NY Mirror

My copy of Medici: Godfathers of the Renaissance must have gotten lost in the mail, but I did receive Spunk'd: The Complete First Load, a gay reality video of stoopid dick tricks that seemed right up my skanky alley. The leering porn star who narrates the thing made me want to smash the screen, but by the time another nude gentleman started ramming a cell phone up his ass, I was utterly captivated, and I also adored the wild things a facially blurred ALEXIS ARQUETTE was doing to a swarthy stud's giant hoo-ha with his vivacious mouth. (Top that, Patricia, Rosanna, and David.) Further saucing up the proceedings, author JAMES ST. JAMES downs a glass of "hot steaming piss" judiciously mixed with vodka and bitters. (You know, a Pee-tini.) "It wasn't bad at all," James urbanely insisted to me last week. Who says this isn't a new golden age?

Meanwhile, raise a glass of sass to drag star SHERRY VINE, a real pisser who was recently sent to perform at a gay club called DTM in frigidly appealing Helsinki, Finland. The promoter who booked Sherry tells me from the tundra that she was all that and a kitchen sinki. "We arranged a press conference," he exulted, "and for the first time media actually showed up! After that, I was able to book Sherry on Good Morning Finland—the first time they had a drag queen." Wait, what about Diane . . . ? Oh, sorry, that's Good Morning America.

Let's also toast the new gay channel LOGO, even if in three years, their response to me went from "You're invaluable" to "Zzzzzz." (But hey, I popped up in the documentary that launched the channel, and I'm absolutely certain I'll end up a massive star there. Right?) Anyway, their slate of shows sounds interestingly diverse and I'm glad they're not doing spring break type trash or other exercises better suited to home video. Their soft launch is probably smart too—though it was so soft that I didn't read one word about it in any of the three major papers the day of the start. (Even if not badgered by publicists, couldn't the TV sections have taken it upon themselves to note the new channel? At least the Times did a major piece in advance.)

Bingo queen Sybil Bruncheon on Fire Island
photo: Patrick McMullan
Bingo queen Sybil Bruncheon on Fire Island

I guess the idea is to let people get used to this new one-stop-gay-shopping concept—to run it up the flagpole and see who salutes it. But in the meantime, anyone who may be moaning, "Why a gay channel?" should be strapped down, rammed with a cell phone, and asked why they never objected to the women's, food, animal, sci-fi, and cartoon ones, not to mention Good Morning Finland.

Moving on to the majors, NBC's I Want to Be a Hilton recently featured social publicist R. COURI HAY as an etiquette expert so tasteful he's never been overaccessorized with a first name. Over real 'tinis at the opening of Sortie, Hay told me, "KATHY HILTON asked me to be the drill sergeant on the show. It turned out to be really long hours with no hair, no makeup, no wardrobe, and no pay! And Kathy was there with three hairdressers, several makeup artists, and a stylist, gliding out of her trailer in Chanel." Honey, I want to be a Hilton. By the way, two things that apparently didn't make the final cut: Couri threatening to size the guys up with a ruler and his asking the girls, "Do you like it hard or soft?" Alexis Arquette's mouth tricks must also have ended up on the floor along with his knees.


At the movies, a gay reader became wildly unaroused when he and his date went to see DAVID LACHAPELLE's krumping documentary Rize. Writes the complainant, "A black hetero couple was about to sit next to us until the male noticed and quickly moved several rows away from us queers. The irony of the situation was totally lost on him and his snickering girl, as they had no clue that the film, steeped in homoeroticism, was made by a Queen Bee herself."

Sad, sad, sad—and by the way, much as I worshipped the movie, I thought it weird that it totally avoided sexuality issues (some of those krumpers seem pretty, you know), missing out on a giant chance for education or at least rabid-curiosity-fulfilling.


To spread myself on a fuller queer sandwich, I krumped over to Cherry Grove, where the primary references are still "But you are, Blanche!" "I'm Neely O'Hara!" and "Do you know where you're going to?"—and that's fine with tired old me. In fact, Gay Bingo at the Community House—you heard me—was a riotous retro romp as hosted by the glamorous SYBIL BRUNCHEON (a/k/a John Burke), with help from the likes of PANZI, GEFIL TEFISH, and FABIO GORGISSIMO. The game night has become such a cult experience for sand dune survivors that the crowd has responses ready for each number called. I-21 got a loud chorus of "liar!" B-9 was instantly answered by "Thank God!" And B-4 had a queen marching through the crowd and singing "Before the Parade Passes By." It's all very N-dearing.

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