June302009
I Am Going To:
Watch less tv.
Read more. [Finished Lush Life!]
Be less fat
By drinking less beer, which I don’t even drink that much of anyways compared to some people I know.
Finish a fucking script
Do some standup and be not awful at it
Have sex
With a woman.
That has a vagina.
A Big, Giant Mazel Tov Goes To My Oldest Friend Jessica who tied the Shamelshitz knot this past Saturday in a park at the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge. Rabbi Leonard Maltin presided over the rituals.
The wedding was terrific fun. The groom seems like a good fella and I pulled him aside at the urinal and told him “one mistake, one mistake. That’s all it’s gonna take and BAM! I am kicking your door down and taking Ruby Ridge. I come in hard, like Janet Reno!”
He told me to back the fuck off. Well, within his rights.
If you can see toward the left edge of the image is Jessica’s dad, Barry, who’s, I think, a dead ringer for Paul Krugman. “Don’t all you Jews get a Nobel™ for something?” I asked during my toast, to restrained applause.
I wish them many blessings on their home.
Mom Of Prince and Paris Speaks Out. »
In all the hoopla surrounding MJ’s demise [and it does sadden me personally] something interesting has been ignored [and there are so many dissertations that could be written about MJ’s life it’s hard to even fathom. Also, like, good books could be written about him too!]
The mother confesses what anyone with eyes clearly knew.
They weren’t his kids.
They were white.
Given his whole life was, among other things, a flight from his blackness for him, post-surgery/skin bleaching/and dressing like Joan Collins to have had kids made from his actual spunk would have been a stinging and recurrent slap to his new whiteness.
His journey to whiteyland was so thorough and integral it literally mutated his DNA.
That’s how fucking ahead he really was.
A visionary simply sees a futureworld.
MJ lived in it.
Another Note On MJ
Technically I don’t think we can really call him a pederast.
It’s worth remembering [albeit not excusing] that he was never accused of actual buggery. That would have been unseemly to him. He was more interested, I think, in the thrill of adolescent discovery, something never allowed him as a star and a gay, the first time round.
He wanted to create situations in which he could experience vicariously but nearby those early stirrings.
He was more like a sad vampire than a traditional grab-em/chloroform-em/get-em-in-the-van types.
