Here's the New York Post's gossip column item about Cooper going to the "best hotel in the world" in India:

Anderson Cooper has been consoling himself over falling ratings by living it up in Jaipur, India, at one of the world's most opulent hotels. The CNN star was spotted Tuesday with his muscular friend, Benjamin Maisani, an owner of East Village bar Eastern Bloc, at the Rambagh Palace, named the best hotel in the world by Conde Nast Traveler. Cooper's $3,200-a-night room features a four-poster mahogany bed and views of the gardens of the former Maharaja palace. Our source said, "Anderson's room has a large round bathtub. On the first night it was filled with bubbles and sprinkled with red rose petals." CNN declined to comment.

Saying Cooper is gay is no longer a scoop. It's not a scandal. Even the humor involved in all the clever winking and nodding is past its expiration date. With today's item Page Six may have exhausted all the ways to say "He's GAY GAY GAY!": the room only has one bed, Maisani's "muscular," and perhaps most blatantly, he owns Eastern Bloc. Every 'mo in New York knows Eastern Bloc is a gritty, dirty gay bar ("a true man meat bar") that often has boy-on-boy porn playing on its TVs. (The stencil over the DJ booth offers "Free Moustache Rides" and one outside once read "One Gay at a Time, Sweet Jesus.") All the patrons know Maisani, because he's big, and know he's dating Cooper. Word on the street is that Madonna's recent appearance there had less to do with her getting back to her East Village gay roots and more to do with the fact that she was with Cooper, who wanted to play "whose boy toy is hotter" with Madge.

Cooper's see-through closet is such a joke that it doesn't make sense to call him in the closet anymore. If he won't say it, we will: Anderson Cooper is officially out. There's no difference between him and Neil Patrick Harris. They both play it straight at their day jobs and then openly go about town with their boyfriends and do TV interviews about how much they love Kathy Griffin and The Real Housewives of Atlanta.

It's not like Cooper's in a club all of his own, either. He is part of an increasingly large crowd of notables who won't come out but have given up trying to hide that they are gay. Queen Latifah denied that she was going to marry her girlfriend, a girlfriend who she tries to pass off as her "trainer." Kevin Spacey got busted lying about being mugged in a London cruising park. Ricky Martin has stopped even trying to fight the gay rumors. Jodie Foster has never said she's a lesbian out loud, but she basically came out when she thanked her partner in an acceptance speech.

These gay-not-gay celebrities are different from the Hugh Jackmans, John Travoltas, Tom Cruises, and Kenny Chesneys, who are all constantly plagued with gay rumors that they strenuously try to deny or deflect. If they're gay, they're doing it in secret. Cooper and his set of cohorts live openly gay lives — and that's a good thing — but they refuse to acknowledge what the public already knows.

In Anderson Cooper's specific case, we sort of understand why he won't open his mouth and let the rainbows fly. All the guy has ever wanted to do was be an old-fashioned newsman and unfortunately him coming out would make him a part of the story. Every time he tried to cover something having to do with gay civil rights (or Madonna or Fire Island) plenty of people would claim that his reporting was biased because of his sexual orientation. It's not fair: Katie Couric doesn't have to worry when she covers pay inequality for women, and neither does Harry Smith when discussing new medicine that will eradicate baldness.

Coming out would open Cooper up to irrational accusations from those waiting to pounce on the "liberal media" just as quickly as A.C. pounces on his muscle man in an Indian hotel room. That sucks, but it's the way it currently is. How does it get changed? Well, by having some major national news figures come out and show that they can still get blown over in a hurricane or report live from a war zone without breaking into a anti-Prop 8 rant.

That's right, Anderson, it's going to take you to change it. Rachel Maddow has paved the way, but all the baby gays out there need you to man up and be our Jackie Robinson. The first step is the easiest, you just have to say what everyone already knows.

Top pic of Cooper and Maisani snapped in June by Pacific Coast News; pic of Eastern Bloc via Alice Bartlett's Flickr

• Heidi and Spencer are taking their clown show to the Miss Universe Pageant, where Heidi is supposed to perform some horrible song horribly and Spencer is just being an enormous ass, as is his usual proclivity. [Page Six]
  
  
• Sting's daughter claims that her father knows nothing about tantric sex and that the whole rumor about his sexual prowess was a gag perpetrated by Bob Geldof. In other news, there's something uniquely creepy about a daughter discussing her father's sexual prowess. [Gatecrasher]
  
  
• Oh for Christ's sake! Just in time for the start of the NFL season, Kim Kardashian, the ample-assed Armenian succubus, is in New Orleans trying to win Reggie Bush back. Beautiful, just freaking beautiful. Geaux Saints! [Daily News]
  
  
• Amy Winehouse is still doing everything in her power to kill herself. She recently went on a 48-hour bender and The Sun has some ridiculous photos of Wino with white powder all over her face and a severely burnt finger. [Sun]
  
  
• Phil Spector is whining and crying about being in prison while his 29-year-old girlfriend smuggles him food in during her visits so he doesn't have to eat in the mess hall with all the animals. [Page Six]
  
  
• A 22-year-old model has filed a lawsuit against David Copperfield claiming that he sexually assaulted her in the Bahamas two years ago. [TMZ]
  
  
• Jason Schwartzman secretly married a clothing designer named Brady Cunningham at his home in California recently. [Daily News]
  
  
• Marc Jacobs is planning to marry his Brazilian boyfriend Lorenzo Martone this weekend in Provincetown, Massachusetts. Apparently, no one is invited, but there will be an afterparty at some point. [Page Six]
  
  
• Ricky Martin has revealed the one-year-old twin boys that he had through a surrogate mother last year by taking them to the beach and posting photos on Twitter. And no, he's still not out of the closet. [Daily Mail]
  
  
• Okay here's a news flash: Paula Abdul will not be returning as a judge on American Idol. Again. So can we all just move on with our lives now? [Page Six]

• Something about Mickey Rourke, we have no idea what, makes crazy women want to sex and marry him. First it was area lunatic Bai Ling, now it's some Russian model/actress named Irson Kudikova. She claims that the two are dating and going to marry and then they will have space motorcycle ruble babies and it will forever rain hats and matchsticks and the Tsars will return, glorious. [P6]
• Frankie Delgado, that little skunk snake who slither-pawed around The Hills for awhile, is trying to use battered and bruised singer Rihanna for his own wicked devices. After they were spotted chatting at some drafty LA scene spot, he fed tabloids lies about Ri dancing on tables and stuff. He also said that he's secretly in the CIA and that his dad is away on secret spy assignment in the "Mibble East," not just living in Los Feliz with that lady Wendy who smells like pine needles, like his mean older brother told him. [P6]
• A crazy drunken lady was yelled at by Ricky Martin after she stumbled up to him at a Miami nightclub and repeatedly and loudly requested that he "shake [his] bon bon." Eventually Ricky and his (all male!) pack of friends moved over to the other side of the bar. In related news, your mom had a great vacation. She met Ricky Martin! [NYDN]
• Save the Children, a charitable organization whose mission is unclear, has issued a very, very important statement saying that the Madonna-witch, a nefarious pile of sticks and hair stuffed into a jumpsuit, ought not to make off with adopt another child from Malawi. Currently the calcium deposit wearing a hat has its eye on a poor innocent tyke ironically named Mercy. Save the Children says "it doesn't help to take one child out of an orphanage to a huge palace and buy them a pony." And they're right. If by "huge palace" they mean "crumbling cottage in the deepest, darkest wood" and by "buy them a pony" they mean "pluck out their eyeballs and grind them into sausage." [NYDN]
• Speaking of baby snatching, ugly old woman Giselle Bundchen has claimed that the child of her husband, noted American hero Tom Brady, is "100% mine." She says she gets that the kid like already has a momz and all (poor scorned she-devil Bridget Moynahan), but it doesn't matter. She thinks of the foundling as hers. At press time, a group of ten or so men, upon hearing the news, were camped outside the supermodel's West Village apartment, wearing diapers and oversized bonnets, shaking rattles. [VF]
• Like a revisionist production of Romeo & Juliet set in a deep fryer, pop Lusitania Britney Spears is being kept apart from her true love, paparazzo Adnan Ghalib. Reportedly Britney's dad (and legal caretaker) found a letter, written by Spears, saying "My dad can't keep us apart if I have a baby with you." Luckily for everyone involved the "stamp" was just a "Date Due By" stamp Spears had absentmindedly taken from the library and the envelope was addressed to "Ex Boyfriend, A road somewhere, In the next few days or so." Early reports are also coming in that the return address was simply a crudely-drawn picture of a cat playing Nintendo. [Showbiz Spy]
• Her plan worked. Nadya Suleman is said to be finally getting some attention from her separated-at-astral-birth soul-sister Angelina Jolie. The actress may be considering sending some money to the tabloid star mother of fourteen. When Suleman heard the news, she was apparently so excited she threw a baby out the window, shrieked for awhile, set the house on fire, and fell over dead. So, problem solved! Nice work, Jolie. [Showbiz Spy]

The Latin superstar, 36, welcomed twin boys via a surrogate mother a few weeks ago, his rep tells the Associated Press.

"The children, delivered via gestational surrogacy, are healthy and already under Ricky's full-time care," the statement read.

"Ricky is elated to begin this new chapter in his life as a parent and will be spending the remainder of the year out of the public spotlight in order to spend time with his children."

You hear that, ravenous news media? If you don't see or hear from Ricky Martin over the next year, it's not because you didn't see or hear from him over this past year. And if he elects to support his new brood with a speedo-wearing manny, well, who's to argue?

[photo credit: AP]

• BREAKING NEWS: Singer Ricky Martin Welcomes Twin Boys [Us]

Not really that gay? Au contraire. In fact, two days ago, Ricky's facialist Ole Henriksen officially "outed" Ricky after implying he was gay, but mainly by confirming that Ricky receives facials. Yet long before Ole made the shocking revelation, Ricky confirmed his gayosity - not by wearing brightly colored silk shirts and dripping wax on himself, but by failing to give a "straight" answer to the "Are you gay?" question. Indeed, when Barbara Walters asked him the question, Ricky replied by answering ten completely different questions, including whether he was concerned about his nieces reading things, what his mother discusses at the beauty parlor and whether sexuality is something that each individual should deal with in their own way. Failure to absolutely 100% confirm straightness by having sex with a woman during the actual interview equals gayness. Closeted case closed.

Ricky is not alone in outing himself by virtue of ridiculous roundabout answers. Queen Latifah is constantly photographed with her "personal trainer" Jeannette Jenkins, but her "I know me and that's all I need to know" responses combined with the fact that she obviously hasn't worked out in decades belie the true nature of her sexificationality status. Ryan Seacrest's unambiguous answer that he has "straight male habits" coupled with his convincing and in no way staged kiss with Teri Hatcher exposes his gayitude. And Jodie Foster's declaration "My life is my life" plus her trip to the sperm bank and thanking of "my beautiful Cydney" sufficiently satisfies the public's wonder. They're not out "officially" of course, for fear of losing roles and endorsements.

As with farts, whoever denied it, supplied it, and evading the question is the new confirmation. Accordingly, CoverGirl and American Idol need to immediately rip up their contracts with Queen Latifah and Seacrest because now, who will be able to trust them to sell makeup or accurately report America's text message votes? Pepsi must fire Ricky as its spokesperson because, in an ironic turn of events, everyone knows that gays poison wells and pollute our drinking water. Instead of dreaming up outrageously cagey answers to the critical sexual orientation question, closeted celebrities need to channel this energy into researching and moving to leper colonies so that the public will finally be rid from their insidious influences.

Martin's ceremony was no less a display of controlled hysteria, his appreciative statements nearly drowned out by the piercing screams of hundreds of screaming women and high-pitched men, hoisting some of the most elaborate hand-woven fan tapestries we've seen since the expansive Jamie Foxx Quilt carpeted the Hollywood & Highland central courtyard.

[Photos: Getty Images]

• Ricky Martin Gets Walk of Fame Star [ap.google.com]
• Ricky Consigue Su Estrella [WOW Report]

No wonder music executives go to the mat to secure a spot on the lineup. In 1998, for example, then-Sony Music head Tommy Mottola threatened to withhold future appearances by Jennifer Lopez and Destiny's Child if a relatively unknown Latin singer named Ricky Martin was not given airtime.

"I used every form of manipulation and pressure you can imagine to make it happen," said Mottola, who said he even called CBS Chief Executive Leslie Moonves to make his case. Martin sang "La Copa de la Vida" at the 1999 Grammys, where he also won the best Latin performance award. By the end of the year, the singer had sold 9 million records, an eightfold increase over his previous sales.

The very, very devilish Mottola hounded Moonves day and night, playing Martin's song over the phone and begging the mogul to shoehorn the artist into the Grammys telecast. Moonves initially dismissed the music as "lobotomized, Iglesias-lite Muzak," prompting the record exec to dispatch Martin to demonstrate the range of his talents in person. After a few minutes of uninspired caterwauling, Moonves remained unimpressed—that is, until Martin's big finish, in which the singer finally turned the firehose of his passion on the man who held the key to his fame and fortune. One drenched, ruined suit and one excited phone call to Mottola later, Martin was well on his way to Grammy immortality.

• And the Winners Are ... Performers on the Show [LAT]

Done? Good. Now, here's all we have to say on this: 1. Do you have any idea how hard it is to pull off looking good in a Speedo? It's hard. Trust us, we've tried, and it wasn't pretty. Needless to say, hairy, love-handled Jews were not meant for Lycra man-kinis. 2. Yo, Ricky, nice choice. Hope she bangs you 'til the sun goes down.

UPDATE: A reader informs us Ricky Martin's beach partner is his half-brother Eric Martin, making any sort of sexual union between the two wrong. Really. Really. Wrong.

• Previously: Ricky Martin Douses The World In His Passion [Defamer]

Which begs the question: What do the ladies under the dryers think about his love of water sports?

Ricky Martin told fans perhaps a little more about his sex life than some wanted to know. I love giving the golden shower, he told Blender. I ve done it before in the shower. It s like so sexy, you know, the temperature of your body and the shower water is very different.

Martin should be applauded for enthusiastically embracing his deviant tastes, even though he still refuses to use sex-specific pronouns when discussing his sex-act-specifics. We understand his upcoming bilingual release features a song devoted entirely to the subject, "Me Gusta Orinar (I Like To Pee)." Guests in the front rows of future Martin concerts will be encouraged to wear rain gear, as the live performance of the song's sweeping chorus will fully immerse his fans in the singer's not-so-secret passion.

• The Scoop: Notes from all over (third item)[MSNBC.com]

• Ricky Martin Says Fame Left Him Bored [ABC News/AP]