Actor Armie Hammer was banished from polite society over allegations of cannibalism, rape and other kinky behavior. It cost him his big-time Hollywood career and his reputation.
He was investigated by the LAPD but not charged with a crime, so now he’s working his way back the only way a desperate person does in 2025. By starting a podcast.
On Sunday, the accused sex pest used his platform to talk about the time he was so horny, he switched teams as a hack to find no-strings gratification.
“it was hilarious,” he said on “Armie HammerTime,” adding, “Gay dudes seem to have it so easy, like, so easy!”
He described meeting a “handsome French” dude. “I was like, ‘Okay, this could work. This could work. Yeah. Let’s try this.’”
He then offered a blow-by-blow retelling of his bisexual experiment: kissing, groping and, ultimately, the realization that the other man’s beard and masculine build were a turnoff.
“It did physically for me absolutely nothing,” he said. “Nothing, like, not even a twitch.”
Speaking of doing nothing for him, there’s this conversation.
I’ve argued that we as a culture need to make room for folks like Hammer, who became #MeToo roadkill after being convicted in the court of public opinion.
But shaddap already.
Maybe it’s not the studly “Call Me by Your Name” star we need back — but shame.
We are, undoubtedly, in the golden age of celebrity TMI. Everyone has a podcast, and they’re dying to bombard you with tawdry tidbits. The more outrageous, the better.
Many celebrities don’t bother creating art anymore. The new showbiz is hawking lurid personal revelations — for clout, online influence, or to sell whatever crappy product they’ve slapped their name on.
It’s cheap and undignified. It’s also a crowded field, which has upped the ante. Or lowered the bar.
Want to know every detail about “The Hills” Kristin Cavallari’s sex life? No problem, she’s talking about it nonstop on “Let’s be Honest with Kristin Cavallari.” Sometimes, she spreads it around: In December, the mother of three went on Bunnie XO’s podcast “Dumb Blonde to yap about country star Morgan Wallen, saying he was “a great f–k buddy.”
This woman is 37 and has three children, including a daughter, who presumably have access to Google. Have some pride. Some self-respect.
Last year, Katy Perry went on “Call her Daddy” — the main clearing house for cheap sex revelations — to reveal that she rewards her fiancé, Orlando Bloom, with oral sex if he’s done his household chores.
“I mean, like, literally, that is my love language,” she said, “I don’t need a red Ferrari. I can buy a red Ferrari. Just do the f–king dishes! I will suck your d–k! It’s that easy!”
Great.
These conversations are billed as casual and radically authentic to create an illusion of no-holds-barred conversation. Nothing is off-limits. Who knows what can happen. But these are as calculated and self-serving as fluffy old magazine profiles of yore.
They’re just more raunchy, to create some idea of fake intimacy between the celebrity and the audience.
To plug her new podcast, “Reclaiming,” Monica Lewinsky recently went on “Call Her Daddy” to relitigate the nearly 30-year-old presidential sex scandal she insists she is coming back from.
While I have sympathized with Lewinsky — with her anti-bullying campaign and her exposure of the feminist hypocrisy — it has become her entire career. And that’s a choice.
A podcast is just the latest iteration.
This is not to disparage the formula all together. Some podcasts feature incredible interviews with actors, athletes and other notables — deep dives that do not dip into the gutter to fill time and grab clout.
Libertine behavior has long been stitched into the creative class: sex, drugs, deviance. But so was discretion. No more.
No wonder the ever-shrinking A-list is an endangered concept.
That level of fame requires mystery and intrigue — not something we as a society value anymore.
