"Mr. Gibson," I said as I shook hands with the dashing, young Lethal Weapon
star with the piercing blue eyes. "I am thrilled
that you've chosen me as your publicist. I swear, your image is in good hands, Mr. Gibson."
"Please, call me Mel. And that's all great to hear, Daniel," Mel Gibson said. "I really enjoy what your public relations firm has done, and I think this will be a wonderful relationship. I hope you're up for the challenge of making me
seem decent to the public."
"All due respect, Mel, but that's no challenge at all. You've got Leading Man written all over you. You're a huge star, you've done brilliant work already and you've got a great career ahead of yourself. You've given me the easiest job in the world. Just don't go saying anything stupid and we won't have a problem, right?"
"Oh, I won't. What am I,
, alright, I'm needed on set now. Talk to you soon!" He flashed a grin and quickly exited. He knew my name was O'Brien, it was clearly a joke. Nothing to be worried about. I had the successful, talented and devilishly charming Mel Gibson as my client. Like he said, this was the start of a wonderful relationship.
I called up Mel as soon as the December issue of El Pais
hit my desk.
Hey, Mel, it's me. Quick question: What, uhâ¦the hell?
Is this about the gay thing?
It is about the gay thing. You were asked what you thought of homosexuals, and that
is what you came up with?
Hey, I was just talking. Just talking, and pointing at my butt a little bit. Is that a crime? Should I pretend I didn't
say those things? Pretend I didn't
point at my butt and talk about poop in an interview? Really, I'm shocked it's even gotten this attention, I was just talking.
Hey, your beliefs are your beliefs, and whether or not I agree with what you think about homosexuality or, in a larger sense, the delicate and beautiful art of anal sex, the fact is, you feel the way you feel. That's you. It's not my place to tell