Open Post: Hosted By John Waters’ Fancy Dinner Party In A Dump

August 12, 2022 / Posted by:

Despite its ongoing association with John Waters, The Provincetown Film Society remains a respectable institution if that tells you anything about the sorry state of filth in this country today. In just a few short decades, John’s gone from being an untouchable (that is unless you wanted to catch the new strain of leprosy they were calling Fecal Asscillus Divinobacterium ) to hosting fancy dinner parties for wealthy individuals who wouldn’t recognize a greasy, shit-smeared dildo if it slapped them in the face.

Well, that’s not exactly fair. The guests paid between $1,400 and $3,052 to attend a “dumpster dive meal” in a Provincetown junkyard, hosted by John with proceeds going to the PFS, probably could identify a glistening dildo, but would have screamed “get that thing away from me!” like a bunch of fucking squares if someone started waving it around. No assholes were harmed and nary a pearl was clutched as guests dined on a “steamy trash bag” filled with “jockstraps, maggots, and grasshoppers,” “sweet and sour talons” (chicken feet) and tempura-fried fish skeletons. Everyone just sat there amused and delighted with their pinkies up while sipping “noxious gazpacho” out of broken crockery. Sadly, this is what we’ve come to as a nation. But you don’t have to take my word for it, John agrees. According to Vanity Fair:

What does one wear to dine with John Waters in the Provincetown, Massachusetts, dump?

That is the very surreal question myself and 10 winners of the Provincetown Film Society auction were forced to ask ourselves last month after being given the “once in a gastronomical lifetime” opportunity to join Waters for a formal “dumpster dive meal” hosted in a junkyard. This event was the marquee item in the Film Society’s annual online winter auction, offered alongside more than 100 other items, mostly from local businesses.

The legendary filmmaker has spent the last 58 years summering in the seaside Cape Cod community and, during his early days there, became a frequent visitor to the town dump. It was where all the hippies went to get furniture and the things they needed, although back then, he told Vanity Fair, it “was just a big pit that you had to climb down in and birds would fly down and attack you.” Today, he laments, “Even the dump is beautiful. That magic light that painters have been talking about forever? Even at the dump, there’s that light.”

The dump doesn’t even stink anymore and has been “transmogrified into a tidy little recycling oasis.” Diners sat at a long table set up in the parking lot which was adorned with dead flower arrangements, “a tablescape littered with candy cigarettes and bubble gum cigars,” and the only nod to the dump’s flatulent past was that guests were served on broken pottery from an artsy-fartsy shop in town. Here are some pics from the event which culminated in a performance by the dump’s resident bulldozer that rivals anything you’d see in Starlight Express, the musical about trains from the inadvertent and oblivious arbiter of bad taste, Andrew Lloyd Webber.

Pic: Juan Carlos Rojas/DPA/Cover Images

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