Fabulis isn't Fabulous... it just sucks a lot

Those things on the right are representative of the brain matter that will bubble forth from your ears.

A few weeks ago I received an email telling me about this AMAZING BRAND-SPANKING NEW GAY SOCIAL NETWORK! It was from someone I trusted, ergo I trusted their suggestion that I hop on board this good gay ship lollipop to set sail to the future of QUEER SOCIAL MEDIA.

The site was called Fabulis, which looks and sounds more like a new hip hop artist to be adopted by Ke$ha than it does a social network, but that's fine. I figured - what the hey? And so I used the handy-dandy Facebook connect button and was done.

This caused me to blink - Fabulis didn't want any NEW info from me... they just swallowed all of my Facebook info. Okay, I thought, well... that was easy? I spent some time clicking around the site (which, I'll give it this much, is nicely designed with a clean and uncluttered layout). Problem is I could find NOTHING to do. I didn't understand why I was on this site. But there was one thing I did notice:

I kept earning FABULIS POINTS! (imagine these words yelled with sibilant consonants and a slight lisssssp by a man with a floppy hand in an ascot).

Seriously. There was nothing I could do that wouldn't earn me hundreds and hundreds of FABULIS POINTS! I sat there, not doing anything, for a minute, just to try and figure out what the points were for, or what I could do with them. Just sitting there netted me 500 additional FABULIS POINTS!

The other issue was that I literally couldn't even click around Fabulis because I kept being interrupted by pop-ups alerting me to still more influxes of FABULIS POINTS!

If FABULIS POINTS were actual currency, I'd quit my job and retire early as a fucking millionaire. Note: to date I still have NO idea what FABULIS POINTS can get me.

So, frustrated, I signed out of FABULIS and went back to Facebook - where I can actually do things like poke people and like posts and share information with friends.

That was when the emails started. I don't recall telling Fabulis they could email me, but you can bet yer boots they didn't seem to care. Suddenly I was receiving ten, twenty, THIRTY emails a day! Each one was awarding me FABULIS POINTS! and updating me on activities people were doing involving me.

Someone had commented on my check-in!

Someone had asked me a question!

Someone liked the answer I gave to that question!

Someone answered a question I asked!

This was all a bit queer, considering I HADN'T FUCKING DONE ANYTHING ON FABULIS. It was like a wild, social-media-addicted clone of me had risen up out of a test tube somewhere and was living my life on Fabulis. Next he would probably start robbing banks and getting me arrested, or using my credit cards to gamble my money away in Vegas.

Not cool. And today, I finally had enough. I have successfully unsubscribed from FABULIS email updates (yup, you guessed it, this action earned me 345 FABULIS POINTS!) I would go sign in to delete my account, but it's impossible to do anything without becoming fat and rich on FABULIS POINTS! And by the time I'm done closing out all of the pop-ups, they'll probably have made up four hundred things I didn't actually do, so they could start emailing me again about what people were doing in response to those things I didn't do.

So fuck it. If you're on Fabulis, I pity you. If you are NOT on Fabulis, I implore you DO NOT SIGN UP FOR FABULIS.

If you want to experience Fabulis, just drop me a line and I'll start sending you a thousand emails full of capitalized letters and exclamation points a day, all while getting my friends to text you every five minutes congratulating you on winning an arbitrary number of value-less crap.

While I've never loved Facebook, I must admit: compared to Fabulis, it's pretty fucking Fabulous.

- Justin Luke

It's The Most Wackiest Time of the Year

Fact: Christmas Cheer is measured in kilowatts. Don't be a fuckin' Scrooge.

I love Christmas. Did you hear me? I love it! The religious part. The materialistic/commercial part. The warm and cozy family and boyfriend part. There is not a thing about Christmas or the two-month-long season that surrounds it like a chitinous layer of flab that I do not enjoy (except, maybe, the crowds of people at stores I go to where I want to be in and out in less than four hours).

Here in New York City, Christmas is defined by long horizontal racks of Christmas Trees for sale that pop up on every other street corner, as well as our famous (and sometimes infamous) holiday windows, which employ timed events, forced perspective, and gorgeous displays, all in an effort to coax us to come in and buy an overpriced bottle of Kim Kardashian's newest fragrance (called Fat Ass, I think) or a marked-down peacoat.

But, on Long Island, where I was both born and raised, Christmas meant something different. It meant stringing up lights and putting out white-painted wicker reindeer on your lawn. Yes, external house decorations were a huge thing back on the ole Strong Island. Sure, inside was what mattered, as that's where we spent most of our time, but outside mattered MORE because we always needed to outdo our neighbors. No cost was too high when lawn decorations were involved. This has caused the creation of some truly vomitous lawn motifs including blow-up creatures, mechanicalized blow-up creatures, and bombs that blow up wandering, nearby creatures.

There was one house on a cul de sac by where I used to live on Long Island. I swear they probably used quadruple the amount of electricity they did on any other given month just to light their annual Christmas display. They were the house to beat, and no one could ever come close. They had the reindeer, they had Santa on a sleigh flying through the air and parking on their roof. They had moving Christmas machines in top hats and long coats holding fake flickering electric candles. And for this passion, investment, and effort, me and my friends rewarded them by giving them the name "The House that Threw Up Christmas."

A job well done.

Now, if you're not familiar with this whole Christmas house insanity, you're in luck (or out of luck, tell me later). Because there's a quick 2-minute video making the rounds today that features over 100 of these Christmas-puking domiciles. Each more gaudy and anti-environmental and energy-saving than the previous.

Watch, enjoy, and then go turn on every light in your house as well as all other electronics just to see if you can burn off as much energy as a single one of these loons.

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Come Out with Andrew Cristi!

Rest assured, this small-skivvy wearing cutie sees, hears, and speaks ALL kinds of evil.

I don't actually know Andrew Cristi, but I can tell you this: we've been Facebook friends for at least a year by my calculations. I can also tell you this: that kid has a great screen presence, as is evidenced by the first (3-part) episode of his new web show, Coming Out with Andrew Cristi.

Recorded in a studio over at Queens College (and, during this episode, some room at The Ritz), Andrew delivers basically off-the-cuff monologues and interviews in a graphic sleeveless tee covered in adjectives and a pair of delectable short-shorts.

I've already chatted with Andrew about some things I feel he can start doing immediately to improve the show from the fantastic program it already is, but I'll give him this: he has a clear vision (including his dogged attachment to the laugh track and canned studio audience, which he says adds kitsch to the show... and you know what? it sorta does).

Shirtless thug life!

On his first "outing," Andrew helps us get to know him better, gives us a news update to keep us culturally aware, and then welcomes two guests onto his show. First there's the drag performer, Spicky Hilton, whom I've never seen, but now will chase down like raw meat, because I need to experience those pipes in person to believe they're real. Next there's my longtime bud and co-promoter/host for Campus Thursdays, Chris Ryan of Rewind and Flex Fridays at The Ritz.

While it's a bit raw in its first showing, "Coming Out With Andrew Cristi" has already created quite a stir on Facebook and YouTube. Watch this thing catch fire real fast. As soon as he gets those cameras a little closer up, those mics a little louder, and minimizes the fake studio audience (I am sticking to my guns on this) his show will take nightlife, daylife, noonlife, and all other timelifes by storm. Seriously. I'm putting money on this. The last time I put money on something was when I announced that Katy Perry's California Girls would be the song of the summer... in May. So, you know, I'm good at this pronouncement thing.

All three parts of Coming Out with Andrew Cristi appear below. Check 'em out, add him as a friend, and join the Facebook fan page!

xo Justin Luke

Part 1: Meet Andrew Cristi and Today's Gay News




Part 2: Spicky Hilton Interview and Performance




Part 3: Chris Ryan On-The-Scene Interview

RIP Leslie Nielsen

I'm discovering this news a day late, which means my heartbreak is fresh while many of you may have had 24 hours to cope. Unless, of course this is news to you as well. Leslie Nielsen, the funniest man I've ever known, died yesterday at the age of 84 due to Pneumonia.

For someone who inspired nothing but pants-pissing laughter in me since the ripe age of 4 (my age of 4, when he was 4 they didn't have TVs yet), it is odd to associate this doddering coot with anything but squeals of glee and tears driven from the hilarity gland.

As a child, I watched the Naked Gun movies over and over again. Ditto for Airplane. And Dracula: Dead and Loving It. Sure, I watched the Hot Shot movies too, but those weren't as funny, due to too little Leslie Nielsen (ie: no Leslie Nielsen) and too much Charlie Sheen (ie: any Charlie Sheen whatsoever).

Sidenote: remember when those laugh-a-second movies existed? Where are those today? And don't tell me it's those cinematic poop piles like "Action Movie" and "Date Movie" or I'll have you incarcerated for life in solitary.

Leslie Nielsen, for those of you who don't recognize his name on sight, was the oldest man alive who could pull off physical comedy. Seriously. He always looked old. I am shocked to hear he died at 84, because I'm pretty sure I assumed he was 84 twenty years ago when I first began watching his movies. Anyway, he often played a hardboiled detective (or hardboiled anything, really) who ended up in wacky situations. He was the original shameless comedian: ready to embarrass himself and look like an idiot with no hesitation. Folks like Will Ferrell who are ready to run around naked, their jiggly parts a-jiggling, took their notes from this man. Play the fool, and you will be loved.

And Leslie, my friends, was loved.

Anyway, I'm going to go weep a bit in private while spending my day clicking around YouTube. It's like people knew Leslie was at death's door, since they basically all put up Leslie tribute clips LAST YEAR. Here's one.

And for all of you youngins who were born after Leslie's best work, watch this video, and then Netflix (or steal, or put on your new-fangled iPhones) some of the movies listed over on his IMDB profile.




- Justin Luke

Your Facebook Pic Makes You Look Like an Alcoholic, Slutty Tool

There's a new article today on CNN in which the author (who also works for one of my favorite nerd sites, Mashable) details five types of photos that SHOULDN'T be your default Facebook profile shot. Of course this is anything but news. And it's anything but informative. It IS entertaining, though, I'll give it that.

I'll also say that maybe this post doesn't need to be innovative, since it's on CNN, whose target readership thinks that Facebook is the new makeup catalog from Sears. I'm not happy that Mashable is dumbing itself down for a broader audience, but I suppose it's necessary, right?

And I'll bet you know the rules, even though I'm sure you flagrantly ignore them. They are:

1. No shirtless, or boob-a-saurus shots
2. No sketches or drawings or photos that clearly aren't you
3. No shots of you boozing it up in rapid succession
4. No group shots
5. No shots of your wedding or Halloween, months after both holidays are long gone.

Well, duh, writers.

But I have a few things to add to each:

1. This need to be all pro on Facebook is but a temporary thing. Sure, your potential employer may choose to skip past your resume when they see you grinding your crotch into a go-go boy's face, but that's just for now. Because, at the rate our generation is over-sharing, in about 20 years EVERYONE will have embarrassing photos of themselves on the web, and so all will have to be discounted. Chances are your boss will be tagged next to you in that pic where you're doing a beer funnel in a skirt.

1a. If you have an amazing body, I fully support you being near naked. (Lord knows, I'd do it if I had the abs and pecs). I find the hottest of this variety to be the skanky, pouty, in front of bedroom or bathroom mirror shot. Yum. If you want to appear a little classier, though, it's always appropriate to show a shot of you in your bathing suit while on vacation (assuming your bathing suit isn't a glorified thong, that is. If it is, then tramptramptramp! they will say. (I, on the other hand will say thank you and give you credit in a status update).

2. The sketches or drawings thing I agree with. If you don't show us what you look like, we will assume the worst. And I tell you this, no matter WHAT you look like, you don't look like the monster that we're conjuring up in our heads while we stare at that photo of Johnny Depp as Willy Wonka.

3. You probably look like an idiot if your shot is a drunken one. It's funny, but it's an unnecessary choice. Unless, of course, you're near naked and in front of a bathroom mirror. In which case, hop over to exception 1a previous. Drunken photos are ones we let ourselves be tagged in and then feign shock at a later date when our parents stage an alcoholic intervention with a slideshow of our previous exploits pulled entirely from our own tagged photo galleries.

4. Group shots are also stupid because Facebook shrinks wide photos to the point where you can barely see them. Anyone who's smart knows that a narrow photo can be as tall as you like on Facebook, giving you more bang for your buck. So cut out your friends and defend your selfish choice when they start to flame you in the photo comments. Unless, of course, you and your friends are all gorgeous and in skimpy amounts of clothing. In which case, please check out exception 1a

5. I don't like wedding photos because they remind me of how old I'm getting as I watch skanky girls I knew in High School one-by-one appear in veils all in white. So cut that out! You're just trying to make your single girlfriends jealous anyway. You know you are. As for Halloween costumes, I support the point as well. Unless, of course, your Halloween costume involves just a skimpy pair of underwear and a pouty face. In which case, again, refer to exception 1a.

Again, there is nothing new here. And I love coming across pictures of good looking fellows both shirtsless and pantsless. So keep that up, and cut the other crap. Okay?

Thanks!

- Justin Luke

My First Gay Time

The other day, this very blog threw me a curve ball. It suggested a related post to one I was spot-checking, and that post was me first announcing my initial foray into the world of gay nightlife promotions, with an accompanying link to my first-ever gay Facebook event invite included.

I thought to myself: "No, there's no way Facebook would keep this event that long!"

Guess what? Facebook did keep it.

I cannot get over this event invite. It is epic, and historically it serves as the birth of my currently blooming nightlife career.

Check it out right here.

The party was called Dirty Pop, it was a Sunday shindig. The party is now dead, as is the bar where it took place, called The Hose. Back then I was working with DJ Drew G, who now has his own radio show, Chris Ryan, who no longer hosts that party, and a boy named Scott, who has since moved out of the state.

Dirty Pop was as dirty as you can get with an active back room that earned us a bit of a reputation, and then a prompt shuttering by the department of health (who knew you couldn't have exposed pubes near a surface where drinks are purveyed??)

On that first night, I met a new go-go boy who had just made his way from DC. His name was Rowan. He's now one of Splash's most famous go-go dancers, and he's also just moved to NYC and begun a photography career.

Before you ask, yes he does normally snack on artillery.

Weird.

I also discovered that I basically just had my year-and-a-half nightlife anniversary. Which is equally weird. It feels like just yesterday while also feeling like I've been doing this thing for a decade. If you'd have asked me the week before I made this event if I'd ever be a nightlife promoter, I'd have responded with "what the fuck is a nightlife promoter?"

And now I am at the right hand of one of the biggest names in nightlife, Alan Picus, and a member of one of the biggest nightlife event companies, BoiParty.com. How did that happen? Excuse me while I blink dumbly and shrug my shoulders. I don't know! I couldn't even guess. The path has been so curvy and confusing that I have no idea how I got from this event page to where I am now.

All I know is I love it. And I thank all of you who have come out to party with me, have trusted me with telling you where to go and what to do, and have introduced me to your friends, boyfriends, and family along these many months.

And a final note: in the event, I wrote:  

If I can get enough of you out there, who knows what lies ahead for me, and all of you by proxy!

Well now I host and promote 3-4 parties a week, all at which I can get you free entries and free drinks, as well as VIP access to guest performers and DJs. I don't think I ever expected to reach this level, but I am so thankful to Alan Picus for elevating me to where I am, and to Chris Ryan and Akash Abraham for giving me a chance to even get started in the first place.

I also want to give a shout-out to the many friends I've made along the way including:

• DJ Steve Sidewalk
• Nightlife Mastermind Dougie Meyer
• Host with the Most Jonathan Nish
• Promoter Patrick Michael
• Mikey Mo & his B/F Ethan
• Dancer Brandon Propst
• Dancer Daniel R. Coda
• Bartender Geo Louis
• Dancer Shane Mercado
• Dancer Servando Rosario
• Dancer Rafael Cordero
• Door God Rob Devito
• DJ John Marto
• Ron and Jason and the Splash crew
• Morgan and the Rush crew
• And anyone else I may have forgotten to mention here.

It's been a blast, and I can't wait to see where I am when I hit my 3-year anniversary!


- Justin Luke

My My My Cookie Face... My My Cookie Face

If Gaga can wear muppets, then muppets can wear Gaga.

Sesame Street has been blowing me away (and busting my shit up) the past few weeks with genuinely funny, culturally-aware, adult-without-being-inappropriate online videos.

From Old Spice guy to the catchy song, “There’s an App for That,” I have been brought back to fond childhood memories of being sat in front of the television to learn when not old enough to go to school.

And it seems like Sesame Street is just getting started. Because now, it appears, Cookie Monster wants to get on and host Saturday Night Live (hey, Betty White got voted in... why not him??) To get this coveted hosting position, the pastry devouring fur fluff has cut a 4-minute video featuring an introduction and some really cute gags.

My favorite, of course, is his imitation of "Monster Gaga" singing her number one piano hit, "Cookie Face" while wearing a dress made entirely out of cookies (far tastier than the meat one, I'd say).

So watch the video, share it around, and then go to the Facebook fan page! I'd LOVE to see a Muppet host the show... he has more character and facial expressions than any athlete they've ever featured on there.

From Katy to Ke$ha: Ryan James Yezak is Back

I used this photo to get more hits on this blog post. Go ahead. Criticize me. It worked, didn't it?

Ryan James Yezak is quickly making a name for himself, and re-establishing that name once every month or so, as the guy with a camera and a phalanx of gorgeous gays who remakes and gay-ifies today's hottest pop numbers.

First came "California Gays" which was quickly followed by a very phallic "Peacock".

In his third outing, Ryan James has left Katy Perry behind in pursuit of another gay-favorite, Ke$ha. Her song "We R Who We R" is the target, and the result is just what you would expect: a lot of boys flashing in and out of screen in rapid succession that hasn't been done on a broad scale since Marilyn Manson's music videos in the 90s.

While not as world-changing as Peacock, it seems that Ryan is really tightening his form up nicely. The choreography is better. The spaces, larger. The visuals more memorable, if not a bit freaky at times.

I miss the actual peacock. I wish he had let it roam in the background of one of the shots.

So how do we feel about #3, boys and girls? I've already tweeted Ryan requesting a mash-up of Firework and Raise Ur Glass by P!nk as I think it will follow the tolerance theme nicely, and would be an innovation (a thoroughly mashed up song).

Without further ado, I give you Ryan James Yezak's version of Ke$ha's "We R Who We R":



- Justin Luke

Mean Girls 2? Really? Yes. Really.

They don't even have to TRY to make "retch" happen. It just happened.

I'm not sure what's more offensive: that they bothered to make a sequel to the flawless Mean Girls, or that it's apparently so bad (with Tim Meadows being the biggest star?) that it's going STRAIGHT to DVD.

That's right. I'm not joking. Mean Girls 2 with no one you know and featured jokes that aren't actually funny, will be coming to your DVD player. I'm going to go ahead and assume that there will be NO great quotes to use in everyday life.

Because the fuckers waited so long, I'm sure Tina Fey was too busy to pen it, and famous starlets Rachel McAdams and Amanda Seyfried have moved on to working towards Oscars. If we're lucky, they'll drag Lindsay Lohan's drunken cadaver in for a cameo before wheeling her back to rehab.

This sequel is more sad than it is funny, I think. Because it cements Tim Meadows as the rat that goes down with the sinking ship. He was on SNL for a decade after all of his cohorts left for greener pastures, and now he's the last original Meanie here.

Sad. Sad. Sad.

The fact that they seem to have typecast roles to make the new actresses look like the originals reeks of poseur-ism. The use of a shirtless cutie drenching himself in water is a cheap shot. And let's not forget that 1/4 of this trailer is actually footage from the original film (which, at first, made me think this was a joke trailer, and not an actual, unfortunate one.)

Cheap. Unfair. ALMOST enough to make me Netflix this crap.

This will, however, make an excellent gag gift the likes of which have not been seen since Showgirls released a Director's Cut.



- Justin Luke

'Cause Baby You're a Firecrotch!

Stop. Drop. And roll with it, baby.

How appropriate that I should stumble upon this video in my Facebook newsfeed after having a negative experience with Katy Perry's Firework this morning.

Sherry Vine, one of NYC's most famous singing, dancing, parody-penning drag queens has released her newest music video, "Fire Crotch" to the tune of Katy Perry's flammable single. And it couldn't have come at a better time. Perhaps this will work as reverse-PR for Katy's flaming flub last night?

As a proud boyfriend of a redhead I wholly support this video and the song it illustrates. Sure, Sherry takes the piss out of her red-haired friends, but she's doing it out of love. Especially the part where she brings up the odd fact that ginger is, in fact, a blanched white root (WTF?)

Okay, okay so it's a reference to Ginger from Gilligan's Island. Whatever. Does Sherry know that? Probably.

Either way, I'll hop on a soapbox to say that people need to back off of redheads. I only recently discovered the odd love/hate relationship people have with these folks. I never knew it existed until I had a boyfriend with vibrant red locks. But now that I'm dating a guy with red hair, I get to hear all of the odd assumptions and comments people have about red heads (including the fact that people think someone having red hair is a big deal to begin with.)

Partially to blame is South Park, for christening the term "ginger" and bringing these peaceable folk into the limelight. But still, beyond this reference, I've heard comments spanning from the factual to the hyperbolic. Gingers, I've heard, have no soul (I'll vouch that's not true). I've also heard that they have been scientifically proven to respond more slowly to painkillers. There's a ton more that I won't list out of the desire to not give voice to the masses. But on the other hand, there's also a very strong fetishizing of redheads.

"Oh you're dating a redhead? Love redheads, huh? So do I" ::drool:: 

No, I don't love redheads. I just happen to love MY redhead. And not because his head is red. That just came along with the boy below.

All of this aside, the boy and I will be checking out a party this Wednesday at Nowhere Bar called Fire in the Hole - which is apparently a regular event for the red-headed and their shameless admirers. I look forward to fighting off attempts at camaraderie that assume I'm some fellow fetishist.

Whatever. We're going to my Twink and the Twinks-Who-Love-Them party afterwards. That's probably closer to any fetish I have, and also explains more why I'm with my guy than the shade of his mane.

Anyway, enough of the redhead spotlight. Sherry Vine's "Firecrotch" is also a very funny video, with some cute lyrics, nice references to some of our pop culture red heads both in word and in visuals, and a nice auto-tune job. And the fireworks flying from their no-no zones is less ridiculous when done as a joke than it is when done seriously by Katy Perry's producers.

I also recognized a cameo by my buddy Ricky JMV in the hot tub at the end - hi Ricky!

So check the video out and pass it around. Sherry's always got a great spoof song and I love her for the effort put into generating and performing new material. And anything that washes the taste out of my mouth from Katy's salty performance last night at the AMAs is a welcome addition to my YouTube Favorites queue.





- Justin Luke

My Open Letter to Katy Perry

Hello? Talent? Is that you? Please come back soon!

Dear Katy Perry,

Last night I didn't even know that the American Music Awards (that's what they're called, right?) were on. I was too busy playing Donkey Kong Country Returns on Wii (which I fully recommend to anyone with a Wii at home).

But this morning I saw your live performance of Firework.




And you know what? It's an epic and amazing performance. The odd, singing, children-of-the-corn extra kids. The men straight out of Michael Jackson's Smooth Criminal complete with hand-held fireworks. The lights and the effects. It's all positively stellar. And yet, it sucked. Why? Because you had to go and try singing.

Katy, you break my heart again and again. I cannot get over your albums, your music, your catchy singles and infectious beats. But, goddammit, Katy. You cannot sing worth a damn. Nor can you dance. You also look like a piece of spaghetti in latex and a wig - but that's beside the point.

My point is this: please stop trying to sing live. We as a people are aware of the presence of backtracks with our live artists. Ashley Simpson made us conscious of their existence when she started lipsyncing the wrong song on SNL and decided to close out her shortest number in history with a one-girl ho-down. Britney got us used to them when she decided that she was too drunk/pregnant to bother lip-syncing and just started moving around while a voice that wasn't really even hers piped into speakers above our heads in still-sold-out arenas.

I am not happy that this is where we are: that so many of our most popular artists (Gaga notwithstanding) are basically skin puppets - their voices not their own, their music not their own, their lyrics not their own. They have no instrumental abilities. They can't even dance half of the time. This is shitty, but it seems to be where we are.

But Katy, every time you decide to sing live and your horse-y testosterone-y actual voice cracks and crawls out of my speakers, you remind me that I am watching a creation of corporate America. You speak for lyricists trained in the nation's best schools, your notes are on a scale scientifically determined to be catchy, your messages have been user-tested and company-approved.

I face this sad fact every time you perform, last night's performance most notably.

I do pray that someday Gaga is not an exception to the rule, but rather one of many of the same rule. I want artists who sing and dance and carry a tune and write their own music and act like they actually want to be up there, and not like they have to be up there so they can fund their coke habits.

Damn you Katy. Because guess what I'm listening to right now? Firework. I may jump over to Teenage Dream in a few. Because that fake auto-tuned voice that's 90% TRON and 10% your backup vocalist is so nice. The tune is so damn catchy. The lyrics are adorable and of the brain-worm variety. Essentially I am slowly returning to my cocoon where I pretend that what I hear is what's actually real.

Please don't fuck it up by bustin' out those busted cords of yours ever again.

Your reluctant fan,
Justin Luke


UPDATE:
I am apparently not the only gay man quite disappointed with Katy. I give you a quote, and then a link to my buddy Joshua Mayhew's blog:

"Katy Perry's people won't tell her the truth and so those motherfuckers gotta sit back and watch their PROACTIV Candyland cash cow struggle through notes with a pain not too unlike a breached birth."

Read the rest right here. 

Shit Your Pants in Advance with the World's Fastest Roller Coaster

Let me get this out of the way. I HATE ROLLER COASTERS. Think of it like Green Eggs and Ham. I do not like them in the states, I do not like them on roller skates. I do not like them in the air, I do not like them anywhere.

But for the rest of you freaks who love things that fly you upside down, inside out, and jostle you down to your tender organs - you know, those of you who ride Kingda Ka over and over again until the food you ate is back behind your teeth... well, then this is for you.

It's called "Formula Rossa" and it is apparently the world's FASTEST roller coaster...

"Harnessing the same technology that powers fighter planes off aircraft carriers, the rollercoaster's carriage travels the ride's 2.07 km (1.2 miles) distance in just a minute and half."

Did you hear that? I just shat my pants.

Did you hear that? My crap just shat its pants.

Anyway. If you want to ride this horrific contraption, you need to leave the states and head over to Abu Dhabi. There you can destroy your fertility, sanity, and overall physical health as your eyes are turned into jelly.

And in the meantime, you can watch this Point of View video. Just watching it caused me to raise my hands in the air and scream like a girl. Talk about a rush!

Fall in Love with Jay Brannan

People assume that because I'm a nightlife promoter, I only listen to music with synth horns, drum machines, and auto-tuned pre-teens singing about sex. This is only 90% true. And that last statement is 100% false.

My music taste, if anything, is quite diverse and random. I can be found listening to anything from classical to rock to jazz to 90s alternative to country to folk (and yes, showtunes). And one of my most recent favorite artists I would like to share with you today is Jay Brannan.

I discovered Jay about a year or so ago thanks to my buddy (and former podcast guest) Steven Tylor O'Connor. All because he  tweeted something about Jay, and I followed the link to his website. There I found a ton of music that I ran to iTunes to buy immediately.

Turns out I had known of Jay Brannan, I just hadn't known who he was. Because Jay was in one of my favorite (and most controversial) movies, Shortbus, directed by John Cameron Mitchell. I had fallen in love with the song he played in the movie, (right before he engaged in a very hardcore, graphic threeway with two other male characters) and never bothered to Google him or find out if there was anything else to him.

But there is a lot to Mr. Brannan. He is an unbelievably talented, beautifully voiced acoustic guitar folk artist who resides in NYC, but spends most of his time touring the country (and, recently, the world). His music has a certain melancholy to it that's unavoidable, often filling you with a sadness about the world and your life, even if things are going good. He refuses the title "gay" artist, and doesn't accept the fact that he sings about "gay" issues. And I take his side. He sings about things like love, heartbreak, addiction... it just so happens that he's a gay man who's singing it.

The fact that Mr. Brannan is beautiful cannot be avoided either. His full lips and dark eyes are fiercely penetrative. He seems so sad up there as he performs, even while he's smiling and cracking jokes. An evening with Jay Brannan is to be serenaded and depressed all at once. It's an oddly fulfilling (and strangely bipolar) experience.

And his lyrics are intriguing, too. He views the world in a way that you might if you took a minute to stop and looking at it. (For example, he makes a reference to statues with their arms wide open, surrounded by fences that won't let you in... which has haunted me since I heard him sing it).

I will leave you with that description, and then provide to you 5 videos I recorded of Jay when he played live this past Tuesday at Joe's Pub. He even addressed me at one point (in the video of Christmas Really sucks).

Give Jay Brannan a listen, and let him invade your ears and soul and heart. And then type any website and add "/JayBrannan" to the end of it. You'll find him on Facebook, YouTube, Twitter, etc. that way. And of course there's always JayBrannan.com.

Also, check out his website for tour dates, and try to see him when he's near you. I guarantee you an evening full of sadness, happiness, and guitar strings.

And now, the videos:





Jay Brannan Performs "Housewife" LIVE from Justin Luke on Vimeo.


Jay Brannan Performs "The Spanglish Song" LIVE from Justin Luke on Vimeo.


Jay Brannan Performs "Christmas Really Sucks" LIVE! from Justin Luke on Vimeo.


Jay Brannan Performs "Goddamned" LIVE from Justin Luke on Vimeo.


Jay Brannan Performs "Soda Shop" LIVE from Justin Luke on Vimeo.

Ashton Kutcher will chase TMZ down until they love him...

Have you ever watched TMZ? I haven't. I have more important things to do than follow around celebrities as they get their nether-regions waxed or stumble drunk out of clubs. Lord knows, if I was followed around with cameras all damn day I'd be a pretty hot mess to watch on TV, wouldn't you?

Lots of people say celebrities deserve the paparazzi that hound them. I'm going to say this isn't true. So they're famous. So they're popular and rich. And? Because of that we should bug the shit out of them, trail and track and stalk them to make them look flawed? Who ever said they weren't flawed? Anyone?

So you can probably imagine my positive elation that Ashton Kutcher (who I never really liked, but now like a whole lot) and a bunch of actors decided to turn the tables on TMZ by following their fat, weasel-y crew around, fabricating phony news stories about them including leaving the gym WASTED and scheduling a three-way with David Alan Grier.

My one gripe? I wish we had some real dirt. I would love to take those leeches down an actual tick, instead of insinuating that they're adopting babies from Malawi. But still, this video is pretty funny. And it's a hoot watching the TMZ guys who are so happy, cheerful, and douchey on their show, trying to distance themselves from the cameras when the lenses are turned on them.

I hope this isn't the last of Ashton's punking TMZ. I want bigger celebrities, longer videos, and maybe some actual dirt. Because while I don't think celebrity deserves paparazzi, I certainly believe that turnabout is fair play.

One final note: I'd take issue with the prevalence of POP chips everywhere, but I find them tasty and so therefore don't mind them being present in basically every shot. I also whole-heartedly support them if they had any financial stake in this hilarious endeavor.

New Boys on the Backstreet Block

More like "WTF?!"

The comeback tour has become somewhat of a commonplace occurence these days. What with performers like Britney Spears and Amy Winehouse bouncing in and out of rehab like meth-addled ping pong balls, I've basically come to expect that I'll be receiving notice of a MAJOR COMEBACK TOUR at least once every other month. And this isn't really a new thing, either. Cher apparently had forty comeback tours in her days, before she landed a show in Vegas, and then was cast along side Christina Aguilera in Showgirls 2: Burlesque Edition.

But every once in a while, you catch wind of something special. Like a fart laid by a random passerby on the street who just exited from the Chipotle on the nearest corner. It's a Comeback Tour that catches your breath, expands your retinas, and makes you WTFBBQ in your knickers. That happened to me today.

It looks like New Kids on the Block - famous for being emblazoned on lunch boxes of girls I went to elementary school with, as well as notorious for wearing gay-as-hell porkpie hats that Madonna wouldn't be caught dead in (even when shooting her video for "Open Your Heart to Me") will be teaming up with The Backstreet Boys, who are famous for not being half as good as N*Sync, and only being marginally better than 98 Degrees for a US tour.

The question isn't when? Or where? Or how much? It's why? Or, even better, Why in the fuck?

I can't even make up a comparable tour featuring two generations of washed up man-groups to this... Bel Biv Devoe and LFO? How about Another Bad Creation and Jars of Clay? I'm drawing blanks, which probably can be said for the New Kids on the Block.

So many things wrong with this tour, and I'm sure you're thinking all of the same things I am. So I'll just rattle off a few points for discussion.

1. Perhaps we can start by rebranding them: The Old Men on the Corner and Backstreet Geezers. Now THAT sounds funny. It'll be like seeing Grumpier Old Men, the musical.
2. Can you imagine the audience for this show? Awkward 20-year-old girls who loved the 'streeters and awkward 30-year-old girls who sneak their cats into the venue in their oversized purses.
3. Are they going to sing together? Can you imagine all of that washed up manmeat on the stage at once? Epic.
4. All this REALLY makes me want is for N*Sync to do a comeback tour. Mostly because it'll probably be the only way we'll ever get JT to perform live music again, since he's since discovered film acting and crashing Saturday Night Live's Weekend Update as a fine source of income.

Backstreet Boys, it's time to give up. New Kids? I thought you gave up ten years ago. Apparently not. They think that lightning can strike twice in the same place (even the mediocre, sub-standard lightning that struck them the first time).

Will you be seeing this Comeback Tour when it hobbles on its cane into your area? I know I won't. But you know who I WILL be seeing? Gay folk superstar, Jay Brannan, who performs tonight at Joe's Pub. You may remember Jay Brannan as the guy who had the Star Spangled Banner belted into his naked butt in John Cameron Mitchell's Shortbus.

So sexy. And you get to see him naked and fully aroused... so get on Netflixin it already!

Well, apparently that ass full of patriotism has propelled him into a full-blown (no pun intended) folk music career! And he's most excellent, to say the least. Here's a video of him singing one of his classics, "Housewife."





I will be at the event tonight with my darling Flip camera. Expect videos posted tomorrow!

J.

Michael Jackson's New Single is Out

It's called "Hold My Hand," it's got a nice beat, respectable lyrics, not too much auto-tuning, and Akon bringing up the rear with a respectable duet effort.

The idea of holding MJ's cold, dead hand isn't very appealing to me, though. And it's sort of pulling one over on my heart, hearing my childhood hero's voice singing something I've never heard him sing before, and then remembering that he is deceased.

Some day I would like to duet with a dead artist. My singing voice may be gone, but it would be a trip to sing with someone who basically can't say "no" to your invitation to work together. 

At least MJ's untimely demise won't affect his ability to release new music. Word is he's got a ton of tracks he left behind when he moonwalked into the next life. Hopefully the producers that touch it will be as good to MJ's material as Akon is here.

Listen. Wipe up a tear. And then get ready for the release of Michael's first posthumous CD, which, frankly, couldn't come soon enough.

You Look Like Shit!

When's the last time someone actually said those four words to you? To be honest, I don't think I've ever had someone say them to me, nor have I heard anyone say to or in reference to anyone else. But guess what? They say it all the time in movies! Here's four and a half minutes of a line never actually uttered by one human to another.

This reminds me of the last "not ever actually used in real life, but used all the damn time in movies" megacut, which features the line "We've got company," which you are obligated to say whenever you're being suddenly chased by indians, stormtroopers, or aliens.



And since we're on the subject of things repeated in many movies, I figured I'd share this compilation of the film-nerd-famous sound effect, The Wilhelm Scream, which was recorded decades and decades ago, and has been basically used in every movie you've ever seen. Seriously. I'm not making this shit up.

Chocoholics Beware! World Running Out of Cocoa

In 20 years, the potential of suffering this delicious death will be nothing but a fantasy.

Yeah, you didn't read that title wrong, and I'm not just being alarmist. Ladies, gentlemen, and people who update their statuses every once in a while to inform me that chocolate hits the same pleasure receptors in the brain as a roll in the hay, take heed: we could very well be out of affordable chocolate in the next twenty years.

Soon enough, we could be paying $10 for a Snickers or a Butterfinger. Seriously. I'm not even talking about that snooty chocolate they sell at Maison Du Chocolat, Godiva, or in the fancy aisle at Duane Reade next to the flavored bottles of lube. I'm talking about your run-of-the-mill barely-chocolate-at-all kind of chocolate. Halloween chocolate. Hotel pillow chocolate. Rapist-in-a-van chocolate.

Why? Simply put: supply is FAR exceeding demand, and cocoa farmers are putting their foot (little-known fact: their feet are actually 70% dark chocolate) down in protest. Turns out that these farmers hardly make back the cash it costs them to grow our precious cacao trees in the first place. They're losing money, and so they are looking to other crops instead. Like broccoli or green beans: every child's worst nightmare come to fruition.

Is this a dire situation? Probably. There are a few potential solutions, including a Fair Trade-type agreement like Starbucks and other coffee purveyors have with their bean farmers and distributors. If that doesn't happen, you may find yourself heating other sweet things into steaming beverages when at the ski chalet a few winters from now; will scones melt into a goo that we can drink? Someone get on that experiment pronto.

And so what will happen? Well, maybe our candy manufacturers will figure out how to substitute what small percentage of chocolate there is in today's cheap chocolate bars with non-toxic chemicals. Or maybe some other sweet will mount an aggressive campaign to gain awareness and top-of-mind in the consumer eye ("Marzipan, it's A-Marzing!) Or maybe Fair Trade will happen and we can continue to eat our Baby Ruths in peace.

How do you feel about this news? Do you even care? Sound off in the comments.

Newsflash: Smoking Kills the Fuck Out of You

I just LOVE Tracheotomy Lites!

"Get this - the government wants to make the warning on cigarette packs BIGGER! Yeah! It's as if smokers just haven't realized yet. Like someone will be like 'yeah so I'm smoking these cigarettes and... HOLY SHIT! These things are bad for ya!? Oh man! I thought they had Vitamin C in them and stuff!' You fucking dolts. You could make the entire pack the fucking warning. You could have a black box. With a skull and crossbones on the front. Called TUMORS. And smokers would be lined up around the block going "I gotta get me a pack of these! I heard they give you a tumor the moment you light up! Num Num Num!

- Denis Leary

Well, Denis Leary, once edgy comic, now star of Rescue Me, it looks like your prediction from that cassette I owned of yours from back in the early nineties featuring everyone's favorite, The Asshole Song (included at the bottom of this post in case you wanna watch it and reminisce), is about to come true. Well, half true at least.

The government has just passed a law, and presented the designs, for new graphic warnings to be placed on cigarette packages. And these things are both striking and/or ugly.

Can you imagine having to walk around with a pack of cigarettes that proudly shows a gaping hole in someone's throat? Sure, the toe tag and gas mask are more symbolic and spooky, but that tracheotomy design is fucking gross.

Now I wonder: will it work? Who knows. Here in New York City, they recently raised taxes on packs of cigarettes to the point where they cost just south of THIRTEEN DOLLARS each. That's a lot of money. I still see a lot of smokers, though. They're probably just cutting corners to pay for the habit - like letting their health insurance expire or something.

Will these big graphic warnings help cut smoking down? I'm not sure. They're gross. They're provocative. But it's not like smokers don't know what they're doing to themselves. Or do they? It's one thing for me to make a joke about getting lung cancer while laughing and smoking with friends outside the club, and another thing for me to stare at a grainy photo of a tar-black lung on an operating table.

Well, the government sure hopes so:

Public health officials are hoping that the new labels will re-energize the nation’s antismoking efforts, which have stalled in recent years. About 20.6 percent of the nation’s adults, or 46.6 million people, and about 19.5 percent of high school students, or 3.4 million teenagers, are smokers. Every day, roughly 1,000 teenagers and children become regular smokers, and 4,000 try smoking for the first time. About 400,000 people die every year from smoking-related health problems, and the cost to treat such problems exceeds $96 billion a year.

Yikes. Good luck, guys. Sounds like you're under a lot of stress. Try not to light up to relax.

And now, as promised, Denis Leary's classic video and song, Asshole:

Glee SUCKS! (2 out of every 3 times, that is)

Glee and I have a very difficult love-hate relationship. In fact, after the Rocky Horror Glee Shitshow from two weeks ago, I was pretty set on abandoning the show permanently. Because the episode I had seen before it was the Britney Spears episode, which shared a few things in common with Rocky Horror: there was no cohesive story, it just froze action and turned its characters into shadows of their former selves in order to do lip service to their higher power, be that a cult classic movie (which they destroyed) or a former pop princess (who's done a good job of destroying herself).

If you want to know what I thought of the Glee Rocky Horror shit show, check out my recent liveblog I did with my buddy and co-podcast-host Austin Helms.

This was not something I was happy about. When I first saw the Glee pilot, and its extended trailer, I was right there with every other Gleek. I LOVED that this show would exist. I couldn't wait for the mash-ups, the re-written songs, the awesome dance numbers. But over the year-plus of its tenure, Glee successfully kicked me in the balls one-too-many times.

That was until I read an article that shared my dismay with the Rocky Horror episode. In the article, the writer said something that stuck with me: that one in every three episodes is good. I thought this odd, until I read his reasoning, which I will explain to you here:

There are three head writers helming Glee. Ryan Murphy, the series creator, Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuk. And the three of them rotate writing duties from week-to-week. And what's interesting is the radical difference between the writers and what they produce.

Ryan Murphy was responsible for basically every episode I hate, including the Britney episode and the Rocky Horror episode. This is ironic, since it's his show, and as far as I'm concerned, he is single-handedly driving it ass-first into the mud. When Ryan pens an episode, you can rest assured that the plot will be non-sensical, forgotten an episode later, and feature the Glee club members behaving like robots in service of jampacking as many numbers into an episode as they can. The most absurd things happen in Ryan's episodes, and are often eliminated or solved by episode's end because the other writers probably don't want to have to deal with what Ryan's done to the characters. Also, Ryan has a huge hard-on for John Stamos' dentist character, often giving him a lead player role in the episode, despite that being moronic.

Ian Brennan I am not a fan of this man either, but I can support someone who enjoys his work. When Ian is at the wheel, you will find Sue at her most snarkiest - he has a great ear for her hilarious dialogue. Forward-story momentum also usually halts in Brennan's episodes. But you can expect a ton of fun and hilarity. Brennan was responsible for the recent Duets episode, as well as notable episodes like Hairography. If you found yourself laughing through the episode from beginning to end, but ended up basically where you began, you're probably watching an Ian Brennan-led episode. The final result is not much motion, but at least there's been no significant damage done, like when Murphy is piloting.

And then there's Brad Falchuk. This man, I am convinced, should immediately be promoted to showrunner, and be placed in charge of every single episode. When Brad writes, I feel. I love. I can't get enough. Brad's most recent episode is Grilled Cheesus, the religious episode. And let me tell you: it is because of Brad that I am still watching Glee. I cried. I laughed. There were real, emotional, meaningful character interactions. I felt like I ended somewhere different than where I began, with a better understanding of characters that were suddenly so much more complex than I'd ever remembered them. If you get sad/hard moments in your Glee, or Sue's special needs sister pops up in any sort of significant amount, then you're watching a Falchuk episode. Guaranteed.

So there you have it: 1 in every 3 episodes of Glee is good/great/amazing. 1 in every 3 is a fun cotton candy diversion. And 1 in every 3 is a steaming pile of shit that should be stuck in a rocket ship and shot off to the moon. Down with Ryan Murphy, up with Brad Falchuk.

And that's how Justin "C"s it.

(That doesn't work as well when your name starts with a J and you're not on video...)

Oh, and here's a fucking awesome all-male a-capella rendition of Katy Perry's Teenage Dream. Tonight is when Kurt gets his first kiss. And, if my math is right, Brad Falchuk wrote tonight's episode! Can't wait!

Why is Facebook So Damn Popular?

The news flying around the Web today is about how "Facebook" is more popular than search engines and the broader web in general. And people are wondering why. To be frank, I'm just wondering why people are wondering.

The big number of the day is 5. As in that's the amount of hours people spend on Facebook EVERY DAY. This is a ridiculously high number in the Web world, where we jockey to get people to watch a video for more than two minutes, or to read a news article til its very end. The problem is, people are looking at Facebook as some magical mysterious beast.

News flash: Facebook is not a magical, mysterious beast.

And to all you web folks who want to bring down Facebook, you need to understand that it is YOUR fault it is doing as well as it is. Allow me to debunk a few mystifying numbers to make this easier to understand.

First of all, 5 hours on Facebook makes sense to me. I probably spend 9 hours a day on Facebook. Why? Because that's how long I am at my computer every day, usually at work. This does not mean I am actively engaged on Facebook but, rather, it is open in a tab on my browser while I work and go about tasks.

So the question becomes: why do people keep Facebook open this long? Because it's doing the same thing that Farmville and Zynga's highly successful games are doing: it is treating you like a rat in a science lab.

Think about it, once upon a time, Facebook made some very unpopular changes: they jampacked our newsfeed with a ton of shit that, at the time, we didn't care about? Remember when that happened? I sure do, because my friends couldn't shut the hell up about how much they hated this informational intrusion. Guess what? They aren't complaining any longer, and the new news feed and Facebook functionality has them hooked by the gums.

The secret is constantly updating information. Your news feed, assuming you have at least 150 friends (which I'm pretty sure everyone does by this point) is more of a stream than a feed. Like the proverbial stream described by some philosopher I'm too lazy to look up, it is always different when I step into it.

Those little alerts we love so much are like food pellets to rats. We keep coming back to see new news.

And what's making Facebook stronger? It's strength, and our desire to play there. By framing themselves as the place where people go and spend all their time, Facebook has ensured a bevy of contributors. Every site from YouTube to Vimeo to LinkedIn to Flickr all want to be included in Facebooks walled garden. And the more companies that go to play in Facebook's playground, the more tantalyzing the site becomes.

Five minutes spent on Facebook can include viewing a video, looking through photos, tending to my farm, taking a survey, sending an invite to my friends and sending an email to my mom. Facebook has turned itself into a more convenient version of the web, one cultivated and fed by people I trust and like most: my friends.

Of COURSE Facebook is popular and people are spending all of their time there, because it is the digital equivalent of town square. Everyone I know is there, and they've got a lot of fun things to share with me.

So how do you kill Facebook? Easy. Get the big players to pull their content out. It's a brave move, but it could destroy Facebook in a matter of weeks. If YouTube pulled out, and Flickr pulled out, and everyone else pulled out, Facebook would be returned to its former non-glory, which included a lot of people throwing fake pies at me. A long time ago I said there was nothing to do on Facebook. There is now plenty of stuff to do on Facebook, but most of it is being facilitated by companies that are not Facebook.

It's ingenious, really. But it's also very easy to see. Don't pretend you're so shocked that people are spending as much time as they do on the site. Of course they are. Because you are making it easier for them to do so by giving Facebook your technology and offerings on a silver platter. Don't feed the beast and then ask why it got so big.

So the choice is yours. You have two options with the Facebook dragon: jump on its back and enjoy the chaotic ride to the heavens, or team up with a few soldiers and cut its fucking head off.

A Dozen Drag Queens Walk Into New World Stages... (video!)

Once upon a time I was afraid of drag queens. Seriously, I was totally scared shit-less by their big wigs and exquisitely detailed make-up. Or maybe I just acted like I was because it was a fun characteristic to fabricate. This was back in high school. My how times have changed.

I am now a major fan of my drag brethren, making friends with any and all that I can (including, but not limited to, Dallas DuBois, Paige Turner, Pepper Mint, Chaka Khanvict, and Mimi Imfurst as actual queens I know both in and out of drag.) And any drag show I can attend, I surely will.

So imagine my excitement when my buddy, and podcast co-host Austin Helms took the... well... took the helm of a new drag reality competition called So You Think You Can Drag right around the corner from my apartment at New World Stages. Palpable. Practically hysterical, actually.

I won't give you the scoop on So You Think You Can Drag, if you wanna know about it, just hop over to the fan page and ask.

No, on this post I want to share with you the host of videos I have shot at SYTYCDrag since its inception. I'm begging you PLEASE watch each one. You're truly missing out if you don't.

Without further ado, I give you a ton of drag queens:


My promo for SYTYCDrag
So You Think You Can Drag! from Justin Luke on Vimeo.


Paige Turner performs "Here I Am" from Dirty Rotten Scoundrels

Paige Turner performs "Here I Am" from Dirty Rotten Scoundrels from Justin Luke on Vimeo.


Jackie Cox performs "Toxic" as Elphaba

Jackie Coxx Performs Britney Spears' "Toxic" from Justin Luke on Vimeo.


Frosty Flakes performs "Hush"

Frosty Flakes Performs LIVE at So You Think You Can Drag! from Justin Luke on Vimeo.


Destiny performs "Single Ladies" concert version

Destiny performs Single Ladies LIVE from Justin Luke on Vimeo.


Tasha Salad performs "I Am What I Am" Medley

Tasha Salad performs "I Am What I Am" medley LIVE! from Justin Luke on Vimeo.


Paige Turner performs "It's Oh So Quiet"

Paige Turner Performs "It's Oh So Quiet" LIVE from Justin Luke on Vimeo.


Roxy Couture performs "Pretty Legs, Great Big Knockers"

Roxy Couture performs "Pretty Legs, Great Big Knockers" LIVE! from Justin Luke on Vimeo.

Sexy Gay Video Game Nerd Alert!

Meet Matthew Brown. Also known as "Gaymer," he is a contestant on "The Tester 2" the second season of Sony PlayStation's downloadable reality competition that pits Sony fanboys and fangirls against each other for a coveted position on the Sony PlayStation team.

Matthew is a 23-year-old gay San Diegoan who admits he camped out for 4 days to get a PlayStation 3, and also that video games were an immense comfort to him as an overweight child with no friends (I can relate.)

The fact that Sony has allowed an out-loud-and-proud gay gamer onto their popular reality show cannot be understated. Gaymers are a rare breed. And usually when you read news about Gaymers, it has to do with the shitty way they are treated on the Xbox Live network (including even not-gay people living in an actual place called Fort Gay).

By deleting the accounts of out gay gamers, Microsoft has set itself up for an enduring title of anti-gay that has yet to truly leave them. Even though they have better policies in place to allow gay gamers to be themselves, even when they're using an orc avatar with a battle axe, homophobia among Xbox Live users is still prevalent.

How refreshing, then, that Sony is firing a shot across the bow at Microsoft, not only showing that they except their gay players, but also that they celebrate them, and are willing to give them a place at the table.

It also helps that Matthew Brown is extremely sexy, totally adorable, and a former fatty (which warms my heart as one of his formerly chubby kin). Oh, he was also voted Mr. Gay San Diego 2010. Which isn't very surprising.

You can rest assured that I'll be tuning in to The Tester 2 on the Playstation Network and cheering for Matthew Brown.

To see Matthew Brown in action, click here and then click on "Gaymer" (he's the sixth screenshot on the screen). I'll browbeat Sony PlayStation about not allowing these videos to be embedded later on. For now, just get a load of Mr. Brown.

Hot + Shirtless + Funny = Craigery Morgan

I like to act like a cultured fellow, plus ones. I take in the theater, I read big novels written by pensive authors with names like Rushdie, Joyce, and Franzen, and I attend debates, discussions, roundtables, and readings. In doing all of these things, I sometimes create the illusion that I am a classy, high-brow devourer of the arts and letters.

Of course this is a complete sham. Throw a sexy gay boy in close to no clothing with relatively little body hair and relatively a lot of muscles, have him lip sync sketches performed by Kristen Wiig including "Surprise Party Sue" and "Penelope," and I will become a dedicated 10% of the 3+ million views that that video receives.

If you still don't know who I'm referring to, then I am beyond happy to introduce to you a boy named Craigery Morgan. He is based in Orlando Florida. He's an actor-hopeful who spends his free time shirtless and lipsyncing some of my favorite SNL sketches.

Craigery is interesting for an additional reason: it turns out that two people I am "friends" with on Facebook were both using Craigery's photos for their profiles. Needless to say those "friends" have since disappeared from Facebook.

And now that the real Craigery Morgan has stood up, I beg him to not sit down, and to never, ever put his shirt back on. Ever.

Here are a few of the videos that he's cut since stealing the gay web spotlight, including his breakthrough viral hit: Surprise Party.