Rush Limbaugh must be shot in the face. BLAM! BLAM-BLAM! Not really, of course, but still: How wonderful a thing it would be if Rush Limbaugh were shot in the face! A singularly vile fuckwit crashes to the dirt like a pill-popping walrus, and suddenly there's more room for sunshine and butterflies. It's win-win! A fairly large fistful of evil Republico-fascists should follow, of course (I'm sure we all can think of a few), but this evil, garbage-hearted, Viagra-addicted Republican propagandist should waddle to the front of the line. BLAM! BLAM! And Michael J. Fox, God bless his spastic ass, should be at the other end of the smoking shotgun when it happens. Of course, somebody else will have to help him aim the thing. And hold it steady. And I'd want to be in a bulletproof shelter roughly 4,000 miles behind him. But you know what I mean. BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM! Word.
Please don't misunderstand! I am the gayest of the really gay pacifists. I believe that life is a lovely thing, and its nature is really quite friendly. But we're in a war against terror (as we're so frequently reminded), and tragically, our military is shooting at rag-headed figments of George Bush's imagination in some obscure foreign desert. They are quite unable to address the real problem at the moment. So it's up to you, Michael J. Fox! Our fate is in your quivering hands! Go forth, brave warrior, and shoot Rush Limbaugh in the face! It's karma! It's fate! It's DESTINY! And please address the Bill O'Reilly issue, while you're at it. Time permitting. Then report back for further instructions. Thank you.
Everyone else, please pause to consider the following e-mail:
"Adrian, Today at Barnes & Noble I saw Molly Ringwald (from Sweet Charity) and Mark Lindquist (the Never Mind Nirvana author). They were hanging out together in "Fiction and Literature." She was wearing a purple scarf and he was wearing a blue suit. They both bought books, but I couldn't see what exactly without creeping up like a stalker. Sorry. —Your fan, B."
Indeed. A most thrilling encounter with célébrité! However, various terrible forces compel me to point out that Molly Ringwald is not from Sweet Charity. She's from Roseville, California. Also, she's really a man. Only drag queens and Little Richard wear purple scarves. That's scientific fact. And Molly Ringwald is no Little Richard.
Or is she?
In other things, elsewhere: Lance Bass reported that he has received serious threats over the contents of his hot boyfriend's new book that claims he was basically man-raped by "straight" military men after he came out—and pardon me, I have to masturbate now.