Saturday, 26 January 2019

Whatever Happened to Art for Art's Sake?

Today I will be blogging about two separate incidents, but they both share common themes. The first is acceptance and tolerance of the LBGTQ community, and the second is outright stupidity. The subjects of both points will be given a spray from me, a spray on par with an incontinent house cat.  Anyway, come this way, reader...

1. My first spray goes out to whomsoever decides on the nominations for the GLAAD Media Awards. Your first thought, upon reading that sentence, is likely puzzlement given that I have always been outspoken and forthright in my support of the LBGTQ community, and therefore by association, I should be supportive of GLAAD. Well, I am supportive of the organisation GLAAD, in principle. What I am NOT supportive of, and am very combative about, is the decision to withdraw the film Bohemian Rhapsody from the list of nominees for best original film. By way of background information, the GLAAD Media Awards are given to works of art that have sensitively and sensibly promoted the issues surrounding members of the LBTGQ community. It goes without saying that Bohemian Rhapsody was nominated for the portrayal of the struggles faced by Freddie Mercury with his sexuality and HIV diagnosis. I have said over and over this is one of the most marvellous biopics I've ever seen. Anyway, some dunderheaded numpties have decided to remove the movie from the list of candidates on the basis of allegations made against the original director, Bryan Singer. Singer was fired from the movie, and another director completed the film, although Singer is the credited director. Now, to whomsoever made this decision on behalf of the committee for the GLAAD Media Awards, and I cannot think of a nice way to put it: you are an unadulterated pile of dumb-arse. What happened to awarding a work of art on the merit of the ART? Surely to goodness Bohemian Rhapsody met the criteria to be eligible, but because of the actions of ONE person involved, you're going to punish the crew and cast who worked together to create the art? I have this image of you lot judging a portrait competition, and the first painting actually looks like a human being, but was painted by a person serving a prison sentence for armed robbery. The second looks like the artist painted it by sticking the brush up his butthole, but the artist in question volunteers at the local nursing home. Being clowns who just don't get it, you decide to award the prize to what is clearly a sub-standard work on the basis the other work of art has been created by a person of not good character. See how stupid you're being? This goes against the principle of judging a work of art on its own merits.  Way to lose your credibility! Get in the bin, all of you.

2. The second spray goes out to the inebriated slatternly slob who abused my friends at the pub yesterday.  Before I collected my seventeen-year-old from work, I called by a local watering hole to catch up with some friends, and watch a band. Without saying too much, the slattern has some issues with my friends. They're her issues, and they're real to her; but I think she should have a word with herself, and wake up to herself. Anyhoo, back to the point, and the LBGTQ theme.  One of my friends is in a same-sex relationship; I hadn't met her partner before, but we were introduced yesterday. They told me the slattern abused them when they arrived, and informed them they could not enter the premises on the basis of their sexuality (if you're reading this, you intoxicated slag, you might want to familiarise yourself with the Anti-Discrimination Act).  I was very angry when informed of this. However, we just drank our drinks under the shelter in the beer garden, and watched the band. I enjoyed the band; but let's face it, I will enjoy any band that performs a T-Rex number (the number in question was Get It On). By the by, the slatternly slob lurched over to our table - or maybe she was trying to demonstrate the trajectory of a pinball? - and commenced in on another round of abuse, a round I was present to witness. My younger friend's partner was not there to witness this, because she had gone inside to the bar. In the less-than-dulcet tones of a constipated cockatoo, this creature squawked and shrieked at us all. Her diatribe included accusations that we hated her ('well, duh' on my part at the moment), and that we were meant to be friends (which we can be, but get some help, lady!), and more insults. We repeatedly told her to just go away. From the stage, the lead singer of the band addressed our table with pleas to 'settle down, girls.' Then she noticed my friend's partner was not present for her performance, so she shrilled, 'Where's your little cunt gone, then?' Oh, my heart swoons at the delicate femininity of this dainty and ethereal being that addressed us! (Nah, not really). Again, I told her to go away. She looked at me and said, 'Are you telling me to go away?' I confirmed that I was. The rest of our coterie told her to go away. Someone, possibly staff, came over and guided her away, thus voiding the likelihood of a catfight. I wouldn't want a catfight. I so don't need this shit. Anyway, that homophobic fishwife should join the point-missing cretins referred to in 1 above in the bin.

Oh well, it is hot. I must away. I have a book to read, work to edit, and a lesson to prepare.

No comments:

Post a Comment