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About Just out. (Portland, OR) 1983-2013 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 17, 2001)
_ luGS. S i * di Aik l « u l Af HUMOR ...............▼............... ast month I announced a boycott on sex with closeted celebrities— The Great Boinking Boycott. I sent out press releases to nearly 100 media outlets, 1 handed out fliers, I made phone calls. Yet practically everyone I spoke to said the same thing: “Hell, if Tom Cruise wanted to sleep with me, I would.” Even the lesbians. T his m onth people from around the world are making pilgrimages to pay tribute to the M adonna— not G od ’s mother, the other one. And a lot o f those men will he the kind who check for gum on their shoes by looking over their shoulders. Try it, and you’ll get what I mean. Nothing against Madonna, hut am I the only gay guy who thinks it’s time we had a gay icon who was, well, gay? Sure, we’ve finally got gay celebrities— Elton John, Nathan Lane, Rupert Everett, to name a few— but none of these guys inspires the kind of fanatical worship that puts gay men on a first-name basis with their divas. I’m a Barbra/Liza/Judy man myself, so 1 understand the impulse. The greatest gay male icons are women who give voice to our secret selves,* but in much more fabulous evening wear. It’s always been that way, it seems. Before Bette Midler there was Bette Davis, not to mention Marlene or Tallulah. And before any of them, of course, was Cher, who is actually 129 years old but has had work done. Why, I’m sure as far back as ancient Egypt, Cleopatra probably had crowds of men in eyeliner beg ging for her hieroglyph on their papyrus. I’ve known gay men with 1 Love Lucy fetish es and Mary Tyler Moore obsessions; I even know a guy who has an entire room dedicated as a shrine to Wilma Flintstone. The sound of silence L Why aren’t gay icons gay? THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO M A RC b y M a r c Acito As for me, I’m sure I wouldn’t have dropped out of college and moved to New York City if I hadn’t grown up watching That Girl. I was certain my life would be complete if only I could get totally overdressed and go fly a kite in Central Park. I’m sorry, but That Girl must have been cre ated by gay men. No one but a gay man would think to dress Mario Thomas in that floral print number with the matching parasol. But when I found out young gay men now have chosen Titney Rears and Crispy Ugly-era as their divas, I thought, “This has gotta stop!” So I came up with The Great Boinking Boycott as a way of forcing closeted celebrities out. But even queer people have said to me, “Well, maybe those celebrities aren’t ready to come out yet.” Puh-leeze. That’s like saying someone isn’t ready to be Chinese or have blue eyes. Or else they say, “Maybe they don’t want their families to know.” Don’t these people realize that embarrassing your family is one of the great joys of being queer? W hat’s so bad about the public thinking a man is gay, anyway? It just means people think you’re too good-looking and well groomed to be straight. That’s why I’ve never understood those people who say, “They happen to be gay,” as if it were some accident, like they happened to be at the comer of Fourth and Main when the trolley car ran them over. I refuse to believe my being gay was an acci dent. I’m sure God doesn’t choose just anyone to be queer but subjects the souls waiting to go to earth to some very rigorous scrutiny: “OK, you there, with the exquisite sense of style,” God says. “Yes, you, playing the harp. You get to be a gay man. “And, uh, you there, with the bad haircut and the sensible shoes,” God says. “You’re ; gonna be a straight man.” “But I’m a woman,” the soul with the bad haircut says. “Oops,” God says. “My mistake. You’ll be a lesbian.” In fairness to lesbians (I can just imagine the angry mail now), our queer sisters are way ahead of us gay boys in terms of devotion to an icon o f the same gender and orientation. First there was Martina, then k.d., then Melissa and now the entire W N BA . It’s just not fair. But because no man is willing to be the first truly gay icon, I see no other choice than to appoint myself. T h at’s right. From now on, just add “Marco” (first name only, please) to that list of women’s names. Feel free to pin all of your unfulfilled thoughts and desires on me. I’m here for you. I care. Now if I just could find something you people could lip-sync to, I’d be set. And that, my friends, is T h e Gospel According to Marc. in M arc A cito is accepting resumes fo r go-go boys and & backup singers. E-mail him at m arcacito@ hom e.com . 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