Are there no heights the likes of which Francois Sagat will not climb: Porn Icon, Hair Fashionista and, now, star of Manuel Mercier's three-plus-minute ode to all things French, urban and urinary. It's got a catchy beat and lots of... Full story...
It's not every day we get to take a picture with one of our favorite performers so imagine John Legend's delight when he scooped up this one-of-kind photo with up-and-coming Flavawork's hottie, Breion Diamond up-and-coming Flavaworks hottie, Breion Diamond's delight.
Granted, as British-slash-American cinematic endeavors go, we tend think of period pieces with lots of metaphorical references to fading empires, powerful acting, Edwardian vests and long, deliberate scenes that could sap every last drop of helium from the Sun's core.
Art. God. Capitalism. The Horror Genre. Iceland. Situational comedy laugh tracks. Is anything left breathing? Well, according to Tracy Clark-Flory, in an intelligent piece on Salon.
I inadvertently neglected to mention the source for my Simon Tham retrospective: it's the always readable Bisean.
Guess what? We're not winning. You can help us by making a contribution, no matter how small, here.
The question isn't so much who will be there but, rather, will the 22.96 square miles that make up the Borough of Manhattan be large enough to contain all of the homosexualists descending there for this weekend's Gay Erotic Expo-slash-HustlaBall.
Okay, so I totally missed the boat on this one but if you were as busy as I was celebrating not just Belizean but Maltese independence from the United Kingdom that day, you might just understand.
Apparently, we must fight the war on phone sex over there before we allow it to attack us here. Oh my!
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