Author: Richard

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So much beauty in my inbox:

  • cultivate hereinbelow
  • bateau credulity
  • and the eeriest yet, nonogenarian beware
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The one (and only?) shot of me from Carnival this year, taken at the Society of Ste. Anne Ball. But which one am I?

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It seems all I’ve been posting lately has been political entreaties. I promise, I’ve got better stuff to discuss–well, insofar as a weblog that doesn’t allow for comments can be a “discussion”–but for now, here’s another one, courtesy of Maureen Dowd. If you don’t feel like slogging through the whole thing, here’s the gist of it: call the White House at 202 456 1111 and start bitching.

And for those of you who haven’t read Mr. Rich’s column on gay marriage, do yourself the favor.

More soon–including verification that I am, in fact, from a Southern family worthy of nearly any play by the late Tennessee Williams.

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People, people: will someone please explain to the general public the difference between “dominant” (adjective) and “dominate” (verb)? If I see one more personal sexpage in which an idiot proclaims, “I let my girlfriend wear a strap-on because she is dominate in our relationship,” I’m gonna freaking dominate someone’s head. And not in the good way.

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Latest spampoem: mobcap dietetic blackbird hibernate.

Side note: my friends and I have been planning for years to write a musical called Mobcap! Not sure about the theme or plot yet–probably something a la Madame Lafarge, but who knows? Hell, if the fags-that-be can write a musical about the Donner party and get away with it, anything’s possible.

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So yes, Mardi Gras was fabulous. Surprisingly fabulous. The weather held off for most of the day, the costumes were fantastic, and our walk to Rex with the Society of Ste. Anne took about half the time it usually does. Many tourists stayed away–presumably because (a) they come down just for the weekend not knowing that it’s all about Tuesday, and (b) because they wussed out over the weather–which meant bars were very, very manageable. Great for us, bad for bar owners, but feh. Got home before sundown (eight hours of corsetry is enough), watched two episodes of The Simpsons, gave myself a girlie facial and took a long bath, finished the gayest thing I’ve ever read, and fell asleep before 9pm. All in all, very cathartic. Very catholic, too. Too bad I’m a Southern Baptist.

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For goddess’ sake will one of you Texans please drop me a line? Rumors are flying left and right about your governor and his alleged roll in the hay with his secretary of state, so spill the beans, Mary! Vindictive homos want to know…

And for those of you noticing the time stamp on this post, no, I have nothing better to do on the Friday before Mardi Gras than sit at home and blog. Thanks for making note of my lame social life.