Drag Queens and Christian Divas

13 08 2011

I just realized something the other day, and it strikes me as more uncanny the more it sinks in. Jan Crouch looks like Divine. Seriously. Scarily like Divine. The wigs, the crazy make-up, the charismatic, larger-than-life diva persona, the whole cosmetic case. But Jan Crouch is a televangelist who co-hosts the Christian program Praise the Lord on the Trinity Broadcasting Network, and Divine (who died in 1988) was a drag queen, singer, and actor who starred in John Waters films like Pink Flamingoes, Female Trouble, Polyester, and Hairspray and released a series of Hi-NRG dance hits like I’m So Beautiful, Walk Like a Man, and Native Love which have become cult classics in the gay and electronic music communities. How can a televangelist look so much like a drag queen? What in the world is the common denominator?

Above is a picture of Jan Crouch, and below, a picture of Divine.

I don’t know about you, but I sense a . . . ahem . . . celestial theme going on with both of these scrumptious, fragrant, poodle-like ladies. Maybe Jan Crouch and Divine were friends at some point and exchanged fashion tips. Maybe they read the little red words of Jesus in the same NIV Bible together, or went to drag shows together. Maybe they performed together, singing contemporary Christian hits or inspirational hymns, or maybe Hi-NRG disco tracks produced by Stock, Aitken, and Waterman (SAW). Or maybe they shared husbands in a polyamorous relationship. I like to think that maybe they became bosom buddies getting a boob job at the same boob job clinic. But I don’t know about that. I think Divine’s boobies were fake. Actually, come to think of it, I think Jan Crouch’s boobies are fake too. I guess that’s another thing they have in common.

To get an idea of what I’m talking about, watch this video clip of Jan Crouch (I couldn’t find a serious video of her; it’s not my fault they’re all parodies):

…and now, children, feast your eyes upon this hot, throbbing, strangely ethereal-sounding homage to Snow White (a song and video I salivate over constantly, handkerchief in hand) by the inimitable queen of early Hi-NRG herself, Divine:

Why do Jan Crouch and Divine want to share mascara wands so much? Maybe that last song sums it up in a nutshell. They’re both unabashedly, flagrantly beautiful. As goes the cliché: the higher the hair, the closer to heaven. Maybe they used to go to clubs in, like, Chelsea or the Castro and sing Christian hymns to a 4/4 dance beat backing track or something. Gay men *get* crazy, big-haired, hymn-clutching, oratorical Christian women—maybe because a lot of gay men were raised by these big ol’ Christian divas and found out, hey, they actually love me and don’t think I’m going to hell!

I think sometimes we take the Christian versus homo thing a bit too seriously, especially when it comes to drag queens and Christian divas and their unexpectedly beautiful, synchronistic relationships with one another. Often, I think, Christian divas are just being mouthpieces for their stodgy husbands while deep down inside they actually like homos. A lot. And for them this is a matter of sloughing off the old, putrid sludge of Biblical patriarchy, becoming their own woman, and honouring what they truly think and feel inside. Think of Tammy Faye Messner, who before she died actually had a talk show with a gay co-host and said in an interview she supported the gay community. I mean, Tammy Faye even appeared in gay pride marches with Lady Bunny and Bruce Vilanch. Yeah! I know! The old PTL televangelist became a fag-hag! She certainly didn’t do so because her husband or the Bible told her to do so; more likely, she did so because she identified with the community as a human with similar thoughts, needs, and emotions. (Wait. Tammy Fay Messner looks just like Divine too. Holy shit. It’s a movement.)

Christian divas and homos both love performance and caricature, over-the-top imagery, bombastic music, and blowing people’s minds out of the water with their big, overly–made–up, screaming, crying faces. It’s cathartic, just like praying to God, or the Madonna (in multiple senses—the mother of Christ, the singer, and the Goddess), so it’s inevitable that the one should identify with the other. Sadly, a lot of Christian divas and drag queens put on their look because they don’t like the way they look without it. In both we see a bittersweet mixture of sorrow and ecstasy, the tragedy which secretly haunts the clown.

Well, I think I may have just answered my own question.

All of that aside though, I’ll tell you what—both of these girls have amazing taste! I wish I had the balls—and tits—to go on T.V. and do movies looking like that. I wouldn’t want either of them to change a thing. Not a thing. Seriously. And not simply because I think I would be turned to stone if I saw one of them rising from their tomb, waking  up in the morning, getting off the toilet, or hopping out of the shower to go to Bible class or drag rehearsal. Religion and Bible crap aside, and looking just at their purely human essence, I think both drag queens and Christian divas offer a vivid, Technicolor glimpse at what sort of magical, otherworldly creatures we all secretly want to embody, and can if we’ll just undo the straps, put the foot to the pedal, and say, “What the fuck?”





The Great Seattle Prayer War: Part One – The Summoning

10 08 2011

In a recent blog entry I discussed another, professional, blog entry in which I described how Texas governor Rick Perry is collaborating with radical Christian youth minister Lou Engles to organize a prayer rally in Houston. Lou Engles participated in a music album with the youth ministry Elijah Revolution which inspired another radical minister, Cindy Jacobs, to issue a prayer alert for Seattle and Washington state through her own network of prayer groups called Root 52. I mentioned that I would re-write that professional blog entry to convey the evil thoughts that dwell within my dark, unsaved mind. You will find these unruly, uncouth fancies distilled in the blog entry below. So unpeel your innocent eyelids and read on, warrior!

A hot, dry, satanic dust-storm swept over the lair of Mike and Cindy Jacobs in Weatherford, Texas, a righteous and sacred exurban Christian outpost of the depraved Dallas metroplex. It was no longer safe in Texas’s large cities, despite the fact that they all look like Tehran compared with San Francisco (except for Austin). No, even the Metroplex was succumbing to the sins of religious and sexual “tolerance”. It was increasingly necessary to move out of cosmopolitan city centres, where ideas were being exchanged and intellectuals bred thoughts like spores on the wind, and move to a more secluded, holy place—with plenty of free parking and only the barest modicum of blacks—a place pure with the blood of the lamb, where God’s moral code, as outlined in the Bible, could be enshrined and protected from the ravages of reason.

“By God’s holy grace”, cried Cindy to her husband, “we can’t hold up in here much longer. If this sandstorm is the Lord’s message that He is coming—and the Bible says it is so—we must by his grace save the heathens of the northern and coastal regions.”

“Honey, I understand”, said Mike, “because, as your husband, I must love you, but as your husband, I cannot suffer you to usurp my authority with your unwarranted speech.” And with this, he gave his wife a brief lesson on 1 Timothy 2:12, followed by a lesson on Ephesians 5:22.

“Aye”, said the submissive wife diffidently, showing signs of disappointment, “so it is, for the Bible—the inerrant word of God—tells us so.” She clung to him, laying her head on his chest, and the little ones crowded round them to hear these sage words, for they were captivated by the sight of a woman leeching wisdom from a man, the source of all divine knowledge. A new breed of prayer warriors was born. Except for one little bastard named Susie. She flat-out refused.

“Why should wives submit to their husbands?” asked Susie inquisitively.

“Wives should submit to their husbands because the Lord in Heaven tells them so through His gospel”, spake the wise and humble father, bestowing his magnanimity like crumbs upon the females who clustered at his feet like starved hens clucking for more from the great cock.

“But the Bible also justifies the enslavement of daughters”, countered the precocious little Jezebel, quoting Exodus 21:7. “How, then, can you say that the Bible is the word of God without saying that God hates women and supports slavery?”

“That was the old covenant, Susie”, grunted the father impatiently. “Jesus gave us a new covenant.”

“Oh, so there was still a time when selling daughters into slavery was necessary, then”, she said. “If God hadn’t become Jesus and killed himself to pay for human imperfection, which he himself created, we would still have reason to slaughter goats, stone adulteresses to death, and execute gay people.”

“Susie”, said her father impatiently. Here he was at a momentary loss for words. His daughter took advantage of the pause.

“Well”, she continued, “thank God we’ve upgraded the sacrificial victim from a goat to a human. What an improvement. This time, instead of slaughtering goats to propitiate God, we get to nail a human being to a cross and let him take days to die. But he’ll magically rise from the dead—but, in the end, he’ll still have been tortured to death. And even more, Jesus is God, so that means God is killing himself for us to accept his suicide so that he can pay himself his own dues. That’s not schizophrenic at all.”

The father evaded these uncomfortable observations and stonewalled his daughter by re-asserting, “God wants men to protect women because women need the wisdom of men—”

“—Dad, you’re not acknowledging any of my points. I’ve just countered the one that you are re-stating. Don’t re-state. Refute.”

“Susie—”

“—Stop calling me Susie. My birthname is Mei Ping. Yeah. I dug into your and Mom’s files and found out I was picked up at a Shanghai adoption agency in 1999. So cut the crap.”

Shocked at her discovery and drawing on his last reserves of patience, the stonily patronizing father resumed. “Mei Ping, God wants men to protect women because women need the wisdom of men—”

“—but that’s paternalism”, interrupted Mei Ping.

“It’s what?”

“It’s paternalism. It’s saying that men know better than women. It is the manner of providing an individual protection while, at the same time, denying that individual her rights as an autonomous human being. It is protecting her while depriving her. This sort of domestic arrangement effectively constitutes totalitarianism within the household, and it is unreasonable and egotistical.”

“Susie!”

“I’m Mei Ping.”

“Susie!”

“Okay, fine, I’m Susie. But—”

“—Susie, go to the basement. I have no further need of your oratories.”

“But, Dad, you give plenty of them yourself. Why, then, shouldn’t I return the same trenchant lecturing? Oh, right. Because I have a vagina.”

“Susie! You never say that ugly word in this household. Do you hear me?! That language is vile! Now go to the basement!”

“Ugh, yes, Father.” And with that, 12 year-old Susie trod downstairs to her cabbage-patch-doll-studded dungeon beneath the windswept intellectual desert of Weatherford, Texas, with nothing to do but watch Christian puppet videos amid a menagerie of stuffed animals. There she mulled and languished, her indignation stewing under a single, pale lightbulb, a stuffed pink unicorn at her side.

“Honey”, said Cindy, “You handled that brilliantly! I remember when I was a petulant little girl with thoughts of my own and didn’t know when to submit to my elders. I had to be taught by example how misguided my thoughts were.”

“Thank you, wife. I will always honour and love you for the kind support you show me.”

“Now that that’s taken care of, husband, I’ve had this thought on my mind for a while now. I think it is time to attack Seattle.”

“I accept your opinion, wife. That evil northwestern coastal city of Baal is full of faggots, feminists, fornicators, witches, mixed marriages, and single-parent households. More than anywhere, it needs to be bathed in the sweet blood of the lamb”.

“Amen”, said the wife, “the blood of our sacrificial victim, Lord Jesus Christ.”

“I accept your opinion”, said the husband humbly, “for the Lord said I should love you.”

“Then let us gather our forces and attack!”

“I concur.”

“Let’s use children from the exurbs!”

“Agreed ten thousand times over. In fact, I already thought of that. But don’t speak too much.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“First we must make our plan known to our covert operatives in the Root 52 network. We must publish a prayer alert for this Washington state and this city of Seattle!”

“Yaaaay!” screeched Cindy hysterically, clinging to the man’s thick arm as an ivy wraps round a giant oak.

With the plan in place, the Jacobses summoned their Root 52 prayer troops—mostly children they had culled from nearby church playgrounds, their own children in tow—and marched forth with their guns, American flags, and Christian country music albums toward the Great White North. Seattle! Somewhere up there. Canada or the Cascades or something. Canada-Seattle-Albertaville. It all gets confusing past Denver, and when you have to work with a map, and in two dimensions, it is especially gruelling.

Mike and Cindy stomped through friendly prayer-warrior territory at first—northern Texas, far northern Texas, and then far, far northern Texas, recruiting more young children from their apprehensive, stupidly confused families along the way—and then, after crossing a number of friendly super-malls dominated by parking lots, Wal-Marts, and Neiman Marcus outlets, they had to cross a state boundary. God bless us. Thank goodness it was the Oklahoma state boundary. Thank goodness they were still white, Christian, and American. Mostly. Who knew which states the Mexicans had stolen back from America since that time America stole them from Mexico?

Mike and Cindy soon met the lone prairie. A prairie they had never met before. Back home in Texas the prairie was covered in cows, daisies, and church spires—all the trappings of our glorious Lord, Jesus Christ—and it was the same when they were crossing the Oklahoma panhandle, but as they made their way across Kansas, and then Nebraska, gazing upon those long, lonely grasses, they realised they were in limbo. Evangelical Christian limbo. These souls needed to be saved! But not as badly as those up north and west. Or somewhere up theres-ville.

“Lord”, whimpered Cindy, staring zombie-like through the windscreen, her hands clenched together, “we are in a dark country now. We walk through the valley of the shadow of death, and we ask for your guidance.” Here she closed her eyes intently; her husband continued driving with one limp hand dangling over the steering wheel, a pair of eyes staring stonily at the road. “We cannot fight this battle alone. We need your power, your wisdom, your might—your fury—to guide us forth, vanquish our enemy, and take back America for you.” Her voice took on a strangely primal, quavering cadence. “Lord, we ask you to sweep your mighty hand across this once-great land and wash it clean with your blood. We ask you to take your mighty fingers, pick up the dust of the earth, and throw it in the face of your adversary, Satan. We ask you to take that same dust and mould it into a mighty host of beasts filled with the vicious wrath of your righteous goodness! We ask, God, that you plague the land with your fury and bring the people of America back to the ways of their Saviour and Creator. Satan, we rebuke you in the name of the Lord, Jesus Christ!”

The wife said these words with such absolute intensity and conviction that neither she nor her husband heard the thudding noise until it began to rattle the windows and the console, causing the children in the back of the caravan to giggle with excitement. At that, they looked out their windows behind them and witnessed a vast storm pregnant with brown-grey clouds looming overhead. From these stretched downward a vast number of dust-devils; on the land below these were what looked like a giant herd of rabid, ferocious hyaena-like beasts with matted hair, watery red eyes, and bared sharp teeth covering the plain as far as the eye could see. Beast and dust-devil consumed the land and sky in a cloud of shifting shapes and forms, darting over rocks, streams, and escarpments, moving in the same direction as the caravan. One of the land-creatures latched a claw on to the right rearview mirror of the caravan, where Cindy sat. She screamed.

Keep reading to find out what happens to the Mike and Cindy Jacobs caravan as the swarm of beasts descends. You will discover many new characters, including the tree-people, the frost giants, Lilith, and Susie. But be forewarned: never misjudge a girlish laugh or a pretty-sounding name.





Fundies Use Kids to Save Seattle!

24 07 2011

Evangelical Christians are praying for Seattle’s lost souls—using those of children.

In a recent entry on my professional blog, I discussed how Texas governor Rick Perry is organising a 6 August prayer rally in Houston, seemingly with the intent of “taking back America for Christ”. Basically, Perry’s rally is being led by the youth ministry International House of Prayer (IHOP), which is strongly influenced by the evangelical leader and “prayer warrior” Lou Engles. Engles has influenced multiple other youth ministries (TheCall, Elijah Revolution, Root 52, and the Kids on Fire camp featured in the Jesus Camp documentary) which practice charismatic “prayer warfare”. These ministries train young, impressionable children as “prayer warriors”. All of these groups are influenced in some way by the “Seven Mountains” theology, which teaches that there are seven “mountains”, or domains, in which Christians have to take back America for Christ: family, education, government, the economy, the arts, the media, and religion. (Visit this Goddiscussion article in order to verify this information.)

Basically, the Texas governor is leading a prayer rally which is connected to all these other groups which indoctrinate children to pray for America to return to Christ. I’m not usually categorically judgemental, but when you use children in such a way, it’s just vile. Folks, this is not just about church-state separation; it is about children’s rights and right to conscience. Parents should not be allowed to do whatever they want to their children if it impairs or injures them physically or mentally. That isn’t parenting; that’s a power-trip.

One of these ministries, Elijah Revolution, teaches that the spirit of Elijah (good) will vanquish the spirit of Jezebel (bad), using a typical noble-male-versus-wicked-female trope. Elijah Revolution recorded a music album featuring the ministerial voice of Engles as a backdrop, and Root 52, led by “prophet” Cindy Jacobs, cited material from the album in its recent “Washington prayer alert” to combat abortion and other “evils” which dominate the northwestern coastal region of the United States. In it, you will see how the adult leaders seek to use children to their own ends, not to mention vilifying women as evil temptresses. The prayer alert calls on Root 52 followers to subdue Seattle and Washington state and bring them back to God and Jesus Christ—especially through the arts, for which Seattle is renowned:

In mapping both Seattle and Olympia many key ley lines have been discovered (a majority of them have been established through the arts).  Olympia is laid out much like Washington D.C. influenced by free-masonry design and structure.  We believe that a key to binding and bringing down these Baal/witchcraft/jezebel influenced strongholds will be through the Arts and Media sphere!   May God raise up anointed singers, musicians, artists, craftsmen, sculptors, dancers, etc, in the Northwest!  We are praying for the hearts of the fathers to turn to the children and the hearts of the children to turn to the Fathers to release an Elijah Revolution that confronts this jezebel spirit. And we are praying for a generation of Jehu’s who walk in sexual purity and the truth and power of God’s written Word to bring her down (Rev. 2:18-29).  As the light of the Glory of God in face of Christ increases through day and night prayer and worship combined with a kingly anointing, we will see these demonic strongholds dislodged from this region!

 We stake a Claim in the midst of the Whirlwind for the Glory of the Lamb through every sphere in society in Washington State.  May God  “Wash” Washington, “a ton”  through the blood of his Son.  Jesus we plead your blood over our sins and the sins of our state.  God end abortion and send Revival to Washington!  Amen! [sic]

This makes me an even bigger feminist. As a Seattleite, I am amused by this noisy incantation, steeped as it is in blood-soaked tones of desperation. It doesn’t surprise me that Root 52 should send out a prayer alert to Washington state. According to a 2009 Gallup poll on the importance of religion in the U.S., Washington is the fifth least religious state out of the fifty United States. Meanwhile, Seattle has the second highest percentage of openly gay people of any major city in the U.S., right after dildo-banging San Francisco. Washington state was the first jurisdiction in the United States (along with Kalamazoo, MI) in which an extension of gay rights was approved in a public referendum, with Referendum 71 in 2009. In addition, Seattle mayor Bertha Landes was the first female mayor of a major American city. Currently, the two-term state governor is Christine Gregoire, a woman, whilst Maria Cantwell and Patty Murray are both Democratic female senators for Washington state. *Pant*. I can’t stop. Must continue. Seattle Public Schools desegregated without a court order, and the Seattle metropolitan area has the highest percentage of people who identify as mixed-race of any metropolitan area in the United States.  That’s a lot of sodomistic, feministic miscegenation goin’ on there. Root 52 and other radical Christian youth ministries have an uphill battle fighting against “debasement” in the Evergreen State. I welcome the embrace of their dusty Texan bosoms with the shamelessly moss-ridden moisture of my own wanton dugs.

Well, as I have done with my seminal “Christians vs. Witches” blog series, which is in its second instalment, I think I will re-write my blog entry on Governor Perry and the child prayer warriors of his evangelical prayer network to reflect the true inner workings of my depraved, irredeemable soul, but I will focus on the Washington prayer alert of Cindy Jacobs’s Root 52 and the great red southern plague which threatens to suffocate the Soviet Republic of Seattle underneath Jacobs’s leather Christian boot. This will be the content of my upcoming blog material. You may notice how my previous series overlaps with my present one. All I ask is that you return to my blog regularly as a loyal, devoted reader to feast your eyes upon my many horrors and discover what new evil creatures I have hatched from the depths of my muggy, maleficent man-womb.