Blood Meridian

By JAMES B. WYLER


Sorry I'm a day late for this conversation. Actually I'll be honest. I know one person who read the book, but I'll be surprised if many more of you did. But as long as I have a good time that's all that matters (the selfish top in me just typed).

I'll start out with this. I love Ridley Scott, but he needs to leave Blood Meridian alone. There is talk he'll make the film adaption of McCarthy's masterpiece and the book will be destroyed. Ridley himself admits to the problems of transferring the novel to screen.

"If you're going to do Blood Meridian you've got to go the whole nine yards into the blood bath, and there's no answer to the blood bath, that's part of the story, just the way it is and the way it was."

Calling the novel a blood bath is an understatement. Men use the ears of kills as prizes of worth, there isa feverish hunt for scalp and then there are the bodies of the dead. And more dead. And more. This is the western part of America Hollywood never got to telling with its iconic tales . Characters played by John Wayne and Gary Cooper would be jail house bitch meat in the world of the Judge and the Glanton Gang.

It is shaking up a genre that is so worn ready that makes Blood Meridian so essential. And any novel that has this line needs to be on your bookshelf:

Men's memories are uncertain and the past that was differs little from the past that was not."

Yes that line comes from the mouth of the Judge, Satan, or his best representative, on Earth; however, when applied to the western, a mode of story-telling that has been steeped in myth and lore, far removed from the actual West, shouldn't we listen to the devil?

Okay, I'm rambling so let's make this concrete with a few questions: 1) at the end of the novel when the Judge and the Kid go into the room, what happens?, 2) what do you make of the Judge dancing at the end and proclaiming his skills as a performer being matched by none, 3) the Kid and the priest. How to describe their relationship? What draws them to each other, other than daddy drama?, 4) is it wrong to see this as a comic novel? Yes it is seeped in death, yet there are out loud funny moments. My personal favorite is when black Jackson cuts the head off of one of his peers who decides that sitting around the fire is now segregated, 5) do we dismiss the Judge by seeing him as Satan as opposed to a real man who understands better than most the nature of humans? 6) is the Kid responsible for the destruction of the gang as the Judge suggests and if so, how?, and 7) what role does the physical landscape play in the plot the development of characters?

So let's talk. Leave your comments. answer the questions (or not). I'll do my best to respond to what is said. Blah, Blah.

And in case you are wondering, yes I have a book set for next month. The week-end of May 23, we'll talk about Jeanette Winterson's Written on the Body. A world away from the Glanton Gang in one sense, but still dealing with those questions of our humanity. And for you queens who think the only thing you can do is read, eat, and live stuff that is gay, Winterson is a lesbian. Although she would remind us that is the least interesting thing about her.

I'm horny

By JAMES B. WYLER


Not much to add to the title at all is there Always happens around this time of year. College basketball ends and I get in the mood to pound some one's hole as they bite a pillow. The chances to do that are rather limited (to steal from Richard Pryor: my dick is so clean you can cook it in a pot of cabbage). In fact I've only fucked two people in my life. One was a straight woman and the other was a working boy who made the best faces when he sat on my dick.

I have no clue why I'm sharing this. My fat ass should be in bed so I can go work in my soul less office tomorrow. Instead I'm ranting to you gals and surfing the net trying to find something I can bust a nut to. It won't help, but it will put me to sleep for a few hours. Then tomorrow I can wake up and be all horny again.

So how are you people doing with Blood Meridian?

Thanks to CollegeDudes247 for the photo.

Gays Running Amok!

By CURT E.

Well, at the risk of starting a firestorm debate over a subject that kind of annoys me, I felt someone at least should post this since it is pretty big gay news. Now, I don't get too fired up over the marriage debate. A lot of you do. So knock yourselves out in between whacking off to porn.

New Hampshire House OKs same-sex marriage

New Hampshire and Vermont are both on the road to legalizing gay marriage. Which, if they do, will pretty much leave Maine all alone in New England as far as the gay thing goes. We're taking over baby! Though, really, who wants to live in Maine? At least Vermont has skiing. And New Hampshire has...well..."Live free or die?"

I actually held off on posting this to see if it took off at all as big news. It really hasn't. Maybe that's because it's not finalized yet. (I also haven't paid attention to FOX News. For all I know they could be on "GayWatch '09".) When the decision is finally settled on whether to allow it or not in the two states, then it might take off in the news. Or not. Maybe people just aren't getting rabidly fired up about it. Which would be a good thing.

In any case, its far from settled. Vermont's governor is sure to veto it, and New Hampshire's governor, while opposing it, is staying tight-lipped. Depending on the support in the state congresses, it could pass, or it could not. We'll have to see.

Oh, and just for a fun side note. Now the bad economy's a reason to allow same-sex marriage. God, we're good at marketing. And you're correct: Those figures kissing above do have breasts. But I fucking love that image.

Gay Essentials: My Own Private Idaho

By CURT E.

Yeah, yeah, I saw Mason’s post from the other week. The fact is, my fellow queers and queer wannabes (yeah, I’ve noticed the occasional comment from a girl, and don’t doubt there are a few delusional “breeders” getting off on visiting here), times are tough, in just about every way imaginable for all of us. So I figure, why not lose ourselves in entertainment? Isn’t that why we’re here anyway? The movie industry’s doing all right these days (porn industry too, I believe, but there are *gasp* things beyond porn) so let’s focus on some must-see gay movies every self respecting queer should be familiar with.

First up: 1991’s My Own Private Idaho. Why is it a gay essential? It’s written and directed by openly gay Gus Van Sant who’s also directed one of the most recent queer icon movies: Milk. (He also did Good Will Hunting, but as homotastic as Matt Damon and Ben Affleck can be together, it’s not a gay film. At least not that way.)

It stars River Phoenix and Keanu Reeves as street kids turning tricks; one of them to survive, the other just to piss off his daddy. Plus, it’s got cult actor and Warhol buddy, Udo Kier with a memorable and wholly bizarre cameo as one of the boys’ Johns. (Though if you want to see a truly freaky role of his, check out – among many choices - Andy Warhol’s Frankenstein. Necrophilia, over the top 70s gore, bizarre fetishes, and a totally fucking hot 26 year old Joe Dallesandro, spending a good chunk of the movie unabashedly, full frontally, bareassed naked.)

My Own Private Idaho is funny and touching and will, at times, beg the question: Is it wrong to be turned on by someone who’s dead? Especially by such a loss as River Phoenix when you see in this movie just how good he could be. And it’s wholly quirky. It takes Van Sant’s hyper-realistic scenes with real life street kids bullshitting in a coffee shop, and stirs in some bizarre surrealism like when the photos on dirty magazine covers come alive and start talking to each other. And it’s based loosely on Henry IV, Part I. If you don't know it, tough shit, you'll get an idea when you see the movie.

Keanu Reeves is Scott, the movie’s version of Prince Hal, hell bent on upsetting his rich and powerful father. River Phoenix is Mike, Hal’s sidekick, the closest analogue of which is Poins. But that doesn’t really matter, because the story revolves around Mike and the Shakespeare is just a part of Mike’s search for his mother. A search that takes he and best friend Scott from Oregon, to Idaho and then over to Italy. Though, yes, during the Henry IV parallels the dialogue is done in Shakespearean iambic pentameter. Which is kind of odd, but it works because the whole movie about a narcoleptic hustler is odd. Oh yeah, River Phoenix’s character has narcolepsy. And it can be as funny as it sounds. Tragic too.

The movie’s from Mike’s eyes and he’s frequently out cold. So when he’s out, we’re out. The viewer’s left as disconnected and confused as he is. Which is beautiful because the movie revolves around his disconnection and a loneliness so deep that all he wants is find someone to love him. And like any good gay kid, that ends up translating into falling in love with his best friend. Keanu Reeves shows that he’s capable of acting beyond his usual “Whoah” as Mike's often tender, but much too straight, caretaker. Of course he still pales next to River Phoenix’s touching performance. The fireside scene where Mike shyly admits his feelings is one of the most beautiful scenes ever filmed.

It mixes comedy, tragedy and poignancy all at once, and you aren’t gay if you haven’t seen My Own Private Idaho. Seriously. You know who you are. Give me your fucking card: you're out. It’s only Van Sant’s third film, and it’s one of River’s most nuanced performances. (Reeves’ too, but it’s not like we set the bar that high for him.) Check it out. You’ll see why everyone always has to work “tragedy” into every sentence that mentions River Phoenix.

And no, not in a sentence like: “The walking tragedy that is River Phoenix’s brother.”

Blame Commonpeople

By James B. Wyler


Yes "the fucktard" returns rather quickly; however, it's not my fault. Put the responsibility on Commonpeople because what follows his fault. Let's be clear though beyotches. I know why you are here. If I told you tales of pushing Mason on his stomach and filling his ass with dick,
I'm sure all of you would be loving me with jealousy. So I understand the game. And when Mason closes this thing down, I'm off the radar back to my cosmos and straight bartender lust. However, before that happens I'm going to have some fun and Mr. Commonpeople had a great equation when he commented on my last post:

Porn + Education = Revolution!

So we are going to start a Wyler book club (WBC). Don't start sweating beyotches. If you don't want to do it, you don't have to. No one will be forced to read and there will be no testing. I'll throw out a book title and 4 weeks later ask people to talk about it. Real simple. And the shit is voluntary. Please don't make me repeat that. The only thing some of you might not like is I'll be making the book choices. Think Oprah, minus the the talk show, media power, and best friend named Gayle.

Okay. So let's get started. Our first Wyler book is Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian. You might have heard of McCarthy. The movie No Country for Old Men is based on his book. Warning: if you love rainbows, puppy dogs, and believe the world is a magical wonderful place, you are going to hate the book. McCarthy deals with dark themes (even though I tend to think at his heart he's an optimist).

Some may ask, why start with this. Why not some gay writer? Easy. Why do the obvious? We can read, and like, non gay shit. It's allowed. Also I hear Hollywood is going make the novel into a movie. You know what that means. Once the movie is out, no one minus us nerds will read the book anymore. Send all complaints to Commonpeople.

Okay, enough yapping from me. And because I'm that type of guy here is a Yale professor talking about the book. So head to your local independent bookstore or public library and let's get started. We'll talk about the novel the week-end of April 18.

I Hate the Gays

By James B. Wyler


After Mr. Man Mason decided to call me out, I figured I should write something. The Mason simply could have sent a brother an email, but we all know how that beyotch acts. All you fans keep your funky emails to yourself because the last sentence was a freaking joke.

So here's a story. I'm at my local gay watering hole, lusting after the straight bartender (yes I'm that pathetic), and I look up from my drink. The place is crowded. A few of the cuties are preening and even some of the uglies, who should know better, are walking around like they are the one. Some have that look that if they don't get any booty they are going to rape someone, and some of the old heads are dreaming about back in the day when they ruled the scene. As an old head, I never ruled the scene.

So I'm looking around and it hits me. I hate queens. Not in the let's burn them all mentality or the ex-gay crap (to all the former queens out there: kiss my ass you weak punks). My distaste for everything gay is in the way we act. Sure a motherfucker is generalizing but if I can't do it here where can I do it?

What are our ways, you ask? We are some shallow whores. I always put my ear to conversations around me and on this night I heard more shit about workout techniques than I need to hear. Yes, Yes. I know. Everybody wants to be healthy and have the body of Adonis. That shit I get, but is that all we can talk about? Do we really need to waste air yapping about personal trainers and diet?

And when did it become cool for queens to copy each other like sad clones? Must we all wear Abercombie clothes? Just because you wear those cheap ass t-shirts, you are not going to be gang-banged by the models in the ads. And shit, haven't we heard the freaking company was a little bit racist.

If we wear bullshit clothes, we also make ourselves the center of the world. Maybe it's a NYC queen thing, but every gay has some bullshit story about being a star or fucking a star. I once had a date with some mf (stop laughing) who went on and on and on and on and on and on and on about his brief moment in the sun when he was a guest on the Rosie O'Donnell Show. Yes I know the heifa hasn't had her own show in ages but this man was still telling the tale, with pictures.

And what the fuck do we have about age. I'm not asking for you young things to hop in my bed (if you want to give me a call), but why is every old queen acting like he's 18 by using the words "bro" or "dude" or dancing to some song that came out yesterday? Is it a sin to be old now and groove only to the sounds of Monk?

And you young things need to calm the fuck down. Yes your booty is nice and tasty now but you are going to age like everybody else. And this is the thing no one tells you about getting old: desire never leaves.

Lastly we are dumb. Dumb as rocks. We don't read books nor know any history; however, we can tell you the freaking clothes in Britney's latest video. As if what that tart wears really matters.

I got nothing against my fellow sodomites, but I do wish we as a people stepped our game up a bit.

What Happened to my Writers?

Wyler Nation has a roster of 5 talented writers (excluding myself of course) but it seems as though those writers have disappeared on me. Oh where, oh where could my writers be? I miss the blunt writing style of Captain Faggot and the crabby rants of James B. Wyler. Noah and Curt can go fuck themselves, just kidding, I miss hearing from all of you!

Rant Dos

By JAMES B.

What's up motherfuckers. Yeah, I'm back.

A little intro before tonight's festivities. I know no one is here to read the rantings of a bitter, old, fat, colored queen (a special note to Andy, my friend from across the pond: listen heifer, if you want to insult please go at it, but stop with the reality show mess. I'm TV free and the only telly references I get come from the following shows: Hill Street Blues, Homicide, The Wire, and The Flintstones). You all want Mason's tales of incredible booty sex and how you too can tap his loverly ass. Really can't hate you for that. Alas all you get is me and my ranting. Well deal with it peoples. No one said life was fair. If it were, do you think I would be writing this shit for free?

Without any more delay, my second round of things that annoy.

1) Queens who like to point out how they are not like other queens: you hear this all the time in the bars. Some man, doing his best to swallow the cum stuck in his throat, going on and on how glad he is that he doesn't act nelly.

2) Gay porn stars with great asses who only top: this is going to make me marry a woman because it is immoral. A beautiful backside in gay porn is supposed to be filled with lots of dick, not stared at.

3) Conversations on race: if I were queen of the US of A, no one would be allowed to talk about race for 100 years. It's an important topic, but 99 percent of what is said is either drivel or just plain racist. And for the record: just because you date a man of a different color does not give you a pass to get in my face to yammer about the struggle for equality. I get no royalties from this, but you should read Richard Thompson Ford's The Race Card.

4) Gay porn and race: take away the gay sex and the KKK would love gay porn. Jesus, what is up with the segregation where Asians bone Asians, blacks do blacks, Latinos bed Latinos, and whites do the nasty with whites. And the few times there is some cross racial loving, the stereotype is right behind. Chi-Chi baby I loves you, but damn! How many times can you do the one white guy being gang banged by 50 black guys thing!?


5) The New York Knicks: I love them. They are my team, but they suck. And not in the good way.

6) Guys who don't watch their teeth: my dick is thick and the few times I've gotten it sucked (I know you motherfuckers are not shocked about my pathetic sex life), I've had to say more than once to be careful with the fangs. The only time I didn't have to make that request was with this woman I was dating back in the day (long boring story). She knew how to to handle it. Rather well actually. She needs to give lessons to some of you.

7) Queens who get grossed out about eating pussy: I've done it. It ain't bad.

This is enough to chew on for tonight. Do what you need to. The picture is from auteur Vidkid Timo.

Now For Something Completely Different: Porn

PORN REVIEWS: RAW TWINK
By CURT E.

I thought I'd take a page from an earlier posting by Mason and offer up a review from Eboys Studios, an Eastern European bareback studio he seemed rather...smitten with. So that led me on a quest for porn wherein I endured rigurous hours of searching and screening and enjoying that ended exhaustively with Raw Twink. That’s right, singular "Twink". Makes it sound more like a dish. What’ll you be having tonight? Why I think I’ll go with the raw twink, extra heavy on the cream.

Now why Raw Twink instead of a more recent Eboys movie? Well, if you just started with the most recent, you miss out on all the great stuff that comes before. And Raw Twink is one of Eboy’s best titles. Besides, as I said, I took my cue from an earlier posting of Mason’s where he showcased some of Peter and Micky Coolio’s talents. Look for them in this little gem.

There are no tops and bottoms, really. There are only cum starved cock fiends. Which is good for them, because the holes are wide open and the cum is plentiful, ending up on everything and in everyone. Actually, anything that does end up on someone ends up getting scooped or shoved inside them.

The first scene starts out fairly unremarkable. Ryan Phillipe (God don’t we all wish it was him) and Giovanni start going at it in the kitchen with absolutely no preamble. There’s some snake tongued kissing then Giovanni drops to his knees to suck a fresh load from Ryan long cock. And you’re left thinking, ok, that was it?! But that was just the warm-up. Ryan’s on all fours in no time, getting long dicked by his buddy, his own huge cock still hard, swinging back and forth like a pendulum below him and dripping precum all over the floor. This boy loves getting fucked. And Giovanni loves fucking him, so much that even after he pulls out and blows his load, he bends Phillipe back over the counter and pounds him awhile longer, with his cum still dripping off Ryan’s balls. Holy shit. I need a break.

I don’t know that it would be fair to go through each scene bit by bit and ruin all the surprises. There are, after all, five more scenes. Though…to be honest, no one watches porn for surprises. So how about a quick sketch? Be warned, though: expect multiple cum shots, flip flopping and post cum fucking, gaping, cum hungry asses and equally hungry mouths.

Scene two plays out with Micky Coolio playing the role of bottom boy and blond, tanned, muscular, but oh so young looking Carey Lexes as the top. And Coolio’s not like Phillipe. He doesn’t drip when getting fucked. He leaks a steady stream. Like that dick’s just forcing the cum out.

The third scene finds heavily pierced hottie Aurelian Duval walking in on his buddy Shemin working up a nice sweat with some crunches. Both boys take turns fucking, with Duval getting his tight hole worked over first and earning a huge load for his work. Then Shemin happily bends over. I always wondered what it would feel like to get fucked with a PA. Apparently pretty fucking good. Both boys ride those cocks for all their worth while staying rock hard.

Next up is our first threesome with Valentine (the dark haired guy smirking on the cover) sitting on the floor while his buddies, Lucky Look (ok, yeah, that name is a bit odd) and Peter Scott warming up behind him on the couch. It’s amazing how big these boys are. Look’s huge cock, hard throughout, bounces all over the place as he bounces up on down on Valentine’s gigantic stick.

Scene…five? Is that what we’re on? OK, yeah, it’s scene five. Anyway we get a treat when our bleached blond pal Carey Lexes returns with…Camel. I’d say he’s probably hung like a camel. Assuming they’re roughly on par with donkeys/horses and other such four legged friends. Lexes bends over this time. Then Camel does. They both cum. A lot. On each other. And they feed each other too.

The last scene is one big orgy with seven guys, though surprisingly light on the fucking. Honestly, the other scenes are better as far as sheer, raw ass pounding. But it does have a hell of an ending, with Jack Rebel, pretty much the bottom throughout the scene, getting five loads fed directly to him. The last two, including his own, get scooped up into his mouth. The whole world’s in a recession. Waste not, want not.

So, if we were going to rate this on the usual scale of 1 to 5, this would be a five. Unless we were going with how many times you cum watching it. Then it would probably go up to around 6. One for each scene or so. At the very least, I can guarantee you can’t watch without losing it a couple times. There’s no story. There’s no setup. But nothing’s better than hot guys who LOVE what they’re doing, as I think everyone here can attest to. Check it out. Bareback Eastern European porn at its finest.

James B. Wyler here and what I don't like

By JAMES B. WYLER

After a torturous negotiation, Mason is letting me write for him. My job is to be the resident crank. The old man in your neighborhood who hates everybody. Think Eastwood in Gran Torino, minus any guns and Oscar buzz. If you lack a sense of humor, think too highly of your opinions, or are easily offended you will despise everything I write. That's okay. I'm used to being disliked. Being old, fat, colored, and a sodomite prepares you for hate juice.

So let's get started. Here is a random list of stuff that annoys. Enjoy. Or not.

1. Porn stars who don't kiss: when I put down my retirement money for some gay porn, I expect a decent product. Nothing is a bigger sin than bad porn, and any of it that doesn't have lip locking is lousy beyond measure. And by kissing, I don't mean what those sissy Bel Ami boys do (which looks like a dog lapping water).

2. Queens who don't read books: sure the media world is dying and books are so last century, but any faggot who does not use his/her library card (or spend some cash at a local independent) needs to stop wasting air.

3. Madonna: this harlot had to take singing lessons so she could sing in that movie wreck called Evita. What else needs to be said?

4. Tedd Haggard: will Diesel Washington and Barrett Long kidnap this punk and DP the fuck out of him already! Come on Chi-Chi. Set this shit up.

5. Anyone who extols the past as a better time: old motherfuckers like me do this all time. Talk about "back in the day" as if it were Nirvana. Like the Judge said in Blood Meridian: Men's memories are uncertain and the past that was differs little from the past that was not.

6. Sexist queens: any guy who puts dick in his mouth or his booty, is required to keep the misogyny at home.

7. Bad peach pie: anyone who makes terrible peach pie deserves to be stomped to death.

8. The gay marriage debate: when did we turn into whiny whores? If I hear one more queen complain how unfair it is he can't marry his man, I'm giving up porn watching ( the industry would collapse minus my cash). Jesus. Life is unfair. Get over it.

9. American Idol: any show that put the words Clay Aiken in the public sphere is a harbinger of doom.

I know 10 is the standard, but 9 is all you get. See you next week-end. Or not.

Rainbow Colored White House

By CURT E.

Before getting into more fun topics like, I don't know...porn, I thought I'd start out with an interesting political tidbit. Obama's been in office for less than a week at this point - hell the paint's still drying - but there is one massive, glaring change that's already happened that hasn't been talked about that much. The White House website. I know the only thing I've seen in the news about the new site was that it switched over from Bush to Obama at noon on Inauguration day. I guess it's not dynamic enough to get much attention, but it was enough to pique my interest. So I thought I'd go dig around a bit and see what it was like. Not that I ever visited Bush's White House site - Purely for health reasons, mind you. Blood pressure couldn't take it - but this seemed like something new and fun to visit.

Check out http://www.whitehouse.gov/ and take a look at the first thing under The Agenda up top. Civil Rights. (OK, so it's arranged alphabetically, and "C"'s pretty early in the alphabet, but it's still first damn it!) In any case, with it's own set of agendas within Civil Rights is "Support for the LGBT Community". I knew I voted for this guy for a reason. It goes on to outline support for civil unions and federal rights, expanding adoption rights and hate crime statuses, denying a constitutional ban on same-sex marriage, supporting AIDS prevention and so on. Whether or not you voted for him (Seriously, is there anyone who didn't? And no, it doesn't count if you didn't vote at all) that's pretty good. Especially when compared to the previous administration's White House site conveniently archived for our perusal at http://georgewbush-whitehouse.archives.gov/. Deep breath before diving in people. Air's kind of toxic. And musty. In any case, notice the complete lack of interest in civil liberties. But hey, we already knew that. After all, civil liberty is just a breeding ground for Terrorism! Most glaringly, though for all the Bush administration's website acknowledged, we didn't even exist for 8 years.

So what does all this mean for the gay community? How the hell should I know? I'm not a social or political analyst. Though, let's face it, there's still plenty of bigoted congresspeople and state governments out there. And realistically, there's a lot on our new president's plate before we even get to any kind of rights. But it's there. It's support from up top that will hopefully some day make its way down to state and local governments, police and medical support and so on.

And yeah, I know that's not a picture of the White House. My research has led me to believe rainbows just don't like it. Maybe that'll change in the next few years. In the meantime, I say a giant phallic symbol penetrating a rainbow is just as good.

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A Little Perspective on Rape, the Law, and the Way We All React to Things

by NOAH KUTTLER

"So this is how it is. The innocent suffer, the guilty go free, and truth and fiction are pretty much interchangeable. ...There is neither a Santa Claus, nor an Easter Bunny, and there no angels watching over us. Things just happen for no reason, and nothing makes any sense." Veronica Mars

As a first year law student I tend to be a bit long winded, they are still teaching me to get to the point. Please read on though, as I would like to present some thoughts for your consideration.

In Wassell v. Adams (Susan WASSELL, Plaintiff-Appellant,v. Wilbur L. ADAMS and Florena M. Adams, doing business as Ron-Ric Motel, Defendants-Appellees.) a woman brought a suit in negligence against a hotel where she was raped. Here the woman could not sue her attacker or bring charges against him because he was unknown to her and not apprehended, at least not by the time this case was tried. Wassel claimed that the hotel had no phone for her, no security for her room or the rest of the hotel, and had failed to warn her of crime in the area that she was visiting. The hotel clearly had knowledge of the criminal element in the area, and had taken some measures to protect its property, specifically theft resistant TV sets. Wassell claimed that the hotels knowledge of crime and response to that knowledge was negligent, the hotel had formulated and executed a response that did nothing to protect or warn its guests! When Wassell was attacked in her room and raped she had no means of summoning help, she had to resort to her own trickery to escape the rapist at much great peril to herself. The reporter sighting for this case is Wassell v. Adams, 865 F.2d 849 (7th Cir.(Ill.) Jan 05, 1989) (NO. 88-1118) for those of you who have a mind to read the facts yourself and develop your own thoughts.

The relevance of this case to Mason’s situation as I see it is that a jury found Wassell 97% responsible for her own rape. When I learned this case I thought it was preposterous, how can anyone be responsible for their own rape? Did she shout “NO” while manually guiding the shaft inside of her? Did she assume some type of vertical splits stance, in the nude, and then knock her attacker off balance so that his penis fell in? Apparently the answer in this case was that compared to the hotel she was 97% responsible for the rape, not compared to her attacker. For me this was unacceptable, and I thought it might be something for the people out in internet land to ponder when they tell Mason he ought to press charges. A court of law can be a very unsympathetic place. In that case no one questioned that Wassell was raped, Wassel was not in any way acquainted with her attacker, and Wassell was not a porn star. Still, Wassell was found in a court of law, before a jury of her peers, to be 97% responsible for her rape. How certain can anyone be that if Mason went to court he would be able to protect anyone from a future attack? Mason has very reasonably pointed out that adults should be responsible for their own actions, and I am trying to point out that the court very frequently says the same thing Mason has said. Going to court is not a choice to be made lightly; it requires a well thought out decision and consultation with a legal expert.

To that end, I should also point out that this was a case before an Illinois court in 1989 and probably not at all indicative of the law in Texas. I am not suggesting that action in court is inherently a bad idea in this case. I just think that writers out there suggesting that Mason’s choice not to press charges indicates some sort of deceit on his part are not as familiar with the law as they would like everyone to believe. The choice to go to court should be made by a legal professional who has a chance to examine the relevant law and the evidence available. The choice not to go to court can reflect case law like Wassell v. Adams, a case reflecting a jury who would not likely have come to a decision that would have vindicated Mason or protected any future victims. Despite the interaction of intelligent and skilled professionals in the legal arena and a jury of one’s peers, the court is at the end of the day a forum for no more than legal transactions and cannot be relied upon for proclamations of truth.

Mason’s choice regarding legal inaction should be viewed as a personal reflection on the inadequacy of the court system and cannot reasonably be used to infer that he is lying about his attack. Anyone who knew the first thing about the law could tell you that much, and thus we must assume that those attacking Mason’s choice are misinformed or naïve, and I hope we can all find some sympathy in our hearts for their ridiculous know-it-all grand standing. Everyone will be able to remember fighting with their parents or a teacher as a young child, insisting that they were right and that they knew exactly what the answer to a situation was, only to find out over time that mom and dad or Mrs. Crabapple at Malow Junior High probably had it right. Apparently, some people take more time to grow out of this phase than others, and I for one will be keeping the maturity and developmental progress of those individuals in my prayers. God speed, foolish queens, God speed.

Bro Dudes

by Noah Kuttler

Well, the cock boss has asked that I address the use of irritating breeder slang by gays. Apparently, a number of you have been referring to each other affectionately or otherwise as “Bro”. I would like to preface this discussion of “why you should probably reconsider your lives” by extending one outstanding exception, which is that if you can get away with calling me Bro in a reassuringly masculine tone with a broad jaw line and a real relaxed look in your eyes, I will blow you whenever and wherever we happen to be. However, I will hate you and myself for it afterwards.

As far as I can tell “bro” among gay men is occurring mostly among the under 21 boys and there various enthusiasts. Let's call them the 20 somethings because most adults don't pay enough attention to the younger gays to notice the slang they are using. Besides occasionally wanting to have sex with you 20 somethings, the rest of us are typically un-phased by your antics. In a culture dominated by porn movies you can’t afford, drugs you can’t afford, clubs you can’t get into, and protests that seem like parties to you, it is simply obvious that you have no real voice. As for you older gays, I won’t define an age for fear of reprisal, but I will say that it only makes sense for you to say bro when you are meeting younger guys. Friends your own age will either be too respectable to be greeted by “Bro”, or you will have known them long enough that you will have some impossibly cuter nickname to use. With that being said, this bro speak is clearly happening in whatever scene that's dominated by the 20 something gays of the moment.

So you are in college or pretending to be, you are hanging out with your impossibly attractive friends, and you casually get someone’s attention by saying bro. Maybe it is a best friend, who is really like a brother and who does not care what you call him. Maybe it is a hag or a beard and you call her bro because you are so desperate to use situation appropriate lingo that you will take any chance, even if that chance is improperly equipped with internal genitals. Whatever the case is, you fail. Bro has no place amongst our people because we see each other as potential vehicles of sexual release and your actual brother is not a potential vehicle for sexual release. Well, if he is you should never admit to it anyway. But you all know this, you know it would be completely bizarre for you to moan out “yeah bro” while you were plowing up some cute farmer’s land, so what could possibly warrant such attachment to the term?

Well according to the Urban Dictionary, the bro is an excessively masculine, steroid pumping, beer drinking jock that is a bit more obsessed with his physical appearance than a heterosexual male should be and calls every guy friend a bro. You can often find bro dudes chasing slutty whores stuffed full of vodka tampons across straight bar scenes and fraternity rows through out America. This definition of a bro is interestingly enough the definition of a very fuckable 20 something gay: muscular, drunk, and a little dumb. AWESOME. So is that it, you say bro to signal that you are fuckable and playing football with your cock while your pecs open beer bottles or something? An unfortunate collision with reality must be just around the corner for the gay-bro-dude then: most of us still listen, taste, feel, and think with our eyes. If you can pull off saying bro because of your attitude and look, you will get laid regardless of your awkward choice of dialogue. If you can’t pull it off but say it anyways, you will be the mean joke I tell the cute guy at the bar so he will think I am witty and have friends. I don’t, but he won’t know that until he fucks me and I leave him 5000 messages and bumper stickers and pokes on Facebook.

The point is that bro only adds an unnecessary element of incestuous thoughts to the discourse, sort of like that Karen from Mean Girls with her cousin, right? I loved Karen, but she was written to be dumb and horny and thus accidentally incestuous. Are you living your life like a Tina Fey joke? To that end, from now on call me something similarly manly without accusing me of having walked the same fallopian tubes as you. Walk up to me and call me mate, bud, or pal. Something as casual as bro and equally friendly and direct. Or, if you are going for that instant blow job thing, walk up to me and say “Hey Wyler, lets get a beer.” I will be so instantly excited thinking I might look like Wyler, or that Wyler might be around, or that you want to do something Wyler-ish to me that I will be ready to go.