Eurovision 1992: Vegasvision in Sweden

Could we please stuff that nighting-goose? I'm hungry. (By the way, what on god's green earth is a nighting-goose? The thing looks like a stork to me. )

Anyway, you might be wondering why all of a sudden this part of the internet has got a touch of nostalgia and decided to look back at Eurovision 1992. The reason why? Sheer curiosity.

I could drag out some long-winded explanation about how you don't know where you're going to until you look back, but honestly, if given the chance to make fun of dated cabaret songs and hairstyles from a 2007 perspective, I'm taking it. (In the interest of full disclosure, I had a high-top in 1992 and wore Cross Colors.)

For obvious reasons, I'm not going to go into the voting, because we all know which country won--and would keep on winning for the next two years. In addition, Eurovision voting segments were extremely boring (and low on the visuals) until the organisers realised in 1994 that there are these satellites up there which can transmit images from all different countries in the middle of the same programme. Neat!

Anyway, it's 1992 and we're in Sweden.

After a particularly long version of Te Deum, we see clouds and I hear Wogan.

Now I know that Il Wogan is a divisive figure amongst Eurovision fans, but I like him. His attitude as I see it is that the performers have to take it seriously, but the viewers don't have to. Only one time did I get minorly irked by him talking over a song, and that was during Paul Oscar's performance in 1997. (Even though I thought what he said was hilarious.)

We then take a *cheap* (but it's 1992, so I'll forgive them) animated trip from Rome to Malmo. Wogan calls Rome "the scene of much unhappiness last year." My own bias interprets that as a sly way of him agreeing that we should be in Paris.

This is followed by lots of scenes of Sweden. Remember when Eurovision openers were lingering? I kind of miss those days. Now we just have presenters going on ad naseum about nothing whatsoever. Anyway, over the scenery Wogan makes several funny references/barbs about Toto from 1991, and I let out a sigh...because he was endearing, in a "I have no idea what I'm doing whenever I'm not singing" kind of way."

Eventually we make it into the Ice Stadium where a bunch of Malmo Girls in national colours wave ribbons while the orchestra plays the crazy lady's "winning" song from 1991. This looks like a Miss America number, I tell you what.

Lydia & Harold come out. (Harold looks like he needs to come out, in my opinion, or was he just nervous?) Wogan may say that "Lydia & Harold" sounds like the name of an American sitcom, but I think Coronation Street, myself. Lydia is dressed in classic 1992 upscale trophy wife/whore pink and Harold is in a blue tuxedo. In other words, they are dressed like they are going to the prom. Lydia's hairdo underscores that aspect. Harold starts speaking in English and calls Eurovision, "the greatest game show." Lydia speaks, but damned if anyone knows what she's saying since her microphone isn't working. Harold talks about the map of Europe changing as if he's talking about nuclear fusion. Harold then promptly announces that they are going to drop all this English/French parroting and speak only Swedish. Harold goes way up in my estimation for that.

Unfortunately, they say nothing of note, because I could give a toss about Italy sending them flowers.

They toss to a clip of Carola energetically performing in Rome in Peter-Pan-goes-to-business-school gear. The real crazy deal then enters dressed in...well, what the hell is it? A bridesmaid's dress? A wedding dress for a second marriage? The inspiration for Lisa del Bo? She also looks shockingly similar to Linda Martin.

Crazy Carola bows and gets this eerie, calm look on her face as she tells us that the assault on the eardrums--I mean, song that she is about to butcher--I mean, sing is dedicated to "HIM who has given her all the reasons to live." I thought all of Jim Jones's believers were dead.

I don't know what happened to Crazy Carola in the intervening years but someone must have taught her better diction in English, because her accent is THICK in this. Until she sings/wails "show me the way," I thought she was singing in Swedish.

Apart from being an insipid Vegas style ballad with weird-but-generic lyrics, the song is low on Carola-goes-crazy moments. Eventually we get a few. Particularly when she starts wobbling her jaw and her eyes start bugging out. At the climax, the Malmo Girls reappear atop the Viking Ship holding flags from all of the participating countries.

Now, let's step back a moment and analyse this: Crazy Lady is singing about god or whatever she worships, and all the flags come out? Is this a revival? Would Martin Luther be pleased? I think not.

Lydia & Harold come back to introduce us to the Nighting-Goose, which still looks like a stork dressed up like Einstein to me. Finally, after 15 minutes of stalling, the show really begins.

• Spain: Wogan goes full-tilth on the lisp, and I love him for that. This is Serafin's Eurovision debut and as anyone who saw him in Stockholm 7 years ago could attest, he didn't really improve by much. As horrifying as Spanish entries have been in recent years, they used to be much much worse as Serafin's bland midtempo song about music proves. The whole time he's performing, I can't help but wonder why Ivana Trump is singing backup for Spain. Okay, I'll be mildly nice: Serafin was cute at 27, but it was a time when most European men under 50 on television looked straight out of the Armani catalogue.
• Belgium: Morgane tells us that we want violins. She didn't ask me, because I don't. Wogan says that she is better than the song. She must be really charismatic in person, because this is one sucky song. Morgane is dressed like a reject from a Michael Jackson video circa 1985. There may be references to rap, funk, but this is all "Gorby generation." I am assuming that is a reference to Gorbachev, because it sounds like the work of the USSR's Western Popular Music Reference Committee #4. Morgane bounces about, occasionally finding the key, and it's over. And yet, it needn't have existed in the first place.
• Israel: Remember Dafna from 1999? Well here she is without acting drunk and perky. Here she's just perky. Wogan says that this is one of the strongest songs this year, which is proof that this is a sad state o'affairs. The Israelis decide to give us a neon assault in respect to outfits, which is wise since there is so much dark blue onstage. I think the theme for this year must be Eurovision goes to Reno, since so many entries would not be out of place at a casino, but not a high-end one. Back to Dafna who has been "singing" while I'm typing this. The two men playing drums behind her decide to have their dentist check their mouth in the middle of the entry by going "ahhhhhh." It's an energetic "ah," mind you. Have we finally reached the chorus? Wow. For a song about sport, there's very little movement beyond Dafna's shuffling. By the way, it's a sad state of affairs when the Israeli song does a better job of representing Spain than the Spanish one. Maybe I have a dirty mind, but the microphones on the bongo boys; chests look rather phallic.
• Turkey: The first song of this year that I like. This may be the Turkish entry, but it sounds very much like Japanese enka--even down to the lyrics. Perhaps it's my memory, but I don't remember messy hair being fashionable in 1992. 1995, maybe, but not 1992. The song starts out very strangely with Aylin's male backing singers creating a sun in front of her. Aylin steps out in a green overcoat and what looks like nothing underneath. This is quite a sweet, if not slightly sad song for the most part until that part. You know, where for some reason known only to the composers and arrangers, one of the backing singers comes out and screeches out a falsetto. From that point on, you just can't look nor listen to it in the same way. Summer's over, kids.
• Greece: I'm certain the irony of Greece represented by a singer called Cleopatra was called on back in 1992, so I won't go there. Cleo certainly has got a strong set of pipes on her. It also is a very dramatic performance, so she does her namesake very well. The song itself is decent, but I get the sense that it actually is holding her back. Still, very good job.
• France: Bob Marley goes to Eurovision via Martinique. Speaking of the DOM-TOM, why on Earth has Reunion's sole contribution to Eurovision been Severine Ferrer? I mean, seriously, they could do so much better. Anyway, Kali and his locs do a pretty decent job. It is not as good as Amina's entry the year previous in terms of haunting you, but then again, there really is no message here. It's just reggae, cher, and decent reggae at that, none of that Club Med crap. I wonder if France would be daring enough to let Wyclef Jean loose on their entry one of these years.
• Sweden: Before he wrecked havoc on the Melodifestivalen selection process, La Bjorkman did actually win the thing with a daft little optimistic ballad. Wogan compares him to Paddy Ashdown, which from a 2007 perspective is unintentionally funny or scarily prescient. I don't know what happened to Christer from 1992 to the present, but it certainly looks like life has been mean to him. He's actually quite cute performing this--oops, strike that--they just did a close up. By the way, Christer, you are not Jesus, so don't open your arms for that long. Wogan makes another funny/prescient comment: "Christer is a man, for whom designer stubble never died."
• Portugal: The Nighting-Goose gets squished while the pages turn for Portugal. Another round of unintentional irony: Christer is followed by Dina, who is a lesbian. Wogan complains about the lyrics, but I'm guessing he's never been to a modern folk music festival, because Dina's lyrics are a slight cut above of the ones on display there. Musically, it's very Portuguese, which is a way of saying "cute and endearing." The two backing singers in halter dresses(?) blend well vocally, but visually stand out like sore thumb since everybody else onstage is wearing pants. Interesting this same combo (albeit with dresses) would give Portugal its highest score ever 4 years later.
• Cyprus: Judging by the postcard, Cyprus seems to be the land of topless women cavorting on the beach. Judging by my experiences in New York, it is the land of incompetent bartenders who prattle on needlessly. Evridiki, who will be the Cypriot entrant this year, is dressed in a slinky "I'm-not-copying-Marilyn-Monroe, honest" dress. Evri (I'm not going to call her "diki," am I?) doesn't so much sing the verses as purring them. She certainly is going for the sultry here, isn't she? It works, but I'm left wanting more chorus and just barely keeping interest during the verses. When she gets to the jazz hand portion, however, it's just a bit too Vegas for me, and Vegas always needs irony.
• Malta: I'm sorry, but Mary looks like Laura Bush after a tanning session, breast lift, and a dye job. She also is dressed like her too. That said, Mary sounds like she is doing her best job at imitating Eartha Kitt. Against my better judgement, I like it, but not for the song itself, but because Mary is unintentionally camp. While Mary may look like Laura Bush, and sound like Eartha Kitt, her performance--especially the latter half--is all Anita Bryant, courtesy of the daft lyrics. One of these things is not like the other.
• Iceland: The second song I like this year. Sigga and her sister bounce about in red & yellow, smirking and singing about "yes" and "no." This is not a deep song, and they know it, which makes it work. The song is basically an overdose of cuteness, which in 1992 you could still do, since the world wasn't that jaded.
• Finland: As if to demonstrate what I just said about performers knowing that they aren't singing great profound thoughts on the meaning of life, Pave comes on looking either scared or psychotic (take your pick) with a song that is about the noise a radio makes. Pave is accompanied by two Delta Burke clones and Chita Rivera in yellow power suits. Apart from Blonde Delta, they are having much more fun onstage than Pave is. For pete's sake, man, your song is absurd! Have fun onstage. By the way, I never want to see that man shake his hips and fists like that again. It's icky.
• Switzerland: I love Wogan's comment at the end of the postcard: "There's a bunch of Swiss about to hurl themselves off a rock." Oddly enough, it applies to the song as well. The rock being "Mister Music Man" and the suicidal Swiss being Daisy. In general too much onstage can kill a song (see Andorran entries from 2004-2006), but having no one but Daisy is killing this very burlesque number. Were this is a talent show, I'd give Daisy a pass, but it's not and the song is not that strong.
• Luxembourg: Luxembourg in Luxembourgish shock. I've never been to Luxembourg, and the postcard is not exactly making me rush out to the airport to get there. Milwaukee is more interesting. Wogan describes the conductor as looking "pale, but determined." The same description could apply to the performance. This is actually quite an upbeat, happy song, and were Luxembourg to end their Eurovision run with this, it would be a better musical end than their follow up. The problem with the performance, however is that the visuals get in the way. Kontinent looks like a bunch of office workers and Marion looks like the perky and quirky receptionist. If memory serves me correct, they are actually on-target fashion-wise for 1992.
• Austria: Wogan thinks that Tony Wegas is a contender. He's wrong. Very wrong. Tony gives a very Wegas-style performance of an overblown ballad. I have no idea what he looks like now, but in 1992 or 1993, I certainly would've enjoyed him in the sack--at the age I am at now, of course. Of course, in the early nineties, mens' jackets still had those very broad shoulders, so for all I know, Tony may not be a broad-shouldered Tom Jones-esque lust machine when all his clothes are off. Didn't he get pinched for thieving someone? Anyway, good looking man with a crappy song. Do like that last note, though. Next.
• United Kingdom: One day the UK will realise that picking songs with Eurovision double entendres in them never quite works out ("Why do I always get it wrong?," "One Step Out of Time," "Say It Again," "Don't Play That Song Again," etc.) for them. Anyway, so here comes Mr. Michael "I'd-Rather-Stick-Needles-In-My-Eyes" Ball, many years before he ballooned out to flop on Broadway in The Woman in White. I shouldn't be so catty though, since as Wogan says he does really attack the song, which is something that I value very highly. Quite frankly, by 1992 Eurovision-goes-Vegas standards, he goes positively rabid on the thing. I have no idea why on Earth someone made him do that finger pointing thing, though. Perhaps I'm getting my early nineties British popsters mixed up, but when I close my eyes, I don't hear Michael Ball inasmuch as Jason Donovan--who really should get the nod for the UK at some point.
• Ireland: How cruel is it to watch this in 2007 knowing that this won and the UK came 2nd? It definitely should've been the other way around. Wogan makes a truly dated (for 2007) reference, comparing Linda Martin to Stephanie Powers. If that doesn't make you feel old...The song starts out very dramatic and Vegas. Linda is also dressed very dramatic and Vegas. Then she gets all country-via-Australia-and-Ireland. Seriously, it sounds like an Olivia Newton-John castoff. The Irish staging is eerily similar to the UK's, with Linda front and centre and the backing singers (3 women and 2 men in contrast to the UK's 3 men and 2 women) way off in Denmark (that's a geographical joke, by the way). While the song is very good, it doesn't stir you the way that the UK's did, mostly due to Michael's performance. Linda is just standing there and looks like she's not feeling anything but her perm. Why us, indeed.
• Denmark: Before I heard any of the other songs from 1992, Denmark's entry was amongst one of my favourite Eurovision songs of all time. It probably has slid down my list over the years, but after watching most of this lot, I can say that it reigns quite highly amongst the 1992 entries. Perhaps it's the oompah-pah brassy fun of it all. Or it's Kenny's growling rock voice in contrast to Lotte's. Or it's just that they're all having so much damn fun onstage that you just want to join in. Danish entries used to be so much fun, but I think Kolig Kaj injured it and the Olsens finished that job. The performance is really just Danes having Vegas cabaret fun and nothing more is needed. That said, they definitely could've stricken that daft little "is he/she checking you out?" act at the beginning. A fun little game to play while watching this: do a shot every time that Kenny and his poodle hair growl, snarl, yell, or just out-sing poor defenseless Lotte. You'll be blotto in no time.
• Italy: Speaking of growling and snarling, but with the cast-iron vocal chops to pull it off with buckets of style and talent, here is the late Mia Martini. Being biased towards upbeat songs, I like Mia's 1977 entry better than this one, but Rapsodia is pretty damn good in its own right. Whoops Dragovic (look under "encyclopedia") made a very astute connection between Mia & Judy Garland, and Mia's outfit and look are very Judy Garland. This is not meant to be a pretty song and Mia sings it with emotion that comes up from the depths of her soul. I always say that I like ballads that make you want to go crazy and hurl yourself out of a window from the torrents of despair. This is that kind of song. Mia does not try to look cute nor sexy while singing this, she just sings the hell out of it. Bravo.
• Yugoslavia: Geopolitics of 1992 aside, the fact that they entered after the horror that was Brasil is shocking enough. Wogan is very respectful due to the political situation at the time, but I can't help but wonder why he favours it so much. The song isn't that good, especially after Mia tore up the stage, rebuilt it, and tore it up again. Extra tries to sex the song up, but it's really to no avail. I wonder if her hair or perhaps her face is pulled back so tight that she can't bring her head forward. I almost think she's in pain based on the swaying and convulsions she's doing onstage. The song itself is kind of schitzophrenic. Is it a ballad? Is it a bouncy brassy tune? Either way, it's rather boring to watch and listen to.
• Norway: Normal Wogan service is resumed as he calls Merethe "a plump chicken from Trondheim." As the postcard concludes I am struck with the strange discovery that Rolf Lovland is--or at least used to be--quite hot in a Nordic way. This is another schitzophrenic song, but at least they get the slow bits finished with first. The majority of the song sounds and looks like a Miss America talent segment. It doesn't help that Merethe's hair is styled like she's the runner up and the winner just got hauled into rehab. I keep on waiting for the song to go somewhere, but it just lingers with its 1970s anime musical orchestration. Merethe's glory notes are so not called for.
• Germany: Another Siegel entry, and Wind are clearly past their mid-eighties peak. Good lord, this thing starts out as if it's a national anthem. The female lead singer's scary turn and smile when the intro finishes is scary on its own, but the visual assault of her along with the rest of the band is too much. Now, I may have been only 13 in 1992, and I may have been living in the US in the time, but for the love of god, I do not remember people looking like Kidd Video in 1992. Somebody also needs to remind the drummer that this is a midtempo song and to keep capering about in the background just makes it even more unintentionally funny. The swaying that the band does in unison is best left only to theme parks. Oh god no, they're doing a close up of the male lead. Make. It. Stop. No more poodle hair, especially if you're not Danish and your name isn't Kenny. I have to turn away because I can only take so many ear-to-ear smiles. Too late. The male lead just winked! This is too creepy for me.
• Netherlands: Humphrey wants to show us the way. I timidly say "ok." I was just as confused as Wogan about Humphrey's "triple" personality when I first saw this, but now I just remember to follow the man in yellow with the pony tail. Ruth Jacott supposedly sang back up here, but buggered if I can find her. Anyway, this is another schitzophrenic song which starts out like a waltz then goes polka-meets-soul-meets-anthemic all performed rapidfire. Now when I say "accordion solo" many of you will probably grimace, but it is not that bad. You just don't look at the Dr. Snuggles who is performing it. Scarily, Humphrey & Co. are fashion appropriate for 1992. Their shuffle was oddly in vogue at the time as well, if my viewings of BETJ serve me correctly. Very good rousing song, but as we all know now, Ruth blew the roof off the flowing year with Vrede.

We all know who won (Ireland), we all know who should've won (the UK or Italy), and we all know now that Stenchmark was really singing about the 1992 contest back in 2005. Thus concludes today's lesson.

Final Eurovision Moment of the Day: Slovenia

My anxiety can rest, all of EMA 2007 will be held while I'm away. (There will be an Atlanta post-mortem when I return.) Alas, this means I will miss my annual dose of Peter Poleš--who is reason enough for Slovenia to win soon.

Always the eager beaver, I took a listen to some of the entries on the preview show.

As expected, Alya's "Vizija" kicked major ass and she has truly gone from Slovenia's answer to Christina Aguileira to Dale Bozzio for the 21st Century.

Obviously, I'm rooting for her and it should be her year.

Even if it isn't, I have to say that this is one of the strongest EMA lineups in a long time: Nude is back with a song that isn't as strong as their 2001 entry; so are Lunapark (ditto); Diona Dimm now has a "Team" supporting her and the deepest female voice this side of Akiko Wada (only on here, children, only on here).

Other notable mentions include: Rok Cosmač--who looks suspiciously like Aaron Carter or Jesse McCartney (take your pick) , the opera-meets-house music entry from Alenka Gotar (aka the Nuša entry), Dean Vivod & Tonus Kitarus (the joke entry that is more pleasing to the ears than Alf Poier), Denis, whose staging looks like Clay Aiken meets Justin Timberlake via La Podolskaya, but whose song is chirpy and perky as hell, and Eva Černe who has Omar/Anžej spot with a song tailored for her Nuša Jr./Diana DeGarmo style.

Obviously, I want Alya, but bias aside it's Alenka, Diona, or Eva with Alya as a strong contender to pip the post. I really will be surprised if Slovenia goes for males three times in a row, but there's no jury vote this year so it's a level playing field.

Working against Eva's favour: Omar and Anžej both getting the nod last year against the popular vote.

Working against Alenka's favour: Nothing I can forsee except that it might suffer from poor staging based on the preview performance.

Working against Diona's favour: Sestre.

Working against Alya's favour: The fact that I like her.

Working in Alya's favour: Everything else.

Ok, I'm biased, but frankly, she damn well deserves it.

Eurovision 2007: She's Also Back

This tidbit must've slipped through the cracks while I was getting ready to go to Wisconsin:

Edsilia Rombley is coming back to Eurovision. What's more? She's singing in DUTCH!

Maybe it's me, but that could be interpreted as a bit of a dis to Glennis.

Selections from the Eurolaul 2007 Preview

Selections because ETV's site is painfully slow (but nonetheless very aesthetically pleasing) with the loading and I'm not going to sit through all of those songs, especially since I still can't drink for 2 more days.

Apparently, ETV called out all the pretty people (and yes, I'm including Koit Toome in that group, since Gary Barlow did set many hearts affluter in his heyday) to participate in this year's Eurolaul, which might as well have the subtitle of "You'd Better Be Able to Show Up the Finns." Believe you me, the eagerness/desperation is apparent in Eesti.

• Kristjan Kasearu & Paradise Crew - So Much to Say: Generally Estonia has provided Eurosongers with model-esque women and men that well...let's just say that Ruffus, Tanel Padar, and Ivo Liina aren't. This time around we get Kristjan Kasearu--twice--in order to make up for that deficit. And Kristjan is very handsome. (Fun Fact: Paradise Crew are not the former 2XL who danced around in the background to "Everybody" back in Copenhagen, but Soul Militia--ha!--is.) His song is...eh. It's pop/rock that would appeal to the Radio Disney set, well maybe the bit about Whiskey wouldn't. Did I mention that he's very handsome?
• Deva Deva Dance - Supreme Nature: Deva Deva Dance is one of those groups (or is it really just Arne Lauri?) that just keeps popping up in Eurolaul although one has no idea what the appeal is. To my knowledge there is no huge Indian Estonian community nor a Hare Krishna one, but Arne is hellbent on establishing some connection between Estonia and India. In my opinion, this kind of music went out with Enigma and European softcore porn from the mid 90s. I think ETV are thinking of them as a softer, gentler answer to Lordi.
• Koit Toome - Veidi Veel: Koit sounds and looks veidi veidi like Gary Barlow, even more now than he did back in '98 when he was singing about the Children of the Sea over the theme from Baywatch. (Yes, I said it. Even so, I did like "Mere Lapsed" or "Merely Lapsed" as some jokingly called it.) Now he's trying to rock out and from a hearing standpoint it works. From a visual standpoint, Koit looks as awkward as Gary Barlow when a Take That video called for intense choreography. Much like Koit trying to look tough in a bomber jacket, the song also just ends strangely.
• Laura - Sunflowers: Just feel the anonymity, it doesn't get anymore generic than someone called "Laura" singing about "Sunflowers." It's not that "Sunflowers" is a bad song, it's just that it really goes nowhere either musically or lyrically. What can you really say when the only thing that stays in your mind after hearing it is Laura's dress?
• Gerli "P!nk" Padar - Partners in Crime: First off, the song is wayyyyy better than her previous Eurolaul entry, but let's get this out of the way: she looks like Pink so much that I'm starting to wonder if Pink is Estonian. Gerli fortunately still retains her Cerys Matthews/Marianne Faithfull-esque "I-gargle-with-razor-blades-and-rubbing-alcohol" voice. Thank god that she sticks to rock where that is an asset. Despite my catty remarks, I'd like to see her win. Won't happen though.
• Vanilla Ninja - Birds of Peace: Yay! The Lindsay Lohan clones are back (minus one). It's also the return of dark, morbid lyrics that have absolutely no meaning attached to them whatsoever. (If "Cool Vibes" is about a tiger, then "Birds of Peace" is about heroin addiction?) The song isn't as atmospheric as "Cool Vibes," but Eurolaul is either theirs or Ines's to lose.
• Soul Militia - My Place: Pardon me as I laugh myself silly. Tanel & Dave's backing dancers try to go krunk. That's right, Estonian krunk music. When the Kevin Richardson lookalike raps "girl, you're making me horny" I truly did bust out laughing. But the chorus! Oh, the chorus! "Before we go to my place/Why don't you give me a taste/Slide your ass down that pole/Girl I'm about to explode." Basically a love song to a stripper. (By the way the lyric that follows goes "I don't want to sound like a perv/Nevermind, I'm a bit disturbed.") This from the country that gave us Maarja & Ivo's squicky-but-innocent seeming ballad about the sound of a necklace, and Ines's ode to being 17. Well, Estonia is clearly past the first flushes of puberty now. That said, there is no way in hell this will win.
• Ines - In Good and Bad: Ines must certainly want her privacy, since apparently she lives in New York these days. (She must be a downtowner, although I'd gladly have her as neighbour over the entitled SaTC crowd in my building.) That aside, last year Ines got shafted big time. The Euro-fans like her, and although personally I'm indifferent to "Once in a lifetime," I've liked everything else she's sung in Eurolaul. The song is again Radio Disney-esque pop/rock with a veneer of Bohemian chic, but strangely enough, Ines makes it work. Like I said, it's hers to lose.

Vanilla Ninja or Ines, with Gerli as close outsider, and Kristjan a bit further out (the man has two chances to win, so you can't discount him). I'll be shocked, but not necessarily dismayed, if Koit Toome pulls a surprise victory. If Soul Militia wins, I'll just pass out from shock.

Romanian Semi-Final 1: One Remains Optimistic

Because the one decent dance song, "Sinada" (and mark my words Romania will always send a dance song) got through to the Grand Final.

You can have your Swedish redneck nonsense, cloying multilingual love songs, Romanian country music, and whatever you'd classify "Crazy" as, but at least the one song I like out of the whole lot got through.

Because god has a sense of humour, watch "Dracula, My Love"* go straight into the final after next week's semi.

* God, I wish I was making that up. There really is a song called "Dracula, My Love" in the Romanian Semi-Final. And yes, it's another dance pop song.

The 700th Post Club Roundtable

Yes, this part of the internet has reached 700 posts and I'm celebrating it by having a roundtable of sorts. Joining me is slut--I mean--21st century courtesan Aron Slade, and our two "sou desu ne boys," who are biding their time between tanning sessions and bar opening hours.

Hikaru: First off, something light. Today's Out Hot Guy of the Day.
Aron: Eh. He could lose the spiky hair. I'd do him.
SDNB #1: Short.
Hikaru: I thought the 90s were over.
SDNB #2: Indeed.

HF: Next, the presidental field for 2008.
AS: Richardson. Obama has charisma but no ideas.
SDNB #1: Indeed.
HF: Clark? Gore?
AS: Gore isn't going to run. Not in a million years. No way will Clark run with Clinton in the mix.
SDNB #2: Indeed.
AS: You really aren't that informed are you?
HF: Richardson or Edwards. Clinton with a strong chance. I don't think we're ready for another pretty boy president. Republicans?
AS: Like anyone cares. McCain. The GOP gets their asses handed to them in '08 no matter who they run.
SDNB#1: Indeed.

HF: Oscar nominations?
AS: Crap, crap, crap, and crap.
SDNB #1: Indeed.
SDNB #2: Dreamgirls was fierce.
AS: Define "fierce."
SDNB #2: Fierce is...it's just "fierce."
AS: Retire that word.
HF: Eddie Murphy deserves a win.
AS: And he's following it up with Norbit. I'm just saying.
SDNB #2: Indeed.
HF: It's called taking the money and running with it.
AS: Whole bunch of people must be doing that. Look at that cast list! Thandie Newton?
SDNB #1: Oh no.
AS: Oh yes. Crash didn't pay enough bills.
HF: He did write it himself along with his brother.
SDNB #2: I'm just going to drool now.
HF: You either get looks or skills in life.
SDNB #1: I beg to differ.
SDNB #2: Me too.
AS: I'm just saying keeping both Johnny Gill & Mel B isn't cheap.

HF: Noah's Arc getting the boot and a movie finale? Kinda cold, I think.
AS: I think it lost its way.
SDNB #2: Indeed.
HF: It never promised to be more than what it is, a comic soap that dealt with GBM lives. Have we ever seen that before?
SDNB #1: Indeed.
AS: Stop filing your nails! Anyway, should we really celebrate blandness?
HF: Blandness is the equaliser in today's America.
AS: I think that's tragic.
HF: But true. Nobody takes you seriously until you show that you're 99.9% like them.
AS: I don't think we are.
HF: Nobody really is. We're just supposed to appear that way. Anyway, I think it's sad.
SDNB #1: Indeed.
AS: I look at it this way: Yeah, it was the first mainstream show about GBM, but it's not the first good mainstream show. Hell, the first good mainstream show about gays period has yet to air.
HF: Well, at least they didn't air The Closet.
SDNB #1/SDNB #2/AS: Indeed.

HF: Onto Eurovision.
SDNB #1: Hurray.
HF: Dmitry Koldun?
AS: Dima Bilan mk II. Just like Constantinos was Sakis Rouvas mk II in Kyiv.
SDNB #2: Indeed.
HF: The song is not bad. It starts out with this whole James Bond style.
AS: But it doesn't really build upon it.
SDNB #1: I want to see him go crazy onstage, don't you? That's what really made "Never Let You Go" work.
AS: Did it though? I thought it was just because everyone wanted to fuck him. I did.
HF: Not me.
SDNB #2: He had on a mullet. A mullet.
HF: He's not a hockey player. He ought to have just shaved it off. You can't take anyone with a mullet seriously unless they're planning on killing you.
SDNB #2: Indeed.
AS: No matter what anyone else sends out, the Swedes will place 3rd or 5th.
SDNB #1: Indeed.
HF: We haven't heard the winner yet. I say the UK places really high this year, and Portugal makes it to the final this year. Germany falls on their face if they don't send Roger Cicero.
AS: Portugal?
HF: Yes, Portugal. Think about it? Did you expect Finland to win last year? The stakes are raised big time across the board. This is no time for copycats.
SDNB #2: Indeed.

Well, that wraps up the 700th Post Club.

In The Year 2100

The Port Authority is set to take over Stewart or Newburgh International Airport up in Orange County, NY. The deal allows for PANYNJ to control Stewart until the year 2100, which made me wonder what sort of world will it be when the Port Authority's lease runs up.

Some possiblities:

• Legalised gay marriage nationwide, and a divorce rate of 42% or lower, courtesy of that fact. (NB: the current rate is 50%)
• A looser federation of the United States resembling something akin to Belgium with stronger state and/or regional governments and a federal government whose role is limited basically down to foreign and monetary policy.
• Despite that reorganisation, we have Universal Healthcare overseen by the Federal Government which the states or regions will pay into and administer so that each state/region with a surplus can give to areas that are ailing.
• Barring the discovery and implementation of a replacement for oil, we will have less flights than we do presently due to peak oil.
• An 80-90% Urban populace due to peak oil.
• Our 4th minority president is elected and no one bats an eyelash, but a gay or lesbian president has yet to be elected (although there will have been at least 2 serious contenders that get relatively close).
• An independent is elected president, and lasts one term because it's just too weird.
• Still a two party system, but it's Liberal & Conservative, since "Labour" is still a dirty word, even if the beliefs make total sense.
• At least 10-20 years of state (literally "state," in this case since the Federal Government would never participate) involvement in the economy with state-owned airlines, gas stations, electric companies, and a few state-owned telecoms in the Plains and in the South after internet access is declared a right.
• Detroit is revived and gentrified as a Midwestern San Francisco, along with the attending problems of economic disparity.
• A luddite rebellion, oddly born from an internet movement, leads to a re-establishment of local commercial arts with less state subsidy than before.
• In a surprising move, the television industry asks for a federal subsidy as the growth of DVRs lead to a severe downturn in advertiser revenue. The federal government balks and a group of states led by California, New York, Illinois, and Florida attempt to buyout one of the faltering big 4 networks. This in turn leads to the creation of an ARD style system amongst 2 of the previous big 4, while the remaining 4 stay in private hands.
• The average movie stays in theatres for 2 months, goes to pay-per-view the following month, and then to DVD two months after that.
• Movie star and entertainment executive salaries level off to $600,000 primarily due to two trends: the weakness of the entertainment industry and the devaluing of celebrity as research indicates that celebrity does not hold much pull when it comes to whether a person will see a movie.
• The filmed musical does not become obsolete, but tends to be seen more often on television than in cinemas.
• Anderson Cooper's infamous televised faux-pas ("As a gay man...") continues to be ranked high on the majority of "Most Surprising" moments.
• Jodie Foster went to her grave closeted.
• Car ownership decreases severely (in comparison to present), but mass transit skyrockets as entrepeneurs figure out how to make money using the millions of miles of freight rail tracks all over the US.
• US citizens with a passport increase, then decrease, decrease again, and then rise slightly.
• The year 2100 sees the 50th anniversary of the end of the Cuban embargo, and the 10th of Puerto Rican independence.
• DC remains the last colony on the American mainland.
• US citizens can travel freely to Iran and North Korea, the latter which has had 40 years without the KIS/KJI autocrats, and retains an open border and shared currency with South Korea (with which it is in a EU style confederation).
• The PRC & Taiwan still hate each other, but don't let it get in the way of business.
• 40% of Americans claim to have a working knowledge of spoken Chinese, 14% claim written ability. This is manifested as a generation gap since many children use it to talk behind their parents' backs.
• May Day becomes a state holiday in California, Delaware, Illinois, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, and Wisconsin.
• There are still 3 Law & Order series on television.

I'm just sayin'.

Because Theatre Is So Classy

Now, I'm happy that Dawnn Lewis is getting some work, because I always thought she was talented, but Sister Act: The Musical?

Until there is a staged musicalisation of Head or Myra Breckinridge*, I'll just continue to throw my hands up in disbelief in respect to these movie musical adaptations.

* And believe you me, they could be musicalised if there are actual book writers out there with brains that work beyond "let's set up the next song."

Piosenka dla Europy 2007: The Preview Review

Some business first: I'm going light on the Eurovision write-ups this year just because of time and work. (Those Twisted Teas don't pay for themselves.) Ergo there won't be semi by semi coverage of Norway, Spain, and--gasp--even Slovenia! Poland however made the cut, if only because TVP made it so easy and for that, I am very grateful.

First off, there are 6 Swedes in this year's Polish final, which seems odd, but the Swedes seem to be taking over any Eurovision national final they can find (Spain, Latvia, Romania, Lithuania, possibly even the UK if the Ace of Base rumours lead to something), so it make sense for the Swedish spillover to hit the shores of Poland.

Anyway, on with the videos (reviewed in the order that they are on TVP's website) !

• Bikini - Don't Judge Me: But they make it so easy for me to. Melodic Grrl Pop in the vein of Ashley Simpson/Lindsay Lohan/Hillary Duff (take your pick). Now, I like The Veronicas, and these women are not them. Oh, they get close, but the moody black & white shots and mind-numbingly slow verses only lead to a tepid rock chorus. I'd rather hear Bikini Kill frankly. On the upside, the lead singer has a very strong voice.
• Button Hackers - On My Mind: Face it, with that sort of band name you were expecting electroclash comes to Eurovision. I know I was. What [the?] Button Hackers are is Rick Astley-style dance pop--which is all right by me! The Hackers are mysteriously absent from the video which seems to involve shots of Sydney. I love the song (and the video to some degree), which means it'll probably bomb on the night, since I was in love with Kto To last year.
• Charizma - Emily: Aka Swedish entry #1. MOR pop-rock about naive Emily and the singers' desire to "show [her] another world." He is presumably not referring to the soap opera. If you've heard "Give Me Your Love," then you've heard this sung by--well--more charismatic, albeit robotic people. Seriously, the lead singer could be reciting the encyclopedia based upon the lack of emotional depth on his face.
• Mikael Erlandsson - Love in the Air: Swedish entry #2. The song sounds like Stock, Aiken, and Waterman, and Electric Light Orchestra had a love child and raised it in Sweden. The video is no great shakes either: Mikael looks like he's been ridden long and hard from too much Absolut, and why on Earth would anyone be interested in seeing him record the song in studio. CHEAP!
• Molęda - No Second Chance: None indeed. Two earnest-looking twinks sing a ballad. These are two-a-penny in any Broadway show and having a video that takes place with them on a stage isn't changing my opinion. The orchestrations and arrangements are straight out of the mid-to-late 80s and one of the boys is dressed like a reject from the Polish version of Family Ties. Even worst the song just ends. It builds up to a huge climax and there is glory note laden finale. Blech.
• Natasza - I Like It Loud: Yes, she does and I don't mind it. Natasza also likes it very Fergie, in my opinion. The video itself is pretty simple with just the tartan-clad Natasza & her go-go girls doing cartwheels while the Robert Palmer clones play brass in the background, but damn does it work. I have a sneaking suspicion that Natasza might not be able to bring it live, but she's got a good chart hit possiblity on her hands. By the way, everytime I hear the song that begins with "Hey Mr. DJ" I expect to hear either "put a record on," or "you can get me started. Everybody's ready to party...all night, all night."
• Szarmach - Open Your Mind: If Natasza is Fergie doing rock, then Ania is Fergie meets Hikaru Utada. I don't quite know what opening one's mind has to with Ania grinding up against a car like a spokesmodel, but okay. She comes off rather meek when played after Natasza, but Ania will be opening the Final...and that will work against her.
• The Jet Set - Time To Party: Not every singer/rapper combo is a Black Eyed Peas knockoff, and here is Evidence #1. The Jet Set seem more like La Bouche meets Timbaland with a heavy does of The Vengaboys. Their video is also CHEAP. I'll be honest here: if I wanted to see some skinny girl shake her thing in Daisy Dukes, I'd watch Paris Hilton's latest shenanigans. The video takes some bizarre turn into to Twenties, which may be an attempt to make a comment between the present day and the Roaring Twenties in terms of devil-may-care wildness, but it doesn't turn a bland song into a better one.
• Vino - Come in My Heart: Ok, that is one double-entendre laden title. Daughtry/Pearl Jam/Soul Asylum (take your pick) knockoff band sings a rock ballad about nostalgia all the while looking moody with blurry cameras. "Come in my heart before I'm wasted?" Are they being serious? Or is it "come in my heart before I waste it?" Either way, I think they're singing about their favourite places to have orgasms.
• Hania Stach - Regroup: Pop princess sings in various costumes about...well...what is this song about? I don't quite get how you can regroup after a broken heart. The video makes more sense than the song, and I think that is the point.

Button Hackers (long shot) or Natasza (fair chance), now watch either Charizma or Hania win the lot.

The View Post-Mortem: There Are Those Who Walk East, And Those Who Walk West

As I may or may not have referenced on here, I live in a building full of Sex & The City women. They are the type who wear everything as an accessory from shoes to bags to gay best friends to boyfriends. (They also have this annoying "upspeak" that annoys the living daylights out of me.)

I don't like them, just in case you were curious.

One of them was apparently having a birthday tonight, and as I walked out I noticed one thing: they all seemed to be walking East. East is towards the straighter quasi "hipster" lounges owned by sublebrities that get written up by columnists in Page Six. East, in a metaphorical way, is towards 15 minutes (or centimetres) of fame, which one would assume validate their lives which are constructed around being known in order to fill up the void left there by meaningless Myspace conversations and unanswered text messages.

I always walk West.

West is towards the gay heartland of Chelsea. For all my FG diatribes, I give the majority of them one big compliment: they are at least making the attempt to appear that their lives are not self-absorbed, and that's a big thing in this day and age: The whole world is constructed so that a person sees themselves as being front and centre at their own commemorative ceremony.

We all listen to mp3 players with our own personally selected soundtracks. We all rush to our cellphones to talk or type messages that broadcast our id to others in the belief that maybe someone else is so into our minutiae that they'll respond. If that isn't enough, we have blogs to do the same.

I'm just as guilty.

It's just that I wonder if it's all going too far.

When the SATC clones have no trouble elbowing others--including myself--in the elevator (and looking like they should be lucky to be in their presence when confronted by it), or obliviously tossing their hair in others' faces while ordering a drink, then we have a problem.

You see, we're living in a nation where quick apologies are believed to soothe all wounds, even if the sincerity isn't present. As long as we can robotically say "I'm sorry," then it is like the transgression never happened. Ironically, we're also living in a country where nobody is the transgressor: We all think that we're oppressed and because of that, we can automatically feel "your" pain with sincerity.

No, comrades, it doesn't work like that.

I've probably said this before, but I believe it bears repeating: no matter what you think, no matter how many idioms you can trot out: we are not islands. Just like the love that you send out will be returned to you, so will the brusqueness and vanity be returned...by the bucketloads.

I think that there is still some shread of camraderie within the gay community beyond all the tinsel and faux attitude. That beyond all the fronts and narishkeit (silliness) that we use to keep our armour up, we can find something to welcome a fellow lantzman (comrade..for lack of a better translation).

And that is why I will do my damnest to always walk West.

New Moon Post-Mortem: Happy Aquarian New Year

Yep, for all us Aquarians out there, it is now our New Year (January 20th), and we get a new moon--in Aquarius to boot.

Now this might be a new moon, but it might as well be a full moon based on what has occurred to me this evening.

For starters, I decided out of the blue to go see Kathy Griffin at Carnegie Hall, and shockingly enough got a great seat.

Having arrived in Midtown too early, I decide to brave the sudden burst of snow flurries (yay!) and mosey on over to Therapy--a bar that I don't necessarily hate, but am not all that fond of, since the clinetele tends to be of the S&M (Stand & Model) ilk from the theatre. Nonetheless it killed time until I had to be at Carnegie Hall.

On my way down to the heart of Hell's Kitchen, I run into a FG pair who were at Therapy. They stare at me, and because my cardinal rule when I'm being stared at is to stare right back, they amble off somewhere making some comment which I couldn't make out since it was windy and I was listening to Michael MacDonald on my mp3 player.

After a post-show drink over at the Ninth Avenue Bistro--like hell I'm going to Therapy again--I decided on a whim to cap the night by going to XES.

XES really made me feel like it was a full moon night since the video screens were playing dead Black R&B singers videos (TLC & Aaliyah basically), while the DJ seemed to be dredging up random rap and New Jack Swing.

Let's just say, I know that when weirdness comes by the bucketloads, it is my time to turn in.

The View Post-Mortem: We Are All Living In A Global Los Angeles

Before I get to the crux of this post, one side note: Out of curiosity (and partly inspired by Q), I am trying Marlboro Lights this week. Let me tell you, if you ever want to make a menthol smoker quit altogether, put him or her on these things for a week. These are some of the harshest things I've ever had. Hard to believe that at one point Marlboro was marketed as a woman's cigarette brand.

Anyway...

The Oughties are all about Los Angeles, I reckon. I stumbled across this while watching "4ever" at The View after they played "Walk Away." I started thinking: "where have I seen these looks before?" Then I realised where I had: in No Doubt videos from the mid-to-late nineties.

The Pimp My Ride subculture? Los Angeles.

The Rockabilly/Ska look combined with punk? Los Angeles.

The Grrl driven Power Pop? Los Angeles (and not Seattle, need I explain to you the difference between Hole & Bikini Kill?)

Los Angeles is now the arbiter of fashion, attitude, and social mores for the Oughties--at least based on what pop culture suggests.

Perhaps it's the 15 minutes of fame obsession that has rocked the country since 1999?

Perhaps it's the resignation that global warming will reduce most of the US to 70 degree weather year 'round?

Perhaps it's the Hiltons?

All I know is that it appears to me that Los Angeles is now in control of the zeitgeist, and it now has the responsibilities that come along with it (like Seattle/Portland did in 90s, New York in the 70s & 80s).

I have no idea who'll be in control for the teens. Maybe it'll be a really unexpected place like Phoenix.

By the way, no matter how much I like Good Day LA, there is no way I'm decamping out west. I'm riding out the four season lifestyle for as long as the climate allows.

I'd Love To Know The Logic Behind This

A fourth hour of Today?

Why on god's green earth?

It's Not That Ozaukee County Doesn't Have Interesting People...

...It's just that they have to leave Ozaukee County to actually do anything.

Ok, a couple of things:

1. He's a psychiatrist!
2. She's a lawyer!
3. He got his degree in Grenada.
4. She went to Marquette.
5. His specialty was in treating addiction to narcotics and alcohol...in Thiensville.
6. She worked for a Chicago law firm.

Either Darcy's batshit crazy (likely), or her real name is Esther Blodgett, because associating with Dr. Norman Maine ain't doing her any favours this time around.

Note to Elliot

I do not want to move to Washington, nor to New Jersey, or Connecticut, and I have already lived in Massachussetts.

Get on the ball.

I don't think this is the right locale

Maybe it's me, but if you're holding auditions for The Biggest Loser, you shouldn't have them in a brewery--even if it is in Milwaukee.

(Thanks to Tim Cuprisin's phenmomenal blog for this info.)

Better Than The Closet (Part Two)

The DL Chronicles, which will be coming to here in the near future.

The fact that lead actor Darren Schnase is genuinely sexy as hell has nothing whatsoever to do with me applauding this.

No, nothing whatsoever.

Read Rod 2.0 for more information on The DL Chronicles.

The View-Splash Post-Mortem: Drinking With The Ex

Ugh!

Never again.

As much as there is to be said for maintaining amicable relations, the long, protracted silences wherein he tries to complete a thought just drive my "say what you mean, and say it fast" self up a wall, and remind me of how good it is to be single again.

On the upside, one thing I have discovered that is true: go-go boys and opportunists will flock to a tall, skinny white man like moths to a flame.

That is a problem I certainly do not want to ever have, since 9 times out of 10, I just want to watch some music videos and take in the barely whispered conversations between the patrons and the steroided.

Sunday Jukebox Has New Stress

In...In...In...In...In...In honour of the upcoming Eurovision season and to...to...to...to...to...to celebrate the New Year, here...here...here...here...here...here's a re-envisioning of Stress.



Is it wrong that I find Odd somewhat attractive?

There is a God

And God has good taste!

I tell you--lack of snow aside--2007 is off to a wonderful start.

The View-Barracuda Post-Mortem: Archetypes

Still euphoric after the New Year's random encounters, I tried to get back into normal operating mode--in other words, getting to The View ASAP.

Go figure that not even after finishing one Twisted Tea: I get shanghaied by a man claiming to be Martha Stewart's vet. Even (partially) out of commission: he takes me to Barracuda and embarks on a mission to get into my pants. These days, however; that will not happen.

What's this man like? Keen to mention that he is wearing Gucci Shoes and carrying a Prada bag.


I think that about says all.

The Splash-The View Post-Mortem: Happy New Year's from me and my happy___

...ass, to use a phrase from Ghost Stories.

I'll be honest with you, something that was bound to happen did occur: I literally lost my shirt. I had the requisite amount of liquor that enabled me to get over my inhibitions and dance like I didn't care.

And indeed I didn't care. I didn't care to the point that I let my shirt go and fly out of my waist and into the confetti-laden floor.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The main event of the evening is that I had my very first New Year's kiss--at Splash no less.

Y'see, New Year's for me has traditionally been the South Park marathon and a bottle of plum wine in Wisconsin because I didn't want to deal with the chaos of New York on New Year's Eve. For some reason--which I can't explain, but am grateful for--I decided to finally spend New Year's at my present home.

I'm floating on Cloud 9 at the moment, so this will be a rambling post-mortem. Through a series of strange circumstances I did wind up literally dancing with the one who "brung" me, but I didn't dance metaphorically with the one that brung me. Granted that's a strange metaphor, but it's the only way I can explain it at the moment.

When I came to Splash at 8, I was seized upon by a guy, whom I'll call L. L happened to sport my kryptonite, which is black-rimmed glasses. At the time it seemed like L & myself were probably going to be a pair for the evening, but after I stepped outside for a bit, L suggested that I "circulate." Being dutiful, I did. Well, I plopped myself in my usual spot and wound up talking to a guy whom I'll call Q. Q also wore glasses and happened to also be a performance writer as well. Since Splash is only huge by New York standards, it was inevitable that L & Q were bound to meet, thus bringing forth a war between my mind and my loins, with Q winning that battle since the entrance to my loins these days is via my mind: shared political beliefs, career, and smoking will do that to you.

To make a long story short, come Midnight*, my tongue was down Q's throat and--apologies for sounding Pollyanna-ish here--I suspect that Q will be major participant in 2007 for me and hopefully vice versa.

Yes indeed, this will be a very good year.

* I subscribe to the superstition that whomever you kiss at Midnight will play a major role in the following year. I've never kissed anyone at this particular time before so it's always been me in the year that follows.

By the way, The View was a very good coda: Some GBM bonding with a Guyanian-American, the first song and music video that I remember loving to death, and a fag hag who said "your fly is down, sweetie." My response? "It's New Year's and I don't care, since anyone who notices it is already interested in the contents behind it and probably wouldn't want it zipped up in the first place." (Yes, I said that. She called me "sweetie." I hate that.)

The 2006 Jukebox Does It with Rick Astley

For starters, how come I heard nothing about Rick Astley making a comeback in 2001? He certainly gave it a damn good try.




Aquarians age well, don't we?

Of course this may just be my February 6 bias, but Rick Astley deep in his SAW days was all the upside of the 80s.



And he managed to do a pretty good ballad in '91, I reckon. (Yes, I said it: "a good ballad." This is one exception to the "all ballads must make you feel like slitting your wrists" rule.)




You think I was going to end the 2006 jukeboxes with a ballad? Ha!

The funny thing about a lot of Rick Astley videos in the 80s is that they aren't as aggressively heterosexual as the lyrics would suggest. They're pure camp fluff, and that is a very good thing.

Of course, Rick (onscreen) only seems to have chemistry with the camera, mysterious ginger that he is.

Merry Dragmas

Beyonce--with a makeup job that seems straight out of genderfuck drag--at the 2005 Oscars. (Are we certain that wasn't a country drag queen doing stand-in? I mean, mon dieu, with that pronunciation.)

Beyonce live look to your path
Uploaded by KINPING

And now to rectify the former: Grace Jones on Pee Wee's Playhouse Christmas.



The best ever rendition of "Little Drummer Boy" I've come across so far.

The Year That It Was (On Here): 2006

January

• The late, lamented QTN featured Reichen Lehmkuhl giving relationship advice with no trace of irony whatsoever.
• Christine Quinn is selected Council Speaker for New York City.
• Ralph Ellison was right, part 1.
• That damn building going up next to me starts off with a crane situation that would make nearly anybody nervous.
• Gene Shalit's milquetoast apology for his Brokeback Mountain review.
• Hardcore photo shoots and Viagra? Kind of boring.
• SVT's choice to not provide webcast this year leads to unexpected recaps of the Norwegian Melodi Grand Prix and the bizarre pair that is Syn & Sti.
• Ralph Ellison was right, part 2.
• NBC, I give you all this advice and yet, you still don't listen closely.
• Paul Martin gets his slap in the face, but unfortunately that means dealing with inanity that is Stephen Harper.
• RTVSLO? I'll forget EMA 2006 if you will too.

February

• I was bound to wake up like this one day. I just knew it.
• QTN starts its rapid slide into receivership.
• NBC still doesn't get it, and goes for the jugular.
• The Norsk MGP ends with a decent result.
• My birthday resolution? Two out of Eight, isn't bad.
• My attempt to sex up the image of playwrights starts well, but just gets a bronze in the end.
• They don't do Dansk MGPs the way they used to.
• The moral of 2006? It doesn't matter if you are rich, as long as you look rich.
• DC? Beautiful subway system. Kind of cold metaphorically and atmospherically.
• Narcissism is its own sexual orientation.
• Four questions that will probably never be answered.
• Fox will never get it, and why does anyone bother to correct them?

March

• Idiot divorce lawyer from New Berlin decides to turn Wisconsin into Bigotry Land ...and unfortunately succeeds.
• Slut Wins Dora 2006!
• Cruises can be journeys of self-loathing at work, cheap cigarette carton buying, ethical exploration, borscht belt humour, all leading up to 3 days straight out of 9 1/2 Weeks.
• 500 Posts! (Thank you, Esteban!)
• Eurovision 2006 participants? They're freaky!
• Mortality in Milwaukee.

April

• Why I shave my head.
• Steroids and guns get clubs in Chelsea shut down.
• German emigres don't get it.
• Evil building site steals the sun from my heart!
• Masturbating without porn or erotic literature? Not for me.
• When is sushi more than just sushi?

May

• Quotes. Lots of quotes.
• My vote for Post-Mortem of 2006 (and Ralph Ellison was right, part 3).
• La Ryan goes on killing spree throughout Athens or the Eurovision 2006 Qualifier. Take your pick.
• As an American, I apologise to Euroland for Grace clogging up your television screens for 3 hours. Just remember, we have to deal with her on a daily basis.
• Eulogy for QTN.
• Our idiot closet-case mayor tries to have it both ways.

June

• The La Ryan vs. Sibel vs. Severina debate continues...if only in my mind.
• Even innocent words can become slurs, and anyone with a brain and an ounce of morals knows it.
• Let's be blunt. The Tonys sucked.
• The Manifesto for Pride 2006.
• Fuddle Duddle, or why can't American politics be this funny?
• Yes, Virginia, this is the main gay newspaper of New York.

July

• The difference between independence and interdependence.
• They can get married and I can't?
• Phillip Michael Thomas can SING!
• Idiot from New Berlin is a callous bigot, part 2.
• Protect Marriage. Ban Divorce.

August

• Stop calling it HD when it isn't.
• This is the Fringe festival? More like the frayed.
• Fun with Canadian closet cases in Chicago.
• I think Morning Blend is going to be bad, and it is.
• New York local television loses one gay anchor and gains another one.
• Gay Milwaukee is invaded by the pod people.
• Chicago is even more fun without a Canadian Closet Case.
• I am not here to make you feel better, or Ralph Ellison was right part 4.
• Cruising through "happy poor people land."

September

• Dionne Warwick sings the anthem of Summer 2006.
• Luther and rewriting.
• To no one's surprise, 10% of straight men aren't straight...They're cowards.
• Sunday Morning is good...as long as you ignore Charles Osgood.
• Good Morning America: You'd think with this lineup, it'd be better.
• The Early Show: Sponsored by Unisom.
• Today: All I wanna know is how on Earth could Natalie Morales inspire such rabid fandom?
• The CW11 Morning News: Yes, we're even more boring than The Early Show!
• Good Day New York: The most gay [note: superlative here] morning show on the planet since QTN went off the air.

October

• Wisconsin's schizophrenic nature in a picture.
• A majority says the recent revival of A Chorus Line is insipid, and we're still right.
• The downside of New York? Bad gay theatre everywhere you turn.
• T.R. Knight comes out, shortly followed by Neil Patrick Harris, but no one dares come out from the leads of CSI.
• Save Deaf Theatre.
• No one cares about space anymore, not even anime science fiction shows set in space.
• The Story, The Person is born.
• The Closet returns. "(SLAP) Don't say shit to me!"
• Mike Nichols delivers the perfect North Shore smackdown to the pro-amendment block.

November

• Ralph Ellison was right, part 5.
• Vote or shut up. Fortunately, a lot of people did the former.
• My idiot home county and the paranoid retrogressive geriatrics who run it.
• Yes, there was a big sliver lining nationally, but the results from Wisconsin make me see just one big cloud.
• Boundaries & Tact? They're dead.
• Adventures in the American Healthcare System.
• Batshit crazy retired weatherman is my new state assemblyman. Is this penance for my Mike Woods jokes?
• Sarah Schulman tells it like it is. Preach on!
• The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade 2006: Only just beating out Aiden Shaw for most referrals. By the way, people get really defensive when you criticise their bland anonymous ballads.
• Why are all the men in New York smelling like Baby Powder?

December

• NBC began its slide downwards much earlier than we thought. Michael Landon "dancing?"
• I say sin all you want. It's all relative unless you hurt someone else.
• Rupert Murdoch launders his money in bad television. The rest of us just use Wisk.
• The Hudson Affair: Gay Yellow Journalism at its worst.
• Redefining invisibility, or Ralph Ellison was right part 6.
• The Finns melodically tell us that modern life sucks.
• I win Dreamgirls tickets and get pickpocketed. Balance is restored.
• Merger Fever: We'll all get it in the end, but honestly, I say just nationalise the lot.
• I told you Morning Blend was bad.
• Renato Zero refuses to walk quietly into that dark night, and teaches us all a lesson.

Moral of 2006: Ralph Ellison was right.

We Need A Little Renato Zero this Christmas

Don't you think?




Now that is the textbook definition of "fierce performance" in my book.

This Is Milwaukee...Morning Television

Sometime ago when I heard that WTMJ was doing a local chat show to air after Today, I surmised that it would be a car crash.

God, was I right.

This morning the two hosts spent the first 4 minutes going on about getting rid of the smell attached to bracelet by putting it in a toaster.

It was like watching Pirandello with thick Milwaukee accents: "Ohmigaaawd. I can't believ' dat."

Just like Live is pretty much just the first half-hour, Morning Blend really is rather dull after the opening segment.

They should embed these opening segments within Saturday Night Live.

Did I Just Blackout or Do I Just Not Watch Enough CNBC?

AirTran wants to merge with Midwest? (Hubs in Milwaukee & Atlanta? You know Milwaukee would be the loser.)

Continental and United discussing merger? (That oddly makes sense.)

Northwest and American? (TWA mark II)

The View-Splash Post-Mortem: Believe Me, I Have The Last Laugh

Let's get the big news out of the way: I got pickpocketed.

Yes, I finally got pickpocketed and in a very sly way: by a small guy with bad breath groping my crotch at The View.

All I lost was a mp3 player (which is covered by a guaranty and is only activated by a password which I only know) and ultimately no big loss.

Ironically, I also wound up winning 2 tickets to the sold-out showing of Dreamgirls this Saturday. I can't use them, but I have 2 friends who can, so it's not like they would be wasted.

The way I see it, I can now get a better mp3 player and I have now given a good friend of mine a great Hanukkah present.

All is right with the world.

Eurovision 2007: She's Back....!

Alya, that is. RTVSLO announced the shortlist for next year's EMA, which includes the aforementioned Alya as well as rock band Nude (courtesy of ESCtoday.com).

Here's a reminder of how much Alya kicks ass (and hopefully will finally get the prize this tiem around). This is her debut EMA performance from 2003 with Exploziv(no).




And remember this was the winning entry from EMA 2003, an upbeat version of The Neil Sedaka/Bette Midler/The Carpenters' "Superstar."

Modern Life Sucks

...in choral form.



By the way, Finnish is such very practical language, and soothing to the ear, isn't it?

The Splash-G-The View Post-Mortem: Am I The Same Hikaru?

I state the titular question, because tonight felt so different, even though I did the same things as I normally did any Saturday night.

The common definition of insanity is repeating the same action over and over again and expecting a different result. I pretty much expect nothing to happen, and nothing--in general--ever does...except for tonight.

I get towards the entrance to Splash and the doorman greats me with a hug and a handshake. Am I that much of a regular? I never know what to do in those situations, so I go along with it. I plop down at my usual seat in the back and as if by psychic intuition the bartender puts down a Corona--my standard for when I can't be arsed to go downstairs for a Mike's. (Not to mention the fact that Rimmed Glasses was working the bar...in boxers, rolled up to look like briefs)

After three Coronas, I get a message from the guy--I guess--I'm sort of seeing. (We're both Aquarians, so it's really hard to tell.) He's tipsy over at G, so will I go and join him. Of course, I will. Were he Joe Blow off the street, I wouldn't, but this guy is practically my doppelganger, so how could I refuse?

Over at G, I inadvertently keep on stepping on toes as my "linked comrade" goes hunting for a seat. He's very singular-minded and for that I applaud him. I also wind up having a bit of a personal crisis since the "linked comrade" is 5 years my junior. That's right, he's young and I have no idea how to deal with youth that is basically me when I was his age. He also happened to be very tipsy and eager to get home, which means that he was not a challenge.

Over at The View, I get into a conversation with someone who might as well be labelled Kryptonite, since it drives me absolutely wild. Who is this mysterious guy? A Russian. That's right along with the Adam Sessler-as-sex-god admission, I am admitting that I have got the big pants for Russians or in fact any Slav.

My bladder unfortunately put an end to that, since I scurried to the urinals in no time at all.

So that was my night, comrades.

Invisibility

I realise that I've probably skirted around a subject on a lot of my posts without necessarily addressing head on: invisibility. It's probably because on this subject, I don't quite know what to say in a direct manner. I will try this time around.

I've been rereading (albeit for the first time in its unabridged version) The Invisible Man and I forgot how much of a price everyone pays by keeping themselves and others invisible.

What's my definition of invisible? Invisible is not speaking up when you are being used like an object. Invisible is when you realise that someone who is seated right next to you is completely looking through you as if you are not there. Invisible is feeling the rage inside and trying desperately to quell it. Invisible is slinking off into the corner, watching the world pass by, and being confused by whether or not to interact in it.

All too often, I seek invisibility, but I also get incensed when I'm not noticed. I don't mean this in a vain sense, I'm only talking about not being noticed that another human being is present in your close proximity.

The old expression of "man is an island" has always left me perplexed. Yes, we are physically islands, but we are so dependent on others that it seems ludicrous to conduct ourselves in that manner. Today, while I was changing at the gym, I had elbows bump into me, conversations conducted over my head, and "pardon me"s ignored. In short, I became to those in my surroundings, a non-person.

It may seem like what I'm calling "invisibility" is just a lack of manners, but I think it goes further than that. If you look back in the history of discrimination, you'll find that people often employed slurs to dehumanise others and justify their perceived superiority and autonomy in the world. "Fag," "boy," "girl," and so on. (In respect to the last two, they might seem nebulous and are most of the time basically innocuous words, but with a certain tone of voice, they become weapons of submission.)

Modern urban life, I reckon, has forced many people to lump others into the category of non-persons. Many don't look around to see the cleaning people, subway clerk, or even junior colleagues. I wonder if there's a fear that if we accept that everybody is just as human as the rest of us, then we won't be able to function on a daily basis (the "I have enough friends" theory). As I see it, I think we can; since there's a difference between establishing intimacy and treating others with respect based upon shared humanity. We do not have to agree on everything, but there needs to be a lot less of "them" and "us" in the world.

As for me, when I go out next, I will interact as if I am a full-rank player in the world. It won't stop me from taking in the greater picture, nor observing my surroundings, but it will hopefully reinforce my sense of self and my involvement with others, because I am visible.

You Only See What Your Eyes Want To See

My opinion on the The Hudson Affair that semi-erupted this week.

I think a lot of projection went on when it came to the (now-unnamed) author of the Dallas Voice article. Hudson should've been much more explicit in how she personally feels--despite her previous statement on sin which the author called "schizophrenic." The author was clearly coming in with an axe to grind as well.

This sort of "journalism" is what got Jeff Gannon his notoriety (and a column in the Washington Blade) and one wonders if the author was interested in promoting his/her own self and opinions over the actual subject he/she was supposed to be covering. (By the way, isn't the Dallas Voice an affiliate of the Washington Blade? The same fools behind the waste of trees that is the New York Blade?)

If ego was the goal, then on some level the writer succeeded, since their piece was rocketed all over the online gay press where commentators worded out cautious statements along the lines of "I hope she didn't realise what she was actually saying." Hudson subsequently issued a statement that has hopefully put this issue to rest in all but the most hysteric fringe.

The author has apparently disappeared into the annals of cyberspace.

Now for a real clear labelling by singers of gays as sinners, read Clay Cane's excerpt from his interview with Mary Mary.

So here's my statement on religion: I don't go to church, never regularly attended church, nor do I plan on becoming a regular member of one. I am not Baptised, nor was I ever Confirmed. I was raised celebrating Christian holidays as family affairs as opposed to religious ones--although I was also thought the stories behind them. I don't currently consider myself Christian, or even Spiritual, unless being Taoist counts as a spiritual belief system. I know (which is much stronger than "believe" in my book) that people have used religion to excuse away bigotry and violence for centuries. I also know that throughout it all, sanity and logic have prevailed in the end and that naught is ultimately gained by twisting other's words to salve one's own wounds from the past.

My interpretation of the infamous quote ("man should not lay with man as he does with woman," or thereabouts) is this: I wouldn't have sex with a woman anyway, so having sex with men when you only desire men isn't violating any biblical doctrine. Of course, that same biblical book also tells people to avoid shellfish.

Okay, so I watch WNYW!

Anne Craig subbed for Rosanna Scotto on the 5pm news on WNYW, and I have to say...she's not too bad in the anchor's desk. It's a whole different feeling with her than La Scotto. It's...perky, but not annoying. You get the sense that she's definitely got a brain, but that she isn't going to tell you what to feel. (La Scotto expresses her opinion often, but she's got the personality and gravitas to back that up, which is a very good thing mind you.) It is just a touch strange to hear upspeak on the news.

Nonetheless, I am getting the sense that they are grooming her to take over someone's slot.

In other matters WNYW, the channel has picked some of the daftest stories for viewers to choose for 2006 story of the year. Amongst the candidates:

• Steve Irwin's death. (Nod to the dark Antipodean overlord.)
• Christie Brinkley's divorce. (Ego stroke, since the strumpet involved gave an exclusive interview to La Scotto)
• Ed Bradley's death. (I liked Ed Bradley a lot, but his death did not define this year for anyone outside his family and friends.)
• Howard Stern moves to satellite radio.
• A tornado hits Westchester.
• Umpteen stories about celebrities breaking up, getting together, and blah, blah, blah.

Christ on a stick, it wasn't that boring of a year.

Thursday Jukebox Says "I Love You Kumi but..."

Explain this video




You can do so much better...

The Worst Show on American Television

...has not aired yet. (We've still got at least another half century as a country, I reckon.)

One of the contenders for that honour, however; has just aired: Watch Over Me over on the strangely-titled MyNetwork TV.

If I may get all Cindy Adams on you, Children, "mother" must tell you something: If the best actors on a show are Casper Van Dien & Catherine Oxenberg, then you have got major problems.

What plot there is seems to revolve around the ex-Mrs. Marc Anthony (and former beauty pageant winner) and two men, who I'll call Light Hair and Dark Hair. Light Hair is the Beauty Queen's current boyfriend and a bit of a prick. We know that he is a prick, because traditionally bastard male characters have light hair while virtuous or purely evil ones have dark hair. Dark Hair used to be in the military or something and has lingering guilt over his dead girlfriend who was shot, and--you guessed it--Dark Hair couldn't save her. (Dark hair also means scarred by the past, you know.) Beauty Queen gets the hots for Dark Hair in some meet cute scene involving her car breaking down while off to go buy a tuxedo for Light Hair. When Beauty Queen's life is targeted, Dark Hair becomes employed as her bodyguard.

There's some business with other people, but really the show is about those three. It would be actually be tolerable if there was decent acting--even over-the-top acting--involved, but there isn't. Everyone is being serious to whatever level their mediocre acting ability will allow them. Beauty Queen's contribution seems to be utilising vacant stares whenever possible. Dark Hair does the same thing. You see, whenever they open their mouths the lack of comprehension of their respective characters comes pouring out by the bucketload.

Some would say, "well Tatum O'Neal wasn't exactly doing Strindberg an hour earlier." You're right, she wasn't. She was aware she was in trash and lept into it just like Faye Dunaway in Mommie Dearest. Dark Hair & Beauty Queen can't figure out how to do camp and still come across as earnest.

Guess who has to actually do the actual acting for Dark Hair & Beauty Queen? The editors. Dark Hair has to show agony? Slow-motion. Beauty Queen has to convey lust? Quick cuts over Dark Hair shirtless.

Oh jiminy cricket, this network is truly Rupert Murdoch's public way of laundering money.

The Belarus "Selection" for Eurovision 2007

Dot Eurovision has the shortlist of the 15 songs "competing" to represent Crazy Lukashenko Land, aka Belarus.

Amongst the possible contenders--which god help us all will not get selected--a song entitled "Call me (September 11)."

For anyone familiar with Spagna, it just conjures up images wrong on so many levels.

This Is Milwaukee (In The Middle of A Snowstorm)

Tim Cuprisin's blog is a frequent read of mine and his coverage of the TV coverage of the recent snowstorm is hilarious.

Milwaukee television, who knew it was so vicious?

The Splash Post-Mortem: uh...

I don't remember much except that I did wake up at home with all my limbs attached.

The only other thing that I do recall is that apparently The Brat is now subdued and that it takes forever to get a drink from a Cypriot bartender with steroid gut.

So to make up for the brevity, here is a CBS promo from 1994.

Note how passive-aggressive Dan Rather is in this. If I had known that Dan was this bitchy, I would've watched him.




By the way, talk about a network in transition: It's odd to think that this was the twilight of the original CBS comedy years and still nearly a decade away before CBS became the Jerry Bruckheimer-Mark Burnett network.

Sit Back and Cringe

It was one of the better promotional campaigns of the 1980's, but looking back from 2006, "Let's All Be There" was kind of cringeworthy.

Apparently, it also was international as well.




For maximum cringe, watch this NBC promo from 1988 featuring a "dancing" Michael Landon.



It really was just all downhill from that point on for the Peacock, wasn't it?

The View-Splash-The View Post-Mortem: What's With All These Men Smelling Like Baby Powder?

The evening actually started out with me going to go see The Little Dog Laughed,"Douglas Carter Beane's new play. Now let me be honest with you here, I really hate Douglas Carter Beane, to the point that I consider him only one tiny bit above Tyler Perry (and it really takes a lot of animosity on my end to hate gay playwrights).

As much as it kills me to type the following sentence out, I really liked the play for one main reason: Julie White. As much as I hate Beane, the guy writes spectacular female characters. He just bombs out with his gay characters, which is even more strange since he's gay himself (how difficult is it to write about yourself, mister?). For her alone, you should get your posteriors over there. It may have very well been an off-night, but Johnny Galecki was horrible (like he was looking for cuecards) and Tom Everett Scott was pretty much a non-entity through the first act, a fact made even worse by the fact that his character's actions are the main plot.

So you can imagine the kind of mood I was in when discovered that I was seated next to some actor in his "I'm-trying-to-look-cheap-but-my-parents-support-me-because-they-think-I'm-cute" gear and his fawning sycophant friend who couldn't be more obvious with his unrequited lust over him. (I wouldn't pay so much attention except the non-working actor decided to eat candy right next to me.)

I was just gagging for a drink after this reminder why I don't go to the theatre frequently. So much so that I actually took a pedi-cab: not for the thrill of being overcharged in an unregulated transport, but because it is indeed the quickest way to get to Chelsea from Midtown. I plopped myself down at The View, which has been oddly video-free the last few times I've been in. I'm hoping that the VJ is just on vacation, but if The View stops showing music videos then my nights out will be limited to 3 hours in the early evening over at Splash.

At The View I started to notice something, practically all the well-coiffed scenesters were smelling like baby powder. Now I rarely wear cologne (once a year, basically), because I figure that deodorant does the same job without being overpowering, but I can't imagine that somebody would actually come out with a scent that smells like baby powder on adult men.

Somebody must've though, because when I went to Splash--a double shot of Jagermeister made me feel the urge to dance with my shirt off (I had exhausted all my Chaser pills) --that same smell was all over the place. Even after returning to The View for a nightcap way past Cinderella Hour, I could still smell it on me from dancing. I know it's nothing in my cabinet, and the mystery--like the smell--still lingers.

Nancy Drew has her work cut out for her.

Melodifestivalen 2007: Start Your Engines

We basically now know who will be duking it out to represent Sweden at Melodifestivalen 2007, and it's a fierce lot according to the list from dot eurovision. (And the wild cards haven't even been announced yet.) Personally, I'm hoping that Nanne finally takes the prize after she was so royally done in by the jury vote in 2005. (Not to mention that this past year has been a bit of rough one for her.)

Interestingly, during the Eurovision season the 2nd highest amount of visitors to this part of the internet come from Sweden. Currently, however; 2nd place is a three-way tie between Canada, the UK, and France...there's a metaphor in there, but I'm buggered if I know what it is.

The Pledge for December

Until December 30th, I pledge to do the following:

• Reduce the amount of digs at Mike Woods to once every fortnight--even though he makes it so easy.
• Figure what it is about Jodi Applegate that leads her to be so searched, because I don't see it.
• Complete the first act of the play I'm working on.
• Finally get rid of the last vestiges of Dell on my computer.
• Make more references to Kumi Koda.
• Cautiously support The Closet if only for the chance to hear and see dialogue like "(SLAP) Don't say shit to me!" and "I'm not gonna be yuh secret anymore!"
• Watch at least one episode of the MyNetwork TV shows.
• Do something special for the upcoming 666th post.