The well's run dry
This is not supposed to sound as acrimonious as I worry it's going to, and I'm not naming names for the simple fact that I value our allies, respect their work, and am not actually interested in alienating them. But, while I'm hardly above calling something "really fucking gay," the Francis/Mobley insinuations are getting old. I don't really care about going into the majesties of male friendship, or the homoerotic undercurrents of sports, since we all know this shit already. At this point, though, their friendship has been out there (no pun intended) for long enough, and its almost shamelessly intimate nature made public enough, that there's really nothing to be gained, or exploited, by wondering which one is the bottom.
A friend of mine spent most of UNC's run last year making fun of Sean May for allegedly baking muffins and listening to the Backstreet Boys (Illini fan, got his comeuppance in the end). Then when YAY! came with
So it is with Francis and Mobley. Yes, it's a grotesquely, even pathologically close friendship. Yes, there's something overweaningly homoerotic about it. And yes, for a while there might have been some room for speculation. But seriously, do you think they agree to do this story if their reunions involve rimjobs and buttplugs? Don't you think someone would have at least some scrap of rumor that implicated, rather than just taunted, the nature of their friendship?
This has also gotten me thinking on the very act of gossiping about athletes, rappers, or whatever other quasi-exotic personalities we blog-things make our hay out of. I think we can all agree that many Hollywood celebrities, certain athletes, and rock heroes are, for all their wealth, A-list action, and stilted daily routines, usually pretty average people. We went to school with them, lived near them, had to work with them. Socio-economically speaking, they come from the same plains as many of the folks trapped behind a computer all day, or are at least as transparently flat and familiar as the kind of people we're forced to deal with.
Although I'm sure some of our readers will rush to claim exception, it ain't like that when you start talking about most NBA players and, of course, the rappers we would ever bother to care about as "real" individuals. I'm sure some of you played ball in high school, grew up with a diverse group of friends in a major metropolitan area, starred in your own private 8 Mile coming up, or dealt with Jeezy in miniature when you were desperate for coke. But the truth is, you don't know, or get, what these limelit folks' lives were like before celebrity, and you sure as hell don't have a convincing handle on what happens when you take that background and factor in all the complexities of being young, black and gifted in America. We get these bits and pieces without knowing the context, or even being able to imagine the context based on related experience and information.
(That's right, I just pigeonholed our entire audience. Just try and claim that that was a mistake.)
I guess I'm saying, fag bash Manning all you want, if you feel like you can really piece together something there (or pretend to do so for the sake of parody). But at least admit that you might not be in a position to call out the latest "Batman and Robin" (incidentally, I never heard "Shaq and Wade: FUCKING ALL NIGHT LONG!!!!!!!!," and with that on-stage cuddle at the VMA's. . . .), even if there were a little more intrigue still left to their story.
Update: The Cavalier shrewdly observes that "if you're going to call me out so clearly, you may as well just call me out by name and send the traffic over." So, with the Cav's blessings,