I miss Phil Donahue, and I am sad because I work so hard, yet no one calls me a "metrosexual."

Phil Donahue's slow, lazy, long harangues about Social Injustice during the late '80s and early '90 gave my life meaning then. Nothing has filled in that void. Sally Jessy Raphael was also one of my favorites (those red glasses were SEXY!), though her political screed was less hyper and dominating. Phil Donahue was a man for all seasons, a man with a true interiority, with a mind as acute and alacritous as the very camera that captured his visage. And that white hair and glasses look: admittedly attractive.

Donahue represented a politics of liberal longing--not for the better days of the future--but for the expressedly liberal, ideal past. That's really something that our discourse today lacks.

And as of yet, no one has so much as uttered the word "metrosexual" around my presences. Perhaps I am too fastidious, take too good of care of my body hair, for such a plaudit. Yet I long for it, like the disgraced Christian longs for the return of Jesus H. Christ. Maybe I need to look more like Angelina Jolie's brother.

Some die for the notoriety.