Happy birthday, dear Darth Ken. The Buffy to my Xander. The Rosenkrantz to my Guildenstern. The Han Solo to my Chewbacca. The Kirk to my Scotty. My most frequent blog commentator.
(Somewhere in my vault, I have a photo of Darth Ken wearing crushed velvet and a Plaster of Paris grotesque half-mask . In the same photo I am wearing black sparkly lipstick, a bodice constructed out of a pair of leggings and a velvet skirt. Man, the mid-90s were really scary. That photo will never see the light of day).