Gay Al has taken to his MySpace to blog about his divorce to Star Jones. Gay Al has asked all of us to walk in his shoes “for a few hours.” I would, but stilettos aren’t my flavor. Gay Al has the calves for those things. I don’t.
The post is long, so fly on over to Gay Al’s fairy kingdom if you want to read the whole thing. Here’s parts of it:
Dear Friends: If you think you are having a tough day, may I propose you walk in my shoes for a few hours. In my mind, it feels like “Dump on Al Month.” And I’m not having fun yet. I have been called a gigolo, a freeloader, unemployed, a sham and many other things that don’t bear repeating. People on television, radio and the internet have spoken disparagingly of my life, my sexuality, my career and my integrity. The media has barraged me (at my home), my friends, my family(including my 79 year old mother), my college classmates, my students and my professional colleagues. Yet, despite this intense level of provocation, I have said nothing. My Publicist has put out a one sentence statement: “We’re taking the high road.” And we have and will continue on that path. As much as I want to defend myself, it seems like a silly and futile exercise. It’s clear that the media doesn’t want to let the truth get in the way of a good story. I hate to ruin their fun. I take great comfort in the fact that my loved ones and those people who really know me continue to love and respect me. Thank you “all” for the endless emails, phone calls and words of encouragement. I know in my heart that I entered my marriage with love and the best of intentions and leave it with great sadness that it didn’t work.
What I want people to know is that I am not the caricature portrayed by the media. I am complex, contradictory and capable of great intelligence but also remarkable stupidity. In other words, I am a human being. To me, labels are for clothes, not people. So…..Please don’t try to define me; don’t try to categorize me; and most of all, don’t label me. Instead, JUST GET TO KNOW ME. And if you see me, just call me Al.
I’m pretty sure it’s “Dump on Al Day” once a month at The Loading Zone in Miami.
Aww…poor Gay Al! He has a friend in me. If homegirl ever called me crying, because his 12-man tag team party ran out of lube, I’d immediately drop my pancake sandwich and head on over with a fresh cup of WET for him to borrow. That’s what friends are for.