Katie Holmes Bristles with Rage!

Better-than-elementary Holmes; Mamet morphs into Neil Simon.

Hey, I don't have time to be straight every night, either! But I do have time—another stinky segue—to go to freakin' clubs every night, so let me uncork what I've learned there recently: At Barracuda, virtuoso drag queen Peppermint not only whooshed up a storm, she brought out elastic Brit rapper QBoy, showed a video of a dancing fat girl collapsing a table, and did a freestyle rap based on audience-chosen words like orgy, Oprah, and Obama. That song only ended when Peppermint couldn't come up with a rhyme for disease.

At Marie's Crisis—which doesn't rhyme with anything either—a drunk was outrageously telling me she wants to put out Sarah Palin, "but I don't know how to work a weapon. I'm a liberal!"

On Thursdays, I've been aiming for Mr. Black (which is "upgrading" to Club Rebel on November 7). That night has been extremely loosey-goosey, especially since Amanda Lepore's boyfriend runs around the place sweating buckets in a warm, clunky pig suit. I assumed he was getting paid to do so, but then I saw him at Hiro in the same outfit and realized—he just likes it!

The lady’s a Gaga.
Candice Lawler
The lady’s a Gaga.

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In one last convergence of reality and celebrity, Moby came into Indochine, anxiously looking for some old high school friends. "I'm pretty sure they'll recognize you," I assured him. "I had hair then," he explained. He's changing New York one follicle at a time.

musto@villagevoice.com

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