In his Panopticon writings from 1787, philosopher Jeremy Bentham described a prison with a column serving as an all-seeing eye at its center. Inmates lived in constant fear, aware of the possibility that they were being watched at all times—that, as George Orwell wrote of Big Brother in his prescient 1984, “Every sound… was overheard and except in darkness, every moment scrutinized.”

"It's time to bring it, Kara," I say to the radiant Kara Walker, who needs no prodding, as we freak across the dance floor together on the 45th story of a building overlooking Ground Zero, her metallic silver vest and long black gown flowing from side to side. This isn't exactly where one might expect to find the award-winning art legend. She is flanked on all sides by drag queens in furry fleshtones and assless gear. Nearby, James Franco chats with abstract artist Mark Bradford, while Debbie Harry, the words "Art Sells" displayed across her chest, shares a (probably dirty) joke with filmmaker John Waters, who hosted last night's New Museum Spring (Un)Gala.

Last night at the The New York Society for Ethical Culture, Baltimore dandy and film provocateur John Waters performed his scandalous one-man show “This Filthy World” to 600 enraptured ears (that’s 300 people, guesstimating). He spoke of his early days as a guerrilla filmmaker (he once spent ten hours on a farm filming his friend Divine roll around in pig shit while farmer and wife presumably watched from inside, too terrified to come out), his drug of choice, (poppers of course), and how the Broadway revival of his film Hairspray made him richer than all of his films combined. He also spoke of the death penalty (“they should at least let you choose what drug you want to OD on”) and the concept of the last meal. Waters, in a low, defiant voice, claimed that his would be “one leaf of arugula." After the jump, see what some of our most beloved mass murderers chose to nosh on before the switch got pulled.

The man who was once referred to as "The Pope of Trash" by William Burroughs is returning to New York for One Night Only to perform his one-man show, This Filthy World. A war cry for Manhattanite "filth followers," the show focuses on the legendary director's true crime obsession, his satorial choices, and his love for exploitation movies. Tickets for the commando performance on June 26 are available here. BYOMink Stole.

Shed clothes, but no tears, for Broadway’s Cry-Baby star James Snyder.

James Snyder may play every grandmother’s nightmare as the pouty greaser hoodlum Wade “Cry-Baby” Walker. But remove the wig and attitude, and there’s a fresh-faced California boy. As he shares with a reporter photos of his childhood home in Sacramento, his family, and his girlfriend (as well as the latter’s pet dog, sadly eaten by a coyote), Snyder cheerfully gripes that he is sleepless—not, mind you, from bar-hopping, but from assembling furniture.