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Being Gay: so 2006

Being Gay: so 2006

The conspirators

Mindlessly flipping between late-night talk shows yesterday (the viewing equivalent of digging lint balls out of my belly button, and then sniffing them), I rest on channel 4 long enough (three seconds) to hear mutton-joweled Jay Leno unsurprisingly drop some vaguely slurrish stinkbomb—don’t remember the elegantly mounted joke, but the payoff was something like “that won’t be the first time someone from San Francisco’s been mounted from behind.” Unsurprising, whatever. Zapped over to Letterman, who’d surely be thrilled that the Colts had walked off with the win. His response was one of his patently unfunny top tens, two of which punch-lined with jokes about the horrors of “showering with other dudes” and something about “sharing a locker room with Prince.” (This not long after the infamous—sadly only in my apartment—Top Ten Signs Your Husband Is Gay).

Okay, I get the message, and I don’t have to flip to Jimmy Kimmel to be further humiliated. Off to the refuge of the internet. But what’s this? Snickers pulled a slew of not so SATISFECTAWESOMETAGIOUS Super Bowl ads because their content (in which two mechanics accidentally locked their lips when trying to wrap them around a peanut-nouget-chocolate stick, only to nearly vomit with unimaginable disgust and rip their own hair out) had offended some viewers. A Masterfoods spokesman was quoted as saying: “As with all of our Snickers advertising, our goal was to capture the attention of our core Snickers consumer, primarily 18-to-24-year-old adult males.” Just another day at the office, really.

This morning, making all this bile a deeper shade of maize was the newsflash that Evangelical preacher and yummy official Reverse Shot boy-toy Ted Haggard celebrated Jesus Camp’s Oscar nomination this week by finally entering full-blown heterosexuality. Yes, sorry boys, he’s officially taken (by the Lord, that is, as well as the hot vagina he can’t wait to start diving into with open jaw). And that sex-n-meth hotel raunchfest was a one-time-only deal. According to the Denver Post, this strapping mix of Aaron Eckhart, Patrick Swayze, and Dolph Lundgren, “emerged from three weeks of intensive counseling convinced he is ‘completely heterosexual.’”

But really popping the cherry this month for me was the universal embrace of the favorite film of both Isaiah Washington and mindless theater queens nationwide: Richard Eyre’s Notes on a Scandal, which at least has the decency to wrap its homophobia in a nice pretty Oscar-ready package. I’ve already detailed my loathing of Eyre’s dum-dum potboiler, though I did whip myself into a frenzy for forgetting to mention its screenplay was written by everyone’s favorite misogynist, misanthrope, and generally crappy scenarist Patrick Marber. True Notes on a Scandal might have even bigger problems than its mind-bendingly outmoded take on twisted predatory lesbian love—like, say, a sputtering narrative predicated both on idiotic coincidences and nonsensical editing (riddle me this, Scandal fans, if it’s so “tightly plotted,” then why does Bill Nighy scream and spittle on the sidewalk to Dench that she’s a “fucking old witch” before sharing a friendly, casual glass of chardonnay with her merely a few scenes later?). But really, I shouldn’t have been surprised, as dismayed as I am, by the gay community’s utter embrace of the film—no, not merely as gawdy trash, but as a serious psychological character study—as per a whole slew of worthless “this is my gym routine and my complete and utter lack of knowledge about art” alt lifestyle blogheads. Furthermore, a couple of critics have gone so far as to call Notes Chabrolian—trust me, if this is Chabrolian, then Tom Shadyac is Billy Wilder.

And before we go, let’s not forget the most-watched short film of the week, young master “Donnie Davies”’ is-it-a-joke-or-isn’t-it “God Hates Fags” video (nope, no link here, sorry), seemingly as oft-emailed betwixt friends as SNL’s “Dick in a Box” digital short (which contrary to all reports, is a joke!) Though Davies was finally outed (as an actor, that is), the sentiment behind the video remains in question, and the rotund featured player’s refusal to identify himself or take a stand on the issue he’s raised simply just makes him (and his viewers) complicit in this ongoing debasement of a supposedly enlightened popular culture. There’s always Norbit.

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