I was getting nostalgic for TRANNYSHACK and stumbled across this: Precious Moments in blackface doing Marlena Shaw’s “Woman of the Ghetto”. It’s one of Michael’s best numbers (right after that “cheeseburger ass” song). Oh, but I love his fabulous mind….
And for those who are interested, we’re working to bring TRANNYSHACK back to New Orleans this May. Stay tuned!
I’ve had My Brightest Diamond’s Bring Me the Workhorse running on replay for a week–especially the “Freak Out” single. Is there something wrong with me?
Here’s a concert clip, though I’m not sold on her live performance:
The Many Moods of Me: Wednesday Edition
Happy: A coalition of groups in the UK have launched an ad campaign for atheism and harmony. Which sounds like the sort of thing that will generate the opposite of harmony, but whatever: you gotta believe in something. [via BB]
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Angry: Apparently, Rick Warren is semi-secretly the homophobic, right-wing douchebag I’d though he might be. Seriously, fuck him to death. [via TR]
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Amused: Phoenix-based substitute preacher Matthew Stucky isn’t a douchebag at all:
“Hollywood has always had agendas they are trying to push and one of those major agendas is homosexuality is ok. It’s no big deal. Another one they are trying to push is ‘It’s ok for women to work.'”
That motherhumper’s just freakin’ NUTS.
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Less amused: Video has emerged of James Josh Brolin and Jeffrey Wright getting arrested outside a Shreveport bar last summer. The charges are being dropped, and no one died, but mama please don’t let me get arrested north of I-10.
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Intrigued: “Digital guru” Clay Shirkey has penned an interesting piece on the immediate future of media. On magazines, he has this to say:
The great advantage magazines have is glossy pictures. It’s better to read on paper than on the web but it’s much better to look at pictures on paper than on the net. Brides magazine is going to be the last one standing.
As for newspapers, he says that they’ll move to extremes of elitism–either totally elitist (with a specific, finely crafted voice) or totally populist (with content freely pulled from readers and others). Then, as if on cue, Su points me to ThePrintedBlog.com, which is probably the single dumbest idea I’ve ever laid eyes on.
So yes, that’s me on the left. Your eyes do not deceive you: I’m wearing a sash and a crown. And if you subscribe to my Twitter feed, you already know the truth: I am King of Carnival 2009. More precisely, I’m king of my Carnival krewe, the Mystic Krewe of Satyricon. (That’s my queen, Wedon, on the right.)
In New Orleans, there are a lot of Mardi Gras krewes, but the king of the krewe of Rex is commonly referred to as the “King of Carnival” since he is the symbolic mayor of the city on Fat Tuesday. Rex is a very old krewe with a place of privilege on the parade circuit (it rolls on Fat Tuesday morning), and the conclusion of the krewe’s ball–when the king of Rex meets the king of Comus–marks the official end of Carnival.
There’s not really an equivalent “overlord” position among gay krewes, but since there are only seven such organizations, I’m going to be really cavalier and claim the title for myself: King of Gay Carnival! I will thumb-wrestle all those who wish to challenge me.
As far as duties are concerned, I’ll be presented at the Satyricon ball (February 15!), and I’ll parade around the hall balancing a weighty headpiece. Yay. I’ll also attend the balls of the other gay krewes, where we’ll exchange regal gifts like silver-plated letter openers, hand-tooled leather riding crops, and the occasional page. I will also drink my weight in alcohol. Repeatedly.
I couldn’t find any footage of gay Carnival balls on YouTube, which is really strange and really sad. I’ll do my best to film this year’s event so you can see what all the fuss is about. Rest assured, most Carnival balls–at least the gay ones–aren’t really “balls”, in the sense that there’s not much live music or general dancing. It’s a lot of sitting and watching tableaux vivants. (Yes, we use the term tableaux vivants in our programs. It’s that old-skool.) Stay tuned.
P.S. On a completely unrelated note, will someone please explain why the New York Times is allowing claptrap like this whiny, sophomoric screed on sexual addiction to sully its shrinking pages? Not only is the piece poorly crafted and self-indulgent–some might say “masturbatory”, which would be totally appropriate–but it’s penned by a 30something. Reading a 30something confess his dark love of self-love is like reading about a NASCAR fan’s love of fast cars: IT COMES WITH THE TERRITORY.
I’d said I was going to throw a New Year’s Eve party for the hounds, but when the potentially glorious moment arrived, they were totally uninterested. In fact, between the sound of premature bottle rockets, the crowds of noisy hipsters passing on the street, and the abundance of tinseled party hats littering the kitchen table, they were pretty damn terrified.
Of course, that did not stop me.
I tried to engage them, to amp them up. We ate. We ran up and down the hall. We played fetch (well, Tania did). But when the party favors came out and the champagne cork popped, they went all Cinderella on me–and it wasn’t even midnight. I forced them to sit for a few pics, then decided to try my hand at bipeds.
It went no better. Quite possibly, it went worse.
For one, the streets were packed with folks in town for the Sugar Bowl. Now, don’t get me wrong: I’m happy that tourism has returned to the French Quarter. I’m happy that people from Alabama and Utah and other football hotspots are enjoying themselves and supporting our local businesses. But like every other group of visitors, last night’s revelers took to walking down the middle of the street and throwing their go-cups wherever they liked. I’ve seen that happen for decades, but last night, it was all I could do not to cut someone with my rat-tail comb. (Just kidding: I don’t carry a rat-tail comb. But I aspire to.)
I joined Dave and Bud for a couple of drinks and a drag show at the Golden Lantern, which would’ve been fun under normal circumstances. Alas, we were right next to the bar, so I felt like I was in the way, and the only people I knew in the place were Dave and Bud, who are a couple, so I felt even more in the way. I stepped outside for some air during a break in the action and never looked back. Clearly, I didn’t want or need to be out. From the time I locked up to the time I returned home: less than one hour.
By midnight, I was nodding off. I heard a bunch of fireworks go off down the block, turned to Kika and wished her a happy new year, closed my laptop, and bedded down on the sofa.
I haven’t even kissed anyone yet. I’m like a NYE virgin or something. Can I eBay that, you think?
“We Feel Fine” isn’t new, but I think it’s a nice way to end the year. If you’re unfamiliar with the website, here’s a good description:
Every few minutes, [WE FEEL FINE] searches the world’s newly posted blog entries for occurrences of the phrases “I feel” and “I am feeling”. When it finds such a phrase, it records the full sentence, up to the period, and identifies the “feeling” expressed in that sentence (e.g. sad, happy, depressed, etc.). Because blogs are structured in largely standard ways, the age, gender, and geographical location of the author can often be extracted and saved along with the sentence, as can the local weather conditions at the time the sentence was written…. The result is a database of several million human feelings, increasing by 15,000 – 20,000 new feelings per day. (Eyebeam.org)
Just click the big pink heart to start. (FYI, I like the “Murmurs” and the “Mounds” applications, but wander around–it’s all pretty nifty.)
And obviously: happy New Year, y’all.
Today’s Times-Picayune posted an interesting update on the current gay adoption conflamma. It seems that back in the heady days of helmet-hating Mike Foster, something called the “Commission on Marriage and Family” was established–presumably to talk about, you know, marriage and families and stuff. It’s never been very active, but the folks at Forum for Equality are concerned that the adoption case will spur the commission–which is now appointed by the similarly helmet-hating Bobby Jindal–to push new legislation banning gay adoption. That wouldn’t be surprising, given the fact that (a) we’re in the bright red state of Louisiana, and (b) the committee’s membership includes folks like Puritan-at-Large Tony Perkins. However, other members of the commission seem somewhat more level-headed:
Jindal appointee Gene Mills, Louisiana Family Forum director, said he believes gay rights advocates are simply overreacting to the Arkansas vote and California voters’ rejection of same-sex marriages. Mills’ group bills itself as “your voice for traditional families.” He said the commission could yield ideas such as continuing to make it harder to divorce; devoting more resources to job training for single parents; and increasing state prisoners’ opportunities to interact with their children.
But Mills and [commission chair Senator Sharon Weston Broome, D-Baton Rouge] demurred on the question of gay adoption. Mills said, “That’s really up to the Legislature.” Broome did not offer her position.
Asked through his aides about the commission and specifically about his position on gay adoption, Jindal released a one-sentence statement: “I believe family is the cornerstone of our society and look forward to the commission’s work on how we can do more to support healthy families.”
At least one member of the clergy serving on the commission said he has no intention of parroting views of the traditional social conservatives….
The Rev. Chris Andrews of First United Methodist Church in Baton Rouge said he wants to discuss ways to help all families, regardless of composition. He said he will resist any attempts to reduce the likelihood that a child might be adopted.
“In general, I would view adoption issues through the lens of whether an individual or couple has the ability to love and care for a child, ” Andrews said. “I do not think that is something that is limited to a particular sexual orientation.”
–full article at NOLA.com
Am I being a total Pollyanna? Am I putting too much faith in the common sense of our elected and appointed officials? Or am I being lazy? Probably all of the above.
Note: none of this is to say that I want kids–I have four dogs, which must be the equivalent of at least one child–but as an adoptee myself, I understand the value of placing kids in good homes. I fail to understand how anyone can argue against that.
I can’t believe that the full text of D.V.
Seriously: in the first 100 words, girlfriend busts out with, “Nostalgia–imagine! I don’t believe in anything before penicillin.” That is the kind of book our young people should be reading. Toss all their Twilights and their Lords of Rings and their Hairy Potholes right in the coal fire! (Pass me a bromide, would you dear?)
I bet I could tweet the whole damn thing: D.V.
TIDBITS
(NB: I’m publishing more frequently than my timestamps indicate, but thanks to some quirks in Blogger’s FTP system, my posts aren’t going up for hours–sometimes days. They are making me out to be more of a slacker than I already am.)
I’m still recovering from a very short, travel-heavy trip to NYC for xmas. (If you follow my Twitter feed, you already know what I’m talking about.) In the meantime, here are some news items that have piqued my interest:
1. Louisiana has two daddies (on one birth certificate): It ain’t the same as GLBT couples having the right to adopt, but it’s a step in the right direction:
The state of Louisiana must issue a birth certificate for a Shreveport-born toddler that includes both names of his adoptive parents — an unmarried same-sex couple — to honor the New York court decision that granted them custody of the boy in 2006, a federal judge has ruled. [more at NOLA.com]
2. Grey Gardens trailer leaked: The HBO-backed feature starring Drew Barrymore and Jessica Lange won’t hit the air for another four months, but a bootleg copy of the trailer leaked out today. Maybe it’s viral, maybe it’s planned, but it looks surprisingly good:
[via Towleroad]
3. Daniel Craig human, also object of lust: Not only did the folks at INF capture Daniel Craig with a bag of Lay’s BBQ potato chips in his hand (my fave!), but they also got this unintentionally hilarious shot of Craig with Bravo’s bunburying bigwig, Andy Cohen:
For goddess’ sake, how do I caption that?
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