It’s almost like Bobby Trendy’s stint of the mayor of Tacky McCrazyville has transformed him into something that’s not even human anymore, and because he’s no longer flesh and blood, but merely plastic and vinyl and what appears to be a great amount of ruched satin, his tackiness has turned the Fug Avenue corner and he’s now streaming up Trashtastic Boulevard on some kind of very, very gay float.

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I mean, you sort of have to hand it to him: that outfit is SO COMPLETELY WRONG that it’s ALMOST hilariously right, sort of like Angelyne, or Dance 360.  The fluffy fluffy jacket, that might not quite be dead? The Don Ho Barbie shirt? The pants WITH HIS NAME ON THEM IN RHINESTONES? I’m torn between wanting to throw a drink in his face and then kiss him and wanting to run him down with my car.