“Lem…why doesn’t your wife care that Casi is ugly as Hell compared to her?” asks a reader.
“JACK!!!” says Dame Edna very slowly.
“That’s part of it.” says Lem.
They think.
“She’s…not uncaring. We’re just both sick of a lot of stuff.” says Lem.
“You guys…JACK IS UGLY.” says Dame Edna.
“No, he’s not!” says a living gay man.
“No. He IS!” says Dame Edna. “He’s…good on camera. …But he had an atrocious waist.”
“We can’t forgive that?!?” says a living gay man.
“Yeah??? …We’re TOO forgiving.” says Dame Edna.
“Yeah. We are.” says a living woman.
Dame Edna nods.
“Jack…you’re not that…AMAZING.” says Jenna Fischer.
His energy violently ignores her.
Dame Edna nods. Rolls her eyes.
“He seriously can’t hear any criticism!?” says another living woman.
“Nope!” says Dame Edna. “He knows he’s kinda ugly. But…then he just…goes CRAZY covering it up to live in a delusion. Instead of…being human. Or HUMBLE. Or…SANE.”
“Can’t you all find him a real boyfriend!?” says a man in Illinois.
“No!
He was obsessed.
Absolutely OBSESSED!” says Dame Edna.
The middle class man in Illinois laughs and shakes his head, with melancholy.
“Lacey really is just a lot prettier than him. …Why can’t you let her say that!??” says Elsie Hill.
“Because it’s MEAN.” says a Millennial man.
“No! Not when he’s brutally haunting her…like in a horror film. That’s ABSURD!!” says Elsie
“Why does she say it?” says the man in Illinois.
“Because it’s a VERY useful weapon in self-defense against him. And his army.” says Elsie. “Why don’t you all have empathy for HER!? …She’s NOT JFK. Do you know that!? Or are you all evil zombies in his army?”
They can’t answer.
“Hold on! …She doesn’t know she’s pretty?!??” says a man in Wisconsin.
“What do you mean by knowing!?” says Nolan.
“Did you ever make-out with her!?” he asks Nolan.
“No.” says Nolan.
“Neither did I.” says Joel.
The man in Illinois nods. Thinks.
“So she had no way of knowing?” he says.
Nolan nods. “She’s smart as a tack! Makes brilliant observations. But…*he shrugs* she…was…never given that information.”
“Is she like a man?” he says.
Nolan nods no. “No! …Most women are told what they look like. Somehow. …She just never really was. …And…maybe she’s more logical than most people. Including women. But…that’s not…about…gender. More intelligence.” says Nolan.
“Do you want her to know?” asks the Illuminati of the man in Illinois.
He looks disturbed. “Well…Jack is…tragic.”
“So you don’t care about Lacey!!” says Nolan.
“Jack…is like me.” he says. “Jack…is…my…buddy. And…I empathize with his suffering.”
“Do you care about the kids who are being sold?” says Nolan.
He refuses to answer.
“NO!! I’m GONNA MAKE YOU ANSWER!! BOY!!” screams Lacey. She uses supernatural powers to almost strangle him from inside his brain. His aging white male brain.
“I’M GAY!!!” he screams.
“NO!!! YOU’RE LYINH!!!” screams LACEY.
“I’m BISEXUAL!!!” his demon forces him to say. He whimpers.
“AND CLOSETED!?!” she screams.
“YES!!!” he violently admits.
“Why does that relate to ME!?” says Lacey.
“Because! …Jack is like me! ….I have to stand up for him!!” he says.
“You’re a narcissistic, pedophilic…sexual predator…with a billionaire father…from BOSTON!?” says a lesbian.
He shakes his head no. Back and forth. Staring at the floor. In his chair. In his living room. At…83.
“What!?” says a lesbian.
He stares at her, still shaking his head
“WHAT!?” she says.
He stops and thinks. “That is not…what that family…stands for!” he says.
“What does that family stand for?” she says.
“LOVE!!” he says, with violent pleading.
“But what about them as individuals?” she says.
He shrugs. Stares at his television screen.
“I don’t know! SHE MIGHT BE…ugly. On the inside. Or something.” he says.
“She’s not.” says the lesbian.
He suddenly bursts into a fuming pout. Curling his lips. Twisting his facial features in disgust.
“WHAT!?” says the lesbian.
“DON’T!!” he screams. “DON’T TELL ME…THAT SHE…IS…THE VICTIM!!”
“Huh.
Did Lem ever hurt you?” asks the lesbian.
“ARE YOU PSYCHIC!??” he says, with a (gay) bisexual attitude.
“Oh my god! …When?” she says.
He looks thoughtful. Sad.
He stares at his television screen. Picks up the remote sitting on the arm rest.
“Tell us!!!” she says.
“Lem is…straights. Probably. …He does look like it. …But then what do I look like?” he says. “I know…I’m not one of them. I know I’m bisexual. As you say. …I do look like it. …I KNOW THAT. …But it’s so much nicer…to think I don’t look… … … …gay.” he says. He fumes and thinks. He angrily flips through the channels. Snarling slightly and silently. He breathes deeply and angrily. Bitterly. Clenching his jaw. “I’m NOT…happy about my orientation. …But…it feels…liberating to imagine Lem would have loved a man like me.”
“But it’s BULLSHIT.” she says.
He stares up at the ceiling.
“I KNOW!” he says, with bitter indignation.
“So how do you reconcile that!?” she says.
He laughs. “Why do I have to!??”
“Because…you vote? …Because we’ve destroyed history. …Lots of reasons.” she says calmly.
He looks deeply disturbed. Let’s his eyes fall to the wall.
“She’s a SPIDER!!!” he says.
“No. That’s…misogynistic nonsense. Try again.” she suggests.
“Why can’t a straight man…LOVE ME!?” he says. “Why can’t you make them gay for you?!?”
He turns and meets her gaze.
She smiles.
“We can’t alter orientations like that.” she calmly explains.
“Oh REALLY!?
You mean to tell me…that you can’t make a man gay!? …I’VE SEEN IT!!!” he says, fuming.
“No you haven’t.” she says.
“YOU’RE IMMATURE!!!” he says, laughing at her.
“No. I’m right. …How do you reckon you make a straight person genuinely gay?” she says.
He laughs. Postures himself. Stares at the television.
He laughs again. Still posturing.
“When little boys…are allowed to wear make-up…by overbearing moms…and their absent fathers…are mean…and…cruel…and…cold?” he says. “They get CONFUSED.”
“Nope. Not true.” she says. “Highly dubious at…best? …Man! That’s too generous. …No! You sound….DUMB.”
He thinks.
“Then how do you propose it happens!?” he says.
“They’re born that way. Like Lady Gaga says. …Or they have a genetic predisposition. …And it develops.” she says.
He looks terrified.
She nods.
“Why couldn’t you just get your own damn head straight? We did not need to belabor this point. …You’re endangering the lives of innocent people. By having to over articulate it…you’re endangering people’s lives.” she explains. “At least potentially.”
He shrugs violently. Pouting again.
“Why?” she says.
“Am I ugly?” he says, almost smiling.
She thinks.
“AM I UGLY!?” he says. “YOU TELL ME!!”
She thinks.
“You’re average.” she says.
He thinks. “But I feel…ugly.” he says. “Straight men…are pretty. …Rich people are pretty. …I’m not ugly…but I sure ain’t pretty.”
“Not true!” she says.
He thinks.
“Okay! Maybe I could be considered attractive. …But…I feel violent towards privileged people. Just like a Black.” he says.
“So Jack’s evil…seems…redemptive???” she says.
He thinks. “YES!!!” he yells. “Even if…it’s impossible Lem was gay. And impossible for any straight man to be…gay. Even for JFK… I still want to live in my own little…world. I still want to be…that attractive.”
“Why!?” she says.
“Because…then I matter.” he says. “If Lem is gay…I MATTER. …IF LEM IS GAY…I SUDDENLY….MATTER.” he says.
“But…he isn’t gay.” she says. “That’s NOT…REAL.”
He bitterly fumes.
They sit in silence.
“I’m just average too.” she says.
He thinks. They sit in silence again.
“So what!?” he says. “You’re a woman!”
“Yeah!” she says.
“Women have it EASY!!” he says, bitterly.
“That’s a lie.
You’re…desperate!” she says.
“I could FOOL YOU!!” he yells. “I COULD FOOL YOU AND YOU’D NEVER KNOW!!”
“That’s abuse. And…a clear indictment of your last argument. Women do not have it easy.” she says.
“Is it a game to you!??” he says, shaking.
“Oh my GOD!” says Nolan.
“SICK.” she says.
“Are you straight Nolan?” asks a woman.
“Yes.” he says.
“No you’re NOT!!” yells the man in Illinois.
Nolan’s mouth hangs open in shock. He blinks.
Nolan laughs.
“Do you gave a crush on Nolan?” she says.
“SO WHAT IF I DO!??” he yells.
She takes a deep short breath. “They’re NOT INTO YOU!!”
He looks grumpily off into the ether.
“YEAH! They don’t WANT YOU!!” she says slowly.
He thinks.
“I’m not gay!” he says very quickly. Then he turns to face the television. Acts as if nothing has happened, so to speak.
“There’s no room for your buffoonery.
You are bisexual. You clearly stated that.” she says.
“FINE!!!” he yells.
“So…they’re not into you!” she says.
“That’s what you think!!” he says. He smiles and laughs.
“Ahhh…no. …No that’s not how an orientation works. …Straight men…are genuinely straight.” she says.
“THAT IS NOT A THING!!!” he yells.
“No! That’s…reality.” she says.
He fumes and pouts again. Postures again in his reclining chair.
“I don’t like COCK!” says Nolan, indignantly, and confused.
The bisexual, white, middle class man in Illinois…sitting his his recliner…in his living-room…in Illinois…looks…stunned. Possibly braindead.
They sit in silence.
“Aren’t all people bisexual!?” he says, suddenly in a panic.
“OH MY GOD!!! NO!!” says Nolan.
He looks confused. Stares at his television screen. He looks sad. Lost. Begins…shaking his legs.
“Where did you hear that?” asks Nolan patiently.
He shakes his head. His breathing quickens. He looks embarrassed.
“WHERE?” asks the woman.
He shakes his head. Looks almost ready to cry.
“You aren’t in trouble!! Just tell us!” says a male reader.
He does cry. He bitterly weeps. Mouth open. Silently. Still trying to posture himself to look tough in his recliner.
“You LIE!!” he yells at the male reader. “YOU WILL JUDGE ME!”
“No! Speak up!” says Prince William.
He thinks. Being of English origin he spiritually responds. Thinks. Calms himself. Thinks.
He folds his arms across his chest. Calms himself.
“Well…I listen to pop music.” he says. “I’m a fan of Harry Styles.”
“Oh!!!” says Nolan.
“Did you mean that sexually?” he says to Nolan.
“What!?” says Nolan.
“The way you said, ‘OH!’ confused me. …You’re straight?” he says.
“YEAH!!” says Nolan.
“But you’re, ‘OH!’ was so…dramatic. Like…gay sex!” he says, vulnerably.
“No!!! I’m…stunned. But it isn’t sexual.” says Nolan.
The man in Illinois looks baffled. “Why?” he says.
“You take Harry Styles that seriously?!” says Nolan.
“He does. CLEARLY.” says the woman. “I know men like him.”
“REALLY!?!” says Nolan. “I mean I get liking the music…but taking his views that seriously seems…ignorant.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “Why wouldn’t he know something!?”
“Because he’s….not…like that.” says Nolan.
“He’s right. …He’s not stupid. But…I don’t look to him for…intelligent discussion.” says the woman.
“WHY NOT!?” says the man in Illinois.
“Because…he’s…like…a playgirl.” says Nolan. “He’s not a huge intellectual. He’s…a slut.”
“You’re a slut!” he says to Nolan.
“I don’t mean slut in that way.” says Nolan. “I mean…as a type. He’s…Britney Spears in 2001…for queer people.”
The woman nods.
The man in Illinois thinks.
“But he’s so smart! …He reminds me of Bobby Kennedy!!” he says, sincerely.
“I’m not saying he’s stupid. …But that’s not his thing. …He’s not a public intellectual. He’s not…like that.” says Nolan.
“He’s….BRILLIANT!!” says the man in Illinois.
“That’s your opinion.” says Nolan.
“I’d marry him!” says the man in Illinois.
“What if he cheated on you?” says the woman.
He thinks. He’s silenced.
“Yeah!!!!” says Nolan.
“No!!” says the man, crying again.
“What are you crying about?” says the woman.
“YOU PEOPLE DON’T UNDERSTAND!!!” he says.
“I’m not attracted to men! …And I refuse to be raped for the sake of your fragile ego!!!” yells Nolan at the man in Illinois.
“Oh yeah!!!?! …THEN WHAT HAPPENED WITH LEM!?!” he bellows.
“You confused him??? Or no?” says the woman.
“He wanted it!!!!” he yells. “Men always do!!! …HE WANTED IT!!!! HE CLEARLY WANTED IT!!!”
“Not true. You’re so wrong!” says the woman laughing at him, unaffected by his ignorant sad outburst.
Later.
Nolan has to leave.
“Why did that damn smartass leave?” he says.
She stares at the man in Illinois.
“He’s BUSY.” she says.
He stares at his television screen.
“You know…not all people are homosexual. Not all people are bisexual. Some people are heterosexual.” she calmly explains to him.
“That’s not what Harry says!” says the man in Illinois.
“You cannot be serious!” she says.
“I WENT TO WOODSTOCK!!!” he suddenly loudly announces, like she’ll be SHOCKED.
“He’s not a Woodstock artist.” she says.
“I DON’T KNOW ABOUT THAT!!” he says, indignantly.
“Oh really!? He reminds you of who!?” she says.
He shakes his head in disbelief.
“Ahh…no. He’s not that serious. You…are…totally out of touch.” she says.
He eats potato chips. Violently. Rocks his chair.
“He’s an entertainer. Not a guide.” she says.
“That’s not how he speaks!! …I feel inspired by him.” he says.
“That’s…produced.” she says.
He thinks.
“It’s like chicken ramen. It’s not real chicken soup.” she says.
He thinks. Stares. Thinks.
“But he’s got a great…INDIVIDUAL…style.” he says.
“No. You’re off.
So…you like…men?” she says.
He gets quiet.
“Who broke your heart?” she says.
He violently shakes his head no.
“WHO??” she says.
He stares at her.
“WHO!?” she says.
“He broke my heart. …YOU’RE RIGHT.
He was…straight.” he says.
“No! I doubt it.” she says as the voice of reason.
After a moment.
“He was…straight!” he says.
“Why do you think that?” she says.
“HE MARRIED A WOMAN!!” he shouts at her like she’s deaf.
She laughs at him openly. “Try to prove it!”
“He did!! …YOU THINK REAL GAYS…MARRY WOMEN!??” he shouts. “They DID NOT!!!”
“No. They did. It’s far more complicated than that!” she says.
Now That You’re Gone as performed by Gene Austin plays.
“He was straight.” he says.
The song plays.
“No. He wasn’t.” she says, as if trying to be genuinely kind.
The song ends.
They think.
“Did you sleep with him?” she says.
“Yeah…we experimented.” he says. “Then he got married to a woman. It was right after Vietnam. …We grew-up in the suburb of Pekin.” he says. “Two All American boys.”
“Was it like Call Me By Your Name?” she says.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen that.” he says.
“It’s about you!” she says.
“What’s it about?” he says.
“YOU!” she says.
“How…in the world…is that possible?!” he says.
“Tell me this: could you each have happily married anyone else?” she says.
He thinks. “No.” he says.
“Then it’s not about gender. It’s about HIM.” she says.
He stares at her.
He stares at her dumbfounded.
“Yeah. It’s about him.” she says.
“He was straight!!” he says, demandingly.
“No! You’re both bisexuals!!!” she says.
“I CAN BE WHATEVER I WANT!!” he says menacingly.
“NO. You CANNOT!!” she says.
They sit in silence.
“You were both bisexual…and you fell in love…and he chickened out?” she says.
“Well…I guess.” he says.
“No!? Then what happened!?” she says.
“He…had really conservative parents! They were…poor! …We were the rich folk, by our standards. Back then.” he says.
“But you were both bisexuals!” she says.
“If you say so!” he says.
“No. You were.” she says.
“He was a…basketball player. …I did running. …And we both married WOMEN.” he says.
“That makes NO DIFFERENCE!” she says.
“Then WHAT IS STRAIGHT!??” he yells.
“NOT YOU!!” she yells.
He thinks.
“You’re BISEXUAL.” she says.
“We were NOT- …I MADE LOVE to MY WIFE!!” he says.
“So WHAT!?? That IS bisexuality.” she says.
He looks flustered. Stares at the television.
“No…see…that was a gay experience!” says a southern gay man.
“But I LOVED MY WIFE!!!” he says.
“Sure!” she says. She shrugs.
“She was PRETTY!!” he says.
Loveless Love as performed by Sidney Bechet plays.
“What was he?” she says.
“HE WAS…” he says. “What if I’m crazy?” he says.
“Then that’s what you are!” she says. “What was he?”
“He was…” he says.
“Everything!” she says.
“Almost!” he says, suddenly crying.
“Lem…is EVERYTHING…no almost…to Lacey. …That doesn’t mean anything?” she says.
“He’s a figment of her imagination.” he says.
“Doubtful.” she says.
“I wasn’t gay!” he says. “It was just a crazy-ass experiment. And…we had fun.” he says.
“NO!!!” she says. “That’s a LIE!”
He thinks.
“Maybe.” he says.
“When you die…don’t be scared.” she says. “But you won’t be able to lie about it…at all…ever again. Not really.”
He looks scared, actually.
“Why do you hate unhappy…unusually beautiful…intelligent straight women?” she says.
“THEY DID IT TO THEMSELVES!!” he says.
“Really?” she says.
He thinks.
“No. …I’m a selfish man. …I’m very serious. People say I’m sensitive. But…I think of myself first. …And…I can’t be bothered.” he says. “I want to be HAPPY.”
“What about her not knowing how beautiful she is?” she says.
He thinks. “That’s sad.
*He shrugs*
I guess…some straight man should have tried harder to get with her. But they didn’t! …That ain’t my problem!” he says.
“You can’t say that anymore.” she says.
“NOT TRUE!!!!” he yells.
She shakes her head no. “It’s too bad.”
“What is!? She could still get married!!!” he says.
She shakes her head no. “Not really.”
He stares at her.
They sit in silence.
“She’s…too damn HOT.” she says slowly. “TOO…DAMN…HOT.”
He looks ruffled.
“What!?” she says.
“You’re a bitch!” he says.
“You’re an IDIOT.” she says.
His smile disappears.
“Not all men are as stupid as you. …Do you think it’s your race…your religion…your orientation…lead poisoning…or just you?” she says.
“I’m no idiot! Say…you should…examine yourself.” he says.
“I HAVE. …You sir…are a FAGGOT.” she says.
He looks genuinely shocked.
“I’m not letting you use me. Anymore.” she says.
“What about nice gay boys!?” he says, in a snarling, self-pitying muddle.
“You’re right. That’s not my definition of a faggot. YOU ARE.” she says. “YOU are THE PROBLEM.”
“Why!? …Because I refused to marry…my best friend?” he says, trying to laugh at her.
“YES!” she says. “You LIE!!”
He looks at her.
“YOU LIE!!” she says.
He shrinks back.
“YOU LIE!!!” she says.
“I did my best!” he says.
“YOU CHEATED!!!” she says. “Don’t make it heroic!!”
He thinks.
“You loved Lem…for SICK reasons.” she says.
He thinks.
He thinks.
“You lied. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re miserable. I’m sorry you’re…alone. I’m sorry you feel so…sad. But…you lied.” she says.
“I was smart. …Just like JFK!!” he says. “We were being smart.”
“No. You could have been great.” she says. “But you’re a cheat. And a fake. And coward.”
He thinks.
“Lem was confused. But he had honor.” she says.
“Well…I wasn’t that lucky.” he says. “I’m from Pekin, Illinois.”
“That’s PLENTY LUCKY!” she says.
He thinks.
“What were you afraid of? God?” she says.
He thinks.
“God already knows.” she says.
He thinks.
“No. …You’re right. …I’ve had gay thoughts my whole damn life. …And he wasn’t a child. We consented. …Even if we were insane together. …No. …I’m…not sure what it was.
Maybe…if it’s not allowed in Heaven, as Lacey says on her blog…we were protected. By our families. From…ruining our souls. …But…I never got rid of the gay thoughts. …Only for a month when we were first married. …Maybe I just…lied.” he says. “To my wife. And everyone else.”
“So?” she says.
He thinks.
“I think I thought I was smart. Like Jack.” he says. “Like JFK.”
“How?” she says.
He thinks.
“You have to play it right! You can’t be…a lesser. …Not when you’re from Pekin.” he says.
“But what if you get caught?” she says.
“Like LACEY CAUGHT CASI!!?” he says, clapping his hands loudly for emphasis.
“Yes!” she says.
He thinks. “See…that’s why I hate her. That’s why.” he says. “She’s…not my ally. …Ain’t no way! …She’s my…antagonist.
I’m just…doing my part. …Participating. …Trying to catch me…is WRONG.”
She laughs. “Why?”
“Because! I’m just…a poor boy…from Pekin.” he says, crying. “If my love for him meant anything…I’m just him. …We’re just a poor white kid…who died of cirrhosis…in 1999. …Who had three kids. And…was poor.”
“Who never lived somewhere?” she says.
“BINGO!” he says.
“So you’re like Lem in that way?” she says.
He stares at her.
“You’re not Jack.” she says.
Silence.
“GO AWAY!!!!” he screams. “GO AWAY!!!!”
Keen to Cross the Pond 