The Gray Lady took a trip to Williamsburg recently to spill the beans on what gay male hipsters do:

• Bump
• Grind
• Repeat
• Grow beards
• Wear cowboy boots and Converse sneakers
• Have money
• Like Britney Spears (ironically…?)
• Talk like girls who talk like babies
• Be generally icky

…Yeah, that’s about right.

Bump. Grind. Repeat. [NYT]

Photo by Willie Davis/Veras via villagevoice.com

As a “comedian” (which, I realize, is as gross as it sounds on paper as it does verbally), I have very specific taste when devoting my patronage to a comedian or - better yet - “distant protege.” To me, figures like David Cross, Michael Showalter, Dave Hill, and Patton Oswalt are the ones to watch: experimental, progressive mastheads of the alternative-comedy scene whose respective abilities to play with the medium has allowed for slow-to-build sea changes in domestic humor at large (see Flight of the Conchords, Adult Swim, and The Sarah Silverman Show).

And yet, poor taste prevails. Nevertheless, despite the continued presence of talentless blowhards like Carlos Mencia, Dane Cook, and anybody associated with Last Comic Standing (Ralphie May is totes fat, LOL!), there remains a prominent gap between the alternative and the mainstream into which more offbeat comedians fit. And more often than not, these performers have the ability to still attract a wide audience which can, in fact, lead to a special on premium cable (which is nothing to scoff at, either). Whether you find them funny or not, you are very likely to recognize names like Jeffrey Ross (snarky humor), Lisa Lampanelli (bawdy humor), and Paula Poundstone (cat humor).

When it comes to gay comics or “gay comedy,” I usually have to turn away. Much like material based on race or religion, “gay humor” is - in my opinion - boring and cheap. (You are a man who dates men, and sometimes the dates don’t work out well? What the WHAT?!) Hearing a gay comic give their takes on the unmistakably predictable attributes that affect daily life as a result of sexual preference become just as predictable as the hetero comics who sputter similar garbage, except that the gay comic usually feels compelled to pander to the audience, throwing “sassies” about blow jobs, meth binges, and Jake Gyllenhaal into the curriculum vitae.

Now, however, we’ve gone one step further. Gay comedy has become a tool of the outsider, used, in fact, to build a gay niche. Read More!

You know what movie is coming out soon I’m really excited about?

I mean as a (not so) secret misogynist, how can I not be excited about a modern retelling of the cautionary legend of vagina dentata. I mean… this movie must be made by the biggest ‘mo ever. Or just the homosexual son of Roy Lichtenstein. Whichever.

I had a little chat and learned some fun background from my friend Olsky about this soon to be modern miracle of cinema. Read More!

A story by Wayne Besen from his weekly column on 365gay came to my attention about the mankind project and reminded me how all my friends are total nellie faggots. As the story notes, a main tenant of the ex-gay movement for men is reclaiming one’s masculinity (side note: how can you reclaim what was never there to begin with?).

And of course masculinity is typically associated with the athletic - because what’s more virile than donning some skimpy lycra number and rubbing bumpy parts with other sweaty, muscly men? Except maybe sneaking glances at the dangling members of your fellow rugby players in a locker room that is thick with steam and the intoxicating musk of male body odor. And your teammate next to you bends over to reach for something in his locker, exposing his pert butt cheeks and then, ultimately, his tight manhole. It’s so crowded in the locker room that you are nearly on top of him, and you casually turn, so that your now semi-erect penis ever-so-delicately brushes against his bare thigh. He stands up when he feels it and you touch his shoulder gently and say “I’m so sorry, it’s so crowded in here.” And he says “That’s okay, I understand.” And then he bends over again, looking subtly over his shoulder.

But really, I’ve stopped having sex in the gym locker room. I promise.

Read More!

Know what’s great? That Queen Latifah is a lesbian. She seems to have (un)officially come out this week. However, a website with questionable authority seems to have broken the story. The only other person person who asserts Queen’s lesbianism as truth is a certain fat, gay blogger with brightly colored hair, who I will only refer to as “He Who Shall Not Be Named.” So we can’t say anything for certain.

My point is, that having The Queefa as a member of the club makes me a proud, proud homosexual. I’m offering some clips of one of her finest performances in one of my favorite movies of all time as a tribute to this Covergrrls complete greatness. Also, she plays a lesbian jazz singer in this movie. Art reflects life or life reflects art?

Read More!