It’s been a long week and I’m exhausted. Please allow Bea Arthur and Angela Lansbury in what can only be described as 80s formal faux dickey chic – which is quite something considering dickeys are in and of themselves fake – to give you the strength to finish the week out strong. In my mind’s eye, Bea and Angela are secretly eviscerating some mediocre man who is standing nearby and totally deserves it. Wow, I feel a little less tired already.
I can’t decide if I feel soothed or unnerved by the fact that, some 25 years ago, “The Golden Girls” knew exactly what was in Donald Trump’s black, black soul. And, boy, were they not afraid to tell it like it was (and, sadly, still very much is). The thing is, pop culture is littered with references to Donald’s unsavoriness over the past four decades. In this case it is less art imitating life as life being so obvious that art cannot ignore its ugliness. But then, true artists are always gonna look down on a lowly reality TV star. As it should be.
So today, when Trump is said to be signing a so-called “religious liberty” executive order (which we all know is just about the freedom to discriminate against us queer folk and anyone else they please and/or a way to erode the separation of church and state), please allow Dorothy Zbornak to remind us all how truly, truly terrible this man really is.
p.s. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about this new, horrendous TrumpCare bill to be voted on today. Republicans, pro-life for everyone except those already living.
p.p.s. If your representative is on this list, please call (202) 224-3121 and tell them to vote NO immediately.
Every night this week I’ve taken unplanned naps after I’ve come home from work. I’m not entirely sure what my body’s trying to tell me, but I feel it’s something important. Something like, hey – idiot – get some sleep. While I figure it out (and perhaps take another nap), please enjoy those girls who are golden. The first blooper is my favorite because, really, who doesn’t love a little Freudian slip?
Oh, Bea. Where would we be without you? Where would all the big, bold, brassy broads of the world be without Bea? From “Mame” to “Maude” to Dorothy, Bea Arthur was funny, feminist and fantastic. Whether with a simple look, a perfectly-timed zinger or full-on verbal machete attack, Bea did not suffer fools, but rather sliced and diced them down to size. That she was hilarious was one thing, that she was inspiring was altogether another. She gave countless girls permission to be smart and opinionated, funny and brash. Her shows, “Maude” and “The Golden Girls,” touched on everything from abortion to homosexuality, divorce to ageism, sexuality and – most important of all – female friendship. Which is also why so many of us took her passing this weekend so personally. We grew up with her, we looked up to her. She was always there to help show us the way. Bea knew who she was and was comfortable in her own skin. As she once told an interviewer: “Look – I'm 5-feet-9, I have a deep voice and I have a way with a line. What can I do about it? I can't stay home waiting for something different. I think it's a total waste of energy worrying about typecasting.” So thank you, Bea. Thank you for being yourself and – of course – a friend.
