Was he gay? Bisexual? Or really just celibate, as he claimed? "I'm just simply inches away from a monastery," Morrissey once quipped.
CBS airs images of a dying Diana the same week her Speedo-sporting son makes a splash in the tabs.
In an interview (with himself) the man who introduced us to the term "metrosexual" explains why it conquered the culture, bemoans his own "lesbosexual" style, and critiques "Queer Eye," Howard Dean and Schwarzenegger.
Regardless of the truth of the allegations that no one in Britain has heard, the truly shocking thing would be if a royal, public schoolboy or military man here had never enjoyed a spot of buggery in his youth.
He's one of the most famous humans who has ever lived -- even though he's not that cute, not that smart and not that great a soccer player.
Especially when he love-hates himself so much? EMI's $120 million wannabe-Bowie megaflop symbolizes the desolate state of 21st century British pop culture, a realm of "wankers" and second-rate imitation Americans.
A touring exhibition of genuine "Star Trek" gimcracks reminds us of the virile greatness of the original Shatner/Nimoy series -- and the p.c. limpness of all the spinoffs.
He's well dressed, narcissistic and obsessed with butts. But don't call him gay.
