Oh HELL Yeah!

Did you ladies see Paranormal Activity last year? That shit was awesome and I don't want to hear otherwise so shut up haters from Gawker. (Does Gawker like anything? For real.)

That movie rocked. My girl Kristen and I, who are horror movie whores, saw it at the Angelika and the silence in the cinema (sibilance) when the movie ended was just priceless. No one could breathe! (Well, one Gawker commenter was probably there breathing, but so what/who cares?)

NOW THERE'S A SEQUEL AND IT LOOKS AWESOME.

Jane Lynch Quote of the Day

"Now I don't want to get too graphic, but I used to suck his dick for drugs."
Role Models, 2008

The Tragedy of Forgotten Drag Icons

Ok, so i just finished watching season 2 of Ru Paul's Drag Race, the greatest program ever bequeathed to planet earth by Jesus and his sister Sheila. See above for the absolute best five seconds of television since Dynasty II: The Colbys went off the air. (A close second: when Ru Paul calls Rush Limbaugh a fat fuck. A close third: when Ru says to one of the contestants, Jujube, "Girl to girl, when did you lose control of this wig?")

I have one criticism, though. In two seasons I've yet to see one homage to Siouxsie Sioux, a drag icon if there ever was one.Yeah, I know, she's not American, and for some reason all drag icons in this funny country have to be American, because we're so wacky. What other country is going to give the world Liza Minnelli, Cher, AND Madonna, and then pass the Defense of Marriage Act? Huh?

Anyway, as much as I LOVE this show, its sense of gay/drag history, and its many wild and random non sequiturs, I was a little disappointed at its contestants for not acknowledging Siouxsie's many gifts to the drag community, three decades of deadly serious eyeliner, preposterous headdresses, and f*ck-you fright wigs (that were actually her real hair!) to name only three. I had high hopes when a whole episode was dedicated to "rock chicks." All the usual suspects were honored: Lita Ford, Beyonce, Joan Jett, Teri Nunn from Berlin. But no Siouxsie. This is wrong. Siouxsie is the closest a woman who isn't Joan Crawford or Bette Davis has ever come to being an actual drag queen. Don't believe me? Watch the videos below. All the way through, bitchez.

In conclusion, Siouxsie's eye shadow in the "Spellbound" video deserves its own reality show on the Logo channel.

More Shameless Plugging: My F**king Book, Almost As Good As Sarah Palin's

Get it here. Because freedom ain't free.

What Is Jimmy Reading?

What's Jimmy reading as we wait at La Superior in Williamsburg for our Queso Fundito ("Bowl of Cheese") or whatever? What IS that fascinating-looking book of smut? And, more importantly, who is its utterly talentless author?

Answer to third question: Me!

Answer to first two questions: My book, Tune in Tokyo: The Gaijin Diaries, which you can now officially buy from Amazon!

Full disclosure: Jimmy wasn't actually reading it. He was just searching the pages for his name.

Jukebox: Cazwell

There are many reasons to love Ru Paul's Drag Race. It is basically the Platonic ideal of a reality show: perfectly paced, endlessly quotable, addictive as hell, and guest judges like Cloris Leachman and smokin' Henry Rollins. There is no more that you need from a reality show than a bunch of drag queens stampeding and fighting over a cart of wigs. There just isn't.

But one of the biggest reasons I love the show is because it introduced me to this awesome song, "I Seen Beyonce at Burger King" and to the gay Eminem brainchild behind it, Cazwell. Most of his songs are pretty filthy ("All Over Your Face," for example), but this one is fun for the whole family. Have your children sing it at the playground!

Touchdown Jesus Gets All Burned :(

You've probably heard the tragic news I got on Monday (or whenever): the famous "Touchdown Jesus" statue in Monroe, Ohio that I'd never heard about before Monday (or whenever) burst into flames over the weekend (or something) and is no more. SeeTimBlog readers who have been with me from the very beginning might recall that I am obsessed with large statues. It was the whole reason that Jimmy and I tried to go to Rio di Janeiro for our tenth anniversary before being diverted to Buenos Aires: I wanted to see the big Jesus statue, Christ the Redeemer. I had no idea there was an awesome Jesus statue just down the road from NYC in Ohio!

(Interesting aside: I wrote about my weird obsession with large statues in my forthcoming book, Tune in Tokyo: The Gaijin Diaries, which will soon be deployed to plug the hole in the Gulf of Mexico.)

It's very sad that this random thing happened, and it's not at all symbolic, so stop inferring that. Sometimes things just burst into flames, like Ru Paul or Sarah Palin.

Important Pornogramercials: The Shake Weight for Men

The other day my good friend Alex wrote to me and told me he couldn't believe that I hadn't blogged about the above ad. After one look at it, I couldn't believe it either. Has there ever been a more erotic commercial in the history of exercise equipment? This is even more hot to the touch than the one for the Ab Rocket. So why haven't I gripped this commercial in my hands and stroked it slowly, assuredly, with both hands?

I don't know! I guess I've been too busy mourning the death of Rue McClanahan? (That's a lie. When Bea Arthur died I was watching a marathon of Abs of Steel for Men on the Gay Fitness Channel THE VERY NEXT DAY.)

All I can say is that I'm glad that now this ad has been blogged. Also: did the folks that designed this device ever stop laughing during every single phase of production? Was it pitched on a dare? And what was the launch party like?

I'll update this post when I have answers to these questions.

My Camera Phone Will Not Be Denied: Trashcan Sinatras at Sound Fix, Brooklyn

I've really been hitting the jackpot lately with bands I loved in high school coming to Brooklyn to say hello. First the Primitives last month, now the great Trashcan Sinatras from Scotland, whose lead singer, Frank Reader, I was hopelessly devoted to until just a few years ago, when I heard that he'd gone bankrupt and probably couldn't afford me. (My insulin is expensive.)

You remember them, from 120 Minutes! They had that one song, real jingly jangly and awesome? "Only Tongue Can Tell"? Not ringing a bell? Perhaps you were busy jerking off to Mudhoney. (Who will come to Brooklyn next? The Mighty Lemon Drops? The Sundays? Close Lobsters?)



Well, dummies, the Trashcan Sinatras had MANY AWESOME SONGS and you've been missing out for nearly two decades now. I was absolutely over the moon when I realized they would be visiting my neighborhood record store Sound Fix in Williamsburg last Saturday. It was just freaking wonderful and I STILL TOTALLY LOVE YOU, FRANK READER, SING ME A SONG!!

Fashion is Important: Hats

As you all know, it's always Fashion Week somewhere in the world, and this week it's Brazil, home of that new ass dance that everyone everywhere is not doing because it's gross and stupid. In Sao Paolo this past Tuesday, the dynamic and vitamin-fortified model above sported a hat designed by the great (?) Erika Ikesili, whose motto is apparently "So what? Who cares?"

"I sayed sew the dead bird feathers onto the hobo hat I pulled from the subway grating, you beetches," she probably said to her starving underlings in her studio during a brainstorming session last season. "Thees hat needs to be ready for Sao Paolo by June and eet must be heeeedeoous!"

In conclusion, Lady Gaga has already worn this hat to a Mets game.

This Photographer Should Win a Pulitzer AND an Adult Film Award

Matthias Schrader should immediately be coronated King of Earth for taking this explosively arousing photo of a hot soccer player levitating in front of a sexy Spanish flag featuring a bull with huge balls.

The player's name is Jesus, obviously.

Today in NYC Street Signals

Everyone knows that all New Yorkers need to be flipped off at least once a day. We deserve it! But sometimes you just get tired from flipping people off all the time, you know? It's hard work, keeping up with all the assholes you see everyday who need to be told to go fuck themselves, repeatedly.

Well now some merry prankster has decided to help us all out with the telling of the people to shove it up their fucking bungholes—by sprinkling some pixie dust at several pedestrian signals along 3rd Street, turning the blinking red hands telling you to stop, motherfucker into (semi) permanent bird flippers. Genius.

Now instead of having to spend so much time signaling to our fellow New Yorkers that they can fucking suck it, dickwad, we can all spend more time doing more important things with our hands as we walk down the street, like giving each other Hand Dingos.

A Clip in Honor of Traditional Marriage

In honor of Rush Limbaugh's recent nuptials, a clip that he can enjoy on his honeymoon.

Gaymerica Mourns: Rue McClanahan RIP

This Golden Girls death trend absolutely must stop because it's getting depressing. Rue was only 76! She did a sex scene in that Sordid Lives cable series just a couple years ago!

But now all we have is memories. I remember when I was just a young boy five years ago and I'd just moved to NYC. I was starting a new job in Chelsea and I had to be there on my first day at 1:30. Tragically, Rue, Betty, and Bea were appearing at Barnes and Nobel on 6th Avenue to sign copies of their recent DVD at 12:30. Not enough time! I decided to go and at least get some photos. But the ladies took their sweet time coming out to the table, and by the time 1:15 rolled around I knew i would have to leave without even getting a glimpse.

But then, like the Angel Gabriel appearing to the Virgin Mary, Rue McClanahan descended from a side entrance and started making her way through the crowd toward me (and toward the back room where Bea and Betty were camped out, probably sipping vodka and insulting each other). My sweaty fingers snapped a few priceless pics as she waltzed through her sea of fans smelling of Mint Juleps and collard greens. After a few quick snaps, I dashed off to work, satisfied that I'd just been within a few feet of the great lady who once uttered the immortal words, "Let's rent an adult video, drink mimosas, and french kiss the pillows!"




Let's honor our Rue by watching one of her best ever Golden Girls scenes, from the season 1 episode "A Little Romance."

Jesus Picture of the Day

The above image is brought to you by Planet Dan, and I'm stealing it because it is the most moving rendering of Jesus I've seen since the Sexy Jesus competition I went to in San Francisco a few years back.

For those godless sodomites among you who have never even opened a Bible (hey Dani! hey Jack!), this picture depicts the raising of Lazarus from the dead by Jesus, who has just graduated from Hogwarts. That is all I know.

And Jesus said unto him, "Dude, Lazarus, you were hella dead like two seconds ago."