Sunday

STEPHEN GATELY DIED OF GAY: TELE-FORENSICS EXPERT JAN MOIR.

Parsing the Jan Moir article on the death of former Boyzone singer Stephen Gately, printed in a timely (as always) fashion in the Daily Mail the day before his funeral and reproduced here in the appropriately horrid Times New Roman:


The news of Stephen Gately's death was deeply shocking. It was not just that another young star had died pointlessly.
He didn't die of old age, and he didn't die for a cause. How did he die? Why did he die? Hint: he had a condition, a congenital condition. Three letters. Starts with G and ends with Y. And we don't mean 'guy', though it's related to this condition.

Through the recent travails and sad ends of Michael Jackson, Heath Ledger and many others, fans know to expect the unexpected of their heroes - particularly if those idols live a life that is shadowed by dark appetites or fractured by private vice.
Dark appetites… gay! Private vice… gay!

There are dozens of household names out there with secret and not-so-secret troubles, or damaging habits both past and present. Robbie, Amy, Kate, Whitney, Britney; we all know who they are.
Being a coke-head is as bad as being gay, kids.

And we are not being ghoulish to anticipate, or to be mentally braced for, their bad end: a long night, a mysterious stranger, an odd set of circumstances that herald a sudden death.
Can’t wait to publish the articles I’ve written for when they die!

In the morning, a body has already turned cold before the first concerned hand reaches out to touch an icy celebrity shoulder. It is not exactly a new storyline, is it?
“Icy celebrity shoulder,” I like that.

In fact, it is rather depressingly familiar. Grin. But somehow we never expected it of him. Never him. Not Stephen Gately.
C’mon, I’m going to build this up. Little did we know…

In the cheerful environs of Boyzone, Gately was always charming, cute, polite and funny.
Anytime now. Little did we know…

A founder member of Ireland's first boy band, he was the group's co-lead singer, even though he could barely carry a tune in a Louis Vuitton trunk.
Snark snark. Little did we know…

He was the Posh Spice of Boyzone, a popular but largely decorous addition.
Just setting this up for my preemptive obit on Posh Spice, in which I call her the Stephen Gately of the Spice Girls.

Gately came out as gay in 1999 after discovering that someone was planning to sell a story revealing his sexuality to a newspaper.
HE’S GAY!!!

Although he was effectively smoked out of the closet, he has been hailed as a champion of gay rights, albeit a reluctant one.
GAY!!! Incidentally, you can distract your audience from an awkward double-conditional clause by changing the second 'although' to 'albeit'. People won't even notice your sentence makes no sense. (He was hailed as a reluctant champion?)

At the time, Gately worried that the revelations might end his ultra-mainstream career as a pin-up, but he received an overwhelmingly positive response from fans. In fact, it only made them love him more.
So there's no way to empirically test or prove that statement, but we're building him up here for the fall so shush.

In 2006, Gately entered into a civil union with internet businessman Andrew Cowles, who had been introduced to him by mutual friends Elton John and David Furnish.
It may have seemed idyllic. But little did we know…

Last week, the couple were enjoying a holiday together in their apartment in Mallorca before their world was capsized.
THEIR WORLD CAPSIZED! …oh wait, you knew that already.

All the official reports point to a natural death, with no suspicious circumstances.
Very suspicious, how there was nothing suspicious!

The Gately family are - perhaps understandably - keen to register their boy's demise on the national consciousness as nothing more than a tragic accident.
Given that their opinions concur with those of all official reports, even more suspicious! It might even be a conspiracy!

Even before the post-mortem and toxicology reports were released by the Spanish authorities, the Gatelys' lawyer reiterated that they believed his sudden death was due to natural causes.
It’s the nail on the coffin! What would a family know of their (gay) son and his (no doubt fatally gay) predilections?

But, hang on a minute. Something is terribly wrong with the way this incident has been shaped and spun into nothing more than an unfortunate mishap on a holiday weekend, like a broken teacup in the rented cottage.
‘Broken teacup in a rented cottage,’ I like that too. I kept that one on reserve just for a holiday celebrity death, how fortuitous!

Consider the way it has been largely reported, as if Gately had gently keeled over at the age of 90 in the grounds of the Bide-a-Wee rest home while hoeing the sweet pea patch.
The media has entirely failed to indulge in speculation and innuendo, a failing that I shall singlehandedly correct forthwith.

The sugar coating on this fatality is so saccharine-thick that it obscures whatever bitter truth lies beneath.
Wait a minute I should've said "sordid truth", I haven't used "sordid" yet.

Healthy and fit 33-year-old men do not just climb into their pyjamas and go to sleep on the sofa, never to wake up again.
I should know, I am an expert on 33-year-old men, pyjamas and sofas. I am also a cardiologist, pathologist, toxicologist, pathologist wait I said that already, and voodoo ouija celebrity know-it-all-ogist.

Whatever the cause of death is, it is not, by any yardstick, a natural one. Let us be absolutely clear about this. All that has been established so far is that Stephen Gately was not murdered.
Because murder would be natural. As for everything else…

And I think if we are going to be honest, we would have to admit that the circumstances surrounding his death are more than a little sleazy.
There he was, gay and all, in his pyjamas on the sofa, still gay, falling asleep while gay. Nothing says sleaze like falling asleep in your pyjamas on the sofa. While being gay.

After a night of clubbing, Cowles and Gately took a young Bulgarian man back to their apartment. It is not disrespectful to assume that a game of canasta with 25-year-old Georgi Dochev was not what was on the cards.
This could mean:
- It would be disrespectful to assume that the couple invited Georgi over for a game of canasta. Canasta! How shameful!
- It would be respectful to assume that the couple invited Georgi over for something other than a game of canasta. It would, in fact, be respectful to assume anything, and print it, because I say so. And Stephen Gately is dead and cannot say otherwise.

In any case, it helps to remember that double (or even triple) negatives are not what you would call useless when casting aspersions on men who are not exactly on the other side of the planet when the men they aren't strangers to, die.

Cowles and Dochev went to the bedroom together while Stephen remained alone in the living room.
Look, I know they went into two separate bedrooms, but we don't have to mention that.

What happened before they parted is known only to the two men still alive. What happened afterwards is anyone's guess.
Three men in three separate rooms in an apartment… who's to know what transpired!

A postmortem revealed Stephen died from acute pulmonary oedema, a build-up of fluid on his lungs.
Gay fluid.

Gately's family have always maintained that drugs were not involved in the singer's death, but it has just been revealed that he at least smoked cannabis on the night he died.
Admit it! “It has been revealed” sounds more ominous than “Some have speculated”. The toxicology report ruled out Class A drugs and found only small traces of cannabis in his system, far too minuscule to have contributed to his death, but we can leave all that out, can’t we?

Nevertheless, his mother is still insisting that her son died from a previously undetected heart condition that has plagued the family.
Oh, poor deluded mother, believing the official postmortem and toxicology reports in the face of colourful unfounded speculation! Grief will do that to you.

Another real sadness about Gately's death is that it strikes another blow to the happy-ever-after myth of civil partnerships.
Unlike straight people, gay men sometimes die, thus bringing their civil partnership to an end. This proves that civil partnerships are bad.

Gay activists are always calling for tolerance and understanding about same-sex relationships, arguing that they are just the same as heterosexual marriages. Not everyone, they say, is like George Michael.
It’s okay not to tolerate George Michael. *Note to self: Google George Michael to see if he’s dead*

Of course, in many cases this may be true. Yet the recent death of Kevin McGee, the former husband of Little Britain star Matt Lucas, and now the dubious events of Gately's last night raise troubling questions about what happened.
Two gay men, both dead… there has to be a connection!

It is important that the truth comes out about the exact circumstances of his strange and lonely death.
A coroner’s report doesn’t count.

As a gay rights champion, I am sure he would want to set an example to any impressionable young men who may want to emulate what they might see as his glamorous routine.
Stephen wouldn’t want you to be gay, look what happened to him.

For once again, under the carapace of glittering, hedonistic celebrity, the ooze of a very different and more dangerous lifestyle has seeped out for all to see.
He’s gay and now he’s dead! Gee isn’t this exciting?

TOKEN RIGHT-WING NUTJOB FRIEND

So over coffee with Phil today I said that I didn't mind that Trish, a girl that we sometimes hang out with in larger groups, is rather conservative in her views. Phil looked monumentally unimpressed. "Well," I said, "At least she comes across as a smart person." And right as my mouth was forming the 'sma-' my brain went WAIT A SECOND! Remember the time she said homosexuals had misappropriated the rainbow?

It was during a class break when Melanie was telling me about how she saw fairy penguins on Phillip Island, except now we weren't allowed to call them FAIRY penguins anymore. We were laughing about how ridiculous it was, when Trish joined in and went, "Yeah, isn't that awful? Like when some people can just misappropriate a word or a symbol, like how rainbows have been hijacked by homosexuals?"

And to be fair, if it wasn't for gays, who have the unfortunate tendency to, oh, exist, there would be no need for gay slurs. Fairies would be no more than delightful mythical creatures, just as faggots would be logs of wood for burning other reprobates at the stake, and queer would only refer to a quaint, harmless Alice-in-Wonderland version of not-quite-right.

As for rainbows... when you consider the enormity of the homosexuals' theft of rainbows, what's a few millennia of oppression? Sure, even today in many societies being gay can get you beaten up, brutalized, imprisoned, killed. It can mean loss of employment, it can mean loss of housing, it can mean lack of agency. Where Trish comes from, it means you don't get to marry and have a family, you don't get to visit your partner when they're in the hospital, you don't get to serve in the military unless you hide who you are.

It sucks to be a gay person in Trish Universe. It sucks to grow up as a gay person - not just figuring out your desires, but forging an identity and negotiating a place in that world, and coming to terms with the fact that it is not going to be easy. Coming out can cost you your family and your friends, and you don't get a trial run or simulation to see how it will go. Suicide rates are much higher among gay teens: it is the number one cause of death among gay teenagers in America (number three for teenagers overall). Gay teens in the US are FOUR TIMES as likely to attempt suicide as straight ones.

BUT the gays took rainbows away! Now you can't have rainbows anywhere - not even in children's fairy magical winged little person tales - without someone mistaking you for being an open-minded, non-judgmental, decent human being who believes in equal rights, civil rights, for everyone irrespective of their sexual orientation. Sure, the KKK gets to use the cross, but us homos using the rainbow as a symbol of inclusiveness and tolerance of difference gets this chick's panties in a bunch?

So I don't know why I would bother to continue to socialize with Trish. A part of me wanted to show her that we rainbow-toters aren't as bad as she thinks we are. Another part of me just wants intelligent debate, something from the other end of the political spectrum that challenges me and keeps me on my game. There's very little of that, in the real world or in the telly box*. But most of all, there's the very pragmatic, yet depressing knowledge that People Like Her will decide what People Like Us are permitted to have/do in our lives.

*If Fox represents the big bully that steals money from a blind man and then kicks him and runs away, CNN is the whiny coward who pretends not to see, and won't call the cops. If Hollywood's bigger names (and louder voices) fall over each other to condemn the justice system for catching up with an absconding child rapist, then about half the critics ruin it for the other half by conflating Polanski's horrific crime with the general 'immorality' of Tinseltown's liberal elite.

Sometimes I guess you just have a delayed epiphany about these things. I was sitting in a lecture between Andie and this guy, Adam or Max or something (straight guy, I happen to know), and the prof was showing us the Tom Barnett lecture video. Barnett's a pretty engaging and witty guy on stage, and there was plenty of laughter in the lecture theatre. He was talking about Richard Reid (the shoe bomber) getting caught and the three of us were mid-laugh when he said, "Good thing he didn't hide it up his ass, or we'd all be gay then."

And both Andie and Adam/Max groaned, simultaneously. For me, it was the most beautiful sound on the planet. The sting of the joke was taken out before it even sank in.

Thinking back to that moment, I know this much: I am tired of being anyone's token minority friend. I don't want to be the validation or exception to anyone's fuckwit stereotype. I don't want to have to hear dumbass blanket statements about sex, sexuality, race, religion, or ideology, followed up with, "Oh but not you, you're different." Because I'm not, and I don't take well to being told that I am. Because it's not that different from being asked, "So why are all you people like that?" ...And because, as long as there are Andies and Phils and Maxes and Adams around me, I know I don't have to put up with this shit, at least not from people I call my friends.