2001-06-05 - 9:56 p.m.
I couldn�t come up with a proper entry today, so I got out one of these books full of writing exercises I bought years ago during my quest to become a Serious Writer of Serious Literature for Serious People (a quest which eventually ended because I wasn�t interested in writing incest-survivor sagas or 1,000-page descriptions of what I had for breakfast and thus would never be taken seriously by the lit community ... not that I�m bitter or anything) and opened it at random. The exercise I opened to is such a cliche, it hurts, but whatthefuck:
"You�re having a dinner party. Which ten famous people--not friends--living or dead, would you invite, and why?"
I ruled out dead people right away. They make lousy party guests--they don�t talk, they smell, and the cat won�t quit chewing on their legs during dinner. You can't use the think-of-the-starving-children-in-Ethiopia gambit to guilt-trip them into eating their Brussels sprouts either.
Most of the living aren�t much better. I have zero patience with most people, celebrities especially. Actors are boring. Athletes are dumb. Rock stars and politicians are full of themselves. That leaves me with writers, directors, musicians who aren�t stars, and people who are famous just because they�re famous, and even they�re dull as Tucson on a Sunday night.
After much thought, however, I�ve come up with the perfect guest list--one guaranteed to make for scintillating conversation as well as Machiavellian backstabbing and outright violence. I bumped the number up to 12, because with me that makes 13, and I spit in the face of superstition. And since I believe in the old adage, "keep your friends close and your enemies closer," these are also the prime candidates for board membership on the super-secret international organization of evil I�ll be forming very soon.
To my immediate left at the banquet table (I�m thinking the Hotel Del Coronado--it�s nice there and, being in San Diego, they�re used to freaks with bad table manners), I�ll have ...
John Waters. I�m reading Shock Value and remembering all over again why I love this man. Granted, it�s a risk having him present at any gathering where food is served (one big reason I�m not making it a potluck) but what�s a party without some risk? Just to be a troublemaker, I�d seat John Waters right next to ...
Arianna Huffington. She�s beautiful, she�s evil, and she brings a hint of Zsa Zsa to every room she enters.
P.J. O�Rourke. Because every gathering needs a token conservative, and at least P.J. is funny and can hold his liquor. I�m sure he and Arianna will have a lot to talk about.
Cynthia Plaster Caster. The groupie who achieved minor celebrityhood in the 1960s by making plaster replicas of rock stars� genitals. Apparently she�s still doing it--but she�d better leave Marilyn Manson�s dick at home. I don�t care how much John Waters wants her to bring it.
Scott Thompson as Queen Elizabeth. Ask Lyndon LaRouche--what international conspiracy of evil would be complete without a member of the Royal Family? I would have preferred Princess Diana, but she�s dead. Anyway, I�m sure Scott and Cynthia will have a lot to talk about too.
Molly Ivins. Because she�s wicked funny and knows where Dubya�s brains are buried.
Kevin Smith. Because he makes good fucking movies and no doubt has an awesome comic book collection. I want to hear what Molly and the director of Dogma have to say when they get to ragging on Shrub�s faith-based charities proposal.
Courtney Love. As I said before, it�s not a party without a little danger. I figure if anyone is going to get physically abusive before dessert is served, it�s Courtney--all someone has to do is ask her, "So, is it really true that you had Kurt murdered?" For that, my money�s on ...
Al Franken. The guy named a whole goddamn decade after himself! I can�t help but love him. Plus, as Arianna�s arch-nemesis, he�ll keep her on her toes and prevent her from marshalling enough support for a coup somewhere down the line.
Susie Bright. Every dinner party needs an ueber-butch lesbian dom. How else are you going to make sure everyone uses the correct fork and keeps their elbows off the table?
Speedo of Rocket from the Crypt. The only rock singer I�ve ever met who isn�t an asshole. He�s like Elvis crossed with Caine in "Kung Fu"--if Courtney acts up and starts assaulting the other guests, Speedo can take her down with a few well-placed kicks and put the smiles back on all our faces with a song afterwards.
Emma Thompson. Why? Because I think she�s hot, and smart, and witty, that�s why. Of course, after dinner Susie and I will have to arm-wrestle over who gets to take her home, but I�m ready.
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