On Why Didn't You Tell Me About Chooching?
On this subject, I recommend listening to Kunt and The Gang's composition "Wanking Over A Pornographic Polaroid Of An Ex-Girlfriend Who Died."
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On Sarah Palin's Book Might Be A Little Self-Serving
I'm super late with this, and it belonged in the Oprah-appearance liveblog comments anyway, but still: I appreciate Palin's bungled shout-out to I Love You You're Perfect Now Change. (Warning: link will autoplay crap showtune!)
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On Difficult Listening Hour, with Seth Colter Walls: I Let You Touch Me Every Now And Then: Last Chance for Isabelle Huppert in 'Quartett' at BAM; First Chance for Annie's 'My Love is Better'
Yeah so there was a revival of the Wilson staging of Einstein in 1984 at BAM. There were some differences from the original mounting of the production, but most of the same people were involved, and generally speaking it was the same show.
I guess it's possible that you are 25 years old or younger, but even so, the 1976 premier was not the "sole" New York staging. Unless Brooklyn isn't in New York.
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On Literary Vices, with Rudolph Delson: Spiro Agnew, NSFW
No, SERIOUSLY, I need to know what the Automobile Position is. Can gays do it? Have I been missing out?
If you google "automobile position sex" the first result is... this blog post. There's also this. Which doesn't help. I must know!
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On Burroughs and Ginsberg: Literary Heroes and Totally Gross Sex Predators
"The Love that dare not speak its name" in this century is such a great affection of an elder for a younger man as there was between David and Jonathan, such as Plato made the very basis of his philosophy, and such as you find in the sonnets of Michelangelo and Shakespeare. It is that deep, spiritual affection that is as pure as it is perfect. It dictates and pervades great works of art like those of Shakespeare and Michelangelo, and those two letters of mine, such as they are. It is in this century misunderstood, so much misunderstood that it may be described as the "Love that dare not speak its name," and on account of it I am placed where I am now. It is beautiful, it is fine, it is the noblest form of affection. There is nothing unnatural about it. It is intellectual, and it repeatedly exists between an elder and a younger man, when the elder man has intellect, and the younger man has all the joy, hope and glamour of life before him. That it should be so the world does not understand. The world mocks at it and sometimes puts one in the pillory for it. (Loud applause, mingled with some hisses.)