Monday, June 30, 2008

Fellini Pride Parade

Yesterday, I attended Chicago's Pride Parade, and as I walked the less than three blocks to meet my friends Aaron and John, little did I know that I had been sucked into a Fellini film.

"Sucked" into anything on Pride Day is usually very good, but "sucked into a Fellini film?" Not so much.

From now on, I will refer to this year's parade as the "Fellini Pride Parade," because less than an hour into the parade, if I had seen a clown in one of Nancy Reagan's old dresses carrying a dead goat in one hand and in the other hand, holding a leash that was attached to an albino midget waving a sign that said "Free Tibet!," it wouldn't have phased me in the least. Same old same old. Is that all there is? "Meh," as the kids say these days.

Here it is, folks. "Fellini Gay Pride."

It started out calmly. No troubles. Well, other than the fact that I was looking for two men dressed in leather standing in front of Cell Block during Gay Pride. It was like "Where's Waldo?: Leather Daddy Edition," but luckily I found my friends John and Aaron easily.

I watched maybe three parade entries go by after I met up with them - - only three, no joke.
That was when we heard someone yelling behind us, so we turned to see...

Look, y'all! Religious protesters!!

No, they're not gay, they came here to try and save our souls. Sure, they're staring slack-jawed at the Speedo-clad muscle studs on the Altoids float, but that's only because they're extra concerned about the souls housed in bodies that have bitch tits, six pac abs and a 12 inch rod.

Those souls need extra attention. The priests taught them that.

I shouldn't be so bitchy. They have every right to be there as we do and these weren't the Fred Phelps hatemongers. But usually these protesters are all placed together near the end of the parade route. And they are HEAVILY surrounded by policemen.

That's why this was so "Fellini." For some reason, here were a few religious protesters walking around and slightly provoking a very large, very rowdy group of leather men, bears and bull dykes who started drinking at 10:00 a.m.

That's 10:00 a.m. Moscow time.

The last thing these drunken queens wanted was someone covering up their Bear Pride flag with a sign quoting Galatians for fuck's sake.

And trust me, they know how where to stick that sign and precisely how to stick it. They've put much bigger things in much tighter places. (You know who you are and "Thank you!")

You know, in Victor/Victoria, Robert Preston's character Toddy says...

"Shame is an unhappy emotion invented by piotists
in order to exploit the human race."

So. Yeah. What Bobby Preston said.

Hey, Fellini! What follows the Word of God? Why, a rain storm of course.

But before the rain could come down hard enough to knock all of the "faux" out of every last twinks' "hawk," sadly, a dancer fell off of the float pictured below, breaking her leg.

Not that we knew this. We just knew that the parade had stopped. Something had happened. And that something kept the parade in this position for well over an hour.

And during that hour, the skies got darker, the rain started coming down a little harder and the queen in the baseball shirt in the middle of the picture kept wishing that the protesters would come back, since he was the one who had started arguing with them earlier.

Or maybe they started arguing with him first since his shirt says, "Abort Conservative Christian Fetuses" or some such horrific bullshit. Yeah, that's not fanning the flames of hate, asshole.

By the time the parade started back up, the rain started coming down much harder, so Aaron, John and I decided to go into the Cell Block for a drink. Since the backroom had just opened up. And they were playing porn. Starring Shane Rollins.

Fellini may have been directing the parade, but Chi Chi LaRue's masterpiece, Justice, dominated the backroom video screens. And let's face it, as a director, Chi Chi kicks Fellini's ass.

I mean, is there a four-way prison gangbang scene in 8 1/2?

Well, I don't know, but I doubt it. If there is, let me know so I can put it on my Amazon Wishlist

After a little vodka and never enough of naked Shane Rollins, we left the Cell Block to find that the rain had stopped, the parade was still going, it was still overcast and as evidenced by the picture above, Fellini was still fucking with the festivities. Or my head. Or both.

I give up. What are these two, anyway? Backup singers for Björk?
Sherman and Mister Peabody in "Pre-Op Missus Peabody: Beyond Thunderdome?"

I thought that was just a random sighting of "cuckoo panties couture" until...

Standard dress at a Pride Parade basically boils down to Speedos and a good cockring.

This dude wears a giraffe outfit.

He looks like he's in a production of The Lion King designed by Bob Mackie. WTF?

It's fucked up. It's Fellini. And notice that no one seems shocked by it AT ALL!!!

That was it for me. I made my way through the crowd towards home. This is the last picture that I took and I think it sums up the entire day.

One man, sitting alone, watching religious protesters, dancers falling off of floats, storm clouds, dog girls and giraffe boys. And his body language seems to say one thing...


Not that fun wasn't had. It was. It was just really bizarre, fucked up, Fellini-style fun. And too much of that will dull the senses and make Amy Winehouse look like Debbie Boone.

Hope everyone had a great Pride. This is one I will never forget. No matter how hard I try.

"You're brother's dead. Keep dancing."

The trailer for the new James Bond film, Quantum of Solace, was released today!

You might hate the title or dislike a Bond that's blonde, but you know that Casino Royale was one of the best, if not THE best, Bond movies ever made, so watch the trailer.

And be prepared to pause the video at the 1:35 mark.

Is it paused at the 1:35 mark? It is?

You're welcome.

P.S. Anyone know what Bond movie the title of this post is from? And no, Derek, you can't tell them!

Saturday, June 28, 2008

"Words, words, words."

I have a little crush on the Theatre Editor from Time Out Chicago, Christopher Piatt.

His review of Rebecca Gilman's version of A Doll's House - - well, the one sentence review he gave me at Sidetrack right after he had attended the Press Opening - - is still to this day one of the funniest things I have ever heard in my life.

I've had a little crush on him since before there was a Time Out Chicago. Since before I knew he was a critic.

A certain blogger friend and I used to see Christopher at Sidetrack and pathetically flirt with him for months until one night, when we asked him what he did and he told us he was a theatre critic. We honestly didn't know he was a critic but I still felt like a whore for coming onto him. A whore in a good way, though

And as if he wasn't cute and funny and brilliant enough, it's articles and posts like this that really seal the deal. I agree with Christopher 100% on this issue...

"As has been reported, the outdoor production of Stephen Flaherty and Lynn Ahrens’s Ragtime that was supposed to play Wilmette’s Gillson Park has been scuttled because organizers were nervous about the inclusion of what responsible parties will only refer to as “the n-word.” The musical, based on E.L. Doctorow’s novel (originally staged by Steppenwolf’s Frank Galati), takes place in early 20th-century New England, and details, among other things, the woeful mistreatment and violent retaliation of the first generation of free-born African Americans. So, naturally, “the n-word” is in there.

"Cancelled because some P.C. parties feared the production’s amplification system would blast the offending word throughout the land, the Wilmette Ragtime is a poster child for hair-trigger liberalism run so far amuck it’s become unrecognizable. Music Theatre International, the licensing company that handles the rights to the material, rightfully refused to let the producers change the lyrics to something more innocuous.

"I’ve no doubt that the well-intentioned cultural programmers of the Wilmette Park District believed they were making the most pragmatic move when the show was axed, but Wilmette, a suburb heretofore unknown to most of the American theater world, just became the place where it was assumed the population couldn’t handle overhearing the lyrics of a Broadway musical. Whether or not this decision reflects the actual climate of the place won’t be a detail anyone considers, if the national media attention is any indication."

"The n-word" "The f-word." What are we? In the 2nd grade?!?

I've said this before on this blog - - words are words. The only power a word has is the power we give to that word. Plain and simple.

So tomorrow, if you see me watching the Gay Pride Parade, come give me a hug, pat me on the ass and say...

"Happy Gay Pride Day, you big fag!"

Nothing would make me happier.

Friday, June 27, 2008

Miss Lola Rose

I can't think of a better way to begin Pride Weekend than with this video by Jill Abrams featuring my favorite YouTube star, Miss Lola Rose.

As many of you know, Miss Lola Rose's video where she discussed her two gay children was removed by YouTube for "inappropriate content" or some such idiocy. She discusses the video's removal, how it was put back on to YouTube and Gay Pride in general.

Thanks Jill and Miss Lola Rose. Happy Gay Pride.

P.S. I think I have to have a t-shirt that simply says...

"Is there any more cheese?"

Fratboy Friday

Starting Pride Weekend off with a little Fratboy Friday...


Sure, it takes him two and a half hours to watch "60 Minutes,"
but do we really care?



I'm sorry. I can't quite make out the writing. Could you move in a little...

Now, I can read it. Very cool. Nice font.
You know, while I'm down here...



Girls, girls, girls... He is showing you that beautiful ass.

Don't pose with it. Don't point at it.

Mouth dive into it, give him a nice reach around and spell out the alphabet with your tongue.
Repeatedly. Until he doesn't remember his name.



If tomorrow you want to claim that you were too drunk to remember how "Comparing Guns" transitioned into "Holding Your Buddy's Cock in Your Mouth as a Friend," you really shouldn't wear your "I Hate My Girlfriend" t-shirt.

Makes you look needy. Especially since that's her brother.

Thursday, June 26, 2008


I have to be honest. Of all the posters that have been created to promote next month's release of The Dark Knight, I prefer...

...and kind of want to buy, frame and hang prominently in my apartment...

...the two most disturbing Joker posters.

The first Joker poster was released months ago, but this image just hit the blogoshpere and I love it. Hard.

One would assume that I would prefer the Christian Bale Batman posters or even the "That's hot, wrong and right in SO many ways" Bale / Batman "Got Milk?" ad.

But no, I go for the blood smeared, "John Wayne Gacy" posters featuring The Clown Prince of Crime.

As evidenced by my last relationship, I tend to choose "Violent Psychopath" over "Hot Guy in a Black Rubber Suit." It's the masochist in me.

Philip and I were walking past Gaymart last week and when we saw the 13 inch Deluxe Action Figures of Ledger's Joker and Bale's Batman in the window, we squealed like school girls.

A man who was bicycling by the store laughed at us. AT us. Loudly.

Obviously, BikeBoy doesn't know what pleasure a 13 inch Deluxe toy can bring.

Sure, these figures are collector's items, but if it's 13 inches, I WILL take it out of the box.


Wednesday, June 25, 2008

My Brush With Reality

My long stretch of events, benefits and fundraisers ended last night at Windy City Media Group's 30 Under 30 Awards Ceremony...

...Where I introduced the cute, sexy, funny and uber-talented Project Runway hottie, Steven Rosengard...

...That was after I was photographed beside this gentleman, Make Me a Supermodel reality star Ronnie Kroell.

Ronnie is extremely handsome and attractive, so much so that I would have sworn he was all CGI, green screen and airbrushing filmed through a Vaseline-smeared lens if I hadn't been standing half an inch away from him, admiring his beauty, coveting his ass and cursing my DNA.

I did sort of flirt with Mr. Rosengard on the mic while I was reading his introduction.

Okay, I didn't "sort of" flirt with him on the mic, I "sort of" figuratively threw myself at him with all the subtlety of projectile vomiting.

But that's as far as it went.

Steven is very cute and very talented, but somehow I don't think that "Bryant Park couture" and "East Tennessee redneck" go together, do you?

However, one steamy night of a "redneck couture" combo is nice to dream about, isn't it?

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

TMI Tuesday

A very Working-related TMI Tuesday.

1. Do you believe anyone truly likes their job? If so, why?

Of course. Jobs should be like sexual partners - - if you don't enjoy it and you're just counting the minutes till it's over, get a new one.


2. Do you 1) live to work or 2) work to live 3) not see a difference?

Work to live. Even with the theatre that I do.

I used to think that theatre came first, but my life has been much happier, much more fulfilled, since I decided that family and friends come first.

As I've said before, I don't want people to look at me laying in my casket and say to each other...

"He had a great resumé, didn't he?"

3. How many hours do you work a week?

Forty. Plus whatever hours I'm rehearsing or performing.

I don't count the hours in the sex trade. Cause that's all under the table, you know.

4. What was your safety item (i.e. blankie) from when you were little?

I had a little Teddy Bear that I carried around everywhere. I believe his name was George.

And I had an imaginary friend named Mark for quite awhile.

Makes sense that both my Teddy Bear and my imaginary friend were guys.

How did my parents not know?!?

5. Have you ever used food during sex?

Yep. You didn't ask me WHAT food I used during sex, now did you?

Bonus (as in optional):What is your guilty food pleasure?

Cold Stone Creamery Cake Batter Ice Cream. A little piece of heaven here on earth.

Double Bonus from our inquisitors (still optional): "We are looking for suggestions. . . If someone asked for your suggestions for a butt worshiping evening (an evening devoted to butt attention), what would you suggest?"

Crisco. Lots and lots of Crisco.

Ah, Saturday...

Monday, June 23, 2008

Improves Sexual Performance AND Removes Water From Her Ears!

Today is the busiest day of the month (and possibly of the summer) for me, so of course today is the day that some schmuck chose to hack my work email and send out thousands of spam emails from my account.

So now I have to wade through each and every returned email to make sure it's not something work related. There are thousands of them.

This spam pic came from another source, however.

To me, it looks less like his sexual performance has been improved and more like she has water in her ear that she's trying desperately to get out.

The Boys of Summer

Tonight is Big Wigs Live!, so once again, I don't have much time to post.

I thought I would provide y'all with a little eye candy from one of my newest categories, Boys of Summer.

That's right, baby.

Keep searching for it.

You'll find it.

And when you do, show it to me, okay?

Sunday, June 22, 2008

World's Finest

It ain't quite "I sure wish I could quit you" but it just screams "GAY!," doesn't it?

We've got Supes saying that they "fit each other like hand and glove."...

...which is a little too "You complete me" for my taste...

...and Batman is the only one wearing gloves.

So does that make Bats the top or the bottom?


Saturday, June 21, 2008

2nd Story Sunday

You can definitely tell that it's Pride Month. I am one busy fag.

Too many benefits, too many events and too little time. Monday night is Big Wigs Live! for Season of Concern...

...which, if you don't already have a ticket, you may be SOL, and this show is going to kick ass!...

...Tuesday evening, I'm co-hosting Windy City Media Group's 30 Under 30 ceremony...

...because what better way to depress yourself about your age and your lack of accomplishments than to surround yourself with more accomplished and younger homosexuals with smaller waistlines, cuter faces and hair...

...but tomorrow night is 2nd Story and it's going to be a blast.

2nd Story is an ongoing event produced by Serendipity Theatre Company where artists read their own personal stories to audience members in a bar setting. The thought is that their stories will lead those listening to turn to their friends and tell a story of their own. Ergo, 2nd story.

Serendipity Theatre generously donates the proceeds from their Pride installment of 2nd Story to Season of Concern, so I will be hosting the evening at the Andersonville gay bar @mosphere.

Me with a microphone at a gay bar. Be afraid. Be very afraid

Oh, and if me hosting is not enough to persuade you to attend tomorrow night, this is Byron. He will be reading one of the stories tomorrow night. A story about him stripping completely naked at a shower contest.

Yeah. I'm hoping he acts it out. All of it. All of it off.

It's good to be the host.

Friday, June 20, 2008

Fratboy Friday

I'm benefit crazy this week, but I'm never too crazy for a little Fratboy Friday...


"A camouflage visor! Isn't that wild?
I mean, can you even tell that I'm wearing it?!?"



"Dude, I made my last payment to the plastic surgeon today,
so in a sense, these ARE 'my' pecs and abs."



"No, this chair will NOT fit up there,
I don't care what that rugby team said about your 'anal abilities'"



Stephen's "Plus One" at This Party:
"If this is what happens when they chug Hawaiian Punch,
what will happen after the Jello shots take hold?"

"I know full well what will happen. Why do you think I brought Jello shots?!?"

Wednesday, June 18, 2008


I'm usually not one for telling people what to do.

That's bullshit, but at least I TRY to not tell people what to do.

Sure, I told those Clinton supporters who say that they will vote for McCain and not Obama out of spite that I would refer to them as "stupid fucks" for the next four years. But that's not "telling them what to do." That's telling them that if they do a stupid fucking thing that I will call them a "stupid fuck."

But after seeing this, all bets are off.

This is a button that was being sold at the Republican state convention at a booth hosted by Republicanmarket. This is disgusting.

Another button apparently said, "Press 1 for English. Press 2 for Deportation." Again, disgusting.

So now, I'm going on record and saying that if you vote for McCain FOR ANY REASON, you are not only a "stupid fuck," you are also condoning a party that is racist, sexist and homophobic.

Sure, we've known these things about the Neo-Cons in the Republican Party for a long time, but when someone can create a button like this, sell it at a convention, AND HAVE PEOPLE BUY IT, the time for me to be civil is long gone.

And to anyone who might, for some ridiculous and hate-filled reason, actually OWN this button AND read this blog, please do me a favor, unhinge the pin in the back of that button and stick it right up your pathetic, fat ass.

Thanks to Bill in Exile.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Gone But Never Forgotten

When the video for Janet Jackson's song "Alright" came out in '89 or '90, I remember my brother saying something like, "Who's the old broad?"

I tried to breathe. I tried to remain calm as I gently but firmly explained to him that...

"That 'old broad' is Cyd Charisse. She has legs that go on for five or six miles, made tons of MGM musicals and she is a truly brilliant dancer."

Sadly, Cyd Charisse died today at 86.

Here she is in Singing in the Rain with Gene Kelly.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is talent. This is sex. This is quite possibly the most perfect entrance in any film that has ever been made. Extraordinary.

Gone but never forgotten.

TMI Tuesday

A highly sexualized TMI Tuesday.

1. What's your favorite color of lingerie?

I'm going with black. For the obvious reason.

Wait... If you've got skin hanging out over the sides of your skimpy, black lingerie like so much muffin top, is the color black still slimming?

2. Do you have a porn collection?

Is the Pope a gay Nazi?

He wears big hats, a sparkly dress and was a member of the Hitler Youth. And as you can see from the picture, when he walks into a church his gold lamé purse catches fire.

So, the answer is "Yes," I have a porn collection. A big one. Probably not as big as the Pope's, but still...

3. Do you have any fetishes?

The proper question would be what fetishes DON'T I have. The ones I don't have are few and far between.

I'm not into that whole diaper thing. Or the whole furry thing.

Once you've walked in on your father in a Magilla Gorilla costume having sex with your stepmother in a diaper, those fetishes de-sexualize pretty damn quickly.

4. What is your favorite place to have sex?

Outdoors. Definitely. Nothing like the feel of the sun and wind on your skin, alongside of a tongue and everything else you've got going on you and in you.

Add to that the risk of getting caught and everything is heightened.

The opportunity for outdoor sex rarely presents itself, but when it does, take it. Trust me.

5. Do you like to scratch, bite, pull hair, etc? Do you like having it done to you?

I like it rough, but don't get too crazy on me. And really, try to find hair on my body long enough that you can pull. Come on. Try. I dare you.

Bonus (as in optional): Do you think the number of sexual partners you've had is below average, average, or above average, and how does that make you feel?

About 12 years ago (geez... it was that long ago...), I was working for a touring theatre company. En route to a performance of an HIV/AIDS prevention play at a local high school, the topic of conversation in the van turned to sex. As it always did.

I was the only gay man in the group, so when the topic turned to "number of sexual partners," the big, straight stud of a ladies man in the company asked me to tell my number first.

I told him that I really didn't know a specific number, but (and this is 12 years ago, remember) that I would say it was around 65 to 80.

He was stunned. Literally stunned. His jaw actually hung open. He asked if I was serious and I said yes. I asked what his number was. He said, feebly, "Three." I said...

"Three? I had sex with three different people in one day. Just last week."

I wonder what that straight boy would think if I told him that my current number is easily double (and possibly triple) what my old count was?

As for where my number places me in the spectrum when compared to other gay men, I'd say I'm about average. Some have far more sex than I do, some have much less sex than I do.

Like Goldilocks, I like to think that my number is "just right."

The High School Tony Awards

While the theatre world is still reeling - - REELING!! - - from this past Sunday's Tony Awards...

...No, we're not reeling that In the Heights won Best Musical.

We're not even reeling that Glenn Close, who played Nellie Forbush in a tv version of South Pacific, announced that the Best Revival of a Musical was, "South PaFFific!"

We're reeling that some queen thought it was a good idea to try and play off Patti LuPone during her acceptance speech for Best Performance by a Leading Actress in a Musical.

We're also reeling that Ms. LuPone allowed said queen to leave Radio City Music Hall with his jugular intact...

...The Onion gives us the highlights from the High School Tony Awards.

High School Tony Awards Honor Nation's Biggest Drama Club Nerds

Thanks to both Philip and Walter for sending this to me. Great minds...

Monday, June 16, 2008


I am up to my eyeballs in financials.

Since last week, I've been trying to finish the financial reports that I need to present to the Board of Directors of Season of Concern at this Thursday afternoon's meeting, but since there is an SOC benefit this Wednesday, and another one on Sunday evening that I am hosting, which is followed by an uber-glam dance/drag event benefiting SOC exactly one week from tonight, every time I sit down to crunch the numbers, something pulls me away.

Now that it's after 5 o'clock, maybe I'll be able to channel my inner-CPA and get these documents finished sometime before The Rapture.

While I'm taking off all of my clothes so that I can at least count up to 21, take a break and watch this little gem from Sesame Street.

This is Madeline Kahn partnering with... well... Madeline Kahn and counting from one to twenty. Simple, pure comic brilliance.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Robin: Up Close & Personal (From the Rear)

I haven't fed my Robin Fetish in awhile.

This pic that I found over at Super Underwear Perverts DEFINTELY takes care of that.

With this angle and an ass like that, consider my Robin Fetish fed.

Hey Tina: You think this is what Tim Drake is gonna look like all grown up?

Yeah, I hope so too!

Happy Father's Day

This is my Dad, Jim Rader, in the early 60's.

My father loved football. Still does.

We may not have many of the same "likes"...

In the mid-80's, my father took me to the Tennessee Theatre to see Gone With The Wind on the big screen. After Scarlett held a fistful of dirt to the sky and proclaimed, "As God as my witness, I'll never be hungry again!," my father grabbed his coat and was ready to get the Hell out of Dodge.

I asked him where he was going and he said, "Well, it's over, ain't it?"

I told him that it wasn't over, that this was the intermission.
He said, "Good God! How long IS this damn thing?!?"

I said, "Now you know how I feel at UT football games," and after that, he never made me sit through another football game. And I never made him sit through any more four hour Vivien Leigh epics.

...and we may not live in the same town, but we do love each other very much.

I wish I could be with him today. Happy Father's Day, Daddy. I love you.

Saturday, June 14, 2008

My New Favorite Caption Contest #25

It's taken me quite awhile, but I've finally chosen a winner for Caption Contest #24. Once again, there were some killer captions. The first one that was entered was from Lance over at Yokel Boy Makes Good. It's one of my favorites...

Guy in grey: "He thinks he is soooo fucking hot!"

Middle guy "YUMMM!"

Guy in red: "Had him!"

But once again, Philip takes the prize with a caption that is brilliantly funny because it comes at you right out of left field...

"Just FYI: They're at a dog show."

When is some television producer going realize that most sitcoms suck donkey cock and that they NEED to hire Philip as the head writer for their new project.

And that I need to co-star in that new project as the wacky, gay neighbor from the Deep South.

Sort of a cross between Florence Jean Castleberry and Jack McFarland.

Jack Jean Castleberry. I love it!

In keeping with the tradition of pictures of supposedly straight men in extremely gay poses, here's the picture for Caption Contest #25.

You know, if the photographer had been just been just a little lower and a little to the right, this would have been a much better picture, don't you think? A much more revealing picture, anyway.

Then again, if I was the photographer and I was a little lower and a little to the right, I would be too busy with other tasks to take a picture.

And besides, I never take a picture with my mouth full.

Give towel boy a caption. Deadline for possible captions is this Sunday, June 20th at noon (CST)

Friday, June 13, 2008

Fratboy Friday


It's hard to look tough in your little sister's bedroom, but he almost pulls it off. Almost.

That IS his little sister's bedroom, right? Or is that his room and when someone calls it "a little girly," he gives them THAT look and starts singing "I Am What I Am"? What's going on?!?



"The second I took my shirt off, that gay guy over there started starting at me and...
Wait... Is that?... It's a mirror... Oh, dear Lord..."



Why did I waste five years of my life on a Little League team
when THIS was waiting for me at the soccer field?

You see, THIS is a sport I could really... yeah, I'll say it... "get into"

Don't judge. You were right there with me.



To me, nothing says "Weekend" like a case of Corona,
two wrestling singlets and a couple of well hung friends.