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June 30, 2005

Why Can't Bush Be More Like Zapatero?

First it was Netherlands, then Belgium, now Spain. Ole’!

Today, the Spanish Parliament legalized gay marriage, becoming the third country in history to do so.

Spanish Prime Minister Jose Luis Rodriguez Zapatero was quoted saying to the chamber, “We were not the first, but I am sure we will not be the last. After us will come many other countries, driven, ladies and gentlemen, by two unstoppable forces: freedom and equality.''

Wow. Here, ladies and gentlemen, is a true statesman, not just a politician. Imagine Bush saying something as eloquent as that. Hmmm… Why Can’t Bush be more like Zapatero?

Why is it that a country so Catholic, so conservative, who had Franco in power until 1975 can do it, and we, the most powerful and supposedly enlightened country in the world, can’t?

I’m not a big believer in marriage. I think it’s a dated institution that hasn’t even worked for straight people (if the religious right had any brains, they would support gay marriage, how many married couples do you know still have sex?) It many not be my choice, I’m way to cynical for that kind of crap. But I do believe in the need to have a choice, for anyone who pays taxes.

It pains me to see, in a country I love so much, politicians, supported by the stupid masses, resisting this worldwide revolution, because in the end that’s what it is: an unstoppable force that no church and no bible-thumping lunatic can squelch. It happened with the Civil Rights Movement, it will happen again. When it does, I wonder what eloquent words Bush may have for the House. I really do.

Love,

Michael

Posted by Michael at 03:49 PM | Comments (16) | TrackBack

Come On Guys, You Can Do Better....

Every time I look at the comments I hope to find some criticism that’s really funny and smart that I could sink my teeth into. One interesting soul who could take a nice and eloquent jab at me. Someone who could not only disagree with me but make it interesting. I mean think about it, I’m the easiest target you could imagine. Problem is all the criticism against me lack one thing - talent.

So I decided to do it myself. Here goes:

Hey Michael,

Who do u think you are? You bitchy-ass queen, who farts in your lovers faces, need not lecture the rest of us on what smells disgusting; that is, of course, unless your own intestines smell like roses. For the sake of your actors, I hope you put some Eternity for men in your douchebag.

You urinate in men’s mouths, and then use yours to lecture us -- the fawning followers of your freakiness -- on not wearing cologne? Give me a break!

Your Jew-boy-Russian-pansy-pornographer moral judgments are what stink. If you didn't have a 10-inch cock, it would probably be YOU behind the wheel of a stuffy NYC taxi, trying to earn an honest living driving pretentious xenophobic shitheads all day. If there is a God, this should be your punishment: an eternal cab ride through Purgatory with passengers who eat, and then dispense curry scented farts into a windowless taxi.

Michael, I've decided the only way I'll buy another one of your tacky, talentless films is if you get either an Arab or a Frenchman to shit all over your stupid pouty cock-sucking lips. That I'd pay to see.

Cuz Michael, you're nothing but a dirty whore, unfit for any asshole.

Posted by Michael at 03:11 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack

June 29, 2005

Scents and Soap-ability

Isn’t it strange that people are still wearing perfume these days? I hosted a dinner this Pride weekend and the scent coming from one of my guests was so overpowering I could barely concentrate. I couldn’t smell the food, I couldn’t even taste it. The entire apartment smelled like reproduced citrus, the kind you can probably find at K-Mart.

Perfumes are simply not sexy. They were invented in ancient Egypt as part of religious rituals, and became extremely popular in France during the 17th century (the court of Louis the XV was knick-named "The Perfumed Court" because at the time, they would put on cologne not only on their skin but also on clothing, fans and furniture). The reason for so much cologne was they simply didn’t take showers, it was the only way for them to kill the stench.

Times have changed (maybe not so much in France where showers are still pretty rare. Go to any nightclub in Paris and you’ll be greeted with a mixture of odors, a combination of dirty armpits, perfume and cigarette smoke, enough to make you want to shower in the club’s bathroom sink).

Americans, thank God don’t use that much perfume, but it seems even here some people haven’t realized that today we have water running through pipes, and what was applicable during 17th century France, may not be the best for modern day NYC.

Why would you want to smell like a garden of lilies or worse, chemicals? Why not take a shower instead and smell clean?

My biggest pet peeve? Going down on a guy whose pubes smell like CK One. Some people are under the impression that just because they like their overwhelming cloud of stench we have to like it too. Why the fuck do you have to enforce me to inhale it? How fucking rude!

Do your self a favor, stay out of perfumeries. A nice American bar of freshly opened Ivory soap, now that’s the stuff dreams are made of.

Love,
Michael

Posted by Michael at 04:45 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack

June 27, 2005

Cabs and the City

Yesterday I got into a cab with my friend Jason and was immediately hit by an odor so pungent, so foul, I thought a rat had died in the back seat. I’m not sure what other people do when they find themselves in that situation. I suspect most keep quiet, some hold their breath.

Fuck that. I think smelling like a French prostitute is a sign of bad manners, a complete disregard for other people’s right to clean breathing. So I do whatever any self-respecting person would do: I tell them they stink and get the hell out (you should have seen the look on Jason’s face, priceless).

But really, if you think about it, what’s up with New York City cabbies? How hard is it to keep your frikkin’ car clean? Most car owners manage, why can’t you? Is it too much to ask that you roll down the window every once in a while, so it doesn’t smell like an armpit? Or how about not eating your curry-soaked food in the cab? Better yet, don’t eat curry at all, for the love of God.

You guys didn’t come to America just to exchange a camel for a cab. This is a new and different culture, so how about embracing this great American tradition called “showering.”

More than 17,000 New Yorkers are subject to taxi accidents each year. I wonder, where did you all get your driver’s license? In some Al-Qaeda DMV? (talk about sleeper cells, I don’t think they’re really asleep, they’re simply driving our yellow cabs -- for those with a double-digit IQ, I’m kidding). But seriously, sitting in the back seat of a New York City cab, I always feel like I’m on some suicide mission.

It’s amazing that in a city like New York, where cabs are as essential as traffic lights, we can’t get a safe, decent (how about just civilized?) ride.

If it’s not the stench, it’s that bizarre cell-phone obsession. When was the last time you got into a cab and the driver was actually paying attention to what YOU were saying? I really am curious to know, what the hell are they talking about all day long? That constant banter in some Middle-Eastern language, enough to drive you bonkers. Not only that, they’re so distracted by those goddamn phones, you’re forced to repeat your destination half a dozen times (and more often that I care to remember, they still get it wrong somehow).

Hey asshole, how about you take that fucking earpiece out and listen for a change? Who knows, maybe you’ll actually earn your tip? (another enigma: why do we tip cabbies? I get tipping a waiter, a delivery person, but a cabby? For what? For driving? Hey, while we're at it, let’s tip teachers for teaching and cops for policing).

But my favorite cabbie pet-peeve has to be the air-conditioner. Don’t you hate it when as soon as you get in, that’s when they turn on the A.C.? By the time the cab gets cool, you’ve reached you destination and you’re so disheveled you look like you slept in you’re clothes. Stop pinching pennies on our account. Leave the cool air on and your cell phones off.

Maybe then, just maybe, we could actually pay for a ride without feeling like we’re being taken for a ride.

Love,

Michael

Posted by Michael at 04:29 PM | Comments (10) | TrackBack

Israel Pride

Picture this: a million circumcised twinks wrapped in rainbow colored boas, voguing the streets of Israel in 15-inch stilettos, 350-pound leather daddies honking their Harlies as they pass the Knesset, and thousands of Jewish mothers wearing cheesy T-shirts that say “Ani Geh’a Be’bni ha’aliz” (I’m proud of my gay son).

What an idea, huh? The thought alone makes me giddy. So last year, when I got a letter asking me to support the first Israeli WorldPride day, I pulled out my checkbook and signed on the dotted line.

I thought to myself, what a great opportunity to educate the masses, to open the minds of a population beaten by years of bible-thumping lunatics and in the process, show the world that Israelis aren’t just about wars and fences.

I forgot all about it until last week, when I got another letter from the organizers saying event had been “postponed,” hopefully until next year (the controversial move drew so much attention, the city of Jerusalem tried to put a stop to its annual city pride as well, but was unsuccessful).

Apparently, the ten-day world festival scheduled in Jerusalem was enough to make centuries-long enemies (Muslims, Orthodox Jews and Christians) join forces in opposition. For the first time in history, these ardent foes have put aside their hatred and differences and squashed their one and only common enemy – the proud homosexual.

Thank God for queers! Who said Jews and Arabs can’t agree on anything?

Hey Clinton, you had it all wrong buddy... fuck Camp David! You should have held your peace talks right in the middle of Chelsea, your roadmap would have been a done deal by now.

If you ask me, the reason the WorldPride event was cancelled had more to do with poor planning than bad politics. For one, I never got any information on it until about two weeks before the event. How about a little head’s notice?

Another bad move by the organizers was to place this event in Jerusalem. Not only is there no gay scene there, but it also happens to be an extremely religious city. Had they opted for Tel-Aviv, they might have faced less opposition (not to mention the fact that Tel-Aviv just makes so much more sense).

I do hope Israelis are able to reconcile their differences regarding this event. It’s time the world saw what an incredible place it is, with all its complexities.

Michael

Posted by Michael at 04:06 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

June 24, 2005

To Snoop Or Not To Snoop?

During every relationship, there’s always that moment, that one moment when you still have a choice: to spy or to trust?

A diary left unattended, his e-mails flickering on the computer screen, a letter from a former lover, all calling your name, begging to be read.

Hard to resist isn’t it?

I’ve been there a few times, so I can tell you how it usually works: the first step is rationalization - you say to yourself, “Well, if he’s faithful I’ll know, if he’s not, I’ll know that too, either way, a good argument.”

If that doesn’t do the trick, you tell yourself, “Maybe just a couple of lines?” Before you know it, your sitting on the floor, reading every e-mail he’s gotten since high school and more likely than not, crying your eyes out.

Suspicion has become big business these days. Google “spying” and “spouse” and you’ll find hundreds of sites and gadgets all aimed at finding your partner with his pants around his ankles and a look of shame on his sorry face. Call me old fashioned (insert chuckle here) but I’d rather chew glass.

Why would I want to spend my time and money on some twisted treasure hunt? All those sad souls out there, desperately fumbling through open drawers looking for a poorly written e-mail about a nasty one-night stand, or a Manhunt account with more dates in it than an almanac?

My opinion? If you snoop, you lose.

It’s simple logic really. Let’s say you do spy and then don’t find a thing? Now you have to live with the guilt of having done something really wrong to the person you love (Catholics and Jews beware). And if you do find something? Well, try looking all high and mighty explaining how you got your hands on the incriminating evidence. No, if you catch them cheating you want to be able to be angry darling. And they have to be made small, real small.

Jokes aside, there are two reasons why people spy: either someone they trusted has cheated on them in the past, or something in their gut is telling them something’s not quite right.

And at the end of the day, those who look, will find. There’s always something that will upset them. The questions is: what’s the point of making yourself miserable? If that’s what you like, you’re a drama queen (and in that case, enjoy!).

But otherwise, my advice? If your instincts tell you your boyfriend is cheating, he most likely is. And if that bothers you enough, stop playing detective, call a moving company instead.

Michael

Posted by Michael at 04:20 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

June 22, 2005

HX Awards

Hey guys,

Here are some pictures from Monday night's HX award show at Lincoln Center. I had the honor of presenting the award for...??? hmmm...well some queer award. I did however have a great time on stage with the fabulous Hedda Lettuce. Thanks Darling!

There's more photos after the jump. (photos courtesy of Jeff Eason - Thanks Jeff!)

Michael

Posted by Michael at 01:09 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

Chad Hunt is Back!

Hey y'all -

Chad Hunt just signed a 2-year exclusive contract with Lucas Entertainment! His first scene, after a year-long hiatus, will be in Fire Island Cruising 7, filming this July.

I know some of you are big Chad fans - you'll be interested to hear that he'll be directing for us in the future as well!

Read the press release after the jump for more info - and check out the website for new pictures coming soon!

Will

CHAD HUNT RETURNS TO PORN AFTER A YEAR-LONG HAITUS;
SIGNS EXCLUSIVE CONTRACT WITH LUCAS ENTERTAINMENT

(JUNE, 2005) NEW YORK, NY - Six-time GAYVN award winning porn sensation Chad Hunt is returning to the business after a yearlong hiatus. Hunt, who lives in New York City, signed a two-year exclusive contract with Lucas Entertainment. Part of the deal includes his directorial debut by the end of 2007.

His first appearance is scheduled to be filmed this July, in the upcoming “Fire Island Cruising 7,” the latest installment of Michael Lucas’ best-selling series.

“This is a nice full circle,” said Michael Lucas, president and CEO of Lucas Entertainment. “Chad’s first scene ever was in ‘Fire Island Cruising Part One.’ We’re absolutely ecstatic to have him back on board. He has a large and loyal fan base, and we owe a part of our success as a company to him,” says Lucas.

In an industry where models have the shelf-life of a milk carton, Hunt has been somewhat of a phenomenon. Although he’s appeared in many movies, his appeal seems to only grow stronger and wider with time.
“The thing about Chad is, no matter how many movies he does, audiences are always mystified by him,” says Lucas. “They want to see whether his partners are able to take the largest dick in the industry.”

But it’s not just a matter of size. According to Lucas, Hunt is a pleasure to work with. “He’s smart, articulate and attitude free,” says Lucas, “and that’s refreshing.”

Hunt says he shopped around for months before deciding on Lucas Entertainment. “I’m excited to do porn again, and anxious to be working with Michael who I think is the best in the industry,” says Hunt. “Lucas Entertainment produces the highest quality films in the world. And they have the most professional and fun team of people.

Posted by Will at 11:31 AM | Comments (11) | TrackBack

June 21, 2005

Gay Republicans

I have a friend (or should I say used to have), he’s gay, in his mid to late 50s, and holds an incredibly senior job at one of the biggest financial institutions in the country. He’s not unlike many of my other friends. He makes a very nice living (seven-figure salary), has a house on Fire Island, and loves to talk about dick. There is one thing though that’s always bothered me about him… He’s a Republican.

The first time Bush was voted into office, I noticed myself feeling less comfortable around him, as though he were a traitor. I would see him in parties and think why are you here? How can you take advantage of our achievements yet when it comes time to supporting us, you vote for people who would rather see us gone? Slowly, his fabulousness was wearing off, by the time the last elections came along, I’d had enough. I decided to do some spring-cleaning (even though technically it was winter) and along with my last season’s Prada, I threw out some other trash: my gay Republican friends (I say trash because at least with my clothes, I was able to get a tax-deductible receipt at the Salvation Army, what do you do with gay
Republicans?)

Must be hard being a Log Cabin Republican these days. After more than a million of them voted for Dubya in 2,000 (I don’t know why we blame Florida? These idiots practically wrote his inauguration speech), they’re now trying to protest his stance on gay marriage and his proposed constitutional amendment, all this with a feigned surprised look on their faces…how could he do such a thing? This from the same man who when asked whether homosexuality is a choice answered: “You know, Bob (Schieffer), I don't know.”

Well I have a few questions for gay Republicans myself: how can you support a party that still thinks being gay is a choice? How can you cast a vote for an administration who can take you taxes with a stretched hand but obliterates your rights while reciting the bible? How do you wake up in the morning knowing that at least three more Supreme Court justices will be appointed by this imbecile, practically sending Stonewall into the Stone Age?

Ask your Log Cabin “friend” how he or she can be a gay Republican and it’s always the same tired answer: that to make change one needs to shake the status quo from within. Hmmm…I guess the WWII resistance had it all wrong. They should have joined the Nazi party instead of becoming Partisans. I can just see the website banner: The Jewish Nazis; Jews for Hitler. I know this may upset your sensitivities (it upsets mine too) but the only reason I make this comparison is because I believe that gay Republicans are sleeping with the enemy, and without a condom.

The problem is we’re all getting screwed. So here’s my suggestion: get rid of these self-hating gay Republicans. Because with Bush in power, we’re all fucked.

Michael

Posted by Michael at 02:14 PM | Comments (13) | TrackBack

June 20, 2005

Being Jewish

I got this message posted on my blog the other day:

“dear michael:

i have been a big fan of yours for years (i am sure you have heard that compliment numerous times, but i hope u still accept the sincerity of the words), and was very surprised to read in a recent blog entry of yours where you described yourself as a "Russian Jew". If i had not seen you naked numerous times in your videos the remark would not register at all with me, but i know that you are not circumcised. unless you were just kidding when you wrote that sentence, how could being jewish (sic) and not being circumcised? please explain if this is maybe a new Russian sect of Judaism that rejects circumcision so that the boys can better enjoy masturbating?”

Well, let me start by saying that few comments get me as worked up as this one. Growing up in Communist Russia, I have suffered anti-Semitism first hand. Everywhere I went, I was constantly reminded of my “Jewishness.” My last name is Bregman (can’t get more Jewish than that!) and so it wasn’t uncommon to have kids at school point fingers, call me names, and be cruel in a way that only chlldren can. Even my teachers were shamelessly anti-Semitic. But for some odd reason, here in America, my Jewish identity is put into question every step of the way. The reason? My foreskin.

I can’t even tell you how many times I get this: “You’re Jewish? You can’t be! You’re uncut.”

Well here’s a newsflash for all those who were asleep during the Cold War years. Most Russian Jews are uncircumcised. Not because they happen to think an uncut dick makes for a better fuck (it does by the way) but because in the USSR, any religious acts were strictly against the law.

How is it possible that so many people in THIS country of all places, don’t know that? Is it just me? Or are people getting more stupid with each passing generation? We can name all the ten finalists of American Idol but can’t find Darfur on the map. And half the people you speak to think Pol Pot is something you buy at Home Depot.

How is it possible that a country that fought Communism just 15 years ago, knows nothing about its number one enemy at the time?

Some Jews took a huge risk and clandestinely circumcised their kids. My mother decided not to. She had felt the winds of hatred blow her way and wished to protect her sons from the gust. I don’t blame her.
Anti-Semitism still runs deep in Russia. But I’ve come to expect ignorance on that side of the globe. When I see it here, it drives me bonkers.

To clarify, Judaism is not just a religion, it’s a culture and a nationality. You can be a heathen atheist like me and still be 100% Jewish.

I guess my point is, I am Jewish not because of the shape of my dick, but rather what’s in my blood. I am born to a Jewish mother and a Jewish father. I feel Jewish, and that’s what counts.

Love,

Michael

Posted by Michael at 03:19 PM | Comments (13) | TrackBack

June 17, 2005

Barking Up the Wrong Tree

I was walking my dog this morning, a stunning Great Pyrenees with long white hair and a beautiful snout. She is cute, no question about it. Even if you hate dogs (what the hell is wrong with you?) you’d like Bianca.

In any case, as I was saying, I was walking her on 23rd Street and, as always, some woman walked by and gushed about how beautiful she was. Now, I appreciate the gesture, but at the moment I was on the phone, so I nodded politely, and kept on walking. The next thing I know, she’s shouting at me: “You’re welcome!” Um, okay.

What is it with people who think just because they compliment your dog, you’re somehow indebted to them?

I know to some this may sound petty, but if you own a dog, you know what I’m talking about. People come up to you and think they’re you’re best buddy – some sort of twisted license to chat. And whether you’re picking up crap, whether you’re mouth is full, whether you’re in a rush or simply in a bad mood, you’re still expected to chat up some idiot who has nothing better to do than talk about some stranger’s dog.

You know, at first I tried being nice (even though it’s completely against my religion). But it’s always the same tired questions: what kind of dog is this? Male or female? Why is she so big? (ha?) What’s her name? Isn’t she hot? (how the fuck should I know bitch?) where do you keep her? (Umm where do you think?) Do you have a big apartment? Does she eat a lot? Do you groom her every day? Can I pet her? Is she friendly? How old is she?

And on, and on, and on…Now if you’re stupid enough to answer all these questions, you could end up talking to some loser for a half an hour.
So my question, when is it polite to say, hey asshole, I got a job you know?

So if you ever see me walking a big white dog and I don’t stop to chat, don‘t take it personally, I’m simply ignoring you.

Love,

Michael

Posted by Michael at 02:42 PM | Comments (16) | TrackBack

June 16, 2005

IT"S OUT!

Hi -

Just wanted everyone out there to know that, yes, Michael Lucas' Dangerous Liaisons has been released!

It's shipping to stores, it's in the reviewers hands, and it's been mailed out to over 1000 people who pre-ordered!

Got your copy?

Will
(the web guy)

Posted by Will at 12:37 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

June 15, 2005

Not Guilty or Innocent?

A friend of mine just told me the best Michael Jackson joke:

Q: Why did Michael Jackson dangle the baby over the balcony?

A: To shake off all the cum.

Sadly, the only real joke these days are those 12 men and women who decided that Michael Jackson should be set free. Free to invite more kids to his Neverland Ranch, free to give them Jesus juice, free to lure them into his bed (hey little boy…let’s play a game, it’s called: “White Volcano”), and free to traumatize not only his victims, but also the rest of us.

Innocent? Umm… I don’t think so.

Michael, I’m having a hard time with your story. You see when I look at all the pieces of the puzzle, the mosaic of facts if you will, they all point to one direction: South.

• This is the third time you’ve been accused of the same crime. And although it doesn’t prove you did anything wrong, it does raise concerns: if you’re not guilty, you are, at the very least stupid. You see, most people would probably rethink their behavior after getting into the mess you did back in 1993, but hey, there’s no jail sentence for stupidity. Maybe there should be? Here we are, millions of taxpayer’s dollars spent on an unnecessary (so you claim) investigation because you, a 47-year-old man, don’t see the problem in sleeping in the same bed with a 12-year-old boy.

• Here’s another interesting fact: you don’t seem to like little girls. If it’s true that this is not sexual and that you simply like to spend time with children…how did you put it? “There's nothing wrong with sharing your bed with a child,” then why aren’t you “sharing” it with a female child? I don’t know man; I think there’s something about a prepubescent little pipi that turns you on, that gets your juices flowing. I don’t think you’re a troubled person still living out his lost childhood (although that was a nice touch, I admit). I think you’re a simple pervert. But hey, what do I know about kinky behavior? I’m just a porn star.

• The only reason those 12 jurors let you go is because the mother of the victim was a freak. They said so themselves (you got ask yourself how could anyone be considered weird when Jackson is in the same room…) you lucked out buddy. She IS a freak and probably a grifter too, and she deserve as stiff a jail sentence. She should never see the light of day the way she pimped her own son. But make no mistake, the only reason you got off (twice?) is because the jury disliked her.

I think pedophiles are sad people. They are. They’re attracted to someone they can’t or at least shouldn’t have sex with. I can’t imagine a more horrifying place. There is no cure, just the refuge of one’s own imagination.

Of course, I feel pity for them. But then I remember their victims. Not just of Mr. Jackson but the thousands of kids who were molested by their priests and abused by their church (who sat quietly and covered their crimes). I get angry at Catholics who send their kids to seminaries without realizing their sending them straight into the lions den. And I’m angry at the 12 men and women in Santa Maria, California, who let another pedophile loose.

And last but not least, I’m angry at you Michael, for hiding behind your fame, success and money, and then using it to commit crimes.

Hey Michael, I got two words for you: Beat it!

Posted by Michael at 05:47 PM | Comments (12) | TrackBack

June 14, 2005

The Big Crap

I have a good friend who just moved to the city. He’s a fairly good-looking guy, with a quirky sense of humor and a great job, and although he has the worst taste in clothes (we’re talking leftovers from Menudo), he’s simply brilliant, what you’d call a great catch.

There’s one thing, though, I just don’t get: the boy can’t stay away from the Big Cup. Oh yes, that coffee (can we call it that?) shop with mismatched furniture and tragic, florescent-green walls on Eighth Ave.

Every time I walk by, there he is, always in the same spot, talking up one kid or another (always some twink from Brooklyn wearing one of those overnight backpacks). No matter how much I try to talk sense into him, he goes back, like a moth to, well… a flame. And every time he’s there, you can just see his reputation chip away, one moccachino at a time.

I know this sounds dramatic but it’s true. There are two places no self-respecting New York City gay man would ever enter: The Big Cup and Bang-Bang.

You know me, I’m a Russian Jew with a 10-inch cock. I’ve made a career out of hustling – little can scare me. But even I wouldn’t dare go where no cool man has gone before. Yesterday I walked by The Big Cup. A gentleman in his mid 40s, was sitting on one of the couches up-front, listening to music while knitting. KNITTING! And the sad part is, he didn’t look at all out of place.

That’s what The Big Cup has become, a refuge for the sad and the friendless and, of course my good pal (who shall remain nameless). Looking at all of them you can’t help but wonder, why would anyone waste so much time and energy pretending to be reading (ever seen anyone actually flip a page?) or writing (those god-awful lap tops) all for a quick hook up, when they can just get on the Internet, and lie about their age and looks like everyone else?

A word to the wise, if you want to get laid, don’t go to the Big Cup, and stay away from Bang-Bang. Because if you don’t, the only banging you’ll be doing is your head against the wall. Though if you are into pre-teens with plucked eyebrows and funny hair, The Big Cup could be your heaven, since those unfortunate boys do need a place to shower and sleep before heading back to the Diaspora.

Love,

Michael

Posted by Michael at 10:25 AM | Comments (11) | TrackBack

June 10, 2005

What’s Lube Got To Do With It?

So many lubes, so little time. Amazing. I went to my corner deli the other day and was baffled by how many different kinds of lubes it offered. Right there next to the Tylenol and Marlboro Lights, was a shelf full of at least 20 different lubricants. To see this extravagance of sticky stuff in a sex shop is one thing, but in a dingy, badly-lit deli on Eighth Ave? You’ve got to ask yourself just how picky are these Chelsea queens that a Pakistani deli owner would go to the extreme of ordering all those lubes?

I look at the different bottles and can’t help but laugh. The names alone are hysterical. There’s “Sensual Power,” and “Eros Bodyglide” and O’My (the flavored kind), and my personal favorite (who thought of this one?) Boy Butter Lube, is this for real? What, am I getting ready to fuck or make an omelette?

If you ask me it’s all just a ploy to get you to spend big money on something that, let’s be honest, isn’t like it’s going on your face or anything (well, it might…but that’s a whole other topic).

All jokes aside, there are a few things to look out for when buying lube. Once you strip away the nice packaging and the sleekly designed bottles, there are really only a few basic variations on lube formulas.

Water-based lubricants are the most common ones, they’re the healthiest for your body, and don’t ruin your condom which is very important.

Oil-based lubes (like Boy Butter) are fun, but are both hard on your body and the condom, so it should ONLY be used for a good long hand job.

And then of course there’s the Silicone-based lube, which is both safe and utterly pleasurable (you practically have to hold the bed posts not to fall in) the only problem is, you might as well throw the sheet out with the used condom, because no matter how many times you wash them, your bed always looks like, well, it belongs to the slut that you are.

And remember whichever lube you choose, always, always put on that condom, especially when fucking strangers.

I’m probably not the best person to talk about lube (I spend more time picking the right toilet paper brand) so if you have a strong opinion on this, would love to hear it. For me lube should be cheap and slippery, otherwise it’s just old fashion spit.

Love,

Michael

P.S.
My friend Lady Bunny always says that the best natural water based lubricant is diarrhea!

Posted by Michael at 02:36 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack

June 08, 2005

Prostitution

As I was flipping through Next magazine , I did what I’m sure many of you do: I checked out the last few pages and glanced at the escort ads. It’s a fun thing to do isn’t it? It struck me though, to see how many of these ads are out there (I counted eight full pages of boxes filled with little photos of big dicks).

As you may or may not know, I started my career as a male escort back in 1995. I had just graduated from Moscow University’s law school and was trying to figure out what I wanted to do. One thing I knew for sure I was going West, my diploma, down the toilet (not much use for a Russian law degree in the US is there?)

One day it hit me like thunder on a sunny day: I was young, beautiful and hung. I also happened to have a big set of balls. It simply made sense; I became an escort.

My newfound career quickly took off. I was getting booked left and right, sometimes up to six times a day (I was a workaholic back then too, or maybe just a capitalist pig?) I was a piglet in bed too, which is why they always came back for more (we’re talking way into the triple digits baby!).

Unlike many other hookers, I used the opportunity to get ahead (so to speak). I didn’t blow my money on drugs, I didn’t spend my nights drinking, in short, I was focused.

Within a few years, I saved enough money to start my own company, which is now one of the biggest in the gay adult entertainment industry.

Prostitution isn’t for everyone. But if you’re going to sell sex, do it well. That’s the secret to a successful career as an escort (and the same reason my movies do so well.) I took the time to make my clients feel good. I made them feel so special, they had to look down to see heaven.

I look at some of my models (many of whom supplement their income by escorting on the side) and see them making the rooky mistake of complaining about their lives to their clients (thinking the client will feel sorry for them and give them a bigger tip?) But that’s the wrong way to go. Selling a fantasy is an art form. And those who are good at it, are those who rule the world.

There are many misconceptions about prostitutes:

One involves having to cater to old ugly trolls who can’t get laid. Not so. Most of my clients were in fact 25 to 40 years old, many of them were hot (though I did get the occasional granddaddy on a wheelchair.) But calling an escort isn’t about not being able to get laid. It’s mostly a matter of convenience. You don’t have to go out (they deliver), you don’t have to engage in painfully boring conversation, and at the end of the day, a regular date isn’t that much cheaper (between the cabs, dinner, drinks and movie tickets.)
At least when you call on an escort your chances of getting off are much, much better. After all, escorts are professionals.

So, next time you’re in the mood for some hanky panky and don’t want to spend yet another night watching twinks at the Boysroom, pick up a copy of HX or Next, you might just surprise yourself.

This is such an interesting topic, I’m sure that I will get back to it soon.

Love,
Michael

Posted by Michael at 06:05 PM | Comments (14) | TrackBack

June 02, 2005

Michael Lucas Uncensored: Homos in the Holy Land

Hey Guys,

Just got back from a week-long visit to Israel and let me tell you, it was hard getting on that plane back. I arrived in Tel-Aviv to perform a live sex show at the city’s number one gay club, the Vox.
Imagine: me on top of hunky Wilfried Knight (just voted “hottest porn star” by Out Magazine) as more than 6,000 hungry (and utterly handsome) Israeli eyes looked on.

Last time I performed in the Holy Land (with Rob Ramos) the crowd was a bit skittish. It was the first time a gay live sex show was being held in Israel, and when I whipped out my hard dick, it seemed everyone took a collective step back.

This time around, things were recognizably different. The audience couldn’t have been friendlier. At one point, I literally had to push people back. A sea of hands reached for my dick (one tranny got a sharp slap in the face, after tugging on my jewels so hard, I thought I saw God).

All in all, it was an incredible experience. The fears and trepidation I witnessed only two years earlier had been replaced with warmth, excitement and yes, that oh-so Sabra horniness.

In the last few years, Israel has gone thorough some incredible changes when it comes to gay rights.

Although homosexuality was only decriminalized in Israel in 1988, strict anti-hate laws prohibiting discrimination in the workplace were soon passed (1992), and recently both the Supreme Court and the military have recognized same-sex domestic partnership giving them extensive spousal benefits (hear that Mr. Bush? In frikken Israel!)

More importantly, gays in Israel have never felt more accepted and more comfortable. And the result is one of the hottest combinations of arrogance, beauty and incredible sexiness.

So check out some of the pictures (taken by a friend of mine during the performance) after the jump, and don’t forget to look out for those Israeli boys…I know I will.

Yesh li Zayin Gadol (that means, “I have a big dick" in Hebrew)!

Love,
Michael

More Pics Coming Soon!

Posted by Michael at 04:44 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack

Press Clip: GENRE Magazine features Michael!

Hey Guys,

The buzz is spinning out of control! Check out the new Genre Magazine (pg. 29) for a great feature article on me.

The release date for Michael Lucas' Dangerous Liaisons (check out our X-rated trailer here) is scheduled for Wednesday, June 15th.

Cum and get it...

Love,
Michael

See the full text of the story after the jump....

from GENRE, issue 138, June 2005:

Michael Lucas is all about pushing people’s buttons. Whenever he speaks, whenever he makes an entrance, he aims to shock.

Lucas, New York’s king of porn, arrived for an interview at a trendy Chelsea restaurant decked out in Dolce & Gabbana, and his famous pout, his most recognizable trait (make that his second most recognized).

As soon as the waiter greets him, Lucas stuns him with an avalanche of questions, “Are you married?” “Are you faithful to your husband?” And “Can I have your number?”

The waiter smiles, looks to the side, as if to make sure this isn’t a Candid Camera moment, then pulls out a picture of his boyfriend.

You’d think that would be enough to stop even the most confident of players dead on their tracks, but not Lucas. His ego is surpassed only by the size of his well-endowed penis.

“He’s dying to sleep with me,” he says. “Don’t worry, I’ll have him.”

Worry is simply not a word Lucas, a 32 year-old Russian immigrant, has ever bothered to learn. He is a risk-taker in the truest sense of the word. In an industry where actors have the shelf life of a carton of milk, this former escort turned-porn-star has become one of the most recognizable names in the adult industry. His company, “Lucas Entertainment” is now the largest distributor of gay pornography in the Northeast, raking in between two and three million dollars a year.

These days Lucas is about to play his biggest deck of cards yet. He’s wrapping up the most expensive and ambitious gay adult movie in history: a remake of Dangerous Liaisons, the x-rated version. But don’t expect any wigs or tights in this flick. Lucas’ adaptation of Choderlos de Laclos’ classic takes place in modern day New York City. The rich and bored aristocrats of Rococo France have been transformed into conniving backstabbing moguls of Gotham’s fashion industry, and the Paris Opera House, replaced with a hip New York City nightclub. Lucas takes on the part of Marcus Von Halpern (played in the 1988 movie by Glenn Close), a successful fashion designer who enlists Valentine Moore (Gus Maddox as the gay John Malkovich), a top of the line haute couture photographer to seduce his ex-lover’s boyfriend (Wilfred Knight).

There’s also a new exclusive performance by newcomer Bruce Beckham, who Lucas says is sure to make anyone come back, so to speak, for more.

“It was much more fun to do,” says Lucas. “Every actor dreams of a real movie, for porn stars, this is the closest thing.”

If you’re one of those who fast-forwards to the sex scenes, not to worry. Lucas says this is all about sex.

“It’s not a Hollywood movie, no, no, no. Sex is still the most important part of film,” says Lucas. “But this time it has witty, funny dialogue.”

The budget for this project: a whopping quarter of a million dollars. Considering the fact that most high-caliber porn films cost less than $25,000 this by industry standards is the “Titanic” of adult entertainment. Now the question is will it have the same fate as the ship or the blockbuster movie?
“I’m not worried,” says Lucas. “I’ve been reading my fan letters and they always want to know what the plot is behind the sex scenes. I thought well if plot is what they want I’ll give them a plot, a big one. I exploded with it.”

The final scene of the movie involved the collaboration of more than 200 extras, including some cameos by the biggest names in gay entertainment: Lady Bunny, Boy George, Bruce Vilanch, Michael Musto, Graham Norton, Hedda Lettuce all agreed to take part in this groundbreaking project.

Lucas says his next film “Fire Island Cruising 7” will also involve a lot more plot.

“It’s just more interesting than sticking it in and out,” he says.

Then, he writes his phone number on the back of the check and hands it to the waiter. Just in case.

Posted by Michael at 12:00 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

June 01, 2005

Hottest Trailer EVER!

Hey Y'all,

I just want to break in here to tell you that I've just uploaded the hottest trailer EVER. It's the long awaited preview of Michael Lucas' Dangerous Liaisons. It's got everything - drama, tension, glamour....dialogue! Plus the sexiest guys having the hottest sex!

Want to get that imagination going? Watch the trailer, and see how fast you get off. But don't worry—unlike Hollywood, we saved the best bits for the film!

Enjoy!
Will (the web guy)

Posted by Will at 05:16 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack