John Waters, You Dirty Old Man

Gangsters convened upon the Cat Ranch for a quirky, campy review of John Water's colorful autobiographical collection of essays, Role Models.

We drank Sangria, ate some chips, and discussed how surprising it was that John Waters has a deep, undying love of Johnny Mathis, and how unsurprising it is that he surrounds himself completely with freaks, not only in his searches for acting and stage idols, but also in his love life (button-down, back-door, nearly-straight closet queers) and his choice of bartenders and fashion gurus. John Waters has built a career from being the director/writer guy who is, in all of his films, unabashadely shameless. As it turns out, his normal life is just plain like that, as well.

It was a treat that Wimmer found this audio book at the library, narrated by none other than Mr. Pencil Moustache himself. We had the added advantage in our discussion of also getting to listen to excerpts, especially the chapter, Baltimore Heroes, which features a couple of particularly flagrant displays of bad motherhood. We delighted (and sorrowed) at the story of dog-faced-yet-femininely-bodied "Zorro," or Z as her friends in later life called her, and her harrowing tales of motherhood, raising her pious Catholic little daughter Eilleen in the back streets and flophouses of Baltimore.

Also in that chapter is the story of foul-mouthed Native American bartender/bar owner Esther who happened to go from running one of the worst seeming bars on skid row to one of the most happening hipster hang-outs downtown. We couldn't help but identify Esther with one of our favorite downtown mavens from Bikini Lounge. An uncanny parallel indeed!

Most of us agreed, we could have skipped the Outsider Porn chapter. But it was a relief, and an intrigue, to learn that John Waters is such an avid reader, and to explore some of his "must-read" books. Far better than anything we've heard described on Oprah's little clubby-club list lately.

It was all fun and games, until we had to vet serious. We talked about how bizarre it was that Waters took his Manson family fandom to the next level and actually befriended Leslie Van Houten. Visiting her regularly in jail, he has taken on her repeated tries for parole as his cause, and writes, seriously about what a beautiful person she is, and how he heartily believes in her reformed self, and hopes for her release.

Lucky for us, Libby is a truly dedicated Waters fan, and she provided a backdrop of his films including Pink Flamingoes, Female Trouble and Desperate Living, so that we had supreme visuals to match our messy discussion. Nothing like raising your eyes up after some serious book-talk to visions of gigantic black lesbian buns rolling around on top of Mink Stole, or a grody cockroach crawling across a bleach-blonde stripper's booty to put you in the true mood to talk John Waters!

  And just so we never forget that a true icon isn't a really icon without his followers, Waters throws in a final chapter urging the brave, militant, freaky, artist fringe to carry on his torch--to become members of the Waters army, to always pay attention to their dress, to live on the edge--the very outskirts of society--to experiment, to go nuts, and, spoken like a true Queen of course, to always wear nice shoes.

We had a very fulfilling frolic in Waters-land, and we're even toying with the idea of a Group Gang-penned letter to Mr. Waters. He's even provided his address for us! (What a nice little freak, indeed!)


So before we go on to our misadventures with Maf the Dog, I propose a toast to Mr. John Waters, King of the Lunatic Fringe, Master of the Baltimore Underground Film Scene--a true entertainer and inspirations to freaky kids everywhere to go and make art.