Stop all the whining darlings, I'm back! I haven't posted anything in two weeks because I was out of the country, visiting England, which doesn't have the Internet. As you all know, President Al Gore invented the Internet, and when Formerly-Great Britain joined The Coalition of the Hoodwinked and joined Phony President George Bush's Family War Against Iraq, Gore rescinded England's Internet access, and they're having to do without. Also, where I was staying, computers and the Internet are considered "Muggle Stuff," whatever the hell that means. Besides, I didn't take Little Dougie along, despite all his pleading. He's got his stupid new book to promote. (Has he or I mentioned that Little Dougie has just released his new book, The Q Guide to Classic Monster Movies? He has? I might have known. It's not about me, so don't bother buying it.)
In my absence my e-maleslot was stuffed, indeed flooded, with e-males from you, my loyal readers and fans, begging for me to flog you some more. As we approach the anniversary of my starting this flog next week, it seems many of you are addicted to Tallulah. Well, who can blame you? One of those e-males was (Believe it or not) from this month's Studly Hunk of the Month, Vinnie D'Angelo, who writes:
thnx Tallulah,for your continued support and i am glad to hear you enjoy my videos.. i appreciate the sentiment of your award.
vinnie dangelo
I've left Vinnie's punctuation as is. How odd that such a hot masculine top hunk should be so afraid of capital letters. Maybe his mother was frightened by a Big O. Of course, he works in porn, which is full of shifty characters, so maybe he's just terrified of the "Shift" key. But we are glad to have him as a friend of this flog. And he's right about it being a sentimental award; I got all moist choosing Vinnie, which I did personally, with my free hand.
For Halloween I was invited to be a guest lecturer for one week at Hogwart's Academy, a British public school - by which I mean a private school.(The English call their public schools private schools, and their private schools public schools. That's right; their cuisine is not the craziest thing about them.) I assumed I was being asked to teach acting or glamour, something like that, but it turned out I was to be the new Defending The Drunk Arts guest lecturer. Apparently, even in the Old World, I am a recognized authority in The Drunk Arts. As I once said to Luke Skystaggerer, "Luke, you don't know the power of the Drunk Side of the Force." (I was known as Drunk Vader at the time.) My adventures over the last two weeks have been written up by JK Rowling, and will be published and filmed as Harry Potter and the Gobbler of Fire Island. Perhaps now this obscure series will finally have a long-delayed success.
Little Hairy Pothead is 18 now, or as I like to call him, legal. (Actually, in England, the boys are legal at 16, a vastly more sensible system.) So I had no reservations about teaching him some tricks of wand handling that he'd never have thought of on his own. I had him twirling his wand in my vestibule all night long, despite the jealous complaints from Little Ron Weasle. (Which one of us was Ron jealous of? Good question.) And as for mounting Hairy's Firebolt and playing a fast round of Queerditch, I was always up for it, though, when you're as beloved by gay men and gay ex-husbands as I am, Queerditching is harder than usual. Fortunately, Hairy was able to catch the little snitch before he told on us.
But you all know already who really lured me to Hogwart's, don't you? How could I resist the siren call of perhaps The Sexiest Man in Britain (Admittedly, that's not a large field of competitors.), the man who rings my chimes and stirs my potions, namely that total dreamboat, that unbelievable hunk of man with the Best Hair on Earth, Severus Snape. The man teaches "Potions," a.k.a. Mixology. That's right. Snape is the Hogwart's bartender!
Oh Severus, Severus, your hands can make me do anything, and your potions can make me look like it's 1919 once again. Darlings, if you're ever invited on a Snape Hunt, go. The rewards are incredible!
Here I am with my three favorite pupils, Hairy, Ron, and that little know-it-all bitch, What's-her-Name, listening to the fabulous stories of the divine Maggie Smith, a former pupil of mine. The children all look so rapt because Maggie is describing a relaxing weekend getaway in 1966, the first time she was "spit-roasted" by Sir Ralph Richardson (Head) and Lord Laurence Olivier (Rear, as usual.), while Noel Coward watched and took notes, even as he himself was being divinely assaulted from behind by Joe Orton. As this picture was snapped, What's-Her-Name was asking "But why 'Sanchez'? Was he famous for being unclean or something?"
Here's Maggie and I at the Hogwart's Halloween Ball, during the Ladies Choice, dancing The Mephisto Waltz. That witch is all-hands, and she's capable of magically growing several additional ones.
But a big disappointment awaited me at Hogwart's. I had hoped to meet my favorite wizard (Apart from Gandalf of course. We've been keeping it quiet, but Gandalf has given me a ring. He must be gay.), Vodkamort, The Drunk Lord. No one knows more about The Drunk Arts than Vodkamort. As a boy, his name was Tom Diddle, and the only thing I like more than being diddled, is being diddled drunk.
But it seems that The Drunk Lord got himself a job stateside, and isn't to be found lurking about the secret chambers of Hogwart's anymore. He's in Washington DC.
Yes, that's right, Vodkamort, The Evil Lord of Drunkness, has been Vice President of the United States for 7 years now. That's his Magical Martini Glass in his claw. No wonder the fake president can't speak a coherent sentence off the top of his head. English is at least his second language, if that, but he's fluent in Parceltongue.
Now, at last, Bush's war on Islamic Muggles in Iraq, the destruction of the American economy, the endless administration scandals, the Presidential aides getting suspended sentences for Treason, the rape of the environment, the wave of Republican officials looking for sex in men's toilets (Because perhaps it's the only place they'll ever have a chance of scoring?), and even the shooting of Harry Whittington in the face, all make sense. The Drunk Lord of Evil has been running the American government for 7 years now, through President Wormtail, and White House Chief of Staff Karl Malfoy.
So I'm home again in Morehead Heights, via floo powder, remembering fondly my snorkeling lessons when it was Hairy's bath time. If you're awaiting the release of The Order of the Phoneix on DVD next month, I can save you some time and money. I was there. Phoenix ordered a Manahttan. Now there's an order that spans the country.
Cheers darlings.
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