Boy, Oh, Boy

Boy, Oh, Boy

Who doesn't know of Boy George? He's an icon who eludes concrete description. Ever-changing, multi-talented, hilarious and incredibly honest. We spoke with the legend in anticipation of his May 1 gig here DJing for the NYC vs. Dallas party at Liquid.

Should I call you Boy or George?

George. People only call me Boy in America [or] Mr. George, which always amuses me.

So your clothing label Rude is collaborating with the Heatherette fashion line?

Well, I'm doing my own stuff anyway, and we've been doing bits together. I love what they do. It's a bit homegrown and funky.

You're doing that at the same time you're recording an album and DJing?

I've been doing the clothing for about a year. I really got into beads and doing hand beading. I mean, I just made this really beyond bra. It's sort of like the Sistine Chapel of bras. It's like really, really mad with a lot of beadwork. And we were sitting here doing it overnight, and I was like, "I wonder if Prince is crocheting right now."

I've read that in your DJing, you don't have a loyalty to just one style. Is that true with all facets of your art?

To a point. Whatever I'm doing at that time I'm very passionate about. I've been DJing for 13 years. Dance music has gotten so popular in the UK that the crowd sort of dictates what you have to play, and to me that isn't the point. I don't think there's any merit in giving people what they want.

Do you have run-ins with Culture Club fans?

I was in the street the other day and somebody walked up to me and gave me an '80s flier, and I sort of laughed, and he said, "Oh, we sometimes play your music." And I said, "Well, I really wish you wouldn't bother." He looked really horrified, and I was like, "That sounds really rude, and I don't mean to be rude, but why does someone your age want to re-create the '80s? When the '80s happened we weren't re-creating the '60s!"

So you wouldn't use music from Culture Club in your mixes?

Um, well, there's a really good mix of "Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?" by Quiver, which I sometimes play; it depends on my mood. I think you should have a healthy respect for the past but not wallow in it. It's funny how you need a bit of distance from a decade before you can really reassess it.

Were you excited to be on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy?

Not at all. To me that's like the worst thing that's ever happened.

So I take it you don't have a favorite!

Well, no, but what I'm saying is I watched the show, and I thought it was really dreadful. Oh, they've got five gay guys, and they all represent the different aspects of gay culture. But they're all the fucking same! The only difference is one's got messy hair...and earphones around his neck. It's almost like people want to dumb down the reality of gay culture, you know. They just want us to be these nonsexual, inoffensive, theater-loving, you know, fur furniture-worshiping idiots. And that's not my gayness! It says nothing about me.

One last question: Do you really want to hurt me, and do you really want to make me cry?

It really depends on the day or the time of night, and it also depends on what you've been doing to me!

It was sort of a bet and I had to say that.

You did it with style, and that's the main thing. You can get away with anything in life if you do it with style. Then there's people that come up and scream, "Ooooh! Karma Chameleon! Oooohhhh!" And you're like, "Ugh, you're not the first person to do that, and you won't be the last." --Merritt Martin

Won't Somebody Please Think of The Children?

The Helen Lovejoys have spoken. After our cover story on Passion Parties and vibrators and other hot stuff ("Sex Toy Story," April 8), we received many missives that complained about our cover image. (In fact, there's one in this issue: See Letters, page 9.) Apparently, a big pink phallic cake topper can cause psychological damage to children. We hadn't thought of this, but, in retrospect, perhaps the letter writers are right. After all, sheltering young ones from sex is the only way to ensure they won't have it--or, at least, that they won't enjoy it. A worthy goal. To that end, the Full Frontal staff has put together some suggested responses you can use when your munchkin says, "What's that big ol' thing with the slightly curved end?":

"A parasol handle."

"A crowbar."

"The world's biggest earthworm."

"Nothing. Now be quiet."

"Some sort of rudimentary lathe."

"Ask your mother."

"That thing Boone had in Animal House." "It's not a huge pink vibrating dildo!"

Mavs, Man

Game 4 of the Mavs-Kings series was supposed to be a pivotal moment, the game where the team evened things up and gave itself a chance to move on to the next round. Instead, it looks like it will be the last home game of a very disappointing season. Here's what you missed if you weren't there.

Before the game, they cranked "Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor over the P.A. The entire song. What, was Night Ranger's "(You Can Still) Rock in America" not available?

Mavs dancers: best, hottest in town. Let us recognize. They make the vaunted Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders look like soccer moms.

Re: Humble Billy. Just curious: Can you wish harm upon someone and still get into heaven?

During one break, the Mavs' spirit crew--also known as the Dr Pepper Fun Slingers--threw Frisbees in the stands. Suddenly, it's 1974.

Mark Cuban absolutely refuses to untuck his T-shirt. Which proves two things: 1) You can have access to the finest workout facility and still maintain a sizable gut and 2) he is a humongous dork.

Favorite Josh Howard moment: goes for follow dunk, misses, loses headband, grabs it in midair, expertly replaces headband while getting back in transition D. Prompting one fan to scream, "Who gives a shit about your headband?" We do, Josh. We do.

Mavs Man. Seriously?

When in-arena host Chris Arnold uses hip-hop slang while pimping Dallas Mavs merch, it doesn't sound that different from when, say, your father uses it. Holla!

Somehow, all the free stuff ends up in the hands of the folks in the really good seats. As the guy next to us in the upper deck says, "Blue-collar people need free shit, too."

Best sign spotted in the arena: "Vlade Be-yatch." Or maybe a photo of Kings guard Doug Christie, who is so p-whipped his wife carries his junk in a purse they designed together, next to the phrase "Honey, can I shoot?" You make the call.

The publisher of this fine publication finished off the last of the Crown Royal. Not in her glass--in the arena. "Sorry," the waitstaff said, "we're out."

With 8.6 seconds left, the season on the line, and during the timeout, as the Mavs huddle, Shawn Bradley, who has played not one second in the game, stretches vigorously. "He thinks he's going in," the publisher says. "Should I tell him?"

Bradley couldn't have come up with a worse game-ending shot than Steve Nash did. Oh, wait, you didn't need to be there to know that.

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