By Dana Miller

When I heard last week that Christopher Street West had booked Berlin, Tiffany and Joan Jett as talent to headline 2007's Gay Pride, my heart sank. Old musicians never die. They just go from bar to bar. Don't get me wrong, these folks are all enormously talented, but I was hoping the pride progeny would rally, refine and ramp up a tad this year. Then I got wind that Long Beach Pride has booked Academy Award-winner Jennifer Hudson for two nights, and I became hysterical. For well over two years I have been beating on Pride President Rodney Scott and his board to elevate the West Hollywood Pride to a world class event worthy of our hood, the entertainment capital of the world. I cop to the fact it's been an assault by discourse. Yet lip service by CSW led to a task force and some pretty public acrimonious chats between CSW and the city. Then in the fall of 2006 Rodney and company issued a splendid report that addressed almost everything that makes folks like me cranky. Process improvement was promised throughout. I was tentatively optimistic. Damn! Then our talent was announced. The pledged renovation looked as if it were on life support. Sick to my stomach and spitting up blood, I buzzed the Honorable Jeff Prang at City Hall. Jeff is like minded regarding Pride yet, being a politician, he is more eloquent, articulate, distinguished and refined than I am. Quite honestly, I've never even heard Jeff utter my favorite word, "idiot." I asked Jeff to facilitate a meeting with President Rodney so I might get my misshapen head around Pride 2007. Jeff agreed, and his amazing deputy, Josh Kurpies, managed the impossible to get us all together last week at 8 a.m. at Hugo's. Rodney has balls. I mean, I honestly wouldn't meet with me after all the crap I've written about him. But there he was. My issue has always been the vibe, tone, pageantry and delivery of what should be a most marvelous, quality and elegant experience. Over eggs and oatmeal, I came on way too strong regarding my talent issue. I demanded he reach out to volunteer pros in the entertainment world to help secure true top talent. He looked at me like a deer in headlights. ("Shit, Dana, tone it down," I thought). He claimed no real access to them. So I promised and am committed to assist him and his crew in years to come to meet the makers and master illusionists of Tinseltown if they follow up and ask me to. I know our talented professional folk would love to be involved and will rise to the occasion. Just as we were chowing down, an old buddy of mine walked in and plopped himself down at the table next to us. This guy has programmed Fox, NBC, CNN and now BBC America. I leaned to Rodney and said, “This is just a small example of the type of committed local you need to go after.” Hell, all I could really say to him was, "I'm gonna give you enough rope to hang yourself." But I want him to win. If he scores, we do as well. We talked sponsorships, diversity and the fact that everything his report suggested would take a couple of years to come to fruition. I agree. I get it. But I asked if we could expect 75 percent on his written promised pledge this year. He suggested 60 percent. As we parted, we laughed as he suggested 50 percent. My long time buddy Kile Ozier is a talented creative director who produces spectacular events. I asked him his thoughts about all this, and this was his rather salient comment: "No matter how well-meaning or committed might be any committee or board, the fact remains that nothing compelling has ever been created by committee, without one person shepherding the vision."

So Rodney, are you that man? I dunno. But my eggs were tasty. So here's the deal: If Pride improves by 50 percent in 2007, I'm hosting Rodney and his geese to cocktails. If not? The idiot word will reappear and I'll get cranky again. And if Skip E. Lowe, Tiffany, Jim J. Bullock, Sanjaya or Lindsay Lohan are named grand marshal this year, we need to be surly, testy and hang in Long Beach. But, damn, the president of Gay Pride broke bread with a guy I wouldn't have … mainly me. He's definitely got balls. Let's hope and wish and think and pray he gets it right.

Isn't it alarming that just one company makes all that canned dog and cat food? Hundreds of brands all cooked and cranked out in the same soup kitchen. So much for brand loyalty. We have two 150-pound lovable, sweet and swell Newfoundlands. Outside of a dog, my column is man's best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read. I had apparently been feeding Lucy and Hank crap now on the rat poison danger list. Alarmed, I called the vet. She said with grand authority, "Don't fret. Rat poison is designed to kill 6 ounces, not 150 pounds." Made sense. But when Hank drooled more than his usual quart per hour I became concerned. I loaded the mutt in the car (not easy) and, upon arriving at the vet's joint, found the door locked with a sign that read: "Sit, stay. Good boy." Cracked me up. Hank is fine, by the way, and eating better than we are now.

Having nothing to do with anything, I chatted with my old pal John Gile this week. John is a good guy who heads up our strong and stunning Project Angel Food. I have always assumed and, in fact, embraced the fact that John believes I'm a prick yet moreover deep down knows my heart is in the right place. At the very beginning I kicked Project Angel Food a few bucks quite honestly only because I believed in John Gile. My bet has paid off. Gile and a lot of us have been around a long time, and I for one admire what he has done with that wonderful joint. Marianne Williamson was a mess. Scrambled is better. I mean that in the best way possible. I liked her and we shared the same agents at William Morris. Yet in a very dark time she created PAF and was for a moment a savior and goddess to thousands here. She and Louise Hay with their metaphysical dogma truly captivated West Hollywood when doctors had no answers and the standard spiritual hope gave comfort to little in life, but were terrific in death. I promise to write soon of the impact these two remarkable women had on our town in the early '80s. It was nothing short of astounding. After writing important books and making a real difference, Marianne fled to Montecito, and Gile and a strong board were left to continue shepherding a quite smashing service agency. And he did. All that said, John Gile took umbrage to something I wrote recently about AIDS Project Los Angeles inviting all the local AIDS service organizations into our new Geffen building at Fountain and Vine back in June of 1993. He had a better story and one that is likely more accurate than my memory. Over a decade ago there was a guy who ran APLA named Lenny Bloom. He was the executive director with the red bow tie who for years after leaving inexplicably starred in viatical insurance ads in gay rags. I mean, he was fired from the second largest AIDS service organization and now I'll trust you with my insurance? Lenny brought John in one day to the new building, the old 127,000-square-foot former ABC studios and stated proudly, "This is where the Project Angel Food kitchens will be," and promised the monetary moon. John Gile and his board were elated. Doing a little research, John Gile found that none of this was submitted, let alone approved by the city nor the board of APLA. Lenny was like Professor Harold Hill in The Music Man—charming, optimistic, full of life, but honestly quite full of shit. The first time I met Lenny was at the old APLA location at 937 Cole St. in Hollywood. As I arrived for a committee meeting in his office, I scooted around his desk towards a conference table. Glancing down, I laughed at the only three names on his speed dial: Barry Diller, David Geffen and Elizabeth Taylor. Richard Burton didn't even speed dial Elizabeth. ‘Nuff said.

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Contact me at Malibudana@aol.com.