T Lo's White Christmas

Friday, December 14, 2007 by
A T Lo Christmas Classic, for all our sisters out there.

Darlings, we're lazy little Christmas whores and we've come to the decision that we can't clean the house from top to bottom, bake 300 cookies, wrap presents, finish our shopping, and drink lots of spiked egg nog if we have to come up with entertaining things to say on the blog. What better time to gather around the virtual hearth and revisit a holiday classic from the very earliest days of the T LO phenomenon that swept the nation like pink wildfire (let us have our little fantasies)? Enjoy a little Christmas bitchery, darlings. We love you all like the precious unborn fawns you are. Have the very best of holidays (even if that means vegging out on the couch all day and watching Law and Order marathons while eating takeout, whatever floats your Yule boat) and check back in just as soon as your revelry is over, because come St. Stephen's day, we'll be back and bitchier than ever.


Yes, it's White Christmas! That holiday classic featuring closeted homosexuals and child abusers and the women with eating disorders who love them!

Our story starts with Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye as Wallace and Davis. entertaining duo and gay lovers. Okay, not lovers. Instead, they're old foxhole buddies from the war who later teamed up to sing and dance their way to stardom and that doesn't sound gay AT ALL.

Like a lot of former soldiers in the '50s, they get their kicks by going to drag shows. Unfortunately, this one features real women, The Haynes Sisters, played by Rosemary Clooney and Vera Ellen, in a casting salute to both bulimia and anorexia.


Honeys, if a gay man over 35 tries to tell you that they don't know EVERY SINGLE WORD to this song, don't believe them. Trust us on this.

Feeling a tingle deep down inside, their inner urges take over and the boys find themselves fulfilling a lifetime longing. Badly. You just know Danny wanted desperately to try on the whole outfit.

At any rate, there's what passes for sexual tension in 1954 between the boys and the girls, and then things happen in the story after that but no one sings or dances, so it's all a bit of a blur. The boys find themselves sitting up all night on a train to Vermont singing about, of all things, snow.


This was not Irving Berlin's finest work. Maybe it was code for cocaine. It would explain a lot.

"To see a great big man entirely made of snow..."

Judging by her nipplitis, Vera's been rubbing snow all over herself.

Hopped up on "snow," and with no room to dance on the train, the fidgety quartet decides to make a diorama while singing at each other.

This is your brain on drugs.

Anyway, they arrive in Vermont and pull up to a charming little inn. Turns out it's owned by their former commanding officer and it's not doing so well. Probably because it's on a sound stage.

The girls try to mount a show but there just aren't enough gay men in 1954 Vermont to come out and see their special form of drag.

In typical musical fashion, the foursome decide to mount a huge Broadway-style show to bring in the crowds. Because huge Broadway-style shows solve EVERYTHING.

And thus the grandest drag show Vermont's ever seen gets mounted in a barn.

They put poor Rosemary in some of the least flattering clothes possible, but her stage costumes in this film were gorgeous.

Then Vera comes out. Vera scares us a little. For one, she's literally built like a Barbie doll and secondly, she appears to want to have sex with everything. All the time.

Bitch can dance up a storm, though.

Which is more distracting, her bizarre pelvic region or his hot ass?

See? She wants to rip off that ugly green tuxedo and mount him right there on the stage!

Not that we can blame her. He's hot. And that tux hurts the eyes.

Check it out. It's the number that makes the picture. In fact, it's such a fantastic number that it kind of sticks out in such a treacly, mediocre film.



Just a quaint New England Inn.

Hey General! Did you ever think you're losing money because you apparently built a massive entertainment complex in the middle of the woods? The heating bills alone are probably what did him in. What did they used to keep in this barn, elephants?

Anyway, later that night, Bing and Rosemary meet in the bar to sing at each other about sheep and blessings while eating liverwurst sandwiches and buttermilk, which explains why she gained 300 pounds and why he beat his kids.

The next day, Rosemary still has gas from the buttermilk and liverwurst. Bing makes a tasteless joke about her farts in front of the company and she storms off to New York. Because she's a bitch.

Meanwhile, Danny will only kiss Vera if she lets him call her "Larry."

Sexually frustrated, Vera throws caution to the wind and has sex with Guido right on the stage in front of the whole company. Nice bulge. It kills us that we can't find this number on YouTube because it is HOT.

EDIT: Found it:



HOT. Amirite?

Bing runs off to New York in pursuit of Rosemary and finds her cavorting onstage with a gaggle of gay men right after she apparently took a roast out of the oven.


Fierce dress, girl. And yes, that's George Chakiris.

He tries to apologize to her for making fun of her farts, but she won't hear it.

Because she's a bitch.

After Bing leaves, she has a sudden realization. "Shit. These skinny little New York queens I've been hanging out with are never gonna give me the long and hard like I know Bing can!"

So she high-tails it back to Vermont, where she and Vera dress like men to get the boys' motors running.

Then, they all put on the gayest costumes ever designed.

And try to get a 3-way going right there on stage. Vera is hurt and breaks it up. Bing is pissed.

"Okay kids, I want you to hold those candles nice and straight, you hear me? Or I'll beat the shit out of each and every one of you."

All's well that ends well and the whole company forces local children to appear onstage with them, all of whom clearly are dying of embarrassment. Except the little boy on the right, who grew up to open a leather bar on Fire Island.



MERRY CHRISTMAS, POODLES!