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When the lights go out

Pinkyswear

Ah, the lovely summer. Birds chirping in my windows wake me at the wee hours, reminding me that the sun is already shining down at 6am. The flood of anxiety to make the most of this blessed time of year is already upon me, and invitations are pouring in to parties, mixers, and the like. There is so much to celebrate. Pride has everyone excited, including every fortune 500 in town, as they all seem to anxiously spend their dividends on drink for the revelers to prove how valuable or expendable incomes really are. But, this summer has a strange looming cloud, as it will sadly mark the end of an era, and the beginning of another.

At the Golden Gate Business Association, I found myself feeling a little out of place. I was there promoting my favor porn site, NakedSword.com, and was in stark contrast to the Washington Mutual, Esurance, and Active Attire booths that surrounded me. While they offered free magnets and candy with credit card applications and rebate coupons, I was handing the finest in adult eye candy. Needless to say, I was the most popular guy in the bunch. People flocked to me, yet got all bashful and giddy as they shoved the magazines into Sterling bank tote bags, and kept telling me that they didn’t want to offend the ladies. The ladies however, went all gaga for the big dick rag and pointed it out to everyone in the crowd. It was a sight to behold, and made me glow with pride.

Adjacent to the main expo was a strange Gay Marriage expo. Overflowing with flower arrangements, wedding cakes, sample sized Hors’doeuvres and bubbly, the pavilion was a materialistic hell hole that turned my stomach. I got so saddened by the whole thing, because though I am all about equal rights, I just don’t see the point of thousands of gay bride-zillas descending on SF to ruin the fun with their overly aggrandized heteronormativity. Just what I didn’t want to see, and to make it worse Craigslist is filling up with wedding vendors faster than M4M ads. As I handed out my smut magazines, I kept thinking, “what has this community come to?”

As the wedding bonanza mounts, another institution in the gay culture is starting to realize its end. The antithesis of the white wedding is the weekly haunt we all know and love in SF, Trannyshack. It has been sad to see post after post telling us that all our favorites Co-hosts will be doing their last show! It also has raised many questions that I have addressed in my column previously. As the Cheers for Tranny-chasers plays its final episodes, I found myself looking even more critically at what is bound to come of it all at the end of the day.

Talking with my friend Lady Bear about his new Tuesday night club, I found some interesting details. For starters, Heklina is up in arms. She is not thrilled that her protégé has become a hirsute hostess in a rival timeslot, but it only makes sense. After all, every club in towns hopes to take some of that magic, and more importantly some of that money. No one can predict what the next big thing will be, but everyone is saying one thing for certain: Trannyshack is bound to continue to raise its ugly head from the grave!

But how, we gesticulate, will it come to be. There are talks of a monthly Trannyshack at a bigger venue with a bigger cover. But, will this drive away the local crowd that has colored the Trannyshack for the past ten years. Or, is this Heklina’s way to turn her fortune into a new school Beach Blanket Babylon, suitable for the spendy tourist who wants to soak up some culture without slumming it with all those grungy gays. There are some many questions left unanswered, and the prospect is filling its fair share of conversation space.

So in the meantime, who will be the new Grand Dame of the City and rake in those tranny bucks? And more importantly, who will be slaughtered on Friday the 13th at Sleep Away Camp, the House of Salad Horror-dance high concept freak show extravaganza at the Transfer. What is the story with Fred Phelps staying across the bay from San Francisco to protest Tuesday’s gay marriage onslaught, and why isn’t Peaches Christ telling her public the whole truth about Midnight Mass? Well kids, I know the deets, but you won’t hear a peep out of me. As I always say, I have promised to keep my mouth shut, and I never break a Pinkyswear.