Waters conceived of the gross-out finale before writing the rest of the script. It is surely the only film in the Library of Congress to climax with a scene in which its star eats a freshly produced and unmistakably real dog turd. Half a century on, Pink Flamingos retains the same ability to shock that once saw it banned in Australia and Switzerland. “An irony on top of all ironies,” says Waters. Even more remarkably, last year Pink Flamingos was selected for preservation by the Library of Congress as being “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant”. In a sign that respectability has come for Waters whether he likes it or not, the film will soon mark its 50th anniversary by being re-released with new bonus extras as part of the prestigious Criterion Collection. Christened “The Pope of Trash” by Naked Lunch author William Burroughs, Waters made his name in the early Seventies with exuberantly transgressive independent films like 1972’s Pink Flamingos, a depraved tale of incest and underground baby mills starring drag queen Divine as a criminal living under the name Babs Johnson and dubbed “the filthiest person alive”. Respectability has never been high on Waters’ agenda. They said: ‘You can’t say that!’ But it’s just too hard for me not to, because you’re supposed to give such a respectable answer and I’m tired of being respectably gay.” “I told my office I was going to say that. He interrupts himself with a knowing laugh. “I’m just gonna blow as many people as possible,” the cult filmmaker, stand-up and newly-minted novelist tells me, audibly smirking. It’s the first day of Pride Month when I reach John Waters by phone at his summer home in Provincetown, Massachusetts, so it feels remiss not to ask the 76-year-old how he plans to celebrate. Since then, he has tried to add me on Facebook a few times (he keeps making new ones) but I block him every time.John Waters: ‘When I was 12 years old, my parents built me a stage in my house where I put on very self-indulgent shows for my poor aunt. After a few heated phone conversations that consisted of him drunk and accusing me of telling his friends that I didn’t even know, I finally blocked him on all social media and also blocked his phone number. He began to get really paranoid that I was telling people about our encounters. We hooked up a few times after that but I really began to question his sanity. He didn’t want his mom to come home and see that he had company. I then had to walk a block to my truck because he didn’t want me to park his driveway. I quietly opened the door and stepped outside. Luckily he had a door that led outside in his room.
It obviously didn’t feel very pleasurable so I never ended up… Uhm… finishing.Ībout 30 minutes into the disastrous encounter, his mother comes home. He put the ziplock over my dick and tried to suck it. He went to the kitchen and got a ziplock bag (I kid you not). Neither of us had any condoms so he decided to get creative. He wanted to try preforming oral on me but didn’t actually want to put his mouth on my bare penis.
We jerked each other off for a few minutes but soon grew tired of it. His mom was still at work and would be for the next hour or so. I was pretty horny so I got in my truck and drove to his house. But, then it was a struggle.Īnyway, one day I had just gotten home from Hawaii with my family, I got a text from you know who asking me to come over. Now I find it funny because I have my own set of friends and am much more sure myself and what I stand for. In middle school, he was only nice to me when it was beneficial for him. He was (and probably still is) what you call a “follower”. You see, I use the word “friend” lightly. The conversation was usually nothing out of the ordinary and then would unexpectedly take a sexual turn. I had been texting an old friend back and forth for a couple months.