If someone like Karl Rove had wanted to neutralize the most creative, intelligent, and passionate members of his opposition, he'd have a hard time coming up with a better tool than Burning Man. Exile them to the wilderness, give them a culture in which alpha status requires months of focus and resource-consumptive preparation, provide them with metric tons of psychotropic confusicants, and then... ignore them. It's a pretty safe bet that they won't be out registering voters, or doing anything that might actually threaten electoral change, when they have an art car to build. -- John Perry Barlow
So, you're gayer than an Easter parade, you like to drink,
you live in San Francisco, and you're sick of the constant
dumbing-down of the Most Wonderful City Ever Invented. What
do you do? You got it: Guerrilla Queer Bar.
The folks who organize, so to speak, the Guerrilla Queer Bar call it "Part
street party, part anti-gentrification protest act, and part guerrilla
theater." The deal works like this:
Take your average horrible disgusting yuppie bar in the City. You know, the
kind with guys with ties or blue denim-y button downs with the company logo
("Broccoli.com") over the breast pocket. All the women are wearing LBDs or
Corporate Cyber Wear (TM). There are potentially rugby shirts in the house.
There's lite alterna-rock playing in the background. It's vapid. It's an insult
to your intelligence. It's a cauliflower-sized goiter on the World's Most
Fabulous City. Nauseous yet?
Now, imagine a SURPRISE VISIT by a huge crowd of BIG FREEEEKS and CRAZY FAGS and
the people who
love them. Add leather and drag queens and pumping music. Think BIG HAIR. Think
CHAPS. Now, get them STINKERS DRUNK. LEWD DANCING ensues. Much crazy kissing
between folks with 3-day beards. Beaujolais!
I just got to say I love this Guerrilla Queer Bar idea. Actually, I like any
guerrilla idea. And BARS are pretty great, too. And making people squirm. These
are all concepts I stand strongly behind. Beaujolais for Guerrilla Queer Bar!