It’s getting a might scary looking in Peckerwood, hey, Dolly?

Dolly Parton, who has been out of the public eye for awhile, appeared last night to pick up a beribboned award, that was placed around her neck by the President, as one of five recipients of this year’s Kennedy Center Honors.

The Kennedy Center Honors are considered to be the premier event in America’s cultural life: an award for very famous artists who are chosen by a a panel of very famous artists, and usually presided over by the President. (Barbra Streisand has repeatedly refused the award because she didn’t want to receive one — and you gotta love the sheer Babsyness of this — “while a Republican was in office.”) (more…)

“Why is being gay so out this season?” asks Bruno, a loopy boytoy fashionista. The question is being posed to a real-life preacher who runs an “ex-gay”ministry.

Bruno is one of Sascha Baron Cohen’s repertory of ditzy interviewer characters. (At right, a rare — and rather handsome — picture of the comic, out of character, as himself.)

Like Cohen’s more famous idiots — the clueless Kazakhi “Borat” (the subject of a movie that is now packing them in at the multiplexes) or the syntax-impaired gansta-rapper “Ali G” (late of HBO) — Bruno is always posing improbable questions to unsuspecting real-life dupes. (more…)

“Whenever I see twins,” Marcel Proust wrote, ” I feel thrown off balance, like nature is trying to sell me a pattern.”

Which may be why Jacob — or is it Joshua? — at left, decided to dye his hair.

The Miller boys are the gay twins that comprise the bubblegum duo Nemesis – openly gay, which, considering the teenybopper demo they’re aiming at, is pretty extraordinary.

For that reason, and also the fact that they’re out Jehovah Witnesses — a faith that severely shuns its gay members — they are currently the subject of a reality show on the gay-themed Logo channel.

All of which is trilling beyond belief, of course, but let’s get back to our burning question:

Which twin has the Toni? Which twin is rocking the outrageous dye job? That was what Radar online wanted to know in a recent interview.

“That would be Jacob,” said the one with the raven black hair. “Naturally, it’s Josh,” insisted the artfully streaked blond. This was the sort of con job the twins had pulled on outsiders since they were teens, making you guess, for instance , if you were really dating the one you thought you were.

As it turned out, the blond one, Jacob, is the faker. “We were 16 years old in Montana,” confessed Jacob. “We did a hair show, and the salon colored my hair blond.”

Currently the darlings of the gay press, the Miller boys discussed how they came out to each other in an extensive Radar interview, part of which we excerpt below: (more…)

No, we didn’t use Photoshop on this picture.

That really is John Wayne — in hot pants.

John Wayne, who was for generations the archetype of rugged cowboy manhood. Broad shouldered. Self-contained. All pensive, wounded looks and a slow-to-anger, two-fisted approach to solving problems.

During the late days of the American Empire, he was “the ugly American” as photogenic movie star, a world conqueror with shameful face, at home as much on the Sagebush Trail as on the Sands of Iwo Jima — two typically iconic titles of his America-Myth building movies.

And yet, there he is, at right, in a not-ready-for-icon-worship private moment.

Exactly how many things are blowing our mind about this photo? Let us count the ways. Not merely the super-tight hot pants, but the super-tight hot pants with the cowboy hat.

Then there’s the little issue about the man-bag — man-bag! — oxygen, please. This is 1952! That’s when the photo was taken, in Acapulco. Not even the dizziest bottle-blonde chorusboy, staggering about drunkenly on a gay holiday in Capri, French poodle in beach bag, would be this gay or this proud. (more…)

The 70s were dying. But from the ashes of disco and its druggy debacuh rose, like a phoenix, a fabulous television show called Solid Gold. And the 80s were born.

The show beamed into homes like a stealthy Trojan Horse, full of twitchy-bitchy sexuality, along with studly helpings of man-ass wiggling for the camera.

It was genius! And the surprise of it all was that neither Aaron Spelling nor Allan Carr had anything to do with this primetime hit: The show ran for nine years!

Solid Gold gave birth to a phenomena we now call Porn Creep — in which pornographic titillation is sneaked into the living room in such small, incremental ways that everyone gets a glow-on and grandma doesn’t have a heart attack.

Grannies and kids loved Solid Gold. Aerobic enthusiasts, invalids, gays — and particularly straight guys. Suddenly everyone could watch together unapologetically without a twinge of anxiety. Pupils dilated with the joy of near-nude gyrations and grindings — week after week, hit after hit. (more…)

Admit it. More than having sex with movie stars, you’d rather be the movie star everybody wanted to have sex with.

Better: you’d want to be an out gay movie star so you wouldn’t have to waste time dating Hollywood princesses and could zero in on all the beefcake on the hoof.

Plus, you’d be on the A-list, so you could — just for laughs — brazen up to all the Colins and Brads and Tobeys, the Vins and Tommy boys with even the strayest ambiguous twinkle in their eyes.

Talk about charmed lives! You’d soon never be surprised again by what could pop up (and so quickly) in even the most unlikely swimming pool or cabana hut.

You’d want, in short, to be Rupert Everett (at left).

Most people remember Everett as Julia Robert’s real best friend in My Best Friend’s Wedding. There he was her gay man-pal who shows up to lend Julia support at the wedding of her ex-boyfriend. Though the boyfriend was played by Dermot Mulroney — a dark-eyed, dagger-jawed humdinger in his own right — the real romance was between Julia and Rupert. (Everett, in real life, had long been an out gay man.) (more…)

Guilty pleasure is how our gal Robin Givhan describes Project Runway, now beginning its third hit season. In her latest Washington Post column, Givhan picks apart what has become the most entertaining — and in its way, devastating and authentic — queer-centric show on television.

The premise:a dozen no-name designers compete for $100,000 and a chance to present a collection during New York fashion week.

To do this they must win various challenges — challenges, writes Givhan, which are always “absurd — make a dress from foliage! candy! the clothes off your back!”

Very quickly the show became a cult in the fashion industry, reports Givhan, not only for its preposterous, but fabulous fashion experiments but because of the seriousness of its commentary. With a judging panel headed by the somewhat vacuous supermodel Heidi Klum (above), “the guest judges included a smart mix of fashion insiders and the critiques were entertaining and pithy.” (more…)

In the great battle of good and evil that makes our tiny, rapidly warming world go round, there have been a handful of truly remarkable rivalries:

Moses vs. Pharaoh, Bette vs. Joan. Me vs. a restraining order from Jason Statham’s lawyer …

But my favorite battle royal at the moment is the one quietly taking place between Julia Roberts and Parker Posey.

Of course, you know who Parker Posey is: She’s that off-beat chick you always fall in love with for her dizzy, faux-vapid comic delivery in such fave films as Best in Show, Hell on Heels: the Battle of Mary Kay, and, of course, House of Yes — where she plays a Jackie Kennedy wannabe in Grassy Knoll pink skirt and pillbox hat.

And if that doesn’t ring a bell (you are a gay man, right, with all your dues paid up?), she’s appearing on multiplex’s everywhere as the caped one’s Stoli-addled nemesis in Superman Returns (above). (more…)