NY Mirror

"May the best man win" is the recurring theme of Gore Vidal's The Best Man—if we can take our tiaras off and head to more legit stages—which is set in a sweeter time when you had to usher girls intothe White House rather than use the available staff. There are no drag queens in the show, but thank God for Elizabeth Ashley, who knows how to work both a stage and an opening night party ("I kiss your ring on TV! I worship you!" she gushed to someone I didn't even recognize at Tavern on the Green). This is in sharp contrast to a mujer named Cicely Tyson, who threw me withering looks at the 4 Guys Named José . . . party—but to her credit, they were fierce withering looks.

Oh, by the way, I've been watching Oprah again, in between rinsing out my toilet with Tang, and I loved seeing George W. Bush tout his wife's literacy cause. He certainly should—remember that subliminable fiasco?

Finally, one woman's sublimely on top—Madonna—but I'm sorry to report that her plus-size drag impersonator, Queerdonna (Greg Tanian), recently died after complications from a gastric bypass. The lots-of-material girl was such a campy and unique diva that it'll be hard for us to summon the power of goodbye.

musto@villagevoice.com

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