I didn’t see Brüno, so I didn’t realize that this scene with Pete Rose didn’t make the final cut of the film. Rose is still banned from baseball, but apparently not banned from interactions with people pretending to be gay Austrians–or “faux-mos,”–if you will. I guess the studio released this clip to generate some buzz for the DVD release. Which studio? Great question. You go ahead and check that out and get back to me. –First Cuts.
This is the “Mance Team” from West Forsyth high school…and I know I should have some snarky comment cued up about how all these guys are just orphans that were molested by the clergy before they were raised out in the woods by a pack of wild cockatoos before they were thrust into the high school scene to show that even guys that wear cheerleader outfits can be embraced by an originally abrasive student body, but really I’m at a loss. I’d wash my eyes out with something, but I’m already blind. Blind and fabulous. But mostly blind.
Stephon Marbury should give up trying to catch on with an NBA team, and that’s not because he has any sort of future as the next Wayne Brady (or even the next lonelygirl15), but because nobody will touch him after this video finishes making the rounds of NBA front offices. Even Brendan Heywood has gone on record and said that he wouldn’t want to share a locker room with Marbury. A gas station stall or a patch of grass behind a highway rest stop, sure, but not an NBA locker room. It’s called the “down low” for a reason, yo. Thanks, Michael, who’s totally not gay.
We always suspected that having your friends hold you in the air while executing a spread eagle was a bad idea, but now we finally have proof. And this is really what school is all about, learning things for yourself that older people have already told you. What concerns me is that I’m not convinced that they actually got this stunt wrong. I don’t see how this could have turned out any better, short of a typhoon ripping through the gym. I’m what you’d call a typhoon enthusiast.
From Hot Clicks: It’s Tiger Woods and Derek Jeter walking down the street looking like douchebags. Not sure when Saturday Night Fever became timely again. And look, there’s Roger Federer on another set 5,000 miles away. Or, um, across the street. Yeah, that’s it. Nice shoes, asshole.
When you’re a millionaire athlete, you can afford to cut your own glory hole into a mirror and do whatever comes naturally when checking yourself out in the mirror. And you can do it while posing for a pictorial for not-so-noted fag mag DETAILS, the magazine for guys that don’t realize they’re gay yet. From the New York Post (thanks, John):
The mag captures A-Rod’s essence, with pictures of him smooching his own reflection, stretching his toned muscles on a bare mattress and brooding seductively for the camera.
Despite being one of the most recognizable men in the city, A-Rod told Details - in an issue that hits newsstands a week from today - that he enjoys taking the subway to Yankee Stadium, usually on Fridays. “For night games . . . the day to do it is a Friday, because traffic is horrible,” he said.
That’s also when the trannies make themselves available. Those girls only like to work on weekends. It’s the only time they can get time away from their busy jobs on Wall Street. And we wonder why the economy is all buggered.
