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The Day Larry Kramer Dissed Me

The mall was abuzz, with people darting in and out of stores, wrangling their kids and chatting on cell phones. I preferred it that way, because it kept Larry in a fairly calm state of quiet attention, ever vigilant as to where and when his next mortal enemy might appear.

“Hold the railing, Larry,” I instructed as we stepped onto the escalator. He was still wobbly from the blood rush of spotting a confederate sticker in the parking garage and I felt protective when strolling with such a national treasure.

“How about I just lick the ass of a green monkey?” Larry replied. “If you knew the germs on these rubber banisters you’d slit your fucking wrists…” He trailed off.

Larry Kramer2“Then hold my hand, Larry,” I countered. He complied, if only so he could launch our clenched hands above our heads, as if we’d just been pronounced married or one of us had won a title match. He kept our hands there the whole flight up the escalator. When I glanced at him his eyes were years away and his lips moved quietly. A White House protest, I figured. Or perhaps a pharma demonstration.

Well, he likes this and he’s calm, I thought. Maybe we can do this on the way back down.

It was hard enough getting him to the mall at all. I had arrived at his place just in time to break up an altercation between Larry and the mother of the Girl Scout from whom he had ordered eighty boxes of Thin Mints, which were presently scattered across his front porch and had suffered the wrath of Larry’s ACT UP boots.

Larry had no intention of paying for the cookies, as it turns out. He was ferociously screaming that his non-payment was to help bankrupt the corporate pimps RAPING THAT LITTLE GIRL! Both the mother and the girl in question had taken refuge in their car, the girl crying hysterically about not wanting to be raped, while I managed to hold Larry back from beating their Honda with a lawn sprinkler until they made their eventual escape.

But that was, after all, fully two hours ago, and multiple indignations could befall Larry Kramer in the course of an afternoon. All things considered, we were having a lovely day.

There were minor snafus, of course. Already, a Sprint salesperson had paid dearly for his unfamiliarity with rollover minutes or the level of employee giving to needle exchange. As we passed Abercrombie & Fitch, Larry stopped in their doorway and bellowed “FAGGOTS!” again and again, for two full minutes. It might have gone on were it not for an astute customer in the Barnes & Noble, who brought over a copy of “The Normal Heart” for his signature. The gesture appeased him, then produced weeping and finally Larry’s agreement to relax on a bench while I stroked his back.

“You could do with a little less drama, you know,” I offered.

“Fucking murderers,” he replied, but his fatigue was setting in. “Drug companies. Politicians.”

“Let’s not forget organ donors, sweetie. And surgeons who install livers into the bodies of old, wrung out former drug users.” Larry made a dismissive, huffing sound.

“You’re an apologist, Mark. You forget too much.”

“You remember too much, pumpkin. Now let’s check out Macy’s. I need socks.”

The Macy’s perfume spritzer girl couldn’t list the chemical compounds in “Citrus Spring,” so of course Larry brought her to tears by saying it was she, and not the perfume, that smelled like a dead lab rat. He upped the ante by grabbing bottles of nail polish from the counter and splashing her in Jungle Red while screaming “the WHOLE WORLD is WATCHING!

Then all hell broke loose.

Security arrived and found a crying, seemingly blood-soaked spritzer girl and Larry, elated at the appearance of men in uniform, dropping to his knees, continuing his chants, and then collapsing onto the floor in his best dead body position. A twittering crowd quickly formed, some of whom had followed incredulously since the scene at Abercrombie.

I considered making a chalk outline of Larry — I kept a piece in my jacket for occasions like this and it gave him such joy — but something in me snapped.

“Get up this instant, Larry,” I ordered, and he opened a dead eye. The security gentlemen seemed relieved someone was taking charge of the deranged elderly man lying prone before them. “I’ve had enough for one day. Save it for the National Mall. World AIDS Day is coming!”

He cocked his head towards me. “What would you know about AIDS, Mark? You’ve never had infections! Where are your lesion scars? You still have your first fucking liver, you pretender! You lightweight!

A woman in a nursing uniform broke through the crowd and looked back and forth between the spritzer and Larry, trying to determine who needed help most urgently. Everyone, including the sales girl, nodded in Larry’s direction.

“Sir, have you fallen? Do you understand me?” she asked him.

“Fuck yes. Shame on your profession and your paralyzed inaction in the face of… of…” Larry contemplated what the woman’s worst offense might be while surveying the floor around him in hopes of locating more red polish to splatter. He found none.

“Sir,” she went one, not yet convinced of his stability, “who is president of the United States?”

God I wish you hadn’t asked that, I thought.

“Shall we catalog them?” Larry bellowed. His second wind was now in full gale force. “First, Ronald Reagan has the blood of our brothers and sisters, too many of them, on his hands. He murdered them as sure as I’m standing here,” a posture which was technically inaccurate, although Larry did allow his oratory to raise him to a kneeling position.

“I can take him from here,” I interjected, and pulled Larry up and beside me. “If you’ll just allow me to get him home…”

“And then Bush continued the slaughter! He treated us like shit!” came the next outcry.

The security men agreed without hesitation. “If you can take responsibility for your father and agree to exit immediately…” one of them said. I actually half laughed at their mistake, and at the irony.

“No problem,” I promised, and we said our goodbyes as Larry’s outbursts trailed again and we walked back to the escalators.

He took the railing without protest or remark, and that disappointed me. I kind of missed riding down with our clasped hands thrust defiantly in the air.

This is a work of fiction. At the time of its writing, I had never met Mr. Kramer. That changed in 2017, when I was honored to write a profile piece of him for POZ Magazine. The man in person proved to be far different than this farcical essay, although I still get a kick out of it.



By | 2017-07-15T07:45:21+00:00 May 14th, 2010|Gay Life, Living with HIV/AIDS, My Fabulous Disease|14 Comments


  1. Jesse Peel May 14, 2010 at 10:03 pm


    Another home run!
    i’m just happy to have lived long enough to laugh at Mr Kramer
    It is sad that he is so stuck in his rage [which is justified]
    and can’t enjoy the beauty of still being here
    i have outlived Ronald Reagan!


  2. richard May 15, 2010 at 11:34 am

    Mark, you are a genius. To be able to:
    1. Skewer Mr. Kramer, and
    2. Respect his honorable past, while you
    3. Tell a fanciful story,
    is a delight to read. Thanks for sharing!

  3. Nelson May 16, 2010 at 12:16 am

    You crazy Mark! I laughed my ass off! You are twisted


  4. Larry May 17, 2010 at 12:14 pm

    I would never dare admit that i had read this, and certainly not that i was entertained by it! i do hope and trust you are not a blackmailer. this comment is meant to be appreciated like your story: as pure fiction.

    I am elated to say that the above comment was reported left by the man himself. But you didn’t hear that from me. — Mark

  5. Subversive Librarian May 17, 2010 at 5:33 pm

    Great piece, so simple and yet so complex. Yep. You’re a genius. And an inspiration.

  6. John May 17, 2010 at 5:37 pm

    This made me laugh like very few things about Larry ever have. And frankly, I bet he enjoys it too.

  7. admin May 17, 2010 at 9:19 pm

    What I wouldn’t give to see a “Larry Kramer Roast” as an AIDS benefit! If Joan Rivers and Frank Sinatra (and even a few Presidents) can take it, so can Larry. I’d like to think he’d laugh along with us — until flattening us in the end. ;]

  8. tony Adams May 19, 2010 at 8:29 am

    Delightful! I’m sending him the link!

  9. Jonathan in SF May 20, 2010 at 1:02 am

    Hmm, where to begin… This novella could become a major motion picture a la “Brokeback Mountain.” Can you work this into a piece for Anita Mann? Your wicked sense of humor/irony is much appreciated! PS- Funny, I didn’t think you looked Jewish to be mistaken for his son.

  10. thomas delorenzo May 20, 2010 at 12:52 pm

    It is precisely the wrath of Mr. Kramer that has kept us here, and more of his wrath and wrath of others that will keep pharma developing new treatents and hopefully the cure.

    speaking of wrath lets turn some of that onto the insurance companies for reasons to numerous to count in this small space.

  11. Subversive Librarian May 20, 2010 at 1:38 pm

    @ Thomas: I agree, yet I’m still ambivalent about folks like Larry Kramer. If all of us had been polite little activists, homosexuality might still be illegal and who knows if medical research on HIV/AIDS would have advanced much by now. The Kramers of the world are critical for achieving real change. Somewhere along the way, though, stridently unpleasant militancy becomes counterproductive. When the other side finally starts listening, I don’t think it helps to keep screaming at them.

  12. Turtle M May 22, 2014 at 4:50 pm

    We need many many more Larry Kramers.

  13. JT May 22, 2014 at 10:55 pm

    This reminds me of my grandfather…. probably the one who I respected and admired for his knowledge back in the days. At a certain point in time, he fell behind in his capabilities to assess and comprehend developments in things he in ‘his’ days was very astute in giving great advise to his following (me-2).
    I think Larry is still on the ball, that ball that has been replaced with smart phones that can communicate, translate, show a videos live, take videos live, and all while giving turn by turn directions to you in your car that can do even more.
    Larry is still able to contribute greatly to the modern HIV prevention and treatment debate. but…HE isn’t a saint yet…. and HE isn;t the only one who has spent a lifetime fighting the ‘virus’.

    At a recent forum of (us) old farts w/ HIV and some young-uns’ looking for help – stategies with HIV prevention, an interesting comment got blurted out…….. It came from one of the young-uns…..He asked…”when will you guys start letting US talk…. and take the reins in deciding what is needed for us”????….???…???

    Larry, you were right ALOT of the time then…and made huge differences for all of us when TOO FEW were able to make the NEEDED impacts… Now you are NOT always right….
    Welcome to 2014…. and safe sex w/ protection vs condom-less unprotected old sex.
    M W Too… k-m-party drug??? -_-

  14. JT May 22, 2014 at 11:03 pm

    All I can think of is WHAT Martin Delany would be saying now about PrEP…… The mC Wiening version of ”Hell NO NO NO NO NO ???? CONDOMS ONLY FOREVER!!!!!! ”
    …..or Would Martin be shouting ”HELL YES>>> Finally something other than the damn sticking condom sex through plastics..”

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