Guys … GUYS! … you’re making us all crazy.

Between flashing the pubes and the nips and the ass cracks, runways have become jerk-off extravaganzas.

Forget about how many buttons you should have on this year’s sportscoat. In the hyper-homo dreamworld of menswear, it’s all about miles and miles of long, lean torso shining out nakedly beneath open shirts.

And can we just say one thing?

All. This. Skin. Is. Killing. Us!

So please … don’t stop!

Oh we know you can’t help it.

It’s the designers who are putting you out there like succulent pieces of meat — Boysicles just ready to be licked!

And it’s not just D&G but Armani, Versace, Prada, Girbaud, Valentino — oh, fuck all of them! (more…)

But what about the gay penguins? Ray and Silo at the Central Park Zoo in free-thinking Manhattan? They’re very much in love, billing and cooing and driving the female penguins into a frosty huff. They’re also raising a chick. What would Jesus do, Pat Robertson? Please Pat, as the official Mayor of Crazy Town, comment soon. (more…)

In her September 11 essay for Salon, Stacey D’Erasmo’s calm, metered prose dug a hole straight to my heart — and became a kind of poem. Just what I needed.

The title of her piece Flicked Aside By The Universe assured me this wasn’t going to be another polemical jaunt into Bushville. Of all that I’d had enough, after hours of CNN, and net hopping, writing for this site and phone talking — worry bead-like activities that haven’t done much to move me back to my familiar, everyday center. (more…)

Barbara Bush bounced back today from her embarrassing faux pas last week at the Houston Astrodome.

As you recall, during a radio interview with American Public Media, Mrs. Bush surveyed the thousands of evacuees crammed into the arena and told the reporter: “What I’m hearing, which is sort of scary, is they all want to stay in Texas!” She could not contain her amazement. “Everyone is so overwhelmed by the hospitality.” (more…)

Apparently some psychologist has written a book about post-game sex antics between major league baseball players. We can’t recall the title, but it read something like: Two Balls and a Bat. (more…)

The father of fifteen minute famewhoring, Andy Warhol, couldn’t have devised a better set up: A sitcom about a desperate reality show star that’s set amidst a doomed Three’s Company-flavored-for-the-00s sitcom (idiotically titled Room and Bored) — that stars — in real life — a star from Friends, one of television history’s most successful sitcoms.

My mind reeled.

Here’s what I’ll miss most about Lisa Kudrow and her series The Comeback:

1. The Entertaining Mind Fuck. I loved watching a thirty-minute show that miraculously managed to generate equal portions laughter, compassion, horror and disdain — all in one short swoop.

Ibsen couldn’t have done it better. Big chunks of time would pass while watching the show before I snapped to and realized that I hadn’t been laughing — and shouldn’t I have been? And that sort of head scratching made me think about, and appreciate the show even more. There was a lot to, ultimately, cherish. The show just needed time to reveal its skewed direction. (more…)

"Just a quick observation," said Jon Stewart on the Daily Show last night. He had just shown a montage of nervous Republicans reciting the Karl Rove talking point that they didn’t want to “play the blame game” when questioned about the jaw-droppingly inept response of the Bush Administration to the Katrina disaster. "I think it’s something Aristotle said," Stewart continued. "When people don’t want to play the blame game — THEY’RE TO BLAME!" (more…)

“Nature has done what the Civil War couldn’t do,” writes author Anne Rice in a New York Times op-ed this Sunday morning. The drowning of New Orleans has laid “this strange and beautiful city” to waste, she laments, “with a scope that brings to mind the end of Pompeii.” (more…)