Todd Diederich - Uncle John

The best advice I’ve ever received was from my Uncle John. It was about 3 AM in a Boystown bar when he looked above my head and lets out a “Woahhh.” He explained to me that he could see my guardian angel and that it’s an 8-foot tall Mayan warrior.  He stared for a little bit more, still looking above my head. He was freaking me out a little at this point and I was waiting for him to break the silence. When he finally did he says, “You have diplomatic universal immunity. You no longer have to listen to Earthlings”… and he said that before we smoked the blunt.

I would say I owe all of Todd’s People to my Uncle. He has shown and taught me a Chicago that most don’t know. He has been attracting the strange before I knew how to conjure up the spirit. Thanks to him I am well informed on sleazy, late-night gay bars where porn and old men absorb most of your senses. We once were at a Cubs game for 30 minutes before he got bored and took me to a drag show down the street.  He has also shown me the small spirits and fairies that are inside of my photographs.

John’s father, my grandfather, would make a play of words from our last name, Diederich. He would say, “Lived poor. Died Rich.” John taught me to “Live rich. Die poor.”

VICE: John! So nice to see you.
John: Well hello. Are you ready to feed the kids? Ohh shit, there’s the geese.

Why does that matter?
They are like riot police. They’re bullies. They come in and hog all the food and beat up on the other ducks. They even beat up poor little Pegasus.

Pegasus

Who is Pegasus?
It’s that duck right there. He has one leg. It probably got bit off by a turtle. I have to feed Pegasus last. All the other ducks will poke at him. He gets roughed up a lot. Ohhh, there’s Mr. Peanut.

Mr. Peanut?
Yeah, he is the baby squirrel. Look, he climbs on me.

Why are you so good at this?
Because I’m fucking crazy.

My roommates had a crazy night. They love doing poppers. I never heard of that till now, am I crazy?
Oh, I got poppers stories. I used to do it so much my lips were blue! The last time I did it there was a big police raid and I was still on the dance floor in my grand finale. But it was obviously time to go.

Why was that?
The places were illegal because old man Daley [the mayor of Chicago at the time] didn’t like gay people. He would have places raided. They would arrest you and then they would publish your name in the paper the next day for being in a raid at a gay club. People would commit suicide because some of them were married and had kids, or they had good jobs and having their name published in the paper for being at a gay club turned out to be devastating. That’s why the Pride Parade used to always end in a riot. I was at the very first Pride in Chicago.

During Pride Parade you and I always hide out during Dykes on Bikes. Can you explain?
Ohhh, I went to this horrible lesbian bar on Montrose. I went there with my friend Kaaaaaaattte who’s a big dyke and she took us on her motorcycle. When we parked her bike this fat bulldozing dyke with a billy club screams, “You can’t come in here!” She was so unpleasant. Ugh.  She looked like she rolls her own tampons and has to kickstart her vibrator.

How did you know about certain gay clubs since there was no internet?
That’s because most of them hung the Old Style signs upside down.

Well, hopefully they will legalize same-sex marriage soon.
It’s too late for me, who cares. If I got legally married I would then I would have to be legally divorced ASAP.

Previously - Sometimes They Die