Don’t ask, do tell: “Where can you find pleasure?” the Village People once asked. “Search the world for treasure?” In the Navy, the peeps unanimously answered, and any doubts to that response’s validity were laid to rest with the February cover of Mom Guess What, which features devastatingly handsome gay-porn hunks Benjamin Bradley and Ethan Reynolds smooching it up in sailor garb.
Sacramento’s slick-backed, four-color gay and lesbian monthly has certainly come a long ways since the drab newsprint days of yore, when MGW seemed constantly on the brink of insolvency. With washboard abs, low-rise designer swimwear and midriff-revealing Navy-issue cracker jacks, Bradley and Reynolds look like they’ve just stepped straight out of a Pierre et Gilles exhibit.
Bites imagines the pornographic pair steaming toward the Persian Gulf, where they implore their fellow seamen in the U.S. Fifth Fleet, at the moment aggressively arrayed off the Iranian coast, to throw down their weapons, tear off their clothes and make love, not war. True, the military’s “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy is still in effect. But during times of war, when asses are truly on the line, there are no heterosexuals in foxholes.
Coming soon: Alas, war with Iran seems inevitable; the Democratically controlled Congress won’t be riding to the rescue and neither will Bradley and Reynolds, since the pair already has been engaged to appear at Faces’ grand reopening “expansion party,” to be held Friday, March 9, and Saturday, March 10.
Located literally a stone’s throw away from Bites’ posh Midtown office, Faces has been undergoing a dramatic makeover for months. Improvements include a state of the art sound, lighting and video system; two new smoking patios; and six—count ’em, six!—additional bars.
Bites is particularly impressed with the new swimming pool out back. It’s located tantalizingly near the new second-story balcony, making summertime cannonball diving a distinct possibility. Lavender Heights, indeed. At any rate, the reopening promises to make quite a splash, and with Bradley and Reynolds in attendance, no doubt the club won’t be the only thing, uh, expanding.
It lives: Just when we thought Elvis finally had left the building for good, the King went all zombie on us, joining the ranks of the living dead and holding down the occasional double-bill with Bat Boy on the cover of the Weekly World News. Now it seems that erstwhile Sacramento Bee columnist R.E. Graswich has pulled off a similar feat, albeit with a publication slightly less credible than the Weekly World News, Sacramento Magazine.
What? You accuse Bites of hyperbole? Fools! Hear it from the Hawaiian-shirt-wearing Mr. Bobby Bahama himself in this official press release: “The readers of Sacramento magazine voted me Best Columnist for seven straight years,” Graswich explains. “It’s the only journalism award worth winning, as far as I’m concerned, because it comes from the community.”
Holy crap! Someone better tell the Bee to stop pouring all those resources into winning Pulitzers—the dog show at the Sacramento County Fair costs a lot less to enter, is easier to win, and, according to Graswich’s logic, means a hell of a lot more. Think about it: The Bee actually paid this guy to leave. Apparently the rumored six months salary/six months benefits wasn’t enough to keep him away.
Bites kids Bobby Bahama, but only slightly. Stay out of Midtown, Bobby. Confine your game, such as it is, to physician waiting rooms in the hinterlands. Show up at Faces, Bobby, you best stay away from the pool. That Hawaiian shirt you’re always wearing just might get all wet.