‘Bred Crumbs

Dear ESPN,

What were you thinking with that whole New Year’s Eve show? The ways in which this thing was unwatchable, except in that way bad car wrecks aren’t, were numerous, even from the point of view of someone who witnessed it in a bar with the sound down.

First, who decided to dress unfortunate anchor Stuart Scott to make him look as silly as possible, in top hat and dorky glasses that fashioned him into the visage of a stuffed grandpa, and further accented that unnecessary dusting of a mustache he insists on having? Was it felt necessary to distract from the unpleasant sight of no-longer-so-Little Steven Van Zandt?

Then again, old Steven perfectly fit the evening’s inexplicable theme of decrepitude. Why would you ring in the new with such very, very old? Was anyone anywhere clamoring for the hauling out of the Troggs (or, as the closed captioning had it, the "Tromps") to churn out "Wild Thing"?

All I can figure is, you had no budget and assumed your audience would be wasted anyway. That, or your whole network is retooling for ’06 and going for more of a Vegas feel. Not in a lights-and-flashiness sense, but in a where-entertainment-goes-to-die sense. I didn’t realize your target demographic had gone off the senior cliff. My condolences.

At any rate, the sad sight of it all, combined with the bar’s decision to play the new Madonna album — which you cannot be held responsible for, I understand — helped drive us across the street sooner than expected, which resulted in our being subjected to Jessica Simpson. (Yes, Jessica Simpson, for a crowd of supposed adults. The next time someone claims gay men have good taste, throw that in there face.)

Therefore, forgiveness will be slow and begrudging.

Yours rarely,

’Bred Crumbs

Speaking of, Shudder, Jessica Simpson …

Dear Gay Video Bar in the Castro,

Why do so many of the videos you show feature female hotties shaking It all over the place? Do you not understand that the very definition of your audience is, or should be, a complete lack of interest in that?

But no one seemed to mind, given the requisite house soundtrack. You further kept the crowd appeased with comedy clips like the magnificently constructed "night the lights went out in Georgia" tirade from Designing Women, the end of which your patrons knew by heart. You even managed to find that most precious of diamonds, a funny recent SNL clip. And you threw me some bones with the Killers’ "Somebody Told Me" remix, and the quick hit of Jimmy Eats World that provided a welcome break from the thumpa-thumpa, and gave me a warm, mid-’90s "alternative" feeling that I’m sure, 40 years from now, will be at the heart of ESPN programming.

Questioningly,

’Bred Crumbs