Legacies

Legacy in white with unknown vagrant.

One of my favorite Drag Queens of the Modern Era is my friend Douglas’ alter ego, Legacy. Now that I write these words I’m not sure if that’s even the correct spelling. Leg Assy would certainly be more appropriate. Until corrected, however, I’ll stick with traditional nomenclature.

He does a wonderful blend of trashy and elegant, which is not uncommon. His special give, however, is that he acts a little off. Like he’s been hit a couple of times in the head with a 2×4. Kind of Karen Black.

There is a slight reluctance in his manner because a gut feeling is telling him it’s wrong and he isn’t sure why. But it feels so good the only thing about his gut that really matters to him is the girdle cinching his waist.

When I read yesterday morning’s top stories I thought of one my favorite Nixon quotes: art is my weakness. It ranks right up there with his “I am not a crook” and “I’ve also stopped beating my wife.” I’ve been feeling weak ever since from the unending nausea that set in.

The article catching my attention was Jon McNaughton’s new portrait entitled Legacy of Hope. It is truly awful. So awful that I had to do my own version with more accurate subject matter.

Legacy is originally from Whittier which was Nixon’s birthplace. A couple verses of Will the Circle Be Unbroken may be in order right about now. If only as a soothing digestif.

 

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