It's
getting hot at the Exotic offices.
Severina waltzes around in cotton mini-dresses
and sometimes Frank even takes off his jacket.
But everyone's STILL drinking hot cocoa by
the pint glass! It's all 'cuz of that soft-core
column Frankie wrote in the March issue, creamin'
his jeans over Swiss Miss. Now every hooker
worth her heels is bringing in cocoa by the
crate. And the entire office has fallen in
line like a bunch of sheep. But not me.
I am immune to hot cocoa. I need harder drugs.
Spanish coffees, manhattans and Patron at
least. But there are a few other things in
my life that'll salvage even the shittiest
shipwrecked day, much like the boss's "happy
brew." Electrocute-your-cock seventies rock
criticism, for instance. And Chanel lipstick.
And zippin' on a pair of subtly fuck-me knee-high
patent leather boots. And THE DICTATORS!!!
The "Greatest Rock and Roll Band of All Time"
is playing Portland on Friday the 13th at
Dante's. Born in the Bronx and Queens, the
Dictators got the Johnny Thunders joke and
ran with it, singing proto-Ramones songs about
chicks and wrestling and how great they are.
The Dictators Go Girl Crazy was released
in 1975, featuring hits "Master Race Rock"
and "Back to Africa." It showcased the band's
new frontman, Handsome Dick Manitoba, "the
handsomest man in rock'n'roll." Formerly the
band's roadie, Handsome was allowed to do
a song or two every show, and his buffoonery
proved so irresistable that he got himself
a thirty-year gig.
Now he's got a wife and brand new kid, lives
above a pizza parlor in the East Village and
posts his recipes on the Dic's website. He
owns a bar on Avenue B called Manitoba's and
served as my own personal welcome wagon when
I moved to NYC. I'd only been there a few
days when I stumbled into his bar. "Richard
Meltzer sent me," I said. And before you could
say "Richard Meltzer," I had a giant manhattan
in front of me and a private audience with
HANDSOME DICK MANITOBA OF THE DICTATORS!!
Now I call him Richard. Richard got me a job
and a boyfriend in one week. And made sure
I watched the Yankees opener and didn't become
a prostitute. He also promised to be my running
buddy. Handsome! I'll hold you to it! I feel
a fealty toward Manitoba like I do for my
own dad the preacherman.
But what I mostly saw in Manitoba was a kindred
spirit. Here's a guy who's managed to remain
a kid for fifty years. He's got this Heavyweight
optimism that, at the end of the day, is all
ya need. For instance, that first day I met
him, all he could talk about was how in love
he was. He'd been seeing this chick for nine
months and they "still had sex five times
a week!" He luh-luh-loved her. I couldn't
believe it. Here was this punk rock HERO who
would not shut up about his lady! Told me
all sortsa scandalous details right off the
bat. Said she's-the-one. According to his
friends, he'd said that twenty times before--a
total fool for love and forever falling for
the suckerpunch. It was too cute. And, as
I was soon to realize, a peculiarly New York
preoccupation: totally twitterpated, moon-in-the-sky-like-a-big-pizza-pie,
gotta-shout-about-it LOVE.
I
swear to god Portland is too cool for love.
But not me. I LOVE the Dictators!
