We’d heard of Cazwell before, but never really paid him much attention because who cares if he saw Beyonce at Burger King? Our ear drums certainly didn’t. But then the gay rapper took off his shirt, got a gang of Latino papis, and made us melt with his new music video, Ice Cream Truck. It’s got everything you could want from a slutty rap vid: booty poppin’, popsicle fellating, speedos and see-through shorts dripping with sweat. Oh, and ice cream! Who says summer’s almost over?
Before now, the only films that our favorite art freak Francois Sagat had starred in were the undead porno flick L.A. Zombie (which got banned) and Saw VI (for, like, three milliseconds). But we told you about Sagat’s latest role in French director Christophe Honoré Yagga’s newest new film, Man in the Bath and it’s coming soon!
Sadly the 20 to 45-minute short about a gay guy slutting around after a break-up looks like festival fodder rather than something you’ll see at your local cineplex. It does however feature the ASSet that made Sagat famous. Imagine that, a porn star in a movie about sex. Does he have the swerve and the verve to become the first true mainstream-gay porn crossover? Wait and see. In the meanwhile, we imagine there’s lots of people who could happily watch Sagat’s amazing buttcheeks for hours. We’re some of them.
Miles Hastwick is a corporate scientist who heads the Museum of Genital Integrity. But when a young baby boy finds himself in danger of “male genital mutilation” (aka circumcision), Hastwick suddenly changes into FORESKIN MAN! Using his plasma rocket boots and superhuman strength, Foreskin Man fights the likes of mad Dr. Mutilator from stealing the foreskins of young tots.
So why the heck did someone create an anti-circumcision comic? PR Web explains:
Foreskin Man #1 is written and created by Matthew Hess, who is president of MGMbill.org. The group is pushing to enact U.S. legislation that would protect boys from forced circumcision the same way that girls are protected.
“The Foreskin Man comic book uses popular art to shine a spotlight on the practice of infant circumcision,” said Hess. “Over the years there have been a lot of rationalizations and justifications to keep it going, but the bottom line is that forced circumcision violates human rights. I hope this story will help convince some people of that in a way that words alone cannot.”
Although Hess wrote the story in Foreskin Man #1 himself, he had the artwork commissioned to give it a professional comic book feel.
“I’ve been a fan of comic books since before I could even read the words in them, so I wanted the art to be at least as good as the story,” said Hess. “I’m very happy with how it came out, and I hope readers enjoy it.”
The premise begs a few questions: First, will Foreskin Man ever knockout a Jewish moyle for trying to perform a bris? That might make him seem anti-Semitic. Second, we know Foreskin Man digs chicks, but is he bisexual? Just wondering because we spend a lot of time wondering if men are cut or uncut ourselves. And lastly, does Foreskin Man have a foreskin of did he decide to become a superhero because of his own botched circumcision? Hey, it happens… if someone horribly disfigured our wieners during infancy, we’d grab a cape and tights too.
As it is though, cut or uncut, we just like putting them in our mouths. And when we’re done sucking cock we enjoy reading issue #1 of Foreskin Man. Foreskin has never been so fascinating!
The folks at the Melbourne International Film Festival wouldn’t be caught dead with a necrophiliac. That’s why they rejected Bruce LaBruce’s zombie porn art flick, L.A. Zombie which features Francois Sagat and a handful of other porn actors like Eddie Diaz, Wolf Hudson, Adam Killian, and Erik Rhodes. The film board is worried that the film would “breach local taste standards”, which is odd considering that the film only features a blood orgy where zombies fuck each other’s rot-holes and gunshot wounds.
Outraged, LaBruce issued a statement. Here’s the best part:
Intriguingly, the version of L.A. Zombie that has been banned by the Australian Film Classification Board is the softcore version, which features no explicit anally penetrative sex. Although this version does contain a few brief shots of flaccid penises, the only erect member in the show belongs to the alien zombie, played by French porn star Francois Sagat, and it is a prosthetic (fake) cock, not the actor’s own. The hardcore version, L.A. Zombie Hardcore, will be released and distributed separately on Halloween after the softcore version plays for several months on the international film festival circuit.
L.A. Zombie is about an alien zombie who emerges from the ocean and proceeds to find dead bodies in Los Angeles with which he has sex in order to bring them back to life—not as zombies, but as true resurrections. Although apparently the Australian Classification Board has no problem passing all manner of mainstream torture porn movies which feature, amongst other things, the rape and dismemberment of women, it’s interesting that they have no stomach for a movie that reaffirms life. The alien zombie may or may not be a homeless schizophrenic, so the film also serves as a kind of document of the epidemic of homelessness that currently ravages the city. Censorship in any form should not be tolerated, but to ban a film that one programmer at a major festival has called “a masterpiece of melancholia” is truly beyond the pale.
We posted pictures from the film back when it was still filming. QC totally supports gay zombies and thinks that film festivals are supposed to embrace art and push the envelope. But there’s no telling how good the actual film is—Bruce LaBruce isn’t exactly known for good direction, great acting, or high production value. So while it’s possible that Melbourne might have rejected L.A. Zombie for its gunshot wound fucking, they might have rejected it just for being a bad movie. Either way, we’ll watch it as soon as we can and report back to you.
Remember Pricasso, the guy who painted with his dick? Now Reese Rideout is following his lead and trying to sell an artwork he made with his cock. We prefer Pricasso’s artwork, but we like Reese’s paintbrush infinitely more. Do you also do face painting, Reese?
It’s actually really hot to see Reese jerking his beautiful cock, pumping his pecs, and slathering his muscular body in paint (you can tell he gets off on it too), but you may want to turn down the volume, because the repetitive and shrill music could drive you insane.
We’ve long been fans of Justin Monroe’s sexy pop photography. His pics combine a colorful comic book playfulness with amazingly attractive models with muscles and bulges that seem larger than life! His new project Play Things puts a candy-coated spin on his homoerotic pictures. He’s ditched some of the darkness from his past collection Down the Rabbit Hole and made a series that’s as alluring as it is fun! Check out Justin’s other work on QC: QCA Art: Justin Monroe Caption This: Justin Monroe QCX’s Fetish 101: The ABCs of BDSM
Exterface specializes in pop-comic photographs of hot men. And while their work usually features more cock, their latest Bain De Minuit still has all the babes, bright colors, and bulges of their best work. They’ve enlisted Arnaud Priouret, Alex Sayhi, Clément Heurtier, Pierre Barreda, Vincent Lillo and Joffrey Vannier to pose in tight swimsuits, making us wet. It makes us wanna find a friend with a tasty popsicle to suck on in the summer heat. It’s gonna be a long hot season, eh mes amis?
And if you haven’t seen their past work, we’ve just created an Exterface QC Fan Club Page. Prepare to pop a huge French boner.
This week some religious scholar found that there’s little evidence that Jesus died on the cross. And if that and the hung Jesus aren’t enough to make fundamentalist heads explode, Fernando Bayona’s Circus Christi should do the job nicely.
Bayona recreated modern-day scenes out of the life of Jesus and apparently re-cast Jesus as a rock-star Messiah who came down to earth to save your soul by RAWKING YOUR BALLZ OFF!!! Whenever we see Jesus in a piece of artwork, he always looks like a starved CK model anyway, so it makes sense that Boyona used some skinny twink in his underwear to play Big Baby J. He and his gay disciples apparently ate Madonna at the Last Dinner and then Judass gave J a wet sloppy blowjob in a subway bathroom.
Which makes us wonder, why has no one yet created a gay porn version of the Gospels? 12 guys, some S&M, and a second coming… it’s like the New Testament authors wanted a gay porn spinoff.
I Love You Philip Morris is a film about a con-man (Jim Carrey) who gets thrown in jail and falls in love with the titular character (Ewan McGregor). The film hasn’t been released yet—although the trailer’s available—but it has been praised for it’s frank depiction of gay romance and man sex… and that’s something we can all get behind! Viva cinema!
We tracked down this scene of Jim Carrey slamming a muscle daddy and had to share it with you. It’s not as graphic as we’d like of course, but compared to everything else on QC, what is?
EDITOR’S NOTE: This is the very last installment of AGITL. To read about the series and why it’s ending, check here. To start reading from Steve’s first column, click here and then click on every image at the top of each column to go to the next one.
Also, Steve promises to stop by the QComments section here this weekend to bid his fans a fond farewell and talk a little about his future plans, so tell him how you feel and stop back to see what he said. Goodbye Steve Prince! Much love and luck from your fans at QueerClick! Walk it Out
By Steve Prince
Peter yawned as he folded up his blanket. The early morning sun hung behind his right shoulder. I squinted as I watched him, his naked torso giving him the effect of a cloud with a silver lining.
I smiled. I had only seen a cloud with a silver lining once in my life. I was driving home from college for a weekend in Oklahoma. It had rained all day but as I crossed the Texas/Oklahoma border the clouds broke apart. It was late afternoon. I rolled my window down taking in the smell of fresh rain. I looked out my passenger window and there it was, covering in the sky as if frozen into place. I’ll never forget how the dark the inside of the cloud was in contrast to its edge. It was this dark bulbous, billowing dark cloud while it’s edge radiated a blinding white gold—a light so bright you could barely look at it.
“What are you thinking about?” Peter said.
My thoughts slipped back to the present. I shook my head. “Nothing, really.”
He bent low and kissed me.
We made love again.
Forty minutes later, I was folding the blanket while Peter lounged on the truck bed.
“Do we have to?” he pleaded.
“Yes,” I said, “I need to get back. The last thing my Mom needs to worry about is me right now, she’s still upset about her brother dying.”
Peter sighed as he fiddled with the edge of the blanket. “Do you think your Uncle Jerry was gay?”
“Where did that come from?” I asked.
“Well, he was single all his life,” Peter said. “That’s kinda weird for around here.”
Honestly, he might have had a point. A part of me always did wander if Uncle Jerry was gay. When I was younger it seemed he and I were a bit closer, but when I came out to my family he had nothing to do with me. He could have distanced himself from me because I was someone he wanted to be. Maybe.
“He could have been,” I said honestly, “but I didn’t really know him that well. He was kind of an ass, bless his heart.”
“Hmm,” Peter stood, “Well, I’m glad.”
“You’re glad he died?” I said with a smirk. I knew Peter was changing the subject.
“No,” he said hugging me, but then he reconsidered. “Well, yeah actually. If he hadn’t died, you would be here, and I wouldn’t be doing this.”
He kissed me again, and tried to pull me closer.
“Stop,” I said smiling, “I really have to go. I’ll see you tonight.”
Peter’s face seemed to grimace at the thought of returning to the real world; we both felt so comfortable in our little private pasture. We loaded up the truck and climbed in. The light of day had changed the look of the place. At night with the stars, it felt so romantic, mysterious, and exciting. But now has the May mid-morning heat began to sink in, I could see most of the grass had been trodden on by cattle or was dead from lack of rain. A part of me already missed the mild Los Angeles weather. I wonder what the boys were doing right now. What would they say about me and Peter?
As Peter pulled onto the dirt road, the mood seemed to change. We both knew we were heading back to the reality at the end of that road.
“How are you going to tell her?” I asked.
Peter bit his bottom lip nervously.
Editor’s Note: Next week is the LAST INSTALLMENT OF AGITL! And while we’re sad to see Steve go, read about why he’s leaving! Also, be sure to read last week’s column before reading this week’s continuation. Almost There
By Steve Prince
“What?”
“I cheated on you,” I said, gulping again.
For a split second Peter’s face looked like he was going to hit me, but then his eyes seemed to slide out of focus.
I sat up.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I blabbered, “It was a dumb thing. I was really drunk—not that that is an excuse—because that’s not. It’s totally not. If I was in my right mind I would have pulled myself together.”
Peter sat up in the bed and looked out into the dark.
Like an idiot I kept blabbering. I do that when someone is just sitting there. The silence is worse then being yelled at—at least then I would know what he was thinking.
“I don’t know why I did it,” I stammered. “Wait, yes I do. I was upset and I felt alone, so instead of talking to you I should have just reached out to you, but I was mad at you. And oddly I don’t even remember why I was mad at you in the first place, because well…I mean look at your face. How can I be mad at that face? But you can be mad at my face…I mean, mad at me. It’s okay. I can take it. Be mad if you need to be.”
Peter sighed. My mouth was becoming dry from talking too much. So of course I continued talking, because that makes sense. Did I mention how uncomfortable I am with the whole silence thing?
“I don’t know why I’m really bringing this up now,” I said, the words sputtering from my mouth, “well, yeah I do.” I sighed. I finally was going to say what I had wanted to say for five months.
Editor’s Note: After this, there’s only 2 MORE WEEKS OF AGITL! Read about why Steve is saying goodbye! A Reunion of Sorts
By Steve Prince
“Well, where the hell is the contact solution?” I murmured to myself.
I scanned the shelves in front of me, up and down and up and down. It had to be here somewhere. I could never find anything at Wal-Mart. Sadly, Wally World was the ONLY option to get anything in Oak Grove, Oklahoma. It was always crowded and it always took forever when I went there; mainly because my home town is so small that I saw everyone I knew, which entailed many, many, MANY conversations. In one way, it is nice to know everyone, but sometimes you just want to grab yo’ shit and go.
Things being as they were, it was nice to get out of the house. For the last three days I had been cooped up with my parents helping them put my Uncle Jerry’s affairs in order. And as much as I loved my parents, I needed a break.
Starting to become annoyed by my inadequacy to find the goddamn contact solution, a voice from behind me startled me.
“What are you doin’?”
I turned.
Jake Shears, the openly gay lead singer of Scissor Sisters, posed semi-nude for the French gay pop mag, Tetu… and are we glad he did. Who knew he was such a smoking little hottie? If you’ve ever seen him perform live, then you probably did because he and his bandmates will often strip down naked during their shows. We’re loving his muscular chest, the teasing pubes reaching up from his crotch, and that small ass crack showing the last shot—he certainly knows how to keep his fans wanting more!
That being said, the band’s new album Night Work gets released June 28th. And because you’re so awesome, here’s a video for their first single Fire With Fire. Now if you’ll excuse us, we’re gonna go masturbate to printed images of Jake Shears, spank you very much.
Ooooo, Francois Sagat always pops up in all sorts of crazy art projects, but this time a fan’s made a crazy art project about him! Unzipped said the photos are Sagat’s childhood photos with Britney Spears and Madonna magazine covers. The song’s awesome but also a bit dark, but what else did you sexpect from the guy who’s been in twozombie porns, a crucifixion painting and a Saw movie?
The Marlboro Man
By Steve Prince Editor’s Note: After this, there’s only 3 MORE INSTALLMENTS OF AGITL!Prepare to kiss Steve goodbye!
“You didn’t bring boots?” Chad looked at me seriously.
“I uh…” I stammered. I was caught off guard. “I have boots, but I just didn’t think I needed them.”
My cousin looked at me disapprovingly. “Mmm-mmm,” he mocked with a smile. “You move to Los Angeles and you can’t even remember that when you go out in Texas, you wear boots.” He shook his head.
“Well, girl,” I said, “Where’re yours?”
Chad smirked and waved his hand in the air, as if waving away an annoying fly. “Cuz, you know I only wear Prada. Who the fuck wears boots?”
I knew he was kidding.
I couldn’t remember a time when Chad hadn’t kidded around. Even as a kid, I remember going to visit my Aunt Starlene (yes, Starlene) and her family in Dallas. Chad was the oldest of the kids, which made him only a year older than myself. From the moment we met, he and I seemed to be kindred spirits—probably because he was a big ol’ Mary like me. Seriously, I think being gay did have something to do with our connection; we both had a shared understanding of what it was like to be in our family and be different.
I sat on the bed watching Chad primp in the mirror.
“Is Brad coming?” I asked.
“He had to go to some work dinner,” Chad said with a smack of his lips. “He’s meeting us there.”
Brad was Chad’s boyfriend. Yes, Brad and Chad. I know it might sound a bit cutesy, but they actually were one of the most stable couples I have ever known. Brad and Chad had both met when they were seniors at the University of Texas in Austin. They’ve been together ever since. They both gave me some hope… maybe some relationships work out.
An hour later we both were out the door of Chad’s apartment. The strip of bars—known as the Drag of Austin—was only a fifteen-minute walk from Chad’s apartment. The early night air was still warm. Heat wafted up from the street as Chad and I chatted and talked and eye-raped the scenery.
Jeeezus. Texas boys were hotter than two rats fucking in a wool sock. The University of Texas should be called the University of Corbin Fisher. Seriously, the guys are ridiculous.
“Look at him,” I said as a tall, tanned blonde man sat at a nearby bar drinking a beer. He smiled at some girl across from him. Of course he’s straight, I assumed.
“Well,” Chad said, “it is Texas. Gotta play the butch part, but ya never know. Oh, check him out.” Chad pointed with a nod.
An Adonis of a man lumbered towards us and passed while chatting with friends. He looked like John Stamos from the 80s. Sooooo hunky. Chad and I looked at one another and smiled.
“Were almost there, girl,” he said.
I looked around. Not one gay flag was in sight; this was such a different place than West Hollywood.
“Where are all the gay bars?” I asked.
“Everywhere,” Chad said.
