As a kid I grew up with my mother and grandmother’s copies of Rona Barrett’s Hollywood and The National Enquirer scattered around the house.

My grandmother especially was unapologetic about the gossip rags, and her ardor made it all the easier for me to revel in them too.

Some of my sweetest memories involve everyone in my family lying around on Sunday afternoons discussing Robert Redford and Barbra Streisand having sex together on the set of The Way We Were. Or at least how we imagined they were having sex together. Tabloid time like this was considered quality time in my family.

To this day I still argue with friends about the veracity of The National Enquirer, and why I still read it — explaining how the potential threat of high-cost litigation keeps the paper trustworthy. This pretty much guarantees that whatever sort of outrageous revelation they are publishing is fact-based (well, maybe).

And The Enquirer consistently releases lusciously lurid humdingers — year after year upping the ante to compete with the seemingly endless circle jerk of celebrity gossip blogs.

Within three days I must have read thirty different online spins on Star Jones‘ gastric bypass. One of them involving an alien probe theory that actively held me catptive until I realized I’d landed on a spoofing website. (more…)

Well, yes, what’s driving the world to spin round ‘n round isn’t evolution or progress but horniness, the constant urge to fuck, or at least pop off a spooge bomb every other day.

In this week’s Inner Circle Fratmen Theater update we’ve pulled together dozens of our favorite cum shots from the last six months. College cock erupting like Vesuvius. It’s chthonic. It’s fun. Hurry in, and don’t forget to bring a towel.

The Fat Lady has sung. The last dog has died.

And still she hangs on, clutching her barely-there 2-percentage-point victory in Indiana. From her cold, dead hands, children. From her cold, dead hands.

What I will miss most about my Hillary — for yes I am a supporter and yes I would vote for her again and yes, yes, I know, she is sooo cooked — is the way she would look at Barack Obama during the debates. That frozen glare behind the frosted smile. The slight up tilt of the forehead. God, that was priceless!

There would be ol’ Barry sawing away and saying nothing, all misty uplift about change and hope and the American people, slipping ever so carefully into just the palest of black preacher cadences, something for the home team, no Reverend Wright, of course; more Miss Diahann Carroll in an Oleg Cassini gown glossing her way through Aretha: R. E. S. P. E. C. T., ladies and gentlemen. That’s what y’all mean to me.

And there would be my Hillary in all her late-blooming, newly blondized, Georgette Klinger radiance, the robot who suddenly grew a heart and look ma, she’s even warm to the touch! All red-carpet razzle dazzle beside the dour law professor, with his down-turned lips and his solemn — here I risk a racist word — dignity. (more…)

He boasts more aliases than Sean Combs and Martin Bormann combined.

He’s been reified by Jack Nicholson, Vincent Price, Burgess Meredith (twice), Robert De Niro, George Burns, Susan Lucci, Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor.

He had his way with Rosemary and got all up in Miss Jones.

He’s the ubiquitous Satan, Prince of Lies and Lord of the Flies, and of all the are-they-or-aren’t-they? names roving around on the gaydar, he’s the one most overdue for a big coming out. We’re talking millennia overdue.

As one of the most recognizable figures in world culture, he’s also one of the most enigmatic. In various contexts, he’s merely the symbolic projection of the natural instinct within man, a living entity bent on leading us all astray, Hell’s overseeing whip master and God’s right hand man version of Karl Rove.

The lone unifying factor: he’s hot as hell and bad as he wants to be. (more…)

Aries: With the moon in your mother’s water house, it is going to be important for you to really cut back on junk food and soda pop this week unless you want to inherit your genetic destiny on an immediate basis.

Taurus: Here’s an interesting recipe for your period of extended abstinence.

You’ll need: two jumbo eggs, flour, wheat germ, baking soda, table salt, traffic jam, diced cheese substitute, and lots of pepper.

Whisk in a shallow Pyrex roasting pan and microwave on high for fifteen minutes. Severe. That’s French for “Serve.”

Gemini: God damn it, you are exhausting everyone with your constant nagging and bad ideas. This is a time in which you need to second-guess everything that comes out of your mouth, though even that probably won’t be enough to counteract the permanent damage you’re doing to your public image.

Cancer: You are in a tender state this week, and will need to be babied by everyone around you. Let the people you deal with at home and work know that this is a time in which things are going to be very focused around you and what you feel is important. Ice cream is your weekly color. For now, just sit down. (more…)