"I don't want to," you say, holding on to the last shred of mystery.
"I want to see your peacock-cock-cock."
Now there's a line no one's thrown at you before. As if the lyrics to Katy Perry's dance track "Peacock" weren't ridiculous enough, the latest video from Ryan Yezak (the 23-year-old who brought us "California Gays") expands on the absurdity with...dialogue. That is, in addition to the feathers, body paint, nipples and seizure-inducing choreography that also pepper the video.
Yezak's Peacock dropped August 30 on YouTube and has already merited more than 340,000 views ("California Gays" is up to 3 million and his "Telephone" has 12 million). Should you choose to join the thousands of viewers, prepare for 4 minutes and 24 seconds of the kind of gay boys you avoid at the bar - usually because their limbs flail toward you in wild spasms. In this instance, however, those limbs are wings. Think: the chicken dance.
Or you can spare yourself half the pain and jump to the 2:50 mark. That's when the dialogue worthy of Shakespeare begins and, truth be told, anything related to actual peacocks. The first half of the video conjures a slew of gay stereotypes (or fantasies, depending on your preference) from club kids to jocks to hot nerds. But the final vignette of Yezak's "Peacock" is worth your attention, if only for the sequined bird heads strapped to the front of the dancers' Speedos. Remember that lateral motion inside your gym shorts when you do jumping jacks? Yeah. You don't want to miss this.
We've always loved us a Mini. The original, that little rattly tin thing, was like riding a go-kart, but with more charm.
And we kinda loved the new ones that hit the road in 2001. Maybe they didn't have the same link to queerness as the Beetle did (we never liked that "gay car" nonsesne anyway: we'll drive a Hummer if we want, though really, who'd want?) but they were zippy, looked good and had that wee hint of Britishness we like (without the need to actually have to deal with an actual Brit in person).
Now, though, there's the new Countryman all ready to roll: and, er, it's huge. Really, it looks like someone's taken a custom order for a tribe of actual giants. Where the original was just over 4 feet 5 inches tall, and the 2001 model another 2.5 inches higher, this beast is 5 feet 1.5 inches. And at almost 13.5 feet long, it's nearly 3.5 feet longer than the original.
OK, there's a built-in sunglasses case, iPhone connection (of course), and a real fancy multimedia screen, and there is the 4WD option if you're one of those Country Gays who needs to haul antiques all year round. So, if unless you're little, and would therefore, at a distance, look like a kid stealing a regular Mini, it's pretty impressive. And the price? The UK model will start at the equivalent around $24,000.
But really? It's still called a Mini? We'd advise "Maxi" 'cept those are sanitary pads. There's a nice load of images of it over here.
OK, I admit it: The last time I interviewed Robyn, back in 2008, I really had no clue what I was doing. I was at the very beginning of what eventually turned into a career as a journalist and she was one of my first interviews (the only other person I'd interviewed was Jamie Stewart from Xiu Xiu and some blogger had remarked that my intro question made him sad for the future of musical journalism -- ouch), which in and of itself was daunting enough. But the intimidation factor was exponentially amplified by the fact that the Swedish pop star is one of my all-time favorite musicians.
I don't really get starstruck but there are a few people that instantly turn me to lumpy porridge and Robyn is one of them. Luckily my interview with her in 2008 was over the phone so she couldn't see me sweating and convulsing and driving push pins into the fleshier bits of my body to distract myself from how nervous I was. The interview turned out fine (I'm big enough to admit it certainly wasn't incredible) but when it was over I shook a rueful fist at the sky and promised one day I'd find the chance to redeem myself.
That day came last month when Robyn was in town to play two sold out shows at Webster Hall and a tiny gig at Borders Books. As she finished signing autographs, my trusty videographer Keren and I set up our equipment in a tiny, cramped, and -- it must be said -- butt ugly (sorry Borders!) office. After debating about whether to shoot Robyn in front of a collection of commemorative Borders coffee mugs or a poster of two dachshund hounds frolicking on a front porch, we contorted ourselves so that we could shoot her against the (who would have guessed?) beautiful orange-y wood grain door and -- as you can see below -- the rest is history.
Robyn and I chatted about making popping music emotional without sacrificing "its balls," being drawn to artists with queer perspectives, the influence of growing up with parents who were involved in experimental theater, rapping, dance music culture, and life on the road:
The second of Robyn's three Body Talk albums, Body Talk Pt. 2, which features the killer single "Hang With Me," is out on Tuesday, September 7. For more info on Robyn, visit her official website and make sure to catching her performing on the MTV Video Music Awards on September 12.
Tired of those predictable nude statues that adorn every gay coffee table and indoor private swimming pool, a la Caligula? Well, fret no more, because the creative people at Statuescultures.com have come up with what they call "wall portrait sculptures." They resemble nothing so much as the scene in Star Wars where Han gets frozen in a block of carbon, and is a kinda-3D-ish wall plaque. Except Han never looked quite like these guys.
Usually we give our own slightly snide description of the art, but in this case we just have to give the makers' own words a little breathing room. So, without further ado:
"All fit male sculptures, whether intentional by an artist or not, exhibit eroticism, even male lust, as well as clear indications of homosexuality, or male curiosity -- if you prefer. One of the sculptures stand entirely bare fully exposing himself; he holds a towel that may have recently covered him.
There is a distinct feeling that he removed his clothing for everyone’s enjoyment, as much as his own, by the look in his face and body posture. This male nude wants to be placed in a home that will appreciate his perfected and luscious body that not only melts your heart, but your soul.
Each strappingly fit male wall sculpture has a profound beauty with a wall art sculpting style used exclusively by our artist: a mix of sculpting and "drawing" with clay. As the male model stands before you, there is an exquisite and undeniable display of his "manhood". The wall sculpture's gorgeous and effervescent body grabs your attention with its primal sexual, spiritual, and natural male energy."
So, there you have it. The site is as delightfully chaotic as the descriptions, so we couldn't find the prices, though feel sure they'll be hidden in there somewhere (if there's even a way to actually put a price on items so obviously priceless...)
The English Football Association (FA) has come out with a hard-hitting video designed to stamp out homophobia on the terraces. But if you want to see it, check it out now, as the full version is looking very unlikely to ever get a proper release.
The FA has been waging a war against the game's deeply embedded anti-gay culture, and the video is the latest -- and best -- battle in that war. But the high profile launch of the video was hurriedly cancelled amid reports that few, if any, high profile players were willing to be involved.
The trouble with English football, say insiders, is not that there are openly gay players being vilified by fans, but that even straight players who might simply have an education or enjoy the theatre are treated so horribly that no closeted gay player would dare dream come out. Of some 4,000 pro players in England and Wales, not one is out.
And that hate is not just on the terraces, where fan chants are part of the psychological warfare employed by opposing fans, but in the dressing rooms and offices of the clubs themselves. A depressing story is told of Justin Fashanu, who took his own life in 1998 after being shunned for coming out. Fashanu's career suffered under legendary manager Brian Clough at Nottingham Forest. Hearing that Fashanu was going to gay bars, Clough confronted him, later writing in his autobiography: "'Where do you go if you want a loaf of bread?' I asked [Fashanu]. 'A baker's, I suppose.' 'Where do you go if you want a leg of lamb?' 'A butcher's.' 'So why do you keep going to that bloody poofs' club?'"
Nicki Minaj, currently the hottest rapper in the game, just dropped her latest track, "Check It Out," featuring the Black Eyed Peas' Will.i.am and a sample from The Buggles' "Video Killed The Radio Star."
There's been no confirmation of whether or not the song will be on Minaj's upcoming debut LP, Pink Friday, due out November 23, but regardless, we're loving it. Though, to be honest, Nicki could rap six pages out of L. Ron Hubbard's Dianetics over the Emergency Broadcast System siren and we'd still be loving it.
OK -- we admit it. We loved the idea of the Real Housewives of New Jersey (or New York or Atlanta etc) because none of us are real housewives from New Jersey (or New York or Atlanta etc). But after seeing the trailer for the new LOGO show The A-List, featuring -- you guessed it -- A-list gays (that's a joke, right LOGO?) flitting around NYC being really gross, we kind of want to die. And not in a doofy, lighthearted Rachel Zoe kind of way.
Or at the very least it makes us want to move to a log cabin in the remotest corner of Montana and spend 30 days attempting to furiously pray the gay away -- or learning to love the razor sharp caress of a mangy, rabid, decidedly non-A-list grizzly bear, whichever ends up coming to us more naturally. Anything but this!
Oh the horror! Oh the gay shame!
Still -- we're going to watch. But only because we love Mike Ruiz (and would love to be locked up with him in a log cabin in the remotest corner of Montana ...)
The A-List premieres Monday October 4th 10/9c on LOGO.
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