They're Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-Haaa from: Dr. Demento's Delights Warner Bros. 1975 BS 2855 0698 Remember when you ran away and I got on my knees and begged you not to leave because I'd go berserk?? Well... You left me anyhow and then the days got worse and worse and now you see I've gone completely out of my mind.. And..
They're coming to take me away, ha-haaa!! They're coming to take me away, ho-ho, hee-hee, ha-haaa To the funny farm. Where life is beautiful all the time and I'll be happy to see those nice young men in their clean white coats and they're coming to take me away, ha-haaa!!!!!
You thought it was a joke and so you laughed, you laughed when I had said that loosing you would make me flip my lid.. RIGHT??? I know you laughed, I heard you laugh, you laughed you laughed and laughed and then you left, but now you know I'm utterly mad... And..
They're coming to take me away, ha-haaa, They're coming to take me away, ho-ho, hee-hee, ha-haaa. To the happy home. With trees and flowers and chirping birds and basket weavers who sit and smile and twiddle their thumbs and toes and they're coming to take me away, ha-haaa!!!
I cooked your food, I cleaned your house, and this is how you pay me back for all my kind unselfish loving deeds.. Huh?? Well you just wait, they'll find you yet and when they do they'll put you in the ASPCA, you mangy mutt!!! And...
They're coming to take me away, ha-haaa. They're coming to take me away, ho-ho, hee-hee, ha-haaa. To the funny farm, where life is beautiful all the time and I'll be happy to see those nice young men in their clean white coats and they're coming to take me away, ha-haaa!!! To the happy home, with trees and flowers and chirping birds and basket weavers who sit and smile and twiddle their thumbs and toes and they're coming to take me away, ha-haa!!! To the funny farm, where life is beautiful all the time... (fade out)
Hey, buddy! Yes officer.. You a head? No, but I'm catching up, ha ha ha....
When I was a little FHA (Future Homo of America) I loved movies with style.
"What A Way To Go", actually, anything with Shirley Maclaine during her whole "I'm way too old for this but, wtf" period. Anything with Tony Curtis. All Ross Hunter Productions.
Wow, I was way gay.
I wasn't much on scary movies. My uncle Bobby and I used to put sheets on my grandmothers' plastic slip covered white couch (yeah, you're so not a hipster if you've never endured that particular form of "style") and watch "Creature Features" every Saturday night when the adults went out.
Listen in the 60's no one knew what a "latchkey kid" was. Even with Richard Speck running around no one thought twice about leaving us kids alone on a Saturday night.
Of course, maybe my family was a little more, uh, "relaxed".
My mom was always a working mom. At the time she worked for Pan Am and a weekend for her was a quick trip to London or Paree (that's French for nasty dirty city full of Turkish hookers). I usually was left in the care of my grandmother, Lois.
This entailed, during the week, waiting for "her stories" to go off ( I saw the very first time Erica Caine came on All My Children! Susan Lucci was like 6 and had on a miniskirt! Love-ded her!) and then she would brush my hair and we would go to Jack's Back Door up on 63rd street. Somebody would put a couple of quarters in the jukebox and I would pick the songs. "I Second That Emotion", "Stoned Soul Picnic","Shotgun", "jimmy Mack", those were my jams. I would sit at the bar while my grandmother (who I think may have been a slut) worked the room. Imagine a black Sharon Stone from casino and you get the picture. I would sit on the bar and be admired.
I had "good" hair and light skin. You can't imagine how those qualities mattered back in the day.
You just can't.
Oh, I was also hella cute. I still have moments.
Few and far between. Getting fewer and farther.
Just so you know.
I know, scary movies!
Well, no one thought twice about leaving us kids alone on a Saturday night. My grandmother always snuck out after my grandfather went to see one of his many girlfriends (I'm telling you, things were different then). My mom had already gone off to someplace and my dad was usually working an overnight shift. Hmm, now that I think about it, maybe they were both in Paris.
My mom would always tell my uncle, "NO SCARY MOVIES AND DON'T PLAY THAT SONG 'THEY'RE COMING TO TAKE ME AWAY'! IT SCARES DEREK!"
Need you ask?
The door would close. The Thunderbird would fire up. THEY'RE COMING TO TAKE ME AWAY would drop down on the record player and Creature Features would come on.
Jeez. Can a gay kid catch a break 'round here?
Well, one night it didn't work. I had SO squealed on Bobby Jr and my mom had hidden the 45 (that's a small vinyl..You Know What? Fuck your young ass!)and the most stylish movie I had ever seen came on.
Vincent Price starred in Dr. Phibes.
The good Dr. set out to avenge the death of his wife against the team who worked on her in the hospital. To do so, he got his revenge by using ancient curses. My personal fave is the way he uses Locusts to kill the nurse on the team.
He does all of this with the help of his beautiful assistant, VULNAVIA!
And they do it while traveling around 1930's Edwardian Art Deco England via 1972 haute Brittania! STYLE BABEE! STYLE!
AND they do it in a HUGE Roller with ecthed glass depicting cameos of the occupants inside on the windows!
The sets are an Art Deco Erte wet dream!
Vulnavia (ok, even I'm laughing), is dressed in these FAB costumes that are obviously early 70's versions of the 30's.
Did I say FAB?
In addition to being a style bonanza, Dr. Phibes is actually scary.
Well, it's scary if you're not a style obsessed Future Homo of America.
It's Halloween and even though I know that the thought of Endora being Vice president is way scary enough, here's the first of my guest bloggers, the esteemed Craig Curtis author Of "FABULOUS HELL", with a few flicks of his personal faves of the scaroi persuasion (that's Franche for "Daddy get off me! You're crushing my cigarettes!" I swear. Really,).
Make sure you read Craig's rather funny, yet informative (three out of five old showgirls agree) blog Only In Bellingham! The link is to your left.
The other left.
Really. I swear.
MOVIES THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT
Oh, sure. It’s the most wonderful time of the year for ghouls, ghosts and faggots. Want to don a Jason hockey mask? Go ahead. A sheet with a couple of holes in it and get a rock or two in your trick or treat bag? Sure thing. Put on one of your dead grandmother’s old frocks and a tiara and be the drunkenest slag since The Queen Mum? Have at it. Frankly, I haven’t had a great Halloween since Derek and I went traipsing around WeHo dressed as bouffanted Blanche and Estelle, carrying huge knitting bags and telling people we had wandered off from The Wonderland Tour Bus and into this “crazy Mardi Gras!” Not only did we both score that night, but garnered (much to our surprise) a rousing round of applause from diners at an open air restaurant on Santa Monica Blvd. I refuse to stand in line to see a midnight showing of ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW, only to be belted with toast and lentils (rice is SO over), and watching some fat broads dressed up in WHATEVER sort of maid costume and even fatter men who actually remember the release of this play on film. And THEY’RE dressed as Dr. Frankenfurter. !!!! If you want to hand out treats to kids, that’s great, just make sure they’re of age, and then demand a trick.
OR you can stay at home with your cat and settle in for some swell, really awful vintage thrillers.
Here are some of the worst of the worst
EMPIRE OF THE ANTS
OK, I’ll admit it. I saw this one at the Capri Theater in West Covina when it first came out, mainly to see post-THE BITCH/pre-ALEXIS Joan Collins get devoured by “giant” ants. These ants are rear projected behind Collins from stock footage apparently filmed on an Ant Farm. It’s truly awful, but you gotta love it.
Here’s a synopsis:
Vacationers on an isolated island find themselves at the mercy of voracious ants when a toxic spill turns the pests into rampaging, radioactive reprobates. Stumbling into the ants' creepy lair, a sleazy land developer (Joan Collins) and her clients are horrified to realize that the ants are having a human picnic. Seems these bugs are hell-bent on exterminating mankind and taking over the island. Can anyone stop them?
Joan Crawford, ever the smart business woman, went from MGM Glamour Puss to Warner Brothers Moll to Columbia Scream Queen in a matter of 40 or so years. Hey, the bitch was working. Strait-Jacket is one of the better ones (not counting the obvious, which as we all know starred Miss Bette Davis). Not only that, but Crawford took the role for a paycheck of 50,000 semolians and 15% of the profits. And made a BIG amount of money doing it! This film was hugely successful, and just horrifyingly bad as you can imagine. Would YOU want to wake up and find JC wielding an AX? I thought not.
Lucy Harbin (Joan Crawford) has been in an asylum for 20 years after axing her husband and his mistress during a crime of passion, witnessed by her young daughter, Carol. While trying to renew ties with Carol (Diane Baker), who is now a young woman about to be married, heads begin to roll again.
LADY IN A CAGE
Ever lovely Olivia de Havilland flew over from her home in Paris to make this dreck. But really, this is Ann Sothern’s picture as the Old Whore that invades de Havilland’s mansion, then torments her in a caged elevator betwixt floors. I’m sure Bette Davis enjoyed this one immensely.
Self-satisfied Mrs. Hilyard (Olivia de Havilland) is recuperating from a broken hip. One morning the power is cut to her private elevator, and the only person to respond to her alarm button is the local wino George L. Brady Jr. (Jeff Corey). He enlists prostitute Sade (Ann Sothern) to help him cart away everything of value in Mrs. Hilyard's house, but a trio of enterprising thugs horn in on the easy pickings. Randall (James Caan) is a sadist looking for kicks, while his girlfriend Elaine (Jennifer Billingsley) and pal Essie (Rafael Campos) are also eager for wild new experiences. After tormenting Mrs. Hilyard, Brady and Sade, the trio decide that the fun thing to do is to kill all of them - a process they happily turn into a game.
Fuck the candy! Break out the ludes and have a ball.
Socialism refers to a broad set of economic theories of social organization advocating state or collective ownership and administration of the means of production and distribution of goods, and the creation of an egalitarian society Modern socialism originated in the late nineteenth-century working class political movement. Karl Marx posited that socialism would be achieved via class struggle and a proletarian revolution which represents the transitional stage between capitalism and communism.
SOCIALIST HEROES: Fidel Castro Hugo Chavez Vladimir Lenin George Bush
Oh yes. George Bush.
In the past few weeks the U.S. government has basically nationalized the nations banking industry. This was done by granting billions of billions in dollars of state money to the very same greedy oligarchs who initially ran the businesses into the ground causing the loss of billions and billions of dollars.
Those are your billions and billions of dollars.
And you didn't even know you had that kind of cash laying around.
Check your cushions.
Now, before the presidential election, the administration of Comrade Bush is seriously mulling the possibility of "loaning" GM ten billion dollars in addition to the twenty five billion dollars the auto industry has already been given.
Research and development? Extended job benefits and retraining for laid off workers? Cocktail weenies for paraplegic midgets?
Gm wants to buy Chrysler from a private investment firm.
Chrysler has the worse sales in the U.S. car industry. They can't give away their crap. Why would Gm want to buy it?
It seems that Chrysler has eleven billion dollars in cash in the (nationalized) bank.
So, if GM gets ten billion of your dollars they will then get eleven billion dollars from the private company that owns Chrysler.
Now, you don't have to worry because you, through the wonders of socialism, own a stake in Gm / Chrysler. A big stake. In fact, you own it.
Oh, did I mention that Gm and Chryslers' entire line up of vehicles overlap each other? Malibu / Sebring, Viper / Corvette, Ram / whatever the fuck the GM monster is called.
This could go on. And on.
What would your newly socialized company do under such circumstances? Have the workers make shoes or bread to sate the hunger and needs of the glorious workers? Harvest three hundred million metric tons of golden grain to ensure that the socialist paradise lives on for a thousand years?
Yeah, that could happen.
Actually what will happen is pretty simple.
The rising sun of glorious working class paradise (collective 301) will begin the "reduction" in worker contentment hours.
Oh yeah baby, layoffs. Layoffs like they used to do in 23 skidoo. And guess what? You will pay billions and billions of dollars to support those free workers through unemployment and food stamps.
That's only fair because the glorious leaders will have to take that eleven billion dollars to put towards the needs of the new working class heroes. Yacht builders, cigar factories and Ukrainian prostitutes.
But Barack Obama is an enemy of the state. A socialist.
He wants to reset the tax structure back to when Big Willy Clinton was in power. You know, when we had a surplus.
THE BIGGEST BUMMER ABOUT LIVING IN VEGAS IS THAT THERE AREN'T ANY CHEAP, GOOD PLACES TO EAT.
AND BUFFETS DON'T EVEN COUNT!
SO I WENT TO L.A.! TO EAT!
OH YEAH, I'M NOT COMPLETELY SHALLOW.
I ALSO DRANK. BUT THAT'S THE NEXT BLOG POST. REALLY.
BABYBOIS, I STARTED IN HIGHLAND PARK WHERE I FUCKED UP SOME FISH TACOS AT LA ESTRELLA! THEN I GOT A BAG OF FRUTAS MIXTAS FROM A RECENT ARRIVAL TO OUR COUNTRY.
I GOT BACK ON THE GOLD LINE (YES, REAL CITIES HAVE PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION) AND WENT TO CHINATOWN.
NOW, I KNOW YOU MUST BE ASKING YOURSELF, "DIDN'T FATASS JUST SAY HE JUST ATE"? WHY YES VIRGINIA, I DID. BUT, WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIEND MR. FOUR DOS O I WAS MUNCHED OUT BY THE TIME I HIT C-TOWN. I PROCEEDED TO PORK BAO MYSELF INTO A STUPOR THEN FOLLOWED IT UP WITH LUCKY DELI WHERE A WHOLE MEAL IS THREE DOLLARS. US.
SO, I WALKED OVER TO LITTLE TOKYO WITH MY FOUR DOS O FRIEND TO KEEP ME COMPANY AND AFTER HITTING A COUPLE OF MUSEUMS (WHICH REAL CITIES DON'T CONNECT TO CASINOS.
I'M NOT VEGAS HATING.
I'M JUST SAYING.
AND THEN I FOUND A PLACE THAT SELLS OCTOPUS ON A STICK!
YOU KNOW, IF YOU FRY IT, MY PEOPLE WILL EAT ANYTHING.
AFTER SOME MOCHI (JAPANESE ICE CREAM BUNS) I FELT I SHOULD GET BACK TO SOUTH PASADENA WHERE EVEN BLACK IS WHITE.
ON MY WAY I WENT FOR ONE OF MY FAVORITE DISHES AT MY FAVORITE TRANNIES WITH KNIVES IN THEIR WIGS BAR, JALISCO.
AT JALISCO MY FAVORITE HE/SHE BARTENDER MADE ME A HEALTHY MEAL OF TECATE, LIMON, SAL Y CLAMATO. I FINISHED THIS OFF WITH A DELICIOUS ORDER OF PORK RINDS WHICH CAME IN A DUSTY BAG AND WERE PERFECTLY STALE.
LAST WEEK MY BFF NELSON ASKED ME IF I WANTED TO COME TO L.A. AND DO SOME OFFICE WORK FOR HIS BOSS.
HMM, GO TO L.A. AND GET PAID FOR IT.
AND KEEP MY CLOTHES ON? WELL, QUELLE EASY DECISION.
BTW, THAT'S FRENCH FOR, WHAT THE FUCK? WHY NOT?
SO, OFF TO CHINATOWN I WENT TO CATCH THE BUS TO L.A.. YES, CHINATOWN. THE BUS FROM THERE TO MONTERREY PARK IS ONLY 30DOLLARS. US. ONLY ONE PROBLEM. MY ALLERGIES HAD ME COUGHING FOR 5 SOLID HRS! NEEDLESS TO SAY, THE LADY NEXT TO ME SPENT THE ENTIRE TRIP WITH HER FACE BURIED IN HER BLOUSE. I DON'T BLAME HER, I'M SURE SHE THOUGHT I HAD SARS OR SOMETHING.
UPON ARRIVAL AT NELSONS HOUSE I WAS INTRODUCED TO MY FIRST OF MANY MARTINIS.
SMASH CUT TO FRIDAY. ON OUR WAY HOME FROM THE OFFICE WE STOPPED AT A GREAT BAR CALLED THE YORK IN A REALLY HIP 'HOOD, HIGHLAND PARK. UPON ARRIVAL AT NELS WE MAY HAVE BEEN A LITTLE TIPSY.
Just a little.
NELSONS', UH, PRIG OF A BF MADE IT CLEAR HE WAS NOT INTERESTED IN GOING TO DINNER WITH US.
THAT'S FRENCH FOR "WHAT'S YOUR DAMAGE HEATHER?".
HIS MISTAKE. THE BEGINNING OF MY END.
WELL, WE WENT TO NELSONS FAVORITE RESTAURANT, EL SOMBRERO. UPON ARRIVAL WE SAT WITH THE OWNERS FAMILY AND STARTED DRINKING THE WORLDS LARGEST DRINKS. NOW, KNOW THIS ABOUT ME, I'M A REALLY HAPPY DRUNK.
I swear. Really.
WITHIN AN HOUR I HAD MET EVERYONE IN THE RESTAURANT AND JOINED A PARTY UPSTAIRS. UPON LEAVING THE JOINT THE OWNER RAN OUT AND GAVE ME HIS PRIZED SOMBRERO FROM THE WALL WHICH EVIDENTLY HAD BEEN THERE FOR YEARS ASTONISHING ALL.
REMEMBER THAT SOMBRERO.
LATER, I FOUND OUT THAT THE OWNERS' SON-IN-LAW ASKED NELSON IF I WAS KEPT IN A CAGE OR SOMETHING BECAUSE HE'd NEVER SEEN ANYONE WORK A ROOM QUITE LIKE MOISELF.
NELSON GOT A PHONE CALL FROM TWO FRIENDS OF HIS FROM MEXICO CITY WHO HAD MOVED TO L.A.. TWO BOTTLES OF TEQUILA LATER IT WAS 730AM. I WOKE UP ON THE FLOOR UNDER A BLANKET WITH A RATHER ATTRACTIVE YOUNG LATIN FELLOW WHOM I REALLY DIDN'T REMEMBER.
CLOTHES ON MIND YOU.
I WOKE TO NELSONS FABULOUS GUCCI OR SOMETHING EXPENSIVE SHOE KICKING ME IN THE HEAD. SEEMS HIS BF (TIGHT ASS COMMON PIECE OF SUBURBAN PRETENTIOUS TRASH) HAD BEEN CALLING SINCE, WELL, 530AM.
WELL, WHEN WE ARRIVED AT NELSONS I MADE THE MISTAKE OF TRYING TO DEFUSE THE SITUATION BY SHOWING BF MY NEW SOMBRERO.
OOPS. Yet Again.
TURNS OUT BF HAS SPENT THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS AT THIS RESTAURANT AND NEVER BEEN GIVEN SO MUCH AS A FREE COCKTAIL.
OOPS. Three's a charm, no?
AS THE SUN ROSE I CALLED MY FRIEND SOCRATES AND FLED TO HIS PLACE IN SILVERLAKE. IF YOU'VE NEVER BEEN TO SILVERLAKE, IT'S LIKE THE CASTRO AND NORTH BEACH COMBINED. LOTS OF CUTE GAYS AND HIP BREEDERS.
WELL, BREAKFAST STARTED AT EL CONQUISTADOR WITH BLOODY MARYS. THEN ON TO GOOD WHERE I ORDERED A 40DOLLAR BEER! US!
LUCKILY, THE BARTENDER INSISTED THE WAITER TELL ME THE PRICE BEFORE HE BROUGHT IT. SEEMS THEY'VE HAD THIS ISSUE WITH THE PRICE OF THE BEER BEFORE.
AFTER THAT, ON TO LE BARCITO WHERE I FLIRTED WITH A HOT GUY ACROSS THE ROOM UNTIL SOCRATES SUGGESTED I PUT ON MY GLASSES.
WHY WOULD THEY PUT A MIRROR RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME?
BY THIS TIME SOCRATES WAS COMPLAINING THAT SINCE I ARRIVED HE HADN'T CHEWED ANYTHING. I REMINDED HIM HE HAD A PERFECTLY GOOD PIECE OF CELERY HE PASSED UP IN HIS BLOODY MARY.
SOME PEOPLE NEVER SEE THE POSITIVE.
SO WE WENT TO SURIYO A GREAT THAI RESTAURANT. WELL, I NOTICED THEY HAD STAIRS.
I LOVE STAIRS. THERE'S ALWAYS SOMETHING AT THE TOP.
TURNS OUT THERE WAS A ROOF AND A TABLE. THE OWNER AGREED TO OPEN THE ROOF UP AND WE HAD A LOVELY LUNCH AFTER SOCRATES SENT ME TO 7/11 FOR SOME CHAMPAGNE. I PICKED A LOVELY ANDRE, VINTAGE APRIL O7.
I THEN WENT BACK TO NELSONS AND WATCHED THAT MOVIE WHERE THE CARS TURN INTO SOMETHING AND STUFF HAPPENS.
SINCE NO ONE TOOK THEIR SHIRTS OFF, I FELL ASLEEP.
IT SEEMS WHILE I SLUMBERED, NELSON AND BF (SCUM SUCKING LOWLIFE BOURGOIS HAIRDRESSER PIECE OF SAN GABRIEL VALLEY TRASH) HAD A DISCUSSION ABOUT MY TRAVEL ARRANGEMENTS. TURNS OUT I WAS LEAVING THE CITY ON THE NEXT AVAILABLE BUS.
THE FINAL STRAW SEEMS TO HAVE BEEN THAT SOMBRERO.
LIKE I SAID, I'M FRIENDLY.
SO I LEFT LOS ANGELES WITH MY SOMBRERO. SINCE I WAS ONCE DEPORTED FROM LONDON, UK, I WASN'T REALLY UPSET.
I JUST SANG "ANOTHER SUITCASE ANOTHER HALL" FROM EVITA LIGHTLY TO MYSELF AND LEFT TOWN.
AND THAT, MY FRIENDS, IS HOW I WAS ASKED TO LEAVE LOS ANGELES.
Whether you like it or not. Regardless of whether or not we ever should have been there in the first place (Lord knows we shouldn't have been) the surge is working.
If you put enough troops on the ground shit will stop going down.
When Barack is President of the United States of America I truly hope that he launches the mother of all surges.
More importantly, on our youth.
Could we get a surge on education? If we invest a fraction of the welfare (oh yeah, that's what it is) we're laying out to the pigs on Wall Street on our youth, we might actually be able to have another "American Century". We need to throw all of our (metaphorical) troops at our kids.
Let's face it, American kids are just clueless.
I said it.
We don't have basic citizenship classes anymore. We don't have basic decorum anymore. Our kids have no clue about geography, science, mathematics, or the outside world in general.
Our kids do know how to text to vote for a mediocre singer or download porn (we're the best at that). America's youth knows that Soulja Boy (you should hate him and the execs who enable him. Trust me. Hate) wears his pants down so low you can see the dooky stains on his ass, so they should too.
(What's up with that "look"? It's gay as fuck. It's asking other guys to look at your ass. I'm just saying)
Kids today think if you spell your name in a stupid way and talk about bitches and "making it rain' (throwing money at strippers so that they run for it. Yeah that respects black women) or can throw a ball or "spit" a flow then you'll "be like Diddy". I bet that idiot fuck (along with Snoop, Master P and every other baby daddy rapper) doesn't live in the 'hood and let his kids go to school up the street after dodging the mayhem they created.
Barack needs to get a General Patreus for the streets of America. Someone needs to surge this motherfucker! The revolution needs to be televised. If we can bail out criminals in the Hamptons, then we can avoid bailing out future criminals and deadbeat dads and unmarried ignorant mothers later by spending some of that money where it will help in 20 years.
Our kids need to know that if they perform national service for their country they will be able to attend college and not have to choose between a part time gig or selling death on the streets. They need to know from kindergarten on that they are living in the richest country the world has ever seen and can achieve anything that they want with education and hard work.
This is America! I don't care what anyone says, this is the best country that has ever existed in human history! Only in America can a man such as Barack Obama rise from nothing and be on the verge of being the most powerful man in the whole world. It's not about his color either. It's about the American dream. Only in America can you become anything if you work hard enough.
Doubt me? Throw a dart at a map.
England? Have you ever seen a black politician from the UK? Or Asian? Sure they have them but nowhere near the percentage of black and Asian people who live there. And they abolished slavery way before we did. They STILL haven't produced a Martin Luther King Jr. Can a common cockney become Prime Minister? It aint happened yet. I'm just saying. They haven't even managed a Harry Truman.
Brazil? The boat sho nuff stopped there and let a bunch of us off. Yet, Brazil says it's "color blind" (just ask a white Brazilian). Have you ever seen a Black or even Native Indian Brazilian politician or even major public figure?
I didn't think so.
We are the reason so many risk life and limb to get here. We alone, offer the world hope. And we can deliver.
I'm not picking on these countries, I'm just asking you, Senator, to point this out and drill it into our kids heads how true this is.
And PLEASE do this as soon as you get into office. It's "Job 1".
I like Reba. I like Rita Rocks. I like The Two of Us (mainly cause of that fine light skinned boy who plays the bf and always has his shirt off.). I love The Game and Girlfriends (who knew Kelsey Grammar was black?).
I hate really bad TV. Especially when it makes my people look bad.
I once read Jimmy Walker the riot act in front of his white friends because not only did he gladly keep up that "DY-NO-Mite!" shit long after it was obviously embarrassing but that idiot played in Sun City at the height of the apartheid regime while Nelson Mandela was still in jail! Asshole Fuck.
I don't know what I think of Tyler Perry's movies except that we at least knows he likes fine black men and not white twinks.
I know, Tyler aint gay. Sure.
I do know that I freakin' hate that Tyler Perry tv show, House of Pain. It's got everything that we black folk see and cringe about except a watermelon patch out back and a greasy cuzin name Cleotus. But, of course, it's still early.
There's a fat Mammy and her stupid fat asshole of a husband. There's some kids that aint got mommas. See, in Tyler's world it's the women who have the issues. In this show the absent baby momma is a crackhead. Par for the course. But at least two of the men are fine ass light skin brothers (did I mention Ty has a thing for the yellow boys. I know. Tyler aint gay.).
I REALLY hate D L Hughley Breaks The News (and my patience), it's possibly the worst "news" show on tv.
D L (is that short for "down low"?) Hughley is one of those black people that white people like a whole lot more than black people. His tv show "The Hughleys" was a high moment in low rent tv. He played an asshole who white people thought of as a Black Archie Bunker. We just thought he was lame. His whole act is based on being a black man abused by America while he lives behind gates in some San Fernando Valley suburb.
He gets on my last damn nerve.
In addition, he was the only unfunny one on the Kings of Comedy tour.
The only one.
How Bernie let this man anywhere near a stage with him and Ced is beyond me.
So, CNN (and all of other channels) have graciously decided to show more diversity in their choice of pundits and anchors etc..
"Ok, Brent it seems the black guy might be the one. We got no coloreds around here. We're going to need to get a few." No problem, it was about time.
They got T J Holmes. OOOH CHILE HE IS FINE! And smart and erudite and my next husband. They got a bunch of other Negroes whose checks depend on them referring to Black people as "African Americans". Fine.
Then someone had the truly fucked up idea to have a Black "The Daily Show".
Ok, look. Black people is funny. If they had got Kat Williams to do the show it would be hilarious. Of course it would also have to come on at like 3am. Every other word would be the N word or an F bomb, however, it would have been funny.
D L Hughley's show is like watching a high school close circuit tv show.
"Hi, I'm Fleta Gray and you're watching Edgewood High TV". Today Coach Agatep got yet another cheerleader pregnant. The coach announced this from Las Vegas where he and Head Cheerleader Sandy Pill got married. This is the coach's third marriage. Three's a charm! Today the lunchroom is serving "Atsa My Turkey" and Fish Sticks. Yum!"
Actually that would be more interesting.
D L evidently has never seen a teleprompter before. He reads his lines in a bizarre way, like he is reading his lines for the first time.No one could get him a script the night before. He always seems to be waiting for the punch line and then missing it.
He pulled out all the stops by bringing on a "Pimp" Freddie Mack. Get it? Freddie Mack!
Hilar. Just scathingly hilare. I almost dropped my crack pipe it was so funny.
You see Freddie was supposed to explain the mortgage crisis.
Ah! Now you get it it.
Of course Freddie somehow managed to make the mortgage crisis about how Pimpin' aint easy. The white writers must have spent all nite thinking this routine up. All nite. Because no one has ever done a black Pimp routine before.
I am sure the writers on this show are white because the stereotypes fly like mosquitoes around a fat man on hot Georgia night. Freddie fucking Mack?!? Besides, since D L aint been black for a good minute he probably never even noticed the racial insults he was perpetuating.
The worst part was the cringing interviews with CNN's back bench of overseas correspondents. They looked like they would rather be changing Pop-N-Fresh's Depends than be answering Down Low's inane questions at what looked like 4:30 in the morning wherever they were. The only bright spot was when the chick from India answered dumbasses question about who Indians wanted to be elected POTUS.She looked into the camera and deadpanned like Eve Arden in a bad Warner Brothers comedy, "They don't care." Brilliant. Brilliant and the only moment on the whole show where the audience actually had a good laugh.
I never go with my gut feeling. Never. Not like George Bush.He goes with his gut come hell or high water. I don't. I never go with my gut.
I should. Really.
So, I'm all excited that my hugely ginormous red conservative friend Thor wants to go early voting.
Stop. My gut told me to wait and vote on election day. My guts said "free meal".
The guts won out over my gut. I lost.
My gut said "you hit that joint three times, that's plenty." I never go with my gut. So, Thor and I hit the joint (Thor stopped at three). Who knew white boy had such bombass weed?
Being the good citizen that I am I had brought along the Las Vegas Sun voter guide. All neatly folded and I was ready to go.
So excited. Really.
I voted on all the marquee names and then got to judges.
LOT'S OF JUDGES.
I made it through several screens when I started to feel a bit woozy. I started punching buttons so that I could be done.I probably voted for the local libertarian homo hating Nazi KKK Grand Dragon. THEN a page came up with, I swear, three or four thousand judges!
I swear. Really.
The room turned into some scene out of a Peter Sellers movie with Britt Ekland as the spy. I get to the end of the screens, I think and rush towards the exit. "Go Ask Alice" was on my cranial soundtrack and all the old white people were staring at me and it became all Cirque Du Soliel clowns in jogging suits. Those shows creep the fuck out of me. Next thing I know I'm hitting the floor with my knee and then all 6' 1", 210lbs of my adorableness wrapped in fat hits the floor with a thud!
If a fag drops in The Meadows Mall does anyone hear it?
Old white people do.
So, and this is where it gets all Dorothy Does Vegas, I feel my big ass hitting the floor. I wake up all groggy, sweaty and shit.
And then, and I swear every bit of the following is true. Really.
I wake up to a sea of feet and legs. I'm schlumped over like a fucked up Buddha. I feel a hand pressed firmly on my stomach and mid back. A gentle female voice whispers in my ear, "you're ok, breathe deep from your stomach where I'm pressing."
Now, Derek does not like to be touched.
Well, not unless you're about 5' 4" (Beer height. If I can drink my beer bust beer while I've got my arm around your shoulders, you're perfect.) and Latino. Or Black. Or Asian. Or White. Ok, breathing.
Well, the healer was touching me and she says, "you haven't eaten have you?" I answer weakly (think Camille)and she says (I kid you not) "I'm a healer, you didn't eat and you smoked too much."
"Strumming my fate with his fingers, reading my letters out loud, killing me softly with his song............"
"I can smell it on your breath. As long as I stay here with you everything will be all right and no one else will be able to get close enough to know. Breathe deep from your stomach."
I was just happy she didn't say that my breath smelled of unwashed Camel penis in August just outside of Basra. I swear.
"OH MY GAWD HE NEEDS SUGAR!" Some refugee from a PBS cartoon version of Eloise at the Plaza squalls. "HERE! EAT THIS!" A scrumptious huge half of a fresh pretzel was thrust into my mouth nearly choking me to death.
But oh, so tasty. Delicate and fluffy. Soft, yet somehow, just firm enough. I could smell it's fresh baked goodness as it shut off my air passage. Mmm. So, I finish choking and begin absorbing the scene around me.
I see white people.
Old white people.
With cell phones.
Every old white person within 100 feet was surrounding me in a cellphonian Stonehenge like circle. And they were all calling 911!
"Hello, yeah, a guy passed out. Yeah, early voting. Barack, I guess. Yeah, he's alive. Oh you got the call allready? Ok. Bye."
This went around and around me until I was spinning like Penny Pingleton in Hairspray (The good one. WTF were thinking when they cast John Travolta in the "remake"? What, Lainie Kazan was busy?).
The Healer held me and whispered, "you're all right, breathe deeply from your stomach. I'm here. I know what you're going through." It was like that landlady from Tales Of The City was channeling through The Healer. I giggled at the thought of having collapsed at The Meadows Mall. Not Fashion Show. Not The Forum shops where I could have at least passed out in front of Gucci.
No. The Meadows.
I PASSED OUT IN THE SEARS COURT!
How bourgeois. Terribly.
As if I hadn't gone through enough, The healer disappeared just as the crowd parted and a woman with a fist full of cash leaned in way too close to me and asked in a West Chicago nicotine soaked growl, "what do you need honey? Do you need anything? Something sweet?" "I GAVE HIM A BAGEL!" shouted that lady from the Eloise book. I finally got a clear look at her. She was that Marx Brother who always plays the EYE-talian. Literally. She was CHICO MARX! With lipstick. She was wearing the thickest grey wool Boucle coat. Rather chic and completely wrong for The Meadows Mall in Las Vegas on an 80 degree day. On her head was perched the exact hat that CHICO MARX always wears. Sort of a pointy stiff wool beanie. It was trimmed in a blue that wasn't quite a Periwinkle and not a Robin's Egg's but a Blue. Fur. Cheap fur. Woven into the fur was , I kid you not, TINSEL!
I'm such a fag. I wouldn't be able to tell you what a robber looked like but I can tell you who his shoes were by, his taste in movies, whether or not his sweater was Dacron or a cotton poly blend, but I wouldn't be able to tell you what he looked like.
Unless he was a beer height Latino. Hola papi.
"Drink this, I made it this morning, it's Mango and Papaya." The Healer was back!
Quelle fromage! That's Francaise for "thank fucking Gawd!"
I sipped her delicious nectar. " Thank you. I SO love you right now!", I told her. She cradled my Sharpei like forehead and whispered into my ear, "I know exactly what you're going through. Don't let the Clairol fool you, I'm an old hippie from Connecticut."
"Sir, do you want us to take you to the hospital?" The paramedic looked warily into my what must have been beady Jeff Spicoli eyes. I assured him I was okay. "Where's my friend?" I couldn't spot Thor anywhere. My big red Yeti was nowhere. Nowhere. "What friend?" ,said Officer DARE.
Now, I'm from West Covina, California, Edgewood High School class of '81 to be exact. EHS alumni don't rat out their friends. If I was going to Sing Sing or Bellevue, I was going alone.
"I want to live!" (Ten points if you got that one.)
I figured that Thor saw the fuzz and went all Road Runner on my ass.
Somehow, I pulled myself together and pressed the wrinkles out of my crinoline and headed towards the early voting exit. Somehow. I thanked everyone.
"DON'T CRY FOR ME MEADOWS MALL, THE TRUTH IS I NEVER LEFT YOU....."
Just as I was about to be done with this whole "A Very Special Blossom" bad scene a horror of a woman screeched, "STOP!"
A little snow white 300 year old white puff of a woman held up her hand and I knew I was on my way to county.
On a Friday!
"You didn't finish voting!"
Huh. Oh. Oooohhhhh. OH!
I looked at her. I took a deep breath and headed in triumph back to my booth with all eyes on me as the theme from Rocky swelled across the Sears court. Confetti dropped down from the balconies as seas of Emo kids cried, mascara running down the little boys eyes. A giant Old Glory unfolded and dropped from the ceiling as a gospel choir filed out of Forever 21 singing The Negro National Anthem. "Lift every voice and sing, till earth and heaven ring....".
I was going to do the only thing an American in this situation could do.
I FINISHED VOTING FOR BARACK OBAMA! Dammit.
I left my booth as white people formed a human chain to shake my hand and revel in the glory that was Democracy.
I looked for The Healer.
The Healer wasn't there. Nowhere.
My phone rang. Thor. "Where are you!? You disappeared. I'm in the truck. I'll pick you up in the front."
Somehow, Thor hadn't seen any of this and headed out to the truck thinking I would show up there.
I got into the truck and began telling him what had happened. He, of course looked at me like a parent listening to a kid explain how all of the cookies were gone from the cookie jar.
"Uh huh, Where'd you get the pretzel?"
I explained about CHICO MARX and The Healer. "And you never saw her again? What did she look like?" Thor was actually staring at me in disbelief that I had nearly died!
AT THE MEADOWS MALL IN THE SEARS COURT!!!
I really didn't know what The Healer looked like. I never really saw her.
9pm Cocktail mixer at Caramel Lounge (3600 S. Las Vegas Blvd) - Ask for Joshua Miller's table - and no shorts or sneakers...
11pm - Krave - Never mind the password-- we'll just have your name at the door-- if you haven't registered yet, DO SO now at ca.barackobama.com/drivetonevadagroups as soon as possible-- that's how we're going to create the RSVP list.
Here's a letter from Eric at the Obama Campaign with some guidelines and info for you:
Thank you for volunteering your time with the Campaign for Change. Our success depends upon dedication such as yours, and we are grateful for your efforts.
You have been assigned to Southwest Las Vegas. Please join us at 9am, Saturday morning at:
Spring Valley Community Park At corner of S. Buffalo and W. Flamingo. zip 89147
Parking: School lot off of S. Buffalo
While out in the field, your conduct will be a reflection of this Campaign. Please dress accordingly. In addition, we occasionally are visited by members of the press. We respectfully ask in lieu of answering their questions, you refer them to a campaign staffer.
If you requested supporter housing before the deadline, you will be contacted later regarding your arrangements.
For answers to any questions you may have, please consult our resource center. http://ca.barackobama.com/drivetonevadaresources
We'll see you on the ground soon!
Got more questions? Email us at ComeOutForObama@gmail.com!
Cheers, Your Steering Committee
PS. Don't forget to check the weather in Vegas-- bring sunblock, sweaters (we've heard it can get nippy), etc...
I grew up in West Covina California. It's a little suburb of L.A..
We used to say that West Covina was nineteen miles and twenty years away from L.A..
I went to Edgewood High School. Rydell High in Grease was based on it. I swear. Really. I was Rizzo and my best friend was Marty Maraschino, all budding virginity waiting for his first bleach job and boy. We had sock hops and ice cream socials. I swear. Really.
Another movie was based on EHS (hail to thee our alma mater dear Edgwood hear our pledge...blech). Mean Girls. That ode to all that is mean and bitter and bitchy. Or as we liked to call it, 5th period. At Edgewood you either learned how to sharpen your claws or you got cut.
I had very sharp claws.
Marty developed them. Turns out Marty's mom had at one point made a "mistake" (Marty) and had to go "away" for awhile. Marty found this out much later at a dinner that featured his first and only really brilliant fashion collection. Luckily, Marty had sharp claws. Marty's mom told a story about how in her day (at Edgewood. Natch) "good" girls didn't make "mistakes". She had a choice. Take care of the "mistake" or get married.
Get out your shotgun.
Did I mention that West Covina was the inspiration for another movie?
Flash cut many years later. Well, not that many. A few. I swear. Really.
I was in hair school. Quelle surprise. I made friends with two friends. One was "D" a beautiful white girl with the looks of a Gypsy and the brain of a scientist. Her bf was a guy named Kendall. Imagine Michael Hutchens (before that whole strangling to death while beating off thing) without a job. Well, long story short "D" made a "mistake". "Good" girls in West Covina don't make "mistakes".
Well, "D" didn't believe in shotguns. She decided to take care of her "mistake". She asked me to take her to the clinic to solve her problem. Her BF was too busy doing God only knows what. I said no problem and figured we would go to In-N-Out after. I was gonna have her pay since I was driving. Then we would hit Wings, West Covinas'chicest hairdresser hangout. Overlooking the freeway and full of Persians from Diamond Bar just over the Hill and Latino Cha Cha hair "stylists" from the mall, Wings was the perfect place to go after taking care of a "mistake".
Or so I thought.
I was wrong.
To this day I can remember the look on "D's" face as she got back in my car. I was blaring K-Roq ("Why don't you dance with me? I'm not no Limburger!") and "D" sat down quietly. As we drove away I asked her if she wanted something to eat. "No. I just want to go home" was all she said. I drove her home and she got out of the car and slowly walked into the house. Really slowly.
A little later in the summer of "mistakes" her bff "Y" made a "mistake".
Who ya gonna call? Fagbusters.
I took "Y" to the same place I had gone with "D". This time I knew to wait in the waiting room.
When she came out she had that same look on her face as "D". This really horrible and terribly sad look. So sad the sky turned gray and the sun turned it's back. We walked, slowly, to the car.
The radio stayed silent. So did I.
Finally, I asked if she was ok.
"No" she answered in the softest calmest voice you've ever heard. "No".
Finally "Y" looked at me and said "I killed my baby". Her eyes filled with tears but she never cried. It was so painful that I wanted to throw up.
We got to her trailer (don't) and I walked her inside. She said she would be okay and I left.
I got into my little red Fiesta, drove around the corner and cried like a 16yr old white girl at a Jonas Brothers concert. No, I didn't cry. I weeped. And sobbed.
When I hear about people who think abortion is some sin and all people who have them are just trash who think of it as birth control I get so mad. Neither of those girls was trash. Neither. And if they had been they still should have the right to make a choice about what they did with their bodies. Neither of those girls goes a day I bet without thinking about the choice they made. And you know what? I think they made the right choice. Neither one of them was in any position to have a child. Neither of them had the support of their families or boyfriends. Both of them were on the verge of graduating and starting their lives. Both of them went on to make good women. And great moms.
If the two of them committed a sin then God will deal with them. If I committed a sin by helping them then God will deal with me.
Sarah Palin doesn't want young women to have a choice. Sarah Palin made a choice when she admirably decided to have her baby even though she could have within her rights decided to fix her "mistake". Her own daughter made a choice and decided to have her "mistake" when she was well within her rights to decide that having a baby at 17 while your mom is running for Vice-President of the United States was above her pay grade.
They both had and made a choice.
In Nazi Germany if you were considered not of good Aryan stock or if you were mentally challenged or were a Jew or god only knows what else, you didn't have a choice. You or your baby were "taken care of". In China until very recently if you had a child and made another "mistake" you didn't have a choice. Your decision was made for you.
This is not China or Nazi Germany. Women here have a choice. But people like Sarah Palin don't want women to have a choice. Yet, they don't want to help prevent "mistakes" by supplying basic sex education (how's that theory working in the Palin household?) or protection. If a "mistake" is born they offer no assistance to the mother and demonize her if she's poor. You make a "mistake" you live with it.
And so does your "mistake".
Please don't vote for anyone who doesn't want a woman to have a choice.
In my life I have had MANY careers. I have worked for the Saudi Arabian Royal Family(please don't tell me no one flew on 12 September 2001 I drove those bitches to the airport!). I have been a fashion photographer. I was a model agent (we're getting closer to that story about getting deported from Her Majesty's Kingdom) I have dabbled in styling. I was the Art Department Coordinator at SITV and a producer of the TV show STYLEEYES.
I am also a major Homo.
I know me some fashion.
As a Fashionista (don't ever use that word. If you use that word you are not one)I have styled many shoots and usually with little or no budget. My bitches came out fabulous! Always. And I usually had enough money left over to get a twenty sack.
My mom is forever telling me to turn on QVC to see Beyonce's mom and her House of somebody collection. It's all perfectly nice and the prices are low. And you can make payments!
Target is a personal fave of mine. Designer looks and often by real designers. Issac Mizrahi paid his rent many a month by schlepping his wares there. And OY VEY THE PRICES.
Evidently Endora isn't aware of these places. She has been called out for spending like a jillion dollars at Saks and Niemans for her campaign wardrobe.
And she flew around her hugely expensive makeup artist.
Listen, Endora, I know several drag queens who would have gone on the road with you for some smokes, Krispy Kreme and a daily stop at Popeyes.
I know a couple of bitches who would have gone for an eightball.
And those queens would have been on call 24/7. They would have been in the closet taking apart the dvd players but they woulda been there.
Hell, I could have done her wardrobe for 42.50 with an afternoon at Fallas Paredes. Do you know that place?!? OMG! I once bought three track suits there for 19$! US! The lines are hellish but when you leave and can still get a street dog in the parking lot from a twenty....I'm just saying.
WTF Endora!?! Are you repubs trying to spend all the cash before you go back to your day jobs? If so, please, call me. I need new draws. Mine are tired and sorta dingy. I need a sack of weed. I been telling everybody I quit burning trees. Fuck dat. I'm too broke call my guy. Can I get a Hamilton bee-yotch?
I personally don't care how much women spend on their clothes. I'M A FAG! We live for designer gowns and dead endangered species fashion made into ugly bags. If I had the money, everything I owned would be made out of Pashmina and Crocodile. Made in Italy would be my middle name. I got no issues at all with spending huge amounts on clothes.
I love all the Dragon Ladies of the 80's. Michelle Duvalier. Imelda (that's how bad that bitch is, one name). Robin Givens. Nancy Fucking Reagan! I Love them all. I was pissed when the press jumped all over Nancy about those designer dresses. What was she supposed to wear all over the world? Lees?
(MAJOR SIDE NOTE: I'M TYPING SO I CAN'T CHANGE THE CHANNEL. KEITH OLBERMAN MAKES MY FUCKING NUTS TWITCH AND BURN. SHUT UP YOU POMPOUS SELF IMPORTANT OVER ACTING WORM SMEGMA OF A MAN!)
Back to Endora.
Girl, if you're going to talk about how normal and everyday you are (personally, I think you're common which is a whole different thing) then you probably shouldn't be seen up at the Niemans.
***DO NOT FORGET to register at http://ca.barackobama.com/drivetonevadagroups if you haven't done so already. Insert your info, then select COME OUT FOR OBAMA from the drop-down menu. This is imperative for the campaign's ability to keep track of us!
***If you need a hotel room, DON'T FORGET to call the Tropicana Hotel, where we have a rate of $109.00 a night established. Call 1-800-634-4000 and tell them you're with the COME OUT FOR OBAMA group to get the rate!
***Saturday, October 25th:
9am: CHECK IN. Meet up for training from the Obama Campaign, followed by canvassing!
Here's where our group is meeting up to get trained:
Spring Valley Community Park, NE corner of S Buffalo and W Flamingo. Parking: School lot off of S. Buffalo
It's a few miles from the Tropicana, and easily Google Mapped. Once you're there, look for signs designating where our group congregates. We'll get our marching orders from there. Abdi Nazemian will have maps at the Tropicana-- but look it up online if you like.
9:30pm: Cocktail party honoring activists Cleve Jones and Harvey Milk at Caramel (at the Hotel Bellagio, 3600 S. Las Vegas Blvd, (702) 693-8300), co-hosted by Rose McGowan
11pm: COME OUT AND VOTE party at Bank Nightclub (also at the Bellagio Hotel), hosted by Rose McGowan
After the event at Bank, we're going to be going to several clubs (Krave and Piranha/Gypsy) to stump for Obama-- and several of our hosts have been invited to speak.
1am: KRAVE Club. The club is co-hosting us and Elton John's husband's birthday party, so it's going to be QUITE the scene, with lots of people in attendance to rally! The address for KRAVE is: 3663 Las Vegas Blvd South
SUPER IMPORTANT UPDATE Saturday Night
11pm - Krave - Never mind the password-- we'll just have your name at the door-- if you haven't registered yet, DO SO now at ca.barackobama.com/drivetonevadagroups as soon as possible-- that's how we're going to create the RSVP list.
2am: PIRANHA/GYPSY Clubs. We're going to be speaking to the crowd here as well! The address for PIRANHA and GYPSY is: 4633 Paradise Rd. Say you're a guest of Joshua Miller to get in.
...AND NOW, FOR THE SURPRISE:
***Barack Obama will be in Las Vegas this weekend-- and all of us who've decided to donate our time and energy are going to get to see him speak. Since the time of his speech is TBD, some event times are subject to change.***
I always ride in the back of the bus. It might be in my black DNA. I don't know. I also love Red Koolaid and sour pickles with a candy cane stuck in the middle (Oh yeah baby, try that for a Kuh-Razee good time) and fried Twinkees (ok, that's white trash but, really, how far apart are the two?).
Once, I was riding down Hollywood blvd when a really ugly Black Drag Queen got on the bus and dragged her suitcase all the way to the back and sat down by the window on the left side (I was by the window on the right). I knew she was homeless, yet, she had a certain grandeur about her. Btw, my great grandmother, the late great Sarah Watts always told me there were no "ugly" people. God created everyone and therefore everyone was "as cute as they could be".
If I ever say your baby is "as cute as he can be" you know I just said you got tricked at the zoo. Just so you know.
I knew Miss Thang could probably use a compliment and then I saw it. Her outfit! She was wearing a black unitard with a mesh black top all topped off with a red sequined vest. She was giving it to you. Serving the children. Giving up fierceness. Taking it to the deacon! Shout! Praise Jes...oh, sorry. I told you I was black. Where was I?
So I tells her that I like her outfit and how refreshing it is to see someone make an effort. She beamed and told me how she loved fashion and always made it a point to do her best. We smiled and I went back to looking out the window at Hollywood blvd.
I always hate the stop at Hollywood and Highland. If any trouble is going to get on the bus that's where it happened. As we waited to leave the stop I sensed trouble.
When you sense trouble, trouble is there.
These Black (I mention color because if I said the following you would assume they were black and then you would be a racist. I'm just trying to save you some liberal guilt) gangbangers were standing staring at the bus in a really menacing way. I finally realized they were staring at my new friend. We were stuck at the stop because of all the traffic and I was praying we could get out of there. The back door was open and the screaming began. "You ugly bitch!". "Faggot!". "Nasty Ho!". My heart went out to her. She looked straight ahead but kept one eye on them.
All of a sudden one of the girls in the group and her (really dyke-y looking friend) jumped on the bus and came at her. They hit her.
GURL! YOU DON'T HIT NO BLACK TRANNY AFTER A LONG DAY IN HER GOOD OUTFIT ON A BUS AFTER YOU DONE CALLED HER UGLY!
That big bitch grabbed hold of the meanest one and proceeded to give that bitch the holy ghost. Her Dyke-y friend took the fuck off and let Lil Kim take her beat down all alone. So much for having yo gurls back. Kim starts screaming for the driver to help her. The whole bus had witnessed the beginning of the whole thing when La Grandeura was just minding her own business, so, no one was inclined to help her.
Including the bus driver!
People. At the end of the day no matter what you think of trannies, they are men! In this case a big black "cute as he could be" MAN. A man who has spent all day (and most of his life) taking shit from anyone who wanted to dish it out. She's homeless and lugging around a suitcase and her baggage.
Of course she's going to beat somebody down at some point. It's called, THE BOILING POINT.
Finally Lil Kim escaped her clutches and made for the door. The bus erupted into cheers! Big raucous cheers! Straight. Gay. Black. Mexican. THE BUS DRIVER! Cheers!
Miss Thang sat down and I looked at her and she said, "I'm tired."
She got off at the next stop. Right before she got off she looked at me and said with a really sweet smile, "thank you."
I wish she would have been visiting the home of Milton Lindgren, 70, and Eric Hendricks, 73 of Indianopolis recently.
The two elderly men were brutally murdered in their home after enduring constant harassment from god only knows who for being gay.
Someone. Some fucking asshole coward bludgeoned them to death. Hendricks was in a wheelchair for fucks sake. Someone killed these guys.
For no reason.
The neighbors said it was obvious that they were killed for being gay. The straight neighbors. The police say they are investigating to see if it was a hate crime.
I don't care what you want to call it. It was stupid.
What is about us humans that we can't just let other people live their lives?
Early voting. If you think it's some sort of Obama trick, here's some schooling.
THE BRADLEY AFFECT: To hear the MSM tell it, Los Angeles mayor lost the race for Governor of California because of hidden racists who said they would vote for A black man but really wouldn't.
Not true. Bradley lost because his opponent had a superior early voting strategy. He got swamped with early voting by republicans. I have no problem with this. It's called strategy.
Early voting is a great way for seniors or the disabled to vote without standing in long lines. It's also great for people who hold jobs that they can't leave on election day or stay at home moms who can stop by and vote when the kids are at school.
And, by golly, some of them are even republicans! Zut alors!
Early voting is simply a way to get as many citizens as possible involved in the democratic process we say we hold dear in the USA.
What's reprehensible is what I'm seeing of people screaming insults at early voters who, because they are black, are assumed to be Obama supporters (please don't throw out the whole "95% of blacks are voting for Obama isn't that racist?" stuff. Not the point here and you will look ignorant if you go there.). Also after several Obama rallies supporters have come out to find their tires slashed. Is that a thing republicans are proud of? I hope not.
Now, do these people have the right to protest? Yes. Does it make the republican party look bad? Yes. If you are a republican or democrat you should be concerned how your fellow party members behave.
I'm just saying.
Having said all that I implore every single legal US citizen to vote. No matter who you vote for, vote.
If you came to my Palin/Biden throwdown party I made you buy $5 worth of raffle tickets. Well, we raised $285! This money will be used to buy sanitary products to give to the homeless this December right before Christmas. I am also looking for people to go to their local thrift store and get some winter clothing to give out over the winter season.
I want to give directly to the homeless so that they don't have to stand in a line or sit through a sermon to get the basics they need to survive.
If anyone wants to give food, please make sure that it's either freeze dried and only needs water or if in a can, that it has a pull top or screw cap as no one has a bottle/can opener on them when they're living on the streets.
I always wonder about my best friend in high school, Mike. We had a crazy love of music especially new wave and new rock. I'm sure he went into Hairbands while I made a soon to be natural transition to House.
Very natural as you will see.
Mike and I had the best parties in Edgewood High school history! Because he was a diabetic we had needles which I used to inject Vodka into oranges.
And you thought needles were just for Meth.
Mike's parents were really old (turns out they were his grandparents! Le Scandale! West Covina was the model for Peyton Place. I swear.)and they were always on vacation in their RV (I told you I was from West Covina).
So, Mike and I threw these drunken parties that usually ended up with us being entertained by future author Craig Curtis (Fabulous Hell) doing his impressions of our repressed fat classmate Ruth McHugh (imagine Patty Simcox and Julia Child running at each other really fast and tripping over ABBA on the way)after which Mike would insist I slept in the same bed as him. Because we were drunk, we'd sleep naked. Once I saw Mike's dinkie I had serious doubts about being gay. Not a pretty specimen.
Mike was "completely straight". Just one thing. Mike took me TWICE to see Bette Midler AND let me drive his FireBird. This was huge. The FireBird thing.
Well, back in the day Miss M put on one hell of a show! I'm sure she still does but I can't afford to go anywhere near her now (where's Mike?).
When I was a kid I was obsessed with Raquel Welch, Cindy Birdsong and Gladiator movies. Pattern much? My first single purchased was "Little Willie" by glam rockers Sweet. But, here's the kicker, my first album purchase ($3.99!) was Bette Midler "Songs In The New Depression". Now, I remember the look on my mom's face. It wasn't horror. More like puzzlement. Why on earth would her son be buying Gay Icon Bette Midler? Nope. It was more like, "why is he buying some white woman's record when Ashford and Simpson and Chaka Khan are in the same room"?
Well, I had heard "You're Moving Out Today" on the plane coming back from the Munich Olympics (I was just a mere child. I had spent the summer with cousins in Deutschland. No big story. Not like when I got deported from England. Tease.). Needless to say, at the point I heard that song I began my quest to know more about La Midler. I had heard and loved "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" but had no idea what bawdy was until I heard that song. It was a song about the kind of life I thought Carly Simon and Janis Ian (way bad bitch!) and Phoebe Snow lived. Women who slept with men but didn't have babies by them. Fondue parties and maxi skirts. Wedge perms and vinyl boots. LIFE! I didn't know what a bong was ,but, I knew Bette had one. She was like the copy of After Dark magazine I stole that summer from the bookstore in a white neighborhood we went to once a year for a church smorgasboard (white people ate the coolest food), hip and forbidden.
I started to go to thrift stores because I found out you could get scratchy, used Bette Midler Records there. I also found Sargeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band leading to my obsession with John, Paul, George and Ringo. Soon, I had the whole Bette Midler collection and to this day can I recite the entire lot of them. Up until that whole beaches period. I'm a fan not a masochist.
Well, as my mom probably knew all those years ago, Bette Midler+Raquel Welch+Cindy Birdsong+Gladiator movies can only = FHA FUTURE HOMOS of AMERICA.
Guess what!?! Tonite the Divine one is appearing at KRAVE to speek on behalf of Barack Obama! Doors open at 6PM! Be there! I will!
MY FAVORITE BETTE MIDLER SONGS:
You're Moving Out Today Album: Live At Last
I stayed out late one night and you moved in. I didn't mind 'cause of the state you were in. May I remind you that it's been a year since then?
Today the landlady, she said to me, "Your loony friend just made a pass at me." Perhaps you might enjoy a cottage by the sea.
So pack your toys away, your pretty boys away, your forty-fives away, your alibis away, your silly lies away, your old tie-dyes away, your one more tries away. You're moving out today.
You nasty habits ain't confined to bed. The grocer told me what you do with bread. Why don't you take up with the baker's wife instead of me?
Pack up your rubber duck. I'd like to wish you luck. Your funny cigarettes, your sixty-one cassettes, pack all your clothes away, your rubber hose away, your old day glows away. You're movin' out today.
"I hate to do it" "You gotta" "I hate to do it" "You gotta" "I hate to do it" "You gotta" "I hate to do it" "You gotta" "I hate to do it" "You gotta"
Pack up you dirty looks, your songs that have no hooks, your stacks of Modern Screen, your portrait of the queen, your mangy cat away, your baby fat away. You're headed that a-way. You're moving out today.
Pack up your fork and spoon, but leave my Lorna Doones; Your map of Mozambique; Your waterbed that leaks.
la la la la la la la la la. la la la la la la la la . . .
"The reason I'm singing la la is because I'm so happy you're going. Gosh, you've made me miserable. I don't think I've ever been so unhappy as I've been this last year with you. You are really a dirty, dirty guy. Did anybody ever tell you that? Oh, uh, by the way, would you, uh, take off that coat you're wearing? That's my coat you're wearing. Ah, yes. Thank you, oh. Goodbye! Parting is such sweet sorrow . . ."
Hello In There Bienvenue A mes Cauchemere Big Noise From Winnetka I Never Talk To Strangers Buckets Of Rain Married Men Stay With Me Baby Twisted Instanbul THE ENTIRE LIVE AT LAST ALBUM! And many more!
1: SARAH "ENDORA" PALIN. THIS ONE IS SERIOUSLY ON THE FAR SIDE OF 1952. HER VIEWS ON GAY MARRIAGE ALONE DISQUALIFY HER FOR YOUR VOTE.
"In my own state I have voted along with the vast majority of Alaskans who had the opportunity to vote to amend our constitution defining marriage as between one man and one woman. I wish on a federal level that that's where we would go because I don't support gay marriage. I'm not gonna be up there judging individuals, sitting in the seat of judgment telling them what they can and can't do, should or shouldn't do. But I certainly can express my own opinion here and take actions that I believe would be best for traditional marriage and that's casting my votes and speaking up for traditional marriage. That instrument that - it's the foundation of our society, is that strong family and that's based on that traditional definition of marriage..."
Ok, whether or not you care about homos getting married, the simple fact is this, marriage is a legal contract. Always has been. Once that contract is recognized as legal certain benefits come with it. Lower taxes, spousal rights, inheritance issues, health care benefits, etc..
Somewhere along the line marriage was highjacked by religious institutions. It became an ceremony where the two legal partners were blessed by the religious figure of their choice. No problem there. The problem is that the legal and the religious have nothing to do with one another.
In Russia, as an example, couples get legally married at the court house. If they want they then go over to a church to have their union blessed. Pretty simple. This is the method all over a good portion of the world. If a couple wants to have their union blessed, hoorah! If not, let's hit a Cantina and down some body shots!
This marriage thing is not about your morals vs mine. It's about being treated equally in the eyes of the law. If I can't marry my boyfriend then I can't avail myself to any of those benefits that married couples enjoy. That would be unfair. The America of the republican party is supposed to be all about fairness. Isn't it?
Politically active LGBT single and looking to mingle! Love to to laugh and think. Big on bios especially Political and trashy Hollywood stuff. Love old movies and classic cocktails. I'm very laid back until I want something,at that point anyone in my way gets mowed down. I will be a city councilman in Las Vegas within the next five years. Very conservative total liberal. Hate idiots on the left and right. PC makes me gag (and not in a fun late 70's way). I laugh all the time! I used to be on American Bandstand and had a spotlight dance to some awful QuarterFlash ditty with my partner Nanette Wallinsky, I believe we were the first interracial dance couple on AB, "we're goin' rockin...."!