We always thought Dean Cain was the hottest hump to play Superman ever (at left). But then we didn’t know what was going on in an Army barracks in Virginia.

Seems there was this group of troubled soldier boys at Ft. Eustis who were advised by their drill sergeant to shake off their post-traumatic stress with a little Superman play-acting.

Except the Superman the drill sergeant was thinking of was an all-boy porn version, and the way his therapy worked was that the solider would don a spandex Superman costume and the good sergeant would… well, I believe we scholars of such things would call it genitorture.

Popbitch give us all the filthy dish: (more…)

French Ticklers at the Gates!

The Invasion of the Blow-Up Dolls!

Yes, friends, it’s all happening in Sacramento.

That is the eye-witness account of the witty Darklady, a columnist for Ynot, a business newsletter for what we laughingly call “the adult industry.”

The occasion for all this mayhem is a proposed ban on the sale of — to use the language of the blushingly demure bill — “marital aids” in the California state capitol when such aids are being retailed near schools, parks, and of course, churches. (more…)

Atwitter this week the gay blogs have been.

And not just the gay blogs, the mainstream media as well. Everyone seems tweaked over some shirtless shots of “Harry Potter” (actually, the actor who plays him, Daniel Radcliffe, at left), who at 17 looks 17 and so sports a modestly adult body. This body comes standard with such secondary characteristics as five-o’clock shadow and those wisps of hair that taper from belly button to pubes, lovingly called “a treasure trail.”

Here’s what’s roiling those who are roiled by such things: Radcliffe has very famously played a child — a child increasingly younger than himself as the Potter movies lag the Potter books by about two and a half years. (When the series ends, Harry will be all of 17*.)

The commotion is not so much about Radcliffe’s rather staid display of shirtlessness but the fact that the pictures were taken in conjunction with the actor’s coming debut on the London stage in a play where he will be — try not to yawn — briefly nude in a few artfully dimmed scenes. (more…)

Televangelism is nothing without its prophets. And on Trinity Broadcasting Network, the world’s largest evangelical TV conglomerate, it has something more than a prophet, it has a S*T*A*R:

The Cher of God TV, the pink-haired Lady of Galilee – Jan Crouch.

I’ll admit I make repeated pilgrimages to TBN, usually late at night when I’m frustrated with all the infomercials and text-messaging hookup ads. I tune in and fall under Jan’s dizzy, drunken spell.

Jan’s garish image is kaleidoscopic, never the same woman twice. There she is dressed in cotillion white while ministering to the drug-addled Born Agains in Houston. Jump Cut: There she is a disheveled, frighteningly sleep-deprived Jan cuddling black children in the slums of Haiti. Jump Cut: Back to the bright lit Rococo TBN studios where Jan sits on her throne chair and shares tales of how Jesus touched her life personally: He once raised her pet chicken from the dead. Someone in the audience cries “Praise the Lord!” (more…)

The slinky, silky, secretive nature of cats is very seductive, I admit.

Many gay men love them, seem to have a psychic link to them, are like cats in their own ability to intuit every subtle wrinkle in the matrix.

In this, cats and the men who love them resemble women with PMS. Nothing is too small to set off their high- maintenance wiring. Some of these men are adorable, my best friends even. But I hate their fucking cats!

What’s wrong with me, doc. I’m a fag. I intuit, I read the ether, I channel the zeitgeist. I just don’t get cats.

I hate them because they’re not dogs. A dog runs to meet you at the door and goes into a little dance, jumping, leaping, twirling, sneezing, running circles around your feet. You are their king. This is what it feels like to be somebody’s Ultimate Top. If they knew how to turn themselves inside out, by golly, they would do it. For you. (more…)

Gay men, especially artistic ones, like to fancy themselves as outsiders. But the real social pariahs — the unhospitalized schizophrenics, death-row inmates and self-taught visionaries that are featured in a new gallery show of Outsider Art in London — make most of us look as routine as mailmen.

At the center of the current Whitechapel Gallery show is little-girl artist Henry Darger, whose work you see here.

A janitor who attended Catholic Mass three times a day but otherwise had no human contact, Darger lived in a one-room apartment in Chicago. After he died, in 1973, his landlords discovered that for decades he’d been illustrating a fantastical epic about a war between a group of little girls (the Vivian Girls) and a fascist dictatorship (the Glandelinians). The manuscript was over 15,000 pages, some of it drawn on butcher’s wrapping paper. (more…)

Kirk Cameron, twink-cutie from Growing Pains, now an evangelical Christian starring in low-budget Christian movies about — what else? — the fiery destruction of the world.

As crazy evangelicals go, Kirk is pretty accommodating. How accommodating? Watch him squirm with delight as the good Reverend Quacktard instructs him on how God made bananas — really big ones

A fascinating show-and-tell that all Nightcharmers will profit by:

MEMO TO GOD:
We love your bananas, but prefer the ones that, you know, squirt.

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”: (more…)