As much as we genuinely care that “Heather Graham got a Methven Satinjet shower head at the Michael Jordan Invitational on January 17 in the Bahamas,” we feel that the tabloids aren’t really keeping us adequately up to date on the down-and-dirty with regards to our favorite gay icons. We barely know a thing.

That’s why we’ve invited Celebrity Psychic, Miranda Celeste-Walters (right), to give us her unique insight into the sexual shenanigans of five prominent gay heartthrobs, and more specifically, why you may or may not want to sleep with them as much as you think you do.

Tom Ford: This looks like good sex, but I’m receiving something else. There’s a note below the surface here, and it has to do with childhood loss, and an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. This would not be good sex. I’m seeing antibacterial hand cleanser in almost every room, and also in the car. There is anger associated with shoes as well. Stay away from the shoes.

Elijah Wood: Very pleasant, but needy in ways that would not be immediately visible. There would be a lot of phone calls, and that could be good or that could be bad. Elijah writes angry emails. He doesn’t make a lot of sense. In the throes of sex, his voice is going to be higher than you’d expect. If you find yourself at odds with this delicate man, I recommend gifts of cheese.

(more…)

Don Quixote had it right.

Macrophilia. It’s big terminology for a big inkling … as in the intense sexual attraction to literal giants.

Giants — be they the stuff of the grandest legend or the wonkiest sci-fi romp — are as chimerical as the unicorn or the mermaid, creatures born of mankind’s entreaty to find something more magical than itself. It’s that heady ambition that drives Macrophilia, an abstraction that can never truly be realized yet still beguiles its dreamers nonetheless.

Plus it makes for some great fanfare:

Mammoths with unfettered desires and unyielding bodies! Behemoths breaking seams and busting asses! Grasping! Looming! Dwarfing! Crushing! Cyclopean troglodytes who crave the delicate pleasures that only man can provide! Your body — their plaything. Your world — their toy box! (more…)

At this time of year, when the moon turns orange and the witches fly, we think back on Rosemary Woodhouse, the unwitting mother of Satan’s son from Rosemary’s Baby, and Marguerite Perrin, the batshit-crazy “God Warrior” from Trading Spouses.

One is fictional, one is very literally in the flesh, but both are sisters under the skin.

Rosemary and Marguerite have each, in their different ways, decided that the world is full of witches — and not the Molly Weasley cook up some dinner with a spin of the wand kind, but malevolent, soul-sapping hags — give or take a Ruth Gordon chatterbox with a Noo Yawk accent and a brash way of barging into your apartment to quiz you on the price of the drapes.

At first Rosemary — sweet, hip, Mia Farrow-esque Rosemary, so proud of her edgy Vidal Sassoon boy bob — laughs at the idea ("in this day and age!") Then a good friend hands her the book All of Them Witches, which holds a clue to the true nature of her neighbors, the baby she is carrying, and the strange dream she had at the time of conception that involved a wolf-like beast with claws and slit pupils. (more…)

 
I’m fighting the gays in the can so we don’t have to fight them in our own backyard.

That’s in essence the mission statement of Fort Lauderdale Mayor Jim Naugle, the latest in a very long line of Right Wing cranks bent on cleansing his lily white fiefdom of all those pesky homosexuals and their degenerate ways.

His grand design for stemming the lewd rainbow tide threatening to overrun the city? Robotic toilets designed to narc on their copulating occupants by automatically flinging open their stall doors during lurid activity. (more…)

They’re both nude. A man and a woman. Hip-deep in a jungle pond, their genitals thoughtfully concealed by gently swirling lily pads.

The woman’s long dark hair, as hair always does in these tableaux, carefully hides her breasts. Two giant white lotuses bloom beside the Biblical couple.

Yes, Virginia, this is Adam and Eve on their first date.

At least as it’s depicted at Cincinnati’s new 60,000 square foot Creation Museum — a museum that “brings the pages of the Bible to life.” And not just with animatronic dolls (left), but with a video of Adam and Eve in all their near-naked glory.

You read correctly, a video depicting how life as we know it really, really began (or so the museum claims): A solitary man. His magical rib. A miraculous mutation. A Wooo-man.

A snake … and then …

A career in porn?

Yep, porn creep strikes again, in God’s garden no less.

As so often befalls those associated with our country’s most sacred enterprises, sex and porn continue to have their way.

In our garden variety tale it’s Adam — er, Eric Linden (left), the hunky actor who plays Adam in Cincinnati Eden — who is currently under fire for associating himself with number one, S-E-X, and number two, S-F-X, a racy clothing company that depicts Linden in one of its ads showing off a T-shirt while he seems to be getting a blowjob. (more…)

Sure, there was the wonderland of his body: gym-sculpted, perpetually tanned and glowing. A body made beguiling by its distinct halves. Above the waist: smooth, taut, sharply defined. Below: thickets of dark hair covering his groin, legs and beef-meaty ass.

And his dick. A stout cock deserving the literotic term cudgel. Fully engorged, its circumference suggested death by suffocation, should it be lodged too deeply, for too long, in too avid a throat.

And yet it was Lex Baldwin’s face that set him apart from the blond blur of early 90’s gay sexbots.

Baldwin’s face was classically swarthy. His countenance solemn, a look that signaled stern indifference. But indifference with a concession — you could blow him. He’d give you that. Maybe.

With the bull-like flare of his nostrils, he appeared perpetually angry. The strong cleft of his upper lip exaggerated the downward turn of his mouth. A determined sulk that guaranteed no meat — other than a steak — would ever enter that pouty mouth. (more…)

Welcome to the United States of Rapture.

Can there ever be enough Jesus? Having won their War on Christmas (yes, we are happy to report, it will be held again next year) and signing up their flocks in Republican voter drives, and enlisting all those happy, shiny evangelicals as “Marriage Protectors” (not to be confused with Athletic Protectors), Christians in America are straining under their persecution.

It is a persecution that comes from living in a country where false religions are unpunished by public burnings at the stake, where science is still taken seriously, where the death prayers and earthquake fatwahs of the Reverend Pat Robinson have become — shock! — a national joke!

Because Jesus is simply not ubiquitous enough, not embedded in art, books, movies, songs and gift-shop brick-a-brac enough, Nightcharm lists some rare but recent sightings of this obscure First Century Deity — hard because in America, his hidden catacomb cult is relegated to megachurches, cable networks, and weekly councils with the President.

Here then are our favorite moments in Jesus USA.

Oops, we forgot. First a prayer from the Daily Show’s Jon Stewart. Please bow your head …

Amen. And take it away, Jesus …. (more…)

Welcome to the Museum of Unnatural History.

This summer parents can take their kids to a slew of multimillion dollar Creationist “Museums” where the deer and the dinosaur roam as Adam and Eve bathe beneath thundering waterfalls, their male and female parts coyly obscured by leaves, spray and dogma.

A museum in name only, these mini-Disneylands are cropping up throughout the Southwest and present a hodgepodge of naive Biblical beliefs, long discredited by scientists, as well as serious scholars of religion. Here children “of all ages” (as they say at the circus) are taught that dinosaurs traveled on Noah’s ark and that the earth — like Zsa Zsa Gabor — is only 6, 000 years old,. “That would mean, ” quipped biologist Richard Dawkins, author of The God Delusion, “that the earth didn’t come about until after the agricultural revolution.” The “Young Earth” creationists derive their numbers from Biblical genealogies; actual estimates, based on radiometric dating, place the earth’s age closer to 4.5 billion years.

Thus we see the latest skirmish in the centuries-old battle between religion and science. Coexistence is really not possible, despite what moderates contend. This is a battle to the death, and a battle vigorously waged for the only reason that matters: the victor gets to decide ultimate reality — a ground that both sides claim exclusives rights to. Of course that particular battle has long been over — over that is except for the shouting. As the score stands, it’s Lions 10; Christians 0. (more…)