Camera Phone Denied: The Anderson Cooper Show

I recently decided that I should take advantage of being unemployed and attend the taping of a terrible daytime talk show, because I'm in New York, and what could be worse than being unemployed and getting sucked into discussions about meaningless bullshit and/or awful personal tragedies? That's right: getting sucked in in person.

Did you know that Anderson Cooper has a new daytime talk show? It really makes perfect sense, because, though he has a perfectly respectable career as a swoon-worthy silver fox newsman, his biggest and most devoted fans are housewives with no gaydar and gay dudes who work the pole at night, so why not tap into that Cooper-ready audience of Nancies? Anyway, I got tickets to a recent taping because I figured it would be a great opportunity to talk to Anderson about my new book and, you know, give him a copy and encourage him to tweet about it or something. Or maybe I'd have a chance to hold it up in front of the camera? So me and my friend Rachel trolled on down to the Time Warner Building in Columbus Circle at the dreaded hour of 9 a.m. and got in line.



It took forever to go through all the security rigamarole and get taken to our seats. To our delight, the usher with the Madonna microphone headset on, after consulting a person on the other end, escorted us right up to the front row OMG! We quickly decided that it must be in Anderson Cooper's rider that the front row be filled with only beautiful, camera-ready people, and they took one look at us and decided we were the very definition of that. After sitting down, we leaned back and soaked in the looks of envy showered upon us from the commoners behind us. "Hey girls," I waved to the queens staring daggers at me from the balcony seats. Soon enough, though, Rachel and I realized that we were absolutely out of range of any camera in the entire studio. There was one immediately behind us, one behind us on the other end, and several in the audience, but we were uniquely positioned to remain forever completely unknown and anonymous to the America viewing public. Was Anderson fucking with us?

The topic for the day was a doozy: transgender children. Jesus, Anderson, can't you just chill out, it's daytime teevee, for God's sake. Why no Kathy Griffin? Why no empty-calorie celebritard interviews? Why no cooking segment? This dead-serious topic ensured that Andy had to wear his Concerned Face for the entire two-hour taping, which was kind of a bummer, because when's he gonna do a segment in his Speedos?



And we weren't given ANY free shwag! None. All the guests on the stage were sipping from cool Anderson mugs and I was hoping we'd get one on the way out, but we didn't get shit. I know Anderson is no Oprah (yet), but still, couldn't he have at least put a Snickers bar under our seats or something? And the only photo I was able to take before the handlers got all stern and grabby was the one up top, taken quickly and under duress.

Okay, so I'm being pretty negative, but here's the good stuff: Coop is, of course, devastatingly gorgeous, and he was dressed adorably in fitted slacks and a snug sweater with a collared shirt. (Fun fact: I used to go to his gym, so I've seen him in his underwear, bitches.) And the stage manager was hella sexy. Rachel almost took a bite out of his butt when he placed it in front of her for a minute.

The episode will air on this Wednesday, apparently, if you're interested. Two days after the one where Joy Behar gives money saving tips, ARGH!

TMInformation Dept: '80s Singer Limahl Overshares

You guys remember Limahl, right? The new-wave mullet-sporting leader of Kajagoogoo and singer of the Never-ending Story theme song? He was sure ridiculous, even for the '80s, my favorite decade, amiright?

Well anyway, there is a new book out called I Want My MTV: The Uncensored Story of the Music Video Revolution, and in it we get all sorts of juicy stories from the likes of Ann and Nancy Wilson (bestill my heart), Dee Snider, Lionel Richie, and, yes, Limahl, who, in a preview of the book up on Pitchfork, has this to say about his personal experience with video making:

I'm going to tell you something, but I'm not going to name names. In one of my solo videos, the director came to my hotel while I was in Sydney, to discuss the video, and we ended up having sex. There was kissing and it was quite passionate. We both ejaculated. He was a famous director and he was considered very important. I was thinking, Oh my God, I'm having sex with him. I mean, at that point I was pretty famous all over the world.

Of course, when he was directing me on the set with lots of people around, there was a twinkle in his eye, and in mine, because we knew what had happened a few nights before. The video was great.

Gross, Limahl. Gross. You just used the word ejaculate, ugh. I can count on zero hands the number of people who want that from you, Limahl. No one is interested, unless this director's name is Eli Roth, in which case everyone is interested but would rather just hear the story from him, thanks.

I'm in a Glossy Gay Mag!

Y'all, Tune in Tokyo is reviewed in the #1 gay magazine in all the land, Instinct, and they call it "occasionally hilarious"! Occasionally, always--these words mean pretty much the same thing, yes? Anyway, the November "Leading Men" issue is on stands now, so I'm on my way to the Barnes and Noble now to pick up several hundred copies to paper my bedroom with. See the review below:

Booklist and Kirkus Like Tune in Tokyo!

The reviews of the new AmazonEncore edition of my tawdry book Tune in Tokyo are starting to roll in, and so far so good! Booklist and Kirkus had nice things to say, Booklist even going so far as to compare it to David Sedaris's Me Talk Pretty One Day. From Booklist:

Sayonara, America. Hello, Kitty...Aside from such classroom encounters and problems of his own with the Japanese language that...recall David Sedaris' Me Talk Pretty One Day (2000), Anderson regales his readers with tales of Japanese popular culture and his own social life, clubbing and karaoke-barhopping around Tokyo...diverting observations on a country that gaijin Anderson calls "America on Opposite Day.

From Kirkus:

Anderson reliably mines the rich comic potential inherent in simple, innocent miscommunications and misunderstandings, but most impressive is the author's ability to sustain his hyperactive comedic voice throughout most of the book without losing his edge. A laugh-out-loud look at the East/West culture clash.

The book is out November 29, you can reserve your copy here, so what are you waiting for?

Right-Wing Trannie Ann Coulter Loves Right-Wing Blacks

Ann Coulter is the right wing's #1 trannie. She is also Fox News's #1 trannie, the Internet's #1 trannie, and the #1 trannie of nine out of ten dentists (that other guy prefers Orly Taitz). Anyway, when a top-tier aging right-wing trannie talks about black folks, people listen. Because it's bound to be hilarious.

So Ann claims that "our blacks" are so much better than "their blacks", which is self-evidently true, because, come on, Herman Cain? Alan Keyes? Allen West? These are grade-A, top-shelf super-blacks who are not at all crazy or dumb or in any way sociopathic. There's also Michael Steele, who has the best porn name in American politics, though he's disappointingly coherent and likable. But still, he's ten times better than "their blacks" because he tastes like dark, small government chocolate.

In conclusion, Ann Coulter's neck still, even after all these years, looks like the shaft of an erect penis.

Happy Halloween, Slobs!

As you know, today is Discount Halloween Candy Eve, the most magical of all Eves, so to celebrate, I've taken this photo of my cat Stella hanging with the Jack-O-Lantern that Jimmy carved the other night and for some reason named Pedro. Poor Pedro looks distressed. Why is that? Never mind, because tomorrow, Pedro will be neck-deep in discounted packs of candy from the Rite-Aid or Duane Reade, because tomorrow is the Annual Candy Buying Day That Is Only Celebrated By Me. Why pay full price when you can just wait and get your Snickers, 3 Musketeers, and Milky Ways at cut-rate? As I'm always telling anyone who will listen, it's always best to arrive just after the party is over (or everyone passes out) and then start sweeping all the uneaten goodies into the napsack you brought with you.

I'll be visiting the best NYC drug stores tomorrow with my napsack. Let me know if you have any requests.

A Time-Lapse of Tokyo That Really Brings Me Back to My Replicant-Hunting Days

This is an excellent video with a totally appropriate Blade Runner soundtrack. It reminds me of the old days when I used to spend day after day after day scouring Tokyo's neon neighborhoods in my trench coat, carrying my laser pistol, listening to the Vangelis on my ear buds, and searching for Daryl Hannah, Joanna Cassidy, and bleach-blonde, soaking-wet Rutger Hauer so I could "retire" them, sexily. Those were some good times.

My Camera Phone Will Not Be Denied: Dum Dum Girls at Bowery Ballroom

The Dum Dum Girls are fishnet-fetishist vampy vixens from outer space (California) and lead singer Dee Dee knows how to craft a sparkling pop tune so it was only a matter of time before I saw them live. As you all know, I get easily bored if there's not at least one woman on any stage at a given time, so you can imagine how punch-drunk-happy I was to be able to see these four hot tomales surface from their glitter gutter and show off their legs, lipstick, and la-la's last Friday at Bowery.

Lead singer Dee Dee is so skinny that she can only be seen from this angle.

If I were straight, these are totally the girls that I would have been afraid to ask out in high school.

Gratuitous leg shot.

The only thing that would make this band more perfect live is if they had a topless tambourine player.



If you can read upside down, you'll see that "Wrong Feels Right," the Dum Dum's best song, is weirdly absent from this set list. This is unacceptable, and I'm still waiting on an explanation. Since when do bands completely ignore anonymous internet comment posters?!

And the obligatory artistic blurry shot, the end.

Economy Now So Bad, Out-of-Work Stormtroopers Turning to Street Performing

This economy is in the crapper, obviously. So basically the time for people to monetize whatever talents they have is now. My band, simpleshapes, consists of three people, two of them unemployed and one of them barely employed. So we decided the other day to use our misfortune to our advantage, by plopping ourselves down on the subway and playing some tunes. We made a whopping $12 after a few hours of playing our hearts out, so we may need to find a better location. But on my way home, I saw a stormtrooper who had a winning gambit: strip down to his black wife-beater and jeans, turn on some dancy pop tunes, and go to town on a pink drum set.



Not sure why we never thought of doing this, but it probably doesn't work as well if (a) you're not a stormtrooper and (b) you can't play drums. Also, does the public really want to see a stormtrooper playing something as soft and girly as the viola? Maybe in Chelsea.

Anyway, maybe next time we bring an amp, turn it up to 11, and get arrested? At least in prison you get free food and gym privileges.

My Camera Phone Will Not Be Denied: Ladytron at Terminal 5

Y'all know I'm a fool for Ladytron, the gang of synthpop robots from the planet KORG who visit our fine solar system every few years to bless us with more of their carnal keyboard knowledge. Well they beamed themselves down to NYC last night for some musical interfacing with us humanoid slobs and it was sublime.



Ladytron have reached a point in their career—they've been around now for as long as the Cure were when they released Disintegration, and their new album Gravity the Seducer has a bunch of new gems on it—where they've got a solid grab-bag of songs to choose from, and could play awesome shows for days without repeating themselves. So seeing them live these days is a treat from first to last, because as you stand there, wasted from all the vodka/diet Cherry 7-ups you downed before leaving the house so you wouldn't have to spend money at the bar, you just know that whatever they play is going to be awesome because YOU LOVE THEM LIKE NO OTHER, so you can just take a deep breath and get ready to dance robotically and play air-synth again, yesssss!



They came out and looked great. Lead singer Helen appeared to be wearing a Mickey Mouse hat, but I'm thinking now it might have been a giant bow? Anyway, they started with "Soft Power" and "International Dateline" and oh my God is Mira the Bulgarian one on the left pregnant?!

She's usually so svelte, like Dr. Spock. But she's a little bit pear-shaped now, it seems. Which is fine, I'm not being weight-ist! But, hmm, yeah, I think I'm gonna go ahead and call it: Mira from Ladytron is pregnant with a baby alien robot, must credit SeeTimBlog!!

And here's my secret boyfriend Reuben Wu, the handsomest android in pop. I'd love to get a gander at his circuit board, if you know what I mean. You know, see his hard drive. Pop his control panel. (I want to see him naked, is what I'm saying.)

Yep. Totally pregnant.

Keyboard swap.

And they end with "Destroy Everything You Touch," one of their most beloved songs, and one that I've never really warmed to. So Ladytron, stop ending your concerts with this song, pls. And there was no "Playgirl" or "Sugar," which upsets me. But they did play "Discotraxx" and "High Rise," so I accept their apology.

After the show, the 'Tron boarded their spacepod for the after party, which was on Tatooine, the end.

A Final Comment on America's Snowbilly Sweetheart

Many of my readers have been asking me, "Tim, why haven't you commented on the shocking news that quitter Sarah Palin is quitting the GOP race she was never in?" Well, I'm heartbroken, obviously. The primary so far has been completely lacking in maniacal gerund use, word soup, and tragicomic campaign bus magic, and Sarah Palin was our last hope for any of that. I mean, really, even Rick Perry isn't going to have the balls to say something like "I want to help clean up the state that is so sorry today of journalism. And I have a communications degree."

It's a tragedy. Especially for me, because as you might remember, I secured the first interviews with Governor Palin before Charles Gibson and Katie Couric got their talons on her, before we even knew she liked to say "you betcha" and "terrrrrists" and "Bill Ayerrrrrrrs" and all that dumb garbage all the time, forever. So I know Palin on a much deeper level than anyone else, including Greta van Susteren. The woman I met and chatted with back then has really made a lot of money/spread her wings like a proud eagle and flown. Right into traffic. On the top of a bus. It's depressing that she's giving up the dream of becoming our first white trash Grifter-in-Chief. Who are we turn to, for freedom?

Maybe this clown?

My Camera Phone Will Not Be Denied: Nuit Blanche: Bring to Light Festival

Last Saturday Greenpoint's warehouse district was lit the heck up by the Nuit Blanche light festival, which Jimmy and I decided was definitely worth leaving the house for. We were right! My favorite color is neon anything, as you know, and it was on display mightily. This festival had everything: swing sets, music, blacklights, dumplings, projections, stuff, and replicants crashing through department store displays to their deaths. It was very exciting.

My camera here is attempting--only partially successfully--to capture a projection of figures climbing up the building.

When is this deadbeat neon hobo going to get off this bench, get a job, and quick sucking off the government teat?

Which one of these people is a replicant? A sinister and troubling question that gets at the heart of the dividing line between man and soulless machine. (Btw, none of these people are replicants.)

Men in white play dreamy Bon Iver-ish music in this spectacular candle-lit room, which appears to have been modeled after my ex-boyfriend Lestat's kitchen.

A delightful bit of neon sludge and powder inside this empty truck provides everyone the opportunity to treat it like a Facebook wall. Oh look, here's a bench...

The most magical bench in all the land. Whatever dost grace the inner chamber of thine spectral bench?

Bit of a surprise, this one. It is just a dude lying down listening to his iPod.

Adorable AND sinister!

Here's a still of swingsetters being projected onto the side of a building. Video below.

The coolest exhibit was one you could see from blocks away: a blinking, wandering eyeball projected onto the water tower. Here's a video:

We came across this alien space egg hanging on a fence. I'm pretty sure it means no harm.

Bunch of light sabers playing charades.

And we end with a fun little psychedelic bicycle projection and Tron Elvis leaving the building.

My Camera Phone Will Not Be Denied: Occupy Wall Street Riot Free Radiohead Concert Thing

You know, one of the perks of being unemployed (did I mention I'm unemployed?) is that you can go out and see what the world looks like during normal working hours. And since I'm also always looking for free things to do, after reading the rumor that Radiohead would be playing the Occupy Wall Street thing downtown, I decided I should go see this because I haven't seen Radiohead since 1994 when I was living in Manchester, England, and I went to a record store signing and got Thom York to sign my literature notebook (he wrote "Literature rots the brain"). (Note to self: find this notebook and put it on ebay...?)

Well, there was no Radiohead—that was apparently just an ugly rumor to get dumb people like me to pay attention to whatever this thing is. And judging from the above video I shot, the world during normal working hours looks like an idiotic/fun rave party.

Besides dancing, there were also costumes and wigs.



And lots of people standing around and talking about why Radiohead wasn't there.

There were also signs, some of which made sense! One of them that I don't think did was one that I failed to get a shot of, which said "Osama Bin Bernanke" with a picture of poor Mr. Bernanke in a turban. (He looked pretty good!) The guy who was holding it looked proud of himself for his wordplay, but he refused to stand still, and my camera phone waits for nobody. Anyway...

I'm not sure what the below figure is supposed to be. I guess someone who is dead from nuke pollution? In any case...

...the shot looks better with this dude in it.

I took this video when I heard music and saw folks mobilizing to march. At least I thought that's what was happening. It turned out to be the shortest march ever.

Look at Mr. Man here, holding his sign and striking his pose. He's fierce, put him on a magazine.

More people/signs...

Lord, I'm a shitty photographer. Was trying to get one of the guy with the dollar bill pasted over his mouth. His sign says "I could lose my job 4 having..." and then a man's head interrupts it. For having a what?! A tie on at a rally? Red hair? A boner? What?

Finally, a Willie Nelson T-shirt. (Worn by Willie Nelson?)

And lastly, a dizzying panorama of the proceedings, with the camera moving so unsteadily that you actually know less about the gathering than you did before you watched it. No need to thank me.