4:34 p.m. - 2007-01-19
A Series of Open Letters
Dear Barack Obama,
I hear that you're planning on running for President this year. Don't.
It isn't that I don't like you. Quite the contrary. When I saw you speak at the Democratic National Convention, I said, "THAT, my friends, and by friends I mean Mom, is a PRESIDENT!"
Before I go on, Barack--may I call you Barack? How about Barry? Acky? Fine, Barack--a quick story about why I was watching the convention with my mother. My mom--called, on occassion, The Notorious MOM--has been in politics for most of her life, certainly for most of my own life. She was, at one point, Vice Chair of the Texas Democratic Party. One of my earliest memories was of being lead by my grandmother through a seemingly endless mass of people who, every few minutes, would launch into screaming and hollering and applauding and doing everything short of touching themselves with joy, although you never know, my memory might be fuzzy for a reason. I remember red, white, and blue EVERYTHING: lights, balloons, streamers, confetti. None of this was exciting, and no patriotism was stirred in my young soul. I couldn't find my mom, so I was pissed and I was scared, and all I had to comfort me was the little red, white, and blue stuffed donkey that I'd gotten as my present for putting up with the throng of loud, obnoxious sycophants. Mondale was named "The Next President of the United States," and I still can't think that phrase with a straight face, although rest assured my laughter is rueful. So not only is my mother by far the most politically connected and insightful person I know, I also always get a little twinge of abandonment issues every four years during the summer, so I like to keep her in my line of sight during the week.
This isn't about me, though, this is about you, and your run for the presidency. I think you have what it takes. First of all, you are extremely good-looking, and I am not being frivolous by listing that first. As Eddie Izzard reminds us, 70% of what counts is how you look, with only 20% how you sound and a mere 10% what you say. You, sir, look good. You have bone structure I'd kill for. You look kinda nerdy, but not TOO nerdy. You look like the guy who was the captain of the basketball team AND the debate squad, whereas the past two democratic presidential candidates looked and sounded more like student council treasurers. Not presidents, not even vice presidents, treasures, and don't get me started on trying to figure out where Ralph Nader would fit on a high school totem pole (I'm thinking that he'd be too much of a downer for the stoners or the Goth kids, and I say this as someone who finds the Green Party platform by far the most in line with my own political viewpoints). As anyone who has ever been to an American high school will tell you, the kind of person who can be both demonstratively intelligent and popular is rare.
Now, this may make you think that you'll be able to sell yourself as the perfect way of erasing the damage done by Dubya, who has always put those on the left in mind of the guy who graduated near the top of the social ladder only to return in four years to be an assistant gym teacher, and not the fun kind. And yes, you could. There is one problem: you have served two years of your first senate term, and that is not enough. Your good looks still have the sheen of boyishness. The question of experience is, quite frankly, one that you are not going to be able to answer adequately in face of someone like, say, John McCain.
I am reluctant to say this, because the Democrats have no one else. Hillary Clinton will never be president. The poor woman is a lightning rod for hatred. I do not know anyone who considers her a woman they admire. Moderates think of her as some raging liberal, whereas most progressives I know think of her as a Republican in Democrat clothing. So, by urging you not to run, I am guaranteeing that this country will experience four more years of Republican leadership, and I don't even know that I can take four more years of that, let alone the country.
But here's the rub: if you lose this year, you will never win. You mark my words. If you wait, if you keep your name in the public eye, if you are there every moment Bush's successor fucks up, then you will be president in 2012, and you will have up to eight years to make this country a better place. I'd rather wait four years than run the risk of waiting sixteen.
I hope I am wrong. I hope that, if you run, you win, and rest assured that I will vote for you if you do. I just think that, when it comes to love and politics, timing is everything, and no matter how awesome you are, if it isn't the right time, you are S.O.L.
Dear Ralph Nader,
While I'm on the subject, please don't run for president again. You have the charisma of a fish, and not a living fish. Again, not that I don't agree with what you say. I do. But politics is more than just someone's viewpoints, sadly, particularly when it comes to the presidency. Hell, run for Congress or the Senate; you could DO something and you MIGHT win if you ran in the right state. And I don't say this because I believe that you lost the election for either Gore or Kerry. I think Gore and Kerry lost that election themselves. I think, though, that it's time for the left to find themselves a new face, one that, well, smiles. I know it sounds bad, but dude, seriously, nearly every picture I see of you looks dour. Find a protege with a sense of humor, and send him our way. And retire with the thanks of a grateful small percentage of the nation.
Dear T.R. Knight,
I saw the clip of you on Ellen, where you revealed that Isaiah Washington, contrary to what he claimed, had in fact referred to you as a faggot. You broke a little when you said it, and you said, "It's such an AWESOME word, isn't it?"
Oh, baby. If there's anything that upset me about seeing that, it was that there wasn't a groan from th audience. It was that you had that moment relatively alone. Even Ellen didn't seem that responsive, although it occurs to me that I don't know whether or not "dyke" carries the same power with queer women. I really don't know. "Dyke" has been embraced to a degree that "faggot" hasn't, although certainly many queer men refer to one another as "fag." It's hard to express the difference. I think, and I could be wrong on this, that whereas "dyke" has come to be used in the impersonal--one woman might ask of another, "She's hot; is she a dyke?" without anyone batting an eye, except perhaps in flirtation--"faggot" gives a sense of familiarity. I wouldn't say, "Is he a faggot?" in the same way. I might refer to someone I know as "Oh, THAT faggot!" but it occurs to me that there's an element of deprecation, even in that, that there wouldn't be in the word "dyke." Of course, I could be totally wrong about that. I have never been on the receiving end of an unwelcome "dyke," particulary since, as a dyke tyke myself, dykes are always welcome with me.
The more I think about the word, the more I think about another word, one that, were Isaiah Washington to hear it in reference to him, would spark not only a physical attack, but a lawsuit. There's a double "G" in that word, too. Maybe that's what makes those words so offensive.
Of course, as the lack of a groan or gasp implies, that word isn't so offensive to "polite society." It was offensive to The Notorious MOM, and when she heard me use the word with my cousin while we were both playing a videogame, she was not about to tolerate it. She was furious with me, and I don't even want to think about what she said to my cousin, who was older than me and taught me the word. In retrospect, it was one of the most wonderful things my mother ever did for me. In 8th grade, I tried to do something similar. A friend of mine was using the word, and I told him that he shouldn't, that it was an offensive word. Three guesses what his response was, and the first two don't count.
That's right: "What, are YOU gay?"
What neither of us new at the time was that yes, in fact, I was. By the time I figured it out he'd moved to Houston, but when he found out (through a mutual friend) he was totally supportive and not at all bothered by it. So, that's nice. It's still very easy for me, though, to picture that moment, to be right back inside it. The word takes me right back, every time. I consider myself lucky that I don't have to flashback to something worse.
It also makes me find Patrick Dempsey even sexier. The fact that he, a straight guy, could get into with Isaiah Washington over that word makes him worthy, in my view, of all the hype.
I have never had to deal with that word in my professional life, although I know I will, seeing as I am planning to teach people between the ages of 18 and 22 for the rest of my life. For all that I know it stung, for all that I can imagine the gritting of teeth, or worse, the welling of tears that you will burn the building down with the sheer force of your will before letting anyone else see, think about it this way: you are totally famous now, and hero to homos everywhere. Yeah, Lance Bass came out, at the urging of his evil famewhore boyfriend, "Third" Reichen, whom I have loathed since The Amazing Race 4, but right after he did I had to hear the "I only like straight acting men" bullshit, a reminder that internalized homophobia is never cured by coming out alone. Then Doogie Howser, whose real name no one will ever be bothered to remember, came out, after hearing his publicist claim that he WASN'T gay, which was pretty bad-ass. But when you came out, you outed a homophobe and, in the best move of all, stole his spotlight. THAT, baby, is a move than EVERY queen will appreciate.
You are also, if I may say so, extremely cute. Call me.
Dear Jennifer Connelly,
Just wanted to let you know that your cover of Interview Magazine has cemented your status, in my mind, as the most beautiful woman on the planet. Also, I caught your televised interview with various people involved with Blood Diamond, and after hearing the director, Leonardo DiCaprio, and Djimon Honsou go on and on about how everyone involved was so self-effacing and accomodating and how there was no ego on the set and everyone was just so incredibly wonderful in this attempt to educate the entire world about the problems of the diamond trade in Africa as only a major Hollywood motion picture can, you were called upon to speak, and you said, "Yeah, I had no idea that Leo and Djimon were going to be so . . . tall. I don't think I've ever worked with taller actors. The height of the people on this film really impressed me."
Mind-searingly gorgeous AND a sarcastic smart-ass. Perfection, thy name is Jennifer Connelly.
To Whom It May Concern,
When you really, really don't want to think about Henry James, not to mention the rest of your life, you come to believe that celebrities and political figures listen to things you have to say. I may relate this to Jurgen Habermas's conception of the public sphere. Then again, I might not. I might just procrastinate some more.
