Saturday, August 30

For the Love of Jimmy

I love writing Lake Effect. It's one of the best assignments in City Weekly--reporting on Utah quirks. The Powers That Be have been generous enough to give me the latitude to do what I want with it, and I've tried to bring a certain perthonal touch to the assignment--even though I've probably made it too gay. (Note: This last link may not make much sense without the accompanying photo, which was of a posted flyer advertising "Ten Gay Days" of the Utah Pride Center's WinterPride Festival. But I was particularly proud of the pastiche.)

Sometimes I yearn for the days when I had 600, even 800 words to do what I wanted, to develop a logical argument or rant and rant the day away. Paring down my little diatribes to a concise 150 (or, sometimes, an extravagant 175) has been an exercise in parsimony. I've tried to pack as much punch in as small as a space as possible, but I've had to sacrifice every bit of airiness and every chirpy conceit--and there are very few who are willing to laugh at such a dense data download.

Here, from the old luxurious 750-word archive, is one I really like. Remember in late 2004 when Jimmy Swaggart threatened to murder any gay man who looked at him "like that"? (Me neither, but this will refresh your memory.)



"I’m trying to find the correct name for it … this utter absolute, asinine, idiotic stupidity of men marrying men. … I’ve never seen a man in my life I wanted to marry. And I’m gonna be blunt and plain: If one ever looks at me like that, I’m gonna kill him and tell God he died." --Jimmy Swaggart


Here's the response I wrote, which appeared originally in Salt Lake Metro (now QSaltLake):

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For the Love of Jimmy

I’m not really sure now what to do with my collection of Jimmy Swaggart porn.

Swaggart is the blue-haired televangelist who is just so hot, hot, hot — to gay men at least — he finally had to break down and make a death threat against the next faggot who looked at him “like that.” (You know the look he means. It’s the look gay men get when they become enamored of a semiliterate, puffy Bible-banger who makes his living bilking little old ladies out of their Social Security checks.)

Yes, it was a terrible blow to discover old “hot cheeks” Jimmy is absolutely, unapologetically, 100-percent heterosexual. My hopes of getting it on with him — of finally having the opportunity to touch that flaccid, withered, somewhat gray and quivering flesh — have been utterly dashed.

But there’s nothing that can be done about it. If he’s straight, he’s straight.

Unfortunately for hetero Jimmy, the lusty animal magnetism he holds for gay men the world over does not extend to women. This is a man who does, remember, have to pay hookers in order to get his rocks off.

Not that there’s anything especially wrong with hookers. As long as they’ve chosen their profession of their own free will and are allowed to maintain enough self-esteem to stick up for themselves and ensure they’re treated well, who am I to disapprove?

It’s just that, while I’m not one to disapprove, Jimmy certainly is. One imagines the entire time he was sweating, grunting and flopping around on top of those call-girls he could barely contain the feeling of disgust he felt for himself, for them, and for a world that could hold such temptations of the flesh. That much became clear the day he had his spiritual epiphany, causing him to make a tearful speech of public repentance, which — as such spiritual epiphanies often do — came immediately after he got caught.

It was this epiphany, this complete turnaround in his spiritual convictions, that first made me realize Jimmy could change — if not with the prayers of his aged and rather superstitious viewers, then at least with the everlasting love of the right man. After all, God didn’t make Jimmy a hypocrite — Jimmy’s just living the hypocrite lifestyle.

Hate the sin, love the sinner.

Nobody is born a right-wing religious nut. Ask any right-wing religious nut — he’ll tell you the story of his conversion. Likely he started out as a normal hellion: drinking, carousing, doing drugs, worshiping Satan. The kind of person you meet every day.

It isn’t until, in a moment of personal crisis, he is recruited by a member of the nefarious, world-wide, right-wing religious nut organization. These are the folks who hang out at political conventions and in churches, on college campuses and in prisons, in a never-ending hunt for their next victim.

That victim is exposed to religious literature, tempted to attend revival meetings, even subjected to the laying-on of hands — and, unless something can be done quickly, the predators’ job is quickly done: The victim joins their ranks and becomes a predator himself.

It is a vicious circle, but the predatory practices of right-wing Christians are well known. Some even go door-to-door!

All is not lost, however. It is important to remember that being a right-wing religious nut is a chosen lifestyle. Remembering this can be difficult in an age when the Washington D.C. elite and the Republican-dominated media are constantly barraging us with the false message that being a right-wing Christian is perfectly normal, even desirable.

However, I was heartened to learn that there is no gene that causes people to be right-wing religious nuts. This meant that Jimmy, my Jimmy, could change! He could even — dare I dream it? — be mine!

Visions of our perfect love danced through my head: the birds chirping sweetly, his massive neck-jowls fluttering manfully in the breeze, his lips pursed, for once, not in a wrinkled expression of his disapproval, but in a kiss barely tinged with the sweetness of Fixodent. Not only was I looking at him “like that,” he was looking at me “like that” right back.

And then, with this — this public avowal of his heterosexuality and with his determination to kill the myriad gay men who look upon his sagging man-breasts with constant, unbridled passion — my dream was dashed to bits.

Right-wing religious nut? That I could live with … I could even help him change. But heterosexual?

No, there’s nothing that can be done about that.

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