2nd Generation: The Worst TV Series I Have Ever Seen

While looking up Charlie Gillespie, the current uber-hot it-boy, I found a reference to 2nd Generation (2018), a 6-episode Canadian tv series:'

A coming of age story set in today's harsh melting pot society, trying to draw the line between racism, morals, love, friendship, and secrets.   Shouldn't there be several lines?  Between, like love and friendship, or morals and love, or racism and secrets?

The episode guide on IMD was just as semi-literate and clichéd:

 Ticoon's new found popularity has him dealing with some unwanted attention from a new friend in sheep's clothing, something he could of never have imagined but is very accepting of.

• Ok, it's wolf in sheep's clothing; the cliché doesn't work with "friend."   
• Could of never have imagined?  Try "could never have imagined."
• The something he is "very accepting of" must be the "unwanted attention,"  but how can you be accepting of something unwanted?

As Ticoon's, Virginia's and Brody's relationship blossoms so does the money, catching the eyes of the authorities, as well as straining the already tender relationship with Everett

• Does money blossom?
• A tender relationship can't get strained. 

But it's on Amazon Prime for free, it stars Charlie Gillespie, and Ticoon looks hot, so I watched the first episode.

Holy bait and switch, Batman.  This guy isn't Ticoon, Brody, Virginia, or Everett.  He's an extra used to sell the show.

This is Ticoon Kim (pronounced as in tycoon), played by an actor named Ticoon Kim.  Nepotism much?

In Act 1, Ticoon's father thinks that he needs "more culture," so he signs him up for an inner-city basketball team.

Wait -- that's culture?  How about a class in Chinese calligraphy?  Or Korean poetry?  Or Shakespeare, depending on what culture you're going for.  Sports aren't culture.

Ticoonis the only non-Jamaic an,  the only person under 6'5", and the only person under 28 years old on the team, but his teammates are still completely accepting. One of the 28-year old 6'5" women even offers to have sex with him: "Me gonna break off yo' dick," she promises.

But all of those characters vanish forever in Act 2, when Ticoon goes to school.  There the 5-year old is bullied by his 28-year old, 6'5" classmates. David (Adam Murciano) makes lots of racist jokes, but the chief bully happens to be Asian: Will (Keanu Lee Nunes, left)

Then Brody (Charlie Gillespie), a long-haired androgynous type, intervenes.  So the outcasts are going to bond?

Even more oddly, Brody's sister appears to be dating the bully Will.  She must be a holdover from 1980s nerd movies, where the It-Girl is dating an obnoxious jock with no redeeming qualities, just so she can be won over by the sexual prowess of the nerd.

Ticoon has two friends his own age, Arnold (Matthew Edmonson) or Jacob (David Knoll), I'm not sure which, and  Sonny (Eshaan Buwadwal).  They get together later to discuss "pussy."  For instance, Ticoon's crush is "Justin pussy," meaning that she'll only date Justin Timberlake or Justin Bieber (rather a small number of options).

But they're also interested in why Brody intervened in the bullying.  No way anybody is actually nice.  And what if they become friends?  Ticoon will automatically become "pussy fam.," which sounds like a bad thing: calling someone a "pussy" means that they are weak and ineffective, like a woman's vagina, right?

No, it' a good thing; you aspire to become a "pussy fam." 

Apparently Brody isn't an outcast after all; he's the coolest guy in school.  When he says "What up," Sonny, overwhelmed by his coolness, exclaims, "Hey, yo, Big B, can I get a BJ?"

Arnold/Jacob points out that BJ means "Blow job," and he is embarrassed.

Brody's courtship of Ticoon is stunningly homoerotic, from confessions of "I like you" to hands on shoulders to request to meet in the bathroom. So obviously homoerotic that I'm sure it's canon: they're going to be a gay couple.

But it doesn't work out that way.  Fast-forwarding through the rest of the series, which seems to be about a basketball team and a marijuana selling business (but it's legal in Canada, yo),  I see a lot of scenes of Ticoon dating, and a lot of scenes of his two friends discussing pussy.  They get girlfriends, too, yo.  Brody and Ticoon are never alone in any scene ever again.

 Another bait and switch.

Dreadful.

Not to mention the extremely annoying pseudo-rap talk.  Nobody talks like that, yo.  And the profanity!  I don't mind an occasional "fuck," but every third word?  And every fourth word is "pussy."

Surely they meant cats.

My grade: F---.

Wild Boy: The Gay Jungle Boy of 1950s Comics

There were many variations of the Tarzan mythos during the middle years of the 20th century, but one of the most fondly remembered by the first generation of Baby Boomers was Wild Boy, Prince of the Jungle.

He had a short run, appearing in 8 issues of a  Ziff-Davis series (1950-1952), which oddly starts with 10.  Then St. John took over the title, renamed it Wild Boy of the Congo, and published 6 issues (#9-#15), in 1953.  That's it.

But what he lacked in longevity, Wild Boy made up for in gay potential.

His origin story: the young American boy David Clyde goes to the Congo with his uncle, who hires evil native to kill him.  He escape and grows up in the jungle, but speaks a stilted "me, Tarzan" patois.

He has two animal companions, a panther (Daro) and a monkey (Kimba), and a native boyfriend, Keeto (who speaks the same patois.)

Artists vary in their interpretation of Wild Boy: should he be a little kid or nearly an adult?  And just how feminine should his wavy hair, lipstick, and eye liner get?

But he's definitely a gay icon. He displays no interest in women, but he rescues and hugs Keeto every five minutes.

The comics are hilarious today for their stereotypes of the white Western colonial master and the "childlike" natives.

Hint: the good ones wear Western-style clothes, and the bad ones wear loincloths.

Here he uses the old chestnut "I will make the sun disappear!" to avoid execution by an evil tribe.  How corny can you get?

But at least he's holding hands with Keeto.

"Why Don't Ya Come Ovah?": Tarik Hooks Up with a Ghost

Norfolk, July 2000

Tarik was 32 years old, working as a dietician in a hospital and cruising for older white guys, preferably cops.

Norfolk was a rough town, and rather homophobic, so you had to be careful: a lot of the cops would let you go down on them, then rob you or beat you up.  But there weren't a lot of gay venues other than the bars: he went to the MCC, the gay church, and wrote for Our Own Community Press, the local gay newspaper.

It was at the MCC that he met Mitchy: in his 50s, short, thin, greying, a bit on the femme side  (I have an image of Leslie Jordan), and something of a dollar-dropper (trying to attract guys with an ostentatious display of wealth).  Three minutes into the conversation, he had mentioned that he lived in Linkhorn, the wealthiest neighborhood in Virginia Beach, and that he owned a Rembrandt.  All in a thick Tidewater accent: "Hello theah, deah.  Ahm'm from Linhohn.  Ah own a pictuah by Rembrandt."

Maybe because he grew up poor and a member of the black-supremacist Nation of Islam, Tarik always found topping rich white guys very erotic, so he accepted Mitchy's invitation to "come ovah."

Not a great hookup.  A 45 minute drive, and turns out that Mitchy wasn't into anal; he was an oral top, and not even hung.  Plus his house was very cold, the Rembrandt was of a woman, there was another picture of a naked woman in the bedroom, he had torch songs playing constantly, and he was a bit racist: "Would you lakh to heah something else?  I know y'all lakh rap..."

But Tarik was not used to being pursued, so when Mitchy called two nights later and asked "Why don't yah come ovah?", he agreed.

More boring oral sex while a naked woman looked down on them and torch songs played, and it was so cold that they had to stay under the covers.

Three nights later "Why don't yah cove ovah for dinnah?"

Mitchy served pork chops!  Tarik didn't belong to the Nation of Islam anymore, but he still avoided pork.  He filled up on mashed potatoes and green beans, and then there was more oral sex right at the dining room table, before dessert.

And Mitchy insisted that he spend the night.

This was turning into a full-fledged relationship, except Mitchy never wanted to go out.  Apparently he was too closeted to go to the bars, and the day they met was the only time he attended the MCC.  He looked up in online chatrooms, and went out to First Landing State Park, the outdoor cruising area in Virginia Beach.

Great, an unwanted boyfriend who wasn't into anal, who wasn't hung and who was in the closet!

Tarik accepted "Why don't yah come ovah?" invitations two or three more times before getting the gumption to say "No.  Sorry, I don't feel like it tonight."

"But deah, I'm horney.  I have needs."

It was always about Mitchy's needs, wasn't it?  "Sorry, I don't feel like it."

"But deah, if you won't come ovah, I'll have to go to the park to meet a fella."

"Do what you want.  I'm not coming over."  Tarik hung up on him.

The next day when he went to the office of Our Own Community press, they were talking about a newspaper article. "Does anyone know if he was gay?  Was it really a bashing incident?"

Mitchy's housekeeper found him dead in his bedroom.  He had been beaten and strangled.  Nothing was taken. The police were baffled, but Tarik figured that he had gone out cruising and propositioned the wrong guy. 

Tarik felt guilty, of course.  If he hadn't said "no" that night.  But Mitchy made the decision to pick up rough trade.  He made the decision to stay in the closet.

A few weeks later, Tarik was lying in bed, just dozing off, when the phone rang. 

"Hello, deah.  Why don't yah come ovah?"

A prank call? But Tarik had told only a few people about his hookup/dates, and no one about Mitch's signature phrase or thick Tidewater accent.

Mitchy still pestering him for a hookup from beyond the grave?

The full story, with explicit sex and nude photos, is on Tales of West Hollywood.