The looks of the Eurovision singers? But enough, it’s really time to put an end to this puritanism. We can no longer stand retrogrades anchored to stereotypes that are always identical. Because the truth is that they are the bigots. People who insist on going on stage with a skirt instead of trousers and perhaps a bra to rub a pretense of non-binary sexuality in our faces. No scandal, but how boring it is to see the usual men with powder pink tights and faces made up not like women, but like those of a freak. Like the Swiss Nemo who didn’t sing a bad song and perhaps would have won even without using a First Communion costume that was more reminiscent of manga than gay rights. But does Irishman Bambie Thig really think he can scandalize us with the neo-pagan witchcraft sect to make sense of the satanic metal of her Doomsday Blue? Did the English people who, with dramatic delay, stage something similar to soft porn ever listen to Mondo Bondage or see a Tubes show in the Seventies? Just like how unlistenable Spain was with the soundtrack to Mery Bas’s threesome theater with the bearded figures in guêpière and stiletto heels whose fetishism is as revolutionary as mozzarella on pizza. Ever heard of Lou Reed, David Bovie or Freddie Mercury? Poor things. Forced to attend a one-night carnival to dress up as transgressives, leaving the rays of dawn with the task of melting away the greasepaint and returning them to their creative nothingness. Because the problem isn’t shocking, but knowing how to do it. Transgression is the fruit of genius, it is the soul of art and philosophy, but also of science before entertainment. Humanity progresses through transgressions and so how much genius does it take to do so. And the scoundrels are immediately recognisable. How much genius there was in Renato Zero with his triangles and disguises, those so disruptive in a society presided over by Christian Democrats, Communists and post-fascists who all thought the same about morals and customs. And on free sexuality, these acrobats should be told that the best way is not to sell them off to record companies and TV producers who profit from them, before throwing them away like a Kleenex at the end of the season. And perhaps, since being left-wing is also part of the stereotype, we tell them that during Fascism, even in government there were plenty of homosexuals in suits and ties. That the freest, most unbridled and liquid sex was practiced by the legionaries in Fiume with Gabriele D’Annunzio, that the icon of homosexual aesthetics is Yukio Mishima photographed by the pierced San Sebastiano. Of course, we should study.
And a finger of makeup is not enough to cover the conformism of these vaudeville non-conformists.
