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January 2006

Some random thoughts….

Y’know, lately I keep hearing about how America has lost its innocence since 9/11. I thought that happened when JFK was shot. Or was it Vietnam? Pearl Harbor? How many times can America lose its innocence? Maybe we keep finding it again. Doubtful. Because, actually, if you look at the record, you’ll find that America has had very little innocence from the beginning.

I don’t care if Michael Jackson freaked off with little boys or not. It doesn’t really bother me. Fuck those kids. And fuck their greedy parents too. What’s important to me is that Michael is the greatest entertainer who ever lived. Bar none. Watch him dance; pay attention to the showmanship. No one EVER came close.

Elvis was a bogus white guy with sex-appeal and good looks who ripped off a lot of great black musicians, watered it down and made it safe for teenage whites who couldn’t handle the experience of raw, emotional black music. Never grew as an artist; remained an entertainer.

Sammy Davis Jr? Nice try. Ordinary dancer. Ordinary singer. Second-rate impressionist. I also didn’t like his insincere sincerity. But from what I’ve been told, he was a nice man personally. I give him full credit for that.

Frank Sinatra? Great singer of songs, among the best. Superb musician. Grew as an artist. No showmanship, though… Arrogant, too. And mean to ordinary people. Fuck him.

Jackson buries them all. I say give him a venue to perform (and maybe some male companionship of a legal age) and let the guy dance.

This definitely explains his great ‘mic technique’

Is it surprising to anyone but those without the ability to hear, see or speak that Clay Aiken’s reported male lover has now gone public about their M4M trysts? It’s understandable that coming out would most certainly hurt Aiken’s bottom (ahem) line, as most of his ardent supporters are females otherwise known as ‘Claymates,’ but this is one piece of hot gossip that’s been long in the making.

When he first hit the scene, it was well-known among a certain niche that his favoring for paid companionship was something of the norm. Keeping up appearances, especially in the very fickle music industry, is nothing new. If you knew how many ‘hardcore’ rap artists had side gigs with well-compensated guys, you’d be shocked. For Aiken, it was assumed from the getgo that he was not only batting for the other team, but also that his beard of disguise was thinner than Nicole Richie after a cocaine binge.

‘Claymates’ are revolting. The moral majority is rebelling. Clay’s still flat-ironing his hair and Barry Manilow is developing a thin line of sweat on his brow… The wheels are already in motion for Aiken to soon land in the 8th National Tour of Rent as an Angel understudy.

Be afraid. Be very afraid. Clay is gay and coming to a pride near you. Maybe he can headline the next LA Pride and duet with Cyndi Lauper?

If you’re wanting to sneak a peek at Clay’s alleged man-candy, here’s a link to his BigMuscle profile on the net. In an email statement, John Paulus (the Army Ranger-in-question) went point blank in saying that the two had bareback anal sex. He’s already passed two polygraphs, held onto chat session transcripts and even kept a ‘soiled’ washcloth from his session with Aiken.

Er.. Interesting. From the looks of things, seems that Clay is a bit of a size queen.

I’m feeling saucy this week, so let’s continue with the dishing and move into the world of celebrity chefs. No, I’m not skewing Emril (even though I think his resturaunts are overdone, overpriced, over seasoned and just plain OVER) but former reality show star Rocco DiSpirito. Would someone kindly tell this guy that his 15 minutes of fame ended a year ago and that he’s living on borrowed time? My sources tell me that DiSpirito actually had to personally buy his latest cookbook to meet advance quotas, then bouncing the check he had used to make the very large purchase. OUCH!

Things were eventually smoothed over, but methinks this sounds the death toll on any future book deals for DiSpirito. Look for his book to hit a Big Lots near you…

Focusing on the world of porn for a split-second, it seems that a certain Falcon exclusive model is now entertaining the idea of escorting gentlemen as long as the price is right. While his film star is beginning to fade, along with his boyish looks, this once porn-pup is fed-up with his yearly income from Falcon… A measly $40k. Cash supplements come in the form of dollar bills from adoring fans, but a g-string can only hold so much. While he’s keeping this very secretive from Falcon, my sources say that once it becomes widespread knowledge, people will rush to pay whatever he asks.

Oprah, just finding out that Clay Aiken is batting for the other team…

James Frey, current-disgraced Oprah Book Club author, signed a two-book, two million dollar deal in December with Riverhead books. The editor, Sean McDonald KNEW about the SmokingGun investigation at the time. the editor signed him up in spite of that, concealing from his bosses the fact of the smoking gun pending investigation. He has since been promoted to vice president.

While I plan on posting all about my misadventures in London, Amsterdam and Las Vegas, I’ll save it for later and simply post some pics from this past week or so. Enjoy!

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It can be mighty dangerous to leave the door unlocked while you shower…

As always, let’s save the best for last: Eye Candy. I’d say that this week’s selection is quite nice and offers a little bit for every taste. Thanks, as always, to my EYW connection for impeccable taste as always. Another big thanks goes out to Skrubber for adding some very nice supplemental candy from his always-impressive collection. !Me Gusta! !Me Gusta!

This week’s edition has been a bit more gossipy than usual, but I got so much good stuff this week from different people that I had to let it all spill. Look for next week’s 15 to get back to normal and go into a trip report from recent Europe and Las Vegas excursions.


‘Of all the possessions of this life fame is the noblest; when the body has sunk into the dust the great name still lives.’ Johann Von Schiller