Barbra Reconsidered

I’m watching Barbra Streisand in ‘Hello Dolly’ and I just have to say, I adore it. And Barbra is to die and then come back and die again and then come back one more time with embalming fluid in you like in ‘Trilogy of Terror’. Her singing is sublime, her comic touch is as light as air and her hand dancing is non pareil. She’s like a Jungian psychiatrist manipulating her own shadow. ‘Hello Dolly’ is not the poor cousin to ‘Funny Girl’ but the more talented sister of ‘Yentl ’and Barbra Streisand is not just a ‘talentless hag with lighting issues ’as Marco refers to her. She’s a great star, maybe not the ‘greatest’, that’s still Bugs, but when she walks down that staircase to the horny waiters singing the title song I want to be her and if I can’t be her, then I want to be the carpet. I want her to crush me beneath her lace up boots. It’s all or nothing.

My friends all think I’ve lost it. You see I’m a legendary Barbra hatah. How did I, a card carrying gay man get that way? One word, ‘Prince of Tides.’ That’s three words. Two if you say it fast which I always try to. Then came ‘The Mirror Has Two Faces ’which is five words and it deserves every one because it’s two words worse. But tonight I realized, watching Barbra sing “You’re still growing, you’re still glowing, you’re still going strong,” while staring at the old waiter’s crotch that just because something has gone sour doesn’t mean that it once wasn’t ripe and juicy. And furthermore that with the proper care and enough moisture it can be made plump and delicious once again and that if that fails you can train yourself to like sour so you’re never really down for the count. And finally no matter what Bette does, she did start in the baths. That’s good enough for me.

Philosophers would say that my Barbra vendetta was a sign that I’d lost sight of my hate, that I had in fact let my hate out weigh my love. It’s true. I’ve been lashing out at certain celebrities, institutions, rituals, foodstuffs and countries indiscriminately for years now and I have to stop before one of then lashes back. It’s already gotten close. Last year it came to my attention that Belgium had heard about some of the cracks I'd made while working as a ‘popper pimp’* in Frankfurt and that they were thinking of undermining my bid to be the Grand Marshall of next years ‘Berlin Love Ball’ and so I’ve decided to say some nice things about them now, not because I feel pressure from the Hague but because I mean it. Here goes. “Belgium is easy to spell.” There, that wasn’t so bad.

The Bible says to hate only those that hate you and as far as I know parsnips have nothing against me and straight men knitting is not a direct personal attack on my value system but sometimes when you see a man pretending to be a god ruling a city that thinks it’s a country in a dress and ruby slippers you want to drop a house on him or at least a piece of the action.

Speaking of misunderstood divas I got so inspired by Britney shaving her head that I went out and shaved my testicles. Now does that mean I’m having a nervous breakdown? No. However the fact that I photographed them and put them on the internet might. I posted them to the official website of the Royal Family. I hope Liz doesn’t see them because she’d recognize them in an instant. Seven Christmases ago I was staying at Balmoral and I was helping some of the servants out, not that I was paying my way, I just like to help out when I stay with the Royals. They’re so helpless which of course is their charm. Anyways, I played a switcheroo with the haggis when I brought the dish to the table and of course her highness always does the honours and well, you can imagine. I was almost gelded that day.

Fagette sent me an e-mail. She’s doing fine. The man in the car wasn’t her father. It was actually a second cousin she never knew so she is getting closer. As for bartending, she’s teaching herself the classics at home after school. She sent me a picture of a Harvey Wallbanger. Leave it to her to champion an underdog.

*see previous post 'The Bitch is Back'.

Gabcast! ewe #28 - It's a Chevy

Elan Vitale lets fly with his unrestrained love of Chevrolet and all it's fine products. It may be short but it was also shortlisted as a candidate for the school song of the Yoko Ono Institute of Unlistenable Music.




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The Return of Rita

Well, she’s gone. My little handy princess who could re-wire a blender while preparing a smoothie in it, is gone and my call display is still not working. Rita her mother came back early from her week in Phoenix at the Stargate SG-I Convention. A few days after all the excitement at the Council Meeting, the doorbell rang. Fagette was in the kitchen making breakfast and I was lounging about the living room reading the paper.

“I’ll get it.” I called out langorously.”
“It’s okay. I’m closer.” yelled back Fagette. “
“That makes sense.” I agreed. “How close to show time?”
“I’m done.” she called back. A moment later I heard my sister Rita’s croaky voice from the hall.
“ Hi. Are you ready to go?” Then I heard the sound of a plate dropping and I thought, ‘There goes breakfast.’

“Hurry and get your stuff. Didier’s in the car and it’s running ” continued Rita. As if on cue, he gunned the engine.
“But you’re supposed to come tomorrow ” came Fagette’s thin reply.
“Something came up. Didier has a job interview” said Rita.
I came into the foyer, wiping my hands on a tea towel as if I was just doing the dishes. “Hi Rita. You’re early.” I gestured to Fagette who was already picking up the pieces of the broken plate from the floor. “Don’t worry about that. I hated that plate anyway. I think it was haunted”
“I know I’m early but you know how it is. I would have call but we were so busy.”
“That’s okay. Did you meet Richard Dean Anderson?” She looked at me like I’d just asked how her genital warts were doing, which I would never do. I mean how well can genital warts ever be said to be doing.
“Who? ” she asked me blankly.
“Richard Dean Anderson the silver fox star of Stargate SG-I. Did you get his autograph?”
"Oh yeah. No. It was too crowded."
There was no convention. They probably spent the week downtown drinking in a cheap hotel.
Suddenly she bolted out onto the street and yelled at her car.“ Stop beeping the fucking horn!” The window came down and a man who was definitely not Didier leaned out the window and yelled back “ I’m not touching it!” It was true. He wasn’t. “Well somebody was!” she screamed back at him.

She re-entered the house and grabbed Fagette’s hand.“ Where’s your baby powder?”
“In my bag.”
“Get it. We’re going.”
Fagette looked up at me with eyes that were so big and wounded that they would break the most hardened anime mother’s heart. “Do I have to Uncle Buddy?”
“Yes. Your mother needs to go.”
“Ker” she said and started morosely up the stairs.
I turned back to Rita. “So who’s that in the car?”
“Didier.”
“That wasn’t Didier.”
“Yes it was. You just don’t remember ” she said.
“Of course I do. Didier may be many things but he’s not bald.“
“Look it’s Fagette’s dad. We’re trying to get back together, okay.”
“That’s great.” I enthused. “Bring him in. I’d love to meet him.”
“I don’t think so.’
“Why? Is there something wrong with me? ” I asked, knowing how ridiculous the question was.
“He might not feel right talking to a man in a thong” she responded. It was true. My silk robe had come open and my thong and its contents were exposed for the entire world to see. Somewhere a fairy died. I went on. “I’ve been test driving different underwear for various companies to make extra money but if its any consolation to you this particular undergarment is getting a very low mark.”

“I can’t find Uday.” Fagette had come clomping down the stairs.
“That’s all right pancake.” I said. I’ll tell him goodbye for you. Don’t forget your coat.” I walked over to the closet and pulled out the new sheared beaver coat I’d bought for her.
“Where the hell is she going to wear that?” asked Vanessa.
“At a Circuit Party with nothing else on underneath.” Fagette suggested. I silently cursed Marco.
“ What the hell’s she talking about?”
“Nothing. It’s something she heard on a sitcom.”
“Goodbye Uncle Buddy. I had a great time.”
“Me too.”
“Come on. Allez! Let’s go “ urged her mother.
I bent down to hug my niece and smelled baby powder. She whispered in my ear.
“ Call Roble.”
“I will.”
“Thanks for taking her, eh. Will you do it again?” she asked.
“ Absolutely. I need some excitement now and then.”
“ I don’t want to know.”

I walked them to their car but whoever the guy was in the car, her father or not, he wouldn’t even roll down the windows to say ‘Hi’ but to be fair it was a windy day. I didn’t watch them drive out of sight because I didn’t want to be seen crying in public. The last time that happened, the entire city went into a funk. I couldn’t risk that happening again, especially in February, so I went back inside and immediately called a cab.

The End
for now

Gabcast! ewe #27 - Pecker Banks: Brenda Goes Awol/Umbrella of the Ages

Pecker and the gang come back for another visit. Talented weather girl Brenda Martinez goes awol for a live report and the talented man at Versatile Ursula Umbrella tries to save the day with his magical umbrella.




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