UGLY BETTY RULES

Of course, I love this show - what gay man wouldn't? I mean, Thursdays at Betty's are a homo holiday.

I love the honest portrayal of a 12-year old baby fag (Betty's nephew) who loves Broadway showtunes and Martha Stewart. I'm sure the bible bangers are cringing at the sight of a pre-teen fag on network television, but that makes "Betty" even more loveable.

I love Vanessa William's bitchy fashionista character Willamina - her politically incorrect one-liners are as horrible as they are fabulous. Her remark to an Arabic cabdriver had me in tears...."Why are you driving so slow...was your last vehicle a goat?"

I love that Rebecca Romijn plays a tranny. Of course, it's totally unbelievable, but who cares.

I love that someone has finally found a role worthy of Judith Light. I mean, I've loved her since she played Karen Wolek - prostitute by day and doctor's wife by night - on "One Life to Live". If memory serves me correct, she even won a daytime emmy for that role. On "Betty" she plays the queen bee who loves her tranny son as much as she loves her vodka. Come to think of it, didn't she have a fag son on "Who's the Boss", too?

Finally, I love Betty. Her character is the heart of the show; and her style is dead-on over-the-bridge Queens, New York - and there is nothing wrong with that - that is, unless you're in the biz called fashion.

Watch the show.

THE EGO HAS LANDED

I tuned into Lifetime Television – the channel for women and gay men – just in time to see the finale of that dreadful Diana Ross/Brandy TV movie Double Platinum. As I sat watching the credits, it reminded me of a fabulous story about the making of the movie and the ego that is La Ross.

My friend was hired to do Diana’s makeup for the film. On the first day, Diana instructed her to bring plenty of reading material, because “Miss Ross” – yes, she talks about herself in third person - always does her own makeup. Because of the film union, a makeup artist had to be hired, so my friend collected $2000 a week to lounge around reading magazines - and observing the diva’s behavior.

Of course, my friend had numerous la Ross stories, but the best is as follows:

In one of the final scenes, Diana performs a concert with a full band and backup singers. Days went into the setup of the scene, and as can be expected, the singers and band were excited to be filmed with Miss Ross.

After a few takes, Diana asked to see the playback.

“Could we pull in a little bit,” she meowed. “You know, see more of me.”

The next take it was just Miss Ross and the backup singers. Diana cocked her head to see the monitor….”This isn’t working. Could we pull in a little more?”

To make a long story short, in the final take that Diana approved, it was just La Ross in tight close-up – the band and backup singers were sent home.

Yes, the stories about Miss Ross are true.

DESPERATE

Has anyone else stopped watching Desperate Housewives and other network shows due to the long breaks between new episodes?

I know I have.

I'm sick of getting caught up in a network show and then being forced to wait 3 to 4 weeks for a new episode. I mean, one would think with the huge competition from cable channels, networks would do everything in their power to hold onto their continually shrinking audience. FX, HBO, Bravo and Fox have new shows without fail week after week. Why? Because cable channels are smart enough to film an entire season and have it in the can before they start airing it.

Well, I'm done with network television and I'm sure I'm not alone in my frustration.

You would think the suits at the networks would figure this out.

CRIMINAL

President Bush and his criminal cronies are at it again. I’m not even going to go bitch about the war today. No, what is criminal is how Bush is attempting to thwart the judicial system.

I mean, by not allowing Karl Rove to testify about his activities under oath is shocking as well as unconstitutional. Eventually, everything comes out in the wash, so when the shit hits the fan, there will be no penalty for Rove because he was not under oath. In other words, Rove and his buddies can lie all they want and never get into any trouble.

Convenient, huh?

And to think they wanted to impeach Clinton for a blowjob? Go figure.

PATTI ROCKS

I forgot how cool Patti Smith was.

Patti was inducted into The Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame this past weekend along with The Ronettes and REM. Such lame winners like Str8 boy arena band Van Halen dampened the awards, but that’s beside the point.

I got to know Patti briefly about 10 years ago. She was a good friend of beat poet Allen Ginsburg, who lived in my building. Because of my non-traditional work schedule, I would often see her huffing and puffing up the stairs to Allen’s apartment.

She said she admired my style – that I wasn’t trying to look like the typical faggot. I took that as a compliment; and I never took her use of the term “faggot” as in insult, but rather as a bonding gesture from one freak to another.

When Patti accepted her award, she was soft spoken and humble - very much like the girl I knew from my hallway. But when she took the stage and growled out her classic “Rock and Roll Nigger”, I, as well as the rest of the world, was reminded how amazing Patti is. And before anyone gets his or her panties in a bunch, Patti’s use of the N word has nothing to do with racism – she’s commenting on anyone living on the outskirts of society.

For newbie’s to Patti, check out her classic albums Easter and Horses.

JEEPERS PEEPERS

I was thinking about getting Lasik eye surgery, but I think I’ve changed my mind.

Let me explain:

I ran into a good friend who recently had the procedure and he was none too happy.

With his new x-ray vision, he noticed all the lines and cracks on his face.

“When I first looked in the mirror, I thought it was my grandfather,” he moaned. “And there is no going back – I’m going to see everything from now on weather I like it or not.”

He then spewed his venom in my direction.…”MM, I always thought you looked a perpetual 22, but now with my new peepers, I can see that’s hardly the truth.”

Ouch.

Yes, I’m gonna pass on the Lasik and stick to my rose-colored lenses, because sometimes the world is a better place a little fuzzy and out-of-focus.

IMMORAL BEHAVIOR

OK, we all know General Peter Pace is an asshole, so I'm not even going to comment on his stupid remarks labeling all gays immoral.

What I did find interesting - as well as frightening - is that the army is severely lacking in people that speak Arabic - yet over 50 military personnel specializing in the Arabic language have been discharged for the crime of being gay.

I mean, regardless of your personal beliefs, in a time of war doesn't that sound stupid.

Mr. Pace, that is immoral.

THAT GIRL!

As I was ordering my soy latte today at Starbucks, I heard someone refer to Ann Coulter as a cunt.

I laughed out load.

Is that terrible? I don’t think so. I mean, I thought she was despicable when she made that horrible remark about the 911 widows…”I’ve never seen a group enjoy their husband’s death more.” Now she’s gone and called John Edwards a faggot.

But you know what really bugs me? I don’t think she means one word of her hatred. I think she’s a media whore who will say or do anything to get attention.

I think her time in the spotlight is about up….next stop for Ann: “Dancing with the Stars”.

SEPARATED AT BIRTH

Does anyone else think that Dick Cheney is like Tony Soprano minus the charm?

TATTOO YOU

You know what I don’t get? Gay men with tattoos. Correction: queeny gay men with tattoos. I mean, do these sissified fags really think that by putting a barbed wire or military symbol on their arm is going to make them appear masculine?

Hell no.

Once the mouth opens and a Gucci purse falls out…well, you get the picture. Grow up girls and just accept the fact that you’re big Liza loving homos and be done with it.

Another thing….I just can’t imagine all these tattoos in 20 years on saggy and wrinkly arms. Yuk.

THE GENES

How could such an ugly mother give birth to such a beautiful daughter?

CHEAT SHEET

My best friend caught her husband cheating.

She arrived home a tad too early from work and found him canoodling with the UPS delivery lady. Yes, the UPS delivery lady. I am not making this up. She screamed and ran out the front door and down the block. When she stopped, she was saddened to discover herself alone on the street. She didn’t know what hurt more, the cheating or the fact that he didn’t chase after her.

That night, she rang me up for some hag to fag counseling; and she reminded me that I once caught my boyfriend cheating.

It was yet another one of those sleazy nights at the Cock bar. I had a friend in town, so I sent my boyfriend out on his own – big mistake. Sensitive Pisces that he was, he felt abandoned and went looking for love in the backroom of the Cock. He had no idea that I would make an appearance at 4 am liquored up on vodka/cokes. As the ugly closing lights came on, I caught him coming out of the backroom with his shirt untucked and his pants undone. Ever the drama queen, I screamed bloody murder and ran from the bar in tears. He chased me across Avenue A begging for forgiveness and pleading that he was only “looking.” Yeah, we all “look” with our shirts open and our pants undone.

Whatever.

I knew that the Cock bar made good boys bad, so I forgave him. I mean, after all, he did have the decency to chase me down the street.

AND THE WINNER IS....

I’ve been wondering lately if the rumors are true: Al Gore is about to toss his hat into the presidential ring.

You know, I think the former vice-president has a good chance to take the prize. I mean, he did win the popular vote in 2000, and more importantly, he has an Oscar.

Does anyone really think Hillary has a chance? Hell, no. I mean, an ice cube in hell has a better chance of survival. It’s not that she is a woman, but a Clinton. I don’t know what it is, but so many people hate her. I mean, really hate her.

Barack Obama? I think he has an amazing future, but 2008 is just not his year. Not yet, but soon.

In my opinion, the winning ticket is Gore/Obama. Let’s see if I’m right.

MEMIOR MEMORIES

Does anyone remember Rupert Everett?

He had an A-list moment about 10 years back when he played fag to Julia Robert’s hag in “My Best Friend’s Wedding.” He committed career suicide a year later when he appeared with Madonna in the disastrous “The Next Best Thing”, which is arguably the worst film of all time. I mean, the movie is even worse than Madge’s beach epic “Swept Away” – and that’s bad!

Well, now that the big parts have evaporated, Mr. Everett has written a saucy little memoir about his 15 minutes of fame. Titled “Red Carpets And Other Banana Skins”, Mr. Everett’s prose, although not exactly Proust, is witty. His tales of life on the A-list with J-lo, Gwyneth, Donatella, and Miss Madge are quite insightful as well as interesting. But he left one person out: Me.

I met Rupert a few years back. Well, I wouldn’t exactly say met, but we kinda rubbed… shoulders. Yeah, shoulders.

Let me explain:

It was one of those mischievous nights at Manhattan’s sleaziest gay bar the Cock. After one too many black bitches (that’s a vodka/coke - the drink of choice for me and Debbie Harry) I wandered into the “anything goes with anyone” backroom. I saw Mr. Everett standing in a dark corner. I mean, at 6’4” with a head of thick black hair, he wasn’t exactly hard to miss. Star fuck that I am, I batted my Max Factored lashes his way and soon we were groping and kissing like two wild schoolgirls After several minutes, he backed away and dropped to his knees in front of a thuggish looking black man. I took a swig of my cocktail and watched his lips imitate a Hoover vacuum.

Ok, maybe he left me out of the book for good reason, but it’s still one of those amazing moments that can only happen in Manhattan.

PUNCHED OUT

I hate when you call the phone company, the cable company or the credit card company and they make you punch in all those damn account numbers, names and blood types only to be asked the exact same questions when an operator finally picks up.

I ask you: What's the point of punching all those numbers?

FIRED UP

I'm on my soapbox tonight.

In our culture, gays are the only minority group that can be publicly demonized and hated without consequence. If you doubt me, tune into any Christian television station or radio program to witness a preacher spewing out anti-gay venom, thus encouraging anti-gay violence as well as self-hatred among gay youth . Further up the ladder, the president of the United States is attempting to write discrimination into the constitution. And in everyday life, the gay slurs and jokes that take place in workplaces, locker rooms and street corners – not to mention hate crimes and gay bashing – are too many to mention.

So excuse me, if I get upset when a moron like Tim Hardaway pisses me off and threatens my existence.

Yes, I’m not taking it anymore. No apologies. And I’m not ready to make nice.

FAIR GAME

You know what pissed me off this weekend? Former NBA star Tim Hardaway's moronic comments about gay players….”I don’t like being around homosexuals” and “I hate gay people.”

Well, as a gay man, I don’t like being around dumb n____rs.

I wonder what would happen if I made such a statement in a public forum such as a televison or radio program? I'm sure I would receive a much harsher reprimand than Tim Hardaway's slap on the wrists.

SINEAD SPEARS

This has to be the final nail in Britney's career coffin.

MEAN QUEEN

You know, I think it's true what people say about me - I am mean.

Since it's been so cold and snowy in Manhattan, I've been forced to ride the subway. And you know what makes me smile?
Watching the subway doors close as people run frantically down the stairs to catch the train. I laugh outloud as the train pulls out and they are left on the platform.

Yes, I'm mean.

A HEART SHAPED WORLD

Is it just me, or am I the only one who despises Valentine’s Day?

February 14th is without a doubt the co-dependant holiday of the year. I mean, if you don’t have a Valentine’s Day date, you are made to feel like a big loser. Even when I had a valentine, there was so much stress to have a “romantic evening” it always turned out to be a bust.

This year I’m buying myself a big box of Whitman Samplers and taking my single self to the movies - and holding my head high amongst the heart shaped couples.