Bryan Ockert, Owner of Chaos Men, Weighs in on Zane

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A Beautiful Nightmare

Meet Zane from ChaosMen, who also went by Todd on CorbinFisher and is now apparently going by the name of Tucker. I was obsessed with him for months. I watched and jerked off to all of his videos religiously. Thanks to Zane/Todd/Tucker I have killer forearms. ZTT was in my mind, the ultimate muscle slut. He sucked dick, he fucked and got fucked bareback, and he seemed to enjoy every second of it. On top of that, he greedily gulped down every load of cum, in every scene, and then lapped up every last drop like a hungry little pig. And in his last scene on ChaosMen, he was tag-teamed, condom-free, and had one of the guys blow a wad up his hole. I fell in slut-love. I knew I had to sleep with him. The only problem was figuring out how to make it happen. I contacted ChaosMen numerous times to see if they would put me in a scene with him. Complete failure. They hired me once, I guess I did poorly. They didn't want me back. That was my only option at the time so I figured like Harley and Trey and Curtis and Zack and Brock, the thought of ZTT breeding my fuck hole would just have to remain a fantasy.

Then one day while I was reading The Sword, I stumbled upon an article about how my fellow porn slut, Jesse Santana, was launching his own porn agency, an agency who's roster included ZTT. Without thought or hesitation I called up Jesse and got ZTT's number. I called ZTT. He answered. The stud was friendly and seemingly very available, for anything. He lived in Dallas and faster than I can say "fuck me" I was up there hanging out with ZTT in a hotel room.

During our first night together he was accompanied by a person he called his "friend". When he said "friend" he really meant drug dealer. And when I say drug I mean crack, ghb, ecstasy, heroine, crystal meth, etc. And apparently, ZTT used to be quite the drug maker. After about an hour of Drugs 101 it became quite clear that A: ZTT was stupid. B: ZTT was an avid supporter of illicit drug use. And C: My aversion to drug addicts was not as strong as my sexual addiction to ZTT. I sat through two lines of crystal meth, constant repetition of the sentence: "I'm not addicted to drugs, they just keep me balanced, you know what I'm sayin?", and an eye-rolling story about a "really good friend" of theirs that died earlier in the week due to a drug overdose. "Snorting crystal meth. What a wonderful way to celebrate her life. Now will your creepy drug-dealing friend leave so that we can have sex before you OD and die?" I thought to myself. And after all the drugs had been snorted he did. And then we did.

Surprisingly, the sex was better than I could of ever imagined. In the videos, his body was hot. In person his body was scorching. I am a big chest man and ZTT had the hottest chest ever. He had a very accommodating ass and a dick that never stopped. We kissed. We 69ed. We fucked. We came. And I was hooked. He was desperate, broke, and very alone. When I asked him why he didn't have any close friends he responded that it was due to Dallas's douchey population. I wasn't entirely convinced by his explanation but it was clear that ZTT needed somebody, he admitted that he hated being alone and that he needed help. Me being the helpful glutton that I am, decided to take full advantage of the situation. I thought I could lend him a hand since he was willing to lend me his dick. I thought I had found myself the perfect little fuck stud. ZTT was all for it just as long as I put a roof over his head and food in his belly. We set rules, he could live with me but he couldn't bring any drugs and/or drug dealers anywhere near my house. He told me that it wouldn't be a problem and that he wanted to quit anyway. I believed him and I brought him home to Houston.

Sexually, he proved to be very skilled in the art of making lust. He was very attentive and had no problem following orders. He was always hard when I wanted it and he always came when I needed it. He had no real limits to speak of and was always up for anything I wanted to do. But outside of sex it was a different story... A very different story. There was so much wrong with him I don't know where to begin...

He could fuck for hours but he couldn't hold a decent conversation. He finished every sentence with "You know what I'm sayin" and the only things he really cared to talk about were the drugs that he claimed he wasn't doing anymore and how his looks made him superior to everyone else. He was obsessed with going out to clubs, raves, and after hours parties. And I'm 99% sure he hid drugs in his anal cavity. He would lock himself in the bathroom for hours at a time to shit out the drugs and snort them... Or he had really bad allergies that left behind a white, powdery, crystal-like residue all over my bathroom counter and that were only triggered during really long dumps. You decide.

He talked alot of bullshit like claiming to have the power and connections to shut down the entire porn industry for "screwing him over". I'm not quite sure how he was the one that got screwed over because he readily admitted that he was a no show for numerous shoots for various studios. In fact, I found out that he was a no show for my studio a couple of times. And he violated an exclusive contract with Sean Cody. I'm also pretty sure he was kicked out of the Navy although he claims they just let him walk out on is 5 year commitment 2 years early.

He has some major anger issues and he's an ignorant racist. I don't mean he let "nigger" slip out of his mouth a few times, I mean he said it every time we saw a black guy and he said it with so much anger, disgust, and hatred you could feel it. One night during dinner, he asked me what I thought about the diversity in our country. I told him I thought it was beneficial to our nation. His response. "I hate living next to niggers." I told him his repeated use of that word bothered me. I told him if he kept using it I wouldn't want him living with me. He basically called me stupid for getting offended. I told him his racist rant and remarks made him sound dumb. And then an explosion ensued. Derogatory slurs were yelled in my face, the table was banged and beaten, and a beer mug was flung at my face with great velocity. Fortunately he missed and it just shattered into a million little pieces against the back wall of a very busy restaurant. The place went dead silent. Everyone stared. ZTT ran out and I was left to apologize for the disturbance. That was the last straw. It was then that I fully realized why ZTT had absolutely no friends, no boyfriend, no girlfriend, no money, and no hope. It wasn't because he preferred being alone and it definitely was not because "Dallas is full of assholes" like he vehemently claimed. No. ZTT was alone because HE was an asshole. A crazy, roid-raged, drug-addicted, racist asshole with a serious case of Attention Deficit Disorder and a complete lack of sexual identity. I dropped him off in Dallas the next day.

Over the next few days I received various threats and bogus accusations from ZTT via text message. He called me cold hearted for leaving him in Dallas penniless and alone. Maybe I was. He accused me of "fraudulent activities" and promised to get my website shutdown. That was a joke. He claimed I stole from him even though he had no money when we met and I paid for everything the entire time we hung out. He even threatened violence if I didn't send him his money. All of the accusations were entirely unfounded and perplexing but some of the physical threats actually did scare me:

"I will come down there make you regret ever meeting me. You have no idea what I am capable of. I will make your life a living hell. You better watch your back. I know where you live"

The threats eventually dissipated and were replaced with insults:
"You're ugly. No one wants you anymore. You're a whore"

But now the messages are mostly suicidal:
"I hate my life. I'm all alone. I have no one. I should throw myself off a building. I'm going to kill myself. Goodbye."

I wish I could say I cared but I don't. If you do care, and you know him, then help him.

24 Hours Till I Get What I Need

In 24 hours I will be boarding a plane that will whisk me away to the land of over-priced real estate and under-priced whores, better known as California. You see, once a month, for an entire week, I get to do what I was born for. For seven gay days I am lucky enough to partake in a balls-to-my-asscheeks fuck-a-thon where I get to fill up on cock and cum to my hole's and throat's content. Mostly in front of a video camera of course. Sadly, that seems to be the only time I get a good hot dicking these days. If only I could keep the fuck-a-thon going 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year... Anyway, check out pictures from the previous fuck fest below!
This scene is starring Parker London. An incredibly hot stud with an equally hot dick. I don't normally watch my own porn and even when I do it's usually just to critique myself but I have to admit that I just jerked off to this video. 5 times. This morning. Sex with this man was amazing. Just kissing this man got me my heart pounding. Having his dick in my mouth while I stared up at his beautiful body sent me into euphoria. Having his hole engulf my cock sent me out of this world. And just when I thought I couldn't take any more pleasure he flipped me around and plunged his cock balls-deep into my ass shooting me straight into ecstasy. He was definitely one of my favorite scene partners thus far. He is a sex god. Verbal. Versatile. Masculine. Dominant (even as a bottom). Intense. Commanding. Perfect. I am in lust with him.

CLICK HERE TO WATCH THE VIDEO

Heartless

Five years ago I was simple. Simple career goals: Join the Peace Corps and Teach history. Simple living standards: My own apartment, a 60 inch HDTV, and a car that runs. Simple desires: A little black book with numbers that I could call whenever I was in need. That was all I ever wanted out of life. Now everything seems so complicated and I don't know what I want anymore.

Marcus took me by surprise. I never wanted to be in a relationship but for the past five years I've had the chance to experience the world as a boy in love. It may not have been your typical loving relationship but it had all the same inner workings of one, including promises of forever, deep passionate kisses, and the inability to function without one another. There is so much love between us but yet it's not enough to keep us together. I can't give him what he wants and he can't give me what I need. It took a few months of fighting, a handful of insults, and a ton of heart ache for us to finally accept our defeat but the war is over. The smoke has cleared. There is no victory. Both sides have lost.

Yesterday was our goodbye. As he was leaving I told him that I would always love him. I told him that I want to remember the good times and forget about the bad. I told him to keep in touch and that I'd like to be friends. He wanted to say something back, he opened his mouth but nothing came out. Tears began rolling down his face and we both knew if he stood around any longer he would of ended up staying. So he simply kissed me on the cheek, took what's left of my heart, and left.

The War of Northern Aggression

The battle rages on in Wyler Nation.

Currently this land is embroiled in a bloody civil war. The fighting begins a few months back when the prudish populated North voted to abolish slavery, a long-running institution in which the libertine South heavily relies upon to feed its carnal appetite.

The South argues that without slaves, there would be no one around with big enough tools, capable of plowing deep into Wyler Nation's fields to plant buckets of seeds and harvest vast amounts of a precious white crop that half of the country thrives on.

Once a pro-slave territory itself, The North now decries slavery, claiming that it is destroying the heartland of this once great nation and demands that the North be the only entity fulfilling the needs of the South. But the North does not possess equipment large enough to properly hoe the farmland down South. Revelation of this fact enrages the North, leading to a Northern preemptive blockade on one of the South's world wide portals rendering said portal inaccessible to tourists for a short period of time.

The South tries to implement the use of manually operated rubber tools that mimicked those of slave-held tools in an attempt to appease the North. But the rubber tools alone can not do the work that legions of slaves have done, they can not plow as good as a slave plows, they can not plant seed like a slave can plant seed... In fact, rubber tools can not plant seed at all and therefore could never produce the precious white crop the South craves. Thus rubber tools are not the answer.

There appears to be very little hope for a resolution, secession increasingly seems to be the only solution.

Post Scriptum

By MARCUS WYLER

Dear Public Diary,

I've talked to Mason about our relationship. I always make it a point to communicate with him on issues that really concern us. I would never ask you, Public Diary, for advice before exhausting all of my other options first. At this point in time, there's nothing left to say to Mason on the subject matter. I'd just be a broken record to his ears, all he'd hear is the repetition of noise and as history has shown, that would just agitate him. I've told him everything I've ever felt about him, everything I've ever been hurt by, in a million different ways but it never yields any change in his behavior. I know that relationships need a bit of compromising on both ends to work, but I don't know how much more I can compromise before I have nothing left to give.

Sincerely,
The Boy Who Is Just Venting
Marcus Wyler

Trouble in Paradise

By MARCUS WYLER

Dear Public Diary,

What do I want in life? That question seems to get harder and harder to answer every day. I use to want love. Incredible, earth shattering, can't live without it kind of love. A love so strong that nothing could break it. I thought I found that, in Mason, but I'm not so sure anymore. I use to really love him, faults and all. But sex(among other things), seems to have muddied everything up. I'm mostly to blame. I'm the one who set up our first 4-way. I'm the one who stuck around after each and every time I caught him cheating on me. I'm the one who suggested that he do porn. I'm the one who said that it's perfectly acceptable for him to mess around off camera as long as he doesn't lie about it. I'm the one that stands by his side while he makes out with someone else right in front of me at a bar. And I just laugh it off like it's all perfectly normal. Half of me thinks I'm sex addicted and that I'm just jealous that Mason get's more dick than I do, the other half of me thinks I'm using this obsession with sex to mask the fact that this relationship I'm in isn't really working and never really was from the start. I'm always saying that I'm OK with everything, that I'm in a different kind of relationship and that it works for us... I don't know if I really believe that. I understand that we all have urges and temptations and that no relationship is perfect. I understand that sex can just be sex. But what if it hurts me? What if Mason sleeping with someone else... hurts me? Am I suppose to just deal with it? Is it wrong of me to ask him to refrain from such behavior after years of letting it slide... after years of joining in? after years of pursuing it myself? after years of encouraging it? Have I given up the right to set my foot down and say no every once in awhile? If I still have that right, what should I do if I tell him, "No, not this time", and he totally disregards it? Is that cheating? I don't even know what constitutes as cheating in our relationship anymore. It's actually pretty pathetic. Other than Hillary Clinton, I don't know anyone else that would deal with everything I have dealt with and still stick around. Should I stop whining and realize how lucky I am to have him? Or am I fooling myself into believing that he is everything I ever wished for?

Sincerely,
The Boy Who Causes His Own Problems
Marcus Wyler

A Crime is a Crime... Right?

What the hell is the Matthew Shepard Act? Maybe I'm not properly informed but why do gay people want this? How does this benefit our community? Justice is suppose to be blind. When it comes to the court room, it shouldn't make a difference if you're black or white, gay or straight, religious or atheist, physically fit or physically impaired. I don't think the killing or beating of a minority is any more or less despicable than the killing or beating of a non-minority. A homophobic Hungarian tourist who beats a gay geezer to death with a banjo shouldn't have a more severe punishment than a crazy Texan bitch who murders her husband by repeatedly running him over with a car. Regardless of the motivation, no matter which way you look at it, murder is murder. All violent acts are wrong and the level of punishments should match the seriousness of the crimes and the circumstances in which they took place NOT the background/ethnicity/gender/sexuality of those involved.

It Wasn't Me

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Easily Sleazy

A FEW THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW BEFORE WE COPULATE: PART FOUR

I like men who have standards. The standard of fucking boys they barely know as long as there's a mutual physical attraction. You don't like to put out on the first date? Not into hook-ups or one night stands? Then move along. I'm not going to wine and dine you(unless your cock is the main course and your cum is the dessert). There won't be a next time unless the first time ended with hole-pounding explosions. We don't need to play twenty questions. I don't need to know what you do for a living and you don't need to know where I went to school. We don't even need to exchange names. Just call me slut and I'll call you Sir and we'll call it Heaven. Why waste time getting to know each other when the only thing I care to know about you is what you look like naked and how good you are at plowing my ass. I don't jump through hoops just to get laid and if you want my hole then you won't have to either(that is as long as you're hot). The most difficult thing about getting your dick should be unbuttoning your pants NOT figuring out the right buttons of yours to press. I'm not patient and I definitely don't like to take ANYTHING slowly. Give it to me hard, give it to me raw, and most importantly, give it to me NOW. You want to play hard to get? Then play with someone else.

Click Here to read parts One, Two, and Three

Mason Takes a Bite Out of the Big Apple

One of the perks that comes with working in the adult film industry is the schedule. I work one week per month, which leaves me with virtually 9 months of paid vacation every year. I love time off but being the friendless porn slut that I am, I don't have much to do during those three week breaks. I play video games until my eyes hurt, I work out until my muscles ache, and I have sex with strangers until my ass is sore. Even though those are my three favorite activities and they usually bring me great pleasure and enjoyment, they have become part of my daily routine. And we all know routines can sometimes become a bore. Every now and then I need a bit more excitement. And last month I got that excitement from a trip to New York City.

I went to Times Square to look at all the pretty lights.

I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge.

I visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

I meandered through Central Park.

AND I got to orally service this NewYorkCity stud*.

I'm glad I finally got to explore the big apple. The trip was a blast and I can't wait to go back!

Tell me about your last vacation!

*He's pretty vanilla. Soft, Sensual, and Gentle. Above average Kisser. Orally gifted. Sensitive Nipples. Perfectly straight circumsized cock with more than enough meat to please a size queen. I loved the taste of his dick and it's creamy filling. Highly Recommended.

Party of None

Almost 30 years ago Bette Midler sang, "Friends", to a crowd of scantily clad, horny Manhattan gay boys. And today I say to you, she was right, you've got to have friends. Life gets awfully lonely without them. That's the way I feel anyway. I have work friends, but they all live in California and New York. I have old friends but they all live in Dallas and Fort Worth. I, however, live in Houston and in Houston I seemingly have none. The fact that I didn't have any friends became painfully obvious on New Years Eve, when both Marcus and I let 2008 come and go without even noticing it, both of us sound asleep while other, more popular couples, were out partying the night away, surrounded by their closest amigos. That week I realized I needed to be more social.

I first met Aiden back in January. I'm in porn, he's in porn. I play video games, he plays video games. I'm a bottom, he's a bottom. I have a boyfriend, he has a boyfriend. AND we both live in Houston. It was inevitable that we would eventually meet. Turns out, we make pretty good friends and there's absolutely no sexual tension between us... unless you throw a double -sided dildo into the equation.

I'm very glad to have Aiden as a friend but one friend is definitely NOT enough. Especially for an insatiable friend-whore like myself. I think its particularly sad that I have over 25,000 "friends" on myspace but only one real life friend that lives in the same city as I do. I want friendS, not just ONE friend. Not myspace friends. Not online friends. Not see you once every now and then friends, but actual, in the flesh, I'll hang out with you alot and often, make fun of you when you're drunk or when you're having a bad hair day, and I won't try to get into your pants, FRIENDS. I mean I have met a few people here and there, made a few acquaintances but no one else has really stuck yet.*

So in an attempt to kick my friend making initiative into high gear, I would like to address the gay boys of Houston, TX:

Gay Boys of Houston Texas, If you see me and/or Marcus at a bar, in a park, at a mall, in the bathroom, at an orgy, on the street corner, or anywhere else that we may be, feel free to say hello and strike up a friendly conversation.
BE MY FRIEND!

Can you smell the desperation?

*This statement does not include a person that I will write about at a later date

I'll Be Back

Dear Someone,

I know that I haven't posted anything for quite sometime now. I've been recovering from something for the past two weeks. I am going somewhere this weekend. I will fill y'all in on some details once I return.

Sincerely,
Mason Wyler

Please Don't Urinate In My Bath Water

By MARCUS WYLER

My boyfriend, the Phallus and Seminal Fluid Receptacle Professional, works real hard for the money. Not many men are cut out to be a Phallus and Seminal Fluid Receptacle Professional and my boyfriend is proud to be one. It's a CAREER that he takes very seriously. As a Phallus and Seminal Fluid Receptacle Professional, he has a very labor-intensive, multi-positional job. He practices for hours and studies every night in order to better his skills of phallus and seminal fluid receiving. Sometimes I even wake up in the middle of the night to the sounds of him being taught by a private tutor. No time and place is off limits when it comes to his work. It requires my boyfriend to use every muscle in his body (and a few organs), some more than others of course, and it usually involves heavy usage of his mandibles. He must perform his duties along side a partner in front of a scrutinizing crew, who watches their every move and even captures it on video. Needless to say, when he works, he is usually sore and exhausted before the day is even over.

So I thought it would be a nice gesture to take a long hot bubble bath together after he was done practicing for the afternoon. I mean nothing is more relaxing than taking a nice long hot bubble bath with the love of your life after a hard hour's work, right? I could tell him about the noises I heard coming from the backyard and he could tell me why he had grass stains on his jeans. I thought it'd be romantic... Well it was very romantic, until he urinated in the bath water. I've heard of urinating in the shower, lots of people do it, but who the hell pisses in bathwater that you are currently soaking in?

If I Spoon Fed You Shit, Would You Eat It?

With the rise of Twitter, the ongoing success of celebrity gossip blogs/magazines, and the never-ending supply of reality television, I have to wonder, Are you really that asinine? Twitter? Really? What the hell are people smoking? "I'm writing a blog about blogging." "I'm scratching my nuts because they itch." "I'm sucking off a football team in the locker room."... If you like to twitter then you are easily amused and well... stupid. I'm no creative genius or original writer by any means but I at least try to be. I fail but I try. I'm always worried about whether or not you'll find my entries interesting, funny, offensive, or arousing. It's ridiculous how much effort I put into my writing especially since most of the time I end up making a fool of myself and since most of you can't read anyway (or prefer not to). Reading is for losers. But if I knew I could just spoon feed you crap then I would (different from the crap I'm spoon feeding you right now). I would just redundantly tell you what I'm doing right now at this very moment, no matter how mundane or dumb it may be. I would just promote every damn gay sex scene ever made. Or I'd just post pictures of people that I drew on and say something bitchy about them. And I'd do it over and over again just to drive up traffic and make more money. Apparently the key to a FINANCIALLY successful blog is quantity not quality. And quantity is something I'm thinking about giving you.

Would you still read Wyler Nation if I posted more often but the entries were even more retarded than they are now?

I Have a NEW Friend and Today is His Birthday

His name is "Aiden". He lives in Houston. He suffers from high-self esteem. And he is one of the two people I call a friend in the Bayou City. Aiden is gay. A gay whorey bottom (we have that in common, among other things...). And today is his gay whorey bottom bitch birthday. Can you guess how old he is turning? 14? 16? I swear he's legal... in some countries.

Our friendship sprouted on the pretense that I would help take him from a twink whore to a bona fide muscle slut thus enabling him to spread his ass-cheeks on such classy and tasteful sites like MasonWyler.com and HoleandaHeartBeat.com. As he is right now, skin and bones, the only work he could get would be for various twink sites/concentration camps. Sure, concentration camps are fun but he wants more than that.

He wants to become a well-known porn model, one that demands a high-scene rate and everyone's cock-stroking attention. He needs muscle to achieve that. He needs to look more like a corn fed Texas boy not an Auschwitz/BoyCrush Survivor. I was suppose to help him gain that muscle and put some meat on his bones...but it seems like I'm better at simply showing him how to be a better dick-worshiping slut. What can I say, it just comes naturally to me. Marcus is a more effective drill sergeant in the gym anyway. All the hot sweaty muscle boys working out just take my focus away from almost anything else going on. Regardless of who's pushing him to reach his goal, I have no doubt in my mind that one day Aiden the twink will become Aiden the stud. It'll just take some time... and alot of HARD work. Like seriously hard work. Maybe even some plastic surgery. Okay, that was lie, he'll need a ton of plastic surgery. But he'll eventually get there.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AIDEN. YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU!
Like a Brother... A Little Brother.

CLICK HERE TO WISH AIDEN A HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Fuck and Tell

A FEW THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW BEFORE WE COPULATE: PART THREE

I am NOT discreet. I don't care if you're a policeman, army captain, construction worker, celebrity, politician, preacher, partnered, or married. If you lay pipe in my tunnel of fudge then chances are that your mom, your sister, your brother, your boyfriend, your girlfriend, your son, your daughter, your priest, or your boss will know about it the next day. Not really, but you get my point, discretion is not something that I practice nor value. Sleep with me at your own risk. I fuck and tell.

Gay 4 Gay

A FEW THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW BEFORE WE COPULATE: PART TWO

I am NOT straight acting. I am GAY GAY GAY GAY GAY. That's Fag Factor Five in case you can't count. I like other OUT GAY men. You're a flaming faggot? No problem. May your fire burn bright. I'm like a moth to the light and your gayness turns me on. Don't get me wrong, I still want a man and I want to be able to tell that your a man without having to take off layers of girly clothing and make up. But just because you cut hair better than you throw a football does not lose you any MAN points in my book. In fact, I prefer it. I get enough unappreciative "straight" dick during a shoot week, outside of work, thanks but no thanks. I want to taste the rainbow not tuna flavored penis that's been doused in shame. I am not available for on the down low semen release. I am not going to guide you through your sexual discovery/confusion. And I'm not your stepping stone out of the closet. If you want to fuck then you best be queer and you best be proud. I am GAY 4 GAY.

Just Do Me

A FEW THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW BEFORE WE COPULATE: PART ONE

Sex is a wonderful thing. Sexual arousal, sexual conquest, and sexual fulfillment are all activities that I take great pleasure in. Depending on my mood, these are all activities that require a partner or two... or three... or an entire gang. Some people may think that I have no trouble finding playmates for my bedroom/backroom/bathroom stall/dressing room/truck stop dates but more often than not, finding these partners takes a little bit of effort. Not like many of you want to sleep with me but for the few of you who do, there are a some things you should know about me before you even try. This is one of them:

I am NOT your future boyfriend. No matter how affectionate I'm being towards you during our night/hours/half hour/5 minutes together, I don't want to be your boyfriend. I already have a boyfriend. I'm only capable of loving one person and that one person is Marcus (admittedly I do a lousy job of it but still). I'm NOT saying that I'm so good in bed that you'll fall in love with me. I'm actually pretty horrid in bed but for some reason my old geezer/5 year old child amalgamation of a nerd-centric personality seems to make the sluts I sleep with fall head over heels for me. Don't. It's all about fun for me, fun found in your hard-on, not in your heart. My emotions are not a part of our equation so don't involve yours. It's sinful, adulterated, no strings attached fornication, nothing more, maybe less. Just friends are fine but fuck buddies are what I aim for. To put it simply, just do me.

Gay Marriage is NOT That Important

Sure I'd love to be able to legally wed Marcus. But really, at least in the western world, we don't have it that bad. We've actually done quite well for ourselves. There aren't any signs in shop windows saying "No Gays Allowed", we aren't constantly denied employment, and our houses of worship aren't burnt to the ground. We aren't treated that unfairly by the rest of the country. Our neighborhoods are generally safe, expensive, and well kept. We have a disproportionate amount of representation in national government and national media. So why all the angst? And why is it directed at gay marriage?

Gay marriage should be at the bottom of the list of things that get our community's panties in a knot. The things we should be fighting for is freedom for gays in places where they are being persecuted and executed. Or the teaching of "gay is OK" during sex ed in public schools. Or a cure for AIDS. Or discrimination protection. Or universal health care. Or free college education. Gaining marriage rights doesn't give us equality. It just means we'd be free to get a divorce and give those good-for-nothing exes a claim to the money they didn't earn and the house they didn't build.

FAGS - HAGS = BETTER GAY NIGHTLIFE

Integration isn't everything it's cracked up to be. One of the most annoying things about being dragged out to the gay scene is walking in and seeing the amount of dick-hungry females taking up very limited gay space.

Numerous gay clubs have become infested with estrogen oozing bachelorette parties, "I'm so wasted" sorority girls, and fat chicks looking for a self-esteem booster. Gay acceptance has gone too far, it's about time we draw a line in the glitter and add some fine print: Adam 4 Adam only. You have a vagina? Great, nobody here wants it. Please go away and be a frothing whore elsewhere. Seriously, stop feeling up our go-go boys, stop clogging up our dance floors, and stop holding up our bartenders.

As a heterosexual female you have a plethora of STRAIGHT venues to drink, meet a man, and ultimately go home alone and unfilled just like you would if you went to a gay club. You can flagrantly flaunt your tetons at the next WWE Match or Exotic Car Expo. You can suck face with a man who might actually bone you at your local football game or monster truck rally. You can get wasted and be the slut you were born to be at a million and one straight bars, Frat parties, and any street corner in any neighborhood that does NOT start with Castro and end with Chelsea.

AND FAGGOTS, STOP BRINGING YOUR HAGS TO THE GAY BARS. NOBODY WANTS TO SEE YOU MAKING OUT WITH A CHICK OR GRINDING YOUR ASS ON HER VAGINA.

Different But Equal

YES you are a faggot and NO it's not normal. But it's totally fabulous.

The sooner we all realize this, the better. As a community we are NOT unified by our careers, our talents, our sense of style, our favorite music, our love of the gym, or any other trivial trait we may or may not share in common. We ARE unified by our HOMOsexuality.

The fact that we are men who love men puts us in a minuscule minority that isn't fully respected by the heterosexual majority and is understandably misunderstood. Honestly, we are freaks of nature and we should embrace that. We should STOP trying to convince the breeders that we are JUST like them. We're not. Sure most men probably just want to find the ever elusive feeling of "true happiness", that we all probably share in common but that's where our underlying similarities end. Most men do NOT seek true happiness in another man's underpants or find it in a muscle stud named Zane. Why the hell would we want to be just the same as everyone else anyway?