boy culture

The Gay Boogie

Here come the brides.

I've always liked Ellen—I even sat through her sitcom, which was brilliant in fits and unfit for television in bits. I liked her more than I ever could have thought possible when she came out, was disappointed when I saw her in person and she did not radiate warmth (to be fair, I was with a camera crew and she probably thought we were after her, which we weren't) and have enjoyed her talk show to an extent. The extent to which I don't enjoy it is that every once in a while, it bugs me that the smart, hip, 50-year-old lesbian has to dance to engage her adult audience. I don't despise the dance, and I see it as a smart branding thing that she probably tripped into, but it comes off as phony. For me.

The rest of her show isn't phony; her bubbliness—unlike when Rosie had her talk show, whose fake persona I loathed—seems to be genuine. And while I sometimes wish she were more political (I hate when people say they're not political...we all should be since politics affects every facet of our lives), I have to give her credit for being openly, unapologetically gay. That is really enough.

But beyond that, she spoke passionately about Lawrence King this year in a move that really blew me away. And now that the conservative-heavy (so much for "activist judges") California supreme court has ruled that gay marriage should be legal (possibly going into effect within 30 days), Ellen has not let us—or herself—down: She's announced on her show that she plans to marry Portia de Rossi.

I think Ellen, with her visibility and her appeal to citizens from eight to 80, is probably the most important, directly impactful (even if it's not a word) figure in the gay-rights movement. And for that, I can overlook her cloying dance routine. In fact, her stealthy success at making a difference helps me understand what all that dancing could be about in the first place.

Sue Unhappy

I always liked Sue Simmons...strangely, I like her more now:

Sue from News 4 Cursing

I'm betting she was laying into a slow cue-card guy (wait, do they still have those?) or maybe even Chuck Scarborough.

More people in the media should be asking us this question. And we should be asking this question of more in the media.

Gettin' Pussy

From the Edicion USA of TV Notas (Mayo 13, 2008), this is a person—a man—who has used tattooing and surgery and piercing to make himself into a catman. This might be the most nightmarish visage I've seen yet, even if it makes Jocelyne Wildenstein raise her tail.

Epilogue To A Diss

Via Towleroad, this is a must-see TV: the infamous "Shrek" lady (Monica Conyers, who I never realized was the wife of John Conyers) gets pwned by a very on-point kid:

The woman can not even admit it was wrong when asked point-blank!

I know tempers can flare up, but you know what? This woman is nuts. I also have zero tolerance for people who talk incessantly about "respect" and display none of it. You do not gain respect by plowing over and bullying others. Someone should turn the hose on her next time because her behavior was no better than that of a dog.

In other news, Detroit continues to be a shithole. I hope Barack will remember Michigan, because I bet Michigan will vote for him and my home state—if not each and every one of its inhabitants—is about due for some respect.

It Makes No Difference If You're...

Easy ride...last in line, still got a wristband. And I look like a scalper!

So I spent all week calling contacts to try to get into Madonna's Roseland show tonight. I started with a friend whose artist is signed to Timbaland, put feelers out to others in the record biz and eventually asked my parent company, all to no avail. Liz Rosenberg had been kind enough to get me into Madonna's 2000 Roseland gig, a far more important event—it's now all but forgotten, but at the time, she hadn't toured in seven years—and did try to get me in this time, but was unable to help. Finally, a friend of a dear friend had me on a mysterious list that guaranteed entry, a privilege for which I was willing to pay through the nose (one nostril only—the scalpers were charging the two-nostril rates), but she was only "95% sure" I was in as of last night. (She also claimed Danity Kane was "opening" for Madonna...?)

And I was too congested to risk standing in the bitter cold all night.

Flaunting their rubber bracelets—I mean, wristbands.

I woke up around 7:15 as usual to two texts and calls from two of my Madonna pals, who'd braved the line for 10 and four hours respectively, saying the line was moving well and there were no more than 700 people in it. I cabbed over and hopped in at the end of the line and got my free wristband without incident. Well, almost.

The Greatest Degeneration

Some members of the (allegedly) greatest generation are outraged that Time—for only the second time in its 85 years—has used a green border on its cover. Actually, they're not so much against the border, it's more the interior of the cover they'd like to carpet-bomb: They think Time's decision to change the iconic Iwo Jima photo from a flag-raising to a tree-planting is a disgrace.

Time's argument is compelling and quite creative editorially, even if you're against the concept of global warming—green is called "the new red, white and blue."

Iwo Jima survivor Donald Mates says:

"It’s an absolute disgrace. Whoever did it is going to hell. That’s a mortal sin. God forbid he runs into a Marine that was an Iwo Jima survivor. The second world war we knew was there. There’s a big discussion. Some say there is global warming, some say there isn’t. And to stick a tree in place of a flag on the Iwo Jima picture is just sacrilegious.”

Note his desecularization of WWII—was it a crusade? Did I miss something?

Lt. John Keith Wells, a platoon-leader from Iwo Jima, concurs (for lack of a worse word):

Reality Sucks

I'm not one to defend Marilyn Monroe's "honor"—as a longtime fan, I know to accept that she definitely sucked a few cocks as a way up the Hollywood ladder just like countless others before and after her. The difference is that the rest of her body was as talented as her mouth when it came to acting.

But I don't believe the Marilyn hardcore-porn story for several (non-judgmental) reasons...

Going Down

Via Gawker, this video is sped-up surveillance footage from a man's 41-hour ordeal trapped in an elevator. It accompanies a New Yorker story, which reveals how the man's life fell apart after his experience—he only got a meager six-figure settlement for his troubles, and that came after another lengthy wait (four years). It's incredible to watch.

The Pianist

As a fan of The Office, I can't wait for its return. I missed the latest rerun, but read at Defamer that they dedicated it to a boy who died of pneumonia and flu. Nathan Robinson had mastered the show's theme song and posted it on YouTube. Watching it now and realizing he died so suddenly, so young from something so common—in stark contrast to his uncommon talents—is very sobering:

Also sad is the fact that his family had to put a stern warning against rude comments and spam when they updated the video. Imagine...we're in a place now where this is a necessary admonition.

Eat Out Kitchen

With a new court ruling that Roommates.com can not legally require its users to disclose their sexualities, I remember when I first came to New York in seek of a living situation. I was looking just outside of the city (and state!) in Hoboken when I answered an ad placed by I think three guys looking for a fourth. Nice, meek, male voice on the other end of the line. All pertinent questions asked and answered. At the end, I said, "One more thing—I'm gay and I wanted to find out if that would bother you guys?" The reply went something like no, it wouldn't, but since they all had girlfriends it probably wouldn't work out...click.

I've always wondered why their having girlfriends was the dealbreaker.