BlackBook

It’s not Christmas unless you’ve subjected yourself to a profane Jackie Beat holiday extravaganza. We've been to at least six of these, and we always look forward to the opportunity to sing along to sick un-PC versions of songs you once thought were as innocent as apple pie while wearing our best holiday attire. One year, Ms. Beat serenaded us at Fez in New York City to the ditty known as “I Ran,” with the words changed to reflect the new title, “Bomb Iraq.” (Oh, yes, she did!) We expect this year's show, "Alcoholidays," will be even more outrageous. In honor of her show in L.A. -- Friday through Sunday only at the Cavern Club Celebrity Theatre -- we gave her the L.A. Q & A drilldown.

It’s the time of the year when the charity events really start popping. This week we’ve got two, one more serious than the other -- but both are just as worth of your hard-earned cash. Ryan Heffington and hid Sweaty Sundays crew are up to some hijinks; this weekend, members of the dance class (as well as Heffington’s more experienced pro dancers) are putting on a benefit show at the Bootleg Theatre. The proceeds are promising to go toward “future endeavors.” We know Mr. Heffington is hoping to follow in Richard Simmons’ footsteps and film his own DVD, all in aid of getting a studio space he can call his own -- for dancing and film screenings, gatherings, and more. Sweat it out with the sweaty crew Thursday through Sunday at 8pm, 2220 Beverly Blvd. Tickets can be grabbed here.

It’s the “holidays,” and so I would like to redirect your attention to a genius ode to Christmas on the Internet, called the “The Christmas Tree.” I am doing this because tomorrow night, you’ll be able to see the inventive genius behind this absurdist piece of low comedy performing at Margaret Cho’s birthday bash, “Doing It!!!” The man behind the woman in “The Tree,” is John Roberts. He hails from New York and at one time was in an electroclash-era band called Opti-Grab.

I’ve always wanted to be a drag queen. Impossibly tall, with big hair and overwrought, glamorous dresses, drag queens are the opposite of my mousy five feet tall self. I’ve always envied their makeup skills, which are so impractical, yet fabulous. I would stare at Jackie Beat and watch her do her makeup and whimper, “Jackie will you show me how?” as if I was a little girl watching her big sister. So when I got the email, inviting people to come to the tranimal makeover at Machine Project, I was intrigued. What is a tranimal, and how do they do it? Would the secrets of the drag universe be revealed?

According to this report over at Style Section L.A., Los Angeles nightclubs are trying something new to lure customers to their lairs, where they'll spend copious amounts of money on champagne and cocktails. No, Dorothy, they won’t be playing good music, attracting an interesting, artistic crowd, or hosting new up-and-coming DJs and artist. Instead, there’ll be costumes! Yes. Costumes.

Nightlife people are people too. Even though it seems like they subsist on fairy dust and alcoholic beverages and only come out when there's a spotlight, they're people just like you and me. They eat turkey (well, Nic Adler only eats tofurkey), and have families and stuff. We surveyed a few of Los Angeles's performers, club owners, DJs, promoters, and tranny hookers, to see what they are thankful for.

The holidays are officially here, but there are some folks who don't have much to be thankful for. Denizens of the night can help the less fortunate at the 11th Annual Gobble Gobble, a charity event held at the Echo in Echo Park Thanksgiving Day. Started by Barry Walker eleven years ago when he started cooking and delivering Thanksgiving meals to the homeless, the event has turned into full-fledged neighborhood effort. They’ve gone from feeding 28 homeless to serving over 1500 meals. If you don't feel like hanging out with cranky relatives, or if you have no cranky relatives, this might be a more fulfilling use of your time. If you just want to donate you can do so here: http://www.gobblegobblegive.org/donate.php. They are in need of everything from food, to blankets, clothing and toiletry kits.

One thing I love about Los Angeles is that everyone comes here, and I don't have to go anywhere -- they come to me. Case in point: Joey Arias, the drag diva who first made a splash in New York's underground drag scene and then went on to infamy at Cirque du Soleil's sexytime Zumanity in Las Vegas, is here in town. I can go see him without jumping on a 3,000-mile (or 250-mile) flight for the next few weeks, in "Arias with a Twist." The name stems from the collaboration with Basil Twist, a puppeteer who conjured the fantastical set that Mr. Arias performs on.

When I walked into Book Soup on Sunset Boulevard for Mary Forbserg Weiland’s book reading on Monday night, it was immediately clear this was not your average book party. For one thing, there was an inordinate number of extremely tall, extremely beautiful, extremely well-dressed women in a crowded indie book store. That would be because the author was also a model. Then, there was the presence of a genuine rock star or two ... Dave Navarro (If I really have to tell you -- Red Hot Chili Peppers, Jane’s Addiction, yadda yadda yadda), and Dave Kushner of Velvet Revolver. A writer version of a rock star, Cameron Crowe, was also there, and yes, we stammered something stupid to him. The reason for all the celebrity fanfare? You might recognize her last name: she was married to Scott Weiland, the lead singer of Velvet Revolver and Stone Temple Pilots. Her friends in high places came to support her debut book, a memoir about her drug addiction and mental illness, co-written with Vanity Fair writer/editor Larkin Warren.

Jackie Beat is one of those performers, writers, know-it-alls who should be more famous than she is. “Her” (she’s not a real lady) talent is a testament to the cruelty of Hollywood, a flawed system which rewards dumb and empty vessels like Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt merely for existing, and allows bad scripts (nearly everything currently playing at your local cinema) to be made into movies for millions of dollars. When my friend and I walked out of “Whatever Happened to Busty Jane,” a dark-and-twisted comic send up of Whatever Happened to Baby Jane, we had just finished laughing nonstop for two hours. I said to my friend, "Wouldn’t it be nice if Jackie Beat was writing Saturday Night Live skits?” Sadly, we both agreed that it would probably never happen because she’s too good, too smart, and too funny for mainstream America.