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Switching gears, finally. Gotta tackle the “Personalities” part this Friday. Politics can wait—despite the despicable comments Rep. Todd Akin made about “legitimate rape” and the rest-stop sexual antics of Minnesota State Rep. Kerry Gauthier, to name just a couple of late—so that I can comment on one of my favorite subjects…
Redheads!
I’ve always loved the ginger boys. My best friend and business partner is one. Our fearless leader, Justin Luke, kinda digs ‘em, too, since he’s shacked up with one. And with the popularity of red meat events happening at our more hip gay bars in cities like West Hollywood, New York City, and Washington, DC, I’m guessing there are lots of us out there.
Red rocks! And apparently, they know how to party.
You’ve all seen the pictures online by now: England’s Prince Harry grooving and hugging and partying hearty in his private hotel room in Las Vegas. In the altogether!
And I say, good for him. And although I looked at the pictures just like you did, I’m feeling bad today that I reposted one of the photos on my talk show’s Facebook page and Twitter feed.
In case you have been living under a rock: Apparently, a (now former, I suspect) friend, who was in said room and a part of the infamous party, leaked or sold the photos. The disreputable TMZ first reported the story. And the U.S. and British media are still having a field day(s) with it days later.
Word out of Buckingham Palace is that Dad and Grandma are less than amused, natch. And there is talk that there may be a scolding from Harry’s official employer, the British Royal Navy. On what grounds, I’m not sure.
What a single, 27 year old guy does in the privacy of his own Encore Las Vegas hotel room is really no one else’s business. I mean, really. What happened to, “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?” (Can’t we make this a friggin’ law, already?!)
Harry didn’t choose to be a royal. He didn’t pick to be third in line for the crown. Sure, save for abdication (which never goes well), he has a duty to behave himself in public and to represent his family and country at official events (he always does a bang up job and is very popular; did you see him at the Closing Ceremonies of the London Olympics looking all hot and professional?) but when he’s in Sin City, partying with his buddies, I say, lay off! He’s in a foreign country and not on official business, for gosh sake.
And I believe TMZ could be sued and should be ashamed for publishing photos taken within a private hotel room without the knowledge of the subjects in the pictures. Period. It’s not our business.
What’s curious and perhaps should be celebrated, is the fact that most of the usually scandalous British tabloids (save for The Sun, which explained, and I paraphrase, “Why shouldn’t we run them? They are everywhere.”) haven’t run any of the pictures in their reporting of the story, because the Palace asked them not to and, hopefully, believing that they are an invasion of privacy. (But, they ran the story, so they are only half respectable.)
What the hell is my point? I guess that I’m happy that Harry knows how to have fun and that he’s not a stuffy mirror image of his seemingly sad-sack father. If he ever makes it to be King, he’ll be one of the hottest and perhaps funnest monarchs ever. (Yeah, I know funnest isn’t a word, but it should be.)
And because I have always admired the gingers, I’m happy to know that they can look past the fact that they have no souls* and can have a good time.
But the nekkid Harry photos aren’t accompanying this post. Trust me, if you really must see them, a quick Google search will find them in seconds. I can’t chastise the media and then repeat their offenses. (Sigh. What’s wrong with me?)
So, in closing, GO RED! But if you’re at a private party behind closed doors…keep it to yourself and enjoy the ride.
* I kid because I love.
- R. Scott
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