Filmmaker, writer, artist and Filth Elder John Waters was signing copies of his latest tome, Mr Know-It-All in San Francisco. I was flying to Baltimore the next day to look for housing and spend a little more quality time with Mr. He-Knows-Who-He-Is. Getting an autograph from the Prince of Puke would be an awesome send off, so I drove to The City. When my turn came to have John inscribe my book I said “I’m flying to Baltimore tomorrow”, “what for ?” He rose to my bait. “House hunting, I’m moving there”, “Oh really, what area ?”, “Federal Hill, if I’m lucky, but probably Pig Town.”
John demurred at Pig Town, I thought the neighborhood’s lowbrow past and uncertain future would appeal to his innate sense of good bad taste. Instead he tried to talk me out of it, mentioning that it’s always supposed to be the next big thing, but somehow never makes it. The ultimate real estate cock tease. By way of self defense I said “But I’m from Fresno !” Thinking that Fresno’s reputation for mediocrity, Marcus Wesson and methamphetamine abuse would give me some cred. “Fresno is for pussies !” he snarled in his nasal Baltimore voice. Regardless, I’m still going to invite him to the housewarming party.
