The Malcontent

ManBearPig

Sometimes I think "South Park" is getting so bizarre that it will soon resemble its first season about as much as Kenny Rogers today resembles Kenny Rogers from 20 years ago.

Their effort to bring back Towelie last week in a James Frey parody was a painful face-plant of an episode.  While last night's show was funnier, it was no less perplexing.  Follow this, if you can:

The boys run into former Vice President Al Gore, now totally friendless, who has ditched his obsession with global warming in order to relentlessly pursue, Captain Ahab-like, a creature known only as ManBearPig.  The hunt takes them to the "Cave of the Winds," which could just as easily be called the "Cave of the Mistaken Penises."  There is a rock slide, and the boys are trapped.  And at some point, Cartman begins shitting copious quantities of lost treasure.

Really, I'm being totally serial!

I'm not sure how much it helps to see it for yourself, but I thought that at least the cave bit was funny.

[Watch video – 2:59, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 2:59, WMV format, low bandwidth]

[Bonus site: MenWhoLookLikeKennyRogers.com]

It's Going To Be A Big Weekend

I caught this graphic from my local news out of the corner of my eye. Frankly, your guess is as good as mine.

Insert Biblical Whale Metaphors Here

This is less a recommendation than an early warning system. All I know is some six year old will one day have a horrific accident with a VCR because of this:

Another man stands up. "If my cock had a name, it would be Esteban," he says. "Esteban is courageous, slow and patient." [. . .]

Freedomhowler said he got the idea for "Cock Tales" lying in bed three years ago after hearing the Vagina Monologues for the first time. Freedomhowler decided there should be a male counterpart to the Vagina Monologues, something that would express how men feel about their penises and their role in society and humanity.

I'm sorry. I'm still stuck on Esteban. Esteban?

Not Your Grandfather's Muppets

TBS this week has been rerunning the last few episodes of "Sex and the City," and it got me to thinking: Here we have Mikhail Baryshnikov playing the suave Russian "Aleksandr Petrovsky," who has made a fortune as an artist.  And what is his medium of choice?  "Light installations."

Yes, the guy basically takes neon or fluorescent tubes and creates rather banal blinking things for which people supposedly plunk down big bucks.  As any "SATC" fan knows, Carrie became fed up with all things Aleksandr and fled Paris for life back in Manhattan.  (Of course, it didn't help that he "accidentally" hit her, either.)

My point being that, while I suppose I found some aesthetic quality in those "light installations," I was just as perplexed by them as Carrie was.

No sirree, give me "dick tricks" instead.  I'm talking about "Puppetry of the Penis," or "the ancient art of genital origami," created by Aussie duo Simon Morley and David Friend.

I have not had the pleasure of seeing the show in person, but I caught HBO's rerun last night of the "Real Sex" episode featuring this bizarre and rather painful-looking art form.  If you're a "POTP" virgin, then prepare to be ... well, amused, anyway.

You will probably never look at the Eiffel Tower or hamburgers the same way again.  (Very much NSFW.)

[Watch video – 10:04, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 10:04, WMV format, low bandwidth]

Beach Boys

Click to make fig leaves disappear (obviously NSFW)

Before there was Herb Ritts, there was Mel Roberts.

Roberts was a prolific photographer of the male form.  In the 1960s and 1970s, he focused on many of the beach bums and surfers who were discovering the sexual revolution on and off the sands of Southern California.  He was profiled on a recent episode of "Sexplorations" on the "Here! TV" network.

Many of the models were friends and lovers of Roberts, a World War II veteran and gay activist who founded California's chapter of the pioneering Mattachine Society.

In the late 1970s, the L.A. Police Department raided his home twice and confiscated prints and equipment, which were eventually returned.  (Frontal male nudity was generally considered obscene at the time.)  In 1981, he hung up his camera for good, but he helped pave the way for other notable photographers who celebrated male beauty.

His photographs have been collected in books including "California Boys" and "The Wild Ones."

The video of the segment follows, and some very much NSFW photos are after the jump.

[Watch video – 5:37, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 5:37, WMV format, low bandwidth]

TV Tonight

And if you don't know what the secret is, I'd like to find out how that 14-year coma worked out for you.

Now If We Could Just Fit Details With a Plethysmograph

Queer Beacon writes that the new issue of Details is dredging up a 10-year-old study connecting homophobia with latent homosexuality by measuring penile responses to gay porn.

It's not enough that Details is the gayest magazine on the planet; now they're actively recruiting self-professed hets.

Sir, Just Put Down The Genitals

Not exactly what comes to mind when you think of sexual assault:

Before cops threw the book at him, Jakub Fik threw something unusual at them -- his penis.

Fik, 33, cut off his own penis during a Northwest Side rampage Wednesday morning. When confronted by police, Fik hurled several knives and his severed organ at the officers, police said. Officers stunned him with a Taser and took him into custody.

I'm sure drugs played no role in this whatsoever.

Joan of Amnesia

It's time to take a belated walk down the red carpet with "The Soup" on E! Entertainment Television.

The look on Lee Majors' face when Joan Rivers refers to him as "Larry McMurty" is worth the price of admission alone.

As a bonus, we're giving you some reality TV clips too.  Ever wonder how much male genitals weigh?  You're about to find out.

[Watch video – 7:02, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 7:02, WMV format, low bandwidth]

Not So Much Thinking As Staring

<>

<>

<>

Some observers might have noticed my idle threat to go all porn the minute Mal's plane hit the tarmac. Oh ye of little faith.

HBO has recently been running a documentary featuring a behind the scenes look at photographer Timothy Greenfield-Sanders and the creation of his new book of photography and cultural essays featuring over thirty adult film stars.

Thinking XXX brings us many pretty and entirely naked men like Lukas Ridgestone and Chad Hunt, as well as dependable cultural commenters such as John Waters and Michael Musto.

Given the frontal nudity, the following highlights from the first half of the program are very much NSFW.

[Watch video – 3:37, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 3:37, WMV format, low bandwidth]

Bury My Penis At Wounded Knee

26-year-old Jesse of Seattle has a tiny problem.  Literally.

Jesse suffers from the heartbreak of a condition known as "buried penis," which he describes as "where it goes inside when you sit down, stand up, and it really itches a lot."

Or if you'd prefer to ask someone who knows what the fuck they're talking about, medical professionals will tell you that buried penis, or "phimosis," is the "inability to retract the distal prepuce over the glans penis."  In other words, for about 1 percent of the adult male population – either for congenital or acquired reasons – the head of the non-erect penis retreats into the scrotum and/or abdomen, making a guy appear more girly than man.

Jesse reports that he has always been hesitant to go to the bathhouses with his father-in-law.  Why you'd go to a bathhouse with your wife's father is apparently a question only for more curious reality-TV producers.  Instead, "Dr. 90210" glosses merrily over the issue and follows Jesse as he prepares to correct the "angle of his dangle."

And if you're wondering why the picture of the kitten in a teacup, then ask yourself about the multitude of other disturbing images I could have included, and the question answers itself.

[Watch video – 12:03, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 12:03, WMV format, low bandwidth]

13th on the Podium, First in Our Groins

(UPDATE: Sorry the pictures disappeared for a while.  They are back now, after the jump.)  Robbie is helping prove today why more eyes and ears are better than less when it comes to MalcoVision, as he pointed me toward this little gem:

Canadian (by way of Italy) skater Emanuel Sandhu won't long be remembered for finishing 13th in men's figure skating at the 2006 Winter Olympics.  But thanks to the high-definition cameras of NBC, he wins immortality in our hearts – and in other places on our body.

The purple-clad cutie had a mishap-strewn performance that seemed to have him more on his ass than on his blades.

But as he left the ice, NBC cut away to a super slo-mo shot of Sandhu than answers the age-old question: "What do figure skaters wear under their spandex?"  It might also answer the question of what Sandhu's religion is.  Ba-DUM-bum!

Yes, Sandhu's Lycra-gripped man-parts flopped all to and fro as he fell down, and were broadcast to a potential 3.7 billion viewers worldwide – and to a lucky few of us, in all their 1080i glory.

As Robbie said, Johnny Weir didn't actually skate all that badly yesterday.  He was just distracted.

Stills images follow after the jump, but first there are a couple of videos.  The first is what I would term "the good part," and the rest is his entire performance for the ice queens who would scream if I neglected to include it.

[Watch video "Good Parts" – 1:19, WMV format, very high bandwidth]  (Why bother with low-bandwidth??)

[Watch video – 6:25, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 6:25, WMV format, low bandwidth]

Gay Bits

U.S. military has wasted $363.8 million over 10 years discharging gays, also known as 404,672 suits of body armor.

One year later and "the leads have all but dried up" in the brutal dismemberment of Rashawn Brazell, a bisexual Brooklyn teen.  Police are pointing to the possibility that a "chance encounter" took his life.  —Reg. req. for link. (Thanks, James)

Andy has a good round-up of recent gay-marriage news:  William Weld continues to disappoint; Frist continues not to surprise.  Meanwhile, "It's good for your health!"

Tom Cruise: Still sue-happy after all these years.

DNC imitates gay-left blogophere: "You're ugly!  And fat!"

It's "Zbooby"?  Looks more like It's "Zpenis" to me.

MalcoVision will be studying Johnny Weir's every fey move tonight.

More Fallout for Clay

The National Ledger has a neat round-up of Clay Aiken's continuing woes in the wake of last week's big interview on Howard Stern's show.  [Tidbits also at Jossip and Perez]

While Claymates visiting The Malcontent have been desperately and lamely trying to disprove Paulus' story and to bolster Clay's sweltering hetero street cred, it seems other more realistic fans of the Gayken understand that where there's smoke, there's a flamer.

So now there are reports that some of the Claymates are considering a class-action lawsuit, while Page Six is reporting that the suits at RCA want to put some distance between the upcoming release of Clay's new album and the more recent release of man-goo on his chest.

The Malcontent's advice to Clay: Admit that you were gay along and that you weren't intending to deceive anyone.  Tell them your first album, "Measure of a Man," was really about your predilection for hot, hung Marines.  Elton John and Barry Manilow have had long successful careers; so can you, sweetie.

Boys, Joys and "White" Noise

It might just lose me my license to practice homosexualism to admit this, but I have never been to a circuit party in my life.  And now I am probably nearing the age where I would look foolish even trying to fit in.

I have (coincidentally) missed both Miami's Winter Party and Palm Springs' White Party by only a week each.  And while a friend once tried to take me to one of the events for DC's Cherry party, he had gotten inaccurate information about the venue, and we ended up having to go elsewhere.

"When Boys Fly," currently in rotation on "Here! TV," is probably the next best thing for those of us who were either too directionless, too uninterested, too scared or just plain too skeeved out by these bass-thumping, drug-fueled, bacchanalian rites of gay passage.

The documentary follows a group of friends at the aforementioned White Party – not a commentary on the ethnicity of the attendees, despite appearances – presenting a realistic portrait of the highs and lows of the often chemically enhanced revelry.

But if there was an agenda in Stewart Halpern and Lenid Rolov's desert tale of love, lust and and lewdness, I couldn't find it.  Instead, I saw a story about boys who came, partied and made mistakes – but, above all, had fun.

Many screen captures and a lengthy video clip, most of which is NSFW, after the jump ...

Signed, Confused

I always intend to write something on transsexuality, but never quite get around to it. Perhaps in not doing so I'm betraying my own discomfort with the topic. Even when in a largely gay atmosphere - be it Boystown, a large group of gay friends, etc. - if the topic is broached, I shy away and twist around in my seat. Although it is almost a decade since I identified as gay, I continue to remain completely mystified by the T in the GLBT salad of sexual alliances.

There are many shades and variations in the sliding scale of human sexuality. We have all our own attractions, types, and emotional impulses when it comes to finding a partner. And yet, there is that bridge of understanding I cannot cross - the lopping off of body parts.

Try as I might to reach that much-desired nirvana of tolerance, I freely admit to a very internalized revulsion to the thought of having one's cock removed and carry some doubt in the proposition that it's a mentally healthy impulse. It seems like self-mutilation to me, and I'm not necessarily certain it's behavior that ought to be encouraged.

What brought this to mind is the recent death of the pioneer of sexual reassignment surgery, Dr. Stanley Biber.

I know the standard GLBT line on the topic, and I'm not particularly interested. We're all unique snowflakes, and society shouldn't judge, and we must accept, etc. etc. etc. I'm with them on the whole non-discrimination plank, but the idea that castration is a good thing leaves me cold. I'm not seeing this.

The whole issue of operative transsexualism gives me a major case of the heebie jeebies. If someone called me a transsexualaphobe, they wouldn't be terribly off.

My challenge to readers: Someone explain why I'm very wrong in my thinking without relying on pamphlet talking points and generalities about tolerance. I'm all ears.

The Carver, Unmasked

A number of series regulars were brought in for questioning on last night's season finale of Nip/Tuck as part of Kit's quest to stop the Carver before he/she kills again.

Regular readers will know that I have suspected since at least September that Bruno Campos's character, Dr. Quentin Costa, is the deranged serial attacker.  But was I right?

MalcoVision has some spoiler-ific clips for you after the jump, and more pictures of Bruno Campos shirtless.

(The picture at right was a photo composite I made from two screen grabs showing a key image of him from the episode.  Don't worry, though, it would not have helped matters if they had panned down any farther.  Believe me.)

The Battle of Superman's Bulge

There is a new villain in the upcoming Superman movie. It is neither Lex Luthor nor Dr. Doom, but the dread powers of star Brandon Routh's enormous wang:

The new Superman is giving movie bosses a headache - because of the size of his bulge.

They fear Brandon Routh's profile in the superhero's skintight costume could be distracting, reports the Sun.

One man's fear is my deep personal hope.

Hollywood executives have ordered the makers of Superman Returns to cover it up with digital effects.

The Sun's source said: "It's a major issue for the studio. Brandon is extremely well endowed and they don't want it up on the big screen.

Gay groups, feel like boycotting? Boycott this. For the love of god, do you people have no principles whatsoever?!

Zap! I Did It Again ...

Maybe I should start a regular feature called "Stun-Gun to the Genitals Watch," because it just seems to keep happening.

The Hills Are Aroused

We interrupt this string of political tirades to talk about: the penis.

More precisely, we'll allow Kim Cattrall to do the talking.

The alter ego of sex-crazed Samantha Jones is the host of an HBO special called "Sexual Intelligence."  (Actually, it is called "Kim Cattrall Sexual Intelligence," but that is an even worse sentence fragment than the title I chose.  Cattrall is the host and exec producer, yet she chose not to put the title in possessive form, perhaps for fear of being mistaken as actually being "sexual intelligence."  Kind of like "Tobias Is Queen Mary."  But I digress.)

The first several minutes of this otherwise unremarkable show focus on your johnson, your piece of pork, your wife's best friend, and cetera.

Perhaps the most memorable scene (as flagged by Robbie) was when the camera swooped in on Cattrall on a hillside near Dorset, England, channeling Julie Andrews and dancing on a large and "eye-catching" 2,000-year-old artifact.

The MalcoVision clip is relatively safe for work, unless your priggish boss is put off by ancient hillside depictions of tumescence.  (Private to HBO: Screw your content protection!)

[Watch video – 2:12, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 2:12, WMV format, low bandwidth]

Sunday Bits

Scott Podesednik is a big hanging man. Enrique Iglesias? Not so much. The Latin heart throb is coming out of the diminutive closet and promoting extra-small condoms for his tinky winky.

This man has no such problems, claiming the minor redwood dangling between his legs is simply too big to have committed the sexual assault he's been accused of.

North Dallas Thirty is running a poll about a blog name change. May we suggest Bulgarian Transexual Gypsy Folk Singer?

One episode remains of Rome, the best show currently on television. There appears to be some sort of friction between Caesar and Brutus. I'm sure everything will turn out all right.

I missed football today due to my customary Hangover Sunday observance. However, Nathan Vasher of the Chicago Bears broke an NFL record by returning a missed field goal 108 yards for a touchdown. And here I thought my team would be crap this year.

Life Can Be So Felicitous Sometimes

So Robbie and I were talking a bit earlier about what a thoroughly delightful phrase "Bulgarian Transvestite Gypsy Folk Singer" is and how he was thinking about trying to work it into as many random posts as possible.

And I shared with him how, a few years back, I made it a point to work the phrase "stun-gun to the genitals" into everyday office banter, for no reason other than that it was such a bizarre thing to say, and it never failed to crack up my coworkers.

Then not a few mintues later this afternoon, while over on Gay Patriot, I came across this story:

Men Line Up For Testicle Shocks

As Robbie said, "freaky."

Measure of a Man

Author Scott Poulson-Bryant deconstructs a certain myth about black men.

Why, Oh Why, Did I Pledge GDI?

Wannabeleader gives us all a reason to matriculate – many, many times.  (Ba-DUM-bum!)

I'm trying to decide whether to post a "NSFW" with that, so I guess the question might answer itself.

Dick Blows ... His Top

Priceless item from Lloyd Grove's column regarding The Hotline, a must-read online journal for political junkies:

The Hotline blows: Writer Richard Bradley, whose name was Richard Blow when he edited George magazine years ago, has had just about enough of The Hotline referring to him as "Ex-Dick Blow Richard Bradley." Yesterday Bradley E-mailed Chuck Todd, editor of the D.C.-based political tip sheet: "It's true, of course, that my last name was Blow before I changed it, but no one ever called me Dick, at least not to my face, and I think it's a little weird that The Hotline seems to be hung up on this bit of name-calling. (You've done it about half a dozen times.). ... I know the Hotline traditionally employs a lot of young writers eager to display their attitude, but even so, isn't such snarkiness a little immature for a serious publication?" Yesterday, after my inquiry, Todd apologized to Bradley, and E-mailed me: "We regret any discomfort caused by the inclusion of his former name, but we hoped it would clarify for our readers who Richard Bradley is." Uh, huh.

The Malcontent only aspires to attain such levels of snark.  [Thanks, Quinn]

Bamber on No-Towel-Road

You first saw the stills on Towleroad, and now The Malcontent (as schizoid a blog as ever there was) brings you just a little more: more stills of the nearly naked Jamie Bamber on basic cable's Battlestar Galactica, plus Bamber's star-making video (sampled at just a little higher quality than normal, for no particular reason).

[Watch video – 6.7mb, 1:19, WMV format]

And the husband asks why I like sci-fi?  (Click to enlarge.)

Oops!

Going bald?  I don't care!

Bamber's Member: If a genie gave me three wishes, one would surely be for Time Warner Cable to switch the Sci-Fi Channel over to high definition!

Jonesing

I am fortunate never to have gone through the pain and misery of withdrawal from an illegal drug such as heroin.  Indeed, I have tried illegal drugs only a handful of times in my life (Ecstasy twice and marijuana thrice.)  I have not tried them more than that, in part, because I had essentially zero response to them.

But I have to say that withdrawal from Lexapro, which I am currently undergoing, is no real picnic either.  (I alluded to it only briefly in a previous post, but I am blogging about it now because it has gotten worse, not better.)

I started taking it a couple of years ago mainly as the result of a very bad relationship: He was crazy, so I went on medication.

Somewhat ironically, the drugs helped me see what a rotten boyfriend he was, so I decided I couldn't be around him anymore.

Lexapro did good things for me.  It made me much happier and social, and helped me better deal with adverse situations.  But on the downside, it makes you much more sensitive to weight gain, especially if you fall off the workout wagon for any length of time.  It can also decrease your sex drive, although that is admittedly a blessing for me under normal circumstances, and the effect moderated with time anyway.

When the doc was originally experimenting with the proper drugs and dosages for me nearly two years ago, I went off Lexapro entirely for a short time before going back on it.  The withdrawal was unpleasant.  Primarily, I felt dizzy and sometimes even on the verge of blackout, especially when moving my head around.  Worst of all was at least one full-fledged panic attack I endured, the first ever in my life.  It was triggered by a work setting that I am no longer in.

But even without the panic attacks, this period of withdrawal seems longer and more severe. Maybe it is because I'm battling jetlag on top of it all.  I feel so woozy and disconnected from my body and brain, and I have been on the edge of falling asleep at the most inopportune times.  I am just glad I have a long flight ahead of me to try to readjust.

I decided to go off the drug for the reasons described above, but also because when I moved to New York, the five prescription refills I had in DC would not transfer across state lines.  I had never intended to live the rest of my life needing psychotropic drugs flowing through my veins, so now seemed like the ideal time to see if I could cope without chemical assistance.

I also have the benefit of having traded up from a fucked-up, alcoholic boyfriend to the ideal mate.  I know he will help me get through this, or anything else.

I'm sure he won't mind what happens to my sex drive when I come off SSRIs, either.

Two Thumbs Waaay Up!

Roger Ebert posts a dick pic. [HT: Gawker]

To Cut ... Or Not To Cut

Andrew Sullivan is more passive-aggressive than ever about circumcision.  His latest masterstroke (pardon the pun -- both of them) focuses on the physical sensation involved after the procedure, and concludes by quoting a reader that surgical circumcision in a hospital is inferior to a ritualistic Jewish bris on grounds of aesthetics and sensitivity.

Ironically, Sullivan has insisted repeatedly in the past that his beef with circumcision is not with desensitization, even though he continues to bring up such a point nonetheless.

Sullivan contends that some men should consider it on health grounds, but he continually (and paradoxically) uses the highly charged term "mutilation" when parents choose to have it performed on their baby boys.  (Note also his smart-ass title, "HOW TO CHOP OFF PART OF YOUR DICK.")

So is it mutilation or not?  If it is such a travesty that it happens to babies, then why counsel men to consider it later in life, especially after they would have forgone the hygiene and health benefits until that point?  His concern for health rings a bit hollow when he uses charged rhetoric against parents who would provide their sons with the same benefits he cynically touts.

He has even called circumcision "child abuse," a bizarre charge from which he has since backed down.

Is cutting the umbilical cord "abuse" or "mutilation"?  It is done, and without the child's consent, for legitimate reasons of both hygiene and aesthetics.  (In that regard, it is not too far afield from circumcision.)

Yet Sullivan is hung up on the penis, which indicates that his arguments have everything to do with pleasure, his strenuous assertions to the contrary notwithstanding.  He doth protest too much, appearing more interested in the physical sensations of sex than in the mounting evidence of circumcision's health benefits.

His angry screeds against parents who take precautions for their infant sons' health is especially galling in that Sullivan has not been particularly careful about his own.  (I suppose raging about loss of physical sensation would be a bit more consistent with condom usage, even if it's more recent.)

The bottom line is that Sully has proven himself a man who will say just about anything if it will get him a little attention.  But he could have a point: After all, men who take to heart his outspoken advocacy of steroids will need every penile inch they can muster to compensate for their roid-shrunken balls.