by Dana Miller

The planning commission deserves a toast. Can Pride possibly make us proud? And ya can’t change history — once upon a time there really was cum on the floor.

The West Hollywood planning commission unanimously approved the plans for the new and improved Micky’s on Santa Monica Boulevard, late the other evening. Bloody damned good. At the meeting there was one daedal citizen detractor who spoke sparingly of her assumed and actually quite assured thinking that “hedonistic” behavior will create catastrophic sexual chaos in the new club. Poor girl. Where does she think she lives, Fargo? A scrambled mind. Not without charm, but certainly without balance. Owner Michael Niemeyer hopes to have the place up and running by September or October. The remodel plans are spectacular. After the vote, Michael’s supporters held a little bash upstairs at Eleven Resturant and Nightclub. I asked his architect how confident he was of the deadline and he told me October at the latest. At the hearing, the city supported the approval, with the distinction that onwards, whatever “entertainment” was taking place in the joint, it was not to be seen from the street. After some semi-probing internal commission confab, the “entertainment” was described as go-go boys. Truth is, there are strollers filled with young ones on the boulevard today and if you spend time about them you realize observant kids do say the darndest things. Viagra is not likely in their vocabulary, and a club shouldn’t be the school that tutors them. Oh, how far we have come. Good call by the city. But to my mind, this is all simply gratifying and perfectly glorious for Michael and company, because God knows they have earned it. Philanthropy and fun have always been the Micky’s mantra. In seven months time, the impresario with a heart will be back, and the boulevard and community will be blessed with yet more options.

I have bashed ad nauseum the Gay Pride folks for years. Judging by the reader reaction, most agree with me. A few weeks ago I took a few folks from Pride out to dinner at Hugo’s. One lady hated me, but for the most part they appeared genuinely open to progression. I mentioned growing up in Pasadena and the Rose Parade and the disgrunteled one firmly announced she hated the Rose Parade. Lord. My rant has always been the parade. I just want a volunteer crew of entertainment execs to come in and consult the pomp. I named Academy Award, Tony, Grammy and Emmy winners who I could bring in to offer advice. I can’t begin to tell you the amount of outstanding production companies who have volunteered directly to me. Lord, I could recruit some Disney Imagineers in a second. James Blackley III, the chap who is the V.P. of the parade and honorees, seemed amenable. The lass who hated me told me none of my suggestions represented her community. I innocently asked, “African-American and lesbian?” And she said, “yes.” That’s an easy fix and no reason to get off track. Damn, there is extreme talent from all of our paths of life everywhere in this hamlet. All of this give and take in my mind was for 2009. Yet, last week, Pride sent me an e-mail about their honorees for this year. And I must give those folks props, they got it kinda right. Rita C. Gonzales, Bill Rosendahl, Troy Perry and Phillip Ray De Blieck, Helen Goss, Stephanie Miller, AIDS LifeCycle and the whole gang are all so very worthy. To top it off, I received an e-mail from Gaye Ann Bruno, who is a CBS exec, who volunteers as Pride’s V.P. of entertainment. She was just named one of the 10 Amazing Women in Show Biz by POWER UP! She scored Joss Stone and Olivia Newton-John to perform at the festival this year. I buzzed her out of the blue to congratulate and we became fast friends. I think she just might be open to help and an assist from the showbiz crowd in 2009. I left a message for both Pride’s president, Rodney Scott, and James Blackley to congratulate them on the honorees. You know that all progress occurs when people dare to be different. These are baby steps. But they are steps forward. There isn’t a pseudo plastic celebrity or a basketball star trying to sell a book being honored. I like that. A few weeks ago I wrote that I was planning a meal with the Pride crew. A reader warned me against sleeping with the enemy. My goal in writing this missive a couple times a month is to attempt to make a difference. If we don’t create change, change will create you. The parade may still suck—we’ll see. But we have to feel as if we are moving forward before we negate the folly completely and totally regret and reject the past. Gang, let’s work on this together. That is all I am trying to do.

My stumbling block towards real, measurable progress with my criticism and crankiness of Pride has always been monetary. The merchants of West Hollywood count on Pride for bucks, and I get that. I’ve learned the hard way that civic leaders will never completely step up with strong voice to yell for improvement for fear they might make the merchants lose dough. That does not for a second mean we can’t always discuss process improvement. Here’s my new deal: Let’s get rid of that silly festival and put it on the street. Let’s move our retailers onto the boulevard right after the festival and throw the party of the year. We’ll sell booze, food, clothes, haircuts, gifts and tanning right in front of their establishments. No more chain-link fence, no carpetbaggers. Let’s just celebrate Pride with our neighbors and brethren. No fees, just merchants merchandising and making bank. This is my first volley into this concept, so I am fortified that this incredibly naïve impertinence will be met with bewildered silence. Yet, let’s hope discussions and dinners will continue and baby steps will be taken. I like you, just want to be proud of Pride.

John Hobbs, the editor of IN Los Angeles magazine, received an e-mail from the former manager of Drake’s on Melrose, who now manages Drake’s on Santa Monica Boulevard, responding to a recent apparently appalling column of mine. And John unwisely forwarded it to me. Drake’s is one of the impeccable porn dens in our plaza. Manager Deven Holloway was, on the surface, pissed about my history lesson when sperm used to spew the floor at the old Drake’s arcade on Melrose. He was most pissed that my column, to some, may have inferred that Drake’s at 8932 Santa Monica Blvd. is closing. New owners took over 18 months ago and business is thankfully booming. I called Deven to talk with him. He seems quite nice. Porn, play and pleasure will always be here. Deven’s Drake’s will hopefully always be here as well. But I’ll be damned if I can’t reminisce about a time gone by. I’ll always make it my mettle to support the businesses in our community. But I can’t feign for a split second that the seed of man doesn’t, to this day, propel and make prosperous Drake’s, or most if not all watering holes in our town, let alone the back of this magazine. If you thankfully sell man-dolls, pornos and dildos and, at the pubs, martinis and cosmos, don’t try and march me to the mountain on any Sunday to preach. Let’s come to some agreement to cum for commerce and accept and embrace the fact that lascivious and salacious activity is still OK as long as it is safe. Deven’s take was that my view was fossiled. Nonsense.

I had a great time last week at Murano’s first anniversary party tossed by Sandy Sachs, Robin Gans and Tim Aldrete. Murano is just a stunning restaurant at 9010 Melrose Ave. The booze and grub are always great, and the mixed crowd is truly spectacular. The bash attracted a stellar gaggle, full of old friends and fun new ones. I exceedingly like this joint. Every time I hit it, it is jammed with the most eclectic crowd. The Murano gang was lovely and I felt most proud to be there to congratulate them. It is a gorgeous locus for a date, and their Sunday brunch is the best in this piece of our earth.

I’m thrilled my pal, David Rae, graces the cover of this week’s edition. He has just joined our Labor Day L.A. board. Please support his AIDS LifeCycle Ride. He is rider #5329. My Ryan’s one-year anniversary of his 88’s Cabaret takes place Monday, May 19, at Republic Restaurant on La Cienega. Call for reservations at (310) 360-7070. It will be a total talent blast and I hope to see you there!

See You Out & About

Contact me at Malibudana@aol.com.