By Steve Weinstein
By Devon Maloney
By Tessa Stuart
By Alison Flowers
By Albert Samaha
By Jesse Jarnow
By Eric Tsetsi
By Raillan Brooks
The hurricane blew ill-fated Aruba visitor Natalee Holloway right off the cable channels, and I'm not ashamed to show my "whore" stamp and admit I've missed the girl. Those channels have a way of picking up on a scandal that meets their purposes, flogging it until you can't live without it either, then dumping the whole thing when a bigger story comes along. So I've been writhing around in serious withdrawal over my Natalee needs. I miss the false leads, changing accounts, and useless donkey bones. I miss the poignant parade of soundbite givers with names like Jug trying to get results in the face of a Keystone Kopslike investigation. The case ended up pretty much the way it started, the cops apparently thinking some combination of the three suspects may have raped and killed Natalee. Even a department store mannequin could have told you that back on May 30!
The cops' approachrelentlessly asking the suspects, "OK, tell us one more time: Did you do it?"was awe inspiring in its fruitless absurdity. But hey, I'm willing to hear about it for many years to come, so let's put 'em all in custody again and bring on the tragic ineptitude.
And meanwhile, let's give DUBYA a break. He doesn't respond well to any tragedy. Maybe this time he was just trying to finally finish "The Pet Goat." But phooey on phony ARNOLD. He's emerged as that rare weirdo who supports gay adoption but not necessarily gay marriage. So he's in favor of out-of-wedlock bastard children? What a mangina.
Raw food indeed
At her hubby's restaurant Au Coin du Feu, ex-clubbie SUSAN ANTON told me she went to the raw-food eatery Quintessence mere hours after the co-owner, DAN HOYT, was charged with exposing his alleged manhood to women on the subway, and the place was more crowded than ever. (There's no such thing as bad publicity, I guess.) Word has it the salad dressing was missing a little tang, though.
Aiming for an absence of zing, the annual Tiredfest has a casual group of invitees going on a pub crawl on the Sunday before Labor Day to all the tiredest gay bars in town. It starts at the Dugout, then heads to several worn-out, used-up points east. I was invited to go along this time, but I was too tired.
I did make it to Starlight for the Tuesday night "Pu-Pu Platter" show of spirited character-driven sketch comedy, where rubber-faced JOHNNY ROBERTS plays all kinds of trashy women and club kids with demonic dash. A typical skit was a spoof of a chirpy news show (anchored by SANDRA BAULEO and guest star MIKE ALBO) trying to make lemonade out of the hurricane, with Roberts as a gay stylist who sashayed on to suggest, "Find a dog head and blot it on a sheet for an interesting print!" That's so sick and funny that I just can't pooh-pooh this Platter.
Ditto the latest gossip tidbit that the drag boîte Lucky Cheng's will open a new restaurant in the basement with an all little-people staff. More work for Dan Hoyt?