I mean, c’mon. Even a lazy blogger like myself must post a response to last night’s PR4 finale. Congratulations, Christian, and welcome to the musty hall of fame where moldy television catch- phrases repose in aeternum. Is it a “doh” moment, or maybe one of introspection where one says “wujutalkinabout?” Seriously, it’s like the gay equivalent of JJ on “Good Times” but somehow, not so “Dy-NO-Mite”.

Yet again, Bravo has succeeded in Minstrellizing the entire American gay experience - not that there’s anything wrong with being effeminate. I am a very proud proponent, and practitioner of skipping. I just wish that young gay men in America didn’t feel the compulsion to speak like they were vying for a date with Flavor Flav - not that there is anything wrong with New York. I love New York, and I have pictures to prove it, but isn’t it time to retire the snapping, and the idea that men can be “girlfriends” and “bitches”? I know it’s probably going to be a while before we stop using gay men as more comfortable stand-ins for disenfranchised young black women, but perhaps we can let it start with PR5. Perhaps we can let part of this cliché salad wilt and die. Perhaps we can all admit that “fierce”, indeed, peaked, and it did so in 1998, and that last night, Christian put the last nail in its coffin. It’s dead now, folks. R.I.P.