April 9th, 2003

flavored with age

Hey, kid, this ain't Shakespeare...oh, wait.

Sure, some people prefer the "Hamlet-as-45-year-old-amateur-rugby-coach" interpretation of Mel Gibson.


And sure, some people prefer the "Hamlet-as-slightly-effeminate-bleach-blonde-homosexual" interpretation of Kenneth Branagh.

Man delights me

But for my three bucks, Ethan Hawke reciting the most famous soliloquy in the history of drama while walking through a Blockbuster wearing some sort of Finnish folk-dancing hat is a dramatic choice that separates the men from the boys.

Oh, that this too, too stupid hat would melt
flavored with age

Sic semper tyrannis

Before I say this, allow me to repeat for the hundredth time that I loathe and despise this war. It's a bad idea, a morally reprehensible action, and it's being directed by the most cynical people imaginable for the worst possible reasons. It's going to have horrible long-term consequences and will cost goodness knows how many lives. It's the biggest and most important of dozens of reasons why Bush and his people need to be removed from power with a quickness.

That said, I can't help but feeling good when I see the statues and posters of Saddam Hussein coming down. He's an awful tyrant and a devotee in politics and style of Stalin, one of the most evil people ever, and it's got to feel pretty good seeing that fucker's monuments topple if you're an Iraqi.

Of course, we pretty much put him there in the first place, and we'll certainly put in someone horrible after we've killed the requisite number of towelheads. The Iraqis are about to learn real hard how "free" we intend to make them.

But still...I don't hate seeing that. I surely don't hate seeing people dance on a broken statue of motherfucking Saddam Hussein.

I just hope we get a chance to burn a portrait of George W. Bush as a companion piece pretty soon.
flavored with age

Picture pages, picture pages, throw away your picture pages

The following photos appear when you do a Google image search for my name. I have decided to turn them into a found-art project. I have titled each one, and will be selling them at my upcoming gallery show for five thousand dollars each. You try!

"The Mustache of Authority"

All right girls, that’s enough horsing around

"I Want to Put It In Your Butt"

Now turn over and hand me the Crisco, my pretty

"Lycra on the Hoof"

It SWINGS, Henry, it SWINGS!

"See Me, Touch Me, Feel Me"

Drag queens in my eyes can make me cry

"The Producer and Young Stockard"

Drag queens on my shoulder make me happy