It was my 27th birthday. Some good friends came down from San Francisco bearing top-notch hallucinogens. I indulged. Overindulged, even. After presenting a breathless tutorial on the history of women’s tennis, I retired to the lavatory, where the visage of Huckleberry Hound (floating above the roll of toilet paper) politely requested my attention. Turned out H2 was quite the gossip, and naturally he spilled the beans on Snagglepuss.
I didn’t doubt the hound’s assertions about his pink contemporary, considering all the empirical evidence (the lisp, the bow tie, the drama … ). Keep in mind this was 10 years ago; Snagglepuss had not yet staged his minor cult comeback.
Anyway, as dawn approached, I was granted one last birthday present, a 4 a.m rerun of “The Laff-A-Lympics.” Little did I know I had tripped (groan) upon a a most revealing episode.
As the Scooby Doobies, Really Rottens and Yogi Yahooies prepared to race to the top of London’s Big Ben, MC Snagglepuss set the scene with typical aplomb: “Who’ll be the first to mount Big Ben?”
Finally, a gay icon to call my own. Keep your Madonnas, your Streisands, your Sarkisians — I’ll take a witty mountain lion every time.
(Watch Snagglepuss defy his nemesis here.)