By On the occasion of our 20th anniversary
By Gustavo Arellano
By R. Scott Moxley
By Alfonso Delgado
By Courtney Hamilton
By Joel Beers
By Peter Maguire
By Charles Lam
Commie Mom and I were once having a sun-drenched, sea-breezed, General Foods International Coffees' Cafe Vienna, morning-patio, Massengill moment, when I asked her, "Mom, do you think I'm a lesbian?" It was the only reason I could think of to explain my dry, juiceless love life: I had simply been chasing after the wrong gender, denying my true tractor-drivin' essence.
She peered at me. "Are you attracted to women?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"Then you're not a lesbian," she informed me in the gentle voice one employs when talking to children with Down syndrome. Whew!
Still, sometimes I have hot lesbian dreams. This week's featured lesbian dream had me dating Gwyneth Paltrow, who was terribly skinny but kind of dopey and sweet, and she liked me a lot. She also was a terrible kisser: she kept blowing into my mouth like she was giving CPR to a fat man with angina. "Don't," I whispered, putting my finger to her lips and trying not to gag. "Like this."
But here's the awful part of the dream—I mean, the more awful part of the dream: even as I was sleeping, I knew I wasn't really a lesbian. I was using Gwyneth Paltrow for her fame, wealth and beauty. I didn't love her, and I didn't care. Poor Gwyneth! Poor cold, reptilian me!
Naturally, my hot lesbo dream was all the fault of Anaheim's own Reverend Lou Sheldon. If his Traditional Values Coalition hadn't sent the Weekly a bizarre (more bizarre than usual, I mean) press release about Anne Heche's conversion away from lap-licking to the path of righteousness (she's pregnant! By a man! A man who's her husband!), I never would have dreamed about Gwynnie's slender thighs.
"The Traditional Values Coalition said today that actress Anne Heche has joined thousands of other people who have turned from the homosexual lifestyle to form traditional one man/one woman families," reads the press release.
"'Miss Heche is defying the most basic doctrine of the homosexual movement which once applauded her and gave her awards,' said TVC Chairman Reverend Lou Sheldon. 'She has changed—by her choice—to stop being a homosexual, and she joins the ranks of thousands of others who make the same moral choice every day.'"
The only problem with Sheldon's take on events is that the conventional wisdom always held that Heche wasn't really a lesbian. She was in Ellen DeGeneres—like me on Gwyneth!—for the jumpstart to her career. Selfish, selfish Anne Heche!
And the only problem with that take on it is it now turns out maybe Heche wasn't on the make. She was just crazy!
"I had a fantasy world that I escaped to. I called my other personality Celestia," Heche told ABC's Bah-Bah Wah-Wah. "I believed I was from that world. I believed I was from another planet. I think I was insane." Also, Anne could speak to the dead. Cool!
Heche figgers she went cuckoo for Co-Co Puffs when her father, a Baptist choir director, raped her from the time she was a toddler; her family denies the charges, but the Reverend Lou has a heart full of sympathy.
"Anne Heche has every reason to be bitter at Christianity," Sheldon stated in his release, which was confusing until I called the Traditional Values Coalition's flack, who explained Sheldon was talking about the alleged molestation and rape at the hands of her father, a lay leader. No jokes, please. Oh, okay. If you must.
The jokes were beyond lousy at the goodbye roast Saturday night for gay homosexual (and OC Weekly cover boy!) Wink Musselman, who left this week for an international-relations (heh, heh) program in London. In fact, the jokes didn't even exist, as one roaster after another in the gorgeous velvet-draped The Space just stared into the distance and giggled drunkenly while the audience in their requisite smoking jackets yammered. It definitely wasn't a Friars Roast—but then, the Friars Roasts aren't either, come to think of it.
The normally reliable swing crooner Eddie Reed started the evening (two hours late, but that at least wasn't his fault) by babbling incoherently while still managing to talk as slowly as Jim Silva thinks.
I was much funnier—to me—but nobody else laughed. Maybe they didn't know what NAMBLA was. Wink, star of the popular '80s sitcom What Would the Neighbors Say?, in which a precocious young white child is adopted by a well-to-do black family, has been burning out ferociously ever since, with lounge acts (The Wink Musselman Quartet of Shame, the Winkestra and Wink After Hours) that invariably ended with him getting at least one drink over the head while he made fun of Karen Carpenter's anorexia, crooned about his father making him bleed, and directed sexy comments to the audience like, "You look like you are a very nice, warm vagina!" One always expects a train wreck at a Wink Musselman show, but one expects the train wreck to be horrifyingly, shamefully funny. This the roast was not.
The horrifying, shameful evening ended with the luscious Kelly O, girlfriend of The Dibs' (and formerly Bourbon Jones') Chris Hanlin, dry humping on the dais, broken wineglasses tinkling all around her, while people yelled, "Whore!" (Okay, it was I!) Then, in a This Is Your Life slide show for Wink (which ended with glamour shots of Kelly and Chris pouting at the camera), she said nasty, nasty things that, believe it or not, I am afraid to repeat here. What kinds of things? Things like (to accompany a picture of an infant Wink being nursed by his mom), "They should have known here that he was a gay man and he liked the cock . . . in his asshole." What would Reverend Lou say?