Queen was the very first band I ever saw in concert. OK, actually my very first concert was Olivia Newton John, but that doesn’t really count as a rock concert, does it? Yep, Queen was my first rock concert and it was incredible! The freaks sitting next to me and my best friends, Mike and Larry Doyle, were so stoned that they inadvertently passed their joint down to us and we smoked weed that night for the very first time.

Queen's lead singer, Freddie Mercury, wore a black and white checkered harlequin unitard, faux ermine-trimmed red velvet cape, and a ridiculously huge bejeweled crown with a matching scepter. When you look up in the sky and see a star you don't bother to stop and say, "That's a star." It simply is one, and you—along with everyone else—know it. It was the same way with Freddie Mercury. He was gracefully moving about the stage in ballet slippers, like an Erte print come to life.

The very first time I ever saw Mr. Mercury, with his dangerously hairy chest, sexily fucked-up teeth, and chipped black nail polish (on a man!? oh. my. god.) on the Sheer Heart Attack album cover, honey, I was hooked.

I cannot put into words what an inspiration Freddie Mercury has been—and continues to be—to me. His voice, his look, his pompousness, his gayness, his audacity, his intelligence, his humor, his vulnerability, his everything. To a sad little gay boy in Scottsdale, Ariz., he was like a flower blooming from the dry, hot desert sand—choking sand that seemed to whisper in my ear, "Just shrivel up and die like everything else in this Godforsaken city."

No.

Freddie Mercury showed me that there was more to life than being beaten up. More to life than pretending to be sick to get out of gym class. More to life than being called "cunt" instead of Kent while standing on a diving board at the public pool.

Now, many years later, I am sitting here in my living room watching VH-1 Rock Honors. Mercury is gone and Bad Company lead singer Paul Rodgers is looking into the camera stating emphatically that no one can replace Freddie. But I know what's coming. We all know what's coming. Paul Rodgers essentially replaces Freddie and sings "The Show Must Go On.” I start to cry.

I'm sorry, but this is sacrilege.

Why must they sing this particular song? Can't they just croak out one of their huge hits like "We Will Rock You" or “Bohemian Rhapsody” and go cash the check? Ironically, these songs are loved, and even chanted, by the now grown-up homophobes who used to kick my nelly ass. And these songs are loved by those closeminded men’s sons who are hopefully a little less ignorant than their fathers.

Why can’t they leave this one song alone? This one song that Freddie wrote and sang while personally and publicly battling AIDS. Retire it. Don't look into the camera and say that no one can replace Freddie Mercury and then walk out on stage and sing this fucking song.

Suddenly I’m having a flashback to a couple of Monday nights ago at Micky’s when we were giving away tickets to a Queen concert featuring Paul Rodgers. I had to do everything in my power not to “go off” on the fact that, as far as I (and most of the world) am concerned, without Freddie Mercury there simply is no Queen. Trust me, those ballet slippers are not easy shoes to fill.

What the hell has happened to music? Last week we were giving out tickets to Steven Seagal and his “rock” band Thunderbox. You know, because people who go to see a Jackie Beat drag show just love that Steven Seagal! Hey, I guess if you’re a fan of fake hair and lots of makeup... Steven’s new CD is called Mojo Priest and track nine is a little ditty called “Talk To My Ass.” Okay, I guess we have more in common that I thought.

I've got to go. They're about to honor Judas Priest and openly-gay lead singer Rob Halford is reminiscing about the early days. "Hell-bent, hell-bent for leather!" I imagine Clay Aiken in a hotel suite somewhere watching the same performance while frantically tapping away on his laptop, trying to hook-up with some hottie. Maybe he’ll feel comfortable enough to finally admit who and what he is someday, just like Miss Halford did.

You know, you’ve really gotta love the fact that two of the most iconic rock gods with two of the most amazing voices of all time, Freddie and Rob, were as gay as they come.

It makes me proud to be a performer. And proud to be gay.

Rock on.

Illustration by www.glenhanson.com