Archive for the ‘Gay, gay, gay, gay, gay’ Category
Just so when someone asks if I’m gay, I can do this.
If it doesn’t animate properly, just click on the image.
Or someone should at least take the other guy out for dinner afterward.
I really don’t care. To each his own. But WHY must these stupid reality shows seek out the crazy-assed gay and lesbian people to highlight? I mean, it’s not as if there aren’t enough couch cushion-eating, dirt-munching, urine-drinking heterosexuals out there to go around.
If you’re a gay guy who wants to dress up in a giant tail fin and swim around in public, fine. Go right ahead.
JUST KEEP IT TO YOURSELF. And that goes for your hot boyfriend, too.
And, no, I’m not including a link to the TLC program airing this screwball’s obsession. Look it up yourself.
You’re welcome. Don’t say I never bring you anything interesting.
March 7 was the anniversary of Divine’s death in 1988.
If you don’t know who Divine was, you can read about her here. Suffice it to say that she was a morbidly obese drag queen who got his start hawking drag shows in Baltimore and Provincetown in the 1970′s, and staging mock fights with other drag queens on-stage in gay clubs across the country.
Then film director John Waters, who was also Divine’s friend, made him a star by putting him into such trashy cult films as Female Trouble, Pink Flamingos and Polyester. I was but a young pup when these tasteless films came out and was full of a sense of self-importance, offended by films I thought gave gays a bad name. In time I learned the lesson that the best way to deal with people who hate is not to conform to them because they will hate you anyway, but to be yourself.
Now I appreciate the films exactly what Waters intended them to be: trash with flash. And trashy they were. If you have not seen them — and do not offend easily — I suggest getting some friend together for an afternoon of taste-free fun.
I also appreciate Divine as a person who came way before his time. He would have been famous now, I’m sure of it, if his weight had not caused his enlarged heart to stop one night. But what he did, at that time, took a great deal of bravery. It was also pure camp, in the best sense of that word.
That’s Divine on the right below, with David Bowie.
And I’ll hazard a guess that it will happen when she walks in from work early one day to find Greg with a penis in his mouth.
Never go to a gay bakery without making clear the cake is for a child, not an adult gay guy.
I think this guy is a scream. I only hope that he accepts his idiosyncratic style and is doing it because it’s fun, and not just to get laughed at. Not that there’s anything wrong with being laughed at. But I’ll take a guess that being the butt of cruel jokes can get lonely after a while (see Farley, Chris, etc.)
If you read the depressing YouTube comments, a lot of people are pretty harsh toward him — especially other African Americans.
I say: You go, son. Just keep on being your bad self.
Meanwhile, as near as I can tell from all the videos out there, the Harlem Shuffle is whatever people say it is.
(Oh, and thanks Tom K. (Thom K.?) for pointing this out to me!)