The death of celebrity

I was walking past Penn Station this morning and saw the advertisement for the new Fantastic Four film. What I saw were two generic good-looking men--Mr. Fantastic & The Human Torch, The Thing, and a rather slutty looking Invisible Woman. None of the actors' names were on the poster at all, which seems like a slap on the face to Michael Chiklis as The Thing since he's been around the block for quite some time and has several Emmys on his shelf for his work on The Shield and The Commish.

Yet, the studio's marketing department seems to think that these actors aren't worth the general public knowing...well, the majority that doesn't watch entertainment coverage in the media, that is. I think this is a sign of the fact that stardom is waning in the 21st Century. Stardom stems from the belief that people will go to a movie/concert/television show because they are interested in a certain celebrity and that takes precedence over the actual content.

Now, it seems like the content overrules the celebrity. If you look at the posters for War of the Worlds, you'll see Tom Cruise's name billed above the tile, but his image is noticeably absent from the poster itself. Likewise, if you read some of the assorted postings from online message boards, you'll see that there is a sizeable group that will go to the film despite of instead of because of Tom Cruise. Yet, their detractors say that by going to see the film, they are continuing to support the twisted bubble that Cruise is inflicting on the public right now, because this will cause the studios to believe that Cruise is a "bankable star."

I don't think so.

"Bankable stardom" as we knew it has disappeared. I think the studios themselves know it, but there's no system in place to replace it, so they'll continue to use it until a better way comes along. What killed it? The information age. Secrecy is almost nonexistent these days. With the advent of message boards, online gossip, digital cameras, anything can be posted, verified, and broadcast to the world in a matter of minutes. Secrecy is what allowed the mystique of the movie star to continue, and subsequently ensure the profitability of films that without name actors in them, would probably flounder. Secrecy is what allowed Rock Hudson and countless other celebrities to remain in publicly closeted.

Is it a good thing that our idols are now shown warts and all? It remains to be seen. On one hand, it might be good if people began looking to more accessible sources for their role models and such. (Remember the glut of Young Hollywood types advocating "Just Say No" in the 1980's? Think about how many of them were probably doing lines the second the director yelled "cut.")

On the other hand, this tearing down of idols could also portend the death of fantasy. The entertainment business is basically the business of fantasy-making. Creativity is all about making a fantastical idea and/or image reality. Note how the majority of reality TV stars seem to appear and disappear in an instant. The ones who seem to be interested in making their 15 minutes last longer are the subjects of mockery. (Reichen "Burke" Lehmkuhl being a prime example.) The problem is that we know them, and they can offer us nothing beyond that. I think soon the same will apply to the A-list actors as their public facades crumble. They need to ask themselves, is my image the overriding aspect of my career or is my "talent?"

The time is coming for the wheat to be seperated from the chaff.

By the way: None of this applies to Famous Author Rob Byrnes. He is a "stah" and a "stah" he shall remain.

Die Österreichische (Eurovision) Abwesenheit

* The Austrian (Eurovision) Absence (it's via Babel Fish, and my German is at baby level, so who knows if it's correct?).

Well, it's official now. ORF has unpacked their bags and said "Nein" to ESC 2006. They're claiming that the contest has no relevance to the (oh-so-happening) current Austrian music scene and has become a self-parody.

Uh huh.

The papers are claiming that this has more to do with declining audience figures and budget cuts.

Uh huh.

Now, I'm not Austrian and frankly my knowledge of Austria is limited to what I've read, seen in Vienna & Salzburg when I was a kid, and the rare coherent sentence from the governor of California; so, I'm just spitballing here.

First, what does it say about the state of current Austrian music scene if they are represented by an Alpine band singing a song partly in English and partly in Spanish? I understand the need to merge the past with the present, but be serious. As cute as it was, "Y Asi" didn't exactly make me want to run down to the record store and go on an Austrian music binge. In fact, it made me remember that odd ad that use to come on television for a polka compilation album. ("Who stole the keshka? Who stole the keshka?")

Secondly, cash-strapped? ORF has had only one competitor since 2000, according to BBC News Online's Country Profiles. Assuming there's an Austrian TV license or tax out there, things can't be that bad in a country of 8 million plus people. As for ratings, well, Eurovision is far from the top programme on France Television, but they keep on with it.

Lest this post end on a negative note, I'm going to end it with a list of kind things I can say about Austria @ Eurovision:

• Three of my all time favourite Eurovision songs are from Austria: "Musik," "Falter Im Wind," and "Die Welt dreht sich verkehrt."
• "One Step" features the quite camp and funny lyric "Sex with you passes by as fast as spaceship Enterprise." I need to remember that one for future reference.
• While the performance may be as camp as Christmas, you can't deny that "Boom Boom Boomerang" was indeed a good comment on the state of pop music in the 1970's as well as now.
• In 1981, Marty Brem dealt with bizarre choreography, a woman singing backup in football helmet and swimsuit, and still came off as the 2nd sexiest and swarthiest man in that year's contest (next to the non-bearded, non-piano playing male member of Island).
• Admit it, Tony Wegas gave you a wet dream in 1993 with his sweaty self.
• Simone beats Samantha Janus hands down in the contest of perky blonde sings song about peace and humanity while jiggling about.
• Austria still holds the title of highest placed German-language song at Eurovision in the 21st Century. (It also holds the title of the lowest placed German-language song, but not the lowest placed song from a Germanic country. How do you like them apples, Switzerland and Germany?)
• Austrian Eurovision entries have been the spiritual home of black music since 1959, even if the performers looked more like Pat Boone than Harry Belafonte.
• Peter Horton looks hung with his sexy brooding self. Ditto Udo circa 1964. (What room, Udo? What room? Meet me there with your legs in the air.)
• "Sonntag" has the most dirty-minded, yet completely innocent and sweet lyrics you can imagine. Quite revolutionary for 1982.
• The first ever Austrian entry in 1957 can be read as an ode to bestiality.
• And finally, to quote Marianne Mendt in 1971: "Net die Show soll die Musik sein, Wie da Wind, wia a Traum, Soll's die Sprach der Phantasie und Freiheit seiiiiiiiiiiin" ("Not the show is important for music, like a wind, like a dream,it has to be the language of fantasy and freedom.")

(courtesy of Diggiloo.)

As corrupt as they are, sometimes I miss Ozaukee County elections

Democracy for New York (affiliated with Howard Dean's Democracy for America group) has three candidates for their endorsement for Manhattan Borough President:

• Brian Ellner: Attractive, partnered, gay man living in Chelsea; Lawyer, with a previous stint on the District 2 School Board; uses "proud" and pink lettering in his campaign posters.
• Bill Perkins: Black (grew up in Harlem); colon cancer survivor; community activist, councilman ("third highest ranking council member"); described by The Nation as "one of eight 'Progressive City Leaders' for effectiveness in dealing with local and national issues;" not officially on the ballot, but has a website up and running.
• Scott Stringer: Six-term NYS assembly member (Upper West Side & Hell's Kitchen); authored a bill mandating that police officers serve orders of protection to battered women; led fight against the proliferation of LED ads; authored legislation allowing for same-day voter registration; appears to have a slew of endorsements; website doesn't mention much about his personal life, but if he's straight, then isn't it interesting that he got the endorsement of the Gay & Lesbian Independent Democrats instead of Ellner?

So it seems like a choice between Will Truman, Bill Cosby, and Alan Alda. This is quite tough, to be honest. Ellner's gay and pro-Arts, but doesn't seem to have much experience. Perkins looks like he could get stuff done, but isn't officially on the ballot. Stringer looks attractive to my conscience (especially with the anti-LED ad fight), but might not live up to his promise.

I miss just merely marking my ballot for the rare sacrificial lamb up against the Autocrat Republicans up in Port Washington.

(In honour of Pride Week, this week's post will be in Pride colours.)

Pride lyrics...Babel Fish version

I've cleaned this up a bit, but again this is Babel Fish, so who knows if it's far off or not:

From that place where the shining light scatters me...
as for the sorrow which now is recalled...
Raise sound and goes out

It goes, wake up to go the uncertain future
like a feather bending to the approaching wind

It's the power that you don't produce from insecurity plus PRIDE
fly away fly

The destiny which you wander about, the smiling face touching faintly,
this holds the instant courage and the desire which connects hearts through love
where this memory which is felt strongly intertwines, it has started moving

From that place where the light which shines, illuminates
and I raise the startup sound which now is recalled and cuts damage, loneliness and the insecurity which you cannot shake off,
it goes away from existence and raising the nail to the back, which trembles, it has verified

If even praying at night,
when it sinks to the darkness where deep despair attacks I will continue to believe forever. I, holding certain pride to the chest, the sky which the wing expands and probably fly away, it draws strongly...

Raises the sound which meets and cuts from this place
where the light which shines and illuminates me. The sound which now is recalled,
continuing to believe forever...

Crying becomes tired by your praying now you lead, therefore advances to the future which starts moving. The road continues endlessly, if still you desire, safe in the hand vividly shining,

Sure it makes no sense, but then "Shake your groove thing" isn't exactly a meditation on life's complexities either.

And so Pride Week begins

In the interest of mixing up the gay dance anthems with some rock/rap: I nominate the Japanese group High and Mighty Color's song "Pride" as a theme to Pride 2005.

My ability to read Japanese is marginal these days, and the rap is pretty damn near unintelligible to my ears, so here's a partial translation from seed-forum.com:

Let's Go! Wake up and go to the unknown future! Now spread your wings in the approaching wind, It's at twice the power, bring it out and fly away. Uneasiness plus Pride fly into my heart.

Naturally, there are dance remixes available.

Racism in the bedroom: Is it nature or nuture?

The Guardian reports today on a study that states that being gay is genetic according to a study by the University of East London.

As earth-shattering as that is (well, to some people), it makes me ponder about racial preference when it comes to sex. A fair amount of gay men that I've met have said that it's not racist to prefer one racial group (or groups) over others. Given that the definiton of racism is "a discrimination or prejudice based on race," that seems like a clear contradiction. If you have a racial preference, then you are racist...right?

However, according to the article in The Guardian:

"The evidence, they conclude, is that people are born with their sexuality defined, and it is not the result of their relationships with other people in their early life, as had been previously thought."

If this definition of sexuality that we're hard-wired with incorporates not just what gender we're attracted to, but also what subset we're attracted to, then this would mean we are hard-wired to be discriminatory with our sexual partners. Indeed, "you're not my type" might have a biological argument.

I just don't think that this is possible. Taking my own sexual history into account, I've slept with men from nearly all ethnicities and body types and enjoyed it immensely. I can't classify the good sexual partners versus the bad ones along racial or physiological lines, because there is no commonality there. Likewise, I've been with racial fetishists ("chocolate queens," to be blunt), guys who have slept with a variety of men, and the well-meaning but tactless "I've never slept with (insert ethncity/body type here) before" types. During this whole entire time, I've never once made a conscious decision to fight against any preference other than male.

So where does racial sexual preference stem from? I have to say it's from society. If you talk to a lot of gay black men, you'll find that amongst those who date exclusively black they state that one of the main reasons is that it is "just easier," that they can avoid the choppy waters of race relations because they share the same ethnic background. The same argument is often heard by gay Jewish men, gay Italian men, gay latino men, etc.

On the other end of the exclusionary spectrum you have men who will date/sleep with anyone except their own group. With the "snow queens" (men who chase after caucasian men, often used to describe black men who pursue them), I think it's a variation of the stereotypical situation wherein successful black male gets a white spouse or girlfriend to show that he has either: a) "arrived" or b) "just as good." The images that you see in the gay media often support this. If you turn to the average photo page in HX or Out, you see musclebound white men cavorting mostly with other musclebound white men with a sprinkling of minorities (nearly always with musclebound white men) as a nod to diversity. It's not the best image for gay men of colour, but--as much as I don't want be devil's advocate on this--the numbers don't support equal representation for men of colour: we're a minority within a minority, and these magazines want to reach the widest audience possible. However, the side effect of these demographics is that some people percieve white boyfriend/sexual partner = better. This works the other way as well as the words "rice queen" (desire for Asians) and "bean queen" (desire for hispanics) attest to.

In both cases, the situation is so exclusionary that no one winds up seeing the other person who they are. The race supercedes the person, a thought which I find disturbing, because people look unique.

Ultimately, I really have to say that I would really like to see a study to pursue this subject. Imagine what the world would be like if we could get to roots of racial preference.

Nearing the finish line?

Just got back from the doctor--he's not so stoned today...good sign. The major news is this: I can now wear the corset from hell only part-time. Hallelujah! So my new sleepwear will just be the corset and I can spend the rest of my time being comfortable and corset free in this godforsaken heat and humidity.

This is also setting forth a new round of changes, because when the doctor gives me an inch, I'm taking a mile.

1. I'm resuming smoking full-time. Granted this means just going from the 1 cigarette I had a day to 6, but believe you me, those other 5 were missed dearly.
2. I can now resume masturbating (you try masturbating when you can't bend your stomach).
3. Sex is back! Until July, I probably won't be able to go wild and acrobatic as I would like to, but at least I'm functional.
4. I may be able to cut my hair. I vowed not to get my hair cut until I got the ok to ditch the vest.
5. If my trainer calls, I'm telling him that we're resuming working out on June 24th. I'll be damned if I'm going to go the Pier Dance without at least 2 days in the gym. Although the bisexual male hooker offered sage advice: "Settle for feeling average this Pride, so you can feel great next year."

The timing of this couldn't be better, since I was beginning to start following Passions and The Bold & The Beautiful quite closely.

Welcome to Milwaukee

The scene at Mitchell Field when you-know-what was read yesterday.

Perhaps people will remember where they were when that was read, but for me, I will never forget nearly falling out of a chair when McGreevey resigned stating that he was a "gay American." Even after he said it, I didn't believe it until the various talking heads spelled it out, because I thought he just meant that he was happy...that's how shocked I was.

You can be hot and left-wing at the same time

Young Howard Dean being a prime example (courtesy of "crushies for Dean")

Worth Noting

In the year 2005, you cannot get all the members of the US Senate to sign off on an resolution apologising to the victims of lynching. More than a dozen senators refused to sign a resolution apologising for the Senate's inaction while lynchings were running rampant in the 1950's. The kicker in all of this, the dozen senators who refused to sign off will most likely remain nameless, since the resolution will be voted upon without roll call.

It's Summertime

And you know it because people are going crazy:

• There is yet another panic over a white woman going missing. Yet no furor over the bashing of a gay man in Brooklyn; practically no national coverage of the Gwen Araujo murder case; and not a peep about the gay man found dismembered in a Chelsea subway station.
• It's in the 90s with oppressive humidity and it's not even July!
• The Journal Sentinel has nary a peep about Sensenbrenner's shenanigans, but features an article about the financial disparity between Russ Feingold and Herb Kohl. Now, I'm sorry, but this is stupid. Herb Kohl comes from a rich family, it's never been any secret whatsoever, so why is this worthy of an article?
• The oligarchs are still obsessed with the ill-fated New York 2012 Olympic bid sans West Side Stadium (thank god!). I suspect they've all been reading too much Don Quixote.
• There is a New York Society for the Preservation of Mississippi Heritage! And they have the audacity to bring that idiot Governor Haley Barbour to their picnic in Central Park. Most bizarre of it all is that this picnic has been going on for 26 years! Now, I'm sorry, but if you're so obsessed with Mississippi's heritage, why don't you stay down there? If there is a New York Society for the Preservation of Wisconsin Heritage, then I truly will accept that the world has gone cuckoo.

We don't deal well with dissent in the North Shore

Old autocratic stalwart Sensenbrenner got in a pissy mood during the Patriot Act hearings and shut off all the microphones. I wonder what they'll say about it in the Ozaukee County country clubs.

I slam Sensenbrenner by name in one of my plays. Although I'm not obsessed with productions, I'd love it if this one got done in Milwaukee for just that reason alone.

Invalids don't do good Tony coverage

To make up for the rather dire Tony coverage I posted, here is a link to TVgasm's hilarious minute-by-minute coverage of Last Sunday's Broadway fiesta.

Navel-Gazing

My navel has become the bionic navel. It's 50% old navel on top, and 50% new navel on the bottom. I am waiting for it to start fighting crime and injustice to the tune of 1970's action music.

It is rather odd to finally see my navel without having to play around with my midsection. Unfortunately the thrill of staring directly into my navel is marred by the fact that I'm still wearing the sodding corset. Apparently fluid built up in my abdomen, causing the doctor to extract it via syringe. * When I asked him if I can switch back to only wearing the corset for 12 hours, he gave a very prompt "no." So, hurrah, I'm stuck in this thing for 23 hours and 45 minutes (that's less 15 minutes for showering) a day until next week.

*For most part it's a relatively painless process until the fluid dries up and you are left with a needle poking you has he goes searching for the remaining fluid.

I have to admit that the main reason that I'm so irritated by this lengthy recovery because, frankly, I'd like to have one Summer start off on a good note. For as long as I can remember, I've never been a fan of Summer: Tanning is lost on me, I don't own a pool, and even if I was as ripped as some fitness model, I still would keep my shirt on unless it got oppressively hot. Yet, every year I try to get into the happy mode that everybody else seems to project. Well, I'll have to wait another year.

Alright, Whiny mode off.

History Repeats Itself

Martin Luther is revived...and this time he's pro-gay.

Ding Dong, The Witch is Dead!

Hallelujah, the West Side Stadium plan is nearly dead in the water. This also probably puts the kibosh on the 2012 Olympics. (AMEN!) It also will save 9th Avenue from becoming even more clogged. The only downside is that this will likely delay (if not permanently end) the much-needed expansion to the Javits Center.

Although it is often said that the ends justify the means. It's a bit depressing that the main reason that the vote for public funding [for the stadium] failed was due to the fact that Lower Manhattan State Representative Sheldon Silver was miffed that the stadium would distract funds and focus from his district.

Oh well, that battle will have to wait for another day.

Tony Post Mortem: A brief photographic journey

What is going on with Hank Azaria? He looked like he was on his deathbed during the broadcast. Some sort of STD is flying around backstage at Spamalot, I reckon.




Aretha Franklin: Talented Singer
Hugh Jackman: Talented Singer
Aretha Franklin & Hugh Jackman duet of "Somewhere": Atrocious.



Excellent acceptance speech by Edward Albee, Lifetime Achievement recipent. Surprised that it took them that long to award him that.



Jerry Mitchell celebrates winning his Tony for La Cage aux Folles. Although the number ran a bit long, it was quite clear to me that he did amazing things with the Cagelles as evidenced by their performance during the broadcast. Much more impressive than the Dirty Rotten Scoundrels number earlier.

And in closing: John Patrick Shanley is a mediocre hack. Everybody else involved on Doubt isn't. That being said, I wanted Democracy to win Best Play, even though it had a snowball's chance in hell of doing so.

Jack Off

WCBS has switched to what has been termed a "Jack" format. Jack is apparently a format that Infinity Radio has come up with (the other ones are Bob and Mike). Fine, long live corporate radio.

What is really evil about this new Jack format is that apparently the management notified the DJs only one hour before the 5 PM change from Oldies to "Jack" and essentially the end of their jobs. That's just flat out evil and I hope their stock plummets to the bowels of hell for such a callous move.

More dream analysis

Another bizarre dream begging for some analysis:

I'm back at my old middle school in River Hills. I have no idea what class I'm supposed to go to, until I consult my schedule which reads "9:00 (classes always started at 8:15, but this is a dream), New Thinking." I go to the classroom, but it's empty. For some strange reason, in the adjacent classroom, the school nurse is busy typing at a computer. I ask her if she could look up where the class was supposed to meet, and she gives a dismissive answer. That's when I notice a small little notice on the wall: "New Thinking will be meeting in room 2034 due to hurricane."

Despite the fact that a hurricane has never and most likely will never strike Wisconsin, I accept this notice without any question whatsoever. I make it to the classroom and there are only 5 students in the classroom, all male and basically the jocks of my class. And the teacher is Cash Peters for some odd reason. They are all watching some film that seems like partly a Monty Python sketch and partly some schlocky Fantasy film from the late 1970's.

Apparently I have missed several classes, because in my dream I have no idea what the hell is going on. Cash brings me over to some cube with several mirrors on it. In a very boyish way he explains to me that I'm supposed to stare at the cube and interpret the faces that appear. I think he's on crack, but sure enough some sober face does appear on the cube and Cash offers some excited explanation as to what is going on. I cannot even begin to process it, when BOOM I'm awake.

And in further medical news...

The drain is out and my male PMS isn't dealing with the bloating too well.

At least I finally got my first shower in 6 days!

Courtesy of Church Sign Generator.