Obscenely Good Times in San Francisco

"You cock-sucking whore!" the woman shouted at me as I sat on the bench on a warm weekend afternoon.

"Do I know you?" I was about to inquire when the college-age Asian woman turned her attention to a pair of women strolling by on the concrete path and called them "fucking cunt whore bitches! Fucking stupid skank sluts."

A young man with an iPod needed "to a grow a pair of balls and live his motherfuckin' life." Like me, he was also a "cock-sucking whore," which immediately made me want to get to know him better. I had been reading the JT LeRoy novel "Sarah," an absurdist tale of young gay truck-stop prostitutes and other eccentrics in West Virginia. This scene seemed to have leapt from the page.

Just when I was about to look for the Jerry Springer camera crew, the obscene howler declaimed to the park-goers that "I have Tourette's, motherfuckers! Look it up in a goddamn medical journal, bitches!" Perhaps, she did suffer from the neurological disorder that sometimes forces the sufferer to compulsively utter profanities, but the whole thing seemed like a bit of manufactured outrage, a street show of oddity.

I was in San Francisco this weekend, after all. If there was one town guaranteed to provide more liberal crazies (and I use that term lovingly) than Seattle, it's the City by the Bay. The lunacy started as soon as I got to my Hilton — not the one near the Union Square shopping Mecca, but the one in close proximity to the porn stores of North Beach and the sleaze outfits of Chinatown (A sign down the block offered Thai "massage").

In front of the hotel, a group of protestors had assembled in various outfits — animal costumes and masks that looked they were stolen from the dressing room of a WWF wrestler. What they were protesting was a bit unclear. At first, they were condemning the Scientologists. But why in front of my Hilton? Was Tom Cruise staying here? They then started telling passersby to free their minds with knowledge while the sounds of "Sweet Home Alabama" blared. Finally, they shamed onlookers who refuse to show parental affection. "When's the last time you hugged your dad?" one of them asked. 

My guess is their show continued long after I left with my friend to search out cocktails and Italian food in North Beach. I had a lovely weekend in the Bay Area, even if I did return to Seattle with a sunburned face — forgetting that there's sun in California. On Easter Sunday, I had a delightful walk around, shopping and drinking and copulating — as any good tourist should.

While the good Christian citizens spent their day hiding eggs and remembering how their dear departed Jesus arose from the dead, I was on my knees with a dick shoved down my throat as my object of devotion did its own rising act. Keep your resurrection; just give me a fresh erection. I would wager that a good number of men in this most gay of cities prefers to spend the day in cock worship. I was doing my part to spread the faith (if not a Bible's worth of communicable diseases); the man standing above me was also playing his part — at least when it wasn't firmly in my mouth.

I guess the crazy shouting woman was right, after all. I am a cock-sucking whore.

Age Inappropriate

In an effort to ensure the performers continue performing old and stale songs, Tuesday night's "American Idol" focused on songs from the contestants' year of birth — which gave us only one song written within the last two decades. And what the fuck was 17-year-old David singing again, anyway?  John Farnham's ''You're the Voice''?

I had never heard of it, and it didn't inspire me to search out the original. It was just one of the night's disappointments. I'm already looking forward to next week's Dolly Parton night (though not the inevitable Whitney Houstonized version of the Parton classic "I Will Always Love You")

Here's a quick recap:

Michael Johns: If you told me he'd score the best performance of the night on a medley of "We Will Rock You/We Are the Champions," I would have told you the sexy Aussie must have reinvigorated the original meanings of the sly Queen songs — homosexual anthems claimed for the revelry of the hetero football stadium — by doing a few Stripper David moves on the "Idol" stage. The fact that he did it with his voice speaks more to the rest of the evening than any particular vocal triumph here. B

Brooke White: "Every Breath You Take." The judges got it right: The first half was great, the second half not so much. B-

David Archuleta: "You're the Voice." His voice was OK, but Chosen David needs to choose better songs. B-

Syesha Mercado: "If I Were Your Woman." Yawn. C+

Jason Castro: "Fragile." Yawn again. C+

Carly Smithson: "Total Eclipse of the Heart." I prefer the Jessica Sierra version from "Idol" a few years back. Like many songs on Tuesday, it wasn't horrible but it was instantly forgettable. C+

Ramiele Mulabay: "Alone." She doesn't come near the Carrie Underwood version, much less the Heart original. C

Kristy Lee Cook: "God Bless the U.S.A." Simon was right with her smart song choice. This hackneyed patriotism will play well in the residents of the Land of Wal-Mart. It doesn't play so well with my ears. C-

Chikezie: "If Only For One Night." I certainly wouldn't encourage a return engagement. C-

David Cook: "Billy Jean." He once again shows there's no odd cover version of a pop hit he won't plunder for his own gain while trying to persuade the audience and judges he's an artist of startling originality and vision. He's just a hack. Who wants to bet he does the White Stripes' take on "Jolene" next week? D+

Past Disasters, Volume 2

The war on the Lennon-McCartney songbook dragged on for a second week, ensnaring the two remaining members of the band Tuesday night on "American Idol" — not that the top 11 were clamoring to cover Ringo's "Octopus's Garden." Brooke White did take on George Harrison's warmer side with "Here Comes the Sun," but nobody had the good judgment to cover "Taxman," an excellent song that resonates more loudly the closer mid-April gets. Most of the contestants settled for taxing my nerves, instead.

The good news was that David Archuleta remembered his words, which made it that much easier to forget everyone else. He leads this week's performance recap.

He likes it long, I hear: Chosen David worked it out this week. He regained any lost ground from those fumbled lyrics on the first Beatles night with a classy, indelible take on "The Long and Winding Road." If he keeps this up, nobody will be able to catch up as he travels the last 10 weeks of twists and turns. Has anyone else noticed at this point that David has a tendency to lick his lips in between lines? I'm not sure if he just likes the flavor of some lip gloss he's wearing or he's offering a salacious come-on to any attractive male audience members. All I know is I do the same maneuver before I'm about to go down on a guy. Of course, the judges were ready to offer a sloppy blowjob of praise to make up for the harsh words of last week. A

'Yesterday' once more: Syesha Mercado hasn't made much of an impact so far. For my money, she's either oversung the hell out of a song (shouting it vs. singing it) or just been plain forgettable. That changed tonight with a lovely, folksy rendition of "Yesterday." True, it's the most-covered song in history and she didn't necessarily bring anything new to it, but there was some genuine emotion and subtlety there amid the occasional pitch problem. Simon was right when he called it her best performance ever, but then hedged his praise by saying it wasn't amazing. That's good enough for second place tonight, though. B+

Well, she captured the red states: What are some of the signs that a song — however awesome in its day — has become dated? Perhaps it mentions pop culture figures and events that have long since passed or it will talk about a 10-cent soda. One thing I always look for is a title reference to nation-states that no longer exist. Take "Back in the U.S.S.R.," for instance. I happen to love this clever song (as much Lenin as Lennon in it) and enjoy listening to it on the White Album. But its time as a live song passed even before the country's dissolution back in 1991. I can see why Amanda Overmyer chose it, but it doesn't help complaints that she's just a nostalgia act. As far as the actual performance, it started off shaky but she brought some vigor to it half-way through. Not her best, but still one of the better performances of the night. B 

Swan or ugly duckling? Carly Smithson offered up an affecting take on "Blackbird," but it was the speech afterward that made the biggest impression. It seems there's more of a concerted effort by the producers (Ryan, at the least) to get contestants to argue back with the judges and rationalize their choices. Hearing Carly whine about the pressures of the music industry (yes, it's a tough industry) and feeling like a broken bird revealed a desperation to her stint on the show that had previously been simmering just below the surface. Simon was offering solid criticism, as always — even if I didn't necessarily agree with his attack on the song choice — and we end up hearing a long-winded defense by the singer. It's best to let the song and performance speak for themselves. B-

Here comes the shun: Brooke White knew it was inevitable that she'd mess a song up and the judges would turn on her after weeks of effusive praise. So the perpetually cheery folksy took it in stride and actually told the judges it was all right for them to hate on her performance of "Here Comes the Sun" (a song covered with perfection by Nina Simone). With her blond hair, warm demeanor and yellow dress, the whole thing came off as a cliché before the first note was sung, and the judges let her know it. "It's OK," she told them repeatedly. The same was true of the performance itself. C+

A day in the strife: This is an ambitious, complex song — too much so for the "Idol" stage. As Simon told Michael Johns, the 90 second time frame does the song no justice, nor the singer — not even if said hunk pulls out the desperation card (a dedication to a dead friend or relative who loved it). He nearly pulled off a similar feat with "Bohemian Rhapsody" in the Hollywood rounds, but has yet to really nail a song. This one, while an admirable attempt, was still all over the map. I still think he's good enough to avoid the bottom 3 this week, but the voting public may disagree. C

French disconnection: Jason Castro was previously unaware that "ma belle" was French. There's something about "Idol" interview segments that encourages contestants to share their ignorance with America (my theory is that it helps bond them with the viewing public, with its own share of ignorance). Anyway, he picks a love song and it's a bit of a snooze. With the right song, he has a charm that will carry any weakness in his voice. But when he doesn't connect — like tonight — it's all rather forgettable. C

Well, she should have: With all the songs in the Beatles' discography, "I Should Have Known Better" isn't the one that would leap to mind as an opportunity to shine. Simon was targeting contestants' choices all night by calling them bad songs (most of them were actually quite good but not right for the singer or the show); this pick by Ramiele Mulabay was the most forgettable of the bunch. Maybe that's why they gave her the last spot. It's usually reserved for a highlight of the evening, but perhaps producers feared voters wouldn't remember her past another commercial break and Kristy Lee Cook (who gets votes for attributes other than her singing) would be back in her stead. C 

You've got to hide your voice away, girl: Speaking of KLC, I'm thinking it's a bottom 2 death match between her and Ramiele since Syesha will get some votes this week (perhaps enough to push Michael Johns into the bottom 3). This week was an improvement over last week's country-tinged fiasco, but that's probably due to the quality of the song and not the quality of the vocals (or lack thereof). "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away" is one of my favorite Beatles compositions. But KLC didn't leave me with the feeling she understood the nuances of the lyrics when she bragged that she picked the song because it had a cool title and had never heard it before. C-

I just saw a disgrace: I don't get Chikezie, his attitude of false superiority, his horrid fashion, his throw-everything-out-and-see-what-sticks musical bag of tricks. He took "I Just Saw a Face," an absolutely lovely song, and did all sorts of horrific things with it: He started it out as a ballot (fine), added some harmonica (which he bragged that he just learned to play. Ha!) and then took it off to country music land (apparently because it worked so well for KLC last week). It was a mess. C-

What the fuck are you tripping on? The tortured artist David Cook wins worst performance of the week for three consecutive weeks (not to mention worst hair since the week that Garrett was voted off in the semifinals) with his version of "Day Tripper." Not content to "make it his own" — meaning make it a wretched emo rock number — he makes it another band's crappy cover. He found a version of the song by White Snake that he emulates. One of the greatest bands in the history of popular music and he has to go search out a cover by an 80s hair band. How tedious and pompous and plain cacophonous. Simon called it a smug performance, and that's the perfect adjective to describe Bad Hair David's tenure on the show. The voters need to do the right thing and leave only one David and one Cook in the Top 10. D

One of the major problems with the run of "Idol" this season is the choice to start out with theme nights — and then pick themes that haven't allowed thus far a song past 1989 to be used. Imagine if Blake Lewis hadn't been able to sing "Somewhere Only We Know" by this point last season. I'm all for classic rock, but let's hear something a bit more current. Not to mention that half of these contestants don't know the Beatles' discography, as crazy as that sounds. I feel like I'm in some karaoke classroom where those who don't know their musical history are forced to repeat it (in off-key fashion).

I have a bad feeling next week's show is going to be the solo catalogues of the four Beatles members. What do you think? "Band on the Run"? "Working Class Hero"? "My Sweet Lord"? Something by Ringo? Maybe Chosen David can sing the other verses he left out of "Imagine." After this week's show, I surely wouldn't complain.

Pretty in Pink (How to Save the Cosmos)

DRINK OF THE WEEK: COSMOPOLITAN

I was in a club some months back, and I heard a bartender talking about the negative effect of "Sex and the City" on the cosmopolitan — a venerable cocktail whose popularity was re-energized in the past decade by its recurring presence on the HBO hit, which lives on for faggots and shopaholics everywhere on DVD, in syndication and very soon in movie theaters.

The bartender had some customers earlier in the day who complained about the color of their cosmo. Apparently, the show's version of the drink was a deeper red than the pale pink the bartender had prepared. Of course, a bottom-line bar owner would have appreciated this concern — as the red version has more cranberry and less alcohol — but not the devoted mixologist. He and I know the drink isn't supposed to be fruit punch.

A classic cosmo shouldn't mask the taste of alcohol. This is a case where you want to go for premium ingredients since there is not much mixer. Absolut Mandarin and Stoli Ohranj are good for most mixed drinks calling for orange vodka, but I go for Grey Goose l'Orange when making a cosmo. You can use regular or citrus vodka, but I like how orange vodka mixes with the cranberry, lime and orange liqueur. This is also a case where you should opt for Cointreau over plain triple sec. This is an easy cocktail to whip up when you have a lot of guests, and it's quite forgiving for an experienced mixer.

According to "Cocktail: The Drink Bible for the 21st Century," an excellent guide to classic mixed drinks by Paul Harrington and Laura Moorhead, the credit for the first cosmo most likely goes to the "gay community in Provincetown, Massachusetts" (hmmm, as opposed to the Provincetown straight community?) This makes sense since the drink itself is a direct descendant of the Cape Cod, which is served on the rocks.

 

To those who dismiss it as a girlie drink (and mention "Sex and the City"), you can point out that TV tough guy MacGyver also apparently enjoyed this beverage, as did late LSD aficionado and gun enthusiast Hunter S. Thompson. And I would guess their versions didn't end up looking like a plasma bag at the blood bank.

So, no matter how red those cosmos are when "Sex and the City: The Movie" comes out in May, you must honor your gay alcoholic forefathers and instead think pink.

Recipe
2 1/2 oz. parts Grey Goose l'Orange vodka (citrus and regular vodka will work, too)
1/2 oz. Cointreau
1/2 oz. lime (about half a life)

splash or two of cranberry juice

Serve in: Chilled cocktail glass

To assemble: Pour all the ingredients into a cocktail shaker half filled with ice. Shake vigorously until the shaker becomes too cold to hold. Strain the contents into a cocktail glass.

Garnish: lime wheel or lemon twist

Cheers!

A Clothes-Minded Public

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What Would You Do If He Sang Out of Tune?

... Would you stand up and walk out on David Archuleta? I doubt you would. Left silent is what place and act you would be standing up from. Pervert.

Well, to keep this train of thought going, what if David — aka Chosen David — also forgot the lyrics 10 seconds into "We Can Work It Out" on Beatles Night of "American Idol"? He could certainly have used a little help from his friends at that point (you know they were silently celebrating backstage), but I'm not ready to concede front-runner status from Chosen David just yet. It does seem more like a contest and less like a 12-week march to victory now. Of course, Wednesday night's group performance will no doubt highlight the aforementioned spirit of camraderie with "A Little Help From My Friends." 

Let's also hope that he then dances over to his other namesake — Stripper David — for a duet on "Come Together," plus a medley of "A Taste of Honey," "Long Long Long" and, if it is indeed long (as a job in the adult erotic dancing industry would suggest), "Fixing a Hole."

That's tomorrow. We didn't have any "Yesterday," thank the musical gods. As far as tonight ... To quote another Beatles' song title: Oh! Darling.

This wasn't how the Top 12 was supposed to open. David's pimp spot on Lenin-McCartney night was meant to sell him like a irresistible little whore to the American people. Well, the whore was suffering from a touch of VD, but it's nothing a good dose of penicillin won't clear up by next week, the whore a bit wiser. I hope it will be a lesson to David that he can't coast. What I found shocking was his seeming unfamiliarity with The Beatles. Is this the same singer who shined on John Lennon's "Imagine" just two weeks ago? I was hoping for something of similar tone — "In My Life," maybe even "Here, There and Everywhere." But he seemed lost and decided to make it Stevie Wonder night instead by selecting to cover the hit soul version of "We Can Work It Out." At least he copped to this performance. Syesha seemed agitated when Randy pointed out that her decidedly average performance of "Gotta Get You Into My Life" was based on the Earth, Wind and Fire version.

There's something odd about covering another cover of a song. It seems like one should take the tack of the original and sing it well or do something truly inspired with it. Thus, the performances broke down three ways:

1. Contestants who covered other covers, such as Chosen David and Syesha.

2. Contestants who took a relatively faithful approach to the song.

3. Contestants who tried to "make it their own," in Paula parlance.

Success in the second category depends on the song, the purity of the singer and the amount of feeling he or she invests in the song. Brooke's take on "Let It Be" worked beautifully, her emotionally pure voice and classy turn at the piano complementing the wholesomeness and optimism of the song.

In contrast, Ramiele's take on "In My Life," which is my favorite Beatles song, seemed technically competent but lacking in emotion. She actually dedicated it to the "Idol" contestants who have been lost along the way (Who's the dead one? Is it Colton Berry?). If this rote rendition were offered late at night in a cocktail bar, with a drink in hand, I would have enjoyed it. But with the focus on her voice it was boring — as the judges mentioned 10 or 12 times. Sorry, Ramiele, I was only sleeping.

I do have to take issue with a suggestion by Simon, aka Mean Mr. Mustard, that it was the song itself that was boring and a dreary selection. Yes, "In My Life" is a rueful, meditative song, but it's also one of the most beautiful in the songwriting canon (Mojo picked it as No. 1 in its recent list of the greatest songs of all time and Rolling Stone thought highly enough to rank it No. 23 on its list).

The other contestants who took a relatively faithful approach — Michael Johns with "Across the Universe," Jason Castro with "If I Fell" and Carly Smithson with "Come Together" — did solid, if unspectacular work on the "Idol" stage.

The biggest risks came with those contestants who decided to infuse their own flavor (for better or worse) into the classic compositions — by way of country, Southern blues, emo rock, some sort of folk-soul mishmash. Talks about twists and shouting.

The problem is that you can't just take a song and translate it to another genre without first examining its lyrical message and tone. Kristy Lee Cook, darling, just because the judges told you last week they liked your voice with a country inflection does not give you the creative license to transport the literate, British class act of Lenin-McCartney to a Wal-Mart parking-lot honky tonk in Alabama. "Eight Days a Week" is still not copious time in the calendar to endure to such ear poison.

Similarly, Stripper David needed to peel off some of the layers he bundled onto the usual melodic gem "I Saw Her Standing There." And the feminine pronoun isn't fooling anyone, dude. Speaking of females, Chikezie (just one name — like he's already Madonna, or at least Mandisa) fared slightly better on a bizarre "She's a Woman." The song started off with a flash of banjo-laced Americana and moved into soul-rock territory. It almost worked for me until I had to witness Chikezie's pompous victory dance with an overeager Ryan. It reminded me of what I've always thought about Chikezie: His unjustified arrogance.

The only reinvention of the night that thoroughly worked for me was Amanda Overmyer's boozy Southern rock-blues assault on "You Can't Do That." It's not one of the greatest Beatles songs, and so the spin doesn't it hurt it much. Furthermore, the lyrics of the song complement the attitude Amanda brings to it. Simon was right when he declared her a "breath of fresh air" — albeit the breath of a righteously angry two-packs-a-day smoker. In the interviews, her measured, unassuming demeanor, too, is a wonderful contrast to the self-congratulatory posturing of Chikezie and Bad Hair David.

Speaking of that horrid head of hair and the ego beneath, Bad Hair David gave the worst performance of the night — one whose hideousness was seemingly commensurate with the amount of praise heaped on it by the judges. Again, it comes down to the lyrics. "Eleanor Rigby" is indeed a song about loneliness, but it's not the loneliness of a petulant, angst-ridden youth. It's obvious why Bad Hair David might think the refrain "Ah, all the lonely people" would make this the song to transmute into one of his wretched emo rock anthems. But the loneliness is decidedly middle age and beyond — "darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there." Does Bad Hair David enjoy a bit of knitting after his Scrabble games? It's a song of maturity and restraint, not whiny screeching.

I'm sorry, BH David, but I doubt I'll love you when you're 64, either. Unfortunately, the judges' insane praise will no doubt have him coming back for weeks to mope until he's finally able to sing an emo-lite version of "The Saddest Song I've Got" by Annie Lennox. As far as who will go home, I'm thinking it will be Kristy Lee Cook unless all the mentions of the word boring doomed poor Ramiele. Tomorrow will know.

GRADING THE CONTESTANTS

A- Brooke White, "Let It Be"

B+ Amanda Overmyer, "You Can't Do That"

B+ Carly Smithson, "Come Together"

B Jason Castro, "If I Fell"

B- Michael Johns, "All Across the Universe"

B- Chikezie, "She's a Woman"

C+ David Archuleta, "We Can Work It Out"

C Ramiele Mulabay, "In My Life"

C Syesha Mercado, "Gotta Get You Into My Life"

C- David Hernandez, "I Saw Her Standing There"

D Kristy Lee Cook, "Eight Days a Week"

D- David Cook, "Eleanor Rigby"

Run For Your Life

It's Beatles night on "Idol" and chances are some enduring classics of rock will be ruined for viewers forever. Or will these gems of songwriting allow the singers to shine when they have no Whitney or Journey to hide behind? We'll see tonight, but The Beatles don't have a good record at being covered by other artists. Perhaps because the songs were done so well in the first place, you don't get the same kind of genius reinvention you see with songwriters such as Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen (though I do love Nina Simone's wistful take on "Here Comes the Sun" and Stevie Wonder's soulful 'We Can Work It Out.")

I hope Chosen David goes for "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away" in honor of all the closet cases in the entertainment industry who have to disguise who they are to win the approval of mainstream America (he dedicated last week's song to homeless families, so why not do something both noble and knowing?) Speaking of concealment, everybody's got something to hide except Stripper David and his apparently very popular monkey. Why not go for "A Hard Day's Night"? Does he work like a dog? Only he and his male strip club clients know for sure.

My favorite Beatles era ("Help!"-"Rubber Soul"-"Revolver") should be a good place to look for folkies Jason Castro and Brooke White. "In My Life" or "Yesterday" play well with subtlety and feeling over vocal fireworks. Carly Smithson, Amanda Overmyer and Michael Johns will probably go for something more on the rock side like "Helter Skelter" or "Revolution." I'm guessing that "Happiness is a Warm Gun" for Michael. If he really works out the climax to that song (and maybe learns a few moves from Stripper David), the same will be true for me. Sometimes a concealed weapon isn't the best policy, I say. This is why we really need "Idol: The XTube Files" this season.

Here are my picks for the Top 25 Beatles songs. Feel free to add your own favorites in the comments section!

1. In My Life ("Rubber Soul")
2. Here, There and Everywhere ("Revolver")
3. Let It Be ("Let It Be")
4. Hey Jude (single)
5. Revolution (single)/Revolution 1 and 9 (White Album)
6. A Day in the Life ("SPLHCB")
7. Taxman ("Revolver")
8. Help! ("Help!")
9. I Saw Her Standing There ("Please Please Me")
10. Girl ("Rubber Soul")
11. With a Little Help from My Friends ("SPLHCB")
12. You've Got to Hide Your Love Away ("Help!")
13. Love Me Do ("Please Please Me")
14. Nowhere Man ("Rubber Soul")
15. Strawberry Fields Forever ("Magical Mystery Tour")
16. Tomorrow Never Knows ("Revolver")
17. I 've Just Seen a Face ("Help!")
18. Julia (White Album)
19. Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds ("SPLHCB")
20. I'm Looking Through You ("Rubber Soul")
21. Baby It's You ("Please Please Me")
22. Back in the USSR (White Album)
23. Wait ("Rubber Soul")
24. Across the Universe ("Let It Be")
25. Yesterday ("Help!")

The Devil Wears Prada, Indeed

[EDITOR'S NOTE: I wrote this last year, but thought I'd repost some of my work here to gather it in one place]

"Moscow mayor Yuri Luzhkov branded Gay Pride parades a "satanic act" today and vowed to stop any attempt by homosexuals to march through Russia's capital this year, Russian news agencies reported." — Reuters

Alexei painted 666 on the rainbow flag and then donned his red thong with the fiery design. But the flames had nothing to do with being a flamer and everything to do with being a satanist. You see, Alexei and the other gays weren't here to celebrate diversity and proclaim pride in their sexual orientation. They were here to herald the great Lucifer's return to earth and his inexorable dominion over Moscow, then Mother Russia and, finally, the entire world.

Eugeny had already disemboweled three hogs and had used their blood to paint the Trannie Disco float. During the actual parade, they would also sacrifice a goat, a doberman and five rabbits (which a female impersonator would then fashion into a fabulous stole). As a parade finale they would all share some fresh infant flesh, just as they would share communicable diseases at the St. Petersburg bathhouse. It was sordid business, of course, and dining on babies in front of the media can be poor publicity, but it must be done to summon the demons from their comfy underworld home up to the earth on this chill Moscow day. Only then can the forces of darkness envelop humanity. If this isn't done and the parade is stopped, fine Christian men and women will continue to wed under the sacred institution of marriage and procreate as part of God's will.

Oleg and his boyfriend Yakov traded some tongue then called everyone forth. "Today, we beckon the Dark Lord to return and assert his rightful rule of the land — and we're going to have a hot time doing it, girlfriends," Oleg told the fags and dykes. "I want to see personality, I want to see sexy dancing, I want to see hedonistic man-on-man action on this fucking parade route. I personally don't want to see any girl-on-girl action, but I think we all know Satan is omnisexual, so I guess anything goes, ho's!"

And with that, they picked up their colorful flags, their banners, their balloons, their black-flame dildos. Those with floats got into position (sometimes that meant bent over a couch cushion as a fellow parade participant mounted him). And they started to march and chant.

"We're here, we're queer, the end is near. Don't get too used to it 'cause you all be dead soon. Hail Satan! And Madonna!"
.
Meanwhile, similar marches were being held in San Francisco, Buenos Aires, Toronto and Sydney by fellow gay Satanists bent on bringing ruin on the nuclear family. In Amsterdam, a drug-addicted 7-foot transvestite wandered the streets in a she-devil mask, tossing out syringes to passers-by and quoting from "The Satanic Bible."

Of course, the gays weren't the only ones taking part in this day of diabolatry. In women's clinics in London, Tokyo and New York, abortionists and pornographers were joining forces for a very special project: "Unborn Porn" — hundreds of fetuses were vacuumed out and then molested by homeless sex offenders all the while being broadcast on the Internet at sick666porn.com. And in nursing homes from Pittsburgh to Paris the infirm and terminally unattractive were being given lethal doses of morphine in a Satanic sister celebration: Assisted Suicide Pride.

Back in Moscow, Oleg and Yakov led the marchers down the route, wearing their "Aleister Crowley made us do it" T-shirts and blasting their boom box with memorable tunes such as "Sympathy for the Devil" and "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" (In this case, it was meant to refer to the former Soviet republic and not the U.S. state). Some marchers carried pictures of Harry Potter that were altered to show him being sodomized by his own broom stick. Some of the men had their hair cut like Mia Farrow in Rosemary's Baby and wore pillows under their shirts to symbolize the baby they would sacrifice for Satan if only they could have children.

On the sidewalks, some spectators were enjoying the festivities, whether cheering, sucking demon seed from a neighbor's cock or casting a Satanic spell on their straight crushes. But others were protesting. Moscow mayor Yuri Luzhkov and several Russian orthodox clergy were telling the homosexuals they were going to hell. The homosexuals did not disagree; they only smiled. They were embracing their fiery fate and invoking Lucifer's good name and that of his disciples.

"Hail Satan! Hail Rosie O'Donnell! Hail Elton John! Hail LaVey! Everyone is gay!"

At that point a cloud of steam arose from the sewers and before them the sanctity of the manhole was violated (for a record 14th time that parade route) and rising from that opening was a vision of hell on earth — great phallic horns, a suit of red vinyl and a whip-like tail, in his hand a lubed pitchfork. Was it Satan? No, it was Vanya, being quite the drama queen and making a late appearance in full demonic costume. That was like Vanya.

Of course, the parade route had two more blocks to go and it was all of the sodomites' deepest desire that Satan would still make an appearance. After all, pride is one of the seven deadly sins.

Vodka: From Russia, With Love

I've decided to offer a weekly blog post on the finer arts of alcoholism ... um, I mean the finer arts of mixology and tending bar. Drink responsibly, but often. I'm going to start off this feature with a look at the most versatile of spirits (and versatility is a virtue, as any homosexual knows) ...

VODKA

So Fyodor Dostoevsky, Garry Kasparov and Boris Yeltsin walk into a bar...

Well, technically Dostoevsky's been dead for more than a century and even if Yeltsin were still alive, he busted his hip so he may actually limp in. But I am trying to make a point here. 

Psychological novels, chess and alcohol are a few things that Russia does very well. At the bar, the trio meets Mikhail Baryshnikov, who briséd in before them, proving that dance is another one of those things (somewhere, Svetlana Khorkina curses the fact that gymnastics may no longer be in the mix).

And what does this group order at the bar, you ask? Why, anything other than vodka would be an outrage — so culturally intertwined are spirit and nation. There is some contention over where vodka originated centuries ago (Poland? Ukraine?) but Russia is the country most people think of when reaching for their bottle of Stolichnaya. Mr. Yeltsin, once a president, had done his share to help that. Legend has it that Boris was so buzzed one night he called then-President Clinton during the Kosovo conflict and suggested they meet on a submarine to talk (a yellow one, I presume).

The world's No. 1-selling spirit, vodka can be made from any starch- or sugar-rich plant matter from grains such as rye and wheat to potatoes. While a vodka by definition is supposed to be without flavor, there are subtleties in ingredients and processes that can distinguish a good vodka from a great one. Yes, sometimes it's without flavor, but never is it tasteless.

Below, I'm offering five of my favorites, though some like Chopin and Belvedere I have hardly had the chance to become acquainted with. I hope to get to know them better in the future. But try any of these in your favorite cocktail or on the rocks next time you're out at the bar. It's doubtful you'll run into a ballet legend or a chess grandmaster, but a few shots of vodka and even strangers will become your closest comrades.

Favorite vodkas
1. Grey Goose: Russia doesn't have a monopoly on great vodka. As sad as it makes me to give the gold to the French over the Russians, this is the smoothest vodka I've tasted. It's pricey though so best reserved for sipping or vodka martinis.
2. Stoli: This Russian standard is the best value for your money. Their flavored line is excellent, but plain Stoli is the go-to brand for most cocktails.
3. Absolut: This Swedish import is a good mid-range vodka that sits better in a cocktail shaker than a shot glass.
4. Ketel One: This premium vodka from the Netherlands has always had a unique aftertaste, which makes it an interesting if underused addition to my liquor cabinet.
5. Skyy: The last slot goes to the California home team. This vodka from San Francisco is smooth and inexpensive, making it perfect for parties.

Favorite flavored vodkas
1. Absolut mandarin: Orange seems to blend better with vodka than any other flavoring. Mix it with cranberry juice or soda water, or turn a lemon drop into an orange drop. This is pretty interchangeable with Grey Goose l'Orange and Stoli Ohranj. For something slightly exotic, try a blood orange vodka made by Charbay.
2. Stoli Strasberi: This strawberry vodka is great for mixing (try it straight up after shaking it with peach schnapps, amaretto and an orange wedge) but sometimes harder to find than the somewhat cloying Smirnoff variety.
3. Ketel One Citroen: Perfect for a lemon drop (use meyer lemons and a decent Italian limoncello), though Absolut Citron works well, too.
4. Stoli Vanil: Add a twist to the classic White Russian with this vanilla-flavored vodka.
5. Skyy melon: A refreshing blend of honeydew, cantaloupe and watermelon — and 80 proof, too. Make a Mellonball by adding orange juice and Midori liqueur. Or add to fresh melon to give that summer fruit salad an unexpected kick.

RECIPES
The (White) Russians are coming. So break out the balalaikas and Yakov Smirnoff recordings, and mix yourself a Moscow Mule. The following recipes are culled from www.drinksmixer.com. ...

Moscow Mule (drink till you make an ass of yourself)
2 oz vodka

2 oz lime juice

8 oz ginger ale
Mix ingredients in a highball glass with ice

White Russian (for the KKK enthusiast who also enjoy a fine coffee liqueur)
2 oz. vodka
1 oz. Kahlua or other coffee liqueur
light cream
Mix vodka and Kahlua over ice in an old fashioned glass; top with cream

Pink Lenin-ade (When you're sweating into your camouflage fatigues on a hot summer day, try this pinko thirst-quencher)
2 oz vodka

1 oz triple sec

2 oz pineapple juice 

2 oz cranberry juice
Shake all ingredients with ice. Pour into an old fashioned glass; garnish with a lemon wedge and a maraschino cherry.

Ballet Russe Cocktail
2 oz vodka


1/2 oz creme de cassis


4 dashes lime juice
Shake with ice and strain into a cocktail glass.

Muscovy Martini
1 oz Stoli Zinamon vodka


1 oz Stoli Ohranj vodka

1/2 oz triple sec


1/2 oz orange juice
Pour the vodka, triple sec and orange juice into a mixing glass half-filled with cracked ice. Stir well. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a twist of orange peel, first squeezing it over the drink then dropping it on top. Sprinkle a bit of ground cinnamon over the top.

Leon Trotsky (Thankfully, no ice pick is needed in the creation of this recipe.)

1/2 oz vodka

1/4 oz tequila

1 1/2 oz raspberry liqueur
Stir ingredients together in a large shot glass, and serve.

Razzsputin 
1 1/2 oz Stoli Razberi vodka

3 oz cranberry juice

2 oz grapefruit juice
Mix or blend with ice and serve in a chilled collins glass. Garnish with a lime slice.    

From Russia With Love (or at least lust)
1 1/2 oz Stoli Razberi vodka

fill with 7-Up

1 splash cranberry juice
Pour over ice in Collins glass.

Soviet (It's time may have past, but a sip of this and the Cold War will be hot again)
1 1/2 oz vodka

1/2 oz dry sherry

1/2 oz dry vermouth

1 twist lemon peel
Shake all ingredients (except lemon peel) with ice and strain into an old fashioned glass over ice. Add the twist.

Siberian Slider (Ice is the key)
1 oz white creme de menthe
1 oz vodka
1 oz white rum
Combine in a tumbler filled with cracked ice. Stir liberally and sip slowly.

Russian Iceberg
1 oz white creme de menthe

1 oz Rumple Minze peppermint liqueur

1 oz vodka
Lean an ice-filled tumbler to a 45 degree angle and pour creme de menthe down the side of the glass to fill bottom. Repeat with rumple minze and vodka, as to layer the liquors like an iceberg. Do not stir. Place a straw through the middle of the drink and serve immediately.

Russian Sunset recipe
2 oz vodka
2 oz triple sec

4 oz sweet and sour mix

1 dash grenadine syrup
Mix vodka, triple sec, and sour mix in a shaker with ice. Strain into a chilled collins glass, add a dash of grenadine to the top, and swirl slightly. Garnish with a cherry and an orange slice if desired, and serve.

Midori Green Russian (For those special Chernobyl moments)
1 1/2 oz Midori melon liqueur

1 1/2 oz vodka
cream
Pour midori and vodka over ice in a highball glass. Top with cream, to taste.

Moscow Bobsled
1 1/2 oz vodka

3 oz chocolate milk
Stir ingredients together in a mixing glass half-filled with cracked ice. Strain into a cocktail glass, and serve.

Judy and Tupac, together at last

I wrote this as a challenge — to incorporate Judy Garland and Tupac Shakur in one work — a few months back for Brandon. I'm posting it here for my friend KJ, who wanted to read it ...

Niggaz be friends with Dorothy, too

Listen up, homiez if you got a limp wrist
and I'll tell you of all the hot faggots I kissed.
But you look at me and say, "This can't be right.
You're a gangsta muthafucka and you're black as night."
You may not believe it, but I tell you it's true:
Niggaz be friends with Dorothy, too.

Lovin' that ghetto booty every night and day,
but around here we don't use the word gay.
That's the kind of word that gets your ass capped.
So sit down and listen to a tale that's quite apt:
I present the love story of Biggie and Tupac.
It's a love that will outlast the blast of the Glock.

They were ready for life before they were ready to die.
Pac saw the sun and stars when he looked in homey's eyes.
In the bedroom, he discovered what was notoriously big.
And his ass could take as much as Big could give.
But they knew their albums wouldn't sell for a love of cock,
so Biggie went and started a feud with Tupac.

They met in secret crack dens as publicly they fought;
but in private, they always shared all the drugs they bought.
Their bodies raged as hot together as a burning crack pipe,
and their entourages began believing all of the East-West hype.
But it was finding out the truth that led to that deadly day:
When they were sentenced to die for the crime of being gay.

Big's homiez had come by with 40 fourties in their cooler,
and enough gold on their bodies to self-employ a jeweler.
They wanted to watch the game but the two were occupied.
Big was fucking Tupac while the bitch lay on his side.
They shot Tupac that day and warned Biggie he could be next,
if he fornicated again with a member of the same sex.

Of course, all of Tupac's men then swore their revenge.
So Biggie said fuck it and went off to fuck again.
Then he went to L.A. to present the Soul Train award.
Somehow Biggie knew he'd soon be off to see his Lord.
The man in the bow tie shot him and he said "Oh well,
I'm off to find Tupac, in the skies of Heaven or in the pits of Hell."

And to this day this story brings a tear to my eye —
one of joy, despite all the reasons I have to cry:
Livin' in the ghetto, offering my ass for all the cocks.
Will it be a pistol or AIDS that puts me in that box?"
I don't care because I stare at death, and I gloat.
I'm a ghetto faggot with a 10-incher down my throat.

So take them stereotypes and shove up your lubed hole.
I don't want any stank pussy, just give me a long pole.
And what I would have given to see Judy at Carnegie Hall,
sittin' next to Tupac and his special friend Biggie Smalls.
That's OK because I tell you that it's true:
Niggaz be friends with Dorothy, too.

"Idol" is a battlefield

Who would have guessed an acoustic take on a Pat Benatar song could be one of the highlights of Wednesday's "American Idol" show? Well, the chances rise exponentially when you learn the lowlights include not one, but two, botched Whitney Houston songs and a countrified "Journey" number.

I'm not sure I buy this whole "I've never seen an R-rated movie, I never swear and my husband and I only have sex once a month in the missionary position with the lights off" business, but there is something interesting about Brooke White (has a ring of Snow White to it, no?) being part of the top 24, among so many caterwauling faux divas. It's Brooke and Jason Castro who bring a refreshing subtlety and mellowness to the program.

Also refreshing is Amanda Overmyer, who brought her cool rock chick persona back this week with Joan Jett's "I hate myself for Loving You." I mean this crazy bitch burned down a pool and walked away from a semi truck crash to bring her laidback attitude to the "Idol" stage. I, for one, want to see her in the top 3.

The more likely bet to go that far is Carly, who is being touted as the most powerful female singer. While I liked her take on "I Drove All Night," I much prefer the Cyndi Lauper version to this Celine Dion-like interpretation. Bonus points for working at an Irish bar, though.

The rest of the night was fairly mediocre: Against all odds, Ramiele follows Chosen David with a Phil Collins' song; Kady proves her imitations are still better than the real thing; Syesha and Asia'h do Whitney Houston, quite poorly — but Syesha more poorly than Asia'h; and Kristy Lee proves the most interesting thing about her was in her past. According to her embarrassing video, KL used to impersonate a dog as a child — barking, walking on all fours, even drinking out of a dog dish. I have a bad feeling this was meant to inspire the male audience to imagine a bit of doggy style action and pick up the phone. but let's hope they use their hands for other means and she goes home on Thursday night. I don't particularly want to hear "Faithfully" by Journey turned into a country song. I didn't want to hear the song, at all.

If she has any decency, she'll take Syesha with her and we could forget the pair ever existed. I know it's a brutal thought, but "Idol" — like all things love — is indeed a battlefield, and there must be casualties.

Stripped down arrangements

You don' t really care for music, do you?

That's a lyric from Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah," but it might as well be an indictment of the horrid songs chosen by the men on Tuesday night's "American Idol": "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go"? "Tainted Love"? "It's All Coming Back to Me Now," which was wretched enough to inspire covers from both Celine Dion and Meatloaf?

Granted there was some bad music in the 80s, but contestants had a whole decade to choose from (see my previous post on some of the gems from that era). At least Jason Castro had the musical taste and smarts to choose this piece of Leonard Cohen song-poetry. True, with all the covers and renditions featured on television and in movies, it's been a little overdone, but it's such a great song that it makes up for some weaknesses in the singer. Jason did have a couple of pitch issues, as Randy was wont to point out (and props to the Dawg for mentioning that Cohen wrote the song before giving due credit to Jeff Buckley), but it was a tender, heartfelt rendition.

Jason bared his musical soul, but David Hernandez has bared much more than that. It turns out the singer used to work as a male stripper at a club with a mainly male clientele, dancing fully nude and offering lap dances. The club, "Dick's Revue," even was named "best gay male revue" by the Phoenix New Times. He apparently also worked as a bartender at a gay bar and has a steady boyfriend. After all the skin controversies of "Idol" past, this news was greeted with a collective yawn.

I don't think the revelation really denudes his work on stage (too bad it doesn't have a pole, though). In fact, this past job experiences enhances the career prospects of Stripper David (as he shall henceforth be known) once he is inevitably voted off in the next few weeks. There was a cheesiness to Stripper David's performances that I couldn't get past, and this helps me put my finger on what was missing — male frontal nudity so close you can feel it. Stripper David may not be made to sell out arenas and pedal millions of albums, but he could be one hell of a clothing-optional singing telegram. Remember, boys, a heartfelt rendition of a song will always pale in comparison to a felt-cock version of the same number.

I could see sending him to a buddy's house for a birthday present or to cheer someone up over a breakup. Stripper David shows up with a karaoke machine and a single rose for the gentleman of the house; he starts flinging articles of clothing, does a cheesy little dance in the yard while singing Tina Turner's "Private Dancer." "I'm a dancer for money," he sighs as you slip the dollar bills in the G-string and grope the merchandise. Maybe he lets you try it out for a couple Andrew Jacksons. "I'll do what you want me to do."

That was a good '80s song. Why didn't Stripper David sing that instead of "It's All Coming Back to Me"? It wasn't the only baffling song choice. Take the other David (please, don't ... because I'm not sure what you'll do with him once you take him.)

David Archuleta, for the sake of clarity when comparing him to the two lesser Davids, shall be called forevermore in this column The Chosen David. In my last column, I mentioned how lovely it would be to have Chosen David sing "Hallelujah," an invocation of his holy place in the "Idol" final. But either Jason won that song choice battle or perhaps Chosen David would have been embarrassed to reference his Biblical namesake in the first verse. I think the hypothetical Lord would have been very pleased to hear this angel-faced singer's secret chord.

Whatever the reason, Chosen David ended up with Phil Collins' dreary "Another Day in Paradise." He did what he could with it, but it was no "Imagine" (or "Shop Around," for that matter). Simon told him he sang two depressing songs in a row, and Chosen David wondered aloud how John Lennon's Utopian classic could be viewed as depressing. Personally, I don't think it's the existential despair of a heaven-less world that distresses the British crank — it's the society free of personal possessions. That's a vision to leave any multimillionaire in despair. Of course, Chosen David didn't make the situation any better by telling Simon he sang "Paradise" to highlight the plight of homeless families around the world.

Is he trying to be the next Bono or the next Miss America? I don't care either way, if we get to see him in the swimsuit competition. Alas, there were no leaked stories of Chosen David dancing in Utah gay strip clubs (ha!). There was a shocking report from his high school friends who call him Lettuce Boy. Unfortunately, the anecdote explaining this has to do with roughage at a fast-food eatery and not the fact that he gives good head. Although, a pre-performance chat with Ryan had me wondering. "He told me he's thirsty, and he has to pee," Ryan announced, apropos of nothing. David, blushing, confided that he didn't necessarily want to share this information with the world. It was obviously information for Ryan's ears only, and it made me envision secret games during commercial restroom breaks — in Ryan's personal bathroom (it started with crossing streams and quickly turned to kink play). On top of this, Ryan called Chosen David  "my man," flaunting his good luck before the whole teen girl-gay male audience.

But don't worry — I hear Danny Noriega is still up for grabs. Anyone want to grab him? We'll turn the lights out and you can grope him while he offers a private dance? Nobody? I guess the purple streaks in the hair aren't helping. Danny's embarrassing moment for the night (they all had to reveal one!) involves his best fag hag like totally tripping him in a movie theater (where they inevitably were watching some heinous chick flick). Yes, it was totally like horrifying when he stumbled in front of a crush (one conveniently absent of any gender-identifying pronouns). Now, I wasn't in that theater, but it had to be a lot less embarrassing than what Danny did with "Tainted Love." It's hard to imagine a performance of this song not being corny and karaoke; Danny did nothing to change that, but his response to Ryan (a sly "mmmm-hmmm") when the host did his usual faux heterosexual feigned ignorance act and pretended not to have noticed Danny's purple highlights had me considering a sympathy vote.

There was no fabulousness whatsoever to be found with the dull Luke Menard, but it wasn't for a lack of trying. Seeing how well the gay act is doing this season must have inspired the boring Orlando Bloom lookalike to go from "Killer Queen" (last week's choice) to plain-old queen this week. First he tells a story about how his older sister used to dress him up in a tutu to make him a ballerina (complete with picture); then he gets on stage to sing one of the gayest songs of all time — George Michael's "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go." Zzzzzzzz. Wake me up when they get to the next contestant.

As far as the others go, only Michael Johns can keep me up (and that has more to do with his biceps than his lungs). His version of the Simple Minds' 80s classic "Don't You Forget About Me" wasn't entirely memorable, but it was decent. He also had the worst embarrassing story. He recounted how he used to do work dressed as a mascot in Australia and once got beaten up while dressed as a kangaroo named Boomer in front of a bunch of screaming rugby fans. I certainly won't forget that.

Speaking of forgettable, there was Chekezie. I can't remember what he sang, but it sucked. Please be gone when I turn on my TV next week.

Another one I'm rooting to get the boot will probably stick around based on the love the judges showed him — David Cook, to be called Bad Hair David (seriously, I kept hoping beauty school dropout Brooke White would pop up mid-song for a makeover). He turned Lionel Richie's "Hello" into a light emo number, and apparently this was a good thing.

If I get lucky and they send him home before I have to hear a '90s-week rendition of "Smells Like Teen Spirit," I hope he continues to hone his musical craft — in dimly lit bars and at low-budget wedding receptions. While I don't personally want my ears to partake of his musical invention again, I certainly wouldn't want to see him turn to stripping to pay the bills, either. I wouldn't wish such things on my enemies nor drunken middle-age suburban women.

If, however, Chosen Danny should decide to throw this little contest away to follow a dream of pole dancing, strip performances and private shows, only one word could describe such divine intervention ...

Hallelujah

The singer, not the song

It's all about song selection, Randy and Paula like to say. One after another, the teary-eyed "American Idol" contestant hears that the performance didn't work because he or she didn't pick the right tune. But what song exactly would have made Jason Yeager or Amy Davis suck less? Let's put the blame where it belongs.

The first week highlighted '60s songs, the second songs from the '70s.  Unless the producers want to surprise us with country night or the songbook of Leonard Cohen (how awesome would that be ... David Archuleta on "Hallelujah" ... which would also work for '80s night!), it's safe to say this week will confront one of the more questionable decades of American music. For every glorious U2 gem, there's a one-hit wonder waiting to be rediscovered on the "Idol" stage.

I have a feeling when the ousted contestants complained about not being able to pick the right song, their consensus general grievance was with the high quality of the music being made during that 20 years (though it didn't stop Amanda from picking that hideous song last week). For the most part, '80s week should rectify that: Whitney Houston! Phil Collins! Bon Jovi! Journey! And if the artists choose to aim high, they may just murder a Prince or Madonna number.

Wouldn't it be interesting to see some of these artists go off the beaten cheesy rock and pop path and cover something unexpected? I have conflicted feelings about letting singers such as Luke Menard and Kristy Lee Cook take on songs that are dear to my heart. On one hand, it's great that a long-forgotten tune might get new life on iTunes following the show; the downside is that if the first time you heard a song was through the vocal stylings of Chikezie, there's a chance you'd never want to allow your ears such harm again.

But wouldn't it be cool to see one of the better vocalists tackle something other than the rote Mariah and Celine numbers? Carly Smithson with "Hounds of Love"? Michael Johns with "With or Without You" (or without it if he goes without his shirtless, as well). Amanda Overmyer, you must atone for the tonedeaf atrocities of '70s week by performing a tender and piercing version of the classic "Sweet Child O' Mine" (feel free to change that to "chile" as you're wont to do). And for David, why not offer this sexually ambiguous teen a number out of the Morrissey songbook such as "Charming Man" or "Hand in Glove"? I'd really like to see him do The Go-Betweens' "Bachelor Kisses," but that ain't happening.

I'm going to list some of my favorite songs from the decade in hopes they are either spotlighted with excellent vocals or, better yet, mercifully overlooked. Anyone have a favorite '80s tune they want to see a contestant perform (and one they hope is spared)?

TOP 10

1. "Running Up that Hill," Kate Bush

2. "With or Without You," U2 (I'm restricting the top 10 to one song by each artist, but pretty much anything by them I love)

3. "The Killing Moon," Echo and the Bunnymen

4. "Blue Monday," New Order

5. "There is a Light That Never Goes Out," The Smiths

6. "Bachelor Kisses," The Go-Betweens

7. "Sweet Child O' Mine," Guns N' Roses

8. "Cold Cold Ground," Tom Waits (prefer live version)

9. "Side of the Road," Lucinda Williams

10. "Head Like A Hole," Nine Inch Nails (Also, this is my hopeful top friend Poolerboy's choice for David A. to sing on Tuesday night, to be followed by a reality-check version of the equally great NIN song "Something I Can Never Have." If he indeed had a 9-inch nail, his chances would be better, but I'm afraid that would be a "Terrible Lie" to quote another song off "Pretty Hate Machine.")

HONORABLE MENTIONS ...

"Lately," Stevie Wonder (past "Idol" casualty)

"Blister in the Sun," Violent Femmes

"In Your Eyes," Peter Gabriel

"Eric's Trip," Sonic Youth

"1999," Prince

"Kid," The Pretenders

"Into the Groove," Madonna

"Hallelujah," Leonard Cohen

"Fall on Me," REM

"Detox Mansion," Warren Zevon

"Under the Milky Way," The Church

"What's Love Got to Do With It," Tina Turner
"Turning of the Tide," Richard Thompson

"Boys Don't Cry," The Cure

"Hong Kong Garden," Siouxsie and the Banshees
"The River," Bruce Springsteen"

"Mad World," Tears and Fears

"Nick of Time," Bonnie Raitt

"Time After Time," Cyndi Lauper

MORE GREAT SONGS FROM ARTISTS ALREADY NOTED ...

"Where the Streets Have No Name," U2

"I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For," U2

"Sunday Bloody Sunday," U2

"A Sort of Homecoming," U2

"The Unforgettable Fire," U2

"I Will Follow," U2

"11 O'Clock Tick Tock," U2

"Hounds of Love," Kate Bush

"Age of Consent," New Order

"Love Vigilantes," New Order

"Bizarre Love Triangle," New Order

"Hand in Glove," The Smiths

"Girlfriend in a Coma," The Smiths

"How Soon is Now," The Smiths

"The Back of Love," Echo and the Bunnymen

"The Cutter," Echo and the Bunnymen

"Welcome to the Jungle," Guns N' Roses

"Love Goes On," The Go-Betweens

"Unkind and Unwise," The Go-Betweens

"Apples in Bed," The Go-Betweens

"The Captain," Leonard Cohen

"First We Take Manhattan," Leonard Cohen

"Everybody Knows," Leonard Cohen

"Changed the Locks," Lucinda Williams

"Passionate Kisses," Lucinda Williams

"Did She Jump or Was She Pushed?" Linda and Richard Thompson

"Sign O the Times," Prince

"Pop Life," Prince

"Little Red Corvette," Prince

"Down In It," Nine Inch Nails

"Ringfinger," Nine Inch Nails

"Stand," REM

"The One I Love," REM

"Innocent When You Dream," Tom Waits