Sitings

• Mr Kelly tries to get a pizza delivered from Pizza Palace. With double meat and red tape.
• Learn to dance the disco – Nordic style. White-togged instructor really gets down toward the end. Longish download worth the wait. (courtesy b3ta)

The Beak Shall Inherit the Earth

Doves of peace attacked Pope John Paul II in St. Peter's Square yesterday, in a scene that could have been snipped from Hitchcock's The Birds, if The Birds had been filmed in Rome and had a totally different shooting script. One of the doves swooped in for the kill twice and had to be wrestled to the ground by an aide (a cardinal, maybe?). On a positive note, it's the first time we've seen the sickly 84-year-old's actual face in many years.

Hot Monkey Love

Seems the banana doesn't fall far from the tree. A new study found that male monkeys will give up their juice rewards in order to ogle pictures of female monkeys' asses, says Live Science.com. In the experiment, juice served as money and the monkeys were only too eager to lose the juice to see the caboose. The rhesus macaque monkeys also gave it up to salivate over photos of high-ranking primates. Like us shlubs going to Scores.

Recently Dead

Lucien Carr, who died of cancer at the George Washington University Hospital in DC at 79, is known for a number of things. He was the handsome muse of the literary Beat Generation. He livened up dull parties at Columbia U by eating his beer glass and tearing pages out of the Bible. He came up with the idea for speed-typing buddy Jack Kerouac to feed a continuous roll of teletype paper into his typewriter so he didn't have to keep stopping to put in new sheets while writing On the Road, thus ending up with a manuscript that was 119 feet long. As a teenager, he stabbed to death his friend and former scout leader who made homosexual advances toward him in a park, bound his hands and feet, and rolled him into the Hudson River, then turned himself in and served two years in prison. He's the father of Caleb Carr, the author of the spectacular novel The Alienist.

Insane Idea

The teddy bear costs $69.95, it's bound snugly-wugly in a straight jacket, and comes with commitment papers. The idea, timed for the Valentine's Day rush and themed for the lover, is that the giver is "crazy" in love with his girlfriend, and is ready to "commit" to a relationship. And at $69.95, that's a real commitment. Of course, the executive director of the Vermont chapter of the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill says the bear is "a tasteless use of marketing that stigmatizes persons with mental illness." Elisabeth Robert, president of the Vermont Teddy Bear Co is sorry if her company's bear offends anyone but she's keeping it on the market. On the flip side, we hear that the Amercan Genital Society is upset that the bear doesn't have sex organs. (ABC News)

And Thairin Lies the Answer

Our friend Veronica Becker brought this dish over last night to accompany a mole dinner (I'll do this another time). This was very creative and impressive – so we named it Veronica's Deconstructed Guacamole. It's a good and very simple way to insure that your guacamole is a hit at your Super Bowl party.

Veronica's Deconstructed Guacamole

3 large avocados
6 heirloom tomatoes (2 red, 2 yellow, 2 orange)
2 limes
3 tbsp olive oil
chili pepper flakes
cilantro
kosher sea salt
fresh cracked pepper
garlic / onion (optional)

Two other appetizer munchies I might make for a Super Bowl party (did I just say that?) are Sweetie Meatballs ;-) or a family favorite, Beer Bread w/ dill dip.

– Thairin Smothers

Snap!

If the Michael Jackson on the left had remained black, he might have looked now like the 45-year-old on the right. Jury selection for his child-molestation trial begins today in Santa Maria. (courtesy forartist.com)

What's the Good Word?

While the swag was flying at Sundance again this year, people were actually doing some talking other than, "Which way to Fred Segal?" And some new words were coined and bandied about in coversation. Of course, typically, no fewer than four of the new words are swag related. Drum roll, please.

High-attitude sickness – In Park City the air has been replaced by buzz as the oxygen of choice. Breathing pure buzz makes you squawk like Donald Duck and flap about. The buzz-starved, on the other hand, tend to become lethargic and morose. Serious loss of self-esteem may follow unless you immediately relocate to lower ground.

Glow job – Smothering someone with entirely undeserved praise in the hope it will get you somewhere better than where you are right now.

Slossed – As in "you've been slossed," coined in the New York Times article after the name of the legal capo who heads Cinetic and who has a virtual monopoly on films at Sundance. There are two ways of being slossed – either as an executive overpaying for a film, or as some sad sack of a filmmaker sitting in a condo waiting for a return phone call from his sales agent that will never come because his film doesn't have buzz.

Brandance – The brand name hocus pocus taking over the Sundance film
festival, via thejasoncalacanisweblog.

Jettasexuals – The stars, jurists, and filmmakers whisked around in Volkswagen's fleet of cars. Jettas mostly, but for VVIPS and premieres the occasional Phaeton.

The Village – Well, it's not really a new word, but it takes on a sinister new meaning at the film fest, where The Village is the name for a cluster of swag houses handing out free stuff to stars. Of course The Village is also the name of M Night Shyamalan's film. But this spectacle is infinitely more frightening.

Swagqueen – Those who rank top tier and can get anything they want – and take it, even though they neither need it nor want it and could so easily afford it. Marie Antoinettelike, they totter down the steps at The Village carrying more bags than they can carry.

Swaghags – Orcs in deceptively human form who jealously guard the mountains of free stuff. They reserve their fang-bearing smiles for celebrities and ignore everyone else, except to scowl or snarl at them should they be so foolish as to think those Uggs are for them.

Swagabees – Publicists, personal assistants, new best friends! Entourage-ists who hover around A-listers, picking up such swag crumbs as beanies, lip balm, and tsunami aid relief T-shirts in children's sizes. They are also useful for carrying the bags to the swagon.

Swagon – Four-wheeled conveyance used to haul all the booty away. Interesting fact: A Phaeton had to be despatched to the outlets to purchase three suitcases to hold all the swag that Hobbit Sean Astin had been given.

Is There a Doc in the House?

In a thoughtful article on the In These Times site, Pat Aufderheide talks about the continuing importance of documentaries amid the hubbub of Sundance, "still a place where independence of thought, difference of opinion, and innovation are prized."

And who said that social docs can’t be about sex and violence? Inside Deep Throat, an HBO-funded project by Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato, recalls the astonishing history of the most popular pornographic film of all time. Whether or not you believe their argument that the 1972 film changed history, you have got to love the story of how the film was launched and received. Distributed entirely outside above-board businesses by the Mob, the film was hand-carried to theaters, with gunsels counting heads and taking cash back at the end of the day. Some of the interviewees in the film still tremble at the thought of retribution for even talking about it. Somehow $600 million went sloshing around the economy without ever being accounted for.

Ampersands 6

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

Answers to Ampersands 5: 1) Meet & greet, 2) Touch & go, 3) Fame & fortune, 4) Cut & dried, 5) Bitch & moan, 6) Punch & Judy, 7) Tom & Jerry, 8) Wash & set, 9) High & mighty, 10) Serve & protect, 11) Tits & ass, 12) Birds & bees, 13) Fine & dandy

Goodbye German Rose

Here, at last, is the full story on the rather flamboyantly gay German designer Rudolf Moshammer, courtesy of the British gossip site Popbitch. We accidentally got caught up in his story. We know he was murdered, that he had designed clothes for Siegfried, Roy, and Arnold, and that his tiny dog inherited the house. But there's more.

German celebrity fashion designer Rudolf Moshammer received a send-off worthy of Princess Di this week. Mosi had been murdered by an Iraqi rent boy he'd picked up at the train station in Munich, who strangled him with a phone cord after the designer refused to pay his $2000 fee. Mosi's body was discovered by his chauffeur, who said "His eyes were half open, his face looked terrible. But his hair was perfect. That would have been important to him."

Bild [the German newspaper] produced a double-sided memorial poster, the funeral was televised live on four TV stations, more than 10,000 mourners lined the streets of the procession and Mosi's dog Daisy led a three minute silence outside Moshammer's boutique. The Yorkshire Terrier had gone everywhere with Mosi – the duo had even auditioned to represent Germany in the Eurovision Song Contest together – and was rewarded by Mosi leaving his mansion to Daisy to live in until her death. Mosi was buried next to his deceased former pet dog and his mother. Like Liberace, Rudolf always said he loved his Mum too much to get married. Tales of the designer's penchant for rough sex with young arab boys only surfaced after his death.

Snap!

Peggy Moffitt, mod model famous for wearing Rudi Gernreich's topless bathing suit back in the '60s, with Terrance Austin, one of the WOW staffers who came upon her at lunch at Cafe des Artistes in Hollywood. Peggy was lunching with her husband, photographer William Claxton.

In a World Without Mischa

Digital dreams by Dani Darko

Fenton Bailey Was a Fag

Fenton chimes in on the faggot / fag debate.

I was a fag. It's true. At a british boarding school. Although it was the 1970s, the place was more like the 1870s. We had to wear black gowns and perform plays in ancient Greek. I only ever landed a part as non-speaking hand maiden to Clytemnestra. But that isn't the kind of fag I was. The bloke I fagged for had the unfelicitous name of Ainsworth. I had to rise before dawn, polish his shoes, clean his dishes, and wake him with a cup of Earl Grey tea just before 7:00AM. Throughout the day and into the evening there would be other chores and errands. He was a beak, which means prefect, and he has since gone on to great things: Peter Ainsworth is a conservative member of Parliament especially concerned about the environment. Just goes to show that behind every great man there's a fag. Or something.

– Fenton Bailey

Towleroad Warriors

The blogger at Towleroad has taken up our cause of finding out what the true derivation of the word "faggot" is. He's taken up our cause 'cause James asked him to after we had two readers come to gay loggerheads. Towleroad always has a flurry of enthusiastic threads.

The Other Simpson

We got an announcement slash gossip sheet from the preeminent New York drag queen Linda Simpson today. She is most excited, she allows, about the upcoming benefit for My Comrade, the mag she founded and edits. And even more excited about the celebrities who've promised to attend the event at the Ukrainian National Home on February 13. We'll say one thing about Simpson – she keeps current with her reading.

Can you imagine all these incredible people in one room?

• Gossip columnist Michael Musto
(Did you read his column this week in the Village Voice where he implies that Eva Longoria of Desperate Housewives is a beard for her "boyfriend," former 'Nsyncher J.C. Chasez…? Juicy!)

• Transsexual superstar Amanda Lepore
(According to Matt Bell's "Gay D.D." column in Next magazine, a doll version of Amanda is coming out soon. When it does, I'm getting two – one to play with and another as an investment. Another product featuring Amanda – a limited-edition Swatch watch designed by David LaChapelle – goes for big bucks on eBay.)

• Lady Bunny
(In a recent issue of 25 Hours, the fab magazine that appears in the Sunday Daily News, Bunny was declared the city's most stylish drag queen! Uh, yeah… At least the paparazzi shots of Bun-Bun in various outfits were good for a few laughs.)

• Murray Hill
(The media coup of the past few months was Murray huge article in the New York Times declaring him downtown's It Boy. The article marveled how he never, ever refers to himself as a drag king, but rather as a 50-year-old guy just trying to make it in show biz. Congrats, Mr. Hill!)

Falling Star

"You cannot petition the Lord with prayer." Jim Morrison said that. And amen to that. But the bible-thumping Star Jones petitions the Lord daily. For merchandise. Well, we can petition ABC to stop Star Jones. Forever. Look, just because the site has moved on to another page and the Golden Globes are but a fuzzy memory, it doesn't mean that the petition to end the nightmare that is Star is not still itching for your attention. Here it is once more, with only a paltry 183 signatures. Come on, the petition attempting to rid the world of Ashlee Simpson has a whopping 10,000-plus, and she's not nearly as loathsome. So, won't you help? Sign the damn thing.

Oh, and when Al Reynolds tells his pals that the earth moved last night, he just means that Star turned over in her sleep.

A Sad Tale

Ivan Noble – hero

A more sombre post from WOW London today.

In August 2002, a BBC technology writer called Ivan Noble – an ordinary, young guy by anybody’s standards – was diagnosed with a brain tumour. He decided to blog his experience, explaining that it was a way of coping as much as anything else. Word spread quickly, and within weeks thousands of people were hooked. I was one of them.

We followed his highs and lows throughout his illness and treatment. He’s not a bad writer, and his outlook has been nothing short of inspirational. I looked forward to his postings every few weeks, took delight in his triumphs and actually found myself upset by his setbacks.

Yesterday’s posting was very distressing – he says it is his last. Read the comments from his regular readers and you can see what an effect this has had. The BBC estimate that his readers now number in the millions. And we are heartbroken.

– Barry Shaverin

More Addressed to Kill

Thank you Lois Van Lane for forcing me to waste precious time searching for the true derivation of faggot. When the production schedule of "Faggots" is pushed up and we're not able to make our Xmas release, it will be Van Lane who has to answer to Ashton and Seth. Good luck, dude.

Anyway, after consulting the Online Etymology Dictionary (and by the way not a day goes by that I'm not consulting the OED for some obscure word or another) it seems that I may be a victim of urban legend. HOWEVER, as we all know, urban legends MAY INDEED be rooted in fact. It's impossible to be certain.

Here is what the OED says:

The oft-heard statement that male homosexuals were called faggots in reference to their being burned at the stake is an etymological urban legend. Burning was sometimes a punishment meted out to homosexuals in Christian Europe (on the suggestion of the Biblical fate of Sodom and Gomorah), but in England, where parliament had made homosexuality a capital offense in 1533, hanging was the method proscribed. Any use of faggot in connection with public executions had long become an English historical obscurity by the time the word began to be used for "male homosexual" in 20th century American slang, whereas the contemptuous slang word for "woman" (and the other possible sources or influences listed here) was in active use.

Harry D. Redlich

Addressed to Kill 3

I think I was pretty clear when I said that "faggot" came from the bundles of sticks used to FUEL THE FIRE that was lit under the fagotty asses of the 12th-century faggots. I didn't say that the word came from the actual act of burning. Duh.

No. Sorry Mr. Lois Van Lane, you can't be in my movie. I don't like people who question my authority.

Harry Redlich

Snap 2

Um, unitards come in black too, boys. But if that's Princess Anne, what's all the fuss about? (t/y Terrance)

Sitings

• Tampon bowling. Just like real bowling, but more absorbing. (t/y Eduardo)

From the Desk of the JG

I've always believed that at one point in every man's life, he should have a beard. I've tried a few times in the past, and always wound up quitting after a week or so. It takes real stamina and endurance to complete the full beard. I've toyed with goatees, but those aren't the real thing, and they always end up looking, well, kind of wack.

After my recent trip to Sundance I was inspired to go the distance, and I have to say, I've got a pretty decent one going right now. And the Beard Magic is working. I feel more confident, more free and more handsome. Like Tom Brady. Justin Timberlake. And Saddam Hussein. I'm not saying I'm at these gentlemen's level – yet – but they are the models on which I've based my facial stubble.

As I once read somewhere in a famous book, if you want something that's worth anything, it's going to take work to get that something. Or is it that for important things you need to believe to achieve, and then that something will come to life. Is that it? I'm not so great with expressions. Regardless, this beard isn't going to just happen. I will have to have a serious dedication. Ignore the itching. And nevermind the naysayers who tell me I look like a dirty hippie.

My beard and I wish you well, as I hope you do the same to us.

– Jim Galasso

Addressed to Kill (suddenly a thread)

The definition of homosexual male from the word "faggot" doesn't derive from the practice of burning our boys at the stake. The meaning actually evolved from "faggot," a noun meaning sticks for burning, to "fag," a verb  meaning to collect sticks. Then fag meant to do any sort of chore. In the British public school system, like Eton, younger boys were assigned to older ones to do chores for them, or to fag for them. These younger boys became known by their older students to whom they were assigned, such as "Jones' fag'" or "Thomas' fag." And because boys will be randy boys, some did sexual chores for the older students (or vice versa). Eventually, because the practice was so common, the term fag or faggot, as a noun, referred to a male with whom another male had sexual relations.
 
Also, the word fag, as a noun, still means cigarette in some parts of Canada, and probably Britain, again stemming from its original meaning of stick used for kindling. And the term fagged still means to be tired from work.
 
Anyway, I'll shut up now. Can I be in Harry's movie too?
 
Cheers,
 
Michael Van Lane

Snap!

Why bike shorts are black. (t/y Alicia)

The Must(o) List

It took some arm-twisting, blackmailing, and actual ass-kissing (and we live on opposite coasts!) but Michael Musto has put the WOW Report on his list of Five Musto Web Site Picks on the Village Voice website. Yes, there are four other picks besides ours, but we can't remember what they are. Here's what he says about us.

worldofwonder.net. Stephen Saban's blog, "the WOW Report," manages to be gi-normously funny and incisive, while dutifully plugging World of Wonder's multitude of projects from "Gay Republicans" to "Inside Deep Throat." Special features include "The St. James Version" (via ageless party boy James St. James), "Recently Dead" (fun obits of your favorite corpses), and the new "Inside Inside Deep Throat" blog-within-a-blog. Typical posting: There IS no typical posting. That's the genius of it.

Housing Shortness

Well, it's taken a few years for the world to catch up with the designs predicted in 1968 for 2001: A Space Odyssey. Here's a handsome abode that WOW has ordered up for that vacant lot we own just off Hollywood Boulevard. It's got those space-saving swivel rooms, including a separate bathroom – all in one room. (joshspear)

Totally related: Instant, self-contained studio residences. (mocoloco)

Addressed to Kill

Dear WOW,

I was just reading an entry from July 6, 2004, about the British guy who was averse to being served faggots by his wife. You guys sort of glossed over the derivation of the word "faggot." As a fellow homosexual, I think it's important for you to be fully informed.

You did cursorily mention that a faggot refers to a bundle of sticks. But you left out the really good part. In the 12th or 13th century (in Britain, so it all comes together in this wonderfully synchronistic way, no?), homosexuals were burned at the stake. The bundles of sticks that they used to fry our ancient bretheren were called faggots, and that, my friends, is how we came to be called faggots by all those mean boys in junior high.

In fact, I am currently pitching a screenplay idea called "Faggots," in which two 12th-century guys find that they are indeed sexually attracted to each other, and thus in mortal danger of being burnt to a crisp. I've almost got Seth Green and Ashton Kutcher signed on.

Historically yours,

Harry Redlich

Ed. replies: Two things. Why were you visiting July 6, 2004? And can we be in your movie?

Ask a Black Girl

She'll Hook You Up

Dear Black Girl,
I am a chill white dude. When I was in 10th grade, I ended up with this cool black chick as my lab partner. I think she liked me, but I wasn't sure because she sent me much different signals than any white girl ever did. One time, she picked earwax out of her ear and wiped it on my shirt. Why did she do that? Did that mean she wanted to make out with me? It confused me. Several years later, we some how ended up in touch and went out to a movie. She has two kids, and one of the baby's daddies is in jail. After the movie, we went to pick up her kids from her sister's house. On the way, she said something like 'I like white men.' I asked her if she liked Mexicans too, and she said 'no, just blacks and whites.' Then I dropped off her and her kids and went on my way. Haven't seen her in 10 years now. Oh, one time, I was talking to her on the phone, and I heard her mom yell 'get off the phone wit that white boy.' What do you make of all this?
– Confused Honkey

dear confused honkey,
look boo boo, you trippin. why is you askin me bout some breezella you ain't see in over 10 years? how she get yo nose like dat? dayum! ole girl wiped earwax on yo shirt to let you know she was down wit you. you was coo. it's like when a broad feel comftable enough to take a shit wit her dude in da house. same thang. she mighta let you hit back in da day but now i suggest you leave that shit alone. if you see ole girl again it's cool to chop it up but dats it. last thang you need is to have some drama wit her mama or to be throwin dowm wit akon.

Dear Black Girl,
Why is it that when black people get money they seem to lose all sense of priorities? Is it that they never had any? I have a friend who is black and spends all his extra money on senseless things like cars, clothes and expensive jewelry. He drives a brand new escalade with rims but lives at home with his mother. Not only does he live with his mother, but he lives out in the garage. I am a white guy who grew up in a middle income family in the so-called hood. I find that I do identify with black culture, but I have never understood this and i just don't see why someone would be so frivilous. What is your take on this? Be gentle.
– Tom

dear uncle tom,
does yo homeboy know you feel this way bout him? maybe he da one you need to be askin. i ain't feelin you yo. you on some cut hater shit but trynna be down. if you was a true and really identified wit us, you wouldn't be askin me why we be flossin. see, we started out in da game a little late and we still trynna catch up. in our world you show you bout dat by what kinda whip you got. if the kicks is clean. if the roley is right and da ice is bright. now i know dat most of us don't know the difference between guns and butta, but we trendsettas. err'ybody wanna talk head bout us but at the end of da day peeps still wanna be us. bottom line we measure wealth by what we have today cause we know dat when we die ain't nothin comin wit us.

What's On IDT?

Today's Inside Deep Throat blog features first-time memories from the indomitable Helen Gurley Brown and filmmaker John Waters. Plus ??? as it becomes available. Such as what it's like to live with the name Linda Lovelace when you're not the porn icon herself. Cumbersome.

"After listening to Prof. Halavais in class," writes a Canadian student in an AOL Journal, "I really anticipate going to see Inside Deep Throat, and reading Linda Lovelace (Marciano)'s memoir, Ordeal." Apparently, you can get credit for pornography up north, where, as luck would have it, the documentary opens in Toronto February 11.

Sitings

• The Death Clock calculates when you will die. Barring, of course, being hit by a bus. (t/y Pam)

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Snap!

First amendment to the Bill of Rights: Don't talk about the Bill of Rights. Second amendment to the Bill of Rights: Don't talk about the Bill of Rights. Go-go girls, imported from Los Angeles, add some piquancy to the Inside Deep Throat party at Sundance.

(Photo: Devon Schneider)

The Grab

This pic of Jim Galasso was grabbed off of Phototopia by A Socialite's Life's Miu von Furstenberg, who calls Jim "my newest crush," even though a) he's pictured in Sundance with his girlfriend, Alisa Charoen-Phol, b) he and Alisa are actually, and literally, spooning and c) Miu has never met Jim.

Meanwhile, on Phototopia itself, 'topia blogmeisters Chris McKim and Thairin Smothers document their long trip by RV from LA to Park City with fellow WOWer Mary Ann Heagerty and Jacob Walker. Easy Rider it wasn't, but they'd do it again, they say. We don't know what the four of them did on the 12-hour drive, but there are no shots of scenic views from the RV's picture window. But once there, they had fun, and Mary Ann got her picture taken with Rize director David LaChapelle and the residual bump from his scuffle with the local police.

LaChapelle had been arrested the night before, and the authorities didn't "give a shit" who he was, having arrested people incredibly more famous than this guy. But he looks damn good in these mug shots, doesn't he? Menacing yet gamine. We're so jealous. But do they really take the mug shots outdoors in Park City, Utah? Look at that lighting. Must be the influence of all the DPs that come to town. (Photo at queerclick)

Addressed to Kill

Re: Your "Postpartum Post Production" post. StriVectin is the new all-the-rage face creme for reducing wrinkles. Claiming to be better than botox, this former stretch mark reducer goes for over $145 a tube. That's pretty good swag if you ask me. Feel free to send it my way.

– Eric Whitaker

Ed. reply: Thanks for the tip. Unfortunately, moisturizer fanatic Randy is keeping it, though God knows we need it more than he does.

Urp!

We keep forgetting to swipe this clip off of Jim Galasso's blog, The JG. It's of poor Tyrone Davies who went on his local morning show to talk about his documentary on monkeys who went into space. He was very very nervous. We've been in that situation ourselves. But this never happened. Watch the clip and be patient.

What's on IDT?

Today on the Inside Deep Throat blog, the former happy hooker Xaviera Hollander and uberplayboy Hugh Hefner remember their first times with Deep Throat.

And there's more press. Mark Caro in the Chicago Tribune called the WOW doc "the most buzzed-about premiere of the Sundance Film Festival's opening weekend." We knew that.

"Inside Deep Throat," which Universal is releasing next month, is part "Kinsey" (its view of the nation's former state of sexual repression), part "The People Vs. Larry Flynt" (the recounting of censorship/First Amendment battles, culminating in the criminal trial of leading man Harry Reems) and part "Boogie Nights" (immersion in the pre-video porn world, all set to a fab '70s soundtrack that includes "Spill the Wine"). With its graphic movie clips and the subject's frank treatment, "Inside Deep Throat" will become that very rare species: a major-studio NC-17 film (Universal's first since 1990's "Henry & June").

(Above, Fenton and Randy mimic their film's poster)

Sitings

• Photos of English women and their dogs. Tempted to call them bitches, but won't.
• "Asshole." (t/y Benjamin)
• The Cave of Magic. Pick a card, any card, but Simeon will know. (t/y Brent)
• Virgin Airways ad. Romantic. (t/y Terrance)

A Dog's House

In a followup to the story of the murdered German fashion designer Rudolph Moshammer, who whipped up togs for the likes of Siegfried and Roy and Arnold Schwarzenegger, word has come from Bild via BBC News that Moshammer has left his Munich house to his Yorkshire terrier. Daisy will be cared for by the chauffeur, who discovered the designer's body last week. Police sniffed around the city's gay district searching for the killer, and have arrested a 25-year-old Iraqi man.

Postpartum Post Production

Bad swag like this, which Randy thought he'd received by mistake, makes those of us who were not able – or allowed – to go to Sundance this year smile. But we suppose the implication here is that financing and making an independent film is akin to delivering a large and cumbersome child after suffering a long and painful pregnancy. Stretch marks will occur.

What's On IDT?

Today on the Inside Deep Throat blog, porn director Wakefield Poole and author Erica Jong tell about their first times.

"It wasn't at all what I expected," Poole remembers. "It was much more fun and not as sensual as I thought it would be, for some reason."

"You know, I was a kid who was reading the great novels of Tolstoy and people like that," says Jong. "I was not really interested in this crap."

The St. James Version

Yesterday I had my initial consultation for that laser resurfacing I’ve been talking about forever. Turns out I need a series of six non-invasive (read: non-bloody) treatments, rather than one face-searing blast. Which is good. I had a laser peel in 1997, and it was a disaster. The doctor was a quack and a madman. He literally STABBED MY FACE WITH KNITTING NEEDLES and then TOOK A BLOWTORCH TO IT. (Watch the video)

The result was an ooey, gooey, bloody, crusty mess that I paid a small fortune to have done and thanked him profusely for. It was itchy and scabby and scary and it drove me nutzoid. Absolutely nutzoid. So much so, that I apparently picked off the scab in my sleep, leaving bigger scars than what I went in for! Oh my. Such a terrible accident. Yes, yes. Such a senseless tragedy.

Um.

OK. Full disclosure.

It wasn’t an accident. It didn’t happen in my sleep. I lied.

WHAT REALLY HAPPENED WAS: I couldn’t leave the house for 10 days, because, well, my GOD! I couldn’t! I looked like Zelda Fitzgerald, after the fire. So I had a 10-day coke party in my apartment, OF COURSE. Because that’s what you do when you’re recuperating from surgery: cocaine!

And so there I was, on the third day, when emotions were running high and coordination was running low, and I was gesticulating wildly to make a point about, oh, the Spice Girls or something, and I was pointing with my 14-carat-gold drug straw, and I FLICKED THE SCAB OFF MY FACE AND INTO THE PILE OF COCAINE – thereby negating the entire operation, permanently disfiguring myself, and setting into motion the whole cycle of self-loathing and denial that makes this column so delightful. (On the up side, though, I got the entire pile of coke to myself.)

MORAL OF THE STORY: Kids, don’t do drugs! Especially when healing from plastic surgery! Oh, and stay in school!

So, tonight I go in for my first IPL (Intense Pulsed Light) Photofacial Rejuvination at the Laser Solutions Skincare clinic in Beverly Hills. Very exciting. I’ll keep you posted with before and after pictures.

– James St. James

(Video: Tharirin Smothers)

Jumping off the 'Deep' End

NC-17, anyone? Sundance openers cut loose Utah's film festival floods its screens with nudity and explicit sex, with "Inside Deep Throat" a big feature screams The Oregonian's wordy headline, surely inviting the Christian right to have its say without even reading the article.

Take, for instance, the film that was chosen to screen in the festival's biggest theater at the end of the first day: "Inside 'Deep Throat' " is a spry and engaging documentary about the making of the notorious 1972 porn film that became a rallying cry for both censors and free-speech advocates. Though directors Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato ("The Eyes of Tammy Faye") keep the film consistently amusing, it's inevitably filled with the very images that so polarized the chattering classes 33 years ago. It's being released later this year by Universal Pictures despite an NC-17 rating. It went over gangbusters with the audience.

Ode to Joy

Remember Ben Curtis? Perhaps "Dude, you're gettin' a Dell!" will refresh your memory. He's going to open February 2 in the off-Broadway romantic comedy, Joy, a satirical celebration of gay life and love in San Francisco in the early '90s, formerly known as The Joy of Gay Sex. (Click here)

'I Did Not Know That'

According to The A List, a gossipy, prurient website that reveals the sexual proclivities and behaviors of the well-known, Pola Negri, the silent film star pictured here, had affairs with Charlie Chaplin, Rudolph Valentino, and Johnny Carson. Yes, the recently late Johnny Carson. Who knew?

Ugh!

Of course, we're all wondering about the swag coming out of Sundance. We've heard about celebrities having to have their assistants follow them closely, nose-to-ass, just to carry the booty: bags and boxes of appliances, electronic gadgets, and sportswear. Publicists are keeping schedules not of the screenings but of the parties with giveaways. So far, though, our boys Randy and Fenton, who by all accounts have a hit movie there, managed to get, between them, only two dildos worth $600 each, two certificates for Blackberries, and, if we got it right over the cellphone transmission, two pairs of Wallabees.

Randy told us that he and Fenton almost got to supermarket-sweep an Uggs layout presented by Universal, but were passed over for the entire cast of The Apprentice, who of course have every right to be VIPs at an independent-movie festival. Then there was the time that Extra, the newzak TV show, invited them to run amok in the Fred Segal "gifting boutique," where lay treasures second only to those in King Solomon's mines. But the evil guarrrrrd lady at the door refused to admit them, saying there was nothing inside for them. No matter that they were invited, or that their Inside Deep Throat was making a loud buzzing sound. Eventually, she threw two extra-large Lee denim jackets at them so they'd go away. Fenton, bless his feisty little heart, politely asked her to put them in bags.

Also, Randy says, it seemed to be some kind of sponsor arrangement that if you didn't show up for screenings in the official Volkswagen Phaeton car service, the paparazzi wouldn't take your picture. Snap!

(Visit the Inside Deep Throat "blogging boutique")

And Thairin Lies the Answer

In a departure from his all-too-brief-so-far weekly recipe column, Thairin Smothers, who drove to Sundance in an RV, whines a bit about the Sundance experience and delivers, with Chris McKim an In / Out list that reads more like their personal journal than anything else.

IN / OUT                                                         
Harry Reems / Robert Redford                                      
RVs / condo crashing                                                      
Bringing a flask / Watered-down Utah drinks (fucking Utah!)                             
Brian Grazer / Harvey Weinstein                                        
Cadillac Escalades / free shuttle                                 
Bubble vests / bubble coats                                          
Jamie Bell / Parker Posey                                       
Goo Goo Bars / swag                                         
Pulling Paris Hilton’s hair / kissing Paris Hilton's ass                        
Queer Lounge / Queer brunch                                        
Pretending it’s a film festival / pretending it's Mardi Gras                 
Krumping / skiing                                              
Getting arrested / getting distribution

Sticks and Stones

Happy to say it's national No Name-Calling Week in middle schools. Only a week. But a week without being called "faggot" – the most-called epithet in middle schools (and elsewhere) – is like a week without being called faggot. Now enjoying its second year, it was developed by the New York-based Gay, Lesbian & Straight Education Network, which attempts to ensure that schools accommodate, without incident, students of all sexual orientations. Yeah, but what about bi and transgendered sixth-graders, huh? Of course, special interest groups concerned about "family values" are already beginning to take up arms against the no-name-calling program, saying it overemphasizes the harassment of gays. It gets exhausting after a while, doesn't it? (Yahoo News)

"No Name-calling Week" takes aim at insults of all kinds — whether based on a child's appearance, background or behavior. But a handful of conservative critics have zeroed in on the references to harassment based on sexual orientation. "I hope schools will realize it's less an exercise in tolerance than a platform for liberal groups to promote their pan-sexual agenda," said Robert Knight, director of Concerned Women for America's Culture and Family Institute.

The St. James Version

Dull-diddly-ull weekend. Stayed home and had a little Greer Garson festival – MRS MINIVER, SUNRISE AT CAMPOBELLO, and the newly released RANDOM HARVEST. Such a classy woman, that Greer (at right). So refined! She’s my fifth favorite actress of all time, you know. (After Myrna Loy, Marie Dressler. Margaret Rutherford. and Billie Burke.) (Oh. and Eve Arden. I DO love a good Eve Arden movie.) (And the grandmother on GILMORE GIRLS – SO BEST.) (And how about that little Dakota Fanning! Isn’t she just precious? Couldn’t you just eat her alive?)

Anyway. Greer’s definitely in the mix somewhere. Definitely in the top 10.

Interesting side note: When I used to have hair (and I did, you know), it was thick and red and lustrous JUST LIKE GREER'S. In fact, we used to look alike, she and I. It’s true! The resemblence was uncanny! People used to stop me in the street ALL THE TIME and say, “Greer, is that you?” And I would laugh a throaty laugh, and toss my mane of strawberry curls, then do another bump of K and head back to the castle.

And, um, LA LA LA, that was my weekend.

– James St. James

Go Billy!

Randy Barbato and Billy Elliot's Jamie Bell at the party after the screening of Inside Deep Throat at Sundance. (More pics)

The Real Red Carpet

The delightful Republican (not an oxymoron in this case) star of WOW's Gay Republicans doc, Maurice Bonamigo, head of the Palm Beach Log Cabin, has been invited to the events of the president's inauguration in DC. This is his third dispatch:

Here's my final report on the conversations, business, and fashion in DC during the inaugural celebrations.

As one would expect, the mood of all the attendees for the inauguration was absolutely upbeat, joyous, and full of life since our main man, President George W. Bush, has won the election for the next President of the United States. Also, everyone was celebrating because the Republicans have gained control of both houses in Congress. The main conversations throughout the functions were, who is going to what balls, what everyone was going to be wearing, what candlelight dinners, what breakfasts with which congressmen or senators, what brunches, what cocktail parties, what streets were closed. and where on earth would anyone find their limousines amongst the forest of limousines scattered throughout all these events.

At these huge political functions there is always business being conducted, i.e., how are we going to get our friends jobs in this new administration, who will be joining which congressmen or Senator at Augusta for a foursome, making new contacts, calling in favors, promising new favors, and making sure all those favors work out for the interests of everyone involved. In the documentary Gay Republicans , you may have heard one of my dearest friends, Bunny Stevens, say, "Only in Palm Beach." Well, now you can add, "Only in DC." Yes, it is politics as usual and, all kidding aside, that's just how things are done in Washington, DC – quid pro quo.

Then of course, there is also gossip. Who is pulling strings for whom, who has the inside lead to whom, who is doing whom, and who should be doing whom, plus plenty of other personal gossip among all of our closest friends in DC. The only real gossip I feel comfortable revealing over the Internet is how Teresa Heinz Kerry was constantly intoxicated during her husband's campaign for the president of the United States. As everyone in DC noted, she was never by her husband's side at any of the functions, particularly at the swearing-in ceremonies. Could it be that there may be a problem here? Well, all I can say is, "Bless her little cotton heart."

Fashion, fashion, fashion. Well, as I noted earlier, I had never seen more cowboy hats, cowboy boots ( some, I think, are probably from endangered species), furs, jewelry, rhinestones, Saint John Knits, designer wardrobes, and of course those fabulous evening gowns. The men were always dressed in traditional suits and ties. For formal functions, the traditional tuxedo is always the perfect option. None of this "creative black-tie" garbage was present at any of the formal functions, but then again, as in Palm Beach, you never see anything but classic attire on a man. For footwear, it was cowboy boots or traditional Italian loafers. I prefer to be in Armani, Hugo Boss, and Ferragamo, white starched shirts, Brioni, Ferragamo, or Gucci ties, Italian silk pocket squares, cufflinks, diamond studs, and several Rolex watches for different occasions.

Most of the the women at the festivities were all beautifully well-groomed from head to toe. Their hair was always perfectly shaped, makeup was precisely applied, the nails were classically detailed. For the breakfasts and luncheons, women generally wore St. John, Chanel, and Dior suits. Most of the women wore skirts as opposed to pants at these functions. The jewelry was your typical Cartier, Tiffany, Rolex, and gold, gold, and more gold. The cocktail-hour dress was a little more formal. At times, women would change into longer skirts with a jacket or a new blouse accented with the few more diamonds. After cocktail hour, it was time to change again for the formalities of the evening.

It is often pointed out that this is the land of the haves and the have mores. And for the Republican balls it was diamonds, more diamonds, and HUGE DIAMONDS. The ball gowns were some of the best evening gowns seen in a long time. Laura Bush wore Oscar de la Renta; some of the other designers worn were Dior, Bill Blass, Gucci, and my good friend Arnold Scassi. In my first report here I said for this year's inaugural my mother chose designer Bob Mackie to do her evening gowns. Her black-and-gray with crystal beads and a low-scooped neckline to show cleavage was one of a most elegant evening gowns at the Florida Stars and Sequins Ball. For the Texas WY Ball, another Mackie was a high-collar slate-blue, heavily beaded gown resembling something that the late Marylyn Monroe might have worn. Her jewelry was of diamonds and sapphires and she was draped in a white mink-and-fox stole.

Our dear friend Linda Stafford wore a black strapless Hana Mori evening gown with heavy lace and beads from the waist up and black silk taffeta from the waist down. Her jewelry was classic – diamonds and gold – and she was draped in a full-length black mink coat with shawl collar. She looked absolutely radiant. Both ladies could only be described as pure glamour.

It is a shame that we have lost so much of the glamour that once was. It is a pleasure to be around such beauty and finesse, and it is time to bring back more of these elegant occasions. And what better administration to bring glamour back. Cheers.

– Maurice Bonamigo

Shameless Pug, er, Plug

While we're touting ourselves, because we can, we should mention that the current ish of Entertainment Weekly lists our Showdogs Moms & Dads in its Best of the Rest midseason TV preview.

A real-life Best in Show from the geniuses who delivered last season's kid-obsessed stage parents.

UPDATE: It's been pointed out by Todd, the show producer, that we have again, in this very post, misnomered the show's title, even though we were fully aware of our tendency to do so. It's Showdog. Singular. Showdog Moms & Dads. No S after Showdog. No S.

The Flip Side

Of course, the film has its detractors. Not everyone likes When Harry Met Sally, after all. So on the Arts & Faith site they're not fond of Inside Deep Throat, and don't feel the need to see it before forming an opinion.

On alessandrab.blogspot.com, there's a fair amount of name-calling.

I would not be surprised if Grazer is some homo-fanatic liberal. No accountability, no personal responsibility, just a continuous legitimation of sexual violence and dysfunction. Or maybe he is another Jeff Jarvis/Glenn Reynolds, et al, liberal homo-fanatic conservatives.

Ampersands 5

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As for the answers to last week's Ampersands 4, we'll let Ryan Pacchiano do the honors. He wrote to us on Friday:

I have completed Ampersands 4. . . Yay! I am smart :) What do I win (even if it is just the respect of the people at WOW)?

1) Drawn and Quartered, 2) Ball and Chain, 3) Short and Sweet, 4) Rich and Famous, 5) Trial and Error, 6) Breaking and Entering, 7) Bait and Switch, 8) To and Fro, 9) Chip and Dale, 10) Sick and Twisted, 11) Penn and Teller, 12) Nuts and Bolts, 13) Duck and Cover.

IDT Report

Some good press is coming out of the Sundance screenings of Inside Deep Throat. The Hollywod Reporter, which mentions the good work of editors William Grayburn and Jeremy Simmons, says Bailey and Barbato succeeded in weaving together the film's various themes.

For interviews, the filmmakers astutely cast a wide net, bringing before their cameras people not always connected to the film yet with insight into the issues it raised. These talking heads include Norman Mailer, Helen Gurley Brown, Susan Brownmiller, Alan Dershowitz, Camille Paglia, Gore Vidal and Reems' zealous prosecutor, Larry Parrish. A narration delivered by Dennis Hopper is unobtrusive, appearing only when necessary.

Showing the notorious sex act was necessary for the documentary, said "Inside Deep Throat" directors Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato, the filmmakers behind such acclaimed documentaries as "Party Monster" and "The Eyes of Tammy Faye."
"There was no way we were going to make a film called `Inside Deep Throat' without including the act," Barbato said. "Our film is not salacious or gratuitous. That scene needed to be in there."

"She and my grandfather stood in line in broad daylight to see it. She was curious about the hoopla. It was the thing to do back then."

Depressed? Not us!

Today is the most depressing day of the year. Apparently. Some boffin has come up with a formula that factors in Seasonal Affective Disorder, the cost of all those gifts over Christmas, failed New Year resolutions and so on, to work out that today is the day that people are most depressed, out of all the 365 days of the year.

Well, not WOW London.

And why so much cheer on such a miserable day? Well, we are somewhat buoyed by the knowledge that the weather, for once, is worse in the US than it is in the UK! But, finally, Team America: World Police has arrived in Blighty! WOW London is still giggling over the puerile yet hysterically funny gags. “Jesus T***y F*****g Christ," while blasphemous, was a particular favourite.

It was a shame that a few of the really American gags were lost on an audience of Brits – like Peter Jennings – but they were rolling in the isles at pretty much everything else. We’re wondering what Matt Damon did to upset Trey Parker.

– Barry Shaverin

Not a Dry Seat in the House

After Inside Deep Throat's second Sundance screening, at the Library, Bailey, Barbato, Grazer, and Reems took to the stage to chat with the audience. Park City's Indie Wire reports from the front row.

"Inside Deep Throat" producer, Brian Grazer, told the audience he was originally introduced to the film by his grandmother, who he described as "conservative." Grazer said that his grandmother, like many who came out to see the film soon after it opened, just wanted to exercise their right to see a "dirty movie." Hugh Hefner, one of many people interviewed for their take on the "Deep Throat" mania in the film, including Norman Mailer, Camille Paglia, Larry Flynt, Peter Bart, Wes Craven and Peter Bart, commented on the film's meteoric rise in popularity, even luring "high" society and celebs to screens that dared to show the movie.

In Trailer News on the Trades.com, Alex reviews the Inside Deep Throat trailer.

I know I never could have foreseen it, but it looks like a documentary will be the first financially successful NC-17 film. I think God himself communicates to Brian Grazer through his spiky hair. Score: 18 out of 20

Snap!

What's this?
Find out on the
Inside Deep Throat blog.
(Photo David Poland)

From Bone Again to Born Again

Kenneth Turan talked to the handsome Deep Throat and Inside Deep Throat star Harry Reems at home in Park City, Utah, in the midst of the Sundance film festival. Turan's story on the recovered porn star appears in today's LA Times Calendar section.

[W]hen Harry Reems takes a poetic moment and says "What a ride this thing called life is," he is not being hyperbolic. As Linda Lovelace's costar in "Deep Throat," the most successful pornographic film ever made, he has gone from obscurity to celebrity to criminal notoriety to gutter-dwelling debauchery to born-again sobriety and success in one hectic lifetime.