Columnists :: Lady Bunny
This holiday season, Lady Bunny says there’s one priceless gift that everyone should give themselves: "Give up organized religion."
For more of Bunny’s witty to snitty hare-brained ramblings on everything from Bush to Cojo check out her blog at http://www.LadyBunny.net and sign up for her newsletter.
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As you may have noticed, I haven’t been writing much about politics lately. After 8 years of railing at the Bush administration and railing for whoever the democratic presidential candidates were, I really needed some time off to say HALLELUJAH WE WON!, bask in the glory of success and get all inspired by the audacity of hope and such. Take heart that a victory for one minority is/should be a victory for my minority too.
I normally despise the Oscars and all the hype surrounding them. "But it’s all about the gowns!", fags whine. So view them online the next day, for chrissakes! I usually have to turn the TV off leading up to the awards to avoid the endless "buzz". (Of course, I’m still deafened by the buzz of flies circling my nasty, unwashed ass, but soap’s getting so expensive these days!) Still this year, there are a few qualifications which may actually have me tuning in.
Apologies for my long silence, but I’ve been out enjoying the city. Since they passed that law banning trans fats from restaurant fare by 2008, I’ve been on a suicide mission to gobble as much chow while these establishments can legally admit me. But I’ve also seen a couple films. Borat is a hoot and a half which I had to watch twice. Sick and smart and uproariously funny, don’t miss this one! I know I’m a little late on this review, but I’m early on the next.
Hi! My name is Bunny and I’m very, very bitter today? Why you ask? Well...
I say defuse all of this ancient idolatry. Let Sinead rip up that photo of the pope, burn any flag you want, and draw any cartoon you desire. I’m trying to imagine if I’d be outraged if something I loved the most were desecrated.
I spun for the second year in a row at the OUT 100 awards; one cutie floored me by walking up to me and saying (I was prominently placed on the side of the stage): "You look like a whore up there." I howled and replied, "Mission Accomplished! Now fuck me!"
Tom Delay is not hot. He does not spin the latest circuit beats. He does not do drag. He does not appear to work out in a gym. Is he top or bottom? Definitely bottom--of the barrel. Is he well hung? Not sure, but he has a huge asshole and it’s in the White House. So why would a fag possibly care about Tom?
I was going to write a blog post about some juicy gossip I heard today. It seems that rich ladies on the Manhattan’s upper east side are getting botox injections, not only in their face, but IN THEIR FEET as well. It seems the shots ease the pain from those treacherous Manolo Blahniks. It seems a little extreme to me, but I guess it gives new meaning to the old adage "Beauty knows no pain."
The Lady Bunny is a few eggs short in her basket - here is the proof!
My mom phoned me to ask if any of my friends had been hurt by the London bombings. I told her not to worry, that my drunk-ass friends there get bombed regularly. But seriously folks, I told her I hadn’t really called around hunting for tragedy. The death toll wasn’t that high and I assume I’d hear about any bad news should there be any. Now I’m a southern drag queen who loves her momma and I know that she was genuinely concerned about my many English friends. But there is a tendency to wallow in tragedy. There is certainly nothing wrong with expressing shock and horror over it, mourning the dead and memorializing them. It’s only fitting.