Tarhearted.

HIPSTER OF THE DECADE.

Please go to Gawker and vote for my beloved Kari Ferrell, the hipster grifter, as Hipster of the Decade. Kari deserves to win. She is the hipste rto end all hipsters, and super glamorous to boot. This is important!

Also, I'm sad to say that I used to semi hang out with TWO of the people on this list in my wilder, more glamorous early twenties.

MARY WORONOV INTERVIEW.

Swoon.

This interview only cements Mary Woronov's place as one of my favorite people of all time. It's also nice to see somebody else who feels the same way I do about acting.

Read it.

"Bouncy Bouncy?" Hilarious.

Also, she's not kidding. She is a really good painter:

JULIE BROWN RETROSPECTIVE.

I'm not talking about that annoying English "downtown" Julie Brown with a face like a foot. I'm talking about red headed Julie Brown of Just Say Julie, the greatest MTV show ever, and of hit films such as Earth Girls Are Easy. This one:

I don't know why, but I've been missing Julie a lot lately. I was obsessed with her as a little boy, and even had her record, Trapped in the Body of a White Girl, which contained instant hits like "I Like 'Em Big and Stupid" and "The Homecoming Queen's Got a Gun."

Apparently, the real Miss Julie got her start in gay clubs. No surprise there. The ego maniacal valley girl character she created for herself was practically a drag queen. And everybody knows the gays are early arbiters of cool (except for approximately half of Americans, who are retarded and don't matter anyway.)

Julie is now on a Canadian soap opera, but it's my new dream to write a play for her. She would be PERFECT for my writing. The above picture feels like a production shot from a Conkel play already. Maybe she could star in the Broadway production of my new play, The Sluts of Sutton Drive.

Let's revisit the magic of Just Say Julie. Shall we?

HOUSE OF THE DEVIL.

I know I have weird obsessions and bizarre aesthetic tastes when it comes to movies (or anything.) That's why I was surprised to see that so many of them had been compiled into one movie, House of the Devil. Everything about it is candy for my senses.

Sam (Jocelin Donahue) is a pretty college sophomore, so desperate to earn some cash for a deposit on an apartment that she accepts a babysitting job even after she finds out there is no baby. Mr. and Mrs. Ulman (cult actors Tom Noonan and... oh my God... Mary Woronov!) are the older couple who lure Sam out to their creeky Victorian mansion deep in the woods, just in time for a total lunar eclipse. Megan (Greta Gerwig) is Sam's best friend, who gives her a ride out to the house, and reluctantly leaves her there despite suspecting that something is amiss. Victor (AJ Bowen) at first seems like just a creepy guy lurking around the house, but quickly makes it clear that Sam will end this night in a bloody fight for her life...

Did you get that? Mary Woronov! She's one of my all-time favorite actors and is in so many or may favorite movies: Rock n' Roll High School, Eating Raoul, Death Race 2000, Rock n' Roll High School Forever etc. And there's also a cameo by Dee Wallace! Awesome!

What the synopsis fails to mention is that the film take place in 1982 and the shots and cinematography take great pains to recreate that era of horror film, which has always been my favorite. (In my opinion, horror was at it's best between 1974 and 1984, give or take a few years.) If I didn't know the movie was made this year I would swear it was a lost classic straight from 82.

Here is a list of things that are beautiful about House of the Devil:

1. Mary Woronov

2. There's a scene where the two teen girls, in beautiful high waisted jeans, drive around in a Volvo singing to the Greg Kihn Band's "Breakup Song." One of them has bleached out Farrah hair and chain smokes a lot. That's beautiful.

(Greg's shirt totally gives me a boner, by the way.)

3. The main character, alone in a totally creepy house, orders a pizza, puts on head phones, and dances around the house with "One Thing Leads to Another" by The Fixx blasting in her ears.

4. I don't know why, and much to James' bewilderment, I'm sure, I like my horror movies slow, slow, slow. Halloween, Don't Look Now, Rosemary's Baby, The Shining, Black Christmas. I guess it just leaves more time for gorgeous wallpaper, and inane conversations between nasty teenagers, and bell bottomed women to taking angst ridden walks down wind blown streets. This movie is like that.

5. Satanism. Glamorous, glamorous Satanism! What can I say? I'm obsessed with America's obsession with Satanism circa 1960s-1980s. Say You Love Satan is a must read, if you haven't. By the way, I'm an atheist, but if worshipping Satan meant I could have an apartment in The Dakota a la Rosemary's Baby, I'd be drugging your chocolate mousse as I write this. I love you, but I love a pre war classic six even more. Hail Satan!

6. The tagline is: Talk on the phone. Finish your homework. Watch TV. DIE! Just try to write a better tagline. I dare you.

7. Dee Wallace mother fucking Stone.

Enough said.

Everybody is gaga over the end of this movie, which for me was just fine. I actually loved the whole build up more than the explosive final fifteen minutes, but that's often the case with me.

In closing, this film contains all the glamour and magic of a Halloween themed Sweet Valley High novel.

 

Anyway, rent it now or continue having a life that's awful.

PLEASE DON'T KILL ME. IT'S A HATE CRIME.

The Bea Arthur estate left $300,000 dollars to the Ali Fornay center, which helps homeless LGBT kids. This is reason number eleventy-billion that Bea was a hep, hep chick. Thank you for being a friend, Bea. You make me want to do The Urkel.

In other gay news, the Matthew Shepard and James Byrd, Jr. Hate Crimes Prevention Act became law today. Hooray! Hopefully the law might help prevent more gay dudes being beaten to death and left for dead, or dissuade white supremacists from dragging a black guy from the back of their truck.

I've never understood why some people don't feel hate crime laws are necessary (bigots aside.) It's no surprise of course that these people, in general, are not minorities and thusly don't spend a large portion of their time watching their backs, but that's neither here nor there. A crime is a crime, right? Violence is violence? Not so much. When you murder a dude you're committing a crime against him. When you murder a black dude because he's black, you're actually committing a symbolic crime against the entire black community. You're sending a messgae that all black people are deserving of murder. It's a form of terrorism.

THE BITCH IS BACK.

Oh my god you guys, I am fagging out.

The BBC aired the first episode of... are you ready for this?... Joan Collins Does Glamour. I know, right? How was this not already a show? How is this not on 24 hours a day? Check it out:

I hope she slaps peopel and  pushes people into pools and stuff. God, I can't WAIT. If this isn't on BBC America when I get home, somebody will pay dearly. 

MORE NOSTALGIA.

Rainy days always get me down.

Today I wish I were at home watching my Season One box set of 227. God, I could use some Jackee right about now.

And then I found this:

THE HIPSTER GRIFTER.

I don't know why I didn't write about Kari Ferrell aka "the hipster grifter" when it was all the buzz a few months ago. I certainly had an interest. I was following the whole thing quite closely, actually, and would update The Boyfriend with all the latest developments on a regular basis.

I suppose it might be because all the coverage was so negative. Of course it was. She is a "hipster" which we're supposed to disdain, right? (Even though nearly everybody I know who hates hipsters actually is one.) Also, and more to the point, she swindled lots of people out of lots of money. So... um... that's bad.

The thing is, I really, really like her. I know! I can't help it though. Is it so wrong of me? People like Bonnie and Clyde, don't they? Billy the Kid? So maybe it's just natural for me to find an outlaw like Kari appealing. Maybe it's the under dog in me who also not-so-secretly thinks it would be hilarious to pretend to have an Ivy League MFA. (I still think that's an awesome idea, by the way. I apologized for getting sidetracked, not for my original point. And now I'm sidetracked again! Gah!) Also, Kari introduced me to two awesome sayings:

1. I want to give you a hand job with my mouth.

2. Throw a hot dog down my hallway.

She's like the tranny teens who were mugging people outside of an upscale Greenwich Village apartment building a few months ago and using the profits to buy wigs and makeup. In a word, AWESOME. Call me tarhearted, but I hope she gets everything she ever wanted and more. The street fags have a saying, and I would like to apply this saying to Kari.

"Get it, girl."

You can write to the woman herself while she's in prison, and I'm seriously considering it. It's unkind to make a hipster live in Utah. Cruel and unusual punishment! Write to Kari at:

K. Ferrell Inmate SO#: 295558
Salt Lake Correctional Facility
3415 South 900 West
Salt Lake City, UT 84119

WITCHBOARD.

The Boyfriend and I were watching the Chiller network last night when an old favorite came on. I used to rent Witchboard from the Safeway by my house when I was kid, and can remember thinking that Tawny Kitane was about the most sophisticated and glamorous woman I could imagine. Couple that with my life long obsession with Ouija boards and you've got a Conkel favorite.

Oh my god, this movie is so much better as an adult. The cast is out to lunch, the script is retarded, and the whole thing feels like it was put together by a closeted homo. (It obsesses over Tawny's various outfits and keeps the two male leads shirtless throughout.) There is some wonderful photography of Lee press-on nails on ouija boards though, so there's that. Also, a new wave dyke psychic! Everybody wins!

I got inspired some took screen shots, but for technical reasons can't post them right now. I'm really sad that i wasn't fast enough to capture the amazing hat, pashmina, and onesy that Tawny Kitane wears to a funeral, but I'm only human. This is very distressing. I wanted to created a photo essay so that the whole world  could see what a  beautiful film it is, but it'll have to wait. In the mean time, please enjoy the trailer:

I promise that a photo essay is forthcoming.

QUEER HUMOUR

The Boyfriend sent me this video, which is pretty much the most hilarious thing I've seen this week. (WARNING: super not safe for work.)

Sometimes I feel like it's wrong to laugh at things like this. My writing too, contains dialogue and themes that some would find unbelievably offensive. I suppose I'm too inside of it, because I'm always sincerely shocked- SHOCKED- that anybody would find my sense of humor offensive.

I was catching a train with a heterosexual and super liberal friend once and we were discussing different neighborhoods in the city when i said I wouldn't go to a certain neighborhood for fear of being "Matthew Shepherd-ed." Okay, it's not guffaw funny, but I don't think it's hideously offensive either. I was making light of a very real and legitimate fear I felt. My immediate thought was "oops, I've offended my friend," but then that gave way to something else. "Wait a minute, " I thought, "I'm the one who's fearful. I'm the one without my civil rights here." And then I thought, "Fuck it. I can say whatever I feel like saying."

As another example, I was with a group of friends discussing what their nicknames were in high school. When it got to me, without missing a beat, I responded "faggot". Nobody laughed. I thought it was funny.

I guess my question is this: is offensive humour a part of queer culture? Do queer people become funny as a defense mechanism or a survival tactic? Is the collective queer threshold for dark comedy wider because of a lifetime full of abuses? If you consider the popularity of John Waters, Margaret Cho, Absolutely Fabulous, Charles Busch, and Sarah Silverman, I would say that it is. Because if it isn't, well... then I'm just an asshole.

Hopefully though I'm just carrying on a tradition.