Ass-Baring Parties Conquer Nightlife!

These are hairy times, but you can still enjoy yourself, if Bingo is your game-o

Caramel was submitted for an Oscar nomination but didn't get it—the bastards—but Michael Moore's Sicko nabbed one in the documentary category, and I'd shell over a $15 co-pay to see him win. At a Four Seasons lunch for the honor, I asked Moore how he feels about being nominated against three Iraq films— basically his spiritual children. "The irony for me," he said, "is that I was booed off the stage, and now they nominate you for it!" Yeah, but he was not only nominated for it—he won! "Yeah," he said, "but as Steve Martin later remarked, Teamsters were loading me into the back of a car!" Now that he's crawled out, what's Moore's take on the Dem candidates? "I am unimpressed by all of them," Moore told me, blithely. "None of them seems to have the courage to say what needs to be said. Edwards is the closest, certainly on health care and the corporate stuff." But it doesn't matter if any of them are any good, he added, because "the American voters are gonna stagger in and vote ‘D' on the ballot. The only variable is if Bloomberg runs. He'll be more liberal than any of the three Democrats!"

At this point, writer Erica Jong congratulated Moore, saying she'd watched Sicko on pay-per-view in her hotel room. "How was it?" Moore said, grinning. "Did you keep switching between the movie and porno?" "No, I don't watch porno!" said Jong. Still, what could be kinkier than watching someone being denied a kidney?

Let me keep the body parts coming by telling you that at The 24-Hour Musicals at Joe's Pub, a mini-documentary showed the frantic creative process that had resulted in the evening's entertainment. ("What rhymes with vagina?" a panicky lyricist was seen asking, as the clock ticked. I don't know—orange?) The idea was to serve four little tuners created and rehearsed in a 24-hour period, all to benefit the Exchange and the Orchard Project. Rome wasn't built in a day, but unfortunately, Rome isn't four short musicals! The tossed-together quickies were endearing, bittersweet, erratic, and shockingly good, mostly about the need for partnership in the face of fear and disability. The vagina line never surfaced, but I would have written: "She had a big vagina/But don't you dare judge Ina/Claire." (Ina Claire was a 1920s stage diva who may or may not have had a big one; poetic license is called for when one has to create art so quickly. But one thing I do know: She never flashed her butt crack in public.)

musto@villagevoice.com

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