"Beauty and Pleasure Are All We Can Hope to Understand"

I just returned home from rehearsing the song I will be singing for this Monday's Homecoming Benefit & Revue for Porchlight Music Theatre.

I'm singing "Venice" from William Finn's "Elegies," and if you live in or near Chicago, I STRONGLY recommend that you come to this event.

Not just to hear or see me (necessarily), but because the caliber of talent Porchlight has brought together for this benefit is outstanding.

I am truly honored to be on stage with these performers. And I am both honored and thrilled to have been asked to perform by Walter Stearns and Eugene Dizon - - two amazing and talented men who have been fantastic friends to me.

This is a group of us ten years ago, some time during the 27 week run of "Falsettos."

I'm the one with the baby face, back row center. Ten years of musical theatre sure can age a person, can't it?

Seriously, if you live nearby, this is the show to see. I am overwhelmed at the roster and thrilled to be a part of it. And of Porchlight's phenomenal 15 years.

"This Beat is Sick"

Finally, a product to help us make it through Lady Gaga's 15 minutes of fame.

Because, if you're like me, every time you hear even a snippet of one of her songs, you have to race to the bathroom. STAT!

It's what my mother calls "The Green Apple Quick Steps."

With this product, you can show Lady Gaga exactly what you think of her "Poker Face."

I suggest that you keep at least one Lady Gaga song in your iTunes.

For those times when you don't have any coffee or bran muffins in the house.

Now, will someone give Lady Gaga a ride on their "disco stick" (whatever the Hell that is) so this bitch will shut the fuck up and go away?

She just keeps coming back. Like roaches. And Madonna.

"I've Had Two Years to Grow Claws, Mother! Jungle Red!"

Philip uploaded this amazing picture of him on Facebook a few days ago. In addition to himself, he tagged me in the picture too.

He tagged me because Philip knew that I would LOVE his Wolverine costume. And I do. He looks incredibly hot. The perfect Super Tuesday pic.

And as for those claws, Philip...

From this angle, they look very "Ribbed for HIS Pleasure."

Am I right? And if so, can I borrow them?

Frequently?

"Stupid Callous Homophobic Hateful Legislation"

My good friend Ruth sent this to me today.

It was fitting that the woman whom I will forever associate with a parody of Barry Manilow's "I Write the Songs" entitled, "I Am Deli, I'm a Jew!"...

"I slice salami for the whole west side.
"I got the business from an uncle who died. (Uncle Shlomo)

"I make potato salad, cole slaw too.
"I am deli, I'm a Jew"

...was the first person to send this parody song to me.

I say "first" because I sincerely hope this video goes viral...

...That's what the kids say, right? Viral? And the videos "go" viral. And going viral is a good thing. Apparently...

...Remember when every form of the word "virus" was not just bad, it killed your friends, and yet Ayds was the name of a candy bar that helped you lose weight?!? Oy...

...because I think it's a brilliant parody. Extremely funny because it's so damn TRUE!

"Lather Up with Leia and You'll Feel Like a Princess Yourself!"

"I wasn't promiscuous ever. I just hit a certain group pretty hard."

- Carrie Fisher

I always knew Carrie and I had a lot in common.

"What in the Hell is a Lady Gaga"

When my mother said that fateful, brilliant, hilarious sentence a couple of months ago ("What in the Hell is a Lady Gaga?"), I didn't know what to say to her.

I still don't.

Then again, I never understood the fascination with Madonna. If you can't sing the intervals in "Sooner or Later," then I'm not impressed.

And before you click "comment," take a moment and remember the 1991 Oscars telecast when Madge sang that Sondheim "Dick Tracy" song live and proved to the entire world that she CAN'T sing those intervals.

That said, Madonna is a genius when it comes to entertainment, image and reinvention. And, from the little I've seen and heard, it seems like Lady Gaga (Doesn't that sound like someone's AOL screen name from 1992?!? Oy...) has Madonna's gift for shock and spectacle, as well as an incredible voice. A voice she knows how to use quite well.

Still, give me Ella's "This Foolish Things" over Lady Gaga's "Disco Stick" any day. I may enjoy one of Lady Gaga's songs occasionally, but an entire album? I don't think so. Unless...

Unless that album of Lady Gaga's music is recorded by Chrisopher Walken. Just watch the clip below and hear his reading of "Poker Face." It's outstanding.

So I'm thinking someone needs to start producing the full catalog of Lady Gaga's music as read by Walken. Stick that on iTunes and I'm buyin'. Release it fast enough and my Christmas shopping is over before its begun!

"Gotta Go, Gotta Go, Gotta Go Right Now!"

Before you bitches even THINK it, yes I've worn that Riddler costume before.

But if you think that I only jump into Frank Gorshin's pants on All Hallow's Eve, you are SADLY mistaken.

Come on. Do you know how many guys have an I'm Batman" fantasy? Well, I don't either, but over the last few years, I've been keeping a tally and it's well into double digits. And that's just in a 5 block radius from my apartment!

And while I would love to be the Boy Wonder for a Dark Knight - - the Dick under a Bruce - - seeing Robin stroll down Halsted St. with Rorschach on Halloween would have been a little too "Seduction of the Innocent" for even my kinky mind.

But Rorschach and The Riddler? An anti-hero and a somewhat reformed super villain? That'll do, pig. That'll do.

And yes, before I could even ask my riddle, you've answered it correctly - - that's Bryant in the Rorschach costume. He was a sensational Rorschach. People were turning around, pointing, totally freaked out by his costume and his portrayal.

He was so Jackie Earle Haley, he scared the piss out of a number of passersby. Literally.

One group of queens saw him and just lost all control down there. As luck would have it, they all were dressed like the little girl on the Morton's Salt container, so their yellow, rubber boots contained most of their accidents. After a few minutes, I'm sure it just felt like Tuesday night at the Eagle to them.

You know, now that I think about it, it's possible Bryant didn't scare them. That might have been part of their Halloween act. Those homosexuals are so clever, aren't they?

****

Tron, however? Bryant scared the piss out of Tron!
Just look...

The poor guy totally short-circuited the entire bottom half of his Tron outfit.
Otherwise known as his, "I'm Wearing 2010's Over Done Costume in 2009, Bitches!"
Great idea. Cool costume.

When I was a kid, I was so technically and artistically lame, my Lite-Brite always looked like a broken Etch-a-Sketch, and this zygote turns himself into Tron with some parachute pants and a couple of glow sticks. Son of a bitch...

****

And you know, I'm not sure if Bryant scared the piss
out of the girls on the roller coaster or not...

...because they were too happy to worry about anything!

They had the coolest and most awe inspiring costume of this or any Halloween!

Other than the Riddler / Rorschach combo, of course...

"Oh, My Goodness!"

I've had Paul Lynde on the brain today. I'm not sure why.

Maybe it's because Halloween always makes me think of the "Paul Lynde Halloween Special," that landmark of 70's television.

Maybe it's because I have several clips of Paul's "Hollywood Squares" zingers that randomly pop up on my iPod's shuffle mode.

Or maybe it's because I simply stole directly from Paul in "Macabaret" and delivered one of my lines ("Always a Paul Bearer, never a corpse.") using my best Paul Lynde snarly laugh talk.

Whatever the reason, it brought me to this poem of his. Read it while doing your best Paul Lynde impersonation. Don't have a Paul Lynde impersonation? Use your Alice Ghostley voice. It's the same thing. Really.


TROUBLE IN THE TULIP BED, by Paul Lynde

I don't know what to say
A tulip talked to me today

I was trimming the hedge
Quite near the mountain ledge

When lo and behold
My blood ran cold

Yes, a tulip SCREAMED at me today

It was my favorite, the one I call Blanche
She puckered up her petals and screamed AVALANCHE!

Yes, a tulip saved my life today

Now you may not think this quite so much
But you see, most tulips speak Dutch.

"How You Doin'?"

I love Joel McHale.

Love, love, LOVE Joel McHale.

And when he makes fun of both Oprah AND Wendy Williams in the same clip, everything is right with the world.

P.S. Has anyone every lit a Slim Jim like Wendy does in this clip?

And no, that's not a euphemism for something dirty.

At least I don't think that it is.

"Yes! Yes! Say it! He Vas My Boyfriend!"

This is an ad for Eastern Bloc, a trendy, hipster gay bar in the East Village.

The man on the right in the picture is Benjamin Maisani.

And when gay marriage becomes legal, he might possibly change his name and become Mrs. Anderson Cooper.

Yep, Benjamin is Andy Coopy's boo.

The lucky bitch.

Who's the lucky bitch? BOTH OF THEM! Come on!

Benjamin has scored the hottest and funniest man in TV journalism and Anderson has landed a buff, built, bar owner who could only look better in that Aquaman t-shirt if he took the fucking thing off!

I have to admit that I was pissed when I learned that Andy had a boyfriend, but anyone who loves Aquaman is, as my grandmother used to say, "good people."

So, I've given the couple my blessing.

And Benjamin gave me his.

Here we are in a late night photo.

It's a candid shot. He was giving me a breast exam.

I thought I looked good that night. This picture proves me wrong.

Remind me never to shoot Goldschlager again.

Congratulations to Anderson and Benjamin.

I'm waiting for your sex tape with bated breath.

(Funny... "bated"...)

"Don't Make Me Angry. You Wouldn't Like Me When I'm Angry."

Happy Halloween, everyone!

Have a wonderful night tonight with both your tricks and your treats, regardless of what you're bobbing for.

And tomorrow morning, think of this picture before you throw out all the little items you bought to create your 2009 Halloween costume.

As you can see, sometimes a Hulk hand can become so much more than a noise-making, plastic glove.

With the right lube, of course.

Happy Halloween!

Fratboy Friday

I've been neglectful of Fratboy Friday. I heard from a few people that they missed the boys. I guess we all need a little something that says, "TGIF, motherfuckers." God knows I do.

BOYS IN CAPS

Fill me... ummm...

I mean, fill 'er up.




****




SAGGERS


U.R.A.Q.T.
"Is Ur Dad a Dealer? Cause Ur Dope 2 Me!"



*****



MOONERS

That's my kind of wake up call.





****





DAMN, I WAS DRUNK LAST NIGHT

The boys love my big pink funnel.

The one in the middle with eyes that look like
two piss holes in a snow bank...

Yes, please.

"Eight Loving Arms and All Those Suckers"

This cartoon from Diesel Sweeties is the perfect guide for picking out your Halloween costume for 2009.

This year, it's all about the mashup.

Draculeia sounds good.

But I'm with Jessica Robocop...

If you see a guy dressed as Doctor Octopus and a bunch of vibrators, grab hold of him and tell him you are NOT letting go until he tricks AND treats!

"Actually, He's a Boy"

The Onion has done it again.

If this video had been around when I was a kid, my parents never would have let me be Aslan that one year.

An elementary school boy...

Dressed as a lion...

With a huge mane...

Now, that's faggy.


How To Find A Masculine Halloween Costume For Your Effeminate Son

Actually, more often than not for Halloween, I dressed up as a vampire. With the long, black cape. And I was just as swishy with it as the kid in the video.

And if some woman had dropped a bucket of blood on me, I would have gone Carrie White on her ass. Fast. Who's the lady boy now, bitch?

"Is He Strong? Listen, Bud..."

Joe sent this pic to me a couple of days ago with a simple subject line...

"Saw this and IMMEDIATELY thought of you..."

If people see hot as fuck Spider-Men ripping off their Spidey suits & think of me... Well, to quote Julie Andrews as Maria...

"Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good!"

Thank you, Joe. I love it. Him. Whatever...

"Good Times & Bum Times, I've Seen 'Em All..."

"Good Times..."

The reviews are in!

Actually, the review is in. That's singular. As in "one."

But after reading Mr. J. Scott Hill's generous and kind words about my performance on the Chicago Stage Review, one critique is all I need to read.

According to Mr. Hill...

"Rader plays Paul Bearer, the most comical of the choir of cabaret cadavers. As an actor, Rader is a fantastic active listener, without stealing focus. In doing so, he accentuates the strengths within others’ performances. Rader is delightfully goofy twanging through a country music parody, and is absolutely chilling when performing a poem about werewolves."

Mr. Hill's review praises the entire show, each actor, the direction, the lighting, the musical direction, everything, which can mean only one thing...

J. Scott Hill is Chicago's brightest and most gifted theatre critic. Wise beyond his years (whatever they are), Hill possesses a keen eye for talent, for star power, for that "it." I, of course, am humbled that this great, learned man would write such a glowing tribute to me and this business I call "show."

I know what you're thinking and the answer is no. If Mr. Hill had hated my performance and written the the exact opposite version of the paragraph above (whatever that would be), I would be telling Mr. Hill where to go, what to take with him and what to shove in his ass when he got there. And I wouldn't tell tell him how to get it out either!

But he didn't write that, so his ass is safe. I admire him, he admires me. We are a mutual admiration society. At least until he reviews another one of my plays.



"Bum Times..."

It's a good thing that Mr. Hill came to our performance on Thursday night. If he had waited until last night, he would have watched as I forgot all the lyrics to the first verse of one of my songs. I lost them. All those words. And I never found them.

It was The Actor's Nightmare as a musical. Sort of like Liza Minnelli singing "Try to Remember," starting the song with those same three words and then forgetting every single syllable after that.

"'TRY TO REMEMBER...' Ummm...
'TRY TO REMEMBER...'
Oh... Mama... Mama!
What's the lyric?
Lorna, put down the pizza
and tell me what the damn lyric is!!!"

It wasn't as bad as that (because Lorna wasn't there), but I did stop the show. Literally.

I went up on the words, screamed "Stop!," walked back to the piano, looked at the musical director's book and neither of us could find the lyric that started the first verse. So, with my fellow cast members looking at me in terror, I basically walked stage right to stage left. And then stage left to stage right. While growling.

And to add insult to stupidity, one of the composers was in the audience last night, sitting second row, center. Close enough to hear me whisper, "We who are about to die salute you."

I was a little worried about performing these songs in front of the composer because they're all still so new. They haven't settled into my voice and brain. So, since I was the most unsure of the second verse lyrics for this particular song, I sang them over and over. Most of the day. Which is why they were all I could think of as the first verse began. So, I stopped the show, we dove back in and I grunted. To the composer. Yeah...

I recovered at the chorus, nailed the second verse (of course) and got most of the audience back by the ending. Then, I let it go. I just kept repeating something my college theatre adviser said to me when something went wrong in the production of a play...

"What Mother Teresa does is important. We do skits."

Very funny and incredibly true. That advice, coupled by a little something I came up with to say to the audience during the curtain speech ("One of the actors, I don't want to say who, has lost a verse. So, please, if you find it, return it to the stage manager and we'll make sure it finds its way back into the show.") and topped off with the extravagant, very sweet Godiva chocolates that Bryant sent backstage for me made dealing with my latest theatrical "senior moment" a breeze.

"What Do You Think I Fought For In Omaha Beach?"

This is Philip Spooner, an 86 year old WWII veteran, speaking about equal rights for gays and lesbians.

To quote Mr. Spooner...

"The woman at my polling place asked me do I believe in equality for gay and lesbian people. I was pretty surprised to be asked a question like that. It made no sense to me.
Finally I asked her,

'What do you think I fought for
in Omaha Beach?'"

Thank you, Mr. Spooner. May God bless you for your service to our country, then and now.

"Billy, It's Susan..."

"It's the day of the show, y'all!"

Gird your loins and pray to whatever god you worship.

Because there's a very good chance that I might forget everything I've been drilling in my head for the last couple of weeks.

And suddenly start performing "Pippin."

The Irene Ryan role.

"Oh, it's time to start livin'..."

Somebody tell Ben Vereen to watch out for me in the wings, if you know what I mean.

"I'm Gonna Learn How to Fly! (High!)"

This is my kind of Batman.

I especially love the rings attached to what usually would be his Utility Belt.

Because, with the right rigging, a belt like that could be the basis of an interesting portable sling.

As far as The Dark Knight dancing on a car, I doubt if even Batman could have saved the remake of "Fame."

Let's face it, if there's no "Hot Lunch," then it's not "Fame." Period.

"The Moment I Wake Up..."

This is exactly what I needed today. I have a board meeting in an hour and this makes me very happy.

Nothing like three hot bears doing a little Burt Bacharach to get me in the mood.

If the three hot bears were actually DOING Burt Bacharach...?

Well, it depends on how well Burt can take it.

From the look he's giving the camera in this pic, Burt not only takes it long and hard, he also shops it around, places full page ads about it and gives out free samples of it on Craig's List.

'Atta, girl!