LADY BUNNY ON LADY GAGA

THIS IS MY BI-WEEKLY COLUMN AS IT APPEARS IN ODYSSEY MAGAZINE, A GAY MAG THAT'S NEW TO NYC BUT WHICH HAS BRANCHES IN LA, HAWAII AND BRAZIL. I CAN'T READ THE ONLINE VERSION AT http://www.odysseymagazine.net/ny/ny.htmlWITHOUT GLASSES AND A MAGNIFYING GLASS (PARTIALLY BECAUSE I WENT WAY OVER THE WORD LIMIT AND THAT SHRINKS THE TYPE) SO I'VE POSTED IT ON MY BLAWG.

LADY BUNNY ON LADY GAGA

I only watch music videos when I go to the gym. In other words, I only view them about once a year! OINK! So I was curious to see Lady Gaga’s Paparazzi video. I really wanted to see what the bitch looked like. In the other video of her I’d seen, you only catch a glimpse of her in face-concealing masks or headdresses, or at the very least, sunglasses. Whenever the camera did zoom in for a close-up, it whisked back out so quickly that by the end of the song, I realized that I’d never even recognize her if I walked right past her on the street. Here she is, this mega-pop star who has the whole planet singing along to her ditties and I can’t even picture what she looks like. Can you?



Don’t get me wrong. I love her insane get-ups. She’s a freak bitch alright, and she’s keeping a ton of faggots, from stylists and seamstresses, employed with her non-stop, insane looks which are a breath of fresh air on the cookie-cutter pop scene. But what must if feel like to her, to have soared to such heights with her music, and yet to know that her face must be obscured to ensure her success? For me personally, my face is my fortune—no wonder I’m broke! (Ba-dum-pum!) Maybe Gaga is saying “Sell them cds any way you can, honey—with or without my mug.” Or maybe she’s thinking, the quality of my music ought to speak for itself and even though I’m winning, this is a dirty game.

At a Marc Jacobs/V magazine party I DJed at during last fashion week, Gaga performed an acoustic set of her tunes. Now I never really understand why dance-oriented acts want to strip away their hits of that which makes them popular—the groove. But miss thing had a good reason—accompanying herself on piano, she was able to slow the songs down enough to get inside of her melodies and perform some real vocal theatrics. Mama gurl can belt. Also, the unplugged versions of her tunes demonstrated that even without a dance beat, these were bonafide songs she’d written, with verses, choruses, bridges, chord progressions, etc. Even the jaded fashion crowd was blown away.

A month later I had the occasion to meet her. Of course, being twisted trash, I marched into her dressing room saying “Lady Gay Gay! Let’s have some fun this beat is sick. I wanna take a ride on your hermaphrodite’s dick.” Very fun and sweet, she laughed and said “I’ll use that.” But I was struck by how lovely she was. Sure, she has a stronger nose than most pop princesses and but her skin was radiant, her enormous, expertly made up eyes were luminous and alluring and her figure trim and sexy.



And shouldn’t her phenomenal talent be enough? Aretha Franklin, Tina Turner and Amy Winehouse aren’t exactly gonna win any beauty pageants, but since when was that a requirement for a slammin’ singer/songwriter? Since our culture became so shabby and cheap that we’d ignore real talent if it’s not in a cookie cutter package with bleached teeth and a nose job? (Since nose jobs can alter a singer’s sound, many singers have traditionally avoided them—but please don’t tell Cher!) Or is it that straight men control which talent gets through so that unless you are fuckable in their eyes, you won’t ever get the chance to make it?

I saw Chelsea Handler on the cover of Playboy and thought “But she’s a comedian! Why does she need to be sexy?” Why? Because until you prove that you are considered a babe to straight men and are willing to strip down to prove it, you don’t really register. That’s why an attractive yet ignorant Britney Spears can lip-synch on a pole and we only criticize her if she gains a little weight and gets her lip-synch wrong. She’s pretty. But she’s not smart or a talented singer or songwriter. And Brit certainly hasn’t gone out to bat for the gays the way Lady did when she took a wicked dump on homophobic has-been Eminem’s head at the MTV Awards. Or took the stage at the National Equality March in DC to proclaim that appearing there was “the biggest moment of my career.” Not that Brit’s is afraid of political statements: in between smacking her gum and defending her pitifully desperate french kiss with Madonna, the dunce proclaimed "Honestly, I think we should just trust our president in every decision that he makes and we should just support that." She was referring to Bush, widely considered the worst president in our country’s history. Palin/Spears in 2012!



So am I actually writing in a gay magazine urging gay men to become feminists who denounce misogyny in between cracking your-pussy-smells-like-fish-jokes? Yes, I am. Gays are outside the mainstream ourselves—and I know you don’t think that our talents should be ignored. So we need to stand up for someone who might be a little different, but who has admirable qualities which shine through. And stamp out that oppressive attitude everywhere it occurs, even in our own community.

The great Larry Kramer wrote in The Tragedy Of Today’s Gays that gays have lost our “humanity.” I’m not even sure if he’s aware of how internet sex hook-ups boil down each impersonal tryst to cock size and percentage of body fat. Don’t get me wrong—I love a big cock as much if not more than anyone. But especially since we’re different ourselves, shouldn’t we be able to look past a big nose, a smaller hose, a bald head or a grey one, or a different skin color to recognize each other’s humanity? I know we say “celebrate diversity” a lot, but in truth aren’t we really body fascists? Possibly even worse than those closed-minded straight guys.



So before you dismiss someone as a troll, remember that while you may not wanna jump into bed with someone, that doesn’t remove all of their value as a fellow human being. That’s the message of the incredibly moving film Precious. If you judge her on her appearance alone, the lead character is an ugly, dumb, obese, dark-skinned black girl. But inside, she’s a person with feelings and the strength to overcome more than anyone’s share of challenges. As the victims of prejudice ourselves, we more than anyone should understand the dangers of judging from appearance alone. Now go see Precious, get back into touch with your humanity and afterwards go fuck an old fat troll! My address is Port Authority Men’s Room, Stall # 3.

And the next time you see an ugly, obese, slow, pregnant black girl running down the street eating from a bucket of fried chicken on the street think beyond your first appearance-based impressions. And if you see an ugly, obese, slow, pregnant white girl eating a bucket of fried chicken on the street, please tell Jackie Beat I said "Hi!"