"Moviegoers No Longer Interested In Sharon Stone's Vagina"

-- Defamer.com's headline after the disappointing first weekend of Basic Instinct 2. You'd think there'd be more of an audience for Sharon Stone's opening. Those of you who didn't go missed out on Sharon uttering such inspired lines as, "Even Oedipus didn't see his mother coming." Oy!

We begin with a story that breaks my heart -- June Pointer has died. The baby sister to Ruth, Anita, and Bonnie of The Pointer Sisters was only 52. June's life was no fairy tale -- every success exacerbated her personal demons, to the point where her sisters threw her out of the acclaimed trio a few years ago when June's drug abuse hit its peak -- shades of Florence Ballard and The Supremes. After she allegedly cleaned up her act (and, reportedly, indulged in several Sapphic relationships), she was diagnosed with cancer. The Pointers have always supported our community and have brought an enormous amount of joy to me and countless others. June and her siblings are in my prayers.

I normally don't tackle hard news, but I'm gonna make an exception regarding this little hustler Justin Berry. Actually, I should apologize to the hustler community -- they deserve better. Justin has been doing Internet porn since he was 13. When a man saw him on a webcam and offered little naïve Justin $50 to take his shirt off, his first thought was, "Hmmm -- how much for my pants?" Now that he's 19 and no longer able to peddle his flesh, he's peddling his story. We're all supposed to feel sorry for him, but how about Justin taking responsibility for the underaged boys and girls he solicited to join him in this venture? Nope -- Justin says that he became "a piece of meat, for sale to the highest bidder." The current highest bidder is the federal government, which gave Justin immunity in return for turning over client lists and credit card transactions. Completely off the hook. I'll bet Berry has a book deal in the works and can already picture the made-for-TV movie -- possibly starring Danny Pintauro, who could easily still play a teenage boy (or girl, for that matter). If all proceeds go to charity, I'll issue an apology. But, Justin, give me a break.

The week started on a much happier note when I attended a soirée at Ben Patrick Johnson's home. Faithful fans know that Johnson is a hugely successful voice-over announcer, author, and nude model for Blue magazine (check out his impressive penis on BillyMasters.com). I almost didn't go to this party, which was celebrating the birthday of someone I didn't know (and still don't). But Benji tempted me with a guest list that included a number of friends. Bruce Vilanch showed up late, surprised he didn't see me at the GLAAD Media Awards -- I explained that once you've publicly called for the dissolution of an organization, you stop getting invited to the parties. Aside from our off-the-record gabbing, we discussed a project we're both attached to -- more on that in a future column. Cheryl Burke (Drew Lachey's partner from Dancing with the Stars) was cozying up to Alex Castro, one of the stars of Zumanity in Vegas. Sexy Louis van Amstel (Lisa Rinna's partner from Dancing) was there but had to skedaddle to LAX -- he and Lisa were flying off to Nashville, where she was hosting the CMT Music Awards. Bon vivant Tony Miros, photographer David Arias, up-and-coming actor Yuval David, and a bunch of other very cute guys completed what turned out to be a fun evening.

Antonio Banderas has announced that he'll return to Broadway next year in a musical adaptation of Don Juan DeMarco. One assumes he will play the Johnny Depp role and not the Marlon Brando role. Maybe someone will offer a job to Faye Dunaway, who recently reminded us in that infamous phone message how brilliant she was in that movie!

By the way, my fans at GroovePod have taken Faye's message and set it to music! Yes, you can be writhing on a dance floor with some sweaty circuit boys and hear La Dunaway intone, "It's very upsetting to me!" Or you can listen to it at BillyMasters.com.

I'm happy to report that two of my favorite people are joining forces. For months, David Drake and Paul Lekakis have been working quietly on a theater project, and it's just been announced that David will direct a revival of Two Boys in a Bed on a Cold Winter Night at the Island Repertory Theatre Company on Fire Island. Yes, Mr. Lekakis will be one of the said "boys," while the other will be local actor Scott Cunningham (I guess I was out of their price range). Before you ask: Yes, Paul will be naked a good amount of the time. The play runs Sept. 1-17. More information can be gleaned at www.IslandRep.org.

On the other side of the pond, Sharon Osbourne is appearing at Southampton's Mayfair Theatre in The Vagina Monologues (sigh -- I never get called in for the fun roles). Although Sharon has a huge fan base, she also has some detractors. After one performance, she was signing autographs when someone threw a cup of soup on the salty missus. Although the soup missed Sharon and hit her waiting car, she was pissed off enough to run after the perpetrator before security stopped her (leave it to Sharon to need security to protect the public from her). Moments later, Sharon was laughing about the incident and signed the remaining autographs. Once again, no one asks the important question -- what kind of soup was it??

Brandon in Louisville, Ky., asks: "What's happened to Jesse Metcalfe? Last year he was everywhere and now he seems to have dropped off the face of the Earth. Is he working on anything? And is he still hot?"

Jesse, Jesse, Jesse -- yet another example of someone who believed their own hype and then wondered, "What happened?" He forgot that the title of the show was Desperate Housewives -- and he wasn't a "housewife." Gardeners can be replaced, and POOF, Jesse was unemployed (and not missed, if one believes the scuttlebutt on the set). Metcalfe has a movie coming out on June 28 called John Tucker Must Die. He plays the title character, a guy who is set up by three former girlfriends to be dumped by the new girl in town. What's been occupying most of Jesse's time is that oh-so-popular game, "Don't you know who I am?" He most recently played this game at the two hip clubs housed at the Roosevelt Hotel in Hollywood -- and lost both rounds. After being turned away from the VIP entrance to one, he was directed to the main door of the second, where he was subsequently told that the club was at capacity (both clubs have been under heavy scrutiny by the LAPD).  Making the situation worse was that someone following Jesse had a camcorder and sent the footage (complete with sound bites and commentary) to BillyMasters.com.

Could it be that one of our favorite boys on the small screen is flying without a net, literally? Yes, the dude who got his start in this business doing it doggie style spends most weekends adding the trapeze to his formidable arsenal of skills that include singing, dancing, and magic (he can make a penis disappear in at least two places). Need more clues? The lanky lad (who could call Laurie Prange "neighbor" -- and that is my favorite clue) also made his mark on the stage.

When I have room for a blind item and two vaginas, it's definitely time to end yet another column.  Even though I had fun with this one, I'm still upset over June -- especially since the only pictures of us together are dreadful. A dear friend critiqued the photos saying, "You look like a special needs student." I don't think I'll be posting any of those snaps, but you can find virtually everything else at www.BillyMasters.com. For direct contact, feel free to send an e-mail to Billy@BillyMasters.com and I promise to get back to you before Miss Stone and Mrs. Osbourne figure out who has the more popular opening. So, until next time, remember, one man's filth is another man's bible.