The excellent Hollywood biopic, Milk, has unwittingly exposed a subtle form of homophobia--"a post-ironic, post-homophobic homophobia," as the Washington Post puts it--that remains a fixture of the Hollywood media circuit. Today the Post has compiled a disturbing account of interviews given by male actors who play gay men in the movies, and who are invariably asked by journalists and talk show hosts what it was like to kiss another man (with the obvious subtext: wasn't it kind of nasty?).
Exhibit A is a conversation between David Letterman and Milk's James Franco, in which Letterman asks him what he was thinking going into a minute-long kissing scene with Penn:
"I didn't want to screw it up," Franco told Letterman.
"See, if it's me, I kind of hope I do screw it up," Letterman shot back. "That's what you want, isn't it?"
"To screw it up?" Franco asked.
"I mean, do you really want to be good at kissing a guy?" Letterman said as his audience howled with delight.
Even worse was an interview Chris Potter, an actor in Showtime's Queer as Folk gave to MSNBC: "Soon as they say 'cut,' you spit," he sneered. "You want to go to a strip bar or touch the makeup girls. You feel dirty. It's a tough job."
On a bright August afternoon in Scotia, a logging town in Humboldt County, California, Amy Arcuri drove her van to the end of Main Street and parked near a locked gate. For three years she and her friend, who calls himself Lodgepole, had been sneaking food through a gap in the fence and up to fellow tree sitters camped in an ancient redwood tagged for the chainsaw. But on this day, just after they stepped out of Arcuri's van, a timber-company truck spotted them and crunched to a halt. A large, ruddy man with a thick mustache sprang from the driver's seat and approached with a glint of metal in his hand.
In an 11th hour move, the Bush Administration today reversed an old federal rule that would have allowed Congress to take action to protect the Grand Canyon from a rash of new uranium mining claims. Driven by renewed national interest in nuclear power, the number of uranium claims staked within five miles of the Grand Canyon has increased from 10 in 2003 to 1,181 as of this October. Rampant mining near the Canyon would threaten the water quality of the Colorado River, potentially jeopardizing the drinking water supply of millions of residents in Las Vegas and Southern California. Prompted in part by the concerns of local water agencies, in June the House Committee on Natural Resources invoked its right under the Federal Land Management and Policy Act to withdraw the mining claims. But the Bureau of Land Management refused to implement the order, and the Bush Administration's rule change today gives it official authority to thumb its nose at Congress.
Ultimately, Bush's move will probably do more to increase his radioactivity with voters than it will to heat up the tap water in Las Vegas; the Obama Administration will certainly reverse Bush's reversal. But more important, the Grand Canyon flap underscores the hopeless antiquity of the nation's mining laws. The General Mining Law of 1872, which was written by Nevada's first senator and signed into law by President Grant, enshrines mining as the "highest and best use" on 350 million acres of federal land. It also allows mining companies to cart off public minerals without paying a cent of royalties. Efforts to reform the law began almost as soon as it passed and have failed at ever turn, including this year, when a reform bill was to have been introduced in the Senate but wasn't. But with Bush-era environmental horrors fresh on the mind, and public coffers emptied, expect that to change in the coming session.
In February 2004, San Francisco mayor Gavin Newsom began officiating same-sex weddings on the steps of City Hall. Over the next month, more than 4,000 couples tied the knot in defiance of a state referendum that had banned gay marriage in California in 2000. Newsom says he challenged the law out of a sense of "moral obligation." But his move awakened a sense of moral outrage among Republicans, who raced to put anti-gay-marriage initiatives on the ballot in 11 states. After John Kerry lost in November, some Democrats suggested that the specter of gay marriage had thrown the contest to George W. Bush. "I believe it did energize a very conservative vote," Sen. Dianne Feinstein (D-Calif.) said immediately after the election. "It gave them a position to rally around. The whole issue has just been too much, too fast, too soon."