"The Mushroom"

I have seen the future of American bad-queer hair, and I dub it "the mushroom".

In Berlin I've noticed quite a few queers with this new, just as hard to take, anti-mullet. It consists of a severly lined bowl cut about a third to half way down the head (above ears) with the sides and back shaved to skin. While it does look better on some than others, mostly it looks like Moe of the three stooges with good politics and a pocket full of latex gloves. I predict that Valencia St. will be popping up with mushrooms within six months.

Goddess help us.


P.S.
Two days after I originally posted about the Mushroom I saw this picture hanging in the window of a hair salon, which I first mistook for a theater or bar, in Berlin. Mushrooms for the whole family! Just please, please, spare me.

And another thing......(Blog as Agitprop?)

Speaking of the whole "spread the wed" deal, it is not only my own eternal connubial joy that is at stake here. Oh, no. If it were only lowly I, longing for lissome be-ringed hands to smooth my wrinkle brow (so far there's just the one), my singular nuptial fate resting on your e-whims, well then that would be one thing. A mere trifle, my quest seems perhaps, unworthy of sending a hyper-linked email to your fantastic, smoking-hot, single, whips-and-tentacle-loving lady friend. Yes, me, I would understand, we are all busy people in a difficult world.

But wait! Destiny weaves for the bloggers and blogless alike! Would you dare to cruelly dash the hopes and dreams of my sultry, ravenous, lust-and-domestic-bliss-engorged compatriots!?

I should hope not.

Because you see, Sadie Lune Wants a Wife is bigger than you... Or me... Or my intermittently expansive loneliness... Or perhaps even Valencia Street.

This mission cannot, nay, *mustn't*fail!

You see, already twos and as many as three of my friends have gazed into the future and seen, (oh happy day!), seen the time when SLWaW bears luscious, bottom-shaped fruit. And apparently the day after I secure my wild-eyed wifey, that is when I start selflessly using my Vernian contraption to pimp for them.

Can you hear it? Through the mists of time, the clarion call? Sounding like someone asking for the thousandth time if the dishes are clean or dirty? The cry of SLWaW goes forth on behalf of my comrades, to lure like lemmings to a sweet, pussy-lined cliff, all of the partners and sweeties and perma-dates and husbutches that dance and share and acquiesce and "make it all better" in the dreams of my friends.

Only a body with no heart could abandon this community of love-seekers! Let my kind and tolerant friends sleep not alone! My conjugal triumph spells possibility for the date-less and under-dated! Prove to the world that this is just crazy enough to work! Lend a hand to those asking for one!

Shout it from the rooftops, if you must: A vote for Sadie Lune Wants a Wife is a Vote for Mates for All*!






*(who want them)