Have you noticed the rash of gay slams in the media recently? No? Maybe that’s because they are often codified, less overt than the hateful trash Fred Phelps spews. But that doesn’t mean they’re any less disturbing.

Take this gem, from the March issue of Esquire, courtesy of the magazine’s “Answer Fella” advice column. Reader: “Can you talk to the guy next to you at the urinal?” Fella: “You want to know if it’s okay, don’t you, Twinkie?” (This from a men’s magazine that features, in the same issue, a 12-page fashion insert from Saks featuring an almost unnaturally pretty male model.) I don’t remember the rest of Answer Fella’s response — I was too outraged that a writer for a national magazine would dare use the word “twinkie” (widely considered to be a derogatory term applied to gay men, especially young, pretty men). Why not just call him a “bunny boy” “cha-cha queen” or “woolly-woofter” and get it over with?

Later I dropped in on a fitness website for men, where everyone was asked to list his top three workout songs. Said one poster boy: “‘Bye Bye Bye’ by ‘N Sync is a personal fave. And did I mention I also wear pink spandex to the gym?” (Listening to ‘N Sync = wearing sissy colors = being less than manly = being a fag.) Hardcore Muscle magazine thinks it’s acceptable to make fun of “pillow biters” (guys who chew on pillows to stay quiet while taking it up the bum, for those unfamiliar with this outdated term). The magazine is obviously oblivious or doesn’t care that it likely has numerous “pillow biters” on its subscription list.

And have you watched television lately? We all know that prime-time television has been pushing the envelope on language and sex for some time. So now you routinely hear “ass” and (thanks to rap) “bitch” (and ”bitch-slap”). Still, I was unprepared for what awaited me one night while cable channel surfing, which included sampling an episode of “Soul Food” on Bravo and a few minutes of the movie Bring It On (about competitive cheerleading). Apparently it’s now okay to say “titty,” as well as “bullshit,” “shit” and “fag” (as in, from Bring It On, “I didn’t know you spoke fag”). You can say “damn” but not “goddamn” — the “god” part is bleeped out, so only “damn” remains. “Titty,” “ass,” “bullshit” and “fag” are fine, but you’re prohibited from using the “G” word. How scary is that?

Anyone who knows me or reads my film reviews in this publication on any kind of regular basis knows I’m neither a puritan nor a PG-13 kind of guy. Though I’m not easily offended, I won’t hesitate to walk out on a movie (such as the homophobic and misogynistic Irreversible) that insults me. I love old Hollywood, but I don’t believe in a sunny, homogenized worldview any more than I embrace one full of darkness and cruelty. And of course I’m aware that, if I tune in HBO (which I watch pretty much exclusively), I’m exposed to all manner of salty language. But my concern goes far beyond cuss words. Bring It On was telecast on one of the four major networks at 8:00 p.m., a time when little ones and young adults are most likely to be watching. I worry that what impressionable youngsters might take away from that scene is that it’s perfectly acceptable (for “non-gay” people) to casually use the word “fag.” (Just don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.)

Mostly I’m disturbed that people think it’s once again safe to openly deride us, such as when radio DJs say, “That’s so gay.” (Hey, they’re just giving us a good-natured ribbing, right? Hmm…. Could someone explain where the good-natured part comes in?) From insensitive magazine editors to rap’s anti-queer lyrics, to Steve Martin’s grossly unfunny “gay mafia” jokes at this year’s Oscars, the climate for gay men (I wouldn’t dare speak for lesbians) seems to be changing from partly sunny to overcast. Matthew Shepherd has faded from straight America’s consciousness. Many would rather gloat over kicking Iraq’s ass, and make best-selling authors of the likes of conservative talk show host Michael Savage, who routinely bashes feminism and all things ”politically correct.” The kid gloves are coming off, and I for one am nervous.

Hunting season has returned — and without a single warning sign posted.