Ok no but for real tho If you’re not doing this What, the fuck, ARE you doing?

The state of discomfort experienced among queer folk when they go home for Christmas and find themselves once again mired in the culture of blithe, heedless, implacable straightness of their youth: -heteronativity

FARMER GRAY: Hey handsome. PARSON BROWN: Wha- what? FARMER GRAY: Relax. Have some coffee and some pumpkin pie. PARSON BROWN: Th-Thank you. FARMER GRAY: It’s like we’re in a game of Clue, you and me. PARSON BROWN: Pardon? FARMER GRAY: You know: Brown, Gray. PARSON BROWN: Oh. Yes. Clever.

From the studio that brought you A CHRISTMAS CAROL … Evil stalks the shadowy cobblestone streets of Edwardian London … An evil born many years before, when one old man’s redemption unleashed a dread curse … Christmas 2026 Terror will be annoyingly cheerful Because … TINY TIM DID NOT DIE

IT’S THE HOLIDAY SEASON! -Uh-huh THE HOLIDAY SEASON! -yep sure is -SO HOOP DE DOO! -sorry what -AND DICKORY DOCK! -what are you saying now what’s going on -AND DON’T FORGET! TO HANG UP YOUR SOCK! -gross -and like, settle down

JOSEPH: No room? We booked ahead! INNKEEPER: Sorry sir we have no record of that. JOSEPH: This is unacceptable. INNKEEPER: Perhaps you’d like to speak to our manger? JOSEPH: Absolutely. Wait what why’d you say it like that

My seven-year-old realization that Snow Miser sings “friends call me Snow Miser” but Heat Miser sings “they call me Heat Miser” means that HM doesn’t have friends - was the moment I unlocked that lyrics reveal character and was probably the reason I became whatever the hell it is I am today.

Celebrating - no, OBSERVING - the very first time someone made you watch a funny video and then sat there watching you watch it. It changed drinks out with friends. It changed dinner parties. It changed family get-togethers. It changed holiday meals. It changed the world.

Canada: Your reliable resource for both gay hockey sex and actual journalism

Every so often I suddenly remember that THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING includes a character bellowing “Crebain from Dunland!” and the movie keeps going like that’s a thing a person can just like come out with and everyone’ll just go yep guess so

Prancer and Vixen are an unstoppable gay guy/straight girl combo. Dancer, Prancer’s ex, keeps trying to insinuate himself but the bitch had his chance and be blew it. Maybe he shouldn’t have accepted Blitzen’s invite for Netflix and Schnapps.

Had a dream where Scott Hunter called me down onto the ice but as soon as I stepped out I faceplanted because “toe pick!” No it doesn’t make logical sense. But it makes emotional sense.

I have trans kids. I am not a weirdo. I swear.

Albert Mouse. Rejector of groupthink. Iconoclast. Heretic. Interrogator of received thought. Intellectual in a community of dull sentimentalists. STEM girlie. Hero.

Epstein files got more black boxes than a theater festival

A monthslong film series came to an end this week - weekly documentaries about women artists (Sally Mann, Pina Bausch, Agnes Varda, more) screened at the local movie theater. It was great; the kind of thing our little rural VA town desperately needs. Last one was Aretha Franklin’s Amazing Grace…

The Donald J Trump and The Art of Noise The Donald J Trump and The Ultimate Answer to Life The Universe and Everything The Donald J Trump and The Edge The Donald J Trump and The Batman The Donald J Trump and The Unbearable Lightness of Being The Donad J Trump and The The

Me when, over Christmas dinner, an elderly relative tells me they’ve been watching “that hockey show.”

I mean I’m still out here in these streets calling it National Airport and it’s fine, you know?

Washingtonians feeling like the good citizens of Sniddler’s Gulch

Our HEATED RIVALRY ep. The episode page title I suggested that they went with: “Heated Rivalry has face-offs that will melt your face off.” I mean it’s fine. The ones they CRUELLY REJECTED: HEATED RIVALRY: Oh, Canada! HEATED RIVARLY: Ice, ice, baby HEATED RIVALRY: Hockey butts, hockey pucks

Ghost of Christmas Past: You were cool, then you became a dick Ghost of Christmas Present: You’re a dick Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come: You will remain a dick You: I won’t be a dick anymore Tiny Tim: Your resolve to cease your dickishness has cured my vague pulmonary/skeletal disease somehow

Features of the 2029 Oscars Ceremony: OUT: Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award IN: Mr. Beast Human Centipede Award OUT: Irving G Thalberg Memorial Award IN: David After Dentist Memowial Awawd OUT: Presenter banter IN: Presenter unboxing OUT: Movie montages IN: Twitch compilations

-you there boy what day is it -today why it’s Christmas Day -wonderful you know that fine fat goose at the butcher -wot the one’s as big as me -that’s it now go fetch- -wot’s fulla them ‘ormones -what -wot’s never seen the light o’day -ok look -fac’try farmin that is -jesus never MIND

The news is shittier than baseline. May I suggest some self-soothing? The Celebrity Traitors. On Peacock. 1. Yes it’s British and you won’t know lots of the people. I only knew 10 of 19, and if it weren’t for Taskmaster I’d know even less. 2. You’ve already seen clips on the ‘gram. Doesn’t matter

Looking forward to creating content with my favorite Disney+ characters so Scar and I can guzzle martinis and talk shit about all the DL princes we’ve fucked ERIC

At one point in the past I wrote a blog post rating Supergirl’s outfits over the decades but it has been eaten by the internet. Anyway. They’re mostly terrible (headband!?), but the 70s v-neck blouse /hot pants combo was the chic-est fuckin’ thing any superhero has ever worn.

Giddy up, jinglehorse Pick up your feet You know Your feet, which you possess in lieu of hooves Like all other horses Those of the non-jingle variety Have at the end of their legs Jinglehorse, I declare thee abomination O! Thou unholy affront to god and man Anyway That’s the jingle bell rock

The dude in HEATED RIVALRY suggesting a Mexican food date. That’s fantasy. High fantasy. That’s magical realism, only instead of butterflies, cleanliness.

The blithe conviction that mid-30s actors can play their 16-year-old selves if you just slap sufficiently crazy wigs on them is the LEAST mystifying thing about ELLA MCCAY

In fairness, if you asked ChatGPT to create a movie that was Not, In Any Way Imaginable, For Glens, what it’d spit out would look and feel (and cloy … oh, how it cloys) a hell of a lot like ELLA MCCAY.

Helvetica eating their usual bologna on white bread with a glass of milk, remembering the time Times New Roman peered down his nose at them through his monocle. But he had a point. One time when they were all out together, Calibri had ordered a glass of “sav blanc” whatever the heck THAT was.

you will be visited by three spirits

My oldest dearest friend just sent me a post of a guy expressing his hatred of me & my smug voice & how I hate everything. Old friends do that. It’s funny to them. Joshing! Anyway. Hate dude’s entitled to his opinion, which, on bad days, I totally share. Life’s rich, occasionally shitty, pageant!

The weird little Kazaa-esque outfit that sent you SOPRANOS season 4 dvds in the snail mail and didn’t charge you anything if you like kept them for months and months and months is now Entertainment Itself

“Cloying” is really the only way we encounter that verb. In its gerund form. The passive voice form. But sometime you see a movie that demand the active voice. ELLA MCCAY cloys. It cloys hard. It cloys with reckless abandon. It cloys unalloyed. It cloys with gravid intensity. It cloys.

Sometimes I attend screenings and afterwards dutifully inform my work colleagues of this fact with the dispassionate mien of a seasoned critic.

[GLEN enters, crosses to center of room, flips folding chair around, sits in it backwards and rolls up his sleeves] “We’re not doing this again this year. Any of it. Your takes on DIE HARD, “Baby It’s Cold Outside,” “The Little Drummer Boy,” Hallmark movie cliches, they’re done. They’re over. Stop.

Winona gets top billing, screentime notwithstanding. (Respectful nod.)

Flip it around …

No lesbians would accept toast, popcorn, jelly beans and pretzels. WAY roo many carbs. They would need a soy protein. Or seitan.

You will return to your hometown tonight and you will tempted to go out to the bars. If you do so, you will see other people from high school. So like. Don’t do that. The fuck. Why would even consider — I mean — The hell. Idiot. Don’t. Clip this out and save for your records.

Woodstock is a pick-me gay. A log cabin republican. A gay for MAGA.

Lesbians inviting themselves and their partners and their black friends to your basic-ass white suburban Thanksgiving is the only way change happens so yeah. She complains about the food. It’s uncomfortable. Live in it.

Your hot takes on Thanksgiving food are colder than your takes on “Baby It’s Cold Outside” and “Let It Snow” and seriously aren’t you just tired? Aren’t we all?

“Santa Buddy” is No Homo: The Christmas Song

I really dug PETER HUJAR’S DAY. It hit me when I was in precisely the mood to pick up what it was putting down. How much of the mood in question was I predisposed to be in, simply upon seeing the Janus Films logo? A NON-ZERO PERCENTAGE. IS HOW MUCH.

It’s tiiiiii-iiiiiiime (To coin a phrase.)

Worked in bookstores. Got an MFA. Taught. Temped. Worked in PR for 16 brutal years. Emailed recaps of a hilariously terrible gay dating show to friends. One friend passed them along to the right person. Everything changed.