Friday, December 29, 2006

Granada-it´s almost mythical

Granada-the word, the city..it´s somewhere in the collective subconscious. It´s ancient, on a lake that leads to the carribbean, and it´s still here: in Nicaragua. It´s all about bananas here in this colonial town. There are horse carts with old fashioned wagon wheels trotting around town, and the buildings are bright gold, lime green, deep pink. Ceiling height starts at 20 feet.
You can see why ex-pats make homes here, in a tropical place with so much past. The place has been sacked by pirates, and the large lake it sits on contains ferocious freshwater bull sharks. There´s something about Granada, and the people who live here. They´re called Granadians. I wouldn´t mind calling myself a Granadian. It sounds like a cocktail.

Thursday, December 28, 2006

Chased out of Town!

Greetings from Nicaragua!
Yesterday, Bam Bam and I climbed Conception Volcano, which at 1600 meters is no small feat. It was a beautiful day, so there was no cloud cover (a rarity). Our guide stopped halfway and claimed it was too windy. He said if we wanted to go all the way, we must pay him in full. We did, and made the ascent only to return and find him gone, the van gone. No lift back to town!



Volcan Concepcion: Its lava is not nearly as hot as latino blood.


There were six of us, all angry we paid him. We hitched a bus into town and marched into the cinderblock office where I shot off my mouth because he wasnt around, and wasnt forseeably coming. Luckily his mother was there...I tried being nice to her and explained we wanted half our money back because he only did half his job. She got a bit snarky and left, so I called her an "Estafadora" (a scoundrel-scammer) twice, real dramatic-like in front of a small crowd, and then all hell broke loose.

The sister came out of nowhere fuming like a tea kettle. She stomped and screamed that I was worse than a "puta"(a puta is a whore--is that supposed to hurt?) and how she wouldnt go to my country and insult my mother. I said if she came to my country I wouldnt abandon her on top of a volcano! I did this all in a very fluent fuck-you Spanish.

Lo and behold, our guide appears (Moral of the story: if you want a swindling latino to appear, insult his mother as best you can) all passionately latino with hot threats and all of that twerpy 5 foot tall small man bravado. "You cant insult my mother, there are laws in my country! We in Nicaragua are not stupid anymore!!" he yelled. Not stupid?--and you didnt just vote back in Ortega?? Eventually we got a quarter of our money back, but he pointed at me and promised he would have revenge for what I said about his mother, but "not in the way I think."

I began to envision mobs with machetes and torches and didnt sleep very well. Needless to say, we ran out of town early in the morning, with me promising to work on my temper in the future.


Saturday, December 23, 2006

All Better Now

Patched things up with Cooldan lastnight. He doesn't care so much for changing the world, and this leaves me aghast because I'm dead set on changing what I can, and right away! We're very different, and sometimes it takes a (best) friend to make you see that it's okay to be different. People, after all, should come before principles. Especially when they're as fun as Cooldan.

Now, back to where we left off. At least until Lebanese cousins come back to town.




Cooldan (with me) reposing in his natural habitat.

Thursday, December 21, 2006

OUT January

OUT magazine's January issue is, well, out. My column about Sondra/Sandy has gotten lots of response. Apparently people relate to this kicked-in-the-teeth feeling I got at her wedding. It's nice to know I'm not alone. I even heard from a lesbian who had a "Sandy" of her own, except she was in love with her! I also heard from a reader named Kelly who says my website is like "Lindsay Lohan with a vibrator, only more gay" Apparently that's a good thing.


Sandy and her husband at their reception. (I was busy drinking)



For those of you wondering--Sandy still wants to be friends. She's magnanimous, and yes, I've apologized.

Stay tuned for February's OUT column, a salacious entry from the twinkie files. As always, if you have column ideas or suggestions, I'm happy to hear them.

Platitudes at Starbucks

"Give me a double Venti non-fat Chai Latte" incites the gag reflex I've worked so hard to lose. Ordering overpriced foreign-inspired beverages makes people feel somehow worldly, like they do speak a little Italian. When I want to feel wordly, I travel the world.

I did, however, find myself in a Starbucks yesterday. "Medium Coffee, please," I ordered and they actually understood. Then I sat down at a table and looked up to see framed black and white photos: new york cityscapes. And then I noticed the cursive copy.




it reads:
"This city has so much to give us early in the morning when it opens its sleepy eyes and says, 'Get going, you. This is a beautiful new day'."


Someone got paid to write this vapid little pep talk? Who comes up with this sugary sweet confection? Hallmark has-beens? Grandma Moses? Yes, the gag reflex has officially returned.

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Exclusive Lodging for Grandma Gloria

Recently, Grandma Gloria was evicted from her nursing home for insubordination. With the help of my mother (her daughter) she has found exclusive lodgings to rest (what's left of) her head. Thanks to the timely death of a stranger, Gloria has been admitted into an "Alzheimers Only" facility in Clackamas, Oregon!




Gloria (right) with her "Choir Teacher," this past summer.




Gloria has taken to the place like a duck to water. She is said to be playing hostess to the other confused residents and when my mother visits, Gloria introduces her as the "Choir Teacher". We're not sure why, as my mother doesn't sing outside of church.
Still, each time Gloria enquires, "Will you be singing tonight, Choir teacher?"
"Doesn't that bother you?" I ask my mom, who responds.
"I'm just glad she's stopped accusing me of having multiple husbands."

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

It's Called Acting

Will Smith's latest film, some holiday fluff, has landed the top spot over the weekend. Shame. I resent Will Smith, and it's not just the brazen arrogance "I OWN the July 4th weekend," he's quoted as saying after setting box office records for profitable stinkbombs like "Independence Day". I don't dislike him because he's "Black enough for the blacks, and white enough for the whites," as they say.


Stockard Channing gave a powerhouse performance,
undermined by a yellow Will Smith. He's soooo straight.


I resent Will Smith because he is a coward. In the 1993 film Six Degrees of Separation (an adaptation of the fabulous play by John Guare) he plays a gay hustler that pretends to be the son of Sidney Poitier and cons Donald Sutherland and Stockard Channing. Did I mention he plays a gay hustler? In one scene, Will Smith is required to kiss another (gasp!) man, played by Anthony Michael Hall. Their lips don't touch by a margin of about three feet. That's right, the camera cuts about 3 full feet from the kiss. Will Smith is so macho he not only refused to kiss another man for a role that required it, he refused to let the camera even pretend to come close. (Don't blame the director: Will Smith put this in his contract).

This had the desired effect. When I saw the film in 1993, girls screamed and clapped in the audience, "He didn't do it! Ha!" Will Smith invalidated the script, the integrity of the role (that he was paid millions to portray). He also invalidated the lives of every gay man who has ever seen the film. I still haven't recovered.

Monday, December 18, 2006

Impertinent Bums

I'm walking out of David's bagels and outside is this really fat black man in a wheelchair. "Got a dollar?" he asks.
"No, sir" I say back. I do not to add, "Sorry," because inevitably the homeless or the beggar or the crackhead will say, "You ain't sorry!" and truth be told, I'm not sorry. I've learned just a simple no is best.

However, it's "that time of year" again, and of course this fat man in a wheelchair is wearing a Santa hat, which must be covering up the halo. "You're mean." he says to me.

I look at him and think he's probably in that electronic wheelchair because he's too fat to walk. I also think it's my taxes that subsidize his government housing on Avenue D, near where I live. In fact, it was probably his kids that jumped me latenight last winter at my door. But because it's "holiday time," him and his Santa hat think they have the right to extort guilt. Suddenly if I don't fork over a dollar, I'm Ebenezer Scrooge.
"What do I owe you?" I ask him.
"You're mean," he repeats saint-like, "And you've got to live with that."

I'm mean? This reminds me of bible school, where you're taught to feel guilty for "original sin." If they win, you'll feel guilty all your life: enough to worship and tithe regularly, and to stop thinking for yourself. I want to flip the beggar off. Actually, what I want is to take his wheelchair and his martyrdom and push it into the East River. Instead I let out a shrill laugh, and then I cackle maniacally for all of 1st Avenue. "HO HO HO!"

Live with that.

Friday, December 15, 2006

On the W Train

I was on the subway after a modeling audition. As I held the pole of the W train downtown, I thought maybe I shouldn't have smiled and instead had a more serious, sexy pose when they snapped my photo. Then I thought about all the other boys in the room and my mind sifted them into categories: the ones I was cuter than, the equally cute ones, even the ones who could be considered cuter than me. Was I cute enough to get the gig? At that moment, the woman standing beside me looked up. Our eyes met and I visibly shuddered.

Half of her face was mashed up, actually lower than the other side of her face, like she was born that way. A sticky goo leaked out of one malformed eye. She saw me shudder, saw the shock of her ugly face register on my symmetrical face. I wished I could give her a hug or a pat on the back and apologize for my reflex. Suddenly I no longer cared if I was cute enough to get the gig. I didn't want the modeling job at all.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Freak Show Fodder

Just in, from China:
The tallest man in the world was called in to retrieve large pieces of plastic imbedded deep within the stomachs of circus dolphins.


---See it to believe it!



Proof yet again:
It's the freaks who are changing our world for the better.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

A Four Letter Word (director and Cast)



Here's the fantastic cast of the upcoming gay romantic comedy A Four Letter Word.


Director/co-writer Casper Andreas is in the middle. I co-wrote and also play the lead slut, Luke, in red.



These (as yet un-retouched!) cast photos were taken by the inimitable HX photographer Wilsonmodels at the steamy studios of porn magnate Michael Lucas.


I was allowed to see a preliminary version of the film (still in editing stages) last week and it looks incredible! Despite the fact I'm all-too familiar with the script, it was hysterical. The "sexual compulsives meeting" scene was a highlight, as well as any scene with Zeke (Cory Grant) in the "Gayborhood", or anything involving snarky Trisha as a lesbian vamp in AA. Oh yeah wait--let's not forget the sex-scenes with Stephen (Charlie David)! Let's hear it for that hustler!

Next post on A Four Letter Word, I'll update the expected release (set for late spring 2007) and be sure to include the shirtless cast photo.

Saturday, December 09, 2006

Holiday Season Again

In a busy new york city subway station, the only way to get where you're going is to not focus on anybody. If you actually notice strangers, take that split second to focus on a face, then slam! You've bumped into someone, or someone's bumped into you--and so much for your smooth exit.

Tourists do this, they take the time to gawk and gander, checking out the rushing bodies. But New Yorkers have learned to simply scan the heads, and blur everybody out to get a smooth, clean, sylish exit.

I'm wondering if this subway strategy translates to life in general. Do we reach our aims quicker if we blur everybody else out?

Thursday, December 07, 2006

If you see this man....tell him to come out of the closet!


Cooldan is not about to gamble on progress.

My best friend, the artist formerly known as COOLDan, has disappeared into a make-believe world of heterosexuality ever since his cousin arrived from Lebanon for a few weeks.

He promised his friends he would come out to her upon her arrival, but that didn't happen. Instead he has gone to extraordinary lengths to show her a "straight slice" of life. This includes hiding himself (and his cousin) from all of his friends. Are our gay lives (and his) unacceptable? Freakish? Illegitimate?

Saturday, December 02, 2006

You Must Remember This


Yesterday I did extra work on a film (thankless, unimportant work also known as "background" or "moving furniture, which is more like it) called "
Accidental Husband" in the meatpacking district of Manhattan. Boring. The magic of filmmaking is gone for me, has been gone for a long time. There's no glamour, just long days. There's no star quality anymore, I never get starstruck. Old Hollywood is dead.


(extras herding onto the set: moooo!)





This w
ould be another long day of waiting; drudgery, as usual, so I brought my manuscript (YOU CAN RUN) to finish editing. The downstairs holding area was crammed with extras: old women reapplying makeup, others chatting inanely on, as they do, about whether the lunch will be catered or "walk away" and gee, we hope to get a pay bump for the rain outside, even though we're inside.

I couldn't concentrate, had to get away, so I wandered with my manuscript, through a maze of camera playback equipment, cords and production assistants to find a couch at the other end of the basement. There sat an older woman, an actress, sides in her lap. "Mind if I sit here?" I said, holding my bags. "Sure, you can sit here." She had an accent, and by the time I sat down beside her, I couldn't speak.


The woman beside me was
Isabella Rosellini, daughter of legendary Ingrid Bergman, and she looks just like her mother. Old Hollywood is not dead. The dynasty lives on in Isabella Rosselini's classic face. Suddenly I couldn't read my manuscript, couldn't speak, couldn't eat the fat sandwich I had just made from craft services. I just sat, actually starstruck, staring forward, as Isabella calmly muttered, rehearsing her lines for the next scene.

I dared glance left and there she was, in the flesh. I was sitting beside Ilsa at Rick's Cafe, in Casablanca. And as time goes by, that's as good as Hollywood gets, for a person like me.

Thursday, November 16, 2006

Take a FUPA safari!

They're everywhere. The drive-thru, the food court, or my favorite: riding an elevator to the second floor. You've spotted this ever increasing breed of obese human known colloquially as a FUPA. They are known for their defining evolutionary feature. That is: the Fat Upper Pussy Area. (For the male genus: the Fat Upper Pubic Area)


Now you don't have to settle for watching them graze. Join the FUPA hunt now! Here you can discover FUPA throughout their manifold habitats, and contribute your own sightings!

Fupahunters give detailed advice how to capture geniune FUPA photos because, as they are not endangered by any means, the FUPA is shy of flash photography. And since they tend to stay in families or gather in groups called "schwaggles", FUPA's might stampede.

This is dangerous.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

BOYS BEWARE!




Check out this 1950's anti-homosexual propoganda film. One never knows when the homosexual is about! (Where were they when I was a kid?!)


"He is sick. A sickness that's not visible like smallpox. A disease of the mind." Given how hot little Jimmy Barnes is, one can hardly blame him. My only misgiving here is that the wardrobe department didn't have the budget to dress these pedophiles as priests.

View the full length video here.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Lance Armstrong outrun by Faggot

Eat my dust, Stud.

Lance Armstrong, 7 time Tour de France champion, races the New York City Marathon. (2006)

He is paced the entire way by previous champion Alberto Salazar (pictured here with him) as well as two former Olympic champions.


He finishes the 26.2 mile course in a respectable 2:59.37.





Jesse Archer, flaming homosexual, races the New York City Marathon twice. (here in 2002)


He is paced the entire way by orange glitter hairspray.

He finishes faster than Lance Armstrong both times. Running a 2:55.43 in 2002, and 2:59.17 in 2004.

Friday, November 03, 2006

Holy Bulges, Batman!







Is Batman a marsupial?
Check out this pouch!





Trick or treat, indeed! I bumped into Batman at Splash bar on Halloween and couldn't help but notice his ample bulge. Is it all him? Or is he paddin' with cotton what nature's forgotten? We're left to wonder now that Aussiebum has come up with a sort of "wonderbra" for down under.


Yes, folks, here's announcing the "wondercup", a species of underwear designed to "enhance the apparent size of your contents". Put in the vernacular, it'll make your dick look bigger.


Of course, after consulting with a panel of experts (namely me, myself, and I), it has been determined that Batman is most likely wearing an old fashioned crotch enhancing cockring.

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Let's Face the Chicken Gumbo, and Dance!

1970 commercial - Great American Soup - Ann Miller

When I met Ann Miller (see last post), I praised her virtuoso performance numbers in Easter Parade and Kiss Me Kate. But what I didn't know then, I found on youtube. This is perhaps the best gem of all.

Watch Ann toss that apron off and throw her head back in that campy showgirl grin! Who can't forget all their troubles? OH. MY. GOD.

As I lay dying, I plan to put this clip on repeat and leave the world happy.

Queen of Camp


The bedazzling Ann Miller, and me. 1999.

They called her "Tops in Taps" (she could do 500 a minute). MGM musical showgirl Ann Miller had long gams and no nose, but best of all was that humongous ta-dah grin. She transfixes me.

This photo was taken backstage at the Hollywood Bowl where Ann Miller performed for a millenium bash.

I was supremely drunk. Smashed. When she came onstage I rushed from my nosebleed seat down the many tiers of steps like Leslie Caron does to get to Gene Kelly in An American in Paris.

I got to the front screaming, and was escorted back up to my seat by security. A friend in the audience, having seen me rush to Ann with such gusto, managed to pull some strings and get me backstage to meet her. "Did you hear me screaming for you in the front?" I clutched her frail frame in a bear hug. "I'm your BIGGEST fan!!" I gushed, and all I can think now is that poor Ann must have thought her class act of a life was worthless if her biggest fan was some drunk screaming queen.

Luckily, Ann may get another chance to get a classier fan base. She believed in reincarnation, and said that in another life she was an Egyptian Queen. I read her biography, Miller's High Life and in the book there's a photo of a big gawdy necklace made of pure gold in a Cairo museum. The caption reads, "Photo of the necklace that Ann believes belonged to her in a former life." Bless her heart!

At the Hollywood Bowl, Ann Miller performed "I'm Still Here", and though she is no longer here, I often wonder where she is. And who's necklace she is wearing.

Sunday, October 29, 2006

Vaginal Sex causes Mental Retardation

I recently read a post from boysbriefs. He stuck a sign "Vote NO on Proposition 107" in his Arizona front lawn. As he mentions, gay marriage is already illegal in Arizona, and proposition 107 would further discriminate by eliminating health benefits for all unmarried couples. Well, somebody stole his sign.

Because you shouldn't have health benefits, marriage, or the first fucking amendment.

This reminds me of an analagous scenario in another part of the world. Stagnant brain syndrome affects our species from America to Zimbabwe.














Do as we say or you'll die and burn in hell. This sign sponsored by intelligent design.


I took this photo in the capital of Zimbabwe, Harare, in May 2006. Check out the rust. How long has it hung here? Who has allowed it to hang here?


Zimbabwe has the fastest diminishing economy in the world, and also has the highest per capita incidence of HIV infection in the world because they perpetuate African superstitions like "Fuck a virgin to cure yourself of AIDS". And also because here it is possible to put an outright religious lie in the poison guise of scientific fact and hang it up for all to see. For years. In the nation's capital.

What if I hoofed it to a blacksmith, and commissioned him to fire up a slab of tin with a quote I firmly believe - something like "Poverty makes you ignorant so stop breeding" or "When deep throating, use your diaphragm" or "Vote NO on Proposition 107"? How long would my sign last if I nailed it to a tree in the center of Harare, Zimbabwe?

How long would it last if I placed it in my own American front lawn?

Friday, October 27, 2006

Public Service for Sex Offenders



Real Dolls keep sex offenders at home. Just check out the website!





Leah (pictured) is keeping potential sex offenders at home. She's made of pure silicone.







Can't get a date? Tnen order in. Like you do with Chinese Food. For a mere $5,000 you can get a life-like silicone person, just like Leah (above). Put her in the bath for five minutes, remove, and she has the body heat you'd feel from a human being. Now use your bits to plug up any of her snug holes. And what about those multiple orifices? The website makes no bones about what you want from a real doll. Here's a sampling from the FAQ:

Question: What if I don't fit with RealDoll's sex parts?


REALDOLL's vaginal and anal cavities are made snug to accommodate any insertion. The silicone flesh is soft, slippery, and very elastic. Any petroleum or water-based lubricants can be applied to ease entry. REALDOLL's oral cavity contains soft silicone tongue and teeth. The oral cavity is as snug as the doll's other entries. All of REALDOLL's cavities allow deep insertions.

Question: Tell me more about the doll's entries

The inside of the Vaginal and Anal entries use a different grade of silicone than the rest of REALDOLL's body; These areas are extremely soft and feel very life-like, down to the subtle texture. REALDOLL's vaginal lips can be stretched apart very realistically. REALDOLL's Oral entry has a very soft and stretchy lips, ultra soft tongue, soft silicone teeth, and a hinged jaw that opens and closes very realistically.

Question: Tell me more about RealDoll's "suction effect"

When penetrated, a vacuum is formed inside REALDOLL's entries which provides a powerful suction effect. This effect is strongest in REALDOLL's oral entry. Some of REALDOLL's users have reported intense orgasms due to this specific feature.

Now if you want to enjoy that special suction effect without the hassle of cumbersome appendages, go ahead and order a simple torso at half the price! That's right, you don't have to find a real victim, because she's already cut up! You can even get a severed real head (check out the accessories page) to stick in your freezer. Act out your sick fantasies and freak out your friends...guilt free!



Avoid jailtime. Don't wait, order now!










Thursday, October 26, 2006

Biggest Bitch on the Planet

The new African wild dog exhibit at the Bronx Zoo would have you believing that this endangered species are good to each other. They eat as a family and share without argument, are "close knit", and the whole pack shares in raising the pups.

What the exhibit in the Bronx fails to mention is what I learned on Safari. The reason the pack shares in raising the pups is that the dominant female is the only one allowed to breed. Should another female get poked and pregnant, once her brood is born, the dominant female kills them and forces that mother to assist in suckling her litter. "Nurse, this!"



See her live in the Bronx! The world's biggest bitch.






They say we mustn't put human traits on animals as each species has evolved their own way to best survive. For example, the offspring of the dominant female are sure to be stronger than the offspring of another. But you know it really isn't working so well because there's only about 5,000 wild dogs left in Africa. The reason could be animal karma. This bitch puts Madea to shame.

Friday, October 20, 2006

Fear Factor

My friend Curtis whirled into town last weekend from Philly and promptly ordered up copious amounts of cocaine. He stayed up all night and when I found him comatose in my bed Saturday afternoon, he had a crusted yellow phlegm trailing from his nostrils.

Ever glamorous, Curtis washed his face and dove back into the bag of cocaine. Later that evening it occured to him that if he was going to keep gunning through the weekend he would get real sketchy if he didn't eat. One cannot function on copious amounts of cocaine alone. Yes, Curtis would force himself to shove something dreadful down his gullet. Actual food.




Hamburgers don't look so delicious when you're high on cocaine




Curtis went out and came back with a deli-made hamburger. At the kitchen table he sat down and grimaced at the hamburger. He poked at the bun. He sneered. "It's like Fear Factor," he said.

Thursday, October 19, 2006

EVICTION NOTICE FOR GRANDMA

Most elderly leave their old folk's homes via body bag, but not my grandma. It seems darling grandma Gloria has been evicted from her apartment at Raleigh Hills Assisted Living facility in Beaverton, Oregon.

We knew things with Grandma were a little odd when a few years back she couldn't figure out how to double a recipe. It's been a slippery slope ever since. This year alone she's accused my happily married mother of having boyfriends and my cousin of being an illegitemate love child. But I got the best.

"Jesse, my heart is ready to take the next step," said Grandma last January, "I think we should get married." At last I've lived. My grandmother proposed marriage. "That'll make headlines," I told her.

GLORIA PEARSON (right), 82, has been evicted from the old folk's home.

More recently Gloria has taken to sleeping in her recliner because she's "rented out" her bedroom to imaginary boarders. She's also been caught tending to "babies" known to the rest of us as plastic dolls. Thankfully, we haven't caught her nursing.

The latest in the saga of my beloved Grandmother came to head this past week. Apparently in her late night wanderings, Gloria opens the doors to the residences of other elderly dwellers and walks on in. One can only imagine how many other indecent proposals she's made in her two-year tenure.

She's been given 30 days to move out.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Regifting Etiquette for Dummies

I'm all about regifting. Got a birthday coming up? I've got something for you. There's a pile in my room just waiting for an occasion. It feels so good to recycle, and New York City is made for it. We can't keep anything. Every day a choice must be made on what to keep and what to toss.

I have gained experience in this art. Last year, when re-gifting a leatherbound journal, my thankful friend opened it, and to my horror we both saw what I had forgotten to check. There were two personal journal entries penned by yours truly, inside her gift. Which was originally my gift, of course, long ago.

My hunky boyfriend Bam Bam recently raided my re-gifting pile and put on a pair of (expensive) Ginch Gonch underwear.



REGIFT USED UNDERWEAR AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION




"Hey, I was going to re-gift those!" I told him. "I know," he said, "I left the tag on your dresser, so you can just replace it." Oh yeah, and I thought regifting a journal with a diary entry was crude. I could just see a friend opening his birthday gift to find brand name undies autographed with a celebratory skidmark. "Well," said Bam Bam, "Give them to a friend you don't like that much."

Bam Bam (center) is wearing underwear that may one day be regifted

The Gayby Boom

Sex and the City taught straight ladies (apparently there were those who didn't know) that the ultimate accessory is not a pair of Manolos, but a gay friend. A gay friend is an arm ornament, a safety zone and a bank of compliments all rolled into one.

But while straight women are seeking out gay friends, gay men are seeking out motherhood. That's right-children. The latest trend in gay accessories are known in the vernacular as gaybys.

A friend recently attended an uptown party and a couple of well-to-do gays were toting their one year old twin girls dressed in white fur coats. Let's hope it's faux fur or these gaybys may have to worry if their two daddies were stoned to death by gay bashers or by PETA activists. Not even able to walk and they've got matching fur coats! And I thought the dogs were spoiled in Manhattan.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

What is a Merkin?

My friend Chad saw an article on a London theatrical production where the male lead had to shave his pubic region. He literally shaved off those pubes and audiences began to wonder: how can an actor shave off his pubes for each night? It turns out, for those of us in the dark, that he wears a MERKIN: also known as a pubic wig.

Apparently merkins have been around for quite some time, for centuries in fact. Merkins were originally used to cover syphilitic pustules (I'm getting a visual), are made with Yak or human hair, and are sold now as fetish items "for both the voyeur and the exhibitionist". Just shave your own pubes, add some glue, and slap one on! I'm horny already.

As our species continue to evolve, and lose body hair in the process, one can only imagine a future (beginning with those hairless Germanic types) full of mail order merkins because pubic hair will always be erotic for the voyeur, and the exhibitionist. And the rest of us, too.