Proceed at your own risk

EVEN ELLEN COULDN'T, BUT JESUS DID

If you've followed this blog for a few years, you know that I've been boycotting American Idol, money maker extraordinaire for one of the global generals of homophobia, Rupert Murdoch.  Murdoch's media empire that includes most British and Australian tabloids, The New York Post, the Christian Republican Wall Street Journal and FOX is a genius at siphoning off billions of dollars from gays and then using the money to finance his war against gay rights.  Among his pink dollar sucking masterpieces:  GLEE, AMERICAN IDOL and Elton John.

But I must at long last cry uncle on American Idol.

But you would be wrong to think the reason is Ellen Degeneres, at least not directly.

Nope.  Ellen is not the reason I will now become a dedicated follower of American Idol. Season Nine.

Jesus is the reason.

Christians nationwide are warning FOX that by promoting homosexuality as normal through the addition of Ellen, Christians nationwide will stop watching AI.

Oh?  Really?  I don't often say this at my age, but the very thought has precum dripping out of my dick.

Will the nation's highest rated ever weekly TV series actually experience a huge drop in ratings as Danny Bull Gokey, Fantasia Burrito and Carrie Underwood Deviled Ham fans go flocking to another network?  Christians have a big problem here.  Sure they can hide under hooded sheets, behind burning crosses and in the Closet, but Nielson Ratings will not let them hide from hypocrisy.  The ratings will tell.  And I think the ratings will tell that gay-hating Christians are sucking up for their weekly dose of queer with enthusiasm.

On the other hand, AI may actually become worth watching if Christians do indeed stop watching.  For the first time in American Idol history, talent may actual prevail.  With Evangelicals and strict Catholics gone, only thoughtful, discerning viewers will be left to vote.  Weeping mediocrities who thank God and Jesus each week will no longer take votes away from men and women who can actually sing.

The nation's leading Southern Baptist newspaper reports that Idol's new judge "will lose middle America."

Ironically, the paper agrees that Adam Lambert was by the far the more talented singer but the wholesomeness factor defeated him and delivered the title to Kris Allen.

Talent be damned--and in the eyes of Christian American--really damned--for all eternity, in fact.

"Lambert's male-on-male activities garnered the majority of 2009 Idol news coverage," reports The Christian Post.  But "rather than distance themselves from what many American's consider perverse behavior and increase the show's image as family entertainment; the producers of American Idol went the opposite direction to make the show edgier, more trendy. Like it or not, the multi-talented DeGeneres is more known for her same-sex sexual preference than any expertise in the music business.

"The most visible change in the show is one more step in making sexuality the prime topic when discussing American Idol. Call them ignorant, homophobic, whatever, the fact remains that fewer families will view the upcoming Idol season because young girls and their traditional families are uncomfortable with the topic of homosexuality."

The Christian Post is "confident that the producers of American Idol will be shocked when their market share has cratered, and will in all honesty find a dozen other reasons for the drop in ratings. After all, what successful television producer could have a clue what wholesomeness is as long as they see promoting homosexuality as a virtue."

And those were the words that moved me to the dark side.  How could I not watch American Idol?  It's a win win situation. 

Consider the options.

The ratings remain intact clearly demonstrating that the Christian factor is a bunch of hooey.  The ratings take a nose dive and Murdoch loses billions.  Talent finally prevails after years of crap performers who love Jesus.

Thank you, Jesus!

MURDUCH'S GAME: THE CHRISTIAN VS THE QUEER

Do we really believe that American Idol isn't a nasty culture wars game played by Murdoch and the media?  Just another incarnation of Nero's Circus, designed to distract, misdirect and lull the masses?

It's the superstar beauty queer drag queen vs the perfect Hallmark edition of the heterosexual married couple, the Evangelical Christian just this side of David Archuleta's closet and the Latina who is just one bad hair day away from Troll Doll. 

Culture war showdowns like this are not by chance.  You can't beat the bank in Vegas.

If Adam Lambert loses American Idol, it will be because this poor boy was turned into a political football by Murdoch and the American media.  It will not be because he is gay.  And it will be sad that once again, American Idol will push a mediocre performer into the spotlight, yet again lowering the standards of American culture--no easy feat!

Yes, I took a break from my FOX boycott and dove in to see what all this Adam Lambert brouhaha was about.  And he's brilliant, a performer that leaves the rest of them in the dust.  Lambert is superstar material.  Thanks to the Internet I was able to "catch up" so to speak and quickly came to understand that from Bill O'Reilly to the Associated Press to the blogs, poor Adam Lambert has been turned into an "issue", to be judged and condemned for his personal life rather than for his talent.  If only that same rule were applied to Republicans and their supporters--ah, what a wonderful world this would be.

The media's very sick and frightening assumption is that American Idol is something important, like the Presidency of the United States.  I think no press statement more stunned me then the New York Daily News writing, "With just a handful of finalists left on this year's "American Idol", could flamboyant favorite Adam Lambert become the first gay or bisexual winner of the hit talent show? Some people are saying, wouldn't it be amazing that in the same year that the first African-American president took office in the U.S., we also elected the first gay and/or bisexual 'American Idol'."

Uh, no.  Putting aside the fact that we already have a number of hugely successful openly gay superstar singers, an entertainer catapulted to stardom by millions of tweens obsessively texting their votes over and over and over again is not a cultural or historical breakthrough on any level.  And when people--and this is all over the media--compare the "election of Adam Lambert to the election of Barack Obama, I find myself drawn to the edge of the Brooklyn Bridge.

So thanks to the pot-stirring, stereotype-obsessed media, the vote could come down to a Christian rocker who has become the Carrie Prejean of the music world and a serious musical talent who has been reduced to the status of flamboyant gay boy with a wayward boy crazy tongue.

Kudos to Rupert Murdoch for giving America a chance to put Jesus before talent and intelligence.  On the other hand if Lambert does win, kudos for America for spitting in the face of Murdoch and his Evangelical locusts.

To his credit, Lambert has refused to engage in this  labeling nonsense telling the media that he is who he is, himself--and proud of it.

He sings Cher's Believe with masculine ferocity.  He sports eyeliner and diamond earrings on national television.  He flaunts endless photos of himself tongue kissing hot boys and performing in full drag.  And at the end of the day, he gets up there on the American Idol stage and superstars the hell out of each and every performance making the others look like the usual mediocre safe American Idol fare to which America has become accustomed. 

And, PS, comparing Allison to Janis Joplin is like comparing Hallmark to Shakespeare.

And if Bill O'Reilly, Rupert Murdoch, AP, Reuters and the rest of the media tear Adam down by making this a gay vs. "Christian" competition that ends in Lambert's defeat, fuck this country.

PS I broke my own boycott and voted for Adam Lambert.

WATCHING ANDERSON COOPER

THE BEST OF WILL AND GRACE

A few days ago I received a pitch from a public relations person pushing a new DVD: The Best of Will & Grace.  I was the wrong person to contact on this matter.

Let us start with the oxymoronic combination of "best" and "Will & Grace".

This show did more harm to the cause of gay rights than any other TV show in history.  Will & Grace was a thinly disguised modern version of Amos & Andy or even worse a good old-fashioned minstrel show with black face and all the trimmings.  Of course, instead of a white man in black face, we had a straight man in gay face-- a straight actor who was never allowed on television to express same sex affection or share a kiss with a lover.  And the closest this "gay man" comes to love is with his de facto "wife", Grace.

Ha ha. The show always delivered a few good laughs and Megan Mulalye's portrayal of razor-tongued drunken drag queen was always entertaining.  But what else did we have here?  We had two gay men, one a sexually frustrated, psychotically neurotic neutered gay man in a never-ending sexless marriage with a fag hag stereotype; the other, Jack, an irresponsible, self-deluded, stereotypically effeminate over-the-top slut screwing any and every strange man that he could con into his apartment.  Will was responsible and sexless.  Jack lived on a sexual merry-go-round but was completely irresponsible and incapable of behaving even remotely like an adult.  I never found this to be one bit funny.

The show nurtured every negative stereotype held true by a homophobic America and self-loathing gay men everywhere. It also set a very low and negative standard and warped set of life expectations for every young gay man who succumbed to the bizarre unreality world of Will & Grace.

Every time I wonder why gay Americans have been these past 45 years shut out of equality and the basic civil rights provided to women and minorities by the Civil Rights Act of 1964, I stumble upon a "Will & Grace"-- some seemingly well-intentioned bit of demeaning nonsense on film or TV that masquerades as humor and is in fact propaganda insidiously working a relentless evil against a group of Americans who have been far too long marginalized and denied their rights and human dignity.

The view that Will & Grace was progressive and represented gay America on national network television is one of the most outrageous con jobs ever perpetrated against a persecuted and marginalized minority.

The "Best of Will & Grace" would be a bonfire erasing the entire series from our collective memories.

THE MAKING OF US ALL

One of life's more awkward moments is when you find yourself thinking--or even worse saying--that someone you're talking to couldn't possibly understand some key point being made because they're not part of your "community".  It may be in the heat of an argument or even as a joke but the "you can't really understand because you're not [fill in the blank]" rears its clumsy and somewhat condescending head in all of our lives--especially if you're a member of a minority group. 

Case in point:  Some months ago I read some mainstream British newspaper reviews of a BBC documentary, "The Making of Me".  This is an hour long quest by openly gay British actor, star of Torchwood, Dr. Who and a number of West End shows John Barrowman into the origins of homosexuality--in particular his own.

The reviews were consistently negative. I was disappointed and lost interest, mostly trusting the critics who seemed thoughtful and consistent.  Barrowman had failed to deliver what could have and should have been a fascinating adventure of self-exploration.  It never occurred to me that the mainstream British critics just didn't and likely couldn't "get it".

The other night I was finally able to watch "The Making of Me" on BBC America and there it was.  Clearly none of the critics were gay and had completely missed the meaning, emotional strength and impact of the experience.

I suppose they couldn't imagine why someone would be on a voyage of self discovery regarding something as inconsequential as sexual orientation.

As another big old queer, Socrates, once said, a life unexamined is not a life worth living--a concept I would think British critics would well understand and value.  However, the profound importance and meaning of Barrowman's search for himself alluded many.

Only a shallow fool would fail to understand a man's quest for the what, why and how of who he is. 

Barrowman shares his quest for self-discovery openly and with humor and passion.   And perhaps this won't work for all gay men and women who watch this show, but in my case, I was flooded with early childhood memories and revelations and dots were connected that I had never before connected.  As Barrowman opened doors and provided insights on various areas of scientific study and behavioral speculation, I was able to recall clear and additional evidence of my own sexual orientation at a much younger age than I had ever thought possible.

Most of these remarkable memories came into focus for me during Barrowman's exploration of early childhood gender nonconformity behavior research.

Using old family movies, the scientists were able to easily identify gender non-conformity patterns in children as young as 2, children who are now openly gay and lesbian.

These researchers have measured and classified female and male behavior patterns in toddlers, nothing new to science; but using old family movies, they were able to consistently and clearly identify unique behavioral patterns in toddlers who would grow up to be gay men and women.

I yanked out home movies from the early 1950s and was stunned to see myself through new eyes.  Furthermore, I remembered powerful adult reactions to some of  my early childhood behavior that had long been buried and seemingly lost in my memory attic.

I remembered the erotic fantasies of an 11 year-old boy who ejaculated at the thought of a passionate embrace between the hunky Prince Phillip and the evil fairy Maleficent of Disney's Sleeping Beauty.  In this masturbatory fantasy, by the way, I was Maleficent and the Prince was in bondage unable to resist my desires.  I was smart enough at the time to keep this to myself.

When I was 8, my best friend Judy Brown easily convinced me that it would be great fun if I dressed up as Annie Oakley for Halloween and she would go as Buffalo Bill Cody.  My father was furious and beat the crap out of me, tossing my authentic fringed rawhide skirt into the fireplace (not a happy smell).

Judy and I were not allowed to play together for a week, but my complete lack of male friends and the ensuing loneliness eventually softened my mother's heart and I was allowed to play at Judy's house with her circle of girlfriends.

In 1953, shortly after beginning Kindergarten and just a few months after the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II, I took to the habit of wearing my mother's mink stole around the house and working a British accent.  I was five. 

School was frightening, full of bullies and each day was just another exhausting struggle to stifle and control what my father referred to as his son's sissiness.  The mink was comforting.  As a toddler I did not have a blue blankie but by the age of five, I had discovered the security of mink and newly minted queens. 

A year later I would live for those rare moments when I would be left to myself.  As much as I loved the mink, reliving Elizabeth's Coronation in my mother's new full length Beaver coat with it's elegant and regal trail of rich fur was an experience I can still feel to this day.  I would often wear one of my mother's tiaras as well (God Bless the Queen and the fashions of the 1950s).

The long hallway running from the master suite along the length of three other bedrooms and ending in a glorious bay window overlooking the cathedrals of Manhattan become my Westminster Abbey.

I was never caught doing this, learning extreme caution on matters pertaining to my mother's wardrobe after the severe beating I received some months earlier when my father found me watching Howdy Doody in my Davy Crockett pajamas and a mink stole.

These are all moments and memories that I'd long forgotten, rekindled and restored by Barrowman's quest.

My first memory of a major thrill from FAO Shwarz came around the age of 4 some days after my father bought me a Civil War fort with tin soldiers representing the Blue and the Gray.  The whole thing bored me within minutes.  The soldiers were drab.

My grandmother took me back to FAO to return the set and buy me something that I could pick out on my own.  As the salesman was restocking the tin Civil War soliders, I spied Indians, most of whom were wearing nothing but loincloths, beautiful muscles shining through their reddish naked skin.  "I'll take those, please."

The salesman began to pack up the Indians and their companion combatants, the cowboys.  "No!" I shouted. "I don't want them.  I want those," I said pointing to the scantily clad Roman Gladiators with muscles and nipples.

The salesman protested explaining that Indians go with Cowboys not Gladiators.

In my world shirtless Indians went with shirtless Romans.  Apparently my grandmother understood and once at home little Ricky was organizing banquets and parades in a Civil War fort full of shirtless Indians and Roman gladiators.  Perhaps this is where I first fell in love with time traveling.

My family acted surprised when I came out some 36 years later.

BROMANCE: STRUGGLING TO REDEFINE MALE BONDING IN A WORLD GONE GAY

Based on his new reality show, Bromance, it would be all too easy to call Brody Jenner a psychopathologically self-absorbed and self--indulgent, hedonistic, superficial idiot, the latest blight on a culture that has already been trivialized and perhaps fatally diminished by the triumph of meaningless celebrity over substance, intelligence, talent and art.

But something else is afoot with Bromance that transcends the sexist gaffes, the sophomoric frat house humor, the hot shirtless--and sometimes naked-- dudes and the oddly frequent glimpses of Mr. Jenner's delicious ass crack.

Young, pioneering, culture-defining Brody may be in the vanguard--consciously or unconsciously--of carving out new ground rules for what defines a neo-heterosexual man as the up and coming generation struggles with the increasing murkiness of straight-acting, macho, real men, dudes and jocks.

Twentieth Century straight guys could rely on the swishy stereotype to identify themselves as "not gay."  But as increasing numbers of politicians, actors, athletes, businessmen, blue collar workers, military men and cops exit the Closet, pushing aside the old stereotypes, straight men are now having to work for a new identity.  These days straight men do more than eat quiche, they invent new quiche recipes; and gay men can be found farting and belching for no good reason.

And then there is the metrosexual and Queer Eye legacy.  Straight men, like Brody are waxing and shaving their bodies, even their balls.   Just try to find a straight boy without product hair.  And the days of the straight man's iconic trademark, white Jockey briefs have been Ginch Gonched into oblivion.

These days the big burly sweaty beer guzzling, belching rugby stud is more likely to be gay than straight.

Furthermore with so many men these days falling out and sometimes kicked out of the closet, everyone is under scrutiny.  No straight man is safe from innuendo, rumor and misinterpretation by media, bloggers, wives and girlfriends.  Broadcasting heterosexuality has become daunting.  Men like Larry Craig and Howard Stern are obliged to file lawsuits to prove and defend their heterosexual orientation.

So what's a straight boy to do?

Brody to the rescue.

Straight men need new rules.  And Brody, the perfect celebrity straight man, is ready to deliver.

Each episode of Bromance is more concerned with defining boundaries between male bonding and homosexuality than it is with finding a new Bro bro.  Bro bro is the new straight equivelant of Boo Boo.

In case, you've been smart enough to not watch this show or it's promos, the premise is simple.  Brody is a young sugar daddy looking for a trophy boy aka BFF aka Bromance aka Bro bro aka kept boy aka subservient bottom.

A studly but brainless crew of sycophantic, mouth-breathing, high school drop-outs compete to climb up Brody's adorable butthole and live out eternity as Brody's pet dude.  The winner will give up his life, his friends, his family, his possessions and his job in exchange for a multi-million dollar Bromance love nest and the right to follow Brody around as Brody pursues a relentless lifestyle of DUI, Playboy Bunnies and The Hills.

By any surely out-dated definition, the winner of Bromance will become a kept boy.

But according to the new rules--as they are being forged by Brody Jenner, this is Bromance, that special and unique brotherly love that can only exist between two straight boys, one of whom is rich and pathologically self-centered while the other one is an obedient lap dog.  It's kind of like the way Michael Jackson used to buy boys as playthings--except Brody's playthings are of legal age.

But the real joy and instructional value of this show is watching the Bro competitors ever so carefully test the shallow waters between appropriate bro behavior and questionable gay behavior.  In fact, Bromance is something of a master class in young heterosexual male sociology, anthropology and herd psychology.

In one episode we learned that a hot tub full of straight men wearing nothing more than their boxer shorts and boxer briefs is a truly awkward moment with all arms folded and knees clenched, but throw in just one bikini-clad big breasted bimbo and its turns into a raucous party with straight male limbs intertwining and uninhibited degrees of skin on skin contact.  Context is everything.

We also learned that straight men can hug during an emotional moment as long as their fists are clenched and there's some shoulder punching thrown in. Open handed hugs without the follow up dude punch are gay gay gay and cause Brody, our Zen Master of neo-heterosexuality to look askance at the camera, one eyebrow questionably raised.  (This guy has to go; his hug lingered into gayland.)

We learn that it's OK to wear women's underwear, as long as it's on your head.  Opening up about your true feelings is cool, especially if it makes you cry...but through the blubbering you MUST make a pussy joke at least every ten minutes.

Otherwise, it's gay.

For the gay viewer who can get past the outrageous sexism and patronizing straight boy attitudes, it is surely fun to watch the crew struggle with the tight bonds of what "straight-acting" used to mean.

Brody is unquestionably straight, in fact, he's the picture perfect version of 21st Century straight.  His father was an Olympic hero, he's stepbrother to Kim Kardashian, Hollywood's most famous new piece of fat ass, he's best friends with Lauren Conrad and boyfriend to playmate Jayde Nicole.   Now that's a resume!

Brody also likes men … a lot.  But, not in gay way.  He makes that clear every chance he gets.

Brody understands bromance.  He claims to have invented it!

By Brody's definition, a bromance is "A bond between you and your go-to guy. Somebody that just keeps it real with you."  Of course Brody's world is about a real as a movie set at Universal.

And within this world, Brody is searching for a new best friend--someone prepared to give up his life, identity, self-respect and dignity to live as an indentured servant and as a kept boy.  You can't get more real than that!

The other fascinating aspect of this experience is the humor in male bonding.

In Brody's world the line between Bromance and queer romance is a never-ending source of off-color jokes, ribald remarks and all-around frivolity.  Tons of nudity and hot-tubbing in your undies.  Apparently over-crowding a bubbling hot tub with nearly naked men and no women and not being gay is as funny as funny gets.

I'm not sure why this is funny, but apparently The Hills generation, Brody Jenner and Kim Kardashian fans can't get enough of it--dudes being as gay as they can be without being gay.  Real men do it all--and Brody is redefining "all"--but gay boys cross the line.  It's macho to slap each other's butts, whip out your dick and wiggle it in public, even slap a dude on the head with it; but just don't put one in your mouth--well, at least not willingly and with enthusiasm.   And it's OK to get a boner around dudes, as long as you emphasize that you were dreaming of Lauren Conrad and not last night in the hot tub with Brody.

One might be concerned that Bromance will strip gay away from gay, leaving us with nothing but cum guzzling and fudge packing.  Brody seems to be leading a straight boy charge to redefine male bonding in a world gone gay. I think I liked it better when real men didn't eat quiche.

HARMFUL OR HUMOROUS?

TRUE BLOOD: AIDS STARS IN NEW HBO COMEDY

Alan Ball is to homophobia what Spike Lee is to racism.  Both are story tellers who deliver satirical and controversial takes on bigotry.

I get that and I do appreciate and value the social satire and poke-in-the-eye humor.

But True Blood ups the ante in a way that leaves me disturbed and uncertain.  And maybe that's a good thing?  It's certainly HBO, the network that had us loving sociopathic, homocidal Tony Soprano.

Ball, a gay man, has easily matched Mr. Lee and then seriously raised the stakes, creating what might be the first major satire to address a tragic and lethal chronic disease.  To the best of my recollection, no one has ever produced a major motion picture or dramatic/comedic television series on cancer, diabetes or Parkinson's Disease.  Correct me if I'm wrong.

So does this format work for AIDS?  Even if the writer is a gay man?  True Blood is not just a social satire on homophobia, it's a serious jib jab at the AIDS stigma.  And I find myself wondering if a social satire on the AIDS stigma helps or hurts the half a million Americans currently suffering from this complicated, emotional and grotesquely politicized condition?

Does True Blood deliver a productive message or does it trivialize a far from resolved crisis that is a cornerstone of homophobia?  I don't know.

It's rare that HBO runs afoul of my political and social sensibilities.  They had me at Sopranos and have kept me as a loyal fan through Entourage, Rome, Six Feet Under, Sex and the City and Big Love. HBO is consistently responsible for some of the most brilliant television in the history of the medium.  HBO series can also have an enormous social and cultural impact--which is why we need to ask questions about True Blood.

Part of me loves this controversial and risky story.  I love the premise and I mostly love the show, but the simple-minded and constant tongue-in-cheek sophomoric references to gay rights and gay issues potentially borders on distasteful and possibly does us some harm.

Vampires are fighting stereotypes and coming out of the coffin.  We even have a vampire bar and vampire hags.  Vampires are under attack by right wing Evangelicals.  Vampires are fighting for equality. 

I get it.  I see what Ball is targeting, but I'm just not sure it achieves the desired goal--especially since harcore gays--oops, I mean vamps--are evil, murderous, cruel abominations who still prey on normal humans.  In Ball's alternative reality, these blood-sucking queers are still abominations who are struggling--many of them--to live like normal folk even though they are clearly not normal folk.  I don't like that message.

Alan Ball is a master of distraction and engages me with plenty of extraordinary, hot sweaty, sexually aggressive male eye candy and wild homo-erotic sex; so it's difficult to judge the rightness of True Blood.  I keep forgetting my politics.

So far there are three characters who could suck me dry and vice versa any day or night of the week, one human, one as-yet-to-be disclosed supernatural creature and one vampiric; and the sex scenes so far have aroused all kinds of interest from both of my heads.  But something is amiss and it makes me feel dirty (and not in a good way) for watching True Blood.

At the heart of my concern is the "ironic" treatment of AIDS and the destructive and sadly robust bigotry behind the AIDS stigma.  In the alternative reality of True Blood, rather than fear queer blood (as in the FDA edict that all gay blood is diseased), humans desperately seek to exchange bodily fluids with vampires because vampire blood makes them, the humans, healthier, stronger and sexually more potent.  Real world queer blood delivers death, True Blood alternative reality queer blood delivers life.

Yes, that's an edgy, HBO, Alan Ball-worthy plot twist, but something in me fears that this AIDS joke and all the "coming out of the coffin" humor trivializes a struggle that is far from achieving success.  I'm not questioning the value of cleverly satirizing gay rights and the AIDS stigma, but I am concerned with Alan Ball's approach and timing.  With HIV infections skyrocketing again among urban gay boys, do we really want to glamorize and trivialize HIV infection and unsafe sex?  Are we served by a strange queer utopia where queer blood is pursued and even commoditized like Middle Eastern oil?

And True Blood abounds in "unsafe" sex because in addition to the health benefits of vampire blood, vampires are already dead and free of infection.  Condoms be damned.  Usually vampires are also among the damned, but in True Blood--as long as they control themselves and refrain from sucking their human sex partners dry until death, vampires are just like you and me, fun-loving nocturnal creatures with a great sense of style.

And while gay reviewers of True Blood have duly noted that the stereotypical and traditional "Dorian Gray/Vampire" monster metaphor for homosexuality is treated very differently in True Blood than in past vampire and horror stories, it may not be a positive and productive difference.

In the True Blood world, vampires used to be blood sucking monsters who, thanks to biotechnology, can now survive on synthetic blood and live among humans peacefully and in harmony.  Funny, but not as a metaphor for lives that end like Matthew Shepard and Larry King.  True Blood's message is that thanks to biotechnology, we no longer have to drive stakes through vampire hearts, set them on fire, cut off their heads or drive them into exile.  Will the same be true in our world when they find a cure for AIDS?  I'm not holding my breath, with or without a cure.

The new vampire no longer has to kill  his sex partner to get his rocks off.  As a result the new vampire is no longer an abomination but rather the hot sexy "fanged" boy next door.

It is a profoundly attractive and engaging fantasy, but is it good or bad for the gay community?  I'm not overly concerned with the message it delivers to Evangelicals; perhaps it will make us look super-power-scary to them.  A good thing.  But I am concerned with the message it delivers to young gay men who are, in rapidly increasing numbers, going after the infection as if its a gift, an inevitability, almost a queer rite of passage.  And in that paradigm, I fear glamorization and trivialization.

PS: For those of you who miss Buffy, Alan Ball has given us an R-rated updated version with a very different cast of villains.

HAND JOB BARBIE

FINE HAND-MILLED IMPORTED UK SOAP STARS