underlying intent of humor that cannot be denied, it softens the blow and makes them less painful, at least to me. But there's a lot of other talk going on out there, besides jokes and the tweets for doing good when it comes to HIV/AIDS. I'd like to share a tweet that stopped me dead in my tracks and caused me deep pain to even read:

"I feel the same way about people with hiv/aids as the nazi's did about the jews."

Now, all I know about the person who wrote this is that he lives in Iowa, has a wife/girlfriend, and generally likes to go out hunting, fishing and drinking with his buddies. I have no idea if there's some context that I'm missing, or if there's some extenuating circumstance that's not easily seen nor any of my business. But that doesn't change how I feel about it, right? Nor should it, if it's posted in a public forum such as it is.

The fact of the matter is, this young man (at least, that's what he looked like in his avatar photo) put this kind of ignorant hatred out into the world. Whether he believes it or not, was joking or serious, regrets it or is proud of it...it's there to inflict pain on anyone who reads it. At least, I should say, anyone who has any respect for the persecution and injustice that Jews withstood and suffered at the hands of fascist Nazis, or the pain, illness, and fear that anyone who has HIV or AIDS deals with on a daily-basis.

There are so many instances -- too many -- that emphasize the extremity of the hatred and intolerance that seems to be prevalent throughout our country these days. I know that I might be a tad hyper-sensitive about the whole HIV/AIDS issue, but to glibly liken yourself to a Nazi and their deplorable attempted genocide of the Jewish people?

And in such a sweeping, generalized way? I mean, I'd almost have preferred him saying, "...fags with HIV...", than to so callously throw all people battling this virus into his vile statement! Again...I'm utterly astounded and generally frightened to my core by this.

But that's what drives activism most assuredly, no? To be so affected by something that you feel compelled to action? I genuinely believe that all of us are capable of creating great change in any number of ways, but most definitely by simply sharing our experiences with the people we care about. So, I share this with all of you in hopes that it stirs you to action of some kind in making our world better for us all.

Where does that leave me and my (usually) inappropriate sense of humor then? I could get angry; ranting and raving at every offensive reference to HIV/AIDS, or find another approach. Is it possible to keep my sense of humor while trying to educate and raise awareness?

Let me share the line that started this whole voyage: "I wonder if people with HIV say 'I've got the Magic (Johnson) in me!'?" I think what offended me the most was...it's just not that funny. So, I replied to this tweet with my own: "No, we don't. We'll sometimes say, 'Let's go spread a little Magic!' though. (HIV Stigma isn't very funny, is it?)"

In a similar vein to the "Fighting Fire With Fire" approach, I've decided to combat this type of ignorance with better punch lines, sharper wit, and somewhat sardonic levity. Activism through comedy, if you will. Will I offend some people? Certainly. Will I make some people think about an issue differently? Maybe? I hope so. As they say..."See you in the funny pages!" LOL!

This post originally appeared on The Bilerico Project 

Jim Swimm is a forty-year-old Texan transplant in New York City: Gay, HIV+ and simply trying to make the world a better place... “ ‘cause I’m a superhero like that”. You can follow him on Twitter @Jims_Whim

Way back then I wanted to start writing, but I wasn't quite sure how to go about it. I just knew that I wanted to write. Blogs were becoming more popular at that point and they were quite easy to set up. These were the days before Twitter and Facebook, and a blog was one of the principle ways to communicate via the new "social media."

My inspiration was the dark humour of a bunch of guys in AIDS in the 1980s and early 90s who created their own Zine called Diseased Pariah News. These were dark times and they required dark humour. It was the only way I could get through the era of no real hope for treatment, while watching friends and acquaintances die. I can see complete copies that I'm happy to say they've finally put online. It's part of our history, check it out.

Some people were highly offended by Diseased Pariah News. However, I loved it. Who could forget the fake ads for "AIDS Barbie" and their matching Bob Mackie design bedpans? AIDS Barbie also had the Malibu Home Hospice, which was the camper on the go.

Every month had the "Innocent Victim" poster boy. Remember this was a time when there were clear distinctions between those deserving this terrible death and those who didn't. Children and those with blood disorders were on the top of the innocent victims list; also fairly high were the wives of bisexual men.

Looking back at these images I really see how much I've toned it down. Back then I wanted to shock people. My theory was that I was not going to be defined by others, I was going to do it myself, and this was how I was going to do it: with my own brand of irreverent humour.

During this time a fellow named Kostas in Greece, a man I've never met to this day nor have seen an actual photo of, began to send me these great images. I soon began asking him to make up banners etc for me. 

This one I made myself, you can see the difference in quality! 

Part of my shtick at the time was that it was hard to pull off HIV as glamorously as I could. This started when a friend of mine many years ago came to me after getting his test results, still worked up with all the stress he put himself under - he told me that it came back negative. I put my hand on his leg and said, "It's ok Steve, it's not for everyone, not everyone call pull it off as glamorously as I can, you'll be ok."

To this day I do warn people that it does take a lot of work to pull of HIV as well as I do, and this is best left to trained professionals. I think Dr. Oz would agree. There are some out there who have found themselves positive and become frustrated as it takes time to learn the ropes.

Anyway I digress. I had a lot of fun writing in those days just allowing my imagination to take off and not think about what others thought.

Today being the publisher of PositiveLite.com has brought me into another stage of evolution where I find myself not wanting to be as wide open in my personal life, and a little, and I know it's shocking, camera shy.

However writing this post reminds me that I have to put a bit more fun back into AIDS, or at least my AIDS.

Now on to some of the images! I went to a conference in Africa and then in Australia. I had Kostas make up a poster for my alter ego, Miss Retro Virus, for her world pandemic tour complete with tour dates. He also made up some very fun banners for each country I was in.

When I started my everything-but-the-kitchen-sink combination of medications in 2006, I wrote all the way through that. Trust me when I tell you it wasn't pretty, especially with the Sustiva and losing my ability to even write complete sentences. I still shared this difficult experience and kudos to anyone who attempted to read it.

After doing my World AIDS Day interviews several years ago, I had been on the D-list tour while my friends were talking to the national newspapers, I just finished public access television and 24 Hours free news magazine (the one you read on the subway and litter the floor with). After getting out of the Rogers TV station, basking in the afteglow of appearing in between a group of modern dancers and a guy selling "Scorned Women Hot Sauce," I declared that I was the "Kathy Griffin of AIDS"

And finally one more glamour shot while I walk down memory lane....

For dark comedic purposes, I thought I’d compile a short list of offensive, bizarre or irritating comments I’ve received since my diagnosis.  I find laughing at these to be the best way to defuse them.  I don’t have the exact wording as relying on my memory, but the jist of the comment is there.  In no particular order: 

1. “Most gay people are like ‘bring on the HIV meds’” – Doctor

Oh really?  I have many gay friends, and I haven’t heard any of them say such a thing.  This proclamation was said with the intent to make me feel better after having received my diagnosis.  I imagine this was meant to conjure an image of gay people skipping and laughing towards the pharmacists for their HIV meds.  What the F?!  

2. “You don’t look like the kind of person who gets it” - Doctor

What type of person would that be?  A shambling zombie?  Leather-clad, and moustached?  Stereotypes anyone???

3. “Many celebrities have it” - Doctor

HIV is not a fashionable pet.  It is not like having an Ipad.   I don’t understand why this would make me feel better in the least!  This comment and that regarding ‘bring on the meds’ assume that I have only half a brain cell.  

4. “You silly billy” – Counselor, whilst rolling her eyes.   

This was from a workplace counselor, in response to my informing her of my diagnosis.  A silly billy was a type of clown at fairs in England during the 19^th century.  Over the years, it has become a term used to describe foolishness.  NO!

5. “Would you like a cup of tea?”  x 1,000,000 – Doctors, Nurses, Etc

This was sweet at first, and very much appreciated.  After the zillionth time however, I started to become massively irritated by it.  The fact that the tea was often served in anti-retroviral branded mugs only served to exacerbate the issue.  I did very much appreciate the sentiment behind it though!  

6. “It’s that whole sex and death thing isn’t it?” – Counsellor

This was during another counselling session organised through my employer.  The sessions were held in a dark apartment, with sheets covering all furniture other than two chairs (yes... very strange).  The counsellor was obsessed with ranting on about sex and death.  I’m not sure if I was acting as a counsellor to HIM rather than the other way around.         

7. “Well, you need to live near a hospital in case you collapse” – Counselor

This was from the same counsellor who referred to me as a 19^th century clown, so I guess I shouldn’t have expected any better.      

I jotted these gems down as they came into my mind.  Unfortunately, this means that there will be a second part to this posting in the future!