We’ll be the first to admit it. Bringing our queer eye to the art museum is somewhat redundant.

The great works so clearly speak for themselves, and often in accents we recognize as native to our own little corner of the universe.

Digital artist Harald Seiwert decided to take this idea over the top and do explicitly homosexual versions of great masterpieces, calling his new series Inspired by …

Using a combination of Photoshop and photo shoot, he enhanced already homoerotic works like Caravaggio’s nubile boy cupid in Amor Victorious, at left (click here to see the Caravaggio original), by switching in a live model.

But why limit himself to the handful of often marginally attractive men — mostly burghers, popes and patrons — in great art? The vast majority of masterpieces envisioned beauty in an exclusively female form. He needed to throw in a few transgendered curves to widen his scope, often to pranksterish effect. (more…)

It’s called Rainbow Country.

That’s the new title from Patrick Fillion’s line of Class Comics, which usually feature the far-out sexcapades of oversize superheros in distant galaxies.

Rainbow Country is set in the real world — as long as the real world is located somewhere off the French Riviera — and features everyday guys like you and me…

… as long as me and thee have mega pecs, industrial-strength abs, expanding orifices and the sort of flexibility that would bring a gold-medal gymnast to tears — if not his knees.

Dicks the size of salamis, of course, cockheads the size of a baby’s fist — all that comes standard in a Class Comic, and we mention them only in passing, for documentary purposes.

Welcome to Sodom by the Sea: Rainbow Country is a dazzlingly buff gay mecca — all male, all the time — where everyone lives in luxury condos that tower over a glittering aquamarine sea. (more…)

Supersize me, baby.

Everything in Patrick Fillion’s comic-book wonderland is bigger than life and four times as natural.

In his latest Class Comic, entitled, with charming directness, The Incredibly Hung Naked Justice (that’s our boy at left) — we follow the sexploits of a superhero who is forever bursting out of his clothes to don thigh-high boots and spandex opera gloves.

He wears nothing else — but, then this guy’s nothing is anybody else’s pornucopia of riches: headlight pecs with big, chewy nips and a humdinger of a mantool that rates its own zip code.

It’s no surprise then that when he does battle with super villains, it all turns into an interspecies fuckfest.

Everybody gets it on with everything — and we do mean every thing: No creature is too alien for Fillion’s imagination to deck out in multiple dicks and puckered a-holes. (more…)

Not since Liberace have we seen such unabashed queer showmanship!

At 7-feet or thereabouts, Leonid the Magnificent, formerly of Russia, currently of Brooklyn, brought down the house on America Has Talent – a sort of Gong Show crossed with Cirque du Soleil — that presents a summer-long American Idol-style competition, but with jugglers, bird-callers and at least one stocky man who got himself inside a big pink balloon (you had to be there).

Leonid is a sword balancer — sort of. He’s really Cher, with a Russian accent. He comes on stage near nude, with the sort of golden Adonis body reminiscent of pulpy gay-trade paperbacks of the Sixties — and, oh yeah, fucking angel wings!

We loved the way his act began as he walked toward the camera with hard, purposeful steps, crossing one leg over the other in the manner of a showgirl — to the string accompaniment of Feelings.

No, we haven’t been this catapulted out into the queer stratosphere since… well, since Siegfried and Roy raced the snow tiger around the stage in their sequined hot pants.

See the Magnificent Leonid for yourself: (more…)

In The Passion of the Crawford, now playing the Empire Plush Room in San Francisco, Lypsinka (actually, John Epperson) recreates an interview Joan Crawford gave right in her last Mommie Darkest days.

It was a one-time only appearance at Town Hall in Manhattan, a few years before her death in 1977, and I, in fact, was in the audience.

I remember how Joan kept pouring dark whiskey-colored liquid from a Pepsi can and rattling the ice cubes in her tall glass as she steadily became bombed out of her mind while the interview, conducted by an old friend and flatterer, John Springer, went on and on. (more…)

Ah, to be a pole dancer in a strip club! (like Elizabeth Berkley in the fabled pussy extravaganza Showgirls, at right)

That is the simple wish of so many of us! — including a chubby young lady who comes on stage in Jerry Springer — The Opera and tells Jerry that all she ever wanted to be was a whorey stripper swirling around a pole in a glitter G-string.

“I don’t give a fuck no more,” she tells the onstage Springer audience, who are trying to shout her down with chants of “Loser! Loser!” “I’m tired of laughing and I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of feeling and I’m tired of always trying. I want to do some living because I’ve done enough of dying. I just want to dance, I just want to …fucking dance!”

The longing that Alison Jiear expresses in the song is quite touching and one of the opera’s suite of showstoppers (which also includes “Chick with a Dick” and a wife-stealing tranny shaking her stuff in wifey’s face as she brings down the house with “Talk to the Hand, Bitch.”)

Jerry Springer — The Opera comes from — where else, other than Japan, would they get this loopy over American junk TV? — England, home of Masterpiece Theater! The opus is set to land on our Puritan shores any minute now, but if you can’t wait and don’t want to shell out the big bucks for an import CD, staring David Soul (from Starsky and Hutch, yet!) as a very convincing Jerry, then… (more…)

This Cat is in Heat! Our story so far. Camili-Cat is a lean, mean sex machine from Outer Space — and an insatiable bottom.

He is lonely, poor thing, for he searches for others of his Felinoid race, and has almost given up hope. So he does what anyone would do. Drowns himself in sex, lots and lots of it, beautifully rendered cartoon-panel after beautifully rendered cartoon-panel of moaning, shuddering double-entry love.

Race, species — it doesn’t matter. Just oceans and oceans of whizzing, fizzing jizz. We did mention Camili-Cat was an insatiable bottom?

And, as those who have been reading Class Comics know, this is one cat who gets very motivated behind that essential hungry-hole fact of life.

Now the tale of the mysterious early days of Camili-Cat is about to be told in The Camili-Cat 20th Anniversary Special, which the Cat Man’s creator, Patrick Fillion says will be a prequel. (more…)

Once upon the time, long ago in … oh we’d say the Jackie Kennedy 60’s, there were a bunch of mad, drunk queens.

Very mad, and very drunk.

They were living, it seems, in upstate New York. Or perhaps just visiting. There in a roomy white summer house, nicknamed Casa Susanna after the den-mother of the group (right, actually a professional drag impersonator), they would put on their bouffant wigs and black lace negligees.

They would sit on ugly sofas amid heavy dark-wood furniture and live out spoofy drag lives, making beautiful memories courtesy of Kodachrome.

Sometimes poloroid snapshots are all we have left of people.

So it is with Susanna and her “gals.”

(more…)