Once upon a time, before it was considered trendy for young starlets like Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears and Paris Hilton to show off their Brazilian bikini waxes to limo-stalking paparazzi, celebrity nudity was scandalous. Whenever early-career rent-paying tits-n-ass photos of somebody famous surfaced, there was always an appropriate amount of shame and embarrassment involved. Now, it seems, there’s a collective “whatever” shrug from everyone, including the over-exposed celebs themselves who just don’t care how many billions of internet geeks are file sharing their crotch shots. The same even goes for their tawdry sex acts. Everybody who’s anybody has their very own sex tape now. And increasingly, they’re professionally produced and released on purpose. Chloe Sevigny, who infamously sucked off creepy director/actor Vincent Gallo in the name of pretentious art-house cinema, never seemed particularly concerned about how many millions watched her big scene out of context, compared to the three people who actually bothered to sit through the entirety of The Brown Bunny. Ms. Hilton, it turns out, didn’t object to everybody spending One Night in Paris once she got a big fat cheque for it. And, well, let’s spare Tom Sizemore the final indignity of being mocked here.
Now we have Daniel Radcliffe, Harry Potter himself, waving his wand at a horse in the stage play, Equus. Like the Christian fundamentalist wackos really needed something else about Harry Potter to bitch about. I’d show you a picture to better illustrate what I’m talking about -– particularly in the title of this blog –- but wee Danny Radcliffe is still only seventeen years old. A child. A baby. And I really don’t need the RCMP crawling up my ass for trafficking kiddie porn.
Of all these celebrities hell-bent on flashing their business, I’m most disappointed by Radcliffe. He’s British. And as a Brit, he should know the value of shame and embarrassment and personal mortification when it comes to anything sexual. Especially body parts best kept safely contained in one’s trousers. Well I, for one, plan to uphold that finest of old-world traditions even as today’s hot rich and famous youth lose their way. I am, and always shall be, deeply deeply ashamed of my body and will never show my wand, magic or otherwise, to anyone. Not even a horse. And of this shame, I am fiercely proud.