NY Mirror

Back in our own burg, nightlife is already lifting itself out of the Rudy-era torpor in restless spurts of hedonism. In addition to that XXX thing I mentioned, non-dance clubs are shadily (and excitingly) encouraging dancing, one gay lounge clearing away tables for some New Year's cha-cha-cha that clicked. I guess the feeling is that Bloomberg won't notice or, if he does, he won't care—and if that's true, I'll gladly name the guy Man of the Millennium!

But we have some more catching up to do, chickens: Cher 's upcoming Living Proof CD is lots of fun but has so much of that "Believe" voice-machine stuff that if her ex-hubby suddenly came back from the dead, they'd be Sonny and Vocoder. . . . Cher's young pal, Britney Spears , has been making the gay scene with Justin Timberlake , as you've heard, the couple observing the action at more than one swishy club. I'm sure they'll stop when one of the go-go boys puts clothes on and sings "O Holy Night." . . . In other acne-related news, the trailers for the next Star Wars movie make it look like Dawson's Creek Goes to Outer Space, and that's fine with me.

Getting back to the gay-friendly stuff—and the retro material—wouldn't it be nice if this new hubby of Liza's proves just the right ticket for her? Wouldn't it be, well, terrific if he provides the key to her future happiness, the end to her fragile neediness, and a really sane match—sort of like mama and Mark Herron? Hello? Hello? . . . Can we light a match to the shoes of all those critics who idiotically said gay Nathan Lane couldn't possibly be convincing as a womanizer in that flop TV series a few years ago? (The show's problems lay elsewhere.) Guess what those same scribes spent every second of 2001 doing? Scrambling to get tickets, any tickets, to see Nathan Lane play a womanizer in The Producers!

Just another small-town Saturday night: the scene at D.C.’s Velvet Nation
photo: Michael Wighita/courtesy Metro Weekly
Just another small-town Saturday night: the scene at D.C.’s Velvet Nation

Meanwhile, I've come upon the only incontrovertible statement in all of showbiz these days: How cute is that Dell elf, huh? . . . But I hate to have to put this in my Dell: In the saddest news ever, culty drag queen Faye Runway recently killed herself, supposedly because she didn't feel beautiful or relevant anymore. How wrong she was!

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