So He Who Must Not Be Named finally fumbled his way out of the closet, huh?
Not that anyone is really surprised.
Well, I suppose some people might be. I'm sure the Claymates are wailing and gnashing their teeth today. Who will they make death-threats against now that the truth is out?
I have never watched a single episode of American Idol, nor do I listen to any radio stations that might play Clay's music, so I hadn't even heard the icky Howdy-Doody-looking creature sing until I saw a commercial for his compilation of diva power-ballads.
Wow, is that some total shite! Seriously, my right ear (the bad one) still drips blood occasionally from the abuse it suffered during that one interminable minute ten months ago.
Okay, Ricky Martin. Time to step up and take one for the team. You owe us, baby. We watched you on General Hospital and we even pretended to like soccer for you. Now shake your bon-bon and fess up.
And please, no power ballads.