Seems everybody’s a hero nowadays. Everybody, that is, but us.
     We prefer to remain the gypsies, tramps, and thieves (as well as half-breeds and dark ladies) we came to this city to be . . . even though it no longer resembles the city we came to. Another club closes; another law passes; another boutique hotel rises in the Meat Market. Bang, bang: our paved paradise is one big Pottery Barn.
     It’s hard to believe (much less believe in love) that we’re making our final descent into the lower depths of theme park. And with the GOPs due to appear in September ’04, it’s only going to become more sanitized.
     Of course this is completely unacceptable to those of born in the wagons of travelling shows, those of us who dance for money and knock back bottles of Doctor Good, you know, those if who do whatever we can. In a city full of Cher-alikes, we find ourselves suddenly, inexplicably, in a world without Cher.
     Farewell tour, you know. Full of not so much production numbers as production lowest common denominators; plus, more costume changes than you could shake a scalpel at. We hear the computerized voice box has been leased to Madonna.
     Of course, some thought we lost Cher decades ago when she first started to turn back time (just as some thought we lost the city to a few nips and tucks). Others never got her at all (as others never get the city), although they loved her (and the city) in Moonstruck. Still others never even knew her: met a straight kid the other day who thought "Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves" was a Nirvana song; met a queer one who thought it referred to a Friday night at The Eagle.
     How many people remember the 80s remix with the politically correct lyrics, retitled, "Roma, Sexual Compulsives and Kleptomaniacs"? Probably not a soul. It never got much play. For those who are interested, here’s a sampling of the lyrics:

Picked up a trannie just south of Florent
Gave "her" a ride, "she" gave me what I want
I was sixteen, she was forty-one
Rode with me to Chelsea
And papa woulda’ shot me if he knew what I’d done

     Ah, those were the days. Take us home.