Joke Issue:
By Floyd Alistair Wallace
Times sure ain’t peachy out there. Falling stocks, Dillinger’s violent escape from the Hotsquat and Dust Bowl winds that make the blizzard gusts in The Gold Rush look like hogwash are sure to make you want to crawl up in bed after collecting faggots for the fire.
But don’t be a total pansy. Gin mills are back in business (not a moment too soon if you ask me), and Hollywood wants you to know that it’s okay to be gay. Nothing good can come out of moping 'cuz you got no socks on your hocks. Instead, let’s remember our juicy wingding nights instead of worrying about how we’re going to bring home the sausage.
This year, Hollywood has made two of the gayest films I’ve seen in a long time, and they sure had me dancing in the theater! The Gay Bride may be about gangsters, but its musical numbers are what will keep me coming back for more. Singing studs and baby dolls in frilly polka dot dresses and big hats had me humming in my seat — and boy them guys and gals sure had nice bumperkits too!
A few weeks later I saw The Gay Divorcee, a screwball musical starring the dapper Fred Astaire and the fabulous Ginger Rogers. The film follows characters who want to get divorced so they can lead gay lives. But who cares about the plot? The songs were among the catchiest I’ve ever heard. As the trailer promised, I was certainly swept up into a new “Carioca” frenzy from this glittery hit.
Sure, you may think I’m queer for being enthusiastic when things are so bad. But what’s a man to do? I’d rather be gay than straight–faced all the time. I just can’t thank Hollywood enough for its fruity, flamboyant productions that only cost me a nickel. Shoot, they almost make me forget about them pesky kids at home I got to feed.
