Remove your hair with this wax, that cream, our laser, electrolysis, snake oil, Auzzie Nads, Nair … choose your weapon now!

Is it that important that we wage war on our body hair? How long has this been going on? What sick mind set the wheels in motion that we should venerate the hairless and look down on those gifted with a nice chest of fuzz? Do a search on the web for “body hair” and I challenge you to find one site that doesn’t demand you join the fight against unsightly body hair.

You’ll find three things: body hair removal techniques, Rogaine ads, or pages about hair fetishes.

Bust out a porn magazine (not Bear or Honcho) and you will not find anything but shaved chests, bald ball sacks, and depilated ass cracks. Same goes for almost all porn movies presently. When did hair get so disgusting to us that we need to remove it from the places it was supposed to be? Was there a big memo about killer crab lice? (read the full article)

Things To Do This Summer:

1. Do everyone who looks like a Glen Hanson illustration (right), and everybody who doesn’t. Get out there and spread the joy, boy!

2. Catch Project Runway from its first show, Wednesday, July 12, and never miss an episode. Can there ever be enough dizzy male designers breaking into showtunes as they cut along the bias and compete for the top spot? Exactly how obnoxious is the humorless Heidi Klum, the mistress of ceremonies whose pregnancy was forced on us last season in supposedly “edgy” maternity-wear? (No, gals, pregnant women are not all beautiful, no matter what you try to tell yourself.) And of course, Tim Gunn, who is always so earnest and prissy as he gives the budding designers his professional opinion before each competition. We love Tim. How could anyone not love him? How could anyone not want him as their personal ‘mo coach? (read the full article)

Who’s that boy!

That is the question we’ve been deluged with this week after running our Easter special Great Moments in Jesus. You’ll find the object of this mass affection there, in a glow of gold, as the fashion model on the runway. Easily, as in the case of the Easter god he resembles, this beautiful man could give sight to the blind.

He is Anderson Dornelles, known to his understandably obsessive male fans as “Sexy Jesus.” We are no strangers to this obsession. The compassionate looking sexbomb has long been on our radar — if not, alas, our gaydar (who knows?)

Let’s just say he is Brazilian.

And like all Brazilians, shedding his clothes and posing for pictures is as natural to him as walking the nude beach at Corcovado, under the shadow of a colossus Jesus, God of Love, who looks down on his golden children with outstretched arms and is well pleased.

High-end runway model though he be, a habitué of London, Paris and Milan, Anderson (the first name so English) Dornelles ( coupled with the French romance of the last) captures the easy internationalism of Brazil. (read the full article)

Lets us linger on Ashton Kutcher for a moment. The very young Ashton when he was a boy model in New York.

Ah, the face!

The lovely, softly inflected torso!

Now were you thinking of NOT going to the gym today? Think again, amigo. Wondering if it’s worth it to get a little nip-and-tuck repair on the old bod, the uncomely face?

Money well spent, Jack.

So says Richard Morin of the Washington Post, who reports a new study that confirms what every ugly ducking high school student knows in his bones. Ugly people commit more crimes.

Like we couldn’t see that coming!

Let’s review the basics. Long story, short:

Once upon a time Primetime, or one of those news-u-tainmentt shows, ran an experiment. Two women were stranded with flat tires. This was in the pre-cell phone age. (read the full article)

In the immortal words of Susan Powter: Stop The Insanity. We know it’s only an ad campaign, but who wouldn’t run for a copy of Zolar’s Dream Dictionary to make sense of Dolce & Gabbana‘s latest excursion into Consumer Mind-Fuck?

Not even Freud could decipher this hallucination. (read the full article)

God, that’s sooo gay!

That was the gasp that was heard around the block and around the world when the International Male catalog would arrive in the old days, the closet-bursting 70′s. Then it was the hottest crypto-homo publication sold over the counter — no, not even sold, sent to you for free (was it ever in a brown wrapper?) with its pictures of hunky, porn-caliber models in mesh briefs with padded codpieces. Oh the thrills, oh the chills that shuddered through many a young heart. (read the full article)

Oliviero Toscani is shocking Europe again. And yes we admit it: the Italian clothing ad, above, for which Toscani is responsible, is way over the line — and would be whether it were a man groping a woman, or a woman, a man. (read the full article)

Guys … GUYS! … you’re making us all crazy.

Between flashing the pubes and the nips and the ass cracks, runways have become jerk-off extravaganzas.

Forget about how many buttons you should have on this year’s sportscoat. In the hyper-homo dreamworld of menswear, it’s all about miles and miles of long, lean torso shining out nakedly beneath open shirts.

And can we just say one thing?

All. This. Skin. Is. Killing. Us!

So please … don’t stop!

Oh we know you can’t help it.

It’s the designers who are putting you out there like succulent pieces of meat — Boysicles just ready to be licked!

And it’s not just D&G but Armani, Versace, Prada, Girbaud, Valentino — oh, fuck all of them! (read the full article)

Tragedy and triumph often walk hand in hand — and the news today within the world of all things gay proves there’s no exception to this yin-yang cosmic law.

We only wonder if somehow the following two events might be connected:

First the bad news: A pair of ruby slippers worn by Judy Garland in The Wizard of Oz has vanished from a Grand Rapids museum. Police believe that someone snuck into the Children’s Discovery Museum through an open window late Saturday or early Sunday and broke into the display case holding the slippers. (read the full article)

To quote Jessica Simpson, "With nothing but a t-shirt on, I NEVER FELT SO BEAUTIFUL!"

Chains and the dog days of summer just don’t go together. Yet, you need to make an entrance at that next Hogs Gone Wild sit-down with the Flying Fists of Love Motorcycle Club. What to do, what to do!

Never fear, Nightcharmer. We rang up our favorite Fashion Dictator, Kaye Thompson from Funny Face, and she gave it to us straight:

"Ditch the pants!" came the imperious growl on the other end of our phone line to Hell. "Flash the gash! Be cool and you’ll rule in one of those new T’s from Glen Hanson that everyone is screaming about down here."

What great advice! We know a lot of you horn-dogs went wild when we ran our profile on illustrator Glen Hanson last May. A lot of you kept dreaming about how you could get one of his homo-hot ‘toon guys on your back. Or your front. Or over your face. (read the full article)