Jack Chick's Chick Tracts seriously piss me off. They are also totally fascinating — in part because they piss me off.
Growing up in a small town in Mississippi, you might assume I'd had bible-thumping parents, but in fact, they were pretty mild on the god front. Dad always wanted us to accompany him to church, but if he didn't go, we certainly didn't have to walk over by ourselves. Mom was agoraphobic and almost never attended services, insisting that you don't have to go in order to be a good Christian. Pretty lax, no?
The peer pressure was another story--the "holier than thou" race between me and my classmates. In church we'd all promise to be Upstanding Young Citizens, but obviously the world doesn't work like that, especially when you're a teenager with raging hormones. Much less raging gay hormones. When I got to college, I finally stopped caring what my peers thought and quit going to church altogether. I haven't looked back.
That said, I'm still uncomfortable with religious zeal. All the Jeebus freeks who descend on the Quarter for Decadence and Mardi Gras--I know they're totally laughable, but at the same time, something about them really pushes my buttons. Maybe it's all the shouting they do. (My list of fetishes, though long, doesn't include being yelled at.) Or perhaps it's the fact that they've gone all Stepford for god, quoting scripture instead of engaging in intelligent debate. Or maybe it's the simple fact that they've come into my neighborhood to judge me and my friends.
Worst (or maybe best) of all, every one of them is passing out Chick Tracts, pocket-sized comics that insist the reader is going to hell and then explain why. The message is awful, but the way it's told is so outrageous, so over the top, so queeny...well, you can't help but read the damn things. I used to go up to the freeks and ask for extra copies so I could make sure I had them all.
Understandably, today's BoingBoing feature on Syd Garron and Rodney Ascher's film Somebody Goofed is of special interest to me. Somehow, I'd never managed to see the film, even though it's over 10 years old. Whether or not it was truly "groundbreaking" (I remember seeing similar work on MTV's Liquid Television several years earlier), it definitely captures--and maybe enhances--Chick's peculiar style:
FYI, there's a cleaner version on YouTube (i.e. no BMW ads interrupting the god stuff), but it doesn't look quite as crisp as Xeni's. Take your pick.
Porn filmed in Japanese McDonald's? I'm rubbin' it!
McDonald's customers suspected something amiss when one guy pulled out his whopper. They knew for sure when he began partaking of fur burger. The upshot was four people trying to make an adult movie in a fast food outlet ended up getting arrested....
An adult movie production company associate adds his two bits.
"They probably did something that stupid because they wanted to cut production costs," the associate says.
"Putting the actress's wages aside, 10 years ago most cheap adult movies had a budget of about 1 million yen, but now that figure is more likely to be 500,000 yen or, in really bad cases, only around 300,000 yen. If you've only got 300,000 yen to work with, there'll be no room to book a studio or hotel room once you've rented the filming equipment and paid the guys' wages. So that's probably why they filmed in the fast food restaurant...."
For those doing the math, remember: markets vary, but 1 Japanese yen is usually worth about 1 US penny. So 300,000 yen = 3000 dollars, more or less. Which isn't really enough to film opening credits in the Valley, much less a bona fide scene.
Assuming John, Hillary, and Barack have sufficiently addressed the rising costs of oil and food in their platforms, maybe they ought to add a statement about the rising cost of porn. That'd be enough to make even me pay attention.
A BRIEF SUMMARY OF MY POLITICAL VIEWS Because I've completely lost interest in the presidential campaigns, and I'm wondering why.
My opinions haven't changed much in 20 years, though I've certainly become less vocal.
My opinions have never been especially strong, though I give regularly to certain causes.
My father claims to be a conservative, though he and I are closer on some issues than he'd like to admit.
My adoptive mother taught me to be compassionate, though she seems to have lost that trait herself.
My biological mother and I agree on most things, and I only met her six years ago. Are political views genetic?
I'm happy that grad school gave me the ability to see issues from multiple perspectives, but it can make decisions a little difficult.
My boyfriend is more willing to make a political statement than I am, which is kinda remarkable for a double-Libra.
I've never put up a yard sign for a candidate. Mostly because I've never had a yard.
I've never permanently attached a political bumper sticker to my car, though I've used Scotch tape.
Although I hate to admit it, I seem to be an "issues voter". And now that the issues are (mostly) going my way, I've gotten lazy.
There's no one to demonize in the upcoming election, which makes things a little dullsville. Of course, the vice presidential candidates haven't been announced yet. Perhaps someone will take a cue from reality TV and throw WendyPepper in the mix. Just to spice things up. (NB: Absolutely no pun intended with "pepper" and "spice". Gag.)
I'm all for gays and reality television and all, but this kinda makes my skin crawl:
Are you and your gay BFF the real life Will & Grace?
Are your friends constantly calling you Will and Grace? Jack and Karen? Kathy and her best gay? A new game show celebrating the fascinating, complex, and hilarious relationship between straight girls and their gay best friend is now casting! So if you're fun, outrageous, and know a lot of pop culture and mindless trivia, then we want you as a CONTESTANT!
We are looking for BFF couples of all ages, who have a great dynamic together to take part in this new game show for a major cable network. If you think that you and your BFF would be fabulous, make sure to include pictures and info about both of you as well as how long you you've known each other and a brief description of your relationship. You must be available May 20 and 21.
I know: total ick, right? But maybe some of you aren't as creeped about playing minstrels à la Will and Grace. In which case, you know, go for it.
If you have a Grand Central account, please let me know! A friend of mine needs an account, but the site's in beta (again), so you have to be invited to participate, and you can only be invited by current members, so...well, you see where this is going.
1. For the two of you who haven't heard: Chriso's band, Ex-Boyfriends, just released a new video, like, Wednesday. Rock out while you're playing ForumWarz and downing butter mints from the breakroom, waiting for the big hand to hit 5.
2. Martijn Hendriks' latest project involves removing all the birds from The Birds, one frame at a time. It's pretty gimmicky, and sadly, the result is pretty weak. His digi-skills are far from perfect, and since he doesn't remove the audio, it's kinda like nothing changed. Garfield Minus Garfield does the same thing, but totally way better. See for yourself:
Also: the whole "Hitchcock homage" has been done to death (perhaps most intriguingly by Stan Douglas). Which is not to say that future artists shouldn't explore Hitchcock's work, but if you're gonna tread on well-trodden turf, you better bring it, bitch.
3. An overview of war in the 20th and 21st centuries, as told through food. Or rather, with food:
Courtesy of BoingBoingTV, which offers a slightly different version with helpful titles.
4. And here's a really crappy copy of one of Jonno's faves: Dara Birnbaum's Kiss the Girls:
5. Someone mashed up a bunch of snippets from Reform School Girls--a film that's been occupying a lot of my time recently. Mainly because we're performing it in less than a month:
6. And a parting gift of even more video fabulosity, including a full (hooray!), downloadable (hooray!), QuickTime (boo!) version of Todd Haynes' Barbie doll masterpiece, Superstar. Totally. Not. Kidding.
I'm not what you'd call a political activist, but this crossed my inbox a couple of minutes ago, and I thought it was worth passing on. I hope you'll consider signing the petition, whether you live in New Orleans or not.
Right-wing pastor John Hagee says Katrina was New Orleans' fault. John McCain sought out, and embraces, Hagee's support. MoveOn members are trying to deliver a petition to McCain in New Orleans just a few hours from now: will you sign?
Here's the background: McCain wants America to see him as a compassionate, mainstream politician. So he's going to New Orleans today for a photo-op in the 9th Ward.
But he's still trying to shore up his right-wing base—so this past Sunday, he again welcomed the support of right-wing evangelist John Hagee, who said "Hurricane Katrina was, in fact, the judgment of God against the city of New Orleans."1
MoveOn members in New Orleans have organized an emergency rally outside McCain's event today. With the media looking on, they'll try to deliver our petition asking him to stop pandering to right-wing bigots like Hagee. They'll announce an up-to-the-minute number of signatures, and we'll have a real impact if we can say that hundreds of thousands have signed in only a few hours. Clicking here will add your name:
The petition reads: "John Hagee continues to blame the people of New Orleans for the catastrophe of Katrina. Senator McCain: If you reject intolerance and bigotry, reject Hagee's political support and stop courting hate-mongers like him."
This is not a gaffe or a "gotcha." Hagee has a history of bigoted comments and he stood by his New Orleans remarks just days ago.2 And McCain's strategy is intentional—he's been working hard to court far-right leaders like Jerry Falwell and John Hagee, despite their hateful views.3 Even when he was pressed about Hagee's hateful views, McCain said he was "glad to have his endorsement."4
Hagee's words matter. Katrina was a terrible reminder of the consequences of bigotry and exclusion. People without resources, without political power, literally sank beneath the waves while our government did nothing.
John McCain is relying for political support on a man who preaches bigotry and exclusion, who spreads the kind of hate that allowed Katrina to become a man-made tragedy. While the media is focused on his New Orleans visit, we need to call him on it.
The more folks who sign the petition in the next few hours, the greater our impact. Clicking here will add your name right now:
We need to let Senator McCain know that he can't use New Orleans for a photo-op while still courting the political support of hate-mongers like Hagee. New Orleans deserves better and America does, too.
Thank you very much for all you do.
-–Eli, Justin, Lenore, Patrick S., Anna, and the MoveOn.org Political Action Team, Thursday, April 24th, 2008
Sources:
1. "Will MSNBC devote as much coverage to McCain's embrace of Hagee's support as it did to Obama's rejection of Farrakhan?" Media Matters, February 28th, 2008
http://mediamatters.org/items/200802280018
"Will MSNBC devote as much coverage to McCain's embrace of Hagee's support as it did to Obama's rejection of Farrakhan?" Media Matters, February 28th, 2008
http://mediamatters.org/items/200802280018
Allow me to clarify: I am not a science nerd anymore. Yes, there was a time when Boyle's and Charles' Law held my interest and gave me hope for a better tomorrow. Then got to college and discovered keggers and I was, like, so over it.
Nevertheless, there is a teeny, tiny part of me that envies Bill Nye and his scientific ilk. It manifests itself mostly in the pleasure I take in hand-coding web pages and exploring the embed codes for third-party apps. (I know: express train to Snoozeville.) But yesterday, I kinda went wiggy over something completely different: the temporary opening of the Bonnet Carré Spillway.
Those who don't live in the Mississippi River Basin might not know that the river is currently at or above flood stage along its lower route. To ease the pressure on the river levees--which, for the ten millionth time, were not the levees that failed during Katrina--the now-attentive Army Corps of Engineers has opened the gates to the Bonnet Carré Spillway, injecting Lake Pontchartrain with some of the Mississippi's silty goodness.
I didn't think much of it when the floodgates swung open a couple of weeks ago (although some people clearly think about it a lot). But then I drove over the spillway en route to Baton Rouge yesterday, and...well, it's kinda cool. Water is rushing through little inlets and bayous, and a couple hundred yards into the lake, there's all this mist--presumably where the warm-ish river water reaches the colder depths of the lake. I didn't get so obsessed that I pulled over to take pics or anything, but, yeah, it was nifty. See it if you can.
FIRST COCKFIGHTING, NOW PISS-PEEKING: IS NOTHING SACRED?
(Apart from drinking and driving, of course)
Oh, Louisiana legislature....
You may look more or less the same in your two-button blazers and your unattractive chambers, but you've changed.
You've changed, man.
You always said you were gonna buck the trend. Sure, you caved in on some stuff--important stuff like integration and public smoking. That kinda thing. That was totally okay. But you've stuck to your guns on other matters, proud of our state's traditions and eager to force them on your children and their children's children.
But now? Now y'all have legislated yourselves right outta kickbacks, fer chrissakes! You've taken away cockfighting, and you've tried your damnedest to pull up our sagging pants. You are essentially dismantling the crazy quilt of Louisiana's cultural history and turning it into a double wedding ring of tasteful ecru damask and remnants of rose-colored satin. Where is your fabled sense of whimsy? Where, dammit?!
Then last week came the cruelest blow:
Louisiana legislators have approved a resolution calling for "privacy dividers" to be installed at urinals men's public bathrooms.
The resolution does not have the force of law. It will now be up to state health officials to amend Louisiana's plumbing code to require the privacy partitions.
The resolution was sponsored by Democratic state Rep. Mickey Guillory of Eunice. The reason, according to the resolution, is that "sexual offenders, sexually violent predators, and child predators can easily violate the privacy of others using urinals...."
SUNDAY IS FOR SPONTANEITY, SOMETIMES CALLED IMPATIENCE
* * *
Yesterday, at my father's wedding
This morning, after deciding I looked too shaggy at my father's wedding
Unintended, but comfy nonetheless
I hadn't really wanted to go this short, but I accidentally gave myself a New Iberia Haircut (as Dave et al call it), and this seemed like the only way to fix matters. But whatever: as long as I have hair, it'll grow back, right?
Believe it or not, I've never been a Madonna fan. I mean, yeah, "Everybody" was kinda cute in a minimalist way, and I've shaken a tailfeather to some of her other songs at clubs, but I've never actually bought anything--unless you count that one Jellybean Benitez single where she sang background vocals, though that seems like a stretch.
My reluctance to embrace Madonna/Esther/the MG has always been an enigma--to my friends and also to me. But today, I learned that my aversion, like her love, is totally justified. In an article that's not even really about her, I found this:
After recently sitting close enough to Madonna at a restaurant in Mayfair to see the svelte star's lunch of a single boiled egg, I wonder if the saying Blondes have more fun is really true.
Now, anyone who knows me knows I'm not a picky eater. I'll eat nearly anything you put in front of me--vegetable, animal, and occasionally, mineral. But there are two things I simply cannot stomach: a Japanese pickled plum and a hard-boiled egg. (NB: Jonno shares my egg hang-up. In fact, it was one of the things over which we bonded early in our relationship. We celebrate 11 years next week, so, you know, take it for what you will.)
Even worse: not only is Madonna eating the damn thing--in public!--but it's the only thing she's eating. That just seems reckless and masochistic. Either the botox has rendered her totally insane, or she's not from this planet at all.
IF YOU GO AWAY
A brief duet with my eldest dog, Gaston
GASTON:(Following ME to the front door) If you go away on this summer day, then you might as well take the sun away!
ME:(Crouching to stroke GASTON's graying head) Aw! Poor baby! I'll be back in just a bit. You be a good boy--
GASTON: All the birds that fly in the summer sky--
ME: Well technically it's still spring. Not that you'd notice in that bigass fur coat of yours, but whatever.
GASTON: When our love was new and our hearts were high, when the day was young and the night was long--
ME: Um, I don't know exactly what you're implying, but do you mind keeping your voice down?
GASTON: And the moon stood still for the night bird's song.
ME:(Standing to unlock the door) Sweetheart, you know how I feel about birds.
GASTON: If you go away, if you go away, if you go away.... (Sobs)
ME: (Crouching again) Oh, don't cry, Gaston. I'll be right--
GASTON:(Squirming from my grasp and running excitedly up and down the hall) But if you stay, I'll make you a day like no day has been, or will be again!
ME: Atta boy! That's a good boy! Who's a good boy?!
GASTON: We'll sail the sun, we'll ride on the rain, We'll talk to the trees and worship the wind.
ME: Okaaay, easy does it, kiddo....
GASTON: Then if you go, I'll understand. Leave me just enough love to fill up my hand. If you go away, if you go away, if you go away....
ME: You're starting to freak me out, Gaston. Just a little.
GASTON: If you go away, as I know you will, you must tell the world to stop turning till you return again--if you ever do--for what good is love without loving you?
ME: Has Jonno been letting you watch AMC while I'm at work? 'Cause you're sounding a lot like Glenn Close right now, and with your digestive problems--
GASTON: Can I tell you now, as you turn to go? I'll be dying slowly till the next hello.... If you go away, if you go away, if you go away....
ME: Wow. Bravo. I think living in a house with a couple of drama queens has really rubbed off on you, Miss Bernhardt--
GASTON:(Again with the excitement and the galloping and subsequent wheezing) But if you stay, I'll make you a night like no night has been, or will be again!
ME: Does that mean you'll quit farting in bed?
GASTON: I'll sail on your smile, I'll ride on your touch, I'll talk to your eyes that I love so much.
ME: Well, thanks. What a nice thing to say! I'd been thinking about Lasik so I could lose the glasses, but then all that Kathy Griffin conflamma went down--
GASTON: But if you go, I won't cry, though the good is gone from the word "goodbye"! If you go away, if you go away, if you go away....
ME: Gaston, I'm just running to the corner store for more dog food. I'll be back in five--
GASTON: If you go away, as I know you must--
ME: Dude, did you hear what I just said?
GASTON: There'll be nothing left in the world to trust. Just an empty room, full of empty space, like the empty look I see on your face--
ME: Are you saying you aren't going to hop right up on the sofa and shed your heart out as soon as I'm out the door?
GASTON: Laisse-moi devenir l'ombre de ton ombre--
ME: Wait...what?
GASTON: L'ombre de ta main--
ME: So all those times I've spoken to you in French to keep my vocab fresh--you've understood?
GASTON: L'ombre de ton chien
ME: Um, you are my dog.
GASTON: If you go away, if you go away, if you go away....
If you are reading this, please send me an email as soon as possible. I have important news. Not tragic or awful or life-changing, but important.
To the rest of you:
There is something to be said for acquiring an easy-to-remember email address and committing to it for the rest of your life. Which is not to say that you can never have another email account, but please leave a forwarding address.
When it comes to music, I'm kinda OCD. I'll listen to new songs nonstop for a day or a week or maybe a little longer; then I'll file them away and wait patiently for another obsession to come rolling by.
That's where I found myself a couple of days ago: at the bottom of the sonic shame spiral. I'd been listening to the same five tracks for over a week, too focused on ALT-CLICKing and CRTL-Ving the bags from people's eyes to bother changing my playlist. Then one of my co-workers began singing along from the next room, and I thought "Oh, maybe this is bad."
The same afternoon, I stumbled across that curious item about Fraulein Lagerfeld playing DJ on Grand Theft Auto. And the next morning, by some strange alignment of stars, all of my musically inclined friends had flooded my inbox with mixes of one variety or another. So I'm pretty sure the Universe or Jeebus or Satan or Tura Satana is telling me to spruce up my aural environment. And really: who am I to argue with Tura Satana?
All of which leads me to my music list for today:
My sister has proven herself the superior sibling in all matters of taste. Her latest radio show features ditties from Bongwater, Motorhead, and sis herself. Which will come in handy when I'm doing all those Rock & Republic ads that I never do.
DJ Dupuy was my partner in the tech booth for Trannyshack. Thanks to Andy (and Jonno), I am having a seriously hard time getting that Hercules and Love Affair thing out of my head.
Around the corner from Andy lies Chriso and his band, Ex-Boyfriends, whose latest album is the only thing motivating my fat ass on the treadmill these days.
I'm lip-synchingly familiar with the Róisín Murphy track "You Know Me Better", but Jocko just alerted me to the video. Which I'll watch ad infinitum when my computer decides to cooperate. Or when I stitch it together from the fragments I find on the sidewalk below my window.
Last (and least) my own personal mixes--one new, one old. Yeah, it's all stuff I already own, but in kind of a weird order. Just to, you know, mix it up.
Asked whether she could forgive her husband after an extramarital affair...Wendy Vitter told the Times-Picayune: "I'm a lot more like Lorena Bobbitt than Hillary [Clinton]. If he does something like that, I'm walking away with one thing, and it's not alimony, trust me."
Sadly, Wendy had to eat those words. Maybe she was worried about finding the right knife. Or perhaps she was concerned about the legal ramifications of conducting an unauthorized penectomy. Or maybe she underwent a great sexual awakening and found herself more titillated by her husband's peccadilloes than she'd imagined. Whatever: her bloodthirsty moment passed.
But now girlfriend may get another chance. Because just as the "DC Madam" case is going to trial, the Louisiana senate has passed a bill that paves the way for legalized castration. Which is not quite the same thing as a penectomy, of course, but it's in the ballpark.
Unprecedented Midday Update:
Karl Lagerfeld Becomes a Video-Game Character!
Karl Lagerfeld, video game warrior?
Not quite, but the designer will get his game close-up in the much-anticipated fourth installment of "Grand Theft Auto," due out on April 29. While "Grand Theft Auto" fanatics will not encounter Lagerfeld speeding down the road or lurking in a dark alley, they can cruise through the game's Liberty City listening to him on the radio as he DJs on air at the game's K109 The Studio station.
Either the End Times truly are upon us, or life is about to get exponentially more fabulous. If the Spice Girls of the Apocalypse appear on the horizon, I guess we'll know for sure.
Bad news: Our "leaders" in Baton Rouge are looking to repeal a law requiring motorcyclists to wear--gasp!--helmets.
Good news: If the repeal passes, the mortality rate for idiots will skyrocket.
Bad news: David Vitter loves fast cars and loose women, but to the best of our knowledge, he doesn't ride motorcycles.
Good news: Former governator Mike Foster can give him helmet-free lessons.
Bad news: Our recent eBay purchase of an Arte Johnson-style Kaiser Wilhelm helmet may have been for naught.
Good news: Sources say legislators may attach a friendly amendment also outlawing chaps.*
* Funny, you'd think that as a gay man, I'd be all into the chaps thing. But one too many sightings of a leathered-up Grandpa Walton getting gassed up at the Exxon has totally cured me.
Luckily, 300 less-lame folks didn't. And based on what I saw from my perch in the DJ booth, they all had a faaaaabulous time. Jonno's photos totally prove it.
In fact, the night was such a success that we're considering a repeat. Stay tuned, ladies.
Friday's Poetry Party:
Blank verse from White Ladies Contemporaries of Jones, Miss Grace Jones
Did I ask you for your love?
Did I ask you for your dedication?
I don't want, I don't want your love!
I don't want, I don't want your affection!
But I've got to have the car--
I need it for the weekend.
I've got to have the stereo--
A couple of deletions.
I've got to have the freezer--
Put some fun back in my eating.
I've got to have it all until I'm complete!
* * * * *
Sun's coming up, like a big bald head. Poking up over the grocery store.
Sharkey wakes up and Sharkey says: "There was this man.... And there was this road.... And if only I could remember these dreams, I know they're trying to tell me...something."
* * * * *
Oh yeah, I'm back there in Pilgrim times, over in Salem, Massachusetts or New England somewhere. And I was walking by a town square. They were having some kind of public execution. I see they've got some chick tied up to a stake, like Joan of Arc or somethin'.
And as I get closer, I notice it's my mother.
Except she looks just like Ethel Merman.
And they've got this big wooden vice attached to her head, and they're twistin' the knobs, tighter and tighter and tighter around her head. And as they're twisting away, and as they're twisting away, Ethel, my mom, looks around and sees me--Ann, her daughter--staring at her from the crowd.
And with tears in her eyes--tears in her eyes--she tells me she loves me.
Except she sings it:
"I love you!"
"I love you!"
And on the third "I love you!", her head pops like an overripe pumpkin on Halloween night.
"Why?" I sob! "Why? Why?" I sob! "Why? Why? Why? Why?"
Just because she was a ballsy lady?
Just because she was a belter?
Just because she lived with cats and worked with herbs?
Why, before you know it the FDA is gonna destroy the entire holistic community!
Let's see, uh.... It was on an island. And there was this snake. And the snake had legs. And he could walk all around the island. Yes, that's true: a snake with legs. And the man and the woman were on the island too. And they were not very smart, but they were happy as...clams. Yes.
Let's see, uh.... Then one evening the snake was walking about in the garden, and he was talking to himself, and he saw the woman, and they started to talk. And they became friends.
Very good friends.
And the woman liked the snake very much. Because when he talked, he make little noises with his tongue, and his long tongue was lightly licking about his lips. Like there was a little fire inside his mouth. And the flame would come dancing out of his mouth. And the woman liked this...very much.
And after that, she was bored with the man. Because no matter what happened, he was always as happy as a...clam.
What did the snake say? Yes! What was he saying?
Okay. I will tell you.
The snake told her things about the world. He told her about the time there was a big typhoon on the island and all the sharks came out of the water. Yes, they came out of the water and they walked right into your house with their big white teeth. And the woman heard these things. And she was in love. And the man came out and said: "We have to go now!" And the woman did not want to go. Because she was a hothead. Because she was a woman in love.
Anyway, we got into their boat and left the island. But they never stayed anywhere very long. Because the woman was restless. She was a hothead. She was a woman in love.
Thursday's Poetry Party:
Blank verse from Grace Jones Because the children may have forgotten
J'en ai marre of your theatrics.
Your acting's a drag.
It's okay on TV, but you can turn it off.
* * * * *
Louder, can you hear me? Nightclubbing, nightclubbing,
We're what's happening!
Nightclubbing, nightclubbing,
We're an ice machine.
We see people--brand new people.
They're something to see.
We're nightclubbing,
Bright-white clubbing.
Oh isn't it wild?
* * * * *
Pull up to my bumper baby,
In your long black limosine.
Pull up to my bumper baby,
And drive it in between.
* * * * *
Feeling like a woman, Looking like a man,
Sounding like a no-no,
Mating when I can,
Whistling in the darkness,
Shining in the night,
Coming to conclusions,
Right is night is tight,
Walking, walking,
In the rain.
* * * * *
Call the police!
You're bigger than I am! Shit!
The telephone--call the goddamn police!
What do you mean you're scared?
I'm scared too, I'm not going down there!
Uh-uh, I'm staying right here, I'm gonna lock my door!
Don't turn on the lights! God, don't turn on the lights!
He might see us!
You can't go out there with no clothes on! Are you crazy?
Put some clothes on! Don't be a fool, coward!
I'm not scared!
He's not gonna' catch me in here without any clothes on!
I'm gonna put on my clothes.
Do you have a flashlight?
Where's the flashlight?
Turn the lights on, I need a flash light!
He's trying the back door! SHHHHH!
* * * * *
And one for the francophiliacs:
Je t'aime, toujours, il faut toujours.
Alors pars, tire-toi!
Ca va, pars. Qu'est-ce que tu dois faire? Alors pars.
Ca va bien, pas de probleme, pars.
Mais, reviens a moi, alors pars.
This Saturday, April 5 One Eyed Jacks * 615 Toulouse Street * New Orleans Doors at 8pm * Show at 10pm Tickets: $8 at the door
Believe it, ladies and gentlemen: San Francisco's legendary Trannyshack is coming to New Orleans this Saturday night! In addition to the usual shenanigans--which are anything but usual--you'll be treated to performances by Quintron and Miss Pussycat, plus former New Orleanian-turned-gaypornstar MichaelSoldier (who, FYI, played the role of Lana Turner when we first performed L'imitation of Life a decade ago in the bar of the Audubon Hotel). Another former New Orleanian, Andy Dupuy will be your mixmaster for the evening.
And I'll be...well, I'll be in the booth, running lights. But don't worry about me--you go on and have a good time. No, seriously: don't give it a second thought. Enjoy yourself. I'll be fine. With my bottle of cut-rate vodka and a straw. Just fine.
Have I made it abundantly clear that you shouldn't miss this? 'Cause you shouldn't. Miss this. Seriously.
Back in 2006, some folks in our fair city voted to re-elect William Jefferson even though they didn't like him. Even though he was (and is) self-absorbed and ineffective. Even though his habit of keeping $90k stashed in frozen Tupperware seemed (and seems) a tad suspicious.
Why would sane, sensible voters do such a thing? Because they assumed that the pending federal investigation of Jefferson would lead to an indictment, which would lead to his resignation, which would lead to another election in which they could elect someone, like, really good.
Those voters, btw, are now officially idiots:
The Supreme Court on Monday let stand a lower court ruling that the F.B.I. went too far in searching the office of Representative William J. Jefferson, a Louisiana Democrat accused of using his position to promote business deals in Africa.
Without comment, the justices declined to review a ruling by the United States Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit, which concluded last August that agents had violated the Constitution by the methods it used in the May 2006 search.
The appeals court did not find that the raid itself was unconstitutional; rather, it found that the F.B.I. violated constitutional separation of powers by allowing agents to look freely through Congressional files for incriminating evidence....
So basically, instead of voting for a nice, normal candidate the first time around, a bunch of smartasses who simply didn't care for Karen Carter have allowed Louisiana's reputation to languish (note: understatement is the new black). That's pretty unfortunate, because, you know, given all the senatorial whoremongering and the gubernatorial buck-passing and the mayoral spouting-off, we could've used an "in" with somebody in DC.
P.S. Coincidentally, Jefferson illustrates my favorite Obscure Word of the Week: throttlebottom. It works on so many levels.
That said, I'm still uncomfortable with religious zeal. All the Jeebus freeks who descend on the Quarter for Decadence and Mardi Gras--I know they're totally laughable, but at the same time, something about them really pushes my buttons. Maybe it's all the shouting they do. (My list of fetishes, though long, doesn't include being yelled at.) Or perhaps it's the fact that they've gone all Stepford for god, quoting scripture instead of engaging in intelligent debate. Or maybe it's the simple fact that they've come into my neighborhood to judge me and my friends.
