Archive for August, 2006


August 31, 2006

It’s time once more to play “Who’s Banging Who?” I’m pretty sure you all remember how to play. Just look over the photos, imagine they’re your neighbors, and try to figure out their deepest and darkest secrets. Then please vote. The more votes the more fun it is. You can even be straight and play. Just imagine you’re spying on the gay neighbors.
The pics this week are from several eras, two are from WWII, one from 1878, and two are from the 1840’s. None of these photo’s were considered out of the ordinary when they were taken. For me the thought is that people in America weren’t always so uptight about same sex intimacy as they are now. Maybe as a nation we could lighten up just a bit.

an enigmatic pair.

When the photo is enlarged, the lad to your right is definitely a man. The fellow on the left is also a man, as you can see from the rather alarming pair of prehistoric Speedos that he stole from his baby brother. I don’t know the tensile strength of speedos, but these have to be perilously close to the limit.

I hope the fellow on the bottom has strong legs. It could only be love.

Don’t ask. Just don’t.

This wouldn’t be complete without a photo of my hero, Walt Whitman, with his “assistant”, Harry Stafford. Harry “assisted” Walt for several years. He helped him run errands, took him for moonlight rides in their carriage, baked him cookies, and had a seven year long sleepover with him. If you look real close, Harry’s wearing a ring that Walt gave him. Guess which finger it’s on. Oh well, I guess I gave this one away, didn’t I? All right, I definitely know the answer for this one. By the way, Walt might look a little rough here, but he had the constitution of a healthy horse (inside joke).

Put your votes in the comment box, and I’ll tally it all up and we’ll talk about it Friday.

Be Loved,




August 29, 2006

My Todo List
1. Call my mother. I can usually tell when she’s on the verge of calling the police.
2. Vacuum the cat. The cat hair tumbleweeds in the corners are getting bigger and bigger.
3. Do my taxes for 2005. The IRS is getting snippy with me.
4. Reload all my graphics files. Now that I’ve installed a new hard drive, I have to put all my graphics back onto the computer. This time I’m going to put them in files that actually help identify the contents. Instead of naming my files things like, “Funny”, “Hot”, “Woof” and “That Italian Guy”, I’m opting for names like “Couples Romantic”, “Couples Amateur”, etc.
This should seriously help with inventory search projects.
Now on to the big news of the day.
Queer Sheep
Scientists studying sheep have found that six percent of domesticated rams show no interest in any sexual activity, while ten percent choose males over females. One researcher has also reported differences in aromatase activity in the preoptic area and estradiol levels in the amygdala in the brains of gay and straight rams.

Bagemihl, Bruce. Biological Exuberance: Animal Homosexuality and Natural Diversity. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1999.

I’ve always wondered why in the Bible, Believers were described as sheep. Now I know that it’s because sheep are queer, too. Well, there may be other reasons, but that’s the operative one for me.
I like the thought that at least one out of ten rams are lustfully eyeing their fellow rams, and enjoying hot, sweaty Ramromps with them in their dreams. Of course we know that it’s more than one out of ten. There are always going to be a few to shy to admit their inclinations to the survey taker. And it doesn’t address those Rams who mostly prefer ewes, but enjoy “just screwing around” from time to time with their buddies on the Ram side of the fence. My view of the sex life of sheep had always been pretty one dimensional, but I’m pleased at the depth and variety of which they’re capable.
A few artistic shots of Rams practicing their lunges.

I love being a Ram.

Be loved,



August 29, 2006

I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE THINKING****************************
This is a rough transcription of a conversation I had with a girl whom I had seen twice, both times in a coffee shop.

Female: Want me to tell you what you’re thinking?
Me: No.
Female: OK! Blahblahblahblahyadayadayadayadayada… etc.
Me:Nope, that wasn’t it. (I knew, because I wasn’t thinking anything at the moment.)
Female: Sure it is! Because that’s what I’d be thinking if I were you!
Me: (dimly sensing the horror looming ahead)But you’re not me.

I’ve had this conversation a few times with women, and every time it turned out horribly. When a woman begins this conversation, it’s already too late. Your fate has been settled for you, and your future decided. The only thing you can do is run like the wind and purchase a new identity in some far away land.
I KNOW HOW YOU REALLY FEEL*****************************
Even worse is the conversation that goes like this:

Female: So how do you feel about “us”?
Me: What?!?
Female: Silly man, I understand. I thought we would have the ceremony at my Mom’s house.
Me: What ceremony?

I have never once in my life had a woman get it right when she was telling me how I felt. Now don’t get me wrong, this approach probably works with straight guys a good percentage of the time. They figure that if they just go along with it, they’re earning points for sex. I don’t have that incentive, and I’m not going to change. Believe me, I tried it. I know what team I’m on.

I’ve never once had this conversation with a guy. A guy might think it, but he won’t say it. He’ll just lunge at you. Of the two, I prefer the lunging. On the off, off chance that I didn’t want a guy lunging at me, I could push him away with a stun gun. At this point in my life, that’s a really remote possibility, but there you are.
Some nice shots of boys lunging at each other, to brighten your eyes.

A frontal assault, from an angle.

The upward, heatseeking lunge.

A downward spiral lunge, designed to disorient and delight the lungee.

My favorite, a slow and stealthy lunge from behind.

Be loved,



August 27, 2006

Just for your amusement, something to hopefully brighten your morning. A little bit graphic, a lot of fun.

He was leaning off the side of the boat, ready to catch the bowline of the approaching rescue vessel, which had picked us up and was carrying us back to safety. I had just lost my boat and should have been thinking about insurance, but when my eyes took him in, all thoughts about business were driven from my head. I tried to tell myself to calm down, that it was just a combination of stress and hormones, but I just didn’t care. This guy was my hottest fantasies brought to life.
I couldn’t just let this one just slip past me.
He brought us into port. As my little group of shivering refugees alit onto the dock, he came to me, asking if I needed anything, expressing his regret over the accident. I saw my chance and introduced myself, asking him if we could get together some time. He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t shy away from my boldness, which made him all the more exciting.

Six months later
“Karl, do you remember the day we met?”
He rolled over lazily, laying across my chest to reply, “Yeah, you wouldn’t stop staring at me.”
“What did you think?”
Sleepily, “I wanted to get you out of those cold, wet speedos. You might have caught your death of cold.”
“Well, you didn’t waste any time, did you?”
His body against mine produced a heat which should have made me drowsy, but didn’t.
I played with his blond hair, always tousled. He shifted his body against mine, and I could feel his hardness against me. He grinned slightly, but that was enough to start my love motor running. I felt a stirring in my groin.
God, how I loved to make love to him. I loved the tightness of his body, the way his package filled out his shorts, the way his face contorted as he arched back in the ecstasy of orgasm.
I loved the way he collapsed against me afterward, gently kissing and stroking, his whole body participating in loving me, ten thousand body hairs gently brushing my body, hooking my body hairs to produce tiny ecstatic tug-o-wars all over me.
It was after he came that he was the sweetest, and it was then that I most deeply surrendered to him.
I felt his body shift again, and he was on me now. His heat was against mine, our dicks touching against each others belly. My body began to move as though responding to an intelligence outside of myself, an animal intelligence of life seeking life, stroking and rubbing gently, each stoking the furnace of the other’s love.
I pulled him up just a little and we began to kiss. I never knew how to kiss before Karl taught me. I always just dived in, but he showed me that in kissing, a little is a lot. When he kissed, he was so light and gentle, his tongue teasing me, drawing me out. He showed me how to respond by degree, to slowly build the fire between us.
While we kissed his pelvis began to powerfully stroke my belly and as I responded, our dicks began to caress each other seemingly independently of any direction, acquiring a life of their own. We had fallen into a rhythm that was greater than either of us individually, moving in the rhythm of the heat of creation.
We went on and on, it seemed like forever, when I felt karl begin to stiffen against me. I could feel the trembling and throbbing down below, and that set me to the same.
I held back with difficulty, waiting to see Karl begin to arch his head back, contorting his face. That was my signal to release. I loved it when we climaxed together, our manjuice mingling together on our bellies, making a slippery sliding pool of the ooze of creation, our life forces joined together as one.
We came together that night, roaring and moaning in unison, driven by the extremity of surrender to a joint passion much larger than either of us alone. I was taken out of myself, and lost consciousness for a moment. When I came to, Karl’s head was cradled against my neck as he softly kissed my ear.
I stroked his soft blond hair and breathed into his ear, “Damn”.

Be loved,



August 27, 2006

Mikey, of Captain Caveman fame, told me to try this.

Grab the nearest book.
Open the book to page 123.
Find the fifth sentence.
Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions

The narrator’s warning signaled no final rejection, however. His message was
definitely mixed. If the pursuer persisted and insisted, Whitmans’ seductive
alter-ego was willing to cooperate: “just possibly with you on a high hill-first
watching lest any person, for miles around, approach unawares…/Here to put
your lips on mine I permit you,/With the comrade’s long dwelling kiss, or the
new husband’s kiss,/ for I am the new husband, and I am the comrade.”

This passage is about a copy of some proofs he had promised to a persistent young admirer named Fred Vaughn who had been sending Walt Whitman numerous love lorn letters. It’s taken from Love Stories, written by Jonathan Ned.
Walt Whitman, Poet and Lover

Be loved,


P.S. I issue a friendly challenge to Tornwordo, Kalvin, and Nathan.


August 26, 2006

Ok, Here’s how things turned out from Thursday and Friday’s “Who’s Banging Who” game.

#1- 80%: Eight believed they were banging each other, and only two believed they weren’t.
Let’s face it, they’re practically cuddling for the camera. I’ve seen tamer things on Porn Pay sites.
Not only the hands on the knees, but one guy has his leg draped overthe other guys leg. In body language, that means ownership. Hot and sweet, my favorite flavor combination.

#2- 30%: Only three believed they were banging, with seven negatives. But everybody believed they were doing the “Platonic Love” thing. That usually means they want it real bad, but they’re scared of rejection. Two of you wrote that Frank looks like a girl, which I wondered about, too. If they were fugitives, that would be one way to protect a woman. They could just say she was his little brother. Guys might have doubts, but let her get by with it. Another voter pegged it by saying John’s got it bad for Frank.

#3- 38%: Only three out of eight believed these guys are writing their memoirs together.
Hmmm, I don’t know. I bet they take long naps together.

#4- 88%: Eight out of nine of you said these guys were banging each other like a cheap drum every chance they got. The one who voted against it gave as his reason the fact that they didn’t want to wrinkle their clothes. I have an obvious solution for that; take ’em off and kick ’em under the bed. For me the little smirks on their faces are the dead giveaway. To me that smirk translates into, “I’m getting something and you don’t know what it is”. Couple #1 have the same little grin going too, just a little more under control. I think a guy with a smirk like that is irresistible. I want to give him some more of what he’s already got.
Do you like doing this? We can play again next week, if you want.

these boys look like they’re really into fun. They just look happy in each others arms.

Update: I just found out that these two guys are pervy brothers who wack off in the woods outside a cabin. There’s supposed to be a video somewhere. That’s way hot.

Maybe they’re just models, but I still go weak at the knees.

‘Nuff said. Have a beautiful weekend.




August 25, 2006

We’re extending this for today.
Here’s our four friends pics again. Be sure to tell me which photo buddies you think are doing each other; the bathers, the fugitives, the students, or the Mystery Couple.

Random stuff
For most people, their real life is the one they never lead.
I love this show. All the boydocs are so hot. But what I don’t get, and it infuriates me, is why they allow that skanky slut to lead them all around by the nose. That’s right, I’m talking Meredith the ‘Ho Grey. It took me several seasons to figure out why they named it Grey’s Anatomy. It’s because of her. Every boy on the show wants to see her anatomy, and they never will.
Doc Irish, and Doc McVet and even Doctor MacSweetCheeks really should get a clue. She’s just not worth it. How many seasons are they going to let her tramp all over these guys? And every once in a while she looks wistful for the camera, like she’s trying to decide who she’s going to screw over today, and that makes it ok, because it shows she know’s she should care about what she’s doing to them. I want a really HotDoc to come on the show and steal every single BoyDoc right out from under SlutDoc’s little pink thumb. It would serve her so right.

Dr. Meredith Grey: Don’t look at me like that.
Dr. Derek Shepherd: Like what?
Dr. Meredith Grey: Like you’ve seen me naked(which he just had)!
Surely I can be forgiven the occasional rant.

Be loved,



August 24, 2006

Your Seduction Style: The Charmer

You’re a master at intimate conversation and verbal enticement.

You seduce with words, by getting people to open up to you.

By establishing this deep connection quickly, people feel under your power.

And then you’ve got them exactly where you want them!

What Is Your Seduction Style?

Damn, and I thought for sure it was that Horse Penis thing.
Words…Whenever I think of it, the power of words amazes me. Nothing more than a sound that triggers the production of an image in our minds, a word can produce aversion and attraction, fear, hate and love.
A word in and of itself may ultimately be the most powerful force in creation.
And by the way, I never actually SAID that I have a Horse Penis, I’m far too modest for that.
I just hinted at it really, really broadly.
It’s just a coincidence that all these people looking for Horse Penises seem to wind up on my door step. How could I turn away a sincere seeker?
In case you’re wondering why all the narcissistic self referencing going on here, I have a plan. I’m not satisfied with merely being one of the top five Horse Penises searches on Google. I want to be the number one top search for Horse Penises on the internet.
I want to be the Google Search God for Horse Penises.
Here is a funny Horse Penis link. Once you read this, you will know what my job was as a teenager, and you’ll know why I’m such a perv today. All of this I share, simply because of my desire to spread scientific knowledge. It’s because I Care.
Who’s Banging Who: Let’s play “Who’s Banging Who?” Using the pics from yesterday, let me know which of the pairs in the photos are actually doing the deed, and which ones are platonic. Choose from 1; The Bathers, 2; The Fugitives, 3; The College Buds, and 4; the Mystery Pair. Obviously since it was a century ago, we can’t know for sure, but I’ll compile your input, and tell you all the outcomes tomorrow. Just go up to recent posts in the left column, and click on Wonderful Wednesday, to see the pics.
Larry, the Love Lemming gave me this idea. He has lot’s of good ideas, not to mention he has the coolest name for a blog on the internet.

Enjoying a thoughtful moment.

Be loved,



August 23, 2006

Another quiet day today. I spent some time transferring all my graphics onto CD’s, getting ready for the Great Migration onto the new Hard Drive. Work was quiet. It’s the last week before school starts here and no one feels like messing around with storage stuff. Works for me.
I thought I would put up a few photographs of friends taken at different times during the nineteenth century. It was a much better time for male affection, in America at least.

In an age when one could experience life more simply, love was more freely shared. Less was questioned, more accepted, albeit unspoken. Do you think these two are into “synchronized swimming”?

There’s intensity in these two men’s gaze.

Just Best Buds

The fellow sitting behind his friend looks like he’s having difficulty controlling his smirk. I wonder what he’s thinking?His friend, sitting in front of him looks very much in control of the situation.
Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the
origin of all poems,
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are
millions of suns left,)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor
look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the
spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things
from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.

Walt Whitman, from Leaves of Grass

Be loved,



August 21, 2006

Breaking News
I feel like I’m arriving as a blogger. I just found out that I’m one of the top Google searches for “Horse Penises”. Look it up. I dare you. Please just make sure you’re at work and a lot of people are walking around when you do it.
That gave me a lift. When I think of all the eager young researchers wanting to know more about horse penises, I get a warm glow knowing that I’ve helped improve the quality of someone’s life.
Work sucks. I just needed to say that.
A good friend told me that he enjoyed hearing about Dave the Deer Guy. I enjoy him, too. And interestingly enough, it’s that time of the billing cycle, and I’m planning on calling him this afternoon to try to motivate his silly man ass into paying for his storage unit, before we have to kick him out for chronic late payment. I can’t let that happen. I love being a mother hen to him too much. The thing that gives me palpitations is that he likes it too. It’s like we have this little game going. It’s ok for me to call him because it’s always about his storage, so he’s makes me call him a lot. We both get to play like that’s what it’s about. We both know I’m calling to tell him I love him. If I could just move this little scenario along, say, onto my sofa, or into my bedroom, that would be perfect. I would fuss at him about his storage unit all night long. I wouldn’t mind that one bit.
He’s just such a Guy. I guess that makes us a match.

A nice shot of me, eating out of Dave’s hand.

Be loved,