It was with orgasmic glee that I learned of Johnny Weir’s recent New Jersey court date. With a little luck and a sprinkling of fairy dust, this incident will hopefully come to be the start of a long list of legal disputes for the fading Ice Queen.
Weir sashayed into court this week to answer to domestic abuse charges for biting his husband Victor Voronov during a fight. Yes, biting. He bit his husband, something that would actually be kind of kinky if it didn’t involve Johnny Weir. It figures that Johnny Weir fights like a 14-year-old girl. Presumably the bite occurred in-between hair pulling and proclamations that Voronov is a fat skank. Regina George herself would surely tip her hat to such a grade-A catfight move. Well done, Mr. Weir. If I were Johnny Weir’s husband (that’s a horrifying thought), I’d keep my wits about me. Given the inevitable escalation of these types of things, the cocking of a weave-blade is surely next to come.
Now don’t get me wrong, domestic abuse is never funny… unless Johnny Weir is the perpetrator, then it’s always funny. I celebrate this for many reasons, and not just the ones you might imagine. Yes, this is the sort of low-brow trash that people like me feed off of, but that’s beside the point. The more important thing here is that this act is proof positive that Johnny has studied and learned well from the track record of the one true and unquestioned Queen of the Ice, Tonya Harding. This marital tussle is giving me shades of Tonya Harding’s 2000 arrest for throwing a hubcap at her boyfriend’s head after an argument, a feat that landed her a 3-day stint in jail. I live! Again, well done, Johnny Weir!
For years I was skeptical of your potential, Mr. Weir, but now I know I was wrong. I had feared that you were an overrated dilettante skating by on cheap witticisms and a dubious fashion sense, but now I know that you’re the real deal. It takes a true artist to give authentic shades of Tonya Harding, yet you did it with such deftness, such aplomb. I take this as proof that your media clown-whoring is here to stay and will excite and titillate me for years to come. I await your next transgression with bated breath.
Weir’s husband accompanied him to the court hearing and asked the judge to drop the charges, which he did. They skipped out gayfully, and though neither of them made an official statement, it would appear that all is well in Candy Land. I’m not so sure. Johnny Weir clearly has a deep wellspring of rage to work from. His book sucked and his skating career ended in shambles of its former glory. Furthermore the fashion career that he spoke so excitedly of has never materialized. That’s a genuine shame as I so dreamed of purchasing the full range of a Johnny Weir fashion line once it hit the clearance rack at Target. Time tends to ferment rather than allay the rage in fading divas, so I don’t think we’ve heard the last of this. Victor Voronov would be well advised to get the hell out before a Stoli bottle lands on his head.