‘Tis the season of bizarrely colored egg salad. It’s delish of course, but I tend to look away at the approach to my mouth. Not in a shunning way, all creatures great and small after all, but more in a distracted “wow, look at how much I owe in taxes, why don’t I just buy a Humvee and armorize it myself?” way.
And I owe all those taxes because of the success of our 25th Anniversary “It’s Come to This Tour.” Beware when your Turbo Tax program crunches the numbers and the final report begins with a laugh track and a flashing, “I’ve got some good news and some bad news.” If I could just earmark it to women’s healthcare, early childhood education or a Scarlet Knights scholarship fund.
The last show of our tour was in Denver, Colorado at the wonderful Gothic Theater. It was on Good Friday of Passion Week. Ironically, it came to that. I gave it my all and it wasn’t just a good Friday, it was the best. It was mile high. As she has for almost 22 years, the lovely and talented maven of Maven Productions, Nona Gandleman brought me to the Rockies and produced a sold-out, standing room only blast of a night. They were scalping tickets! I love those Rockettes.
It was my last show with the sponsorship of the National Center for Lesbian Rights. I’ll thank them again at their big 30th Anniversary gala on May 12th in San Fransisters, and always. [think about coming to their gala – it’s a sea of leggy women in black cocktail dresses, yum] NCLR’s early and unconditional support made the tour even more special. As a bonus, at different stops on the tour, I got to hang out with my brilliant, dynamic sister Kate Kendall, the executive director. Other hard-working NCLR staff joined me on the road at events during the year. If you want maximum bang for your buck, join NCLR. And dearies, it’s tax deductible!
A special thanks to my hard working booking agent, Tam Martin, my own Velvet Hammer, who stylishly represented me and our million details to producers. And a special thanks to my indefatigable publicist/promoter, Michele Karlsberg who helped producers get people in the seats by dragging me out of the Dark Ages of Mimeograph into the New Dawn [for me] of websites and MySpace. I am very proud and honored by their work.
We’re not stopping! We are already into the second quarter of the Climate Change Tour. The climate is changing! Next season of April flowers and taxes, I hope we will be closer to peace dividends and more women in power and that someone will finally have pointed out that Don Imus has absolutely no right to speak of anyone else’s hair.

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According to the liturgical calendar, January 6 is the Epiphany. You’re wondering, “Did Kate make some New Year’s resolution regarding the Catholic Church we should know about?” Not to worry, I didn’t. If I did make one for the dear church, it would be that they get independent auditors. Actually I don’t think it’s good form to disclose resolutions, except to say that mine has something to do with George Clooney. Enough said.
The Epiphany has always had a warm place in my heart. In my youth, January 6 in Buffalo, New York was generally a day of sub-zero temperatures, walking to school in the dark, layered in pre-Polartech lumpiness, grumpy that vacation was over. They said I was moody child. As in: I had moods. In my non-youth in the Northeast, the cherry blossoms are in bloom in DC, trees are budding in NYC and some crocuses are up in Provincetown.
The Epiphany is the day when the three wise men, using a very early version of the Magellan GPI, finally made it to see Jesus. Holiday traffic. Oy. He was almost two weeks old, still lying in the manger. Insurance allowed longer stays back then. They brought gifts which they had wisely purchased in the after-Christmas sales. Jesus, always the precocious host, showed himself to the Wise Men as the son of god. It was Jesus’ Coming Out Party! No wonder I liked it.
I’ll be celebrating Epiphany here in NYC, back after ten glorious holi-days in Provincetown. In Ptown, the internet server wasn’t speaking to our computers. My new Palm Treo had the wrong operating system. Basic cable was basic. It was glorious. Lots of Scrabble. I lost the Holiday Tournament, condolences gratefully accepted. Dune walks. Lots of cooking. After two hideous winters, most of the year round Ptowners who could, have decamped to the dangle of Florida. It was quiet. We missed the endless loop of details on the bizarre year end festival of death – James Brown, Gerry Ford [who like another Republican, was never elected president and had a fondness for all things Cheney and Rummy], Saddam Hussein.
It’s Epiphany and it’s time to come out again after a warm hibernation. As the Godfather sang, “I’m gonna get up and do my thing”. He also sang, “This is a Man’s World” and “Sex Machine” but they weren’t brought up so much at the observances. An ice shelf the size of Manhattan broke off the Arctic shelf. George is fixing to surge the troops forward. He’s the decider. The MA legislature will put gay marriage to a ballot vote, thank you very much, Mitt Mitt full of shit. PS: did I tell you he is running for Prez? Devaul Patrick’s inauguration was blissful. Madame Pelosi has been installed with great joy and promise. Hillary is gearing up. Obama is ubiquitous. Say it loud. But say it. Happy New Queer.

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I’ve been so busy reading the Iraq Study Group report, I fear I have neglected my tour briefings. Although I seem to be in the minority, I did have an exit strategy for my 25th Tour of duty and, honeys, I’m sitting pretty at my desk in rainy New York City on a Wednesday morning. I wish the same safe and soon return for all our soldiers.
We had a hugely, and I mean hugely, successful Thanksgiving with the Clinton/Vaid family. Urvashi’s spicy Indian side dishes more than made up for the festival of white people turkeystuffingmashpotato bland meal. A meal you do not chew. We had twenty-three here gumming dinner and still don’t know how we fit them all in our little living room. The bad weather on parade day forced the balloons to be flown at less than half staff, so Sponge Bob and Dora all went by like they were looking for a contact.
After days of leftovers and their many iterations, I headed off to LA for the final three shows of the tour. It came to that. On Thursday, my pals Leslie Belzberg, Curt Sheppard and Alan Hergott hosted a smashing cocktail party for NCLR in the Hollywood Hills. Andrea Meyerson, who had started the tour off with a bang in Long Beach [see January blog – “Andrea Meyerson starts tour off with bang”] produced my last shows with Jon Imparato and the lovely staff at The Village Theater at the LGBT Center.
After a celebratory end of tour giving-thanks and praise brunch with the irrepressibles, Michele Karlsberg and Tam Martin – aka Team Clinton – we did our last show on Sunday. My girlfriend was in the audience and heckled throughout. She’s eager to have me home. It could happen.
On Monday night, after a day with my dear god-daughter Sophie Belzberg, who cleaned my clock in a burping contest, I flew the red eye – have I told you how much I love Ambien? – to Columbus Isles for a year end, off continent gig with the Oliviettes. It was lovely to spend time with my sista comics – Jennie McNulty, Dana Goldberg, Lisa Koch and Julie Goldman. Our impromptu synchronized swimming show, choreographed by the multi-talented Rachel “B’Tinah” Friedman was a crowd pleaser and photos of same will appear in an upcoming newsletter.
This last tour missive comes from Manhattan, where I am preparing for my favorite Solstice observation – Blessed Dykes Night, the longest night of the year. You know what to do. Make me proud. I’m also writing year end checks to my favorite organizations – one of them certainly is my beloved tour sponsor, NCLR.
Thanks for all your support. I am going into fallow mode, winter hibernation, even though it is sixty degress and tulips are coming up. See you in 2007 for the just-in-time “Climate Change Tour”!

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Our African sojourn was amazing. Understatement. We got initial election news from CNN when we landed in the Nairobi airport. Just the news of House victory made us jubilant! Kenyans in the airport were happy for us and for themselves. Many African countries haven’t been able to get US aid for six years if there is any mention of condoms or contraceptives in their grant proposals. And they are all excited that one day a man of Kenyan descent, Barack Obama will be president of the US. Maybe he’ll persuade them to repeal their law making homosexuality illegal. South Africa leads the way!
Shortly after we landed, we flew north into the Rift Valley, out of further internet contact, although on my birthday, we did get the news on a faint signal on my gal’s international blackberry service, that Donald Rumsfeld had resigned! What a lovely gift. I’d leave the country again if it meant that W would be put on trial before the International War Crimes Tribunal. Impeachment is too good for him.
After two days, we flew south to the Ol Pejata Conservancy and there saw some serious flora and fauna – lions, dik-diks [no not that kind], elephants, rhinos, hippos, cheetah, zebra, giraffe and gorgeous birds to make my amateur birding heart so happy! We flew to Rwanda and had the amazing opportunity to trek and see mountain gorillas in the wild. Africa is stunning and you can just see why those chilled white Europeans just had to have it. It’s a lesson in the long range effects of colonization and makes Iraq look even quaggier.
We arrived back in NYC on Wednesday afternoon and as usual the hardest part was getting from JFK to the upper West Side. After unpacking, laundry and repacking, I was off to two nights of shows in West Palm Beach. The shows started just about the time the jet lag hit, but the audiences were happy and cheered by the recent elections. Good on Arizona for defeating their draconian anti-gay initiative and South Dakota for defeating the anti-choice initiative. I look forward to that night when that gnarly little guy opens the door for the State of the Union Address and says, “Madame Speaker.”
There’s lots more work to do – cutting and running as soon as possible, for example – and even though you all are about a week ahead of me in gloating, I am catching up. We have lots to be thankful for – Britney dumped Kevin Fed-ex; TomKat got married [because they can]; we had some long-awaited electoral victories. We’ve got 25 coming over for Thanksgiving dinner, so I better go. But first I have to dig out my “Too Full to Fuck” t-shirt.
Happy Thanksgiving! I’m grateful for you and for my job!

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It’s always a pleasure to go off island and visit other areas of this lovely country. Except in the first week of November. Apparently there is such a blue lockdown in Manhattan, we are spared most of the negative attack ads of a political season. Or our mayor, Michael Bloomberg, who bought the office fair and square, thank you very much, thinks the sulfurous ads are as toxic as second hand smoke and he just won’t have it.
The ads are ubiquitous and a giant soul sucking waste of money and civic good sense. It’s terrifying to be alone in a Day’s Inn for a rainy afternoon, with only bilious, lying regional campaign ads and insipid national election “coverage.” I am forced to watch Rachel Ray hyperventilate over transfats. Which Michael Bloomberg doesn’t like either.
But it’s hard to bum out a trip to Scottsdale, Arizona. The Scottsdale Performing Arts Center is a gem of a theater. There, I was part of their subscription series, so my longtime fans came down off their mesas and the local snowbird theatergoers come for a night of mixed audience pleasure. Straight and gay, young and old, liberal and not-so-much. It’s as the world should be. The Rialto Theater in Tucson is an old porn theater and the vibes from that always make for a raunchier show, no matter what I do. Thank goodness. The crowd was grand and anything I said about Scottsdale to them wasn’t’ true, if any Scottsdalian is reading this. There certainly was plenty to talk about in Arizona with their Prop 107 against gay marriage, their border issues, their proposition on second hand smoke. They have a governor they can be justly proud of – Janet Napolitano. She is a national treasure.
Amazingly enough, I am off to Africa with my galpal for ten days. She has work in Kenya with her new job as executive director of the Arcus Foundation, which focuses on GLBT civil rights and the preservation of the great apes. It’s all connected. If in doubt, check out the bonobos, our gay ancestors. While it’s a crazy time in my tour, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to go with her. We’ll be out of the country on election day – we’ve done our absentee ballots, not to worry – but are confident that when we return, they will still be mis-counting the ballots. Here’s to the take back of at least one branch of government!! One out of three ain’t bad. I’ve got subpoenas envy!!

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All Saint’s Day and I’m just hanging around the house, waiting for a call from the Vatican about a possible canonization process for myself.
We had a great time with the live forum on line. Never before was I so happy to have paid attention in typing class. We didn’t have typewriters, hey it was a Catholic school. We had these little sheets, pseudo-pads, that we could pound our little fingers on. Each day we drew two raffle numbers to select which lucky steno to be would get to use the real IBM Selectric. Those lucky students would get to take the plastic cover off the two donated machines and use them for the class. The rest of us had qwertyuiop envy. And you wonder why I wait for the call from the Vatican.
Just back from the left coast of Florida. Had a lovely time with the fine folks in Sarasota. When I finally got there. You try flying out of LGA in a rain and wind storm So I didn’t. I had a lovely time taxi-ing out to JFK and sitting in the leaking Delta terminal for a few hours. All the tsuris made the fun of Sarasota sweeter. The show was a benefit for ALSO OUT the gay hotline and center for gay youth of the area. Candace Sorenson, the new executive director, and a Brooklyn native, has got the joint hopping and the services expanding.
After a lovely brunch to raise awareness of the work of ALSO, well attended because Candace told them to be there, it was off to Clearwater. The show there was held in the lovely Octagon shaped Unitarian Universalist Church. Kris Temple, the producer has lots of wonderful shows planned for the Octagon House season and my show was the kick-off. It was a wonderful raucous crowd. Before the show, I said a little prayer of thanks to the Unit. Those Unitarian churches have always been supportive of us.
Got back to NYC just in time to attend the 11th Annual Sage Dinner and give a Lifetime Achievement award to my friend, the philanthropist and great supporter of In The Life, Henry VanAmeringen. The very courtly Henry was gracious and very embarrassed to be there.
The dinner talk was of course all about the midterm elections. I am trying to be very pessimistic, so I won’t be disappointed again. Call me crazy but I don’t trust those GOPers and their voting machines farther than I can throw them. If the American people really do vote GOP again, then they are sheep and I’m going to start mixing up the Woolite-tinis, America’s favorite new cocktail sensation. I won’t have one myself. I’ve got Bush fatigue so bad my GAP ad would be “tiRED”
Whatever. Don’t forget to VOTE.

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That’s what they used to call Ptown’s Women’s Week, years and years ago. And you know who they are. But this year, with the glorious blue sky, sunny warm days and full fall color spectrum as thier background, the women of Women’s Week were mostly mulletless and gorgeous. And from all over the county – Texas, California, Vermont, Staten Island.
You’ll be relieved to know that no one was hurt during the Kate Clinton Touch Football Classic. The hundreds of spectators were encouraged to step forward to catch any high flying lesbians veering toward any sort of cement. They all took their job very seriously. The New Hampshire cheerleaders were there with their home made pom poms and willingness to lead the wave. Vicki Shaw, Poppy, Jenny McNulty, Suede, Karen Williams, Suzanne Westenhoffer and many others took turns calling the game on the bullhorn my girlfriend gave me for Christmas two years ago. This year we had jerseys! thanks to the sponsorship of NCLR, the National Center for Lesbian Rights.
Kate Kendell, indefatigable executive director of NCLR was rooting her blue team on, while I rooted my white jerseyed team on. When we switched teams, not that way, there was the lovely viewing of lesbians taking off their shirts. The Battle of the Kates was great fun and ended in, my personal favorite, a tie game. We all went off to the Pied Piper after for rub-downs and post-game interviews.
There were parties, proms, concerts, dinners, tours, shows, sale shopping, and events all over town. I was glad that NCLR was a presence at so many events, because for thirty years their mission has been to defend the rights of lesbians. It is thier visionary, courageous work for so many years that makes events like Women’s Week, these thirty years later, possible.
I’ve stayed in Ptown a few extra days and this week in town, it is Fantasia Fair. Cross-dressing men, often accompanied by their wives, enjoy the welcome mat of Ptown and once again, I am reminded of the promise of sexual liberation. Sure there might be a couple of Pilgrims spinning in their cold, lonely graves, but I am so proud of the people of Ptown. Next for the town that theme weekends built – The AA Roundup, Single Men’s Weekend and Holly Folly.

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They say, and you know who they are, that the colors of fall are always in those leaves and it just takes the stoppage of chlorophyll production to let those colors shine through. It was a wet spring, remember those mosquitos? the northern earth has tilted a bit more from the sun, nights are cool. I’m no Kate Nye, the science gal, but the conditions are perfect for a rip-roaring riot of fall colors.
Flying up to Colby College in Waterville, Maine, the earth below was a welcoming red carpet. And the carpet was rolled out by all the folks from the Women and Gender Studies Department, under the direction of Elizabeth Leonard. Many students were in attendance at the show and lots of Maniac gals came out of their little towns to attend the show. It was a great night of celebration.
It was again a pleasure to return to The Theatre at Raritan Community College in New Jersey. Alan Liddell, the theatre director, could not have been more welcoming. The New Jersey audience seemed thrilled not to have to go through a tunnel or over a bridge to see me. My intrepid publicist, Michele Karlsberg and her hard-working posse was there with product and made the evening a very special stop on the 25th Anniversary Tour.
Got back to New York, just in time to celebrate the birthday of my favorite Libra and partner. We all trundled out to the Catty Shack in Brooklyn and danced til we dropped, or actually until we all had birthday cupcakes from Magnolia. Everyone spiked on the sugar, dance frenzy broke out and then everyone crashed. Not as bad as the Yankees. It was a blast. I’m off to Women’s Week in Provincetown for more harvesting of laughter. And the Kate Clinton Classic touch football – Thursday, high noon. Bring your pinnies! I’ll be in the middle with the bullhorn, touching girls. Appropriately, of course.

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On Tuesday, September 26 I had a blast at the Lambda Liberty Awards held at the Director’s Guild in Los Angeles. I spent the day with my friend Leslie and her nine year old daughter Sophie. As I was leaving for the event, Sophie looked at me and hooted, “Woo hoo – lipstick!” That’s the kind of compliment that can send you out the door!
First, out in the lobby, there were hors d’oeuvres going into lots of familiar faces and then the program in the theater. Those Lambda folks know how to get people in and out. I emceed and presented awards to Jackie Goldberg, longtime LA activist and state pol and to Martina Navratilova for her out and outspoken support of justice for GLBT and their pets. It was great to see Martina and I look forward to seeing her more while she is “retired”. From tennis anyway.
And it wasn’t just because it was so accessible, but I had a great time with the Diversity Group at Prudential in Newark, New Jersey. The event was a networking opportunity for Prudential workers and an information session for GLBT employees and allies trying to plan for their financial futures midst the half-measures of domestic partnership which vary state to state. Since I tend to glaze over when financial planners or insurance people speak, it was good to have my publicist, Michele Karlsberg, there to poke me when my head started to bob. At the dinner after, I loved hearing the stories of the Prudential workers. They like where they work. I still have no idea what “compliance” means, but I’m pretty sure I’m not in it.
I wouldn’t dream of speaking for you, just to you, but this really has been the longest six years of my life. I have Bush boredom, not the good kind, in almost paralytic proportions. If we actually do win some advantage in the mid-term elections, I have no faith that they will actually leave in 2008. They love those coup coup kachoos. All we can do is the next right thing, but check out the Laugh-in tactic in Don’t Get Me Started. Try it. And work for a candidate and register and vote.

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Perhaps you’ve noticed the decline in gas prices at the pump. I’m not one to brag, but remember that I did promise that while on the Alaska Cruise, sponsored by Purell, with the mateys from Olivia, that I had organized a side snowmobile excursion to fix the British Petroleum pipeline? Have duct tape will travel. Prices are down. We await a thank you note from the American peoples.
The cruise was, as usual, jam-packed and fun-filled. It was lovely to hang out with my sista comics – Karen Williams, Vickie Shaw, and Roxanna Ward. Do not believe anything that Karen might tell you about my taking her on a forced nature walk in early daylight. And as always it was so special to see old friends getting some well-earned rest and relaxation and to meet new women and have time to hear the amazing stories of their lives. I wish there were an Olivia Women’s Oral History Project. Heck, they think of everything, there probably already is one out on CD.
Sadly, after getting my full certification as Bingo Caller and, at long last, Oldywed/Newlywed emcee, I had to leave the ship in Sitka. I flew to San Francisco, did some business and met my dear pal, Jeanne Rizzo, brilliant head of The Breast Cancer Fund and insane SF Giants fan. She took me to the new ballpark, and the Giants beat the Colorado Rockies. I always pretend the CR on their caps stands for “consciousness raising.”
In Chicago, cooler since the Gay Games, thank the lordess, I emceed the Outies, an awards dinner celebrating individuals and businesses that work for diversity in the workplace. It’s the last night of the Out and Equal Workplace Summit and always a pleasure to ride herd on those 1,500 daring gays and allies. So much fun, that I believe I invited myself to the next Summit, to be held next year in Washington, DC. So near the White House. Selisse Barry, unflappable executive director of Out and Equal, said she would consider the offer.
Always inspirational is a visit to a college, and Western Kentucky University in Bowling Green was no exception. I met with students at their beautiful Women’s Center run by the intrepid Jane Olmstead, had dinner with faculty, did a show, had a lively question and answer period and met with students after. Anybody can be gay in New York or San Francisco, [please tell them] but to be out and active at a southern college or in an unwelcoming work environment, fires me up. Outies for everyone!

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