The St James Version

“Are we human? Or are we Dancer?” I just don’t get it. What ARE the Killers singing about? And are those our only choices? I mean, if we’re playing reindeer games, I’m usually Rudolf or sometimes Blixen. Never Dancer. Never Prancer. Now, some people have suggested that Brandon Flowers is, in fact, singing: “Are we human, or are we DENSER…” which possibly makes a bit more sense. Although not really. I’ve also heard that the lyric was inspired by a disparaging comment made by Hunter S Thompson about how America was raising a generation of dancers…. But what could have prompted him to make such an obsevation? And really, what’s WRONG with raising a generation of dancers? Unless by “dancers” he meant “homos"…. OH WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE JUST EXPLAIN THIS ALL TO ME BEFORE MY HEAD EXPLODES?

– James St James

The St James Version

So somebody in NYC wheat-pasted a bunch of Rachel Zoe heads onto this High School Musical 3 movie poster, with the caption “Drugs at Work.” After watching her show for three weeks now, I really have to wonder: Why is everybody so nasty to this woman? It sort of makes me like her more. So she’s a little droopy-faced. You are too. And so she sounds like Kim Kardashian in a meat grinder. And so what if her daily wardrobe consists mainly of wolf pelts that she wears in Los Angeles, during the summer. On the bright side, she has some killer cocktail rings, a closet full of Halston, and a little gay-boy assistant who is perfectly adorable (although he’s beginning to sound JUST LIKE HER – ew). I just wish CERTAIN BLOGGERS would find somebody else to pick on. Really, she’s no more annoying than 98% of the fashion industry. She has her own look, her own point of view, she loves her job, and loves fashion. Can you say the same? LEAVE RACHEL ZOE ALONE!

– James St James

The St James Version

A FEW RANDOM THOUGHTS

Tonight is the premiere of The Ex List. I don’t know what it’s about, or if it’s supposed to be any good, but I’m watching it because the main character is named Bella Bloom. Which reminds me of a character named Billy Bloom. Which is in a book called Freak Show. Which just came out in paperback. You should buy it. In fact, skip The Ex List and buy Freak Show instead. It’s a lot better. Probably.

In today's Huffington Post, Jane Hamsher points out some things overlooked by most pundits in the post-VP debate. Among them was Palin’s "cruel and calculated needling of Biden by calling his college professor wife a ‘school teacher’ and saying ‘she'll get her reward in Heaven’ (to a man whose first wife died in a car accident)" – UNFORGIVEABLE and just SO TYPICAL of the screechy, sarcastic way she debates

And now one for the ladies… I know I always seem to get lathered up over the prettyboys, but all that has changed. Yes, lately I find myself obsessing over the incredible hotness that is Rachel Maddow of MSNBC's The Rachel Maddow Show. OMG. I LOVE HER! And I can’t help thinking that she must be THE number one sexual fantasy/dream date/ ideal trophy wife for lesbians everywhere. Somebody needs to slap her face on a dildo, or maybe blow-up doll, and watch the money start rolling in. Hell, I’d buy it. But wait. Oh no. Am I in love with her because because she’s a smart, accomplished sexy woman who can hold her own among the big boys of cable news? Or because she looks like a hot post-pubescent boy? Sigh…. I’m so predictable. Anyway, cheers, ladies! Let’s all feast on her loveliness.

– James St James

The St James Version: Word of Wonder Edition

NEW HOLLYWOOD SLANG

Heche-ing it out: temporary lesbianism for press. As in: “Lindsay is just Heche-ing it out with Samantha. Don’t worry, she’ll go back to Wilmer.”

Hasselbecking: ceaselessly and annoyingly arguing a point, even though you are wrong.
As in: “Stop Hasselbecking me about Lindsay's acting ‘talent.’ She made one good film five years ago. She’s just another…”

…Hacktress: a professional celebrity who continues to float on the A-list, despite making only crap. See also: Gwyneth, Halle, Nicole, Reese, etc etc. Which reminds me of…

Gwyn and bare it: pretend to be a high-minded, serious actress, until it comes time to promote your film – at which point you happily slut out on every red carpet, wearing just a few black Band-Aids, a la Gwynyth Paltrow during her Iron Man junket. As in: “Look Lindsay, I know you don’t want to dress up and go to the Criterion release party for I Know Who Killed Me, but you just have to Gwyn and bare it again….”

– James St James

The St James Version

Dancing with the Stars. Well, my goodness, the season is off to a galloping start, I’m having a complete ball. But am I the only one lamenting the lost potential pairing of Derek Hough and Lance Bass? How beautiful would they have been together? Dancing side-by-side, chisled cheek to chisled cheek… button nose to button nose… Think of it! The tango! The two-step! The paso doble! (Oh I am a FOOL for the paso doble!) What magic they might have made together! And, um, is it wrong of me to fantasize about adding Cody Linley to that heady blond mix? And maybe just chucking the whole “dancing” thing, and going straight to the “humping” part? (Oh PLEASE. Like you weren’t thinking the same thing too! And I checked IMDB. Cody was born in 1989, so there is no reason for the FBI to get involved in my fantasies.)

– James St James

The St James Version: Homo Hacker Lovefest Edition

Sometimes I just exhaust myself. I can be so damn predictable, you know? Why, looking at this picture here of Sarah Palin's hacker, David Kernell, you just KNOW where I'm about to go. I'm going to get all gushy and scream (in all caps) "OMG! I LOVELOVELOVE HIM!" and I'm probably going to wet myself a little, and announce that he is "THE CUTEST BOY IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD!" Sigh. Of course I'm already hopelessly in love. Of course I've already kicked Levi Johnston to the curb, and vanquished all thoughts of Dancing With the Stars cuddle buddies Cody Linley and Lance Bass from my mind. So, yes, yes, from now until the end of time (AGAIN) I will only love little David Kernell. OMG! That wonky left eye! OMG! That tossled head of hair! OMG! HE IS SO ADORKABLE!

There. I've fufilled my homo obligation for the day. Can I go to bed now?

– James St James

Hole-y Apocalypse!

OMG! WE'RE ALL STILL ALIVE! I must admit I was a little worried for a while there. We were all supposed to be swallowed by a big black hole this morning. Or weren't you paying attention TO THE END OF THE WORLD? Now, I've been following this story for a while and, from what I can understand, the CERN laboratories in Switzerland or Sweden or maybe Norway made a hydro-accelerator thing that would make a little big bang (HA! OXYMORON ALERT!) and show us all how the universe was made. Unless it accidentally swallowed us whole. Or hurled us into an alternate dimension. Or blew us all up. Which would be really sad. I mean, think about it. REALLY think about all the things we'd miss: No more Cody Linley. No more waffles. No more waffles with Cody Linley. No more "Dollypop" show this Friday at the World of Wonder Storefront Gallery (8PM to midnight). No more Daily Freak Show. EVER. Well how awful! Thank GOD we're still here today! YAY!

– James St James

You Heard It Here First

Seems James St James got the jump on Perez Hilton when it came to sniffing out the big queen on the new incarnation of 90210. "GAYGAYGAY. You heard it here first," James said right here on the WOW Report four days ago about the Ty Collins character played by Adam Gregory. "I can smell the homo on that one, wafting down Sunset!"

The St James Version

Here are my thoughts on last night's 90210:

1. Rich-boy Ty Cobb, or Ty Collins or WHATEVER – definitely gay. Oh yeah. Big time. GAYGAYGAY. You heard it here first. I can smell the homo on that one, wafting down Sunset! And that HAIRDO! That is some SILLY-ASS SHIT! Obviously, the kind of hair some bougie studio executive THINKS a rich boy would have. In fact, that’s one of my chief problems with the show, in general. I don’t think anyone connected with the show has ever met a rich Beverly Hills brat, or been to a high school full of rich kids. The girls all looked like Sherman Oaks mall rats and the boys all looked like Jersey douchebags. Somebody please do a little recon to give the show some authenticity.

2. As for the alleged hotties in the cast, well there ain’t much to go on…. Black Brandon is totally too vanilla… Slutty heartthrob Ethan is hotter than the ads make him out to be, but still sort of "junior gigalo" for my tastes (it’s all in the eyebrows)… Persian slacker Navid has cute bangs but a weird underbite.... Then, as the barrel bottoms out, there’s that uberblonde gay porn-star type (who made out with Naomi at the Pit) who MIGHT do in a pinch, but I’d have to have done A LOT of poppers and crystal meth to go there. Which only leaves the quirky, blinky goofball teacher, Mr Matthews, to take up the mantle of hottest humpmokey in the cast… And old guys who shake are a tough sell in today's youth-oriented market. TRUST ME.

3. And FINALLY, Naomi Clark… groan. Why does every show have to have the obligatory teenage girl who looks 45? She’s HORRIBLE! And TACKY! Those clunky Coco Canal knock-off earrings, MY GOD! PUH-LEEZ! Would someone PLEASE just bring Pat Field in for a consultation with wardrobe for this girl, ASAP! I just don’t know if I can continue watching this tanjy-ass shit.

– James St James

The St James Version

This video is for all you Andrew VanWyngarden fans out there, and you know you are legion. The humpy MGMT lead singer is seen here at some random club, somewhere, who knows when. But it doesn't really matter. The point of this 30-second clip is: He's HOT, he's FUCKED UP, and HE'S WEARING A DRESS! And WHO DOESN'T love a cute straight boy in a dress? Anyone? Anyone?

The clip was sent to me by my friend, WOW editor Chris Diaz, as part of his Solid TV sample pitch. Solid TV is a lot like Daily Freak Show, but without the James St James element. I know: Go figure. But it's still VERY FUN.

For some additional Andrew hotness, watch this clip – 2 MINUTES WITH MGMT – in which an intrepid young interviewer asks Andrew all sorts of idiotic questions, which he answers adorably. Who knew his favorite bird is a roseate spoonbill and his favorite moon is "crescent, then a waxing gibbous"?

– James St James

The St James Version: Catfight at Julie Newmar's?

Saturday night, Lenora Claire – goddess that she is – invited me to tag along with her to Julie Newmar's 75th birthday party. It was going to be a lovely event, she assured me, VERY Old Hollywood. I would be in HOMO HEAVEN. We arrived at the former Catwoman's GORGEOUS Brentwood house that was filled with memorabilia from her 50+ years in showbiz. Covering the walls were magazine articles from her stints on Broadway (most famously as Stupefyin' Jones in Li'l Abner) as well as this gorgeous 1957 Time magazine layout of her in Elvis drag – VERY HOT! I was, INDEED, in absolute homo heaven; that is, until things started going terribly wrong....

The St James Version

My friend Pat from Clearwater, Florida, is concerned that I'm not fully exploiting my current status. He suggests a more stringent admissions policy to my fan club, and a tightening of the reins on my part. He thinks it should be more of "an 'action group' kinda like the nazi 'Angstedt Grupen.'" Here are his proposed guidelines for the "First Ultimate Classified Knowledge Klub – Fabulous Action Group":

Purpose – to select ambassadors for promoting the advancement of patrilineally exclusive males, forwarding the fact that our orientation is a reaction to overpopulation. Being the further evolved species we were created to save the earth. Promoting our mission by covert operations to expedite the evolution of mankind.

1. You will become one of the most popular people on the planet
2. You will have full VIP status to all nightclubs
3. Have washboad abs
4. You will be protected by members of our organization who have used brutal lethal force in the past
5. Don't worry – I will tell you what to wear and how to act
6. Thousands of other perks will also be revealed.

Requirements:
1. Males only (we need females too but they can join my other exsisting fan club)
2. Must send picture(s), if you are buff then show it. We are very particular about admission and beauty is paramount to acceptance (just like in the real world)
3. A non-refundable fee of $100 must accompany your application. This shows us you are serious; however, your nude picture will be accepted in place of the $100 fee.
4. If accepted you must do exactly as you are told
5. You will advance in status as you successfully complete your secret missions

JOIN. BE SOMEONE. FUCK EVERYONE. (Our motto.)

Hmmm. I'm thinking about it, Pat. It might need a few more happy faces and some YAYs! and OMG!s – but the blueprint is there. Yeah, let's run with it.

– James St James

Who's the Cutest Boy at WOW?

A superficial little activity from James St James. Assuming these are the only attractive guys working at WOW (which they're not), select who you think is the cutest of them, James's BILFs.

Dan • Joey • Kevin • Jared

Steve • George • Steven C • Cooper

Gossip Girly Boy

Face it, guys: As much as we all want Chase Crawford's character on Gossip Girl to bottom for badboy Chuck Bass, there is NO WAY IN HELL that the PTB will allow their breakout heartthrob to go homo. NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER. We DO know, however, that SOMEONE is about to come out of the closet, and I'm thinking (and hoping and praying) that it's pretty little crazy-boy (crazy little pretty-boy?) Eric van der Woodsen. Connor Paolo (who plays Serena's little brother) is all soft and pretty like a girl, anyway, so it's just a hop, skip, and jump to "class queer," RIGHT? And look at how good he looks in a dress (picture from the movie Alexander)! Mark my words, people.

– James St James

The St James Version

I had dinner last night at the Chateau Marmont and, as always, it was a delightful melange of Old and New Hollywood. At the table to my right, THE QUEEN OF HOLLYWOOD, herself, held court. YES, JACKIE COLLINS, in leopard and diamonds, was sipping champagne and no doubt gossiping about Jill St John or George Hamilton, you know how she is. It was all I could do not to fall out of my chair and squeal like a pig. I couldn't eat, I couldn't carry on a conversation. I nearly pulled a Derek Hough, snapping my neck back and forth, straining so hard to see what she was eating. Then I noticed that at the table to my LEFT was that naked guy from Forgetting Sarah Marshall, which isn't quite as exciting, but there you are. And as I was there SIGNING SOME LEGAL PAPERS, giving the rights TO SOMETHING so it can be made into SOMETHING, the whole scene was veddy, veddy chic, dahling.

– James St James

An Owl for the Jowls

Because I am a woman “of a certain age,” I can wear big purple hats and barbaric jewels during the day, and no one even bats an eyelash anymore. Yes, I have finally earned the right to dress as absurdly as I want to. And now, by God, I want to wear more silly necklaces. To that end, I was recently toddling down Melrose (the WESTERN part of Melrose, darling) and I happened into Marc Jacobs (well of course I did) where I stumbled across this marvelous little bijoux necklace, only $10,000. And I need it, of course. It’s all about the owl. Randy Barbato, SWEARS they are all the rage, you know. And if he says so, and Marc Jacobs concurs, then who am I to let the trend pass uncelebrated? Put me down for two.

– James St James

In a Glass by Itself

James St James writes:


Feast your eyes on this lovely, whimsical ring by Solange Azagury-Partridge. Note the fine attention to detail and the realistic rendering of God’s cutest creatures. Doesn’t it just make you squeal? How much would you pay to own a ring like this? Fifty, maybe $60? What if I told you that each of these precious baubles was HAND-BLOWN and ONE-OF-A-KIND? NOW how much would you pay for such an extraordinary piece of craftsmanship? Upwards of $100? Do I maybe hear a few wistful fashionistas out there willing to pay up to $200, maybe even $250? Well, it is a honey of a ring, I’ll grant you that. Elegant AND fun. That Solange Azagury-Partridge really put her heart and soul into its design, yessiree. Now, I appreciate fine artistry as much as the next queen, and I tend to pay a bit more for outrageously trendy things than most. So I might go as high as $500. Right? Right? Are you still with me? Yes, I’ll pay $500 for the pleasure of wearing a little bird and bee on my ring finger. OK, then, after the jump, I will tell you the actual price for this amusing little trinket.

Lookin' Sharp

OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG!OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG!OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG!OMG! I'M LACTATING! I DESPERATELY NEED THIS WHOLE OUTFIT! AND IT'S ONLY $5,000! I'LL TAKE TWO OR THREE! OMG! MARGIELA REALLY IS THE FIERCEST THING GOING! OMG! OMG!

– James St James

[Ed note: We had trouble coming up with a headline for this piffle of a post. James also suggested: "Black Is the New Black," "Holy Crap! Is the New Black," "Shoulder Chic," "A Bolder Shoulder," and "Giving the Bold Shoulder."]

The St James Version

We have the writers back and we are STILL being subjected to this tripe? I am BEYOND ANNOYED at two lame-as-fuck storyline clichés that I have recently been witness to. The first was on LOST last week – when the audience was asked to endure that hoary old bit about "the-deadly-radiation/gas-leak-with-the-digital-countdown-and-the-guy-frantically-punching-in-codes-to-save-the-world" scene that was tired when Get Smart did it. It was tired when Luke and Laura typed in "ICE PRINCESS" to save the world from Mikos Cassadine's weather machine. And it was already totally tired when Matthew Broderick typed in "WOULD YOU LIKE TO PLAY A GAME OF CHESS?" with one second left before the bombing commenced. So THAT'S IT, Lost writers. I'm giving up. The time-travelling lab rat was bad enough. But now I am out. I am free on Thursday nights once again to have a social life.

The St James Version

Ah, he is that rarest of things, the HETEROSEXUAL interior decorator. Eric Villency, the Today show's answer to Nate Berkus, showed me today how to incorporate metallics into my home, and although I'm sure it was very informatve and completely stylish, he's JUST SO FRIGGIN HOT, who the hell could pay attention? I first heard the legend of the straight decorator on David Patrick Columbia's New York Social Diary blog a few years ago. Eric and his GORGEOUS wife cut quite a swath through the Manhattan social set, some say a bit TOO aggressively, if you know what I mean (SOCIAL CLIMBERS). I've been enamored of him ever since and have followed his career with great interest. This is the first time I've had a chance to actually watch him in action and, um, HE DOESN'T SEEM AS STRAIGHT AS HE IS PORTRAYED. I showed the Today show segment to Stephen Corfe and he agrees. "He's LISPING!" he cried. "And look at THAT ASS in those TIGHT JEANS!" He thinks it's all a publicity ploy. "After all, EVERYONE has a faggy decorator. This is his angle. He's a HOT STRAIGHT guy who happens to have a passion for frog sconces."

– James St James

[Ed note: Ooh! Ooh! We're champing at the bit to get in our two cents. The guy's a total woman and that "gorgeous wife" of his looks more like a transgender than Amanda Lapore.]

The St James Version 2

Our second video selection is this early interview with a young and achingly still-alive Leigh Bowery. I say “young” because I remember that “spectacle helmet” of his was featured on the cover of the June 1985 issue of i.D. magazine. (Funny, I remember OTHER PEOPLE’S press as vividly as my own.) (I think I even have it around here somewhere.) Anyway, if there’s one thing I remember about Brits in the '80s, it’s that they had the oddest habit of cooking up some COMPLETELY MENTAL new look, then sewing together ONE fabulous ensemble that was THE BE-ALL & END-ALL OF THE WORLD! YES! Something wicked and subversive with SIRENS and OVEN MITTS and GORGEOUS BITS OF HANGING THINGS, you know how they are. And when they would feature that new look, people would GASP IN THE STREETS! And clubs would go up in FOAM AND THUNDER when they arrived! I mean, MY GOD, these were some of the FIERCEST LOOKS EVER SEEN BY MAN! To which they would then proceed to minimize it's fabulosity by wearing it ALL THE TIME! YES! EVERY DAMN NIGHT! And by every damned night, I MEAN EVERY GODDAMNED NIGHT! Until it LITERALLY DISINTIGRATED! Or was more likely torn to shreds by a mob of exhausted club-crawlers WHO GOT IT – THEY GOT IT – YOU’RE A FUNKY DISCO COCKTAIL ONION! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! Weirdest damn trend ever. I think it was a genetic memory from the punks (who were poor).Whatever. They ALL did it. From Boy George and Duran Duran on down to Billy Idol and Kajagoogoo. And Leigh Bowery was THE WORST offender of all. Oh. My. God. Yes. Say what you will about his blazing artistic vision, but when that queen glommed onto an idea, he was A DOG WITH A FUCKING BONE, you know what I mean? He could BEAT A DEAD HORSE, I tell you what. So, I can look at any picture of him and tell you EXACTLY when it was taken. Dripping Candle Head? Winter ’87. “I’m a Cunt” Blobby Monster? April ’88. Rubber Nazi Woman with One Big Leg? Sept ’91. Shit-head Coming out of Toilet? January 1992. I’ll never forget them. Although, HEY, now that I think about it, maybe it wasn’t such a stupid thing to do at all. If each and every look etches itself THAT DEEPLY into your mind, and is UNIVERSALLY REMEMBERED by everyone who saw it, maybe it was a GENIUS bit of PR, after all! A constantly evolving bit of personal branding! A “sticky” idea, in the language of The Tipping Point! Legacy building at it’s most viral! WOW! BRILLIANT! So why am I always changing outfits every night? I mean, how can anyone get a chance to remember me? I’m TOO MERCURIAL for my own good! D’oh! Anyway, watch the little clip above, and ponder that point. I have some other interesting videos of Leigh and Trojan and Fat Sue getting ready for Taboo, but THAT’S a whole other hullabaloo, for another week, of course.

– James St James

The St James Version

Bad James! I see I’ve been neglecting my old chum Brett from Brownsville – you know, the nutty queen with the killer video collection? And he’s always SO GOOD to me. Why, just this week he just sent me a package of DVDs that include Shirley MacLaine’s 1978 one-woman show and a literal BUTTLOAD of British scallyboy porn (shocking stuff, don’t you know. Not for every taste.
Really, more of an acquired pleasure. Now, I wonder why he thought I’D be interested? FRESH!)

Anyway, I thought today we’d play ketchup and post an UNHEARD-of TWO videos of his on Wow TV (!!). The first is a 1981 Tom Rubnitz short featuring the disturbing genius that was Disco Freida. You are going to LOVE IT1 And love HER! Such a goddess! Oh my! I’ll never forget seeing her perform those nutty, free-form haikus of hers at No Entiendes and Whispers. (OMG REMEMBER WHISPERS AT PYRAMID? HOSTED BY HAPI PHACE?—Remember: “I’m Hapi! You’re gay! And this is WHISSSSSSPERS!” – AND HOW IT GOT A LAUGH EVERY GODDAMNED TIME SHE SAID IT?)

All the Rage

I don’t care what you say. I’d still totally hit that shit, man. Oh yeah. In a hot second. No questions asked. Sure, he’s nearing 40 and looking a bit grizzled around the edges. But that’s manly, and character-building, right? The "Hume Cronyn" look is ALL THE RAGE amongst young Hollywood has-beens. Hubba-hubbah and pass the meth pipe, right? Oh, don’t look so holier-than-thou. I’ve seen some of the trash you dig up on Manhunt. At least my boy has all his teeth, and won’t steal my toaster when I go to the bathroom. At least I hope….

– James St James

Warhol: Dead At 21 Closing Party TONIGHT!

Why, it seems like it was just yesterday that the Andy Warhol: Dead At 21 show opened at the WOW Storefront Gallery. But all good things must come to an end, BLAH BLAH BLAH, so tonight - on the 21st anniversary of his ACTUAL DEATH, we are hosting one last party for Andy. Yes, from 7PM - 9PM come and celebrate his life, his art and the hella good times we've all had over the past- GROAN- 44 days. PS - THERE ARE STILL A FEW GOOD PAINTINGS FOR SALE, AT CUT PRICE! YAY!

– James St. James

The St. James Version II

Look at this picture. REALLY LOOK AT IT. Now, how many times did you say "What in the HELL....?" There are EIGHT things that immediately jump out at me. The most pressing, of course, is: How have I never known that Gwyneth is a giantess? Or is that just one of those new pocket-trainers with her? ALSO (in no particular order: Is the dwarf REALLY wearing ESPADRILLES with a gold lame mini-dress? Is Gwynnie really wearing SEAFOAM heels with a bubblegum pink dress? And that bow? REALLY, Gwyneth? That bow at YOUR age? And can we talk about that face? Those slitty eyes? That frozen smile? Those Juvedermed-to-fuck cheeks? And after we discuss all that CAN WE JUST GO BACK TO THE SHOES. Oh, I just expect so much more. At least stay within the same color family, for Christ's sake.

– James St. James

The St. James Version

I just returned from a marvelous arctic expedition to Denver, where the temperature was hovering somewhere around absolute zero-- hell on my delicate constitution-- but the local drag queens swear by its benefits, claiming it keeps them cryogenically young forever. It was Rockstar Aaron who brought me out for his birthday party, and as you see, he might be anywhere from 17 to Death-- who the hell can tell? And speaking of death- the mountain population of gay zombies there seems to benefit from the weather as well, as they don't tend to rot as quickly as their tropical counterparts, and their kills stay fresh longer. So claims MARIS THE GREAT. Now, there was also a midnight screening of Party Monster at the Esquire Theater, which was delightful, I think. I can't watch it anymore. BUT GOD BLESS EVERYONE WHO CAN! I went out drinking during the show, but came back for a 2 a.m. Q&A. I mention this only because I want to run this glamorous shot of me in front of the marquis.

– James St. James

Recently (Not) Dead

Well, who the hell knew Joan Fontaine was still alive? Why, just last month I was wishing her sister, Olivia de Haviland, would just hurry up and die already. Oh, that namby-pamby mealymouthed wannabe. I just want to put my foot in her face. So did Joan, which is why I like her so much. The two sisters famously LOATHED each other. In fact, when Joan Crawford was "sick" for the 1945 Oscars, Olivia oh-so-sweetly phoned Joan and told her she would GLADLY accept the award on her behalf, should she win, which she did, and then.... After accepting the award, she haughtily THRUST it in her sister's face as she was walking back up the aisle. Oh, I'm so gay. Anyway, Vanity Fair dug up the crooked-faced old mynx and in their INFINITE WISDOM (you know how they are) decided to just put her through that dreary Proust questionnaire – "What sound do you hate most?" & "If you could save the puppies or the rainbows, which would you chose?" – stupid crap like that. I wish they would have let ME have a go at her. Oh well, maybe if she reads this....

– James St James

The St James Version: Spooky New Orleans Edition

OMG, please tell me you think this is ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING. Everyone laughs when I show them these pictures, BUT NOT YOU. You all seem like believers, I can tell. OH I HOPE SO. So anyway, while I was in New Orleans this week, the St James Squad and I took a break from the Mardi Gras madness, and went to explore A HAUNTED MAUSOLEUM. It had been taken over by a paranormal research team that allowed visitors to roam about freely and have NETHERWORLDLY EXPERIENCES. And they certain did. The other people on our tour were annoying "sensitive" types who kept shouting out things like: "I FEEL THE COLD!" and "I FEEL A LITTLE BOYS HAND!" and other douchebaggy things like that. One girl stopped on the stairs and clutched her hand to her throat and whispered: "Choking! I'm BEING CHOKED! I c-c-can't breathe!" then started gasping and flopping about melodramatically. One of the paranormal researchers then GASPED INCREDULOUSLY and said: "Why that's AMAZING! You are the first person to get that! In fact, A GIRL ONCE HUNG HERSELF IN THE VERY SPOT YOU'RE STANDING!" – and oh how we all ROLLED OUR EYES at THAT one. Whatever, right?

Anyway, I usually consider myself to be rather "sensitive" and witchy, (NO CRACKS), but I found the experience for the most part a little hokey. The only thing I felt while I was there was a bit nauseous in one upstairs room, but that could have been the dust. Oh yeah. There was also this: I found this a little weird: I'm pretty much deaf in my left ear, I don't think I've ever mentioned it before, but there you are. Twenty years of pushed-up-against-loudspeakers in nightclubs, I think. Anyway, in the crawlspace in the above picture, right as the annoying fellow there claimed to feel a "presence" – MY EAR POPPED, AND I COULD HEAR JUST FINE, FOR THE FIRST TIME IN AGES! As we left the area, it clogged back up again, but go figure.

Now about the pictures I've posted: If you look carefully, you'll see what appears to be WATER SPOTS or DUST SPOTS in each of them. On my sainted mother's life, I SWEAR TO GOD, those are ENERGY GLOBULES! It's true! Those are the SPECTRAL RESIDUES OF THE SPIRIT WORLD! NO SHIT! They weren't on anybody else's pictures from anyone else's camera, and after we repeatedly wiped the lens, they STILL KEPT APPEARING. And after we left the mausoleum and cemetary and went on with our night – THEY NEVER APPEARED AGAIN! So YOU TELL ME! I think it's SPOOKY AS FUCK.

OH YES, TWO MORE THINGS: If you click on the pic in the tool shed and look carefully, you can spot TWO GHOSTLY FACES STARING OUT AT YOU! It's true! See if you can find them! CREEPY! And in the graveyard, look for the floating ectoplasmic skull. (Click photos to enlarge)

– James St James

When the St Jameses Come Marching In

A few quick pics from the big Bourbon Street Awards. Here is "Le Crewe de St. James" – everybody dressed up as various MEs from throughout the years! There was a Tripping Geisha James, A Rhoda Penmark James, a Trudi Shinderman James, a Bloody Bride of James, a Big Top James from ANTM, and a Grinning Loony James. The Elegant Slice of Pizza James was off doing cocaine with a hot skinhead and hadn't returned in time for the parade, so fuck her. Oh, and in my last post I forgot to mention dear Ollie and Miguel who drove in from LONG BEACH to play with us, and sweethearts Troy and Jason (Troy is the Grinning Loon in the straight jacket). Btw, I'm the hung-over fool in the turban and FUR at the bottom of the first pic. It was 80 degrees and I puked right after that picture was taken and missed the entire ceremony. Oh dear.

– James St James

The St James Version

I just got back from New Orleans, where I spent five vodka-soaked days with the kids from The James St James Official Fan Boards. Yes, that would be Urethra Franklin, Shelly, Alexiss, Liam, and the wildly lubricated Annika. And I'll tell you all about THAT experience later. And, yes, I will be posting bits and vids and pics from the trip all week, but first I wanted to show you THIS. It's local ace reporter Johnathon Betz's piece from the Bourbon Street parade. He's the hunky hometown hero and bigshot superstar who inspires squeals from the local homos. I was going to do a "Cutest Guy at Mardi Gras" piece, but there's simply no contest. He wins hands down. I think the guy is poised for the big time. Ann Curry, watch your back. (PS, I think he just might be a lady-bottom, too. What do you think?)

– James St James

The St James Version

Here is another rare gem from my crazy little friend, Brett from Brownsville: Undercover…Me! concieved and directed by the late great Tom Rubnitz, featuring the equally late and equally great John Sex. It’s a spot-on spoof of '60s spy movies, with cameos by East Village legends Wendy Wild, Christina Downing, and Philly. John is, of course, sexy as all get out. He always was. Bless his heart, even 20 years later, he can still make my nipple hard. The first time I ever him saw was in THIS video directed by Andy Warhol back in 1984. (IT ALL COMES BACK TO ANDY, DOESN’T IT?) I was still in high school, and living in Michigan when it premiered on NIGHTFLIGHT, and, of course, it just BLEW ME AWAY. Seeing Andy with his latest round of Superstars was a revelation. It was my first exposure to the Downtown Details crowd. In addition to John, it was also the first time I ever laid on eyes on the eternal fabulousness that is Dianne Brill (she’s the one with alphabet soup noodles on her boobs – IN CASE YOU DIDN’T KNOW – as well as drag queens Ming Vauze and Constance. But for now, sit back and let’s just wallow in the hotness that was John Sex. In fact let’s just make February 1 INTERNATIONAL JOHN SEX DAY. Go ahead and watch THIS video of him as well. And then THIS one. And then you can resume your day.

– James St James

Suzanne and the Plesh-ettes

Yesterday, Suzanne Pleshette posthumously recieved her star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, directly in front of Frederick's of Hollywood ("which she would have LOVED!" joked the new master of ceremonies). I was there, of course, because I'm a fool for those things, and I filmed it for you, of course – Cloverfield-style, darling, because IT'S ALL THE RAGE. So don't blame me if it's unwatchable or you get sick. It's all JJ Abrams' fault.

It should be noted that this was the first Walk of Fame ceremony without late-great honorary Mayor of Hollywood Johnny Grant (unless you count Chilean recording artist Lucho Gatica's star ceremony), so the occasion was TWICE as sad. The new guy rattles on a bit for my taste, but there you are. He'll get better. After my loopy lady-lover Marcia Wallace (she of the patchy magenta spikes) bombed, Bob Newhart took to the podium for some attention-shifting shtick that I tuned in and out of. Also possibly seen in the audience were Dick Van Dyke, Rip Taylor (wearing a doubly appropriate RIP baseball cap), and several surviving Sinatras. You might also notice, as I did, that a lot of Suzanne's female friends and family members looked an awful lot like Suzanne herself. These women I dubbed The Plesh-ettes. Anyway, go ahead and try to watch the video. I dare you. If you can make it to the end, we have an ambulance waiting for you.

– James St James

The St James Version: Love Letter to Edie

My friend Brett from Brownsville is a bit OCD, and because of that he has perhaps one of the greatest video and CD collections ever amassed IN THE WORLD. You just have to mention Florence Henderson or Carol Channing or Divine to him and he’s off and running, collecting rare Loveboat and Merv Giffin appearances for you. About once a month he sends me a care package, and I usually just put them in a corner, unviewed, thinking they’ll be fun to watch when I’m in the home for Old Drag Queens and slightly ga-ga and need to jiggle my memory. But what with nothing to watch on TV these days due to the writers strike, I’ve started watching them and, HOLY CRAP, they are a riot. I’m sorry I doubted you, Brett, lover-lady! To get us started, here is a fabulous little gem from 1975, a 13-minute bio of Edith Massey, the John Waters Superstar. I can’t quite figure out if John actually directed it or not but, either way, it’s pretty incredible. Who knew she had such an interesting life pre-Pink Flamingos? (And I LOVE that she plays herself as a young, hot chick!) Anyway, over the next few weeks, I will introduce as many of Brett’s short videos as I can on the WOW Report and WOW TV, so YOU have something to watch during the strike.

– James St James

The St James Version Pt 2

Now why on earth can't the Patriots adopt this hot British trend? "Footballers in thongs" – it makes perfect sense from a marketing standpoint. Why, you'd attract a whole new demographic. And hot jocks getting felt up by old men on national TV? What's not to like about THAT? I could EASILY be one of those old men. THINK ABOUT IT, TOM. THINK ABOUT IT. The Stetson commercial is all well and good. But a VICTORIA'S SECRET PANTY COMMERCIAL? That's the stuff of legend. And legendary wet dreams.

– James St James

The St James Version

I cannot BELIEVE I am about to say this, but: OMG,I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT SUNDAY'S BIG SUPERBOWL GAME! I am absolutely SPINNING ON MY TITS! Well, you can't imagine my bliss: I mean: we all get to spend hour after glorious hour of looking at Tom Brady's dimpled little ass! It just doesn't get any better than that, does it? And I'm not the only one who thinks that. Every faggot IN THE WORLD is with me on this one, right? And it's not just faggots. Every straight guy I know admits to a mancrush on him. Just watch this video. I was going to ooze on and on about him for another three or four paragraphs, but I think that song pretty much says it all. Oh, my dad will be so proud of me. We'll actually have something to talk about this week! TOM BRADY'S ASS! SQUEEEEEEAL!

(And just for a tiny bit of overkill, to really drive home how hot he is, here is another tribute video. This one features a calvalcade of "Gisom": Giselle + Tom – or "proof that God exists.")

– James St James

Another St James Version

Yes, yes, it's just horrible about Brad and Heath, my heart just breaks. And of course everyone is now saying that these Hollywood deaths always happen IN THREES, BLAH BLAH BLAH, and WHO'S NEXT? BLAH BLAH BLAH, and WILL IT BE BRITNEY? (FINGERS CROSSED) BLAH BLAH BLAH (well, you know how people are). But, see, for those of us OF A CERTAIN AGE, there HAS been a third death already (and, actually, it was the first of the three), and one JUST AS TRAGIC (if not a wee bit more) – the oh-so-sad passing of husky-voiced hottie Suzanne Pleshette. Yes, yes, poor Suzanne has been swept aside this week in favor of someone younger and hotter. AND ISN'T THAT AWAYS THE CASE? Oh Hollywood, even in death you can be so cruel!

Suzanne, of course, is best remembered as the improbably hot wife of Bob Newhart on The Bob Newhart Show. And I suppose if you're too young for THAT, you maybe just know her as Karen's mother on Will & Grace. But for us REALLY OLD GALS, she's the schoolteacher who was pecked to death by the ravens in THE BIRDS, as well as the hot mystery lady James Garner was after in MR BUDWING (a truly fabulous and underrated classic) and OMG, her UNBELIEVABLY camp turn as Leona Helmsley in the TV movie-of-the-week The Queen of Mean. Watch this YouTube montage and weep. (It's cornily set to BREAD'S "Everything I Own" – FABULOUS!) (Cornily? Really, James?)

Anyway, ON A HAPPIER NOTE: If there's any good to come from her death (and I'm going to Hell for just writing those words, I know), it's that the gloriously kooky MARCIA "the Mug" WALLACE (aka EDNA CRABAPPLE), has been ALL OVER news this week, talking about her good friend. Why, I could just look at that freaky face of hers all day long. Earlier today, the WOW Report ran side-by-side pics of Jackie Stallone and Carrot Top. But God bless Marcia, I think she out-weirds 'em both, don't you? And, oh, I just love her for that.

– James St James

The St James Version

The other day, cutie patootie Seth from Defamer was discussing the marketing problem that Warner Bros is now facing with the new Batman movie. The current crop of ads are all centered around Heath Ledger's Joker character, of course, which might be construed by some as now being in bad taste or capitalizing on a tragedy, etc etc. He ended with a joke, saying he hopes director Christopher Nolan "doesn't, in a moment of grief-induced panic, cave to the studio's suggestions that he write in an 11th-hour Robin, then roll out a far less ominous second-phase campaign built entirely around re-shoots featuring Zac Efron in the iconic red, green, and yellow costume."

And the thought of THAT just sent my mind REELING, as you can well IMAGINE. Especially as I have THIS PICTURE of Zac as my screensaver. Just the idea of my little baby in that FABULOUS outfit makes me moist! So even though the idea was thrown out there in jest, the good folks at Warner Bros might do well to seriously consider the idea for THE NEXT Batman movie. I'm just sayin.

– James St James