First of all there was my dear friend, Costumer to the Stars if Canada had them, Dooley Fiizgerald, whose miniature shar-pei Jelly Roll had recently died. He was, as you can imagine, disconsolate but he managed to put on a brave face, albeit not the one he was born with. "Jelly will always be with me " he said to me tearfully at one point and I patted his knee and said "Of course he will Dooley." Then he reached over and picked up his knockoff Prada bag and opened it up and said "Look" and sure enough there was Jelly Roll nestled in the bottom of the huge bag amongst a pile of hard candies, kleenex and makeup.
"He's not mummified is he?" I asked in a reasonable manner.
"Oh no" protested Dooley. "I got him stuffed Buddy. The very best too. Doctor Desh Bindi. He came highly reccomended from Fermana Pahlavi. He did her yellow anaconda Harvey. He looks fabulous draped around her. They came to the Black and Blue Ball together. Stopped the show."
"Jelly looks different besides being dead and all." I said.
"Oh yes. I had his eyes done. Took off all those unsightly folds and flapdoodles. The poor thing could barely see when he was alive. It's the least I can do for him now that he's dead."
That's when Sal Surroundo asked me if I wanted a martini.
At one point one of Sal's boyfriends, I think it's the one with the tattoo of the skyline of Brampton on his chest, started a fight with the bartender Sal had hired. The boyfriend accused the bartender of putting mix in his drink and it soon escalated into a very loud discussion of what really went into the Pentagon on September llth. The bartender said it was a missile and the boyfriend said it was a bird. The only person in the room who thought it was a plane was Dick Cheney's visibly pregnant lesbian daughter who was visiting Sal. At one point the boyfriend started screaming "You're killing my country!" at which point the bartender said, "I'm American too" and then they collapsed into each other's arms sobbing like drunken Irishmen.
The highlight of the evening was when Peter Spizzie came on to Marco's mother, Bogva, (pictured above) who was visiting from Hungary. Peter is bisexual with a predilection for older eastern european women and younger pacific islander men. Even Margaret Mead couldn't make that connection. Marco's mother must be sixty five if if she's a day and doesn't look remotely like a Fijian boy. She had recently lost her husband on a trip to Hungary. The story was they had gone there on a trip to explore their roots and while they were investigating an old cave where her great grandparents had supposedly lived, the whole thing came down on them, killing him instantly and leaving her with a permanent dent in her head. There was no brain damage except she could suddenly speak fluent Hungarian, had no recollection of her husband and family and was suddenly a complete nymphomaniac. Naturally Marco was having a very difficult time with the whole situation and had recently insinuated himself back into his mother's life as her assistant. She had no idea who he was but they got along famously and he intended to tell her who he was when he asked for a raise. When his mother started making out with Peter in the kitchen he lost it. He threw down his plate of jellied eel and yelled at his mother to remember his father's good name. She just turned around and said "You're fired." then dissapeared into one of Sal's bedrooms with Peter. The rest of the evening is a blur which is where all my best ideas come from.
Gabcast! ewe #31 - Philadelphia Slave Girl
In honour of the unholy dysfunction and gothic drama of Oscar Night, I would like to offer up the most disturbing track that Mouth Congress ever recorded. Sal Surroundo, Barley Vep, Jack Smith and Uli Jewmar all contributed their unholy talents to this demented paean to slave girls around the world. Recorded in a cold cellar in Jack's country home, the entire musical swill was done in one take as usual but with one exciting addition. Before the recording everyone including Uli's actual consensual slave girl Crystal drank a jug of water and so throughout the session we are all fighting the urge to urinate. I think that's what gives the song it's frightening sense of urgency, that feeling that if you can't go, your bladder will explode and someone will eat it.