OSCAR ROUNDTABLE

I just finished reading Newskeek Magazine's yearly Oscar Roundtable. This year (the 12th year) featured Mickey Rourke (The Wrestler), Anne Hathaway (Rachel Getting Married), Robert Downey Jr. (Topic Thunder, more on that debacle, later), Sally Hawkins (Happy-Go-Lucky), Brad Pitt (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button) and Anthony Langella (Frost/Nixon).

My general thoughts (general, so as not to spoil the article for the rest of you):

• Anthony Langella sounds like a complete turd. He starts pretty much every other answer with some shot about how he's "been in this game the longest" or some bullsh!t like that
• Brad Pitt sounds like someone I'd love to have a drink with (anyone who throws a circumcision joke into a formal interview is my kinda guy!)
  
• Anne Hathaway needs to get over her bad press (we love you, but not enough to feel sorry for you)
  
• Sally Hawkins actually made me go and put her film in the Netflix cue (don't listen to Mickey Rourke, LA is a fine place to live... sometimes)
  
• I didn't get a sense of Rourke of Downey Jr., except for a hilarious story Robert Downey Jr. told about being "Brown Betty" for two days after some bad beef in Japan.

Overall, I think this year's roundtable was great. If you have a subscription to Newsweek, or have the chance to pick up a copy, I highly recommend this article.

I'M ALL FOR LISTS, BUT...

Some lists are just, well... mean. A while back, Maxim magazine listed The Five Ugliest Women on its web site. Usually, men's magazines put together lists like, "The 40 Hottest Women Under 40," or the like. But in this instance, Maxim (which has always been a little iffy, in my book) went over the line of good taste...

Which is what makes it so sinfully, delicious, I think. When I worked at Men and Freshmen we were always putting together lists. Not like the lists at our sister magazine, Unzipped, or our parent' company's "flagship" magazines, Out or the Advocate... no, our lists were geared at our readers. Lists included things like, "Seven New Year's Resolutions We've Already Broken," and "Courses We Wish They Offered In College," - which included 'How To Top (Or Just Act Like One)' - none of these lists I wrote and edited were anywhere near what I would call good taste... so, in that spirit, here are Maxim magazine's Five Ugliest Women:

Sarah Jessica Parker

I'm not a huge fan of Sex & The City - Carrie is too whiny, and too much of a self-destructive victim for my tastes, I have to admit to watching a bunch of episodes on TBS. And while I think SJP isn't ugly, I've pretty much never seen her in an outfit I liked, so she's earned a spot on this list, if you ask me.

Amy Winehouse
I love me some Amy Wino... but she is pretty toe-up. 'Nuff said.

Sandra Oh
I first saw Miss Oh when she made a cameo on Popular (I own both season box sets, bitches), and I loved her as a lesbian in that Tuscan movie... but since ascending to the heights of Hollywood, she gave into the anorexic look most actresses on that show have. She makes the list just for being on that lame show, as far as I'm concerned.

Madonna
This one is debatable. She's never been a looker, but managed to really work with what she's got. (See previous post about here image here.) But as she ages, she's looking rougher and rougher. I understand why the unimaginative, immature editors at Maxim would be afraid of an older, powerful woman like her, so we'll give them this one.

Britney Spears
I know there have been tons of stories about her mental health, but there's only one reason why a cute, all-American girl turns into a bag lady... drugs. Which would explain the way she's been looking for the past few years.

REALLY, PEOPLE MAGAZINE?

Were there no other men left on the planet? (Obviously not, as I'm able to write this.) What is wrong with you, people over at People Magazine? What kind of crack are you on? Matt Damon as the sexiest man alive?

What about Raoul Bova? I know he hasn't made a decent movie since Under The Tuscan Sun, but Matt Damon? I've heard, on E! and several other TV reports, that George Clooney and Brad Pitt were campaigning for Damon to win, since 2001 - this is beginning to feel like a joke, more than an actual honor, or exploration of sexy men.

I haven't seen the entire list, but I'm wondering if model Rusty Joiner, or rapper/MC Common made the cut... oh, just Google them, I don't have the patience to put up images of either of them... I'm too pissed off about skinny, semi-talented, plain as toast Matt Damon winning.

Really? No, really? Was that the best you could come up with? I know the list is supposed to feature a "regular guys" section, where readers nominate their neighbors, brothers, etc., but I think Damon belongs on a list of regular looking (as in average) guys, not on the cover.

This list drops only a few days after Maxim posted their list of the five least sexy women (topped by Sarah Jessica Parker), and I've decided, with Damon's ascent to the People throne, our country has officially lost its collective marbles.

KEEP IT REAL

I cut this ad out from a magazine I read... funny sh!t, huh? I have to admit, Heeb is one of the smartest, funniest and most interesting reads each time I pick it up. And no, I'm not Jewish... there just aren't any other magazines out there providing the consistent quality this one does.

Such a magazine, you should have...

CUT IT OUT

A subscription ad for one of my favorite magazines (I have a subscription now, thanks Dad).

JABBANOBATTAH!

OK, so I finally got pissed off at my last boss (actual picture on left), for sacking me.

I mean, how dare you? I rocked! I rocked like no one you've ever seen! And don't tell me it was me, or I couldn't handle the job...
the last three guys before me quit, or were fired, and there wasn't anyone in the job for almost 6 months prior to my arrival. Oh, and the guy you gave my job to walked off the job after less than a year!

Alright, maybe it is the job. Or maybe its you! Either way, it doesn't matter, now, I guess. What's done is done, right?

Then why am I mad now? I'll tell you... starting over sucks, no matter what the circumstances are. That's just how it is, end of story.

But how dare you just snap your fingers, and send me back to go, and tell me its my fault?! You're gonna get what's comming to you, trust me. And I'm not gonna shed a single tear. At least not for you.

DIFFERENT STROKES 4 DIFFERENT FOLKS

When Kris Weston first gave me a peek at Chris Wide’s photos from Muscle Up, I knew he had to go on the cover of MEN magazine. We’d spent months re-working every page of the magazine (hey, after 20 years, it needed it), and Chris was everything we’d been after in a cover-man: a big, sexy man, who hadn’t plucked, tweezed or shaved every inch of his body. But (as always), there were a few complications:

First off, Chris lives in Germany, and doesn’t speak much English. I lucked out, in that Chris was in San Francisco around the time we went into production on the issue, and Manfred Speer (a former COLT Man himself) offered to translate. I wrote a first draft of the interview, and my managing editor, L.A. Wexton, and I spent several hours trying to present the text in a manner that would make for easy translating (i.e. getting rid of colloquialisms, checking sentence structure and whatnot).

The other problem was that the editor of Unzipped Magazine had already ‘claimed’ him as a cover-model. I’d clashed with this guy—over cover models, content and just about everything else—in the past, and had managed to hold my ground a number of times. My boss told me he’d handle it, and to his credit, he did. (I think we ran the cover a month too soon—a sentiment the publisher agreed with—but I was happy to have my cover guy without any of the drama, so I kept my trap shut.)

Now, the Unzipped dude was pissed, and I mean PISSED. (Not that this was anything new.) The office was often a buzz over his daily, high-decibel, expletive-filled tantrum, so I guess I didn’t catch the fit he had over this change in covers. Allegedly, or from what I can gather, he, “went outside, swung a dead cat,” and found a last-minute replacement that was, “even hotter.” Both covers hit around the same time, and (this I got from the horse’s mouth) his, “hot guy standing by the pool in a Speedo,” was hotter than mine. Even his own art director agreed (well out of earshot), that there was no comparison: Chris was, and still is the hotter of the two.

To my surprise and satisfaction, Chris turned out to be a GREAT interview—smart, sexy and funny: When asked if he was approached by other porn companies, in his native Germany, he said yes. When asked why he picked COLT, he said it was because of the prestige and history surrounding COLT. In his own words: “Why settle for a Volkswagen when you could have a Mercedes?”

The issue was rounded out with an incredible layout/interview with Falcon exclusive Dean Monroe, new models from Body Image and Satori Studios, as well as a hot, semi-nude shot of ‘Amazing Race” winner, Reichen (I’ll post THAT story some other time) and closed with an amazing personal essay by Falcon exclusive Josh Weston. Looking back, I’d have to say that was the hottest issue of MEN I put together during my time as editor. I’m very proud of it.

COLT Man Exclusive Chris Wide’s new movie, Wide Strokes is available from the COLT web site.

For a couple of bonus pictures of Chris (semi-safe for work), click here.

FAINT, FOND AND FUNNY ECHOES

A writer I used to work with (for both MEN and FRESHMEN) sent this to me recently, and I thought I’d share it. On the back page of FRESHMEN, is a monthly list – kind of like Letterman’s list, but dirtier and much gayer. OK, just dirtier.
It was a pain in the butt, coming up with the list each month, but this writer often had the last-minute ideas that saved the day, and inspired the art guys to come up with a great, final page.
I guess this would be my last, last page…

The Top Ten Wishes of Every Gay Man
10 Liza wouldn’ lisp!
9 Matthew Rush isn't bloated.
8 That aging, white sugar daddy you've got in Miami is really a hot, gorgeous Latin Papi out in West Hollywood.
7 After a more careful examination of your birth certificate, you discover you're actually as young as you’ve been telling people you are.
6 Every guy you meet on Manhunt actually looks like his photos, and really IS packing all eight inches advertised in his profile.
5 You've discovered—and exclusively own—the gene to endlessly, madlessly clone TV reality hottie Reichen!
4 You are employed full-time as Jude law's live-in, round-the-clock Nanny, mkaaay?
3 The Indian in the Village People looks just as hot as he did in 1979, not as he really looks in 2005...
2 The last two Presidential elections were just really, really bad dreams. (Or really great jokes.)
1 Juan Garcia was still editor of MEN and FRESHMEN magazines.

YOU GOTTA HAVE FRIENDS Part 1

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THE FINAL (CONDENSED) INSTALLMENT

Posted by: zippersparks

THE FINAL (CONDENSED) INSTALLMENT
Life's Too Short
The Final Two Installments of My Special Story

OK, so I've been advised NOT publish the final chapters of the saga (read: drama) surrounding my last job for reasons I won't go into. Instead, I'll keep it short, thus removing any (and I mean ANY) legal grey areas, and close with this:

I learned SO much. I loved the work I did, could have done without the personal politics and in the end, all of the work, drama and intrigue didn't amount to much. I was laid off because of restructuring (or so I was told) but what it boils down to is that my passion and stubborn-headed nature left me without an ally when I needed it most.

There's nothing I could ever say or do that would make that company a better place to work, or help them understand my true value/potential... I ran myself into the ground, ended up in the hospital (pneumonia, thanks) and don't have much to show for it.

Or do I?

[The record is NOT over yet.]

THE CULT OF BEAUTY / BOOTY

"I don't feel like I'm oppressing anybody..."

When I was first offered the job (you know the job, the one in porn), the first thing I did (well, the first thing after I changed my Pampers, which had been ruined when I laughed so hard, I peed) was take my dad out to lunch. We went to the Shakey's Buffet by my old high school, partly because it was closing that week (forced out by "redevelopment" don'tcha know?), but mostly for the Mojo potatoes.

Now, pops and I can talk about anything, and I mean, ANYTHING. Yes, I'm wired like my mom, but that's why checking in with the ol' man makes so much sense: he is a solid yin to her yang, which makes him an ideal devil's advocate in situations like this.

I told him all the details: the pros, the cons, but still playing my cards close to my chest (a total departure from my normal neurosis). I have reservations about taking the job, but I'm hoping that if I don't bring them up, and then HE does, it validates my concerns.

It's fucked up, I know, but this was new for me, in a number of ways. Usually, if I have doubts or second thoughts about something, I'm secure (or maybe just stubborn) enough to bow out, stick to the plan and feel good about it. But this time, oh, this time was different. For once, I was able to fully grasp and digest the amazing new world unfolding before me (mine for the taking, it would seem), and I want it... I mean, I REALLY want it... but, again, I have those nagging doubts-doubts now snowballing into (irrational) fear because my dad... hasn't said a word. This is a VERY unusual development. My dad always speaks his mind, no matter what the consequences. But now, he's just sitting there, munching on his pizza crust.

"So. . . uh, waddayathink?" I eek out, diving for the last of the Modjos.
"About what?" he counters, calmly stealing a thick Modjo slice off my plate.
"Uh... the job," somebody with a voice like mine says.
Silence.
"Do you think I should take the job?" I ask, my emotions (finally) boiling up to the surface.
"I think," he mutters, not even trying to hide a small sigh, "if it is work you think you can do; work you think you think you would like, for an amount of money, benefits and growth opportunities justifying the investment of your time and..."
"But what do you THINK?!" I ask, cutting him off, and now painfully aware of how transparent my doubts are. He sighs. (Again.)
"I think," he says, shifting in the booth, as he starts again, "If it's work you think you can do, that you think you'll like, for that kind of money..."
He doesn't even bother to finish.

The talk eventually turns to the impact of the adult industry (hegemony, dominant beauty standards, and the usual White Opression talk) and the kind of influence I'll have if I take this job. But for the first time in my ENTIRE life, my dad doesn't urge me to rebel-doesn't incite revolution. No, he tells me not to rock the boat, just learn all that I can, and focus on the new skill sets I can pick up, for the NEXT job.

Several months later, the topic comes up at a small family gathering. Over the course of the discussion, I admit/confess/brag I'm enforcing the dominant, fascist body cult, and contributing to low self-esteem everywhere, and (only half-joking) cap it off, saying, "I don't feel like I'm oppressing anybody!"

But as the laughter died down, a thought jumped up, into focus: All those times in the past, when it felt like there was some larger force, an unseen system 'keeping me down' maybe those pricks didn't know how much they were hurting people-hurting me... but the warm glow of enlightenment dims as I realize that at some point, they knew. It was pointed out to them, or they knew all along but didn't have to face the ugly truth at the start of their oppression, whatever. The point is, they kept going, even after they KNEW the negative impact, which means they intend to inflict harm, and didn't lose any sleep over it.

But hey, when it's work you think you can do; work that you'll like... you fight the power, buck the system and speak your mind when it will be most effective, not just when its called for.

Thanks for letting me learn this one on my own, pops.

PART TWO:

Posted by: zippersparks

PART TWO:
"And for my next trick. . ."

OK, so let's fast forward past the inevitable: The fact that the process of revamping the magazine is a horror (nobody helps, it turns into a big mess, my boss comes back from his surgery and totally f*cks with everything I've spent the past three months on), the fact that while my boss was away, everything went haywire, that they made me go to therapy (for tardiness) and the fact that over half of the staff is gone. Yeah, let's just jump right past that, to the part where my boss gets back and (over the course of several weeks) makes the following comments:

"I never thought your writing was very good."

"You don't seem to be able to do you job, on a day-to-day-basis."

"Look, that's the way it is. I have the bigger office so I make the rules. You should be smart enough to recognize that."

"Is that what you're eating?"

So now he's back (which I had been waiting for, thinking that once he was back, the job would be 'worth it' again, or at least the hardship would be bearable), and proceeds to completely change my work behind my back, and present it to the Pres/Pub as my work (she caught on, but didn't do much about it), and generally treated me like a second-class citizen. When I asked him why another employee got better treatment, his response was, "Look, So-and-So does his job REALLY well. . ." and then, realizing his mistake, he stopped.

So there it was. I mean, he was right, I should be smart enough to figure it all out. But it wasn't a matter of my intelligence. If things really were as I was lead to believe (that everyone else had their sh!t together, and I was the lone screw-up), I'm smart enough that I would have recognized that.

OK, so I got more of my shit together. But that still didn't help. I did everything they asked of me, no matter HOW ridiculous, including changing how I dressed (only on the days we had meetings). But none of it worked! I'll give you a classic example:

There were complaints (I was told) that I wandered around the company too much -- that I was in other people's space/face too much and that I was too loud. So, I sat at my desk, and if I needed to speak with someone, I used the intercom system. Only thing is, if this person was in the same room, they would freak out. Apparently, they thought this was weird, and even MORE annoying than when I walked around.

So, the chatter became that I was weird. So, I walked around, only when absolutely necessary, and spoke very quietly, kept my hands at my side and my eyes down. Which made people assume there was something terribly wrong with me (illness, drugs, they assumed everything -- even that I was related to the Pub/Pres!).

Bottom line: No matter what I did, people just liked to bitch and moan. And the Pub/Pres took all the office gossip as fact, and managed based on what "the grapevine" had to say.

It was never, "So, tell me what's going on with So-and-So," but, "Why can't you get along with So-and-so?" or, "So I hear you're annoying So-and-so, could you knock it off?"

I mean, everyone just complained to throw attention off of what they were doing (leaving for 3 hour "lunches", bringing their dog to work and keeping it under their desk, or showing up and hour late every day, just to name a few). And it was like management couldn't function unless there was someone to string up, and, well. . . I'll let YOU finish that thought.


MY PART
OK, so I have to take ownership of a few things. First of all, my reactions to everything I just mentioned ranged from unacceptable to psychotic, I'll admit that. I flew way off the handle a number of times, and never really gave it much thought. I didn't always have my sh!t together, either. And after a while, although I followed every order, I would bitch and moan about it, or do it with clenched teeth and fists. Not exactly a model employee, I know. I'm not going to blame anyone else, or point the finger. I was a SH!THEAD, no two ways about it.


SO, NOW WHAT?
Things were chugging along, disaster after disaster, and I started to wonder where it was all going. I shared my concerns with the Pub/Pres and the VP of HR, both of whom asked me to "hang in there" because "things were going to change in a major way" but they couldn't say how or when.

Then, things changed.

[to be continued]

AND SO THE STORY GOES...

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LATER NEVER THAN BETTER

Oh, I am soooooo confused right now, you know? No, you don't. There's no one out there.

OK, so I do have a couple of new posts (mostly for myself), but the "HoYay!" article I wrote for FRESHMEN magazine (site here) isn't ready yet -- in the copy edit part of the process, the "Tinkerbell Syndrome" and "The Salieri Complex" aren't even half-way to where I'd like them to be...

I'll get to them this weekend, if I don't make it to the Chi Chi LaRue party in San Diego...long story, need rest now.

FISH GOTTA SWIM...

and birds gotta fly..."
Man, oh man, on man. Gus Mattox (web site here). Do you know him? You should. It's not THAT unusual for a guy in porn to be sexy (great bod, killer smile, amazing...well F&B). But what's a little more unusual, is how smart and personable he is.

Don't get me wrong, there are lots of super cool, intelligent, crazy/sexy/cool porn stars:

Michael Lucas NO, his lips don't look like that all the time, and YES, they're real. He's actually one of the smartest, coolest, nicest guys I've met in porn so far.
Josh Weston He has a great bod, a sweet soul and it turns out he's a killer writer. What, you don't believe me? Watch out for the April issue of MEN magazine, on our new, signature back page.
Blue Blake...OK, wait.

I could sit here and list all the cool ones, but I was talking about Gus, and I was talking about him for a reason. He's been doing quite a bit of writing for me, in MEN magazine, and now he's got something going with UNZIPPED. Don't quite know what, but the guys from Unzipped are my favorite, and Gus rocks, so it should be awesome.

What really blows me away about Gus is how approachable and funny he is. He just got back from a COLT Studios (Buckshot) shoot with Dean Phoenix (how many covers do I have to put you on, before you say hello?), iPod Miklos and make-belive boyfriend #2, director/PR/marketing guy, Kristofer Weston. (Kris just hooked MEN up with a hot, hot cover for April, so make sure you keep an eye out for it. But the coverguy is m-b b/f #5, so hands off!), Anyway, Gus got home from the shoot, and sent me a bunch of great email, which got shorter, and shorter, and shorter until he finally admitted he was lagged and went to bed. (Alone? He didn't say...)

Anyway, there's just this...warmth surrounding everything he does, and when I checked my work email this morning, I read through his email again, and now I can't stop grinning...

Oh yeah, there was a debate in our office as to whether or not he looks like Cary Grant or somebody. I dunno. He looks like him, which is all he needs.

[NEW POST LATER TODAY on HoYay!, Blogspeak and Other WWWierdness, as well as a posting of my original essay on "The Tinkerbell Syndrome" and other social phenom. See? Told ya I was gonna be back.]