Pretend it's a Secret...

In regard to my previous post "The First Idiot & His Right-Hand Dick".... I have given friends a heads-up. I told them that if I disappear, they'll know who's responsible. The Secret Service.

I want to know: How come they call it the Secret Service, when we all know about it?

So I have two things on my side: First, those guys in suits with a somber expression and a wire coming out of their ear and always speaking into their cufflink--Could they BE any more conspicuous? And they often wear these vests that say right there across the front, "Secret Service." Are we supposed to pretend we can't read?

So...this Secret Service thing...do the members of this elite bodyguard squad have to lie to their families? Like, "Honey, what exactly IS your job? What do you do every day?"

"I'm in the service industry...."

"What kind of service?"

"I can't tell you, it's a secret. If I told you, I'd have to kill you." (I added that last bit because I know people expect to hear it. It's all James-Bond-Romantical.)

Second, I do know they usually abduct people in the middle of the night. (I know this because I watch movies about it, and you can't get a more reliable source than Hollywood). But see, what they don't know is that I'm usually awake in the middle of the night. If they really want to catch me by surprise, they'll sneak in during THE DAY.

Either way, I'll be waiting for them, and when they creep into my room, I'll whip out my squirt gun filled with Absorbine Jr, and then my OTHER squirt gun with warm water, and aim at the same places.

They'll be so uncomfortable with THAT burn, that they'll retreat and make another plan.

But so will I.

Now, of course, I realize they might be reading THIS TOO...but they don't know whether I'm leaving misinformation either...maybe I'm planting red herrings. Maybe I'm not even who I say I am. Maybe that picture on this blog is not a picture of me. Maybe I'm not even female. Or gay.

Okay, yeah. I AM gay.

Drag Shows are Aptly Named

Drag shows are aptly named. They are a drag.

Please don't ever expect me to join you at a drag show. I'd sooner perform an appendectomy on myself with a SPOON. And I'm GAY.

All gay bars have drag shows, because apparently, gay people en masse don't have anything else to offer in the entertainment realm. (Notwithstanding the Melissa Etheridge's and Ellen Degeneres's of the world--thank god for them). I'm not expecting a rendition of Bent, but Hell's Bells. Can't they do better than a same tired old stereotypical thing where men and women dress up as women and men and pretend to have talent? Can you pretend to play that unplugged electric guitar any more convincingly? It strikes me as some puerile backyard presentation to mom and dad by a bunch of 7 year olds. "Mom! Mom! Look what *I* can do!"

I know I'm just ripe for an attack from the Homo Hit Squad, but damn! Is being politically correct more important than being honest? I will never understand why people don't want to reach for more in their expressions of selfhood.

And there's another added confusion--is it just me, or is there something inherently wrong with lesbians getting excited about a man, pretending to be a woman? (Like they don't KNOW that under the sequins and fishnet stockings, resides a live, pulsing penis). And the same goes for the drag KINGS. Why would i get excited about a woman pretending to be a man? If I were sexually aroused by a man, I'd be straight.

And have you ever noticed how the audience at drag shows will applaud when the "performer" hits a money-note in the song? Um...hello! He's not REALLY singing, so why are you applauding that? The recording of the REAL singer can't hear you. It's a case of either the willing suspension of disbelief, or the unwitting suspension of rational thought. Either way, something vital is being suspended, and i just find it absurd. I just won't support that crap anymore. I'd rather eat my own brains.

Okay, Homo-Hit-Squad, release the hounds. And you guys try not to break a nail.