The Club.

Andre The Giant

André the Giant had a daughter and at least two serious girlfriends. But then again, he was close to 7 and a half feet tall and weighed about a quarter of a ton, and never really paid much attention to his sideburns…which explains a lot.

Ludwig van Beethoven wrote a whole bunch of music instead of doing it.

So did Johannes Brahms.

James Buchanan, our 15th U.S. President, got close, but his (ex) fiancé gobbled up too much laudanum and killed herself.

George Washington Carver, Wilt Chamberlain, Eugène Delacroix, Matt Dillon, George Eastman, Leonardo da Vinci, Anthony Michael Hall, J. Edgar Hoover, and Langston Hughes.

But Hoover was an angry faggot, and Wilt got too much nookie to do it. I can’t really say much about the rest.

George Clooney did it for a heartbeat, but has sworn he’ll never do it again.

Ron Jeremy, Anthony Kiedis, Matthew McConaughey, Jim Nabors, Ralph Nader, Isaac Newton, Nietzsche, Jeremy Piven, Plato, Ravel, and Cliff Richard.

Cesar Romero was the first and best Joker…even better than Nicholson, but let’s see how he fares against Heath Ledger.

Rick Rubin, Nipsey Russell, Jean-Paul Sartre, Franz Schubert, Philip Seymour Hoffman, and Baruch de Spinoza.

Then there’s Nicola Tesla, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Vincent van Gogh, Luther Vandross, Vivaldi, Voltaire, and The Wright Brothers.

Funny how I’m all about the first blog of 2008 being my marital status, which is the same as all the fellahs I’ve just mentioned: nil.

Maybe Chris Rock — who’s been married over a decade — said it best: married and bored, or single and lonely.

Sometimes it’s tough to come off as a straight, middle aged dude who’s never been married and is just fine ‘n dandy with it. It’s always tough to come off as a middle aged dude who’s bachelor and straight.

No Way Am I Gay!

Neither is Al Pacino, Billy Idol, Drew Carey, Gene Simmons, or Vin Diesel.

I’m not sure about Kevin Spacey or Quentin Tarantino. I’d say Tatantino is straight, and I bet Spacey’s bi.

I’m willing to bet large amounts of money that Carl Lewis and Ricky Martin, are, in fact, totally gay.

Does anyone really know about Morrissey? He ain’t hitched yet, either. He’s also celibate. Then he’s asexual. Then he’s straight. Then he ain’t tellin’. And didn’t he say something about Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others? And does that have anything at all to do with Morrissey’s sexual preferences…or what I’m blogging about?

Why not really digress?

I used to eat a lot at House of Pies, in LA, which is right down the street from Glen Danzig’s old house. One day I was very excited about eating breakfast for dinner there, cause I’m all about Breakfast For Dinner, and then topping it all off with a beautiful piece of strawberry creme pie, which House of Pies is known for; but alas, House of Pies was closed that night, because the health department shut them down after finding a whole lotta bugs in their kitchen.

I wonder if Morrissey was as bummed as I was, cause, word has it, he loves House of Pies as much as I do…or once did.

For all the times I ate at House Of Pies, I never saw Morrissey there…not once.


I’d walk into House of Pies always keeping an eye out for him, though.

What would you say to Morrissey if you saw him at House of Pies? Introduce yourself as a fan? Try and say something clever? Or funny? Or funny and clever? Do you comment on his choice of yummy House of Pies fare? Maybe recommend the Strawberry Creme pie? If he’s at the counter, do you sit next to him and just pretend not to know who he is…and just observe, like a coy, creepy stalker?

How about you’re sitting at the counter next to Morrissey, pretending not to know who he is, when suddenly his cell phone rings, and it was Johnny Marr!

Recommending the outstanding pie to Morrissey would be a really dumb move, cause everyone who eats at House of Pies knows how good all the pies are — not just the Strawberry Creme.

Plus, it’s called House of Pies. Duh.

I’m a bachelor, and I’ve never been married, but I got close once or twice — and there’s some nights I go to bed lonely, but there’s a whole lotta nights I go to bed happy as a clam.

Which, of course, is a cliché.

And what about The House of Pies? I haven’t been back since they were shut down, but I pay attention: after reopening, they were given a “C” by the Health Department…then, a few weeks later, an “A”, and since then, it’s been up and down for The House of Pies.

Would Morrissey ever eat at a “C” rated restaurant?

I know Cherry Poppens won’t, cause she told me.

As for me, well…I suppose, in the end, it depends how hungry I am.


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