By Albert Samaha
By Steve Weinstein
By Devon Maloney
By Tessa Stuart
By Alison Flowers
By Albert Samaha
By Jesse Jarnow
By Eric Tsetsi
Fortunately, her stage moves are totally original, as she proved at the Paper party at Hiro Ballroom last week. In a bowler cut and a black dress with gold crosses hanging from it, Ditto smashingly wailed her hits for an audience of—brace yourselves; this word is illegal—hipsters. And her patter is hot, too, from admitting that she slept through the sound check to saying she and another band member both have "something that's the first step to STDs." At her most whimsical, Ditto asked the crowd, "Don't you think Switch and Lindsay Lohan should get together and form a group called LiLo and Switch? You're welcome, Lindsay and Switch. I just made your whole careers!"
The original party girl, Liza Minnelli, was twice impersonated by biological women at the Miss Fag Hag Contest at Comix, but the winner was Miss Bowery, Tanya O'Debra, who sang a spoof of "Unbreak My Heart" called "Un-Gay My Face" as swishy slides were shown of Ricky Martin, Richard Simmons, and Justin Bieber.
Way uptown, straight people have brought us Enron, which is filled with multimedia, in-your-crotch theatrics that usually make you want to say, "Now, kids! Pipe down!" But sitting next to me on his night off from Red, Alfred Molina was cheering and telling friends, "It's better than in England. They made it tougher." Well, after reading the wildly mixed reviews the next day, I'd have to say that the British love their own gleeful dissection of American corruption far more than we seem to.
Still intimate despite having moved to a larger stage, Every-day Rapture is the winning saga of Sherie Rene Scott, a half-a-Mennonite "semi-star" from Topeka who's trying to decide if she's a speck of dust or the center of the entire universe. Her attempt to narrow it down has her going from a wickedly smartass self-denier to a sunny embracer of Mr. Rogers, the man who always realized that the rapture is pretty much already here. The act occasionally piles on a little too much sardonic, followed by a tad too much sweet, but when the sensationally talented Scott manages both at once, it's transcendent (like with her love song to Jesus and his many moods and outfits). I don't know if she's a "fag hag," but this lady is definitely a sodomite's best friend.