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All American Guy Tyson Beckford

Mr. Beckford has already been a Hunk of the Day here, but there’s always room for a few extra pics, especially on this patriotic holiday. A little hint of his nether region only serves to add to the festivities. How low can he go?

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Madcap Memorial Day Recap

Our time in Ogunquit, ME has just about gone, even if I haven’t begun to post about it (stay tuned). Instead, let’s look back at what went on online this past week, beginning with a Mother’s Day weekend in NYC with my Mom. Three amazing productions were reviewed: ‘Mothers & Sons‘, ‘The Bridges of Madison County‘, and ‘Hedwig & The Angry Inch.’ No choosing favorites in that tight race – I just couldn’t do it.

The latest addition to my Tom Ford collection is ‘Black Orchid.’

The magnificent Hudson Taylor marked the return of the ‘Profile of a Straight Ally’ series in a big way.

Don’t cry for me, weeping larch, but do pucker for the redbud.

A simple mocktail, if you’ve got the grass.

The return of my arch enemy.

An epic Ben Cohen post, rivaled only by an epic David Beckham post.

Pics: The sexy likes of Ricky Schroeder, Neil Patrick Harris, and Kevin Fletcher.

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Turning The Fragrance Clock Forward

Tomorrow marks the unofficial kick-off to the summer season, even if it has yet to feel that way. As such, it’s time to turn the fragrance clock to something lighter and sweeter – usually in the way of citrus and neroli – such as in the grapefruit-based Eau de pamplemousse rose by Hermes, or the Palermo by Byredo Parfums. I also like the lighter juniper notes of Angeliques Sous La Pluie by Jean-Claude Ellena or another Hermes classic, Eau de gentiane blanche. Tom Ford is, for the most part, too much for this heated season, but his Neroli Portofino is a summer standard, and the Azure Lime of his Private Blends line is perfectly in keeping with the citrusy softness of this time of year.

Personally, I don’t like a lasting cologne when the heat is on, but if the evening calls for it (such as Ford’s ‘Lavender Palm’ for a certain Lavender party) I’ll make exceptions. In fact, I’m providing that proviso for precisely the use of Mr. Ford’s ‘Black Orchid‘ – a fragrance that is almost too much for a summer spritz. Almost. Sometimes you need to go overboard to make a proper splash. The heat is on.

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Bonus David Beckham Underwear Pics

Since there were just a few too many photographs of David Beckham for the previous post, he spills over into this bonus round. Most of these are from the ad campaign for his Bodywear line for H&M – a few are just shirtless beach ball poses. Bend it like Beckham indeed.

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The Almost-Definitive* David Beckham Shirtless Post

As is the case with Ben Cohen, putting a ‘definitive’ label on anything to do with David Beckham is as limiting as a Madonna Greatest Hits album: there’s always more to come. Mr. Beckham actually paved the gay-friendly way for Mr. Cohen, presenting himself as a straight ally more through his flaunting of a metrosexual style, pin-up caliber poses, and calendar and photo shoots that were aimed strategically at the groins of most gay men. He scored, we swooned; he disrobed, we gasped; he started an underwear line, we ate it up. Since the start of this website, David Beckham has been a constant source of eye candy and inspiration.

Here is an almost-comprehensive list of Mr. Beckham’s past posts. There are a lot, but I haven’t heard anyone complain about their prolific nature given the specimen on display.

It all began (at least post-website-revamp) with his Butt and his Bulge.

A decent way to start, things soon got interesting, if questionably exciting.

The evolution of Beckham’s package.

Forget Justin Trousersnake, Beckham’s got the real deal.

The basic boxer brief showed off Beckham’s best assets.

Bodywear by Beckham.

Oddly enough, he didn’t receive his first Hunk of the Day crowning until 2012.

Nobody does a promotional video better.

Always a top contender for a Greatest Hunks collection

And a mainstay for the decade of this website.

The battle of the century: Ben Cohen vs. David Beckham. Who’s sexier?

The 2nd battle of the century: David Beckham vs. Mario Lopez.

David & Daley.

The best David Beckham posts are those that are purely gratuitous.

Ever wonder what he smells like?

Forget the subway tile, it’s the underwear.

That age-old dilemma: bulge or butt?

The pre-cursor to this post, in brief.

David Beckham and a tease of nudity

More nudity, and less.

Beckham and his budgie smugglers.

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My Bottom Hurts Just Thinking About It

It was May of 1990 and Madonna was Breathless.

Her eternal quest for movie-stardom and acting legitimacy found some of its most compelling evidence in her scene-stealing turn as Breathless Mahoney in ‘Dick Tracy’ with then-paramour Warren Beatty. That was all well and good, but I didn’t even see the movie when it came out. Far more interesting and impressive was her musical companion piece, ‘I’m Breathless: Music From and Inspired by the Film Dick Tracy’. It was a Madonna-mouthful, and worth every syllable.

While its best-known track is the classic ‘Vogue’ (which the Madonna Timeline has not yet reached – eek!) there are other gems and jewels hidden among the period pieces, and Madonna once said that ‘I’m Breathless was one of her favorite albums. When it came out, I was at a Broadway-loving peak, and have a serious Stephen Sondheim moment (‘Into the Woods’ was on perpetual play in my bedroom.) That he wrote three of the songs that Madonna sang on the album was just a gay boy’s wet dream. Musical theater and Madonna. Get out the tissues.

We’ve hit a number of songs from that glorious era, so let’s take a spin in track order and return to May of 1990…

The noirish ‘He’s A Man‘ kicked things off with a moody, vamping start. it found Madonna extolling the virtues and drawbacks of being good versus bing a little bit bad but a whole lot of fun.

Mr. Sondheim penned the second song, the slinky and seductive ‘Sooner or Later‘ – a self-confident but coy staking of some man-ground, in which our sultry seductress slowly builds to her inevitable conquest. (This also provided Madonna one of her strongest live performances ever, and on the Oscars no less.)

The third song, and last single promoted off the album, was ‘Hanky Panky‘. A racy romp through the joys of light S&M, with Madonna proudly proclaiming that there’s, “Nothing like a good spanky!’ You don’t need to tell me once.

The last song that the Madonna Timeline featured from ‘I’m Breathless’ was another Stephen Sondheim nugget: ‘More.’ It was the showstopper of the album, a complex ditty with a “chromatic wildness” that initially seemed to have thrown Madonna. She got over it, and came out all right in the end.

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The Definitive* Sexy Ben Cohen Post

Ben Cohen has proved fine fodder for the sort of sexy posts that populate this wayward blog, and if I’ve pushed him more than, say, David Beckham (whose turn will come tomorrow) it’s because Mr. Cohen is also a staunch straight ally, standing up for gay men and women the world over, and standing behind his anti-bullying efforts with hard work and dedication. His hirsute bearish looks certainly don’t hurt his cause, and that’s a good part of why he’s featured here as well.

Here are a few links wherein we featured the looks, and half-dressed sexiness, of Ben Cohen:

This may have been Ben’s first appearance here – way back in 2010.

It is said that he has an enormous hose.

He seems to enjoy boxer briefs.

And regular briefs, in blue.

He likes to strip to his underwear for video too.

It’s the hair, isn’t it?

Actually, it’s probably his butt.

Is he sexier than David Beckham?

He just may be.

Especially if he goes full-frontal first.

But shirtless Ben is more than just fine.

Especially when getting ready to dance.

The best part of Ben, however, may be his Attitude.

And the fact that he’d give you the shirt off his back.

Nah – it’s the way he fills out these white briefs.

With these gargantuan balls.

David Beckham returns the sexy volley tomorrow…

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Ben Cohen in Briefs, with Another Guy’s Head Between His Legs

The title of the post says it all, and later today there’s going to be a big Ben Cohen feature here, so I’ll shut my trap and let you feast your eyes upon how far Mr. Cohen is willing to go for the perfect shot. What I wouldn’t give to be that Fanta Grape guy… and given that smile, he knows exactly how lucky he is.

 

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A Villain Returns…

My nemesis the groundhog came back with a vengeance the other day, decimating a perfect stand of perennial sunflowers and causing considerable damage to a large swath of cup plants in a few short hours. I’ve always preached humane tactics in dealing with such wildlife – it’s their land too – but not anymore. This beast (or beasts, as I’ve been warned there’s always more than one) has taken too much. It’s one thing to indulge in a necessary nibble now and again for survival purposes, but when something doesn’t know the meaning of moderation, it’s time to go. For the moment, I’m going to try a recommended remedy: tennis balls soaked in ammonia and placed strategically throughout the garden. Apparently groundhogs don’t like the smell of ammonia. Sadly, neither do I, but I’ll try anything at this point.

Last year the creature destroyed a beautifully lush pot of sweet potato vines, stripping every last leaf from the plant, which just barely started putting out new foliage before the summer ended. We are not having that this year. If it takes ammonia, tennis balls, chicken wire, poisoned apples or buckshot, this thing is being eradicated – if not from the earth then just from our yard. This is a ruthless business, and if there is a shortage of cup plants then there will be a shortage of seeds for the goldfinches later in the season. Nobody messes with the finches without retribution. Groundhog, you are officially on notice – and there is no second chance.

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Don’t Scoff at the Spritzer

This lemongrass/ginger spritzer came to mind as I planted a batch of lemongrass in the garden this week. We still have a few bags of frozen lemongrass stalks from last year – fears of running out through the winter proved unfounded, as I only used a few. Of course, it’s probably not the winter that needed getting through, but the spring – in this period of growth before I can harvest anything from the newly-planted. If you have a spot for lemongrass, I highly recommend it. Like most grasses, it grows big and beautiful, and a small clump in the spring can turn into an enormous mound by the fall.

For this alcohol-free mocktail, I boiled a cup of sugar with a cup of water, along with a few slices of fresh ginger and about four stalks of lemongrass, roughly chopped into one-inch pieces (and slightly macerated.) After about fifteen minutes, I strained the mix and poured it into a container for the fridge. It’s possible to leave the ginger and lemongrass in the water for longer – the longer you leave it, the stronger the tincture becomes.

Once cool, add a small amount (maybe ¼ cup) to a glass filled with ice. (A little of this simple syrup goes a long way.) Top with a generous pour of club soda, and garnish with a frozen lemongrass stalk (it need not be frozen, mine just happened to be.) A perfect accompaniment for the sunny days to come.

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Bud of Red

It’s taken a few years, but there is finally a sizable and noteworthy bloom proliferation on the redbud (Cercis) tree I planted in the front yard. This tree has the interesting trait of blooming directly from the bark, where it explodes in this compelling color before unfurling its leaves. I like the effect, which is reminiscent of the native dogwood (sadly on the decline). I’ve read that it will also send out blooms wherever its bark is nicked. I’m not so selfish as to score it just to bring about more flowers – especially when it puts on such a fine show without such masochistic machinations.

It makes a great addition to the garden, even if you have limited space, as it remains a manageable size (thus far at least). The branches are said to be on the weak side, but so far that has not proven to be a problem, and this specimen is in the most unprotected part of the yard. Now that I’ve said that it will probably be dealt a damaging blow, but such is the nature of the beast.

The leaves are as gorgeous as the flowers, if decidedly less showy (it would be practically impossible to rival this pink.) They are shaped vaguely like hearts, and their shade of green veers just the slightest bit toward gray as they mature. They’d be characterized as fine or handsome by those whose passion is trees – and there’s nothing finer than a tree-lover.

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Peony Pucker, Times Two

This photo – both versions – was taken last year. Our peonies are not quite in bloom yet – but they’re swelling quickly, buds about to burst, the first ants already crawling around the beads of sweet sugary sap. It is the season of promise – the season of spring.

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The Weeping of the Larch

The larch tree looks deceptively like an evergreen, and I’m often at pains when insisting to friends that it’s deciduous, especially at the start of summer when it looks so convincingly like a spruce. It takes until the end of fall, when those leaves turn a stunning gold, to completely convince them, and that’s a long time to win an argument – but I’m a patient man.

It took me a long time to come around to the weeping style. It always felt too fussy for me – most of them require some sort of staking or graft to get them high enough for the weeping aspect to be realized. I may be many things, but quite contrary to popular belief, fussy is not one of them – particularly when it comes to the garden. It was a weeping Katsura tree that changed my mind. Its style was beautiful, and the way its branches cascaded down like a waterfall, or the gently-curled mane of some gorgeous woman, was a revelation. From that moment on I was a sucker for a weeper. A cherry tree was first to be planted, following by this weeping larch. The former just finished its bloom season, while the later will look as fresh as this until September.

Don’t be fooled by its seemingly fragile appearance – the larch is one of the hardier plants, withstanding winters as far North as Zone 3, possibly 2. That’s some serious hardiness – and I like hardy.

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Profile of a Straight Ally: Hudson Taylor

First, there is that physique. Strong, broad shoulders, thick, muscled thighs – it is the sculpted body of an athlete in peak form. Second, there is that face. Puppy dog eyes that make all the girls (and more than a few of the boys) swoon in dreamy abeyance. Third, there is that skill – the years of honed muscles, practiced execution, intensity and focus. The championships, trophies and medals proof of his excellence, his current position as coach proof of his endurance. Finally, there is that soul – the spirit that has given rise to such a movement – a revolution in effect – the starting motion to a generation of acceptance. The athlete, then, at his prime. He has nothing left to prove, and yet he strives for justice and equality. This is the hope of the future, and no one embodies that more than Hudson Taylor.

Taylor is the founder of Athlete Ally, an organization that aims to support inclusion and make all sports a safe playing ground for all people – particularly LGBTQ athletes. As the Executive Director, he also acts as the face of the mission, traveling to colleges and spreading his message in person. Eloquent and articulate, Taylor talks of “educating and empowering straight allies” and “creating an inclusive culture.” These are powerful, deep-reaching words, the manifestation of which could mean more for a cultural shift in eradicating homophobia than countless gay pride parades.

It’s one thing for a straight sports star to stand up at the end of his or her career and champion LGBTQ rights – it’s quite another for someone just starting out. That takes quite a bit more bravery, a courageous commitment, and a steely resolve. They are the real champions, they are the true heroes. Hudson Taylor did that on the college circuit – an almost-unthinkable act of bravery and courage that most of us can only imagine mustering.

On the larger celebrity scale, there are few straight men who have taken up the mantle of equality, especially in the sports world. One of the main tenets of being popular is to maintain a mainstream fan-base. We don’t want our sports stars to be all that different from us, except in the way they play the game. Yet every once in a while someone stands up for those of us without a voice and gives their support to our cause. They openly condemn homophobia, and fight for equality across all their public forums.

Coming from a straight athlete, the message can be of greater consequence. When a gay person fights for his or her rights, it’s the expected, obvious, and assumed stance. In a sense, it means less coming from one of us. But in the mouth of someone like Mr. Taylor, it gains something different, something more penetrating and significant. To a gay kid, it’s the voice of reassurance and affirmation from the majority, a message of inclusion, the emboldening feeling of love in realizing that there is, indeed, a place for us – all of us.

 

 

“I’m OK with people thinking I’m gay, because I know I’m doing the right thing,” Taylor says. It’s familiar territory for any straight ally: the assumption that only a gay person can fight for equality. It’s also the mark of someone supremely self-aware that others’ assumptions mean nothing in the face of what is right and just and true. It should come as no surprise that Taylor, along with having the soul of a poet, also has the soul of an artist. Aside from majoring in Performance Art, he dabbles in photography, experiments with imagery, messes around with Photoshop, and occasionally sings on YouTube (a sweet version of ‘Piano Man’.) He also has a magic touch – literally. Magic tricks – sleights of hand, particularly involving cards – are a favorite hobby, and he finds they work brilliantly as ice-breakers. Not that he needs any sort of social lubrication whatsoever: he speaks on a busy circuit, traveling and giving talks across the country, where his engaging presence breaks down centuries of barriers and resistance.

Most of us don’t have as open and accepting a mind and heart as Taylor has demonstrated from a young age. We close ourselves off to difference, we get comfortable in our own little cliques, and we surround ourselves with similar people. I’m guilty of it myself, and I’m always fascinated and impressed by those who look outside of themselves to find ways of connecting to people who aren’t necessarily like them. Taylor has mentioned that his father instilled a sort of moral compass in him, an integrity that could be found in sports, and he took that idea and ran with it.

A few months ago, the Winter Olympics took place in Sochi, Russia, which was instantly condemned for its anti-gay legislation. Taylor was there in the thick of it, spreading his message of acceptance and inclusion in a peaceful yet effective way. His analysis on the importance of diversity among athletes was especially moving. It reminded me of the thrill I’ve always felt when watching the athletes march in the opening ceremonies of the Olympics. There’s something very reaffirming about seeing all the countries of the world come together in the name of athletic competition. According to Taylor, “Athletes become worthy of the greatest respect not when they win at their sport but when they stand up for the dignity of others and represent something bigger than themselves.” It was about respect and honor, and this was a part of sports that was rarely talked about, but proved integral to success both on and off the field.

Athletes in this country are revered and idolized, from the top-grossing baseball player to the ten-year-old girl on the local soccer team. We adore our athletes, and look to them, whether it’s right or wrong, to be an example and an inspiration for the rest of us. When I think back to high school, I remember the power and sway the football players had. Many boys looked up to them, many girls wanted to date them, and most of the teachers loved them. They were respected, honored, and, most importantly, heard. 

Yet I avoided sports like the plague, even the repeated recruiting efforts of the track coach and the tennis coach and the swim coach, and, yes, the wrestling coach. The latter cornered me a few times, most likely looking for someone in the ultra-light-weight class. When I voiced my trepidations (I’m too weak, too small, not-athletic enough) he countered at every excuse, and even went so far as to appeal to my intelligence. Wrestling is one sport that is largely played out in the head, requiring strategy and quick-thinking, he said. The smartest kids made the best wrestlers. It almost worked, but I wasn’t buying it. I ran the risk of getting a beat down every day I wore whatever I wore to school – I didn’t need to guarantee a scheduled one.

 

I’m not delusional, and I can’t pretend that my sexuality alone kept me from playing; my disinterest in sports was probably less a fear of my homosexuality and more of an interest in just about anything else. Yet looking back, I now wonder if the excessively-macho attitude of the sports world kept me even more at bay. As a small, slight kid, I was scrappy yet coordinated. I could hit a mean softball, was always one of the last ones standing in any dodge-ball game, and climbed up to the top of the gymnasium on those big thick ropes. What I lacked in brawn I made up for in speed, agility and accuracy. I’d rather be lounging by the pool on any given day, but if need be I could smoke most of my classmates in a few laps. In other words, I’ve always been pretty fit, I just never quite fit in. Sports scared me. The locker room talk, the incessant teasing, the macho atmosphere that seemingly left no place for those with the slightest sense of sensitivity – taken together they conspired to instill a sense of fear. Had I heard someone – anyone – say something the least bit encouraging, an offer of the slightest solidarity, inclusion, or support, I might have stepped onto the track team, or picked up a tennis racket, or dove into the pool. Instead, I feigned loftier goals until I convinced myself of them. 

When I listen to Hudson Taylor, I remember the scared boy I used to be, and I think how wonderful it would have been to hear someone say there was room for me on the team. That’s all any of us wants to hear. It’s what we need to hear. I’m grateful that there are people like Hudson in the world today, people who have the courage and the conviction to give a voice to those of us who aren’t quite sure we can use ours.

“When we diminish others, we only diminish ourselves.” ~ Hudson Taylor

{Previous Straight Ally Profiles include Scott Herman and Skip Montross.}

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Hunky Reprise: Ricky Schroeder

Red-hot gingers have long been a favorite here, and Ricky Schroeder proves no exception. Though he’s already been named a Hunk of the Day, he’s bulked up and toned himself into an even more desirable specimen, as evidenced by his recent Broadway Solo Strips show. As part of this year’s Broadway Bares event, he’ll be doffing more clothing in the near future, and if you are interested in supporting him, check out his donation page here (all benefits go to Broadway Cares/ Equity Fights AIDS). I’m all for a good cause, particularly when it comes cloaked in such prettiness.

Mr. Schroeder can go from scorching drag queen to perfectly-pumped hunk in the flick of wig, as these photos will attest, and it’s a toss-up as to which version is hotter. He’s also on Twitter at @RickyASchroeder for those who want to Tweet his ass. (And you know you do.)

{All photographs graciously provided by Mr. Schroeder.}

And here’s a scintillating tease of his Broadway Strips performance – ooh la la!

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