Despite the snowbound of which many of you have been for a few days this week, life continues on in publishing this week's QUEERtimes.

We haven't missed bringing you a single issue in more than two and a half years so we're hoping that we'll help you feel better, especially if you're severely suffering from cabin fever.

I mean what hasn't been canceled this week? And Philadelphia still didn't have to close down officially like our neighbors to the South, Atlantic City, Baltimore and Washington, D. C., and even the Diamond State yesterday declared a "State of Emergency."

Weren't we all a little humbled by the fact that no matter how technologically advanced and culturally sophisticated we've become, Mother Nature can simply and powerfully rear her cruelest, coldest head, and everything about our normal living comes to a sudden halt, whether you live in an urban or rural environment, she takes command and there's no way of stopping her.

But enough about the snow, I lived closely with Mother Nature for 12 long snowy winters (that actually started in the fall and ended close to springtime) so I hardly ever have to be humbled by her-but, you, on the other hand.

On a kinder and definitely warmer note (we're not just talking weather again either), bears (the queer human kind, not polars) will be descending upon the International Bear Rendezvous (IBR 2010), organized by the Bears of San Francisco, this weekend.

There's genuine excitement about the premiere of "BEAR NATION," the latest documentary independent film, from queer director Malcolm Ingram whose pervious work, "Small Town Gay Bar" made quite an impression at most of the queer film festivals across the country, including Philadelphia QFest .

"We are so excited to start our journey with the film at such an important event to me, personally," said Ingram who will be at IBR 2010. "Attending IBR in my early stages of coming out showed me a community that I could identify with and helped me figure out where

I fit."

A long time "bear" identified Ingram for "BEAR NATION" actually filmed across NorthAmerica and the United Kingdom, wanting to capture "the growing diversion of the gay community with the sexualization of fat and hair.

What began as a personal journey into the complexities of belonging to a subculture of a subculture for Ingram ended up becoming "a furry odyssey of discovery" with a thoroughly thoughtful, stylistic, and entertaining examination of the bear nation.

Organizers of "BEAR NATION" stated that their presence would be felt beyond the premiere of the film itself at IBR 2010 with their own booth at the Vendor Maul and BEAR NATION Hospitality Suite with complimentary pizza, beer and t-shirt giveaways at the Parc 55 Hotel for the entire weekend; a SModcast: The Live, Bi-curious Bear Edition" with director Kevin Smith ("Zack and Miri Make a Porno") and Ingram in attendance on February 13; and the announcement of the BEAR NATION American Tour including World Premiere screening information, dates and locations.

For information on the film, visit BearNationMovie.com

For information on IBR 2010, visit bosf.org/bearrendezvous

Don't you love the diversity our queer community really represents? We perhaps have more subcultures within a subculture than any in the history of the world.

This week I'm writing from afar.  I have traveled across the vast, mostly uninteresting Pennsylvania turnpike to deliver this article to you from the other side of the state! Yes, your queer explorer has descended into the unruly wilds that is rural Western Pennsylvania.

While I know the lay of the land and I'm able to successfully camouflage myself with overzealous Steelers enthusiasm and bad grammar, I often do find myself feeling like I'm on a safari when I voyage back to my homeland. The folks here are exotic and strange; much of my time is spent observing them from the standpoint of an amateur anthropologist.

I was in the thick of a prime opportunity for observation when my studies, and the fact that my driver's license expired about two weeks ago, landed me yesterday at the local DMV. It seemed that on this particular Wednesday, every species of western Pennsylvanians had converged on the hard plastic gray chairs of the waiting room.

Seated in front of me was the most interesting pack: a plump, childish looking woman with two unkempt men with bushy, bedraggled beards, somewhat reminiscent of a grimier version of Cheech and Chong (one walked with a cane and wore a dusty ball cap with a marijuana leaf on it). The woman sat the two men down like schoolchildren and plopped herself down directly in front of me. After some squirming and complaining, the woman disappeared. When she returned, one of the men asked her where she'd been. "I had to move my car, I was parked in the handicapped spot. I told 'em I had a cripple with me but they said I had to have 'at sticker. I ain't payin' $150 for 'at sticker!"

Next thing I knew, a clean-cut, Supermom wandered in with her son and husband next. Her son yanked a number and sat down. She carefully examined all the signs to make sure he pulled the right one. After a five-minute in-depth investigation that included stooping and squinting at forms and fine print, she was content with his decision. She sat down next to her husband who had the shiny look of an evening newscaster.

As the only queer person in the room, I, too, was a strange creature to them. To my right was a teenager getting his learner's permit who took an odd fascination in me. He openly stared in awe, like I was the most exquisite being he'd ever seen. After a good 45 minutes, I decided that he was secretly a lesbian trapped in a boy's body, and he aspired to be like me some day. Twice I caught TV family lady looking at me with a contemplative, sideways glance, attempting to dissect me like the waiting room signage she had poured over.

I eventually made it out alive and received the obligatory horrible driver's license picture that we've all have whether we're white, queer, hetero, gender variant or not, ethnic, poor, rich, old and young and that we all have come to recognize as a symbol of advanced civilization in our society.

Despite the cliché, sometimes reality is surely much stranger than fiction.