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Michael Musto’s Village Voice column reads like a eulogy this week as the gossipy gay mourns the loss of Gayville’s greatest heroes: bottoms.

Mr. Musto contends:

The weird news in gay land is that no one’s a bottom anymore (except for a certain downtown promoter with a flair for double penetration). Tragically enough, a whole generation of bottoms passed on some time ago, and then came a whole new generation that learned from day one that being a wide-end receiver is risky, so they’ve always been testy and squeamish about it. That’s perfectly understandable, but as a result, virtually every gay on the market today is a versatile top–or “vers top,” if you prefer–”though I’ll bottom for the right guy,” they always add with a noble flourish.

Yeah, right! All those “vers tops” are just big nelly bottoms who want nothing more than to get all sorts of fucked in the ass. They just don’t want you to think they want to get fucked. Case-in-point: the hole whole of Chelsea.

Gawker’s Choire Sicha points out that dick-loving sexpot Dan Savage’s “Savage Love” column contends straights have a monopoly on the poop chute. Enraged by such a travesty of sexual shenanigans, Sicha writes, “Straight people will co-opt anything. Even kinda embarrassing and maybe conceptually dubious gladiator-ey sex practices.” A new topic for the HRC gay debates, perhaps?

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