The Assassin, Part 2

Continued from The Assassin, Part 1

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Comedian Margaret Cho, whose show, “The Assassin Tour” I went to see last week at the Chicago Theatre, has become a gay cultural icon in recent years. This means that she has either transcended stand-up comedy or she wears way too much make-up.

Also, I think that if you have followed Margaret’s career, you would have seen her comedy incorporate more and more gay cultural references and trivia, which run to things like off-off-Broadway shows, highly specialized cookware and slang for unusual sex acts. Tea-bagging, comes to mind.

Trivia, particularly useless trivia, is essential. It supplies all the dialogue you need until closing time at the gay bars with your friends whom you only know by their first names. Useless trivia is the glue that hardens every gay friendship, just like Colin Farrell is what hardens every gay penis.

Ultra-right wing conservatives think sex with the same gender is what makes someone gay. But they’re wrong. That’s what makes someone homosexual. What makes someone gay is knowing Madonna’s entire discography, including obscure imports and extended remixes. If you’re the local Trivial Pursuit champion or can guess the title of a song from a one-second charades clue, guess what? You’re GAY.

Sometimes, I get really paranoid when going to an event that’s so obviously gay, like college Rush Week. They don’t call it “greek week” for nothing.

(Ok, if you didn’t get that one, you’re probably not gay. Go look it up; the Greeks basically invented anal sex)

I get paranoid that crazy terrorists like the Al-Qaeda, the Unabomber or Carrot Top will barge into the Chicago Theatre and start gunning down everybody. They would shoot at those in FCUK t-shirts first because they think those are the gay dyslexics and should be put out of their misery. I can't say I blame them, they've suffered enough from their fashion faux pas. FCUK, please. That's just so fucking DMUB.

Of course, at the first sign of violence, all the gays would scream and grab the nearest person with a fanny pack and use them as human shields.

I thought about how little respect terrorists have for human life and haute couture. Gay terrorists would use less destructive methods, like maybe Sarin gas or lethal-grade botox, so that they can pick out the best shoes from the casualties.

The show was probably one of the best of Margaret's career. Quite possibly, better than “I’m The One That I Want.” “Assassin” finds her confused about living in an America, post-Bush reelection, post-Condoleeza Secretary of State appointment, post-prison Martha Stewart. She ruminated about ways we can all get together and beat the shit out of gay Republicans. She rallied the 'troupes' with her comedy and sent us all out into the night, exhilarated and energized, ready to kick some ass with our tap shoes.

As the rowdy crowd loaded into the CTA buses, gays and lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered folk, all giddy and chattering, I spied a woman who was looking at the crowd in contempt, skittering away as if we were diseased.

I felt an urge to yell at her:

"Our marriages won’t make yours less valid!"

"Our families won’t make yours less loving!"

"You can’t catch gay from breathing the air!"

I wish I did yell at her. I wish I did.

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