WHAT IS THIS BLOG ALL ABOUT?
On this blog you I am going to share my world with you. What can you expect to find here -- First of all lots of sexy men, off all shapes and types, something for everyone, as I can find beauty in most men. You are going to find that I have a special fondness for Vintage Beefcake and Porn of the 60's, 70's, and 80's. Also, I love the average guy, and if you want to see yourself on here, just let me know. Be as daring as you like, as long as you are of age, let me help you share it with the world! Also, you are going to find many of my points of views, on pop culture, politics and our changing world. Look to see posts about pop culture, politics, entertainment, sex, etc. There is not any subject that I find as something I won't discuss or offer my point of view. Most of all, I hope you are going to enjoy what I post. ENJOY!
Saturday, November 7, 2015
You expect Colin Farrell’s mustache to smell like cigarettes, lager and somebody else’s girlfriend. Which is sort of the point.
NBC Saturday Night at the Movies
September 1961 - October 1978
NBC Saturday Night at the Movies, is the first continuing weekly prime time network television series to show relatively recent feature films from major studios in color. The series premiered in September 1961
Previously, movies on television were usually low-cost B films or older films that the major studios or producers no longer found suitable for theatrical presentation. Movie audiences had grown to expect films to be shown in widescreen and in color, so older black-and-white Academy ratio films had lost much of their value to the theatres. By the late-1950s, with the exception of some of Walt Disney's films and The Wizard of Oz (1939), these older films had become standard fare for independent stations and the non-prime time schedules of the network affiliates.
Up until the early 1970s, the time span between a film's theatrical release and its appearance on commercial network television was much longer. Whereas today it can take as brief a period as three years before a theatrical film shows up on commercial television, between 1954 and 1972 a theatrical motion picture (even a relatively recent one) usually had to wait as many as twelve years (as in the case of the 1959 Ben-Hur) before it turned up on the home screen.
A short-lived black-and-white ABC-TV series entitled Famous Film Festival had premiered in 1956, but had shown British films made in the 1940s. They were shown in a ninety-minute time slot, which meant that the films had to either be severely edited or shown in two parts. NBC Saturday Night at the Movies was the first network movie anthology series to run two hours (and occasionally longer), so that the films could be shown in one evening.
For its 1961 television season, NBC obtained the rights to broadcast 31 post-1950 movie titles from 20th Century Fox, although only 30 were actually telecast that season. One film, The Seven Year Itch, was held off by the network until the start of the 1963 season. On September 23, 1961, Saturday Night at the Movies premiered with the 1953 Marilyn Monroe - Lauren Bacall - Betty Grable film How to Marry a Millionaire, presented "In Living Color". Some of the other movies shown were The Day the Earth Stood Still (March 3, 1962) and No Highway in the Sky (March 24, 1962). Many of these films, having been made in Cinemascope, a Fox specialty from 1953 to 1967, had to be severely panned-and-scanned for full screen television viewing (which was the only kind of television aspect ratio in existence then). That initial deal with Fox ended up lasting two seasons, with a total of 61 films. And when the studio found greener pastures over at rival ABC, the network found studios such as MGM and Paramount eager to provide content. Because commercial breaks were shorter until the late 1960s, films running less than two hours sometimes ended before the close of the program. The remaining time was filled up with theatrical trailers of upcoming films scheduled to be shown on the series in the future. By about 1968, this was no longer necessary, as commercial breaks had become longer.
The three major commercial networks did not show worn-out 16 mm prints of films as was then the usual practice on local TV stations. The films which aired on the network movie anthology series (as well as annually-telecast specials such as The Wizard of Oz) were 35mm prints invariably in excellent condition. With the advent of cable television, VHS, and DVD, the idea of always showing films - even very old ones - in pristine, remastered condition on television has become the norm, but aside from films shown on the three major networks, this was simply not done prior to the 1980s. Up until then, many times, local stations had to settle for inexpensive 16 mm prints of such relatively recent films as Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison (1957) or Prince Valiant (1954), rather than good "theater-quality" prints as seen on the networks. Unlike the major networks, nearly all local stations used 16 mm film chains
“Got To Be Real”
Mariah Carey & Patti LaBelle
It just doesn’t get better than Mariah Carey and Patti LaBelle singing “Got to Be Real” together. The two are made for this song, though honestly we’d probably pay to watch them sing the phone book, so who are we to judge.
Women in Love
Glenda May Jackson, CBE (born 9 May 1936) is a British Labour Party politician and actress. She first became a Member of Parliament (MP) in 1992, and represented Hampstead and Kilburn until 2015.
As a professional actress from the late 1950s, she spent four years as a member of the Royal Shakespeare Company from 1964, being particularly associated with the work of director Peter Brook. During her film career, she won two Academy Awards for Best Actress: for Women in Love (1970) and A Touch of Class (1973). Other award-winning performances include Alex in the film Sunday Bloody Sunday (1971) and the BBC television serial Elizabeth R (also 1971); for the latter she received an Emmy.
From 1992 to 2010, Jackson was the MP for Hampstead and Highgate, and early in the government of Tony Blair served as a Junior Transport minister from 1997 to 1999, later becoming critical of Blair. After constituency boundary changes for the 2010 general election, her majority of 42 votes was one of the closest results of the entire election. She announced in 2011 that she would stand down as an MP at the 2015 general election.
*Gets lost in hospital forever*
From: Tales of West Hollywood
Last fall, around Halloween, I got an email about the next M4M Party from a guy named Phil: "I'll be driving through town Saturday, and I would like to come."
Unfortunately, the party was on Sunday.
"I must have read the date wrong," Phil replied. "Can I come by anyway and hook up with you?"
Guys who can't make it to the parties request hookups all the time. I usually refuse, but Phil sent a very attractive selfie: he was in his 20s or 30s, round face, dark eyebrows, nice smile, and very muscular, with well developed pecs and abs.
But that's not why I agreed to meet him: he looked absolutely familiar, as if I had known him all my life.
On the brisk Saturday afternoon before Halloween, we met at the gay-friendly coffee house a few blocks away from my house. In jeans and a red t-shirt, Phil looked even more familiar. I wanted to run up, hug him, and say "It's been a long time!" Instead I shook his hand and asked "Have we met before?"
"I don't think so. At least, you don't look familiar."
He told me that his father was a diplomat; he grew up bouncing from Germany to Italy to Sweden, and through a dozen U.S. states. All that moving gave him wanderlust, so after high school he joined the navy, and traveled to Korea, Japan, Okinawa, the Philippines, and Singapore.
That list sounded familiar, too, but I couldn't figure out from where.
After the Navy, he went to UCLA and majored in East Asian languages, then"bounced around," doing all kinds of things.
"I've been a hustler in Prague, a kept boy in Morocco, a translator in Beijing, a dishwasher in Nepal, a ski instructor in Spain, and an English teacher in Iran. Have you ever eaten caviar while watching the sun rise over the Caspian Sea?"
No way! Americans couldn't work in Iran after the 1979 revolution. Phil was feeding me a line!
Well, I was something of a world traveler myself.
"I picked up a Swedish bodybuilder at a gay bar in Tallinn, Estonia."
"Oh, the Angel Bar, down the street from the Kiek in die Kok Tower?"
"My friend and I tried to start a gay Pentecostal church in Osaka."
"Osaka! Have you ever been to Physique? I used to know the owner. Very nice guy."
OK,this guy had swallowed a Damron Gay Guide. How could he have crammed all that travel into 25 or 30 years? He must be feeding me a line.
But he was very cute, and he still looked very familiar, so I invited him home.
Phil was affectionate in bed, versatile, and very gifted beneath the belt -- a Mortadella+! I could believe his tales of being a hustler and kept boy.
"So, does your truck driving job bring you through town often?" I asked afterwards. "We could get together..."
"Maybe. I never know my route in advance. One week I might be driving to Tuscaloosa, and the next to Anchorage. I'll let you know...."
Which in gay circles means "It's been nice, but I don't want to see you again."
That night I sat staring at Phil's selfie and going through the old photos on my computer. Friends from Upstate, Florida, New York. No.
West Hollywood, 20 years ago? No, he wasn't old enough.
College, thirty years ago? No.
Then I remembered! I texted my Dad. "That picture of you in the Navy, with civilian clothes. Could you email it to me?"
An hour later, a photo appeared as an email attachment, Dad in civilian clothes and his 1950s hair wave, his arm around a taller guy with a crew cut. "Me and Luke, Okinawa."
Different hair, but same face. Phil, 50 years ago!
That's why he looked so familiar.
Dad always said that his years in the Navy, from 1954 through 1959, were the best time of his life. He had a whole album of photos of him and his buddies, which his grandson had recently scanned and put on his computer.
When I was a kid, hungry for any evidence of same-sex desire, I was intrigued by the quiet intimacy of the photos. I stared at them for hours, wondering if Dad had a secret gay life, but afraid to ask.
"Who was Luke?" I texted Dad. "What can you tell me about him?"
Dad isn't good at texting, so he called me. "He was a couple of years older than me, in his late 20s. He took me under his wing when I was stationed in Japan. And I think we were in the Philippines, too. I had never been outside of Indiana before, but he had literally been everywhere! He spoke fluent Japanese!"
He sent me three other pictures of him and Luke together.
My favorite, one that I found hot as a kid, depicted them in swimsuits on a beach, their arms around each other, cans of beer in their hands.
Dad had a bulge.
"Did you keep in contact with Luke later" I asked.
"Not really. Last I heard he was in college, studying international relations on the G.I. Bill. But that would have been in the early 1960s. Why so many questions about Luke?"
"Oh...um...I met a guy today who looked exactly like him. It was spooky."
I sent him the selfie.
"That's the spitting image of Luke!" Dad said. "Must be his grandson. Imagine hearing about him again after 50 years!"
Did I hook up with Luke's grandson?
Or with Luke himself, unchanged, eternal?
Seven butts bared on screen… Which is your favorite?
Compare and contrast the goods of Jake Gyllenhaal, James Franco, Daniel Craig, Chris Hemsworth, Hugh Jackman, Maroon 5’s Adam Levine, and Shia LaBeouf.
To watch the full famous butts video playlist, starting with Jake Gyllenhaal and his super-chiseled cheeks, head over to Mr. Man.
From: Boomer Beefcake and Bonding
|Heinz flexes and cooks wieners|
In West Hollywood in the 1980s, the boundary between friend and lover was fluid. A friend might invite you into his bed; a lover might cruise someone else. You might have a regular Saturday night date with a friend; you might not see a lover for weeks at a time.
So I'm not sure exactly when Raul and I broke up.
Maybe in August 1987, when my roommate Alan moved to Thailand to start a gay Pentecostal church. I asked Raul to move in to help with the rent, but he refused: "too far from work" (he was now in customer service at a company on Wilshire). So I had to hustle to find a new place, with Derek on Sunset Boulevard.
Or in September 1987, when Raul's lease expired, and he moved into an ugly house with a German cinematographer or something named Heinz -- in West Hollywood, only two miles from my old apartment.
|Heinz's Horrible House|
Maybe when Heinz got to be really, really annoying. He wouldn't let anyone walk in shoes or socks on his white shag rug -- we had to go barefoot.
He listened incessantly to a terrible German pop group -- "Come away wiz me tyu Molly-Byu, tyu Molly-Byu, tyu Molly-Byu."
He forced us to watch the Miss America pageant. Why would a group of gay men want to watch the Miss America pageant? "For the outfits!"
And he hung out with women.
In TV and movies, gay guys always have hetero girl bffs. The writers think they're all feminine, so of course they want to hang out with girls.
But in West Hollywood in the 1980s, most gay men weren't feminine, and -- news flash -- preferred the company of men. (Besides, a female friend would confound the fluid boundary between friend and lover). So when Heinz started coming around with female friends, tongues started to wag:
He was trying to pass (Passing, pretending to be straight, was an unpardonable sin.)
He suffered from internalized homophobia.
He had been brainwashed to believe that men were incomplete without women.
He was secretly straight.
But most likely when Raul, following Heinz's example, got a female bff. Gina from work, an aspiring actress who did two commercials and guest starred on a sitcom.
He brought Gina to Heinz's house several times, then to my house, to the bars, and to the French Quarter Restaurant, where the waiter asked if they were a couple (come on, this was West Hollywood!).
My other friends stopped inviting me places -- guilt by association.
But the last straw came in December, when their office had a Christmas banquet. Gina invited Raul. To be her date.
I was furious. "Doesn't she know that we're a couple? Or does she not care? Gay relationships are meaningless, right?"
"You know I'm not out at work," Raul said. "Going with Gina would be better than going alone."
"Surely you're not considering it?" I asked, aghast.
He was considering it.
I hate the holidays.
A photo posted by Brad Goreski (@mrbradgoreski) on
I took a pic lying in bed this morning but it didn't turn out like this one 🙈 #throwbackthursday #tbtA photo posted by Ashley Parker Angel (@ashley_parker_angel) on
From: Tales of West Hollywood
|Dan in College|
Bill and I began to drift apart in junior high, when we took different classes and joined different clubs. We still hung out, but we never slept over, and I think both of us were actively looking for new boys.
I tried dancing with boys at the weekly school dance for a few weeks, but teachers soon caught on and gave me detention.
On a bleak Monday morning in February 1973, white with clouds that threatened snow, I was leaving school late after a club meeting, when I heard scuffling and voices from the eastern corridor that lead through Viking territory. I pushed past some onlookers and saw three Vikings dragging a Fairy (a feminine boy) kicking and squirming toward the girls’ locker room. (One of them was Dick, who I would meet again at a gay bar years later). His yellow button-down shirt was nearly torn off, his pants were bunched up around his ankles, and a Viking was jerking at his briefs. They were going to force girls to see him naked, and force him to see them!
When our eyes met for an instant, I recognized him as Dan, a slim, tanned seventh grader with dark blue eyes, glasses, and thick dirty-blond hair. I had him in three classes, but we rarely spoke unless a teacher forced us. Now, as I saw Dan's smooth chest, his warm tight belly, and his sex organs freed from their white briefs, I felt the gasping ache of joy that I usually felt watching men with muscles.
At the end of the hall, a teacher swung through the gym door to investigate, concluded that the assault was for Anders’ own good, and silently retreated.
If the adults wouldn’t intervene, I thought, than I would have to! I propped my book bag against the wall and leapt onto the shoulders of the depantsing behemoth.
A moment later, Dan and I were both sliding through the double doors into the girls’ locker room. Fortunately, the team had a short practice session today, so most girls were dressed and gone, and the stragglers quickly covered up.
Dan was sobbing, and his hand was bleeding from where his watch snapped off. I put my arm around him while some of the girls gathered the books, clothing, Dan's glasses, and a clear-plastic protractor broken neatly in half. Then the gym teacher finally intervened and sent Dan – not the Vikings -- to detention.
On Tuesday I had wrestling, but on Wednesday, I waited for Dan at the portico outside the east door. “Hi, Dan!” I said, deliberately using the feminine form instead of his last name, the correct masculine form. The Fairy barely slowed as he muttered “H’lo, Davis.”
“Hey, do you like Donny Osmond?"
Dan slowed a little more. “He's pretty boss, I guess.”
“I got his new album, Alone Together. Do you want to come to my house and listen to it? I live on 41st Street, over by Denkmann."
We ran joyously to my house and sat on the floor in my basement room and listened to "The Twelfth of Never."
Soon I was meeting Dan at his house every morning to walk him to school, and sitting with him and Darry every day at lunch. After school, when I didn't have to stay late for wrestling or clubs, we went to Dan's house and listened to teen idol music or watched TV or played chess. On Saturdays we rode our bikes, and went swimming and hiking. During the summer of 1973, I saw him kissing Bill at the Longview Park Pool.
Dan came to all of my wrestling matches and judo tournaments, even the one in Urbana, three hours away, and as we drove home across a prairie dark except for car headlights and the occasional dim light on a water tower, he nodded off and lay his head softly onto my shoulder, so close that I could feel his breath against my neck. My brother Kenny, sharing the back seat with us, glanced over but did not comment.
But we rarely slept over, rarely shared a bed. Dan said that we were "too old" for that.
Too old to share beds and rooms, and houses and lives?