We find these truths to be self evident.

Anyone who has stood at a line of urinals knows that wandering eyes are a common occurrence — one hardly limited to gay men.

Straight men do it almost as if on autopilot and differ from gay men in this not so much by degree as by intent… an intent say, to — in the words of those Marry a Millionaire shows — “take it to the next level.”

Thus, the fuss this week in the gay blogosphere over a hardly eye-opening study on lingering gazes will provoke in Nightcharmers merely a wry smile.

Despite all the play it got after one slap-dash (and typically analysis-free) blogsite posted it, the study came out a full two years ago. It was not even based on the sort of sample size or geographic variety we like to see in our pop-science. In fact, the study involved all of 255 New Yorkers.

The researchers were attempting to measure the effectiveness of web design, and here is what these far-sighted Christopher Columbuses discovered.

When shown full-body shots of men — a baseball player, in the example, winding up to bat the ball — women focused on the face, while men spent the lion’s share of their attention on the batter’s package. Face time in this eyecandy race came in a distant second for the men. (read the full article)

Here she is world, here she is boys!

Dubbed the “Chubby Mai-Tai Marie Antoinette” (by our beloved staff member Stinky), Imelda Marcos is set to get an Evita:The Rock Opera treatment this coming March at the Adelaide Music Festival in Australia. (read the full article)

Reverse Chauvinism.

It’s becoming more common as of late, especially in hetero culture wherein women are no longer necessarily reliant on nailing themselves an older man of means to provide for their needs, basic or otherwise.

Sugar mommies, cougars, boy toys, himbos-for-hire, kept men, house husbands, man-whores, mercenary man arm candy, get-ahead-of-the-game hostility between the sexes — it’s all a chance for the ladies to turn the tables and give back everything they’ve gotten over the years. Isn’t it time we saw men bent over car hoods with asses arched high, male cheerleaders shakin’ it on the sidelines, and beauty pageants full of glazed-eyed studs who want to end world hunger and love Jesus?

Sure, but double standards weren’t built in a day or even a decade, and attempts to turn straight men into pliant sex objects tend to backfire with hilarious results. (read the full article)

Whenever I’m cruising the Internet, visiting the library, or talking to a friend or stranger, I always have a secret agenda. I’m on a quest for an elusive bit of information.

As I grew up, I was intrigued by the old saying, “Men only want one thing.” As a prepubescent kid, I vaguely suspected that the phrase was an allusion to sex. Today, however, I know that “sex” is a very broad concept, and that no two men necessarily get off on the same thing. (If you don’t know the sheer vastness of male sexual identity and expression, you haven’t spent enough time looking at porn on the Internet.) So I’m always digging around, reading between the lines for the one thing that all men really want. I think I finally figured it out.

As a bit of very brief background, my research into gay history introduced me to the Greek Isle of Lesbos, an historical island of mythical proportions, populated only by women. The inhabitants poetically defined the pure love that can exist woman-to-woman. This ancient society left a legacy of art, literature, and philosophy that has helped to define modern feminism and indeed has even given a name to lesbianism. (read the full article)

What if you and your lover could have a designer son? The digital artist Harald Seiwert imagined just such a possibility when he Photoshopped these imaginary family portraits. The “son” in the middle, of course, is a hybrid fabrication, composed in equal parts of each partner’s features. (read the full article)

Treasure Island Media’s resident stud shaman is back in Meat Packing.

His previous two movies, Dawson’s 20-Load Weekend and the coyly titled, Cum Sloppy Buttholes have garnered the burly giant a world of fans and made him a stand out among Treasure Island’s gallery of irresistible male stars.

Before we send you on your way to view his latest video extravaganza, consider the following fun facts:

Dawson’s from a small town in Maine.

Off-camera he works for a biotech company’s sales dept.

His love life? As he told a reporter recently he has “No significant other at this point. Not many people can handle the porn thing, let alone that it’s bareback. It’ll take a special person to see past that.”

And what about the furor surrounding barebacking? (read the full article)

Nightcharm knows the only thing better than gay porn is more gay porn. And the only thing better than more gay porn is more high quality gay porn. Well you’re in the right place, because we’ve just added a new high caliber, high octane video feed for Inner Circle members: Club Jeremy Hall!

Featuring real jocks doing what they do best, showing off the bodies they work so hard on, and doing lots of cardio and ‘suction’ exercises just like the ones pictured above.

Keep visiting Club Jeremy Hall theater and you’ll find all sorts of free-spirited jocks doing assorted other high-impact aerobic activities that would get them kicked out of every gym in the country, except certain YMCAs, Gold’s and wherever Anderson Cooper works out.

So now is the perfect time for you to join the Inner Circle! Give it a try.

P.S. Czech Boys theater is also new in the Inner Circle featuring mouth-watering Euro twinks! More on that soon.

This Easter Sunday marks the third anniversary of Helen Lawson‘s death. She planted her own tree and she made it grow! I think we were all saddened by the shoddy treatment Hollywood gave her when she was portrayed by Susan Hayward in Valley of the Dolls. Hayward had apparently been told to soft-pedal the fiery dynamics of this much bigger star and so phoned in a pale, restrained performance. A disgrace, really. But then Hollywood never forgave Helen for dislocating Joey Heatherton‘s neck during the staircase-slapping scene in How Very Veda, the Ross Hunter remake of Mildred Pierce. (read the full article)

Presenting an assembly-line floorfiller from the early ’90s heyday of Bitch-Can’t-Sing Italo House that became a dance chart Number 1 smash and a gay club staple thanks to its perfectly-balanced piecemeal design: typically ace production by super producer Gianfranco Bortolotti, some seriously ballsy sampling, a pulsating bass line worthy of Bomb The Bass, hilariously inept lip-synching, then-innovative video effects, and an unintelligible chorus ranking up there with Manfred Mann‘s “Blinded By The Light” — interpreted as anything and everything from “Peter Pan had a plan!” to “Take a perv at my pants!”

The gleaming torso of Luther — our latest VIP Lounge discovery — is one of the reasons we chose this strapping German to be our Nightcharm Log On Boy last month.

The unmade bed behind him is no stage prop but the condition of the room after — how should we put it? — our photo session. (read the full article)