Late Nite FDL: And One Day, When You LEAST Expect It…

Perhaps the only thing in the world more savagely stupid and regrettable than Tim Hardaway's freaky homophobic outburst regarding John Amaechi is Townhall.com writer Michael Medved's truly bizarre justification for it.  From Salon's War Room:

 "Tim Hardaway (and most of his former NBA teammates) wouldn't welcome openly gay players into the locker room any more than they'd welcome profoundly unattractive, morbidly obese women. I specify unattractive females because if a young lady is attractive (or, even better, downright 'hot') most guys, very much including the notorious love machines of the National Basketball Association, would probably welcome her joining their showers. The ill-favored, grossly overweight female is the right counterpart to a gay male because, like the homosexual, she causes discomfort due to the fact that attraction can only operate in one direction. She might well feel drawn to the straight guys with whom she's grouped, while they feel downright repulsed at the very idea of sex with her." — radio host and film critic Michael Medved, on the recent homophobic comments of former NBA star Tim Hardaway.

Uh, "notorious love machines of the National Basketball Association"?  Michael?  Uh, Mr. Medved?  Could you stop sniffing that jock strap and pay attention for a moment?  We're trying to figure out just what the fuck you're talking about here.

Wait, let me wipe teh stoopid off my screen and read that again and see if it makes any more sense the second time around.

There.

Okay.

 "Tim Hardaway (and most of his former NBA teammates) wouldn't welcome openly gay players into the locker room any more than they'd welcome profoundly unattractive, morbidly obese women.

Wow.  The staggering misogyny of this premise frankly deserves its own post.  I mean, it's downright breathtaking how many of his own personal issues Medved lays bare with this analogy.  Apparently to him the only thing as repulsively un-fuckable as a dirty faggot is a fat woman.  As if fat women are somehow the antithesis of desirability because they don't look like a bunch of pole-dancing blow-up dolls.  Ah, the NeoCon mind, where no matter what time of the day or night it is, somewhere in there, a monkey is washing a cat.

But, Mikey, you were saying:

I specify unattractive females because if a young lady is attractive (or, even better, downright 'hot') most guys, very much including the notorious love machines of the National Basketball Association, would probably welcome her joining their showers.

Um, is this something you think about a lot, Medved?  GODAMMIT!  I said put the jock-strap DOWN.  It's disgusting!  You don't know where it's been!  Here, give it to me, I'm throwing it away.  No, NOW!  Jesus Christ, you're a nasty little man.

 The ill-favored, grossly overweight female is…

…probably married to some tight-assed right wing closet-case like yourself, Mikey.  What's with that Magnum, PI moustache of yours, anyway?  It makes you look even gayer than you already are.

…the right counterpart to a gay male because, like the homosexual, she causes discomfort due to the fact that attraction can only operate in one direction.

And those Gentleman Cassanovas of the NBA would just be heart-sick to know that they have inadvertently caused unrequited lust to flower in the bosom of anyone.  It would be more than their sensitive constitutions could bear.  They'd lose all their "game" just from the sadness of causing another living creature pain.  I see it all so much more clearly, now, Mr. Medved!

Except that I don't.

She might well feel drawn to the straight guys with whom she's grouped, while they feel downright repulsed at the very idea of sex with her.

Oh, those poor, gentle giants of pro sports.  They just can't stand to have someone around who might look at them and feel something stirring in their pants, which is why all pro athletes are going to boycott every strip club in America from now on, forever and ever, amen.  To a man, they will henceforth desist in all patting of the asses of waitresses, female bartenders and flight attendants, and never, ever, ever whistle or make lewd comments at an attractive woman ever again. 

Because they know the pain of being wanted by someone who they are not attracted to.  They know it intimately.  A gay man loose in a locker room could look right at them and it would, what?  Hurt?  Cause them deep, permanent psychological damage?  Decrease their earning potential?  Give them cooties?

Well, welcome to the world of every single stripper you ever tipped a lousy buck, Tim Hardaway.  For women, the entire world is this deadly, dangerous locker room you're referring to where people look at you and objectify you and don't give two shits how you feel about it.  But I'm so glad that you understand this now and will never, ever again ogle a woman and make her feel like a piece of meat.

Unless of course, you are gay yourself and this entire intemperate outburst of yours is just an elaborate smoke screen you are throwing up to shield yourself against speculation about your own orientation.  It's like the classic "gay panic" defense, i.e., "Your honor, he made a pass at me and I was so turned on freaked out by it that, well, I just had to kill him."

I wish I could harness these all-powerful Gay Black Magick super-powers that Right Wingers seem to think are my homosexual birth-right.  I mean, who knew that one closeted gay man in a locker room full of mighty, manly American athletes could pose such a threat to a team's collective strength on the field?  Ditto the military.  You let one homo through and they'll gay-ify the whole damn place in nothing flat!

The same thing goes for marriage.  If we allow people of the same sex who love each other to have all the same benefits as their heterosexual counterparts, why, straight marriages all over America will start collapsing, poof!, just like that.  As soon as another American state affords human and civil rights to gays in love, by golly, it'll do more damage to the institution of marriage than could be done by an army of Britneys and K-Feds, more damage than would be done if Anna Nicole Smith rose from the grave and married that parasitic handler of hers, Howard K. Stern, over and over again for all eternity.

For you see, Teh Gay, it's as contagious as Bird Flu.  It'll jump on you faster than you can say, "I heart Mr. Sulu!" and the next thing you know, you'll be as gay as John Rocker FOR EVAAAAAARRR!!11!!1!

But should you find yourself struck gay, NBA players, do not despair.  Just do what I've always done in the locker room, which is look straight at the goddamn floor.  The last thing any gay man wants to do in a group of scantily clad straight guys is, you know, show external signs of arousal and give away his position to The Enemy, which is pretty much how I suspect John Amaechi spent his entire pro athletic career, looking at the floor and thinking about happy fluffy bunnies or something, anything other than the naked men on every side.

But you don't have to hide, anymore, John Amaechi.  And hooray for that.  You're free.

And that's all I have to say about that, which is why I'm going to stop typing now and just post a photo of Amaechi's beautiful face:

Sigh. 

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