Dan Savage, in the Seattle Stranger (2/1) and in explicitly Anglo-Saxon terms, tells the pregnant lesbian VP’s daughter, Mary Cheney, what he thinks of her: ‘Sorry, Mary and f**k you. You and your whole f**ked-up family crawled into bed with bigots … when it suited you. And now you … have some explaining to do. So welcome to the political debate, Mary, and remember … your side started it. It only serves you right that you’re going to have to finish it.’ (And your ‘venomous mother’ too, Dan adds.)
In a letter to the New York Times (2/17) re an article about the Army giving waivers in recruiting, a reader writes ‘So, now you can join the Army if you have committed ‘aggravated assault, burglary, robbery and vehicular homicide.’ But not if you are openly gay.’
The Chicago Tribune (2/11) analyzes The L Word as a gleeful opportunity for older actresses to play meaty roles. Twelve of the show’s 13 regular characters are women—a record for TV dramas. Meanwhile, guests such as Rosanna Arquette, Anne Archer and Sandra Bernhard have appeared. Cybill Shepherd, a regular, says there are only five parts for actresses her age (56), and that Meryl Streep or Anjelica Huston get them.
The New York Times (2/18), in a major essay riffing off the Snickers same-sex kiss (and fuss) at the Super Bowl, attempts to get at the angst and anger that these kisses evoke. Questions include: Who owns the kiss? Why can one sort of couple ‘indulge freely in public displays lusty enough to suggest short-term motel stays’ while other types of couples have to severely censor themselves or suffer loud or injurious comebacks? The essay points out that same-sex couples are careful about bussing even in New York City but, as one gay New Yorker poignantly put it, ‘What if my boyfriend got hit by a car tomorrow? When I had the chance to kiss him, why didn’t I?’
The Chicago Sun-Times (2/18) reviews Baby Remember My Name: An Anthology of New Queer Girl Writing, which is edited by Michelle Tea. Tea, a lesbian novelist and poet, has deliberately picked stories by young inexperianced writers. Some of the works sound like doozies: ‘Titties At Stake’ follows a group of ‘shaved-head vegans uniting to expose their breasts in the name of equality’ (and looks at the anxiety of one dykelet who is a faux vegan) but others such as ‘Laundry Day’—a 3,000-word tale of hauling clothes to a washateria that is three blocks away—sound as if they’re occupying way too much useless space.