Season of Miracles

"The whole building was up in flames but the word of God wouldn't burn," remarked the elderly Southern man to the enthralled patrons of the All-American Hero sandwich shop. After one accidental yet fortuitous fire, the shop underwent a complete renovation from a dingy little grease joint to a cinderblock monstrosity with garish bright white marquees, red and blue lettering and a hard to miss patriotic theme. A sandwich shop straight out of Sarah Palin's "real America". The singed New Testament (King James version of course) caught in the blaze, now sits in a glass display case, undoubtedly opened to an appropriate passage referencing fire, brimstone and the immortal word of God. A bona fide miracle on Roxboro Rd. in Durham, North Carolina.  

From the moment the bible was discovered intact and enduring among the ash and rubble of a burned sandwich shop, the miracle was declared.  Of course miracles point to the greater truth.  God, must have spared this bible as a portent or a sign of his omnipotence.   This "truth" is born out of a surviving bible. 

A professor of pulp and paper can explain until blue in the face that the reason the bible didn't burn had more to do with the amount of clay in the paper significantly reducing the burn rate.  As a matter of fact, burn rate is determined and controlled by this factor and bibles have lots of clay to ensure a strong survival rate in a variety of disasters.  

Does explaining this fact to the elderly devout owners of All-American Hero Sandwich shop lessen the potency of a bona fide miracle?  It is much easier to call into question the heretical rantings of the professor than determine this miracle to be a result of Science and circumstance.  The miracle of the bible would then be based on a subjective interpretation over the "truth" of an omnipotent intervention.  To question this miracle may lead one to question the very miracles of Jesus.  Could his miracles be explained by Science and/or subjective interpretations of events? Well, we are certainly in the handbasket now, full steam ahead on to hell!  

So, how can we believe in the transcendent mystery, the great watchmaker or the flying spaghetti monster for that matter.  Ralph Waldo Emerson speaks to transcendence: "Let us learn the revelation of all nature and thought, that the Highest dwells within us, that the sources of nature are in our own mind...There is deep power in which we exist and whose beatitude is accessible to us...Within us is the soul of the whole, the wise silence, the universal beauty, to which every part and particle is equally related, the eternal One.  When it breaks through our intellect, it is genius, when it breaks through our will, it is virtue, when it flows through our affection, it is love."  Do I truly know whether the divine actually does exist or the Soul  for that matter? I don't know.  I would like to believe that genius, virtue, and love is really the soul connecting with the divine.  I think Ralph Waldo Emerson is asking us to turn our search for the divine inward, and to look for the divine in the simple beauty in and around us.  He found the divine in nature, I find it in many places, nature, music, art, and in simple kindnesses hinting at greater virtues.  Non-burning bibles aren't as important when one searches inward for miracles and the divine.  The search continues in this season of miracles.   

Just Be Nice!

Moving back to California after an eleven year absence, one would expect a few cultural clashes.  Let me state for the record, I do not believe on the whole southerners are nicer than people in California.  But I do believe most southerners are raised with a stricter sense of manners than most Californians.  (Yes, this is an over generalization, because I have known rude southerners and polite Californians, added to this of course is the influx of New Yorkers to the research triangle park and their effect on the Raleigh Durham area decidedly raising the asshole quota in the area, but on average...Southerners are more polite). 

Case in point, Rusty was singing at the Castro Theatre in San Francisco a few weeks back  (The Passion of Joan of Arc, an excellent silent movie with a score written in the mid 80's, fascinating story, check it out on wikipedia).   I've had the remnants of a cough for quite sometime.  In the first part of the movie I had a tickle I couldn't dislodge and coughed five or six times.  The person in front of me stage whispered as loud as possible without being heard by the conductor "Enough!"  Well, embarrassed but realizing that I must have been real annoying for him to react so emphatically, I leaned forward, and said, "I'm sorry, but I can't control this cough."  In my job, it is clear when someone is irritated or angry the best thing to do is to avoid a power struggle and actually talk to the person.  He remarked back with a high degree of acidity, "Then you should take yourself to the lobby."  Of course this just got my blood boiling.  

I seethed through the movie, consequently reducing my cough considerably.  I was waiting for the chance to inform the man that many others in the theatre were unaware of his rule of coughing or clearing throats only in the lobby.  As we all know, I have a tendency to be somewhat aggressive in this type of situation, but was actually trying to take the high road.  The man making the remarks quickly shuffled his wife out before the standing ovation had finished in order to avoid a confrontation with sweet gentle moi.   If there is something I hate worse than rudeness, it is certainly the cowardice exhibited by this man.   Instead I had to just glare at the back of his head as he hurriedly left, as he conspicuously avoided eye contact.  Had we been in a theatre in Raleigh, I'm pretty sure the same scenario would have been much more civil and considerate.  The desired effect would have been the same, as a matter of fact, I would have probably excused myself to the lobby based on a mere suggestion rather than a commandment from the theatre police.  

Do manners matter?  Manners are different based on regions, situations and class.  Manners are a matter of custom (i.e. a hand shake), consideration (i.e. giving up a seat to an elderly person), or common sense (all manners have an element of common sense).  Although somewhat subjective, still important.  Truly, the most important of these is consideration, because we are talking about preserving people's feelings.  We are meant to live in a civil society, truly being mannerly is the grease to ease the cogs of our often difficult and complex life.   

If manners are important, why don't more people endeavor to exhibit manners and/or teach manners to their children?  Sometimes, I think manners have given way to our rights.  A sense of entitlement means never having to say sorry, or please, or thank you.  

Sometimes manners require  us to be patient and to delay our wants.  In the instant gratification, Burger King, Have it Your Way world we live in, there isn't much time for manners.   I'm amazed at the insistence of many  Californians for accepting others, yet don't take the time to show consideration for individuals.  

We've lived here eighteen months and as of yet, not a single person has brought over a bowl of chili or a plate of cookies (two things that happened to us in the RDU area).  I like many things about California, but I truly miss the hospitality and manners so easily evident in North Carolina.  

 

Hello Possums

What a truly odd Thanksgiving we celebrated this year.  Instead of spending hours in the kitchen and working to cook the perfect bird with Rust's family stuffing and the obligatory relish tray, we relaxed and went to the St. Francis Westin Oak Room for a late lunch/early dinner.  The Thanksgiving buffet was good, but quite honestly, because we chose not to cook and because Rusty has very traditional ideas about Thanksgiving, the K and W Cafeteria would have been more than enough.  (If only we had one in the bay area - 'Serve You? Serve you meat sir? I'll pass it down!  I said I'll pass it down.")   

After, to Maxfield's in the palace for martinis.  A must see bar for all visitors to San Francisco,the bar has a Maxfield Parrish painting/mural. The Palace paid $6,000 for The Pied Piper way back in the 30's.  Some of the children in the painting look a little Children of the Damned-ish with wild eyes and a creepy calm countenance, so of course we love this mildly subversive dream like painting.  

Then a walk to the Post Theatre to enjoy an evening of Dame Edna Everage.  

Dame Edna was in excellent form.  This self-proclaimed Australian icon and megastar caused us body aches from the convulsive laughter.  Songs like "Friends of Kenny", an homage to her hair dresser son and his "flatmate", and to audience participation bits such as audience members raising and waving Gladiolas made us squeal with delight.  Nothing like seeing the first seven or eight rows in a theatre raising swaying flowers culminating in a "trembling glad" crescendo. Brilliant, Absolutely Fucking Brilliant.  This is considered her First Last Tour, so if she comes to your area, make sure you get a seat in the first few rows! 

We braved Black Friday, and managed to buy more for ourselves than for Christmas gifts.  The crowds were tolerable and we managed to get home without hurting each other or anyone else for that matter.  Next on the Holiday roller coaster ride is Rusty's Birthday.  He will be out of town this week, but we will celebrate on next Sunday afternoon with a late lunch of Southern delicacies and cocktails, of course.  

I have much for which to be thankful, certainly not the least of these is to have a wonderful group of people on my bloglist all of whom are near and dear friends.  Keep in touch and come see us soon, make it part of your New Year's resolution.    

Typical Bay Area Saturday

"What do we want?...Equality!...When do we want it?...Now!"

This was one of many refrains chanted ad infinitum at the protest march in Berkeley against the marriage ban imposed by California voters. The crowd was pretty small, near two to three hundred people.  We figured most people were headed toward the huge protest in San Francisco. We marched in Berkeley so we could participate with my boss, his partner, an Assistant Principal in the district, her partner, and another principal ally (straight but not narrow, thank you girlfriend).
The march in Berkeley was more of a stroll around a few city blocks. Traffic flowed freely as everyone fit on the sidewalks. At one point a transgendered UU minister intern gave an impassioned speech, but the crowd was dispersing quickly so we decided it was time to take our leave.

We then took BART over to San Francisco, to catch the GreenFestival, Rusty of course had free tickets. As we exited the BART, thousands of people were marching down market blocking traffic and providing photo taking opportunities for tourists in Alcatraz T-shirts. The scene was peaceful, and the mood was surprisingly jubilant. If there is one thing that Proposition 8 has done for the gay community, it is coalesce the community around an issue. Unfortunately, the rally needs to be held outside of the bay area. Media event aside, holding a rally in San Francisco is certainly a case of preaching to the choir. None-the-less, a great event to stumble upon. We walked to the GreenFestival. The festival was huge and hosted hundreds of informational booths and vendors.
After this exhausting day, we went to my friend Kirsten's 40th Birthday party and talked politics with a bunch of straight 'dudes' none of whom even questioned whether a Yes on Prop. 8 vote violates constitutional rights.  So basically, a typical Saturday in the Bay Area includes participating in two protest marches (one with my openly gay superintendent and his partner), utilizing public transportation, browsing literature about green businesses printed with soy ink on 80% post consumer recycled paper pamphlets, and talking liberal politics with straight men in a blue state.  What a special place the bay area can be at times.  No wonder this place is known as the largest bastion of liberal wickedness in all the US.    

Crotchity Old Man Rant

Ok, so I rant on occasion and this brief blog will be no exception! Rusty and I went to the Fillmore for the Martin Sexton concert last week, on a Thursday no less. I know you're thinking, but wait, don't you need to get up at an ungodly hour to get to work. Yes, but Martin Sexton refuses to change his tour dates to fit my schedule. We got back from the Martin Sexton concert and I was on a post concert high, or it could be just the second hand smoke from all of the audience members toking up. Something I may never get used to is people in San Francisco toking up at every musical event or group gathering.

The Fillmore is an historic venue with thousands of pictures of past performers lining the walls. We got there early to stake out territory as there are no seats. Who knew Martin sexton was such a dude and sorority chick magnet. We knew we were in for a long night when we saw several examples of the "Bro-hug". You know, two young men clasping hands, and hugging shoulder to shoulder, lest a full on hug turn them each gay. The opening singer was Ryan Montbleau, an awesome guitarist with a passable voice.

Rusty and I were not amazed that everyone was talking during the warm up act, but that these young whipper snappers were screaming over the guitar playing so their witty and snarky comments could be heard by everyone. It appears the Fillmore was filled with hundreds of mini universes; each hosting a population of one dumb a-hole. I guess I wouldn't mind all the talking and laughing if something interesting were being said, but the word vapid is not a strong enough adjective for the level of conversation. "Duuuuuuude!"

Although people were somewhat subdued (or just heavily stoned) during Martin Sexton's set, people were still excessive wankers. We finally found an area of people actually there for the concert and glared at any little skinny sorority sister walking by screaming about the last party or her latest drinking binge as she passed.

It worked and we ended up actually hearing the music, we enjoyed the odd but talented stylings of Martin Sexton. He has an extremely versatile baritone voice. He is a singer/songwriter type without the earnestness of most in this genre. He plays blues, a little country, some soul, and folk. He is an excellent yodeler and has a clear and impressive falsetto range. He sang mostly his own songs but also sang a few Beatles tunes and a Prince song. If I wasn't a true fan before, I certainly am now.
In complete opposition to this experience, we also went to see Eric Himan at a small gay club in SF last Saturday. There were perhaps twenty people in the place, and we were sitting close enough to read the multiple tatoos on his arm. The evening was intimate, the music was a tad over sincere, but filled with the angst only achievable by a young, gay, singer-songwriter. He has a great Blues guitar playing style. His banter was witty and honest. He seems to be a great guy.

With Halloween on the way, and more importantly, election day, there are sure to be many adventures in the next few weeks.  Stay tuned.  

A Little Respect for Tony

I don't like Tony Blair. I consider him the British lapdog of the conservative American Presidents.

I saw him on the Daily Show with John Stewart. My esteem has increased a bit, from the sheer fact that he was willing to debate. Years past 9-11, I have had no greater understanding of the conservative position/ideology than I did years ago. This interview with Tony Blair increased my understanding of the position. Don't misunderstand, I know Tony Blair was posturing, and he was defending an indefensible argument. But, I celebrate his willingness to debate.  

Debate in the American media is almost non existent especially when interviewers are asking questions of politicians. I've come to the conclusion that debate takes a high degree of trust. Both parties must feel safe for people to debate. One refuses to debate when one doesn't feel the position is defendable or one doesn't trust in the value of the argument. Only our emotions rule when debate is absent. Currently, our administration does not trust the American people enough to engage in debate. The major media outlets asks relatively safe questions of our decision makers to ensure accessibility on the next news cast. It is amazing that the only debate on nationwide mainstream television is on a pseudo news program meant for comedy. I hope the new administration values debate and does not stifle dissent with quite the surgeons precision the current administration has achieved. Debate and dissent are necessary, now more than ever.

Random Life

We've been living life rather randomly since returning from Australia.  The students are back in at school and most of my time is spent working to organize the office and get everyone on the right track.  This doesn't leave much time so we've been planning our weekends very loosely and almost spontaneously.  

Last weekend we ended up at the Harrison Street Fair, enjoying some very odd bands and good friends.  This is a big change from our usual weekend of enjoying good bands and odd friends.  

Our Hostess for the day!

"Fans of Jimmy Century" an all gyrl band with a groovin' sound and a fierce drummer.

Ejector! a glam electro pop duo.  Hmmm....Charmed...

Hippy gyrl enjoying the tunes!

80-86, a New Wave sound of whom we couldn't get enough.

 

The Ethel Merman Experience!  A SOMA Street Fair favorite, and a personal favorite of Rusty and myself.  One hasn't truly heard "Come on Baby Light My Fire" until sung in the stylings of an Ethel Merman impersonator.

Gary (Rusty's work friend) enjoying the crowds.  

We don't often get to say this, but all in all it was a beautiful sunny San Francisco Day.  

Speaking of beautiful, Rusty had a retreat at the Filoli Gardens in Woodside.  He snapped some fantastic photos, almost postcard quality.  Judge for yourself!

Big news, we took the plunge and decided to get a gorgeous new baby. The Honda shop had a great deal on a 2008 Honda Shadow Aero VT 750. Rusty is absolutely giddy with the new bike.  

What proud daddies we've become.  We're currently taking applications for people to ride bitch.  Ohhhh, no he dih-n't.    

Today, Opera in the Park!  We enjoyed the warmth and food and the wine.  More importantly, we enjoyed the camaraderie of good friends. 

Bravo!  

Limbiano!

If these terrific events are a result of living randomly, then perhaps living randomly is not such a bad idea.  

18 Years and No Homocide

Yes, Rusty and I are celebrating our 18th Anniversary.  A long time for sure!

To commemorate this occasion, we enjoyed dinner and a show in San Francisco. 

The dinner was at Chaya, on the Embarcadero.  Sitting at our table, we had a perfect view of the Bay Bridge and Treasure Island.  Dinner was unbelievable.  I had salmon with wild mushrooms and a Pinot Noir reduction.  I always feel a little guilty eating an expensive meal, especially one that doesn't involve the heartiness of schnitzel and red cabbage.  Damn my practical German heritage.  For dessert, a martini of course (my drink had chocolate vodka, chambord, and godiva).  

Then off to the show.  Adam, our friend and landlord, recommended the Tony Award winning play, The Drowsy Chaperone.  Excellent choice as this musical was high spirited, clever, and funny.  The music and dancing were tongue in cheek 1920's style numbers, with very little plot to get in the way of the singing.  Check it out if it comes to a theatre near you.  This madcap show will not disappoint.  

  

Australia, a True Beaut!

A few Odds and end to wrap up our vacation, random stuff I wanted to share.  

This is just a brief list of many of the things we love about Australia

• The pubs! (Fair Dinkum!) Especially the Lord Nelson in Sydney
  
• Colin Hay - of "Land Down Under" singing fame, now sings acoustic songs.
• XXXX Bitter Beer
• Meat Pies (Especially from Pinnacle Pub)
• Duel flush toilets
• An affinity for Cabaret (singers, drag performers, etc.) at all the bars
• "Sunrise" with Koshi and Cynthia (including the infomercials during the talk show)
• "Sticky" - a lolli shop in Sydney
• Sunsets off the Sydney Harbor Bridge
• The barrier reef
• Lizzie's rissoles, prawns, and lamb
• Qantas Airlines
• Multiple crazy drunks 
• Baked beans for breakfast
• Mass transit system (confusing but excellent)
• Kevin's dirty jokes.  
• Seeing Aussie Celebs everywhere (Dreamy Denham Hitchcock)
• A strong loyalty to the mullet
• "Kath and Kim"
• "The Castle" ("This is going right to the pool room...")
• Cricket clubs and footie clubs
• Seeing the Milky Way and the Southern Cross in the clear night sky
• Flying foxes
• A phenomenal sense of humor
• The people, including all of our wonderful new friends (Lizzie, John, Tony, Kathy, Tracey, Janice, Kevin, Belinda), and our friends with whom we managed to reconnect (Di, Shane, Phil, Toyassi, Donna, Josh, Joy, Aaron).  We'll certainly miss all of our Aussie mates and encourage all to come visit us in the city by the Bay.  

Speaking of a great sense of humor, just thought I'd share this:

By the way, found this recipe for meat pies, in case you have a hankerin' to try them out.

Heat a little olive oil in a pan and cook 1 kg. diced chuck beef until well browned.  Drain off excess liquid and remove from pan.  Add 300g sliced button mushrooms, two washed and sliced leeks, one tablespoon minced garlic to the pan.  Cook untli soft. Return beef to the pan and add 375ml  Guiness, bring to a boil reduce heat and bring to a simmer for a couple of minutes.  add 400g crushed tomatoes and enough beef stock to cover the beef, bring to the boil and simmer until beef is tender.  Stir in a little Maggi gravy mix to thicken, add salt and pepper to taste.  Ladle into serving bowls, cut off puff pastry to fit the top.  Glaze pastry with egg wash, and bake in the oven at 180 degrees C until pastry has risen and browned.  Give it a try! 

"Tuna Does Vegas" - Food, Frivolity and Hilarity in Downtown SF

On rare occasions in San Francisco, one experiences perfect evenings where the blue sky is reflected everywhere in the windows of the tall buildings, and the temperature is a comfortable mid 70s. Last night, Rusty and I enjoyed a light dinner outside at a Catalan restaurant, B44, on Belden Lane in the financial district of San Francisco [http://www.b44sf.com/index.html]. The restaurant has a delightfully sweet and sinfully tart Sangria, a combination difficult to master. We shared small plate appetizers as our meal, and were mildly amused that the word tapas was never printed anywhere on the menu. We started with steamed mussels mixed with the odd combination of english peas, pancetta, and a sofrito sauce, somehow the peas really complimented the mussels. We moved on to a sausage and white bean plate with an exquisite garlic sauce. The Ceviche was damn near perfect and was a welcome cool addition on this warm evening. The only disappointing dish was the steamed clams, an overly salty dish with bitter undertones. We finished our meal with a smooth 10 year old madeira, a strong carmel color with a carmel taste to match. It appears in Catalania, there is a competition in which men create a tower of people. The owner/head chef has participated in this practice. The restaurant has many photos of these human castles and the restroom actually shows a video of the men creating these towers...odd that it is in the restroom but still kinda cool to watch. The seating was very close together making it very difficult to ignore people at the next table , as luck would have it we were next to an excessively pretentious couple on their first date trying way to hard to show how demanding each could be...but on the other side we enjoyed a bit of conversation with a delightful couple, translate this to mean two people willing to laugh at our jokes. This restaurant is a bit pricey, but will definitely remain on our list of favorite special occasion places.


After the light meal, we went to the Curran theatre to see the fourth Tuna Texas show, Tuna Does Vegas. For those of you unfamiliar, Joe Sears and Jaston Williams play all the characters of a small town in Texas. The show is absolutely hilarious and provides quotable one liners for years after viewing. This time, the entire town of Tuna Texas goes to Las Vegas as one of the central characters renews her wedding vows. Favorites Vera Carp (Smut Snatchers President and wealthy woman of Tuna), and Bertha Bumiller are back (Bertha still reminds me of Med's mom Shirley, the good christian woman with a heart of gold). Inita Goodwin and Helen Bed manage to get to Vegas and end up show girls at the Hula Chateau hotel and casino. As each character came out for the first time, claps and cheers erupted from people remembering their personal favorites. It was as if we had come across old friends after a long absence. The actors were still as witty as ever. The plot ridiculously thin, barely a skeleton from which the characters spew out snappy dialogue. The experience was very intimate in that we were only six rows back and center stage. This show is one I highly recommend to all. For tour dates or more information: http://www.tunadoesvegasthetour.com/index.htm. We also saw a few friends at the play and went to the Gold Dust Lounge afterwards for a quick drink. What a perfect denouement to our evening.

in other news...

In the"Small World" category, I was standing in a Souvenir Shop on Pier 39, a tourist hell we normally avoid like the plague but were frequenting to get SF hats for our Aussie trip, and who should walk in but Lori my receptionist from North Carolina. She just happened to be in SF for a brief stay with her mother and daughter. Wow, this just blew me away. We managed to get together for a quick tour of the city and a bite to eat. She's a lovely southern lady with a bright smile and a sunny disposition.

We're down to a less than a week before boarding the airplane to Australia. Neither Rusty nor I have been particularly excited as of yet because of our massive amounts of work before then. The first leg of our trip with Di has been over scheduled and seems an exhausting itinerary, but I'm eternally grateful to Di for arranging everything. She has the organizational skills (and the demeanor) of an Infantry Drill Sergeant but sure as hell gets the job done.

Well, gentle readers, next posts and pics will be upon our return from Australia and may include several weeks worth of adventures. Wish us luck as I cross the equator into the southern hemisphere for the first time ever...

Gotta love the NY artists!

Hey Gentle Readers,

I'm embedding this Youtube video for you to preview. It's from a group known as Improv Everywhere, led by Charlie Todd (who went to college at UNC, Chapel Hill). Anyhow, I just like knowing these mild anarchists are out there. I'm reminded of Mark Zs marches in downtown Raleigh dressed in various regalia and causing scandalized stares.



Their website is: www.improveverywhere.com

Check it out.

Walt

"Mordecai is a Drag" Yet Again

"Money! Tickets! Passport! . . . Money! Tickets! Passport!" Mark shrieked as he rushed back into the house to pick up a forgotten boa or accessory for costume change number three. (Side note: Mark as referencing Edina Monsoon from "Absolutely Fabulous", for all the straight people reading this.) Yes, it was the biennial "Mordecai is a Drag V3.0" party at Med's in Raleigh, NC.
The talent was top notch this year even without the professional stylings of Mr. Tim Blair nor the multi talents of Mr. Wayne Wilson. Our hostess, Marion Haste, remained sober and lucid this year as she welcomed Drag performers and audience members alike. The show started with a fabulous Parade of Talent (much like the beginnings of a three ring circus with only slightly fewer freaks). Cherry Penetrada performed Shirley Bassey's cover of Pink's "Let's Get This Party Started", in a Vegas showgirl outfit, complete with rhinestones, feathers, and a headdress reaching to the glorious North Carolina night sky, as all the performers meandered across the stage providing a glimpse of the spectacle to come.

The first performer and hostess, Marion Haste, provided audience members with the Ten Essential Drag Moves in the Drag Tutorial. Moves such as "Pussy on Fire" and "Flick the Booger" or "Stomp the Cockroach" were explained for the novice audience members. She challenged one and all to look for these moves as the evening wore on. Marion also reminded us of the difference between "drag illusion" and "booger drag". I'll leave it to your judgement as to which type of drag was performed this evening.

Other performers provided professional, high quality entertainment all evening long. Carmen Getta was splendid in a pink feather-lined mini with knee-high patent-leather white boots, performing "I'm Always Drunk in San Francisco".

















Marion Haste then returned to the stage and performed the Broadway classic "The Ladies Who Lunch". Well I'll drink to that! Definitely a theme was emerging: these girls love their booze.












Roxanne Gravel continued the show with a rousing latin number from the movie "Kinky Boots" with a quote seared in this reviewer's mind, "In these shoes? I don't think so."
Anita Mann sang a heart stopping, tear jerking rendition of "Over the Rainbow" (the unofficial national gay anthem -- obligatory in parades and at festivals USA-wide.)

Let us not forget our drag kings, either. Pedro Bendemovar used a flaming hoop for a routine to, you guessed it, "Ring of Fire". Our second drag king, Jude the Dude, performed a spririted country song, "All You Ever Do Is Bring Me Down", truly the sexiest farmer-skank around, complete with redneck butt-crackage.

There were too many numbers to list in this recount. Audience members also provided endless opportunities for comment, as most were in drag, good, bad, and ugly.

The party lasted until the final performer packed up her wigs, parasols, makeup kit, and dresses at 2 a.m.

The audience was considerably smaller than in previous years, more of an almost night club casual atmosphere. The talent was infinitely more rehearsed and better, but as insisted upon by our hostess, still Booger. Despite prop failures and a slanted stage, most every talent performed at least twice. Highlights included flying glitter, fizzing Diet Coke, "My pussy, just a silly pussy cat", strobes, a smoke machine, and audience participation dress-up.

The party was the most fabulous magical affair available in the Triangle last Saturday night.

The performance is always the mountaintop arrived through the confluence of creativity, hard work and humor. The performers rarely have the opportunity to enjoy each other as they are preparing backstage in the drag tent and are not in the audience. The next day at Irregardless brunch the talent congregated to trade fables, share photos, and laugh uproariously much to the chagrin of Sunday church-going patrons wanting to enjoy a quiet morning of light jazz and crab cakes. The antics prompted the waitress to ask "Are you comedians?" to which the resound reply came "No -- Drag Queens". Squeals of laughter are good for the soul. Med, or course, has vowed to host this party in another two years and has forbidden any and all to try and gussy it up. Ultimately, as much as it pains me to admit, he is right.

Sunday evening was spent with Rusty and Mark drinking wines most of the evening and solving each other's problems (as well as all the problems of everyone to whom we are acquainted). Another opportunity to reinvigorate the soul.

So gentle readers, if you were absent, you were clearly missed. If you were present, please include your favorite memory in the comments.

I hope you enjoyed just a taste of the oddity, talent, and hilarity.

Write soon!

Other Photos...enjoy!

Audience participation time. Can anyone say uncomfortable straight guy.


"Is this going to be offensive?"


That's a whole lotta intense woman!


A true vision of loveliness in pre-performance relaxation.


Seattle Grunge couple! Delicious.

Lovin' Lynda

The hotel lounge was small, less than two hundred patrons, and the tables were close to the stage. Rusty sat with a maniacal grin the entire time Lynda Carter sang her dozen plus torch songs. We had seats closer to the stage than one can get at Med's Booger drag parties. Rusty has elevated the former Ms. USA, star of cabaret and small screen seventies television, to near iconic status. At different points of the show there were certainly touching tears in his eyes as the emotion of the moment overwhelmed him. The patron's were mostly gay men (duh), a few tourists, and the occasional lesbian (searching for that Wonder Woman feminist inspiration).Rusty brought Lynda Carter's one and only record album with him in the hopes she would sign it, but after the show we never had the opportunity. (Rusty originally purchased the album in 1978). Although I thought he was the uber-fan, another woman was there following Lynda Carter from city to city to catch every show. She not only had the album, she had the album with the embedded picture. We also spoke with a pleasant couple, recent transplants from Arkansas, with a Rusty like devotion to Lynda Carter. Certainly a lovely evening softening the blow of not attending JazzFest this year.

After the show, we met a principal friend and his wife out at AsiaSF, a high end dinner spot with a standard quality drag show. The Drag Queens were OK, but Greg's wife was truly a joy: smart, funny and beautiful. Knowing his affinity for the Divas, Rusty took an instant shine to June and the two managed to entertain each other for much of the evening. As amazing as she is, we clutched our pearls realizing that the record album we had been dragging around all evening was actually one year older than June (ugg...gotta love the young). Good times, friends, truly strange, but good!