ROYAL RESIDENCE 21 ================================================================= THE ROYAL RESIDENCE ================================================================= [ You can write to me at and not at the address at head of this post or letter. If you are receiving this article as email, please report technical problems to Bradley Chapman, Royal Male Man at . ] This is episode 21. More and more I am cast in the part of chronicler, not instigator. I feel it is somehow dishonest to continue the series when it is my loyal subjects who perpetrate most of this madness and not I. But when there isn't a new rant gone out for a week or two, the Royal Maleman calls me up to say you are all whining and need your fix, so here goes. I guess the hottest news is, Doreen Louise stopped in at the steam room in the Y where she works out three times a week. She saw a naked man in there playing with his peepee. Evidently he wanted her to play with it, too, and to let him play with hers. She was shocked that people acted like that in a YMCA facility. HELLO, girlfren. You shouldda been here when the notorious Embarcadero Y was in full swing -- which is to say there were faggots swinging from the chandeliers and every uncovered cock. It got so bad they had to make the fire stair doors out-only to cut down on the traffic from floor to floor. The legit customers weren't getting any sleep what with the screeches of delight all night. "Visit San Fagsissyko and stay at the Young Men's Cocksucking Association on the waterfront". This time I managed to get copies of the two free weekly newspapers before the bums grab them all for bedding. The SF Weekly competes with the more established Bay Guardian. They are both good papers; they hate Willie Brown. Willie Brown is our fancy-pants Mayor who wears US$3000 suits, fedoras of equal quality, is a shameless schmoozer of power- brokers and an expert corporate asskisser. When this fop was Speaker of the Assembly in the state legislature at Sacramento he shamelessly filled his war chest with money from tobacco conglomerates and such other undoers of the People. He has done nothing for the people who actually live in this City. They are now distributing RECALL WILLIE buttons at the Castro MUNIserable subway station. The problems this town has are fast becoming as ingrained as those of a chicago and may now be as difficult to cure. The corruption is much the same; only the ethnicities fighting over the pie scraps are different. Mikey the Hettie says the Filipinos are pushing out the Hyphenated-Americans from the MUNI transportation power structure. This unrest mirrors a similar movement among the peoples of Oakland, across the Bay. Oakland, AKA "Wes' Dee-troyt", has been largely poor and black on the east end for two generations. San Francisco's Chinatown and the downtown areas (such as the Tenderloin) are spreading out and putting pressure on the traditionally black neighs. In Oakland, which has its own traditional Chinatown) the Asians are spreading east. Those upon whom the pressure is placed are retaliating there by burning down Asian-owned businesses. In SF, the Asians are lately expanding southeast into the Bayview/Hunters Point area near Candlestick Park. For their audacity, the old guard in these neighs are breaking into newcomer dwellings and beating the crap out of the newbies. SF's Housing Authority has already been taken over by HUD because the political cronies running it are grossly incompetent. We're not sure, but we don't see HUD making much improvement either. Maybe they should burn the "projects" down and just start over -- or put everybody below a certain annual income from honest-to-Glub work into cattle cars and dump them in the middle of Kansas. "Yo! Moms! -- we ain't in Californee no mo'..." I was stupefied to find a short article in the SF Weekly which hit close to home. It's a recommendation in their annual list of best things about the City-- BEST NORMA DESMOND IMPRESSION Cafe du Nord 2170 Market @ Sanchez Bop on down to the Cafe du Nord any Tuesday, Friday or Saturday and be sure to order a Campari and Soda from waiter Michael Wagner. [You know him as Mr Cheez.] At the very mention of Campari, Wagner's eyes grow large and piercing; his cheeks cave, accentuating already well-formed cheek bones; his chin juts out with girlish cunning; and his sashay becomes ... well, seeing is believing. If the bartenders can get past giggling, you might just get your cocktail -- unless you're a goth, of course. We found out they got everything wrong in the paper but we are going to work it. The person who really does the Norma Desmond thing ("I am ready for my close-up, Mr DeMille...") is a waiter named Sable. Mr Cheez is a doorman/bouncer. Sable is livid at this misidentification in the manner and to the degree only a true male bitch on wheels can be. The Concubine, Mr Cheez's male live-in, hates Sable whom he calls The Princess. Sable is The Princess because we all know who Da Kaween is, don't we...? Mr Cheez and I worked up this coupon deal for the club-- CAFE DU NORD 2170 Market near Sanchez Echange this card for a Campari and soda at half price and toast Michael for me. NORMA SF Weekly's Best of '97 says of Michael, "BEST NORMA DESMOND IMPRESSION" This offer expires 31 July 1997 Do you see how beside himself Sable is going to be when he gets wind of this deal? (if the boss goes for it?) Sable already wants to start digging out eyes and twisting off nuts. Mr Cheez and I tried a Vietnamese restaurant at Sixth and Market Streets which has the reputation of being cheap and good. It is cheap and good but not cheap and excellent. The bill for two was under coffee shop meal range. It's next door to a well-regarded but equally tacky burrito hive. I think they share some kitchen and clean-up space. The downside was that we could hear the of the mariachi music through the wall. The revealing side is that there was a dozen or so Spanish- speaking neighborhood types in the Vietnamese part. On our way up hill to the Royal Residence, I saw a newspaper rack offering the usual assortment of titty rags plus one which appeared to be a patriotic pub of some sort until I looked more closely. It is also a sex paper. The name of it certainly goes directly to the point: Yank, Vol 1 No 17. The Concubine has been selling "Tony's Famous" chocolate chip and oatmeal cookies at du Nord and doing quite well. What with the freaks parade coming Sunday, he is madly slaving his tits over a hot oven making 400 cookies to hustle up and down the street to the spectators. The cookies go for a buck each, so he stands to make a nice piece of change. Mrs Fields, watch out. The San Francisco Gay, Lesbian and Transgendered Celebration has become so politicized and fractionated that it now includes contingents from every form of freakdom imaginable. It still starts off with the Dykes on Bikes. Why are these women all uglier than most milch cows and why do they have udders to match? I'm sure clothiers make bras and blouses which would support and cover this sickening display. The lesbian presence is as heavy as the aroma of raw fish in Chinatown yet the womyn are not satisfied. They will be having a dyke parade on the eve of the big parade. The big parade on Sunday uses Market Street, the main drag through Downtown and the Financial district. The festival booths, political screeching, and the queer merchandising will go on at the Embarcadero at the foot of Market Street. If Harry Bridges and all those macho stevedores he led in revolt in the 30s could see what's become of their beloved waterfront -- well, I'll bet even Buzzard is twirling in his grave, though I think Buzzard was on our side of the bulkhead. The dyke parade Saturday evening will begin on the end of 16th Street in the Castro district (we have to show those silly dickhead pantywaists who's really boss). It will go to Mission Street where they may succeed in striking fear in the hearts of the lowriders and their molls. But I bet this clambake comes apart at Valencia Street, a block ahead. If you were a muffdiver, could you resist such establishments as Red Dora's Saloon, Leather Tongue Video, The Bearded Lady, and Good Vibrations (the famous dildo parlor)? Mr Cheez says they will get wild at the corner of 17th and Lexington Streets where there is a new, hot, dyke bar called -- what else? -- The Lexington. The Licking Tongue is more like it. Poor Mr Cheez. He has to be doorman at the club tonight and they're having a dykefest. The Emcee will be the famous Fairy Butch Bitch -- and that's MIZZ Fairy Butch Bitch to YOU, hettie suckah! I asked if she was petite/cute dyke or-- Mr Cheez said this one is big fat cow butch bitch what put the 'ugh' in ughly. The show they're putting on is called Quiver. The lady across the hall from Queen Alexander and I is very proud of her diagnosis as Paranoid Schizophrenic. She tells everybody about it. I think most days she remembers to take her medicine ... most days. The other night there was a commotion in the hall. Elvira hit the emergency button in her room. Then she called 911 -- four times. Elvira said a man came into her room. The man allegedly played with her vagina. (We know only that the man came into her room and not whether he came.) If this assault did indeed take place, the man was truly desperate for companionship. ================================================================= Pee First, By the Grace of Glub Queen of Alt.Tasteless ======================================================== So saith the Liturgist, So saith the Queen: Go forth and be Tasteless, you cunts! ======================================================== Reply to: pauless@sirius.com www.sirius.com/~pauless/index.html <--one of these days