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.)
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.
OPPRESSED MINORITY SHOWDOWN
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.
IT WAS NOT A NUTHOUSE!
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.
Down a few planks, over at the Tides, drag diva SWEETIE was mixing her customary warm ballad lip syncs with acidly cutting commentary, doing so well with it she’ll no doubt be shipped off to Finland soon. About LAURA BUSH, she advised, “Cut her hair! Give her some highlights! Slap a pair of lashes on that cunt! She’s a dowdy old bitch who’s determined to be uglier than the royal family!”
In the Pines, I learned that queen bee ROBIN BYRD is hawking ringtone messages that she’s recorded for cell phones. (“Kiss my feet, slave, and answer the phone,” one of them spiritedly goes.) But I learned from an actual queen that STAR JONES is getting paid less because she won’t be promoting Payless anymore. Due to the economy, corporate shake-ups, and other factors, Star’s million-dollar-a-year contract wasn’t renewed. So you can all kiss her bare feet.
I wore Blahnik galoshes to Fox’s unfortunately waterlogged premiere of Fantastic Four at Liberty Island, a five-hour epic evening that had invitees standing in a holding pen for an hour until the rain stopped and we could board the ferry; scarily stampeding the buffet station when we landed on the soggy island (I won); taking in a what-the-heck fireworks display, which was still sputtering as the movie finally started; and then, when the projector died from residual moisture after just a few minutes—a godsend?—queasily boarding the boat right back to New York. “Whose idea was this?” muttered FABIAN BASABE as a Daily News columnist blamed it all on RUPERT MURDOCH‘s bad karma. But it was a rousing adventure, cough cough, and at least I got to meet CHRIS EVANS, who plays Johnny Storm-the Human Torch. When I asked him if he’s the fiercest of the four, Evans said, “Fiercest? Have you seen JESSICA ALBA?” “Well, I’m gay, so she does nothing for me,” I replied, and he generously laughed and patted me on the back. Fuck Lady Liberty—I’m carrying a torch for the Human Torch.
What overrated fortyish music star is referred to by Equinox trainers as “Stinky”; in fact, they all draw straws to see who’s going to have to work with him? What longtime new wave singer looks really smart in his cross-dressing clothes? What online writer says stuff like “I got this bag for free. I’m on that level now”? What female scribe is getting very intimate with that society gal with a shady parent? What celebrity’s famous dad generously told a camera crew that his daughter should be more honest about her former heroin habit? What composer read a diva in front of people for fucking with the character, but he still gets her parts anyway? What irrepressible TV-to-movie star plowed a supermodel, then when she was asleep, slipped off to screw another one down the hall? Why did he never make it into the room beyond that? (I was lying with my butt poised.)
What onetime MADONNA find hangs around Beige telling racist jokes? What celeb’s ex-husband just had a threatening e-mail sent to MICHELANGELO SIGNORILE? Free answer: DAVID GEST. His office demanded for no specified reason that Signorile remove from his site a three-year-old article he did chronicling the media’s speculation about the guy’s sexuality (and in fact that he remove any mention of him)? Honey, if Gest is trying to flush all gay online references, it might be easier for him to just shut down Macintosh and Microsoft. Signorile responds, “This is ridiculous. I’m not taking down anything.”