Although we thought we’d seen it all — especially after this weekend, it looks like we our declarations may have been premature. Something’s blowing in the wind: malodorous trend that we first caught whiff of a few months ago is getting stronger: Yes, the fart fetish is gaining momentum (and has us running for the Febreze).
We spent endless hours trying to figure out the best way to capture Dore Alley’s je ne sais quoi, but with the endless parade of cowskin and foreskin, even the most colorful he-she disappears into the background. Our solution? The Sword built a make-shift Sears portrait studio and pulled our favorite Dore hellions in for a photo shoot. Say cheese! While the local leather scene has withered in recent years, there’s a new movement to bring more boys to the riding crop, and judging by the crowds of twentysomething men in skinny jeans and colored frame sunglasses, they might just have a chance. Perhaps it’s just a matter of finding chaps that’ll go with Converse.
Can we be frank for just a minute? We don’t always like gay bars. Sure, we like drinking-and gays are champions at that-but the Stoli-soda-splasha-cran crowd wears thin after a decade or two and we find ourselves ever hungry for the new and different. Thankfully, our pals at Gay Bar Culture (based in LA but covering other cities too) are there to cut through the endless pairs of Dior sunglasses and clouds of Tom Ford for Men in search of huggable trannies and bars that would make us be proud to be gay again. It’s about time…
The Hills is like porno without the good parts: all flash and no cash. Who better then to inaugurate our Separated at Girth feature than creepy, cliche-for-pay OC fratboy Spencer Pratt! Doesn’t he remind you of a certain gay-for-pay model who’s recently started his own web venture?
It’s been proven that summertime is in full effect, and while much of gay culture spends its time swooning over Madonna or Kylie for the next three months in between repeat screenings of the Sex and the City movie and trips out to Fire Island, we’re feeling (surprise!) a little bit over it. Thankfully we’ve got an iPod filled with far out tunes so we can plug our ears to the house remixes of American Idol cast-offs which will inevitably accompany the gay pride festivities this month in lieu of something with a little more guitar fuzz.
The big pink chronicle of all things gay, gentlemanly, and vile has released its 23rd issue for Summer 2008. Featuring Russian avant-garde multimedia artist (and occasional porn star) Slava Mogutin on the cover in a jockstrap with his nipples in a pinch, the newest edition of BUTT magazine features some slight changes from the paperback zine we’re used to getting in the mailbox (and sometimes not… is our mailman a poaching homo?). For starters, the typically matte pink cover is glossy and waterproof this time around. “Handy!” the magazine’s website proclaims of the feature, ostensibly so that all typical stains can be wiped clean off with an absorbent rag, or tongue depending on their palatability. The BUTT STUFF reader-submitted content has also disappeared in lieu of a series of new features.
IML was abuzz about the goings on in Room 604 West, the bareback bottom party, not because it was so unusual but because the occupant had so brazenly advertised his wares via Post-Its left in the hallway. Of course, no one admitted to actually going, until former Ridgeline Exclusive and sexual bedbug Damian Rios offered up this report from their last night in Chicago:
We’re confused as to what day it is, and where this inflatable sheep came from, but the 2008 Grabby Awards are over and all for the better. We’re not that young anymore and the penicillin isn’t as effective as it used to be. So while we sober up and try to find our underwear, here’s a quick look at the winners of the 2008 Grabbys.
It’s not that we don’t love pandering indie stories about AIDS and parades but honestly, when we saw Brent Hartinger’s list yesterday on AfterElton.com of “The 20 Greatest Gay Movies of All-Time,” we promptly slunk back into the closet to shoot up and (hopefully) OD. BORING! While we know that everyone has an opinion, the complete lack of representation of Warhol (Reason 1) and John Waters (Reason 2) made us sadder than one of the maudlin broken hearted twinks from the coming-of-age
pablum AfterElton seems to favor.
Our head already hurts, and don’t even ask about our dignity. In a weekend worthy of a Randy Shilts history, Chicago will host Bear Pride, the 30th Annual International Mr. Leather Competition and the 2008 Grabby Awards in the course of a few days. Assuming that we don’t end up a crime statistic or a cautionary tale, we’ll be bringing you daily coverage of the Windy City’s dirty, hairy underbelly. Below is our recommendations for a weekend that you won’t forget, no matter how hard you try.
Remember Jeffrey Dahmer? Who could forget that hottie, right? After hearing about the “smiley face” case, in which over 40 college guys have gone missing after nights of drinking and been found dead in rivers across the country, we decided to re-open the files on some other unsolved gay serial killings. Granted, the possible motive in the “smiley-face” killings has not been revealed, but the sexual component of serial murder, coupled with the reasonably attractive, drunk college status of the victims, as well as our own tendency
We’ve watched shots of rugby players like Danny Cipriani and James Haskell hit the web alongside sweaty nudes of actors Sean Faris and Shawn Ashmore on several different sites before finally realizing they were all part of the same ultra-hot UK Cosmo “Centrefold” spread. Our bad! After realizing our negligence, we discovered that there are a lot more pin-ups where those came from. We may not know our rugby players from our periodic table of the elements, but our only other choice was to show photos of John Mayer lounging poolside with his new “love”, and we positively refuse to highlight anything that relates to Jennifer Aniston being happy. Therefore, without further ado, guy candy!
However François Sagat tries to recede from the spotlight, people are still going to take notice when he gets naked, paints himself gold, and posts it all over the internet. Just as we were scared we’d never get to see Bai Ling anymore after her stint on Dancing with the Stars ended only to relentlessly encounter her in varying stages of public nudity ever since, we can still rely on François to always bring us a freaky new look to get us through the week.
Marc Jacobs took the opportunity that is the “Oscars of the east” by Style.com‘s definition, or The Costume Institute’s Annual Gala for laypersons (or the uninvited) to unveil his boyfriend du-jour. The theme of the party was superheroes so we were hoping for a big Erik Rhodes fashion moment in tights and a cape, but it seems he’s been dethroned by [new guy].
Oh, were you expecting a name? Marc Jacobs’ boyfriends don’t have names! They have blogs! Blogs! Blogs! This is 2008, not the 20th century: names are dictated by facebook urls or myspace nicknames. So while we bide our time waiting to discover the m0n1ker of MJ’s latest arm candy-whom, we might as well add, accessorizes better than Jacobs’ last accessory-Gawker’s got a round-up of the kooky designer’s krazy love-life to keep you up to SPEED! Oops! Damn that caps lock has a mind of its own… More photos after the jump.
A little piece of guy candy for your weekend. Here’s Bel Ami superstar Pavel Navotny, whose perfect and hairless physique is enough to make any porn aficionado–or porn star–drool, doing a little strip tease without taking his sunglasses off.
It’s hard for us to put into
words why we’re so fond of artist-slash-porn auteur Phil ST John. The bleach blond,
always cigar-chomping, usually somehow furry director is the loudest dressed
person at every GayVN awards (no easy task if you’ve ever been to one).
The only thing louder than his
outfits might be his movies. Three must-see entries from his canon stand out,
Madonna’s ceaseless promotion for her new album, Hard Candy, has had her gracing magazine covers with the world on her shoulders, hitting up boxing rings and working herself into a public sweat, and even vlogging creepy ultimatums to Perez Hilton. Indeed, it seems as though you can’t even swing around a big black dildo these days without thwacking the aged megalomaniac square in her chiseled jaw with it. The charts love her, while bloggers love to hate her, and now Dubai loves her so much they’re paying her $24 million to perform two concerts in the UAE (more than any performer has ever been paid to perform-ever… $133,000 per minute, in fact, assuming each show is 90 minutes).
When the rumor hit The Sword’s HQ that our beloved pinup François Sagat was taking a break, possibly permanent, from the adult industry, things got ugly in record time. Sliding into an abject helter skelter, we called everybody we knew, rifled through our neighbors’ medicine cabinets, thought about ENDING IT, realized suicide is totally 90s, came to our senses and called Titan’s Keith Webb. “Get a grip,” he assured us. “François is just being really selective about his upcoming films, and will be choosing them on a case-by-case basis.” Oh. Well, we’re
Every hundred years (of Madonna’s lifetime), the planets align, the earth reaches a precise distance from a black hole of total vapidity, and the biggest divas of a generation-Mariah, Kylie, Janet and Madonna-all release albums at the same time. While numbers say one thing, we couldn’t help wondering where each oft-impersonated female entertainer stands in the heart of those who matter: the gays. We served the following question to our polling panel of around two dozen bitchy homosexuals: Who’s THE FIERCEST of them all? The results, in all of their critical vainglory, after the jump.
They called them “theatrical” or “perpetual bachelors,” but we call them GAY-and we’ve always been a little baffled looking back at the proto-homos of yore and wondered how their big secret got so well kept. We understand that before AIDS and parades we weren’t exactly on the suburban radar, but COME ON NOW. After the jump, we continue our series on pioneering gays who used to be called, simply, “a little funny.”
In a digital short aired this Saturday on NBC’s Saturday Night Live, Superbad star Jonah Hill surprises comedian Andy Samberg by revealing to him that he’s been dating his father after a cordial meeting and dinner with Samberg’s family. A narrative montage ensues of Hill and the 57-year-old father embracing on the waterfront, strolling hand in hand through the village, and of course, gratuitously making out. We’re not sure whether the audience is shrieking due to the shock value of a gay tongue kiss, or because the kissers in question are so terribly unattractive. However, we now realize in the wake of this and Jimmy Kimmel’s “I’m Fucking Ben Affleck” viral clip that for two straight buddies, there’s no longer any revenge like gay revenge. Of the two late night skits, we’ve got to hand it to SNL for their more sensitive and realistic portrayal of gay romance.
It’s the only fetish John Waters thinks is creepy, and seriously, we’re not really all that keen on real babies. But repeated viewings of HBO’s Real Sex and our constant need for discovering new and exciting perversions has led us to spend the week ogling adult babies. (And, no, this has nothing to do with either the porn star baby pictures or our fascination with outing the children of celebrities.) Grab your rattle (we’ll grab our coat-hangers) for a quick stroll(er) through the land of the dirty nappy.
The adult industry really does have an awards ceremony for everything-on March 22nd, at LA’s RAGE nightclub, online male escort site Rentboy.com will present the 2nd Annual International Escort Awards (“Hookies”) to honor the community’s Best in Ho. And at only $25 bucks for VIP seating, you can get up close and personal with (and maybe a ticket to ride) Diesel Washington, Barrett Long, and ’07 NakedSwordsman Jake Deckard. While winners normally take home trophies, here the trophies will take you home (or maybe just out back.)
Big Brother 9 is built on secrets and lies, but contestant Crazy James has one they didn’t count on-not only is the supposedly straight guy gay, he’s also a gay porn star. The wild boy was discovered in a solo scene this weekend, but makes his small screen hardcore debut in a scene with Hunter James in the upcoming Dirty Boy Video – NakedSword co-production, Dirty Tricks.
Conventional wisdom says that porn stars are a dime a dozen. We wish! With a falling dollar, just about the only people who can afford a porn star’s companionship these days are in Dubai… and G-d knows they don’t have gay sex there. Of course, we’re in San Francisco and with the GayVNs falling on Valentine’s Day weekend this year-and with your tireless Sword editors pressed for time and romance, we thought we’d stop staring at the menu and, uh, order in. Why should straight guys have all the fun? The Sword takes a look at who’s in town
We’ve gone full circle on the Valentine’s blues, going from sadness to fuck-it-all contentment back to sadness again, and that’s basically because we started scanning Craigslist to find evidence of some sadder sacks than us cruising the interwebs for love. After the jump, a treasure trove of wonder that is sure to make you feel less pathetic in comparison.
We kneaux! Valentine’s Day is here and all you’ve got for distraction is your gym membership, your New Year’s diet and your right hand. Most of your friends are either paired off or they’re such embarrassing drunks you don’t want to be caught dead hanging out with them on V-Day because it’s only going to lead to another depressing, all-too- familiar, shouty conversation with some other sad singles down at the bar-and it might even lead to a fight. So, because we love you (even though no one else does), we offer you this survival guide.
It’s funny the things you overhear at a porn convention… but we have it from a reliable source that Sean Cody’s amateur sensation Gage Wilson, who recently defected to rival Randy Blue and officially retired from escorting, isn’t always the eager butt-boy he’s appeared to be on the site.
Not all days of the week were created equal, and sometimes, when you’re scouting for amateur gay-for-pay stars in the conservative stronghold of San Diego, you find a naughty fundamentalist Christian or three.
Has the vivisection that is holiday shopping robbed you of your holiday spirit? With less than a week until we all hunker down at Mom’s, rifle through the medicine cabinet, bogart a bottle of champagne and wake up dazed in a living nativity somewhere down the street, time is running out to get our loved ones what they really want from us. Of course, a porn site membership will successfully impress your gaggle of gay friends, but for your most special partner, nothing says “Season’s Greetings” like reaming him in the ass with a giant red and white candy-cane vibrator! Alright fruitcakes, we give you (after the jump): Our Holiday Wishlist!
Based on a survey of fifty working gay porn stars, The Sword gladly brings you this handy statistical pie chart of where the bodies you know and love currently reside.
As Andy Warhol once
enthused about Coke (we mean the soda, fiends): it’s the same whether you’re a
bum, the President, or Liz Taylor-money can’t buy you a better one and it
always tastes the same. We suppose we could say that about holiday music as
well; no matter how pressed your
body, nor how big your dick, nor how many guest lists you’re on, you’ve still
got the same schmaltz every December-or so it would seem.We asked a few of
our favorite resident pervs about their favorite holiday music.