"Earlier this year I was quoted saying I'd rather have an enema than an Emmy. But thanks to the Television Academy, I can have both!"—RuPaul's acceptance speech for winning Outstanding Host for a Reality or Reality Competition Program at the Creative Arts Emmys. She beat out Jane Lynch, Steve Harvey, Ryan Seacrest, Tom Bergeron, and Heidi Klum and Tim Gunn.
Before anything else, I want to acknowledge the passing of Alexis Arquette. Yes, we were both publicly critical of the other. But it must be said that Arquette was a trailblazer and one of the most vehemently outspoken advocates for gay rights and education about transgender issues. And yet, this passing shows how far we still have to go. While siblings Patricia, Rosanna and David were vocal in mourning their sister Alexis, brother Richmond is mourning "our brother Robert, who became our brother Alexis, who became our sister Alexis, who became our brother Alexis." Certainly this is new territory for the general public, but I'm not even sure who died!
Also this week, we remember The Lady Chablis. I only met her a couple of times, but she made an indelible impression on me. While I only became aware of her after her landmark performance in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, it was with her autobiography that she made the biggest impression. While I don't know if she invented the phrase "hiding my candy," she certainly popularized it. Rest in peace, Lady.
I almost hate to write more about Finding Prince Charming. The gay bachelor show just premiered and, well, there's no easy way to say it—people hated it. But I went into it extremely open—kinda like so many men went into the star, Robert Sepulveda. The show is supposed to be like The Bachelor, but it's more like Flavor of Love. It just has a cheap, trashy quality about it. It's badly produced, badly directed, badly cast and badly executed. Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play? Writer Dan Savage published some tips on how to improve the show—but unlike my tips, nowhere on his list are the words "mass suicide" or "Kool-Aid!"
Lance Bass is a genial-enough host, but he's had no real-world experience dating as a private person ... or, for that matter, as an openly gay person. And he has no idea how average gay men date. Regarding Sepulveda, he has what I like to call a "hooker mentality." A good hooker finds out what someone wants and gives it to them. There's nothing particularly genuine or engaging about him. He's so intent on wanting everyone to like him that he's constantly in salesman mode. And when he's not, he's like some medicated Stepford wife. I suppose if you want that in a spousal equivalent: He's your guy ... until you get the bill! As for the contestants, they're so preoccupied with how they will be perceived that none of them is showing any personality—with the exception of the flamboyant Robby, who clearly has his eyes on life after the show. The hairdresser from Provincetown previously appeared on Tabatha's Salon Takeover, where he talked endlessly about chignons—although he had a devil of a time actually doing one. He's fetching, feisty, fun and far too fabulous to end up with Sepulveda.
Rather than giving out a rose, this suitor gives out a black tie—thus, calling the eliminations "black-tie affairs," which is just dumb. Robert asks each contestant to "please step forward"—sometimes he does it in a pseudo-butch way by saying "Get up here." They make some awkward, banal chit-chat, and then he asks, "Will you wear this tie?" Who writes this stuff? Robert then has to gingerly put the tie over the contestants' hair without mussing it, and tighten it without choking them. And when he does eliminate someone ( "Tonight, you're not gonna get a tie" ), sometimes there's no hug, no handshake and not even a walk to the car. It's very "Get out"—kinda like a trick who spent the night and doesn't take a hint. Methinks he's had loads of practice.
Speaking of loads, let me take issue with something Sepulveda said once his colorful past as an escort was exposed—because, unlike Matt Lauer, I fact-check: "There are stories that I did porn. I never did porn. There is a video circulating out there that I shot privately and sent to an ex-boyfriend. It feels so violating that someone would take something so private and share it with the world. I want to work to make sure there are laws protecting people from similar situations. It's just not right."
Is he talking about the video of him jerking off while standing? Or the video of inserting a shampoo bottle into his anus? Maybe it's the one of him playing with a 14-inch dildo. Come to think of it, he's probably talking about the video of him blindfolded while drinking out of a used condom—because that's clearly the most romantic one. But perhaps it's the previous video with him opening an envelope from a "client" who sent him the condom ( and you can see them all for yourself on BillyMasters.com ). He also says he became an escort because "the small furniture store I was working at suddenly went out of business. I didn't know how I was going to pay rent or my tuition or buy food." So, instead of getting a job at Burger King where customers can have it their way, he decided to escort and use the same slogan. I'm not condemning him—but don't make it like the only option you had was to be a $250-an-hour hooker.
When I'm trying to figure out if Alexis had any candy to hide, it's definitely time to end yet another column. As I'm sitting here criticizing one gay show, RuPaul made history by winning an Emmy for hosting RuPaul's Drag Race. See? Logo giveth, and Logo taketh away. You may not find Prince Charming at the Emmys, but you'll find every inch of him on BillyMasters.com—the site that admittedly has low standards. Someone you will see at the Emmys is me, so feel free to say hi if you're there. If not, you can just drop a note to me at Billy@BillyMasters.com, and I promise to get back to you before I ask Logo if I can borrow a black tie to wear with my tux! Until next time, remember: One man's filth is another man's bible.
