Get out!
Dwight Addison unmasks the gay celebrities among us!

[Note: this satirical piece for 'fab' was canned at the eleventh hour - a cover blurb still mentioned it! - because of a fear that its subject would sue. Either my satire wasn't funny enough or someone had no sense of humour whatsoever - you make the call]

While it’s certainly heartbreaking that the brilliant and hilarious “Ellen” has been cancelled, we must not forget the bravery that its talented star, Ellen DeGeneres, displayed by coming out, on screen and off. We are all better off thanks to her. Unfortunately, not all gay celebrities are as courageous. George Michael, for instance, had to be arrested in a toilet stall before he could declare himself (too little, too late, George!). Such sordidness could have been avoided if he’d been able to come out back when he was successful!

For the benefit of people like George – and the entire gay and lesbian community – this new column will seek to tear open those oppressive closet doors, to allow celebrities to come out and finally find happiness, and our first recipient is...Bryan Adams. Oh sure, it’s completely obvious that our guitar-slinging Prairie boy is part of the family but let’s review the evidence anyway...

Unlike most famous people, Bryan is intensely private. While Richard Gere and Cindy Crawford loudly proclaim their heterosexuality at every opportunity (such a tragic covering-up gesture!), Bryan keeps his lips sealed, refusing to discuss dating and relationships – in much the same way k.d. lang used to. One of his hits was called “Do I Have To Say The Words?” – Bryan’s equivalent of Michael Stipe’s “Losing My Religion.” His secrecy has even led him to re-invent his past. Starting his first rock band in the “Summer of ‘69”? Oh please...he was nine years old!

In 1995, he released a glossy photo book documenting his last world tour and his life on the road. There are pictures of Bryan going about his business, visiting foreign cities and relaxing in various homes and hotels but no mention of any woman, just him hanging out with his artistic musician friends. The introduction features a photo of Bryan in a bar with Andrew Catlin, a photographer who accompanied Bryan around the world and took most of the photos, many of which feature Bryan lolling about the house in boxer shorts. With this book, Andrew says, “You won’t ever get the whole story, but you’ll get a few clues.” How coy! At one point, Bryan discusses his conversion to vegetarianism: “Since eating my last piece of dead cow, I have become very alternative in my way of thinking.” Why, this man is just begging to come out!

His last album featured a video with Bryan trying out a glam look, all Versace suits and supermodels. It didn’t work – one might say the video was just Too Funky for him – but the title of that album said it all: “18 Till I Die,” a phrase that might as well be stenciled on an archway over Church and Wellsley.

Now, of course, the question must be asked: if Bryan is so protective of his privacy, why care if he’s ever REALLY loved a woman? If he stands up to be counted, everybody benefits: not only does Bryan keep his records from sounding as silly as Wham albums, but also the diversity of the gay community would be enriched. Somewhere out west, there are plaid-shirt-wearing, raspy-voiced, power-ballad-singing gay teens that need a role model to feel good about themselves. So, Bryan, it’s time to step forward, for the sake of those kids who wanna rock! This one thing you do, do it for them!