The Last Train to Siskville

One of my most fiercely loyal and obsessive reader/fans, a Mr. Keith Sisk, of Siskville, North Carolina, sent me this lovely photo a couple days ago. He took it in Siskville, the town where he lives, which has, coincidentally, a quite similar name to his. I must say, no disrespect to the citizens of Siskville except for the disrespectful ones, since they clearly have tremendously good taste given how I've been held over, but their town looks a bit plastic to me. Frankly, Disneyland looks more genuine.

Quite oddly, Little Keith says that Siskville is reachable only by train. Rather insultingly, he says you can only get there by his HO Trains. Now I've been called a Ho many, many times over the years, and it's only seldom been a compliment. See F. Emmett Knight's comments re: "The Whore of Babylon" in my posting Marry Me a Little below. The fact is that charges of my being a "Ho" are greatly exaggerated. I have never charged for it in my life.

It's even odder to call a train a "Ho," since, let's face it, the train generally goes into the tunnel. The tunnel never goes into the train. So whatever Keith meant by calling his trains HOs, I can't imagine. On the other hand, you do pay to ride them, so maybe they're hustlers.

Still odder, he says the trains into Siskville are "Electric Trains." I was unaware that there were any electric trains in America. I thought you could only find electrically powered trains in backward Europe, where Diesel trains have yet to be invented, although there are no shortage of Diesel Dykes, particularly in lovely Holland, where no visit is complete if you don't spend some time with your finger in a dyke, or, if your hands are full, your tongue.

I was also a bit puzzled to see that the movie advertised as being held over in Siskville is My Lush Life. To the best of my admittedly hazy memories, I never appeared in a movie with that title, though I did write an autobiography, beloved the world over (More than 70 copies have sold in Britain alone - 1 more - which I believe makes it their all-time, number one best seller. Eat your heart out, Charles Dickens!), titled My Lush Life.

I wrote to little Keith and asked him about this, and he responded that the movie My Lush Life is, in fact, a documentary about my career, full of clips from my 90 feature films. I have never seen this picture myself, and would love to see it, if someone could send me a print or DVD.

But in any event, it is certainly nice to know that the people of Siskville, North Carolina, love me so much that they have held me over. Further, as I can see from the posters adorning Siskville's many civic buildings, they have placed me on a pedestal, fortunately a shallow one, as I am a tad unsteady on my feet at times, and to tumble off a higher pedestel could land me in a bed beside Liza Minnelli, needing a new hip. And no one wants to end up in a bed next to Liza.

So thank you, Little Keith, for this lovely glimpse at how my cult of fans are still alive and unwell. Let this be a challenge to the rest of you to find your own ways of demonstrating your unhealthy obsessions with me, and send me the photographic proof, to share with the world.

Oh, one other little matter, concerning My Official Portrait Artist, the talented and lovely (And I mean lovely, darlings. He is adorable. I'd be all over him like stupid on President Dubya if he weren't the merest whisper of a homosexual.) Glen Hanson, who created the gorgeous portrait of me that graces my profile on this flog, as well as the covers of my book. Little hair-challenged Glen has a new book out this week, titled Chelsea Boys, Steppin' Out!, written and drawn with his professional partner Allan Neuwirth. It's a collection of their lovely, hilarious comic strip, about three Merest Whispers sharing an apartment in New York City, having gay adventures, so clearly it's science fiction because let's face it; there are no actual gay people in New York. The world of Broadway Theater is utterly incompatible with Sodomites. In any event, no living room is complete without a copy of Chelsea Boys, Steppin' Out!, or better yet three. It's the perfect Christmas Gift for all the little homos on your shopping list, like, for instance, your personal shoppers. While you're at it, check out his website: Glen Hanson.com

Cheers, darlings.