When my little friend Lilia told me of her heartbreaking shift in affections from Justin to One Direction's Harry Styles, it simply broke my heart. I had just begun to appreciate Justin. Who is this Styles guy? A name like that, you'd think he was a fashion model, but he comes off as a scruffy kid with a lot of energy. About the only thing the two have in common is tattoos. Harry does not have that fabulous Bieber chest, abs, and tattoos. Justin has more of them. I guess. Lilia, when asked why she no longer adored them -- indeed, worshiped them, for you see these are the boy gods: Pans, satyrs, see Paglia's remarkable book on the subject of androgyny -- first one and then the other and she said, "Justin is gay."
This came as a shock. How could a guy with millions of tender suvasinis adoring him and worshiping him like guys? During a conversation with her father, it dawned on me that current studies showing that children who believe in God and are taught to do so since birth accept all manner of imaginary and unprovable things. You see, Francisco (Frank) was brought up strictly Catholic. I think he has quit going now that formerly Catholic Hispanic people are also undergoing a Justin-Harry transformation into Protestantism, brand: megachurches and evangelicals. But he appears to remain a Catholic. His mom, a lovely woman who speaks pefect Spanglish, brought Frank up in that church, and mentally he has remained its son. While visiting him recently his son Roberto told me "Dad won't let me smoke marijuana." I thought, you need a vaporizer.
It really doesn't much matter if Justin is gay. Although Francisco uses ugly epithets in mention of gays, he tolerates lesbians, at least, as the presence at gatherings of a decidedly gay woman acquaintance, perhaps of the children. But I have to wonder, did she dream up the Justin is gay business? Did she see that YouTube video with a come-on headline turning out to be no such thing? Maybe Justin understands that his sexual orientation is completely, entirely fluid, and that it is common to love men at some point in one's life, just as it is common for some to love both men and women. Which reminds me of the restored version of the Stanley Kubrick film, Spartacus. When Sir Laurence Olivier, as a Roman nobleman asks his slave, Tony Curtis, if he likes snails or does he like oysters, Hollywood censors excised the scene. (An usher told one of them that the symbolism of the two shellfish was a reference to bisexuality.) Why not oysters, snails, shrimp -- oops!, o, no, not shrimp. Quentin Quail will land you in jail.