THE KILLOUGH CHRONICLES

by James Killough

I was just thinking yesterday how PFC really ought to stay away from politics and focus more on film reviews and lifestyle.  The response to the Marcia Bachmann reward post was initially so feeble, I felt that there were others who did the political thing better than we do, so we should stick to the fluff that truly excites us.  That is, until Andy Towle posted the piece on his website.  Now we’re not only political, we’re queer activists.  For this week, at least.

Yee haw!

Our token Str8 Eric Baker is being a trooper about it.  I can picture him explaining his hobbies over the water cooler at his office in New Jersey.  “Yeah, and I write for this radical queer blog called Pure Film Creative.  We’ve started an avalanche that is hopefully going to bury Michele Bachmann.  My wife and son are so proud of me.”

The reaction throughout Homolandia has generally been, “EWWWW! Sleep with Marcus Bachmann?  Not even for $10,000!”  I tend to doubt that Marcia is going to engage in any homosexual activity at this juncture.  We are looking for more of a Monica Lewinsky-esque cum stain on a blue tracksuit from a meth hooker he might have hired in the past.

I just grossed myself out.  Now that’s something.

I do agree with one of our readers, Q Manning, that we should up the ante, make the reward higher, but I’m a producer and therefore a mean negotiator.  I’ll need cum stains and footage of spanking before I tack another zero on the offer.

Gayagenda.com (we really are hitting all the tubthumpers) questions whether I can “cough up the cash” to pay the reward.  He apparently perused the site and determined that I wouldn’t be able to pay.  This is presumably because I made a joke with James Tuttle in a comment to the post and asked if I could borrow the reward money from him.

But, Mr. Gayagenda—and thank you again for the re-post, it went a long way in spreading the word—if you more than perused the site and read carefully, I think you would determine that I am fairly well connected and can access such a relatively small sum quite easily, even if it doesn’t come from my pocket; again, as a producer, I only spend my own money on my gym membership and phone bill.  And I’m working on Golds Gym to waive their fee.

Why, I’m so connected I might even be part of the legendary Gay Mafia.  I know readers imagine that’s me and the likes of Barry Diller sitting around David Geffen’s house in brocade silk dressing gowns, smoking cigars with gorgeous male hookers on our laps, plotting how we can raise the percentage of homosexuals in America from ten percent to twenty by the 2016 elections.  There is a fire blazing in this scene, stoked by burning Bibles.

The irony of what is happening—that I am becoming some sort of accidental queer activist—isn’t lost on people who know me well.  As my former partner, queer studies professor Dr. Jonathan Kemp, author of London Triptych, once remarked, “You’re the least gay person I know…. You’re your own sexuality.”  Jonathan should know.  His PhD was basically about anal sex.  In London queer circles he’s known as Dr. Bum Sex.  I was always very proud of that.

As if to bolster Jonathan’s opinion, a date of mine asked the other night, fifteen minutes after meeting me, “Are you sure you’re gay?”  A couple of hours later, as he staggered bowlegged from bed, he was quite sure.

The truth is, personal sexuality or not, discrimination against Gheys affects me greatly, more so when I was growing up.  I was in and out of the closet until I was thirty-two, and this was entirely because of the way we are treated as an underclass.  The opinions of society at large form a mirror of who we perceive ourselves to be, and what I saw reflected was grotesque, and that is plain wrong.  If I can do my small part in righting that wrong, then I guess I am an accidental, but not unreluctant, activist.

As I stated in the response to a comment, my objective is not to out Marcus Bachmann, nor do I intend to investigate further into the activities of closeted Republicans.  What he is doing by running ex-gay clinics is egregious, and dangerous to us.  I don’t need to get on a soap box to explain why that is.  But we must fight back.  I choose to do that with pranks and humor, others with raised fists and indignation.  As long as the point is made, the means justify the end.

So, yes, Mr. Gayagenda, I have the resources to pay my bills, to honor my commitments, and I am committed to this.  Michele Bachmann should not be given any sort of serious credence, and should be taken down as soon as possible.  And in a small way I do this for the Republican Party, as well; like them or not, we do need a balance of power and opinion in this country.  But Michele and Marcia can fuck right off with theirs.