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May 2011


A confession: I can’t be the only person out there who despises the show Glee.  What once started as a cute, novel idea for a television show has quickly embodied the definition of ‘jumping the shark’ and seems to accept nothing less than complete world domination.  Where there was once plot, now there are only tribute shows.  Where there was once an attempt at putting together a show that meant something, there’s now an absurd circus.  At one point, you actually had the feeling you could care for these characters…  Now, you simply want most of them clubbed to death with a rusty tire iron.  If only the Housewives of New Jersey and Glee would intertwine: Lea Michelle would last for two seconds.

Yes, charming as my opinions may be, it was never more clear to me that my Glee-watching days are over than in last week’s episode where token super-gay Kurt did his level best to continue flogging the homosexual stereotype by butchering another song.  Just watching Kurt sing makes my skin crawl, as the character he’s stuck with is the very definition of what straight America thinks most gay men are like:  Mincing, effeminate, show tune-loving, ridiculous fashion-wearing, falsetto-using, interior decorating, finger-snapping faggots.

Don’t adjust your screens.  Yes, I said faggot. There’s simply no other way to put it.  That’s who Kurt is.  It’s also unfortunate that one of the most popular shows on television is doing very little to steer middle America away from these kinds of pre-conceived notions.  Glee preens and prances, but at the end of the show, you’re still left with a group of highly stereotyped characters, who, instead of giving their character real strength, just end up bogging them down in syrupy, self-help messages that are better left for listeners of Dr. Phil.   You want a breakthrough gay performance?  Try watching the US-based version of Shameless.  Now that’s something different (and real).  Kurt’s character is simply a clown.

The past month has seen me in Manhattan, Mexico City, Key West, London and Chicago.  All places were in fine form, with Key West always being the relaxing idyll that I can come back to again and again.  With spring breakers nearly off the island, it was decently quiet, allowing me to squeeze into Randy Roberts’s show at LaTeDa’s Crystal Room.  For those who haven’t seen his production, it’s really fantastic.  Yes, he visually looks like a number of famous ladies, but he also sings like them too.  A truly top-notch evening of cabaret entertainment.  You can catch the end of his Key West run through the middle of this month and then see him for season in Provincetown at the Art House Theater.

London was perfectly springy, putting me in the city during Royal wedding week and generally testing my patience level thanks to all of the visitors in town for the event.  It was a zoo, but my standby favorites pulled through (breakfast, daily, at The Wolseley) and I even was able to meander around Earls Court a bit in search of a favorite old Indian haunt (called Star, which is open until 5 am everyday).  It’s the late night, go-to eatery for those who spent too much time down the road at the Villa Gianni gay brothel.  Star’s naan is ridiculously good.  During the day, I can’t miss a trip to Nando’s, also in Earls Court, which serves the best damned rotisserie chicken I’ve ever had.  The secret is in their sauce…  Literally.  Nando’s ‘peri peri’ sauce tastes good doused on just about everything.

Manhattan was rightfully ready for warmer temps, with Central Park in a moderate amount of bloom and longtime New Yorkers thawing just enough to say ‘excuse me’ before telling me to go ‘fuck myself.’  Washington Square was alive with the sounds of an upright piano on wheels (played with mucho gusto), dogs discussing amongst themselves the warmer temps (and thankful for a patch or two of actual green grass) and an NYU theatre group doing impromptu ‘Shakespeare in the Park,’ but seriously abridging what I thought was once Twelfth Night.  I suppose in this new version Andrew Aguecheek has somehow joined forces with Project Runway.  It was wacky.  Experimental is not the way I prefer to watch my bantering of the Bard.


It’s gloomy outside today in San Antonio, which means it’s the perfect day to watch a few episodes of Damages, make something healthy for lunch and eventually find my way to the gym.  I also plan on getting through about a dozen or so questions on my Formspring page.  As always, the questions you ask are appreciated and fun to answer.  Keep em’ coming!