Adam Lambert finally . . . uh . . . sidles into his sexuality? Gullible fans and enthusiasts spent the larger part of this year's Idol season being strung along by that show's publicists as media breathlessly sold copy on the question of "Is he or isn't he?!" There had been the usual speculation that Idol producers were silencing Lambert from discussing his orientation freely rather than, say, deliberately playing coy to generate more and more interest (and ratings) as the show barreled towards the finale.
The muzzling scenario only works if you believe Simon Cowell and others possessed the full powers of Shiwan Kahn, willing columnists, magazines, and thirty million viewers to never notice Lambert's single-man march to a Xanadu laced with heroin chic.
Rolling Stone has the ultimate anti-climax, with a cover and title that would be frighteningly anachronistic if it weren't so dishonest. "The sexual liberation of Adam Lambert?" Was there a single moment during the season and attending publicity (and internet photos, and career in musical theatre, and public appearances with his boyfriend) where Lambert was anything but liberated? Where did they attach the fierce shackles of heterosexual oppression, to his platform boots or the sequined pauldrons during the final Kiss number?
Actual gay progress would be denoted by the lack of "Yup, I'm Gay" media roll-outs. When they're no longer necessary, we've progressed.
Somewhat related, Andrew Sullivan uses the occasion to make a typically clueless observation about American culture. The Burning Man festival is based on self-expression accompanied by rampant drug use. Certainly nothing the older gays would have anything to do with. Only Lambert's newly liberated gay generation would participate in such a thing.