THE GREAT GADFLY:

Big Gay Heart for the Lost Straight Art



Dear Straight Guys,

By now, you've probably seen the show. You know the one I'm talking about - that one show that might currently be making you feel like a fat, uncultured slob. The one that might be making you feel very strongly that you can never know true love until you buy a pair of Prada mules, upgrade your hair product, and stock up on appropriate cocktail garnishes.

Perhaps you've been hiding your Rush albums under the mattress with your porn stash. Maybe you've taken to camoflaging your prize collector's edition DVD of "Fletch" inside an empty case meant for the Criterion Collection release of Cocteau's "Beauty and the Beast". Maybe...and I swear I won't tell a soul if this is the case...but mayyybe...you still pump your own gas.

Perhaps...and, mind you, this is just between you and me...YOU DON'T EVEN LIKE CHER ALL THAT MUCH.

Well, take a deep breath. Your secrets are safe with me.

Believe it or not, not every gay guy has an eye on the straight guy. Some of us are joyously libertarian in our lifestyles, happy to memorize entire John Waters scripts and shamelessly frost our hair, while leaving our heterosexual brethren to analyze the finer points of Snoop Dogg's "Girls Gone Wild" cinematography techniques and celebrating interior design schemes that involve Budweiser cans and Van Halen carnival mirrors. Hey, if it's good enough for Kid Rock....

Find your inner frat boy, your secret trailer park scuzzball, your basketball court mook in waiting, and embrace him like the surly, abandoned moppet he is. Go ahead. I have a box of tissues right here if things get a little intense for you.

The new issue of Entertainment Weekly celebrates this summer's reality TV fetish, "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" with maxims like "He...is an accessories kingpin...garnishes gracefully...exfoliates regularly...mingles better...sings country (?!)...is a wine expert...owns any room...knows cologne (ugh)...shuns wire hangers...charms your woman."

Don't believe it.

If you're dressed in black and singing "I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die", then maybe singing country is sexy. If you're singing "Stand By Your Man" at line dancing night at the Leather Box, it's another story altogether.

If you're dousing yourself in trendy Saks Fifth Avenue chloroform, you're just begging to set off someone's allergies. If you reek of gasoline, you can at least give someone a good headrush.

And hey, I'm as vegetarian as the next PoMo homo, but look - don't worry about the parsley and radish sculptures. Really. Just eat your damn steakburger and be happy.

When it all comes down to it, these television Uncle Toms of Finland are nothing more than a gaggle of honking product swills, trading the risky muse of individuality for conveniently neutered mainstream respectability and big, fat paychecks. Pay them no mind. They will one day get old and saggy, just like our dads. The more grotesque of them will explore plastic surgery - and no guy needs David Gest's eyes.

Why is there no Dyke Eye for the Straight Gal? Now, that's a show I would get behind. I'd love to see an uber-prissy, Jennifer Aniston type get made over into a foul mouthed, bemulleted, Levi's-wearin', tobacco-chompin' softball enthusiast. Am I being too stereotypical here? Sorry, just following formula.

Do we really need a coven of cockeyed queers making the guy next door feel self-conscious about the throw pillows on his couch, or the fact that he doesn't own throw pillows, or even a couch? Do we really need a show that makes poor young gay guys feel inadequate because they can't douse themselves in Kenneth Cole accessories and rub well-tanned shoulders with Christopher Lowell at Hydrate? Does homosexual pop culture really need to hyper-emphasize the "homo" while completely emasculating the once-significant "sexual"?

According to the ratings, apparently we do. Well, what can I tell you.

I read Norman Mailer, listen to Motorhead, and like cheese from a can every now and then. And I don't exfoliate. If anyone would like a makeover from this queer eye, let me know. I can do it for you for under ten dollars. Just give me a couple of old t-shirts, a blank CD-R and a pair of scissors. I'll take you there.

Here are a few pointers, on the house:

Love handles are sexy if you act like they are. Bedhead is cutest when it was styled by your pillow. Confidence is the best scent you can wear - people can smell when you're wearing it and, more importantly, they can smell when you aren't wearing it. If you don't like watching or listening to something, don't watch it or listen to it. As for adapting the notorious razor-sharp gay wit, you really don't have to be Paul Lynde...unless you just want to be. When you're tired, get some sleep. When you're hungry, eat something. And I don't care WHO designed them - unless your name is Trent Reznor or Paul Stanley, shiny leather ass-pants are best left avoided.

And unless you're on a whiskey-soaked, pill-popping bender in London with a topless Courtney Love, there's really no reason to let anyone talk you into getting your anus waxed. None.

Just so you know.

So please, straight guys - be sloppy, be dirty, be unhinged and boorish, let that dirt collect under the fingernails, eat room-temperature cream corn straight from the can, mix stripes and patterns, and take pride in those long, fu-manchu hairs growing out of your nose. Metrosexual, schmetrosexual. If I don't believe that some guy on TV who looks like Candice Bergan should be telling me how to live, then dammit, neither should you.

To draw an analogy from a still-maturing evolution from the pop culture textbook, mass media queer representation seems to be exiting its "Guess Who's Coming To Dinner" phase and slithering right on into its "Scream Blackula Scream" period. And god help us all, we're all being painted as Pam Grier in bright pink hot pants and an afro pick in our coiffs. Honestly, straight guys, you don't need to get messed up in our cultural identity crisis. Wait till we get to our "Homeboys in Outer Space" phase in pop culture evolution - I promise you, it will at least be far more interesting.

Meanwhile, I'll do my best to keep reminding myself....it's only a TV show... And, oh lordy, please do keep this same mantra in mind the next time you meet a guy who happens to be gay.

Thanks for your time and consideration, and Godspeed.

Fagulously yours,

Gadfly




2003-10-14 - Last Haiku
2003-10-09 - Don't Cry Out Loud
2003-10-09 - Sit Down, You're Making Me Nervous
2003-10-08 - I'm Sure Miss Thing, I'm Sure
2003-10-07 - Carbonated Water, Caramel Color, Aspartame

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