So unless you've been living under a rock--or, I don't know, stuck in some sort of a closet--you know that, earlier this week, Jason Collins, late of the Washington Wizards, became the first athlete in a major American team sport to come out as gay while still active--well, while still active as a player; I imagine plenty of the other athletes who have come out are still actively gay. Collins certainly deserves credit for breaking what may be the last major civil-rights barrier in professional sports (although I can't help but notice a continued dearth of Jewish long-jumpers), But cynics point out that Collins is, at best, a marginal player in the twilight of his career. As a free agent, Collins is not guaranteed ever to play again unless he suits the needs of an NBA general manager. If anything, his announcement may have helped his chances of being signed by a new team. You know Commissioner David Stern would dearly love to see Collins on the hardcourt (snicker) next season, lest the NBA--deservedly or not--face accusations of homophobia.
How times have changed. An NBA player reveals that he is gay and not only does he not jeopardize his career, he may well have prolonged it. In today's Times, even while columnist Frank Bruni laments the double-standard that condemns women as sluts even while celebrating men for sexual conquests, a front-page article discusses how numerous scandal-plagued men, including libidinous subjects Eliot Spitzer and David Petraeus, have found that the road to redemption leads through the groves of academe. It seems non-normative sexual behavior may just be the stepping stone to greater triumphs.
All of which is to say that I, the Solipsist, would hereby like to declare myself a clam fetishist. And if you stop reading my blog--indeed, if you don't each immediately coerce at least five more people to read it--you are intolerant bastards and should be ashamed of yourselves. I thank you for your continued support.