My niece recently told me that she has recently experience a huge “popularity bump” because of me. Her peer group thinks it’s uber-cool that she lives with a (crazy) gay uncle. I intuited the unspoken (crazy) – my niece would never use a label, any label, on anyone, well, perhaps her younger brother. In any event, in an effort to maintain my cred as house homo, resident radical, local loon, I have decided to regularly recount Rainbow Notes; light-hearted, good-time, old-and-new-school remarkings, snarkings, barkings and larkings concerning the tropes of Queer Culture from the erastes and eromenos of ancient Greece to the mod-day diversions of Grindr and “It Gets Better.”
This is all – mind you – an excuse for me to write regularly about Judy Garland without shame. And thus, at the Oscar ceremony this coming Sunday a 75th Anniversary salute to The Wizard of Oz is being scheduled and holy Oscar Fucking Wilde, not just Lorna Luft, not just Liza with a Z (not Lisa with an S, cuz Lisa with an S goes SSS not ZZZ), but ALL THREE OF JUDY’S KIDS – including the almost NEVER seen nor heard from JOEY LUFT – are part of the tribute. I AM RIDICULOUSLY EXCITED ABOUT THIS! Read the story here at The Hollywood Reporter.
Watch this clip from The Judy Garland show in which Frances Ethel Gumm sings to her son:
And, to add to my recent (as in, yesterday) rant (CLICK HERE TO READ IT – and see naked basketball players!) about Alec Baldwin’s “forgot to check my privilege” screaming fit, click here for a great link to Noah Michelson’s Open Letter to Alec Baldwin. I would especially like the friends of my niece who have been raised in mostly hetero-normative/white privilege and think I’m cool (but a token) and who continue to use words like (I apologize for even typing these) “bitch” and “nigga” and “faggot” and “gai-bois” as casual patois, to read this and understand why THEY SHOULD STOP USING THOSE WORDS.
Speaking of foolish youngsters (and oldsters) using thoughtless language and allowing homophobia to invade their thoughts (not that my own internalized acculturated homophobia doesn’t still get the best of me sometimes), Tyler Posey, once the lead of MTV’s incredibly homo-erotic and queer-centric remake of Teen Wolf until he was replaced in the fan’s hearts by the remarkable Dylan O’Brien, recently started an uproar by his careless disdain for those fans (me included) who are Sterek-obsessed. If you don’t know what that means, this Rainbow Note doesn’t apply to you, so skip ahead. I’m sure it must rankle Posey that O’Brien has become a cult-figure, gotten leads in huge films, and seems to be taking off in ways that Posey is not as an actor. Still, that is no reason to denigrate the interests of what is obviously a huge fan-base, a fan-base powerful enough to get O’Brien made into the main character this season – and, worse, to do so using language that has long been “coded” as anti-Queer. Think before you speak, Posey. (And everyone else.)
And, finally, I’ve been the gay uncle for four decades now, a couple of generations’ worth of uncle-ing it up, and long ago I was – once – even a gay godfather (not in the gay mafia sort of way that Alec Baldwin derides, but, rather, in the actual baptismal font in a Catholic church way) for my fabulous nephew, yep, Joe. Joe is the nephew who now works at the White House and gave me a private tour one day ( READ ABOUT IT HERE). YES, HE DOES. I have BEGGED and PLEADED with him to keep the gig until Hillary gets there, because I HAVE GOT TO MEET HER. He laughed. In fear. Because, you know, when you work in the White House, sometimes having a CRAZY gay uncle is not quite as beneficial as it is when in high school. LOL. When I was still singing, I always meant to sing Happiness is Just A Thing Called Joe, as did Ms. G in the above clip – but, I never did.
Damn. Don’t get me started on things I should have done and songs I should have sung (which was the name for my aborted cabaret evening – alas) because I will turn into melancholy baby, and, frankly, already uncomfortably close today. Later, heading over the rainbow – meaning, to the locker room and sauna at the gym in search of the TinMan.
Later . . . oh, and watch out for that bicycle riding harridan . . .