“He was always performing. He would sing from South Pacific and we’d all go, ‘He’s gay; he’s going to be gay.” – Billy Crystal remembers his first impression of Jake Gyllenhaal – back when the hunk was just a bit of a thing, making his big screen debut as Crystal’s son in City Slickers.

“Box office poison” is a term we associate with people who not only can’t open a film, but whose presence is actually a hindrance. Hollywood tongues are wagging that this term applies to Justin Timberlake. The pop star’s big screen appearances have not been met with collective yawns but, rather, complete disinterest. Edison, Alpha Dog, Black Snake Moan – not really blockbusters. And now The Love Guru was topped opening weekend by Kung Fu Panda! Meanwhile, Get Smart beat Love Guru three times over. Sad. So sad.

When I saw the headline “Grease star dead,” I was sure Jeff Conaway bit the dust. The odds were in my favor. But, alas, Jeff is still with us. It was the always delightful Dody Goodman who passed away – almost 20 years after Eve Arden, by the by.

Two weeks ago, a dear friend called to say my favorite contestant on “Grease: You’re the One That I Want” would be going into the Broadway production of the musical this summer. Then he called me back saying I couldn’t break the story because he wasn’t supposed to tell me. Fine. A few days later he called again to make sure I wouldn’t write the story. I assured him I don’t operate that way (which, btw, is why I’m not a millionaire). Of course, now it’s been confirmed that on July 22, Derek Keeling will join the cast of Grease as “Danny Zucko”! Sigh. Incidentally, my friend is the same person who confidentially told me months ago that George Carlin had less than a year to live. My scruples will be the death of me!

The delicious David Drake (he of the prodigious talent and large penis) is prepping for my imminent arrival in Provincetown. But this is not a vacation for Drake – he’s directing a production of 2 Boys in Bed on a Cold Winter’s Night – which must be a bitch to put on a marquee. The play hits Ptown’s Art House Theatre on June 30 for a month-long run (Mondays through Wednesdays). Starring alongside Scott Cunningham (who got raves in the show’s previous stints in SF and Fire Island) will be porn star Spencer Quest – who is quite a looker, indeed. Grab your tickets now at www.ptownarthouse.com.

Prior to leaving L.A. for the summer, I went to the Coast Playhouse to see The Lost Plays of Tennessee Williams – which was three short plays by the writer (they’re more studies for ideas that were ultimately incorporated into other plays or abandoned entirely). It’s a terrific evening of theater starring some hot guys and has the distinction of being the best reviewed show currently in L.A. As I approached the theater, I walked right into a conversation between bon vivant Skip E. Lowe and Oscar nominee/ordained minister Sally Kirkland. Skip chastised me for missing Jackie Stallone and Mr. Blackwell at his birthday party, while I told Sally that in my one-man show, I include a story about our first time meeting at the Oscars (she was nominated, I was invited). Every few seconds, Sally interrupted with “What?” and “Could you repeat that?” I finally said, “Are you having problems hearing?” She said, “Oh, I thought you knew – I was born with only 10 percent hearing in my left ear.” I surveyed the situation and felt compelled to add, “That’s all well and good, honey, but I’m speaking into your right ear.” Her quick retort? “What?” She left somewhat bewildered – I left with a story for my next show.

Congrats to my perpetual paramour Jerry Mitchell for raising close to $900K with his annual “Broadway Bares” event. The money will benefit Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS. In case you’ve never gone to the raucous risqué revue, you can still get in on the fun. Broadway Bares: Backstage Pass is a fabulous book which captures some of the more titillating performers – both onstage and off. In case you can’t find it in your local Barnes & Noble, you can buy it online at www.broadwaycares.org.

As you know, I am not a big reality TV fan. Not that I don’t enjoy it, but I hate getting sucked into these shows. That explains why I’ve never seen “So You Think You Can Dance.” A few weeks ago, that friend who tells me stories I can’t use asked me to track some hot pics of contestant Justin Gaston. Not that he had any gossip – he just wanted them for himself. Ask and ye shall receive – it just so happens that Justin did some modeling for Diesel. Oh, did I mention it was modeling their underwear line? Yes indeedy.

If there’s something I watch less than reality television, it’s pro hockey! And yet, I perked up when a source who does let me run his stories sent me stills and video from a locker room interview with the Los Angeles Kings – I write that as if I know what the fuck I’m talking about! Although Derek Armstrong was the one being interviewed, it was right wing (whatever that means) Dustin Brown who was changing in the background – and whose penis is clearly visible on camera.

Now, do I want to answer a question? Or do I want to leave you with a blind item? Let’s go with the blind item.

Could it be that a certain small screen siren is feeling the error of her ways? Not that she was always a bad girl, necessarily – it’s just that her excessive teensy little requests got bigger than her role! That’s why she and her part have parted ways. Now that reality has set in and her new home situation ain’t all that fulfilling, she longs for the days when she just could sit in her trailer and smoke … and is begging to be let back into the fold. Problem is, no one really missus her. Or is that mister?

When I can write a blind item so clear Helen Keller could get it, it’s definitely time to end yet another column. Do people still make Helen Keller jokes? I’m banking on the fact that blind people probably don’t read this column – although, you’d be surprised to learn that the deaf come out in droves when I do stand-up. It’s either I’m very physical with my gestures, or my screeching is the only thing to penetrate their world of silence. Eh, a fan’s a fan. So send an e-mail to billy@billymasters.com and I promise to get back to you before I figure out what a right wing does to an L.A King. Is that like check mate, or will the queen save him? Either way, this queen only has one last thing to say – until next time, remember, one man’s filth is another man’s bible.