Monday, February 13, 2006

 

I Gay-Bashed A Man In France Just To Watch Him Die

So, I haven't been paying a lot of attention to the James Frey scandal. Really; a guy wrote a memoir where a lot of the stuff described therein never happened? Quelle horreur. Get back to me when we're talking about the wiretaps again.

Then I read this review, which Rossi posted when discussing the scandal:

Frey and his tough-guy friends spend more time weeping and hugging than the runners-up in a Miss America competition. Frey's aggressively male stance has something archaic, even campy about it. Frey has placed the entire book in a gender-segregated institution, recalling Hemingway's title Men without Women. (Male patients are not allowed to say anything more than "Hello" to female patients in Frey's rehab center.) And like most homoerotic novelists of the 1930s, his true period, Frey resorts to violence to prove he's no homosexual, confessing (that is to say, boasting) that he beat a French priest to death for daring to place his hand on Frey's utterly masculine thigh. (emphasis mine)

Wait, what? A man admits to having kicked another man to death because he came on to him, and this shit gets praised by Oprah? What the fuck is wrong with our country?

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