The Unreal Oneal

Get ready for the Reid-Bynes-Lohan School of Hollywood Hard Knocks, kid. In a recent Vulture article, The Real O'Neals lead Noah Galvin levied a curse-laden slew of insults at Colton Haynes, director Bryan Singer, and Modern Family's Eric Stonestreet. 

It sounds like he really took playing a young Dan Savage to heart.

He called Haynes coming out, "fucking pussy bullshit," said Bryan Singer "likes to invite little boys over to his pool and diddle them," and slammed Stonestreet's role in Modern Family as a caricature. Somewhere within his rant, he managed to slip in a backdoor brag about a confused guest-star hitting on him.

Sounds like a catch, right? 

In each of these cases, he could have made a point. He could have said that his own coming out story was much simpler than Haynes', and that both of them are making it easier for aspiring gay actors. He could have referred to Singer's controversial lawsuits without resorting to slander. And he could have respectfully criticized Stonestreet's performance as an older gay man, while admitting a lack of understanding for the generation Stonestreet represents. 

But he's a kid in Hollywood, and a green one at that. The Real O'Neals is his first major role, with small credits dating back only three years. Gay or straight, he's not the first Hollywood rookie to dive into the spotlight without considering the backlash. Let's face it, he thought he was being funny. Few gay men amongst us didn't resort to nastiness to land a laugh in our teens and early 20s. 

But it wasn't funny, it was just mean. 

The backlash hasn't hit, and who knows if it will. Galvin's words were so extreme and off-the-cuff, his co-stars - even Dan Savage - may not know how to respond. Those he insulted may have taken his belligerence into consideration and decided to avoid a potential Twitter war.

I hope Martha Plimpton is as much a mother on the set as she is in character. If anyone understands the double-edged sword of fame, she does. As a member of the Carradine family, I'm sure she's learned a thing or two about what can be said - and shouldn't be said - in the public eye. She's likely got some tough love for him next time they're on the set together. 

The "I know best" mantra of the early 20-something is nothing new, and certainly not exclusive to gay men. It's also never been an attractive trait. Perhaps had his rants been aimed at his peers - gay men who were already out when they landed their first gig - it might have been better received, or at least excused as a youthful indiscretion. 

Ugly Betty's Mark Indelicato comes to mind, and at least one from the cast of Glee. But the uplifting coming out stories and incidental transitions of his peers don't trend, and they don't fit the nasty narrative Galvin is confusing with humor. Hollywood politics aside, that's what this is about, and that's what's so sad. 

He's claiming to buck the trend of clichés by playing right into them. His humor only has ground in negativity, a pessimism that can't even appreciate how lucky he is. What's more cliché than "the bitchy queen" - critical of everything and everyone - without relating any of it back to himself?

Like Haynes or Singer, Galvin has no professional obligation to his community, a point he hypocritically made shortly after bashing them for lacking in their obligation to their community. 

But that doesn't change the public's perception. Had a straight actor new to the scene made these comments, the public would brush it off as a kid being a kid. But this kid's gay, and on ABC, a network as new to the gay world as himself. To many fans of The Real Oneals, Catholic families who've grown to identify with its lovable characters, Galvin's comments are laced with the notion that gay men might all be this nasty. He may not have an obligation to address that, but I think he's about to be introduced to an unfair world in which he soon realizes he should.

*UPDATE

Queue the apology in 3...2...1...

Variety

Wow, that was fast.

To be fair, his apology sounds as earnest as it gets, particularly understanding how new he is to Hollywood. He let fame go to his head, and he got carried away. I still can't help but picture a stern Martha Plimpton fresh to the set, "So, you learn your lesson, kid?"

A Real Hollywood Superhero

When the Advocate ran Jase Peeples' story, The Problem with Colton Haynes and Not Quite "Coming Out" back in January, it rang with a mix of problems, the least of which was with Colton Haynes himself, or whatever strategic game Peeples alleged Haynes was playing.

The article was a swift reaction to Haynes' broadly sweeping social media presence, and specifically a comment he made in which he rhetorically questioned his own "secret gay past." It gave a lot of gay fans hope, crushed the dreams of CW fangirls, and drove social media insane. And it maddened them even more when he failed to provide a followup. 

But it wasn't a failure, not then, and not today with Haynes "officially" out of the closet.

The failure is in the need to officiate every celebrity's lavender debutante, and how the media singles out specific individuals in an effort to expose very real prejudice within the Hollywood image machine. 

Colton Haynes and Arrow co-star Emily Bett Richards

In January, many assumed Haynes was simply being coy, humorously interacting with his fans on social media in a way that's gained him more than four million Instagram followers. Others assumed that he was playing the Hollywood game, towing the line between gay and straight to keep his fans wondering. Still others - perhaps the most optimistic - were hoping that Haynes was the harbinger of an equal Hollywood, one in which it finally, truly, didn't matter to him, or anyone else, who was gay.

As it turns out, none were the case. If he was playing games, he would have run with the massive publicity and gone after bigger and better roles. Instead, he vanished from the screen. 

Taking time off, Haynes spoke with Entertainment Weekly's Marc Snetiker this week about his comments in January, the headaches they generated, and joined the ranks of Hollywood hunks who have officially come out of the closet. And as it turns out, Haynes' story and the reasons behind his vague comments are too rarely explored by those covering entertainment news for magazines like the Advocate.

When Peeples' article ran back in January, it reeked of an aging mentality that implies celebrities have a responsibility to their communities. Like Perez Hilton's demands masked by apparent professional journalistic integrity, Peeles wasn't making a new argument. To him and the Advocate, actors like Haynes owe their communities more than their art or their jobs. 

Actors are held to an unrealistic level of responsibility, particularly famous ones. We look at their lives, their parties, their Instagrams, and envision a utopia flushed with cash and demand that they be the people we want them to be. When we read Haynes' comments on Tumblr, see his campy costumes on Instagram, and watch him interact with his co-stars, there isn't a seasoned gay amongst us who doesn't know that this is a gay man. But that doesn't matter.

To us, the choice is simple: just come out already.

But to us, we're coming out to family and friends, and maybe a Facebook following of a few hundred. To celebrities, many of whom are out to family and friends, coming out is an anxiety inducing spectacle fraught with hateful social media comments, disappointment from fans, and even the praise that comes with it can be overwhelming. We don't just demand they come out, we demand they do it perfectly.

From Ricky Martin to Lance Bass to Sean Hayes - all faced with tabloid-style pressure from the likes of the Advocate - no gay man has ever had the perfect coming out story in Hollywood. Whether it's orchestrated or incidental, the LGBT community is fiercely opinionated and obnoxiously critical. We criticize these strangers for being in the closet. Then when they do, we lambast them for not doing it sooner. 

Does anyone really need to ask why gay men in Hollywood are closeted? 

We demand the press release, we get it, then we bitch about it. In fact, the most redeemable coming out stories are often the most imperfect: Neil Patrick Harris comes to mind, and perhaps now, Colton Haynes. Those are the ones that truly resonate with us civilians. 

Many actors lead two lives, not as a means to deceive fans, but as a means to cope with the fandom. Their careers spill over into this second personality and they become a public character, one they begrudgingly drag home and continue acting out for months on end.

For Haynes, one of the few celebrities known for interacting with his fans on social media - actually talking to them directly - those worlds likely become blurred. His character isn't talking to his fans on Tumblr, Colton Haynes the dude from Kansas is. It's not surprising that so many of his eccentric Halloween costumes involve complete disguises. In a world where we completely disregard the privacy of even our most benign and unknown celebrities, slipping into a full body Ursula costume must be a great way to escape into a night out on the town.

Peeples thanked Haynes on Twitter for his bravery, but his words and expectations remain. Haynes has opened up about his anxiety and the pressures of Hollywood over the past few months, and his decision to take a break from fame. The words in his latest EW interview aren't those of a cynical or seasoned celebrity, one with a meticulously groomed public persona, but those of a very real person who takes his expectations and the opinions of his fans very seriously. In many ways, this is refreshing, and hopefully the resurgence of interest in his personal life won't sculpt another two-dimensional Hollywood personality.

The problem was never with Colton Haynes "not quite 'coming out'," and it wasn't simply that we expected him too or felt he owed it to his fans. The problem is that we refuse to understand that celebrities are human beings with the very same DNA that makes us terrified to come out to family and friends. The problem is that we paint these people into a corner, pressure them to adopt a public persona and issue a press release. The problem is our entitled expectations take very real people and push them to become a character we want them to be, rather than accept them for the flawed humans that they are.

Haynes is gay, and has been out nearly his entire life to his family, friends, and coworkers. Luckily for him, he has a very strong base to lean on as the public screams, cries, and speculates in the coming weeks. For others, the pressure can be scarier, and our good intentions can have horrible consequences. We all know how hard it is to be closeted gay men, and many of us know how crushing the pressure of our mundane lives can be. Haynes sounds like a very thoughtful person, and on the shoulders of a weaker man, the words from our own advocates could pressure our should-be heroes into dire scenarios involving drugs, alcohol, or worse. 

Peeples' words and the Advocate have a place in our community, and the message in Peeples' article has its merit, as long as it maintains a narrative of Hollywood in general. But singling out individuals, however famous, that may or may not be "one of us" isn't just irresponsible, it's dangerous. How many favorites have we lost to addiction and suicide, and how many of those were lost to the pressures we heaped upon them?

If Hollywood has a problem with gay men, let's talk about Hollywood's problem. Colton Haynes is a talented actor and a refreshingly honest voice in a cynical world. If we should be singling him out for anything, it should be for being the perfectly flawed man many of us aspire to be, and for having the patience with us that we should all have with our Hollywood heroes. From Kansas to Los Angeles, Haynes' life thus far is that of a true superhero.

It Isn't Funny Anymore

With her mother, O.J., and stepfath-,...stepmoth-,...okay, that dried up old clam, getting more attention than her, Kim Kardashian West, a.k.a. Mrs. Jesus Christ, decided to Tweet a(nother) nude selfie. Personally, I'll be happy when this overrated (shouldn't be rated to begin with) sofa cushion vanishes social media. Until then, I'm perfectly fine watching her collapse into herself like a neutron star. 

Her selfie(s) didn't go unnoticed, and it's hard to tell if they were tended to in the way she had hoped. Chloe Grace Moretz, star of Carrie and Dark Shadows, took to Twitter to school Kim K. on the importance of being a role model, and setting goals for young women.

It is, after all, National Women's Day.

Better than you, in every way.

Instead of ignoring Moretz, Kim K. decided to "welcome" her to Twitter since "no one knows who she is," and condescendingly complement her nylon (whatever that means). It should be noted that Moretz has worked consistently as an actress since she was seven and at nineteen, hasn't registered at the Bynes-Reid-Hilton School of Post-Adolescent Uselessness. In fact, she's already been in a lot of big movies and her career is only beginning. 

But the message at its core was lost on Kim K. who took the opportunity to prove that she's not just a bitch, but a stupid bitch. After her backhanded "welcome" she made some comment about an $80M video game check and paying off Mr. Christ's $53M debt. I wasn't aware Kim K. was a gamer, made video games, or "starred" in them, but, well, you know...

As Moretz pointed out..."goals."

Just in case anyone wasn't sure how insecure Kim K. was by the end of the day, she trolled Bette Midler with a joke about her age, then dared her to "send nudes #justkidding". 

Honestly, this must be what it was like to watch the Titanic sink.

I'm not even sure who Kim K.'s target audience is anymore, because she's certainly not attracting new male followers with these antics. The only reason I read about this is because she was torn apart by BroBible and AskMen for these ageist and sexist remarks, two sites that don't shy away from superficially celebrating the female form. It seems she's now just taunting female celebrities who've made careers out of, you know, careers, daring them to prove they're better than Kim K.'s...body? 

I honestly don't know what else she does.

If that wasn't enough for the First Family of Trash, Kim K.'s stepfather, short-time stepmother, now sometimes-costar Caitlyn Jenner spent some unwarranted time in the spotlight saying Hillary Clinton "couldn't care less about women." Mind you this is from a woman who's been a woman for exactly twelve months, and only because she said so. Think what you want about Hillary Clinton, but she's spent her career - her life - breaking down barriers from the courtroom to the battlefield for future generations of women. Jenner, on the other hand, is an Olympian-turned-Wheaties-spokesman who dove into the unreal world of reality television to advocate for the rights of self-professed women to look more feminine. 

Sorry, Cait, Hillary's dick is bigger than yours ever was and she doesn't care. 

Jenner went on to say that "any" of the GOP candidates would be better for the trans community than Hillary Clinton or Bernie Sanders despite, oh for fuck's sake, any amount of irrefutable evidence I'm not going to bother to dig up on Google. 

Mind you, again, all of this unfolded on National Women's Day.

This, people, is why caricatures like Donald Trump are viable candidates. We've cut the breaks on the clown car and thrown it off a cliff, and we're watching the circus burn instead of considering the reality that these unreal cartoons are actually influencing our decisions. This would all be laughable if it weren't so serious. America is facing its season finale and writers are scrambling for a plot. 

WAKE THE FUCK UP. 

A Kardashian, a Jenner, a Real Housewife, or a Trump. What's the difference?

The sad thing is, I can't sympathize with a single Trump supporter, but I can understand why they exist. He's a tyrant, a zealot, and a dip-shit, but even Hitler was smart. A "Queens-born casino operator" wouldn't be able to wrap Southern evangelicals around his finger without a brain. The world's most evil geniuses are wickedly intelligent. 

What I can't understand is why any remotely intelligent civilian follows the subhuman ilk that encompasses the parasites of reality television - the Kardashians, the Jenners, the Real Housewives - all held to the litmus of the "short-fingered vulgarian," Donald Trump himself. A "guilty pleasure" does not exonerate you from guilt, it admits it. You are actively dumbing down a nation and enabling the relevance of the nation's most ignorant by watching these shows. You are electing Donald J. Trump.

Come November, if you "like" or follow Kim Kardashian, Caitlyn Jenner, or Donald Trump out of some kind of morbid sense of humor, know that you are responsible for not only Trump's rise to power, but also the minions he appoints. 

It just isn't funny anymore. 

The Short-Fingered Vulgarian

If you're too young to remember Spy magazine, it's been scanned into Google, and I suggest you binge read. Google quotes Dave Eggars on the magazine's short-lived run, "There's no magazine I know of that's so continually referenced, held up as a benchmark, and whose demise is so lamented." 

But if you need a reason to read it, Donald Trump said, "It's a piece of garbage."

Donald Trump wasn't just bullishly ranting. He knew exactly why he thought Spy was garbage: Spy dedicated its existence to eviscerating Donald Trump. For a good backstory on Spy and why it loathed Donald Trump, Mark Ames published a worthy read on Pando about a time when humorous editorials were less in line with Onion parodies or satirical news feeds from John Stewart or Stephen Colbert. 

Spy was ruthless. As Ames points out, Spy didn't relent when it's target had fallen, they kept on kicking, and did so with journalistic precision that today's most trusted news outlets could never hope to achieve. Their articles were researched, well written, and downright callous. Their contributors could have easily been called bullies; that is if each politician, tycoon, or celebrity hadn't been guilty of every misdeed Spy put to paper. These people had it coming, and Spy was there to air their dirty laundry. It might not be a coincidence that Spy's closure in 1998 coincided with the proliferation of reality television, sensationalized cable news, and a return to political correctness.

For good reason, Gen X can be considered both the best and worst generation, at least of those we remember. It invented political correctness in the late 1980s, an apolitical juggernaut that hypocritically spawned a two dimensional false ideology that every disenfranchised group be dumped in its own bucket, and that none can do wrong. The rise of social media has allowed political correctness to return en masse online, and on the campaign trail it falsely implies that when a Trump or Cruz is wrong for America, a Clinton or Sanders must me right. 

It's pure reactionary ignorance that doesn't just allow us to avoid questioning the actions of our reluctantly favored candidates, it demands we not question them. If we cross party lines, even for a quizzical moment, political correctness says we've abandoned our ship.

But Gen X also invented the tool for combating this blindness. The generation gave us Seinfeld, South Park, and Spy magazine, resources that turned political correctness upside down and attracted an audience through comedy. 

We have very few voices today who offer this kind of intellectual reprieve, and when they speak out, they're often criticized as being unsympathetic. Camille Paglia recently pointed out a similar dissatisfaction with comedians like John Stewart and Stephen Colbert, not so much in their inability to land a blow, but in the hypocrisy in only combating politics on the opposite side of their personal wall.

To Spy, greedy tycoons, corrupt politicians, and celebrity heirs were all equal offenders in dumbing down America, and gave the '80s and '90s what it needed to fight the rhetoric of political correctness. In the '90s, the Clintons were not immune to Spy in the way that they are to liberal comedians today. Looking at the covers of Spy magazine, the words "informed" or "unbiased" might not come to mind, but the articles refused to choose sides or even acknowledge that sides existed. 

Although Spy closed in 1998 and has since only managed to release an anthology in 2006, Spy has recently received quite a bit of press, likely to Donald Trump's chagrin. If you want to know why everyone is talking about the size of Donald Trump's hands, it goes back to a Spy article printed more than 25 years ago. As the Wall Street Journal or New York Times might refer to a subject as "investment banker" or real estate mogul," Spy took to other, more colorful accuracies. "Queens-born casino operator" is my personal favorite. 

But it was Graydon Carter's moniker, "the short-fingered vulgarian," that really got under Trump's skin. To date, Graydon says he still receives mail from Trump himself, clippings with a photo of Trump's fingers circled in gold marker, thus proving the length of his digits. Were it not for the man's longstanding hatred for Spy magazine, this might signal a man with a good sense of humor about himself. But Spy wasn't in the business of making friends with its targets, and Trump clearly knew this. From Hillary Clinton to Justine Bateman, Spy was relentless in its attacks on those in positions they didn't earn, didn't deserve, or were simply too stupid to understand. 

It's completely understandable that the archives of Spy have resurfaced in the face of Trump's inexplicable rise to political prominence. In 1987, Spy printed, "Please, God, let him run. If Donald Trump runs for president, God, we promise we will never make fun of the pope again. Or Pat Robertson. Well, the pope, anyway." The truth is, Trump's rise to political prominence isn't inexplicable, it has been expected, and Spy wasn't the only outlet that knew it. 

While peddling his biography, Trump: The Art of the Deal in 1988, he told Oprah Winfrey that he'd consider running, and that he "wouldn't go in to lose." It's easy to watch the debates and assume that this is all a game to him, a reality TV show to one reality TV star. After all, a mogul of Trump's caliber understands the value of media stock during an election year, and the Republican debates aren't disappointing their audiences, or their advertisers. But success in reality television is granted by a self-awareness that your vapid superficiality is building your brand, and your bank account. A Kardashian or Jenner can't succeed without a sense of humor, even one that's feigned. To that, Trump isn't a reality television star, he is reality television, and the Republican candidacy his network.

To pour through the pages of Spy's twelve year run, we don't just see a man who embodies the quote "Greed is Good" or a television personality content with amassing a fortune. We see a man who views this nation his empire, and Manhattan his Rome. This is not Rupert Murdoch or Jack Welch, a billionaire resigned to enabling a system in their favor through their vast wealth. This is a man who wants to tear down the system to make it his own. To Trump, he is not a presidential candidate, but a king petitioning his right to the throne. 

Eighteen years ago, we had a voice that was willing to panoramically hold our candidates, our celebrities, and those who crossed that line accountable for their belligerence, ignorance, and greed. Today that voice is buried beneath the heap of the web; unintelligible, unfindable, and nonsensical. The most marketable rise to the surface and find a home on MSNBC, Fox, or Comedy Central to sell ads or fall flatly - and hypocritically - satirical. Snark and irony have replaced a biting, investigative knowledge of reality. 

Today's answer to discourse is not a comprehensive understanding of how appalling all of our politicians, tycoons, and celebrities truly are, but a completely rebellious upheaval. Cynical shortsightedness has become our undoing, and it's forced us to choose between tyrants, zealots, and fear mongers, with no avenue to question the lesser of our evils without retaliation in the name of sensitivity or devotion. 

Politics is - and should be - somewhat brutal. Trump, with all his faults, knows this. Sanders, the inevitable flip side, knows it too. But the voters, having slumped into a post-Spy world of unicorns vs. dragons, are too afraid that questioning our own team might result in a loss. We shouldn't be asking why Trump is running for president. Everything about that makes sense. We should be asking why we're forced to choose between a dynasty, the establishment, and those with no clue how to make their claims happen. 

The answer is "us," and our inability to make a declarative statement without a high rising terminal. 

Yes, we're pissed off, and that's why Trump and Sanders actually have a leg in this race. But we're not pissed off because of the establishment, one that's been running for better or worse for the last 240 years. We're pissed off because we've fostered a culture that celebrates our worst citizens, defies our desire to reason, and above all, refuses to allow us to question anyone, even our preferred leaders, without blowback. 

Whatever happens in November, it doesn't matter who our president will be. Whatever his Napoleonic needs, the Constitution will not allow Trump to be dictator. We are a Senate, a Congress, a Supreme Court, and nearly 400M citizens who should know that we are a people with the right to call into question the deplorable acts of those who influence public opinion, whether it's a Trump, a Clinton, or a Kardashian. 

What we need is Spy magazine. 

Philadelphia's Mummers Day Parade

I tended to my Philadelphian obligation and went to yesterday's Mummers Parade, for about ten minutes. To be honest, that's a new personal record. I get it. It's a fun and uniquely local tradition, and if I was accustomed to binge drinking at 10am, I'd probably do a little more than show up for one picture. 

Besides, I'm there for the costumes, and they're easy to see on social media, so that's where I went next. And believe me, social media's reaction to this year's festivities was certainly present, and vocal.

One of the unfortunate traditions that seems to plague the Mummers Parade every year is an amateur knack for insulting various cultures and races, most notably through blackface. This year's targets by two of the bands were Mexicans and Caitlyn Jenner. What's truly unfortunate is how the actions of a few boobs can ruin a good time for everyone.

If you were to read Facebook or Twitter today, you'd think that the Mummers Parade was solely dedicated to mocking minorities and Caitlyn Jenner. It even made it to PerezHilton, where the celebrity blogger repeatedly confused the actions of one band with the entire parade, stating "this year the parade poked fun at Caitlyn Jenner." To anyone outside the Philadelphia region, you'd think that this were a parade put on by professionals, that the city was promoting bigotry, and that the entire parade was a hateful tribute to Caitlyn Jenner. 

This makes us all look bad. 

Let's get one thing out of the way, Caitlyn Jenner is a superficial fame-whore. She's primed for parody. But resorting to tasteless jokes and witless memes doesn't make you clever, it just proves you're as shallow and vapid as she is. Further proving that Finnegan's performance was not simply a tasteless joke, one member decided to shout "Fuck the gays!" at a camera. 

It shouldn't be too hard to figure out who this idiot is.

While Finnegan's Captain repeatedly apologized for the words of one member, pressured apologies have become routine on social media. It's difficult to determine what apologies are sincere, and that sincerity is certainly suspect in Finnegan's case following its choreographed routine that mocked the transition process of a member of the LGBT community. Was it really the words of one man, or just one man's words caught on tape? What kind of environment does Finnegan's social club foster, and where the motives behind their performance cluelessly ignorant or deliberately hurtful.

Finnegan's wasn't the only offensive culprit this year, either. The Sammar Strutters went with a Mexican theme, which in itself might not have have been so offensive...if one didn't dress up like a taco.

This is why we can't have nice things.

Social justice is swift and often unfair. It only take a few hours for Social Justice Warriors to tap into a cause, vicariate the city involved, and move on. In one day, social media has unraveled all the progress we've made rebranding our city's image. We're no longer the hip new "it" city, we're now a city of bigots, all thanks for a very small group of ignorant morons. 

Keep in mind, there are 10,000 performers in the Mummers Parade, and 99.9% of those Mummers put on a wild and wonderful show, including the Miss Fancy Brigade of drag queens. 

I'm not going to apologize for the hateful actions of a few idiots anymore than the drunken slobs pissing in the street all day, because they are not my Philadelphia. My Philadelphia is the city that recently received a perfect score from the Human Rights Campaign's Municipal Equality Index. My city is the one that embraced same-sex marriage before the Supreme Court of the Unites States did. My city is the one that effectively ended veteran homelessness last year. And my Philadelphians are the roughly 1.5M residents who cooly embrace diversity with a, "Yeah, so what? Let's go grab a Lager." 

My Mummers are those who spend months crafting meticulously colorful costumes and live to play a role in the nation's oldest surviving folk festival. 

This is what it's all about.

Residents who confuse insults with comedy are bigots, and when a Social Justice Warrior's cause ends with one broad stroke of reactionary hate, they are an equal offender. Philadelphia is an amazing city and the Mummers Parade is one of many reasons why.