Talk of the Town - Party politics November 18 2000

Just when I was about to settle into boredom and discontent at the lack of luster this millennial age has so far delivered, here comes election 2000, restoring my belief that politics can not only frustrate but amuse. I won’t point any fingers or address specifics, but damn, if we can’t laugh at ourselves and our potential leaders, then we’d probably be Bush or Gore.
Or perhaps Harry Brown, the Libertarian Party candidate for president who held his election party at the Fox Theatre on Nov. 7. A modest crowd of staunch supporters partied with Brown until about 11 p.m. when it was evident that he would not be winning the election. As the party waned, CNN polls showed that he hadn’t even gotten 1 percent of the vote in Georgia. That didn’t seem to bother guests who stood in line, waiting to meet the white-haired, gentlemanly candidate. While local band the Five Who Framed O.J. played “old standards” such as “Jesse’s Girl” and “Lose Your Love,” Walt Miller of Roswell wondered where all of the minorities, like yours truly, were. The only dark skin at the party could be seen behind the bar serving drinks or carrying trays. Less disheartened was Candy O’Hara, a “lady impersonator,” who brought friends she was trying to convert to the Libertarian side. Later on at the Metro, I caught up with O’Hara. Despite Brown’s dismal loss, O’Hara hadn’t lost her passion for the political party, saying that it was the only “truly gay-friendly party.”
Earlier that evening, a less politically focused group gathered at Fountainhead Lounge for the Les Etoiles Secrets Multimedia Festival. Films were shown, such as “Confessions of a Teenage Pill Popper” by Zach Prochter; music was spun by the likes of Kevin O. and photographs by Lytton Martin, Shana Wood and Atticus Graybill were exhibited. Organized by Grey Martin of Tomorrow Pictures, the visual art show exposed those present to directors Maria Locke and Peter Steckel’s “guerilla rockumentary” showcasing the grotesque nudity and beer-fueled antics of local band the Rent Boys at the Clermont Lounge. It was trash at its best.
Seen at the event were Satellite DJs Marcos Pieras and Michael Scott escorting international Swedish electronica artist Hakan Lidbo, who impressed the hell out of the predominantly DJ audience the following night at the Crescent Room with his techno-soul show. Back in the early ’90s, Lidbo was part of an opening act for Public Enemy when they toured Sweden. I wonder if Atlanta resident Chuck D. would remember him, or is that too far back in his past?
Meanwhile, fellow rapper Scarface was only concerned with the present — more like birthday presents. He celebrated the day of his birth at the Velvet Room on Election Day with a few hundred of his closest friends, or whoever was willing to shell out $20 a head. The very attractive, mostly African-American crowd worked it out from the dance floor to the bar, packing the place with bodies, smoke and heat. Scarface, who turned 34, observed his fans in a cool, aloof manner — sexy and very intimidating.
A different kind of celebration went on at Phipps Plaza last Friday at Mednikow Jewelers, where folks from all walks of life were invited to check out the store expansion. Kebo (Keith Brown), Hushbox website author and social renegade, gave the function a hip vibe. Who was far more hip, I must admit, was Patricia Allen, corporate concierge at Midtown Plaza, who won a cool diamond and pearl necklace from the store.
I harbor no jealousy, but maybe I do a little for Chris Baker and the Flavourset crew who really know how to throw a huge costumed dance affair. The Wicked West Ball last Friday at the Tabernacle was just that, an extravaganza of beautiful people, desperate people trying to be beautiful people and, my personal favorite, drunk ass people who couldn’t give a darn toot what they looked like.
A beautiful performance could be seen at MJQ earlier that evening. Der Blaue Engel was a professionally executed excursion into the cabaret culture of pre-war Berlin. Writer and director Dgie Jonathan hosted the show in character as DeLorna von Graustein, a fictional contemporary of Eva Peron. Before the show began, I ran into local actor Jeremy Parker who was preparing to do a scene with David Duchovny, who just flew into town to shoot Run, Ronnie, Run. Parker later found out that his “gay club kid” character was no longer needed, but that a “frat boy” was. He said that could change any day, though.
I guess the filmmaking process can be as chaotic as ... oh, I don’t know, an election, maybe? As Parker waits to make his acting splash in the comedic film, we all wait for the naming of a president. I have a feeling Parker’s going to have much better luck getting what he wants. Let’s just hope we don’t get tired of laughing.