Ryan James Yezak Presents: "Hold it Against Me" Video

Leave it to Ryan James Yezak and his trove of twinks to get out in front of the Britney train! Having been through both Katy and Ke$ha, Ryan has officially set his sights on Miss Britney Spears, and beaten her to the masses with his own video version of her dubstep jam, "Hold it Against Me".

As my best buddy Austin put it over on his blog:

For a change, Yezak’s sci-fi themed video has actual females in the lead, but don’t worry–there are plenty of barely dressed sexy boys to be seen. Enjoy this inevitably YouTube hit.

Inevitable? Girl you know it's true. Let's check back in a month and see how its views compare to Yezak's classics including Peacock and California Gays.

Few quick observations:

1. Is it just me, or would the blonde have better been played by NYC's best drag queen, Emily McNamara?

2. Ryan is still using his jumpy quick cut displace people and give everyone a seizure tricks. Enough, Ryan! New tricks PLEASE!

3. Ryan should export his videos a bit more de-interlaced. The visual skips in the concert scene make the video look terrible!

These are, of course, minor quibbles. Another job well done, Ryan!

What's next?



- Justin Luke

My Brother Jared + His Roommate's Cat + My Boyfriend's Mash-up = DANCE PARTY!

Animated GIF images are pretty popular on the Internet. They are usually featuring snippets from gay porn, or tiny scenes from movies overlaid with ironic text. While I love those things, I was never possessed to actually make one of my own.

This is the first official GIF animation I've ever made. It's of my brother, Jared Zirilli dancing with his cat-mate, Nellie (and me laughing in the bottom right corner). Nellie is not actually Jared's cat. She belongs to one of his roommates. But they might as well be best friends. She apparently jumps up and wraps herself around his neck like a scarf when he's on the computer and not paying sufficient attention to her.

They also like to have dance parties, as shown here. If you're curious as to what they are dancing to, I have provided the track below. It's a mash-up mashed up by my boyfriend, Joe, featuring Rihanna vs Katy Perry vs Usher. Listen in and film your own dance party and I'll feature it here!


  Only Teenage DJ in the World (Rihanna vs. Usher vs. Katy Perry) by joeredhead 

- Justin Luke

Gulliver Travels North: Provincetown or Bust!

UPDATE: My novel, Gulliver Travels is NOW ON SALE! You can grab the eBook or Paperback over at the book's official website, www.GrabGully.com!

With my buddy and editor extraordinaire, Alexander x Christopher sprucing up my gay novel, Gulliver Travels, and my friend Laz Marquez beginning work on the cover, I am happy to report that I have dived into writing the sequel to my MetroGay Novel.

What's it about? Well, I'm discovering it as I go along. My writing process is chaotic - I don't plan, I just write, and then clean up the mess when I'm done (and then hire an editor to clean up the new mess I make).

Anyway, I figured I'd go ahead and share with you the beginning of the first chapter of the sequel to Gully's adventure, which finds him and his crew of Hell's Kitchen queens in Provincetown.

Stick around, the original book which you haven't read yet will hopefully be coming out in April, 2011!

Let me know what you think!

Chapter 1

Gay men have an immense capacity for forgiveness.

No, I’m serious.

Hear me out, okay? There is no greater example of a gay’s saintly ability to let bygones be bygones than Britney Spears. Think about it. That girl has gone on a bevy of benders, shaved her head to the skull, spent a sextuplet of spells in the tiled white hallways and well-groomed gardens of rehab, popped out a pair of babies, flashed her lady parts to the paparazzi, and married complete and total weirdos with little-to-no worry for how her manic actions would affect her fan base.

And what do we do? We insult Brit-Brit and say we’re over her. We run to Lady Gaga and her meat dresses or Ke$ha and her tragic music videos or Xtina and her offensive film collaborations with Cher and confirm that we’re through with the drama. It’s over. This time, Britney has gone way to far.

But then time passes. “Circus” or “If U Seek Amy” comes up on our iPod and we catch our selves humming along and remembering the good old times. And then, even though we crossed our hearts and swore we wouldn’t, we forgive her. We follow the lead of the blanket-sheltered, pleading and shrieking drama uber-queen Chris Crocker and let Britney back in. She churns out a new single that may or may not even be the best one she’s put out, and there we are, at the clubs, our booties shaking and our drinks spilling over as we scream to our friends “Oh shit, this is my jam!” We’re buying up tickets to her shows so we can watch her lip-sync, dance in time to the dubstep, and pray that she’ll remember her dance moves without tripping over herself and plummeting into the crowd. This has happened at least three times to date. Still, we gays forgive her.

Why? I don’t know. But we do. Because anger is an explosion that colors everything red and fills us with poisonous rage. We feel wronged. We start swinging defensively. We say things we may not mean once the fog of fury passes us by and we’re left standing and clear headed for the first time. And time cuts anger as it passes, like a drug dealer peppering his stash of weed with oregano. Or like a bartender putting just a bit too much cran in your vodka every time you order it. Time passes – days, weeks, months – and we forget. We forgive.

And if gays can forgive Britney, then gays can forgive each other. Right? Sure, we may get into a couple of bitch-slap fights when we’ve drank too much after we’ve supposedly mended the rift betwixt us. We might say one thing and then spit shade out of the far side of our mouth, hissing how we’re not really cool with whoever we’re fighting with, and how the person we’re supposedly friends with is a skanky bitch unworthy of friends or his Starbucks Gold Card. We may even snap and go at each other full-on, after everyone else has incorrectly assumed that our fading feud and “situation” had chilled beyond even the Coldest Cold War status. But, at some point, days or weeks or months down the line, we lay down our weapons, meet at the table, hug it out, and order a round of Mojitos. Because time also heals all wounds, even the kinds that seem like they’ll break back open again no matter what. We forgive; We forget. The second part of that statement probably because of our drinking problems.

All that matters is this: Much like Britney, I too have been forgiven from my past, regrettable, seemingly world-destroying transgressions. This forgiveness was a long and bumpy road with a number of stumbles, pitfalls and back steps, but it happened. I am forgiven. Time has passed.

And thanks to all of that, I am presently unpacking my suitcases into one hell of a sweet-ass bedroom at the back of the famous Sandpiper House located smack in the center of the main thoroughfare of Provincetown, Massachusetts.

Todd DiTempto, my best friend through thick and thin and thick again, begrudgingly gave this room up to me. Hey, it was he who insisted on a Rock, Paper, Scissors tournament to determine who would bed down where in our 6-week summer share. And I won fair and square and with a steady, stubborn reliance on playing paper against everything that came my way. I won’t be spending the summer in the affectionately titled “Beachside Bedroom” by myself, though. My roommate, irony of ironies, is none other than Brayden Castro – a boy who almost one year ago to this very day was trying to beat me to death with a Blackberry at an underwear party on Fire Island. But that was a year ago. Since then, Brayden has forgiven Miss Britney Spears for everything, making  her single “Hold It Against Me,” the top played song on his iTunes. He’s traded in his Blackberry for an iPhone 5, and he’s forgiven me for engaging in a two-month secret relationship with his near-identical-looking ex-boyfriend, Marty Perry. Despite graciously granting me his official Homo Pardon and all the benefits that come with it, Brayden has still yet to forgive Marty.

He probably never will.

- Justin Luke

The State of the Union; The New Face of Crazy

To stare into her eyes is to dive into a world of madness and monkeys.

Last night we political fans were treated to not one but TWO circus sideshows. Granted, the first one, the GOP response to Obama's State of the Union was pretty boring. It starred "Rising Republican Star" Paul Ryan, coming to us from a dark and empty room that may or may not have had the Phantom of the Opera tickling his haunted ivories somewhere in the corner.

Look! Someone's son got lost in the budgetary office at Congress. He's so precious!

Paul Ryan's response was typical - friendly, but attacking. Full of vague promises. The catch was that, while no Bobby Jindal from last year, this man still doesn't know how to give a speech. Sure, it's hard. He's not in a grand hall earning ovations for every other word. But still, he spoke like those text-to-speech programs you can find on any Mac. "Health...care. Is. A. Debacle! Our. Safety Net. Will soon be. A hammock!"

His wide-eyed, smiling delivery made him seem like a doctor telling you the options for your surgery, without trying to scare you. But man, he was just a lead in to the shit show of the century. But he's cute in an Eddie Munster sort of way. Sure, he's nowhere NEAR as hot as Republican congressman Aaron Schock, whom I'd sell all my rights as a human away for one night with. But still, when looking at the old school GOP, I'm thankful for these two servings of hatefilled, bigoted eye candy.

(Thanks to John Benjamin Thom-Weiss, the only OTHER sexy Republican I know, for introducing me to this stud from heaven.)

The ONE Republican I wish had spent a week shooting with Corbin Fisher.

Up next, and ONLY on CNN and Fox News, came the official "Tea Party Response" from that crazy witch Michele Bachmann. And she did not disappoint. Stories this morning claim she was speaking to a Tea Party camera, which is why she never once looked at our camera. But the takeaway was that she had no eye balls because of her dark eye shadow, and that she was speaking to a confused dog sitting in the corner (or maybe the Phantom ran over to her filming location after Paul Ryan signed off).

I'll bet you forty dollars that the Tea Party camera was a cardboard box with a cat in it. Because they don't believe in science, and so had to build their own camera from scratch, and only had the box and cat handy. (Meow!)

Furthermore, Michele stumbled all over the place, mispronounced Iwo Jima so terribly that it instantly became a Twitter trending topic (IWAAA JIMAAA), and even had a nice powerpoint presentation that looked like she was about to try and sell us a Sham-Wow. All in all, amazing television, and, simultaneously, tragic television. Of course, it doesn't matter. The looney tunes in the Tea Party probably loved it, and gave it a standing ovation from their trailers before they ran back outside to lynch some more colored people who had accidentally happened by.

Anyway, here's crazy cat lady Bachmann's response. Enjoy the original hilarity before Saturday Night Live dances all over its bones this weekend.





Oh, and if you care, here's Paul Ryan's borezo response. Personally, I think it's more worth your time to just watch Michele's video again.





- Justin Luke

Taco Bell Meat: Now With Less Actual Meat!

You're drunk. It's late. Where do you go? Anywhere that's serving something that's warm and has any sort of flavor that'll peak over the taste of vodka and vomit in your throat, basically. That may be dollar pizza (my favorite) or the local diner for Disco Fries (where you can find ANY go-go boy after a BoiParty.com event) or Taco Bell.

Or, if you're stoned, you're probably JUST going to Taco Bell.

I don't think any of us, when at our drunken worst, really care about WHAT is going into our mouth, so long as it fills up our tummy and halts the spins without ending up back outside of us and on the street. So who REALLY cares that Taco Bell is currently being sued because there's not enough actual meat in their meat? I don't care - do you? I mean, 50% of anything Taco Bell sells is fatty dressing and chunks of cheese. You can barely taste the meat! Though, that might be because there's no real meat there.

The actual specifics of this story are even funnier. Taco Bell has never claimed to be filling their tacos with "beef" or "meat". No, they've been calling it "Meat Taco Filling". Kinda like how those sausages they sell on the street are called "Hot Dogs". They do this because there is so much science and horror inside of the meaty encasements that the government won't let them call the monster they're shoving in your face "meat".

So what's the problem, then? Well it turns out that technically, Taco Bell isn't even serving us "Meat Taco Filling"! According to the government, Meat Taco Filling must contain at least 40% actual meat. Taco Bell's filling contains less than 35% meat. That leaves room for all sorts of long words and strange chemicals.

Again, I don't see any problem here. It's fucking Taco Bell. Did you THINK you'd be getting pure meat and delicious non-science ingredients in a 5-taco platter you bought for a fucking dollar? If so, I've got a tree in Brooklyn to sell you. And that tree is also made out of Meat Taco Filling.

So - does this make you any less likely to order Taco Bell? I won't be having any. But that's just because there never seems to be a Taco Bell in my vicinity when I have a hankering for a Chalupa. And I'm STILL pissed that they only serve that Chicken Caesar Gordita Crunch for limited times and randomly, like McDonald's Shamrock Shakes and McRib sandwiches.

- Justin Luke

The Party Line: DOES Size Really Matter?

This Thursday at Splash, Alan, myself, and BoiParty.com are throwing a SIZE MATTERS party. The event so far is comprised of the fantastic image of my go-go buddy, Rowan Pierce grabbing his sparkling groin, and the promise of a biggest cock contest hosted by Miss PepperMint AND two live performances by Daniel Patrick Ellis and Jessica Ferguson.

But, as I put together the invite and publicity for this upcoming event, I began to wonder: Does Size REALLY Matter?

I'm going to confidently answer that YES it does matter. You bet yer keister it does.

... But the answer isn't as deceptively simple as it sounds.

Size matters, but that doesn't necessarily mean all we boys like our packages girthy and gigantic. Some do, of course. I've met my fair share of Size Kings and Queens who demand nothing smaller than 10 inches and nothing more slender than a wide mouth can of Pepsi. Power to them and may they enjoy whatever they end up doing with a man rod that large (my ideas? Knock attackers unconscious, and hold open windows that won't stay where you put them).

But that's not the only way size matters. Some people have a cock-size ceiling that is strictly enforced. Sure, a giant knob may be tantalizing to rest ones hungry eyes on... but that doesnt' mean that most boys are ready to take to their back to take that beast into them. Many guys I know, actually, have mandated a "You must be under this height to ride my ride" rule. Why? Because they don't want to walk around with their intestines hanging out of their Diesels. Understandable.

And then, of course, there's me. I don't have a maximum rule, but I do have a minimum. I don't think it's too much to ask that I be able to get my whole hand around a gaypole with about 2 or so inches popping up over the end of my thumb. That equals about 6.5 inches, and I think that is fair as any size.

But that's just me and all of my shamefully slutty friends. What about you? Does Size Matter? Sound off on Twitter, Facebook, or right here in the comments section.

I wanna hear what you have to say!

- Justin Luke

NYC, Meet Mat with One T!

Have you met the latest BoiParty.com acquisition? His name is Mat (that's with one T), and he is a sexy-cute twink transfer from the Left Coast. What brought him here? What did he do back when he was in his hometown of Tustin, California? What's he doing now?

These are all things I could tell you, or things you can listen to Mat tell you for himself.

I will tell you this: Mat's got something. As far as YouTube gays, he's got personality (a lot more manic of it on camera than in person, it's like seeing two different people!) He knows that to get ANY sort of viewership that he must be shirtless and in tiny underwear most of the time... and follows the expectations to a "T". And he has cute, painless adventures.

What will he do now that he's in NYC? Only time will tell. But I plan on helping him discover all the adventures I can.

Below are just a few of my favorite Mat with One T videos. Be sure to check out his YouTube channel and Twitter and Facebook fan page for tons more Mat goodness (with one G).

- Justin Luke

FUCK YOU, WINTER!!!

I am miserable. Not because of any of you guys, though. No, it's the WINTER'S fault. The cold air. The constant vomiting of snow on the ground (which, by the way, the sky JUST started doing again about an hour ago). Enough! No more gross puddles! No more frigid chills and darkness at 5PM!

Fuck you Winter!!

I am happy to see that I am not alone with these feelings. Summer has endorsed (and Fall and Spring have paid for) this fantastic political attack ad that I'll probably watch over and over again as I toast my corneas with those "natural light" bulbs they sell at Bed, Bath, and Beyond to beat back the depression that comes with Seasonal Affect Disorder.




- Justin Luke

Remember When Video Games Made You Want to Kill Yourself?

Video games used to be hard. All of you youngin's probably do not know this. But it is true. Once upon a time, video games were difficult. Frustratingly difficult. Your character never jumped high enough, their were bottomless pits and spikes coming out of things that should not ever hold spring-loaded spikes, you were equipped with puny weaponry and pitted against monsters from the land of Impossibilia. Why? Because there wasn't much more they could offer besides difficulty. Stories were thin, what you saw with your eyes wasn't much worth looking at. And so game designers decided they'd rather have us emitting girlish screams while launching our wired controllers across the den.

Then something happened. Gaming went 3-D, graphics got better, someone discovered the "tutorial," "save point," and "unlimited lives," and now, well, games are basically engineered for pussies. Yeah, I said it. But guess what? I'm a pussy, so I couldn't be happier. When I play Red Dead Redemption or Grand Theft Auto, I am free to rape the cop and murder the mother with the stroller, because, when I die, I'll magically re-spawn at a hospital. If I get gunned down in Call of Duty, I'll be back at a half-way marker immediately. I love it. It means I can complete games and enjoy the story.

Well, don't get too comfortable, my nerdy gaymer brethren! There has been a recent renaissance of the fuck-annoying game. Mega Man is back. Contra is back. Your lives are limited and your opponents are endless. And now there comes this game, which mocks players with its very title: Aban Hawkins & The 1,000 Spikes.

Cute title, and the fuckers aren't kidding. Spikes come out of EVERYTHING. With NO warning at all. One hit and you're dead, and you go RIGHT BACK TO THE BEGINNING. Oh bitch please you have to be kidding me! I'm yanking my eyes out already and I don't even have the game! (Nor could I get it, it's only available on XBOX). They give you 1,000 lives which seems generous... but the idea of getting halfway through one of these terrible levels only to die and go back to the beginning would annihilate me.

I don't know if any of you are gluttons for punishment of the furious variety, but if you are, I recommend picking up this title. Watch the playthrough video below. My God, it gave me hives. Tiny pixellated Aban Hawkins and all of those fucking blood-crusted spikes. Thanks but no thanks. I'll stick with my bullet-proof, inhumanly incapable of dying video game protagonists.

If you want to see TRUE human frustration, check out this video on Kotaku. I feel so terrible for the reviewer. I'd have either flung my controller through the TV, or shoved it down my throat by the point he finally gives up.

- Justin Luke

YouTube Embarrassment, Now with a Side of Lawsuit

Early last week, a woman was texting her friend and tripped, falling face-first into a fountain. Funny shit, right? Fuck no not funny! Terribly UN-FUNNY! How DARE you laugh at her idiotic expense!! You are all terrible, terrible people.

So now this lady's going to sue the mall for releasing the video footage of her Epic Fountain Fail. Right. That's the way to do this. Maybe she'll also sue the fountain for being there, her boots for not being made for walking like the song told her they were, and her friend for not calling or sending her a carrier pigeon instead.

How embarrassed is she? She's SO MORTIFIED that she went on television to identify herself so the video of her fall can receive a HUGE bump in traffic, and so we can Google to find out where she lives and immediately begin building MORE fountains around her house and job, so we can try to replicate the hilarity on a better, possibly High-Definition video camera.

Because that's the way to do it. Instead of remaining a faceless moron who can't do two things at once, and fading into obscurity, we now know her name and how "special" she sounds during an interview with that Greek God of TV news, George Stephan-om-a-an-om-a-opolous.

Listen, Lady Fountain VonFallsenberg... you provided many bored employees of many boring organizations two minutes of mirth and joy. You gave drunken college kids something to laugh at before they began vomiting their cheap beer. You may have even distracted people with YouTube on their smart phones enough to make THEM fall into fountains. Why you gotta go and ruin our fun? If it weren't for people falling on YouTube, we'd all have much sadder lives.

If this woman somehow WINS this lawsuit, it sets a horrifying precedent. David can sue his Dad for negligence and defamation for filming him after his tragic dentist appointment. Charlie's brother can bring a double lawsuit, one to Charlie for the initial bite, and one to his parents for being silent, giggling accessories to the grizzly crime.

This can lead to nothing good.

Killjoy. Someone should throw her in a fountain. Oh, wait.



- Justin Luke

The Best Butt in the Business: Chip Tanner

We are all attracted to different things. Be it the face, the package, the chest, the abs, the legs, the elbows or even the nose. Me? I've always been a butt guy.

I think it's genetic. My straight brother also goes for girls with the booty. A cute boy will always nab my attention, but if he's got a slammin' ass, well he just got enough bonus points to win him a toaster to stick those buns in.

Enter Chip Tanner. Former gymnast, now Randy Blue model. He has won my (unofficial) prize for the hottest ass I've ever seen on a human being that wasn't drawn by Tom O'Finland or that guy who illustrates the free comics that come for free with your Fleshjack.

Chip is apparently psychotic (often creating YouTube missives where he babbles incoherently.) That's okay. I'm not dreaming of dating him... I just want a few minutes with his ass.

Take a look at these photos and tell me I'm wrong. There are far more where this comes from... but I won't post them here, just to prevent this blog from going TOTALLY porny.

 

- Justin Luke

J+1 Interview: Get It, Harder!

Go-Go Harder, the boylesque wonder, is your textbook boy from the prairie turned professional strip-tease. Go-Go's unique brand of boylesque is a mix of the theatrical and comedic, and of course, focuses on the art of the strip tease. But then again, it's hard not to be a tease when the neighborhood deli guy still thinks you're 17.

Whether he's co-hosting his weekly cabaret Meaner Harder Leather or performing in some of NYC's hottest clubs and parties, you can usually spot Go-Go on any given night of the week with a suitcase full of costumes in one hand and a six pack of glitter in the other. Seriously, the boy literally reflects at night.

I was able to grab Go-Go for a few seconds to get him in my cross-hairs and give him a good grilling. His glitter-blasted bod blinded me by the end of our chat, so you better appreciate the sacrifice!

Most go-go boys have traditional (albeit made up) names... where did the name "Go-Go Harder" come from?
Well, believe it or not, Harder is actually my real last name. A guy I used to date who was also a go-go dancer said I should have a fake name but I could never take myself seriously so I just started calling myself Go-Go. Sometimes it helps to state the obvious.


Describe Go-Go Harder for me. What does he stand for? What is he known for?
I feel like I'm known for being a goofball but for also stretching the definition of what a go-go boy can do or is capable of. I'm ultimately a performer so I tend to be a little over the top whether I'm in a bar dancing or on stage at a burlesque show.

What does one have to do to be successful in New York City nightlife?
Keep putting yourself out there, whether its performing, producing, or just dressing up. And be nice. Cunty realness is overrated and so 2010.

What is your favorite brand of underwear?
I actually make most of my own jock straps and g-strings, but when I'm at home I don't wear underwear ;0)

Did you hear that? That was the collective J+1 readership getting a boner. Speaking of, how many requests for sex do you get at night, and how do you deal with them?
I just smile and say I'm the candy you look at, not put in your mouth.

I may start using that. What's the best tip you've ever gotten at work?
Once a crack head slipped a Susan B. Anthony coin in my sock and said, "Money's no object baby."

And speaking of money and work, if you weren't a performer, what other nightlife job would you like to have?
I think I'd be a bartender. You can still basically be naked and people tip you.

What's your favorite drunk food after a long night of tearing it up?
I don't know what you're talking about, I'm never drunk ; )
But... every now and then I like to grab a Greek salad on my way home.

What's was the high point of 2010 for you and why?
Meaner Harder Leather. I feel so lucky to be apart of a show that's not your typical nite life fare and more and more boys are starting to get interested in boylesque.

What does 2011 have in store for Go-Go Harder and his legion of fans?
Great things! I'm producing a lot more variety and strip shows and I've also launched my (semi) offical production company, "Harder Candy" and my website gogoharder.com.

- Justin Luke

Your Next Orgasm Could KILL YOU!

Now this is news-worthy, and also worthy of the pity of many. Scientists are now reporting that there is a percentage of men that is allergic to THEIR OWN SEMEN. As in, when they orgasm and blow their load, their body blows a gasket simultaneously. Seriously! Can you even understand how much this affliction must SUCK? (And not suck in the good way... because it could KILL YOU).

"Some poor men are apparently allergic to their own semen, developing a mysterious flu-like illness after they have an ejaculation, Dutch researchers reported Monday. The condition, known as post-orgasmic illness syndrome or POIS, has been documented since 2002.

Symptoms include feverishness, runny nose, extreme fatigue and burning eyes, which can last for up to a week. Some physicians had suggested that the disorder was psychosomatic, but Marcel Waldinger, a professor of sexual psychopharmacology at Utrecht University in the Netherlands, and his colleagues demonstrated in two papers in the Journal of Sexual Medicine that the syndrome was allergic in nature and that it might be possible to desensitize men to the problem."

It surely puts any other sexual issue you may have and regret in its place, no? Whether POIS is created by the workings of the mind or not, it must be a terrible thing to deal with. Every one-night stand is followed by a week of boogers, sniffling, and regret. Can you even imagine? I can't... and really don't want to.

- Justin Luke

The A-List: New York is COMING BACK!

Despite rumors of an "A-List: Los Angeles," in the works, it looks like LOGO has decided to skip the trip across the country, and instead go with what worked for them the first time. The A-List: New York, which earned metric tons of gay hatred and vitriol for its focus on a handful of dramatic (not necessarily ACTUAL A-List) gays brunching, lunching, scrunching and punching around Manhattan and Fire Island and The Hamptons, is coming back to LOGO for a second season!

I can hear you grinding your teeth already. What's left to happen on that show? Well, to be honest, I never watched it, so I'm not really sure what unforgettable climaxes and cliffhangers we as a gay viewership were left to deal with.

Do you hate The A-List? Surveys and public outcry seems to say that you have a 99% chance of despising the show. Problem is, even though you may loathe and detest and bemoan it, you keep WATCHING IT!

So I feel NO pity for you motherfuckers. YOU made this possible! If you all had just switched the channel to Keeping Up with the Kardashians, this would never have happened.

But now that NYC's beloved and abominated gays are coming back to the TV, you might as well grab your popcorn, poppers, and Popovs and sit a spell on your couch. Because, let's face it, you love to hate it, and you love to watch it.

And, hey, fair warning: this is probably just the beginning. A-List may be LOGO's own version of Jersey Shore. More popular, and more derided with every single season. Now when are the boys going to get some money-losing book deals? I want to see Reichen publish "How to Look Schnasty in Drag" or Austin Armacoat co-write "Getting Naked at Strangers' Pools on Fire Island: Your Guide to Climbing the A-List with a healthy dose of Ass!"

- Justin Luke

Interview: Michael James Roy Brings Showtunes to New World Stages Every Monday

Do you hear the people sing? Well, if it's a Monday night at 10PM and you're happening by the New World Stages at 50th Street and 9th Avenue in Hell's Kitchen, you just might.

Coming up the stairs from the Time Out New York Lounge, there's much mischief-making and merriment at the recently re-launched open mic extravaganzo, Songs at The New World. It makes a perfect chaser to a night at Musical Mondays at Splash, as you'll be just drunk enough from the recently ended happy hour to stand in front of the crowd and belt a few bars.

Michael James Roy is a musical director, composer and pianist-about-town. He can be seen every Monday and Wednesday happy hour at the infamous NYC showtune dive Marie's Crisis. While I can't necessarily sing by any definition of the word, Michael has always been there to pretend that I have somewhat passable prowess when it comes to belting. This week I caught up with Mr. Michael James  to tickle his ivories about his "new" Monday night party at New World Stages, Songs at the New World.


You're looking cute today... all clean-shaven. Is that for the re-launch?
Yes! I figured if Songs at the New World was going to have a new look, so should I.


So, the re-launch is this Monday… tell me about it!
Well, it's called Songs at the New World: A Boozy, Belting Bash. It's an uber-eclectic open mic night; from showtunes to emerging singer/songwriters. We are there every Monday night at 10pm in The Time Out New York Lounge at New World Stages. We've been there every week for the past three years... and as we all know, after three years it's time for a face-lift.


You said, "we are there..." Who's "we"?
The host of the evening is the lovely Colleen Harris. You may have seen her last year in her highly-lauded cabaret "This Time". The girl can sing. It's delightful.


What is the type of crowd and vibe a newcomer can expect?
We have a really sexy crowd for an open mic night. And the talent is amazing.


What should someone who's coming bring to the party?
If you're a serious singer, you shouldn't be caught dead in this town without your book, so bring that. We also have an extensive music library available, so if you don't have time to run home to Astoria, we've got you covered. If you just want to hear some great music, bring some friends and buckle in for a fantastic show.


What does a run-away-successful night at your party entail?
My favorite nights are when we are packed with a mix of people who are all there for the same reason: we celebrate music and the artists who create it. And when cute boys play the guitar...


Yes?
No, that's it. I'm back.


How long have you been doing events like this?
This party was one of the first gigs I booked when I moved here over 3 years ago, and remains my favorite show that I do.


What are some other events you enjoy?
Every Monday I host Double Pianotration Mondays. I play at Marie's Crisis from 5:30-9:30, and then we head uptown for Songs at the New World at 10.

Wednesday: "Hot Mess Humpday Happy Hour" at Marie's Crisis, played by yours truly.

Thursday: Broadway Sessions with Ben D. 10:30p Midtown Theater. Ben delivers a delightful evening with current broadway casts as they sing and dish.

Also, I have to say that whenever I go to Campus Thursdays I have a legendary evening. So, thanks for that, Justin.

(You're welcome. There's plenty of twinks for everyone. - Ed.)

Friday: Mostly Sondheim at the Duplex. It starts at midnight, but hang out past 2 for a drunken good time.

Sunday: Sunday Social is a brand new party by 21st Century Life (we miss you in the WEST Village, boys). It's at Eastern Bloc, and I loved Confession for my post-Saturday detox, so I'm looking forward to what they will do with this party.


What are your favorite songs to play?
I like playing songs when the singer takes charge and really gives it to you. I can only follow a singer when they are willing to lead. Give me passion and a story, and I will like the song.


Your least favorite?
"Suddenly Seymour" is tired. She could have a really fierce comeback, if only she would go away for a while.


What else can we expect from you and this event in 2011?
This year is packed for me! I am the musical director for Colleen Harris, and we have some shows coming up that I am very excited about. Also my lyricist, Austin Helms, and I are premiering a new work later this year, so stay tuned for that. And for Songs at The New World; It started out as the "little open mic that could", and I think this is going to be the year for establishing itself in the community. I hope you can join us for the ride.

---

- Justin Luke

Lollipop Twinks: Where Gay Porn Misses the Mark

Take a journey with me.

Once upon a time, there were only a few porn companies. The Bel Amis, the Hustlers and Falcons. These kings and queens of sex reigned supreme and released video tapes in boxes big enough to hold cereal that cost as much as a year's supply of Cheerios.

But then the Internet came, and the porn world exploded. Now anyone who has a Flip cam, one or more willing models, and an xTube account can create their own cash-for-cock company.

This, of course, is good for most people. No matter what gets your gob going, chances are you can find it with a quick search on Pornotube or Sexbox or FuckTruck or whatever other millions of free inappropriate YouTube ripoffs there are out there.

Love boys in socks? Check out Socks, Jocks and Cocks!

Love guys getting it on surrounded by helium-filled balloons? Check out Balloon Butt Bois!

In the mood to see two guys dressed like Judy Garland wrestling in a ring filled with Crackerjack Box toys? Then you're weird!

Yes, I'm sure we can all agree that today's state of porn is fantastic. We all get what we want, and chances are we can get it for cheap or free. Granted, the state of porn for the companies producing it is far worse - as they're all losing money and going out of business... but who cares, right? This cum ain't gonna shoot itself!

There is one thing that has come about from this porn revolution that gives me pause, however. It's one specific site: Lollipop Twinks. I won't link to it, because I don't want to get you fired. So if you want to see it, just shove that title into your Google Box.

Lollipop Twinks has a really simple conceit: it features twinks fucking each other... while inexplicably holding very large lollipops. The big sucker varieties you probably saw Shirley Temple holding and licking determinedly while singing songs in Technicolor. Now before you jump ahead to the answer section, let me clarify: the twinks don't use the lollipops for sex. No, they are engaging in standard run-of-the-mill gay porn sex. They just happen to be desperately grasping onto lollipops while this happens.

Am I missing the boat here? Has there always been an unmet need for twinks holding candy randomly while engaging in carnal acts? Maybe it's just me. Maybe people have been praying to the porn gods for videos of guys getting it on while holding Kik Kats and Butterfingers since before I was born.

I'm sorry. It just doesn't make sense, in an uncomfortable way. "BOYS WHO LOVE SUCKING ON BIG LOLLIPOPS!" screams the site. Well... okay. You would expect that "lollipops" would be a metaphor for "Big fat horsecocks." News flash: it is not. The owners of the site are literally selling their porn on the expectation that their visitors want to see boys snacking on ACTUAL lollipops while getting their butts snacked on simultaneously.

In my journey to understand Lollipop Twinks, I have come to one conclusion: the site is owned by a bunch of heterosexual businessmen somewhere in Tokyo. They also own all the karaoke bars, fishports, and a couple of sanitation companies. For the hell of it, they decided to add a gay twink porn site to their portfolio. Add your own offensive accents to this dramatization:

Man 1: Hokay, we make gay porn site?

Man 2: A-hah a-hah yes. Good money in that gay porn thing. But what do we call it?

Man 1: Americans are fat!

Man 2: Yes! And they like candy!

Man 1: Maybe we have Pocky porn site?

Man 2: No. No. Something better.

::Girl scout enters conference room::

Girl: I'm selling lollipops for my troupe. Want to buy some?

Man 1: A-hah! A-hah! Yes! Little boys and LOLLIPOPS!

And so it was. Almost guaranteed.

I cannot honestly manufacture any other explanation for Lollipop Twinks, besides out of touch, ill-informed owners who just don't get it. Maybe you have a better one? I'm open to any ideas or suggestions. I want to learn and understand.

The strangest thing is that the twinks don't seem to be wanting to hold the lollipops. They'd rather be using their hands to rub eachother's lithe bodies, jerk off one-another, and otherwise have sex with each other. No way, says the director of Lollipop Twinks. You will hold on to that ridiculously colorful piece of candy. You won't pay it any mind, or use it in any way. But so help me God, you WILL HOLD ON TO THAT MOTHERFUCKING LOLLIPOP!

It's awkward. It's strange. And on xTube, it's even odder, because Lollipop Twinks never identifies by its name on the site. No, you'll be watching two twinks getting all up ons and then suddenly BAM! Lollipop. Right in your face, carelessly hanging from one of the twink's hands. Your boner instantly deflates. FOILED BY LOLLIPOP TWINKS AGAIN!

WHY!?

Unless, of course, maybe Lollipop Twinks is making a killing in memberships. Maybe people really DO want to see Twinks having sex while trying to trivially hang on to foodstuffs. Maybe they're geniuses and the rest of us are the fools. In that case, what's next?

Bagel Bears?

Pizza Pigs?

Oreo Otters?

Flan Fairies?

Manicotti Muscle Men?

This list could go on and on. Feel free to start buying up the URLs. I wish you luck.

- Justin Luke

A New Gay East Village Sunday Party is here!

Austin Helms is an up-and-coming party promoter and nightlife personality. After starting 21st Century Life in 2009, he has thrown numerous events throughout Manhattan and Brooklyn. Much like Superman, Austin works a mundane day job only to shed the coat and tie for nighttime soirees. Yes, Austin is, in fact, a superhero. He is also my Best Amigo, and the co-host of our podcast, In The Kitchen with Austin and Justin.

So Sunday Social, your new Weekend Party, is your first official foray into NYC's East Village... why the East Village?
I have always loved the East Village, with its filthy gorgeous attitude. As 21st Century Life has been throwing events and refining our image, we find that our crowd is more a downtown, edgy punk kids. So where else better than EVill?


Your previous Sunday soiree, Confession at The Ritz was in Hell's Kitchen, how do you feel Hell's Kitchen compares to the East Village?
Oh, they're like night at day. Hell's Kitchen is what Chelsea used to be: fabulous young gay men who like to socialize and look good doing it. East Village is more grungier, edgy, and full of artists (it's where Rent took place, after all!). I'm not saying one is better than the other, but they are certainly different.


A staple of 21st Century Life has been these mid-day "Tea Parties" on Sundays. Why the addiction?
Haha... I wouldn't say it's an addiction, but we do enjoy the afternoon format for a few reasons. First, it's a niche time slot, especially in the East Village. There are other parties that do Sunday afternoon, but they usually only last the summer. Secondly, being from the South, the idea of a "Sunday social" is something I grew up with, as did my business partner Robert Maril, so the idea of hanging out with fun people and building a sense of community is very important to us. Finally, Robert and I both have day jobs, so stopping the party early allows us to get our beauty rest.

What do the gays have to look forward to at Sunday Social?
It's going to be a very exciting experiment. Eastern Bloc has never been open this early. So expect a different vibe than you normally get there. It'll still be friendly with a neighborhood bar feel, but it's literally a place to go after brunch when you don't want the bubbly to end. To that effect, we're offering $2 champagne specialty cocktails along with the option to buy your own bottle for $25 to share with your friends (or if you're like Justin Luke, drink yourself!). It'll hopefully be a carefree, no attitude, sloppy fun party.


If you had to associate yourself with a neighborhood in NYC, which would it be, and why?
Good gracious, I don't think I could. I love all the NYC neighborhoods for different reasons. The West Village was my first home upon moving here (Marie's Crisis, anyone?), and I also started my first party there. So, it has a special place in my heart. I also enjoy the East Village, as I said, and Williamsburg... But you can also find me in Hell's Kitchen pretty frequently, haha...


What can we expect in the coming weeks at Sunday Social?
Good question. As I said, it's an experiment. Eastern Bloc is working closely with 21st Century Life to find a formula that will work. Throughout the winter, you may see us play with different formats, so by the summer, we can have it down pat. At that point, I'd like to get some talent involved (drag queens, dancers, etc), but then again, the whole point of this party is just to have a fun, relaxing time. So I really don't feel the pressure to overdo it.


What else is 21st Century Life bringing to us in 2011?
Other than our three recurring parties (East of Eden at Vig27 on Fridays, RIOT! at Stonewall once a month, and now Sunday Social), we plan on bringing back So You Think You Can Drag to New World Stages in the spring. Also, we are in the works to develop a big party in tribute to a certain blond bombshell country singer we all love. Other than that, we're just going to do our part to keep nightlife fun while pumping it up to the next level.


So there you have it, kids! East Village is about to get that much sexier, and all you hungover, hair-of-the-dog desiring gays have a place to get your post-pukefest drink on. I'll see you there. Don't miss out!

xo Justin Luke

D'OH! A SIMPSONS PORN SPOOF!!??

No. NO! This is NOT OKAY! When Matt Groening allowed Marge Simpson on the cover of Playboy, I cheered. It was hilarious! A cartoon on the cover and major spread of a smut mag? Genius!

But NOW the porn world has gone too far. When Glee was re-done as a porn, I supported it. When Avatar was done as an adult film, I agreed, even though I despised its source material. The vision of big dicked, mountainous-boobed blue porn stars fracking was itself worth the price of admission. They've spoofed Full House, Friends, and tons of other TV shows. Good on you, porn industry, says I.

But now the fine fuck-folks at Hustler have gone TOO FAR.

THE SIMPSONS? No. This is not acceptable. This project must be aborted immediately and all the produced tapes thrown onto a lube fire. Why? Because you can't make live-action Simpsons! And you can't make it porn!

Homer doesn't look like Homer and his "belly" looks like a tumor. Marge, keeping with the cancer theme, sounds like a post-op throat surgery victim. Moe is WAY too hot (and looks like he could be Matthew Morrison's long lost brother). McBain? Really? You just needed an excuse for a muscley guy. Cookie Kwan? HELL NO! She rules the West Side but only FANBOYS know she exists!

Plus the sets are barren, the production value lower than the hanging balls of its male actors. The mustard-yellow variant of paint they've bathed the actors in makes them look like they're simultaneously dying of jaundice and scurvy. And the plot? Homer and Marge making a sex tape? GO TO HELL AND KILL YOURSELVES AGAIN WHEN YOU GET THERE!

Okay, look. I'm pissed, sure. But mostly because Hustler went ALL out on their other spoofs. For Glee, they wrote spoof songs involving sex. For Avatar, it looks like they probably spent about as much on costumes and sets as James Cameron did on the actual film. This thing is so shoddy looking that I imagine the total budget falls somewhere between four dollars and four dollars and twenty cents. The world's second-longest-running sitcom deserved better, Hustler. You might as well have made this a watersports film, as you have done basically nothing more than piss all over the material.

This is not how The Simpsons should be represented. It's an insult! The only way you could EVER pornographize The Simpsons would be via illustrations. Like hentai porn. And guess what? That's already all over the Internet already! It's time for us to fire back. We need to release a sitcom that turns porn into comedy. De-sexualizes it and makes it look dumber than it already does. I don't know how that will work, but we need to do something. ANYTHING.

Actually a porn sitcom sounds like a wonderful idea... who wants to co-write one with me?




- Justin Luke

LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE! And check out Chris Crocker instead!

You all remember Chris Crocker. I won't remind you who he is. And no, not Chris Colfer. Think back a few years. There you go.

How ironic that this former staunch defender and sworn protector of Queen Godney, Britney Spears is now deftly stealing her thunder by releasing a SEXY, GAY music video on the heels of her new single!

The song is called "Freak of Nature". And you know what? Boy got cute after he stopped crying and got out from under his blanket. He also loves chocolate drizzled strawberries, and sometimes dressing like a slightly uglier version of Xtina Aguilera.

The song itself is catchy enough. Where can I get an MP3? Nobel Peace Prize goes to the first person to mash this up with "Hold it Against Me." Gentlemen, start your unlicensed versions of Garageband.


 Chris Crocker - Freak of Nature OFFICIAL (uncensored) MUSIC VIDEO!! from chris crocker on Vimeo.

- Justin Luke

Would You Like Some Onion with Your Onion?

I am happier than a pig in shit. (Are pigs happy in shit? Someone Google that for me. Not sure why anyone would be happy in shit... but then again, I've seen some questionable shit-related behavior in dogs, too...)

Why, you ask? Because my absolute most favorite thing in the world, The Onion - fine purveyors of fake news for as long as I've been alive, are bringing not one but TWO shows to television! One begins tonight and one kicks off next week.

If you've got cable and a DVR, I implore you to set it, forget it, and then REMEMBER IT as you begin pissing your pants, and don't stop until your bladder is bone dry and your couch is ruined forever with the stench of your own bodily waste.

First, tonight's premiere: SportsDome on Comedy Central. Leading right into Jon Stewart and Steven Colbert's hour-long news block is this new sports-focused spoof program at 10:30 PM. I've only watched a teaser for it, but already I'm laughing. And I don't even like sports! Leave it to The Onion to somehow make that work.

Onion SportsDome

And if that wasn't enough, we've got ANOTHER Onion newsprogram invading the TV tube next week. If you have IFC (which once meant "Independent Film Channel" but now clearly is willing to support programs neither independent nor film-related) then tune in on Friday January 21st at 10 to see "Onion News Network". This one is more of a spoof of 24-hour news, and, again, looks to be a pantaloom-soiling good time.


Snowy Conditions Proving Hazardous For Nation's Idiots

Did you find this funny? Then you will find The Onion shows hilarious. Did you not find them funny? Then WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? Get the funny region of your brain cat-scanned, lobotomized, and treated with a drug cocktail, and then meet me on my futon with a bowl of popcorn.

- Justin Luke

What am I doing? I'm kicking my own ass!

People get all sorts of gifts for their birthdays: books, DVDs, trips, clothing...

I got my ass kicked.

Not just me, though! My brother, boyfriend, and best friend all got their asses kicked too. And did a bit of their own ass-kicking to boot.

Boyfriend Joe, as my birthday surprise rented me a wrestling ring out on Long Island, as well as a professional wrestler and wrestling instruction. The outcome was 2.5 hours of me living the dream I've had since childhood: throwing myself and others around an actual wrestling ring. For three gay men (and my straight, musical theater actor brother) we sure put on our man-pants and took to the mat. 

The best birthday gift I've ever gotten, and the best day of my life.

Want to share in the birthday brutality? Check out the video below. As an interesting sidenote: the song I used for the video is called "Slam Jam," an original song for the (then-titled) WWF that was produced by none other than Simon Cowell. I'm serious. That is not a joke.

Next up? I'm going to start taking pro wrestling lessons. Why not? It's a shit-ton o' fun.

A ring full of thank yous to Joe, Erin, Jared, Austin, Robert and Kristin for making my special day as ridiculously awesome as it was :)


- Justin Luke

When Young Guys Go Fuck-Crazy and Kill People

This has been one disturbing week as far as unhinged young men doing psychopathic things goes. First we have 22-year-old Jared Lee Loughner who opened fire in front of a supermarket in Arizona, killing 6 and almost killing a Democratic politician. That's crazy in the Oklahoma City bomber-type crazy category.

But this past Saturday night in midtown, New York hosted its own psychotic news item. 20-year-old Renato Seabra, shown at the top of this page, is a male model who snapped on his sugar-daddy boyfriend, Carlos Castro (65 years old) before beating him unconscious, mutilating and murdering him, and then slitting his own wrists.

In the InterContinental hotel in Times Square, Seabra screamed to his former Daddy "I'm not gay anymore!" before he...

"beat, kicked and punched the helpless Castro for more than an hour as the older man lay on the floor of the 34th-floor room. Seabra then allegedly bashed Castro in the head with a heavy computer monitor. Seabra took a wine corkscrew to mutilate his victim, plunging it into one of Castro's eyes and then using it to cut off his testicles."

While doing this, Seabra screamed about ridding Castro of "the virus." Castro had no actual viruses, which makes this all the more creepy.

Horrifying. I'm not sure about the rest of you, but this is one of those odd stories that seems to play the same chord as the former Ugly Betty actor who killed his mother with a samurai sword a few months ago in Brooklyn.

Crazy number 2 pictured here.

Michael Brea killed his mother while reciting bible passages.

What the fuck is going on around here, people? What's happening that these young people are becoming literally unhinged and unleashing shockingly gruesome violence on innocent victims? Is it a bunch of random occurrences all just so-close together? Or is the world so stressful, and the outlook so bleak, that people are literally quick-burning through their stores of sanity?

Stop being fucking crazy, people! 

- Justin Luke

Gulliver is Coming... Be Prepared

UPDATE: My novel, Gulliver Travels is NOW ON SALE! You can grab the eBook or Paperback over at the book's official website, www.GrabGully.com!

I have written close to 20 novels since my first shot at the craft as a silly 12 year old (that book was basically a rip-off of a Steven King novel... but let's let that lie, shall we?) And each and every one of them has found their way into the proverbial sock drawer. Note: my proverbial sock drawer is an ACTUAL sock drawer, because I'm not good with similes.

But then, 2 years ago, I met a boy. His name was Gulliver Leverenz. Recently moved from Los Angeles to his frat brother's shag den in Hell's Kitchen, Gulliver was running from a loving relationship that went down in flames across the country. Gulliver appeared, unexpectedly, during National Novel Writing Month of 2009. Since then I have been hacking away at him.

He made a brief appearance on Tumblr, where he published a blog (that blog was the first of four revisions, the final one I hope to finish this month). Gulliver wasn't real, but everyone thought he was. Probably because he had a Facebook profile, fan page, Formspring, and Twitter. He received 10 job offers, was asked on 74 dates, was invited to 154 sexual hook-ups, and interviewed five times for other blogs.

After that, he went into hibernation while I doubled the length of his tale, and then consequently began to cut the fuck out of it. This most recent revision I am completing has been the most vicious. I've murdered one character, smashed two other characters into one, cured two of his friends of HIV, and added a hell of a lot more backstory.

It's exciting, and what is beginning to surface is looking pretty damn good.

I will be hiring an editor to clean up and freshen up Gulliver Travels in February. I'm also in talks with a cover artist to create something truly eye-catching. And then, from there, I am publishing the book. I anticipate that it will be available as an eBook on Kindle, Nook, and iBooks. It will also be available as a paperback for those who like to read the classic way.

You'll be hearing more about Gulliver again soon. I just wanted to provide an update on his whereabouts in case anyone cared.

- Justin Luke

Babies Are Little Shits, So Are Evil Clowns

I don't think I'll ever want to have children. For one: I don't think I'd raise one well, for two they're very expensive, and for three I love living in metropolises.

For four: they apparently wreak untold havoc at fancy dinner parties when given the proper diaper that lets them move the way they want to.

But credit to Huggies for this AWESOME commercial. I love the old-timey music, and I adore this film trick where the camera pans and dips through a frozen scene. It also teaches me that, were I ever to have a son or daughter to call my own, I would not fit them in movable huggies but, rather, some sort of plush harness that prevents them from moving around as they please and ruining my fancy dinner party.

 Huggies Little Movers Diapers from MassMarket on Vimeo.
It reminds me of a far more sinister video of a similar sort that came out around the time of the Batman film reboot, and so appeared as a me-too. It's psychotic and spooky and, again, oh so cool.

Then again, perhaps the clown hospital heist is less horrifying than the babies destroying the party. Depending on your answer, you might be able to tell if you're meant to be a parent or not.


- Justin Luke

John McCain Makes One Grumpy Puppet

Last night Jon Stewart and The Daily Show crossed the line. From funny to butt-rumpingly hilarious, that is. Especially in regards to the Senior Senior Senior Senator from Arizona, Mr. John McCain.

I mean, can you blame them? When I was first exposed to John McCain, he had been on The Daily Show 7 consecutive times. He was funny, likable, and amicable. Then, one day, he canceled a stopover at Stewart's show, and instead spoke at Bob Jones University. That was the day he crossed over to the dark side.

Since that day so many years ago, John McCain has proven himself to be a total asshole, a grumpy vagina, and a dickhead in the face of the most ridiculous causes. He beat the Don't Ask Don't Tell repeal issue more than gay service members would probably beat each other off, were they allowed to serve openly.

And so now The Daily Show has made it their mission to piss John McCain off. I think it's brilliant. They have the pulpit, so let's start the shit sermons. The first thing they've done is the dictionary definition of fantastic: they have brought on a new correspondent. Namely, Puppet John McCain. He sounds like a mix between Ernie and Oscar The Grouch. His left hand is permanently designed with a middle finger.

I hope he comes on every day. Seriously.

No more talking. Now you watch.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Let's All Stand on John McCain's Lawn
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog</a> The Daily Show on Facebook

- Justin Luke

Starbucks Siren Breaks Free of her Cage!

Alert the authorities! That amply titted vixen, The Starbucks Overlord Evil Siren has escaped from her former circular, branded prison. Any time in the next few weeks, your local brew-ha-ha will be serving up steaming containers of crack in cups featuring the brand new Starbucks logo.

Gone is something you might think important: the actual name Starbucks coffee.

Why did this happen? Well, here's Starbucks CEO Howard Schultz explaining the method behind their mocha madness. Basically, the quick summary of what he's saying with my cynic's glasses is: Starbucks will no longer be "Starbucks Coffee," they are now just "Starbucks." It means they can go BEYOND the limits of coffee and start offering other things, like saran wrap, bologna, and tire rotations.

Personally I think the siren is just a double-tall diva who got pissed when they cut off her nipples in the last logo evolution, and so to stop her from going to shill for Seattle's Best, they agreed to blow her up to a larger size.

Like in a horror movie, the beast is getting CLOSER AND CLOSER.

Also, for those of you who always thought that the Starbucks equivalent of Wendy's red-headed girl was a "mermaid," a quick note: she's not a mermaid, she's a Siren. And in case you've never heard of those, they are mythological creatures that lure sailors to their island with entrancing songs, only to devour them and spit their bones and guts upon the sand after raping their bodies from every angle.

So, thanks to this new logo, that cannibalistic harpy is now that many inches closer to your tender, volatile mouth, and no longer kept at bay.

Yeah, think about THAT next time you get your Frapuccino.




- Justin Luke

Spider-Man: Turn On The Colbert Report!

Oh Spider-Man, I am so glad that I saw you when I did. Turns out that ever since you started grinding up your castmembers' bones to make your box office bread, tickets have been a hotter commodity than the hospital beds you are sending all of your actors to.

Newest person to jump on the Spider-Manhandling Bandwagon? My secret lover and non-secret idol, Steven Colbert.

Last night Steven took to the airwaves to lay into Spider-Man in his Tip of the Hat, Wag of the Finger segment. Of course it's hilarious. Of course it is.

I'm scared of the day Taymor and team figure out how to make this musical safe - what will the media and comedians talk about then??

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Tip/Wag - Susan G. Komen Foundation & Spider-Man Musical<a>
www.colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog</a> March to Keep Fear Alive

- Justin Luke

Look in the Sky! It's a Bird! It's a... No! It's a Bunch of Dead Fucking Birds!

File this under the creepy category. Maybe add a copy under the sub-header "of the avian variety." For the second time this week, hundreds of dead birds have come plummeting to the earth in Louisiana.

Now I come from New York City, where sewer covers explode sky high with accompanying 10-foot-tall pillars of flame, and where terrorists sometimes like to crash planes into our skyscrapers. I am no stranger to fear and caution.

But there's something so much scarier about this story. What made the birds die and come to the ground? Nerdy scientists are saying weather conditions, or maybe fireworks (Katy Perry's song, or actual fireworks? It's too early for the tests to say.)

If I lived in Louisiana, you can be sure I wouldn't be living in Louisiana much longer. People are SAYING it has nothing to do with disease, but I wouldn't be taking my chances. No sir. If the air isn't good enough for a bunch of dirty birds, I don't want to stick around and see if it works with my inner systems.

Imagine if this happened in New York? Horrifying. Then again, there's the happy side-effect of a lot less fucking pigeons.

- Justin Luke