DRIVE-IN SATURDAY
So to whom was the Thin White Duchess referring, you might well ask, as you peruse this column, Boy Howdy flagon clutched in one paw, a slice of Weenie Pizza with extra cheese gripped in the other. Was Detroit’s favorite housewife jawing about Keef or Iggy or even her own spouse?
LONESOME COWBOY BILL
DRIVE-IN SATURDAY
by
Edouard Dauphin
“He’s a hard guy to get into bed— that’s why I like him.”
—Patti Smith
So to whom was the Thin White Duchess referring, you might well ask, as you peruse this column, Boy Howdy flagon clutched in one paw, a slice of Weenie Pizza with extra cheese gripped in the other. Was Detroit’s favorite housewife jawing about Keef or Iggy or even her own spouse? Nah, just paying one more tribute to an old junky beatnik priest.
The Dauphin ain’t much for heroes (with the possible exception of Rasputin) but one could do a whole lot worse than to admire the style and achievements of William S. Burroughs, friend to Patti and the likes of Laurie Anderson (and their cohort in Dial-A-Poem) and subject of Burroughs, a new film by someone called Howard Brookner and the first documentary this jaded scribbler has even seen since Debbie Does Duluth.