Tonight is a very special edition of Snackhole, as they shall be both celebrating the sordid life of, and roasting the sordid hell out of, the inexhaustible fountain of singular sick-twistedness that is Miss Jackie Hell.
There shall indeed be all the music, live performances, train-wreck trannies, food, and glamorous deviancy of other Snackholes, naturally, but at some strategic point, the mic is going to "open up" (as it were), and persons indeterminate shall be encouraged to say things about the long, weird life of Jackie. To share things! Secret things! Hilarious things!
Sadly for me, I'm still on "vacation" (pfft), and will miss this opportunity. So below I share just a wee smattering of what I know about Jackie, reprinted and/or culled from some silly little book I wrote or something.* (Shhh!)
In the very beginning, Jackie Hell worked as the assistant manager of the scary old Biltmore Apartments, at least during daylight hours, when he went around incognito as a “normal person.” By day he was called David Latimer, and he had no tits whatsoever. In fact, Jackie Hell wasn’t even Jackie Hell yet. Back then, David's Drag persona was “Margarita”. Things like “Jackie Hell” and "Pho Bang” and everything else were misty dreams of the future.
But even way back then, all of the classic Jackie Hell-isms were there: dirty old pillows stuffed where boobs and butt should be, gigantic tacky-tourist sunglasses, insane drunk-grandma makeup, and a purse as big and wrinkly as an elephant’s ass, every crease of which was crammed with liquor, pills, evil little powders, and mysterious intentions. And the filthy jokes! Jesus! She was like a fuck-wrecked Aunt Betsy from the planet Holy Shit. Everyone thought she was quite insane. At first.
Jackie/David did not get paid much for his services to The Biltmore. What he mostly got was a small studio apartment that he shared with his wildly eccentric friend/former flame/roommate, Jonona Jupiter. The pair of them lingered in wretched poverty. During the leanest years, their greatest joy was a once-a-week treat they could barely afford...cheeseburgers from McDonalds. Sadly, their weekly treat was often interrupted by the hungry child of the drug addicts next door. The poor little beast would smell their delicious burgers, toddle over, and beg at their feet like a starving spaniel. “Bite? Bite? Bite? Bite?!” the wretched thing would chant over and over until they finally relented and gave the poor thing their cheeseburgers. Maybe that’s why Jackie’s sense of humor is so whimsically contemptuous of children. Sometimes.
“What’s the best thing about sleeping with thirty six year-olds? There’s thirty of ‘em!”
Ladies and gentelmen...here's to Jackie Hell!
Snackhole is at The Wildrose, 1021 East Pike, 9pm, $5, TONIGHT!
*I cannot guarantee a word of this is true. Except it totally is.