“As I walk these narrow streets where a million passin’ feet have trod before me, with my guitar in my hand, suddenly I realize nobody knows me,” dryly sings Nick Cave in the beginning of “The Singer,” his take on Johnny Cash’s “The Folk Singer” on Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds’ 1986 cover album … Continue reading
Ugh! We have had it all the way up to our chinny-chin-chin with Trumpy Bear’s capitalization of what once belonged to us: SLEAZE! First there was the whole pussy grabbing–or was it pussy ass bitch–thing. Then, Stormy. Melania’s outfits. Don Jr.’s beard. Kavanaugh’s boozy meltdown. Jerry Falwell Jr.’s pictures. Religious leaders laying hands on Trump’s … Continue reading
“To live in a country where you can take an ugly old mountain and put faces on it—faces of great Americans who did so much to make our country super great—well, that just makes me…proud to be an American!” No, this perversely patriotic phrase wasn’t uttered at one of Trump’s demented and near unintelligible Rose … Continue reading
I love museum gift shops. I know, I know–this isn’t too much of a surprise after I’ve continually admitted my undying love of the worst of late capitalism, including yes, corporate Pride. But unlike that rainbow colored free-for-all, which comes around only one month a year to tickle my frantic shopping spree fancy, museum gift … Continue reading
Happy Gay Pride, friends! Happy BIG 50 to the Stonewall Riots! I mean, Uprising. No, I mean, Rebellion! Yes, rebellion! The New York Times recently provided a series of pieces on the many conflicting narratives about Stonewall. Who threw the first brick–or stone–or rock–or coins? Surely, it wasn’t Roland Emmerich’s cornfed midwestern white boy laughably … Continue reading
Nothing says instant cinematic classic like a climactic moment involving shitting on a bus. Or is that an instant trash classic? Either way, Netflix’s The Perfection blasted its way into my heart like an explosive bowel movement, with the alternately shrieking and whimpering dialogue: “If I move, I’ll shit! I’m going to shit on the … Continue reading
If Charles Ludlam thought Susan Sontag did a number on camp, I can’t imagine what he would have thought witnessing the camp tragedy that occurred on the pink carpet (pink being, apparently, the color of camp) at the Metropolitan Museum of Art on Monday. Whew! Mary! It was a camp catastrophe, a camp calamity, a … Continue reading
