The Drag King and the Riot Grrl
halfofone - January 2002

The ether hummed in TV land,
with tales of might and magic;
'Though technobabble had quite unmanned
Trek writers' tender logic.
And fourty-four more eps to come
made Buffy's death less tragic

The Drag King and the Riot Grrl
Were watching, beers in hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of bland,
And queerless, gay-free telly visions.
They said, `It would be grand!'

`If any maids with hairy legs
Wrote shows for us to share.
Do you suppose,' the Drag King said,
`That they could get to air?'
`I doubt it,' said the Riot Grrl,
And shed a bitter tear.

`The time has come,' the Drag King said,
`To talk of many things:
Of dykes and vamps— and Klingon babes—
Of labrys— and kings—
And why the Wiccan chick is hot—
And Kerry's latest flings.'

`O Scribblers, bards, come lodge with us!'
The Drag King did beseech.
`A change of course, a different stroke,
A different world to each.
We cannot deal with porn of course,
I do not mean to preach.'

They dreamed of bardsters queuing up,
All eager for their feed:
Their prose well brushed, their rights disclaimed,
Their scrolls complete in deed;
(And this was odd, because, you know,
Their beta loves the weed.)

`But wait a bit,' the bardsters cried,
`Before we spin our tales;
For some of us like B5 angst,
Or Bad Girls' sad travails!
And others yet, spoof Janeway's hair,
And rudely torment males.'

'And what of those whose uber grows,
Or fresh ideas need room?'
'All welcome here, we've no concern,
Re: whom is slashed with whom.
No worries!' barked the Riot Grrl.
'Just send them to their doom!'

`A femslash thread,' the Drag King said,
`Is what we chiefly need:
Romance and comedy besides
Are very good indeed—
Now if you're ready, Bardsters dear,
We can begin to read.'

(With apologies to Lewis Carroll)