TIT: Buddhist Monks 1, Catholic Priests 0

02 Monday Mar 2015

Posted by Bangkokbois in This Is Thailand . . .

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Monks Gone Wild! continues to be a Thai viewing favorite.

You’d think a Buddhist monk out for a hot night on Soi Cowboy would be smart enough to leave the saffron robes at home. But Thais, with a national mindset of their own when it comes to what goes viral on the internet, are all atwitter over a photo that appeared last week of a venerable monk getting a little touchy-feely with a woman’s boob. Monks, in case you didn’t know it, are not suppose to touch women. Period. (No pun intended.) And unlike the dictate against Catholic priests diddling little altar boys, in Buddhism they take that shit seriously.

The monk – and boob – in question are already under investigation by the National Office of Buddhism, a local version of the Spanish Inquisition, with said monk facing the possibility of being de-frocked. The irony of which is that’s what kinda got him in hot water in the first place. The boob involved is facing an even harsher sentence: the ire and pure snarkiness of the internet. While most commenting on the photo published by an anti-superstition website, Fuck Ghost, were content on calling the boob the little slut that it obviously is, there were also those who preferred the much more personal attack of noting the boob’s owner had turned to a monk for a bit of Buddhist magic to make her tatas bigger. ‘Cuz if there is one thing we know it’s that in the world of the internet there’s no room for something as silly as a little A cup.

Monks behaving badly is the Thai answer to the Kardashians. Seldom a month goes by that some Buddhist monk in Thailand doesn’t get caught acting like a horny co-ed on spring break. Not long ago The Good General’s people floated the idea of issuing wrist-bands to all tourists to help keep track of visitors who misbehave. Maybe a better idea would be to tag the country’s clergy to help keep track of what disgusting things they’re up to. But in this case, now that the internet has had its fun, the truth behind the story has come out. It’s not the fault of a monk gone wild. Instead, the blame can be placed on a ladyboy. Or at least a ladyboy wannabe.

Like all world problems, bad monk behavior can be traced to the violence in movies and television.

The boob, which now has a name, Thanradaporn,(or, one has to assume Porn for short) says the monk did not technically violate any rules or taboos about touching women ‘cuz she’s still a he. “I’m still a man, and I haven’t had a sex-change operation or breast implants,” she told the press both to excuse the monk’s behavior and explain her tiny set of titties.

She went on to explain that the monk who won the booby prize is a famous mystic from Cambodia (which is almost as good as having someone from Burma to blame) and that her/his family had hired him, for a religious ceremony at their Bangkok home where he blessed the men by inscribing magical Buddhist symbols on their chests, but only worked his spells on the foreheads of the family’s women. Like a good monk would. Which goes to show you that even an ancient myopic monk in Thailand can tell the difference between a real woman and a ladyboy, even if farang sex tourists can’t.

Porn says he will file a police report to declare his innocence later this week. If he’s smart, he’ll use his newly found fame to start a Kickstarter campaign to fund his sex-change operation while he’s at it. ‘Cuz if Bruce Jenner can get his own reality TV show for becoming the lady he wants to be, Porn should at least get the boobs he so desperately needs.

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The Boys In The Bar: 05. We Are Family

27 Friday Jun 2014

Posted by Bangkokbois in The Boys In The Bar

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Gay Bangkok, Gay GoGo Bars, Ladyboys

Lek was still trying to get used to the big city life of Bangkok. And to wandering its streets in high heels too. His splatulate feet – thanks to years of working the fields of his family’s farm – were not made for footwear that was supposed to highlight the daintiness of its wearer’s feet. As he’d been rudely told twice now by ladyboys at the mall who he’d enquired of landing a job at the make-up counter they manned. Being called a buffalo was offensive to any Thai. When your fabulousness was on display, it was just that much worse. Besides, Lek thought, that last bitch’s massive ass jiggled under her red and white floral dress like an earthquake in a snow covered rose garden, proving flesh stomps fashion every time. Obviously, she’d just been jealous.

Leaving CentralWorld in disgust, having decided that luck and looks alone weren’t working, Lek headed for the near-by Erawan Shrine, a religious monument to Brahma well-known for granting prayers for prosperity. The sky was clear and blue, unmarred by clouds after the gloom of the previous days; there was a cleanliness to the air as though, however briefly, some of the fumes and filth of the city had been miraculously purged from it during the night. A shard of clear blue sky peaked out from between the elevated Skytrain tracks as he waded into the incense-smoke fog surrounding the open-air shrine. Inside the black iron spike enclosure the faithful packed the small area surrounding the four-headed god; Thais being a religious lot, especially when it comes to the you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours promise of prosperity offered by the Erawan’s Hindu deity.

Intending to part with some of his dwindling wad of baht for an appropriate offering, Lek’s attention was drawn to the small stage of khon dancers at the back of the shrine, their long elegant fingers twisted into ritual shapes, like gang member’s flashing hand signals, heavily stylized and yet still graceful, moving in unison to punctuate the beat of an accompanying drum. Lek’s arm stretched out slowly,his fingers responding in pantomime only to quickly drop back to his side when he heard snickers coming from behind him. At the light touch of a tap on his shoulder he tensed in preparation for further abuse. Belying its age with a refined twirl that peaked into a perfectly formed mudra worthy of a royal court dancer, an ancient, gnarled hand appeared from behind him followed by a soft, lilting voice, “No my dear, like this.”

Lek turned and then looked down at the diminutive elderly lady standing behind him, her smile just one of the many creases in her wizened face. Her hair towered above her head in a style popular in the ’50s; her Thai silk enriched outfit dated from the same period. But what could have been an over-the-top homage to yesteryear transformed by the woman’s bearing into nothing less than regal. “My name Sawing,” she said in a low husky voice. Then followed up several octaves higher adding, “You may call me Grandma Nong.”

Lek greeted the old woman with a high wai, almost positive, but still not quite sure. Grandma Nong’s wink settled the question. Nong waved her hand as if to push the encroaching smoke from the multitude of incense offerings into another dimension, and then let loose with a definitely unlady-like hacking cough. Lek stepped in offering her his arm for support, worried the old ladyboy’s obviously not too far off in the future demise might be making its appearance sooner than later. Nong’s grasp on Lek’s arm was as light as a sparrow’s perch. Straightening her body and reclaiming her dignity again, Nong offered a grateful smile. And then regained her regal demeanor. “Come,” she commanded. “You may buy me a drink.”

The pair headed off down Ploenchit Road, Nong leading the way in slow, mincing steps, parting the crowds filling the sidewalk like a procession of the royal barges. At Amarin Plaza she veered to the right, claiming a seat in front of McDonald’s. Lek went in and bought them each a cup of coffee, relieved the old woman had not sat in front of the Starbuck’s instead; status was one thing, foolishly paying 300 baht for a cup of coffee quite another.

Settling himself into a chair across the table from the old woman, for the first time that day Lek felt at ease as they both finished filling their paper cups with sugar. At a nod from Nong, as though giving Lek permission to rant, he poured out his take of woe, recounting how rudely the katoeys at CentralWorld had responded to his attempts at finding suitable employment. The woman listened, a placid look on her face until Lek’s story ran down, and then frowned as if to dismiss the entire day’s events as nothing more than foolishness.

“This,” Nong said using her hand to encompass all of Lek’s being, “was meant for the stage.” “That,” she added nodding toward a katoey sashaying her way into the mall, “is not.” Lek stole a quick glance at the object of Nong’s derision. The ladyboy in question was wearing skin-tight pants with black and white stripes traveling vertically all the way up her legs. But when they got to her butt, they stopped going parallel and ran for their lives in opposite directions. Lek giggled.

“My dear,”Nong proclaimed, “your beauty is natural, those cheekbones alone threaten to shred skin when you smile.” Lek felt himself blush from the compliment, but Nong wasn’t just being kind. “The nice thing about being one of us,” she added in a conspiratorial voice, “is that you still have your balls. And you need to learn to use yours.”

Nong cut off Lek’s reply with a raised hand, “I know my dear,” she sympathized. “When I first came to Krung Thep with my sister just after the end of WWII, I was even younger than you are now. I was just a rural boy from the provinces, 15 years old, and frightened to death of living life as who I really was. But we both landed jobs dancing at the cinema show. And no one ever realized only one of us was a real girl.”

Lek listened intently while Nong recounted the tale of her years of performing in Bangkok. Picturing himself in the starring role, he allowed his fantasies to sooth the disappointments of the day. Lek appreciated Nong’s belief in his abilities to follow suit, but in his heart he could not believe such a life could truly be his. Working the make-up counter at a fancy department store in itself was a dream; headlining the show at a ladyboy review was beyond his wildest expectations. The sound of Nong clearing her throat pulled him out of his reveries, the stern glare aimed his way from across the table signaling he’d been caught daydreaming instead of paying attention.

“It’s attitude that I’m saying you are missing,” Nong scolded. “Forget what others may think; you know who you are and that is all that really matters.” A petulant frown crossed her face, unhappy that her message wasn’t getting through. Nong looked at Lek while her mind held a debate with itself, and then sighed, the answer further than she’d intended on going. “Tonight,” she said, “You’ll join me.” Nodding in agreement with her own decision, Nong turned to the prosaic. “Come,” she commanded, slowing making her way out of the chair. “We only have six hours to get you ready.”

That night, their taxi dropped them in front of a small, brightly lit club squatting on a tiny, dimly lit soi just off Suriwong. A man sitting in the corner of the club’s veranda, who had to be a contemporary of Nong’s, acknowledged their arrival with a wai and a smile; the doorman did his job graciously with a low bow, ushering the pair into the darkness of the bar. Lek was nervous, unsure of what to expect; Nong had not been that forthcoming about Lek’s role in the night’s proceedings other than to have draped him in a gown that sparkled with promise. A few details would have been nice, but their time in Nong’s room had been taken up by the efforts of Nong’s palsied hands attempting to apply lipstick to her ageless but aging face, and her insistence on selecting a wardrobe for Lek to wear that threatened to usurp her fabulousness. At least Lek had been able to convince her the tiara was too over the top and it remained back in Nong’s room.

Inside the club Lek followed Nong as she made her way to the back corner where their dressing room awaited. The houselights were low, the club’s confines packed with older farang men sitting in pairs or by themselves and small groupings of younger, local gay boys sitting together, their eyes glued to the stage where a handful of muscular men posed in black shorts that rode high, exposing their rock-hard buttocks. More similarly clad gods of the gym circulated among the crowd, a few occasionally stopping to greet the more affluent looking members of the club’s clientele. There was enough testosterone in the room to make a wig bald. It wasn’t quite the stately theater Lek had envisioned, but before he could become too concerned the lights dimmed and Nong, draped in Thai silk and scaling the steps as though climbing Mount Everest took to the stage.

A lone spotlight centered on Nong, the raucousness of the club quieted into a respectful silence that allowed the soft notes of a traditional Thai country song to float its way through the air. Her hips no longer swaying quite as well as they once did, Nong’s stylized movements across the stage were not the flamboyant gestures of a ladyboy; she made no attempt at lip-syncing unfamiliar words, the staple of the beauty queen persona that katoeys usually adopted had no room in Nong’s performance. Her age and demeanor combined to fulfil the illusion; she was no longer a man dressed as a woman, but a grandmother still spry enough to sway gently with the music. Even the farang unfamiliar with what they were witnessing gazed with rapt wonder as Grandma Nong performed her short dance.

Lek panicked as the song ended. Was this his turn to be on stage? They had not practiced, Nong had said nothing about him performing. Nor did she appear anymore communicative as two well-built lads helped her down from the stage. “Attitude, my dear,” Nong said, still beaming from the crowd’s warm acceptance while almost thoroughly out of breath. “Attitude must be your stock in trade.” Then passing over a few disposable lighters and a handful of cigarettes she added, “Now go make us some money.”

On their way back to Nong’s room, she carefully counted her haul from tips and the few sales Lek had managed to make. The 400 baht the bar had paid her went into her purse, the rest barely enough to pay transpo costs. Careful to not muss up her outfit and hair, back in her room Nong laid down to rest a bit, a smile taking up permanent residence on her face as she relived her night’s performance in her mind, and possibly other nights too when she’d been younger and her time on stage had been as well-received but for an entirely different reason. “Today was a good day,” she sighed. “Tomorrow it will be another show. But first,” she added, “we need to finish the day’s work.” And then promptly fell asleep.

While Nong napped, Lek considered his fate. Nong had suggested that he too could make a living as she did, but so far, other than the beautiful gown she’d lent him, his career as a performer wasn’t starting off as he’d assumed it would. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful, the old woman had taken him under her wings, but forcing tips out of an audience under the guise of selling tobacco seemed an uneventful start. Still, the money seemed good . . . if only Nong would help him so that he too could earn a spot as a paid performer. That, he was sure, would help his sister Noi accept him and the life he’d planned on living in Bangkok. Lek laughed, thinking that 400 baht would be enough to convince Noi to try being a ladyboy too.

An hour later, somewhat freshened, Nong awoke, ready to begin again even if this time around she was less enthralled with her upcoming gig. The tuk tuk they took back to Patpong suggested the expected income would be less; Lek wondered, as small as the club they’d been to earlier had been, just how much tinier this one would prove to be. Nong alighted as put together as she’d been when they had climbed into the tuk tuk, Lek had to take a moment to fix his hair and realign his dress. He made a mental note: as a ladyboy, taxi cabs were the only way to go. So intent on tugging his gown back into place and trying to keep up with the old lady who had suddenly put on a burst of speed he didn’t think her capable of, Lek was well into the soi before he noticed their surroundings. When he did, it made him gasp.

He’d expected to find himself facing a small run-down club nestled in a dark, tiny soi, half the impression the last club had afforded him. Instead it was like he’d stepped onto the set of a Hollywood movie. There were lights everywhere; huge neon billboards in all of the colors of the rainbow, fairly lights in blues and reds dangled from above. The soi was lined with clubs, the light spilling out from each doorway fighting tuxedoed doorman for space, and a scrum of men of all ages busily moving from one end of the street to the other. An open-air cafe provided a momentary pause to the action, a bevy of suspicious looking local boys punctured that quietude with rambunctious calls of, “Show Now!” Lek came to a screeching halt, trying to take it all in until a familiar gnarled claw grabbed his arm and pulled him through a darkened doorway illuminated by the reflected glare of red neon blinking its message of Bangkok Bois.

Inside the club a small troupe of ladyboys were on stage, the rhinestones and sequins of their gowns shooting rays of light through the club like a disco ball from the ’70s, and Lek thought they may have arrived too late. Sensing his concern, Nong scoffed. “No,” she huffed imperiously, “We wait. Settling her ancient bones into a nearby chair she added, “We are not that.”

Lek though to himself, speak for yourself. The katoeys on stage may not have had the dignity that Nong possessed, but from where Lek stood, they had glamour to spare. Nong noticed the look in Lek’s eyes and shook her head. This one, she thought, will take some work. But rather than spoil Lek’s evening, Nong instead told him to sit down and enjoy the show; Nong’s turn on stage was still a while off.

Seated, Lek became more critical of the girls on stage. There was something missing. They lacked polish, their carefully choreographed number did little to enhance their act. A few, the less lady-like looking who stayed to the back, looked nervous, unsure of themselves, unsure of what they were supposed to do next. And few in the audience seemed to be paying any attention to them. Until one of the girls tripped during an unskillful turn and several people laughed. Attitude, Lek thought, Grandma Nong is right, it’s all about attitude. And possibly mastering how to dance in high heels.

To great disinterest, the ladyboy act came to an inglorious end and the houselights dimmed. Lek wasn’t sure what to expect next. At the club earlier they hadn’t stayed long and the only thing he’d seen was a progression of muscle hunks taking their turn on stage, preening for the crowd while showing off their builds in shorts that barely managed to keep them decent. As the lights came back up Lek saw that that wasn’t to be the case at this club. A totally naked boy walked on stage, the flame from a lit candle held in each of his outstretched arms flickering, a play of shadows and light dancing across his face. Across his chest. Across his abs. Across his erect cock. Lek gasped.

His eyes wide, both embarrassed and enthralled, Lek quickly forgot about the ladyboy act, forgot about Grandma Nong, forgot about why they were there; his entire being focused on the naked man on stage. Until a second one, even more beautiful than the first appeared. And again Lek’s eyes traveled from the man’s face, down to his chest, down to the sight of his engorged cock standing out stiffly from his body. Lek thought he was in heaven. And then a third bar boy appeared; this time Lek’s gaze remained centered on his throbbing member as it made its way slowly across the stage.

His throat suddenly parched, Lek licked his lips, swallowed, and cast a nervous look in Nong’s direction only to find her attention too was focused on the stage and the marvelous hunk of manhood standing before them. The houselights turned up a notch, better lighting the stage and spilling over to illuminate the rapt audience too. Lek’s gaze took in the hard, throbbing cock in front of him again, and then slowly made its way upwards to the man’s chest, and then his face. And then Lek gasped again.

“Wit?!”

An equally shocked exclamation of surprise echoed back from the stage, “Lek!?”

And Grandma Nong laughed, then shaking her head at the foolishness of the world, rose from her chair heading back to the dressing room to get ready for her turn on stage.

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Is There A New Gay Blogger In Bangkok?

18 Friday Oct 2013

Posted by Bangkokbois in Blogs, Blogs & Message Boards

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

Blogs, Ladyboys

Stickman writes a weekly column that covers the straight version of Thailand’s naughty night life. While it is interesting to see what’s up in that world, and amazing how similar the experiences of gays and straights delving into the bar world are, Stick also covers general interest news and his reports on local areas and attractions alone are worth sifting through the minutia of the latest rumors about bars you’ll never step a foot into. I love his night-time photography too. Since discovering his site decades ago I doubt I’ve missed a single week of reading his column. And I’ve linked to it on this blog too.

The Stick occasionally writes about ladyboys. Much more often than I do. And that makes sense. In Thailand working ladyboys make their money off of straight punters, not gay touri. You may have to sit through a deplorable lip syncing act before you get to see the hot naked guys in Soi Twilight’s bars, but if you really want to go mano y mano with a member of the third gender, you’ll have to visit one of the dozen of ladyboy bars over at Nana. In the past Stick has interviewed various ladyboy escorts in addition to covering the ladyboy bar scene – all the photos in this post are his – and as his columns often are, they are usually an enjoyable and sometimes educational read. His latest column too was about a ladyboy. It’s one I wish he’d never written.

One of the ways Stick makes a few bucks is by providing investigative services for overseas punters whose Love of Their Life remains back in the kingdom. These punters pay Stick to go check up on their honey to make sure she’s not selling her body while said punter is not in town. I’m thinking of offering a similar service for gay guys who feel the need to have someone find out what their BS is up to when left on his own. I’ll only chargee $20. And you’ll get a form letter in response that says: A) He’s a moneyboy, of course he is still out peddling his ass, that’s what he does for a living; and, B) if you pay someone to check up on your ‘boyfriend’ your relationship is already doomed even if he wasn’t taking on the highest bidder nightly. You’d think I just blew my entire business scheme by telling everyone in advance what they’ll get for their $20, but there’s no accounting for just how gullible farang in love with bar boys are. That’s usually how they go into their predicament in the first place.

So the twist in Stick’s latest tale was that the floozy he’d been paid to check-up on was a ladyboy. Working in a massage parlor in Pattaya. See what I mean? That’d be the easiest $20 I ever made. But Stick is a bit more compassionate than I and he actually made the trek down to Sin City to find out if the girl would be willing to do the dirty with him. It’s a humorously told tale, with neither a happy or surprisingly ending. And it would have been even funnier if Stick, confronted with getting a massage from a masculine looking ladyboy, didn’t react like a little girly boy himself.

I’m sure a large portion of his regular readers had a similar reaction at the column’s title Alone In A Room With A Thai Ladyboy. The rest scurried off to grab a bottle of lube as Stick starts off posing the question, “Have you ever wondered what it would be like to find yourself alone in a room with a ladyboy? What about being in a room with a ladyboy while you’re absolutely starkers, with but a towel protecting your dignity?” He then proceeds to explain the set up and back story, begins telling his tale – making it clear he’s only there because it is his ‘job’ and not because he wants to be – as well as telling everyone just how uncomfortable and vulnerable he was feeling, before pausing to explain his personal views and history of dealing with ladyboys. So let me pause for a moment too.

A newbie to the rub and tug world of happy endings that pass for massage places in Thailand probably would feel a bit leery regardless of the gender of the masseur. Few massage places come close to providing an atmosphere that says anything more than sleaze. Some try to dress the place up with a nod toward decor, but all provide a small room – sometimes with nothing but a curtain for walls – that does little to disguise the fact that it’s a place for you to have a quick orgasm and the house to make a few bucks off of providing you with that pleasure. But The Stick is not a newbie. He’s had plenty of massages disguised as something other than what they are in the past. His feelings of being vulnerable were only due to it being a man in disguise who was touching him. Because, I guess, he was afraid he would be raped, would enjoy it, and would then end up being the ladyboy’s bitch. And he says so:

“I maintain that there’s the smallest chance in all of us – even the staunchest homophobes – that we might somehow be aroused by the touch of a ladyboy and end up like the retired soldier who was Kevin Spacey’s neighbour in the closing scenes of “American Beauty”.”

Later in his column he goes on to say that he admits the occasional ladyboy looks good, but then quickly adds that doesn’t mean he’s ever felt anything towards them. No problemo. I feel the same way about women. The real kind. And I have no problem with Stick knowing what he likes. But I have to wonder if there may be a bit of a ladyboy lover residing deeper within his soul than he’d like to think. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. Noting once that you are not into ladyboys would suffice. Taking every possible opportunity to restate your 100% straightness while beginning to sound like an adolescent giggling about cooties, is a bit much. It’s not about feeling a bit uncomfortable over the unknown, but rather about fear of where that unknown may take you. Homophobia is defined as the fear of lesbians, gay men, and ladyboys (when you don’t know the difference). And that fear often is not about what they may do, but what you may consider doing yourself. Stick says he may be “somewhat homophobic”. And then goes on to prove there is no ‘somewhat’ involved.

It will be interesting to read his fan mail next week ‘cuz despite his years of living in Thailand which should have provided him with some insight into the third gender, Stick has decided (and firmly believes) “that guys who go for ladyboys are just that, gay.” He has many loyal readers who like the ladyboys and I doubt any of them considers himself to be gay. Ladyboys don’t. And considering that bar owners who specialize in ladyboys open shop in the straight adult entertainment areas rather than on Soi Twilight, I doubt they do either. Stick is a bit confused. And when you are both confused and feeling vulnerable, it’s easier to use the gay label – with all the accompanying feelings a homophobe attaches to that label – than it is to attempt to understand someone else’s reality.

Okay, so I’m not a big fan of ladyboys either. Too many are a caricature of themselves, too many take their pretensions of being a Hollywood star a bit too seriously. But they are fabulous, and when you meet one who carries herself with that degree of dignity only a ladyboy can muster, you have to pay her the respect she deserves. And labelling her as gay is not in the least bit respectful. Now you may think I’m just as guilty of throwing out labels for calling Stick a homophobe for his belief that punters who prefer ladyboys must be gay, but unfortunately he just couldn’t help himself while trying to explain why he isn’t. And it too was an “Ewww! Cooties!” moment. He says:

“. . . while I am happy enough to be around ladyboys, just like with gay guys I don’t like them to get too close nor to be around them for too long. I would not be that comfortable, for example, to have a gay guy or a ladyboy squeezed next to me on the small seat on the bus to Pattaya.”

Huh. I hate to be the one to burst your bubble of illusion Stick, but you’ve been squeezed in next to a gay guy on the bus to Pattaya more times than you’d believe possible. We don’t all wear rainbows and tiaras. That longing in your seatmate’s eyes you assumed was thanks to the bevy of cheap female prostitutes waiting at the end of the ride was really about the hot hunks he was going to spend the weekend ravishing. A few might even have been dreaming about the ladyboys he’d soon be enjoying to the fullest. But more important is the question of just what you are fearful of from sitting next to a gay man or a ladyboy? It’s not like someone’s sexuality is contagious. Or is it that you really think that fine senior citizen body of yours would just be too much and said gay dude or ladyboy would be unable to control him or herself?

Considering his beat as well as having covered ladyboy stories before, I assumed Stick would be a bit more open to alternate lifestyles. Maybe the problem is that he is, and more than he’d like to be. There is no basis in reality for being afraid of sitting next to a gay man on a bus. Unless it is your reaction that causes your concern. I’ve enjoyed reading Stickman’s column over the years and would hate to think I should quit reading them because it turns out he is a homophobe. Instead, I’d like to suggest he spend some time on Soi 4 and Soi Twilight and discover the wonderful world of gay men. By doing so he may learn that President Kennedy was right, the only thing we have to fear is fear itself. And if it turns out his fear was based on a supressed desire, maybe we’ll have a new gay blogger writing from Bangkok.

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On With The Show / Off With His Head

21 Tuesday Aug 2012

Posted by Bangkokbois in Gay Thailand Message Boards

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Ladyboys

Your inner woman may be none too ladylike.

I can’t remember what the #1 ‘must do’ was in the recent on-line article, How To Be Gay in 10 Easy Steps, which was loosely based on David Halperin’s book How To Be Gay. And I didn’t bother to read suggestions 3 through 10 either. The author lost me with his second one, which was ‘Dress in Drag.” Before I rip him a new asshole, which considering his fem leanings he’d probably enjoy, here’s what he had to say on the subject, complete with typos:

“Even if it’s just once for Halloween, go out in the world wearing the clothing of the opposite gender. It will it unleash a personality you didn’t even know you had in you and it will make you OK with femininity. So many gay men are afraid of even the slightest bit of swish being detected. “No fems,” has been branded into all of our mentality. But one night when the femme is in total control will never make you fear it again. And it will put you in touch with the brave bottle throwers who started the Stonewall Riots back in the day.”

A few minor points (aka ripping him a new asshole): First, drag queens need to quit trying to own the Stonewall riots. Pissed off lesbians were equally represented that night, and by all accounts the local (youthful) homeless rent boy population outnumbered both. Following this author’s logic then, your #2 way to learn how to be gay is go live in a park and sell your ass to strangers. Which is something I’d gladly embrace before I would dressing up in drag.

Second, I am in touch with my feminine side, it just doesn’t care to wear Manolos or a feather boa. This author’s idea is not novel, fems frequently attempt to convince the gay community that if everyone went girl for a while the world would be a better place. Okay. Fine. Tell ya what. As soon as all the fems of the world embrace their masculine side and spend the day acting like a man, I’ll give their girly crap a try. And that’ll happen as soon as pigs fly (which should not be confused with the flying farang of Pattaya).

Ugly is regardless of supposed gender.

I don’t have a problem with drag queens, though I also don’t find them anywhere nearly as humorous as they think they are. But I do have a problem with the idea that all gay men want to be women. Even if it is just for a night. And I find it ironic that both the fem part of the gay community and right wing nutcase homophobes are both most comfortable with gays being portrayed as gender-confused creatures. I know who RuPaul is but I’ve never watched her Drag Queens on Parade reality tv show. Straight friends – those who are quickly on their way to ‘barely an acquaintance’ status – are amazed that I don’t have the entire ten season boxed set. It’s not really their fault, the gay community is to blame for fostering the idea that all gay men love the drag queen. We aren’t all into watersports either. And as long as I’m setting the record straight, most pedophiles are straight, not gay. Unless you are in Sunee Plaza.

Hollywood, thanks to Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, also loves portraying drag queens as brave heroines, slightly tragic, who by the movie’s end embrace their inner woman and find acceptance from the larger community. But then Hollywood wants you to believe that Sylvester Stallone is still an action star too. Being a drag queen has nothing to do with bravery. Refusing to buy into the drag queen mystique does. Even if your mannerisms fall on the effeminate side, being gay does not mean you have to cross the line and take a stab at cross dressing.

That’s one of the things I like about Thailand. If you stay clear of small towns devoted to the commercial sex industry where western men who couldn’t cut it in their own country tend to congregate to live out their golden years bitching about their life, you’ll never run across a drag queen in the Kingdom. Katoey, or ladyboys, however, are more numerous than male masseurs fondled by John Travolta. Unfortunately Thai gogo bar owners seem to be just as confused over the role of ladyboys vs. drag queens and their place in the gay community. And I blame the touri from the west and their mistaken belief that guys dressed as women are what the gay community is all about for that.

Drag Queen or Ladyboy?

I’m no more a fan of ladyboys than I am of drag queens, but I do respect them. I’m too frightened of them not to. Any man willing to have his dick cut off, regardless of how he self-identifies, deserves respect ‘cuz that’s some truly macho shit. So maybe my challenge to the fems of the world who want me to try drag should instead be I will as soon as you try The Operation. (And the bell curve just took a bone jarring bump upward.) Ladyboys are true to themselves. Drag queens are fakes. Not to mention annoying. The two should not be confused with each other No matter how annoying ladyboys working the streets of Bangkok can be.

Regardless of how often ladyboys appear on stage at Bangkok’s gogo bars, they are not gay. Every Thai knows this. It’s not by accident that the bars staffed by ladyboys for those punters who prefer a little dick with their tits are all located in the straight sex touri entertainment districts either. The only customers who like seeing them take the stage at gay gogo bars are locals who hope to attain ladyboy status themselves one day, and the gay westerner touri who think men dressed in drag is what being gay is all about and who can’t tell the difference between a woman who is just not quite there yet and a poser taking a turn at playing transvestite.

As many times as I’ve been to Bangkok I still have a long list of places I’ve not yet been to that I want to see, and things I’ve not yet done that I want to experience. A ladyboy extravaganza, like the Calypso Cabaret, is not on that list. I can see all the ladyboys I want just strolling through MBK. I don’t need to spend an evening squeezed into a small cabaret filled with straight touri out for a risque night in The Big Mango to watch a bunch of ladyboys acting like drag queens. And yet those shows are for many gay touri, who should know better, one of the ‘must do’ activities when visiting Thailand. I don’t get that. I thought gay men were supposed to be interested in men. Not women who once were.

I’d hate to be a woman and have to compete with them.

My friend Noom makes his living off of gay men, loves lesbians, but never mistakes a ladyboy for a gay. As often as he comes up with places for us to go and things for us to do and see, a ladyboy cabaret has never made his list. Not out of prejudice, but rather he just doesn’t acquaint my being gay with a desire to experience a ladyboy review; he doesn’t consider a ladyboy show to be something a gay man would want to see. That’s what gay gogo bars filled with naked male hunks are for. Unlike touri from the west, he doesn’t confuse being gay with a love for drag.

Not that he’d object if I suggested we go to a ladyboy show. I know in doing so he’d be appreciative of their fabulousness and would sit there murmuring, “Beautiful!” as each took the stage. That alone is almost tempting enough for me to put up with an evening of ladyboys; ‘beautiful’ is one of my favorite English words heard from his lips because he embellishes it with a few extra syllables that gives the world definition. The fact is, Noom likes ladyboys. Or more properly Noom likes how much ladyboys like Noom.

On every trip I make to Bangkok, we stop in at the shop of a little ladyboy who sells cell phones and electronics for her to clean Noom’s gadgetry and to load up one of his iPods with new Thai tunes. For free. Getting something for free as well as having someone drool over your hotness is one of Noom’s favorite experiences. And that highlights the other side of the coin: ladyboys are into men; not fem gay guys. Because, regardless of how far along in their pursuit of womanhood they are, or are not, they are women. They are not gay men. All ready forced to play a role in life the last thing a ladyboy wants is to have to play fag hag too. And I’m sure those unfortunate to have seen a fat farang don a wig and ball gown in their effort to be gay are not amused.

It’s time for the gay community to quit embracing the gay man as a drag queen stereotype. And it’s time gay visitors to Thailand quit bothering the poor ladyboys. Prove that you do in fact know dick about being gay and spend your holiday time checking out the naked hunks on stage instead of those, whom if you really get off watching, would qualify you as straight instead.

Related Posts You Might Enjoy:

Death Of A Diva

Fluffers, Fluffing, Fluffy

The Ladyboys Of Thailand, or Uh, Excuse Me, Sir?

Luck Of The Draw

28 Wednesday Mar 2012

Posted by Bangkokbois in Thailand Travel Tips and Tales, Tips

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Ladyboys

Thai guys barely in uniform . . . sigh.

Most Thai bar boys love April. It is the month of their country’s New Year celebration, the one of three they celebrate each year that really matters. Leading into the year-end Buddhist holiday period is an equally important date. One that is not as popular with Thailand’s youth. Recruitment Day, the day each year that Thailand’s military gathers its annual quota of conscripts, precedes Songkran by a week or so. And the unlucky young men whose number comes up don’t have a very happy new year.

According to the Constitution of the Kingdom, serving in the Armed Forces is a duty of all Thai citizens. Young men over the age of 21 who have not gone through reserve training have the dubious honor of participating in Recruitment Day. Some volunteer to serve in their country’s armed forces. Most are subjected to a random draft, a lottery of the unkindest kind. Those who lose must serve for twenty-four months, while volunteers are only subjected to eighteen months of service. But as with all things Thai, the rules governing mandatory military service are guidelines. Status and money can make all the difference. Being a ladyboy doesn’t hurt either.

On Recruitment Day, all Thai men who have turned 21 must travel back to their home province – the place where their residency is registered – and take part in the military’s annual drive for fresh bodies. Each district has a quota that needs to be filled. Those who volunteer for service are processed first. Quick medical checks that would make a veterinarian shudder in shame are performed. Recruits must be physically fit, at least 5 feet 3 inches tall and with a chest size of 76 centimeters or more. “I do a rough check on their limbs to see if they’re bent or crooked, if they stand up straight or not, if they’re disabled or got anything missing or anything too short or too long,” said army officer Thongkham Maleesi. Pass those simple tests and, you’re in the army now.

A young potential conscript takes his turn at the military draft lottery.

When not enough men have volunteered to fill the amphoe’s quota, the lottery kicks in. Separated from family and friends the potential recruits huddle together in an area roped off from the crowd where they anxiously wait their turn at finding out just how lucky they are. Microphone in hand, with a beaming smile that would do a game show host proud, a ranking officer runs the proceedings, calling each young man up to the front, one at a time, to draw from the dreaded cannister.

The crowd loudly yells words of encouragement, hoping their cries of Black ! Black! on behalf of the young man will be heard by the gods while his parents and family members say quieter prayers hoping the family’s collective karma will be enough to intercede favorably in the selection process. Drawing a small slip of paper from the can, the young man hands it to the official who calls out the results to those gathered in anticipation. A black ticket means you’ve been spared and your life can go on. A red ticket means you belong to the Thai government for the next two years.

The lucky ones are excused from military service, processed out with smiles on their faces. Those whose luck just took a turn for the worse are led to a table where their initial induction into the military begins. A processor uses a large red felt pen to mark the inductee’s arm, designating his new place in the system. And then the next lucky winner, or loser, is called.

But if it wasn’t for the Thai military draft we wouldn’t have iPhone pictures like this to admire.

It takes a village to fill the district’s quota. The Thai sense of community means everyone gathered has fervent hope for each potential recruit to make it through the day, coming out the other side still a civilian. In the west, even if it were quietly to themselves, those with family members at risk would hope the possible conscripts who go first will draw the unlucky red ticket. It’s a matter of numbers. Once the quota is filled, the rest of the potential conscripts get a free pass. They get to go home without having to take their chance at the draw.

The army claims to be one of Thailand’s unifying institutions. They are right, they do bring Thais together. Because absolutely everybody – red shirt, yellow shirt, Buddhist, Muslim, straight or gay – wants to avoid joining the military. Anond Naknava, a 21-year-old college student taking his turn at his nation’s lottery admitted he did not want to be a soldier. But luck was not with him. He pulled a dreaded red ticket. Now he must take a break from his studies to join the navy. His face turning pale at the thought of what his near future holds, he tried to look on the bright side. “Now I’m chosen, I’ll get a salary and I won’t be any trouble to my parents,” he said. “If others can do it then I can do it too!”

“I don’t want to be a soldier. I’m afraid of being sent to the south,” said another potential recruit, Chanasorn Sodpakwan. If you have an education, you’ll get a better job. But even a better position doesn’t guarantee being saved from the worst case scenario: being posted to Thailand’s deep south where an insurgency waged by Islamic militants has left more than 4,500 people dead over the past seven years. Military personnel are a particular target. It’s even worse for those young men from those areas, many of whom are Muslims themselves. They stand a good chance of serving their two years waging an undeclared war against their neighbors.

A lucky black ticket winner is all smiles. Though I’d not feel safe with either of these young, cross-eyed men being issued a gun.

There are ways around serving in the military. This is Thailand after all. Running is not the answer; those caught trying to escape conscription face three years in prison, followed by a stint in the army. Some choose a less painful form of service by enlisting in the Army Reserve Force Students program, a three-year period that means they will avoid the chance of being drafted into the full-fledged military force. But admissions to the reserves have been tightened recently. Among other requirements students must be between the ages of 18 and 22, have a grade point average of 2.50 or above, be physically fit, and pass a series of fitness tests. And they have to stay in school. Funding for the program is limited though, so only those who score high in their exams are accepted into the reserves.

The most popular way of avoiding military service altogether is through bribery. A tradition in Thai culture, the paying of tea money is seldom officially acknowledged but has become so common with the military draft that the government is taking steps to combat the practice. “We received some reports of corruption, and now we are investigating them,” said Lieutenant Colonel Norapon Jitpanya, head of the military registrar department. But in reality that probably just means a tightening of policy so that those of higher rank receive a bigger cut of the swag.

One man who wisely asked to not be identified described the process: “Men travel to the villages here in Isaan and talk to the boys who are coming up for conscription and ask if they want to be exempted from serving in the army,” he reported. “ A fee is then agreed on and when the date of their conscription comes they travel to Bangkok and meet the man, pay their ‘get out of the army fee’ and then go to the place where all the medicals and paperwork is being conducted.” The paid exemption is usually legitimized thanks to a fake medical report stating the young man is unfit to serve.

Nick Khun the Thai member of the Korean boy band 2PM begins his lottery processing on Recruitment Day. Teenage girls and gay boys of all ages breathed a sigh of relief when he lucked out and was exempted from military service.

Fees paid have been reported to be as low as 10,000 baht, a real bargain, to 30,000. Last year, a national football player caused a stir after writing on his Facebook page that he had paid 30,000 baht to avoid military service. He later apologized and said he was joking. But it’s no laughing matter to the families who opt for this route. They are often forced to pay and get loans from unscrupulous loan sharks to pay the fees. And bar boys, with tears in their eyes, often turn to their favorite farang to finance their escape from military service. Smart ones pull that trick annually.

The third option is reserved for those of the third sex. Ladyboys, at least those who have gone under the knife, are exempt from the lottery and military service. Previously transsexuals were exempted on the grounds of a ‘psychological abnormality,’ but that has now been replaced by ‘misshapen chest’. Kridsada Kumsombat, a fabulous young man who weighs in heavy on the fabulousness and weakly in the man part is happy about the change in wording. “If they said I’m mentally ill it doesn’t look good on my record. But this way it’s okay,” she said. “ I feel like we have more rights because in the past ladyboys had to be soldiers but now that’s changed.”

Last year the Thai military proposed some new terminology to cover the country’s ladyboy and ladyboy wannabe population. Now Thai men are instead categorized by type. ‘Type 1’ refers to men ‘whose appearances are typical of men’. They have the most to be concerned with over the draft. Thaksin Chiamthong, director of the academic resources division of the Army Reserve Command reports, “Normally only Type 1 are required to draw a conscription ballot.”

Ladyboys are now exempt from mandatory military service due to having a ‘misshapen chest.’

Type 2 are men who have undergone breast implants. Type 2 men are held in reserve, says Thaksin. “If the number of Type 1 is insufficient, Type 2 will be conscripted as well, despite their female-like breasts.”

Full on ladyboys, those who have had a complete sex change, are classified as Type 3. They are exempt from military service. But are undoubtedly eager to serve Thailand’s military in their own way.

(A big shout out to Al for suggesting this article almost a year ago. Sometimes it takes me awhile, but I do listen!)

Death Of A Diva

18 Saturday Feb 2012

Posted by Bangkokbois in Dancing With the Devil, The World of Thailand's Gay Gogo Bars

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Gay Bangkok, Gay GoGo Bars, Ladyboys

Grandma Nong, Bangkok’s oldest performing ladyboy passed away this week.

The first time I saw Nong perform was at Tawan, over ten years ago. I’d been cursed that night, Tawan pulls its customers in with the promise of muscled flesh and then far too often serves up a portion of ladyboy first. Such was that visit, but taken to an extreme. The diva wanna-be ladyboys came on first all dolled up in the finest and fighting a losing battle; their feathered and sequined headdresses waging war with the chains and cage work hanging above Tawan’s stage. It wasn’t the first time I’d been forced to sit through a ladyboy act at one of Bangkok’s gay gogo bars. In fact it happens far too often. But I’ve come to accept it, along with the pricey drinks and having to fend of fem boys screeching their ten syllable rendition of sawasdee ka.

If one ladyboy act is bad – and it is – two is even worse. Especially when round two is one of the infamous comedy ladyboy numbers complete with blackened teeth and water-balloons serving for sagging breasts as she lip-syncs a tale of woe. Thais find these acts uproariously funny. Farang start edging toward the door. The management of Tawan, who could never be accused of believing in the cliche that less is more, decided to devote their stage to Thailand’s katoey this night and scheduled yet a third ladyboy act. This one was different.

Traditional Thai music at a much more mellow decibel level replaced the blaring disco tunes as an old woman draped in Thai silk took the stage. The bar quieted down. The boys working Tawan all turned their attention to the stage with rapt wonder as Grandma Nong performed her short dance. The almost real looking divas in all their finery are bad enough. An ancient ladyboy taking small mincing steeps across the stage should have pushed me over the top.

But I’d come of age in Hawaii where it is not unusual for a local octogenarian to take the stage during a hula performance, her hips no longer swaying quite as well as they once did, and the sexuality of the dance being replaced by a quiet dignity. That was Nong too. Hers was a traditional Thai dance, and her age and demeanor combined to fulfil the illusion; she was no longer a man dressed as a woman, but a grandmother still spry enough to sway gently with the music. You couldn’t help but love her.

Nong prepares for a night on stage at the age of 73.

Over the years I caught her act at various bars around town; it wasn’t until a night that I was out with my friend Noom and saw her perform that I learned a bit about her story. Nong was one of Bangkok’s original ladyboy acts having first taken the stage at the age of 15 just after the end of WWII. Some fifty years later, she was still at it. Her run on Bangkok’s stages ended this week. Pa Nong passed away at the age of 76. Her death made the local papers; dressed in her ladyboy finest she’d been laid out at her local wat for three days for fans, friends, and loved ones to pay respect.

Sawing Nisakornsen, better known as Nong, came from a poor rural family. His father was a soldier in the Opium War in China, and as the seventh child Nong spent his childhood doing everything possible to make money. At the age of 15 she and her biological sister left home with just the shirts on their back but soon found employment at a cinema show in Bangkok as dancers. No one knew Nong was a man. Never ashamed of being a member of Thailand’s third sex, she spent the next fifty-odd years performing all around Bangkok. It was only in her later years that her career was reduced to the occasional show at one of Bangkok’s gay gogo clubs.

Interviewed at the age of 73 after being named Thailand’s oldest performing ladyboy, Nong explained that it took her about three hours to get ready for her show nightly. The bars usually paid her 300-400 baht, Thais in the audience passed over tips, and during her non-performing hours when her strength was good she’d sell lighters and cigarettes to bolster her income.

Her night of work would start around 9 pm; she’d often take a tuk tuk back to her room to rest in between performances but noted she had to take care to not muss up her outfit and hair. Most of the money she earned went to transportation, the rest to pay her utilities.

“I do not expect anything else in life.” she said. “But I don’t starve. Today was a good day, tomorrow it will be another show.”

During her final years she had no teeth and her eyesight was poor. But she was fortunate to have many relatives who looked after her and helped out, including a nephew whom she had helped raise since he was 14 and who lived with and cared for her in her old age. Nong said she had considered giving up show business several years ago, but had grown bored and went back to performing. Nong said she planned on performing as long as she was strong enough to do so, or until nobody wants to see her anymore.

There have been bar boys who have come and gone during the years I’ve been visiting Thailand, some of whom I miss. I think I’ll miss seeing Nong pop up to sway across the stage even more. I’m not a big fan of ladyboys, but integrity gets me every time. Nong lived her life being true to herself. At the end, I don’t think there is any other honor higher one can pay than saying that.

Grandma Nong will be missed by many in Bangkok, locals and visitors alike.

New Rules

07 Saturday Jan 2012

Posted by Bangkokbois in It's A Gay World

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Tags

Ladyboys, That's Gay

In case you forgot to make your list of resolutions for 2012, the government has done so for you. They call them laws and while like new year resolutions laws are made to be broken, it can prove costly to do so. Nearly 40,000 laws went into effect in the U.S. at the beginning of the year. Several provide additional protections or rights to gay men (and those people who claim rights to the other related initials). And, of course, California was at the forefront of rainbow influenced legislation.

Drag queens scored big in California; the state’s Fair Employment and Housing Act was amended to prohibit discrimination based on gender identity and gender expression. Californians who want to wear drag to work can now do so without fear of reprisal.

And that includes judges who want to move out of basic black. The new Judicial Applicant and Appointment Demographics Inclusion Law requires that data be collected on the hiring of gay judges – and those who would like to wear a frilly gown – so that the diversity of state courts can be maintained. Your opportunity to flirt with the judge just increased tenfold.

Since teachers in California can now take their ladyboy act into the classroom, it’s probably a good thing that a new state law requires schools to teach that lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgendered Americans have contributed to the development of California and the United States. Though well intended, I’m not sure exactly what that curriculum would look like. With all due respect, Harvey Milk was no Martin Luther King. And the majority of gay men who have contributed to California’s development were in the movie industry, and closeted. I think making gay studies part of sex education would be a better route. If nothing more, straight guys could learn proper hygiene for anal sex so when I finally tap their ass, it’s fresh.

James Franco tonguing Sean Penn will now be part of the curriculum in California schools

While new laws in Delaware and Hawaii make same-sex couples eligible for civil unions and grant them the same rights and benefits as married couples, it is still not legal to marry your boyfriend in California. So the legislature has kinda got the cart before the horse with recently enacted legislation that allows the state to grant divorces to gay couples provided the couple got married in California but live in a state that won’t grant them a divorce. Nice to know you can break up legally in California even if you can’t get hitched.

As for the kids you may then be arguing over, the new Protection of Parent-Child Relationships Law allows courts to consider the relationship between a child and a non-biological parent when considering child rights cases involving birth parents, adoptive parents, and gay or lesbian guardians. And if part of the problem with your non-marriage that resulted in a real divorce was an argument over whether or not little Johnnie should be cut, there is now a state law on the books banning cities and municipalities from banning circumcision. At least for infants.

If you got to play the guy’s role in your divorce and got taken to the cleaners, a new law prohibits employers from using a consumer credit report for employment purposes. So you can be a dead beat dad and still find a job. If there were any available. There are some exceptions, but I think this is a good law, how deeply in debt you are really doesn’t come into play in how well you will perform your job. Though it is always nice to see how susceptible your staff members are to financially induced sexual harassment.

Governor Jerry Brown signed the Reader Privacy Act into law to cover new technologies like e-books, online book services, as well as old-school bookstores. It prevents the government and third parties from demanding access to private reading records without proper legal justification. Porn should be a private matter and just how kinky you are should not be a concern of the government.

California’s youth are now protected by a new law that bans the sale of fake pot.

And I may be misapplying the California Transparency in Supply Chains Act, which requires large retailers and manufacturers to tell consumers on their websites what steps, if any, they take to ensure their product supply chains are free from slavery and trafficking, but it doesn’t sound good for aficionados of SM and BD.

California has several new laws for 2012 that cover the state’s favorite pastime: drug use. One prohibits the production or sale of beer to which caffeine has been added. Just when I was thinking there is actually a reason for Starbucks. Another new law makes it a misdemeanor to sell, dispense or distribute a synthetic cannabinoid compound, commonly known as ‘spice’ or ‘K2.’ At least 40 states have adopted laws to ban chemical substances related to synthetic cannabinoids. Since medical marijuana is legal in California (shhhhh, don’t tell the feds!) and obtaining script is a breeze, I don’t know why anyone would waste their time with fake pot.

Thank the gods it’s illegal to dry your car with used underwear in San Francisco.

But then maybe the fake stuff has some purpose, perhaps it’s not as potent and would keep California’s law makers from passing these types of laws, all of which are currently on the books:

In California it is illegal to set a mousetrap without a hunting license.

It is illegal to cry on the witness stand in Los Angeles courts.

It is a misdemeanor to shoot at any kind of game from a moving vehicle, unless the target is a whale.

California law states: No unoccupied vehicle may exceed 60 miles per hour.

It is illegal for anyone to try to stop a child from playfully jumping over puddles of water.

In Chico, the law says that anybody who detonates a nuclear device within the city limits is liable for a fine of $500.

In San Francisco, it is illegal to buff or dry your car with used underwear.

Out This Year

02 Monday Jan 2012

Posted by Bangkokbois in It's A Gay World, Out This Week

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Coming Out, Ladyboys, Movies & Television, That's Gay

Maybe I should have gone with my initial instinct and posted a ‘Year in Rearview’ article instead?

The last week of each year is a popular time for just about everyone involved in the media to publish a retrospective of the year’s events. Top Ten lists are a popular way of hitting that mark. But way too limiting. I thought maybe a ‘rearview’ of the year could be fun, but then I’d want to post new pictures of bodacious male butt rather than re-post those I’ve already shown you. And that’s kinda cheating. I thought a review of the world’s leading terrorists Obama’s killed off over the last year might be a nice political ending for the year too. But, he’s got another year before the end of his term and many other bad guys to assassinate, so we’ll leave that one for next year. Ditto for the republican party crazies vying for the top nutter position; but they all spent the year assassinating themselves and with the election less than a year away there will be plenty of opportunities to delve into that little ball of freakdom, so no reason to do so now.

Stumped, I suddenly remembered as a youth one of my favorite annual articles in the local newspaper was Jeane Dixon’s predictions for the upcoming year. I don’t know that I ever tracked her forecasts during the year to see if she was as good as she thought she was, but do remember going back to check if she’d got that one the year she died. Nope. Seems to me any psychic worth her salt should at the very least be able to predict when her time would be up. But there ya go.

In any case, Ms. Dixon’s annual list of predictions saved me from being late with a year-end wrap up by offering a chance to post the same info as a forecast for 2012 instead.

2011 was a big year for celebrities deciding to finally come out of the closet. So many so that you may have missed or forgotten some of the more recent additions to our tribe. And really, who is and who isn’t gay in Hollywood is of far greater importance than whose turban Obama knocked off at neck level. Quite a few fresh from the closet have been lesbians this last year, but other than Justin Bieber, when a woman announces she’s gay it’s not really news that gay men care about. Newly minted lesbians do tend to get breeders quite hot, but gay guys, not so much.

Any celebrity of note who came out or was outted got major press. The lesser stars – and lesbians – got but an honorable mention. But that’s yesterday’s news. Rather than re-trash the list of notables who joined our team in 2011, I thought I’d steal a page from Jeane Dixon’s book and cover those who will be coming out in 2012. Jeane used an ouija board for her predictions, I rely on a much more reliable source: Google and its auto suggestion predictive algorithms. And I gotta tell you, it’s shaping up to be a very pink year.

So here are my predictions of the famous men who will open their closet doors in 2012:

For an obvious bottom, Mario looks to be packin’ some heat!

Mario Lopez:

Yeah, I know. I thought he’d come out years ago too. While Mario is still a hottie, age is quickly creeping up on him so we can expect 2012 to be the year he makes it official so that he can snag a husband – or at least a room full of tops – and make his life complete.

Mario tried to follow the route many other celebrities have taken out of the closet by having a baby last year. Unlike others, he announced who the mother was but she quickly faded into oblivion and it was soon all about Mama Mario and his little bundle of joy. But Hollywood snored through that act. Been there, done that, way too many gay guys with kids now to pay any attention to yet another one. So Mario tried a different tack, by shining the light on a different little bundle of joy.

Because it’s what all straight celebrities do (wink-wink), Mario has just released his own line of mens underwear. And decided to not only be the designer and spokesperson for M wear, but its model too. Thanks Mario! And I have to say, for an obvious bottom, Mario looks to be packin’ some heat!

Mario says a prayer that Greg brought his double headed dildo with him.

Lopez teamed up with online retailer FreshPair.com for his underwear venture. As quoted on the waistband of his undies, it’s “For manful men and their very special guests.” When asked what the “M” stood for, the Hollywood Hottie and all-around media whore replied, “the ‘M’ stands for masculine, modern, Mario… make it whatever you want it to be.” Um, could that also be ‘Might be gay’? Or should we just go with the traditional ‘‘Mo’.

Why Mario felt he had to dip into the world of fashion to establish his pinkness is beyond me. His greatest hits of gay moments read like a salute to Charles Nelson Reilly. Decades ago he took on the lead role for the made for television biography of Greg Louganis, Breaking The Surface and was so convincing in the sex scenes that his closet door should have swung firmly opened. Instead the world politely waiting for Mario to make the announcement of what we all all ready knew. Granted Greg was pure hotness in those days and I’d kill for a video of Mario and Greg getting it on, but when the two met they faced the age-old dilemma of many gay men: what do you do when you are both bottoms?

Mario Lopez may not be gay, but his ass is.

Mario also tried the Kenny Chesney ‘ I’m not gay so don’t ask me why my marriage only lasted two weeks’ route, but Bradley Cooper beat him to that one and again the world waited for the little gay boy to tell us he was. Mario then went for the ‘I’m gay AND a bottom by playing gay while his naked ass played the bottom role in a guest stint on Nip N Tuck, but that too failed to justify his closet door being opened for him. He followed that attempt up by playing gay again on Dancing With the Stars, and still no bites.

So even though Mario has still not made it official, it’s time we throw him a bone and call it a done deal. Or wait for the photographic proof sure to surface in 2012. Mario is gay, and unless it means him showing off his naked ass again, we need not hear any more on the subject.

Because all straight guys like to show off their small peni and dyed pubes.

Oscar de la Hoya:

Maybe it’s old news now, but a recent post I did about a muscle stud at Tawan who is a ladyboy at heart prompted a quick trip down memory lane of hunky Latino Oscar de la Hoya and the photos of him from 2007 wearing a wig, lingerie, and fishnet stockings. At the time Oscar said they were fake, but late in 2011 he admitted they were in fact real. Turns out the golden boy of boxing is more of a golden girl. But according to Oscar, it was the drugs he was taking, and not his preference for cock that made him don his gay apparel. Sorry, Oscar, but “The devil made me do it!” didn’t really work for Flip Wilson, and your rep precedes you.

Of course the ladyboys of the world would argue dressing in drag does not mean you are gay. So perhaps using those photos as proof that Oscar plays for the pink team is unfair. At best, he fessed up to being Oscar De Lady Boya. On the other hand, when Googling your name and the first predictive result the Google wizard offers you is ‘gay’ you might just consider that the word is out and admit it.

Thailand’s ladyboys have nothing to worry about over Oscar’s fondness for drag

The world of professional boxing is a difficult one to be out in, but considering that three or the last four men Oscar met in the ring all publicly referred to his gayness, it would seem his secret really isn’t. Since there are no more ranked boxers willing to accept money to use Oscar as a punching fag, expect his next opponent to be his flimsy closet door.

Will and an unidentified gay man out on the town.

Will Smith:

It’s a bitch being on the down low when you’ve hit an age where once you get down it’s problematic getting back up. Will Smith is another one of the unsung gay heroes of Hollywood who is quickly approaching an age where when he finally announces he favorite color is pink, no one will care. For years Hollywood insiders have referred to Will’s overly large ears as love handles. Marrying a boyish looking woman did little to quell the rumors that rang true especially in light of a notorious Hollywood Madame’s declaration:

“The first time I spoke with Smith, I had to reassure him over and over that I could guarantee discretion. Once I convinced him I could, he placed his order. It was for a man. You’d be surprised at how many Hollywood stars requested the services of the guys.”

Well, no, actually we wouldn’t be surprised. John Travolta has to do something with all that money he makes. But Will hasn’t always needed to fork over cash for his man meat. Actor Duane Martin was allegedly Will Smith’s gay lover in the past. He recently divorced TV actress Tisha Campbell after exposing himself as gay.

More recently, the Jizzy Fresh Prince has been busy with R&B singer Trey Songz. For years rumors have been constant, claiming Trey has had numerous gay relationships with men in the music industry. The 26-year-old Grammy-nominated artist has repeatedly denied that he is gay. Because straight guys always have to repeatedly deny they like cock.

Trey Songz is not gay. And is not Will Smith’s gay lover. And is not a bottom. And does not wear Jada’s clothes when she is not in town.

In a recent interview, Troy Taylor, a record company executive and mentor to the singer said, “I know that Trey and Will have been friends for a very long time, but I can’t speak to the nature of their relationship. It’s none of my business.”

Huh. That’s almost as good as being damned by faint praise. Will attempted outing himself last year with rumors that his sham marriage was over. And it’s not like Will acts gay, I mean, definitely not Nathan Lane gay, and not even Kevin Spacey gay. But Tom Cruise gay for sure. On Google’s Out Meter, Will gets a big #4., so expect him to announce he really plays for the Men in Pink in 2012.

Um, sorry, but that’s not a headline.

Taylor Lautner:

Taylor is so gay and so out he not only made it on this list but was a featured Gay of the Week earlier in the year. So I really don’t need to list all of his gay points here. But then one look at Taylor is all it should take to know that he plays on our team. Even if it is on the girl’s side.

He made today’s post, however, thanks to a fake People magazine cover that made it’s way around the internet last week. The cover quickly went viral and that People had to issue a statement denying its validity should tell you – and Taylor – just how out the boy really is.

The word is Taylor won’t be making it official until he has established himself as a major star. 2012 will be the year for reality checks and recognizing he’ll soon be slated for a run on Dancing With the Stars, expect Taylor to admit the line of boys waiting to do him will always outnumber the line of guys waiting to see his next flick. Unless he goes the gay porn route.

Rob Kardashian requires that a photo of his ass accompany any other published shots of him.

Rob Kardashian:

I know. The Kardashian ugly little sister isn’t even D List material, but the poor boy deserves to be thrown a bone. And you know that any supposed straight man who refers to his ass as ‘his secret weapon’ is dreaming of just how big that bone might be.

Not everyone involved with Hollywood is a celebrity or a star. Some only rank as a personality, and while none of the Kardashians actually have a personality, this last year Rob followed the lead of so many other out gay has-beens by shaking his booty on Dancing with the Stars. Jealous of sister Kim’s butt implants, Robbie boy made sure his most valuable asset was featured weekly, referring to the prodigious mounds of hotness as ‘his secret weapon.’

Um, let me guess: bottom?

Rob outted himself via Twitter (because that is what media whores do these days) with a series of drunken posts. The first one read: ‘I love men’s private parts.’ Followed by: “Yum yum yum.” Rob then started writing about his attraction to one of his skank sister’s husband, Lakers star Lamar Odom. “I love my brother-in-law. He is so big and sexy.”

You may feel that qualifies as being out, especially as saying three letter words is a difficult task for any Kardashian, but like the rest of his family, Rob is a media whore, so as soon as he learns a new “G” word, you can expect him to try and make the news in 2012.

Don Lemon undergoes medical tests to determine if he is in fact black.

Don Lemon:

CNN’s Don Lemon decided to be the news instead of reporting it in 2011r, but the shocker wasn’t his announcement that he was gay (it’s not news when everyone already knows about it), but that he was black. Don’s announcement this last year that he was gay didn’t work because everyone thought it was Anderson who was opening his closet door, so he followed up by announcing he is black.

Granted, his race was of more of a question than his sexual preference, but it turns out he needed to qualify the former thanks to his memoir in which he gushes over Ronald Reagan and speaks so sweetly about Bill O’Reilly you’d think he was trying to get into the FOX News pundit’s pants. Or vice versa. On hearing about Don’s conservative leanings, his white boyfriend of four years, Ben Tinker, said, “Don’s black????”

And Anderson will announced this year that he is not black. (Pictured: Anderson Cooper & boyfriend Benjamin Maisani. Cooper is the one on the bottom. Oh. You already knew that.)

Anderson Cooper:

Not news either, but you really can’t mention CNN and gay in the same post and not give a shout out to Anderson who spent the year trying to make Andy Dick look straight.

Jealous of the mantle worn by Ellen as “gay but still acceptable to the breeders who have no life and spend their days watching television”, Anderson threw a hissy fit until someone gave him his own talk show this last year. Gay men used to have fag hags, now being BFF with a talentless skank seems to be all the rage and Anderson claimed MTV’s Jersey Shore’s Skank Snooki as his gay not-beard, joining her on-air tanning themselves orange.

Anderson, really, I know it’s an open secret but come on. The girlish giggle is enough of a clue already, do you have to go the full queen route to boot? CNN’s ratings have been dropping, and along with his pants, Anderson’s talk shows have been bottoming out too. Nothing gets a Neilson rater hotter than a celebrity announcing he is gay, so expect Anderson to take one for the team in 2012.

Was this cover to show how dumb these guys are, or that they are gay? Oh, got it: both.

The Girls of Jersey Shore:

As long as we’re on the subject of not hot guidos, the interchangeable cast of Jersey Whores will all step through the closet door in 2012. Though they may have done so last year, or whenever these guys first started appearing on television. A friend – who is now an ex-friend – suggested I watch the show telling me it was like watching a train wreck about to happen. The episode I caught was about one of the gay guidos running his head into a cement wall because, um, I’m not sure there was a reason. So really the train wreck part of the show is a done deal. Guessing whether any of the ugly male cast members is gay is too. And isn’t ‘gay guido’ an oxymoron anyway?

But it’s nice that MTV continues its tradition of including gay guys in its ensemble casts. This one has four little gay boys in it: the ugly one who thinks he has great abs, the ugly one who has incredible muscles and an ass I call dibbs on, and the other two ugly ones who might as well be straight ‘cuz no gay man would ever be interested in them.

There are an equal number of fish in the show, but the entire gang spend their days sharing make-up tips, plucking their eyebrows, and drooling over each others’ boyfriends. So which have peni and which only act like they do doesn’t really matter. Come to think about it, none of them really matter anyway, but it’s always a good thing to have gay men represented on TV.

Ah, and now we know the true meaning behind the Tricky Dick nickname.

Richard Nixon:

I guess along with so many other things, Tricky Dick was wrong: we still have Nixon to kick around. A recently publish biography about America’s most infamous president by journalist Don Fulsom claims Dick liked dick. And had a lot better taste in boyfriends than he did in wives.

Nixon’s Darkest Secrets is based on Fulsom’s reporting during the Nixon administration, along with interviews with members of Congress, former White House staffers and others from the 37th President’s inner circle. According to Fulsom, Nixon had a gay love affair that spanned multiple decades with Cuban-American businessman Charles ‘Bebe’ Rebozo.

In his book he states, “Nixon and Rebozo, who the feds believe laundered money for mob kingpins in Florida and Cuba, swam, sunbathed and dined together during guys-only vacations in exclusive Key Biscayne, FL., and were once spotted holding hands under the table during a dinner with K Street power brokers.”

Another reporter told Fulsom that he once caught a tipsy Nixon nuzzling Rebozo “the way you’d cuddle your senior prom date.” The fact that the two were pals was no secret to Washington officials, and whispers often floated around about the two being a possible item right up until Nixon’s death in 1994.

As for Nixon’s beard – and possibly not the first first lady to take on that role – according to Fulsom, Dick and Pats’ relationship was a platonic one and Nixon was even given kissing lessons to help his relationship seem valid in the public eye.

Being dead makes it a bit more difficult for Nixon to come out, but this story will grow legs in 2012 and maybe then we’ll finally know what was on those 18 missing minutes of tape.

P Diddy released a cologne this year marketed for the world of rap.

Some Rapper:

Okay, maybe that should be all rappers. I’d pay more attention to the gay hotties of the rap world, but most are just plain thug-ugly. The world of rap has a rep for being homophobic, but it turns out all those nasty lyrics about fags are really all love songs.

Ice Cube got his nickname for kneeling in worship to Vanilla Ice, it’s no secret that 50 cent is 100% in favor of his homies, P Diddy’s old moniker, Puffy, was about his skills playing the skinflute, and Dr. Dre only likes to play doctor with the boys. Then there’s the drag queen known as Queen Latifah. Add Tyrese, Busta, Redman, Method Man, Puffy, Russell Simmons, Ray J, Soulja Boy, Deadlee (though he’s already officially out), Eminem, Kanye, Q-Tip, Sisqo, LL Cool J, Lil Wayne, Ludacris . . . do I really need to go on?

The world of rap music may not be your thing, but damn is it gay! Several well-known rappers have admitted over the last year that there’s a ‘gay mafia’ that runs the rap music world, and that the only way anyone gets the industry behind them is to, well let the industry get behind them. The east coast / west coast rivalry has been done to death (literally) so expect the new battle front for 2012 to be the gay / straight rapper wars. Though it appears finding a rapper to play on the breeders’ team will be a difficult one.