Los Angeles Times columnist Joel Stein isn't a gay man, but he thinks a little bit like one. Case in point: His column in this morning's paper, proclaiming the death of adult Halloween and the birth of a new kind of celebration: Slut Day.

Slut Day, Stein proposes, "will take place the first Saturday of every August, a time both barren of holidays and plenty hot enough for really degrading costumes. Slut Day festivities include costume parties with themed drinks such as the Lindsay Lohan (just whatever in a giant glass) and, if possible, flat-screen TVs showing the latest celebrity sex tapes and select parts of 'Meerkat Manor.' Or anything else. Flat-screen TVs are just sexy."

What used to be the adult side of Halloween, Stein says, is becoming too constrained . . . too assimilationist . . . too boring. And he may have a point. What used to be the gayest of all holidays is now a little, well, mainstream.

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On Tuesday night here in Washington, for example, the famous gay strip we call 17th Street, N.W. will be innundated with drag queens, exhibitionists . . . and a large group of straight men who now come to watch the festivities known as The High Heel Race unfold. The event, which has Washington's mayor as its grand marshall, has become a must-attend social networking event in D.C., not much different than the inaugural ball.

And the race - in which men in high heels run for three blocks for the right to proclaim themselves the best-balanced (if not best dressed) gay man in Washington - is fun. But it's not what it once was. The edge; the controversy and the subverisveness of it all is gone. (The real Whitney Houston, I submit to you, is a hell of a lot scarier than a Whitney drag queen.)

Truth be told, the race down gay Dupont's 17th Street isn't a whole lot edgier than the race for the White House. And they both involve too many coral jackets and too many unwarranted discussions about cleavage.

Stein sees a similar lurching towards normalcy on the west coast, too. And that, he argues, is exactly why we need Slut Day - to put the sex (and sexiness) back in the holidays.

"Slut Day rights the wrong that dates to the late '80s, when San Francisco's Exotic Erotic Ball," he says, "which takes place on Halloween, went mainstream. Even at liberal-yet-uptight Stanford University, I was dragged with my freshman dorm mates to an Exotic Erotic party, where I wore a red clip-on bow tie and a plastic bag from the campus bookstore that I had punctured for leg holes. . . . It was neither exotic nor erotic."

"So we need to invent a separate holiday when adults can get drunk and finally wear that pair of boots that seemed OK in the store but it turns out go up a little higher than you thought."

But will Condi Rice let me back in her closet (no pun intended!) after that Bilerico post I wrote about her? Or will I be forced to borrow Fred Thompson's Gucci heels?

There are so many questions - and so many preparations - to get ready for Slut Day.

But the point behind the idea is a good one. We need our edge back, people. We need our sinful-sexual hedonistic mojo.

We need an August Saturday filled with Condi Rice boots and a harem of bad boys.

Isn't Slut Day a holiday whose time has come?

We'll even let Joel Stein dress up as Whitney and play bartender. I don't know what he's planning on putting in that 'Lindsay Lohan,' but "crack is whack," Joel. Crack is whack.

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