Thank you Wikipedia.

In a rather delightful entry on Gay Icons, Wikipedia lists David Beckham alongside George Michael, St. Sebastian and Peter Pan as iconic gay dreamboats.

That would explain — as if any explanation were needed beyond the evidence of our own two eyes — what occurred last Saturday in Valencia, Spain.

It was during a football game when the cutest fanboy in all the world breached security, ran onto the field and, in his adorable big-eyed Iberian way, asked the Becks for the same thing anyone in their right mind would ask for — a big ol’ hug.

Of course, the Becks, somewhat astonished but not exactly surprised, gave him one — at least in the form of an understanding pat on the head?

In exchange, the boy offered his shirt –and it seems his pants as well (at right.)

But then, wouldn’t anyone? — again being in one’s right mind as our overarching assumption. (read the full article)

Somehow we knew “the Buff Boys of Boystown” would find their alliterative way into the Surreal and Continuing After-Death Life of Anna Nicole Smith.

West Hollywood’s finest appear in no more than a walk-on in this, the third act of The Prince and the Polegirl, and yet…

Who can look away when buns and pecs compete with each other for Most Outlandish Feature on a circuit boy’s body?

Who can not fully understand the mad lusting after such super-sized geegaws or why they would play so … definitive… so damning … a role in a certain paternity claim for the most fathered child in America?

From the wonderfully nasty newsletter popbitch : (read the full article)

Sort of sums up his whole career.

It just goes to show you what a little bit of exposure on Nightcharm can do for you. One minute you’re jacking-off for a private camera crew, the next week you’re on national TV. Talk about porn creep!

Remember Daniel, our Fratmen theater cover star (right) from last month? Well, the boys been movin’ on up! In a big way.

We were watching MTV’s Parental Control yesterday and — wow — there was our brunette stud muffin in all his toothy glory (top left). The MTV crew had re-named him Alex. Or maybe Daniel is just his nom deporn? Oy. We’re confused. Silly us, we always believe these guys when they fill out their release forms.

And yep, sure enough he’d been hand picked by one of the show’s hand-wringing parental units for their daughter to date later that evening. (Guess they weren’t aware what Daniel had been up to with the boys in the neighborhood?)

Wanna catch Daniel, uhm ALEX, the way WE remember him best? Naked and letting lose with a long, spurting spooge bomb? You can hop right into the Inner Circle‘s Fratmen theater and check him out in the vid clip Fratmen’s Best Shots 1.

And no, you’re not gonna get Punk’d!

(MEMBERS / non-MEMBERS)

Vincent Gallo claims that “everybody attacks you when you have a big cock.” We, then, will applaud him.

Especially now that the movie actor is set to share his dick with his fans. You see, Vincent is selling his sperm on his official website. Asking price? One million dollars. What else would you expect?. (read the full article)

Here she is world, here she is boys!

Dubbed the “Chubby Mai-Tai Marie Antoinette” (by our beloved staff member Stinky), Imelda Marcos is set to get an Evita:The Rock Opera treatment this coming March at the Adelaide Music Festival in Australia. (read the full article)

Celebrity watchers are burning up the chat rooms this week with news that Paris Hilton has dumped her chihuahua Tinkerbelle for being too old, too fat, and just too damn heavy to heft up to nipple-line for those adorable look-at-ME! photo ops.

The lapdog-cum-purse-prop has been replaced by a much younger chihuahua, Bambi, which the Toronto Fashion Monitor repeatedly — and somewhat cruelly — kept describing as “teacup size.”

The reaction from PETA was, as you might expect, a Code Level Red Alert. The animal rights organization has a history of overboard passions and might just as easily have firebombed Hilton’s L. A. digs; instead, they issued a fiery condemnation: (read the full article)

There were Christers waving banners admonishing celebrity-watchers to repent. There were gender-bender girls in glitter gloves and angled fedoras. There was even one mad thing waving a tri-color French flag that read “FRANCE — YES YES — MICHAEL.” But above all there was a lone figure in the crowd that kept catching our eye.

She was holding a birdcage.

Outside the Santa Maria courthouse, the Jackson fans waited for the verdict that would decide for some of them whether they would go on a rampage through the streets of this sleepy little town. Some prayed, others sang, many were on cell phones, and everybody waved when they got the word that the cameras were panning. The mood, we were told by the Court TV reporter, was “guarded.” Meanwhile, back in the studio, Nancy Grace and her coven of shapely harpies were predicting a grand slam for the prosecution.

“This. Is. A. Moment. In. Legal History, folks,” Grace told us in bite-size chunks, her sunbelt lilt on the rise. “An icon, really. An American icon. Known all across the world. Some people believe Michael is a diety!” Her voice dropped to an end-of the-world hush. “A cross between a man and a god!” (read the full article)

We hear that the increasingly sci-fi Star Jones confided to the coffee-klatch audience of The View that were she ever to end up in Terri Schiavo La-La Land, she has a living will that instructs doctors NOT to unplug any plugs or remove any damn feeding tubes, thank you very much.

Being a devout Christian gal, who offered tips on "Christian dating" in a recent book and subsequently married a very pretty mocha-colored Christian man (who has allegedly been known to fall to his knees in trembling paroxysms of prayer while ministering to the wayward homosexuals of Fire Island), Star is a vocal advocate for the "culture of life" — her own. (read the full article)

Oh, George! At 43, no longer a Boy. The years have not been kind. A failed come-back, a failed Broadway musical, and now we hear he’s "the hottest DJ in New York " (according to a fan site.)

All of which have made Boy George a delightfully nasty fount of venom and gossip.

The favorite target for his usually fair but withering edicts are fellow pop stars, particularly those who have had longer, steadier times in the sun. Elton John, for instance, had to quietly send out mutual friends to tell the Boy to please shut the fuck up after George took him apart in a recent interview. "You’re making a fool of yourself," George was told. "And Elton is offended." (read the full article)