Glam or Gaga

Dear Adam Lambert,

Hey there, you big gaymo. Look, I didn’t say anything when you came out with your My Pretty Pony meets Space Camp meets your cousin Sheila’s high school yearbook photo from 1985 during her experimental eyeliner phase album cover for “For Your Entertainment.” And I didn’t say anything when the editor of Out wrote that open letter complaining about you even as he put you on the magazine’s cover (for the record, I think I might be on your side on that one). But you leave me no choice after your American Music Awards performance last night. Now, I don’t normally watch the AMAs. They’re basically not a real awards show but paperweights given out as an excuse for superstars to get on stage and sell records. But I keep reading about people falling and fire and fellatio on my Twitter feed last night so I was forced to tune in. (Note: The West Coast feed had JLo’s assplant cut from its broadcast. Don’t you know moments like that are the only reason we watch in the first place?)

Anyway, the night was basically two performances for me. 1. Lady Gaga and 2. You. So let me break this down as simply as we can.

This is how you do outrageous right. Please note the wearing of lighted exoskeletons and control-top pantyhose in lieu of clothing.

And, then, of course, fire.

This is how you do outrageous wrong. Please note that simulated blow jobs are never, ever good TV. (p.s. This was also cut from the West Coast feed. p.p.s. You suck, AMA editors).

Also, while as a rule I approve wholeheartedly of kissing androgynous bandmates on live television, that kiss was about as hot as the Al and Tipper Gore smooch at the 2000 Democratic Convention.

The main problem I have is that your performance smacked of shock for shock’s sake. It wanted to badly to be shocking and failed even at that. Also, you were kinda pitchy, dawg. Look, Lady Gaga works not because she is shocking but because she is ambitious. She wants to be different and aggressively so, so even if she fails sometimes it is never dull. And she does it all with vision. There is nothing visionary about grinding a dude’s face in your man bits and grabbing ladies by their lady business.

Having said all that, I do appreciate how unabashedly you are bringing the gay these days. Don’t ever stop. Same goes for the sparkly pants. But, seriously, fire your choreographer.

Kisses,
Ms. Snarker

False Idol

I don’t watch American Idol. I’ve never been big on karaoke and I’m even less a fan of manufactured excitement and public humiliation. I am, however, a fan of talent. Adam Lambert is talented. Sure, that Kris guy is talented, too. And he seems awfully nice. But Adam is a star. You can’t quantify what that means, other than to say that once you see him you probably will never forget him. I can’t say the same for that Kris guy. This is, of course, a very long way of saying that the wrong guy won last night. We all know this. It can’t be refuted. But instead of wanting to scream at my TV or throw a shoe or curse into the darkness mad (because, again, I am totally not that invested in this unholy phenomena responsible for the Ryan Seacrestification of the universe), I am just deflated.

You see, we – all of us gays and queers and misfits and weirdos – thought America was finally ready. We were ready for a gay idol. Everyone was calling him the one to beat. He was the one to beat. It was going to happen. We were so close. Then, then that nice unthreatening, boring Kris guy won. And all of us gays and queers and misfits and weirdos sighed and said, “Not again.” But, once again, America dissapoints us. For all the strides we make and the comfort we feel in our homes, offices, places of worship and ultimately own skin, it still means something when the wider world looks at us and says, “Hey, kid, you’re OK.” So, when instead of giving us the pat on the head we get the cold shoulder, it hurts. It frustrates. It mystifies. I’m not saying The Gay is the only reason Adam lost. You can never underestimate a tween’s love for a boring boy. (Zac Efron, anyone?) Still when that Kris guy won, I feel like The Gays (along with anyone with ears, taste and common sense) took it the worst. Because even if Adam isn’t really gay (cough, he is, cough), or doesn’t ultimately call himself gay (cough, he will, cough), he is gay to America. And that’s what matters. The glam, the guyliner, the gayness. It was all just too much for people who like their world (and boys) nice, unthreatening, boring.

So, again, we wait. We wait for the pat, the nod, the thumbs up on everything from marriage to service in the military to who has the right to record some god-awful song. We know, no matter what they say, we’re better than that. And now at least we won’t have to pretend to like “No Boundaries.” Consider yourself a winner, Adam Lambert. Because you are one, you big fabulous homo, you.