Transmoo

Okay, I know it’s been well over a month now, but I just have to weigh in on the whole Adam Lambert/American Music Awards thing. (*Spoiler Alert* Anybody out there who hasn’t yet gotten a chance to watch Adam Lambert’s man-kissing, trolley-stopping—this is a real term; look it up—dancer-dragging, and, lest we forget, face-in-crotch-smashing, epic performance at the AMAs needs to youtube it right now.) I also know that the whole incident has already been covered extensively by every publication from People to the Wall Street Journal, but, really, I have to comment on it, too.

Not because I’m a huge “American Idol” fan. (Actually, I’m a little scared of Ryan Seacrest, in the same way I’m a little scared of Dick Clark. There’s a “portrait of Dorian Grey” thing going on with both of them that I’d rather steer well clear of.) And not because I’m a big fan of awards shows in general (I don’t even like award sceremonies where I’m the one getting the award—why would I want to watch somebody else doing it?) No, the reason I need to comment on the Adam Lambert thing is because of the argument so many commentators have made against Adam and his performance—namely, the one where they said “But what about the children?.

What about the children? Okay, let’s forget that the American Music Academy must have been aware of the fact that the song in question, “For Your Entertainment,” is an homage to rough sex. (Which is probably why is was scheduled at air at 11 pm. On a school night.) And let’s forget the fact that when Pink performed a similar song and dance at the AMAs a few years earlier, no one batted an eye (much). Let’s forget about everything except for the one argument that has yet to be made, and the one that I am making now.

What about “Barnyard”?

Have you seen this show? It’s a cartoon that’s on in the mornings before school, and one whose advertisers consist entirely of Nerf, Barbie, and Hasbro. In fact, I think it’s pretty obvious that, considering its time slot, its advertisers, and its medium (animation), this is a show that is marketed to kids. And yet, the star of the show is a pre-operative transexual bovine. In other words, the lead character is a milk cow named Otis. A guy cow with an udder.

The first time Clyde watched it I didn’t think anything of it: I could only hear the dialogue from the next room. The next time, however, I was actually in the room, and I couldn’t help but notice that whenever Otis stood up on his hind legs (which was a lot)–well, let me just put it this way: Otis would have no problem getting beads at Mardis Gras.

“Who’s that?” I asked, intrigued by the combination of Barry White’s voice and Pamela Anderson’s physique.

“That’s Otis,” Clyde said.

“And is Otis supposed to be a guy cow, or a girl cow?”

Clyde rolled his eyes at me. “A guy cow. His name is Otis.”

Oooo-kay. Hey, I don’t have a problem with it: the more the merrier, I always say.

But I can’t believe that the same people who are going to let that slide at 7 am are the ones throwing a fit about one hot guy kissing another at 11 pm that same night. Then again, we’ve always been more tolerant of our animated friends then our real ones: the only time Bugs Bunny ever put on any clothing at all was to dress in drag and try to seduce Elmer Fudd. Come to think of it, he even sang and danced while he did it, too.

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