THIS JUST IN: Dan Savage just scored his own sitcom on ABC. (Did you get the tweet?) Early reports are vague. What we know: apparently it doesn’t even have a title yet, but it’s semi-autobiographical (duh), is about a fresh-faced young ‘mo who comes out to his picture-perfect heteronormative family to much fuss and pearl-clutching (new drag name: Pearl Clutcher), and Dan is going to executive produce the thing because that Broadway play about his life and all of those books and teevee appearances JUST AREN’T ENOUGH ATTENTION. (Gol.) Will Dan quit The Stranger? Move to LA? Will ABC screw him over again like they did years ago when they made him drop the “Hey Faggot!” from his act and then cancelled his national radio syndication? Or will he just keep doing everything he’s doing now at this break-neck pace until he finally burns out and his heart explodes?
More as the story develops. Maybe. (KABOOM!)
Well, dammit. I am ever so deeply depressed to report that Tommy Gun on Olive Way has pulled down the shutters, clicked off the lights, and is taking one big swanky-queer-bourbon-lounge dirt-nap forever. Did you hear? Of course, I never ever went to Tommy Gun but that one time when I accidentally shorted the bill by three bucks and rushed out leaving poor DJ Derek Pavone to make up the difference, but I took a certain quiet comfort in the place’s existence, Pavone can afford it, and I just LOVED sending visiting lesbians there. I guess I didn’t send enough visiting lesbians. But is there ever enough visiting lesbians? I ask you.
On a much brighter note, I hear Chop Suey has been miraculously saved from the chopping block in the 11th hour, so we all get to continue to enjoy their awkward floor plan and too-expensive cocktails indefinitely (hooray!) and that that damn Office Max on Broadway where Café Septieme used to live (R.I.P. my sweet darling, I shall pine for you forever) will close next month too. So there’s that. Accentuate the positive. That’s what I say.
Kidding. I never say that.
Anyhoo, do you know what just breaks my heart? When famous people get old. Why don’t they just knock it the hell off? I firmly believe that it is the responsibility of every famous person to stop aging—it’s their duty to me specifically and the human race at large. Have you seen Leonardo DiCaprio lately? Maggoty slug monster. Madonna is quickly racing from La Isla Bonita to La Isla Boniva, and even poor Richard Simmons, famous for “sweatin’ to the oldies” is now just a sweatin’ oldie. The police just raided his joint on reports of elder abuse. Elder abuse! Jesus wept.
Do you know who never ages, though? Flippin’ Beyoncé. Ever! Not a wrinkle, not a pore (if I may dust off that old chestnut—and speaking of poorly aging celebrities, um Goldie Hawn anyone? Gah.). Dear famous people: please do whatever the hell Beyoncé is doing. Thank you in advance.