Tom Katt becomes another gay porn star to give it all up for Jesus. However, unlike others, his new hetero, Christian self takes a very free-to-be-you-and-me approach to accepting homosexuality and sex itself. It's still hard not to laugh.
86 posts from February 2006
When you look at the messes George Michael and Boy George are, then ponder what an acidic, pretentious bitch Elton John can be at the flash of a camera, you wonder what solace being open and honest about their sexualities has brought them. It's depressing! C'mon guys, get it together—you're in your forties and fifties, for fuck's sake, and you're more messed up than Pink's "Stupid Girls" targets by a landslide. Well, I guess at least not all the messed-up dudes of music are gay men.
Rich Merritt pens (does anyone use pens anymore?) a love letter to Making Love, then proposes a three-way with Brokeback Mountain on Nightcharm, a site for sore eyes. Speaking of sore eyes, I've discovered they do get sore if you stare too long at the screen without blinking, which can happen at this Michael Ontkean gallery.
As a kid, I used to love making celebrity-driven lists, ranging from nothing but pages of famous names—my mom always contributed "Faye Dunaway"—to records of all the stars' names in each week's TV Guide cross-referenced with the movies in which they appeared. This was a great way to be born in 1968 and yet be familiar with names such as Dana Andrews, Rory Calhoun and Ruth Roman. Next up, I was attracted to books that were nothing but celebrity-driven lists with hard covers—Richard Lamparski's crack-grade addictive Whatever Became Of...? series gave me crash courses in who the hell Miss Frances (she of the Ding Dong School), Faye Emerson and Maria Montez were while at the same time coaching me on why I should feel nostalgic for them. (Lamparski had a real flair for snapping his own amateur shots of aged stars three months before their inevitable departures from this world, and did a classic radio interview with Christine Jorgensen, here.) By the time I was in junior high, I was writing down all the songs from American Top 40, clueless that the songs' positions were already handily recorded in a little thing called Billboard Magazine. As a young adult—okay, until my early thirties—I would do my lengthy Oscars list year after year, handicapping nominees and then winners. When magazines pick their 50 Most Beautiful, 60 Most Busted, 70 Most Shockingly Thin, I am more than passingly curious. So the Celebrity Trust Index is my kinda breaking news. This is not your father's Q rating anymore, this Davie-Brown Index (DBI) is a list of stars as ranked by 1.5 million Americans in the non-grammatically parallel categories of "appeal," "notice," "trendsetter," "influence," "trust," "endorsement," "aspiration" and "awareness." It's no surprise that the top two celebs on the list are Tom Hanks (#1) and Oprah Winfrey (#2), both of whom I earlier blogged (more than half-seriously)
should run for president on the Democratic ticket. I was surprised that Bill Cosby managed to hang in there at #3 in light of his sordid personal issues in recent years. Insane anomalies? Donald Trump is at #103, far ahead of Katie Couric at #192 (why, people? perky has to trump Trump!), Paris Hilton at #229 is ahead of Matt Lauer at #330 (is it a Today Show thing?) and most delightful of all, Drew Barrymore—probably because everyone knows she's done it all and has been upfront about it—ranks a lofty #27, shaming a guy in my own personal Top 10, Paul Newman, at #70. (In related news: Richard Lamparski is apparently alive, according to a delightfully creepy obituaries forum. But if he calls, I'm not here!
One of my favorite skits on the underrated MAD TV was this one about two straight guys who discover they might be "a little gay." Ike Barinholtz and his comedy partner Josh Meyers (who is sorely missed from the show) hold less back than some actors in serious, gay theatrical releases, despite trying to convince themselves they're into "short-shorts and bouncing hooters."
George Michael has been arrested again. To quote from his "I Want Your Sex," to this news I say, "C-c-c-c-c-c-c'mon!" This time around, he's been arrested for drug possession after being found slumped over in a car. He was supposed to get married to his longtime (long-suffering?) partner Kenny Goss next month, but bad news like this will make it anything but a gay wedding.
An exultant Madonna has yet another #1 single in the UK with "Sorry." If you're like me, you think Madonna is imperfect, and yet ultimately flawless. Visit Velvet Rope and tell the naysayers that Madonna will never be over. She's pop-culture oxygen. Can you guess all of her #1 UK hits? Read on to find out. Image courtesy of Madonnalicious.
John Paulus, the guy who visited Bareback Mountain with Clay Aiken and squealed about it (definitely after, probably not during judging from his Howard Stern tell-all), has granted his first major print interview with "The Hippest Gay Guide To New York," Next Magazine. The, uh, spread is to promote his signing with porn auteur Michael Lucas's Lucas Entertainment. The issue features a total of five different shots of the tattle-tail, revealing him to have a body I'd do anything but eat right and exercise for and a face that...well...let's just say he reminds me of Danny Kaye meets Billy Tipton (jazz great whose death exposed that "he" was a woman) meets Walt Disney's Ichabod Crane. See helpful photo chart below, which really walks ya through it.
One photo reveals a tasteful profile of Paulus's infamous rump, of whose anything-but-sleepy hollow Clay allegedly said, "Quarter turns, quarter turns! I want to touch every one of your walls!"
I already feel zero sympathy for the pint-sized (5'3") Paulus—at worst he had a so-so hook-up with a guy and of his own free will made a poor decision to forego a condom, then got dropped. This is not a tragedy, and yet the spin on Paulus from his camp is that he is naive, "provincial" (Lucas's word for him), "so honest you could cry" (the Next interviewer's phrase). Smart choice on Paulus's part to come off that way, dumb for anyone to believe that a 38-year-old man who served 12 years in the military and is a veteran of Yahoo Chat and Manhunt doesn't know the score. (He tried to tell Howard Stern that Manhunt-type services are not for sex, just for gay guys to find new friends.)
To me, the smoking gun that this guy is not Pollyandrew is the following Internet exhange he had (using screen name "jonahcruise," though I guess he was just cruisin' for friends) with Clay Aiken ("revnoles") after first outing Clay:
revnoles: "I don't want my name out there like this. These rumors are destructive i see no silver lining for ANYONE"
jonahcruise: "Please, they all think you have good taste ;-)"
That kind of comeback shows this dude has sass to back up that ass even if he has no class. Not to mention the fact that months after getting his heart and possibly his anal canal broken by Clay, his next move is hardcore porn. (His first scene is on-line at Lucas Entertainment already, with the very un-Clay Aiken Wilson Vasquez.) Also, his story about how he came to keep Clay's cum rag appears to have evolved since his Stern nerves-fest. He now says Clay told him to "clean that up" as he was leaving, and that after Clay left, John put the rag in a plastic bag (that he happened to have on hand). The article states it is now in a safety deposit box.
The Next article is well worth reading, so if you're not in NYC, try eBay. It brings out that Paulus sees a "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde thing" in Clay, but points out that Paulus seems to have caught that bug from Clay, veering from feeling "badly" to proclaiming Clay to be a "little bastard!" See, he's against Clay for being a closet homo, but perhaps the out homo is himself a closet conniver.
In the end, I don't blame crafty Michael Lucas for taking advantage of this situation—it proves what a cunning businessman he really is to have swooped in so quickly on a new model whose appearance in videos will give him a big bang for his buck and lots of PR. I also agree 100% with Lucas's assertion, "I do not accept that gay people in the public eye have a 'right' to keep their sexuality secret." I do find Paulus to be a sleazebag for kissing and telling so luridly, but no more of a sleazebag than the female sluts who grace the tabloids with the-semen's-not-even-dry-yet tales of canoodling with Nick Lachey, Ben Affleck, Charlie Sheen and others.
But what really disgusts me about John Paulus is what disgusts me about Clay Aiken—their shameless ability to present to the world a laughably obvious fake front (in Clay's case, near-virginal heterosexuality; in John's case, wide-eyed, jilted innocence)...and at least a part of the world's willingness to swallow it whole.