HE IS RIZZIN'

It's a brilliant and wonderful thing that Riz Rollins obviously has no clue how freakishly cool he is—if he did, the magical butterfly dust might forever be whipped from his gossamer wings, and splat. His high-fluttering days would be over. Maybe. God forbid.

DJ Riz is gay Seattle's spirit animal—its twisted funky soul. Without Riz, Seattle would just be Denver with fish. (DON'T ASK ME TO ELABORATE. I'd use phrases like "the generous, embracing bigness of his soul" and talk about "vibes," and I'd end up sounding like an even bigger fag than I already am, and, lady, that's impossible, so let's just let that dog snooze.)

Now! Let's talk about that brand-new gay bar Q. You might have heard a little something about it maybe. (HA!) And you've also noticed that I haven't been über-eager to jump on the place's bandwagon just yet because I'VE BEEN HURT BEFORE. You understand. (Don't make me make you understand.) (Also, bandwagons in general of any sort can BITE ME.) I've seen a million queer bars of all sorts—very good, not so good, dreadful—rise and fall, rise and fall. I've even fiddled while some of them burned. My little black heart has grown tender. Cautious. Please hold me.

Anyway, the fucking place is fabulous—like Ikea meets outer space meets Queer As Folk (American version). It grand-opened officially about two weeks ago, and well. I'll just shut my mouth and let you google-image the place for yourself. The point is, Q was very wise in its decisions, but mostly in the great big and glorious decision to give Riz his very own resident spot—every Sunday afternoon! Riz (and as yet unspecified guests) will be "spinning" (as the kids say) a "club classic tea dance" (tea dance: from the French, the dansant, or, "dancing tea," which has nothing to do with anything, really, unless we're talking Long Island), from 3 to 9 p.m. every Lord's day. Tonight marks the official third installment, and yet it's obvious that it's going to be a long-running, deeply beloved thing. Just like everything else DJ Riz does. (Just don't let him in on that little secret.) Q, 3–9 pm, $3, 21+.