If you’re going to be a homophobe, you should at least try not to make it look so lame

Today on my lunch break, I overheard a couple of sad, middle-aged losers use the good name of “Jim J. Bullock,” an HIV-positive gay actor who enjoyed a good deal of success in the eighties, as a euphemism for gay men in general.

“Look at that guy,” one of them muttered. “That guy’s a real fucking Jim J. Bullock, you know what I mean?”

I’m not making that up, guys. I totally heard a dude say it.

Now, to be fair, I did know what he meant – but only because I’m in my thirties. Although his health and his career alike have held up admirably, it’s been many years since Jim J. Bullock has been the first person anyone pictures when homosexuality comes to mind.

To put it another way, I think that whenever you say something homophobic in public, you out yourself as an ignorant coward. But when you frame it in terms of the second banana from a sitcom that went off the air almost twenty-five years ago, you’re also bound to look like a total square whose kids hate it when you insist on picking them up from school. I mean, at that point, you might as well call every gay man you see “a total Paul Lynde.”

“A total what, Dad? God, you are so uncool…”

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’ve already made no secret of my opinion that the only good bigots are the ones who are willing to humiliate themselves in public. If these guys want to make homophobia look like the sort of thing that only the lamest of lame dads would think is cool, then frankly, I’m all for it. I mean, I’m sure we’d all prefer a world in which we all knew better than to hold these sorts of opinions. But in the meantime, I’ll take what I can get.

In fact, as much as I’d usually hate to go ad hominem on a couple of guys whose opinions I disagree with, I think there’s a lot to be said for acknowledging homophobia and other prejudices as products of personal circumstance. Having already suggested that the whole “Jim J. Bullock” thing proved that they weren’t exactly “with it,” I think it’s only appropriate to paint the full depressing picture.

After all, if certain people are going to insist on arguing that homosexuality is a disease that can be cured, then I don’t see why we can’t argue – with far more evidence on our side, I might add – that homophobia itself is a psychological condition in dire need of treatment. Besides, it’ll be fun.

I mean, far be it from me to pass judgment on a couple of guys I spent an hour with, but I think it’s got to be said that they were the kind of guys who wear golf shirts to liquid business lunches and curse like teenagers. When they ran out of awful things to say about their long-suffering wives, they railed against the concept of wives in general. And when they were done with that, the guy who coined the Jim J. Bullock euphemism actually went off on a rant about Tiger Woods as a folk hero who got a raw deal!

“How many hotels have you stayed in during the past month?” he asked his friend.

“I don’t know,” his friend replied. “One, maybe?”

“Eight!” the first guy boasted. “I’ve stayed in eight hotels in the past month! I’m on the road a lot, buddy. And trust me, I’ve looked around. Trust me.”

Well, trust me, Jon Voight’s ugly cousin: none of those looks of yours did any good. Unless we’re talking about a greater good, like a woman finally deciding it’s time to enroll in a self defense class.

In short, these are the kind of men who make you want to thank the good lord that you’re not that sort of bigoted loser; that you were ever lucky enough to be given the time of day by a strong and independent woman; and that you actually have the guts to treat that woman as a partner. In fact, they’re also the kind of men who make you want to thank your parents – not only for setting a great example, but also for going out of their way to make sure they didn’t end up raising a sad, pathetic jackass in a golf shirt.

They’re the kind of men who serve as living, drinking reminders that prejudice and acceptance alike are learned, and who make you want to thank everyone who ever took the time to teach you something positive.

Plus – and I don’t want to go off on a thing here, because I’m not a psychologist and this is just my uneducated assumption – but they were also the kind of unattractive, bitter, sexless men who make you wonder if their knee-jerk hatred of gay people doesn’t stem at least in part from a little jealousy over all the fun they might be having.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve made a lot of assumptions here. I’ve judged a couple of books by their admittedly unappealing covers, and it’s only fair to admit that in the course of condemning prejudice, that’s where I’ve ended up. Whether you want to call that “hypocrisy” or “fair game” is up to you.

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