I suppose I should be out this weekend doing something appropriate for New York Pride, like throwing free Madonna concert tickets from a parade float or sprinkling talcum powder on a dance floor.
Last night, however, as I was falling asleep reading a collection of Melville's nonfiction (sad, but true), TRex at Firedoglake excerpted my post mocking the National Review's fundraising campaign, and, suddenly, I have an audience. So, instead of concert tickets, I'll throw virtual candy and a belated, hearty welcome to all the Firedoglakians.
Speaking of Pride, I'm happy to see that performer Kevin Aviance has recovered enough from a recent gay-bashing attack to attend the festivities tomorrow. In a previous life, on my very first trip to Miami over a decade ago, Kevin was kind enough to be my guide through the highlights (and, er, a few low points) of the then-burgeoning South Beach after-hours club scene. His notoriously bitchy stage persona was belied by the fact that he was a gracious and unassuming (if frenetic) host. Like thousands of other New Yorkers, I wish him well.