You know, Members, there is plenty of faux filth out there these days. Filth that doesn’t know how to do anything but bloat-out like a garbage bag full of week-old chicken salad sandwiches. That kind is an easy filth, and it’s a filth that really, has no direction, no vision, no art to it. But this week, why not turn from the corpulent filth du jour and celebrate the true auteur of filth, Mr. John Waters, who celebrates being a dashing 71 years old and one month this week. He may have started as the Prince of Puke, but today, he is most definitely a Leviathan of Fulithomancy, with a career made of barbing societal norms with characters unacceptable to the consuming masses but who nonetheless have hearts of gold (that they probably lifted from a gas station). So raise a filthy glass to Mr. Waters and take the week to eat your make-up. In a world where the motto “Filth is my politics, Filth is my life” has become unfortunately mainstream, let’s get a smile to creep up below his painted-on mustache by making sure all trouble is female trouble.