The Five Worst Types Of Drag Queens


I adore drag queens. I live for their wit, personality, and nails.

But once in a while, a really rotten one comes along, so let’s just describe what that would consist of and then move on, free at last.

(5) The ones who think adding more hair, makeup, and accessories is the classy way to go.

Please! Even cavepeople knew that “Less is more, darlings!”

Turning your face into a late-period Picasso as styled by a Kardashian doesn’t bring forth glamour and beauty.

In fact, it’s something to avert your eyes from as you develop a lingering chill.

And you generally can’t listen to these overdone queens either; they screech like banshees stepping on hot coals!

(4) The ones who rely on the same old tired lipsynchs, making fun of the same old tired divas.

Whitney having a crack-down. Janet having a malfunction. Britney being robotic.

Turn on the TV, gals! There are all new people to make fun of! Lots of ’em!

(3) The ones who use their stage time to bring expression to their deep-seated hatred of women.

You know, “Any fish in the crowd? I can smell the tuna!”

Jokes like that were old and hoary in the ’70s.

By now, they belong in a vault with Capone’s belongings and the Lindbergh baby.

Why dress up like a woman so you can express disgust with women? I never understood that phenomenon (though I’ve been guilty of it myself sometimes).

(2) The ones who stop every two seconds to desperately try to whoop up some excitement from the crowd.

As in: “Having a good time?…Let me hear some noise!….I can’t hear you!….How many of you are here for the first time? Let me hear you!…Give our bartender another hand!….And how about my dress? Do you like it? I wanna hear some noise about it! Louder, bitches!”

Newsflash: Be entertaining and you will hear some noise. Otherwise, shut the fuck up.

(1) The ditzes.

You know, the ones who put the “drag” in “drag queen” by being unreachable, unreliable, uneducated, and downright dumb.

The ones who think Atlantic City is a country.

Who think reading a book means snapping your fingers at the cover.

Who think “Fuck u” is a college.

These are often the same ones who put on too much makeup and and who screech “Let me hear some noise,” by the way.

I triply hate them.

But I love all my other gals. No, really.

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