Nancy Grace hasn’t been this cheesed off since Michael Jackson beat the rap last year for child molestation.

When the lab report came back with no DNA matches for the Duke University lacrosse players, accused of raping a woman during a party, steam began pouring out of Nancy’s ears.

All week long, she had been worrying the case from every angle. There was the race aspect: “I understand they specifically asked for a black stripper!” she said, eyes narrowing with the sort of flinty indignation that would send a young boy’s ball-sack right back into his pelvis.

There was the white privilege slant: Southern college, lacrosse as an expensive sport peopled by privileged white jocks from leafy suburbs. Most of all, there was the WOMAN RAPED hysteria, which dovetailed neatly with Nancy’s recounting of slavery days when master imposed himself on hapless black servant girls, a scenario that borrowed heavily from the blackspoitation tradition of Mandingo. (read the full article)

“I didn’t hit rock bottom, and I didn’t turn to a particular church,” says David Papaleo, better known to us as the big-muscled porn star “Tom Katt”.

“I just started praying. I asked God to help me with what my life was becoming.”

God told him his life “wasn’t correct,” the big man tells the Dallas Voice, a gay and lesbian community paper. And so the former Falcon posterboy, former “bisexual,” former steroid bunny became not only a born-again evangelical, with aspirations toward the pulpit, but a born-again heterosexual, as well.

Exclusively heterosexual, if we are to believe the newly corrected Papaleo, right, who admits, with admirable frankness, to having had more boyfriends in his life than girlfriends:

“I felt I had to stay away from women because, hello, I was doing gay porn; no woman was going to have anything to do with me.” (An assertion the Dallas Voice let pass without comment but that we find odd — and somewhat unobservant in light of the current data on the overwhelming number of woman turned on by man-on-man porn.)

“It just didn’t click,” he says of his many boyfriends. “It can’t just be a physical thing. And I never really found that I could have an emotional-spiritual connection with another guy.” (read the full article)

The great and powerful Oz, as we all know, doesn’t read newspapers (or apparently Top Secret Intelligence Briefings either). Perhaps he’s bored by so much text with no pictures to color.

This Easter Sunday, on the White House lawn, our Colossus of Crawford will get a little visual aid, approximately 600 of them — men, women and children in rainbow leis who will be comprising the estimated 200 gay families set to attend the White House Easter Egg Hunt — en mass. (read the full article)

The pants fall off him, and that’s when he’s just strolling down the street.

Those loose trousers that keep slipping down grown men’s backsides (and make them all look like un-mothered little whippersnappers) gives amble display of what used to be called plumber’s crack. In Doug’s case, the downward slide is impeded only by the full, juicy roundness of his athletic butt, firmed and shaped by the Surfer’s Life.

Doug follows the Big Waves from San Diego to Maui to the beaches of Australia, courtesy of his posing gigs and the kindness of strangers — both male and female. Our Dougie rarely needs to wear shoes and goes through most of his day with half his clothes off, in one way or another.

We’d call him a Surf Fanatic, a Slave of the Big Wave, if we ourselves didn’t race from SoCal to Hawaii to — god! — the Back of Beyond in search of … well, it isn’t the Big Wave … but something equally huge and gorgeous — and hung with all sort of rippling muscles and topped by a big, bright smile.

See more of Doug — pictures and videos — in the Cruiser Boys section of our Inner Circle:

(MEMBERS / non-MEMBERS)

Aren’t babies beau-ti-ful?

Don’t you wish you could have 10 of them! All those little bundles of joy screaming in the adorable way they do? And they grow up to look just like you! What a tribute!

Only Diane Arbus, a photog- rapher with an eye for the gothic in ordinary life (whose pictures you see here), could capture the rude humanity of it all.

Ah, marriage and bay-bees!

Yeah, and the heteros can keep it, say we.

Tom Cruise, for instance. Katie Holmes, for another. What a couple! But Katie — is that a beach ball you’re wearing under your maternity top or have you just been going all Britney on the spare ribs? We loved how Defamer deconstructed a recent photo of Mama Cruise — or as they describes her, the “Scientology war bride”: (read the full article)

Mark Tewksbury won’t be on a box of Wheaties, if history and the shabby treatment of Greg Louganis, one of diving’s all-time superstars, is any guide.

And it’s not just because Tewksbury is Canadian.

The attractive swimmer, a winner of gold, silver and bronze at a series of summer Olympics, has been very vocal even since he came out as a gay man — a debut that bars him, no matter which side of the border he lives on, from ever joining that big Breakfast of Champions in the sky.

As the co-manager of the first World Outgames — to be held this summer in Montreal, July 30 to August 5, with more than 11,000 athletes participating — Tewksbury admits that while homophobia is very much alive in sports, “”I’ve seen firsthand that sports and culture can be used for social change.” (read the full article)

“How can I date a cop or fireman?” asks a poster on DataLounge, a lively gay forum that is one of Nightcharm’s favorite web stops.

Describing himself as a 41-year-old office worker, who is tired of meeting fellow cubicle slaves, the writer confesses that those cops and firemen “look great in uniform” and wonders if any posters can drop him a clue on how to meet these guys.

Naturally, all the jokers had to weigh in first (“Hang out at fires and crime scenes”), as did the village idiot (“Why would anyone want to date a cop? They are about the most no-talent knobs on the scale? It takes zero education to be a cop, and half are on the take. They get paid shit and have to work proms just to make ends meet. They commit suicide by the age of 40. No thanks.”)

But there were more thoughtful responses. You can never be sure on an open forum who is legitimate and who is not, but DataLounge regulars have developed pretty accurate bullshit detectors, and the following anecdotes had, for us, the ring of authenticity: (read the full article)

Slate‘s gadfly art critic Lee Siegel takes a distinctly psychoanalytical approach to dissecting the vast array of portraiture included in artist David Hockney‘s current retrospective, featured through May 15 at Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts.

Siegel has subtitled his Slate Slide Show, “The Shallow Lyricism of one of America’s Favorite Painters.”

Siegel points out that “of all the genres and mediums in which Hockney has worked—landscape, still life, and opera sets, among others—his portraiture is the least accomplished and affecting.”

The problem, for Siegel, is Hockney’s narcissism — coupled with his fear of being alone. Hockney remains too focused on his subject’s role in his life to make a convincing portrait of that person as a person. (read the full article)