I wear my white trash upbringing in Portland, Ore., and my 26 years of wallowing in the gutter of Hollywood's B-movie factory on my chest like a badge of honor. You see, I make a living as a schlockmeister. I admit it. I feel no shame. I crash cars, tell naked girls what direction to point their cleavage in, ignite stunt people on fire, and slime up the monsters.

I bet you've never heard of me. My tiny skinematic gems fly so far below the radar they barely exist — except on a shelf at Blockbuster and the nifty gay network here!. I'm also a big ol' queen, although I've seen more naked women than most straight guys I know.

A few years ago, I decided to make one of those new queer cinema art house movies. Leather Jacket Love Story was supposed to get me a little respect in the A-movie industry. And why not? I've got talent! Alas, it didn't happen.

So I went back to being overpaid to direct original genre programming for the direct-to-DVD market. That's when I shot a four-day wonder called Voodoo Academy. I got the film financed by pitching it as the first horror movie for girls. It showcased young, hot, underwear-clad straight guys strapped down to a slab and transformed into horny zombies. It became some sort of a cult hit on DVD, and I was on my way as a queer schlockmeister who'd make an investor a few shekels with bargain-priced quickies that had a slick look.

My next film, The Brotherhood, was my homage (OK, OK, knockoff) to The Lost Boys — only with a skid-row budget. The “story” involved more hot guys in undies “seducing” a fresh-faced new guy into a clan of stunning male vampires. The Brotherhood II: Young Warlocks served up the same boy flesh and story, but with male witches. The Brotherhood III: Young Demons had buff hotties in leather, and The Brotherhood IV goes for the uniform fetish set in … well, you get the picture.

I have made 54 movies (seriously) and I'm gonna keep doing it 'til I get it right.

Several months ago, emails flooded in via my website, rapidheart.com, that this new, major studio epic called The Covenant was coming to theaters and, holy cow, it looked just like a big-budget David DeCoteau flick. They even mentioned the word brotherhood in the TV commercial. I thought that this just couldn't be! So last Friday, I bought my ticket and sat down (in the back row) to watch what can only be described as gay erotica without the explicit erotica.

The Covenant (released through Sony Pictures' specialty division Screen Gems) turned out to have exactly what the advertising promised: hot guys. Oh yeah, there was something in there about an ancient brotherhood of teen warlocks who are part of a swim team and the battle for supernatural power … yada yada yada. Sorry, but that's all I remember. After all, I didn't shell out my nine bucks (Canadian) to be blown away by a magnificent story. I just wanted to see … well … hot guys in briefs (or a least Speedos).

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