BY DANIEL KUSNER | Jan. 15, 1999. 

Punk stud Henry Rollins understands the allure of post-modern sex symbols — like Tom Cruise, Troy Aikman and Richard Gere.  

Rollins rose to stardom as Black Flag's often-shirtless, raw-voiced frontman.
​
He's also distractingly buff.

So it's reasonable to believe that Black Flag's male fans have confronted being attracted to Rollins' physical magnetism.

In the past year-and-a-half, gossip mills began spilling rumors that Rollins was expected to come out of the closet on MTV's "Alternative Nation." 

That grapevine also claimed Rollins would reveal his alternative sexuality during a CNN press conference. 

Neither occurred. 

However, Rollins has unleashed two signature rants — both queer-themed and previously recorded. 

First, there was the release of "Think Tank," a live spoken-word album. 

Then he issued "You Saw Me Up There," the video edition of the "Think Tank" tour, which Rollins taped in Los Angeles.

"When I got that whole 'gay rumor' thing, it didn't bug me that much.  
It was more humorous than anything. 
But I think it was something that needed to be said.
Because it made me more aware of how evil homophobia is," Rollins says from his California office during a recent phone interview. 

Although Rollins has been sweating it out as a thrash singer for more than 15 years, in 1995, he won a Grammy for Best Spoken-Word Album. 

And the indie-punk king's multimedia creds keep ramping up.

On top of running a publishing imprint 2-13-61 Publications (the company's named after his birthdate), Rollins is turning into a celebutante, who now models for Macintosh, Nike, The Gap and General Motors

His acting career is also in bloom — with cameos in films like, "Lost Highway," "Heat" and "Johnny Mnemonic."

In whatever medium, Rollins' outspokenness is part of his appeal. 

Although Black Flag's music doesn't often make playlists at gay discos, Rollins is aware of his die-hard queer following.

"I get a lot of letters from gay fans.
And I do a lot of interviews with gay publications.
They always tell me that I'm a hero to them, which I consider an honor. 
I would never be exclusive or dismissive to anyone who appreciates my work," Rollins says.

Rollins is almost apologetic when he's obliged to clarify to fans that he's straight.

"I always take it as a compliment when gay guys hit on me, which happens fairly often. 
I always feel bad for them because they'll ask, 'Are you sure?' 
And I'm like, 'Yeah ... I'm definitely sure.' 
They're usually so bummed.
​Then I tell them that I'm really sorry," Rollins says.

Though Rollins says he's not gay, he's vividly familiar with Tom of Finland's erotic illustrations.

Come to think of it ... Rollins fits the TOF mold perfectly.

Abundant tattoos caress his bulging, beefcake frame, which compliments his butch, military haircut that practically screams, I'm A Proud-But-Bossy Bottom.

"Oh, what? Like I'm a big, macho cop with a cum-catcher mustache getting it in the ass from a sailor?" Rollins laughs. "Actually, we have his work in our office. 
Someone sent us a Tom of Finland picture.
​And we ended up framing it and hanging it up on our wall. 
It's kind of a joke, though. 
People send us all kinds of stuff."

ARCHIVE: Jan 19. 1999. Portal to Texas History, University of North Texas.
​

By Daniel Kusner

A new work about gay author and gadfly Truman Capote hit the shelves recently, an “oral biography” edited by literary lion George Plimpton. 

Like Plimpton’s first foray in this genre — a joint effort with Jean Stein on Edie Sedgwick, the ’60s superstar from Andy Warhol’s camp — the new Capote bio is cobbled together from interviews involving celebrities and other folks who knew the diminutive, squeaky-voiced Capote in some capacity or other. 

The format of Truman Capote: In Which Various Friends, Enemies, Acquaintances and Detractors Recall His Turbulent Career is chatty, even gossipy. 

The idea is to make the reader feel like a guest at a swanky cocktail party, overhearing various bitchy-to-tender-to-hilarious anecdotes assembled in chronological order from Capote’s anchorless childhood (his parents abandoned him and he was shunted about to various relatives) to his death as a lonely man whose friends had mostly deserted him.

Plimpton, something of a gadfly himself, is the 70-year-old editor of The Paris Review — which features works by and about the biggest names in 20th century culture, from Hemingway to Angelou — and one of the acknowledged literary giants working in the second half of this century. 

A celebrity sports enthusiast, Plimpton is also well-known for his bit parts in certain movies.

There’s a cameo in Nixon, and he recounts memories of Muhammad Ali in the award-winning documentary When We Were Kings.

​Most recently, he portrays a closet-case psychologist whose gayness is quickly perceived by the misunderstood but smartass genius played by Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting — one of the film’s quickest but most hilarious scenes.

But when it comes to discussing his latest book, Plimpton turns defensive, even combative. Perhaps he’s stung by the wave of criticism which met Truman Capote’s publication two months ago. 

Several reviewers said Plimpton’s excursion into Capote’s life bears a distinct been-there-done-that flavor. For instance, The New York Times Book Review says the interviews “have the flat, regurgitated quality of people who have been talking about their subject for way too long. Capote knew better than anyone that for gossip to be good, it has to be fresh.”

The Austin Chronicle said the book “doesn’t add all that much to the dialogue that hasn’t been covered already.”

Plimpton began working on the book about seven years ago, he said during a telephone interview from his office in New York.

“It’s more like stitching that it is writing. It’s an interesting way of presenting a biography, I think,” Plimpton chirped in his otherworldly Northeast Establishment-via-Cambridge voice.

Despite Capote’s effeminacy, his frank acknowledgment of his homosexuality in his later years and his classic remark about the subject (“A faggot is the homosexual gentleman who just left the room”), Plimpton’s book fails to index the subject at all — a fact Plimpton, remarkably, doesn’t seem to recall, since he referred me to the index to locate the book’s few references to the subject.

With his open hand, Capote once nailed a drunken belligerent who was making fag jokes and disparaging Capote’s voice.

On yet another occasion, Capote grilled a biographer of British writer E.M. Forster for not including references to the author’s homosexuality.

Still, Capote “wasn’t overtly militant about homosexuality,” Plimpton maintained. “He hated the word ‘gay.’ He thought the term was inappropriate, so he reversed it — he called them ‘yags.’ But . . . you’ll see there are some rather interesting things he had to say about it, particularly his defense of those who are [homosexual].”

The fact that Plimpton’s name is on the cover gives the book an instant cachet it fails, perhaps, to deserve.

Plimpton’s original contribution amounts to a brief letter to the reader.

The remainder of the book is given over to the interviews themselves, and the author credits seven others for substantial work on the final product. (Plimpton himself refers readers to Capote, the definitive biography by Gerald Clarke, for a complete picture of the fabled author.)

This is probably why Plimpton seems unfamiliar with some of the book’s details.

For instance, he is unaware of whether Capote ever met Dorothy Parker — yet the book contains Norman Mailer’s recollection of appearing on the David Susskind television show with both Capote and Parker.

And former Esquire editor-in-chief Lee Eisenberg describes a bitchy piece about Parker, which Capote submitted for the magazine’s 50th anniversary edition.

If his oral biography is a bit like “stitching,” it’s apparent other tailors played a substantial role in the final product.

With famous names being dropped left and right, it’s also difficult for the reader to keep track of who is and who isn’t of any real importance to understanding Capote.

Most of the anecdotes yield more heat than light. Giving the bulk of the book up to gossip rather than illuminating the harrowing twists and turns of Capote’s life — a path which ultimately led to alcoholism, drug abuse and death.

During our interview, Plimpton also reveals himself as a puzzling, prickly character. He admits he has no use for the internet.

“I’m not very good at it,” he said. “I don’t understand it. I’ve tried research on it, but I’m so poor at working the machine that I’d much rather do the research by going to the library.

“I don’t know how to use the internet,” he proudly declares, as if this fact grants him additional stature.

Asked about his appearance in Good Will Hunting, Plimpton is equally glib.

He says when he accepted the role, he didn’t even know who director Gus Van Sant was.

And he hadn’t read the first-time script by the twentysomething stars (Damon and Ben Affleck), a work whose precision and insight has left Hollywood breathless.

Instead, he says, it was the famous comedian Robin Williams who attracted his interest.

“I thought that anything with Robin Williams in it would be sort of interesting,” Plimpton said. “But I had not seen Gus Van Sant’s first film or second film — whatever it is, the one about Missouri. My Own Private Missouri?”

Is he fucking kidding?

I would like to have known more about Plimpton’s book, but that turned out to be impossible.

Plimpton became increasingly combative during our brief exchange, abruptly terminating the interview by hanging up his telephone when I disagreed with his assertion that renowned jazz pianist-bandleader Bobby Short was no celebrity.

But there’s no question about Capote’s celebrity (if he were still alive, you could just ask him, since discussing himself was one of the author’s favorite occupations), and no question that the celebrities he rubbed shoulders with have plenty of recollections about this colorful, if tragic, literary figure.

Truman Capote is an alluring book — easy to pick up and put down whenever you like.

At $35, it seems a bit expensive for readers looking for more than recycled information and gossipy recollections. 

BY DANIEL KUSNER: Aug 31, 2001

After taking a four-year break, Crystal Waters — the diva with the narrow vocal range and wispy timbre — is launching a comeback. 

She’s tight-lipped about her new single. But since Waters creates some of the strongest, hard-edged commercial beats, Waters is sure to win … the Showcase Showdown…

“The song is called ‘Come On Down.’
All I’ll tell you is that we sample the theme song from 'The Price is Right.’
​And I’m Lady Luck,” she laughs, explaining that she just wrapped a photo session, and she splattered with gold glitter.

But Ethel wasn’t the only influence in the Waters family. During girlhood summer breaks, Crystal went on tour with her dad, jazz musician Junior Waters. 

Crystal graduated high school early and earned a computer science degree from Howard University. 

After college, she scored a job with a musical production company and initially wrote a song intended for Ultra Naté. But Waters’ idiosyncratic vocal stylings on the demo recording convinced producers to turn Crystal Waters into a solo artist. 

The song was “Gypsy Woman (She’s Homeless).” And it became the summer anthem of 1991.

Waters found her own sense of “home” within the gay community. 

“Growing up, I was taught not to speak unless spoken to,” she remembers. “But the gay community was my first fan base. I didn’t have a clue as to why they liked me. But they took me in like a family member.”

Before immersing herself in the gay community, Waters says she used to be painfully shy.

“It was the drag queens from the House of Milan and the House of Revlon who helped crack me out of my shell. They gave me lots of tips. Like how to have a stage presence. To have a good time and kiki it up,” Waters beams.

By Daniel A. Kusner — Lifestyle Editor

One of the more bizarre criticisms about Jennifer Jason Leigh and Alan Cumming’s new film, The Anniversary Party, concerns Cumming’s ability to portray a man who’s attracted to women. 

Cumming, one of the sharpest all-around actors, plays Joe Therrian — a bisexual novelist who’s directing a film based on his marriage to Sally (Leigh), an actress who’s too old to play the character she inspired. ​

Joe and Sally — who reconciled after a yearlong separation —decide to throw a party to celebrate their sixth anniversary. 

The guestlist includes close friends (major Hollywood players, played by major Hollywood players), contentious next-door neighbors ... and the ingénue (Gwyneth Paltrow), who’s been cast in the role Sally helped create. 

In the film, Joe and Sally nuzzle each other affectionately. Looking  adorable while radiating a loving onscreen chemistry.

Cumming and Leigh, who star and share writing, directing and producing credits are close friends. They met during the recently much-hailed Broadway revival of Cabaret.

The co-stars, who didn’t have much onstage interaction during their run in Cabaret,  wanted to collaborate on a film that scathingly pokes at celebrity culture while examining the chaotic beauty of flawed relationships.

“What I think is so cool about The Anniversary Party is that this might be the very first movie where you have a couple that’s married. And the man is openly bisexual,” Leigh explains. “It’s a totally accepted part of their marriage. And no one is judging it.”

During one scene, the party guests offer loving testimonies about their ties to Sally and Joe — including one of Joe’s former boyfriends (played by an uncredited Matt McGrath, The Broken Hearts Club).

“But Sally’s totally not threatened by [Joe’s former lover]. She’s actually threatened by Gina [a former flame played by Jennifer Beals]. And that’s the difference,” explains Leigh. “I think it’s great because Alan is very sexy and charming. He’s one of those guys who appeals to both men and women. And he’s completely out.”

What most critics seem to have forgotten about Cumming — who has turned in some tremendous performances (Urbania, Eyes Wide Shut) — is that from 1985-93, he was married to actress Hilary Lyon. 

“And when Alan used to be married, he’s wasn’t really someone who was in the closet. Which is such a fabulous thing. Because these types of marriages do exist. I’m not going to name names. But it’s nice to see it. That it’s a real thing … and not a big deal.”

Leigh says bisexuality is similar to other elements contained within marriages.  Sometimes bisexuality works. Sometimes it doesn’t. 

“And their relationship isn’t platonic whatsoever. They make love all the time. They have a very good sex life. Joe is just bi. He doesn’t prefer men over women. It’s just a part of his life. And that’s what we wanted to convey,” Leigh explains.

According to Leigh, collaborating with Cumming on their directorial debuts was easier than they expected.

“It was so effortless and seamless. This whole project, from beginning to end. We wrote the first draft at my house in mid-February. And by July, we managed to arrange the schedules of our rather large ensemble cast and shoot the whole thing on digital within 19 days,” Leigh says. “I was shocked at how miraculously the whole thing came together. And we worked with all of our friends. The whole experience was nothing but gratifying and total fun.”

The film reunites Leigh and actress Phoebe Cates, who taught Leigh how to give a blowjob by practicing on a carrot in the film Fast Times at Ridgemont High. 
Annivesary Party is first time they’ve worked together since Fast Times.

“I didn’t realize that because we’ve actually have been best friends since we made Fast Times. And we also play best friends in the movie. In fact, I dragged Phoebe out of retirement for this project. She gave up acting a while ago. Her kids are even in the film,” Leigh says. 

The notoriously shy Leigh, who refuses to discuss her romantic life in the press (“I think it’s nice to have something you don’t talk about”), confesses that the prefers the company of men. 

And except for her super-creepy performance in Single White Female, where she played lonely psycho who wanted to “merge” with another woman, she hasn’t portrayed a character with lesbian tendencies. 

But what about the indelible characters she has played? Like her dead-on portrayal of Dorothy Parker. That harrowing gang-rape performance as the insatiable hooker Tralala in Last Exit to Brooklyn. And the strung-out rock star in Georgia.
 
With a penchant for choosing raunchy, gutsy and heartbreaking roles, Jennifer Jason Leigh has been compared to a post-modern Meryl Streep. With close to 40 feature films under her belt she has no plans to quit in the near future.


“But I really do want to have children,” she says while exhaling a plume of cigarette smoke. “But I think I want to try directing more. And I think in a few more years Alan and I will try to make another film like this. One that’s so liberating on a creative level that we make with a bunch of our friends.”

It's the ultimate package of sinfully vulgar gloss. 

After opening the box that contained David LaChapelle's "Heaven to Hell" (Taschen $59.99), a venerable hush fell over my office at the newspaper. 

Leafing through the 344 pages is a vivid journey through the sacred, the profane and the supernatural. 

The arresting image on the book's cover "Pieta with Courtney Love" features the Widow Cobain posed as Mary, post-crucifixion. Shot in 2006, the wounded corpse wears bloodstained FTL undies and a tube sock with stigmata holes. 

Our troubled mourning wife rests on an ambulance stretcher. And the Grunge Messiah's arm hangs down, revealing his veins — black and punctured. 

With so many eye-catching details, you could stare at LaChapelle's "Pieta" longer than the album cover of "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band." 

The gay visionary doesn't waste time with a foreword. The images speak for themselves: nightmarishly sexy, dangerously innocent, vapid and ugly, saturated with God-given beauty.

The photographer's muse, transsexual superstar Amanda Lepore, graces many pages. 

On a double-page tableaux, "The Metamorphosis and Other Stories," Lepore shows off her gash while a babydyke tattoo artists puts the finishing touches on flames licking her vagina. 

All the other usual suspects are well represented. 

Amid druggy-induced references to "Taxi Driver" and "Scarface" are LaChapelle's coterie of celebutants: Pamela Anderson, Paris Hilton, Whitney Houston, Sofia Coppola, Naomi Campbell, David Beckham, Angelina Jolie, Elton, Dolly, Lil' Kim and Jocelyn Wildenstein. 

Some surprising cameos make the short list: Hilary Clinton (or is that a wax dummy?), a panicked Philip Johnson, a happy Muhammad Ali and a sweat-soaked and shirtless Lance Armstrong. 

For a brief and welcome detour, LaChapelle flexes his lens. 

Abandoning his high-sheen vision, he unveils the "Drunk American" series. 

Shot in 2006, this is his strange Polaroid-esque homage to late-'70s U.S.A. 

It's a post-Bush apocalypse, where gallons of Carlo Rossi spill onto wall-to-wall brown shag. Where grandmothers hold guns and serve guests tawdry noshes on stars-and-stripes paper plates. 

It's kitsch mixed with unsettling prognostication. 

Toward the end of our journey, LaChapelle faces death. And it's not totally ugly — it's acceptance. 

Titles like "In Heaven, Everything is Fine" and "When the World is Through" give the first glimpse of afterlife. 

A celestial hue imbues LaChapelle's vision.

The very end, brings us to the beginning: Jesus himself. 

LaChapelle envisions the Second Coming in the 21st century. It's as if Andy Warhol was standing over LaChapelle's shoulder when he shot his gangsta-style "Last Supper." 

This is divine inspiration. 

​If you fork over the $60 for "Heaven to Hell," you'll probably never let it out of your sight.

​— Daniel Kusner 

​Toast to Life gala helps Micki Garrison stock the Nutrition Center’s shelves

​BY DANIEL KUSNER

Tucked behind Crossroads Market, Bookstore and Cafe is the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it entrance for the Nutrition Center, the Resource Center of Dallas’ food-assistance program for people living with HIV.

The Nutrition Center’s supervisor is Micki Garrison, one Dallas’ most devoted transgender activists.

While the Center’s doorway is strategically bland (they can only provide groceries to those who qualify), Garrison is tall, outgoing and her personality sparkles.

At the Nutrition Center (which used to be call the AIDS Food Pantry) about 1,000 clients stock up on groceries each week. That’s at least 1,000 loaves of bread, 1,000 gallons of milk, thousands of apples, peppers, bags of organic lettuce … It’s a lot of food. 

To qualify, clients living with HIV have to earn roughly under $25,000 annually. And when they’re trying to keep up with medical expenses, insurance deductibles and sometimes
hospitals bills, every bit helps.

Garrison’s background is extensive and fabulous: architecture, the U.S. military, sound engineering, construction management and parenthood.

Helping clients stock up on food is only one of her duties. She’s more focused on grant writing, negotiating with suppliers and making sure the center is meeting compliance standards — skills she developed while running a lightning protection business that mostly contracted with military bases.

But as HIV medications have greatly improved, AIDS is appearing more and more like a treatable disease — like diabetes and rheumatoid arthritis.

“Ryan White Funding is being slashed, which is why the Waxahachie food pantry has closed and why the Fort Worth pantry recently lost a large portion of their funding,” Garrison says.

On Saturday, the eighth annual Toast to Life gala will be held at Neiman Marcus. The shindig is a food-lover’s feast, and there’s a silent auction.

Garrison’s says approximately 20 percent of the Nutrition Center’s annual budget comes directly from money raised at Toast to Life.

While food donations are always welcomed at the Nutrition Center, Garrison says her negotiation skills can stretch money much further than the average grocery shopper’s buying
power.

By Daniel Kusner  | Friday, March 16, 2007
​​
She's one of the sweetest performers to ever join the ranks of "Saturday Night Live."  

And when I tell Julia Sweeney that I really enjoy some parts of the 1994 box-office and critical bomb, "It's Pat," she says, "Bless your heart." 

A former accountant who became a professional comedian, Sweeney created the androgynous character Pat Riely when she was a member of The Groundlings.

In 1998, she followed "It's Pat" with "God Said Ha!" a one-woman show that found laughter in the face of cancer.

Now she's unearthed the funny side of examining God's nonexistence. 

But first, back to "God Said Ha!"

Shortly after Julia moved into her two-bedroom bungalow in Hollywood, her younger brother Mike was diagnosed with lymphoma.

First, Mike moved in. And then the Sweeney parents moved in.

And amid the dysfunctional-family chaos, Julia was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. 

Director Quentin Tarantino translated the stage version of "God Said Ha" into film.

As much as the story is about Julia, it's also about Mike, who ultimately lost his battle.

And while Julia was the eldest of the five Sweeney kids, the way she described Mike, it was unclear if he was gay or not. 

Was Mike gay?

"Yes. He was," Sweeney says from her home in Los Angeles. 

She encouraged Mike to come out to the Sweeney parents. But while creating "God Said Ha!" the big sister protected Mike's privacy.

"The family didn't really know it. And it doesn't really matter anymore. I only kept that secret ... Well, I didn't keep it secret. I just didn't put it in the show, because Mike wasn't open about it. And out of respect for him ... 
"We used to argue about it all the time. All the Sweeney kids knew," she continues. "But Mike said.. Oh, this is going to make me cry... Mike said, 'When I'm in a long-term relationship with someone I love, then I will tell Mom and Dad.'"

Mike wasn't your typical Cher-loving gay dude. He listened to the Crash Test Dummies. And during chemo treatments, he usually wore his "Reservoir Dogs" T-shirt. 

"And then he died. So he never got that person," Julia says. 

Now she's learning about the coming out process from a different closet. Because Julia Sweeney is an atheist. 

Earlier this year, her new one-woman show, "Letting Go of God" was independently released on CD ($19.95, JuliaSweeney.com). And coincidentally, on May 5 the show will be taped for a film version during its run at the Renberg Theater at the Gay and Lesbian Center in Los Angeles.

In her signature wholesomeness, Sweeney chronicles her journey to the land of the non-believers.

As devout Catholic, she idolized nuns who taught at her all-girl high school in Spokane, Wash. She loved "The Flying Nun," "The Singing Nun" and Audrey Hepburn in "A Nun's Story." 

Like most Catholics, Sweeney was inculcated with Vatican-administered rituals. And like most Catholics, she grew up not as a literalist but as an interpreter of the Bible. 

"And I was never a fan of the pope," she remembers.

But one afternoon, some young Mormon missionaries rang her doorbell and asked if she "believed" in God's love. That question became the pea under her spiritual mattress. The Mormon boys' dedication to God inspired Sweeney to rededicate her faith. So she joined a Bible Study class. 

WHO NEEDS AN ANTI-GAY GOD ANYWAY?

Julia Sweeney made an excellent recommendation for gays and lesbians who feel rejected by Christianity: "The God Who Wasn't There" ($24.98, TheGodMovie.com).

Written and directed by Brian Flemming, the sharply edited, funny documentary questions the literal history of Jesus and chronology of early Christianity.

There's plenty of evidence of gay-hating Christians who worship violence.

And by using unauthorized clips from Mel Gibson's "The Passion of Christ," Flemming examines the connection between blood sacrifice and transubstantiation.

While illustrating the way things are told so often they become fact, Flemming coincidentally happens to be the guy who's responsible for the term "spam" when referring to e-mail spam. (So weird!)

Great music by David Byrne and queer band LeTigre compliment the nifty soundtrack.

"The God Who Wasn't There" is so hilariously blasphemous, it just might scare the bejesus out of you.

— Daniel Kusner
GRADE: B

By Daniel A. Kusner Dec. 12, 2005
​
A tragedy about lost opportunity, repression, finding love and never letting it go, “Brokeback Mountain” is a powerful drama. And the momentum behind the film builds on a day-to-day basis.

Critics groups in Boston, Los Angeles and New York recently named the cowboy romance as the year’s best film. And on Tuesday, it dominated the Golden Globes with seven nominations, including one for best screenplay, written by Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana.

A lifelong Texan, McMurtry is the Pulitzer-winner who created “The Last Picture Show,” “Lonesome Dove,” “Hud” and “Terms of Endearment.” A few hours after the Golden Globe nominations were announced, McMurtry conducted phone interviews while in Austin.

Based on Annie Proulx’s 1997 near-perfect short story, “Brokeback” is about the doomed bond between two men who fall in love while herding sheep together. It’s also partially set in the Lone Star State.

Just as the film’s marketing campaign was gearing up, Texas was hit with two historical anti-gay blows: the overwhelming victory of a state amendment to ban same-sex marriages and Governor Rick Perry essentially telling gay soldiers returning from Iraq that — instead of Texas — they should consider a more “lenient” state to settle down.

POSTSCRIPT: A one-time exclusive... 

KUSNER: Press conference apologies are so en vogue. 
It seems you and Kathy Griffin have much in common this year. 
If your bestie gal pal — let’s say Ann Coulter — tearfully crossed some controversial line in the sand, would you call her up and express your public support?
Or would you dare denounce (and probably abandon) her ... like Anderson Cooper?
MILO YIANNOPOULOS:  If you ever compare me to Kathy Griffin again, you’re dead to me. 
I’ll forgive you this time because I love Texas. 
The difference of course is that I apologized for being wrong, while Kathy Griffin did a weepy fake apology to try to save her career. 
Ann Coulter is always attacked for the truths she tells, she isn’t insane like Kathy Griffin and the rest of the unhinged looney left in Hollywood. 
Just look at Johnny Depp! 
Everyone should know I would stand with Ann both publicly and privately. 
Anderson Cooper may be mostly unhinged, but he is smart enough to disassociate from a ginger harpy holding the President’s head in effigy like some kind of ugly and unfunny ISIS hag.

KUSNER: Speaking of Kathy Griffin — and being all “dangerous” and outrageous and fond of American free speech — is it okay for people to recreate her infamous art project for 2017 Halloween costumes?
Or will Milo be clutching his pearls at such a thought?
MILO YIANNOPOULOS: Kathy Griffin costumes should be a hot item this year, she’s mortifying even without the fake severed head.
Of course Kathy hasn’t bargained on the young mischief-makers of the new right, who are likely to dress up holding severed Kathy heads moreso than recreating her Trump pose. 
I only clutch my pearls when my boyfriend gets rough… in fact I’d be fine with Halloween costumes involved severed Milo heads, as long as I look really hot and the sunglasses are accurate.