With A Name Like "Uggams," It Has To Be Scat.

My Theatre Department advisor at the University of Tennessee, the incredible Mr. Bill Black, had a saying that has stayed with me and guided me for the past... ummm...

...how long have been out of college?...

...oh yes, 2 and a half years.

Hey, if Tom Cruise can be "straight," I can be 25, ok?

Back to Mr. Black. In college, I was going on and on about some play I was doing and how I "just couldn't find the character" or some such melodrama served with a slice of horseshit and Bill said to me, calmly but to the point...

"You know, Stephen, what Mother Teresa does is important, and we do skits."

Hold "not finding your character" up beside life and death struggles and you suddenly remember why we call them "plays."

Philip sent me this clip a few days ago and I love it so hard, I can't even explain it. It's Leslie Uggams singing the Rodgers and Hammerstein classic JUNE IS BUSTIN' OUT ALL OVER and messing up the lyrics so badly that Jessica Simpson's performance of 9 TO 5 at the Kennedy Center honoring Dolly Parton suddenly seems... well... sucky but passable.

NOTE: The quality is bad but WATCH THIS CLIP NOW. YouTube and other sites have removed a better version of this clip for "Terms of Service Violations" - - which to me sounds like Ms. Uggams was none too pleased with her raping of Oscar Hammerstein's words going viral.




She's scatting Hammerstein!

Hey, that's it! SCATTING HAMMERSTEIN! That's my next cabaret show. I'll pair it with GOLDEN SHOWER SONDHEIM!

I can hear them taking reservations now...

"Did you want to see the Brown show or the Yellow show?"

God, I'm sick.

But it proves that Bill was right.

Leslie destroying a snappy musical theatre tune in front of thousands of people is still very much a "skit" when compared to today's four year anniversary of the U.S. war in Iraq.

Nobody ever died from screwed up showtune lyrics.

Actors and singers and dancers and writers CAN change the world, but let's remember that we're not digging ditches and we're definitely not risking our lives for a war our country does not support. Our soldiers are the real celebrities. Give them a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

We're here to entertain. And if we screw up the lyrics to a song, it won't topple a nation, nor will it throw a section of the world into chaos.

Unless you fuck up the words - - ANY of the words - - to ROSE'S TURN. That's just friggin' SACRILEGE!!!

Tighty-Whitie

I have very, Very, VERY important academic news.

"Tighty-Whitie" is now an official WORD!

The Oxford English Dictionary formally entered "tighty-whitie" into the Engligh language. The definition being...

"Men's snug-fitting white cotton underpants"

There are so many people to thank for this achievement.

First and foremost, there's God.

Then, there's "Hottie McSunglasses" here who braved the elements and sat outside at Hollywood Beach wearing only his Oakley's, a pair of "below-the-calf" tube socks, a pair of tighty-whities and a smirk for the better part of last summer to bring awareness to this horrible omission from the English language.

And then of course, I have to thank the Hollywood Foreign Press. You guys really "get it."

To celebrate, please visit Tighty-Whitie Dude, the blog that brought this "new official word" to my attention and the blog that supplied me with the pic above and many, many others.

Many... others... yum...

How I Want to Spend St. Patrick's Day

This is the way that Chicago celebrates St. Patrick's Day.

They claim that they "dye the Chicago River green," but as a longtime resident of the Windy City, I gotta tell ya that it looks pretty close to that color all year round.

It's not quite so "emerald" up close - - it's more "bile mixed with cabbage throw-up."

Not pretty. Not pretty at all.

Here's how I would rather spend St. Patrick's Day...

Oh, yeah...

You know...

... a little change of angle and this boy could be Spider-Man.

Ooooo... yum...

That's what I'm talkin' about!

Forget Spidey Back in Black,

Give me Spidey in Tighty-Whities!

****

I'd rather celebrate St. Paddy's Day with Tighty-Whitey Spidey than this Dick Cheney-lookin', Lucky Charms-eatin' freakazoid...

****

But he would be better than St. Pat's with "The Hoff"

Can you imagine Hasselhoff as a Leprechaun?

The Hoff: "Catch me and you'll win my Pot o' Gold!"

Stephen: "Seriously, don't touch me. Keep your "Pot o' Gold," dude. I'm outta here."

****

Of course, the caption of the picture below should read...

"Kiss me! I'm Martian!"

****

Ah, yes. I've found it.

Here's how I want to spend my St. Patrick's Day...

A boy...

A beer...

And some cheese.

His green boxers would look so much better on my floor.

Don't you agree?

Blonde and Blue-Eyed Bond

I love movies.

Steve Martin's character in THE GRAND CANYON says something like, "All of life's riddles can be solved in the movies."

While I may not go quite that far, my one and only super power seems to be the quick and easy memorization of lines from movies - - my own personal arsenal of wit and wisdom to unleash on unsuspecting passersby.

But movies get me in trouble. There I'll be, sitting in a movie house with "all of those wonderful people out there in the dark" and I suddenly become uber-gay. As Karen Walker said once on WILL AND GRACE, "gayer than a clutch purse on Tony night."

Those of you who know that the line, "all of those wonderful people out there in the dark" is a Norma Desmond SUNSET BOULEVARD line realize just how much of a gayrod I am most of the time. Imagine that kind of faggotry multiplied by a Tommy Tune and then adding to that three Rip Taylors, a Clay Aiken and half a Jim J. Bullock. That's what I'm like in a movie theatre and that's SOME gay!

For example:

1) On the opening day of the film version of CHICAGO, I stood up - - no exaggeration, I stood UP - - in the theatre in the middle of packed house of mostly straight people at the end of THE CELL BLOCK TANGO and screamed...

"Worth the price of admission!"

The stares, folks. The stares...

2) At the first midnight showing of BATMAN BEGINS, not only did I have to stifle an orgasmic moan when Christian Bale was shirtless in bed, but during the trailer for THE DUKES OF HAZZARD movie, I cheered and clapped when the Amazon Princess herself, Lynda Carter, surprised me on the screen. You were with me, Mike and you applauded too!

3) A few years ago, at a Mother's Day showing of MOMMIE DEAREST at The Music Box Theatre here in Chicago which featured a pre-show talk by Ms. Christina Crawford herself, I was shouting so many of the lines word-for-word along and in sync with Faye Dunaway that the straight guy with his girlfriend sitting in front of me (and yes, just how straight could he be if he's watching MOMMIE DEAREST on Mother's Day, but I digress) turned around and said, "How do you know all of these lines?" and I replied...

"I'm a homosexual. I can't throw a ball, but I can do this."

4) My most recent "uber-gay out" came just a few months ago during the torture scene in CASINO ROYALE when Daniel Craig is tied to a wooden chair naked with his muscles rippling. Rip-Pling. I was all alone at a Saturday matinee, and this time, the orgasmic moan was not stifled. It shot out of my mouth and it was loud. I mean, LOUD.

Those of you with whom I have had sex know that I'm rather verbal.

And if I wasn't verbal with you... well, let's just say if you want hot water, you've got to know how to turn the dial.

Today I purchased me some CASINO ROYALE in all it's widescreen dvd glory, and now this little old dvd is helping me re-live my movie-based orgasmic moan over and over again... in slow motion... frame by "Dear sweet Jesus, Daniel Craig is HOT!" frame.

Watch it. I'll even loan you my copy if you want.

Just don't get lube on the disc.

I've ruined way too many Shane Rollins dvd's with all that Eros on my fingers.

Homesick

When I was with my ex-boyfriend, he would always complain about how unpleasant it was to be around me when I was homesick for my family after I had spent time with them at Christmas or when they visited me here in Chicago.

Of course, he's a prick...

...not that he ever USES his prick, if you get to the... ahem... bottom of my innuendo...

...but it is true that I am always sad for a few days after I see my father or mother or brother.

A couple of years ago, I got a call to audition for one of those Christmastime Holiday plays where you do 486 performances during the week between Christmas and New Year's Day.

Woohoo! What a great gig! Yep, that's the smell of sarcasm.

When the casting director told me that there was a performance on Christmas Eve, I politely declined the audition, explaining to him that I always go home for Christmas - - always - - and since I had a conflict with Christmas performances, I should not audition.

And then this particular casting director went ahead and scheduled the audition for me anyway. The next day, he left me a voicemail message confirming my "audition appointment," and I morphed in Faye Dunaway as Joan Crawford in that "What the fuck does she have on her face?" kabuki makeup, "Did you polish the bathroom floor today?," "No Wire Hangers!" scene.

I called him up and once again told him I could not audition because I always go home for Christmas.

He said something like, "Well, can't you just NOT go home this Christmas? Just this once?"

Suddenly, I was at the beginning of MOMMIE DEAREST, so what I said next came out slightly like Faye Dunaway's line reading of "Helga, when you polish the floor you have to move the tree. I'm not mad at you, Helga, I'm mad at the dirt!"

"I don't know about you," I said, "but I actually LIKE my family. So no, I can't skip this Christmas with my mother and father and brother to do this little play!"

I might not have used the word "play." I might have used the word "skit." I'm not sure. It's all a blur.

It took me until I was nearly 30 to realize that people are more important than plays. And that we aren't promised tomorrow.

I don't want to skip Christmas with my family and miss all that time spent with people I love, just like I don't want my last words to be...

"No, thank you. No Triple Fudge Chocolate Cake for me. I'm fine drinking this wheat grass."

Every time I'm with my family, it makes me think about moving back home...

I know that's not an option for me - - even my father says that when I came out of the womb, he knew that I would not live my life in Tennessee.

..but every year I'm here is a year without my family. And I want to spend more than one major holiday a year with them.

I want to have drinks with my father at the Bakers Peters Jazz Club. I want to have Sunday dinner at mama's house, stuffing ourselves on her cream corn and green beans and pot roast. I want to be a part of their daily lives. A phone call is not enough.

I had a great time with mama while she was here in Chicago. If this picture of mama in front of one of the Elaine Place giraffes isn't "The Cutest Damn Picture Ever Taken in the Entire History of the Universe," then I don't know what is!

I miss her so much. Her health is declining and... well... as I said, we're not promised tomorrow.

She's slightly considering moving here, but the winters and the long walks everywhere would not suit her well.

So, until I decide to move back home, I will just have to be a little homesick after I see them.

At least nowadays, I don't have the prick complaining and telling to "get over it."

Today at Ann Sather's

Today, my mom and I had a late breakfast with Aaron and John at Ann Sather's on Belmont and when the topic of my step-mother came up, my mother had this to say...

"I talked to someone your step-mother went to high school with and he said that if she had as many dicks sticking out of her as she's had stuck in her, she'd look like a porcupine."

Poetry.

Sheer poetry.

Like mother, like son.

Mama's Price is Right!

How do you start a lazy Sunday with Wanda?

You play THE PRICE IS RIGHT DVD home game, of course.

My brother bought her the game for Christmas and she brought it with her for us to play - - along with the dvd home game of DEAL OR NO DEAL.

To my delight and amazement, my favorite PRICE IS RIGHT game is on the dvd...

Cliffhangers!

You know, the one with the mountain climber and that damn music with all the yodeling.

God, I love that game! In spite of, or perhaps because of, that music!!!

And ya'll, mama kicked my ass at THE PRICE IS RIGHT.

She's got game!

In the Middle of All Those Half-Naked Men

Oh, but I do so love me the comic book fan boys.

The clip at the bottom of this posting is one of the newer trailers for 300 which opened today.

From what I've seen so far, the film's director Zack Snyder is filling the screen with the gorgeous and gore-filled comic book spectacle and more chiseled abs and hardcore pecs than have ever been captured on film.

I never thought I would say this, but it may be better than a Shane Rollins gay porn.

Maybe.

But believe it or not, all that leather-thonged man flesh is not the best part. Look at this image that mysteriously appears in the YouTube clip at time marker 1:52 (or time left 3:38) for a brief but glorious nano-second. Ain't It Cool News captured the image and it is...

Rorschach

Rorschach is a central character in the grand-daddy of graphic novels, THE WATCHMEN written by Alan Moore and illustrated by Dave Gibbons.

Maybe the image is Zack Snyder teasing us fan boys or maybe the image was placed there by some WATCHMEN fan with way too much time on his hands. I sincerely hope I'm being teased.

This is Zack Snyder. Yeah, I'd LOVE for him to tease me. He makes comic book movies AND he's humpy. What more could I possibly want?

A WATCHMEN movie has been announced and cancelled more often than Britney has entered and left rehab, but it looks like Zack is moving this project forward quickly.

And I'm sure if 300 has a killer weekend (pardon the pun), I will be sitting at the midnight showing of THE WATCHMEN in 2008.

Mama's Packin'

I just spoke to my mother.

Not only has she baked cookies which she is packing in her suitcase for us to eat tonight...

...she is also packing a Honey Baked Ham.

I wish I could say that's a joke. It's not.

Sweet? Yes.

Thoughtful? Absolutely.

Kind of strange to travel with a ham? You bet'cha.

Prepare ye the way. Wanda's coming.

Cap and The Onion

What "The American People" have to say about the death of Captain America from The Onion.


When WILL Bush fire Nick Fury? It's only a matter of time.

"I Am Wanda of Borg"

My mother arrives in Chicago tonight at 8:30 p.m. and for several reasons, most of them revolving around the cleaning and up-keep of household chores, I refer to Mama as "The Borg."

You know...

"Resistance is futile."

Not that she's mean or cruel or strips off half of my flesh and replaces it a Speak-and Spell, two toasters and left-overs from the costume design of EDWARD SCISSORHANDS or anything...

It's just that, if I leave her alone in my apartment for more than 4 minutes, she will sweep, mop, scrub and more importantly, REARRANGE furniture, items in my cabinets, placement of pictures, everything.

This wouldn't be a problem if I never had to find any of the things she moves after she leaves town!!

Also in my apartment these days, you open the wrong drawer or look in the wrong box and you're going to get an eye-full...

...or a "something" full.

It's as if James T. Kirk discovers this fun-looking rock formation in my apartment and asks me a personal, rather pointed question, to which I respond...

"Yes, Captain Kirk, the whole thing. All the way. It's possible. Anything's possible."

****

I saw this pic alongside a great story on Matt Damon leading the pack to play Capt. Kirk in the next STAR WARS movie on Super Underwear Perverts. I love his blog!

I also love that I can hear Alanda laughing at this picture right of Kirk and the Granite Dildo now - - that cute little giggle that says, "Rader - - what the fuck?!?!"

He Put What Where?

In one of his comedy specials, Billy Crystal asks the audience something like, "What is the one thing you always hear in a San Francisco Emergency Room?"


The answer...

"I don't know how it got there, just get it out!"

Is San Salvador the new San Francisco?

SAN SALVADOR (Reuters) - An inmate at an El Salvador jail was caught with a hand grenade stuffed up his backside -- a novel attempt to disguise his apparent escape plans.

Guards at the San Francisco Gotera prison outside the capital San Salvador found the V40 grenade, about the size of a golf ball, lodged up the man's rectum during a security clampdown, a prison spokesman said on Thursday.

They also caught another 16 inmates who each swallowed a mobile phone.

"We'll have to expel the objects and if they won't come out we'll have to perform surgery in hospital," said Alberto Uribe, a spokesman for the El Salvador prison service.

Last year, prison guards found an M67 grenade in the vagina of a female visitor at the overcrowded La Esperanza-Mariona prison on the northern fringes of San Salvador.

Prisoners in the Central American country use weapons to try to escape or attack fellow inmates and prison guards, and use cellular phones to order free gang members to commit crimes or smuggle narcotics.

Stuffing a live grenade up your butt in order to escape The Big House.

Now, if Wentworth Miller had done THAT on PRISON BREAK, I would have tuned in.

Religiously.

The Captain and Reb

I hit Graham Cracker Comics around 3:30 p.m. today just before one of my committee meetings to get my usual weekly stash of comics and of course, CAPTAIN AMERICA #25 was nowhere to be found.


Some jackass behind the counter said something about Steve Rogers having had asthma before he took the Super-Soldier serum.


He went on to say something like...

"But they didn't, like, call it asthma back then. But, like, the Super-Soldier serum cured it. Yeah, it cured that and, like, it cured his tuberculosis."

Then, he laughed that pathetic laugh that says: "Oh, I work in a comic book shop and get knocked around by every jock and Guido in the city, so when I'm in here, I'm gonna act like a total lame schmuck ass."

Yeah, asthma and tuberculosis. "That's hilarious!" (Insert sarcasm here)

Real fuckin' funny, asshole.

This coming from me who made fun of Heather Mills' artificial leg earlier today, but still... I have class.

Proving that I have class, I have found a way to look at today's death of Captain America with a more "Glass Half Full" attitude.

What am I doing? I'm looking at tons of HOT pictures of the hunk-a-licious man who played Cap in the two late 70's Captain America TV movies...

Reb Brown

Check this mutha out!!

"Hey Cap, is that Bucky in your basket or are you just happy to see me?"

God, I miss the 70's. Men had BASKETS in the 70's!

****

"Do you have your tickets? TO THE GUN SHOW!"

Get him a Band-Aid 'cause he's CUT!

****

No, gentle reader, Gabe Kaplan was never in a Captain America movie, but at this point in the checking out of Reb Brown's hottie pa-tottie body, do we really care WHAT movie he's in?

****

Even if the movie is "Yor, the Hunter from the Future".

****

Ok, maybe we care what movie he's in ESPECIALLY if the movie is "Yor, the Hunter from the Future."

What the Hell is going on in this picture?

It looks like a typical Saturday night at my apartment, but I'm sure it's shocking to some!

Sign of the Times

As a nation, over the past 7 years we have been lied to, stripped of our rights, declared un- patriotic if we disagree with the monarchy that was once the Executive Branch and sent into a war we cannot win with our brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, fathers and mothers giving their lives - - not for oil, but because they believe in this country and the principles on which it is based.

That Everyone Has the Right to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. Everyone.

Horrifically, our government does not support our troops, makes them pay for their own body armor and should they be injured in battle, places them in hospitals and recovery facilities with mold- covered walls infested by vermin.

That's why it should come as no shock to any of us that Captain America is dead.

You may think it's silly for me to feel so passionately about a fictional character - - Steve Rogers infused with Super- Soldier serum in the 1940's to battle the Nazi's - - but Captain America in Marvel Comics stands for everything that we as Americans believe to be the core values of our nation.

That we fight the good fight. That we Americans want our Freedoms given to every person on this planet.

We as a nation want to believe that America stands for Good.

Truth, Justice and that other part of the phrase so blatantly left out of last summer's SUPERMAN RETURNS - - The American Way.

After years Bush and Cheney and Haliburton and Scooter Libby and the rest of the Rogues Gallery, we're full of ironic, bitchy, jaded comments about "The American Way," but when Superman can't plainly say that he stands for it - - The American Way - - and when Captain America is struck down so easily by a sniper, something has changed.

As Joe Simon, 93 year old co- creator of Captain America, stated today in the press...

"We really need him now."

I agree, Mr. Simon.

This nation without Captain America is pretty damn scary.

Captain America Comics #1

Timely Comics, March 1941.

The debut of Captain America.

Art by Jack Kirby.

Celebrities Stopping By

You know that song from WAITING FOR GUFFMAN, "Nothing Ever Happens on Mars?"

Well, I'm sure a lot of people feel that "Nothing Ever Happens on Blogs."

Yesterday on this blog, however, that was not the case.

First and foremost, for those of you who don't peruse the comments section of my blog, Jason Robert Brown himself "clicked on by" to set the record straight (as it were) that...

A) Erv Raible never put a mirror on his piano so that Jason would have to watch himself play and...

B) That he (Jason) still makes "odd faces" (his words, not mine) when he plays.

Now, I have no way of knowing if the comment left by "J-Ro" is indeed that of Mr. Jason Robert Brown himself, but until I get the official word from Fox News that J-Ro is nothing but a "Jason Robert Brown Wannabe," then I'm telling everyone that...

Jason Robert Brown Reads My Blog, Ya'll!!!

That should kill my star- fucker ex-boyfriend.

Hopefully.

In other news, blogger Haunted Tuna (how much do I love that blog handle?!?!?) commented that "Von of the Crackhead Faces," who I posted a clip of yesterday singing I'M TELLIN' YOU, I'M NOT GOIN', could not hold a candle to 11 year old Bianca Ryan.

I had no idea who Bianca Ryan was and asked him to educate me - - and he did with this clip.



Haunted Tuna - You're right! Bianca does sing that song much, much better than "Seizure Boy Von."

And she kinda proves my point about I'M TELLIN' YOU, I'M NOT GOIN' being the song to sing if you want to win any competition - - Bianca won AMERICA'S GOT TALENT last year.

Note to Barack Obama: Start learning the lyrics to I'M TELLIN' YOU, I'M NOT GOIN', right friggin' now!

Ya'll, that Bianca Ryan girl is good.

Am I gonna have to start watching AMERICA'S GOT TALENT now?





I already have to to start watching DANCING WITH THE STARS just in case Heather Mills' leg flies off during the Samba or something.

Oh, come on! Don't judge. You gonna watch that show for the EXACT same reason and you know it!

So will Paul McCartney.

In this picture, I imagine Heather is saying...

"That's great, Larry, just great. Now, give me my fucking leg back, ok??!?!?!

Making Faces

Years ago, I attended The Cabaret Symposium, a 9 day Master Class for cabaret singers at The Eugene O'Neil Center led by cabaret and theatre stars like Julie Wilson, Margaret Whiting, Lina Koutrakos, Sally Mayes, Julie Halston, Carol Hall and many others.

I call it "Cabaret Bootcamp" because I can't take "The Art of Cabaret" too damn seriously or I get a rash.

I remember Erv Raible, who is sort of The Cabaret Godfather in NYC, told us that Jason Robert Brown used to play in Erv's piano bar.

Mr. Brown... or Mr. Robert Brown, whichever it is... is a Tony Award winning composer of such musicals as PARADE, THE LAST FIVE YEARS and song cycles like SONGS FOR A NEW WORLD.

Erv said that when Jason started playing in his club, he would make these strange, twisted faces when he performed. Finally, Erv put a huge mirror on the piano facing Jason and said something like...

"We have to sit here and look at you making those ugly faces.
Now, you do, too!"

Apparently, it cured Jason of his bad habit.

Now, I know we all have bad habits on stage. After I shaved my head, I had a few people complain that I would run my hand over my head when I sang "as if you're moving your hair out of your eyes." They thought it was distracting.

I told them to fuck off.

I wasn't "pretending to move the hair out of my eyes." Those of you blessed with a full head of hair don't understand that with my shaved head, when I sweat, there is nothing to absorb all that moisture and it slowly begins to trickle down into my face. I'm simply wiping the sweat away. I'm not pretending to flip my Farrah Fawcett- Majors 'doo!


Britney understands what I'm talking about, don't you Brit?

I truly understand physical idiosyncrasies and the last thing I want is for a performer to be self- conscious or to start thinking about what their body is doing.




But this guy... this YouTube wonder who made his television debut on THE VIEW last week... this white kid singing I'M TELLIN' YOU, I'M NOT GOIN' from DREAMGIRLS...

...well, as a little girl said to me after my performance as Shere Khan in THE JUNGLE BOOK last year when I asked her if I was scary or too frightening...

"Nah. You're just silly."

This guy is just silly. Talented? Yes. Has a better career than me at age 20? Definitely! But he's way, friggin' silly.



And let me say this: Is he really that good a singer or is just singing a really great song?

See, I judge this WINDY CITY GAY IDOL competition (my first round I judge this year is at Hydrate this Thursday night at 9pm) and when people ask me what they should sing in the finals, I always say, "I'M TELLIN' YOU, I'M NOT GOIN'" because it always, Always, ALWAYS makes the drunken crowd go bat- shit crazy.

In vaudeville, if you wanted a standing ovation at the end of your act, you sang a patriotic song. Nowadays, if you want to sing on THE VIEW or win an Academy Award, you sing I'M TELLIN YOU', I'M NOT GOIN'.

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