Every year they put less and less tape in a roll of Scotch tape.
This is not a conspiracy theory.
Facts.
And every year we have a surplus of Scotch tape until the month of December when it all suddenly disappears right before we need to wrap gifts. (See also ‘birthday‘.)
Victoria Beckham has blessed us not only with Posh Spice, but also with these BTS pics of her husband David Beckham doing various routines in nothing save his Calvin Kleins. (Strange, for someone who has his very own underwear brand, but to each their own.) Victoria has gifted us with a glimpse at David Beckham’s naked ass in this post, and occasionally appeared with him in underwear ads over a decade ago.
Getting a “private” view of what M. Beckham gets to see on the daily is always a thrill.
It’s been far too long since we’ve had a proper David Beckham post. Let’s look back at some previous appearances at the links below. Click away!
David Beckham in boxer briefs.
David Beckham basically busting out of his pants.
David Beckham in a basic gratuitous post.
David Beckham in his own scent.
David Beckham in his new underwear.
David Beckham in brief, and briefs.
David Beckham in budgie smugglers.
David Beckham, almost definitively.
David Beckham out of his shirt.
David Beckham giving glimpses of skin.
David Beckham as the Sexiest Man Alive.
David Beckham getting back to basics.
{Note: The Madonna Timeline is an ongoing feature, where I put the iPod on shuffle and write a little anecdote on whatever was going on in my life when that Madonna song was released and/or came to prominence in my mind.}
One of the absolute highlights of Madonna’s somewhat-underappreciated (and some might say somewhat-underwhelming) ‘Madame X’ album is ‘God Control’ – a masterpiece of a sonic journey, complete with choir and tongue-in-cheek rapping, that comes with the last great video she’s given us. Give it another listen and viewing below:
This song, and the entire thought-provoking ‘Madame X’ album, brings me back to the summer of 2019 – in so many ways a last summer of innocence, and a last summer before the world went bonkers. Maybe it’s just me getting old, and maybe people always say this as time moves on, but I do genuinely feel that things are different. Society – especially American society – has changed, and it doesn’t seem for the better.
The rise of America’s gun culture, and the apparently unswaying way we are all letting people, including children, just succumb to something that could be so easily stopped is one more tell-tale sign of these changes. Madonna tackled the subject in this song and video, switching out ‘Gun Control’ for ‘God Control‘ because religion plays its part in where we have been, and where we are headed. A hypocritical religion, perhaps, but a religion nonetheless.
Only Madonna could turn such a controversial topic into a video that is transfixing, enthralling, entertaining, disturbing, and impossible-not-to-watch. At four decades into an unprecedented career of entertainment domination, she’s mastered the art form of the video – hell, she practically invented it – and it remains one of the most vital methods of communicating her message. Images aligned with music, backed with meaning and significance, taking us on a journey of light and dark… this is what Madonna does best.
A message that was depressingly resonant and needed in 2019 has become a message that rings with even greater loss and rage in 2023. Thoughts and prayers have done nothing over the past four years, and will continue to do nothing. Gun violence is the number one killer of children in America. So while you’re worried about drag queens reading books to your kids or an imaginary war on Christianity, ask yourself what Jesus might do when confronted with an epidemic like guns. Pretty sure he wouldn’t be arming himself with an AR-15.
And so we laugh, and so we float along… In that summer of 2019, my niece and nephew join us for a swim in the pool. Laughing and splashing, the carefree memories of childhood encroach on the present moment, and I remember a time when kids weren’t getting shot in schools. The water is warm, the sun is strong, and, based on all outward appearances, who can tell a summer day by the pool today from a summer day by the pool forty years ago? A disco tune still spins in the background, the gleeful squeals of kids having fun punctuate the beat, and that funny juxtaposition of laughter and tears reminds me that the world has gone mad, and I no longer know how not to go mad along with it.
New rule for my old self: do not put things down. Whether it’s the car keys, reading glasses, a bottle of cologne, the phone, a jockstrap, the mail, a laptop, your office ID card, a cup of tea – just keep it in your hands until you need it. The moment you put it down is the moment you forget where you put it down.
Winter then … let us have our winter now.
With pause and hesitance and … slow deliberation …
With wait and stop and still and false …
With the eternal ellipsis indicating that something is missing …
“Depending on their context and placement in a sentence, ellipses can indicate an unfinished thought, a leading statement, a slight pause, an echoing voice, or a nervous or awkward silence.”
I like the idea of winter beginning with an ellipsis …
So much mystery, so much possibility, so much left out, so much left to come …
So much left …
“An ellipsis may also imply an unstated alternative indicated by context.”
I also like the idea of winter beginning in bright bombast, in the cacophonous tumult and zany, electrified excitement of the holidays. Christmas!! New Year’s!!! And then the inevitable letdown and arrival of the doldrums … that’s what I truly seek this season.
The emptiness.
The aloneness.
When the noise is done, when the parties are over, when the resuming of school and work and life quickly renders this next week or two obsolete and soon forgotten, I will embrace the quiet and the stillness.
The dark night of winter descends – may it also be a cloak, wherein we find healing and growth. I don’t want to pretend the pain away, I want to be fully present, to go through all of the hurt and ache of a winter, the prick of an icy wind, the sting of a frigid morning, the deluge of a winter snowstorm. But I want to do it with a cloak, or at the very least a veil. We all need a little bit of protection, no matter how strong or bullish we might appear.
“The sign of ellipsis can function as a floor holding device, and signal that more is to come …”
We have arrived at the end of fall, and so we bracket this day’s end with the same song we played at the beginning of fall. Often, this is the post when we might have looked back at the fall season and all the things we did, but I’m not feeling nostalgic this soon – it’s too fresh, and I’m a bit too tired. If you’re truly interested in going back, scroll all the way to the bottom of the post, and look on the left for the little link labeled ‘Older Entries’. Repeat that until you find something approaching summer, then keep going…
Another compelling reason not to recap anything here is the simple fact that I just don’t remember much of it. That’s a bit of a problem, indicative of my gaining years and losing faculties. So much of this fall has been simply going through the motions, setting myself on autopilot, days moving swiftly by in habitual, ordered fashion, anything to maintain momentum, even if the momentum is the bare minimum required to sustain, to survive, to get up one more time.
This fall was partly about faking it, about pretending that I’d made it through the wilderness of this past summer and was beginning again, and that it was ok. But I don’t think things are ok. No. In fact, I know they are not ok, and there’s a likely possibility that they will never be ok again. I wasn’t quite ready to admit that at the start of fall. Leaving the options open for something to change my mind felt like the right thing to do. It gave me the spark of hope, even if nothing ever ignited or came of it. Maybe this winter I will learn to face it, to accept and somehow embrace the predicament of not being ok.
The comforts of fall grow even more scant in winter, but I’m not afraid of that. Discomfort is often the only way to grow, and even though 48 years old feels closer to the end than the beginning, I’m giving myself some room, and time, to get better. Let’s see what this winter will bring…
The world needs more biblical humor, especially at this time of the year.
PS – I would have gone with Joseph over God based on this depiction, but whatever Mary.
This post was originally entitled ‘Albany’s Nipper Pukes A Rainbow‘ but then I remembered it’s almost fucking Christmas so I wanted to show a little respect. Just a little bit. (Just a little bit.)
Rainbows in December – for all the charm and wonder and beauty of them, something disturbing and foreboding lingers in the queasy light and rain. On a recent afternoon, following a day of drizzle and gray clouds, the sun peeked out, and a multitude of rainbows filled the December sky. One landed right outside my office window, another seemed to emanate from the mouth of Nipper. (Strangely enough, not the dog’s first nip at a rainbow.) Andy sent me photos from his doctor’s appointment, where a full rainbow arched over the entire sky. Social media lit up with all of them – a world of rainbows on a December afternoon – signifiers of peace or something much more sinister, like climate change, and none of us caring to be any wiser.
So we put our pictures up and write our blog posts and go on our merry ways, thinking how wonderful and enchanting it is to have rainbows at this late stage of the calendar year. Would Noah have gone through all that trouble if he knew how little humanity would care for any of his creatures gone extinct? The planet in peril perhaps… the rainbows a plea…
And somewhere over the rainbow a heaven that may or may not exist, along with whatever might become of our souls. When you’ve seen the dust we all become, you understand what little substance makes up a rainbow, along with how pure it must be. Maybe the rainbows are angels, messengers of God, telling us when we’re getting it right, and, probably more often, when we’re getting it wrong.
Driving home through the rainbows, I do my best to live in some sort of grace, so as not to ruffle the universe’s feathers too much. Invoking the wrath of any entity, human or otherwise, is rarely a wise motion. Silent reverence, then, in honor of all that we do not know, and a little respect. Just a little bit…
Is three the ideal number of episodes in a series? I think it is. Enough for some decent suspense, and, more importantly, not quite enough to draw it out.
Fans of Edison Fan may fawn over his Dazzler of the Day crowning, and the featured photo here may provide further fodder for such fanning and fawning. It’s the ideal kick-off to a rather salacious collection of semi-naked bits and bobs to act as counter-programming for all the family-friendly safety of the holiday season.
The unabashed ferocity of Lil Nas X is one of the most brilliant happenings of pop culture in the last couple of years, as evidenced by his own crowning as Dazzler of the Day, and this naked album cover.
Joe Jonas only recently earned his first Dazzler of the Day honor here, and had also appeared in underwear-clad posts like this one or that one. (See also Nick Jonas.)
A nude Glen Powell made a super-splash with his Dazzler of the Day crowning, at least his butt did, which it does all over again here.
Another rear-view, this time from the wonderfully-bizarre film ‘Saltburn’ and a revelatory performance by Barry Keoghan, brings up the penultimate pic of this post. Keoghan’s Dazzler of the Day may be found here.
Finally, taking up pride-of-place in the parting shot, Noah Beck sets the stage for a future Dazzler of the Day crowning. Always leave them wanting more…
“May I say how much I admire the housewives of Britain, in these appalling present conditions, for their courage in trying to give their families another super Christmas,” she says with haughty grandeur.
Her personal story is tinged with controversy, and in today’s cancel-happy culture, she’d likely be smeared and dragged and left for obscurity. Instead, she lives on in these video clips, at the most wonderful time of the year, when we most need a frightening specter.
“I have always been extremely rude, and got exactly what I wanted.” – Fanny Cradock
Tell it, Fanny. Tell it.
It takes hours to make ice from scratch.
(I’m not talking about the pre-made kind that shoots out of an ice-maker.)
A week to go and then the big day will be here.
And then the big day will be over.
The long stretch of winter will be at hand, and I’m ready for the quiet it may bring.
Before this week begins, a weekly recap must end…
Candles to light the longest nights of the year.
Limiting the sequins to one side limits all the fun.
Madonna, back stateside, begins the North American portion of her Celebration Tour.
Gaslight village, yesterday’s fun today.
Christmas time all over again.
Am I the only one who has never seen a Willy Wonka movie?
Almost towering over Boston, an office job takes shape.
Memories of John Hancock, as seen through the eyes of others…
… and memories of John Hancock as written in their words.
A quarter of a century begins with an ending.
Our Holiday Stroll brought us back to basics.
It also brought the three of us back together.
Dazzlers of the Day included Joe Jonas and Ilia Malinin.
The morning of a holiday stroll usually dawns in quiet and somewhat-surprising simplicity. After building it up in my mind since the last one, it usually feels less exciting than memory serves – not anti-climactic like Christmas, but more seriously resonant, as though there was something slightly somber at work. Spending time with good friends is, after all, serious business – and when you’re friends have become your chosen family, it means even more.
On the day of this stroll, Kira and I woke early to have breakfast at home – an egg nog bread pudding that turned out to be divinely sinful, or sinfully divine depending on how you like to look at things. (It’s just a regular bread pudding recipe switching out the milk with egg nog – you can cut out some of the sugar based on the sweetness of the egg nog if you’d like, but since it’s the holidays I left it all in – the sweeter the better!)
Walking that off was a requirement, so we headed out on our own little stroll through Southwest Corridor Park, where the holly was showing off its own holiday efforts.
We procured some food stuffs for the arrival of JoAnn, and on the way back stopped at the lobby of the Lenox Hotel.
This hotel always reminds me of a happy birthday celebration that Andy and I had in their Judy Garland suite. There was a gift lion we named Lenox in our room for that 40th birthday stay, and a larger version of him now sits atop the fireplace mantle, warming himself as any lion would on a cold Boston day.
We returned to the condo, supplies in hand, and set about to putting together a bit of charcuterie and this merry mocktail for the three of us to enjoy, as none of us drinks liquor anymore. My how times have changed…
The eager excitement of waiting for a dear friend like JoAnn lent the afternoon a glow of anticipatory delight, and as I saw her approach, Kira went down to let her in. Once we had settled into our seats around the table overlooking Braddock Park, the new Cher Christmas album went for its first spin, and as we listened to the music, we reminisced over our twenty-five years together. The three of us met back in the fall of 1998, and somehow found ourselves in this very same city a quarter of a century later, reunited and celebrating the holidays more like family than friends. Our stroll to dinner felt almost like a foot-note to the giddy magnitude of simply being together and talking again, but it held its own enchanting sway (a green woolen cape added to the traditional notion of a stroll).
Sharing a history with such good people gives warmth to any season, but being able to be with them for the holidays warms my heart in a way that I especially appreciate this year. A lot has happened since we first started hanging out at John Hancock so many years ago, and somehow we’ve been able to maintain our friendships despite time and distance and all the things life had in store for each of us.
Our holiday stroll weekend, set once again where it all began, was reaching its end. We were together again – and together we remembered the way life had been – and we could laugh before letting it go.
A quarter of a century ago I met Kira and JoAnn, and as we celebrate and commemorate that happy anniversary of friendship (lifelong friendships are hard to come by these days) it felt like a good time to return to the basics of our holiday stroll. Our history has been well-documented here, and recently I’ve been waxing nostalgic for those early days at John Hancock in Boston, when we were young and foolish and having the time of our lives without even realizing it. Still, I wouldn’t trade where we are today with where we were back then – it exhausts me to even think about all those antics, all that drama, and all the unnecessary tumult of the time. Even then, all I wanted was calm, and meaningful moments with friends. After twenty-five years, we may have finally figured it out.
Much like Christmas, my favorite part of a Holiday Stroll is usually the night before, when Kira and I convene at the condo to settle in, finish up any decorating and preparation, and find something for dinner. On this night, we made a quick trip to Chinatown for a warming bowl of pho.
In the past, our evening walks would have wound around a few hotel bars and lobbies, meandering until we returned hours later, chilled and often wet from whatever precipitation decided to fall. On this night, there was none of the above, and we came back early to enjoy our time together in the comfort of home.
I gave Kira her presents and we sat down on the couch to unwind. Around us, the Christmas decorations glowed, giving off their warm light and protecting us from the cold and dark night.
As the years pass, and scenes shift in a city as dynamic as Boston, I realize the importance of having a stable home base. It is at these times that the coziness of the condo reveals itself as a destination unto itself. All those endless nights seeking out entertainment elsewhere, searching for the right place to be at the right time – it was always here.
We put a sweet potato in the oven in preparation of another holiday tradition – watching ‘The Man Who Came to Dinner’, which has an ice-skating scene where the characters eat a couple of ‘Hot Sweets’. Whenever that scene comes on, we stop and head into the kitchen to have our own hot sweet moment. On this evening, we had our sweet treats and spent a bit more time on the couch, letting much of the movie go by, happily lost in regaling old memories and catching up like old friends who have been apart for too long tend to do. When we crawled back into bed for the remainder of the movie, Kira promptly fell asleep before it finished.
The Eve of a Holiday Stroll is a magical time, and I’ll always pause for a moment when Kira is already asleep, tip-toe out to the living room and sit for a moment in quiet and solitude, looking at the Christmas lights and taking in the calm. JoAnn was arriving the next day for our proper stroll, which we had pared down to a simple walk to dinner…
