Really, today's Globe must have hit some kind of wacky new low. First, on the front page, Geoff Edgers snickers about some silly gay artporn down in New York - ditzy queen Kurt Kauper "drew on his childhood love of hockey" while painting the heads of Bobby Orr and other Bruins on the naked bodies of anonymous guys, and now his fever dreams are on display at the "hip" Deitch Gallery. Sigh. The paintings have, I suppose, a slightly interesting vibe of childish sexual fantasy - still, such pathetically transparent gay shenanigans always make me cringe. I mean, I've got nothing against naked sports stars - I think I own every Dieux du Stade (below) calendar ever made! - but really, shouldn't they at least consent to their own objectification? Somehow that seems only polite. And if these were paintings of women, would the Globe still be giggling? Somehow I don't think so. (As for Kauper's stuff operating as "art" - please; only Geoff Edgers could pretend that! Unless, of course, he's merely dangling red gay meat in front of the Globe's Neanderthal audience in a Herald-like maneuver - the probable explanation, actually.)
Not that the Globe doesn't have some Christmas porn for everyone. In the Living/Arts section, the girls get down with three big fat low-brow shows - White Christmas, Mamma Mia, and A Christmas Carol - and whaddya know, they just love every single one! Between Bobby and Irving Berlin, it looks like everybody can have a white Xmas!