I once read an article in the Rolling Stones that if Marvin Gaye paved the way for Americans to openly discuss foreplay, thereby keeping the bedroom door slightly ajar, with Dirty Mind, “Prince ripped that door right off its hinges.”

It was the 80s, and sexual expression through androgyny wasn’t just merely a hazy layer of smoke left over from the Bowie-esque afterglow of the 60s and 70s., but rather it became sort of a counter-Reagan era statement. Where Bowie and Jagger experimented with sexual fluidity, Prince took it from subculture, to Vegas culture, to the damned Playboy mansion and back, and spread it on his circle jerk piece of toast with political penis butter.

You’re gonna have to fight your own damned war, Prince proclaimed, after he spends an evening in a bed with his female lover and her other man. And still lying in those dirty ass bed sheets soaked with sperm, littered with used condoms, and smelling like poppers and pussy juice, he dials up the President’s number and yells, “Ronnie talk to Russia before its too late!” People, that shit is BRAVE when you’re doing it in a trench coat, leg warmers, silk pannies, and a redneck bandanna tied around your neck.

Prince…..the critics darling of the early 80s…. Prince… the sexually obscure…Prince….the ethnically confusing….Prince….the beautiful little butterfly in the butterfly effect.

He was doing everything everyone else was doing and more. Michael Jackson was dancing his ass off on stage, but so Prince….And Prince did it with a guitar. Like that famous quote, “Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Estaire did…but she did it backwards and in high heels!” Well, damnit if Prince wasn’t our Ginger in high heels, but with curly chest hair, a bad perm, and decked in gawdy French Colonial inspired trench coats.

So what if Madonna wore a wedding dress and crawled on the floor shocking the world with her famous Like a Virgin performance—Prince would have done the same thing in the same dress, but the floor would have been a complete mess afterwords, I ain’t neva lied!

It was Prince who took the mantle of sexual fluidity from Bowie and Jagger. Prince was gayer than all of them rolled in to one. He was so gay in fact, that most of his songs about sex always hinted at him liking to slap it up against his face if you know what I mean.

Bambi, can’t U understand…

Bambi…It’s better with a man…. (Bambi)

Or

I just hate 2 C and erection go to waste…. (Rock hard in a Funky Place)

Or

Sexy Motherfucker (up until that point, I had NEVER heard a woman called a motherfucker). Almost every song on the symbol album, Gold Experience or any of his early 90s works, has some element that you can trace to ass or anal stimulation. This of course, is mixed with religion, politics, style, and dolphins—that shit is too awesome.

Prince owned his gayness to great affect. Go in the general discussion forum right now and you will not find one single heterosexual man in there---many will claim to be straight, but they are obviously very gay.

Prince cultivated, on purpose, a confusing sexual identify to appeal to the masses. He had, at one time, cultivated a confusing racial identity to do the same.

I think of Prince a lot like Steve Jobs. He was in complete control of his image branding from beginning to end. Purple Rain was his iPod, the stage was his Apple keynote speech, and buttless pants were his black turtleneck. Prince was on fire. Only in the early days, instead of a scrollwheel, you know damned well, you’d get a revolving bedroom door and a seriously fierce blowjob.

And even in the late and early millennium, Prince maintained a certain kink about himself even after taking on JW.

When he says he has the butter for your muffin, he’s not talking about dairy products afterall. He’s talking about what our girl Paula De3n is talking about down here: