Monday, November 20, 2017
An Appointment To See Santa, At Macy's??????????? Are You Kidding Me?????? This Is Going Too Far!!!!!!!!!!
This is all extremely ironic, following how closely it does on the heels of my having read David Sedaris' "Santaland Diaries."
Remember the scene in the 1947 classic, "Miracle On 34th Street," (the sacred black-and-white version, not the bastadized color one) where the little Dutch girl approaches Edmund Gwenn, and the touching exchange they have, which transitions Natalie Wood into belief? It is the first time in the film where I cry real tears!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well, with Macy's merchandising techniques today, that poor, loving, innocent child would be left out in the cold! Because, now, for the first time in history, in order to see Santa at Macy's, you have GOT to have an appointment!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I say, "You have got to be kidding?" In a town where Upper East Side mothers actually fellate headmasters, to get their darlings into the right private school,(it was dramatized in a "Law And Order SVU" episode) parents are practically going to have to do this and more, just to get a spot to see Santa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hey, I am The Raving Queen, and I want to sit on Santa's lap! Especially if Santa is Stephen Colbert, Andrew Keenan-Bolger, Beck Bennett, or Chris Elliot!!!!!!!!! Even Chris Meloni--Yoweeeeee! But you are telling me I have to get an appointment?????
It's just Santa, not a hair makeover, at Sally Hershberger's! That I can understand! Parents and kids alike are stressed enough as it is, before and during the Holidays! Why does Macy's insist on making it worse????????????
There is another scene in the 1947 film, where an administrator boasts how Macy's has always been "the friendly store, the one with a heart!" Well, honey, I am telling you, those days are gone!
Now, it says parents and children have to make an appointment, but what about dogs??????????????????????
Maybe I can sail right in, with Cujo, Chloe, Mellow, Nia, , Indiana Jones, and my lovely cockatoo friend, Bacci.
Stick it up. good and deep, Macy's!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This is an important lesson, as I have advised on here, to avoid Great Big Closet Cases, because they can be extremely dangerous, and, in the cases here, of Gerry Gheardi and George Lamphere, lethal.
It was a rare Paula Zahn show, where even I stayed awake. And after what looked like a belt of bullets worn around her waist. Either someone on staff is playing a sick, homophobic joke, or, they need to hire gay designers to dress Paula. The woman hasn't a clue!
Maybe because the show dealt with covert homophobia, it gave me courage to stay awake.
The first murder was Gheardi's. As soon as I heard he was a church organist, and was found naked, alone, in his apartment, I knew this was some 'Goodbar' thing.
This occurred on March 29, 1981. It was not until George Lamphere, another gay church organist, in South Bend, was murdered, in 1983, that police begin searching for a connection, since the victims did not know each other--Gheardi lived in Mishawaka--but the findings and circumstances were the same.
Both had admitted someone they knew, or met, to their apartment, with tragic results.
After tipsters, and DNA profiling, the culprit turned out to be someone who lived in the area, Daniel Seltzer.
Now, I want you to take a good look at this picture. Even twenty years younger than here, Seltzer was ugly, and dangerous looking. Those eyes tell it all. His victims were 28, and 34, respectively, and I think this was part of the reason they were killed.
Seltzer had a violent, Jekyll-and-Hyde personality, and he lived with this woman, Kathy, who eventually testified against him, because, even living with him, she was afraid of him. I bet she knew his secret. I bet she was some kind of fag hag.
I can tell you the kind of man Seltzer was. He would peep through doors, at home, like Jennifer Jason Leigh spying on Bridget Fonda, in "Single White Female," because he wanted to observe Kathy putting on make-up, which he wanted to try, hoping to look pretty. The fact that he knew it wouldn't enraged him. So he went out, right to the bars, and picked up these gay men. I am willing to bet the act of killing them gave him some sort of homosexual thrill, possibly to the point of ejaculation. Then, guilt and self-hate set in, which is why there was a two year interval between killings. Which tells me, had he not been apprehended, he would have gone on killing local gays.
I have to feel sorry for both Gerry and George. Not only did they not deserve what they got, the fact that they went with this creep says how desperate it is to be gay in Indiana. There are closet cases, in New York, who are outnumbered, but, darlings, for those of you who are still oppressed out Midwest way, come East to here, or West, to San Francisco. Otherwise you will psychologically self-destruct, or end up murdered, like Gerry and George.
Again, there is nothing more dangerous than a Great Big Closet Case. Daniel Seltzer would have better dancing in the mirror, in crotchless panties, like Doatsy Mae, in "The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas!"
It would have been his only chance to try and look beautiful. But I am sure lots of inmates are now forcing Daniel out of his closet!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I say, "Go to it, boys!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Who would have imagined that the most celebratory song, related to death, came from my all-time favorite movie, "The Wizard Of Oz?????????" I mean, in the sequence where this is performed, the Munchkins are celebrating the death of the Wicked Witch Of The East.
So, I thought it would be the perfect song to celebrate the passing of the Twentieth Century's Supreme Sicko, Charles Manson. He died at 83, of, would you believe, natural; causes, when there was actually nothing natural about him. In my early working days, I feared he would get paroled, because, if he did, I knew for sure he would come to my workplace, where we had all sorts of wackos, so that he would have fit right in!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I love this picture, because, to his left, look at that spooked-out picture of Susan Atkins. It begs me to ask the question I was going to ask anyway. Charles never got his hands dirty, in carrying out these nefarious deeds, but how in the world did he coerce Susan and the others to do the bloody killings? Were they that stupid? Manipulative? Naïve? Did Manson have a twelve inch dick? Hey, even gay men, who certainly, back then, were not the brightest, would know enough to stay away from this guy. Besides, he looks like one of those guys, who never took a bath!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You have to feel sorry for Sharon Tate. Married only briefly to Roman Polanksi, they might have had a nice future, let alone a child, and I bet she would have done some films with him, so that her legacy would not be walking down a set of studio stairs, in leotards and a cheap head dress, saying, "I feel a little top heavy," as Jennifer North, in "Valley Of The Dolls." I think it is something to be proud of, but I also think it unfortunate, that Sharon, unlike Marilyn, did not get a chance to show there was more to her than what met the eye.
I feel sorry, and guilty, for saying I am glad someone is dead. But I am. Even Satan must be nervous, about having this sicko for Eternity.
Two things he did for society in his life. He made us aware of the presence of Evil.
And, for guilt ridden Catholics, hey, just start with Manson, and you are already, several, Several, SEVERAL Steps, closer to Heaven.
Manson raises the bar on hope for us all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Good riddance, you scum!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I intend to read his books, in order, so I managed to get through his first book, "Barrel Fever," quickly. I had no idea the title meant something related to alcoholism, and I have known some alcoholics in mu time, darlings; believe me.
My ultimate discovery was I liked the essays better than the short stories, though one, "Glen's Homophobia Newsletter, Vol. 3, No. 2, was a favorite of mine. Not only did I relate to it, I wish I had written it, myself, and you could not ask for a higher compliment, on here.
The stories seem to be disguised family chronicles. If you nothing of the Sedarises history, you are lost at sea. If you do, then you know it is disguised autobiography, but, frankly, I like it better when he goes straight to the truth. And this is the book containing the classic "Santaland Diaries," which is already going to change my outlook for Christmas.
I like David, but I still love Amy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
His book is humorous, insightful, and not, as I initially feared, pretentious.
For that, you would have to go to Augusten Burroughs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Even though Nicole was representative of Bay Ridge, I think she lives on Staten Island, which means she could be returning to either a slag heap, or a landfill, because, besides that, and malls, what the hell else is there, on Staten Island?????????????
The thing that bothered me the most about Nicole, was not her unwillingness to come out as a Lipstick Lesbian--and why should she, since that fact is as known as Kevin Spacey's homosexuality???????-- but that she went to Seton Hall!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now, I am a graduate of Seton Hall--Class Of 1977, darlings!!!!!!!!--and I do not want people to get the mistaken idea, via Nicole, that all Seton Hall students are Republicans!!!!!!!!!! I am sure Nicole would love for us all to think that, but, let me assure you, darlings, it is not true!!!!!!!!!
There were even gays and lesbians on campus, in my time; now, I am sure, there are organizations, so I am sure Nicole fit right in. Whether she wanted to admit it, or not.
Now that she is forced to keep a low profile, don't cause Seton Hall any further embarrassment, Nicole!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
If there has to be Republican candidates, then bring back Condoleeza Rice!!!!!!!!!! She dresses better, has an intriguing name, and is a barrel of laughs!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Girls, it was a fabulous day, but things that happened along the way..well, they could only happen to me.
The day began with routinely enough with an early breakfast, coffee, and me reading. I finished "Barrel Fever" by David Sedaris; more on that, another post. Then I opened my birthday cards, with David and Baby Gojira. We were all so happy.
It was when we got out of the house, things got really interesting.
We had to travel to the Fifth Avenue stop on the R, because the restaurant, conveniently, was, literally a block away. We literally stepped to and from the train, and back again.
But, riding on the train, there was this street musician, playing for money, of course, which I have nothing against, who boarded the train. I can read through anything on a train, because I zone out, so I don't have to deal with all the wackos. I have dealt with enough of them in my time, darlings. The musician was playing an accordion, and I had a vague recollection of the melody but could not recall it--until he got to the mid-section. You know what he was playing???? It was Fantine's song from "Les Miz," "I Dreamed A Dream." Now, I have nothing against this song, or Fantine, God knows, but on MY birthday, THIS is what I had to hear? For a second, it gave me an odd foreboding of the year to come, but David helped put me that from my mind.
We arrived at the hotel--the Sherry-Netherland, and the restaurant, which was Harry Cipriani, and just one step in from the street. Things got off to a rocky start, when our table was not quite ready. Seems they had a big lunch rush, and were still recovering. So, we were dismissed to the bar, to have a drink, where, it seemed The Raving Queen was about to explode. Nothing like that December luncheon at Delemarchier--I do not think anything will top that--but I was simmering. David, and the fact that it was my birthday, and I was here to enjoy, prevailed, and I kept my cool. We were soon shown to a lovely table that gave us a perfect view of the room, and, believe me, there was plenty to observe.
The service and cuisine were superb. For drinks, David had one of their famous Bellinis, which I had a sip of; it was delicious. I just stuck with club soda and a lemon twist.
For the appetizer, I went simple, with vinaigrette asparagus sticks. Yummy. David had a bowl of Chic Pea soup, and a veal platter with capers. I ordered a glass of Merlot for my main course, which was Veal Piccatta, minus capers. It was luscious. With it, came the most delicious rice, crisp, and curried so lightly there was just a hint of exotic flavor, but not a bit overpowering. David had the Mediterranean Brranzio al Forno, with Saute Broccoli Rabe. I did not try the fish, but the latter was delicious.
I was so proud of myself. We had kept the meal light, because I did not want to overeat, because of gastric issues that can arise from my diabetes medication. But, we went overboard on deserts.
We could not decide between the Whipped Vanilla Cream Cake, or the Freshly Whipped Vanilla Ice Cream, made on the premises. So, we got both, with coffee, and, I am telling you, it was like eating Baked Alaska. The best meringue I have ever eaten, creamy and whipped, not stiff, and the same with the ice cream; it was more like meringue.
We were stuffed, but not to the gills. The coffee was luscious and rich, as were the little petite cookies we were given. Cipriani's definitely knows how to keep its customers happy.
This was followed by a floor show that only we observed. At a table almost perpendicular to us, came in these blowzy male business types, with these women--wives, mistresses, who could tell?????? The one who stood out the most sat closest to us, had more than a middle-aged spread, and looked like she was trying to channel Dorothy Loudon, going elegant. And I have no doubt, looking the age she did, she would have known who Dorothy Loudon was. But her acolytes--because they all fluttered around her, like she was some celebrity, looked collectively the same--breast implants, or those who needed them, the same shade and style of blonde hair--dyed, of course!!!!!!--almost the same cut of dress, if different pattern, and faces where the skin has been pulled back so far, any more, and the skull would be visible! Wives, mistresses, trophy wives, I have no idea what they were, but I can tell you, as a unit, who they were--"that invincible bunch! The dinosaurs surviving the crunch! The Ladies Who Lunch!!!!!!!!!!!" Only this wasn't lunch; this was dinner. How do they keep their figures? Drink, I guess. Which is where those face lifts come in handy!!!!!!!!!!!!!
But, even at Cipriani's, this group was upstaged. Because, while we were waiting for the check, in walked this gigantic Goombah, tall, in a tailored suit, with his hair down the back, longer than Frank Mills. He was definitely Mafiosi, and he gave me a look, like he knew I knew he knew I had his number. Which I did. Especially when I saw what he walked in with--this buxom, wide hipped, hair piled high thing, who, I am certain, was a mistress, if not a prostitute--probably runs a nail salon, in New Jersey---with the most outrageous outfit--a white blouse, sleeveless on one side (like it had been torn off) and sleeved on the other. She was trying to create a fashion statement, but, honestly, the poor girl looked like she had been in a fight. An d what I want to know is, how the hell did she balance herself, on those tiny heels?????? This was capped off by maroon toreador pants--when have we last seen those, darlings--which were so tight they seemed to be part of her skin!!!!!!!!!!!! I have no idea how she got into them, but she did, but I can tell you this; it will her longer to get out of them. The capper of it all was that each ankle on these pants had---now get this!!!!!!--a black rosette, wrapped around it. I mean, is this a look or what?????? No wonder her escort looked at me; I looked classier than she did! Still, I will never forget those rosettes on the ankles! And neither will anyone else, who saw them!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
On that note, we left, got on the train, and rode home--satisfied, relaxed, I could read all the way, and so could David, and no sad songs this time.
It was a birthday, like any other. For me, that is!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Saturday, November 18, 2017
You all recall that Richie Valens classic, don't you, darlings?????????
Donna Tartt, what in the hell are you doing?
I have just learned, this week, that Brat Pack High Priestess Donna Tartt, has severed ties with her literary agent, the celebrated Amanda "Binky" Urban.
Sure, Amanda may be no Blythe Danner in the looks department, but, hey, Donna, how long are you going to carry on with that Goth Butch look? Or is it Butch Goth? I mean, it is getting to the point where, if you were a biopic, Chaz Bono could play you!
Not only does it pain me to say all this about one of my favorite writers, it comes at a funny point in my life, when I am reaching the end of my Brat Pack project, and have only left to read Donna's two signature works, "The Secret History," and "The Goldfinch." It isn't like I have never read either. Her first work I have read three, maybe four, times, and it will be interesting to see if the discoveries I made during the first reading of "The Goldfinch" hold up, or if there are more.
Personally, I think Donna is a fool! Brilliant writer, but a fool! Everyone out there, who fancies themselves as a writer, would just about kill--or close to it--to be represented by Amanda "Binky" Urban. Including yours truly!!!!!!!!!!
Donna, I will always be a loyal reader.
But, Amanda, now that you have a spot open, how about looking over this blog? So we can talk about a future project!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I was introduced to "Mildred Pierce," first seeing the classic Joan Crawford movie. At the time, I was too young to be reading James M. Cain, even if a copy of his novel could have been found. The initial impact of the movie, on me, was that celebrated opening upward shot, of Joan, perched on the bridge, contemplating suicide, and, of course, daughter Veda, the bitch my future gay self could recognized as one I could relate to, and wanted to be. Ann Blyth just captivated me!
As the Cult Of Joan grew, and the camp fondness for the film, Cain's novels were reissued in print. This is the edition of "Mildred Pierce" I own, and if I put the front and back covers together, it becomes one revealing, panel, saying all about the story. Who could imagine that Monty, played so dashingly in the film by the great Zachary Scott, could be so seedy??????????
Well, surprise, surprise!!!!!!!!!!! If you think the book and movie are the same, think again.
Let's start with what is similar. The younger daughter does die. Though here she is called "Ray," (because everyone in this book is too uneducated to correctly pronounce her actual first name, which is Moire. Reminds me of the Jewish word, "moil!!!!!!!!!!") not "Kay," as she is in the movie. And her death is caused by the flu, not pneumonia. Mildred and Bert do get divorced, but their emotional connection remains. Their last words, which I will discuss, are a hoot!
No one get killed in this novel. But Mildred certainly gets around. Sure, that scene in the movie, at Monty's beach house, with the record playing "Now, Voyager," and then, later when Mildred catches Monty with Veda, implies something, but Cain goes much further. I mean, not to the level of Harold Robbins, but pretty close. And she sleeps with Wally, who here is given a different last name than Fay--Burgan. I mean, when I read this, all I could picture was Joan and Jack Carson naked--Ewwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!! Yes, Veda extorts money from Mrs. Forrester for supposedly being knocked up by her son, but by this point, she has married up, to a film director, and is no longer "Forrester." Veda's trampy friend, Elaine, is transformed into Miriam Ellis in the movie, played so memorably by Veda Ann Borg.
Yes, Veda and Mildred have that famous fight we all know and love from the movie. But the dynamics are different. There is this constant pull of love and hate going back and forth between them, through the novel. Like each cannot pull away from the other. In the movie, it was only Mildred who feared severing ties. As for Veda, Cain loses the gist of what makes her a campy bitch which the movie gets right--she is so haughty, but has no reason to be, because of what she came from, and is reduced to working in Wally's club, where I am sure he slept with her. Even Monty in the movie has it right, when he tells her "You really don't think I could be in love with a rotten little tramp, like you!" Right on, Monty! He, like everyone, has been on to Veda from the start.
Veda in the movie does not realize she is a walking paean to mediocrity, and that prison actually is the only place for her. What a surprise in the novel to find out Veda actually has musical talent, enough to make it as a second tier opera singer, and, when the novel ends, she runs off, with Monty, to pursue this career, with Mildred back with Bert, tossing back drinks, and saying, of Veda, "To hell with her!!!!!!!!!" Can you believe it? If this had been developed in the movie, Veda would have had to be played by either Deanna Durbin, or Gloria Jean. Can you imagine?
For me, the most surprising difference is the character of Ida Corwin. Though portrayed, in the novel, as someone shrewd and sarcastic enough to rattle off the lines Eve Arden does in the movie, the novel's Ida has no warmth. She and Mildred are not close, nor is Ida her right hand woman. Instead, Ida screws Mildred out of business so she can buy a restaurant for herself. And she says none of the witty lines from the move.
Some lines remain. Like my two favorite Veda remarks; the one about Mrs. Biederhof being "distinctly middle class," and "Aren't the cakes and pies enough? Do you have to degrade us?"
Veda is a better bitch in the movie, because she fails to realizes she will never be but one step beyond Goat Alley, and she does get her comeuppance.
Though, it seems she does not, in the novel, it is just possible, that she might, as Cain suggests. Where do she and Monty run off to? New York City! A place which is known to eat aspiring artists, alive!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I should know, darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes, darlings, the day has arrived. I am now 63.
I am so glad to still be with you all.
But, with encroaching age, I thought Yvonne De Carlo, and "I'm Still Here" from "Follies," a show about time's passage, would be apt.
And plans have been forged. Tonight, we are dining at Cipriani's, at the Sherry Netherland, on Fifth Avenue.
Tuesday, we are going to BAM to hear David Sedaris, and the plan is to bring Baby Gojira, now in his Thanksgiving outfit, to the event, just in case Amy (Sedaris) is there. I really want to get him on her show. He could be the sous chef in one of her cooking segments.
Sixty-two had several sad spots, so may Sixty-three be free of those. As for next year, well that is up to the Beatles. Hint, hint!
Happy Birthday to Me, but, most of all Thank God for all I have been blest with, including another stint here on Earth!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And here is Yvonne herself, to sing this year's birthday song of mine!!!!!!!
Friday, November 17, 2017
Save for celebrating Neva Small's birthday, I never write about my pre-birthday day, or 364th In-Birthday. But when I saw this quote from Madeleine L'Engle, author of one of my childhood favorites, "A Wrinkle In Time, " I thought I had better do so.
Yes, girls, this marks the end of my 62nd year. Tomorrow, it will be history. We actually get two New Year's Eves in our lives--the one known by all on December 31, and the day before our actual birthdays.
So, I would like to take a moment to reflect on the year.
It started with David and I seeing "Heisenberg," just because I had to see Mary-Louise Parker. I had no idea how theatrically technical it was going to be, or I never would have bought him. Fortunately, other theatrical highlights--"The Little Foxes," and "War Paint"--compensated for that.
January turned out to be a double-header. In the span of just ten days, I was married to David (January 10) and then retired from my job (January 20).
Of course, I kept plugging away here, and reading. But I am proud to say I have lived to see not one, but two, saints (actually three, if you count Mother Teresa) canonized in my lifetime. I am talking about Jacinta and Francisco Marto, the two Fatima children, with Jacinta the holiest! Believe me, yeah!!!!!!!!!!! I was deeply moved.
Troubling were some of the losses David and I endured--a childhood friend of mine, and two friends of both David and myself. Each in a span of five days! It still saddens me.
Things really settled down in the Fall. The theater season has been a dud, I discovered the brilliance, and hair, of Amy Sedaris, and I bonded with Bacci, the cockatoo, and Mellow, the Siberian husky. As well as still relating to my beloved Seamus, Cujo, Chloe, Roxie, and Nia. Honorable mention to Bella.
Thanks to Anna, at the Lighthouse Café, for keeping David and I both fed and amused.
All in all, my 62nd year was wonderful, with most of the credit going to David.
I wanted to end this post with a song. What else, but "The Unbirthday Song," from Disney's "Alice In Wonderland?????????????"
See you, "next year," girls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
On this day, back in 1952, was born the Musical Theater Legend, Neva Small. Now, Neva did not plan it that way--how could she; she was just a baby, and, of course, she didn't have a bris!!!!--but she morphed into it, and has remained so, ever since.
Neva was actually one of the highlights of my past year; probably THE one. Back in June, David and I went to a sort of ENCORES-style presentation of "Henry, Sweet Henry," at Feinstein's 54 Below. Neva, of course, was in that show's original cast--at 14!!!!!!!--introducing the song that made her a legend--"I Wonder How It Is." I know I will listen to it, today.
Of course, most know Neva from the 1971 film version of "Fiddler On The Roof," and that is fine. But she is so much more. We also saw her at the Actors' Temple, and she delivered a moving rendition of Jacques Brel's "If We Only Had Love." Oh, my God!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So, Happy Birthday, Neva! And many more! To think we are all morphing into Senior Citizens! When did that happen? And how?
Here is Neva, below, with Robin Wilson, in "Henry, Sweet Henry!"
I look forward to seeing you, Neva, at your next venue!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thursday, November 16, 2017
As I said, in an earlier post, girls, the reason Amy Sedaris' Village Tour, circa 2004, is so fascinating is not just because of Amy, who never ages, like me, but because so much of what she shows us does not exist anymore. I can say for a fact that The Hangar still does, and, while I have never gone in, I have often, over the years, waved to patrons who know me, sitting in the front window, as I walked down Christopher Street!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The video ends with Amy sitting outside, at a table at a place I loved on Bleecker Street, called Manatu's. Those of an earlier era, knew it as "Clyde's."
As I said in an earlier post, there used to be places where the lonely could go. This was one of mine. During the years I was active in Dignity, singing in their choir,--which I really miss doing, but the commute would kill me, now!!!!!!!!!!!--I would come to Manatu's and usually get a crock of their French onion soup, which was the best, and a tuna melt. With a Diet Coke.
And then I would go to church and sing with the spirituality of Jennifer Jones in "The Song Of Bernadette." At least, that is how I felt.
But this is about trying to get Baby Gojira on to Amy's show.
Both of us--Baby Gojira and myself--would love to meet Amy in the Village somewhere, even at 4AM--in which case I will have to either wear a mask or crash Elizabeth Arden, so I can look my best at that time. But where is there to go? Can't sit outdoors at Manatu's, no Riviera Café, the pizza place on the corner of Hudson is gone! Where is one to go? All the way over to Jack's, on Waverly Place? I know the Keenan-Bolgers are sometimes seen there, but it is really getting out of Amy's neighborhood, which is where we should meet so all of us, especially Baby Gojira, will feel comfortable. And, Amy, wait till you see the Diana Von Furstenberg reticule bag he travels in!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Really, the Village has gone down. But Baby Gojira and I will meet Amy anywhere.
Even in front of the Waverly, where I will do my rendition of "Frank Mills!"
Come on, Amy; Baby Gojira is getting impatient!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The first thing I have to say is it did not live up to my expectations.
There were some things I was genuinely happy about. Like Ally and Beverly being the last ones standing. And Ivy being really dead. I am actually convinced she was worse than Winter. Of course, it was thrilling to see Kai taken down, but that pathetic blond thing he manipulated and killed. Couldn't this kid have been happy just being some inmate's bitch????????
The big surprise was when Ally gave Oz the Twisty doll. It was like seeing Twisty again, though I had hopes that, for the finale, John Carroll Lynch, Lily Rabe, or the actresses who played Pepper and Ma Petite would appear in some fashion.
Alas, they did not.
The way things went down were pretty predictable. But, I do have a question.
With Winter gone, there was no one, really, to watch Oz. So, he is held up in the cult house, all this time. How did Ally get him out? Was that ever explained? More should have been done with this kid, because not only was the kid not given a chance to show acting chops, he really was not given a viable character to play!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Speaking of Winter, I hope Ryan Murphy brings Billie Lourd back. She was one of the best things about "Cult."
Evan; Evan, my man! The great Peters proved his mettle, that he can carry this show on his shoulders, too, meaning, much as it would be great to get Jessica Lange back, the show now has two sets of shoulders to carry on her mantle! If Evan Peters does not get an Emmy for his work, this season, I will have a print Bitch Fit, on here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And did everyone get the "Lana Winters" reference????????
O.K., we have to talk about the Final Shot with Sarah Paulson. I have to admit that, at first, I did not know what was going on. What the hell; was she morphing into "The French Lieutenant's Woman???????????" But, then David reminded me, she was wearing the SCUM cloak of Valerie Solanas, which Frances Conroy had worn! So, apparently, she is taking on that mantle. Which leaves a lot of questions. With Ally trapped in this stratospshere, where can she go from here??????? "Cult" certainly isn't going to continue, but is the SCUM movement going to? I have several suggestions. The first is to form a feminist theater company, and mount a musical version of "The SCUM Manifesto!!!!!!!!!!!!" One observer posed the question if all men are going down now; I don't think so, because, after all, Oz is a male, or will be. I would though, like to see Ally take down all openly homophobic males, great big closet cases, and Alt-Right, or whatever they want to call themselves, male White National Supremacists!!!!!!!!!! That would be fascinating to watch, though I am sure Ryan Murphy has plans to leave this territory, and go on to something else.
"Cult" was certainly not my favorite season--that still belongs to "Coven"--but it was not as bad as "Roanoke." At least "Hotel" had Sarah as Hypodermic Sally, still one of my favorite characters.
If any of you out there still feel compelled to join a cult, then do yourselves, and yours truly a favor, and join a harmless one, like an audience screening of "Valley Of The Dolls," or "The Bad Seed!"
No rules apply at these events, dolls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
No one can say, girls, that I wasn't ambitious. Nor still am. I have plans, both for myself, and Baby Gojira; but more on that, in another post. Right now, I want to say that, being retired has given me the greatest chance to muse on jobs I might have had. Who knows where I would have ended up, had I gone down any of these paths. Which leads me to the other question--is the job we end up with actually the one we really want?????????????
My first ambition was actually to go into fashion. Whether my parents knew they already had a gay child, were forward thinking, or just naïve, I could not tell. But they had two friends, Dotty and Don, and I got a lot of game hand-me-downs from their two daughters, Judy and Joy. And one of these was "The Debbie Reynolds Dress Designer Kit". Now, this was Debbie during her "Tammy" phase, so she was lithe, and the dresses were gorgeous. I cannot remember which was my favorite--if she had pink, I guarantee it was that!!!!!!!!--but I just loved dressing Debbie over and over. So much so I might have gone into the field. Except, as I grew older, I discovered two things about myself--I had an eye for color and design, which would have served me well, but I could not draw good enough for what was needed. Oh, well, fashion's loss! Thank you, Debbie!
Color was the reason I ended up with "Miss Cookie's Kitchen," though it might have been Judy and Joy, again. Anyway, this Colorforms toy, the first of many I would own, was all about domesticity. I actually loved the kitchen set, where the cabinet doors and draws opened, and closed, and I could take Colorforms kitchen objects, and arrange them on the stove, table, wherever. When I think now what I was doing to myself--training to become a Stepford Wife? With my parents aiding and abetting? How strange is that? I gave up on Miss Cookie long before I admitted having no culinary skills. That came when was I about twelve, and tried to make pancakes--a favorite of mine--at home. I made the batter with no problem; I am proud to say there were no lumps in mine. But I got into trouble, when I butter basted a cookie tin, put batter on it to make pancakes, and turned up the burner on the stove. Voila! I almost caused a fire, the tin was flaming, and my maternal grandmother (Nana) who lived with us, and I had such fun with, came into the kitchen, screaming in hysterics, and somehow we managed to put the conflagration out. I think from then on I was pretty much banned from the stove.
I might have turned into a tasty morsel, but I was surely no Miss Cookie!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now, how did I get into crime? Not committing, but the investigative aspects, thereof. Throughout my childhood, quite a few toys and games I had were related to crime and mystery solving. The earliest was one from Mattel Toys (a company I hear will be defunct soon; alas, the departure of another childhood legacy!!!!!!!!!) called Lie Detector. In a way, this game pointed me the way to technology, because it had this mechanical device, similar to the debit machine in the supermarket, only much larger, where you inserted a suspect's card, and did something with the attached wand, related to some aspect of identification of a crime. That is as much as I remember; hey, I was playing this more than fifty years ago!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
But two of my favorite cards, again drawing me to fashion, were the Racketeer, and the Hat-Check Girl. I liked the sound of the word, "Racketeer," and most of all, I liked the guy's suit. I can remember proudly telling my parents, one night at the dinner table, that, when I grew up, I wanted to be a Racketeer!!!!!!!!!!!! My parents, particularly my mother, adopted that look I soon came to know as "What are we going to do with him?" So I kept quiet about my other ambition, to be a Hat-Check Girl, because I liked the hair style, dress, cigarette, and jewelry--and still do. If I had to choose now, today, I think I would go with the Hat Check Girl, who looks somewhat Kim Novak-ish, and, as I learned, early on, it is all about glamour, darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And look what being a Hat-Check Girl did for Madonna! There was no telling what I might have accomplished.
But I am not giving up yet. As I said, Baby Gojira, and I have plans!!!!!!!!!!
Maybe a road production of "Gypsy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
As a true child of the Aquarian age, girls, I have to wonder, what in the world was in the stars, on this date? Not only the birthdays of Donna McKechnie and Martha Plimpton, but on this night, 22 years apart, "The Sound Of Music," and "Merrily We Roll Along" opened on Broadway.
"The Sound Of Music," came first, in 1959, at the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre. I wish I could have seen this beautifully designed (from photos I have seen) production, as well as the Original Children, (whose names I know--Laurie Peters (Liesl), William Snowden (Friedrich). Kathy Dunn (Louisa), Joseph Stewart (Kurt), Marilyn Rogers (Brigitta; unfortunately deceased, and also the original Amaryllis in 1957's "The Music Man"), Mary Susan Locke (Marta) and Evanna Lien (Gretl) not to mention, as I have been told by so many who witnessed it, that climactic moment at the end of Act One, where Patricia Neway hits the final note on "Climb Ev'ry Mountain," holding it, as the music swells, and the chandeliers above actually shook!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Of course, "The Sound Of Music" was a hit. And we all know what happened when it transferred to the screen. And, yes, I still want to be Angela Cartwright and Heather Menzies!!!!!!!!!!!!
"Merrily We Roll Along" became a different kind of hit--one embedded in theater folks' hearts. The original production, which I saw twice, tanked during its run at the then Alvin (now Neil Simon) Theatre, but I am telling you, here and now, no matter how many productions of it I see, and the Original Cast Recording proves it, never was this score so gloriously sung, or has been, since back in 1981.
Ann Morrison and Lonny Price! I love you! And Mary-Rose Wood! And Manna (did I get that right?) Allen. I hope you all gather for drinks tonight, and remember. And, please have one for me. All of you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
For the rest of us, the thing to do on this day is watch "Best Worst Thing That Ever Could Have Happened," which is to this show what "Every Little Step" is to "A Chorus Line."
Anyone who wants to know what experiencing the original 'Merrily' was like, should see this film.
On the perfect day to watch it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Happy Anniversary, "Sound Of Music," and "Merrily We Roll Along!"
Dreams don't die, darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Today is also Martha Plimpton's birthday. She happens to be the same age as my nephew, Jonathan--47--but she does not look it. And who knew Martha had search killer hair. I keep telling you girls on here, hair is what gets you places.
Martha has probably had that hair for years, but I never noticed it, because I was too busy noticing and admiring her incredible talent. For, drama, comedy, music--ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!! You want to talk triple threat? Martha is certainly that.
Hey, Martha, I have one question for you! When are you coming back to the stage??????????? Because lots of us theater queens here are eagerly awaiting your return.
But, hell you're young, you've got plenty of time.
Happy Birthday, Martha? Isn't it great, being a Scorpio??????????????
Of course, I am talking about Donna McKechnie, whom I am so honored to share a birthday with--mine is the 18th--this week. Donna is one subject I never tire of writing about. And I have actually met her, and she is so gracious. No wonder she made it.
Donna is somewhere in her 70's--I mean, I am about to turn 63, so what does that tell you???--but I am sure she could step out and do Cassie tonight. Me? I could sing and act every line of the show. But I am still working on the opening "Step, kick, kick, kick, leap, touch!" thing, and I don't feel I have it quite right.
In my lifetime I have never seen anyone who could dance like Donna. Or sing. Or project a warmth of personality on stage. But the dancing was gorgeous. None of us will ever dance as well as Donna, even though she made so many of us want to.
Happy Birthday and Many More, Donna! I hope I get to see you in performance, sometime soon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I was actually asked this question, several years ago, while having lunch with the author and Musical Theater Instructor, Joel Derfner, whom I am sure is still out there. Hey, if I can write this blog continuously for ten years, I am sure Joel is still out there, fighting the good fight.
We dined at The Riviera Café, where I met my beloved David. Now, that place no longer exists, a sad relic of a city I once was proud of, in my youth. And especially, during my spinsterhood, there were places where the lonely could go. Not so much, anymore!!!!!!!!!!!!!
During the meal, Joel mentioned having run a contest on the question of what was the gayest thing an entrant did. I forget what he offered as a prize, but, at the time, I did not know of the contest, so I did not enter. Because, if I had, I would have won!
Anyone on here, or who knows me personally, knows my all-time favorite movie is "The Wizard Of Oz." Yes, there is plenty of mention, on here, of "Gone With The Wind," or "The Song Of Bernadette," which are favorites, but not THE favorite.
"The Wizard Of Oz" is special because it was the first full length, live action film I actually sat through. And was spellbound by. I grew up with TV from birth, but, hey, considering my age--4 or 5--it was only natural I was dawn to cartoons, especially "Early Bird Cartoons," which used classical music that I learned to recognize, and had the wildest, surrealistic imagery this side of Lewis Carroll. Or William Tenniel.
My mother, especially, was insistent I watch something that was "real," meaning it had real people in it. "The Wizard Of Oz" was certainly an odd choice, but, boy, it was a turning point, in my life.
Now, you have to understand, this was years before I could read, and had really gotten into film history, or the Judy Garland mystique. When the film began, I could not read the credits, so all this singing and chanting, I did not understand. When was it going to start?
Suddenly, a little girl and a dog ran down a Kansas road. I asked my mother who that was, and she said, "Dorothy." For the next two hours, I said not a word.
The film held me. I wish I could say I was blown away by hearing "Over The Rainbow," that first time, but, truthfully, I wasn't. I had not developed my artistic appreciation yet. It took several years, and now, of course, I sob tremulously, every time this part comes on. And this is after at least 75 viewings.
Back then, the one I most identified with was--are you ready?--the Witch!!!!!!!!!!!!! That's right! She had that huge, dark castle, which I loved, guards and monkeys to serve her--I loved that, too, so what does that say, about me?????--and could fly on a broom. I knew, even then, that broom travel, if possible, was better than a car!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Which leads to the answer to the question posed. The next morning, having been especially captivated by that moment when the Witch flies out of the castle, on that broom, crying, "To the Emerald City, as fast as lightning!" Well, the next morning, I got up, and, with my toy broom, would mount the back part of one of our love seats, which was wide enough for me to walk across. I would repeatedly run along it, fast as I can, mount my broom, call out the Witch's line, and try to fly. I swear, there was one time, where, I thought, I was air borne, for several seconds.
Of course, this drove my poor mother crazy, and, in time, I stopped.
To think this is what commenced my pursuit of the arts, which took me all over the place; especially, of course, to New York.
Eventually, my artistic side set in, and I stopped identifying with the Witch.
But I still occasionally bitch on here, dolls!
But Howard was a loser from the start. Because he was living on that bastion of criminal activity, known as Long Island, or "Lon "Gisland," as its residents say.
Aside from his residence, Elkins was real suburban scum, in that he thought he could have his cake (or pussy) and eat it, too. Look at him; he is no prize.
He ran some sort of factory business near where he lived, and commenced an affair with Marroquin, new to this country from El Salvador, who, not knowing there was better fish out there in the sea, took up with this piece of garbage.
But this gal was no fool, darlings, and, like Alex Forrest, she was not about to be ignored. She could read the writing on the wall; empty promises he would leave his wife, to be with her, which was the lie all these hypocrites give out. Well, Marroquin called Elkins' bluff. She called his wife.
She told the truth, and I hope the wife gave Elkins hell, or a divorce. Whether he drove to her Jersey apartment and killed her there, or lured her to his factory, the girl was killed by blunt force trauma, very likely a hammer, pounded into her about ten times. What a sicko!
It was all about hypocrisy, and preserving what he had. Isn't it always, with these guys? No wonder I rooted for Alex Forrest!!!!!!!!!!
Once at the factory, Elkins stuffed the dead body into a 55 gallon drum, filled with pellets, and sealed her in, allowing the corpse to decompose over time. Why he transferred this to a crawl space underneath the house he was living in, is anyone's guess. But it proved to be his downfall.
Thirty years later, around 1999, the current owner of Elkins' former house, discovered the cylindrical drum, called the police, who made the gruesome discovery. An investigation was done, and, eventually, Elkins, now 70, was tracked down. He was living with a wife, but I am not clear if it was the same wife, or a new one. If the same, then, honey, what is the matter with you, anyway? Don't give me that Tammy Wynette crap!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
When he realized the police were closing in on him, he took the coward's way out--and not even in his own home! He traumatized his neighbors, whose garage he went to, got into their car, took out a gun, and shot himself in the head!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Anyone on here knows I am easily upset about suicide. Elkins' angers me, because Reyna Marroquin deserved justice, and so did her family. Sure, the scum is dead, and only because he got caught.
The bitch was not only a two timer, but a narcissist.
A perfect candidate for this week, darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mellow and I met over the summer. I immediately recognized him for the handsome looking Siberian husky he is. These dogs have always fascinated me, because of their strong resemblance to the wolf. But there is nothing big and bad about Mellow. He is a sweetie.
The first time I met Mellow, a young lad, presumably his owner, was walking him down 76th Street, in Bay Ridge, as I was heading to Third Avenue, and he most likely down to the dog park, further. Mellow was in the puppy stage, then, and while he was larger than any pup I have seen, I could tell he was young. I bent over, and said, sweetly, "Hi, Mellow," and before I knew it, Mellow was practically leaping into my arms, with hugs, and kisses. His owner says he is very friendly.
Thereafter, I always looked for Mellow, happy whenever I ran into him. He always had a hug for me.
Until last week, I had not seen Mellow in quite a while. Last week, I passed him and his owner on the street, and said, "Is that Mellow?" Because, Mellow, while not yet full grown, had gotten a bit more lanky in the legs, and was bigger than when I last saw him.
But his heart was still in the right place. Soon as I called to him, he put his front arms up on my shoulders, so I could hug him and he could lick me.
Seeing Mellow, like all my animal friends in the neighborhood, always makes me feel good. Who knows? He may be full grown, next time I see him.
I love Mellow, as much as all the others.
It was high time I introduced him to you.
Welcome to the blog, Mellow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Wednesday, November 15, 2017
Most of the time, on here, I am writing about commercials that annoy the hell out of me, but this time I am writing about one I like.
The two performers are superb. Grandson is some sort of city hipster, while Granny still resides in a Fifties type suburb, with a lifestyle too boring and burdening with age to go to the city. Or so Grandson thinks.
He explains about the Carmel AP, how it get him a ride back to the city. This granny apparently has a Smart Phone, meaning she is not some clueless, luckless thing. In fact, there is more to this Granny than meets the eye.
This is one of the cutest and cleverest, not to mention wittiest, commercials I have seen. What a gift to the aged. Watch it, and see for yourselves!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Go, Granny, Go!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, November 14, 2017
Once David and I withdraw to the bedroom, Baby Gojira follows us in, hops up on the night table by my side, and settles in to watch TV with us. Tonight being a big night, he can't wait.
Hey, Amy, you have just GOT to have him on your show. He loves your outfits, and would like one made for himself. This is Baby Gojira in his 4th of July outfit. He has all sorts of seasonal get ups, but, if on your show, he says he would dress in your style.
He tells me he wants to do a cooking spot with you, where he would act as the sou chef!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ours is a gay household, but I am not sure if Baby Gojira has made up his mind yet. He does think your hair is just perfect, Amy. And he is as classy and sassy as you.
He has no agent, but I act as his stage parent. Baby Gojira would be so delighted to be on your show. Hell, he'd love a gig, anywhere.
He can be contacted, via this blog.
Yea, Baby Gojira!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!