“Now, look – I’m not putting down the gay community. But could you guys throw one back every once in a while?” Kathy Griffin bemoans the lack of quality straight men in her life.

This is a dirty job, and the reason I’m not nearly as salacious as others is I really don’t get much pleasure in reporting tragedy. Sure, I love sharing pictures of Matt Damon looking chunky on the beach. That gives most of my readers hope – hope that the Hollywood hunks they see onscreen or airbrushed within an inch of their lives in magazines are human, too. But give me a real-life drama, and I’m at a loss for words.

Such is the case with our first story – a story I’ve sat on for a few weeks. Beloved opera diva Beverly Sills was recently diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer (it actually started in her colon). Her prognosis was dim – the cancer had already spread to her lymph nodes, and she had a month or two left. Characteristically, Sills kept this news quiet and threw herself into taking care of what she’d leave behind – most specifically, her daughter Muffy. Within two weeks of receiving this news, she landed in the hospital after falling and breaking two ribs. The pain was excruciating and, even then, she put on a brave face. That was when doctors discovered the cancer had already spread to her various organs (correcting earlier stories that she had lung cancer – the cancer ended up in the lungs, among other places, but this is not where it started). When I was told that some people had recognized her in the hospital, I scoured the Web daily for some news outlet breaking this story. When no one else did, I finally broke the story. I love having an exclusive, but not this kinda story. “Bubbles” (as she’s always been called) has been a part of my life since I discovered opera in my early teens. We met as her singing career was winding down. She championed young artists and, while she was general manager of the New York City Opera, brought me in to audition for a position (a post I was advised to decline). Since then, we’ve circled each other’s orbits and shared many close friends. I find it unfathomable to imagine a world without her. She’s endured whatever life threw at her with grace, dignity and a sense of humor. I pray these virtues sustain her, and those close to her, during the difficult days ahead. And I must confess, the long-ago me who believed in miracles prays for one now.

Turning our attention back to scantily clad men, this week two men showed how good they look. George Clooney was photographed frolicking shirtless on his yacht on Italy’s Lake Como, while his good “friend” Mark Wahlberg was snapped going through security at LAX in a tight T-shirt, showing off his unbelievable biceps.

Speaking of hot guys, the 17th annual “Broadway Bares” benefit for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS raised a record $743,787 (sigh – I’d like to send them $213, just to make it an even $744K). For the 10th consecutive year, the event was sponsored by the M.A.C. AIDS Fund, which donated $115K to the cause. Congrats!

Sexy Shemar Moore pled “No Contest” to his speeding violation in West Hollywood after blowing 8 percent on Santa Monica Blvd. Actually, when he was given a breathalyzer, he registered blood alcohol of .08, which is the exact legal limit in California. As a result, he was not charged with DUI, but just with speeding. He was given probation, had to pay a $1,400 fine and ordered to perform community service. Hopefully in WeHo!

I have some good news for those of you who can’t wait till “Prison Break” returns in September. The Hot Toy Company in Hong Kong has the exclusive license to release a limited supply of “action figures” based on Wentworth Miller and Dominic Purcell. Each “toy” will cost $530, but if you buy the pair, you save $32! At 12 inches high, Went works out to about $45 an inch, which I believe is the going rate.

In what has to be the most incredible television moment of 2007, the BET Awards featured both Jennifer Hudson and Jennifer Holliday singing a duet on “And I am Telling You.” You didn’t get one young star and one old goat. And you didn’t get a haughty veteran and a fawning neophyte. What you got was an honest-to-goodness duet by two pros who worked together to serve each other and the piece. What an incredible coup for BET to pull this off.

This week’s “Ask Billy” question comes from Nathan in Atlanta: “A friend of mine in London saw a TV show with some British athletes naked. I thought it was the one you had a while back of the three soccer players taking turns on a female fan, but my friend said this is different. Any idea what it is?”

Tell your friend thank you from me. Because of your letter, I did some research and found a British documentary called Generation Xcess, which was done for the ITV2 network. This focuses on people in their 20s living what is termed as a “culture of excess.” The Sandbach Rugby Team was filmed walking around the locker room completely naked without a care in the world. In fact, one of the teammates (Tim) enjoys being naked so much, he’s aroused while walking from the shower. Then the filmmakers follow the lads to a local pub, where the boys get drunk, strip to their undies and actually tear the drawers off one another. When the team hits the fifth pub, two of the boys go on the dance floor and “drop trou,” showing that they are once again aroused. They then proceed to “pleasure themselves” in front of some female fans, who scream in horror, “Look at his cock!” Soon, the rest of the team is writhing naked on the dance floor. We also get to see two of the boys play a bit of tonsil hockey, one of the boys sucking on his teammate’s nipple and another “fluffing” his friend! This is certainly something you won’t see on “Dateline” – or even “Nightline.”

When I can go from a declining diva to randy rugby players without missing a beat, it’s definitely time to end yet another column. I’m currently in Boston and will also be spending some time in New York City and Ptown. So if you see me out and about, feel free to say hi (unless I’ve dropped trou myself!). Or write me at billy@billymasters.com, and I promise to get back to you before I book a trip to Sandbach! So, until next time, remember, one man’s filth is another man’s bible.