I don't mean to sound cranky, but it's a fact that every time I meet someone and tell them I debunk urban legends, the first question that pops out of their mouth is: "What about that thing with Richard Gere and the gerbil? Is that true?" You learn a lot about human nature in this racket — or should I say, a lot of your worst suspicions about human nature are confirmed, time and time again. Like, people everywhere are suckers for gossip about sex. Weird sex. The-weirder-the-better sex. We're obsessed with it, in fact, and that obsession can short-circuit our capacity for rational thought and render us gullible. Gerbilling: a definition How many here already know what "gerbilling" is? Raise your hands. Now, how many of you actually believe that anyone really does this sort of thing on a regular basis? Raise your hands. I see. Shame on you. For those of you still sitting on your hands, here's a definition: gerbilling (sometimes known as gerbil stuffing) is the practice, always attributed to gay men, of inserting a live rodent into one's rectum, or that of a partner, for erotic pleasure. And what are the facts about gerbilling? In reality, it's not a "practice" of any group of people, gay or otherwise. And while the activity, dangerous as it is (gerbils have sharp claws!), has surely been tried by someone, somewhere, sometime — maybe even more than once — it is not, if I may repeat myself, a common erotic pastime in any known culture or subculture, gay or otherwise. The burden of proof is on those who claim otherwise. Richard Gere and the gerbil The rumor that started all this fuss goes something like this: Several years ago, "they" say, Richard Gere was admitted into the emergency room of a Los Angeles hospital with foreign object lodged in his rectum. Some say Gere was alone when he arrived, others say he was accompanied by a friend (e.g., former love interest Cindy Crawford). In any case, an x-ray was taken and it was determined that the foreign object was a gerbil (either alive or dead, depending on who tells the story). Mr. Gere was rushed to surgery, where it took an entire team of doctors to extract the animal from his behind. Some variants say the gerbil was found to have been shaven and declawed; others claim the animal had been placed in a special plastic pouch. Still others insist the poor creature was Gere's own beloved pet (appropriately named "Tibet" in this variant). In any event, when the gerbilectomy was done the medical team was sworn to secrecy — unsuccessfully, we must conclude — and Gere went on his merry way, suffering no permanent harm other than to his reputation. "Is it true?" you ask. No. Not a shred of evidence has ever been unearthed to prove it. And while Gere himself has never confirmed nor denied it — nor, indeed, spoken of it directly at all — neither has any credible witness come forward in the twenty-odd years this story has been in circulation offering firsthand testimony to back it up. Because it didn't happen. It's folklore. After the rumor first surfaced, National Enquirer reporter Mike Walker spent months trying in vain to verify it. "I've never worked harder on a story in my life," he told the Palm Beach Post in 1995. Walker came away convinced he was chasing an urban legend. It should come as no surprise, then, Richard Gere wasn't the only — nor, indeed, even the first — U.S. celebrity defamed with such allegations. During the early 1980s, the same rumors circulated about a Philadelphia TV news anchorman named Jerry Penacoli, as well as a linebacker for the Cleveland Browns and various other local luminaries in big cities across America. It was Gere's misfortune to be the most famous among them. Unknown origin How, why, and where did this urban legend attach itself to Richard Gere? No one knows the specifics. Some commentators point out that shortly after Gere achieved national attention for his appearance in the film Pretty Woman, an anonymous hoaxer forged a fax alert purporting to originate from the ASPCA deriding the actor for what it called "gerbil abuse." The accusation was circulated from one end of Hollywood to the other, and beyond. But whether this was the legend's actual point of origin is uncertain. Why would someone invent such a story? For the same reasons any vicious rumor about a celebrity gets started. Movie stars are wealthy, powerful people, always in the public eye and always, therefore, the subject of envy. They're walking targets for defamation. There exist in this world people who seek to bolster their own self esteem by sullying other people's reputations — by trying, in essence, to steal a bit of that celebrity's fame and glory for themselves. It has been so since time immemorial. Every earmark of an urban legend The Gere story bears every earmark of an urban legend. While the basic narrative has stayed consistent through the years, smaller details have varied and mutated, exactly as one would expect in a retold a thousand times over. It found its way into the mainstream of popular culture through the usual means, a long chain of person-to-person communications by word of mouth, fax, and email. And, like all classic urban, the tale conveys an implicit moral message, articulated half-facetiously by Cecil Adams as: "Stick to mammals your own size." Lastly and most poignantly, the claim that the Gere story is authentic always rests on the alleged personal experience of someone who "was there when it happened," but who is always at least two or three acquaintances removed from the person actually telling the story: "a friend of a friend." Here are some verbatim examples culled from Internet discussions: A friend of mine's aunt is a nurse at the Los Angeles hospital where Gere was brought into, and confirmed that he was brought in after "playing" with a gerbil. Several nurses on staff went to get his autograph, and were shocked when they discovered his condition. Over the Christmas holidays I was talking to my sister about Urban Legends and the Richard Gere gerbeling incident came up. Her friend swears she was there at Cedar Cyni (someone help me with the spelling) in Los Angeles when it happened. Most everyone I've questioned who reported having heard the story offers some variation of the same claim: "I know someone who knows someone who was in that hospital when it happened." Based on how often that claim has been made, there must have been a hundred thousand personnel on duty at Cedars Sinai Hospital that night. But enough of this baloney. If you haven't had your fill of rodents, rectums and Richard Gere, do visit the gerbilling department of the AFU & Urban Legends Archive, where a crack team of urban legend experts labors ceaselessly to dislodge the truth for you. And if you care to bone up on the sorts of things all kinds of folks really do put in their hineys for fun, go (if you dare) to the Rectal Foreign Bodies home page and have a look around. It's an eye-opener. http://urbanlegends.about.com/od/celebrities/a/richard_gere.htm