Johnny Weir: Why Uncompromised Gayness Swelled the Aorta of the American Heart

I liked Johnny Weir. He was a real Man’s Man. That is to say if a Man’s Man is a danty femme ice nymph who has more sequenced jumpsuits than Oksana Bauil and appreciates rhinestones more than Richard Simmons and Glen Campbell combined. A few weeks ago, during the height of the Olympics, I was listening to a mustachioed sports radio personality who was touting Weir as a real American Character; one that all his fat, out of work and lonely listners just had to check out. He should have just said, “You won’t believe how gay this faggot is, he is flaming to the point of hilarity and we should all revel with great merriment as this queer prances around the ice in a chick-sport while our wives make us nachos grande.”

I can’t decide if this kind of thinking is a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand, homosexuals have become so desensitized in American Culture (almost all of it?) that they are now, at the very least, good for a laugh and not a horrendous beating. But on the other hand I kept thinking, why couldn’t all the mooks in this country jusy appreciate this guy for what hewas: a very talented athlete. I don’t ice skate, altough I’ve tried. My current status is somewhere between ice wobbling and ice falling. I mean, that shit looks hard. Johnny would probably get killed if he tried to play football and I doubt he could make contact with a major league fastball, but I’d like to see Mark McGwire or Michael Strahan attempt a triple axel. So what’s the problem?

The problem is he is gay to the point of oblivion. He could cure cancer or find peace in the Middle East, but nobody would care. Some people would grit their teeth and say, “wow, what an accomplishment”, but in their minds they’d be thinking this is the gayest dude I have ever seen. Now I want to say for the record that I don’t even know if he is gay. He might of the hottest girlfriend on the planet and never had a penis anywhere near his butt and that’s fine. But it won’t matter, America thinks he’s gay and they loved it. They ate it up with syrup like a diabetic at a sundae parlor in heaven. And I don’t even know why this is. I guess America’s gay too. We’re all gay and we just don’t know it yet and Johnny Weir is King.