Because I'm borrowing (stealing) his essay idea from Crackpot, it only makes sense that John Waters and his incredible body of work is the lead-off item in this latest attempt to return me to blogging.
John Waters is the wind beneath my wings. His movies influenced me more than anything else in the world, besides Clash records. From The Diane Linkletter Story to Polyester to Pecker, I loved them all. Especially Female Trouble . . . oh, Dawn Davenport, how I can relate to your Christmas disappointment!
And his books—so uniformly hilarious, insightful and engaging, I can re-read them over and over again and still find new gems to marvel. His stand-up is flawless, his art, surprisingly serious at times (in a good way). But perhaps my favorite thing about John Waters is his ability to find the beauty in the unusual. Though he has employed traditionally good looking actors like the Johnny's, Depp and Knoxville, he also nurtured and the fantabulous Divine. He gave Edith Massey a career despite her gnarly teeth and chunky butt. He brought Tab Hunter's career back from the dead. He let Stiv Bators play the sex god role he was born to play. And you never get the sense that Waters is making fun of them either; nope. He embraced and sometimes even seemed to envy these characters.
The best presents, it’s not about spending money; it’s about something so perfect that you never even knew [it] was there in the first place. That’s the very best present you can get. And it could cost a nickel; it has nothing to do with what it costs. The worst present: fruit gift baskets. I can buy a fucking pear! You open it and there are six pears! That outrages me.
For these reasons and many more, John Waters is the 101st thing that I love. More TK tomorrow!