ANDY PRIEBOY's brilliantly funny WHITE TRASH WINS LOTTO couldn't quite keep its promise of providing a seat for “every ass in Hollywood.” The musical, loosely based on Axl Rose's rise and redemption in the smarmy world of rock & roll dreamers and schemers, sold out its three-night run at the Roxy so quickly that many of us missed this latest version, which has evolved from its work-in-residence period over three years at Largo. (You'll get another chance when White Trash Wins Lotto returns to the Roxy December 9­11.) One local rock band, who didn't see it either, nonetheless took offense at WTWL and decided to organize a protest outside the Roxy on the grounds that “rock & roll is not a circus.” (We swear — they really said that.) The group, whose lead singer is known for flapping his genitalia onstage (although we hear he's recently severed that part of his act), called various scenesters around town to help out with the planned demonstration, including nightclub impresario/music writer JIM FREEK. According to Freek, the clueless glam boy felt that White Trash was “making fun of the rock-star dream” and that “even the title is condescending.” Of course, anybody who's even only read about WTWL knows that the show is mostly a gibe at the bloated egos and unscrupulous power players in the music industry. Apparently, either the ridiculous rockers figured out what the show is really about, or maybe they were just seeking to suck away a little of the publicity generated by the talented Mr. Prieboy, but in any case, they never showed up. Perhaps they were planning a protest against another musical — and one whose title the band should definitely take personally — Hedwig and the Angry Inch.


 


CAN'T WE ALL GET A-SCHLONG?
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Tons o' butt-shakin' kiddies — in costumes rangin' from the Blair Witch to the YK2 Bug — got a ghouly groove on at KROQ'S FOURTH ANNUAL

HALLOWEEN COSTUME BALL, held this year at the American Legion Hall on Highland Avenue. While MOBY (pictured), who manned the turntables during his sets clad in a teeny-weeny bikini and a sash that said “IDIOT,” worked his voodoo on the wax and played DJ tag with FATBOY SLIM and THE WISEGUYS, all the frightful freaks, including CRYSTAL METHOD and woosome twosome GAVIN ROSSDALE of Bush and GWEN STEFANI of No Doubt, whooped it up on the dance floor. (Moby wowed the crowd at Sugar the night before with an unannounced set.) Later, hangin' outside, we got really spooked when KROQ's JED THE FISH — dressed up as a nerd in a sweat-stained shirt and short pants with a super faux schlong dangling down the side of his leg that woulda' made John Holmes pout — stood in front of us and proceeded to wank on the monstrous thing 'til he, uh, reached a creamy satisfaction. He then insisted that we shake hands and get together sometime. We quickly introduced him to the Glenn Close look-alike standing a few feet away with “I Will Not Be Ignored” scrawled in red on the back of her blouse, and we got the hell outta there. We can only hope it was a fatal attraction.


–Derrick Mathis


 


SQUATTER'S RITES


What would you do if the landlord stopped collecting rent and allowed squatters to take over an abandoned Fairfax-district apartment right next to yours? Why, commandeer the empty site,
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run extension cords from your pad into the space and create an art collective, of course. That's exactly what host/artist — not to mention beautiful — ANDY SCHEER did when he brought together artists HOLLAND, DAVID KRUDIS, MICHAEL MORRISON, JOHN OTTO and just plain old OTTO (right, in picture) for ARTSQUAT recently. Judging by the refreshments (beer and a boozy pink punch — what squatter can afford champagne?), this was no fancy-shmancy party. Among the smart art tarts milling and swilling while reviewing the hand-painted photographs, illustrations and paintings were actor ALEXIS ARQUETTE, superstar CANDYASS, hairhopper FRANKIE PAYNE,

PETRA HADEN (formerly of That Dog), Aussie transplants model

BELINDA GAVIN and her hot boyfriend MULLY, saucy SELENA, who got into the spirit of the eve by painting “ArtSquat” across her bare breasts (now that's what we call titillating), club king JOSH WELLS, photographer ANDY DEVINE, cocksucker to the stars HAGATHA (left, in picture), the long-lost but not missed SHEVELVA KENNEDY-SINATRA, and brassy babe MISS ANDRA. To check out future ArtSquat events — Andy promises there will be a super “stunt” soon — call (323) 341-9157 or e-mail artsquat@yahoo.com.


–J.V. McAuley


 


THESE GUYS PUT THE FUN IN FUNERAL


The term “ghost town” took on new meaning around the ORPHEUM THEATER on Broadway right before Halloween. Usually, this part of downtown is deserted after dark, but goblins and gremlins galore gathered for the Orpheum's SPOOK-A-THON, an annual benefit where archival prints of scream classics are shown to raise funds for the preservation of this spectacular movie palace, built in the French Renaissance style in 1926. Revellers — from goth-club-kid vampires to middle-aged, love-handled and bespectacled horror-film buffs (and you should have seen the people in costume) — watched a macabre parade put on by the PHANTOM COACHES HEARSE CLUB, whose 132 “dismembers” restore and drive vintage coffin crates, everything from a 1917 wood-carved Model T to souped-up '60s chariots. (The ghoulish hot-rod gang held an all-hearse drag race — guess you could call it Death in the Fast Lane — at Pomona Raceway on Halloween.) The sleek and gleaming Black Marias ranged from Phantom Chairman of the Morgue JEFF PERRIN's sinister 1960 Eureka Landau to a '68 Caddy driven by JOHNNY JONES, whose dripping, fang-punctured neck tattoo turned some heads. If you missed the parade, take a gander at the debut issue of Hot Rod Deluxe, which features BILL SMITH's 1965 Irish Mist Superior Landau End-Loader hearse. And remember, even if your load doesn't end up in such a stylish conveyance, everyone gets to ride in a hearse at least once.


–Pleasant Gehman


Bottom photo by J.V. McAuley

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