No matter what your pubic-politics are these days, you have to admit it’s time for everybody to go to extremes. John Waters is back on the road with a whole new radical comedy revival show whose sermon will beg the authorities to drop a net on both himself and his rabidly insane audience. Yes, they’re coming to take him away, ha-ha, ho-ho, hee-hee, but he doesn’t care. He knows his deviously demented fans will fight back with a limp-wrist fist. Nasty neuters, hetero hell-cats with benefits, flaming straight guys, butch twinks, diesels with measles, trans who dress as their masculinized moms and feminized fathers — they know they’re welcome here!

Calling all rock’n’roll refugees, illegal space aliens, John Waters says climb on over the wall to the other side. He’s dressed to thrill and ready to rant about pro-punk conversion therapy, right-wing female-female impersonators, extreme amusement parks, even prank guerrilla placement of phony incendiary book titles in libraries that recently banned gay children’s classics. Yessir, the Duke of Dirt has reckless eyeballs and he’s lookin’ for you,

lunatics! Let’s all drill a hole in our heads so we’re high forever and crash the Kennedy Center! His filth followers don’t get off, they get on you and scream, “Go! Go! Go to the John Waters show!” Going to Extremes. It’ll make you scream!