"I often get approached by Rastas angry that I dress my hair in dreads and wear a wicker lampshade on my head like Jimmy Cliff.  They know I'm not an albino black man.  They think I'm some sort of suburban hippy asshole with a 'sympathetic persecution complex'.  But hey man!  I say dreads are for anyone regardless of religion.  They're an expression of one's innermost soul, one's tiwi matuta, if you will.

I never had this much trouble, though, when I did the whole New Romantic thing.  And no one even batted an eye when I was in my Eminem phase.  Yeah, you got it!  I'm talking hypocrisy here!"

"Well, I had a college roommate who went on and on about this book, talking about how damn funny it was, how these two guys go to Las Vegas and take all kinds of drugs and vomit everywhere and shit like that. He wanted me to see the movie, but the book is always better, right? Well as it turns out, this book is just a sorry retelling of that Aesop's Fable about the guy who drags his kid up a mountain and tries to stab him but then God comes down in a huff of smoke and starts talking shit to everybody, as usual. I don't get it. I didn't think this was too funny at all, and I'll be damned if I waste my time wandering the aisles Blockbuster looking for it!"

Yeah, I tried to read this stupid thing. I'd heard about it for years, and I thought it was about some hot & heavy Casanova type character, who romanced lots of busty Latin babes. Don't get me wrong, I'm no pornographer! I pride myself on my abstinence in this regard, but a man's got to have an outlet, both physically as well as spiritually, and for me, it's what the Puritans used to call 'erotica'. Well, I don't mean to get preachy here. And there's no need to, because quite frankly, this book would be a terrible example! I read as far as the windmills, which I tried to find symbolic of something phallic, but to no avail. I mean, Quixote keeps talking about this wench Aldonza, but he never sexes her up! In desperation I thumbed through the rest of the book, thinking he would at least sex up his sidekick Pancho or maybe even his horse, but this book has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. And my copy of Emmanuelle is so dog-eared and stained! I need something new! Does anybody have any suggestions?"

I would like to applaud the makers of 'Godzilla 1998' starring Ferris Bueller (not the older one starring Perry Mason). Here we have the world's first movie monster who is Out and Proud, and comes to NYC to bust up the status quo! If only that big lizard had been into cross-dressing with maybe a little S&M on the side, more people might have gotten the message--which is: You can't suppress us any longer! We're here, we're Queer (or Bi!), and the more you try to deny us our say--either by bad press or by trying to blow us up with state-of-the-art jet fighters--the more eggs we are going to lay in Madison Square Garden! Listen up, straight people! We are everywhere! We will not be ignored! You GO, Godzilla!"