"When we played in the woods, one of them was Kirk, one of them was Spock, one of them was Indiana Jones and I was Wonder Woman, obviously. And they were like, 'You can't block a phaser with bracelets'. But, uh, you can. Plus I had a lasso!"—Cheyenne Jackson talks about growing up and playing with his brother and their friends. Something tells me none of them were particularly surprised when he eventually came out!
By the time you read this, the Fourth of July will be a thing of the past. But the fireworks are continuing over in Vatican City. Amidst reports of financial skullduggery, Pope Francis has fired everyone on the board of the Vatican's financial committee. My God—he's like the Donald Trump of Italy! But that's not the biggest surprise. Unlike the previous board that consisted solely of Italian men, the new board includes a Swiss lawyer, a philanthropic expert also from Switzerland, a Harvard law professor, an advisor to the president of Singapore and the head of two Italian insurance companies who happens to be a woman! If Francis ain't careful, the smoke could be blowing his way, if you catch my drift.
It doesn't take much to make me take the side of anyone against Leonardo DiCaprio. Ever since he bought a flat across the piazza from mine in Verona, my summers are no longer as tranquil as they once were. We hear that Leo was at NYC's Up & Down club a couple of weeks ago with Jonah Hill. At some point, a woman asked if she could take a photo with Leo since it was her birthday. DiCaprio's terse response was, "Sorry, not tonight." Not tonight? As in, "Oh, maybe tomorrow night—when it isn't your birthday?" Shut up, you bastard, and just take the frickin' picture. As Joan Rivers taught me many years ago when I was just starting to be recognized, "Always sign the autograph and take the photo—it's much easier and quicker to do it than to explain why you can't."
I spent last Saturday with Joan Rivers at Town Hall in Provincetown where she presented two fabulous shows to the Independence Day revelers. Her opening act, Tony Tripoli, was eagerly embraced by the plethora of gay men in the audience—fingers crossed that enthusiasm continued after the show. As for Auntie Joan, she never disappoints. The capacity audience treated her like visiting royalty, which she most certainly is. Her act is as sharp and caustic as ever. In fact, the first half was all new material that was delivered with rapid-fire energy that never let up. In the second half, she revisited some of her favorite stories—including numerous anecdotes about her vagina. It is a dubious distinction, indeed, for someone's vagina to get laughs, but Joan is a trouper.
Speaking of vaginas, Anderson Cooper recently got the giggles when presenting a "Ridiculist" story about a U.S. tourist who got his legs trapped in a statue of a vagina in Germany: "I'm certainly no expert on the topic of vaginas, artistic or otherwise. They really aren't in my wheelhouse, so to speak. But I know enough that you are not supposed to go in feet first!" The chap was extricated from the tight spot with the assistance of numerous firemen—presumably using the Jaws of Vage.
Although the rain dampened our Fourth of July celebrations in Provincetown, the silver lining was that I had time to check out a few shows. Visiting for the long weekend was the dashing Cheyenne Jackson. Although this marked his P-town debut, it was not his first time in our little fishing village. "I've only been there once. It was for a day and honestly, it's embarrassing to say but I'll just say it: I don't remember a lot because I was really drunk," he said.
The newly sober Jackson was a bright light in an otherwise dreary weekend. I know this will surprise some of you who think I have something against Cheyenne—would that that were true. I think Cheyenne is very talented. My issue is that he hasn't given me that "WOW" performance I've always felt he's capable of ... until now. Perhaps it was the intimate confines of the Provincetown Art House. Perhaps it was his friendship with host/accompanist Seth Rudetsky. Or maybe it was because he wasn't playing a role—he was just being himself. But for the first time, I really felt Cheyenne connect with his audience in a way that brought him to another level. ( He was so well-received, he'll be back for another round of P-town show Labor Day weekend. You can get more information at PTownArtHouse.com . ) Needless to say, Jackson is physically gorgeous. And his voice has never sounded better, particularly in the blues-tinged material. You can see exactly what I mean by checking out an exclusive clip from the show on BillyMasters.com .
Since I know my fans, I'll also rerun his infamous jerk-off video. Just because he's changed doesn't mean I have!
Then there was Well Strung, the sexy singing string quartet. I've been pleased to know these four talented guys since they came together three years ago, and they continue to impress with their virtuosic playing and their mellifluent voices. I checked out the act's new show, "Popssical," on its third night, and it's as delightful as its previous offerings. In fact, this one features more challenging pieces and intricate harmonies, which the guys handle with aplomb. I can only imagine how good it will be when you see them any time this summer at the Provincetown Art House.
Our "Ask Billy" question comes from George in Boca Raton: "I gave up on True Blood last season. But I just heard that there was a gay sex scene between Alexander Skarsgard and Ryan Kwanten. Is that true? Could you post it? Was it as hot as I imagine?"
I think "imagine" is the right word, because while there was indeed a hot gay-sex scene, it was happening in the imagination of Kwanten's character of Sheriff Jason. And what a vivid imagination he has! I don't know if I've ever seen such steamy sex on television—to say nothing of a gay sex. If any of you have fantasized about sleeping with either ( or both ) of these guys, you should definitely check it out on BillyMasters.com .
When vaginas are getting laughs in Germany and P-town, it's definitely time to end yet another column. Given the soggy weekend we had in Provincetown, I was comforted by something that never lets me down: Scottcakes! These sinfully delicious pink buttercream cupcakes by purveyor Scott Cunningham momentarily turned the gray skies blue. If you'd like your day perked up in a more immediate way, go to www.BillyMasters.com—the site that is never short on cream. If you have a question for me to tackle, send it along to Billy@BillyMasters.com and I promise to get back to you before True Blood delivers a REAL threesome—Skarsgard, Kwanten and Manganiello! So, until next time, remember, one man's filth is another man's bible.
