Travolta finds out his masseuse was wearing a wire

I’ve basically been avoiding the “new masseuse says Vince Vega diddled his dong!” stories and counter stories, because there have been a million of them. And was anyone really surprised that John Travolta likes doing gay stuff? I feel like that was kind of a given without having to hear about his “wiry, unkempt pubic hair.” Still, I feel like we need at least an update for the week, so here it is. Today, according to RadarOnline, a fourth man has come forward to accuse Travolta of “groping and fondling him against his will.”

I’m not John Travolta’s lawyer, but I’m guessing it was probably because of the way the guy was dressed.

“As a result of the published lies about my client we expect some ‘John Does’ to come out of the woodwork and assert false claims,” Marty Singer tells RadarOnline.com, adding that he has not yet been contacted by an attorney representing the new accuser.

More like John DODES, am I right?? (*jumps onto whoopie cushion, gets hit with pie*)

The previous three men comprise of John Doe #1, a masseur who has recently hired Gloria Allred to represent him after being dropped by his previous attorney [because he couldn't prove Travolta was in LA on the day he was being accused of sexual battery]; an Atlanta based masseur, who is being represented by Okorie Okorocha and Chilean-born former cruise line employee, Fabian Zanzi.

The gym employee/personal trainer claims he would open the gym for Travolta when he was on location for a film shoot, after hours. “The gym was opened as a courtesy to John Travolta so that he could avoid the public yet maintain his fitness in this physically challenging role that he was doing at the time. The gym employee says that John Travolta groped and fondled him against his will,” a source close to the situation tells RadarOnline.com.

An Atlanta masseur, a Chilean cruise employee, and a personal trainer at a fancy gym. My God, it’s like they’re assembling a modern-day Village People of stereotypically gay occupations. Anyway, Gloria Allred is involved now, so I think we can officially declare this a circus. Somewhere, Tom Cruise is sitting in a giant chair, petting a cat and cackling wildly. “They’ll never suspect me now, Mittens!” he shouts, his feet dangling above the floor.

You know how sometimes someone sends you a video, and it’s so intriguing that you end up falling down a rabbit hole of an endless phenomenon you never even knew existed? Today was like that for me. Reader Marc sent me this trailer for 1313: Bigfoot Island. You know those movies where some hot chicks go to a secluded place to put on bikinis, then spend the rest of the film bouncing around while something evil chases them? Of course you do, your mom probably starred in them. Well Bigfoot Island is just like that, only in this case, the hot chicks are muscly, nubile, hairless dudes. The plot of this one is that some hot, preppy dudes go to an island together to hang out shirtless (you know, like bros do), when (*RECORD SCRATCH*) they date rape an island girl, who summons some kind of sasquatch to wreak hairy vengeance. The whole thing is like an elaborate softcore metaphor for bear-on-twink action. It’s kind of brilliant. (My favorite part was the limp-wristed running at 1:16.)

But the story doesn’t end there, because what I found out is that there’s a production company called Rapid Heart Productions and a director named David DeCoteau who make these 1313 movies, and there are like a million of them. The posters all follow the same format — shirtless twinks, mean lady, scary building and/or thing. They are glorious. This might be my favorite poster gallery I’ve put together since Steven Seagal. I especially enjoy the taglines, such as “A paranormal thriller for girls!”

Uh huh, for “girls.” Sure. Anyway, I don’t know if the gay community was already aware of these, but if not, consider this a public service.

"COME AT ME, BRO! SERIOUSLY THOUGH, AIM FOR MY CHEST!"

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It’s strange how little we’ve heard from Haley Joel Osment since he was the next big thing back in the late 90s. Even Frankie Muniz’s name would occasionally be in the news when he was Twitter-beefing with Shia LaBeouf (and who could forget the infamous Muniz-Labeouf Twitter beef of 2010? Certainly not me!), but Haley Joel? Hardly a peep! Well now he’s back, and by back, I mean starring in the kind of indie movies he has been for the past few years now, but this time as a flamboyant gay man in a film called “Sassy Pants.” See? That’s how you get the public’s attention.

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Last night, Apple released the new trailer for Clint Eastwood’s J. Edgar, which will hopefully be awesome like Gran Torino and Mystic River and not sh*tty like Invictus and Changeling. Leonardo DiCaprio stars as the (snicker) titular J. Edgar Hoover, alongside Naomi Watts, Judi Dench, and Armie Hammer. Oh, poor J. Edgar Hoover. The guy practically invents modern law enforcement as we know it, spearheading fingerprint databases and the kind of forensic science that would eventually become the basis for countless terrible Jerry Bruckheimer TV shows, and here all I can do is make cheap gay jokes because he maybe liked to cross dress and had a manservant. But honestly, what am I supposed to say when the lynchpin line is “I want you to be my number two man,”? Especially when he says it to Armie Hammer while he’s making this face:

"I desperately want to be your number two man."

I couldn’t have come up with a better euphemism myself. Well, okay, maybe, “Mr. Tolson? I’d like for you to work tirelessly underneath me.”

Anyway, in addition to the gay stuff, I hope we finally get to see some hot Eleanor Roosevelt lesbo action. It’s been hinted at for too long, I want to see the old broad strap it on.

[Embed via ComingSoon, Trailer in HD at Apple]

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We went back to our roots on this week’s Frotcast, starting things off with a Burnsy’s Corner, and wrapping them up with a Lindy Explains the Plot (Conan/Lifetime Movie of the Week Edition). Other topics include Jim Carrey, Steve Jobs, Germans’ obsession with poop, and a four-way impromptu fart-beatboxing (fartboxing) song we accidentally made when we didn’t realize we were recording.

AFTER THE JUMP: A must-see video for this week’s song of the week. It’s so gay it makes Schmitt’s Gay look like… football. Ultimate fighting. No, lumberjacks. Dammit, what things are legitimately straight? It seems like everything that’s excessively hetero is ultimately kinda gay. That’s my excuse.

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