A Future in Busking

You may not know this, but I put on my busker's uniform from time to time (top hat, tails, tap shoes, nipple clamps) and troll on down to the subway with my viola to earn extra dosh to support my boyfriend and my cat. I tend to play a selection of popular favorites--crowd pleasers from ABBA to Connie Francis to some guy called Vivaldi. I hadn't busked in a while, but for some reason, on Christmas Eve I was compelled to drag my unwilling viola down to the southbound F platform at 6th Ave to see what kind of Christmas cheer I could forcibly inspire.

So, above is a picture I snapped as I stood on the platform, playing my heart out for cash. It was my first annual Christmas Music Revue, and, though I had only rehearsed five Christmas songs, it was a smashing success for about an hour, at which point I got REALLY tired of playing the same five songs over and over and over, even though I love Santa Jesus.

I did make a decent amount of paper for only playing 5 songs 5 times, though, so here's my plan for Our New Great Depression: I'll put together a much larger setlist and then, once the bottom falls out and Congress declares that Christmas will be year-round in order to stimulate the economy, and I lose my job and my apartment and my socks, I'll wrap my feet up in gauze, slip them into a couple of Converse High Tops, put on my Santa hat and play on the subway for the good people of NYC and become rich, rich, rich! Then I'll lose it all in a foolish series of investments (who knew aquariums made of papier-mâché would never take off?!) and throw myself down the subway steps to get on government assistance, yay!

Christmas Wishes

I'd like to take this opportunity to wish the sea turtles of the world a happy holiday season and the best for the new year. May your Christmas be filled with laughter, song, and gratuitous displays of underwater Santas.

Santa Unable to Save Christmas This Year

Well, it's official. Christmas is officially ruined forever, thanks to the immense debt Santa and his wife have taken on in the past few years buying up x-boxes, Wiis, and stupid Elmo dolls for spoiled, truculent children the world over whose parents couldn't repay the loans and figured that Santa would just take care of it. Well guess what, dummies, Santa is only human, and he cannot be expected to just absorb your bad debts, like he was the US government or something.

Anyway, because his sleigh has been repossessed and most of his reindeer have died of starvation, now poor Santa and his lone remaining reindeer, Blitzen, have to use a complicated (but cheap) system of pulleys, wires, and harnesses to scale what were once—in better times—easily scalable buildings so they can get inside and deliver a bag full of depressing toys—like the window squeegee pictured above—to sad, desperate children who will just cry when they realize that the squeegee is all they're getting because their parents are complete and utter bankrupted failures.

Also, sleighless Santa has had to start his delivery two days early, which means, children, that the squeegees very possibly didn't have time to go through his usually rigorous safety testing and will no doubt fall apart when you get them wet, and may very well kill you since they're made of second-hand razor blades.

But look at the bright side: one of these years we'll look back on 2008 as the good old days.

What Christmas is All About

During this, our New Great Depression, it is so easy to get discouraged by the fear of losing your job, your house, your car, your children, your dealer, your sense of self-worth, your wireless Internet service, your gym membership, your cat, and your Echo and the Bunnymen CDs. Sometimes it just seems like the world wants you to have nothing, nothing at all. Then along comes a website like Elf Yourself and you remember what the Christmas season and the Internet are all about--making other people look foolish, for free. Above is my Christmas gift to y'all: a video of 5 different Jimmys dancing the Charleston. Don't mention it.

Thanks, All You Awesome Faggots and Dykes

It's not often that I get earnest on this blog, but, sorry suckers, I'm about to. Jimmy and I just got home from watching Milk, the biopic about slain gay right activist Harvey Milk, and I'm all verklempt. I feel the overwhelming need to take this opportunity--right here, in front of all three of my readers--to thank all of those courageous gays who came before us, who put their asses on the line, who lived or have lived lives full of balls out honesty. Some of them were nuts, some of them still are. What's not to love about that? And courage is what I want to pay tribute to right now—displayed by both real and honorary gays—so, without further cringeworthy emoting....[updated with names from readers!]

Thank you to Oscar Wilde
Merci to Quentin Crisp
Arigato to the Stonewall drag queens and gay boys and girls
Gracias to Busby Berkley,
Andy Warhol,
Wanda Sykes,
Rosie O'Donnell,
Tony Kushner,
Derek Jarman,
Martina Navratalova,
Gus Van Sant,
Francis Bacon,
KD Lang,
Melissa Etheridge,
Susan Sontag,
James Baldwin,
Gore Vidal,
Langston Hughes,
Karen Finley,
Boy George,
Gertrude Stein,
Phranc,
Keith Haring,
Dan Savage,
Pedro Almodovar,
John Waters
Rainer Fassbinder,
Sandra Bernhard,
Larry Kramer,
Klaus Nomi,
River Phoenix and Keanu Reeves,
Rachel Maddow,
Margaret Cho,
Divine,
Todd Haynes,
Sir John Gielgud,
Tennesse Williams,
Ellen Degeneres,
Andrew Sullivan,
Truman Capote,
Barney Frank,
David Sedaris,
Debbie Googe,
Edmund White,
Neal Patrick Harris,
Jimmy Sommerville,
Neil Tenant,
Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal,
Walt Whitman
Sean Penn, James Franco, Diego Luna, Emile Hersh
Harvey Milk

Each of you (and the tons of folks I've forgotten), in your own way, has stomped your foot down and kicked up some dust in the fight for gays to be left alone to go about living their lives. We are the last minority it is ok to hate on in this country. And the above people have done their part to make it safer for a 13-year-old gay boy in Nowheresville, Idaho in 2008 to go to sleep and dream of waking up next to James Franco stripped bare, smiling, and sporting a hell of a hot '70s perm in the morning.

That is all.

Finally, the True Story of Baby Santa Jesus on Display

I know from nativity displays, y'all. My mother is one of the world's premier collectors of nativity scenes of all sizes and shapes, which she puts out every year to complement her singing moose-head wreath and her creepy life-size Christmas gnome that swings from the banister. But none of the tens of thousands of nativity scenes owned by my mother really tells the true story of the real circumstances of baby Santa Jesus's birth in that manger those hundred or so years ago.

And the truth is this: the savior of mankind was NOT born in a stable. That is a complete myth that has been passed down as gospel fact through the years by the likes of Rick Warren, Fox News, and A Charlie Brown Christmas. The manger part is true, as is the presence of swaddling clothes. And there were kings, a virgin, and myrrh (and cows and sheep). But, and I can’t emphasize this enough—there was no stable. What there was was a giant hollowed out French batard. Yes, a moist, warm, buttery batard loaf hosted the birth of our savior.

This is the delicious truth.

Mom Visits NYC, Does Whatever She Damn Well Pleases

My mom visited me in NYC last weekend and made lots of friends.

Now, mom is not shy and she believes everyone could use a "hello, how are you?" every now and again. She is perfectly comfortable beaming a friendly "good morning" to the drooling old Polish lady hanging her head out of her second floor window all zombie-like in my neighborhood in Greenpoint. It's just good manners.

She is also comfortable stepping over a bunch of wires at Union Square subway station to sing with a pair of surprised Mexicans, forcing herself on some Santas in Rockefeller Plaza, and demanding a free ride on a man dressed as a reindeer. And why the hell not?!

Moms are awesome. (Except for Jimmy's. She's got snakes for hair and thinks that our 11-year relationship is somehow less legitimate than each of her 27 awful marriages. Anyway......)


There was a Santa convention in town (for real) and Mom invited herself.



Mom never makes such a big deal when I play the lute.


I'm not sure if she told him she was Mrs. Clause, a doe, or a cute elf.


That's the exact same look I used to give her when I was his age!

FIT Looking to Douche Up Its Student Body

Attention young readers who are also smug douches/failed reality show contestants that ride the subway: FIT wants you to bring your charming sense of entitlement to their classrooms. As this subway ad clearly shows, you may not have to be irritating and pretentious to attend, but it sure helps! And obviously your race or gender is not an issue, because women, men, blacks, whites, Asians, Latinos--anyone can be a dreary a**hole. So chop chop! Get yourself into some of your parents' grown-up clothes and get on down to the Fashion Institute of Technology, where a future full of nauseating the public with your tedious creativity awaits!

Snowy German Owl Doesn't Believe You

This may come as a shock to you, but this snowy owl, who lives at a zoo in Duisburg, Germany, doesn't believe a word you're saying. I know you think you’re presenting a pretty convincing case, but this white owl, for one, is not fooled. He wasn’t born yesterday, you see, so a lot of the double talk and downright pablum that you’re employing to drive home your point just aren’t going to work with him.

I would suggest trying again after spending a little time refining your argument and perhaps thinking of some better examples to back up the pretty fantastical ideas you are suggesting. Maybe use some visual aids, like a Power Point presentation? (Owls generally respond well to those.)

Also, it’s really hard to take you seriously when you’re wearing a clown costume. You should probably put on a collared shirt and some khakis, at the very least.

Prince Harry Volunteers at London Leather Daddy Phone Bank

England’s Prince Harry, who is not typically known for his selflessness, visited a leather daddy phone bank yesterday in London’s gay-riffic Soho district to help underprivileged leather daddies in the greater London area get the help they need. You know, it’s so great to see a young person make sacrifices for a cause larger (and harrier) than himself.

Yes we can.

The Gift That Keeps on Asking for Money

You know, everyone is so poor these days that when freebies are offered on the street, on the train, or in the bathroom stall, you obviously just take them. Am I right? Anyway, lately I’m so desperate to get something for free that I did a double take when I received my daily email from the increasingly tedious Obama campaign this morning with the subject heading “The Gift of Change.”

“Finally,” I thought. “An email from Barry that’s not asking for money. So what am I getting?”

Alas, if I want the above limited edition Obama coffee mug, I’m going to have to steal one of Jimmy’s paintings and sell it on eBay, that site where Sarah Palin sold her Alaskan airplane or helicopter or whatever and where Obama’s current senate seat is the hot item of the week.

I think the abstract one he did of me arm wrestling a penguin should command a pretty decent price. Maybe I can buy two coffee mugs.

My Camera Phone Will Not Be Denied: Elmo and a Gorilla, 44th Street

So yesterday I was leaving the 21st Annual Indie and Small Press Book Fair, which was held at the Center for Independent Publishing on 44th street, where I was trolling around looking for deals, and who should I run into as I prepared to turn down 6th Avenue but famous muppet Elmo and a random gorilla inexplicably just hanging out in front of a row of newspaper boxes. I said hello and asked them what they were doing.

Apparently, things aren't going too well on Sesame Street. Elmo's been spending a lot of time in midtown these days and s/he had just gotten busted for soliciting a john driving a cab who was just stopping to ask for directions to the letter L. So Elmo had to call his gorilla friend to bail him out and I interrupted them as they were planning their next move: a bank robbery/puppy abduction on the Upper West Side.

This cratering economy is touching everyone.

Karl Lagerfeld, President of Fashion, Appoints Britney Spears Secretary of Tophats, Fishnets

Britney Spears had a wicked tough primary battle for sure, full of manic head shaving, baby dropping, crotch flashing, and, of course, bloat. So it gives me great pleasure to see that the newly elected President of Fashion, ponytailed retard Karl Lagerfeld, has tapped her to be his Secretary of Top Hats and Fishnets. Britney is such an inspired choice for Sec of THaF; she obviously has experience with top hats dating back to her first tour in 1999 and, of course, she has worn fishnets ever since she was 12.

She sure has her work cut out for her, though, thanks to the embarrassing job performance of current Sec of THaF Lindsay Lohan, who, in direct contravention of her job duties, has been trolling around for the last few years wearing only a ketchup-stained white leather t-shirt (no underwear). Hopefully, Secretary Spears will be able to repair the image of American fashion abroad. Though she better watch her back because I hear Sarah Palin was totally gunning for the job.

Economic Downturn Hits Cindy Crawford

Some folks are better equipped to handle a great depression than others. I, for one, will probably be fine once I lose my job and have to start turning tricks for cash and chocolate. Because when it comes to economic matters, I'm 100% my father's son. I keep very close watch on my money: I rarely buy CDs new, generally preferring to wait until someone else is done with theirs; I consider K & S Cafeteria a 'fancy' restaurant; and I can treat the dried yellow flakes left on the bottom and sides of a pan after frying or scrambling an egg as leftovers if I need to. Point is: I'm cheap and live like an immigrant college student, so I won't be jumping from a tall downtown building the next time the Dow drops 1000 points or whatever; I'll probably just go to the store to stock up on Cup Noodle and steal some coins out of the "take a penny/leave a penny" cup.

But some folks will surprise you with how well equipped they are to deal with a cratering economy. And one of those folks is surely former supermodel and giant mole-wearer Cindy Crawford. The poor thing has had to take a job at some fast food joint in LA, God love her. But she still looks great and has that customer service thing down. I don't remember when I've ever ordered onion rings from someone this attractive. Best of all, she's already a management trainee!

Happy Thanksgiving. Here's a Sex Tape

It's almost turkey day, and to celebrate, here's a video that offers definitive proof that advertising executives have better sex than the rest of us—better awkward, uncomfortable, after hours, on-the-floor, silent, mechanical sex. This is an "infamous advertising exec sex tape" that is making the rounds across the information superhighway.

My question is, whatever happened to the good old days when folks used to make a secret video of their bosses having sex and then use it for more noble purposes, like getting a shitload of cash or a promotion?

Easy Joke Dept: Ann Coulter's Mouth Wired Shut by Liberal Orthodontist

All the jokes that could be made about this have likely already been made at least five hundred times each, but whatever, I've got to document this. Aging right-wing show pony Ann Coulter recently broke her jaw (while talking, I presume) and as a result had to have her mouth wired shut. Is this just an elaborate rouse to get her name in the papers in advance of her new scholarly treatise about liberal faggots and the presidents they get elected, Guilty, coming out in January? Get all the pundits drunk off of too much schadenfreude and then kick them in the balls with all your footnotes come interview time? Pretty clever.

Thankfully, Ms. Coulter can still communicate using her neck (it can type!), so it's not a total loss.

Who Needs X-tube When You've Got Couples Figure Skating?

You know, once upon a time a young boy could sit on the floor of his living room and stare wistfully up at the teevee as it broadcast for his enjoyment the wholesome entertainment bonanza known as couples figure skating—without it all devolving into a tawdry display of glitter, ladyparts, and Oral Sex on Ice.

What on earth has happened to this once-respectable competitive sport? I can tell you this: Jana Khokhlova and Sergei Novitski weren't engaged before their routine at the gala exhibition after the Cup of Russia figureskating ISU Grand Prix event in Moscow--but they certainly are engaged now. Engaged in a horrifying pornographic display of unwarranted and completely unnecessary moves that should never have been approved by the Figure Skating Federation (or whatever), like the Moscow Muff Dive and the St. Petersburg Spread.

What would Dorothy Hamill say?!

My Camera Phone Will Not Be Denied: Daniel Radcliffe

Daniel Radcliffe, famous for portraying awkward teen wizard Harry Potter, is also currently playing a profoundly psychologically disturbed horse f**ker in the play Equus. (Okay, okay, his character isn’t really a horse f**ker; I just wanted to get the phrase horse f**ker into this post at least three times.)

Anyway, I saw the play last night and it was a nice, sexy (horses played by hot sinewy male dancers in metal horse heads and platform hooves!), disturbing night at the theater. And Master Radcliffe, after putting his clothes back on, was good enough to meet his public out in front of the Broadhurst after the show, at which point my camera phone, as ever, would not be denied.

Harry's Potter and the Play in Which You Can See It

Hello, trollops, here's your morning frantic penis video, pretty NSFW. It's naked Daniel Radcliff, aka Harry Potter, jumping around the stage totally buck ass naked in a scene from Equus which he is appearing in currently at NYC's Broadhurst Theater. Other good news: I'm going to see it tonight, yay! My friend Sarah went to see it a few weeks ago and said that little Harry was sporting a chub at one point. Well, she called it a "semi" but we all know the technical term is "chub."

See Tim Recommend: The American Family Association's Burning Christmas Cross

It's that time of year again, when we must prematurely celebrate the reason for the season, Santa Jesus, who died on the cross four score and seven years ago for the sins of many elves, some of whom were nasty gays. And what better way to celebrate this merriest of seasons than to twirl on down to the American Family Association's online store and purchase a burning Christmas cross for your front stoop? I mean, what, are you gonna let your neighbor pretend that he loves Santa Jesus more than you do?

There's just something so beautiful and timely about the availability of a "burning" Christmas cross from the AFA, at this defining moment. After all, the burning cross is a symbol of freedom, matches, and bountiful lighter fluid, three things that are in such short supply these days thanks to our new socialist (and black!) overlord.

Y'all, this cross is 5 feet tall, so what are you waiting for? America's front yards are not gonna set fire to themselves.

OH MY GOD WANDA SYKES IS GAY THIS IS SO AWESOME!!

Okay, so obviously I've moved directly from obsessing over Sarah Palin to obsessing over the gays, but I love Wanda Sykes so much and I can't express how happy I am that she's one of us. Am I late to this party? I had no idea before this whole Prop 8 thing. Jimmy and I were watching PBS last night because we were so freaking bored (and because we'd just seen on the 10 o'clock news that Rudy Giuliani might be running for governor of New York, so we had to change the channel quickly), and we saw this public service announcement-type thing she did to educate stupid teenagers about how they shouldn't use "gay" as a pejorative adjective.

Now, I have to be honest. I use the word "gay" as a pejorative adjective all the time, and, to tell you the truth, it doesn't really bother me when other people do it. But it probably would annoy me if a trio of smug teens did it, especially since the little statue they're talking about isn't even that gay. Not nearly as gay as being in a commercial on PBS. 

Anyway, I love it when cool, hilarious people end up being gay, and I can't remember the last time I was this excited to hear from a black lesbian. 

Marriage-minded Gays Make the Best Signs

Like thousands of other pissed off homos, I went to the Prop 8 protest in New York on Saturday. I've never really had a dog in the "gay marriage" race. It was never that important to me when I was younger, because I figured I would just screw hot guys for the rest of my life--you know, to make up for lost time. What did I want with marriage? Then I met Jimmy in my mid-20s and we've spent 11 years together living in sin (minus 2 years I spent in Tokyo)--longer by 9 years, mind you, than the majority of first marriages in the country.

And, you know, the longer Jimmy and I are together the more fed up I become with stupid breeders that cling to fictitious definitions of marriage and use them to keep couples like Jimmy and I--who have spent over a decade together with no fanfare and, more importantly, no freaking wedding gifts--second class citizens undeserving of the same rights given to knocked up Alaskan 17-year-olds and their retarded 17-year-old baby daddies. Even though we've never really seriously talked about getting hitched, the Prop 8 vote on November 4 and the experience of being at the rally on Saturday almost made me want to text Jimmy and ask him for his hand in fake gay marriage. He was not at the rally, sadly, because he had to work, and he wouldn't have gone anyway, because he's antisocial and hates crowds. But I think he would probably have said yes, if I mentioned all the gifts we'd get, and the possibility of health insurance for him. We really need a new toaster, and he really needs a physical exam.

But the real magic of the rally was, of course, the homemade signs, because gays are bitchy and, these days, pretty annoyed. Here are some pics I was able to get. Click to enlarge (tee-hee) and enjoy and OH MY GOD WANDA SYKES IS GAY??!!


"I Will Not Be Tolerated"




"Protect Marriage: Ban Divorce"


"Keep Your Church Out of My State"

Elton John Trains the Next Generation of Gays

Reactionary old pop queen Elton John is certainly doing his part to ensure that gays will make up at least 10 percent of future American populations with his relentless campaign to make Broadway—currently saddled with awful heterosexual/asexual productions like Spring Awakening, Jersey Boys, and Mary Poppins—more aggressively gay. He bombed a few years ago with his musical adaptation of Anne Rice’s Lestat novel, but not because it was too gay (which it probably was). In the words of a young female Broadway enthusiast who sat next to me last year at Grey Gardens and attended one of the very few performances of Lestat before it was mercifully withdrawn from public view and burnt at the stake, “It was so horrible I couldn’t stop laughing.”

Obviously I’m really sad I missed that, but wild gay horses couldn’t drag me to see John’s latest project, Billy Elliot, which just looks exhausting. The movie was cute, but a production full of young wide-eyed boys singing about wanting to dance sounds dangerously twee.

My advice for Elton John is this: honeybee, you’re working with material that is already as gay as the day is long. You need to challenge yourself. For your next musical, how about adapting, say, Triumph of the Will, All the President’s Men, or Gandhi? Stretch those gay muscles of yours.

Boiling Bunnies in Alaska with Greta Van Susteren

Everyone knows that Fox News’ Greta van Susteren is scary. She has a foreign-sounding name, is a socialist, and used to be best friends with William Ayers, to name just three things. But one thing we didn’t know about her is that she is also a Single White Female-like stalker.

Susteren recently followed Sarah Palin all the way up to Alaska, where she crashed on the Palins' couch for like 6 days, during which time she aggressively coveted Sarah’s family, her snow mobile, her spacious Alaskan kitchen, and her sweet, sweet moose cheeks. (She wants to get all up in them moose cheeks.) Van Susteren wistfully questioned Sarah about her cooking, her snow children, her feelings, and her clothes, all the while dying on the inside because she knew that she, Greta Van Susteren, wasn’t Sarah Palin, she never would be Sarah Palin, and no one will ever want to be her, Greta Van Susteren, as much as she, Greta Van Susteren, wants to be Sarah Palin. It’s all very painful to watch, so you should watch some of it on the youtube.


Greta (seated, front) looks exactly like Sarah Palin in this photo.

Judge Judy is Steady in a Crisis

Now that the election is over and our new biracial dictator is going door-to-door teaching sodomy to our nation's third graders, taking away our guns (and our freedom), and letting the terrorists win, we can finally get back to what is really important for bloggers: stupid video clips!

We all knew Judge Judy was tough. But, Jesus, she doesn't so much as flinch when her courtroom is rocked by a jolly California earthquake. (Well, ok, she does flinch a little, but it doesn't take her long to sit back down and corral folks back into their places.) She appears to just take it as a sign that, indeed, God also wants these dumb people to stop lying and start getting real, please.

And I love how the plaintiff is all like, "Uh, excuse me, where's everyone going? I don't have my money yet" and the defendant is all like, "shit, momma didn't tell me the meth would do this!"

"For the First Time in My Adult Life......"

Oh screw it, I'm not done talking about North Carolina yet. You know what? I've always been kind of proud to be from North Carolina. Not only do we have three distinct regions--the mountains, the piedmont, and the coast!--we also have a great cross section of the citizenry, from eggheaded elites to hillbilly hobos. Sure we gave the country (and the United Nations) crazy crackers like Jesse Helms, who served in the Senate for 153 years and got paid by the American people to hate black folks and be jowly. But we also gave the world Michael Jordan, James Taylor, David and Amy Sedaris, Dawson's Creek, and, you know, Superchunk. Oh! And the Squirrel Nut Zippers. (You remember them.)

We have proud traditions in North Carolina. We like our BBQ shredded and vinegary; our governors inoffensively Democratic; and our US Senators batshit crazy. (We also love ourselves some Merle Haggard with a side of hush puppies and slaw.) But honoring tradition is one thing; jumping off a sinking ship to save your life is another, and I’m so proud that my home state decided by a tiny little sliver of a margin that voting against Republicans was the only logical thing to do this year. My people sent a clear message to Washington: half of us may be retarded, but a hundredth of a percentage more of us ARE NOT, thank you very much, so get with it, flunkies!

Carolina Blue!

As a native North Carolinian, I am really enjoying drinking in the above electoral map. It's official now: NC went for Obama and, more hilariously, tossed Elizabeth Dole out of her Senate seat so she could spend more time with Jesus.

Pic of the Day

Yesterday was pretty special, there's no doubt. It's not everyday that I give 50 of my hard-earned pennies to evil newspaper magnate/cartoon character Rupert Murdoch and his New York Post, but I couldn't resist this cover. What's more, if I hadn't bought this paper and flipped through it I would have completely missed the most poignant headline I've read in some time:

CLUCKOLD'S 'SEXTORTION' - Heiress duped by chicken lips

Powerful.

: ) : ) : ) : ) : ) : 0

#$%#$%$#^

See Tim Endorse

The above picture is of the Domino Sugar refinery in Williamsburg, which usually says "SAVE DOMINO" in those electric red letters, but until after the election it's adjusted its message. And because I always take my cues from messages written on the side of buildings in giant letters (I can't tell you how many times I've been duped into buying a bunch of "HOT DOUGHNUTS NOW" or sitting through boring "LIVE NUDE GIRLS" sex shows), I am today encouraging you to vote for Obama. Do it. Please. I had a nightmare last night that McCain/Palin won and I woke up blind, having scratched my own eyes out. Do it for me.

Thanks.

Yay, Victoria!

Good God, Victoria Jackson, it's you on Fox News doing comedy again!

It's been way too long since we've heard your hilarious voice. That skit in the '80s where you used to jump on Dennis Miller's Weekend Update desk and scream "I wanna be a slut!"--so relatable. You were an idol to young gay men across this great nation who had the same goal. But after you left Saturday Night Live you just disappeared. No embarrassing sitcoms, no horrible movies, no nothing. You popped up in some spooky People magazine article a few years ago in which you talk about being a Jesus crispy, but that is not what your public wants from you. What do we want? More videos like the one above!

Fox News, please make Victoria Jackson a regular pundit. Pluck her from undeserved obscurity like she was the governor of Alaska and put her on a national stage where she can bring the crazy. She's read 1984! Twice! And she loves Jesus (and pills).

Freedom's Last Halloween

Enjoy your last weekend of slutty freedom before God's chosen candidates—after being elected by a stolen landslide—force you to marry that person you will randomly hook up with this weekend and decree that by American law you must breed for Jesus. Elizabeth Dole will officiate and you will honeymoon in rural Appalachia, where real patriots hatch their offspring and bring them up to happily fight our 100-year-war in Iran.

Scabies: The New Terrorism

I do realize that everyone across this great nation is completely wrapped up in the election and is, like me, spending the day gnawing on their hangnails and otherwise finding new ways to make themselves bleed. But there are some important issues this country is facing that have fallen through the cracks during this campaign season and that absolutely must be addressed and soon. Issues like scabies.

My friend in North Carolina is an Income Maintenance Caseworker II in Food and Nutrition Services (food stamp caseworker, duh) and she recently sent this email to me:

So as I might have mentioned, in the course of my current employment, I have been mocked, ridiculed, screamed at, cussed at, spit on, punched, kicked and had my life threatened, but whatever, all in a day's work.

Also, during that time, I have sat across the table from (countless) liars, thieves, gang bangers, drug dealers, child abusers, prostitutes, drug addicts, woman beaters, rapists, child pornographers, pedophiles, attempted murders and actual murderers, but yesterday I reached my personal limit. A client came in with the worst case of scabies I have ever seen, and I refused to interview her until she had gotten treatment. I mean, seriously, murder is one thing, but bugs...hell, no.

So obviously, my friend has dealt with a LOT of psychotic Republicans on food stamps. But scabies is just a bridge too far (to nowhere!). It's like Rick Warren asked of the two presidential candidates at his retarded self-aggrandizing forum at his stupid Saddleback megachurch last August: "Do scabies exist, and if they do, do we ignore them, do we negotiate with them, do we contain them or do we defeat them?" McCain said we should defeat them, which, duh, we should. But who really thinks that McCain-Palin is going to be able to forcefully yet intelligently deal with the scabies threat?

Obama was once the king of Kenya, where he successfully triumphed during the Great Scabies Infestation of 1998 (which interestingly happened at the same time as Monica-gate) by lowering taxes on the middle class. We can trust him to deal with all our bugs.

Yes he can.

My Cold Dead Heart Beats Again: Singing, Dancing Children

You know, amid all the $150,000 shopping sprees, the new red-baiting McCain campaign narrative, the foiled neo-Nazi murder plots, the increasingly hostile McCain-Palin Nuremberg rallies, and Joe the Pretend Plumber trying to talk foreign policy, I've been trapped under a deluge of political bullshit that stinks to high heaven and have really lost sight of what's really important this campaign season: children dancing! Happily! Without being called commie welfare terrorist sympathizers!

The above video melted my cold bitter heart and allowed it to beat again. It's the kids from the Ron Clark Academy in Atlanta performing "You Can Vote However You Like," a parody of the song "Whatever You Like" by some youngster named TI.

The cutest thing is how bipartisan they are in the song, even though you know for a fact that all of them are totally in the tank for Obama.

Busy Signal

Sorry to both of my readers for the lack of activity on this here blog. In preparation for Halloween, I've been fasting and crouched in a downward dog position for three days! It will all be worth it come Friday when I am able to successfully fold myself into my laundry hamper. I'll be attending a very exclusive costume party as a pile of dirty clothes. Jimmy, dressed as Todd Palin, will be carrying me.

More soon!

My Camera Phone Will Not Be Denied: CBS's The Early Show

So I was all over the ratings-challenged Early Show this morning. Because there's nothing I love more than third place. I went there to participate in a work-related promotion (vague enough?) and stood in the freezing cold for about an hour and a half, just to give my public (hi mom!) some face time with me as a random person in the crowd, waving. Carson Kressley was there doing a really dumb segment on how to pose better for photographs while I was waving to my peeps. He's even gayer in person. (Mathematically impossible, but true.) And we got to talk to the host--some tall, handsome, bald-headed guy--about how crazy Bill O'Reilly is. My camera phone was there to capture all the magic.


This is the male host of the program. I can't remember his name.


...and there he is with his female, brown-haired co-host, whose name escapes me.


AND OH MY GOD, IT'S CARSON KRESSLEY!!! CARSON, CAN YOU TEACH ME HOW TO GET A JOB BEING GAY?!


And here's Ms. Kressley doing her segment. But wait, where's the Asian chick and the black dude from the promotional picture. Is it no racial minorities day at CBS? Such racists.

What Joe the Plumber Hath Wrought

Hey, remember that Joe the Plumber guy from the last presidential debate who wasn't really a plumber and wasn't named Joe and and would benefit from Obama's tax plan (even though he never pays his taxes) so naturally he's voting for McCain because he's patriotic? Yeah, that douche. Anyway, thanks to the success (or not!) of Joe (or Samuel or whatever) the Plumber as a campaign tool (in so many senses of the word), the McCain/Palin ticket just can't stop giving hard working Americans facile nicknames. Today, Sarah Palin gave a shout-out to Tito the Bricklayer, a guy who got in a shouting match with a few members of the media at one of her rallies, earning his moose badge.

And now the McCain campaign is taking that natural next step: allowing good, hardworking Americans to visit its website and nickname themselves in hopes of proving their blue collar cred and winning a lifetime supply of lower taxes! (Offer void if the terrorist wins.)