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! (read the full article)

Christianity really is just Scientology for faded Conservative actresses, D-List action stars, actors-turned-politicians, beauty queens, and teenage gospel singers who aren’t ready for slutty make-overs.

GQ Style Germany celebrates Barbie’s & Ken’s golden anniversary with this eerily precise, candy-colored layout — featuring the dolls’ too-silken blond locks and ever-bent arms — that’s speaking volumes about where we as gay men have come from and where we’re going.

Seriously, I’ve seen this look on actual human beings, and somehow the whole never seems to be more than the sum of its doll parts: pixie hair, spray tan, contacts, tweezed brows, joy boy wardrobe, that weird waxen smoothness to the face courtesy of Botox. The Babes In Toyland aesthetic is never so much hot as it is uncanny.

At fifty, Ken as a perfect human lifestyle trapping for the fashion-forward gal is so fraught with competing connotations that he’s verging on being prefab Frankensteinian.

Or maybe My First Rocky Horror?

America, what the fuck is going on?

Out there? Where the wind comes whipping down the plain? Where the corn is as high as an elephant’s eye?

What possesses a man to drive those dusty country roads to the strip mall, walk the parking lot past pickups with Confederate flag decals and “Where’s the Birth Certificate?” bumper stickers, and enter the local Walmart to the whoosh of automatic sliding doors and the gasps of internet voyeurs everywhere as his photo is snapped by cell phones and his image goes viral on the People of Walmart site, debuting one of the following looks:

ITEM: Flaming hot-pants ensemble from the Tulsa For Tweens bin (above) with fashion horns.

ITEM: short-shorts that would be inappropriate on a seven-year-old, riding up the crotch, pushing the man-junk way into the next state, and supported by criss-crossed shoulder straps last seen on Hansel when he was dropping bread crumbs in the Black Forest.

ITEM: Tan-Fastic pantyhose and hooker boots with stiletto heels.

America, when did Tranny Style go mainstream? When did it become Chainsaw Southern Gothic?

Now, intrepid Nightcharm writers John Calendo and Shawn Baker take a trip down the linoleum catwalk:
(read the full article)

Doesn’t anyone care enough about the cute guy from Veronica Mars to deprogram him before they suck out all his hotness?