Hat tip to Nightcharmer Don G.

It was with deep shock and regret that Shawn Baker’s popular Alexyss K. Tylor deconstruction was waylaid, only days after it debuted on Nightcharm, back in August of 2007. As quick as the above clip had appeared on YouTube it was yanked down. Leaving our tribute de-balled and stranded! Well, imagine our glee when a savvy reader notified us that the clip had reappeared. This prompted a mad dash to republish this golden moment in Queer Sex Ed history. And so we did. Enjoy! David K./Publisher

If you’re young, gay, and/or hard up for bucks, you may very well fall prey to whoring married men and lecherous geezers who are rabid for cock. Alexyss K. Tylor — cable access hostess of the Atlanta-based Vagina Power and YouTube sensation — is ready to bust some ass wide open and expose the urban skin trade … with a vengeance. Gay Boys Beware!

Alexyss (you know you’re in for something good just based on that spelling) is a modern kind of gal who teaches us that our gonads are essential factors in our self-actualization.

She reminds me of a Liberal Arts school sociology professor and that lady in Times Square who warns me that the Rapture is nigh. Alexyss seems fueled by a perfect balance of anger and highly-functioning craziness. (read the full article)

It’s your spin at the Republican Wheel of Disgrace. How will you publicly crash and burn while comparing yourself to a famous Biblical figure and mitigating all your anti-Clinton sanctimony?

Campaign finance and lobbying fraud are so 2003.

Humiliating your leopard print-clad wife by banging whores, jetting off to Argentina for an Emmanuelle-style tryst, or getting Mommy and Daddy to pay off your mistress entails so many press conferences.

Kid-fucking is the forte of the Catholic Church and those creepy Little House On The Prairie Mormon compounds.

At this point, the only unpardonable GOP transgression is the gay scandal, so have at tripping over every other closet case in that rat race.

South Carolina Lieutenant Governor André Bauer[top pic] (kudos on maintaining the “how ethnic” acute accent) is just the latest potential pink flamingo in a party of old hawks, falling somewhere between Troy King and Charlie Crist. Frankly, his outing by blogger Mike Rogers leaves me torn. Sure, he’s sorta hot by GOP standards — meaning he looks more like a car salesman than a banker — but there are higher limbo bars. (read the full article)

A classic Sacha Baron Cohen moment from the old Ali G show. This is the dorkier, less polished Bruno that we know and love. “Right, I love Romans!”

Legalized same-sex marriage. The G.O.P. in shambles. A biracial Democrat — in Republican parlance, a foreign devil — in the White House.

White, entitled, angry Christians are apparently the new self-appointed minority. And they’re not taking it well.

We’ve been there. It’s tough being an underclass. You’ve had to bear the burden for a whole three months. Still, you need to parcel out your vitriol. Otherwise, you run the risk of hitting the wall.

Don’t get us wrong — your White Panic is rabidly visceral, but it just seems so unfocused. We can tell you from experience that you have to pick your battles. Frankly, we can’t keep all the splinter groups — Birthers, Teabaggers, God Warriors, Minute Men, and Purity Ringers — straight. It all just looks like a torch-wielding crowd of villagers ready to storm Castle Frankenstein to us. (read the full article)

What’s an out-of-power, out-of-answers, out-of-date party to do?

Coherence hasn’t really been the G.O.P.’s thing for decades, and reality used to be a friend back when the party was composed of level-headed Main Street businessman, rather than snake-handling soothsayers. Now that it’s degenerated into a televangelist take on the Mansion of Madness, there’s a power vacuum left in its “permanent majority” (oy, the Rovian hubris!) wake. The Grand Old Party needs a new face.

You can’t flip this whack shack; you can only superficially paint it up all purdy-like.

Since beauty queens are as anachronistic as all the anti-gay rhetoric the party recycles with eye-rolling monomania, there’s something quaintly apt about a teased-haired, glazed-eyed stiletto doll becoming the Conservative It Girl of-the-moment. In I Shot Andy Warhol, Lily Taylor’s bellicose, up-against-the-wall-motherfucker Valerie Solanas disdainly opined that beauty queens and drag queens were the two ideal victims of male oppression. And the lady knew her shit. (read the full article)

A storm is, indeed, gathering.

This is the opening line of a spooky and deeply mendacious ad from NOM, the so-called National Organization for (actually against) Marriage.

(You can, if you must, see this infuriating ad here. But wait, we have some spoofs of the ad coming after the jump. No need to get your blood up yet.)

Beneath dark, brooding clouds, their faces eerily lit by sudden flashes of lightning, actors fret over the coming gay-marriage legalizations, which threaten their very existence. You see everyone is about to call them bigots, which, of course, they are.

And that would be “just hurtful,” to use the words of Maggie Gallagher, founder of the hastily concocted NOM and the right’s longtime cheerleader and self-described “marriage expert,” a political and transparently theocratic front-woman for that very special brand of Republican wedge-issue: fag-baiting. (read the full article)

Commence panicked fagmentation in 3, 2, 1…

The source: trusted news outlet Fox. The issue: the gay. Highly respected journalist Bill O’Reilly is so with-it and up-to-date that the realization that the queers are infiltrating the American Idol stage is big news. For somebody. But not him. Maybe you?

Sure, Fox’s entertainment branch has a massive financial stake in promoting the program ad nauseum, and yes, you may think that a supposed reporter pretending to condescend to cover such an obvious plug makes him a hack, and maybe Bill’s attempt at casual objectivity is as thinly-veiled as his hair. The point is, there’s a real issue here. We guess. Bill’s not really sure either.

If you were a cynical person, you might ponder how exactly do you spur a Gay Panic reaction out of an exploitive non-story while struggling to maintain your feigned disinterest about how trivial the subject you’re reporting on really is. First, you need a performer whose Emo-ish, vaguely panssexual appearance threatens you on a visceral level, especially when photos — which you make sure to brand “embarrassing” — of him lip-locking with another glam rock enthusiast come to the fore. (read the full article)