Not every multimedia bondage goddess can break into a
spontaneous accordion eruption of “Lady of Spain” midsentence.
But then again, Judy Tenuta—Healer of the Hermaphrodites, Princess of Pantyshields, Flaming Fashionista and benevolent overseer of countless slavishly devoted love slaves—has been multitasking for decades.
“I popped out of my mother wearing her IUD,” recalls Tenuta of
the quaint metal birth-control device that looks something like a
tuning fork and can also be used as a tiara. Not content to merely
accessorize, Tenuta promptly began playing folk songs on the thing.
In retrospect, she reflects, it was only a matter of time before she
started her own religion.
Tenuta brings her comedy act/religious revival to the Lakeshore
Theater July 28. Ticket sales to an evening espousing the tenants of
Judyism are brisk—this is, after all, a woman whose drag queen
fans rush the stage to chew her gum while the dykelettes in the
crowd flash like it was Spring Break in Cabo. Or at least they did in
March, in Phoenix, where Tenuta’s show turned into “one big, fat
gay mitzvah.”
UR Chicago had the golden opportunity to speak with Tenuta
shortly before she headed to Palm Springs, Calif., for a similar
mitzvah. Herewith, she holds forth on global warming, suburban
Cook County, the righteousness of strap-ons and why a Roman
Catholic background is a fine prerequisite for those aspiring to
goddessdom. – catey sullivan
So, you’re from Oak Brook, which is one of the richest, most
conservative suburbs in Illinois—maybe in the country.
That’s gotta be where you got your sense of humor, from
DuPage County, right?
I’m not from Oak Brook.
Oh. OK. Wait—
Oak Park. I’m from Oak Park—home of Ernest Hemingway and
Frank Lloyd Wright.
Right. That’s what I meant. Oak Park. So, uh, do you have
anything in common with Ernest and Frank?
I like to go elephant hunting and design uncomfortable chairs.
Wait, what?
I wish I had Hemingway’s drinking problem. Because if you’re in
AA , you get to meet all the producers at meetings. That’s where they
all hang out. But every time I go to an AA meeting, they tell me,
“No, no, you’re still vertical. You don’t have a problem.”
Are you vertical?
I’m addicted to comedy.
Anyway, how does one get to become a goddess having
grown up in the suburbs? Are there certain philosophical
considerations?
Elvis appeared to me in my Cheez Whiz.
Metaphorical Cheez Whiz or literal Cheez Whiz?
Elvis appeared to me in my Cheez Whiz—
On a sandwich or just in, like, the jar? And did you eat it?
Elvis appeared to me in my Cheez Whiz. And he told me I should start
my own religion: Judyism.
Now, is this a religion that’s rooted in the Judeo-Christian
tradition? Or is it more Unitarian? Because Frank Lloyd
Wright designed the Unitarian Temple in Oak Park, you know.
I was raised a very strict Catholic, where the men are always
put before the women. It’s not intentional. Well, maybe it is.
Anyway, I had to empower myself. So I became the goddess. You
know the Virgin (Mary); she has all these great titles—Tower
of Strength, Tower of Ivory and Blessed Mother. I have titles too:
Princess of Pantyshields, Healer of Hermaphrodites and Aphrodite
of the Accordion.
Speaking of titles, you’re always calling men “pigs.” And
sometimes “pig dogs.” Is there a difference between a pig and
a pig dog, or is it just a kind of rhetorical flourish?
I don’t call men pig dogs.
Oh. OK, wait.
I use “pig” as a friendly term for all people, especially for my love
slaves. Except when I use it because men are being oinky oink
oinking chauvinistic piggies.
How often does that happen?
I love men. I love men. I might as well be a gay man. But sometimes
they do need to understand that they can’t just use us until they feel
like it’s time for a new model. I just lost 190 pounds of ugly fat, by
the way. I dismissed my lying, cheating boyfriend. Dismissed him.
That sounds harsh.
He’s perfectly happy living in a cardboard box selling oranges
down by the freeway. We cannot have people around us who are
disingenuous.
Do you love gay men more than straight men?
The queens give the goddess impeccable gifts—unlike the straight
men, who only give me the worst crap you could want.
What’s the worst gift you’ve ever gotten from a straight man?
The gift of himself.
Like in that Justin Timberlake song (“Dick in a Box”)? Oh,
never mind. But, speaking of which, Hemingway was such a
rabid macho hetero, at least until he shot himself in the
head. So I wanted to ask what you think of gay marriage.
Being from Oak Park and all.
Love is love is love. If two men want to take vows to each other, if
women want to strap one on—it’s nobody’s business but theirs.
We should all be allowed to get married. People get so uptight, like
gay marriage is going to damage straight marriages—it’s like, in
straight marriage, after a few years you never have sex anyway and
the kids rule the house, right? Right? Are you married?
Do you notice global warming out there in California? Is
the ocean closer to your house than it used to be?
It was 85 degrees in January. It’s 60 today. It’s impossible not
to notice.
So if we all fry, or if there are floods and California sinks into
the ocean, who will you not miss?
Well, there’s the obvious: the whole Bushwhack dynasty. Wouldn’t
miss them. And Gary Coleman. (Breaks into “Lady of Spain” on the
accordion.) I have a new turquoise accordion. I’m excited about it.
Judy Tenuta performs at 7 and 9:30 p.m. Saturday, July 28
at the Lakeshore Theater (3175 N. Broadway, 773/472-3492);
lakeshoretheater.com
